#he made me sit in this chair that had mysterious red stains. there was a knife on the chair that was covered in something red too

[fizzytoo]

good morning who wants to kiss 🫵🏽

[imaginesbymonika]

Not a violent dog | Part 1

Pairing: Logan x fem!Reader

Plot: Back in Wade‘s world Logan meets someone he thought he would never ever see again.

Warnings: slight spoilers for Deadpool 3!!!! mentions of death, angst, cursing, and fluff at the end if you squeeze your eyes at the screen, I haven’t written in A WHILE so bear with me

Masterlist

Wade met you in 2016, while he was staying at the X-Men mansion. You didn’t look up from your spot behind the counter when he came into the kitchen, your eyes were observing how the colorful cereal chunks were floating in the brownish milk. It didn’t take long for him to ultimately recognize you. “You’re Y/N!”, he exclaimed loudly, as if he made the discovery of a lifetime:” Cat Claw, was it, right?” You didn’t respond, instead, your y/e/colored eyes solely looked up. At the sight of his face, you slightly tilted your head. He immediately began ranting about how he truly believed that you could have had your own franchise if Sony cared enough about women before he made a shiver run down your spine.

“You’re Logan’s girl, right?”, he asked innocently, however, the next thing Wade knew, was how the bowl of cereal slammed against the wall right next to his face. He didn’t flinch, instead, he merely ran his finger down the milk stains before putting them into his mouth:” Oat milk, how responsible of you. We should all take better care of Mother-Earth, con-.” But before he had the chance to end his sentence, you made a few long steps toward him until your faces were only a couple of centimeters apart from one another. “That is so hot.”, Wade whispered while you studied his burned features.

“Don’t you ever take his name into your mouth again, or I’ll cut your tongue out!”

“That’s even hotter!”

Wade very quickly learned that despite your powers, your inability to die, and your unbelievably harsh persona you carried a lot of heartbreak inside. Things between you and Logan didn’t end well. You heard about his death through Charles Xavier, a couple of months after he mysteriously disappeared. And never getting any actual explanation or closure had turned you into a person no one could recognize anymore. You were always angry, short-tempered, and mean like a nervous dog. Because let’s call it by its name: you were beyond hurt. There was no term in the dictionary that could fully define how you felt about the whole situation.

So when Wade came across the other Logan, he eventually brought you up. “You’re a hero in my world, you know. Everyone idolizes you.”, Wade explained, looking down at the canned food and taking it into his hands:” No wait, scratch that- almost everyone loves you.”

Logan, who was sitting with his back turned to Wade only scoffed:” Whoever that person is, they’re probably smarter than the rest.” “Yeah, maybe.”, he simply replied, looking out of the window:” I mean, she doesn’t talk about it. Except for this one time where she was really, really drunk and we sang karaoke together…it was terrific.”

“She?”

Wade turned his head:” Yeah, Y/N.” He observed how Logan abruptly tensed up, almost as if the name alone switched on something inside of him:” Say it again.” And for one short second one could've argued that Logan was begging. The sound of his voice was almost vulnerable.

The man in the red outfit blinked a couple of times before he gazed into the open air:” We are about to find out something significant for the plot, guys!”, he whispered excitedly before clearing his throat and turning back to Logan: “Y/N, you know- the X-Man. Wasted potential if you ask me, Sony could’ve made so much money off of her. She’s really popular with women and girls above the age of 14, I-.”

“Cut the bullshit!”, he turned in his chair, eyebrows furrowed:” You are telling me that in your world, she is still alive?”

“What a plot twist!”

Turns out, Logan lost his version of you years ago on a mission. “It was supposed to be an easy one.”, Logan explained, while the two men wandered through the desert-looking realm:” Get into the lab, eliminate the mutant killing weapons, and then leave again-.” He took a deep breath, while his eyes roamed over the uninhabited land. His angry eyes suddenly much softer and sadder:” We thought we killed every guard. The bullet came out of nowhere, and hit her right in the chest.”

Only the sound of the wind cut through the stillness. „ We were supposed to get married. Charles had already promised that we would be able to build a home in the woods next to the School. So she could become a teacher… she always adored the mutant children that lived there. Said she wanted some of her own one day, with me…”

Wade stared at the ground:” I am sorry.” But Logan shook his head in comeback:” It’s all good. That’s how life is.“

“That’s what she always says as well.”, Wade muttered under his breath, as the two continued walking:” But I know she's always lying to me.”

[isaut]

𝒔𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒖𝒏𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒓— f!reader x chrollo lucilfer. 2.5 k, refurbished. original: ao3

synopsis: during a simple heist job two years ago, chrollo offered you a cigarette outside the library. it isn’t his fault he fell in love with you, is it? I finally felt it was time to give this fic a face lift. I’ve changed a lot since I started her, and it only felt right. If this gets a sign off from tumblr.com I’ll change the ao3 version

The skyline of Sirap is stunning, with the silhouetted buildings twinkling with lights, a hum bubbling from the streets and from the blimps in the sky. It’s a place that Chrollo has found solace in, has even made a home and a routine for himself in the past few years. He’s overstayed his welcome, set by his own nature. It’s been years since he’s fallen back into his mysterious, nomadic ways.  

Sitting in his study, Chrollo’s gaze is not on the skyline. He is not taking in the movements below him, taking up an old pastime of watching as people scurry by and wondering where they are going. Instead, his gaze is fixated on his computer, the blue light of the screen singing his eyes, drying them out. The pen in his hand clicks steadily against the stained oak of his desk. 

The steady click click click of the pen does little to soothe the worries that have begun to stir in his stomach. The unsettling feeling on his soul as he reads the message before him.

It’s an email. From his bank. A simple request for 10 000 000 jenny. With a simple message attached. 

I took care of the man who requested I eliminate your lover. I’ve forwarded his balance to you. You should receive a file from me shortly with details. Congratulations on your relationship. 

In a brief fit of rage that is quite unbecoming of the man he wishes to present himself as, Chrollo slams his hand against his desk before lending back in his chair, stewing over the message. He tears his eyes away from the message, looking instead out the large windows before him. He takes a deep breath of the not fresh air, and it does little to calm his emotions. 

As he watches a blimp float by in the sky, red light blinking against the darkness of the night, Chrollo can’t help but feel silly at how emotional he’s being. He can’t help but remember how he used to feel so indifferent, how everything felt stale. 

Stale like the air around him. 

With little reluctance, Chrollo sends the money over to his somewhat of an ally, Illumi. Their relationship was little more than constant transactions. He stands, stretches his arms above his head. Calling himself a banker had its pros: boring enough no one asked about it. It also had its cons: sometimes sitting in front of a computer for too long, researching his next thrill instead of boring into an excel spreadsheet. 

Chrollo thinks that, at the end of the day, death suits him. Even if he’s falsely climbed into the carriage. Even if his back aches from time to time. He briefly considers doing a few of the stretches his lover had recommended. His lover who had gotten him in the mess. The one where he carefully removes bricks from the walls around him and lays new bricks as he lies to cover up his reality. His lover who was still probably perched in the living room, waiting for him to come out of his office.  

The idea of you patiently waiting on the couch fills Chrollo with an uncomfortable guilt. He scrolls through his phone, looking for a text chain. He can’t find it, and resorts to drafting a new text in a small group message of just himself, Shalnark and Machi. If he took time to be truthful with himself, it felt odd texting the two of them. Even a year later, there’s an uncomfortable void, two of them in fact, of accumulated grief that press against his soul. He can’t shake it, nor can he steep in it. 

We need to have a meeting. In the next few months. 

Not ready to linger in those feelings, Chrollo locks his phone. Perhaps he’d mellow in those thoughts of the all consuming grief tonight, with your head resting on his chest as sleep washes over you. His gaze returns to the skyline. It’s dark out, it must be well past dinnertime. 

Chrollo shuts down his computer with the forceful, long press of a button. Shalnark, who set up the device for him, is berating him for not using softer methods. Chrollo pockets his phone, eager to deposit it somewhere and forget about it until morning. The journey from his office to the living room isn’t a long one, and it’s one he can chart by the way you’ve dappled yourself along the path. 

Gentle music flows from the living room, playing on the speakers that were brought from your apartment when you moved in. There’s a sweatshirt of yours on the ground that he picks up without much thought. He deposits it on the back of the couch, upon arriving to a deserted living room. 

It’s not deserted. There’s a blanket that looks like it used to be wrapped around you, slumped in the corner of the couch. There’s a stack of essays on the middle cushion, and a pen set upon them. Half a glass of wine sits on the coffee table, and beside it is your iPad, unlocked. 

Satisfaction brings the cat back. Chrollo leans over the iPad, investigating what you had been doing. He takes it upon himself to close the online shopping tab after seeing the total in the cart. 

Rounding the corner, you hold a mug of tea in your hands. The brightness of the lemongrass tea fills the air, and you take a deep breath, both of the tea and of the sight of your boyfriend. Both senses wake you up. 

Chrollo picks up the blanket, and sits in its place, throwing it over the armrest. He picks up the essay you had been in the middle of grading and flips it to the cover page. It’s thick, at least ten pages. A Turn About the Room: How Women Have Always Been the Secluded Ones. 

“Done working?” You ask him. 

Chrollo rests his arm along the backside of the couch to take you in. One of his shirts peeks out from below an oversized sweater of yours. Glasses perched atop your nose. He holds his hand out to you, palm up. 

“You should be too.”  

“I see how it is,” You say, coming over to his open hand. Your hand is still warm from holding the mug, and you slide your palm easily against Chrollo’s. 

Only, the man before you isn’t Chrollo, no, there is no mass murderer before you. No grandiose thief. He’s just Kuroro, a man with a penchant for reading and a sadness behind his eyes that’s curtained by charisma and a modern day definition of chivalry. 

A man who’s raising his other hand to take the mug from your own  hands, the heat barely bothering him. His fingers twine with yours, and he brings your hand to his lips to place a kiss upon it. 

“Do you?” 

You nod, leaning over the back of the couch and into his personal space and pressing a kiss against his cheek. He smells warm, of mellow, musky notes that you’ve come to associate when you think of him. Home smells like Kuroro, it smells like the cologne he wears and the aftershave in the morning, curling with a warm drink and incense in the air. 

It’s time to stop working for the day. 

Rounding the couch, you take a seat right beside Kuroro. Truly, you’re more so on top of him with the way your knee hinges over his thigh. Neither of you care. Not when you’re so close, not when the world seems to just be the two of you. 

Kuroro returns your mug to you, his now warmed hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“How’s work going?” You ask, blowing on your tea before taking a tentative sip. 

Kuroro hums at your question, resting his hand on your thigh. He rubs his hand over the smooth, plush skin. He ponders over how to answer, how to toe the line between being honest and being deceitful. It’s all for your safety after all. And here he has been, thinking he’d been doing a good job of maintaining your blissful ignorance to the world he hid in. 

“Stressful,” Kuroro admits, taking a deep breath before raising his gaze. 

“Mon pauvre,” You murmur, “Want some tea?” 

Pressing his brows together, Kuroro nods. You watch with infatuated eyes as he does just as you had earlier: blow on the warm drink, letting the steam lick up his face before taking a small sip. 

“Want to go get dinner?” You pose. “I haven’t eaten yet… We could go to the sushi place down the block.” 

The news Kuroro had received minutes earlier rings in his head. Bounces from ear to ear, unable to be ignored. He thinks of the mom and pop restaurant that had infatuated the two of you, of the kind couple who ran it. Of the grandma who greeted you everytime you came in. Who cooed over how cute of a couple you made. 

He thinks of an assassination attempt on either one of you. Of the chaos it would cause, of the rubble and the debris. He can envision your scared expression. The dead bodies of the kind family he’d come to know so well. 

It tugs at his heartstrings in a way he had believed was long since dead. Perhaps you had made him too soft. Too human. He felt the youth coursing through his soul again. 

With reluctance, Kuroro shakes his head. “I’ll make us something. Then you don’t have to get dressed.” 

“You’re so considerate,” You say with a smile. “What are we having?” 

“I have to check the fridge,” Kuroro replies. “Want to join me in the kitchen?” 

Of course you do. You’d altered your 10 year plan to accommodate the man. You’d follow him anywhere. 

Kuroro is, in his nature, secretive. It has always carried a certain charm with it: adds to the allure of his dark hair, his well-read nature and clean dress. However, you’ve picked up on a few tells he carries around with him. For instance, when he’s set on surprising you there’s a boyish glint in his brown eyes. When he’s morose in thoughts of life, both his own and philosophical, he’s oddly talkative. Always eager to find solace with his head on your chest or in your lap. And when he’s had a bad day at work, he’s quiet. 

You don’t like when he’s quiet. It’s not that you feel the need to fill silence with Kuroro. In fact, normally it’s quite the opposite. Silence is comfortable. 

The silence that hangs in the kitchen is not the comforting closeness you’ve grown to love. 

As Kuroro investigates the fridge for something to eat, you take it upon yourself to put on some music in the background. Amy Winehouse’s voice seeps through the silence. 

“Do you want tteokbokki?” Kuroro asks, holding a bag of rice cakes in his hand. His other rests on the refrigerator door. 

You come to stand beside him, peering into the fridge. It’s barren. Only a few condiments and pickled vegetables litter the shelves. You feel an emptiness in your stomach. Did you eat lunch? 

“Sure,” You say, resting your cheek on his shoulder. “Do you want some help?” 

“Just your company,” Kuroro responds smoothly, closing the door and wrapping his arm around your shoulders. The base notes of his cologne still cling to his skin. There’s cedar and vanilla. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead, releasing you slowly. 

The gesture has your heart skipping a beat. You feel your face warm, feel as Kuroro’s hand slides along your shoulders. 

It makes Kuroro smile slightly, watching your reaction come over. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, then opens the refrigerator open again. 

“Go sit. I’ll get you some more wine.” 

You wet your lips as you take your place on the kitchen island. Kuroro sets the chilled white wine bottle in front of you, then busies himself in the kitchen, combining spices and sauces together and simmering them over low heat. 

To keep his mind off whatever was bothering him, you launch into telling him about the essays you’ve been grading— Final papers for your class on women’s oppression in literature. You teach it every other year in the spring, and this conversation is reminiscent of one you had when you first met Kuroro. 

This one is about Rokeya’s Sultana’s Dream and Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. It’s a fresh take on Austen’s work, and you’re glad to see Rokeya being cited. There are a few inconsistencies in the line of reasoning, but the student is a year too young to technically take the course. She reminds you of yourself, if you’re being completely honest— Ambitious, if not a little scatterbrained. 

Kuroro turns off the stove and sets the pot atop a woven potholder in front of you. He adds side bowls and chopsticks to the spread. 

“I’d love to take a peek,” He says, getting himself a wine glass to join in with your drinking. 

“You can. Want to see it now?” 

Kuroro shakes his head and sits next to you. “You know I’ll get sauce all over it.” 

Shrugging, you pick up your chopsticks. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve spilt on an essay. “Thanks for cooking tonight.” 

“Careful, it’s hot,” Kuroro says as his you’re welcome. 

Even with his stomach pleasantly full, the overhead fan humming, and you pressed up against his side, sleep evades Chrollo. He tilts his head to the side, his hair fanned out on the too soft pillow. All pillows are too soft to him, anyways. He cushions his head for your comfort. 

Sleep’s tireless evasion from Chrollo is not one that he’s a stranger to. He often finds himself in this same position, surrounded by newfound comforts, his heart thrumming softly, his eyes on the twinkling lights of Sirap. Absentmindedly, he rubs his hand up and down your side, taking solace in the way your stomach moves with every deep breath you take. 

When you don’t drink before bed, you’re quick to rouse at his gentle petting. Sometimes, you wake at even the slightest shift. Groggily blinking away and rubbing your eyes, trying to see what’s wrong in the pitch black room. 

Not tonight. Tonight, you’re full and there’s wine in your brain. And Chrollo is alone with his thoughts. 

He turns his head to look at you. Cranes his neck to place a kiss to the top of your head without jostling you. 

There’s a grief on his soul tonight, and it’s not own he’s used to. Albeit accustomed to loss, Chrollo’s heart can’t fathom experiencing the gravity of loss again. To be responsible for someone’s death who was so innocent, who had nothing to do with the circumstances he put her in. 

So he places another kiss to your forehead, and shifts himself to wrap both of his arms around you. Invites your legs to tangle against his. He closes his eyes, and despite wishing for sleep it continues to evade him. So he takes deep breaths of you: shampoo, bodywash, oils and lotions. He lays in the dark, simply waiting. 

[whump-writings]

Since you asked!

A Whumper kidnaps a Whumpee to use as bait to lure Caretaker into a trap. Bonus if Whumpee is bound and gagged when Caretaker finds them!!!

-- @whumperofworlds

Ace is not canonically dead. This was just a drabble me and my boyfriend did ^^ (also technically its whumpee being lead into the trap be we can ignore that)

___

The room was quiet. Luis didn't know where he was or really how he got there. All he remembered was waking up to a rat crawling over his foot, as he was being tied to some chair.

He blacked out again (he assumes he was hit over the head), only to wake up fully tied down to the chair in under him, duck tape all over his lower jaw making any attempt at talking impossible.

What made it worse was the strange man behind him, leaned against the back of the chair and fiddling with some kind of fabric he could see.

After what felt like hours of sitting in silence, his body aching in pain, the creak of a door opening could be heard.

__

Seek sprinted down the hall of the old science lab, turning to the door that was propped open with a brick and running inside the room.

He skid to a halt at the sight of his boyfriend tied up, looking confused and panicked. He was wearing a clean blue suit, a color he absolutely despised, and his face was peppered with cuts and patches of grime and dirt.

What was worse, though, was the man standing behind Luis. In his hands was a small white drawstring bag, a bit of red staining the bottom.

“Sir…” seeks voice was dry as he addressed mystery.

“Ah seek, long time no see, catch.” he tossed the bag to seek, which seek caught.

He looked it over, turning it around in his hands. “What is this?”

"why it's in your hands, take a look for yourself" he squatted beside luis, resting a hand on his shoulder and making sure he stared directly to seek.

Seek slowly pulled the bag open. Inside was,

Inside was a beautiful ring, with a intricate goat carving in it, two beautiful red gems for the eyes,

And a human finger.

"Call it a parting gift,” he lazily smiled, “it being one of the many parts of him you'll be receiving until my demands are met.”

Seek doesn't look up from the sight. He's quiet for a long moment. “What.. What are your demands?”

"Ace, seek, ace, you've denied me and yourself this for too long,” mystery sighs and shakes his head, “I mean for Pete sake seek nine fingered nandy here was supposed to be let go ages ago, yet you completely disregarded everything I had set out for you to do"

"you keep saying you'll be obedient and then you go right fucking behind my back" 

“Sir I'm going to do it I promise I-Ill kill ace-” Seek takes two small steps forward, not even realizing in his panic.

A hand with claw like edges grabs Luis by the hair.

"One step closer and we'll see how big his brain really is.” he slightly loosens his grip, “Look seek it's gotten to the point where you're losing your entertainment value, it's tired, your betrayals and misgivings, with all the chances i've given you?” he shakes his head, making eye contact the whole time.

“No more chances seek, no more games, keep your cards close to heart and hand your aces over to me, we're done playing."

Tears run down Luis’s face as he screams at Seek. Muffled by the duct tape, Seek could only assume what his love might be saying. Begging for help? For Seek not to hurt Ace, or something else Seek wasn't aware of.

“I-I’m sorry sir. I'm sorry.” he looks at Luis for a moment, his eyes betraying all his fear and regret he had, then looks back at mystery. “I’ll do it right away.”

"No talk, no nothing, hes to be killed without remorse, expect more gifts within the next thirteen hours if it is not completed,” Mystery lets go of Luis’s hair to make a shoo motion, “now do leave my sight before Luis loses anything else."

Seek looks at Luis one last time, his eyes shining with tears, before he shifts into the ground to leave, the white draw bag simply laid on the floor.

[lonelywhalien22]

pretty lies - part one

pairing: vernon x reader

rating/genre: enemies to lovers, slow burn, ANGSTY fluff, band au

summary: supporting your friend mingyu becomes way more than you ever could have bargained for when you become involved with one of his bandmates

warnings: cussing, vernon has issues in this story but please remember this is a work of fiction, mingyu stans don’t hate me but mingyu and reader are just friends

word count: 3.4k

series masterlist | next chapt.

