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joyfulhopelox · 3 years ago

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Bad Synapses | KSJ teaser

Pairing: TA/Neurosurgeon!Jin x Junior Doctor! reader (medical au, bbf)

Genre: smut, romance

Warning: teaser- language, fic- language, sexual themes multiple sex scenes (public sex, teasing, masturbation m and f, oral f and m receiving, unprotected sex, bit of sensory play, dom Jin)

Wordcount: teaser - 1.7k , actual fic 26k

Rating: 18+

Actual posting date: 9th of October (who knew 26k takes ages to edit) taglist open! Let me know if you want to be added!

A/N: This....was a trainwreck, and I has taken over my time and I have ignored all of my other fics and I am so sorry. But it is done now, and provided I have not hit the dreaded writer's block, I will be returning to normal posting schedule. It started as an idea from a tiny scene in the American version of 'The Good Doctor' and ended up a mammoth. Thank you @notyouroppar for being encouraging (all the other thanks will go up once I post this finally - it's been so long I am so anxious to post)

If you have any feedback, or just want to talk to me please do! I love seeing your thoughts and hearing from you!

Sᴏɴɢ: ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴜ - ʀᴏsᴇɴғᴇʟᴅ

FULL FIC HERE

Hours later and you still buzzed from your earlier encounter, mind blank and going about your day about as robotically as you could have been.

“Come on, Y/N. You smashed that.” Your friend and fellow future neurosurgeon Taehyung prodded you. You’ve been staring at walls since lunchtime. Even when your exam schedule got released you didn’t fret as you usually would have. Now, as you sat in the library and you’d barely touched your textbook, he began to worry.

Would’ve also smashed something else. You thought ruefully, but decided to give your friend the time of the day as you turned your attention towards him. “Yeah.” Feeling intelligent for your response, you deemed it enough to hold him over until later.

Truth of the matter was, you were having an incredibly hard time trying to get over what had happened earlier between Jin and you. The constant small comments that praised you, that is good, excellent, spilling out from his lips as you touched him in front of your peers. That all did nothing to quench the thirst that settled deep inside your stomach. He was more muscular than you gave him credit for, and his slender waist, as you demonstrated how to check for conscious responses, drove you up the wall. It wasn’t just his praises but also the way his dark half lidded gaze settled on every move that you made as your fingers trailed over the expanse of his back, the way he licked his lips when you gripped the back of his head. You could’ve sworn you heard a breathy exhale as you bent down to touch the inside of his knee. All that and your hands trembled like a leaf in the wind, and your panties were probably so wet they almost dropped by themselves.

You’ve done well, Y/N. That was almost your undoing. You were close to dropping on your knees to ask for more but luckily, the fret of students who were eager to go onto their lunch break separated the two of you. Before you left, Jin made sure to give you another praising smile, this time his hand lingering on the inside of your elbow, the tingles of which you could still feel now. And you doubt you’d ever forget his parting words.

You’ve got skillful hands Y/N. I hope you’ll put them to good use.

“Y/N.” Taehyung stared at you deadpan, his pen clicking impatiently on the side of your book. “Could you please focus for a minute?” Your friend was never one for being annoyed, but right now, the tick of his eyebrow and the incessant tap of his foot told you he’s just about had it. With a groan you all but slammed your head onto the table, your forehead coming into contact with the hard surface with a dull thud. If you couldn’t concentrate you would fluke, and you haven’t gone through five years of university to fail right before graduation.

“Ok, right. I’m sorry.” You look at him, your pleading face promising at least one drink of his choice later when you take a much needed break. “Let’s do this again.” Tapping your fingers onto the surface of the table,, you push yourself off it with tremendous effort. Truth is, your thoughts were not only muddled by your impossible crush on your TA, but they were also frazzled due to severe lack of sleep and too much caffeine too late in the night.

Even just the thought of the bitter beverage made your mouth water and your brain sing. You decided that a break sounded better than ever. “Hey.” You tapped your friend whose furrowed brows told you he may appreciate a break too, on the shoulder. Taehyung looked up at you, his eyes wide as if you’ve caught him off guard. “I’m getting some bitter life juice.” You nodded your head in the general direction of the exit. “Wanna come?”

Taehyung sprung up as soon as you mentioned, his sudden movement making the chair scrape the carpet, its leg getting caught. Laughing at his enthusiasm you wound your arm around his shoulder, in itself an impossible task as he is taller, as you tease him. “You sure you wanted to study? You’re awfully quick to dump the books.”

“My brain hurts, which is funny considering that I’m making it hurt by reading about itself.” Taehyung grumbles amusedly. “But then again, I guess anytime we self-reflect we give ourselves a headache.” He ends up gesturing philosophically and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Trust your best friend to be a drama queen.

“Whatever you say Freud, whatever you say.” You shook your head at him, the amused smile on your face not dropping until you reached your destination – the shabby but cosy cafe at the bottom of the building. A place where you have spent countless sleepless nights during freshman year nursing a hot cup of dark liquid, unsweetened and with no milk to soothe the bitterness of the taste. Funnily, your coffee addiction started when you started university. Which is not an uncommon thing, most of your peers had developed a taste for the addictive effects of the caffeine buzzing through their veins in the same way as you have. However, you started out with the sweetest milkiest beverage you could find, only to discover that the bitterness of the coffee woke you up more so than the caffeine content in it did. So little by little you transitioned into drinking the darkest beverage you could, its colour only rivaled by the state of your dark circles.

“Plus you’re buying.” Taehyung winked at you as he opened the doors for you, gesturing to go ahead.

“Ever the gentleman.” You tapped his arm as you passed by, mockingly shaking your head in displeasure. It’s the least you could do for him after having made him go through your daydreaming and firm refusal to study.

Sitting at the counter you tapped your fingers onto your thighs, impatient to get back to your seat and get your head back into the game. You needed to graduate. And Medical Ethics was not going to pass itself.

“Oh Taehyung–“ As if the stars aligned, in the worst possible ways, the voice interrupting your trail of thoughts was awfully familiar. Familiar in class, and familiar in your dreams.

“And Y/N.” You turned around quickly enough to catch the surprised look on Jin’s face as if he hadn't expected you to be there. Your smile felt clipped, the muscles in your face refusing to cooperate with you. In fact your whole body seemed to be going through a myriad of conflicting emotions.

“Teach.” You acknowledged him, your stiff posture not loosening up even after Taehyung nudged you with his elbow. “I mean, Seokjin.” You corrected yourself, just in time, judging by the frown marring Seokjin’s face. You remembered well the hour-long lecture he had at the beginning of the year when he barged in, explaining quite methodically why he shouldn’t be called teacher or professor. His gaze did not falter as he seemed to be weighing his next words, the irritating aura still hanging over you like an unpleasant smell. It may have been just you and the fact that you were hyper aware of his presence, or the fact that you were trying your hardest to show disinterest. But the tension wall that formed between the two of you felt so strong you physically had to remove yourself from being so close within his presence.

“I won’t be your teacher for much longer now, Y/N.” Seokjin’s smile would seem a genuine, friendly smile to anyone else but you. To you, the undertone sounded like a warning laced with promises. Promises that you hoped you were not imagining along with his darkened expression and smouldering eyes.

Taking a step back you glanced nervously at Taehyung, whose scrutinising gaze drank every little detail of your interaction with Seokjin. You knew you’d be interrogated soon, but you could put it off for as long as possible. With Taehyung, avoidance rarely worked, he had the oddest of ways of finding anyone. And you mean anyone and everyone. You would stoop as low as to use Seokjin as an excuse to get out of being drilled.

“We were just getting a drink.” You supply helpfully. Though not asked, you hoped that it would help clear the air between the two of you. You weren’t familiar with Seokjin at all but if it helped get you out of trouble with Taehyung, you’d take all the chances you could get.

“Would you like to join us?” Surprised at the invitation that spewed out of your friend’s mouth you let yours drop with a squeak of surprise. The attention back on you, you could feel the flush threatening to burst from under your clothes making its way to your face.

“Ah, yes, would you like to…” You trailed off, your widened eyes locking onto Seokjin’s. A shiver travelled down your spine at the way his eyes seemed to take in every bit of your features in a predatory-like manner. It felt as if he was waiting for you to slip up, stumble, so that he could make a move.

“Y/N is paying!” Taehyung added as if that would sway Seokjin to respond more favourably. Despite the rocks currently residing at the bottom of your stomach, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at your best friend and his unhelpful friendly attitude. Now you wouldn’t only have to pay for three drinks, but you may also have to potentially spend time at a table across from the man you’ve been crushing on since you saw him. You only hoped that Taehyung’s presence would stop you from cracking and begging said man to take you over that table.

“I would love to.” After what felt like hours, Seokjin broke the staring contest, his response directed at Taehyung, the small complacent smile back on his face, eyes the shape of a semi crescent moon.

Great.

Mᴀɪɴ Mᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

#jin #kim seokjin #seokjin #bts #jin x reader #bts x reader #btshoneyhive #btsgoldnet #bangtanarmynet #btswritingcafe #bangtaninn #bangtansorciere #silverspoon #fic teaser #jin smut

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 5 years ago

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Dazed and Confused (Part 1)

Summary: Dean Winchester grew up wanting to be a cop. When he gets kicked out of the police academy on a fluke though, he turns to a life of crime. After breaking up with Dean and seeing him committing a crime in the act, the reader becomes an officer herself and eventually a detective. Four years after that day, the reader is sent undercover to figure out what Dean is up to. Only she has no idea how far Dean is willing to go to keep her from finding out the truth…

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 1,600ish

Warnings: language, scary situations, violence, murder, etc.

A/N: This series has been on Ao3 only for awhile now and I am finally reposting here as well. It’s not new but it may be new to you. Please enjoy!...

_____

“Dean?” you asked, spotting him walk in the front door and cut through to the back of the apartment. “Dean what...you’re supposed to be at the academy, aren’t you? You got class until-”

“I flunked out,” said Dean, your scoff stopping him in his tracks. “You think I’m fucking joking about that?”

“Considering you’re top of your class, yeah, I think you’re playing some shitty prank or ditching class. Now what is-”

“I have a record apparently. I can’t be a police officer now,” said Dean, grabbing his gym bag from the floor and moving to the closet. “I was seventeen and in a car I didn’t know someone took form their dad without permission. They charged all of us for a stupid non-crime and if I ever see Gabe again, I’m gonna murder him.”

‘Dean...” you said, grabbing his arm, spinning him around. “Go back to the academy and explain-”

“I was forced to quit, Y/N. I got called out of class and into the dean’s office. If you have a record, you can’t be a cop. They thought I was hiding it but I didn’t even know I had one. No exceptions they said. My bag’s are in Baby” he said, shrugging you off. “I’m staying with Sam tonight.”

“Dean, baby, it’s gonna be okay. Maybe we can call your dad, he’s a detective. He knows-”

“Stop trying to make me feel better for once in my life!” he shouted, brushing past you and for the door. “Y/N, give me some space. I mean it.”

“We are talking about this once you cool off Dean. Until then you can have your space.”

Two Months Later

"What?” you asked quietly, too caught up at staring at the green eyes under the mask to think about the gun in his hands. His own were wide and he was quickly shoving you on the ground, standing over you.

“Say another word and I’ll kill you, understand?” he growled, not waiting for an answer before barking out other orders to people inside the bank.

You hadn’t seen or heard from Dean in almost two months. You gave him his day to vent and get it out that he wasn’t going to be a cop, that everything he’d worked for in school and college and the academy was all gone.

When he finally came back around with a couple of moving boxes, he went off on you. You knew Dean’s head and knew that he didn’t mean what he said during a fight. Normally it was his way of getting you to back off. Nearly four years together and two with living together gave you a pretty good idea of when he was being mean for no reason.

But when he, the one guy you ever willingly told about the awful day...when he said it was your fault, you knew it was done. If he was so angry and bitter about not being a cop that he would rip open wounds that only got shut because of him, he wasn’t the man you thought he was.

Two months later seeing green eyes that looked so much like his, hearing a voice that was just a bit deeper than you were used to...you were almost positive the man in the ski mask and holding a gun at some poor bank teller was Dean Winchester.

He wasn’t there more than a minute, gone in a flash and barely enough time for you to register the build under the baggy hoodie and coat.

“Hi, Sam,” you said, dialing him up as soon as you gave a statement to a cop. “You heard from your brother lately?”

“Uh no. He and I aren’t exactly talking right now,” said Sam, his voice hard. “I haven’t seen him in two months.”

“I think...” you said, walking away from the bank and climbing in your car. “I think your brother just robbed a fucking bank, Sam.”

“That’s not funny, Y/N,” said Sam.

“Neither was getting shoved around by a bank robber, Sam. I am 99% positive that it was Dean,” you said.

“Dean was pissed last time I saw him but he’s not a criminal, Y/N,” said Sam.

“I didn’t...I’m worried about the asshole, alright?” you said, Sam breathing heavy on the other end. “Oh, you think he’s an asshole too, Sammy.”

“What’d he say to you?” asked Sam.

“Shit I don’t want to talk about. I’m guessing he said crap about your mom?” you asked, Sam’s thick swallow coming through loud and clear. “He got kicked out of the academy and he lost his shit, which I get but Sam you know your mom was not your fault.”

“I know but he just had to...maybe he really did rob a bank,” said Sam, his floor creaking in the background. “I know, Kevin...I’ll run to study group in just a minute, okay?”

“Shit, it’s your finals week, isn’t it,” you said, running your hand over your face. “You don’t need this right now.”

“It’s alright, Y/N,” said Sam. “Swing by the house around eight. We can talk then.”

“No, you study, Sam. I’m sure I’m overreacting is all.”

Four Years Later

“Junior Detective Y/L/N,” said your partner, a hard ass with a nought soft center.

“Bobby,” you said with a smile up at him, his face in even more of a scowl than usual. “It’s not even nine in the morning. What’s shoved up-”

“You’ve been reassigned, kid,” said Bobby, your jaw dropping. “You think I want another snot nosed brat to train? Uh uh.”

