#like this one friend really hit me with the triple “ you’re old” “you don’t have ur drivers permit” “oh yeah I aced this test (the one I did

[renx01]

Playing along - part 4

Prompt: “Just play along, please” inspired this multiple part fic, in which agent Galahad and Kay are on a mission together in the French Alps. Here, they have to pretend to be a couple, despite the two of them being rivals and Kay always wanting to beat him at everything. Pairing: Harry Hart x Kingsman!Reader Fandom: KingsmanTags/Warnings: fake dating, slowburn, rivals Word count: 2012

Masterlist

After the first couple of runs, you slowly start increasing the difficulty of your jumps, much to Harry’s dismay. Meanwhile, Angelo is hyping you up, and you understand why Guillia likes him so much. He seems like a man that will not only support you and your ambitions, but also cheer you on in the process. While you don’t speak very much, when you do, the brown haired Italian is raving about his fiancée for most of it. Apparently they had met each other through mutual friends, and after only a few weeks of dating they had noticed how compatible they were. Eventually, after about a month he decided he wanted to propose, but he waited to do so until their one year anniversary. 

‘How did you and Harry meet?’ Angelo enquires on your fourth trip back up the slope. ‘It’s a pretty long story, but the short version is that we met through a colleague of mine, who happens to be a good friend of the both of us.’ Merlin, who you are referring to, was indeed the one to introduce the two of you. ‘Hamish and I decided to go for a pint after a long day of work. Harry happened to be there and we clicked pretty much instantly.’ And you had. The first few weeks of you and Harry working together had been as if you’d been old friends and had known one another for years. His strengths perfectly played into your weaknesses and the other way around, making the two of you a team that was always in sync and perfectly balanced. However, this balance was slowly ruined by Arthur’s blatant favouritism towards Galahad. He always received compliments and praise while you were only criticised. To this day, this is still the case. ‘The two of us started off as friends, as I hadn’t been ready for a relationship when we first met. But, he persisted and eventually persuaded me to go on a date with him. The rest is history really.’ Angelo smiles at you. ‘That sounds lovely, he really is willing to fight for what he wants then.’ You nod absentmindedly. ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right about that.’

When you arrive back at the top of the slope, you’re approached by a group of guys that seem like they’re in their early to mid twenties. It seems like Angelo knows them and they offer to judge the next round of jumps for you, so you can finally determine who is better at this. You accept happily before informing Harry of the fact by signing vaguely to him. He doesn’t seem too amused while Guillia smiles down at you. She nudges him, urging him to do the same. He does so and his face settles into a soft smile; one you don’t see often. You flash him a bright smile in response before turning and sliding to the small group that’s waiting for you.

‘Ready?’ ‘Of course.’

Your switch fourteen forty with safety grab went perfectly and the landing was smooth. When you join the group, Angelo starts skiing down for his jump. He does a triple cork eighteen. It all goes well and looks good until the landing. When he hits the ground, he leans forward slightly too much and loses balance. His skis shift from under him and he falls as if he’s in slow motion, eventually sliding down the rest of the slope on his side. Before you’re able to go and check on him, he’s up once again and shows a thumbs up.  ‘Man!’ He shouts as he approaches. ‘I was so close.’ He’s frustrated but is laughing at the same time. ‘You alright Angelo?’ ‘Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. It really wasn’t a hard fall.’ You nod and smile. ‘I’m glad you’re okay. It would’ve been great if you’d landed it.’ He smiles back. ‘Well, better luck next time. Your jump was pretty great too.’ His brown eyes meet yours and there’s sort of a spark, he’s excited. ‘Well? Who won?’ The two of you turn to the other guys. ‘Cam wins, obviously, but if you’d landed the jump it would’ve been very close.’ You smirk at him and tease. ‘Better luck next time.’ You pause before continuing. ‘Now, are we doing a few more runs before joining the others again?’