Music blasted out your eardrums as you maneuvered in between dancing bodies, attempting to juggle two cups of a mystery mixture back to your friend. It was late on a Friday night, and Mingyu had convinced you to go to yet another party against your better judgement. You’d agreed as long as you could leave after two hours, but as soon as you’d arrived he’d dragged you around for drinks, dancing, and chatting with a bunch of people. Before you knew it, it had been over three hours, but you weren’t necessarily complaining - the party was more fun than you were expecting, and you didn’t mind staying around for a little longer. You knew that had been Mingyu’s plan all along anyways. As you finally found him again in a spot you two had carved out in a corner, you noticed him sweet-talking a brunette that hadn’t been there when you’d first left just minutes ago.

“I’m actually a drummer in a band -” you heard him say with the sultry voice he reserved for parties.

Ever the charmer as usual, you thought to yourself as you finally arrived, handing over the cup to Mingyu as he gave you a quick thanks and went back to chatting up the person, his flirty smile back on as soon as he turned away from you. You gave a quick greeting to the girl so you didn’t seem rude.

“So how do you two know each other,” she asked nervously, trying to seem as if she was having friendly conversation but clearly wondering if the two of you were dating.

“Y/n’s a family friend, almost like a little sibling,” Mingyu waived off casually. “We’ve known each other since we were kids.” 

Much to your annoyance, he ruffled the top of your hair to further the point. Giving him a piercing glare, you took the hint and excused yourself, saying you had to check in with another friend before Mingyu could do any more damage to your scalp.

You snagged a rare empty chair at the small kitchen island, deciding to do some people watching as you sipped on your drink and waited for Mingyu to finish. The party was being hosted by another member of the band Mingyu was in so there were lots of music types there. Whenever you had asked him, Mingyu described their music as, “deep in the trenches of darkness,” whatever that meant. If the abundance of black clothing at this party and the loudness of the music was any indication, you figured it just meant punk rock or something. Having set your drink on the counter, you reached back for it blindly but miscalculated where it was, your hand bumping it over as you felt a sticky liquid begin to soak your fingers.

“Shit,” you said under you breath, turning around to see the mess of red liquid. 

Your eyes searched the counter for paper towels, pulling several from a nearby roll and quickly dabbing away at the mess as some of the spill made its way down the counter to where a few other people were sitting, completely unaware in the loudness of the crowd. The liquid had even begun to bleed into a notebook that was sitting on the counter surface. You quickly picked it up and wiped it dry, panicking as you saw that some of the pages were now stained. As you continued to do your best to dry it off, the person seated next to you finally seemed to notice the commotion and turned around.

“What the fuck?”

“Sorry, I spilled my drink but I’m cleaning it u -”

“Get your hands off my stuff.”

“Huh?”

You took your eyes off the mess you made, looking up towards the terse voice. A guy was scowling at you, his eyes a dark hazel under a mess of short wavy brown hair. You were so startled by the anger that emanated from him that you froze in place for a moment.

“Did you hear me? I said drop it,” he spat again before snatching the book out of your hands and grabbing more paper towels, quickly opening the book and dabbing the inside pages.

“What’s your problem?” You replied, now pissed off. You’d said sorry and had cleaned up the spill immediately and yet this guy was acting as if you’d just purposely set fire to his stuff.

“Just leave me alone,” he said in a tone of finality. He didn’t even bother looking back over at you again, eyes focused completely on the pages of the notebook.

“Fucking asshole,” you muttered under your breath as you abandoned your seat at the island, scanning the crowd for Mingyu. It took you a few minutes, but you spotted him on a couch, the brunette now practically sitting on his lap as he spoke to her with hooded eyes. Huffing, you waited a few moments to catch his gaze, nodding off towards the front door when he finally saw you, a look of concern on his face as he noticed your expression. Mingyu nodded quickly and turned back to the girl, leaning in and whispering something to her before pulling out his phone. You decided you’d wait outside for him to finish, the cool air helping to calm you down a little.

The door opened again a minute later, and you heard Mingyu walk out to stand in front of you, a sheepish smile on his lips.

“I’m sorry y/nnnnn, please forgive me.”

He probably thought you were still upset about his little lie earlier. You rolled your eyes in a playful annoyance.

“Little sibling? You do know I’m older than you by six months, right?”

“Of course, I know! I just didn’t want her to get the wrong idea.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. Let’s just get out of here please?”

You reached up and ruffled the hair on his head in retaliation, although it didn’t have nearly the same effect considering the twelve inches he had over you in height. Mingyu laughed as he pulled out his phone again, calling for a ride share pick up.

You were quiet on the way back, letting Mingyu recount his success story from tonight as he giddily waved his phone, the brunette’s contact info now saved. You didn’t even bother telling him to spare you the details like you normally would. Your encounter with that one guy had soured your mood and you really just wanted to decompress in the quiet of your apartment.

“Y/n? Did something else happen tonight?” Mingyu questioned, finally realizing towards the end of the ride that you were a bit out of it.

“No, just tired” you decided to lie, not wanting to concern him. You knew he’d feel excessively guilty for bringing you if he found out what happened.

The car slowed in front of your apartment and you eagerly climbed out.

“Goodnight, I’ll call you sometime this week!” Mingyu waved cheerfully, still clearly a little tipsy. 

“See you Mingyu.”

—————

Mingyu’s call came much sooner than expected. Just three days later, in fact. It was Tuesday morning, and your phone’s vibration had jerked you awake about a half hour before your alarm. Grumbling, you reached for it to see a silly selfie of Mingyu light up your cell screen.

“Hello? Mingyu?” you said sleepily.

“Y/n, I need a huge favor.”

“What is it?” you said with a concerned tone.

“My wreck of a car isn’t starting. I can take the bus to work no problem, but I also have practice with the band tonight and the location is too far from any stop - plus I’ve gotta bring all this equipment. Could you give me a ride? Practice is at six,” he said pleadingly.

“Ok, I’ll pick you up when you get off and take you over, just text me then,” you said simply. The line stayed silent.

“Mingyu?” you asked uneasily. “What are you not telling me?”

“Well, I called to have someone take a look yesterday and apparently the part they need to replace in my car is kind of hard to find since it’s such an old model…”

“Ok. So...?”

“They said it’ll probably take a month at the very least to get it and make the repair.”

You let out a sigh.

“Y/n??? Say something please.” The man was practically crying on the other end of the line.

“Just promise me you won’t make me drive you to and from your hookups.”

“Thank you y/n I love you so much-”

You hung up the phone exasperatedly and curled back into bed, trying to savor the last twenty minutes of sleep before you had to get up for work. Hopefully you didn’t regret agreeing to this, although you’d never actually decline a friend in need.

Your phone vibrated with one last message from Mingyu:

Mingyu: thanks again. really. <3

You: of course. now let me go back to sleep please.

—————

That evening you pulled up to Mingyu’s apartment, about a half hour before six. You shot him a text and waited patiently. Two minutes later the door to the apartment opened, your friend’s back facing you as he carried out some equipment and kicked the door shut again with his foot. You hopped out of the car.

“Here,” you said as you opened the trunk. “Is there any more stuff inside you need help carrying?”

“Yeah, just the stuff in the black carrier bags. It’s all piled up right by the door, thanks,” Mingyu said with a huff as he gently placed the first load inside your car.

As you entered Mingyu’s apartment, you saw a bunch of boxes scattered all over his tiny living room. Some of them were open, an assortment of items peaking out. Clothing, some books - one was filled entirely with old dvd’s. Mingyu reappeared to grab the last bit of stuff and lock up.

“What’s with all the boxes? Are you moving out?” you asked.

“Kinda the opposite actually. We just got a new guitarist and singer for the band and I’m letting him stay with me for the time being.” 

“I should’ve known that stuff wasn’t yours when I saw the books.”

“Haha, very funny.”

Once you made sure everything was secure, the two of you got back in your car and made your way to the band’s practice location. 

“I’ll show you the way, it’s actually the same place where the party was last night,” Mingyu explained.

Like he’d mentioned earlier, the house where the band practiced was in a secluded area away from the city. You didn’t even recognize the route as you drove it. After several miles of quiet forest and trees he finally motioned for you to pull into an upcoming driveway. As you turned off the car, Mingyu quickly hopped out and opened your trunk, beginning to carry stuff inside the small house. He didn’t even knock on the door, simply letting himself inside. You grabbed some of the lighter things from the trunk, one handle in each hand, and followed after him. Upon entering the house, your nose twisted a little at the stench. The walls were a yellowish-tan color, and you saw some half-eaten food laying out on the stained kitchen counter. Beer bottles and red cups littered the space, clearly remnants from the party that had yet to be cleaned up. What a difference sober eyes made.

“You can bring that over here, y/n,” Mingyu motioned you over to where he was already pulling out items and setting them up. As you set the stuff down, a guy in a red flannel and jeans appeared out of a hallway near a back corner.

“You’re here! What’s up man?”

“Hey Jay, good to see you. Smells like shit in here though,” Mingyu said in a joking manner.

“I know, I know, I still gotta clean up some. Last time I’m hosting a party,” Jay responded, picking up the half eaten sandwich and taking a bite before noticing you standing next to Mingyu.

“Hello there,” he said amusedly with a friendly smile. You gave a little wave in return and introduced yourself.

“Sorry for the mess. I promise it’s normally cleaner in here.” Jay began shoving stuff off of a couch in the corner, assuming you’d be hanging around.

“It’s no big deal! I’m just here helping Mingyu unpack and then I’ll be on my way.”

“Yeah, so you can stop pretending,” Mingyu finished, coming back inside with the last bit of stuff from your car. “Where’s Vernon anyways?”

“Man, your guess is as good as mine. Didn’t you see him earlier today?”

“Only for a second this morning before he went who knows where,” Mingyu responded regrettably. “Dude doesn’t tell me anything.”

You checked the time on your phone. It was five minutes after six. You weren’t sure if you should wait around until the other guy showed up or if you should just leave. Mingyu had told you that practice would last until eight tonight, and you hoped this Vernon guy didn’t make it last even longer by showing up late.

“Mingyu? Do you need anything else before I head out?”

“No, thanks again for driving me here. We should still be done at eight if you can come get me then?”

“Of course. You guys have a good practice!”

“See you y/n!” Jay gave a small wave.

You finally exited the house and walked back to your car. Just as you had shut the driver door and put your seatbelt on, you heard the roar of a loud engine, a motorcyclist approaching the house and speeding into the driveway. As the rider pushed the kickstand down and hopped off, you noticed a guitar bag strapped to their back.

That must be Vernon, you thought to yourself. 

You continued watching as Vernon took off his helmet, a large hand raking through a familiar head of brown waves. He looked up slightly and you realized where you recognized him from. It was the same guy who had went psycho on you during the party last night. Making his way to the house entrance, he glanced at your car instinctively, the two of you making eye contact. Your heart raced a little, expecting him to confront you in the driveway, but he just kept walking, staring at you for a few more seconds with a slight frown on his face before shifting his attention back to the house and heading inside.

I can’t believe this shit.

You started your car and immediately pulled out of the driveway.

series masterlist | next chapt.

[monkiva]

﹂Chapter One☁︎Bad Memories ﹁

Aliva was working on her dance skill when Bang PD walked into the room. There were other trainees in the room. They all bowed when Bang PD walked into the room. “Is Aliva here?” Bang PD asked. “Ah yes,” One Trainee said. Aliva revealed herself with a lack of confidence. “Come with me, Aliva. We have something to talk about,” Bang PD said. Aliva heard trainees whispering which made Aliva anxious.

She followed Bang PD into a meeting room were other people in there. She in chair that was at the head of the table. “Glad that you could make it, Aliva,” Jiwon said. Aliva bowed and said her greetings. “We have been monitoring you for the past months and we have seen your progress,” Jiwon begin. “We have all agreed that you should the mysterious girl member that will be added,” Jiwon explained. Aliva heard everything but she was a bit confused. “We want to add you to the debut lineup of our upcoming reality show,” Jiwon said. Aliva froze but she knew she had to accept the offer. “I agree,” Aliva said. She looked up at Jiwon and he smiled at her.

-

Aliva was sitting in the same meeting room with a few staff members accompanying her. She was anxious since she realized that it was a boy group. Aliva isn’t exactly comfortable with males. Aliva heard cheers from the room which scared her but then she got annoyed at it. Aliva saw the members on the TV screen. One member caught her eyes more than the others. Aliva was distracted that she forgot to clap, She only realized that after the noise stopped.

Aliva leg started to bounce but no one cared about it since Aliva said it was a habit. Aliva heard footsteps outside the rooms. They made Aliva jump up and turn around. When the door opened, She saw the members that she saw on the screen. Aliva was the first one to stand and bow to them.

The members got awkward vibes from Aliva which made them slightly uncomfortable. Aliva apologized and sat back down. The members sat down across from Aliva.

Aliva felt the glare of the members on her. She was picking the skin on her nails. She looked up and saw two members. She bowed her head at them. They looked away from her.

They noticed how her clothes looked. Aliva’s clothes looked messy and stained. Faint colors of red indicated that Livia had bled. Some of the other red stains looked darker.

Her hair looked greasy and messy. She looked malnourished and hadn’t sleep in a while. She was hyper-vigilance and it didn’t look like she would calm down.

Soon the meeting was over and Aliva left with her members. She was next to Sunoo and Sunghoon or was that their names?

Aliva was quiet and barely got to know members. She was in fact afraid of them. What would they do while she’s asleep? What would they do with her? How do they feel?

-

It didn’t take long to arrive at the dorm. Aliva had zoned out for the entire ride that she didn’t notice that someone was calling her name.

The members were getting out of the car and Jungwon had stopped at Aliva’s seat. “Hey,” Jungwon said. “Are you okay?” Jungwon asked. “M-me?” Aliva muttered. “Yes,” Aliva said. Aliva got up when she saw that they were at their dorm.

Jungwon and Sunoo looked at Aliva. They felt something for Aliva. They couldn’t place a finger on it but they knew that Aliva went through something.

Aliva didn’t keep up with the members so she was behind them. At least she was in a position where they couldn’t do anything. Aliva looked through she bag and realized that she didn’t have any clothes

Clothes were hard to get for Aliva. She couldn’t buy much clothes since she didn’t have much money. She barely had enough for food.

She had been in this situation before. She didn’t expect anything new to happen. Were this boys any nicer than the people she had encountered? She only made one friend out of the years she was in Seoul.

She sat with her back against the wall. Her knees were close to her chest. She was cold but she didn’t tell anyone. Her needs weren’t important neither wasn’t wants. None of it was important.

“Hey, do you have any clothes?” Jungwon asked. Jungwon was close to Aliva for her comfort. Aliva was coming up with a response. “You can borrow my clothes if you don’t have any” Jungwon said. Jungwon gave Aliva a pair of his clothes. “No, I have clothes,” Aliva said, pushing the clothes back. “Really? It looks like you are wearing old clothes,” Jungwon said.

Aliva wanted to take but she didn’t know if it was allowed. Would he get mad? She knows he was offering it but what if he changed his mind? “You can borrow them until you can get new ones,” Jungwon said. He left the clothes at Aliva’s feet.

Maybe these boys weren’t as bad as the ones she had encountered. Maybe it was a good thing that she accepted the offer.

Aliva got up from her spot and went to Jungwon. She scared Jungwon which made her flinch. “I just want to said?” Aliva was scared. The sudden noise scared her but it gave her a reminder. It reminded her why she was there in the first place. Even if she wanted to be a singer, she had to escape first.

“Never mind?” Aliva said. Aliva went back and put her head In between her knees. The members looked at Aliva. “She speaks with an accent,” Sunoo said. “Even l noticed it,” Jake said. Aliva didn’t notice that she had an accent.

“Hey,” Jungwon said, gently tapping Aliva. Aliva looked up and saw no one but Heeseung and Sunghoon. She seemed confused. “Over here,” Jungwon said. “How about you wash up first,” Jungwon said. “N-no, I’m good?,” Aliva replied.

“You have wounds on you arms, those can get infected,” Jungwon pointed out. “Go ahead,” Jungwon insisted. Aliva took Jungwon’s clothes and went into the bathroom.

She didn’t like taking off her clothes. She felt disgust, taking off her clothes. Maybe it was her fault that had happened. Everything was her fault. She thought

Washing up was overwhelming for her. She took hours in there. The members knocking on the door to check up on her always caught her by surprise.

Once she was finished, Sunoo had asked her if she was okay. Aliva nodded to Sunoo’s question. Jungwon’s clothes was a little big on Aliva. They fitted her nicely and honestly they warmed Aliva up.

-

Night started to come around. Dread was a familiar feeling to Aliva, she was always frightened. The darkness was no friend to Aliva. She couldn’t see what was happening or what was coming.

There was no control and things could get out of hand in the dark, they always did. She wouldn’t be alone this night and nights ahead of her could be the same.

Daydreaming was an escape from reality. Floating in your own imagination. Aliva sings herself to sleep, singing about a safe place.

[kissmeau]

Autumn did not only notice a shadow but felt someone coming behind him. He turned around before being caught by surprise; for some reason, he wasn't feeling entirely safe there. But, opposite to his thoughts and feelings, there was a young man behind him, ready to offer a helping hand.

Autumn observed him speak confidently and felt drawn by it; instead of focusing on the papers, his purple eyes were fixed on detailing the man with blonde hair and golden eyes, noticing his pale skin with a fading stain of red. The man's lips were swollen—did he get into a fight? Autumn wondered and got interrupted by him when the documentation the woman needed was found much faster and more diligent than whoever was sitting at that fancy front desk.

Autumn couldn't help a deadly glare at her, finding his helper equally annoyed with the woman when he returned his eyes to him. But he liked that and the honesty that followed after, revealing the truth behind Janice. Autumn chortled. "It must be nice to get paid for warming a chair with a fat-ass while stealing people's money." Of course, he had to add his 5 cents to the whole thing. Janice had not only given him a hard time but tried to keep his mentor's money for herself? If this person hadn't shown up, and for some reason he had found out later on, then Janice would have made her call for death, and the mystery of why she was still alive would have ended. "Bitch." 2 more cents on top of the 5 in a whisper.

"Yeah, there was a map..." Autumn found it funny that it seemed to be a tendency in this sort of world. He shrugged. "It's fine." It would be the first time he would receive sympathy for Roman's death—at least, a sort of genuine one—and still, he didn't want it; he didn't care for it. Roman was gone, and that was it. Autumn opted to change the topic. "Thank you, uh... What's your name? I'm Autumn. I'm sixteen. How old are you? Also, did you get into a fight? Does it hurt? Did you win? I'm sure you won." After his little bombardment of questions, Autumn offered a toothy grin. The way the blonde had said the last phrase pretty much sounded like he was ready to leave, and Autumn was still too curious about him.

Where did he come from? What is he doing here? How come he knew what to do? Does he work? Does he work here? It was one question after another on Autumn's mind as if each worked like a little excuse to keep him by his side and hold his eyes at his face, clothing, and height. Mnh... He was pretty good-looking—no, handsome; and kind, too.

"Could you help me count the money? I was home-schooled, and I'm not really good with numbers. I'm afraid Janice might play me another trick." A bit of the truth in his pile of lies. He wasn't afraid of Janice playing him another trick now that he knew her nature, and he was outstandingly good with numbers. But the young man didn't know that, which only played in Autumn's favor to achieve a few more minutes next to him. He enclosed one of his fists, wishing fervently that he would fall for the white lies.

To the naked eye, the entire place looked like a simple hotel lobby. People going in and out, chattering away, a small dog comfortably sniffing around while it's owner swayed with laughter; it was all rather unassuming unless you knew who any of these people were. Some yakuza leaders, some hitmen, assassins, spies, a hacker for hire, a gaggle of Cleaners whose habit for cleaning persisted as they picked at the lint on the couch, here in this lobby, they were all equal. Everyone minded their business, they knew the rules, and the punishment for breaking them was... unsettling.

A freshly turned 21 year old Myles sat haphazardly on a couch alone, boredly trying to wipe the blood from his lip after sparring session turned into an all out fight. The front of his pristinely sharp clothes were marred by splatters of red in a cartoonish way, so he did his best to face away from the public. You should see the other guy, he mentally chuffs to himself, but his mentor was taking an ear full over something or other. He did break a rule by fighting on the premises, but the guy had it coming.

Simmering thoughts are interrupted when he hears a new voice behind him, something young and out of place. He's been wandering this hotel halls for decades and rarely did he hear anyone that he couldn't remember. The back and forth was frustrating to even him, eavesdropping until finally he stands and looms near the teen.

"Do you have the papers that show the missions were completed?" Myles interrupts but tries his best to sound helpful. If the papers are in view, he'll flip through the edges, pulling out whichever ones were necessary, then handing them to the woman who pursed her lips just at the sight of him. "There. And with that first document he gave you, it should show that he's next of kin so the payments and any property would go to him." Body leans against the counter, rolling his eyes as he dabs again at his lip to make sure it wasn't still bloody. "You know she does this to people who look new because she thinks if she can convince you to walk away, she'll just pocket the money for herself and honestly I don't know how you're not dead yet JANICE." Head rolls its attention from the boy to the woman behind the counter before she starts to shuffle off to get whatever they needed.