“Where are they putting me?” you asked, getting up from your desk, following him down the hall to the conference room. “I didn’t put in for anything. I actually like being your partner. Bobby, I-”

“Special assignment is all chief would tell me,” said Bobby.

“Y/N,” said the chief, waving you inside, holding up a hand for Bobby to wait outside.

“John, what in the world could you be putting her on that I can’t know about it?” asked Bobby.

“It’s need to know and you know what you need to,” said John, closing the door in his face. He pointed you to a seat, pulling down the blinds in the room. “You’re fidgeting, Y/L/N.”

“What’s going on that the most senior detective in the department can’t know about it?” you asked.

“You’re the only person here who can do what I’m about to ask you,” said John, sliding over the lone file at the other end of the table. “I need you to keep this quiet. You’ll understand-”

“Dean,” you said, his face staring back when you opened the file. There was no arrest record apart from one when he was 17 but the things he was suspect in...

“Dean is...let’s just call it in deep shit and leave it at that,” said John, taking a seat beside you. “He’s dangerous. Never been convicted of anything. I’ve kept the rumors of what he does away from the department but...Dean’s made a name for himself elsewhere. Everything from petty theft to kidnapping, assualt...murder suspect.”

“John, why are you showing me this?” you asked, sliding the file away, not caring to see what happened to the man you once loved.

“I need you to go undercover,” said John, your head shaking. “You just had your secondary training a month ago and they said you’re one of the best they’ve seen. We both know you became a cop to figure out what the hell happened to him. This is our chance.”

“I became a cop so I wouldn’t feel scared again like in that bank,” you said, turning away. “In case you forget, your son broke up with me. He said things to me that I can’t forgive. He would never in a million years buy that I forgot all that.”

“I’m not asking you go undercover as his girlfriend, Y/N. He’s a criminal. He’s in Washington, a small town, working something. We just need intel on what it is, that’s it,” said John.

“He knows me. He probably knows I’m a cop. I can’t just go undercover,” you said.

“So what if he knows you’re a cop? Tell him you quit if he asks,” said John.

“John...” you said, leaning back in your seat. “I can’t do it.”

“We don’t have a choice, Y/N. The feds said you’re the one. You pack up tonight.”

A week later you were in your new town with a population of two thousand people. You were barely there thirty seconds before half the people were bringing over plates of food. It didn’t take long for word to spread a new girl was around or for you to spot Dean after that.

“Leave,” he said as he walked past you on the street, not bothering to stop.

“Dean,” you said, jogging back to catch up with him, catching his arm halfway down the block. “What-”

“If I see you again, you won’t like what happens next,” he said, shrugging you off.

About eight hours later, you realized you never really knew Dean Winchester at all.

_____

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #au #spn fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #series

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go4blood · 5 years ago

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tell me your favorite songs // c.h.

Hello! This is the second piece in my 9to5!sos series! In case you aren’t aware, my 9 to 5 series is the boys in like, normal jobs. I have already posted the Luke one where he is a waiter. Ashton will be a barista and Michael will work in a bookstore. Hope you guys like this fic in the series! I made a playlist to go with this fic in particular with every song I mentioned!

Word count: 2.9k

Pairing: record shop!calum x reader

Content: smut, praise kink, brief choking, a lot of fluff, and good songs

—

You parked your car in the mostly empty parking lot of the local record store. You just bought an apartment in your hometown after finishing college, and it was great to be back to what you knew. You were a frequent customer at this particular record shop before you left for college, so when you came back, you knew you had to stop by again. You walked in and were greeted by the sound of Rebel Rebel by David Bowie playing over the speakers and monotone voice coming out of nowhere, “Welcome to Josey Records, how's it going?”

You turned to the counter to see a boy with dark curly hair and brown eyes. He had a round face and strong brows, and he sported a Guns N Roses tee and plaid trousers. If looks could kill, you’d be dead on arrival. He looked bored to death as he sorted through some boxes of records. He looked oddly familiar, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on why.

“Oh, just potentially buying a new record. Not sure which, though.” The records were sorted alphabetically, and you looked through the J’s. Janis Joplin, Jimmy Eat World, Elton John, and even the Jonas Brothers were there. There was a good mix of every genre, and you were eager to check the whole place out after 4 years of being away.

“Looking for any artist in particular? I don’t know what music you like, but I also don’t know if you only buy vinyl to display or your wall and never play. Most girls are that type.”

You were taken aback at his comment for sure. If he was planning on getting any sales, that wasn’t any way to talk to a customer. “Pardon me?Most girls?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “Well, you just seem like the type of girl to buy a vinyl of The Neighbourhood or Ariana Grande to display on a shelf and collect dust rather than any good music is all.”

Oh, he was one of THOSE types of record store employees. A music snob. He probably worships The Rolling Stones or U2 just because they aren’t mainstream. But this is the only record store in town, and you weren’t going to just stop coming here. You walked up to the counter, and looked straight into his eyes, “Listen, uh, what is it,” you looked down at his name tag and back up at him, “Calum. Wait a minute,” Everything made sense. You did know him. 11 AM until 2 PM every Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday you had music theory with him your junior year of highschool. He was a music snob back then, and obviously nothing had changed, “We had music theory together, Calum Hood. Obviously you’re still an arrogant prick.”

He scoffed, “Well, sweetheart, at least I have taste, because you obviously don’t.”

You rolled your eyes, going back to the J’s and picking up To Be Continued by Elton John and setting it on the counter, “I’ve been looking for this one for a while, so how about you ring me up so I can leave.”

He chuckled, ringing it up and telling you the total with a cocky grin, obviously glad he got under your skin.

You gave him exact change and grabbed the record, leaving without a word. You got back into your car and drove to your apartment, walking up the endless flight of stairs and going inside. You took your shoes off and went to the bedroom to change into comfier clothes. You then turned on the TV and picked a show on Hulu to watch and drift asleep to.

—

You awoke to the buildings fire alarm going off. You cursed quietly, quickly slipping on the nearest pair of shoes and running downstairs and outside. Everyone was also slowly exiting the building one by one, extremely groggy and tired. You looked at your phone to check the time, and it was 3 in the morning. You looked down at your attire— a crop top with extremely short sleep shorts. God, you’d do anything to not be seen in your sleep clothes. A tall figure stood near you and crossed their arms, complaining about the fire alarm going off at such an hour. You looked over and to your unpleasant surprise, it was Calum. Oh, great, he happened to live in your apartment building. Absolutely splendid.

“Oh, hey, Y/N, looks like you can’t get rid of me that easily.” He smirked and you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms to cover your exposed stomach.

“Unfortunately, Cal, I really fucking can’t get rid of you.” You were obviously annoyed. You thought you’d only have to see him when you went to the record store, but now here he was living in the same building.

He looked you up and down, liking what he saw. You crossed your arms around you tighter, despite the fact that it hid nothing. He chuckled, shaking his head, “Make sure you come back to the shop, if you wanna prove you actually have taste. You got lucky after buying that Elton John album, you gained respect from me, darling.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. The alarm turned out to be a fluke and everyone was told they could go back to their apartments. You silently went back up the stairs, trying to stop thinking about Calum’s request. Was he taunting, or did he actually want to see you? You got back into bed, not being able to think of anything else.

—

You decided to go back to the record store and prove to Calum you had good taste in music. You parked your car and made your way inside the shop, this time greeted by the sound of Lola by The Kinks and a cheerful greeting from none other than Calum.

“Hey there, neighbor! What are you looking for this time?”

Your mind thought of any album that might possibly impress Calum. Abbey Road? No, too basic. Slippery When Wet? You already owned two copies. You sighed, saying the next thing to come to your head, “Tell Me I’m Pretty?”

He went to the computer, typing it in and shaking his head, “By Cage the Elephant? Sold the last one a month ago and never restocked. Sorry, darling. Good choice, though. Even if they’re a little mainstream.”

You leaned on the counter, resting your cheek on your hand, “Why don’t you recommend me something? Since you apparently have great taste.”

He excitedly came out from behind the counter and led me to the G’s in the indie/alternative section. He pulled out a record with a boy with candle sticks on each of his fingers on the cover. He handed it to me, smiling with pride, “This album is called This Is It by The Greeting Committee. They aren’t very popular here. They’re from Kansas City, but they’re amazing. I think you’d like them. You’ve Got Me is my favorite song on there, also Don’t Go.”

You took a look at the track list, counting the number of songs. You nodded, “Okay, I’ll listen, but only if you let me recommend you something.”

He leaned against a display, “Alright, fine. Go get something and I’ll take it home tonight and listen. It better be good.”

You grinned, handing him his choice for you and also looking through the G’s. You pulled out How To Be A Human Being by Glass Animals and handed it to him, “Youth is my favorite track, but they’re all good. Pork Soda is great, too.”

He took a look at the cover and the track list, nodding, intrigued to hear your recommendation, “How about you give me another one just for the hell of it and I give you another one?”

You nodded, and you both parted ways to go find another. You went to the T’s and picked out Tame Impala’s album Currents. Take Impala was slightly mainstream, but they were your favorite, so you took the chance of giving it to him. You met him at the counter, second guessing your choice, “I chose Currents by Tame Impala, and I recommend you listen to Let It Happen, but you might not like it because they’re sort of mainstream, so if you want I can look for another-“

He interrupted you, smiling, “I’ll listen to whatever you want me to, regardless of popularity. I got you Fleetwood Mac’s wonderful album, Rumors! I remember you mentioning you’ve never listened to them before, and I think it’s a necessity in your collection. Listen to Dreams and Gold Dust Woman.”

“You were listening? When I walked into Mr Meyer’s classroom and I asked what song he was playing? Senior year?”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “Well, of course, I can’t go on with my life knowing you’ve never listened to Fleetwood Mac! That’s a sin.”

You smiled, nodding and handing him your recommendation, “Okay, I’ll listen tonight then.”

He grinned, ringing you up, “$16.12.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, slightly confused, “Did you forget to ring up the second one? That’s really cheap for two vinyls.”

“Second one is on me. For my favorite customer.” He put it in a bag, smiling at you sincerely.

You couldn’t help but blush before uttering out a thank you and leaving to your car.

—

I lose all control whenever you're around

Darling, don't you know

Now I must admit

I wouldn't last a single day

Without you in it

You sat on your living room couch, listening to every word of every song on the first album he recommended. The song playing was his favorite on the album, You’ve Got Me, and you couldn’t blame him for calling it his favorite. It was a good song, and it was beautifully written.

Meanwhile, Calum was listening to your first recommendation. He would usually not listen to music that had this sound, but he really enjoyed it. And the fact that it came from you made him like it even more. He wasn’t confused about what he was feeling in the slightest— he made a point when he gave you that recommendation. That album has tons of love songs. He was enchanted by you. He couldn’t stop thinking about you. There was something about you he just loved. Maybe it was your feisty attitude, or the fact that you made a point to prove yourself to him, but he would go into a trance when he saw you. He needed to see you now. He knew which room number was yours— you were only a few floors down. He decided to swallow his pride and go down to your room. He stood in front of your door and knocked; There was no going back now.

You answered the door, surprised to see Calum there, “Oh, hey. What’s up?”

He took a deep breath, thinking of what the hell he could say, “I was wondering if you’d like to join me for dinner at my place? I’m ordering takeout, and it’s no fun to have alone.” Nailed it. But now he had to pretend he didn’t just eat leftovers already.

“Um, sure, I’d like that.” You smile, slipping on your shoes that were by the door and quickly running to take the needle off of the record and put it back in the case. You then come back and close the door behind you as you exit your apartment.

He led you to his apartment, praying it wasn’t too messy. He unlocked the door and let you go in first, following behind and closing the door.

“I’m gonna order the food. If you want, you can choose a vinyl to put on.” He smiled at you, walking to the other room to talk on the phone. You looked through his collection, and it was impressive. He had every album by Joy Division on the shelf, and he also a few rare records displayed on the wall. You looked through the ones on the shelf, surprised to see a few Mac Demarco album. Calum walked back into the living room, sitting on the couch and waiting for you to choose an album.

“So, you’re a big Mac Demarco fan?”

He sat up, seeing his copy of 2 in your hands and blushing, “Uh, it’s a guilty pleasure.”

You put it on the player, moving the needle onto it and smiling at him, “I love this album.”

He smiled, patting the spot next to him, inviting you to sit beside him. You got up, taking his request and sitting beside him.

“Listen, I’m sorry for being kind of a dick that first day you came to the shop. I feel really bad.”

You shook your head, chuckling a bit, “It’s okay, Cal. Obviously you teased me because you like me.”

He blushed, “What? Where would you get that idea, I’ve never even looked at a girl!” He laughed, looking away from you and then back. He did like you. You were both silent as the sound of The Stars Keep On Calling My Name faded into My Kind of Woman. He wanted to kiss you. He needed to kiss you. His eyes flicked down to your lips and back up to your eyes, and he moved a piece of your hair out of your eyes, “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, wrapping your arms around his neck. He leaned in and planted a kiss on your lips. At first, he was just gonna kiss you sweetly. Just to get the point across he liked you. That was all. But he wanted more than one little kiss. He kissed you again, harder this time. He pulled you into his lap, resting his hands on your hips as he moved his lips down to your neck. He paused, mumbling against your skin, “Is this alright, darling?”

You nodded, desperate for his touch. He then continued the action, peppering kisses here and there.

He came back up to look at you, singing the words of the song to you dramatically, “You’re making me crazy, really driving me mad!”

You giggled, blushing as he took your face in his hand, kissing you deeply.

He fiddled with the button on your jeans, looking up at you for permission. You nodded, and he pulled them off of you. You sat up, pulling your shirt off and throwing it across the room. He looked at you in awe, undoing his belt. His knee made its way between your legs, spreading them apart. He smiled, twirling a piece of your hair around his finger, “You’re so pretty, baby. The prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

You blushed, shaking your head and looking away, “No no, not the prettiest.”