Upon your arrival back at the restaurant, Guillia runs to Angelo, making sure he’s okay. He reassures her that he is, in fact, very much alright. Harry walks up to you and smiles. ‘Am I correct in assuming that you won your little competition?’ You nod and grin. ‘You are.’ He chuckles and approaches you before leaning in. He waits for your permission before placing a kiss on your lips, his hands resting on your hips. ‘Well congratulations then, dear.’ It feels nice, as his touches are tender and careful.  The short moment comes to an end and he pulls away, but not before placing a hasty kiss on your cheek. ‘I’ve ordered you a hot chocolate.’ As he turns to lead you to the table, he puts his arm around your shoulder. ‘That’s lovely, thank you.’ You take off your helmet and other gear, before opening your jacket and sitting down next to Harry. The group that had joined you as judges also join you here. You see that Guillia has also ordered drinks for Angelo and his friends, as the server arrives with a tray full of them. You put on some kingsman sunglasses and lean back into Harry’s arm, hot chocolate in hand. He shifts slightly so his arm lays behind you comfortably while he drinks his tea. The people around you chat amongst each other excitedly and you join in with a few comments from time to time. At times, when they turn to you, you pretend to adjust your glasses and snap some pictures. Despite being fairly certain that it won’t lead to anything, you send them to Merlin anyway. Time passes quickly and eventually you decide to head back down the mountain. It had been a fairly relaxed day, but you feel as if it was quite productive. Angelo and Guillia seem to have slowly started to trust you, which will likely be vital when it comes to gathering more information later this week. Before parting ways, you arrange to meet for dinner in a couple of days' time. 

The drive back to the chalet is quiet save for the soft music that is playing in the background. While Harry drives, you’re texting Merlin about a few things you want checked before you meet the Italian couple again. ‘Is there anything you want checked by Merlin, Galahad?’ He hums. ‘Not particularly. I presume you’ve already sent along the pictures of the other fellows that joined us this afternoon?’ ‘I have. I’ll also have Merlin check whether they have any other known business relationships that frequent this area.’ He hums in response before turning to a different subject. ‘I was thinking of cooking dinner ourselves in the chalet after we’ve freshened up.’ Glancing at him, you see that he is gripping the steering wheel somewhat tightly. ‘Good idea, so we can discuss today and the coming few days?’ From the corner of your eye you see him nod. ‘If you agree, I suggest we head to the shops. They’re only open for another hour.’ While at the supermarket you see your colleague completely immersed in what olive oil, wine and vegetables he should buy. Meanwhile, you’ve been tasked with finding some pasta that looks at least half decent. Eventually, you do, and walk back to Harry, who is holding your shared basket and looking at some cherry tomatoes. ‘Are these alright?’ After glancing at the item you’re holding, he nods. ‘Yes, I suppose this’ll do.’ He pauses momentarily. ‘Do you reckon these cherry tomatoes will be any good?’ You take the packet from his hand and take a closer look. ‘It depends on what you want to use them for. I think they’ll be fine if put in a salad.’ Nodding, he takes them from your hand and puts them into the basket. ‘Anything else you need, dear?’ ‘Why don’t you choose dessert?’

After arriving at the chalet, putting away your things and taking a shower, you join Harry, who has already started preparing dinner. You start setting the table as he’s cutting some vegetables. ‘Could you pass me the salt and pepper, Cam?’ He asks you as you grab something from one of the cupboards. ‘Here you go.’ You say as you hand him what he asked for. He smiles quickly before turning back to the stove where he’s started boiling some pasta and making a complimentary sauce. Turning around, you place the cutlery and wine glasses where they are supposed to be before finding a corkscrew and opening the bottle of wine Harry had picked. While you’re pouring the two of you a glass, you realise how mundane this moment of calm feels. Natural, almost. Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you grab both the glasses and hand one of them to Harry. ‘Thanks.’ ‘Of course.’ Taking a seat on the countertop, you sip your wine and look at the agent as he continues to cook. Rather than wearing the suit you usually see him in, he’s wearing a black knit turtleneck and anthracite coloured trousers. It’s quite casual, especially compared to how he usually dresses, but it is appropriate for the snowy weather outside. While the skies had been clear all day, it had started snowing while you were on your way back from the shops. He had elected to leave his glasses in his room, as had you. You supposed the two of you should be able to get over your differences, especially now that you are, once again, considered to be of equal skill. That is, as long as Arthur doesn’t interfere by injecting his opinion once again.