Myles doesn't say much more but eyes the other curiously. "He must have really liked you to do all that, most in his profession just leave some cryptic note and a treasure map and hope their next of kin aren't stupid. Sorry for your loss though. When she comes back, be sure to count the money."

[milf-murdock]

Stitches

Matt Murdock x Reader

Warnings: descriptions of an injury, knife (reader accidentally cuts hand on a knife), blood, stitches, sweet Matt deserves his own warning 

Summary: Matt tends to your wounds after a clumsy accident. (Established relationship) 

A/N: Wow can you believe I wrote something that isn’t smut?? Shocking. I’m not really sure what this is, but I needed to write and it made me feel better. Oh to be taken care of by one shirtless Matt Murdock. I yearn. Anyways, here you go: 

The wine was poured. The food long devoured. But the conversation was sparkling. 

“I can’t believe you said that! And you really got all the charges dropped?” You asked incredulously. 

“What can I say? I’m a pretty damn good lawyer,” Matt said, a note of smugness to his tone as he leaned back in his chair, siping the last of his wine. 

“I never doubted that for a second,” you laughed in agreement, standing to gather the dishes from the table. 

Matt, always one step ahead of you, beat you to them, stacking them on top of each other.  “Here let me get those,” he said, and you can’t help but smile to yourself as you follow him into the kitchen. 

“Fine, but it is my night to do dishes,” you insisted, stepping up to the sink as Matt set the dishes in the basin. 

“Well, if you insist…” Matt pressed a kiss to your cheek before stepping out of the kitchen. “I’m going to take a quick shower,” he continued, heading to the bathroom. “When I’m done we might have time for you to finish the last chapter of that book!” 

Ah, yes. Your new favorite pastime. You had always been an avid reader, and loved nothing more than to spend lazy mornings on the couch with a good book, a cup of coffee in hand. It was on one of those exact type of mornings, early on in your relationship, that Matt had been sitting with you and asked about your current read. You started to explain the plot in detail, but eventually suggested you would be better off just reading the book aloud to him. 

“Fine by me,” he said, settling into the couch. 

“Really?” You were surprised that he had taken that much of an interest. 

“Yeah,” he said casually. “I love the sound of your voice.” 

You couldn’t help the blush that rose up in your cheeks at that comment. 

And so the tradition began. You had been through over a dozen books since that day, and it had quickly become the immediate recreational activity of choice whenever the two of you had a free moment. 

Your current book was incredible, too. A mystery novel where the twists and turns of the plot kept you two on your toes, hungry for more. Over halfway through the book you were certain you knew who the killer was. But since the last chapter and its ‘big reveal’, you hadn’t been so sure. You replayed the details in your mind, pondering the significance of it all, and wondering what new twist lie ahead. So preoccupied with your thoughts, you hardly noticed the knife in the sink as you reached down to grab the next dish. 

The sudden sharp pain brought you right back to your senses. “Fuck,” you hissed, dropping the dish in the sink and grabbing the dish towel. You applied immediate pressure, wincing at the pain. 

Immediately the shower cut off. “What happened?” Matt’s voice was fervent as he hurried from the bathroom. Of course he probably heard your explicative and smelled the iron of the blood. He had come straight from the shower—the towel loose around his hips and his soaking wet hair plastered to his face. “Are you okay? Let me see.” His voice had a panicked edge to it as he grabbed your hand. 

“Ow! Fuck! Be careful,” you scolded, though you warily allowed him to check out the damage. 

“Sorry,” Matt muttered, gingerly removing the towel. The deep red stain on the towel continued to bloom, and you were somewhat surprised that the knife could do that much unintentional damage.  

“Shit,” Matt murmured, immediately reapplying pressure. “Let’s run this under the sink. You may need a couple stitches.” He led you over to the sink, holding your hand under the gentle stream of water. 

“Shit that hurts,” you couldn’t help but complain. How he managed worse than this without so much as an ounce of complaint was beyond you. “I guess I’m just not as tough as you,” you joke, trying to ignore the throbbing pain as the water poured over your hand. 

“Oh don’t be ridiculous,” Matt chastised. “It seems like it fucking hurts.”

Somehow that made you feel a little better. 

Once Matt was satisfied most of the blood had been washed off, he pressed the towel back onto your hand. “Let’s head over to the couch,” he said. “Keep applying pressure. I’ll be right back.” 

A heartbeat later Matt appeared with the metal first aid box, a familiar sight. 

“Don’t worry,” he soothed, an amused edge to his tone. “I’ve had lots of practice.” 

You steadied yourself with a deep breath and removed the rag. You tried not to let your heartbeat give away your nerves, but you knew Matt could read you like a book. 

He took out the rubbing alcohol. “This is going to sting,” he warned. “I’m so sorry,” he said, gently dabbing the wound with a soaked cotton pad. It felt like pure fire against your hand, and you let out a sharp breath. 

Matt continued to murmur apologies, and you noticed all at once how soothing his voice and his presence was. Suddenly, you were more overcome with awe at the man sitting in front of you than you were with your own injury. 

A  man who frequently spends his night bringing justice, peace, and security to his city—your city. A man who fights for what he believes is right and defends the innocent and helpless. A man who doles out punishments worse than a simple cut on the hand.

And here he was seated in front of you, tending your wound with the most gentle touch. 

The irony was not lost on you. 

You didn’t have long to continue to dwell on it. Not when the sight of Matt with the sterile surgical needle sent your heart racing again. 

“It’s okay,” Matt’s soothing baritone set to work bringing your heart rate down again. “I’ll be gentle. I promise. You only need a couple, and it’ll be over quick.” 

You nodded, knowing Matt could sense the motion. You were certain your words would fail you. 

With that, Matt set to work. You tried to distract yourself by taking in the sight before you—and it was quite the sight. 

Matt still had his towel low on his hips, even seated on the couch. You couldn’t help but admire his scarred chest. No matter how many times you saw him, you could never shake that urge to run a light finger over the raised edges. Couldn’t resist the temptation to press kisses over each and every one. 

Your eyes trailed up to his soft pink lips, Matt’s tongue darting out to wet them as he so often did when he was focusing on something. You instinctively bite down on your own bottom lip in response. 

Finally, your eyes landed on his. Those sweet hazel eyes, currently focused and intent on you. Even though he couldn’t see what he was doing, you didn’t second guess his abilities for a second. You had no doubt that his stitches would be even cleaner than the ones you gave him after a rough night out. 

“Oh how the tables have turned,” you can’t help but jest as he gently tugs the needle. “Now who’s stitching who?” 

Matt’s lips twitch in a smile, but he keeps his focus on the task at hand. 

“I much prefer it the other way around,” his response is affectionate, but you can hear the silent pleading in his voice. 

With a final tug, Matt grabs the medical scissors and snips the string. 

“I’m serious honey,” his voice had taken a more somber edge. “You need to be careful. I can’t—“ his voice cut off. He swallowed hard. 

“I can’t have anything happen to you,” he finished, turning to grab some sterile gauze.

You know you didn’t do anything wrong, but you can’t stop the apology that bubbles up anyways. “I’m sorry Matt.” 

With a sigh, Matt placed the gauze over the stitches, gently pressing it into place. It was immediately followed by the most delicate of kisses, his lips just barely grazing the cotton. You swore your heart skipped a beat. 

“Don’t apologize,” he soothed. “I just need to take care of you.” 

“I’d say you did a pretty good job of that,” you said as you admired his handiwork. The bandage covered the worst of it, but you could tell you’d be just fine. “Plus you are way hotter than any nurse I would’ve had at the hospital.”

Matt couldn’t help but let out a laugh, and you leaned in close to grab a kiss. 

“I love you,” Matt said before taking your face into his hands and pressing his lips to yours. 

[ratquesadilla]

just tell me you love me, cause that’s all i need to hear (chapter 1)

pairing: rhett abbott x oc

word count: 2520

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42427557/chapters/106814451

girl meets boy, girl falls for boy. boy falls for girl?

prologue

----

​​“rhett.” i said, nudging the pile of alcohol poisoning with my knee. “get up.”

“5 minutes.” he complained into his pillow. “that’s all i need.”

“you said that.” i paused, checking the time on my phone. “5 minutes ago.”

“whatever.” he droned, slowly rising from the hole he’d created for himself in his drunken state. rhett looked down and noticed the dried vomit staining his collar and pulled his black shirt over his head with ease. my eyes darted to the bull rider tattooed on the right side of torso, the tail of the bull pointing towards his armpit, a faint red blur surrounding it. i would be lying if i said i didn’t care, i always did. every new girl rhett entertained was like another knife through my heart, another reminder that the boy i’d been pining after from the sidelines would never be mine. i was always watching him from the stands, observing everything about him, but never being the girl he kissed after he set another rodeo record. 

in a room full of people, my eyes would always be drawn to him. to his almost mullet that perry and i teased him for everyday, or his cowboy hat that he’d worn every day for the last decade. but he didn’t think the same about me. in a room full of people, his eyes would be drawn to the prettiest girl. i was at peace with that, after a decade of unrequited love you get used to it. i knew that every interaction between us was strictly platonic, and i knew that it would stay that way. 

“the more time you take getting dressed it less time you have to eat.” i said, turning away from him and walking towards the door. “we leave for church in 20 minutes.” 

“you don't even believe in god!” he half-yelled as i exited the room. i didn’t have to turn around to know that he was thinking up a million different childish insults. when he’d finally decided he shot an “ass-kisser…” at the back of my head. 

“i know you are but what am i” i quipped back, flashing him the middle finger before turning the corner and descending the stairs. 

i wouldn’t call our relationship complicated, it was actually very simple. it was like we’d known each other for forever, even though we’d only met almost a decade ago. we were like childhood friends, with all the cheesy cliches. if my life was a movie he was the boy nextdoor and i was the lovesick girl. 

but this wasn’t a rom-com, this was real life.

——

sundays were the laziest days on the abbott ranch. the only requirement was that you were downstairs ready for church at 10, and at the dinner table by 6. everything else was free game. 

the mornings were always the busiest. cecilia was tearing through the kitchen like a tornado, preparing breakfast for everyone. it was the one day a week she would always cook. eggs, bacon, pancakes, everything under the sun. in recent years she’d increased the number of carb-y dishes she made. it was no secret that rhett spent his saturday nights drinking his liver to death, so the pancakes and bagels were meant to soak up the leftover alcohol in his stomach, a creative approach to sobering him up before church. 

bounding into the kitchen i noticed amy first, sitting in her chair on the end of the table closest to the phone and leaned down to lift her over my shoulder. moving to the living room and spinning in a circle. “hazel dawson you better not damage my furniture!” a voice from the kitchen shouted.

“i would never!” i shouted back, letting amy down. she immediately darted towards her uncle who had just descended the final stair into the foyer. walking back into the kitchen and taking a seat. “good morning cecilia.”

“mornin.” she replied, briefly turning from the bacon on the stove to meet my eyes. “i expect you got rhett out of bed?”

“yes ma’am.”

“no mystery girls?”

“no ma’am.” i replied, trying my best to not let a smile break my face. i wasn’t prepared for anyone to catch onto my feelings for rhett, especially his mother. it wasn’t that i was worried she wouldn’t approve of me, i knew she would. it was the itching feeling that if i told anyone what i thought about him, he would somehow find out. keeping the love i had for him secret burned a hole in my heart, but i knew it was for the better. i couldn’t risk ruining what we had and i would rather suffer in silence than lose a friend. 

rhett and amy arrived in the kitchen not long after me, amy taking her seat across from me and rhett taking his next to mine. 

“rhett you smell like a distillery.” perry said, choking on his coffee.

“and you smell like the girl from the pharmacy.” amy added, not looking up from the plate of eggs and bacon cecilia had just handed her. 

“vivian mansfield are you serious?” i said, slapping rhett’s arm. earning an “ow” from him.

“what?” he complained. “it’s not like we’re dating or anything.”

“rhett abbott i will not have you talking about the girls you proposition.” cecilia interjected, dropping a place of pancakes in front of him. “especially on the lords day. now eat, we need to leave soon.” the conversation quickly readjusted itself. small talk ensued for the next 10 minutes until royal came tumbling into the kitchen through the back door.

“y’all hear that?” he asked, a confused look on his face. almost as if he’d just seen an alien. 

“hear what?” cecilia asked. 

“that noise.”

“i’ve got nothing.” perry said, rising from his seat and placing his plate in the sink. the rest of us following suit.

royal stood there like a deer in headlights, his face completely blank. 

“what are you still doing standing there?” cecilia questioned, staring directly at royal. “we leave for church in 5 minutes.”

“church?” royal asked. “it’s only 9.”

“check your watch grandpa.” amy said, pointing to the clock on the wall. “you're an hour late.”

royal muttered a string of curses under his breath, earning a stern look from his wife and a concerned look from me. punctuality was a big thing for royal. in his eyes, being early was on time and being on time was late. what is going on with him, i thought. ultimately deciding to ask him later, when he wasn’t so out of it.

“abbotts in cars lets go lets go lets go.” cecilia exclaimed, pulling me out of my thoughts, and gesturing us towards the front door. 

of the 6 of us, there were 4 trucks. royal’s, rhett’s, perry’s, and mine. rhett’s had been purchased with help from his father, and his bull riding prize money, as a gift for his seventeenth birthday. in recent years perry and i had nicknamed it the “fuck-mobile”, the name was self explanatory. everyone usually avoided sitting in his car, worried about sitting on a unholy stain or or accidentally touching a used condom. but hey, at least he was being safe. 

all of the trucks were three seaters, so we usually traveled in 3 cars. royal and cecilia in one, perry and amy (and occasionally rhett) in another, and me and rhett in mine. today rhett decided to hitch a ride with me, saying something about how he was too hungover to listen to amy's upbeat songs. whatever the reason, who was i to complain?

——

the car ride was silent for the most part, mostly because of rhett’s raging hangover and my brain being caught between worrying about whatever was going on with royal this morning and being extremely jealous of vivian. 

vivian mansfield, compared to me, was perfect. it made sense that rhett would choose her, even if it was just for the night. i wanted her long blonde hair and her virtually perfect hands. they hadn’t been worn down by years work on the ranch, she had the type of hands that look good tangled in someones hair, intertwined with someones fingers.

when i was younger i would lie awake at night wondering what rhett liked about the girls he got with. wondering if i could dye my hair to look like theirs, or dress more like them. i would imagine that i was one of the girls he would drive around with, dream that i was the girl he would kiss. i would come up with elaborate scenarios whenever i got a chance to daydream. thinking of a future where we would grow old together, and shamelessly also imagining elaborate scenarios where he would have me in his truck. 

rhett abbott was the only boy i would consider having car sex with. 

“so.” i said, taking one of my hands off the wheel to begin picking at my cuticles. “you excited to ride tonight?”

“pretty nervous actually.” he said. “if i don’t win i don’t go to counties.”

“pressures on.” i joked, managing to pull a brief chuckle out of him. “you’ll be fine.”

“i know i will as long as i’ve got you, i mean y’all cheering me on from the stands.” he replies, catching himself after the ‘you’. almost like the two sides of his brain were at war. the wishful side wanting to push through and the logical side keeping it in check. 

rhett was a logical man. like his father he was no nonsense, he didn’t get caught up in what ifs he simply went with what he had. if he didn’t place in a competition it was never, “what if i didn’t do xyz right.” it was always, “i had a bad riding day” or “it was a bad bull”. after rebecca there was a shift in his thinking, he stayed level headed but the wishful side of his brain grew. it pushed harder and went from being a minor inconvenience to something like a devil on his shoulder.

rhett abbott had become plagued with anxiety.

he would never admit it, of course. but it was true. 

——

right column, back row, 2 chairs on the end. 

every sunday royal and i sat there for an hour exactly, enduring the service and wishing for it to be over faster. we were the only non-religious people there but we were respectful. we stood when they stood, lowered our heads when they did, shook hands whenever an arm was extended to us, and placed money in the collection bin when it eventually made its way to our distant corner. i was by no means evangelical, but there were times where i wished i was. times when i wanted to believe that there was a reason i was struggling. i thought that believing in a higher power controlling what happens to me would make everything make sense. make me feel better about my suffering because it was all apart of “god’s plan”. 

“until we meet again, i want all of y’all to tap into your heart. let your instinct lead the way, go with the flow.” the pastor said, concluding the service. prompting royal and i rise, and wave quickly at the rest of the abbotts before heading towards the door. 

“so,” i said, tapping the toe of my shoe against my heel. a bad habit i’d picked up when i arrived in wyoming. “what was up with you this morning.”

“nothing.” royal said, keeping his head straight and walking faster towards the truck. 

“that’s bullshit and you know it.” i exclaimed, rushing forward and turning around so i could face him. “tell me what’s going on i want to help.”

“it’s nothing right now, just had a bad feeling.” he replied, waving me off and lowering the tailgate door. “you ready for the rodeo tonight?”

“i guess.” i muttered, kicking at the dirt behind the wheel. “not really in the mood today.”

“c’mon, you love the rodeo.”

“yeah, guess i’m just out of it.”

my feelings for rhett were the only thing i kept secret from royal. there was no way in hell i was gonna tell him i had a childish crush on his youngest son. 

he wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me into a hug. 

“you know you’re just like your mom.” he said.

“yeah.” i replied, a smile forming at the corners of my mouth. “d’you think cecilia will mind if i leave early? i’ve got a couple errands to run.”

“you should be fine, just be at the rodeo in time for rhett’s ride.” royal said as i slid off the truck bed. 

——

i lied; i didn’t have an errand to run. but i needed to get out of there.

lately being around rhett was suffocating- like i was 17 again, watching him fall in love with maria olivares- and i just couldn’t handle it. 

my feelings fluctuated. there were times when i could function as a normal person, when everything was normal. and there were times when all i could handle was my daily chores. times when it felt like i was being crushed by the weight of every inconvenience piling up. it was an indescribable feeling, constantly changing. always unpredictable. highs and lows coming and going at a moments notice. 

i pulled into a parking spot on main, in front of the handsome gambler, pausing for a moment before getting out of the car. the skin around my nails were bloody and raw. fuck, i thought. mentally berating myself for bringing back the destructive habit. the bar was dark, and depressing, but hey; what else was i gonna do on a sunday? drinking away my feelings was an excellent idea. 

“can i get a beer?” i asked, sliding into the stool farthest from the door. not bothering to look up at the bartender.

“day drinking?” a voice to my right questioned. “it’s only 1pm.”

“yeah well i’ve had a rough morning.” i sighed out, turning my head to catch a glance at the mystery man. “and i don’t think you’re in a position to judge.”

“and why’s that?” he asked.

“because you’re also day drinking.”

“i guess the pot’s calling the kettle black.”

“y���know i’m supposed to be the one saying that, right?”

“tomato, tomato.” he joked, handing the bartender some cash. “let me pay for your drink.”

“take a girl out first.”

“maybe i will. you free on thursday?”

“i don’t even know your name and you think i’ll go out with you?” i teased.

“adrian.” he said, extending his hand and initiating a handshake. 

“well, adrian.” i said, pausing before saying his name. “it’s your lucky day. i’m very very free on thursday.” 

“how about the movies? they’re showing footloose at 8.”

“sounds like a plan.” i giggled, taking a second to stare at him. he was no rhett abbott but boy was he good looking. 

and after the years of bad luck i’d had looming over my love life like a storm cloud, who was i to turn down a date?

[gojoho]

PATIENCE

• pairing; au!ryomen sukuna x reader

• premise; you were different than the rest, and with a simple touch the devil makes peace with his boredom for the taste of your skin.

• words; 2,798

• note & warning; every time i proofread what my demon chose to write at three in the morning i cry. why am i like this? honestly, i had so much trouble with sukuna it's amazing that i found a ground to make this on. anyway...unprotected sex ( wrap it up or pack it up ), dirty language, ownership, creampie-breeding kink? i never know which one it is, these mfs just never pullout. enjoy i suppose?

Sukuna was accustomed to the cults that proudly proclaimed him as their leader, or better yet, The Chosen. False disciples to his name, many of which tried to justify their treacherous lives in comparison to his glory. A pathetic bunch he wasted little time over, not one of them much of a rivalry towards that of a king. Though your blood was far too innocent, even for a ruthlessly being as himself, he would not take on such a burdened responsibility. Having been blamed for far less, he wouldn’t live this one down. Feasibly the only reason death escaped you.