He frowned, putting his lips to your ear, “Let me make you feel like the prettiest girl in the world, yeah? Can you let me do that?”

You nodded, and he hooked his fingers onto your panties and pulled them off. He slowly pushed into you, allowing you to adjust to him. Your breath got quicker and heavier, and you gripped his shoulder, digging your nails into his skin. You couldn’t get any real words out, only moans.

He buried his face into your shoulder, gripping your waist with one hand to keep you in place, “You’re doing so good, darling. Taking me so well, aren’t you?” His lips met yours once more, kissing you sweetly and pulling back away.

You took his free hand by his wrist, placing his hand on your collarbones, hinting at something you wanted.

It took no time for him to understand, and he applied slight pressure to your neck. Finally, someone who actually knew how to choke. You gripped his wrist tighter, whimpering as he began to move faster inside of you.

“Are you gonna cum for me, princess? Are you ready?”

You nodded, feeling a pit in your stomach. Your walls clenched around him, and before you knew it, you came undone. You opened your eyes slowly, trying to catch your breath.

“You alright, darling? You did so good for me.” He ran his thumb over the marks on your neck, taking pride in what he left on your skin.

The doorbell rang, and Calum quickly put his jeans back on and throwing a blanket over top of you. He opened the door, and it was the takeout delivery. He quickly paid, telling the young guy to keep the change and closed the door.

He placed the bag on the coffee table, sitting beside you on the couch and handing you your clothes, “So… do you want the egg rolls or the dumplings?”

You were glad you fell for the dork from the record store.

Taglist!

@i-calumhood

@angelbabylu

@blahehblah

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sassyhazelowl · 5 years ago

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Title: Life is What You Bake It Rating: PG - a few swear words, comedic violence Pairing: Lyon x Erza Secondary Pairings: Lucy x Levy A/N: Silly, cute little idea that popped into my head while cruising titles on Netflix. Bakery AU.

Link to Google Docs - Comments welcome and appreciated :)

Chapter 3

Erza hadn’t been sure what to make of the gift Gray had dragged through her door. And dragged appeared to be the right word for it.

The two had been friends since junior high, and Gray always had an odd sense of humor. If she didn’t know better, she’d suspect some sort of trick. The man that sat in the doorway with his arms crossed hardly looked like he knew one end of a spatula from the other, and his clothing was way, way too expensive. Not that Erza didn’t approve; she loved clothing and knew all the brands. She had a whole closet dedicated to her love of clothing. And she could appreciate a well-dressed man. But it didn’t show a lot of common sense to come into the kitchen dressed like you were planning to eat in the dining room of the Ritz.

Glancing around at the kitchen, she realized beggars couldn’t be choosers. It wasn’t like she was a baker by trade. Before inheriting the bakery, she worked part-time here and there at any outdoor job that would take her, as a jack-of-all-trades. Sometimes she’d work two or three jobs at once, just for the challenge. She loved learning new things and being outside in nature and most of the jobs around here were seasonal anyway.

There’d been nothing for it but to roll up her sleeves and learn on the job when the bakery fell in her lap, bequeathed by it’s very elderly owner Mr. Makarov, who retired and moved to Florida. She’d been a cashier and a waitress and a ski instructor and a camp counselor and park ranger and so many other things. How hard could it be to run a bakery?

Quite hard, it turned out.

There were so many things she needed to learn that had nothing to do with baking, and the baking part itself was something she struggled with. Eating her way through every treat she could get her hands on did not prepare her for how much work went into making those delicious morsels.

But quitting wasn’t in Erza’s nature, and she was certain with some hard work she could turn things around.

“Well, I suppose I will see you tomorrow?” she said, still skeptical of the man who spoke charmingly enough. Turning, she saw he’d acquired a cloth from somewhere, stripped off his jacket (and shirt!) and was making short work of all the splatter within arm’s reach. Surprised, she covered her awkward giggle with a cough and asked conversationally, “Do you have a place to stay?”

“The Heartfilia residence,” he answered, moving on to the nearest table, barely sparing her a glance. “Another of Gray’s friends. My brother seems to be quite the popular man.”

“It is a small town. Everyone knows everyone,” Erza bristled, sure he was making fun of her home.

He straightened up seriously, rag in hand absently, “I am sure I will too by the end of the summer. Miss Scarlett, you seem to have an impression of me I am not sure I deserve.”

Curse her wretched fair skin and freckles. Instead of answering in words, she spun to hide her burning face and to stop oogling his muscular chest. Of all the horrible habits to share with his brother, going topless did not have to be one of them!

“Anyway,” she heard the rag flop down on the table, “I will come back tomorrow morning early. Be sure to either leave the door unlocked or be here to meet me.”

Well, dang it. She’d made him mad. How early was early to him anyway? 8 or 9? Would he even bother to show up tomorrow? It wasn’t any real loss if he didn’t. He probably was a fair baker but poor, struggling Fairy Tail Bakery needed more than mediocre tarts and muffins to survive. It had been flagging under Makarov’s expert hand, and under Erza’s inexperienced one it was drowning.

Without Fairy Heart she wasn’t sure it could go on that much longer.

Maybe that was for the better.

She could say she gave it an honest try and go back to drifting between jobs. Of course, it’d be a shame. Fairy Tail had been in this town for generations, and there weren’t any good bakeries in the surrounding cluster of small towns either. A chain would probably move in or perhaps someone with more luck than Erza would give it a try. Ignoring the sinking, heavy feeling in her chest, she wondered what Magnolia would be like without it’s bakery. Once this had been a bustling, social hub where people came to gather during the day, the sun to the moon that was Mira’s bar.

“Girl, who was that hot, shirtless guy that just stalked out of here? And what did you do to drive away such a stud?”

Lucy Heartfilia, a charming and plucky blonde, grinned as Erza jumped out of her skin and her sad thoughts. Letting herself behind the counter, she leaned back against the display, looking through the open door to the kitchen.

“That,” Erza remarked stiffly, ignoring the hot and shirtless comment, “Is your new tenant for the summer.”

“That’s Gray’s brother?” Lucy whistled, impressed. “And here I thought it was a fluke Gray was so ripped after all those donuts and Mountain Dews. Guess those boys got some good genes.”

Erza frowned, trying not to think about it. Sure, she saw Gray half-naked all the time, but she thought of him like a dumb little brother. This was definitely different, and it felt very inappropriate. Especially since she had… someone else.

Sorry, Jellal, she said in her head.

Would he even care? Would he be jealous or disappointed she was looking at another guy? Erza wasn’t sure. It hadn’t come up before, and of course, he trusted her, but did she trust herself?

“Why were you looking?” Erza clicked her tongue, really questioning herself and not Lucy. “What would your girlfriend say?”

“She’d say go for it, babe; we need some more eye-candy around here. Not that she’d pay attention herself. Not unless said eye-candy had a well-stitched binding and some sweet, fresh off the press paper smell to it.” Lucy shrugged a my-girlfriend-is-a-bibliophile shrug and waved a book at Erza. “I was just bring over the latest and greatest erotica from our favorite author.”

“You?”

Lucy choked for a moment then laughed, “Our other favorite author. What makes you think I write erotica? I’ll just set this… okay, definitely not anywhere in here. Did you put the mixer on high again?”

“No.”

Yes. Again. Because she hadn’t learned her lesson the last half dozen times. Why did it even have that setting, if all it did was cause chaos?

Lucy rolled up her sleeves, eyes twinkling with good humor, and snatched up the rag left by Gray’s brother.

“First things first. You’re done destroying the kitchen for the day. We’re going to clean this mess up then you’re going to take the afternoon off to read this amazing novel and relax. I know you’re worried, but it’ll work out. Levy had a horrible time when she first opened her bookstore because she didn’t know how to order or stock or balance a budget, but now it’s thriving and hiring some employees to help out made a huge difference. Can you imagine Magnolia without it? Little mom’n’pops are Magnolia’s life blood and charm. The tourists don’t come here for Starbucks or Barnes and Noble after all.”

“No. No they do not,” Erza murmured to herself, thinking it a bit eerie Lucy had the same thoughts she had.

The author was a transplant to the town, visiting on vacation and never leaving. It wasn’t entirely an unheard of thing, but Erza sometimes wondered if it was Magnolia or Levy her friend was in love with more. If anyone in town could be the authority on the charm the town held to outsiders, Lucy would be it.

Erza simply had to trust things would turn out alright. What else could go wrong after all?

#fairy tail #fanfic #mine #lyoza #///#ch3 #bake it

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crashdevlin · 6 years ago

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Bottle-14: Safe House

Bottle Masterlist

Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version), I work in info from the comics (Like Hawkeye was married to Mockingbird and Red Skull had a disappointing daughter) and I took a few liberties with what the scepter could do (but not really because the Mind Stone was used to create the Twins so what I did is not that far-fetched). This is a lot more angst than I realized when I wrote it, but it’s compelling angst.

Summary: Cassandra Campbell is a Stark Industries lab tech with dubious genetics and a history with the new Director of SHIELD. She’s been working in New York since right before the Chitauri invasion. What does she have to do with Loki, and what will happen when he returns? Starts post TDW and continues to the end of AoU.

Pairing(s): Phil Coulson x OFC (Past), Loki x OFC (Non-con), Clint Barton x OFC, Steve Rogers x OFC

Word Count: 4810

Story Warnings: So many, worst (to me) are bolded. Younger woman/older man relationship,non-con, mutilation, torture, mind control, PTSD, depression, alcoholism, forced abortions, bad things (non-con) in a church, insomnia, memory manipulation, eventual consensual oral sex (female and male receiving),

Chapter Warnings: canon-compliant violence, 18+, HERE BE SEX, DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN, dub-con dream, canon-divergence (I hated the Laura Barton storyline for various reasons, so I fixed it) Bad German from google translate

Cassie woke up alone, but there was a note next to her head. Had to vacate. I made bacon and coffee. Call me when you wake up.

She smiled and dressed in a pair of jeans and a short-sleeved blue turtleneck. As she poured coffee into a travel mug, she put her cell on speaker and dialed Clint. "Good morning, Hawk."

"Not so much," came through the phone. "Uh, so, Natasha knows."

"What? Are you kidding me?" She twisted the cap on the mug and picked up her cell phone.

"No. We're spies. She didn't like my answer of where I spent my night, so she followed me on the camera footage."

Cassie took a drink of her coffee and groaned, walking out of her apartment. "I'm sorry, Agent Barton. Aren't you supposed to be well-versed in keeping shit secret?"

"Hey, I'm great at keeping secrets. I was on my way to delete the video from the cams in your apartment when Nat told me she got there first."

"Great. So, your best friend, who thinks I'm a cocktease, knows you spent the night in my bed? Wonderful. So, what, did she tell you to stay away from me? You gonna listen to her?" she asked, getting into the elevator. She rested her phone between her ear and shoulder and pushed her right hand onto the biometric scanner above the numbered buttons.

"That's a negative. I answer to you." His voice switched to a military tone.

"And someone just walked up on you. One of the bosses. Tell me you deleted that footage."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I'm on my way up," she said, pressing numbers on the screen to send her to the lab level. She heard someone in the background, sounded like Steve.

"I gotta go," Clint said, into the phone.

"See ya in few," Cassie said, hanging up and putting her phone in her back pocket. As she walked into the lab, drinking down her coffee like ambrosia, she noticed everyone around Natasha at the computer. "What'd I miss?"

"Ultron killed your buddy Strucker," Tony answered, handing a tablet to her. 'STRUCKER, BARON VON' and 'DECEASED' shined up at her, over a picture of Strucker, dead in his cell. 'PEACE' was written crudely on the wall in blood.

"This is a smokescreen. Why send a message when you've just given a speech?" Natasha asked.

"Strucker knew something that Ultron wanted us to miss," Steve caught on.

"Yeah, I bet he..." Natasha started, pulling up the file on Strucker. "Yep. Everything we had on Strucker has been erased."

"Not everything," Steve said, with a smile. "I prefer paper."

"You've got analog files," Cassie said, with a grin. "Thank God for the man out of time. Where are they?"

"There's a storage room down the hall. Strucker files will be there."

The team grabbed the boxes and dug in, Clint taking a box over to the window to be by himself. Cassie stuck by the table, going through a box of Strucker's history. A Hydra file caught her eye, one labeled 'Projekt Kind'. She pulled it as Steve dropped a box on the table. "Known associates. Strucker had a lot of friends."

"Well, these people are all horrible," Banner said, flipping through files.

"Wait. I know that guy," Tony said, pointing at a picture. "From back in the day. He operates off the African coast, black market arms."

Steve gave him an accusatory look, so he quickly defended himself as the picture was passed around the table. Cassie tore her eyes away from the 'Kind' file to stand and look over Thor's arm at the picture. The man looked dangerous, covered in tattoos and heavily muscled. "There are conventions, all right? You meet people, I didn't sell him anything. He was talking about finding something new, a game changer, it was all very 'Ahab'."

"This?" Thor asked, pointing to a red symbol on the man's neck.

"Uh, it's a tattoo. I don't think he had it..." Tony answered.

"No, those are tattoos, this is a brand," Thor responded, showing the picture to the table.

"A brand? Like, a voluntary body mod thing, or... 'we want you to be forever remembered as a criminal' kind of thing?" Cassie asked.

"Well, he operates in Africa. There are still tribes that do that. I mean, the ones that don't just kill you," Clint offered from his place behind Stark.

"Let's find out. I'll scan this picture and find the symbol." Banner said, gently taking the picture from Thor's hands and walking to the computer.

As the computer scanned through thousands of symbols, Cassie opened the 'Kind' file. Most of it was numbers and dates. #1: FEHLSCHLAGEN: 23/5/1978-23/5/1978, #5: FEHLSCHLAGEN: 9/6/1978-9/7/1978 ... on and on with failure after failure, until #452: GELINGEN: 12/9/1989-? LEBENDE EXEMPLAR.

"What are you reading?" Natasha asked from over her shoulder. Cassie hadn't realized how close the Russian was to her.