‘Cam, dinner’s ready.’

Quickly, you get off the counter and help Harry get the pans and salad onto the table. The two of you sit down opposite of each other and he, the gentleman he is, puts some food onto your plate for you. During the dinner, you speak through the day and some possibilities for the next few days, though everything remains relatively surface level.  ‘Thank you for the lovely dinner, Harry.’ He gives you a soft smile. ‘It’s my pleasure.’ You smile back before you start clearing the table. He helps you, putting the leftovers in the fridge while you start doing the dishes. The kitchen isn’t large by any means, so as you’re doing the dishes he has to brush past or lean over you a couple of times in order to get everything he needs to clear up. He’s done before you are, so he rolls up his sleeves and starts drying the pans and plates. He breaks the comfortable silence after a few minutes. ‘I-I wanted to apologise for what I said. It wasn’t appropriate for the situation, nor would I want you to think that I do not respect you or your skill.’ Your eyes turn to meet his. He looks… nervous? ‘It isn’t like me to act in the way I did, and I am terribly sorry. I respect you a lot and, I suppose, that my frustration relating to a different mission resulted in the… unfortunate remark.’ You see he wants to continue, but interrupt him before he can. ‘It’s fine, Harry. Really.’ ‘But-’ ‘I said it’s fine. Despite both being�� a part of Kingsman, we’re still human. People say things they don’t mean all the time, so please don’t worry about it.’ While you hadn’t expected him to apologise, you had decided to get over your little squabble the previous evening once your emotions had calmed down a bit. It isn’t advantageous to linger on such emotions, especially when you still have multiple days of a mission to go. ‘Thank you, for forgiving me. I really do appreciate it.’ He tells you and smiles.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As promised, here's the update. Hope you guys enjoyed it.

@julieeauchocolat

[lordkingsmith]

@whatwedointhecraft they’re immediately so banter-y lol

He sent the message asking about the state of the tree and how much it’d cost to get it to England, and left the laptop to get mail. When he came back, there was a reply.

lol a what now?

Embarrassingly he still didn’t notice the fact he wasn’t messaging Nathan and assumed he was tired due to time zone differences. So carefully copy and pasted the little ad and reiterated his message with more clarification.

Man I think you’re talking to the wrong person lol

Which actually made him look. And yes. He was. Neil Breaker. He didn’t even know who that was. He quickly looked at the man’s page and realized he was a teacher in Seattle. He was 40. And they’d friended each other months ago over the same PennyThought Arcade game, for extra perks. The travesty of not being able to will yourself into sinking through the floor whenever an embarrassment occurred. Chancy swallowed around it and went back to the DM’s.

-I am so very sorry. I didn’t realize I wasn’t messaging my friend. I apologize again, I just haven’t really been all here since my wife passed a few years ago

Why he put that he didn’t know. Impulsive, embarrassed, and wanting to make sure the other knew he was fully apologetic. He got to Nathan and left an a dm about the seedling, double and triple checking he had the right person this time.

Nah, I get it. Happens. Sorry bout your wife tho

You ok???

Was waiting for him from Neil and his heart did a double flip.

-I mean. I’m 55. I have a retirement I didn’t want, I’m a single parent of a daughter I did want, and I’m a widower. Financially I’m fine. Everything else is empty, I suppose. The one person I thought was going to be here to enjoy this with me isn’t. I barely talk to anyone in person much less anything physical. The only time I’m happy is when I’m with my daughter or when I’m in my garden.

He took a deep breath, hands lightly shaking as he finished writing. He hadn’t admitted any of this to anyone. And here he was, telling a perfect stranger he was horny and lonely and depressed. Too much information to just share on the internet as well, he knew.

Another long stretch of silence on Neil’s end and he took the time to wash dishes while waiting, anything to expend the jittery nervousness.

“C’mon Chance” he scolded himself as he angrily washed a bowl. “You’re not some seventeen year old about to cop a feel in the movies. You are fifty five years old. Act your age.” But this was the closest he’d gotten in years to. Well. Anything.