Obsession, fascination, none of which seemed that far from one another with him, nor did it matter. At any capacity mortals were tedious, their petty materialistic need; gold this, that, and whatnot. Maybe he was just bored, but then he wouldn’t be giving you much credit, would he? He was quite patient for his tetchy personality, letting you grow accustomed to his territory, where you’d spend the rest of your days. A cub seeing the pride lands for the first time.

“Follow the rules, and you’ll do just fine little cub.” You never shied from his touch, letting him indulge your soft skin, squeezing, nipping, kissing every and anywhere he pleased. But your worth was still up for question thus far, what did you bring that the others couldn’t.

“Open.” You would sit between his legs, knees bent to his divinity abiding every command. Allowing his salty fingers against your tongue, their cleanliness unbeknownst to everyone except him, but it only made you suck on them more. “So eager for me to ruin you.”

That made two of you, but he wouldn’t, not just yet.

He kept you, his precious new pet, close. Allowing your scent to fill his bed, swarm his clothes, and plague him with a hunger driven by an appetite that was you. It wasn’t as if he didn’t trust you, he didn’t trust anyone, but he did trust your behavior. The way you managed to curl up against him at night, your soft snores fanning his back, no matter how much space there was in his bed. How you followed behind him everywhere he went, involuntarily making things less...irritating. Yet your consistency didn’t extend towards the others. Vicious and vengeful, they’d see to it that he’d fall by any means necessary. Even if it meant going through you or letting it be by your own hand.

“Cub,” he’d call you over, legs wide and waiting. You’d mount him facing forward, shamelessly letting your body unwind against his touch.

Fingers working the robes from your frame with ease, instant access to the skin beneath. All while his lips worked around your neck, touching up his handiwork of pink and purple blotches around it. The product of every session. Before he’d break you off, truly make you his, preparation was in order. It’s started with your chest, his hold over your bosom, the small mouthes in each hand working their peaks. Swirling sucking nibbling away at their tenderness until you’d grind against his bulge. Drenching him with your arousal. Clothes only got in his way, he’d have you roam around naked if he pleased but that was sight met only for his eyes, and his alone. Your robes, makeshift Sukuna hand-me-downs, was a barrier between the world and what was his.

After all, it was his touch that made you a mess. ”You're already so wet for me, little cub. Maybe I'll fuck you tonight. Maybe.”

He moved a hand to your heat, parted your folds with two slender fingers while the other hand still devoured your nipple. Sukuna was greedy, common knowledge to anyone who came across the curse, but with a hunger driven by your flesh, he was more insatiable than ever. It wouldn't be long until you were writhing in his lap, every bit of noise coming from your lips. Crying out as he worked your orgasm with his fingers plunged deep in your depths and the tongue on his palm lapping at your clit feverishly.

”Kuna,” you'd mewl, with arms stretched up to his face. The only person still alive to say it let alone give him a nickname.

The rules were simple;

Speak when spoken too

Eye contact

No kissing

A cruel rule that reminded you what the relationship was. He wasn't your lover or anything to you. You belonged to him and he'd use you however he saw fit. If that meant raw dogging you, believe he'd fuck you silly.

Simple, but still difficult nonetheless. He watched your face upturn in admiration, eyes flickering between his and his lips with each whimper. You wanted to kiss him, have his tongue so far down your throat until you choked. Sukuna knew all too well the look you gave him and smirked pressing his fingers deeper, taking your wanton ones to hold his cheek into his mouth. The closet you've gotten to a kiss, but soon your eyes would wander to mess that was your body, watching him unravel your seams, the first orgasm shuddered throughout you.

The first time he had his way, you'd barely made it past one orgasm from his fingers. Now it was six, with at most his fingers and three mouths. He wondered if you’d handle his cock if thrown into the mix. With that thought alone his mind wandered, you handled his hands well but the mystery behind your lips made him twitch just thinking about it. A pretty face with such a content expression, so grateful he granted you a full mouth. Could you handle all of him? If you could, he would've taken what was already his, turned you inside out, and left your body useless to any other being but him.

He deprived himself of a release, letting it build along his thighs and boil at the deepest parts of his body. You were going to take it all from him, feed his hunger while he quenched yours. Truly teaching you what it meant to belong to Ryomen Sukuna, The Great King of Curses.

Each session left you craving more, made your hips sink further against his moving in pure need. Sukuna let you wallow in your tension, desire unkempt and rowdy beneath his nose. You were conflicted between the logic prancing your mind and the hunger of your heat. Where the thought of him feeding you more than just a few fingers made it throb for a release, to be relieved from the fear that kept it empty and unfulfilled.

You'd missed the comfort his presence brought to the bed when pressing matters stole his attention, without it sleep was surreal. Eluding your conscience till he would come back late into the morning, exhaustion settling through the afternoon if he allowed you to. Until one afternoon where he’d prepare to set off again, another village another reign of terror, Sukuna almost missed the tiny grasp at his robes. The few steps he took towards to the exit fell short by his other end.

”Please,” you'd whisper out pleading for him to stay with a mere word.

For a minute, with his sudden stride and grip over your jaw, you think it's enough. That the way he searched your eyes with his bright red pair, you thought you’d convince him. ”If you expect me to abandon my duties for that cunt of yours, you’re going to have to try harder than that little cub.”

His lips ghosted yours, taunting that separate ache from the rest of your body. Practically testing you to see if you’d break one of his rules; screaming to go ahead, kiss him.

”Well then?” he cooed, lips nearly there but your silence only irritated him. Did he spoil you too much, indeed give you too much credit and mistaken you for something you weren't—

”Please Kuna, I need you.”

”Cute…” He smirked, thumb slipping between the two of you teasing your bottom lip. ”No.”

It was a lie if he said he wouldn't turn you around right there and give in to the temptation. Fill your womb with what felt like decades' worth of his cum. Staining his sheets and your insides. Sukuna already knew you needed him, it was because of that need, that the light in your eyes settled to a palpable glow. Later completely gone by the time of his return.

Sukuna never thought to imagine you upset, not with the way you clung to him. Never did he think it would upset him as much as it did. You slept far from his end of the bed, shielding your body from his touch with the linen. The nerve of you, but he knew it was only a matter of time until he’d have you in his lap again.

Wrong.

Too much time had passed since he denied you of your request, too much time since he’s touched you, too much time since you’ve touched him.

“Cub” he called, but for the first time, he was met with hesitance.

You sat on his lap, back to his chest as per usual, but without your usual excitement. Nothing he couldn’t fix, and like always he started with your chest, getting you to flood over his crotch. By then Sukuna would’ve gotten at least a whimper but you remain uncharacteristically quiet to his touch, jabbing at his ego. Come to find out you’d bitten your lip, holding off from letting him hear just how good he was making you feel.

“Brat,” he hissed with the teeth in his hand nibbling at nothing but your clit but even then the most he got was a huff. “Fine, if that’s how you want to play this game.”

It didn’t take much to lift you up from his chair, face planting you straight into the bed. You yelp at the sudden grip over your waist as it hauls your bottom half into to air. This was far from what he planned, but he’d be a fool to let you carry on with your childish ways.

There was no protest with the way he positioned himself to his knees behind you, shedding himself of his robes, setting his cock free into the late-night air. You would never shy away from looking at him naked, curious of every black line, where they connected and didn’t connect. Still, only catching brief glimpses of him, but now that it was there before you—just one taste, that was enough right? It would make any man happy to hide his cock in a pretty mouth like yours, burying it far beneath your throat, hell it made Sukuna weigh his options but he was beyond horny and irritated.  

He gifts himself a few strokes, over your cunt, introducing it to its owner. Coating himself in the mix of his salvia and your arousal before pushing the tip past the slick gates of his personal Eden. He sunk into your bowels just past the tip before meeting the resistance of your walls. There was no distinction as to whether you’d been too tight or that he was too big, just that it made him want more. A snug fit, one in which he yearned to destroy, leaving you walls irreversibly stretched.

Your arms flailed around, desperate to find anything to grip onto but Sukuna didn’t give you much of a chance before introducing the rest of his inches to your heat.

“Fuck,” you whined. A squeak of unbearable amazement that all of him was inside you. “Wait.”

He was going to bury himself down to the hilt, each time, fuck you till you were a simpleton. It was always his intention to do so, but your impatience got the best of him.

”Quiet, ” he growled spreading your ass to see himself encased by your insides. Surprisingly you swallowed him whole, but he was sure if you kept squirming away it’d be even more painful. ”This is what you wanted, wasn't it? My cock in this slutty hole of yours.”

”Kuna please.”

”Please Kuna, I need you—is that not what you said?”

”Yes…but fuck—”

”Well now you got me, so keep fucking still and take it.” He shooed your pleading palm from his view and adjusted himself. The movement drove him deeper and you mewled beneath him like a feral feline.

A draft followed behind his pelvis as he pulled out only about halfway, your pussy gripping him as he did. He didn’t trust you wouldn’t squirm again and anchored your hips to his grip. Snapping into you once more, stretching more than his previous thrust.

Sukuna took pride in the size of his cock, in the way it left room for only one, only him. You were going to split in two, or at least it felt like it; he was so big, out of place, but just big. Though that was merely the calm before the storm, with no confirmation let alone sign to warn you, he moved again. Starting off with a strong rhythm that rocked the entire bed. He didn’t do slow, his adjective was to punish, ruin, destroy exactly why you were to be prepared.

With a guttural groan, you felt his cock work, biting against the linens as it drilled in and out of your slickness, squelching all around it.

“Listen to that,” he cooed. “Telling me to wait when your pussy sounds like this. I’m going to fill you up so well. Is that what you want kitten?”

Kitten…

An upgrade from little cub you suppose. The harder he goes, the louder both ends of your body get. Wanted was putting it loosely, it was something, if not the only thing, you needed. Yet it’s still not enough, and so Sukuna stops, leaving you lost to the pleasure he provided. Still full with his cock you moan, pleading for him to continue, eyes barely open and lips pierced by your top teeth. “You know the rules. Speak.”

Bucking against him, desperate for any friction, you whined. “Kuna.”

“Whining gets you nowhere,” He said teasing you with slow strokes in time with your desperate hips. “Answer. The. Question.”

“Yes, ” You were begging for it, the high fading from the mind a little too quickly. ”I need it, all of it.”

Now that you stroked his pride, it was only fair he’d returned the favor. Fleeing from their post against your chest, Sukuna’s hands reach up to your throat. Pulling you up to your own knees, squeeze gently. Pumping into your dripping cunt faster, harder, deeper. Strumming at the chords of your orgasm with each lewd noise he pulled with his cock. Saliva dribbling from your chin.

“Look at you,” he grunted, his own pleasure catching up to him. “Drooling from both ends.”

“Sukuna.”

He leaned into your hands, giving permission for them to tug at his roots, while he nuzzled his nose over your cheek, taking in every crude scent. “Hmm, fucking perfect.”

A compliment if he’d ever given you one, his irritation fleeing from his body and the only thing he can think about is just how good it felt to finally be inside you. The ache of his cock finally being milked.  His hand traveled down your body, caressed every curve, every nipple until they settled on your hips.

”Get down, and open up for me.” he ordered quietly, letting his pace falter before getting an obedient ’hmm’

Anything for Sukuna, anything that brought on your orgasm. You arched forward and parted your knees wider, sighing from his hand over your ass again. Kneading and pulling each cheek apart. Picking up the pace again, he wanted to see his cock twitch inside you. See how your body would react. Sukuna wanted to see the mess he made of your hole.

You let a series of colorful curses fly, it was hard to say anything with the explosion inside you, the heat itching just beneath your skin as the adrenaline spiked and rocked you into oblivion.

“Sukuna,” you managed to say but he already knew, feeling the coiling contraction refusing to let him go. A deadly grip that sucked his orgasm through.

The visible veins around his cock, throbbing beneath the thin layer of skin. Slightly moving as the rest of his length spasmed violently against the confines of your flutters. ”Fuck, look at you go, milking me dry.”

His cum wasn't as fluid as it was thick, weeks of pent up lust oozing from your folds. But it meant nothing more but for Sukuna to click his tongue and thrust forward gently a few more times. Fucking it all back into you. Your body twitched ”Oi, shape up, I've only just begun. Besides, I want to try that pretty little mouth of yours.”

You were going to ruin him, as he was you.

[dcforts]

[week #7: long summer nights]

this is the last of a three part beach holiday fic (tfw + wayward sisters) part one (#5 "holidays" 3k) part two (#6 "water guns" 2.8k) part three (3k)

It was four a.m. and Dean was awake. He let out a frustrated sigh and rolled on his back.

It was Cas’ fault. He wouldn’t be in this situation if the afternoon before he hadn’t come standing by Dean’s chair and asked for their hotel key card, saying he needed to get back to watch a show he always watched at six on Saturdays.

“Are you being serious right now?” Dean had asked, his sunglasses sliding down his nose.

Cas had shrugged and held out his hand.

And to be fair, Dean didn’t have to go with him, but it was hot, and he still felt a little tired from the early morning and the water fight, so he thought it could be nice to get cleaned up and take a walk in the little town before dinner.

And it was a good plan, only he’d made the mistake of laying down on the bed, start the A/C and turn on the news, while Cas took his time in the shower.

He was not sure what did it, if the monotone cadence of the anchor, the white noise coming from the bathroom, the faint buzzing of the A/C system, the otherwise stillness around him, but he’d stood no chance.

He’d fallen asleep and woken up four hours later with his face plastered to the mattress, his mouth open and a wet stain on his bedsheet.

So, of course now it was four a.m and he was awake.

He glanced at the other bed and found it empty and pristine as usual, so he grabbed his phone and sent, where are u?

That’s how he found himself walking towards the beach, passing small groups of people that were just turning in from the night out and shivering against the night breeze.

There was a little red boat upside down near the spot where they had planted their beach umbrellas in the past few days. It was easy to spot and even easier to spot Cas, standing next to it, looking out at the sea.

He turned to look over his shoulder before Dean even stepped onto the sand.

“What is it?”

“Can’t sleep,” said Dean, huffing. The sky was pitch black, no moon in sight, and too many town lights to allow the stars to show themselves and yet, with the smell of the sea and the sound of the waves crashing on the shore, Dean started to feel better about being out at this hour.

He kicked off his flip flops and laid down the towel he'd brought. Cas watched him do it, watched him sit down, leaving enough space for someone else to sit. Dean looked up at him, "You need an invitation?"

Cas shifted on the spot.

“I can’t stay,” he said mysteriously, “I have business to attend to.”

“What - What business?”

Cas didn’t answer, in his infuriatingly fashion. He thought about something for a long moment and then seemed to come to a decision. “You can come if you want.”

So Dean got up again, puzzled, and trailed after him down empty and quiet little streets. He adjusted his folded towel under his arm.

“Care to fill me in before we reach whatever destination you have in mind?”

Cas stopped short at an intersection and paid him no mind. He seemed to study the face of the buildings around them and then started walking again. “Cas, seriously?”

His eyes still resolutely ahead of him, Cas sighed, “Don’t overreact,” he said, which of course made ten thousand alarms go off in Dean’s mind, but before he could say anything, he added, “I’m here to see a witch.”

Dean almost tripped over himself. “Y- what? Wait, what?” he grabbed Cas’ arm to finally stop him and face him. This wasn’t funny anymore.

Cas seemed annoyed but resigned. He clearly wished Dean wasn’t there and regretted telling him that he could join him.

“I asked you not to overreact,” he said, “During my nights out, I noticed some carvings and symbols around the town. They’re benign,” he highlighted, “protective symbols, but they can only be the work of a witch. More than one, in my opinion.”

Dean was stunned, “And you didn’t think of sharing that information? You know, with your hunter friends?”

“There was no need to get you involved.”

Dean opened his mouth to object, but Cas was quicker to add, “I know these carvings. I’ve encountered them before. Trust me, they’re not dangerous.”

That wasn’t helping. Of course he trusted him, only Dean would feel better if between the two of them they had a blade, a gun, a sharp stick at least, anything more than just a beach towel and a hotel key card, “So, what’s your plan?”

A little wrinkle appeared in between Cas’ eyebrows. "There’s no plan. I only mean to talk to them. These spells need to be renewed every couple of days. Last night I kept watch, but no one came; I only assume they will show themselves now.”

"And you assumed right,” came a voice from behind them.

Dean’s blood froze in his veins. They had no idea about what they were dealing with, no way to contact the others, and what was worse, he was in his damn flip flops. He could die in his damn flip flops.

When he turned around, there was a young woman standing a few feet from them. She held herself tall and her expression was guarded, but she was wearing a summer flowy dress and beside her stood a little girl with big curious eyes. Together they didn't exactly seem threatening, wearing what looked like handmade bead jewellery, but Dean knew better than to judge a witch by her age and appearance.

“Hello,” said Cas, calmly. He tried to take a step towards them but the woman instinctively raised an arm as if to shield the little girl, so Cas stopped walking and held his hands up, “We were just admiring your work.”

“Thank you,” she said, but did not sound reassured, “We know you’re hunters. We’ve been watching you since you arrived, in your cars full of weapons.”

“We are what you say, but we are not here on business,” said Cas, and Dean noticed that he also moved slightly to partially cover him from view, to protect him like the woman had done with the girl. He told himself it was just accidental mirroring, “I’m Castiel. This is Dean.”

“There’s nothing here for you,” the woman said, “We haven’t had any trouble in a hundred and twenty years.”

“You and your family keep this town safe." The woman nodded. “We are not looking for trouble. As you can see, we are here on vacation.”

He gave her a little smile, gesturing towards their swim trunks and bare legs.

"We know. We've observed this as well and we judged you not a threat. Then why did you seek us?"

"I only wanted to offer my knowledge to you. I am an angel. I can teach you carvings and sigils that will make your shields stronger, permanent."

The woman's eyes widened in surprise and her lips twiched in disbelief and Dean was pretty sure the same feelings could be read on his face. After a moment she said, “I don’t know you. Why would I trust you?” which was exactly what Dean would have asked.

“You don’t have to. I have written them down. I will give them to you, and you can do with them as you please,” he said, fishing out of his pocket a folded piece of paper and holding it up. "Your magic is strong, but it needs constant tending: your family can't leave this place or the magic will die. I only want to provide an alternative. You may not feel constrained by it, but maybe -" he paused and Dean could not see his face from where he was, but the witch's eyes flickered towards the little girl by her side, " - someone else one day may."

She studied him for a long moment. When she let out a breath, her shoulders came down and Dean realized that up until that moment she'd been tense like a string. She'd been scared of them. Dean let himself finally relax.

“And you would offer your knowledge and expect nothing in return?” she asked.

Cas only shrugged.

“He likes to help,” interjected Dean in a fake annoyed tone. “It’s his thing,” he added, and when Cas threw him a look from over his shoulder, just to make sure he knew he was still pissed at him, Dean added, “It's a pain in the ass sometimes, actually.”

At his words, the little girl let out a giggle that broke the silence that followed and dissolved the last of the tension that was still in the air.

The witch’s features softened. She walked towards them and took the piece of paper Cas was offering her, keeping an eye on them as she unfolded it and briefly studied it.

From where he was, Dean saw drawings of intricate patterns and what he could only assume were Enochian spells.

“Thank you,” the witch said, folding it once more. Then she gestured for the little girl to step forward. “I’m Alinor,” she said, “And this is my daughter, Camille.”

The little girl hurried to take her mother’s hand.

“Hello,” said Cas and Dean gave a little wave.

She smiled shyly at Cas, “Are you really an angel?”

He nodded and she smiled brighter, “I have a book about you.”

-

Dean waited until they were on their way back to the hotel, with Alinor and Camille far behind them, to finally snap. He had really behaved himself, waited patiently through the cute meet and greet Cas had with his little fan and even struck a conversation with Alinor about holidays and the local delicacies. It hadn’t even been that bad, but still, in the back of his head he kept making a list with all the things he needed to bark at Cas.

Now, as he stomped next to him under a sky that was already clearing up, Dean didn’t even know where to start.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” he settled with in the end.

Cas took a deep breath, as if he'd known it was only a matter of time before Dean spoke, “Dean, there was no need -”

“What if they were dangerous, what if they put a spell on you? Kidnapped you, bloody killed you!” he whispered furiously, trying to contain the hot anger that wanted him to shout - not ideal at dawn, in the streets of a little town.

Cas kept his tone calm, and that only exasperated Dean further, “I knew that you would tell Sam, and Sam would tell Eileen and it would eventually have spread. I didn’t want to ruin the holiday or cause unnecessary alarm. Perhaps even scare the witches in doing something to protect their town.”

“Alright, I get it,” Dean said, grabbing his arm to make him stop and face him. “I get it,” he hissed, forcing him to look at him in the eyes, “But I'm not talking about the others, am I? You don’t wanna tell them? Fine, I can do that. But you should have told me. This is about me and you, do you understand?” he exhaled, almost expecting to see smoke coming out of his nostrils. “I need to know what’s going on, even when you think it’s nothing,” he said gesturing between the two of them, “Cause me and you, that's different, yeah?”