"Projekt Kind. Me. I'm reading about me, and all the failures that came before me. All the brothers and sisters that died in the petri dish."

"Why was that in with Strucker's stuff?" Banner asked from the computer.

"Because Strucker ran the lab where I was made. It was one of his first assignments, back when he was a balding young Hydra agent, instead of a bald asshole." She flipped the folder shut and looked around the room. "They called me 452, but I never really thought they'd failed 451 times before they got it right. The one before me only lasted a month. I... wonder what they did right with me."

"Don't worry about what they did, just be glad they did it," Tony said, looking at the computer.

"Oh, yeah," Bruce said, as a match came up on the screen. "It's a word in an African dialect meaning 'thief', in a much less friendly way."

"What dialect?" Steve asked.

"Wakanada?" Bruce tried, before turning back to the screen to try again. "Wa... wa... Wakanda."

The word hit something in Cassie's mind. Phil had told her about Wakanda. What had he said? "If this guy got out of Wakanda with some of their trade goods..." Stark started, looking completely exasperated.

"I thought your father said he got the last of it?" Steve said.

"I don't follow. What comes out of Wakanda?" Bruce asked, stepping away from the computer.

Steve and Tony turned their heads to look at Steve's beloved shield. "The strongest metal on Earth."

"Where is this guy now?" Steve asked.

"Africa?" Cassie suggested, taking a drink of her coffee and standing.

"Yeah. A shipyard in Richards Bay, South Africa. East coast, about 600 klicks away from Johannesburg," Natasha said, pulling up a location on the computer.

"Suit up? I'm gonna go suit up. Meet you at the jet," Cassie said, grabbing the 'Kind' file and walking out with it and her mug. As she waited for the elevator, Natasha walked up beside her, grabbing the folder. "What are you doing, Romanoff?"

"You don't need this. It's a deep hole. You're already in one of those. Don't dig yourself deeper." She held the file away from the blond next to her.

"I'm already in one? Really? I wasn't aware."

Natasha turned to her, the file safely behind her back. "You still don't know who you are. I understand that. You have an internal fight going on between you and the occultist Hydra princess," she said the words with a mixture of malice and pity. "You're gonna look at this file and see their plans for you. It's Hydra, so they had your whole life planned out. But you, whoever you actually are, you're not who they wanted you to be. You aren't 452, or Junior. You're Joanna and Cassandra... Red Queen. All of those names, SHIELD and its operatives gave you. Like you said, even your dark side has a respect for human life. This file is not you."

"Why do you care how deep I dig myself? I'm just a tease, right? Nobody you want on your team."

"Because Barton cares, and you've chosen. That's all I asked. You chose Clint and he asked me to be nice. I'm willing to do that. I'm willing to try to be your friend. I'm happy to be your teammate. Just so long as we're all clear that you've chosen and last night wasn't a fluke."

Cassie sighed and walked onto the elevator as it opened. "I chose. Yesterday, I chose. Not because I was scared of some robot, not because he showed up in my bedroom while I was vulnerable and sad... but because I like the blunt, forward child of the '70s... the man who knows me, both sides of me, better than I do. And better than you do."

"Then, we're fine. See you at the jet," Natasha turned and walked back toward the lab, putting the file under her arm.

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

"All right. Heavy hitters, go in first. That's me, Thor and Cap. Red, Hawk and Widow, you pull a stealth entrance and bring up the rear. Banner stays on the jet unless we need a 'Code Green'," Tony ordered.

Everyone nodded and readied themselves to head onto the ship. Cassie nodded to Clint as he started to climb to a vantage height, but she stuck to the shadows on the lower. She could hear the A Team above her, chatting with Ultron and the twins. "I'm glad you asked that, because I wanted to take this time to explain my evil plan!" Ultron shouted, before a series of explosions and hits and thuds were heard above her. She pulled her gun from its holster and snuck to a point still mostly covered, but able to take aim at the Ultronbots suddenly flying above, attacking everyone. Two shots to the head of one put it down a few feet from her, and she managed a bullet into the leg of one of Klaue's men. When Steve knocked the fast enhanced into the boxes she was hiding behind, Cassie came around them. No more hiding.

"Stay down, kid," Steve said, before running off.

Cassie pointed her weapon at the Maximoff. "I know you could be gone before I finished pulling this trigger... and even if I could hit you, I wouldn't want a body on my soul, anyway. So, I'm gonna go this way..." She gestured to her left with the pistol. "...and you can go wherever else you want."

The silver haired enhanced looked up at her, then stood, brushing his clothes off. "You have no bodies on your soul? You are Avenger. Is that not requirement for joining?"

She shook her head. "Sie wissen nicht wovon Sie sprechen. [You don’t know what you’re talking about.] You have a vastly distorted view of the Avengers. Your outdated idea of Tony Stark is the problem. But... me... I'm just one of Strucker's experiments gone right. I'm..." Her head went fuzzy as she spoke, and she turned her head to see the sister and a red mist floating around her head. "Vat did you do?" she whispered, accent heavy on her words as her head went fuzzy.

"Guys, is this a code Green?" came through the comms as Cassie tried to blink away the dizziness in her head.

"Thor! Status?" Steve came through next as Wanda and Pietro disappeared from Cassie's field of vision.

"The girl tried to warp my mind. Take special care, I doubt a human could keep her at bay. Fortunately, I am mighty." Thor's voice was muffled by a louder, seemingly omnipresent voice.

"Joanna." Cassie twisted, the sing-song voice sending fear straight to her gut. The ship had been replaced by the lab she used to work in at Stark Tower. She looked down, her super suit replaced by her old lab coat and a light blue blouse... and there he was, inky black hair, blue-green eyes, green and black armor, sitting on the counter between two Bunsen burners on at their highest level. "Clinton, then? You replace me, Asgardian royalty, the son of King Laufey of Jotunheim, with a circus freak?"

She took a step backward, which prompted Loki to jump down and walk toward her. "Loki, I-"

"Don't worry, Joanna. I'm not angry," he said, grabbing a fistful of her hair and pulling her into a kiss. She melted into it, his cold touch forcing shivers throughout her body. "You are my queen, my Red Queen, and I know you love me. I know you love my touch." His long fingers came to her lab coat, pulling it down her arms to drop on the floor.

"That scepter didn't make you scream my name, did it? It didn't leave you dripping your juices down my chin or make you ride my cock like a wench in heat." He turned her, roughly, pushing her chest into the counter and bringing his hands around to unbutton her black work slacks, pushing them down her legs.

"Loki, don't-"

"I know your mind. I know you miss me, Joanna. You refuse to acknowledge it, but I can smell your lies, even the ones you tell yourself. I know how much you long to be in my arms again, how you miss being impaled upon me." His hand slid down her ass and between her legs, rubbing her lips through the thin satin of her panties. He tore the material away and stood, lining his cock up against her and lifting her hips to improve his angle as he rammed his hips forward. "You... are... mine. Only mine... I know your body... such that... I can make... you cum... without even touching... your little bundle of nerves." He hammered his hips forward, causing Cassie to whimper and claw at the slick granite countertop.

He was right. As his hands grabbed her shoulders to hold her steady, an orgasm rushed over her. "Oh, my god," she moaned.

He continued to fuck her past her orgasm, drawing the sensations out longer. "Yes, I am. Do well to remember it, Joanna."

Cassie was suddenly back on the ship, sprawled out on the floor, her body thrumming with arousal. She shuddered and stood. "Natasha, I could really use a lullaby," Tony's voice came over the comm.

"Well, that's not gonna happen. Not for a while. The whole team is down. You got no backup here," Clint answered.

"I'm out... out of it," Cassie whispered. "I can't provide a Brahm's but, do you need help, Stark?"

"Banner's in Johannesburg, I don't know how you'd get there in time. Help Barton corral the rest of the team. I'm calling in VERONICA."

"Good to hear your voice, Red," Clint came over the comms.

"You got a location on the rest of our team?" She wasn't in the mood for pleasantries.

"Cap was swaying in the stairwell, got no clue on the Thunder God."

"Got him," Cassie said, looking up the stairs to the left. She ran up them, coming to a stop in front of Steve. "Steve... Steve. Hey, come back. Come back," she said, snapping her fingers in front of him.

Steve barely moved, so Cassie bent her knees, putting her shoulder against his abdomen and popping up to throw him over her shoulder. "Cap's still out, I'm taking him back to the jet. Grab Widow and meet me there, Barton. We'll take on Thor together."

As she stomped onto the Quinjet, Steve weighing her down, Clint rushed up beside her. "Here, put him down over here." She dropped Steve unceremoniously on one of the jump seats, then rolled her shoulders back. "I'm impressed. Glad for the super strength, huh?"

"Right. Come on. Let's go wrangle an Asgardian," she said, trudging back down the ramp.

"Hey. Are you okay?" Clint asked, following her. "I know the Maximoff chick hit you."

"Clint, can we not? We've just had our asses completely handed to us. You and I are the only ones intact right now, and we've got a God to put on that jet."

"Okay, well... You're gonna tell me what she made you see, right? Later?"

"Sure," she responded, running back up the ramp onto the ship.

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

Clint powered up the jet and flew out as soon as Banner and Stark made it on board. He tried to beckon Cassie to the copilot seat, but she shook her head and took her place on the floor next to the scientist. She didn't say anything or touch the man, just hung her head and listened to the sounds of the Quinjet, all the while wondering what the hell was wrong with her.

Maria's voice came from the cockpit. "The news is loving you guys. Nobody else is. There's been no official call for Banner's arrest but it's in the air."

"Stark Relief Foundation?" Tony asked.

"Already on the scene. How's the team?"

Cassie could almost feel Tony scan the jet with his eyes. "Everyone's... we took a hit. We'll shake it off."

Well, that sounded optimistic.

"Well, for now, I'd stay in stealth mode and stay away from here."

"So, run and hide?"

"Until we can find Ultron, I don't have a lot else to offer."

"Neither do we." There was a moment where the screen clicked off, then Stark said, "Hey, do you wanna switch out?"

"No, I'm good. If you wanna get some kip, now's a good time, 'cause we're still a few hours out."

"A few hours from where?"

"A safe house."

Cassie watched Stark sit in one of the seats and look down at his phone, so she nodded at him and stood, walking to the cockpit to take the copilot seat. "I don't want to talk about it, now. Maybe never, but definitely not now," she said, quietly. Clint just nodded and reached his right hand out to pat her knee. "Thank you."

"Hey, secret shit is what I do. Speaking of, you remember, in Austria I told you about a farm I go to when I need to get my shit straight?"

Cassie nodded. "That's your safe house?"

"Yeah. And, uh, I'm not the only one who lives there," he whispered.

"What, you got a secret wife or something?" she whispered back, leaning over closer to him.

"No, nothing stupid like that, but... I have a brother, Barney. He's got a wife and kids. He's not always... stable and he's... not around a lot. So, I set her, my niece and nephew up with a stable home. Barney and I never got that, and she's a great woman, deserves it, so... Anyway, only Nat knows, so... Assuming Ultron hasn't found out about it, that's gonna be a surprise."

"Wait... Barney Barton... I know that name... Charles, right? He’s Trick Shot now, right?"

"Uh, yeah. How do you know that?"

Cassie turned away from him and looked out the front of the jet. "Phil brought home files sometimes."

"I... remember seeing you snoop a couple times. You never did anything with them though."

"Curiosity. Always trying to learn."

***********

Cassie fell into a dreamless sleep, which was disturbed only when the Quinjet landed outside a farmhouse situated on a green plot of land. "Wow," she whispered, standing. "Home is green."

"Yeah," Clint said, dropping the ramp to let everyone walk out.

"What is this place?" Thor asked, stepping onto the porch.

"A safe house?" Tony said, questioningly.

"Let's hope," Barton muttered, opening the door for them. "Honey, I'm home," he called.

The brunette woman that walked in from the kitchen was very pregnant. She smiled at them. "Let your brother hear you call me 'honey', you'll have even more issues with each other than you already do."

Clint smiled. "Hi. Company. Sorry I didn't call first."

"Clint, it's your house. Your don't have to call ahead." She smiled brightly at the group. "Hey."

"She's clearly an agent of some kind," Tony mumbled to Thor.

"Gentlemen, Cass, this is my sister-in-law, Laura."

"I know all your names."

"Ooh, incoming," Barton said, pulling away from Laura and kneeling down as a boy and a girl ran into the living room.

"Uncle Clint!" the girl yelled, jumping up into his arms.

"Oh, she's been dying to tell you about this boy at school," Laura said.

The girl nodded, excited. "Do I want to know about the boy at school?" he asked.

The girl jumped down, nodding as Stark said, "These are... smaller agents."

"There's a new boy at school, we share recess, and I'm the only one who can talk to him."

"Why's that?"

"'Cause he's deaf and I'm the only one who knows Sign," she said.

Clint smiled, proudly. "Very cool. Is he cute?" He spoke the words as he signed at her. The girl blushed fiercely and puffed her cheeks out. Clint laughed at her reaction, then signed. "Glad you are getting good practice." At the look of confusion from Cassie, he shrugged. "I was kinda deaf for a while. SHIELD fixed me."

"By 'kinda deaf for a while' he means '80% hearing loss for most of his life'," Laura filled in.

"Did you bring Auntie Nat?" the girl interjected as Cassie gave an impressed look.

"Why don't you hug her and find out?" Natasha said, stepping forward. The girl rushed to her and hugged her tightly.

"Sorry for barging in on you," Steve apologized to Laura.

"Yeah, we would have called ahead, but we were busy not knowing you existed," Stark snarked.

"Yeah, well, Fury helped me set this up when I joined. He kept it off SHIELD's files, I'd like to keep it that way. I figure it's a good place to lay low."

"Well, Clint, we missed you," Laura said, with a smile.

"So, I see Barney made his way home," Natasha said, walking up and putting her hands on the woman's belly.

"Yeah. 'Bout seven months ago."

"So... how's little Natasha, huh?" Natasha asked.