You realize you’re talking to a dude, right?

And an American

Christ on a pogo stick I’m across an ocean to you, my guy

<control=io>bot will explain function</control>

Chancy felt another embarrassed flush creeping down his neck. Alright, yes he probably did sound like a bot. He found, copied and sent the song “Guess What? I’m Not a Bot” by a singer his daughter loved. A few moments later he got the cry laughing emoji and smiled faintly.

Ok fair enough, I’m sorry. Can’t be too careful.

Look

My school’s just hit break. Not expected to do anything for the summer but do course planning. So I can. I dunno. Take a vacation

Why not

Chancy about choked.

-Really? You don’t have to

-I was just ranting

-But I wouldn’t say no

-You’d just…I can book you a hotel?

He ran his hands through his mildly curly brown hair, staring at the screen. He couldn’t believe he’d just typed this. Was entertaining this.

You wanna try something over video chat first or..?

-I’m not a robot

No no I get that. I mean sex, dude.

Or talking. Either works

Just so we know each other, you know?

And then yea, sure, after that I’m down for you booking me a hotel

Gimme a week tho

I gotta find a place to take my dogs while I’m over there

-you have dogs? I have a dog and a cat

-Rumor and Sneeze Master

I’m guessing Sneeze Master is the cat

-mhm lol

And now you’re talking like a person lol. I shoulda mentioned cats sooner

-it’s always cats, isn’t it?

Always

-If you’re in Seattle, you should perhaps go to bed

Man don’t tell me how to spend my vacation lol

-never!

-you’re just planning a sexual encounter and neither of us are exactly spring chickens lol

Man fuck you

-That’s the plan. Unless you want it the other way?

JFC

😂😂😂🥵🥵🥵

[paulinawoodpecker]

Tad the lost explorer and the spear of blood and tears chapter 20

@jakkiisthatboy2

“You know what? I’m going to talk to zulo.” “Really…and how are you gonna do that? He can hurt anyone’s feelings within seconds” Asked Dagenia. “This!” Tad used his transform ray to transform himself into his king outfit. “I’ll do this king version.” Tad entered as Dagenia saw his transformation. Zulo saw his identity revealed and was about to hurt him

“zulo!” “huh? what are you wearing? A costume for a kids party?”

“this is not a costume. It’s my king outfit.” “king? Oh ho! What do you know about being a king?”

“I’ve been a king on many adventures!” “oh really? how about this? since thanks to the cucumber man and his friends who knew their secrets, I think I can find out yours.”

“wh-what do you mean?” “first of all you used to be a construction worker.” “well not anymore!”

“and then due to all the times you’ve been fired, you changed to be an archeologist. and then you got scared and afraid of everything during your missions and journeys and then you changed and became the bravest hero from the legendary Ramirez who taught you.” “But…” “and you went to so many much more and even the one in Atlantis!”

Tad gets out his sword of pride; saying “how did you know that?!” “you’re just as pathetic as everyone else.” “so? What does that mean?”

“I know who you are inside and outside your king, your knight and your brave hero self, scaredy cat fat fascist hero…” “well of course i-” tad realized that zulo saw his transformation. he drops his sword looked at him asking “what…did you just call me?”

“I said you’re a scaredy cat fat fascist hero… and since your bravest hero energy is ending, it’s best if I end it now!

Dagenia in her princess dress with Ramirez and Victoria enter while watching

“and that’s what you’ll always be.” “but…but…”

“oh you still remember when you first saw me. You’re just the same archeologist as I met you.” “who-who taught you that?” “it was given to a few old enemies of yours called the impossible three…” “what? they taught you?” Tad cried out

“I learned it from the best, especially for that cucumber man who I am always jealous of! And maybe I can do the same as you!” “like what” “THIS!!” Zulo was about to hit tad but he dodged it

Dagenia, Ramirez and Victoria gasped at him which made zulo laugh

“you want to be an archeologist yet you don’t know how to face your fears. And look at that, your bravest hero energy is now officially drained…” “but why? Why are you like this? Why does everyone hate me? “because you’re such as ridiculous as yourself…” “but wait… what does it have to” “I hate you okay?!”