Cas didn't reply for a long moment. So long actually that Dean started feeling uncomfortable under his gaze and tried to replay what he’d said in his head. Did he say something weird?

“It is,” Cas said in the end, the barest note of wonder in his voice, like he never expected to hear Dean say it.

“Cool,” Dean cleared his throat, wondering where the hell his anger had gone all of the sudden, “Glad that’s settled,” he said dumbly, thankful for the moment to be finally broken and still not sure about what had just happened. He knew there were other things he wanted to yell at him about, and wanted Cas to promise him or something, but they’d just flown right out of his head and he couldn’t for the life of him remember even just one, so he started walking again.

“It was nice anyway. What you did,” he conceded after a few steps, not without a hint of annoyance for admitting it, “Family business can be a bitch. I should know.”

Cas didn’t say anything, but when Dean stole a glance his way, he had his lips stretched in a little smile.

"Next time though, I'll let you help only one drunk get home safe or whatever, you choose, but then we spend the rest of the time just stargazing or something. I work enough during the day, you know?"

"Sounds good," said Cas, and Dean didn't have to look this time to know the little smile was still there.

They walked in silence the rest of the way.

When they arrived back to the hotel, it was just past seven, and that meant they had started serving breakfast, which was perfect for Dean.

His phone buzzed as he took a seat on the empty terrace. It was a text from Sam.

hey, you up?

yeah, im down at breakfast

“I thought you were joking. Is this your second plate?” was the first thing Sam said when he saw him, “It’s not even seven thirty.”

“Haven’t slept. Don’t ask.”

“Alright,” he said, taking the seat across from him with an amused smile.

“So, what’s up?”

Sam’s face changed at once. He looked troubled, the familiar spiral of worry making its appearance on his forehead as he took a sip from his coffee mug.

“Dean, are you – Look, I wanted to talk to you. I- I’m sorry about what I told you before leaving. I shouldn’t have put that on you. I thought it was good news, I thought it would make you happy, but – I should have known better. Eileen made me think that -”

Dean raised a hand and interrupted him, “Whoa, Sam. You got nothing to be sorry for.”

“I didn’t want to upset you.”

“I’m not upset.”

“Yeah, well, apparently, you’ve been! And I didn’t even -”

“Sam,” he interrupted again, “I’m okay. Really.”

Sam studied his face for a moment. He took another sip of his coffee.

“And what do you -? I mean, have you thought about it?”

Dean let go of his fork, wiped his mouth and then said, “Yeah, I did. And I think I need to stay where I am right now.”

It felt so much easier this time around that he almost couldn’t believe how much time he spent freaking out over such a simple answer. Sam’s face crumpled up.

“Don’t – don’t make that face. It’s just that now I don’t want things to change. I’m good where I am. You – you are in a different place. And it’s fine. I just need to change at my own pace.”

“That’s not how I wanted this to go.”

“I know. And it’s gonna be weird, I know,” he sighed. Sam was still his little brother, and Dean was still the one who had to squash all his fears, even if he had those very same fears knocking on his brain. “But – this is how I need it to go.”

“I get it," he said and he tried a smile. He had his Sad Puppy Eyes down to a manageable three out of ten, “It could take a while anyway. Things could change.”

Dean huffed a laugh. It felt nice to know that Sam had his very same thoughts. He just nodded and resumed his eating.

“I’m very happy for you man,” he said, feeling much lighter. He didn’t even know that whole story had still been weighing on him, “I truly am.”

“I know.”

They smiled at each other for a moment. Then Sam asked, "You'll be okay?"

"Yeah," Dean said almost on reflex and then his eyes caught Cas coming in the breakfast hall and walking to the buffet table. He watched him as he grabbed a plate from one pile, "Yeah, I'll be okay, Sammy."

Sam followed his gaze and then brought it back on Dean, "So - why haven't you slept?”

Dean groaned, “I was around with Cas. Jesus, you don't wanna know. He's - unbelievable. Like, I'm pretty sure that at night he’s got this whole other life we don’t know about,” he said, making Sam snort.

Cas approached their table with his plate holding a single toast with peanut butter and jelly on top. He sat down, with a smile on his face that was like a deceitful image of innocence, “Morning, Sam.”

Dean moved his dirty stuff to make space for him, “Where did you go? I turned one second and you disappeared.”

“I was saying goodbye to Lindsay.”

“Who the hell is Lindsay?”

“The woman who works the night shift at the reception,” he said, like it was obvious.

Dean glanced at Sam who was looking between them trying to hold in a laugh, “See what I mean?”

“Yeah, I see,” Sam said, but his tone was thoughtful rather than playful. He pressed his lips together, and patted Dean's shoulder as he stood up with his mug, “I see," he repeated somewhat solemnly.

Dean was confused. He followed Sam's back as he went to get his coffee refill and not for the first time in the past three hours he asked himself if he’d said something weird.

“Everything's alright?” Cas’ voice called him back to the table.

Dean met his eyes, then returned his gaze on Sam, who was watching them from the distance, and then back on Cas’ expectant face.

He decided to stop asking himself questions.

“Yeah. Everything is alright.”

this was written for last year's event #deancassummerprompts21 organized by the lovely now deactivated bend-me-shape-me

there is a sequel! it takes place in the same universe many years after this (no real references to the holiday except for a little mention) but if you'd like to know what happens to dean and cas in the future there's your answer. <3 thank you for making it this far!

[officialscaramouche]

ayo feel like doing a gorou confession fic for me? pretty please with sprinkles on top (you know that fucking tiktok)

Ofc Pizzato anything for u my dear 🥰

Pairing: Gorou x gn!reader

Warnings: slight angst

Word count: 1,969

You heard a couple friendly knocks on your office door, eyes glancing to the clock to see it was a little past noon and you knew exactly who it was. “Come in,” you chime, putting down your pen and stretching upwards with a smile.

“Helloooooo!” You hear as the door swung open, Kazuha flaunting an envelope between his fingers. “Letter time!”

You sweep to your feet and give him grabby hands. “Give it to me!” He chuckles and places the thin paper into your hands. “Tell me who it is already,” you giggle as you rip it open and slide the letter out.

“No,” he sighs, rolling his eyes. “I keep my promises.”

You quirk and eyebrow before you fold open the letter. “Even if I bribe you with dango?”

Kazuha smiles. “Even if you bribe me with dango.”

You grunt and groan but it quickly stops when you unfold the letter, reading the contents.

Good afternoon, cupcake, it starts. You blush at the pet name. I hope your day is going as well as mine. I’ve just won the office lottery! I’m going to ask for more snacks in the break room. That way, everyone benefits too! Specifically though, I want more sakura mochi! The ones you made for us were delicious. Share your recipe? :3

I adore you, your secret admirer.

You squeeze the letter to your chest and squeal, your face warm from blushing and your heart pounding against your chest. “Oh, Kazuha, whoever this person is, I really wish they’d come up and confess!”

Kazuha tuts and wiggles his finger. “But then the mystery wouldn’t be there anymore.”

“Screw mystery!” You squealed, gazing down at the illegible and scratchy handwriting, the mysterious stains and fur all over the page. “I’m ready to hear these words in person.”

Just then there was a knock on your door and a quick turn of the knob, one of the top brass leaning against your door frame. “Good morning, Chatty Cathy’s,” sang a familiar voice and ear twitches.

You wave while Kazuha bows, hiding the letter behind your back. “Good morning, General Gorou.”

The tail behind his back wagged discreetly as the two men share a knowing glance. “Kazuha,” the general clears his throat. “May I speak with you?”

The samurai nods his head and gives you a little wave as he walks out the door. “Bye boys!” You sing, tucking the letter back into the envelope and putting it away.

The next day, as routine, a little past noon you heard three friendly knocks on your door. You excitedly put your pen down, closing your ledger and standing out of your chair and onto your feet. “Kazuha,” you grinned. “Come in!”

He pushed the door open with his back, lugging a big box with some plastic sticking out from the top. “I’m just a mule to you guys aren’t I?” He groaned, lifting the box up and onto your desk. “This is ridiculous.”

You stood on your tippy toes to try and peek inside the box without being obnoxious. “What is it?” You hum, getting more and more restless.

“Your letter, what else?” He kind of snapped, letting out a deep sigh and rolling his eyes. “I wish he’d confess too. That way I don’t have to carry these things.”

You pulled back the top of the box that was just out of your reach. “Here,” pushing your hands away, Kazuha tore the box apart to expose a giant basket full of goodies and flowers. “The letter.”

Kazuha snapped the taped-on letter from the plastic and handed it to you. Wasting no time at all, you rip the envelope open and unfold the letter.

Dearest [Y/N], you’ve pierced my heart like an arrow through a target and I simply cannot get you off my mind. I heard from the grapevine that you wish for my confession. …Maybe I shall do so in the near future? It’s not that I do not want to be yours, but rather that you make me quite nervous. Still, we see each other for terribly brief moments but these moments are the most precious to me. Hopefully I can muster up the courage to finally tell you how I feel. In the meantime, please accept these treats and toys imported from across the globe. My favorite are the dog-shaped biscuits.

Your shy admirer.

Looking up from the letter you find Kazuha stuffing his face with some chocolatey cookies from within a tin box labeled ‘Fontaine.’ “Are those good?” You ask, reaching in and stealing one.

“Mhm,” Kazuha hums, taking a bite out of the one in his hand. “I’ve never had Fontaine chocolate. I guess the rumors about being the best were true.”

You melt under the sweet taste and crunchy texture, thinking that if your crush’s letters had a taste, it would be like this. “This is so nice,” you sigh, eyes sparkling as they gaze upon the basket. “Do you think he’s going to confess to me?”

Kazuha stares out the windows of your office that peer into the rest of the building, watching a certain general spill water on himself and the resistance leader. He takes another bite of a cookie. “Maybe.”

You squeal in delight and spin around in joy. “My heart’s beating so fast! I hope he does it soon or I’ll explode!”

Kazuha chuckles and playfully shoves you aside. “If you explode, I’m eating all of your snacks.”

“No! They’re mine!”

Weeks— almost a month— go by with no further letters. Kazuha stopped coming by, whether at noon or otherwise. The only knocks you got were visits from Kokomi about the budget or from other soldiers carrying reports and receipts from spending. Your heart ached at the sudden lack of contact, wondering if you had done or said something wrong.

Maybe your eagerness was intimidating and this mystery man just wanted someone to flirt with without commitment. Maybe he got bored of you. Maybe he didn’t want to talk to you anymore.

Regardless, you wanted to try and spark it back up in case you’ve stepped on some toes without realizing. That night when you got home, you tossed the ingredients for sakura mochi into a bowl and got to mixing.

The office ate everything you brought before lunchtime rolled around. With such great success, you had confidence that he’d reach out to you tomorrow, if not today.

But alas you were left in silence once more, leaving your heart to crumble and ache. You were quick to recover, considering you never met the guy— let alone knew his name. But you had no time to be worrying anyway, because in a couple of days one of the squads were returning from the front lines and you needed to factor in medical costs. Apparently they took a hard hit when Sara Kujou showed up with her samurai. Kokomi was depending on you, and you didn’t want to let her down.

You spend these few days really crunching the numbers, making sure that every wounded soldier would get the basic medical necessities with some left over for any miscalculations. With every i dotted and every t crossed, you stuffed your report into a fancy envelope and handed it to Kokomi. “Thank you [Y/N] for your hard work under such a sudden timetable.” She thanked, tucking the envelope under her arm. “The team should be arriving tomorrow, so I will be submitting this for review immediately.”

You bow respectfully and offer your thanks for praise. “It’s no problem at all, Her Excellency. I was given ample time to prepare the balance sheet.” You begin to turn when you’re stopped once again by her.

“Before you go,” she smiles softly. “Would you mind helping out at the infirmary? We’re short handed right now with the sudden intake of Delusions.”

“Of course, Her Excellency. I will be there whenever you need me.”

You weren’t specialized in medics but you had helped around often enough to know the basics. And anyone could become a master at immediate medical attention after doing it so many times.

The flood of gurneys was a little disheartening to see, but you were still thankful for all that they do for the greater of the country. It must be scary being at the front lines, but everyone knew what they were signing up for.

You catch sight of Genera Gorou and Lord Kazuha chatting with Lady Kokomi before you were assigned to a batch of wounded soldiers, feeling a little bad for harboring ill feelings toward the young lord for disappearing. ‘You could’ve at least told me that you were leaving,’ you thought as you rinsed the injured area.

“I can take over from here,” the head medic stepped in, slipping on a new pair of gloves before getting a closer look at the soldier before you. With most of everyone patched up and recovering, the medic team was able to take control of the infirmary once again.

You wash your hands and check the clock. A little past noon. It’s funny how at this time you would’ve waited with bated breath for a couple of knocks. But not anymore.

You step out of the infirmary and find Kazuha and General Gorou sitting outside on the benches there. “Oh, hi boys,” you say surprised.

Kazuha grabs and shakes your hand. “Thank you for helping out our soldiers,” he says seriously.

“Oh, it’s not that big of a deal,” you mutter. “I do this all the time.”

A calloused hand pushes Kazuha’s away and shakes your hand firmer, harder. “No, [Y/N],” Gorou says with a sort of oomph behind his words. “These are my men…my family. They would be suffering if not for your help.”

You look to the side uncomfortably, a little put-off by the tension in the air. “And that’s why—!” Gorou continues, suddenly eight decibels louder. You hold eye contact with the general, his face darkening into a deep red flush, his eyes glassy and ears twitching. He squeezed your hand harder and shut his eyes. “M-My C-C-Cupcake!!! P-Please let m-me take you on a date!!!!”

Kazuha winced at the loudness of his friend, covering one of his ears but still smiling nonetheless. The people walking by stared and mumbled, but it didn’t matter as you felt your heart pound against your chest. You felt your eyes well with tears as now your face flushed red, the general cautiously opening his eyes to see your trembling lips and pathetic pout. “A-Ah! [Y/N], don’t cry!!”

You tug on his hand hard, pulling the man into your arms and squeezing him tight. You sobbed into his chest, hearing and feeling how frantic his heart was beating as well. “You idiot!” You shout into his battle-worn chest. “Don’t disappear without telling me…”

Gorou caressed the back of your head and chewed on his lip, his tail drooping with guilt but twitching with excitement for being in your arms. “Did I…scare you?” He whispered tentatively, choosing his words carefully.

You pull away and wipe your eyes, Gorou watching you closely and holding tightly onto your waist. “I thought you got tired of me…because I stopped hearing from you.” Gorou frowned and cupped your face, thumbing your cheeks gently. “I even made sakura mochi and I didn’t—”

“You made sakura mochi??!??!!! Is there any left?!?” Gorou’s jaw dropped. He let you go to turn and run to the break room, halting before running back to embrace you once more. “Heh, uh…” he chuckled nervously. “I’d actually…rather hold you like this…”

You couldn’t fight the smile that spread across your cheeks, flushing your body against his chest. “That’s okay,” you giggle. “There aren’t any left.”

You had no idea that his ears could flatten sadly like that.

[bibbykins]

Rocking Chairs and Rocking Cars

A/N: No full blown smut here, but ofc horny thoughts remain! I should be posting the aftermath texts and what not soon, but I hope you enjoy this in the mean time! It’s a bit rushed, but I hope that doesn’t ruin the experience for you! As always, tips are appreciated since I am saving up to buy a house with my gf, but ofc tips are not required! Hope you all have a great day/night!

Note: This is a drabble for The Household’s Bunny Series

Pairing: Soft Yandere! Jungkook x Chubby! Reader x Soft Yandere! Hoseok

Word Count: 5k

Warnings: 18+, crying, lonliness, body image issues, unhealthy workout habits, abandonment, allusions to body dysmorphia, mommy issues, grinding, lustful thoughts, mentions of cumming, mentions of erections, pussy cupping (?), not rlly yandere although this is kinda a soft yandere series, obsessive behaviors, low self esteem, horrible communication, mentions of anxiety, mentions of car shaking

The house was quiet, and somehow knowing that no one else was home made your floor feel that much more empty. Granted, none of the guys came up all that often. Ever the gentlemen, they actively tried not to intrude on your space. Although, you really wish they did on days like these. It was 10am on a Saturday morning, although the lack of natural light could fool anyone otherwise. The clouds were heavy in the sky, cradling the sunlight in a thick blanket of grey, squeezing themselves for all the water they have. The rain tapped on your window, almost mocking you, reminding you that water was the only company you had.

You debated texting to ask if anyone wanted to come home and have a movie night, or build a fort, or just simply sit next to you, but decided you would just be bothering them. You had that very intimate moment with Jin and Yoongi, and they had remained sweet with you, but you weren’t able to be intimate with them again yet. They had been busy and you had been deprived of the very addicting affection. You’re sure they would come to you if asked, but you didn’t want to be clingy. The last thing you wanted to do was annoy them by following them around like a puppy just because they made you cum. They hadn’t explicitly stated they liked you as anything more than a friend, and you never wanted to go through the embarrassment of assuming such a thing again.

With college almost done, you had nothing to distract you from the looming loneliness you feel sometimes, and it was exhausting. You grew up by yourself, and you swore that would change when you were older. You were determined to be surrounded by people who loved you as much as you loved them, and yet, here you were. You were laying on a couch, watching the rain fall, all by yourself in a 10 floor renovated motel, reaping the consequences of high hopes and naivety your child self didn’t understand. You were never good at making friends, not that your plump figure helped you with your social drawbacks either. Although you made peace with your lack of charisma in person and have made strides to loving your body, the loneliness never subsided for long. 

There were few things you loved more than talking to people and having them listen to you and vice versa, and yet it rarely happened. Maybe you had been spoiled by your seven housemates, so it was making this bout of loneliness that much worse. Since moving in, there was almost always someone home making noise or even talking to you. However, they all told you summer was their busy season, and boy, they weren’t kidding. You had caught mere glimpses of the boys this week, only communicating via text and post it notes. 

You pressed your eyes closed for a moment as you listened to the rain. You thought of your mom. Her cheeks were chubby like yours and you remember her crying when she figured your metabolism was the same as hers, and you couldn’t understand why she hated herself so much that she wanted you to be nothing like her. Your mother had always been beautiful in your opinion, and it was a shame she never saw herself, or you, in that way. You thought about forcing yourself to go to the gym with her for hours on end, just to be able to be next to her. You had always been desperate for her company, desperate to be liked by her. Part of you regrets putting your body through that, but then a part of you is happy you were able to spend time with her until she left. 

Ah, yes, the day she left. That’s exactly what you should be thinking about right now, on a rainy day, all by yourself. You cringed when you felt a tear get a little too close to your ear, wiping it away. You were shocked when you felt even more in its wake. You always felt really silly when you cried, but you figured you might as well let it happen if you're gonna be home alone on a rainy day, thinking of all the ways people avoided spending time with you while you tried even harder to spend time with them. Who's next? Jungyoon? The uncle who took you in just to admit drunkenly how much the sight of you upsets him three hours into your 17th birthday. Your dad? No. That's not wise.

You sighed. Maybe if you had learned better social cues when you were younger, you wouldn't be a college graduate with no friends to talk to.

It didn't take long for you to break into full on sobs. You stuck somewhere between angry at the people who didn't want to be with you and sad that they didn't want to. Childishly, you deemed it wasn't fair and all you could do was cry. You hadn't had a day like this in a while, but holy shit did it suck each time.

Eventually, you ceased your tears and were left a red and puffy mess, so you decided to go to the kitchen to depuff your face with some ice. Then the rest of your day could only go up from here. You had your cry, and even though the elevator was going down, your day would only go-

OH NO WHY IS IT STOPPING AT FLOOR 5?!

You couldn't even think of who it could be as you looked in the mirror at the corner of the elevator and wished to evaporate. You had obviously been crying, terribly. Nevermind you were in a cropped long sleeve, short shorts, and thigh highs, your eyes were red and a little puffy, your cheeks were clearly tear stained, and even your lips were swollen. You couldn't, "oh, it's allergies." Your way out of this one.

"I didn't know you were home, Hobi." You murmured.

"Yeah, I just popped in real quick to grab something before I go back to…" Hoseok's smile dropped the instant he saw your face. You didn't even have the chance to look away, but you tried to anyway. He gently gripped your chin, guiding your eyes to meet his, "Bunny, is everything okay?" 

You pressed your lips together before nodding, "Yeah, it's just…" You glanced at his face, surprised to see him clinging onto your every word, "Sometimes, I get lonely." You shrugged as his eyes widened, "I get to thinking about my mom and…" You made vague hand movements as you shrugged.