"She's... Nathaniel," Laura answered.

"Traitor," Natasha said, leaning down to speak directly at the baby in the woman's belly.

Cassie turned her head as Thor stalked out of the house and Steve followed. "You're Cassie, aren't you?" Laura asked. Cassie turned back to the woman and nodded. "Clint has told me a lot about you."

"Oh, that can't be good."

Laura laughed. "No, it's good, I promise. He couldn't tell me everything, you know, 'classified'." She did air quotes around the word. "...but when you disappeared, he went crazy with worry. He obsessed about finding you. He had all these maps that me and the kids weren't allowed to look at. He'd spend hours pouring over them."

Clint groaned and pulled a knife from his belt. He offered it to Natasha and tapped the back of his skull. "If you could just, please, right here."

"Oh, come on, Clint. I think it's cute. So, where was it that you actually ended up being?" Laura asked, rubbing her hands over her belly.

"Austria."

"Oh. Pretty."

Cassie smiled, awkwardly as her stomach growled. "You mind if I take over your kitchen, Mrs. Barton? I'm feeling a bit... completely famished."

"Oh, sure. I don't mind."

"I'm gonna grab a shower," Tony said.

"Kids' bathroom is upstairs, second door on the left," Clint informed, before following Cassie into the kitchen. "Hey. You all right?"

She opened the fridge and peered in. It was well stocked with produce and meats, three different kinds of fruit juice on the top shelf and a small drawer filled with Lunchables. A twenty-four pack of beer sat on the bottom shelf next to a case of ginger ale. "I wasn't ever... that pregnant. She... looks huge," she whispered. She shook her head and shut the fridge. "Which way to town?"

"What do you mean? What do you need in town?"

"I'm gonna go buy some beer."

"There's beer in the fridge."

She smiled, slightly. "It's so cute that you think that's beer."

"What, you don't like Coors?" he asked, leaning against the oven.

"I have something against a beer that encourages you to drink it cold." Clint raised his eyebrow. "Come on, you've spent enough time in Europe to know that real beer should be warm or, at least, room temp. Why? Because cold dulls the natural flavors of hops and barley and if a beer wants you to drink it cold, they obviously don't want you to actually taste it."

She shrugged. "Farmland, USA, I might be able to find a sixer of Guinness at the 'Five and Dime'. Just point me in the right direction."

"A: It's a dry town. You'd have to go the next county over for a beer. 2: I've got whiskey in the cabinet if you really need a drink, and Charlie: There are a lot of people out there looking for us. You don't need to be going anywhere."

"I'm not an Avenger, not so far as the world knows, Clint. No one is gonna recognize me."

Clint rolled his eyes and switched on the TV set sitting on the counter. BBC World News flicked to life on the screen. "...mysterious young woman carrying Thor onto the Avengers' jet. We apologize for the poor quality of the video. It's from CCTV. It is not clear who this woman is, but what is clear is that she is definitely not human," a petite British newscaster said.

Her co-anchor nodded. "You have to imagine how heavy Thor is, and you can see on that video, she just carries him around like a sack filled with potatoes or flour or something. It's like it takes no effort fer her," the Scottish man said.

"Video's grainy. You can't tell that's me. Look, I'll put on a hoodie and glasses if it'll make you feel better, but I'm going into town and you can't stop me, Hawk. I mean, you're just a human," she said, before sighing and looking down. "I didn't mean for that to be... so rude. I'm sorry. I just... The Maximoff chick got to me and then that... I don't need reminding of what I am. Your sister has some really nice bell peppers in there and I was gonna get some sausage, bratwurst maybe, make us some good ol' Austrian diner food for dinner. I think a hardy meal would help us a lot." She blinked back her tears and shook her head at herself.

"Can you drive?" Clint asked, softly.

Cassie nodded. "Phil taught me. I, also, know how to fly."

"He let you drive LOLA?"

She chuckled. "There was a time when he loved me more than that Corvette. I thought you were watching me. How'd you miss that?"

Clint shrugged. "I knew you weren't going to be doing any shady Hydra stuff with Phil around, so when he came in, I'd take time off. At the beginning, I went home to Bobbi until I got confirmation that Coulson had a new mission. After she... the divorce, I got a cheap apartment in San Luis Obispo that I went to when Phil was around. Mostly just slept and pigged out on sandwiches. Oh, and played PlayStation."

"So, you missed the crash."

"You crashed LOLA?" He looked a mixture of mortified and amused.

"Yeah. First time I got her in the air. Phil was so angry, he couldn't even speak for like 20 minutes after he inspected the damage. Which wasn't a lot, really, just a cracked headlight." She smiled. "It was... three weeks before he let me behind the wheel again, but I never had any other problems. Got my license a few months before I left Cali... Don't really need it in New York. Anyway, closest beer-mart?"

"Why don't I just drive you?" He reached out and grabbed her hand.

"You need to be here. Natasha needs you. Laura and the kids haven't seen you since I've been back from Austria. I'll be fine and I could probably benefit from a little alone time. I deal better in seclusion, remember?"

"Last time you needed seclusion, I spent two months searching for you," he whispered.

"I promise I'll come back. Today, even." She smiled softly and pulled her hand back. "Come on, Hawkeye. Keys?"

Clint sighed and groped behind him, on the counter, for a set of keys. "Take the van. Laura won't mind."

"And where am I going?" she asked, taking the keys with the Planet Fitness key chain and looping them over her first finger.

"Dirt road, take a left on Sycamore, right onto SR107, 20 miles down there's a Wal-Mart Supercenter. Beer, sausages, all that. You better come back. If you don't, I'm gonna have to room with Stark and that'd be torture."

She nodded, looking toward the living room before going on her tiptoes to press her lips to his cheek. She walked past the Bartons and Natasha out of the house.

KITCHEN SINK TAGS @heyitscam99 @wonderlandfandomkingdom @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt @mrs-meghan-winchester @henrymorganme @lonely-skys @allykat2108

#cassie writes stuff #avengers fanfiction #ofc #red queen chronicles #clint/ofc

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you-guys--are-losers · 6 years ago

Text

Your Selection

Summary: Prom season has finally arrived, and the students at Midtown are not immune to all of the drama and excitement that comes with it. Peter's junior class is thrilled to be attending for the first time. People are pairing off to buy tickets a month in advance, and the ones who are in relationships have a new commitment to make to the dance.

This year, that includes Michelle Jones.

Peter does not know what he feels as he realizes exactly what this means, but as MJ is pulled further away from the trio they worked so hard to form, he knows it feels wrong. What feels even worse is watching MJ change without them for someone who takes her for granted... And then some. But it is not his place to say anything about her relationship. If it makes her happy, then it is his job to respect it.

However, each day brings Midtown closer to prom, and each day mounts tensions higher. How much pressure can Peter and MJ's relationship take until it snaps in two?

Characters: Michelle Jones x Peter Parker

Word Count: 1,498

Warnings: Swearing, Self-Consciousness

@one-way-ride @prettylilparker @transient-transition @nerdofthehighestcalibre

26.5 Days Until Prom

Peter doesn’t know why he feels so good that MJ is coming to movie night tonight.

The thing on Friday was a one-time thing, he reminds himself, nothing more than a fluke. It was just because of stupid prom, which will be over in a little less than a month, anyway. But Peter is more relieved than he would like to admit that MJ is coming, and he tries to ignore the fact that her decline to come over had spooked him more than he cares to admit.

When the end of the day comes, Peter is more than ready to go home. Their wood shop class completely numbed up his mind, and he is looking forward to having some stimulating conversation and Star Wars banter to massage his brain back to life. Ned is waiting by his locker at the end of the day, and Peter watches as his best friend’s face light up.

“Hey!” Ned greets cheerfully. “Guess what?” Before Peter has a chance to answer, Ned is rattling forward. Unbothered, Peter opens his locker and slides a few books into their places, leaving his backpack lighter and his books organized. “Betty actually talked to me today. I mean, it was about the project we have due on Friday, but like, she didn’t seem bored. And after she asked me about my shirt! I had to, like, explain basically all of Star Trek for her to get the reference, but you know. She even laughed and stuff!”

A grin spreads across Peter’s face, and he nods. “That’s great, man!” he exclaims, turning to lean against his locker so that they can wait for MJ. “Hey, at this rate, maybe by the time you’re thirty you’ll actually have asked her out.”

Ned doesn’t seem bothered by the comment. Rather, he takes on a lofty attitude, saying, “Hey, don’t joke, man. You gotta take your time, make sure that you give her a while to realize she’s into you, then that’s when you make your move-”

“-and then you wake up and realize that you’re still a nerd with no balls,” MJ’s serene voice finishes from behind Ned. Though her tone is as lofty as ever, both Peter and Ned have learned to tell when she’s joking, and based upon the way that one corner of her mouth is quirked upwards, she doesn’t mean it. Peter doesn’t know why, but he straightens up and tugs lightly at his collar at her approach, and he can’t stop a grin from crossing his face.

Ned makes a face and shoots her a look. “Come on, man! Is it so hard to believe that I could actually ask someone out?”

“I would like to be able to say no, but you don’t exactly have to best history with things that put you under pressure,” she replies as she quickly opens her own locker. Peter watches as MJ takes the massive pile of books in her hands and shoves them into the locker, shoving it shut before they can all fall out on her.

“I don’t know what you’re talking ab-”

“Last week, you squeaked when the toaster popped and you didn’t expect it. The toaster.”

Ned’s face turns red, but he tries to look stubborn. “That’s a perfectly legitimate reaction!”

“Then you unplugged it, and kept doing that every time we went back there for days.”

Peter lets out a small huff of laughter, and a grudging smile crosses Ned’s lips. “Whatever. Can we just go? I want pizza.”

“I agree with that sentiment,” MJ pipes up, turning to look at Peter for confirmation. For a moment, her dark gaze catches him off-guard, but he quickly nods.

“R-right, um, yeah! Yeah, we can order it on the phone on the walk home.”

“I want sausage,” Ned announces as they begin to walk. “And onions.”

“And remember,” MJ reminds as she falls into step with Ned. “Half has to be-”

“Mushroom, spinach, and full tomato slices,” Peter finishes as he pulls out his phone, grinning slightly. “I know. You’re not exactly the most unpredictable.”

MJ looks affronted, but Peter can tell she’s hiding a grin. “Excuse you, I am not predictable.”

“You wear, like, the same three hoodies on repeat with that jacket thrown in there every once in a while,” he responds, not looking up as he selects the number for the pizza place.

It is Ned’s turn to let out a little snort of laughter, and Peter hears her mumble of, “Yeah, whatever, loser.” But it’s comfortable, this trio of theirs, and the walk home is relaxed even though Peter spends most of it on the phone while Ned and MJ compete over who can kick an empty beer can farther down the sidewalk.

The pizza has arrived, the movie is rolling, and the smell of MJ’s hot chai tea is mingling with that of tomato sauce in Peter’s living room, the way that it always does when she is here. Peter shouldn’t be on edge, really. He should be paying attention to Ned’s Jar Jar Binks impression, which is absolutely perfect in every way. Normally, it never fails to get a laugh out of Peter. But today, it isn’t working the way that it normally does, and Peter hates it.

He knows it’s because MJ has been texting furiously for the last twenty minutes.

As far as Peter can remember, MJ hasn’t ever so much as looked at her phone during a movie night. She doesn’t particularly like her old Blackberry, and it rarely goes off. She comments every so often that the only person who really texts her is her mom, and only about their schedules and the like. If Peter has to guess, however, he doesn’t think that this is her mom. If it was, MJ would hardly have any reason to be letting out the soft, frustrated puffs of breath that she does whenever the phone buzzes again, normally just after she’s set it down.

After a while, Ned picks up on it, too. He glances over when the phone buzzes, then back at Peter as MJ picks it up and starts to type furiously. She only seems to begetting more and more annoyed, and finally after a particularly long time spent typing she sets down the phone with unnecessary force.

Ned swallows, glancing at Peter before looking back to MJ. “Hey, uh...” he says slowly, trailing off when MJ’s intense, frustrated gaze fixes on him. “You good?”

“Of course I’m ‘good,’“ MJ mutters, glancing back to the movie. “Why wouldn’t I be good?” Peter and Ned exchange another look as her phone buzzes at that specific moment, and a soft, frustrated exclamation escapes her lips.

There is a moment of silence, and for a moment all three of them are just looking at one another.

“Fine,” she mumbles after a moment, letting a long tuft of hair fall in her face. “It’s... It’s this stupid freaking dance.”

“You mean prom?” Peter asks, raising an eyebrow. “Stupid, freaking prom?”

“Stupid, freaking prom,” MJ repeats, nodding. “I just... Ugh.”

Ned looks slightly concerned. “So what exact stupid, freaking thing happened?”

MJ glares over at her phone. “Lukas said he was paying for the tickets,” she mutters. “I said I could pay for mine, but he was all like, ‘No, I want to pay for my date!’ And I’m an idiot, so I let him, and I ended up spending a little more on a dress than I would have, since I had that extra money I wasn’t spending on a ticket.”

Peter nods slowly, trying to ignore the sinking feeling he gets in his chest when she says ‘my date.’ MJ isn’t anybody’s anything, but he doesn’t feel like she wants him to point that out right now.

“And now, he’s texting me saying he didn’t buy the tickets and used the money to pay for some ‘unexpected thing’ in his stupid tech class, and he’s asking me if I can buy my own ticket.” MJ’s eyes are filled with a peeved irritation, and Peter decides that he is glad he is not on the receiving end of that look. “I wouldn’t have minded, but now I’m going to have to take on extra shifts to pay for it, and--” She breaks off, running an agitated hand through her hair. “Ew. Now I sound like a stupid, whiny girlfriend. Shoot me, Parker.”

Girlfriend. Peter rather feels like the one who is getting shot.

“Nah, that sucks, man,” Ned chimes in, glancing at Peter. “I’d be ticked off.”