Tad felt rage inside him and said “oh yeah? You really hate me that much?” “well that’s too bad…even for you and me…” tad noticed his tear is in zulos gauntlet. “and I succeeded to know your secret and your true identity. Wait till I’ll tell everyone, your family, friends, army, the triple team, the royals of Africa even Dagenia. as soon as I tell them, you’ll be kicked out of Africa and go to the same path Dagenia’s father had: chopping his head off!” “but you can’t! I’m the bravest hero! I’m supposed to save the world! It’s my job-

Zulo: enough with the bravest hero thing toad!!!you’re not the bravest hero anymore! you’ll never become the bravest hero again EVER!!!” Zulo yelled at him which made the both of them silent “fine…if that’s what you want…although, this will be my last adventure being the bravest hero… it was…so nice to meet you again…” “get out…now!”

“why did you become my enemy anyway?!” Tad screamed at him and he ran away from him with anger. “tad wait!” “come back!!” As Ramirez and victoria catches up to him, Dagenia groans in anger. “Zulo, This is all your fault!!!” “another word from you and I’ll show you what my fist can do to your face!!” Dagenia clenched her teeth while saying “you and I will have a talk about this later!” She began to leave. “ugh…you disgust me toad… wait till everyone else sees who you really are both inside and outside.”

Tad sadly enters inside the hut “tad! I was worried sick!” Liza said to him in worry. I’m fine Liza…it was zulo… “this man again…” “Liza?…I want to fight him…I don’t want him near me…I hate zulo so bad…”

“Wait. You want to fight Him? “I wish I didn’t have to pass over to the next generation… I don’t even know what I have to do now! oh Liza. Help me. Help me and your sister train me! I wanna pass it over to the next generation!”

“I got you tad. Just like how my sister did. I promise Dagenia and I that we will train you…” “you promise?” “I… I promise”

Tad hugs Liza saying “thank you…”

Later, Dagenia in her princess dress walked to her mama until Sara came in to her. “Hi Dagenia.” “Oh Sara…” “I know you missed our special day…” “oh yeah. Sorry…” “oh no. You don’t have to apologize to me again.”

“By the way. I love the dress. Where did you get it?” “Oh this is my princess dress.” “You’re a princess?!” “My mama is the queen.” “Why thats nice.”

Sara gives Dagenia a box filled of her wedding cake. “I wanted to give you a piece of our cake, since you missed it. But you’ll always be a member of the gang.”

“Oh thank you.” Dagenia said. “I was going to meet my mama. It’s something personal…” “oh that’s fine. I’ll meet you later?” “Sure.” She said as Sara left.

“Mama, I’ve come to talk to you about tad. “Dagenia?” “why did you fire him?!” “you heard what happened to your sister.”

“mamá! It was his doing! Zulo killed oganda! And you didn’t believe him!” “dagenia!” “what kind of a queen are you?!” Wanda gasps at her daughter when she regret what she said to her mom. “mama.” “Dagenia…your job and Liza’s job is to be an African warrior. I already gave him a chance, and now he lost it.”

“then let me talk to him.” She gave her an idea.” “fine go.” “sooner or later,you’ll realize that tad was right all along.” She began to leave while Wanda felt heartbroken and disappointed. “everyone? this meeting…is over…” said Wanda as she sadly left.

Later with her and zulo “zulo! We need to talk! “what about?-oh…” zulo blushed as he saw Dagenia in her princess dress. “you look so beautiful as a princess.”

“why did you hurt Tad’s feelings?” She questioned him. “I didn’t just hurt his feelings it’s because it’s part of the plan.” “oh yeah! Then how come Zula wasn’t part of this huh?” Zulo remained silent. “you know everything about his secret and identity! you’re as useless as yourself!”