He thought for a moment, “Even though we all kind of grew up together, we never really treated each other like more than roommates, but you’re here now.” He pulled you into a tight hug and you gasped before relaxing into his embrace. You closed your eyes for a moment as you held him close to you, "We've all been really busy, I didn't even consider how lonely you would feel." He lamented and you shook your head.

"I'm a big girl, I can be alone." Your words were muffled in his shirt, "It's just a little crying-"

"But you don't have to be alone anymore, and I don't want you to cry, none of us do." He placed a chaste kiss on your forehead, "Thinking about my mom used to really ruin my day, doesn't now, so don't worry, but that took time." You nodded, feeling tears creep in again.

"Thank you." You hummed as he pulled back, "Sorry to-"

He shushed you, putting his finger on your lips, shaking his head at your apology.He leaned his forehead on yours, making your breath hitch, "Do you want to go with me?"  He asked softly.

You blinked in confusion, "With you, where?"

His grin only widened and you looked to him skeptically, “Do you trust me?” He asked all too innocently and you nodded, “Then, do you want to go with me?” He asked again as he placed purple-tinted sunglasses on his face.

“I suppose…” You studied his smug face, “Let me go change-” You went to press the next floor so you could get off but were stopped with a soft grip from Hoseok.

“I’m in a bit of a rush, and you look great.” He smiled as the elevator reached the entrance.

You wanted to protest, but you let it be. Surely you would not stick out in the slightly scandalous outfit you were in.Truthfully, it was your body that seemed to make it scandalous to other people. Although, if you had a skirt on, it would just be a typical outfit for you, so maybe it wasn’t so weird? These thoughts ran through your mind as you slipped on some shoes and went into Hoseok’s very nice car. 

So are you gonna tell me where we’re going or…?” You asked as the renowned hair stylist drove with a smirk in response to your question, “Okay Mr. Mysterious, can I ask questions about it until we get there?” You asked cheekily.

He chuckled, “Of course, you can do whatever you want, baby.” His voice was silky smooth and the nickname shot straight to your nether regions and you scolded yourself for it.

“Are we going to a job of yours or am I just running errands with you?” You looked at his unwavering smile as you asked.

“A job, but the client will not mind if you’re there, before you ask.” He stole your next question by answering it smugly. You pursed your lips as you studied him. He was in a lavender dress shirt with the top two buttons undone and sleek navy blue slacks, all of which complimented his black hair. 

You, on the other hand, wore a baby pink turtleneck with the hem ending just barely above your matching form-fitting high-waisted fabric shorts, showing just a sliver of your stomach skin while a lot of your thigh skin was on display with white over-the knee socks. You had taken scandalous photos for your OnlyFans, and if you lifted your arms all the way up, a lacy bralette would greet the outside world. You were just feeling a bit self conscious considering the well dressed man in the car next to you. Sure, you looked cute, but was this level cute appropriate for his job? You didn’t want to make a bad impression and have that effect Hoseok.

“And here we are.” He sang and you snapped back to reality as he parked behind a building that had no defining qualities from the back. The ride went by in a flash and you pouted a bit at not even asking another question.

Ever the gentleman, he opened the door for you as he led you inside with him. The hallways were crowded with people running around like chickens with their heads cut off. Judging by the bits of chatter you could pick up as you scurried behind Hoseok, this was a photography studio and a high-level star was having a photoshoot.

“Oh thank goodness you’re here!” A man that seemed to be in his late 30s sighed in relief when he saw Hoseok, “He is in the worst mood today, and I’m so frightened-who is that?” The man’s wild eyes fixated on you for the briefest of moments and he realized your puffy features and shook his head, “Whatever, just go in there and calm him-”

“This is our housemate, y/n, and the shoot isn’t for another 30 minutes and he just needs hair, right?” Hoseok spoke calmly in spite of the chaos surrounding the both of you as the man nodded, “Great, I just need to touch him up and we’ll calm him down in time to take some good photos.” The man nodded tiredly, “Is the dressing room empty now?”

“Yeah, he kicked everyone out so he could calm down, but that never works.” The man cried out helplessly, “Why is he so frightening?!” Hoseok simply patted the man before navigating the hallways. Frightening? The man shivering looked quite burly and tall, who could be scaring him so much?

The “we’ll” made you nervous, but you held Hoseok’s hand so you wouldn’t get lost until he pushed through a dressing room door, “Hobi’s here.” He chimed and you heard a man behind a partition grunt. You looked around the spacious room to see a comfy looking green L couch along with a wooden rocking chair, which you thought was interesting. Beyond that, there was the typically lavish amount of mirrors and counter space, “I also brought a surprise!” Hoseok sang and you were ripped from your observations.

“It better not be anything dumb-” Jungkook’s voice died on the impact that was emerging from the partition and seeing you. Hise eyes studied your body, namely the slight squish of skin between your socks and shorts, which made his pants feel a bit tight, “Y/n, what…”His voice trailed off when he noticed you had definitely been crying, and not long ago. Right as he was going to accuse Hoseok, he saw you let go of his hand and give him a smile, figuring it wasn’t him that made you upset.

Your eyes brightened when you saw a familiar face, “Oh hi, Kook!” You beamed, “I didn’t realize Hoseok was taking me with him to see you, how nice!” You cheered, “I’ll be out of your way while you work, though!” You went to go sit on the couch as Jungkook nodded, robotically making his way to the chair in front of the mirror. He wore a silky black shirt with a harness around his waist and black slacks with razor thin pinstripes and black dress shoes. His hair was styled mostly to perfection, making you wonder what more there was to do. Alas, you weren’t the professional.

Hoseok looked to the younger man with a smug smile, “Just some last touches need to be done and then you can calm your nerves a bit with our little bunny.” He chided and Jungkook scoffed.

It took no more than five minutes for Hoseok to style the star’s hair into further perfection, “Wow, you look super handsome, Kook!” You cheered, earning a small smile from the man in question.

Hoseo chuckled, “He does indeed.” He cooed, making the younger man scowl, “Now, you have some time to zen out with bunny, use it wisely. I’ll come get you when it’s time.” He patted Jungkook before giving you a wink and exiting the room.

“You having a bad day-”

‘Were you crying?” His voice sliced through yours and you’re taken aback for a moment. With no response, he stood, making his way over to you. He towered over you before leaning down to grip your chin lightly, “Were you?” A hint of worry flashes across his eyes, and you wondered if you were just seeing things.

“Yeah… I was just feeling lonely.” You speak honestly, shrugging, “It’s not a big deal-”

“Why didn’t you call me-or anyone?” He asked, voice rushed as his eyes searched your face for an answer. It’s like an interrogation that you don’t have comprehensive answers for, so you shrug.

“Everyone was busy.” You murmur, “I only cried because I thought about my mom and stuff, it’s okay.” You avoided eye contact with him as you said this, feeling out of your element talking about your mom. This made his mouth part, but he haid no words. He understood what you meant, and that made it all the more harder to comfort you.

Jungkook sighed at how you’ve shrunk under his barrage of questions and sinks down to his knees, his hands going to your waist, stroking the sliver of exposed skin, “Nobody was mean to you, right? You didn’t cry because anyone bothered you?” You smiled at his tenderness before nodding.

You watched his face, studying the cleverly concealed dark circles under his eyes and gave him a sad smile, “Are you having a bad day too, Kook?” You asked softly and he sighed, like he was letting himself relax for the first time before nodding, “I see..” You thought for a moment, unsure how to make him feel better until you remembered, “Did you want to touch my thighs?” You said the first thing that came to mind and before you could be embarrassed, he nodded, "Okay, how do you want me?"

What a question, Jungkook thought, smiling tiredly, "Sit in my lap?" He looked up at you hopefully and you nodded.

"I won't be too heavy or anyth-woah!" You gasped when he lifted you, legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you to the rocking chair, sitting you both down, "I stand corrected." You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck while his hands placed themselves on your thighs.

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling your thighs in his hands, rocking you both back and forth. In every dressing room, he required a rocking chair, in case he needed to calm down. He debuted at the ripe age of 15 and with no guardian until 17, he was prone to panic attacks. The company sent him to therapy and the rocking chair was introduced. He never let anyone touch the chair, but he couldn't deny how nice it was having you in his arms, cradling his head into your bosom. 

“I like the rocking chair, very calming.” You mused, as if reading his mind and he offered a tired hum in agreement.

The day had truly been terrible. Stage after stage, minimal hours of sleep, and stupid people asking the same stupid question. And yet, here you were, hands stroking the skin on his neck as he lost himself in your form. Your thighs were softer than he anticipated, and he felt himself let out an exhausted sigh, finally relaxing into you.

"You haven't been home a lot, so I get why you're so stressed." You mused into his hair, "But you should go a bit easy on the staff, I just saw a buff thirty-something year old near tears when we came in." You giggled and Jungkook couldn't help but laugh a bit.

"Sungmin is my manager, he can take it." He felt blissful for the first time in a while as he rocked you both back and forth, his thumbs stroking the supple skin of your thighs.

"Still, maybe if people aren't so stressed around you, it might ease your stress." You chided softly, pressing a chaste kiss to his head.

The affection made his eyes flutter closed and he hummed, "We'll see, but don't hold your breath." He joked.

You had never felt Jungkook so calm before. Usually he has something snarky or detached to say. Some kind of non committal or indifferent comment, but he was too exhausted to do even that. You smiled softly at the cozyoment and the affection. It was hard to realize how touch starved you were, dreading when you would have to get up.

Youboth rocked back and forth for an indeterminate amount of time, too wrapped up in the calmness of each other’s presence to say much at all.

Finally, you spoke up a bit, "This is making me feel better. I like the closeness a lot." You hummed softly, "I remember when I was in some club in highschool, we were taking photos with girls on the guys's backs and all the guys scrambled to not have to give me a piggyback ride, so I just stood on my own." You did a short laugh. Jungkook fumed at the idea of stupid people making you feel like anything less than perfect, but you continued, "And now I'm in the lap of a pop star, it's a little funny." Now he felt smug, giving your thigh a small squeeze.

"Sounds like you had some weak ass guys in your highschool club." He snorted, leaning his head up as you settled down onto his lap further, now looking eye to eye with your torsos farther apart, his feet planted firmly on the floor to keep the rocking chair still, "I'll deny I was ever this nice, but," He studies your face for a moment, "You're so beautiful." He sighs out and he watched your face light up, and feels what that does to him, scaring the fuck out of him.

You couldn't find words except, "Can I kiss you?" You breathe and he nods with hooded eyes, and before you knew it, you were surging forward to press his mouth to yours. The kiss was fierce, but he responded to it at the speed of light. His mouth moved in sync with yours before taking control of the kiss, moving closer as he stilled the chair. Your hands were shyly clutching his shoulders, careful not to mess up his hair. One hand traveled to your hip as the other massaged your thigh deeply, thumb inching its way to the inner part. Your tongues intertwine and you gasp needily when he's a mere centimeter from where you want him most. You damn near whine when his hand stops inching closer to your core making him grunt.

Jungkook nearly lost his mind when he feels your nails dig into his shoulder and your hips wiggle in the slightest. He wanted to tell you to just mess up his hair, fuck everything else, and just let him make you cum in his lap. He wants to feel what he’s doing to you, uninhibited. His hand cups your sex and you groan into his mouth. He smirks at how warm it is, how wet you must be from a little bit of kissing, and how wet you will-

KNOCK, KNOCK

You jump, effectively falling off of the chair, and onto the floor just as Hoseok walks in, "Hey Jungkookie, it is time to- Bunny?!" Before Jungkook can even reach out his hand, the older man is helping you up.

"I'm alright, just clumsy." You chuckle awkwardly, before turning to the celebrity, thanking the stars his makeup and hair aren't messed up, "Well, have a good photoshoot!" You beamed, "Let's go get some lunch, Hobi." You spoke rushedly as you took the man's hand, dragging him along.

"Oh, uh, bye!" Hoseok hollers to the dumbfounded Jungkook as he watched the dressing room door close, leaving him winded with a boner.

When you get in the car, your eyes are like saucers and Hoseok can't help his curiousity as he turns on the car. However he doesn’t push until you both are a little closer to home, but before he can even ask you grab his leg and stare at him with panicked eyes, "Fuckfuckfuckfuckwhatthefuckdid- AHHH!" You let out the quietest scream, before looking at him, "How do I go about life this stupid?" You seem to be genuinely asking and yet again, before he can ask, "I kissed Kook and I let him hold my pussy for a moment." You blurt out and Hoseok blinks for a moment. You look to him, waiting for him to freak out but he just shrugs.

"Well color me a bit envious." He muses, before tilting his head in confusion, “When you say he held you pussy-"

“He cupped it and I was gonna let him go further had you not walked in.” You looked to the man as he saw home in sight.

“Ah, I see.” He nods thoughtfully, “So were we wanting to pick something up for lunch or just order delivery, we could cook…?”  

You gaped at him, "Are you not gonna tell me how dumb that was?!" Hoseok shakes his head, "He probably hates me now!" You whined.

Hoseok sighs, "I promise, he doesn't." He reassured you, "Did he… kiss back?" He asks curiously.

"Yes, but I'm not sure what he meant by it." You murmured, "I’m really bad at gathering those kinds of clues. I kissed him because he called me beautiful and I didn't know how to respond and I-"

"You're beautiful." Hoseok interjects, "My turn, my turn!" He parks the car at the house, turning to you with a grin.

"Wait, that's it!" You point to him, "You can tell me what kind of kiss that was." You beamed and he looked at you quizzically, "So kiss me and I'll show you how Kook kissed back so I can understand!" 

Hoseok could not believe his ears. Had people played with your head before? Did you seriously not understand that kissing back meant that they were attracted to you, at the very least. Not wanting to take advantage of you he asked, "Are you sure? You can just describe it to me-"

You nodded, "I don’t want to misrepresent it with my words but I need to know what it meant, but if you feel weird about kissing me I get it-"

Hoseok was watching the chance slip away, so he pressed forward, placing his mouth on yours and groaned when you responded with a force, hand going to his thigh to try and mimic Jungkook's movement. Your tongue finds his way into your mouth and he can’t resist the opportunity to feel your tongue against his. His hand goes to the back of your neck to press his mouth into yours deeper. It was in no time you both forgot what you should be doing.

All you could focus on was how good the affection felt. How nice it was to have someone’s mouth on yours just as needily. You were used to sex and affection being out of convience. You were used to people seeing you willing and figuring, “Why not?” But Hoseok and Jungkook had kissed you with a certain force you had never known. Where Yoongi and JIn were soft, sweet,and comforting, they were urgent, needy, but rough.

Hoseok’s arms wrap around you, bring you into his lap and you feel his growing length beneath you. Against better judgement, you grind down, causing the both of you to gasp, “Fuck, baby.” He groans, gripping you to him harder. His leans down to kiss your jaw and reach your neck, making you press yourself further onto him with a choked moan when you feel him guide you hips as you set a steady pace grinding into him. You groan at the sensuality of hearing his voice riddled with lust and making the windows steamy and the expensive car rock.

“Hobi,” You moan out as he sucks a particular spot on your neck, “Feels good.” You whined, grinding yourself more desperately.

“It does, bunny?” He cooed into your neck, trying to shield his own rising arousal as you  grind onto it desperately. You nodded with a moan and found yourself wishing he would just strip you of your clothes and take you. You would love nothing more than to feel his hands around your neck as he pounded into you, your hips working as wildly as they were then with his hands on them, threatening to limit you, edging you closer, and closer, and-

HONK

You both jumped, not able to go far in the driver’s seat on top of Hoseok after accidentally honking his car horn. You take a moment to look at the position your in and clasp your hand over your mouth, "I did it again!" You whined, muffled by your palm, "What's wrong with me, I get I'm horny but AH!" You groaned from frustration, both sexually and emotionally. 

"Calm down, it's better than okay." The man beneath you strokes your hip soothingly, "I enjoyed it, and if Kook did any of that, he did too." He reassures you, "It's just some consensual kissing, we're all adults, it's okay."

You frown, "But you guys don't need me throwing myself onto you, that's not fair to you." It’s made people recoil from you, you want to say. You don’t want them to recoil from you, you couldn’t take it.

"Arguably, I do need you, in particular, throwing yourself onto me." Hoseok quipped and you rolled your eyes.

"Ha, Ha, very funny, but come on." You deadpan and it only makes him more confused. You don't know how to explain that the odds of a guy like him, or any of them, wanting you, specifically, and not just wanting affection are slim to none in your eyes, judging from past experience alone.

"What?" He asks and you shake your head.

"Ah, forget it." You shrug, "Nothing to fuss about, but sorry I nearly came in your lap-"

"Please do not apologize for something I wanted, almost happening." He groaned and you chuckled, shaking your head, genuinely not believing him, “In fact, I invite you to please hop back on.” He chuckled a bit, so you figured it was a joke. Surely he would be joking about wanting you sexually. 

"You're a funny guy, Hobi." You open the door and hop out, "Well I'm gonna go masturbate or something, and then maybe we can regroup for some lunch when I'm done?" You glance up at the flabbergasted man who nods numbly, too perplexed to even offer his services, "Okay, well thank you for the kiss and what not, the affection is always welcome!" You chirped, "I can give you kisses on the lips more often if you want like I do with Jin and Yoongi?" He nods again and you smile. You give him a chaste kiss on the lips before heading inside.

Hoseok blew out a breath as he sat in his car with a hard on. So the issue wasn't you not being attracted to them. The issue was you not believing they would be attracted to you. Somehow, that was harder for him to dissect, unsure how to prove that he would give you the world if you just mentioned an interest in having it. Not just him, but six other men. To you, kissing or sexual acts wasn't proof that he was attracted to you for being you instead of just another body. They all had to somehow prove you weren't being kissed because of convenience, but desire. All of them were too emotionally stunted up until now to already know how. Yoongi was right, this would be a lot of work. Work they all were willing to do.

Tip Jar

[kumzume]

desperate ft. kozume kenma

warnings. SMUT, exhibitionsm, voyuerism, handjob, slight slight slight humiliation if you squint really hard, also kuroo x kenma if you squint + kuroo x you too ;)

an. wrote this in 3 hours and have no idea how long it is LMAO, not proofread, fueled solely by my whorekneeness :D

♡´･ᴗ･`♡

kenma would rather be anywhere but here.

the loud noise of the bass gave him a headache and the numerous people filling the small living room made his skin crawl. the warm beer he’d been steadily nursing didn’t even help distract him from the spring poking through the shitty couch cushion, leaving a small ache in his butt.

as he glanced around the room searching for something to take his mind off of the hell that was this college house party, his mind wandered back to the question that had been in plaguing his mind the entire night: why the hell am i here?

just then, his eye caught on something—rather someone—and he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

oh yeah. it was you.

you were standing in the kitchen speaking to kuroo while grabbing a drink of your own, your short skirt riding up as you laughed at something stupid kuroo said. kenma felt his cheeks heat up, his eyes darting down to his lap as if he wasn’t allowed to stare at his (Gorgeous™) girlfriend.

his cock was already growing in his sweats, one of his hands going to cover it. he wanted to whine for you to come over and take him home so you could fuck him senseless but he knew you were having fun. you’d leave the party with him in a heartbeat but you’d been looking forward to this party for weeks and he didn’t want to ruin it for you.

so, kenma grabbed a musty couch pillow that was stained with something mysterious (was it cum? or blood? he really didn’t want to find out) to cover up his little...problem.

it wasn’t long before you made your way back over to your boyfriend, feeling a little guilty for leaving him alone for too long in an uncomfortable environment. you realized he had problems with big crowds so you were willing to say goodbye to the last of your friends and then leave to cuddle with kenma at home.

as you approached the couch where he sat, you couldn’t help but notice the strategically placed pillow on his lap, his pink cheeks, and teeth digging into his plush bottom lip. a smirk appeared on your face, your years of dating him preparing you to notice that that wasn’t an uncomfortable kenma face—it was a horny kenma face.

“hey baby, are you alright?” you asked, sliding into the empty space next to him on the couch. kenma felt his body immediately seek yours, one of his legs spreading to get in contact with your thigh. of course you noticed this and swiftly decided to do something about it.

you took one of your arms and wrapped it around kenma’s thin waist, pulling him nearly into your lap. a small gasp escaped his lips at the gesture, his head ducking to hide in your neck to cover his burning cheeks.