“Yeah, well,” MJ sighs, shaking her head and picking up the phone to shove it in her pocket. “It’s dumb. I guess I probably shouldn’t have said anything anyway, so if you tell anyone I’ll murder you. I think I read something about not talking about being pissed at your partner with anyone but your partner, so I should probably just talk to him. But I’ll do it after I’m doing roasting Anakin to a crisp.”

Ned laughs, and a little grin spreads across Peter’s lips. Still, it’s small and slightly strained... She’s trying so hard, and she should be, of course. But Peter can feel that little bit of worry inching in again, because she’s drawing closer to Lukas and away from them. It’s stupid and childish to feel that way, but Peter can’t help but feeling like if it were anyone else, he wouldn’t have that issue.

Because MJ deserves more than being used and inconvenienced.

#Your Selection #michelle jones #michelle jones fic #peter parker x michelle jones #michelle jones x peter parker #michelle jones fanfiction #mj #mj x peter #peter x mj #peter parker #ned leeds #aunt may #spider-man: homecoming #spiderman:homecoming hc #spiderman #spideychelle #spideychelle fic #spideychelle prom au #original work

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nai-has-jams · 7 years ago

Text

Wild Thoughts (AMBW)

Genre: Angsty Smut ft. fuckboy!Yoongi Pairing: Suga x Reader (ambw)

He’s such a fucking dick. You thought to yourself as you collected your books from your locker. You took your time getting your things, as you wanted to spend as little time being in the same room with Min Yoongi as possible. You heard him and his group of fuckboy friends laughing and joking about something nonsensical— your best guess being who had gotten laid most recently. It disgusted you. Did he and his friends really think that highly of themselves? That with just a few words, and barely any effort, they could get into any girl’s panties? Apparently, the proof was in the pudding.

You recalled the night prior when you were on the phone with your best friend

“I hate him, I really do,” you said. “Girl, bye. You know you want him in any which way you can get him.” she teased. “I really don’t. Why would someone like me want to be involved with someone like him?” “Bitch, shut up. I know you be thinking about him on the daily. That’s okay though. I think about his friendddddd.” she teased. You chuckled and rolled your eyes at her even though she wouldn’t be able to see you through the phone. Did you really want him? You thought about what it would be like to feel him stretching you out, making you moan and beg for him, but you quickly erased that thought from your mind. “Girl, you still on Hoseok? Even after the dance?” you asked her, cautiously.

“Honestly, nah. He’s a fuckboy, and I’m not tryna deal with all that ‘who you texting’ cheating bullshit.” she admitted. “Girl, I know that’s right. Same reason I couldn’t fuck with Yoongi.” you concurred, but under your breath, you began to mutter, “even though he could probably fuck the shit out of me.” “WHAT?” she exclaimed. “What? You heard that? Girl hush. I was just playing.” you lied. “Uh-huh, yeah, playing my ass. You want him. I can tell. All he does is look at you and smirk and then, BOOM, waterfalls.”

You hated the fact that she wasn’t wrong. You spent most nights thinking about him, and what it would be like to finally feel him, taste him, please him. You hated that thoughts like these ended up with you shoving your fingers into yourself and imagining him fucking you in different positions and saying naughty things to you. It drove you crazy, and now it was causing a pool to form in your panties. You knew that if you didn’t handle it, you wouldn’t be able to sleep and you had a text in Trig the next day. Sighing, you responded to your best friend.

“Whatever girl. I have to go, I’ll call you later,” you said, desperate to get yourself off before you went insane. “Yeah, I know what that means. Bye girl, see you at school tomorrow.” she chuckled. “Shut the fuck up, bye.” you laughed as you hung up.

That night, you imagined Yoongi telling you how much he wanted you in the halls. Him pushing you against the locker in the empty hallway and kissing your neck, making his way up to your ear to tell you about the filthy things he wanted to do to you. You thought of him dragging you to one of the locker rooms and fucking you senseless. Your fingers slipped in and out of your core, twisting them rapidly as thoughts of him inside of you danced around in your head until you reached your climax.

When you were done you felt yourself falling asleep, wishing that it could happen. No matter how much you told yourself and everyone that you would never give him the time of day, you couldn’t help but be intrigued by the thought of him. The way his smile was gummy and his eyes formed little crescents. The way his skin was so pale and the way his demeanor and the way he carried himself came across with an “I-don’t-care” attitude. The fact that he knew how to have fun and chased thrills. All of it made you want him more. You couldn’t let that happen. Not even on your worst day. You had a reputation and self-respect to uphold.

Recalling the events of last night frustrated you, causing you to slam your locker closed. The action alone caused the chatter between Yoongi and his friends to cease as their eyes followed you. Your eyes met his and he smirked, opening his mouth to speak. Before he could let the words fall off of the tip of his tongue, you rolled your eyes and walked toward your classroom. It was your senior year of high school and the last thing you needed was a distraction from a fuckboy. Especially from this particular one. You were getting great grades, you were on the dance team, you were clear about what goals you had for the future. A headstrong girl like yourself had no business getting all tangled up with people like Min Yoongi, and you knew it. Too bad that wasn’t enough to stop your imagination from running rampant.

What was it like to have sex with him? Is he a moaner? Does he grunt? Is he rough? Maybe you should find out. You cursed yourself for letting the thought cross your mind. He was cocky, arrogant, and he cared very little for other people. What was it about such a person that sparked electricity through your body, causing your brown skin to tingle? You shook away the thoughts of perversion before they became too deep. You wouldn’t wanna look like a fool having to excuse yourself to scamper away to the restroom and please yourself like you did last night. It was a fluke. You wouldn’t give into the weaknesses of your own mind.

You sat in your seat near the front of the room. You smiled as you saw your best friend, Bea, sitting in across the room talking to someone. Your smile faded into a disapproving frown when you noticed exactly who it was she was talking to. She was talking to her ex-crush, Hoseok. You hated Hoseok for doing what he did to her. Junior year, he took a dare from his friends to ask her to the homecoming. She was so excited and couldn’t believe that he had asked her. Of course, like a fool, she agreed to it. When homecoming came around, she was waiting for him outside the school for nearly an hour and a half, only to finally give up waiting and see him inside dancing and kissing Mel Banks, his ex-girlfriend. Bea was heart-broken and you couldn’t believe she was even giving him the time of day. You stood up to intervene, especially because Hoseok was one of Yoongi’s friends— and you knew that if he associated with the school criminal and delinquent, he was no better.

With your fists balled tight and your jaw clenched, you engaged in a confrontation.

“What the hell, Bea?” you questioned, eyes fuming with rage and disappointment.

She stopped smiling and twirling her natural curls and focused her attention on you and away from Hoseok.

“What? We’re just chatting. Chill out.” she giggled.

“Yeah, relax, y/n. We are just... chatting.” Hoseok smiled as he looked you up and down and then back at Bea with a lusty smirk.

The way he lingered on the word stirred utter disgust in the pit of your stomach

“Uh, can I talk to you in private?” you demanded more than asked.

Bea sighed and nodded, raising from her seat to meet you in the corner of the classroom.

“You really look mad, wassup?” she asked.

“What’s up? What’s up!? Bea, he played you. Why are you even talking to him?” you said, trying not to raise your voice to avoid calling unwanted attention to the two of you talking in the corner.

“Yeah, but it’s not like before..” she said sheepishly.

You scoffed at that. “What is going to be so different?”

“I’m not interested in a relationship with him. I just wanna fuck him. What’s wrong with that honestly? We are in the middle of our senior year, and we’re going to graduate soon. Why not have some fun before I peace out of this bitch?Maybe you should do with Yoongi what I’m planning to do with Hoseok.” she responded, nudging you in the tummy.

You began to think about what she said. What was so bad about it? You were indeed graduating. You’ve been with guys before, so it wasn’t like you were going to lose anything if you were to fuck Yoongi. You didn’t really have the reputation you liked to make yourself believe— not that it would matter anyway. You wouldn’t see these people after graduation for ten years for a reunion. Yoongi had a lot more experience than you did, so you were sure that it wouldn’t be bad sex at all. Maybe it would be the best sex you’ve ever had.

“I mean, I don’t know. I just don’t want you to be hurt.”

“And I appreciate that so much. I’m glad that I got you in my corner so that you can watch out for me. But, I got this one. It’s just sex.” she reassured.

“Okay... well let’s go sit back down.”

With that, you made your way back to your table, only to find Yoongi sitting in your chair with all your stuff moved to the seat next to him toward the wall.

“What the hell are you doing?” you asked him. He was playing with his fingernails, bored and waiting for class to begin. He turned around to face you, and immediately he smiled. His smile threw you off, because it looked warm, and almost inviting. He actually looked friendly.

“Hey y/n. Have a seat baby girl,” he said, motioning toward your stuff. Your knees trembled at the pet name he’d given you so carelessly, unbeknownst to him just how it had affected you. You didn’t want to start a scene by arguing with him to move out of your seat. The conversation you had with Bea already was sparking enough attention, so you just sat in the seat beside him.

“Why are you even over here? You sit back there with Hoseok.” you snapped at him, annoyed by his presence. Not necessarily because you didn’t like him, but maybe because he was this close to you.

“Hoseok is obviously busy entertaining that chocolate beauty back there,” he said turning around to get a better view of Bea. You scoffed and stuck your tongue in your cheek. “Man, look at her. Full lips, thick thighs, gorgeous smile. I bet she’s a freak too.” he said, not really talking to you but murmuring to himself.

That was all you needed to hear for you to begin to get your things and prepare to find another seat. At least, that was the plan before he gripped your thigh, preventing you from moving. Your breath hitched and you locked eyes with him.

“What are you doing? I’m moving, let go,” you said quietly

“Where are you going, beautiful? Was it something I said about her? Do you feel jealous?” he cockily smirked. And there it was, that’s what you were waiting on. You were waiting for his signature smirk to creep onto his face just to give you something to think about later. You felt dirty for that.

“Jealous? For what?” you scoffed, looking at his hand still gripping your thigh.

“Maybe you’re a bit upset that I was talking about her like that. But let me tell you,” he grinned, flashing his gummy smile and pushing his blonde tufts of hair out of his eyes. “you are absolutely... sexy. I mean damn, y/n. Your hair is so curly, your skin is so rich and smooth. Your lips are full, your eyes give a certain innocence, but I know you’re not quite as innocent as you look” he looked at your thigh and began to lick his lips as he traced patterns on your skin. “I bet you’re nasty.”

“What the hell are you on?” you asked him, avoiding eye contact feeling your throat become dry.

“Let me ask you something y/n. What would it take for me to finally fuck you? I mean, seriously. I see you in the halls and I see that you’re such a good girl. You get the grades, the popularity, the friends, all of that. But what I don’t get is why we haven’t been... intimate. I know that there’s something more to you that you’re not letting anyone else see.” he ran his hand up your thigh up a little higher, closer to your sex.

Part of you wanted to see how far he would go, and another part of you had been waiting for this for a long time. Slowly but surely your cognitive ability to reason and inhibit the upcoming danger was dwindling. The pit of your stomach was beginning to churn, and your heat starting to warm. He was starting a fire.

“Because I could never fuck someone like you.” you provoked.

He retracted his hand quickly and turned in his seat to face the front of the classroom. He stuck his tongue in his cheek and grinned to himself, obviously amused.

“Is that so? What is someone like me?” he asked you plainly without facing you.

“A fuckboy. Someone who thinks he can have any girl that he wants and will say or do anything to get into her pants.”

“You say you couldn’t fuck someone like me but I know how bad you want to fuck me.” he turned to face you and began to speak softly into your ear, “I know that you can’t resist me, babygirl. All I did was touch your thigh a little and I can practically hear how dripping wet your pussy is getting for me. I know about the countless nights you’ve spent finger fucking your tight wet hole wishing I was deep inside of you. But little do you know about the countless nights I’ve spent wishing I was inside of you too. I just know.”

You were hot. Skin burning like embers of a campfire. The fire he’d started with just mere sticks and friction.

The witty remark you thought you were going to say after his reply escaped you. The words caught in your throat, and your eyes widened as he cupped your heat with the palm of his hand swiftly. He kissed your ear while rubbing small circles with his index finger against your clit through the layers of fabric you wore. He smirked and returned back to facing the front of the classroom as your teacher walked in like nothing at all happened. Why didn’t you stop him, or push his hand away?

You were practically putty in his hands.

Class went by much too slowly for your liking. You could hardly focus and you knew that he could see that. You’d fumbled with the smallest of things. Dropping a pencil, shaking while erasing, breathing heavily, tripping slightly on your way to the trashcan.

You hated him having a control over you like this but at the same time, you were sure that if he asked you to meet him somewhere in that moment, you wouldn’t bat an eyelash.

Halfway through class, he passed you a note.

You’re still wet, aren’t you?

You rolled your eyes and balled the note up, attempting to focus on the worksheet you were assigned that was due by the end of the hour. Unsatisfied with your reaction to his little note, he sneaked his hand to your thigh again. His hand was warm and pretty large. You tried to ignore it. He scooted his chair closer to you.

“Hey, what did you get for number ten?”

“You know damn fuckin’ well you didn’t do this worksheet. What do you want, Yoongi?” you spat.

“I want to know when you’re going to let us make each other feel good.” he chuckled, rubbing your thigh like before. He saw how that had affected you before, and he was afraid you were trying to reject him. He tried his best to make himself seem irresistible to you because God knows how irresistible you were to him.

You played with the idea of saying yes. You tossed the consequences around your head, but you couldn’t think straight with your sex throbbing like it was. You were sure you’d soaked your panties already. You were sure he could tell.

“After school.”

His face gleamed. His eyes twinkled and he had a stupid grin plastered across his face. Childlike. He cleared his throat and regained his composure.

“Are you serious?” he said, lowering his voice.

“We can go to my house after school. I stay walking distance. Now, I advise you to leave me alone before I decide to change my mind,” you said, trying to hide your blatant excitement. You suppressed your smile and felt your pussy throb even harder at the thought of him filling you up just like in your dreams.