Zulo still remained silent “and you do not want to end up like my dada did. Cutting his head off! I’ll give him his bravest hero energy back and you will be banished and forbidden for your own good! For worse! In jail! or I’ll make my mama slice your head and Zula’s head off!” Dagenia said angrily and leaves

“What am I gonna do?” Zulo questioned himself. “Ooh mellan, we are gonna plan this wedding good!” “Imani!” “Huh? What is it zulo?” “How about you road kill him.”

“Oh yeah. Since me and mellan are gonna get married!” She laughed evilly as she left

“Thanks tad for taking me back.” Derik said to him. “You’re welcome Derik. It’s the best I could do.” “TAD! DERIK!!” “Dagenia?”

Dagenia ran in her princess dress in slow motion “tad I stood up to him for you.” “Oh thanks Dagenia. I was about to take them home.” “Let me come with you guys.”

“is it safe?” Asked derik “yeah. Mostly…” tad said as they walked the sidewalk “I guess it’s time for you to die tad!” Imani yelled out as she started the engine. “this is for you zulo…”

“what’s going on?” “oh my god there’s a car coming towards us!” Dagenia cried out as Imani’s car ran towards them. “DIE TAD DIE!!” Imani cried out hysterically “TAD DAGENIA WATCH OUT!!!”Derik pushes tad and Dagenia out and ended up being run over by her car while Imani chuckles hysterically

Dagenia and Tad noticed Derik’s corpse and ran to her

“I’m sorry I had to tell you this but sinners don’t get another chance when they die on their second chance, we go straight to heaven!” “please don’t go!” Tad said as he gets teary “no! You can’t die!”

“all you have to is save Africa, save your friends and family and even…you” said Derik as she dies

“Derik! Stay with me! DERIK!!!” Tad screamed at them but they weren’t unable to hear or see him

“oh tad. I’m so sorry” said Dagenia softly and gently as she hugs tad but felt rage inside.

“I did it!” Imani cried out while she saw their dead corpse. “YOU MONSTER!!!” “what?” “YOU MET A PERSON WHO WE DONT KNOW IF ITS A BOY OR GIRL, AND ALL YOU DO IS KILL DERIK?! HOW COULD YOU!” Tad screamed at her “ILL NEVER FORGIVE YOU WHEN YOU TOOK MELLAN AWAY FROM ME!” Dagenia joined him which made imani get teary. “and congratulations on the wedding anyway!” Dagenia hurt Imani’s feelings and that made Imani broke down and started crying.

[daydream-draws]

oh gifted kid burnout we’re really in for it now

[honeyhotteoks]

into the aurora - chapter twenty-two (ot8)

chapter twenty-two: a memory of something owed

chapter summary: everything with the boys has been going well, but just as you start to relax and feel like you're home, someone from your past appears.

warnings: please read the notice under the cut for a few specific content warnings that i want readers to be aware of. otherwise, warnings for soft sex, comfort sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), sleepy orgasms

pairings: ot8 x reader

genre: fluff, angst, romance, ateez ensemble x reader, polyamory, non-idol!reader, fem!reader, smut

word count: 7.2K

(previous chapter) (next chapter) | AO3 | masterlist

special content warning: this chapter introduces an ex-boyfriend of reader's. i want to be clear, there is no physical abuse in the backstory, but he's definitely shitty and manipulative. specific content warnings for verbal abuse, threatening texts, revenge porn/threatening use of consensually taken nudes, an almost panic attack / discussions of anxiety. this is not the hinted at backstory up to this point or the source of reader's old injury. i hope this is clear as the story unfolds, but please don't worry that i'm going to feature a physically abusive backstory, i will not be. thank you all, safe reading. The first time you see his name light up on your phone, your stomach drops, but you’re at work and you’re focused on the task in front of you, so you silence it and move on. By the time the day ends, you have four missed calls from In Su, but no voicemails. When you don’t hear anything else from him for days, it starts to feel like maybe he just drunk called you or reached out by mistake and didn’t really mean to get in contact. That would have been preferred. 

It happens almost a full week after the four missed calls, right when you start to stop worrying about it. 

You’re at dinner with the boys, you and Seonghwa had just finished making a triple batch of ramen and gotten settled at the table with everyone when your phone dings and you freeze when you see the message. 