“baby, tell me what’s wrong, hm?” kenma shook his head at your question, his blond tipped strands ticking the side of your face. you sighed in disappointment while allowing one of your hands to trail down to his lap, gently caressing his thigh before pulling the pillow off of his crotch.

kenma moaned softly into his place in the crook of your neck as your hand palmed his rock hard length through the thin cotton fabric. “oh baby... is this the problem? are you horny, is that it?” your tone, while mocking, is sweet and kenma nodded his head quickly without thinking.

you lifted his face from against your skin to look at him and the sight that greeted you had a gentle sigh leaving your chest. kenma’s cheeks had become bright red from your ministrations and his bright golden eyes gazed on you with adoration and lust pooling in the centers. your smaller hand caressed his jaw before pulling him down for a passionate kiss.

the minute your lips met his, a sharp whine left his mouth, his hands coming up to the back of your head to press you both closer together. your own hand tangled itself in his long hair while your tongue forced its way past his lips.

“oh, are we getting a show?” kuroo exclaimed while coming to sit on the chair across from the couch where you were sat, causing you to hesitantly pull yourself from your boyfriend’s soft lips. you didn’t miss the way kenma followed you or the whimper that escaped him when he did and you doubt kuroo did either.

after sending a placating look kenma’s way, you turned towards kuroo with a roll of your eyes. “i’m sure you’d like that too, pervert. you wanna see me jerk kenma off in the middle of this party?” you replied, only half joking but the way kuroo’s eyes darkened at your statement and kenma’s hips rolled into yours told you something different.

“baby? can you look at me?” you lifted your sweet boyfriend’s face back up so that his eyes would meet yours and all you saw in them was want and desire. still, you believed consent was sexy and you needed his expressly for what you wanted to try out. “are you okay with that kenma? do you want your best friend to watch while i jerk you off in this room full of people?” he nodded heavily, his hips rolling into your hips with more ferocity while a moan of your name left his lips.

your pussy clenched under your skirt at the noise as a wave of slick stained your panties. you were really going to do this. holy shit, okay. after taking a deep breath, you readjusted kenma on your lap so that he was seated in between your legs with his back against your chest. your hand moved down to play with hem of his sweats, a wet stain starting to show where he soaked through his boxers. a glance across the room showed kuroo leaning back into his chair, a noticeable bulge showing through his jeans.

you brushed kenma’s hair over his shoulder before whispering once more in his ear. “are you sure you want to do this? you can say no and we can both go home right now, ok?” as a response, kenma grabbed the hand that was messing with his sweatpants and placed it right over his hardened cock, his hips bucking up into your touch.

“please,” his voice coming out so quiet, you could hardly hear him. “just touch me.” and who were you to deny a sweet request such as that?

kenma’s grip lessened on your wrist, allowing you to room to reach into his sweatpants and pull his dick out, it smacking against his stomach where you’d pulled up his hoodie slightly. his head automatically tilted back to rest on your shoulder but his eyes never left his best friend who had a hand resting on his crotch but left it unmoving.

a quick look around the room showed a couple of interested people, whispering at the sight of kenma writhing in your lap. largely though, the partygoers were unbothered or not paying the slightest attention at what was going on on the couch.

another whine of your name took you out of your thoughts and back to the present where your boyfriend’s cock stood bright red and leaking against his abdomen, waiting for your touch.

you wrapped your hand around the base of his member, earning you a hiss and sharp buck of his hips against you. you began stroking him up and down, careful to twist your wrist around his head in the way you knew he liked. he was heavily drooling precum now, making it easier to pick up speed.

it wasn’t long before he was a moaning, crying mess beneath you, his whimpers leaving him in a higher volume and frequency, attracting quite the crowd. kuroo had been steadily rubbing his cock through his jeans, still unwilling to remove it from its confines with the growing number of people surrounding the two of you.

“you like this hm? you like being put on display for everyone can see?” you murmured into his ear, the slick sound of your strokes nearly drowning you out. he could hardly answer, his eyes rolled back and a thin line of drool spilling from his mouth.

now, that wouldn’t do.

you gave him a sharp slap to his thigh, eliciting a jump and a moan from him and a gasp from your audience. “baby, answer me when i ask you a question.”

“yes, yes, i like w-when they watch me!” he moaned out, his breathing picking up speed as he chased his high. his hips bucked up into the tight circle your hand made, his thighs beginning to shake, signaling his nearing climax.

“c-can i cum, p-please let me cum,” kenma whimpered as his eyes locked on kuroo, his cock twitching in your hold. you followed your boyfriend’s gaze and smiled when you saw who they landed on.

“kuroo, do you want to tell kenma to cum? he’ll do it if you tell him to.” jealous whispers resounded around you but you ignored them in favor of watching kuroo’s eyes darken further and heat rushing to his cheeks. he nodded after a moment but you shake your head. “kuroo, tell him to cum.” you spoke with such finality that kuroo can’t help but do exactly what you say.

“kenma, cum.” it’s simple but it does the trick, kenma’s eyes rolling back, and his back arching as cum splatters all over his thighs, abdomen, and sweatpants. you continued to stroke him through his intense orgasm while he shook in your hold until he pushed your hand away from his softening cock with a whine of too much.

you removed your hand from him before pressing a kiss to his forehead and helping him pull his pants back up to cover him. you briefly took in the faces of the voyeurs standing around in the living room but kenma’s gentle hand on yours alerted you to his tired eyes, and fucked out smile. you smiled back and helped lift him up to his feet, his legs nearly buckling on him threatening to pull you both down to the floor but thankfully, a strong arm appeared, lifting kenma back to his feet.

you looked up to see who the culprit was only to meet the gaze of kuroo who sent you a sheepish smile. your eyes tracked down his body and landed on his still hard cock, straining against his zipper.

you grinned while the pair of you walked kenma to your car, not batting an eye when kuroo suggested coming home with you, to take care of kenma of course.

you knew and he knew what he really wanted and you were more than willing to give it to him.

after all, who were you to deny your boys what they needed?

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Ode to a Conversation Stuck in Your Throat [Spencer Reid x fem! Reader]

Find my masterlist here. Requests are Open.

Based on a wonderful song fic request I received from @itsametaphorbriansblog for the song Ode to a Conversation Stuck in Your Throat by Del Water Gap. I'd never heard the song before but trust me when I say it's awesome and my head was full with these lyrics. And yes, Alice in Wonderland is my favorite book.

Requested: Yes l No

CW: swearing, mentions of drinking, mentions of smut but nothing too explicit, some angst but happy ending.

Plot: Spencer wants to believe he can have a casual relationship with you. But just the thought of someone else touching you the way he does sends him into a tailspin. He wants you all to himself.

WC: 3.9K

—————————————————————

I do not want to fight this anymore

I just want to lay back

And watch you pin me to the bed

How he ended up here was somewhat of a mystery to Spencer but he had no intention of complaining.

He was sure he’d have time to think about it later, but right now all he was focused on was the way you pinned him to the bed, your soft hands wrapped around his wrists.

He was too enamoured taking in every beautiful curve of your body, the swell of your breasts and hips, the feeling of your silky thighs pressed against his own much hairier ones.

He drank you in as you kissed him, your tongue tasting like coffee and vodka. Your lips against his felt as though they’d found their rightful place in the world.

And when you finally lowered yourself on his throbbing member, everything else slipped away. The only thing in the world he could focus on was how fucking good it felt to have you wrapped around him.

It was as though all the stars had aligned and all his birthdays and christmases had come at once.

He never thought he’d have a shot with someone like you. This was better than even his wildest dreams.

I used to call you my best friend

Way back before you were my everything

Now I’m sucking on your neck

You’d worked together for several years and quickly became best friends. But there was always something more between you. Lingering glances, a few too many casual touches.

An odd tension that Spencer had never been able to put his finger on until the first time you saw each other naked and it vanished.

It had started after a few too many drinks at Rossi’s and ended in Spencer’s bed. That had been six months ago and since then the two of you spent all your free time between the sheets together.

It just made sense.

But you had made it clear it was simply sex, a means to an end. You were seeing another guy who knew about Spencer too. You told Spencer he was free to see other women.

He didn’t want to see other women. He only ever wanted to see you. He wanted to see you all the time, preferably naked and sitting on his cock.

He had agreed this was fine. He was ok with this arrangement. He’d told you he was fine with this other guy you were seeing if he was fine with you seeing Spencer.

Fine. Everything was just fine.

And you wrote my favorite song

Now I’m fucked up and carrying on

I do not know the words yet, oh

It had been a lie.

He thought he could separate the physical from his feelings but he wasn’t that kind of man. He wished he could be. But the idea of not having you all to himself made him feel sick.

And it hits me

I don't want anybody else touching you like I do

Like I do

Like me

He thought he was ok with it until he was lonely in his apartment one night. He text you asking you to come over.

Your response told him you were with your other man. And he spiralled.

He couldn’t help his mind wander over the things you would be doing together.

Did he kiss you on your neck the way you loved? Did he know the way you liked to be touched?

Did he make you feel the way Spencer did? Did he make you come the way Spencer knew how?

The thought of you naked being pleasured by another man made his heart ache. Images of you touching him, being fucked by him, screaming his name; it was too much.

He wanted to be the only one who got to touch you like that; to see you at your orgasms peak.

It really wasn’t fair. He didn’t want to share you. He didn’t want to be left alone in his room wracked with sadness at the thought of you with another man.

Is it okay?

That I don’t want anybody else touching you like I do

Like I do

Like me

Yeah

“What did you get up to with Matt last night?” Spencer asked as he made you both coffees the next morning.

You rolled your eyes.

“Mark.” you sighed as you spoke. You knew Spencer knew his name, he had an eidetic memory for god sake. He was doing it deliberately.

“Matt, Mark same difference.” he shrugged, pouring sugar into his cup.

“We just hung out.” you took the other mug he’d filled and twirled your spoon around in it. “You know, usual stuff.”

You leant back against the counter, holding the warm mug between your hands and inhaling the smell.

Spencer turned to look at you.

You had a noticeable hickey on your neck, one he certainly hadn’t left. You must know he could see it.

“The usual stuff you and Morgan would do when you hang out or the usual stuff you and I do when we hang out?”

You rolled your eyes again and pushed yourself away from the counter and headed back towards your desk.

Spencer followed close behind you.

“Just because you don’t speak doesn’t mean you didn’t answer.” he whispered as he caught up with you. “Nice hickey.”

He practically stormed to his desk and threw himself in the chair.

You sighed to yourself. You should have known Spencer would be this way.

A little while later Morgan passed by your desk as you had your nose buried in a case file.

“Ohhh looks like pretty girl got some loving last night! The size of that mark on your neck Miss thing!”

You looked up at him, your cheeks stained crimson.

You made brief eye contact with Spencer. If you weren’t mistaken, his eyes were filled with tears.

He pushed his chair back and stormed away from where JJ and Emily were now getting a good look at your hickey too.

“What’s up with him?” Morgan frowned.

“I don’t think he’s feeling too good today.” You replied.

It wasn’t exactly a lie.

Tell me that nobody else touches you

Like I do, like I do

Oh, tell me that nobody else touches you like me

Tell me that nobody else touches you

Like I do, like I do

Oh, tell me that nobody else touches you like me

There was no case to take you out of the state and you were looking forward to going home.

Spencer caught up with you as you stepped in the elevator and shoved his way inside just before the doors closed.

“Do you want to come over?” he asked the second the doors shut behind him.

“Not tonight Spence, I’m exhausted.” you stifled a yawn as if to prove your point.

“Did you use all your energy on Mike?” he sounded so bitter.

“I did not use all my energy on Mark. I’m tired from dealing with a whiny, jealous baby all day.” you rolled your eyes yet again.

“I’m not jealous.” he scoffed. “Or whiny. Or a baby.”

“Sure you aren’t.” The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened.

You patted Spencer on his shoulder as you stepped out.

“Goodnight Spencer, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He pouted a little as he watched you go.

Maybe it was time to just let you go entirely.

You’re pulling on my habit lines

The more I smoke the more I find

I can’t just fall asleep instead

One am and Spencer’s phone startled him awake. He was used to being called in the middle of the night for work so he was wide awake in an instant.

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand and put it to his ear.

“Reid.” he spoke, expecting it to be Hotch calling about a case.

“Hey,” your voice was low and sultry.

Spencer swallowed.

“What?” he knew what. He knew exactly what you were calling for.

He had to say no. He had to stay strong. He couldn’t keep giving in to you. Not anymore.

“You know what. Don’t play dumb Spence, it doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m sleeping.”

“Well I’m touching myself.” you moaned softly. “But I do wish it was your hand between my legs.”

You heard a breathy sigh leave his lips. You knew that was enough to make him hard.

“Fuck Y/N,” he groaned. “I’ll be over in a half hour.”

You grinned as you hung up the phone.

Spencer wished he wasn’t so weak. He wished he could say no to you.

He wished he could tell you it was him or Mark. You had to choose.

He would if he didn’t fear the answer.

And you’re not my protector

I hope you know it wasn’t her

That kept me off your side of the bed, oh

He put his all in that night. He wanted to make you feel the best you’d ever felt so the next time you saw Mark you were thinking of him.

He made you come seven times, you honestly didn’t think you would walk for days after. By the time the sun came up you were so sensitive you didn’t know if you’d be able to dress for work without your clothes flustering your sensitive skin.

“Jeez Spence, I hope we’ve got another office day today.” You ached all over. “I don’t know if I’m going to be any good in the field like this.”

He felt an odd sense of pride. You’d remember this, you’d remember how good he’d made you feel.

He hoped he’d fucked Mark right out of your head.

And it hits me

I don’t want anybody else touching you

Like I do

Like I do

Like I do

Like me

“Jesus pretty girl, your hickeys have hickeys!” Morgan chuckled as you walked into the BAU with no sleep and only one coffee in your system.

Spencer tried to hide the smug look from his face.

“Another night with your lover boy aye?” Emily nudged you in the arm as you made a beeline for the coffee machine.

He felt very good about himself right now.

“Speaking of your lover boy,” JJ piped up. “You had some flowers delivered this morning.”

Spencer’s face fell. No. No that wasn’t fair.

You forgot all about the coffee and headed to your desk where a beautiful array of red roses awaited you.

Spencer wanted to take them and stomp on them. The way you were stomping on his heart.

“Oh wow.” You smiled as you read the note. “How sweet.”

“If you ask me he’s trying too hard.” Spencer tried not to sound bitter or sad as he spoke. He failed miserably.

“Well good job no ones asking you.” You shot him an annoyed glance.

The tension suddenly grew thick. You and Spencer glared at one another while Morgan, Emily and JJ stared on in confusion.

“We have a case.” Hotch’s voice broke the stare off.

Thank god you thought. Saved before you had a chance to say something you’d regret.

You put the flowers down and headed towards the round table room. You heard Spencer shuffling behind you.

“What was that about?” JJ frowned.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Emily shrugged.

“I think I’ve got an idea.” Morgan smirked as the three of them started to follow. “Pretty boy has a crush on pretty girl.”

It is okay?

That I don’t want anybody else touching you

Like I do

Like I do

Like me

You barely said two words to Spencer in the four days you spent in Missouri unless it pertained to the case.

Everyone could tell something was amiss between the two of you. The team was so used to your playful banter and inside jokes you had with one another. It was painfully obvious something was going on.

It was late when you arrived back at Quantico so Hotch sent you all straight home.

Spencer caught up with you in the parking lot.

“Y/N, can we talk?”

“No.” You didn’t turn back to look at him as you headed to your car.

“Y/N please we need to talk.”

“I’m sick of this.” You groaned as you reached your vehicle. “You said you were ok with us seeing other people Spencer.” You spun back to look at him.

He was playing with the strap of his messenger back in an awkward fashion.

“Well...I’m not.” He shrugged.

“No shit.” You scoffed. “I’m sorry Spencer but I can’t do this anymore. I like Mark, he’s nice. We have fun.”

“So I’m not nice? You don’t have fun with me?” He stepped a little closer to you.

“You’re draining Spencer.” You confessed. “I once thought maybe you and I could be more than, whatever this is, but it’s exhausting Spence. With Mark it’s just easy. We spoke yesterday and he said he wanted us to get serious. No seeing other people. I told him I’d like that.”

Spencer’s heart felt like it had been ripped from his chest. He felt as though you had punched the air from his lungs.

He fought for a breath, stumbling on his feet a little.

“You’re...you’re choosing him?”

“Yes.” You chewed your lip guilty. “I’m sorry Spencer but honestly, you’re too much like hard work.” You turned away from him and opened the drivers door, closing it quickly behind you before you changed your mind.

You watched Spencer in your rear view mirror as you pulled out of your parking space.

He hadn’t moved. He just stood there, dejected and sad staring in your wake.

You were barely out of the parking lot before your first tear fell.

You’re in his living room

And it may not mean much you

But your plates are in his sink

And your sweaters on his bed

Won’t you text me when you’re home?

My baby, spare me all the rest

It had been little over a month and Spencer wouldn’t make eye contact with you. He wouldn’t speak directly to you. He wouldn’t even be in the same room as you if he could help it.

At this point the whole team knew something was up. Hotch had pulled you both up on it but you’d both lied and said everything was fine.

Everything was far from fine.

Every night for just over a month Spencer had cried himself to sleep. He’d spent his waking hours in his apartment imaging what the two of you were doing.

Were you laughing at movies? Reading together? Having romantic dinners or walks in the park hand in hand? Were you making love over and over again?

His sleep was haunted by thoughts of you too. No where was safe. He’d started wondering if he could even work with you anymore. Maybe it was time to go into teaching?

Being around you every day just didn’t seem like an option anymore because every time he saw you, his heart broke all over again.

Please just tell me

That nobody else touches you like I do

Oh tell me that nobody touches you like me

It wasn’t just that he’d lost the woman he had started developing feelings for, he had lost his best friend too. He wanted to talk to someone about the heartache he was feeling and usually that someone would be you.

He wanted his best friend back. It was killing him.

He didn’t know how to deal with losing you so he didn’t. He didn’t know how to talk to you anymore so he stopped talking to you altogether.

The flower deliveries stopped after a few months which made it slightly easier for him to forget about you dating another man.

After about seven months your demeanor shifted a little. You stopped talking about Mark as much and were more vague about your weekend plans.

By the time it was coming up to a year you stopped talking about him entirely. When Spencer overheard you speaking to JJ or Emily about your weekend plans it was always along the lines of “TV and pizza for one.”

For Garcia’s birthday the whole team was going out for drinks at a local bar. Since you ended things with him Spencer avoided hanging out with the team outside of work when you would be there. He would always come up with some kind of excuse.

But Garcia was not the kind of person to take no for an answer.

So reluctantly he went along. Emily helped him pick out a gift for her, a unicorn charm for her bracelet. Certainly not something Spencer would have chosen but Emily insisted the tech analyst would love it.

Whilst in the jewelry store a delicate silver necklace had caught his eye. It had an intricate charm of a bottle with a little label with the words “Drink Me” etched into it.

It had taken him back to a conversation from years past.

You were still new to the team and trying to keep your head down and not get in anyone's way. The team was all so close and you didn’t want to step on any toes.

On the way back from your latest case in New York you didn’t sleep like the rest of the team. You were wide awake, probably on a high from the adrenaline brought on by the case.

You sat at the back of the jet alone with your head buried in a book. You didn’t notice someone watching you or approaching you until you heard the leather seat opposite you squeak a little as your company sat down.

You looked up to see Spencer smiling softly at you.

“What are you reading?” he asked with genuine interest.

You blushed a little chewing your lip, turning the book over in your hands.

“Alice in Wonderland.” you slid the old book across the table to him.

He picked it up cautiously and turned the worn pages.

“First edition.”

“Yeah.” you nodded as he looked back up at you. “It was my dad’s. He used to read it to me when I was young. He passed away a few years ago and it helps me feel close to him.” it was the most open you’d been since joining the team.

Spencer smiled at you sadly and handed you back the book.

“I’m sorry about your dad. But that’s nice you have that.”

“Yeah I suppose it is.”

Emily had stepped out of the store to take a phone call and he had found himself purchasing the necklace. He didn’t know why. He couldn’t help himself.

Garcia had loved her charm, she’d squealed and hugged him so tightly Spencer felt the air being squeezed from his lungs.

She opened the rest of her presents while the rest of the team drank. You and Spencer kept making accidental eye contact and each time you would both smile awkwardly at one another.

You got up from the table to buy a round of drinks. Spencer watched you go. It would be his perfect chance to get to talk to you. He needed to know what was going on. Had you and Mark split up? And if you had, did that mean there was anyway he still stood a chance with you?

He’d wanted to ask for so long but every time he went to say something, the words got stuck in his throat, refusing to leave.

But this time he was determined. He needed to know where he stood once and for all.

At the very least could he get his best friend back?

And it hits me

I don’t want anybody else touching you

Like I do

Like I do

Like me

“Thought you might need a hand.” Spencer sidled up next to you. It was the closest you’d been to one another in almost a year.

“Thanks.” you smiled softly, a little awkwardly.