School went by quickly— much too quickly. A lot quicker than you were ready for. All through lunch you could feel his eyes on you but you tried ignoring it as best you could. Stifling those wild thoughts that continued to plague your mind. What would he feel like inside? How far would you stretch? Is he rough? God, you hoped so. You’ve always wanted to know what his grunts sounded like and now was your chance to find out.

After seventh period, you went straight to your locker. A sense of urgency in your steps was barely noticeable— well, to everyone but Bea.

“Hey, whats the rush? We always walk to your locker together.” she prodded.

“I... uh, I got something to take care of after school.” you tried not to add too many details, unsure of how she would react to you about to get dicked down the same day you scolded her for so much as entertaining a conversation with Hoseok.

“Everything okay?” she crossed her arms and leaned onto the locker next to yours.

“Yeah! Everything good, girl.” you said, looking past her and seeing Yoongi waiting by the main door. He’d never taken that exit before, but you were sure that the reason behind his new choice of egress was due to your arrangement established.

“You look like you hiding some shit, but I’m not gon’ pry. I’ll text you once I get home. I got somewhere to be too.” she smiled before hugging you.

“Alright, I’ll see you.” you replied as she walked away.

Grabbing your thing, you made your way toward the exit you usually took, where Yoongi was waiting nonchalantly.

“You tell her?”

You chuckled. “She doesn’t need to know all of that.”

He pretended to be shocked. “I thought bestfriends told each other everything. You keepin’ this a secret?” he asked.

“For now.”

“You ashamed of Daddy?” he teased.

Your breath caught in your throat again so you chose to ignore him.

The walk to your house was even quicker than it seemed on any other school day. You lived a few blocks from school and expected the conversation with Yoongi to be dry until you got to your house. Instead, and much to your surprise you found out that you have a lot in common food wise and hobby wise. All of that small talk went out the window once you unlocked the door to your empty house.

“You live alone?” he asked as he took his shoes off by the door.

“No, my mom works until 8, so I’m here almost everyday after school alone unless Bea comes over. By the time Mom gets home I’m knocked the fuck out. We see each other before I go to school though.” you said as you set your things down in a near by chair.

“Oh, okay.” he checked his wrist watch which caught your eye. A rolex. “It’s a quarter til 4.” he said.

“Do you want any water or anything?” you offered making your way to the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water. You turned on the sink.

He didn’t respond, so you assumed that meant no. You hadn’t heard him come up behind you and press himself on your ass. He kissed your neck and shoulders, using his hands to grip your hips. Your knees buckled at his touch and you felt yourself begin to melt.

“I’m sorry kitten... I just couldn’t stop myself. You always look so delicious. I have to have you. I have to have you now.” he grunted in your ear. You could feel his erection through both of your clothes. He slowly rubbed it on your ass while raising his hands from his hips to your breasts. He moaned slightly in your left ear, causing a hitch in your breath.

“L-Let’s... uhm, Let’s go to my room baby.” you said, gaining control of yourself. He backed away from you and you shut off the sink.

You and him practically ran upstairs to your bedroom. You shut and locked the door behind him and turned to face him. His eyes were full of lust, and his lips were slightly parted. He ran his fingers through his hair lazily, pushing his bangs out of his face, exposing his forehead. You bit your lower lip and pushed him down on your bed.

Straddling him, you felt his erection prodding at your heat. You grinded on it and looked into his eyes for a moment before he began pulling your shirt upwards. You removed your blouse and unhooked your bra, revealing your hard nipples. He sat up and took one into his mouth, while playing with the other, causing you to kick your head back and whimper a little.

“Fuck...Yoongi.”

He flipped you over onto your back and gave your other nipple attention. He swirled his tongue over it before wrapping his lips around it and grazing it with his teeth gently. It was the first time anyone had bitten your nipple and you loved it. It felt electric. He kissed up your body until he met your lips. You shared a brief but passionate kiss with him until he broke the contact to remove his shirt.

His body wasn’t very toned, but it looked strong and sturdy. His arms were pretty cut, and you were a bit surprised by that considering that you hadn’t taken him for someone who would work out. He began to unbutton your jean shorts, slipping them off carefully. Once they were off you, he threw them across the room. He palmed your pussy through your panties.

“Your fucking panties are drenched. I bet you taste so good babygirl.” he licked his lips while he removed your panties. He wrapped his hands around your knees and pushed them open, causing your lips to spread. “Look at how fucking wet you are. Your pussy is glistening.” he touched your clit with his thumb and added pressure, rubbing it in slow circles.

You moaned out in pleasure, feeling your hips begin to swivel against his thumb.

“That’s a good girl, look at you baby. You’re so fucking beautiful. Look at me while I fuck you with my tongue.” he said before leaning down to peck your lips. In a swift motion, his tongue met your clit. He whirled it in slow circles before he flicked it relentlessly, alternating between slurping, sucking and lapping your pussy. Paying equal amounts of attention to the sensitive bud and to your aching hole.

You gasped and gripped your sheets when you felt his tongue wiggle itself into your hole. It was only for a moment before his tongue drug up your folds back to your clit.

You were sure that you were going to cum, and it was even more intense when you felt his finger slide into your hole. Your tried to choke back your moans but ultimately failed once he sped up with his combination of eating you out and fingering you.

“Fuccccckkkkk” you cried out as you were nearing an orgasm.

Without any warning he stopped. “Hands and knees.” You wasted no time getting into the position he ordered you to get into. “Arch.” he said in a low, almost animalistic voice. It made you tremble, but you did as told.

You were met to a surprise when the skin of your ass cheeks began to sting. He spanked you again and you moaned out in pleasure.

“You’re such a teasing girl. How many nights have you spent fucking yourself on your fingers? Hm? Like a dirty slut?” he questioned, striking you again when you didn’t respond. “I said, how many?”

“I don’t know, I never counted.” you blurted.

He smirked, satisfied to extract such delicate information out of you after two swats on the bottom.

“You want me to fuck you hard don’t you?” You pushed your face into your pillows and let out a muffled ‘yes’. He struck you again. “I can’t hear you kitten.” he flipped you back onto your back and met your eyes.

“Yes, I want you to.” you mumbled. He smirked and kissed your neck before he slipped his grey sweats and briefs off.

“You want me to what?”

“Please dont make me say it...” you said as you felt your cheeks heat him. You turned around to face him, seeing him completely nude.

He forced you back on your hands and knees and his hand met your ass again.

“Say it slut. Say what you want Daddy to do.”

Your face twisted with pleasure and pain from the strikes.

“Uhhhnn fuck. I want you to fuck me. Fuck me please” you begged, surprising yourself at how whiny you sounded.

He rubbed the area he’d roughly spanked soothingly. He flipped you over onto your back.

You grinned at his size, but it also worried you a bit because it’d been a while since you had sex and you didn’t want the stretch to be painful. He motioned for you to move toward his erection, signaling what he wanted. Without hesitation, you took him into your mouth. He hissed and kicked his head back.

“Fuuuckk Y/N, you’re so fucking good with your mouth.” he grunted. You took that opportunity to squeeze his balls gently. “Ohhhh you know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you princess?” you looked up at him through your lashes and nodded.

The sounds of your mouth going to work and his low grunts filled the room. You were gettin wetter and wetter as you worked your way up and down his shaft, tasting his precum and moaning. His grunts and curses under his breath were much better than you had imagined.

“Fuck, if you keep that up, I’m going to cum.” he admitted and slid out of your mouth with a pop. “Shit, Y/N.” he said breathlessly. “Here, get on your hands and knees again. I wanna see that ass.”

Once you were in position, he ran his tip along your folds teasingly before he pushed himself inside of you slowly. You worries about any pain were eliminated once he was fully inside, causing you to whimper. He smacked your ass before gripping it and slowly pumped inside of you. “Fuck you’re so fucking tight babygirl. You feel so good around my dick. You’re so wet baby.” He smacked your ass again.

“Fuck yourself with my cock.”

You did as told and began to whimper in response to his low groans that turned into grunts and hisses. You rocked back and forth and increased speed, causing your skin to meet his and part over and over. He couldn’t take it anymore and dug his fingers into your hips and pounded into you.

“Fuck, it feel so good.” you responded. You wanted to say more but your moans prevented you from saying anything but explicatives. You couldn’t imagine fucking Min Yoongi would feel this good.

“You’re such a good slut, moan louder for me baby. Let me hear you.” he said in between grunts. He reached forward and grabbed a fist full of your hair and tugged it while the other hand smacked your ass at different intervals.

“I’m going to...I-I’m gonna I’m go----” you stammered.

“I cant hear you slut, you’re going to what? Cum? Hm? Cum all over my cock babygirl. Cum for daddy.”

“Fuuuuuck, I’m cumming!” you practically screamed. You felt the pit of your stomach tighten and your walls twitch and then clench. You screamed as he drilled into you harder. “FUCK DADDY YES! FUCK ME” to which you were met with him reaching around to rub your clit.

Yoongi grunted and began to moan louder with you. You stood on your knees and twisted around to kiss him. His hair stuck to his forehead, and his mouth was gaping open. His lips were pink and swollen. You were being overfucked because he hadn’t come yet, so you stuffed your face back into your pillows and tried to hold onto your sanity while he fucked you relentlessly.

“Fuck, I’m cumming baby.” he moaned out. He pulled out of you just in time to cum all over your ass. Normally, you would turn around to take him into your mouth to drain him dry, but you lacked the energy to do that. You felt limp and lied there attempting to catch your breath.

Yoongi flopped down next to you, panting and beginning to laugh in disbelief.

a few moments passed and the silence became a bit too loud once you both processed what had just transpired.

“Wow...” he said, speaking first.

“Yeah, wow.” you said turning to face him. His eyes met yours. He smiled at you and ran his fingers across your cheek.

“You’re gorgeous. And I never would have imagined that you. Little Innocent Y/N was such a good girl.”

“And I never imagined Dipshit Min Yoongi would be in my bed.” you chuckled.

“Maybe we should do this more often.” he suggested smugly.

“Hmm. Maybe.” you said.

“Is this the part where you kick me out?” Yoongi teased.

“Unless you wanna nap for a bit, the door is there.” you teased back.

“I’ll sleep here next to you. It feels good.” he said, unexpectedly, causing you to blush. “I mean if that’s okay with you, of course.” he said shyly.

“Yeah, sure. The door’s locked, so you could sleep here for a bit.”

He snaked his arm around you and faced you, kissing your forehead. “Thanks for this.” he said.

You felt this weird wave of something flow in your stomach. Ignoring the feeling you pulled the blanket over the two of you and drifted off into sleep with Yoongi’s arms wrapped around you.

Deep down you knew you wanted to do this more often, but your mind and heart were both telling you this was a one time thing, but when have you ever listened? You weren’t even ever supposed to fuck him and look where you were now, a naked Yoongi, spooning your naked body.

You were thankful that it was Friday and school wasn’t until Monday, because now you had the time to recover from the soreness you were sure you were going to feel in the next hour or so.

He’d fallen asleep but you were still up, and you were looking at his face. He was really handsome, and he looked kind of nice while he was asleep. Peaceful. You liked him like that. When obscenities weren’t flowing out of his mouth, he actually looked nice. That wave of something started in the pit of your stomach again. You waved it off once more and attempted to get some sleep.

“Goodnight, Min Yoongi.” you whispered before drifting off to sleep.

Hey! It’s my first oneshot and I’m shit but I plan to get better

feel free to request oneshots among other things I produce on this blog~

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7698 · 8 months ago

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pharawee · 7 months ago

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—TO BE CONTINUED · Episode 7

#to be continued #to be continued the series #fluke pongsapat #junior kajbhunditt #achi x ji #tobecontinuededit #thai bl #thai drama #bl drama #bl series #my edits.#ok i got it out of my system #now i only need to find the time to fully catch up #one more gifset for the tumblr void 🤡

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gobigorgohome2016 · 8 years ago

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Staying Injury Free

A few days ago one of Dave’s former college teammates stayed with us. He and I talked shop, and he was especially curious about my high mileage and durability, given that he had been plagued with mileage-related injuries for most of his running career. He made the comment that I must be very biomechanically sound, and I laughed. While I have worked hard to fix a lot of my inefficiencies, 15 of the past 17 years of running I had pretty bad form.

On a shakeout the other day, Dave and I were talking about possible reasons why I have been fortunate to be relatively injury-free, drawing upon my 7-years of being injury-free in middle school and high school, my 5 years of being mostly injured in college, and then the previous 6 years where I have had two injuries: a calf strain that was directly related to rolling out of bed, hungover, and going immediately for a dehydrated run in high heat and humidity after 4 hours of sleep, and an “up the chain” injury that resulted from poor dorsii flexion in my ankle, causing compensations in my knee/hip. I consider both of those to be somewhat freak injuries, different than if I were to have sustained a stress fracture or tendonitis.

Anyway, I noticed that a lot of people have posted on social media that one of their new year’s resolutions is to be injury free in 2017. Listed here are some of the factors that I think have helped me be pretty durable throughout my running career.

I Have Good Genes First and foremost, I’m sure genetics play a huge role. If you know my family, you’re probably like, umm, really, good genes? Isn’t everyone in your family sick? While the answer is yes, my dad has regenerative super healing powers that have made him last much longer than he probably should have. For instance, 5 years ago he had congestive heart failure. This past year, cardiologists at mayo clinic announced the heart failure to be a fluke [this is not normal]. His primary mayo clinic doctor has also marveled numerous times that he seems to have super healing abilities when it comes to surgeries and other procedures. I am convinced that I have some of his recovery abilities. My mom is also pretty hardy, which shouldn’t be surprising considering she claims she was a pioneer in her past life and will be a farrier (horse shoer) in her next life. (note: my mom is afraid of horses). If you don’t have good genes, it helps to figure out your deficiencies. Do all of your family members suffer from low bone density? Calcium supplements and strength training may be a good way to mitigate these issues.

I Run on Soft Surfaces In middle school and high school I only ever ran on soft surfaces, thanks to the nearby Indiana Dunes and a coach who was willing to drive us out there every day. My only injury-free year of college also consisted primarily of soft-surface running. I do think that one reason for my injuries the rest of the time in Milwaukee was due to running on A LOT of concrete. Post-college, I returned to trails and crushed limestone, and it was a great transition for my legs. Now, 75%+ of my running is on trails or crushed gravel.

I’m Lazy I have said it before and I will say it again: I don’t love running for the sake of running. For me, training is a necessary evil so that I can do what I truly enjoy, which is race. Therefore, my brain is always looking for a way out. If I have the slightest niggle, sniffle, or prolonged muscle soreness, I take a day off or cut my run short. The focus is on being able to race for me, not painfully powering through a run just so that I can write it down in my running log.

Good Coaching The more that I talk to others, the more I am realizing how much a coach shapes the early stages of a runner’s development. I was very fortunate that my high school coach (who is also my current coach) preached the importance of getting to the starting line healthy. I have always understood that health > hitting all of your workouts. I distinctly remember my junior year of high school going over my running log with my coach and being proud of the fact that I had run 100 days in a row. I told him about how I almost didn’t make it because I had a week where my calves were absolutely destroyed and I didn’t really want to do my Sunday run, but didn’t want to give up my streak. In my 16 year old dumb head I thought I was being smart and awesome, but instead he told me I should have called him that day and he would have told me to rest. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that my junior track season was relatively my worst out of all of high school.

Sponsorship One thing that has surprised me is that I’m more cautious with my training now that I have sponsorship and am on elite ambassador teams. I truthfully would have thought it would be the other way around. But, while no sponsor or ambassador program has said this to me, I know that I am worth more as an athlete to be running high level races than to not be running at all. If that means taking a day off here or there to rehab an injury, then I am more likely to do so than I was 5 year ago. I also realize that getting invited to run big events sometimes depends on whether I have raced recently, and staying healthy & racing often is as much a business decision as it is something I enjoy.

I Ignore Pace I, like 99.9% of runners, don’t need to be told to speed up. I will run the pace that’s right for me and my body on any given day. So, unless I’m running a long run or a workout, I don’t wear my GPS. I simply map a route for the mileage and run. I see it way too often where people don’t like the pace they see on their watch (even though it’s the right pace for the day) so they speed up and stress their bodies unnecessarily. If I am wearing watch, I tend to run “Badger Miles,” where I just assume I’m running 8 minute pace. Most times I’m running faster, but sometimes I’m running slower, too. Since I run primarily on trails, it’s silly to keep a GPS going anyway.

I’m Flexible Case in point: over the weekend, I raced a 5k, lifted afterwards, and then ran a 20 miler in the mud the next day, which usually doesn’t bother me but left me very, very sore come Sunday night. Instead of doing my planned 20 x 200 m on Tuesday, I am heading out in an hour to run the workout, feeling way better now than I did yesterday. While there are times you should run on tired legs, I’m not at that part in my training cycle. Being flexible in terms of when I train, and allowing myself ample recovery, is a huge part of staying injury-free. This is also why I purposely don’t train with others. If there were set workout days, I would have a difficult time putting the needs of my body over my ego.

I Sleep I 1000% get that not everyone has the luxury to sleep as much as I do. But, a lot of people could stand to cut back on mileage in order to increase sleep, and this wouldn’t hurt their fitness (it would do the opposite). A rule of thumb that I love: add 10 minutes of sleep for every 10 miles of weekly running. Therefore, if you run 50 miles per week, add 50 minutes of sleep each night to your base level. For me, even when I’m not running, I need 7 - 8 hours of sleep. That means I need 8.5 - 9.5 hours of sleep per night, which is pretty accurate considering I tend to average 9 hours of sleep when I don’t set an alarm. Figure out the best balance of sleep and mileage for your routine.

I Eat More and more I realize how lucky I am that my mother never restricted her diet, never restricted my diet, and planned our meals based on the dessert she wanted to serve that night. Growing up, I subsisted on a midwestern diet based on the strict GI needs of my father (who no longer has a colon and can only eat easy-to-digest foods). We ate a lot of simple foods: meat, potatoes, fish, cooked veggies, and gravies, as well as apple crisps, pies, and shortcakes. Baking powder biscuits, of which the primary ingredient is crisco, was a staple in our household. 2% milk was served with every meal. I grew up strong and well-fueled, with a healthy attitude towards meal time.

I Get the Science A big aggravating factor I see in athletes when it comes to injury is not wanting to take a day or two off due to fear of losing fitness or gaining weight. Both of these points are moot, and there is plenty of science to back them up. For one, if you take 7 days off and do absolutely nothing, you will only lose a negligible percentage of your VO2 max, which won’t matter unless you are an elite athlete at the very peak of your training cycle. Two, you are more likely to lose “weight”, in the form of decreased inflammation, if you take a short period of time off and rehab your body.

I Make the Right Investments Self care is important, whether that means going to yoga, foam rolling, doing stretching/strengthening activities at home, going to PT regularly (and keeping up with the exercises), or massage therapy. For me, all of these are important in keeping myself injury free. While paying for all of these can be difficult at times, it is definitely worth it to me to take care of my body.

I Have Poor Pain Tolerance To go along with making the right investments, I have to pay for those things because my pain tolerance for every day training isn’t very good (races are another story). I get legit depressed if I’m in pain while I run, so I just take a few days off so that I can only run pain free.

I Had a Long Build Up If you follow my blog, you only know part of the story. I was NOT always a high mileage runner. In fact, I never hit a 70 mile week in my life until 2011, and I didn’t hit a 100 mile week until late 2015. In college I never got above 60 mpw. Unpopular opinion: I take issue with the year-end “I ran x number of miles this year” posts because, IMO, they cause more harm than good. If you didn’t run your highest mileage ever, you’re going to be down on yourself. It also perpetuates the idea that more is more, when more is not more. I ran 600 fewer miles in 2016 than 2015 and was arguably more fit. Mileage doesn’t tell the whole story, and starting the new year hell-bent to beat a previous mileage high is a great way to get injured.

I Strength Train I will be the first to admit that I have never appreciated the art of strength training until recently. I stopped doing any form of strength completely between 2010 and 2016, and I will be the first to admit that I was VERY lucky not to have more serious problems than some hamstring tendonopathy. Now that I’m back to regular strength and core work, I can say with absolute certainty that it has helped me overcome some biomechanic issues that have contributed to aches and pains in the past.

#injuryfree2017

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 5 years ago

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Dazed and Confused (Part 4)

Pairing: AU!Dean x reader

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Word Count: 1,600ish

Warnings: language, scary situations, violence, murder, etc.

A/N: This series has been on Ao3 only for awhile now and I am finally reposting here as well. It’s not new but it may be new to you. Please enjoy!...

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“Okay, I don’t think Jack is stalking me, Dean,” said Sam. Dean raised an eyebrow, anger simmering to the surface.“If he’s a field agent, maybe he was on protection detail for me.”

“If he was, he did a shitty job. They would have told you about him though,” said Dean, crossing his arms, unclenching his hands when you glanced over at him.

“Considering how convoluted this thing is, maybe they would have, maybe they wouldn’t. I don’t think we should just run up to Jack and start questioning him,” said Sam. “We don’t know-“

“I disagree,” said Dean. He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temple. “We grab him. I can do it with Y/N as backup no problem. We bring him here and politely ask him what the fuck he’s up to. If he doesn’t want to talk-“

“If you kidnap an FBI agent, you realize you’re giving your mom’s killer exactly what he wants, right?” you asked, releasing a large sigh. “There’s his ammo to bring you down. One truth will make the whole thing look viable. Not to mention he’s our friend, Dean.”

“Fine. You two figure this out then,” said Dean, standing up and storming out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. You waited a few minutes, Sam looking into Jack’s background with a scowl on his face before you took off in search of Dean. Fifteen minutes later you found him sitting on the roof, knees tucked up in his chest as he watched the sun start to rise.

“Hey,” you said softly, rubbing a hand up and down his back.

He didn’t speak, opting to keep his mouth pressed in a thin line.

“We have to be smart about this Dean, that’s all. We don’t want this to go south for you,” you said, taking a seat beside him. “We’ll figure out what Jack knows the right way.”

“What’s your secret? You work for the CIA or something?” he said dryly, resting his chin on his knees.

“I’m a junior detective for the Lawrence county police department that took up a leave of absence this week. I was a street cop before that and before that , I was fresh out of college, working at starbucks while my boyfriend was going to the police academy. I’m not made for this life Dean,” you said. He turned his gaze away from the red and orange swirling across the sky, his face turning softer than you were used to lately. “What happened to you, Dean?”

“Why did you become a cop then?” he asked, ignoring your question. You sighed, tucking your own knees up. Baby steps was how you’d have to this with him then.

“You scared me at the bank that day. I had no one, no strong boyfriend I could go home to and make me feel better, make me feel safe and protected. I wanted to know what happened to you too, try to help you when I found you again. I applied to the department and the rest just happened on it’s own. I had to know it wasn’t something I said or did that day. If I’d done something differently, that you wouldn’t have gone down that path,” you said. You shrugged your shoulders, Dean tossing a small rock down to the ground, watching it fall before bouncing on the pavement.

“If I could go back, I never would have said yes,” said Dean, shaking his head. “I would have been a normal cop and I wouldn’t have screwed up your and Sammy’s lives. You two weren’t supposed to do this. He was supposed to be a lawyer. You were going to get out of this town, with me. I threw you away for nothing. I did the wrong thing four years ago and it is way too late to fix it.”

“It was messed up how you went about it, but Sam and I are adults. We made our choices just like you made yours to try and get some justice for your mom. It’s not wrong to care, Dean,” you said.

“If we figure out who the FBI guy is, mom’s killer, then what? Where’s the proof? What happens to you and Sam?” asked Dean. “It didn’t matter if-”

“Sam obviously has some sort of proof otherwise he wouldn’t be working this case. He needs a name to tie it to is all I’m guessing. It’s not your job to worry about us either, Dean. We’ll figure out what we want when this is all said and done but until then, we’re sticking with you,” you said.

“First, I always worry about you two. Second, you should really, really hate me more than you do, you know,” said Dean. You smiled as you ran a hand up and down his back.

“I’m a woman, Dean. I can hold this over you for the rest of your life,” you said with a teasing smirk. “Not that I’m planning on it. You’re different now.”

“Different how,” he said, turning his attention back to the pinks and oranges swirling across the few lingering clouds.

“You’re angry. Sad. You hate yourself for starters. A part of me thinks you don’t expect to make it out of this alive. A part of me think you believe you’d deserve that,” you said. “By the way, you don’t.”

“Always saw right through my bullshit, didn’t you?” he said with a sad smile. “Odds are I end up dead or in prison or one of you dies and all of this was for nothing.”

“When we get through all this in one piece, you and me are going to sit down and have a long talk. You screwed up. Everybody does. Let’s move forward from it. We can...” you said, a car turning into the complex off in the distance, Dean perking up as he watched it, the car following the arrows straight down to where Sam was. “Who the hell is that.”

“I don’t know but Sammy’s alone and unarmed down there,” said Dean, getting to his feet. Both of your guns were out as you headed down the stairs inside, Dean holding up a hand when you heard other footsteps in the building. It amazed you how he made his movements silent in an instance like that, forcing you to go slower to keep quiet and lose him as you headed for Sam. You heard something crash and break in the conference room ahead, foregoing your cover and sprinting in that direction. Turning the corner, you saw Jack and Dean pointing their weapons at one another, Sam sat in a chair in the middle with no idea what to do.

“Sam, get behind me,” said Jack, never once taking his eyes off Dean. “Sam!”

“Jack,” you said, lowering your gun, Jack briefly glancing at you. “Everybody put their guns down before one of you boys makes a mistake.”

“I’ll put mine down as soon as I know Sam is safe,” said Jack. “Sam, let’s move. Now.”

“Jack,” you said, Dean staring down the young man, probably debating whether he should try to graze him. “Jack we know you’re FBI. Tell us what you’re doing here.”

“...Sam goes for a early run everyday. He didn’t go this morning. I tracked his phone here and assumed someone had taken him,” said Jack, squinting at Dean. “Still not sure.”

“Jack, I’m here because I want to be,” said Sam, holding up his hands. “Everybody put their guns away, please.”

“Dean,” you said. He shot you a look but gave you a nod, slowly lowering his gun. “Jack?”

Jack glared at Dean before tucking his gun back in his pants, glancing around the room, ripping the computer out of Sam’s hands.

“What the hell are you doing looking at my profile?” asked Jack, quickly shutting it. “That’s-”

“You boys are all in the FBI, I’m not,” you said, taking a seat. “Now, why don’t you tell us why you are protecting Sam?”

“Sam’s investigating a high profile case. I was assigned to do undercover protection detail for him in the event the person he was investigating caught on and attempted to kill him. Standard procedure,” said Jack.

“Good job on that by the way with the drugs,” said Dean with a short smile.

“I made a mistake. My job was to protect, Sam, not Y/N. I suspect you showing back up in town is what created the attempt on Sam’s life in the first place,” said Jack, smiling at Dean.

“How old are you?” asked Dean, lifting his chin. “12?”

“I look young. I’m not brand new to this,” said Jack.

“He’s barely 21,” said Sam, Jack scrunching up his face.

“Good,” said Dean, relaxing his shoulders.

“Good?” asked Jack. “We just besties now?”

“You were a little kid when our mom died, Jack. It means you weren’t the one that killed her so Dean doesn’t have to suspect you,” said Sam. “Or shoot you.”

“Wait, you’re working Mary Winchester’s murder? John’s wife?” asked Jack, catching you hum. “I know who killed her.”

“You do? The killer’s FBI. How-” asked Dean, Jack shaking his head.

“I read the file at the station one day, read Sam’s notes, the timeline…” said Jack. “Without a doubt, John Winchester killed Mary.”

______

A/N: Read Part 5 here!

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