You looked at each other for a moment, neither of you sure what to say to each other.

Not so long ago the two of you could talk about anything and everything until you were blue in the face. You never ran out of things to talk to each other about. So much had changed.

Spencer reached into his inside pocket and pulled out the small jewelry box. He turned it over in his hand a few times before he held his hand out.

“I saw this when I was getting Garcia’s birthday present and I couldn’t help myself.” he shrugged like it was no big deal.

You chewed your lip as you cautiously took the box from him. You ran your fingers over it for a few seconds before you slowly opened it.

Tears immediately sprang to your eyes as you looked down at the little Alice in Wonderland themed necklace cushioned inside the box.

You looked back up at Spencer with a sniff.

“Spence,” a small tear escaped your eye. “You remembered.”

“I remember everything about you.” he shrugged again.

You sniffed back any more tears that might fall and gently lifted the necklace from the box.

“Could you help me?” you held it out for Spencer who nodded and took the necklace from you.

He unclasped it as you turned around. He gently draped it around your neck and secured it.

You turned back to face him, you fingers on the necklace charm.

“Thank you so much Spencer, I love it.”

“You’re welcome.” he smiled. “I hope Mitch doesn’t mind you wearing it.”

You couldn’t help but laugh.

“We broke up.” you didn’t bother to correct him on his name. “A few months ago.”

“Oh.” Spencer tried not to look too pleased about this. “Do you mind me asking why?”

“I think you know why.” you stepped a little closer to him. “He wasn’t the right man for me.”

“Oh.” he squeaked a little. “That’s uhm...I’m sorry to hear that.”

“No you aren’t.” you laughed, stepping even closer to him.

You placed your hands carefully on his shoulders and you felt him practically melt into your touch.

“Anyway I’m the one that should be sorry.” you whispered.

“For what?” he croaked, feeling weak at your proximity.

“For choosing the wrong man. I should have known better.” you wrapped your arms around his neck, your body so close he could feel your warmth. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this before, but I have a guilty pleasure for rom-coms.”

“You’ve definitely never told me that before. I would have remembered giving you a hard time for that.” he laughed a little and so did you.

“Yeah, I figured as much.” you nodded. “Anyway, with my extensive knowledge of rom-coms I should have known.”

“Should have known what?” he swallowed a lump in his throat.

“That the girl always ends up with the best friend.” and with that you pressed your lips against his.

Spencer immediately took hold of your face in his hands and deepened the kiss.

You didn’t care that your whole team was probably watching. You didn’t care the whole bar could have been watching. All you cared about was Spencer.

When the kiss broke you both had tears in your eyes. You kept your arms around his neck and he wrapped his around your waist to keep you close.

“I never want to have to think about someone else touching you the way I do again Y/N. I want to be the only person who gets to touch you.”

“Ok.” you smiled brightly at him. “But only if I get to be the only person who gets to touch you.”

Spencer laughed, kissing you again.

“That my love,” he smiled. “Is all I’ve ever wanted.”

Is it okay?

That I don’t want

Anybody else touching you like I do

Like I do

Like me

—————————————————————

Taglist (find my tagist form here if you want to be added) -

All ships and genres -

@muffin-cup

@andiebeaword

@mggsprettygirl

@measure-in-pain

@ptrs-prkrs

@sexy-dumpster-fire

All SR x Reader -

@boxofsparklingmuses

@frickin-bats

@reidandhisgourd

@ukai-hoe

SR x Reader one shots -

@seasonfivereid

@willowrose99

[forthehpfanboys]

Gold Strings & Red Picks- PT 1

Pair: Ron Weasley x Reader; he/him.

Summary: The Weasley's invented a band! Having a band, means you need a band manager; someone to help find venues, gigs and sponsors. After finding one, Ron seems to be hopeless drawn toward them.

Warnings: flirting, swearing, bickering, sexual tension??, Punk Pining Ron but also Smug Ron, naming a guitar ‘Cherry Popper’, dm me if I missed any.

Notes: I plan on having some chapters kinda spicy. I made an entire gif for this and yes it is Rupert playing 👀 and god is this self indulgent. Hope you guys like it!

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWERE~

-

It was a Friday morning when you quit the Static Dragons and posted the news on every piece of social media you had. It didn’t take long for you to edit your bios to state you were looking for a new band, and it managed to catch someone's eye just as quickly. It was Monday evening when you got a dm on Instagram from a user called ddchrmrs-official. The user basically sent you a paragraph about how he was the lead singer of a band he and his siblings threw together and they were looking for a new manager. You agreed to meet with them and talk about the potential of the band and he agreed, using more than a few explanation marks after his reply. He even sent you a few of their songs once he deemed you worthy enough.

So, you found a dining hall, an equal distance from your house and theirs, and with the lead singer's approval, Fred, you booked it for Tuesday afternoon. Fred even made a post explaining the good news- why he was acting like one of the Weird Sisters followed him back, you weren’t sure. You couldn’t help but be excited too. The songs were good- more punk-rock than you assumed from the band's name. Something about the name Daydream Charmers gave off a softer, boyband type.

The day of the band meeting couldn’t have gone much worse. You missed your morning alarm, you couldn’t find your laptop charger and the clothes you picked out the night before ended up covered in stains from breakfast. GPS even gave you the fastest route and you still managed to be 10 minutes late, but you managed to find the right hall. It was a bit different compared to the pristine image shown on the website.

The roof looked like it was caving under an invisible weight and the actual size of the hall looked like a small barn. The walls were made of red and black bricks, most of which seemed to be chipped, broken or bending, like it was being crushed. The door frame was slanting, the door’s white paint was chipping, the sidewalk was splitting at almost every corner. You were desperately hoping the building was enchanted so it was bigger (and nicer looking) on the inside.

You parked your car on the pebble covered asphalt, right next to an equally old and rusty blue car. You had no idea how four people, a sound system, a bass, an electric guitar and a full drum set fit inside of the small wagon, but figured they managed to spell the inside bigger. You weren’t bothered by it- how could you be? You felt your wand hit your laptop inside the bag as you threw it over your shoulder after climbing out of the car. Shutting the door, you hurried up the broken concrete, shoving your keys in your pocket.

You chewed on your lip, adjusting the collar of your shirt as you approached the door. A smile pulled at your lips at the refreshing sound of genuine laughter and bickering. You had an internal battle of whether you should knock or just barge in. It sounded like they were having their fun and you didn’t want to interrupt anything. Soon enough, the laughter was dying down and someone was strumming a bass quietly, practicing a few chords from one of the songs Fred gave you. You raised a fist to knock on the door and the silence that followed was close to defining. Soft footsteps followed the silence and you swore you could hear soft breathing behind the door before it was yanked open.

“Hey! You made it! We were worried you got lost on your way here.”

You weren’t expecting to be face to chest with an individual. Their band's logo was printed across the front, red letters with a gold outline that clashed drastically with the bright orange fabric of the tight shirt. You tilted your head up, meeting cocoa brown eyes and a crisp white smile. His ginger hair was spread across his shoulders, his ear lobes were pierced with two shiny black flat stud earrings and the little white nostril piercing on the left side of his nose was reflecting the sunlight.

“Fred?” You asked, matching his smile. You could tell he had fun, you could sense it. His arm raised, inadvertently showing off his muscles, and rested against the door frame. 

“The one and only.” He grinned, clearly just joking. Before he could say anything else, he was rudely interrupted by a foreign voice behind him. Fred’s smile dropped into a frown like he was suddenly slapped across the face.

“Is it the pizza guy?” The voice asked from somewhere behind him, excitement clearer than crystal. Fred looked over his shoulder to respond.

“No, Ron. That’s not for another twelve minutes.” He rolled his eyes after looking back at you and letting out a loud sigh. “I’m sorry about him. His appetite is larger than Big Ben and it literally never stops. Anyway, I hope you like pizza! I tried to message you about it.” He pulled his phone out of his front pocket, unlocking it and scrolling through his messages and swiping right on notifications he didn’t care for.

“I was using my phone for GPS. Must’ve missed the messages.” Your hands slid into your front pockets, your weight shifting between your feet as embarrassment began to settle in. Maybe this wasn’t the best first impression. Before you could think about it too long, a low whistle was resonating from beside Fred.

Without warning, Fred was being nudged aside by a slightly shorter ginger, his piercing blue eyes staring into yours. They didn’t stay there very long though. They slowly dragged down your body, taking in your form, and his head tilted in appreciation.

“Oh.. I’m not gonna complain about the pizza when Merlin delivered us a cutie.” He gave you a dizzying side smile. “What’s your name, sweetheart? Surely, it’s something as handsome as you are.” Just as quickly as he appeared, Fred was pushing him back, faking a gag while driving the unnamed individual back with Fred’s hand against his forehead. 

“Ew! Ron, down! Seriously? Keep your yap shut! He’s our new band manager and I’d actually like to keep this one, thank you.” Fred groaned, a sneer pulling at his lips. He blocked the smaller ginger from the door with his body before turning back to you with a sigh. “I’m sorry. He’s usually not like this. Usually he’s moping about his ex-” You could see Ron jumping behind Fred to get another look at you. The reaction had you snorting into your hands.

“Fred. Fred, move, mate. I wanna see ‘im again!” The ginger whined, tugging at his older brother's t-shirt. He was dodging around Fred’s constant moving hands to get one more peek at you.

Fred let out a groan, his head falling backwards in agony before letting out a loud “George, please help!”

“Wait! Wait, wait!” Ron’s voice matched the panicked hand trying to hold onto the door frame before it was hilariously slapped off the wood and was dragged into the mystery hidden behind the lead singer. His begs and pleas began to echo and soften which you thought caused you to giggle a bit. 

“I’m sorry. We’ll put a muzzle on him or something. Come on in, I’ll introduce you to everyone.” Fred shifted out of the door way, allowing you to enter the hall. It was bigger on the inside than the outside, that much had you relieved. Fred shut the door behind you with a satisfying click and let you soak the place in while he sat himself down on a velvet red coach. It was dimly lit, about half the lights were on, and the walls were painted a light tan, which easily could’ve been mistaken for white, if white wasn’t used for the tiling. 

Next to Fred on the couch, was a girl with long, slightly darker, ginger hair. Her hair went well past her shoulders, and a bright orange base sat on top of her crossed legs. She had gone back to laying a few chords once you entered, just relaxing as her two brothers basically wrestled each other.

“Ginny, this is (Y/n).” Fred spoke up, pointing from his sister to you, then back to her. (Y/n), this is the youngest Weasley in the family, Ginevra.” Fred smirked, but it turned into a pained expression when she landed a hard slap to his chest.

“Except if you call me that, I will break your legs. It’s Gin or Ginny, nothing else. It’s nice to finally meet you, (Y/n). Fred hasn’t shut up about you.” She smiled at you, reaching a tattoo covered hand out to shake yours. 

“Really?” You couldn’t help but grin. You shook her hand proudly, knowing it was probably your reputation that kept the oldest Weasley in the band chatting up a storm. “It’s nice to meet you too, Gin.” You gave her a cheeky grin before turning to the other side of the hall, noting another Fred standing in front of Ron, who was sitting in a chair quiet grumpily. 

The double picked up a deep red guitar covered in stickers and shoved it into Ron’s lap, causing the younger to gasp out a wheeze. It was obvious he had chewed Ron out for his behavior, but nevertheless, he gave his unplugged electric guitar a few strums, which seemed to satisfy Fred 2 because soon enough he was storming back to the couch, shaking his head the entire walk there.

He sat himself down on the arm of the couch, right next to his doppelganger. His arms crossed back over his chest once again. Fred 2 had the same length hair, different piercings though. He only had one set of black earrings, but had an industrial across his left ear. He had a straight line of freckles across his cheek bones and right across his nose. The spots went down his neck and across his forehead. 

“He’s bloody useless.” He grumbled out, his snake bite moving to the right as his tongue ran across it. “Oh, hi!” Fred 2 scooted over to the edge of the arm rest, reaching his hand out to shake yours. “You must be the band manager! I’m George, Fred’s twin bro-”

“Younger twin. I’m the oldest.” Fred interrupted, smirking again as he pointed a thumb to himself. His smirk dropped when he was smacked in the chest again- by both George and Ginny. 

“I’m his twin brother. Ignore him, he has a God complex.” George rolled his eyes, smiling at you while he shook your hand. He pulled his hand away before scooting back to rest his back against the back of the couch. You could tell he wasn’t comfortable, but  he seemed dedicated to the spot. “I’m sorry you had to meet Ron the way you did. Usually he’s tamer than that.”

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh, your gaze turned down to your shoes. Your cheeks were beginning to heat up as his flirting rebounded through your head again.

“Nah, he wasn’t that bad.”

“I wasn’t?” Ron’s sudden voice behind you had nearly jumped out of your skin. You spun around, your backpack strings nearly catching on one of Ginny’s bass strings. You swallowed down a squeak. “Georgie was trying to convince me I was being inconsiderate and rude and that mum would smack me if she saw.” He was still holding the guitar by the neck, and that was when you noticed the bright gold strings with a red pick trapped between them.

“Well, it’s not like you were asking about my shoe size… “ Your eyes landed on the hands holding the black neck of the instrument and you couldn’t help but gawk at them. Rings covered his finger knuckles, veins popped out from beneath his skin. “Wow.” You didn’t mean to verbally gawk over the hands, so you had to force your gaze down to the instrument and ignore the urge to stare at the pale, freckle covered skin that was making your mouth dry. 

You shook your head, looking at the shiny strings. You had you stop yourself from reaching out and caressing the polished neck, the textures strings and hidden pick. It was clearly loved and carefully taken care of.

“Beauty, isn't she?” Ron grinned, showing off the red body drowning in decals- most of which were bright orange Quidditch themed or terrible chess puns. You almost forgot to check if they were a muggle band, but this told you enough. “My best friend got it for me, he’s a blessing. Mum didn’t approve, of course, said we all had better purposes, but dad said rock on.” 

“She really is. I’m guessing you named her?” The second the question fell from your lips, the three sharing a spot on the couch groaned in agony, but Ron was grinning in pride.

“Of course I have! Her name is Cherry Popper and she’s the love of my life. Unless,” Ron was taking a step closer to you, a twinkle in his eyes as he continued speaking, “you plan on cha-” His flirting was cut off suddenly.

“And that’s enough of that! Please sit down and, for the love of Merlin’s beard, rename the damn thing!” Ginny cried out, almost knocking her own instrument straight into the tiled floor. She ran a hand through her hair, her free hand holding the bass hard enough to make her knuckles pure white.

“I mean, come on! Name it something classic like ‘Bertha’ or ‘Jasmine’, or, and here’s my personal favorite, don’t name it at all!” Fred waved his hands while he spoke, counting the names on his fingers before doing jazz hands at ‘don’t name it at all’.

“Fred, that’s hypocritical. You named your mic.” George spoke up, pulling two white marble drumsticks from his jeans pockets and began to spin one between his fingers. 

“That was a joke.” Fred stuck his tongue out at his twin. “At least I don’t do it seriously. And leave Echo out of this.” Fred ripped the non spinning drumstick from George’s hand, holding it out of his twins reach.

“Shut up and give me Crystal back!”

“No, if you wanna talk about terrible names, we can talk about the band's name! Merlin, Fred, were you sky high when you made it?” Ron shot back, his arms crossing over his chest, one still holding the guitar.

Knowing this kind of fight could go for a good while, you slipped past him, patting Ron on the shoulder while you walked past while a pained gasp rented the silence that flooded the hall. You set your backpack on the white table, opening the zipper and pulling out your laptop. You sat down, pulling the laptop onto your lap before opening the notepad application.

“I made the name! And dammit, I think it was clever! It even has a unique backstory! At our school, we had a um- small business and it was quite successful. By ‘we’, I mean George and I and by successful, I mean we run an online joke shop. I thought it fit the shop pretty well.” Fred held a look of pride- a smirk was, once again, drawn across his lips as his eyes twinkled.

“Mate, it’s horrible.” Ginny spoke up, not even bothering to throw the truth as a curve-ball causing two of her older brothers to nod in agreement. She copied Fred’s movement by yanking the drumstick from his hand, but handed it to George, smiling at him. 

“Why couldn’t it have been something cool? You named your shop something cool. Why’d you give the band something’ shitty?” Ron rolled his eyes, leaning his back against the door, the guitar balancing on his sneakers and leaning against his ripped jean covered legs. His attention didn’t stay with his siblings for long. Soon it was shifting over to you, like he was naturally drawn toward you. He grinned at you, sticking his tongue out. The little gold ball stamped into the middle of his tongue had your full attention.

You swallowed thickly. The ball and his guitar strings were the exact same color and reflected the same light. You felt butterflies fill your stomach from the simple action and noticed, almost suddenly, the ginger was actually quite attractive and funny. You sucked on your tongue, hoping the blush across your cheeks didn’t give too much away. Ron looked back at his brothers, his side grin screaming he basically saw your body temperature rise.

“I was led to believe you all loved the name, but no! I’m starting to think you guys are just trying to embarrass me in front of the (Y/n), but since you think it’s so easy, come up with a new one.” Fred cried out, crossing his arms over the printed long sleeve t-shirt, and was pouting like a child now, sinking lower into the couch.

“It makes us sound like a cheesy boy-band going after 12 year olds.” Ginny scoffed, propping her bass up against the couch. She looked over at her slightly older brother, nodding her head in Fred’s direction.

“It does. We could’ve been Fire Wicks.” Ron pointed at Ginny and the teaming up began. “Or like Solar Skips.”

“Or The Red Bloods.” Gin nodded, pointing back at Ron while her other hand pulled out her phone. The game was ‘Who-Cares-If-It’s-Bad-Let’s-Prove-Fred-Wrong’ and you could tell it was for shits and giggles. You were going to pitch in an idea, but someone beat you to it.

“Or FireBolt Bitters.” Spoke up George, who was now gazing up at the ceiling, shaking his head in mock shame, but you could see the edges of his smile growing at the corners.

“Ooh, I love that one!” Ron leaned over, stretching his arm as far as it could to give  George a high five, before turning to look at you. He grinned at your confused expression. “Are you writing these down?” He pointed at your computer before giving you a wink. The butterflies came back, doubled in strength, and you couldn’t help but laugh. You shook your head no, laughing louder when he waved his hands in a panicked manner. “Write them down, mate!”

You rolled your eyes, typing random shit down just to please the younger one. Your eyes trailed across the dumplings, noting three quarters of them were smiling. Fred’s crabby expression made it was clear he didn’t get picked on very often.

“Charlie texted saying ‘The Copper Horntails’ would’ve been better.” Ginny said, looking up from her phone. She dropped the phone onto her lap, wincing a tad when the device collided with the instrument on her lap. She quickly forgot the pain and leaned back, enjoying her brother's pain.

“You asked Charlie?!” Fred squealed loudly, his hands holding his head. Right beside Fred, George had begun to tap his sticks together, improvising a beat to go with the arguing.

“You know what? That’s a great idea! Let’s ask Percy next-” yelled Ron over Ginny’s laughter and Fred’s agonizing scream. His smirk only grew when Fred tossed his head back. 

“Ok, damn! I get it! But I already made t-shirts so deal with it.”

“Fred, we have magic. We can always change the print.” George piped up, tapping the white wooden sticks against his thighs in some random pattern, his head nodding to a beat. He shrugged his shoulders, not focusing on his words all that much,

“George!” This time it was Fred’s turn to smack George in his chest. He glared at him before leaning over to whisper in his twin's ear. It was something you couldn’t make out, but you figured they were debating over your status. You rolled your eyes, reaching behind you.

With a clear of your throat, you gained their attention before pulling out your wand from your backpack. While waving it, you locked eyes with Ron, playfully chewing on your lip to try to hide your smile.

“But-” Fred scrambled to grab his phone. You knew he was going to pull up one of your profiles to show none of them mentioned magic or wizarding or anything.

“The quidditch stickers were a dead give away.” You pointed to Ron’s guitar with the tip of your wand before putting it back in your bag. “That, and the tiny blue car that somehow carried four band members, and all of their equipment even though, that should’ve been impossible. I do enjoy Firebolt Bitters, though.”

Your own smile grew when the siblings broke out into loud snorts and sniggers, save for Fred’s. Ron walked over to you, and you were sure his cheeks were hurting from how hard he was smiling. He laid his arm across your shoulders, pulling you into his side as he faced his band members.

“I like this one.”

A smile stretches across your face as your cheeks get warmer. Out of everything to come out of today, this was something even the strongest and most willed seer’s couldn’t have predicted. It wasn’t even half past noon and you’d already started to develop a crush on a punk guitarist who shares a band with his siblings. You were clueless on how you were going to do your managing and keep it strictly platonic when he grinned at you like you were everything he wanted.