Why haven’t you called me back?

You can barely breathe and as you reach for your phone to silence it, and it dings again twice in quick succession to alert you to two new messages. 

I know you still have my number. 

y/n?

You flip the phone over, silencing it as you do and trying to shift your attention back to the lively conversation. Yeosang taps your arm gently, “Who’s bothering you?” 

“Ah, no one,” you shake your head, “not important.” 

“Mm,” his eyes narrow as he assesses your words, and while he knows you’re probably lying or brushing it off, he lets it lie.

You rejoin the conversation just as Wooyoung groans, “I said I would do the dishes! Ramen nights I clean up, I know, I know,” 

They are teasing him of course, mercilessly, and you raise an eyebrow, “Wooyoung? Cleaning up?”

He huffs at you, “Don’t you start!”

You stick your tongue out at him and give him a playful shove, “I’m kidding, you always help,” 

“See!” He points at you and addresses the other members, “you heard it here!”

Yunho interrupts, “This is the best ramen you’ve ever made, Hwa,” He’s nearly face down in the bowl inhaling the noodles. 

“It’s spicier than normal, I like it,” Jongho comments. 

Seonghwa throws his arm over the back of your chair, “y/n added the extra red pepper,” 

The table runs through compliments, but your phone starts ringing in earnest, vibrating against the table, and startling you. You flip the phone and see that it’s In Su calling, which didn’t necessarily surprise you, but it still makes you feel sick. You consider silencing it again, but instead you just stare at his number lighting up your phone, and watch it ring out, hitting your voicemail. 

The boys are watching you carefully. 

“In Su?” Yeosang asks. 

“Mm,” you sigh and flip the phone back over. 

“Who’s that?” Wooyoung asks from your other side. 

“Ah just someone I’m not friends with anymore,” you say, “I don’t really want to talk to him.” 

The phone starts ringing again, and you pick it up off the table, sliding your finger across the screen to accept the call. “Stop calling me, I don’t want to talk to you.” You don’t wait for him to respond, just click end call, and then slide the phone back down onto the table. 

“A friend?” San questions after you have hung up. 

“Ex,” you admit. 

Mingi raises his head from his ramen and quirks his head to the side, “Ex-boyfriend?” 

“Yes,” you sigh, “we didn’t end on great terms, and I haven’t talked to him in over a year, I have no idea what he wants.” 

The table is quiet for a few moments, all eight of your current partners shifting uncomfortably at the idea of your ex-boyfriend. The phone buzzes again before you can say anything else, this time just two short vibrations for incoming text messages, and you glance down. 

You’re not being very nice. 

You owe me this.

Your jaw clenches at the words. Seonghwa murmurs from across the table, “He’s from your hometown?”

You nod. 

“Maybe it’s important? If you want to go call him it’s okay,” 

You shake your head, “No, no it’s not that,” you’re firm, “I really have nothing to say.” 

You glance up from your phone and see Yunho’s gaze locked on you, his chopsticks set to the side. “What is it?” he asks.

“He’s not very nice,” you say simply, “so I don’t want to talk to him. Hopefully he’ll stop reaching out to me soon.” 

“Not very nice.” Mingi quietly repeats. 

“It’s nothing bad,” you wave your hands, “we only dated for a short time in college. He was more in love with me than I was with him, and when I ended it, he said some mean things. He wasn’t a very good boyfriend, and proved it when we broke up, but that’s really it.” 

“But he keeps calling?” Yunho points out. 

“All of a sudden,” you nod, “I haven’t heard anything from him in over a year otherwise.” 

“I don’t like his texts,” Yeosang gestures to your phone, “the way he talks to you.” 

You flip your phone over, “Yeo,” 

“I’m sorry, it’s right on the table,” he gestures to it. 

“It’s fine,” you turn to address the whole table, “it’s totally fine, I’m just not going to answer him, and he’ll get the picture.” 

“Hmm,” Seonghwa hums, “I still don’t like it,” 

You smile, “Just let it go for now, okay?” You tuck your phone into your back pocket and they agree, but as the dinner continues you feel your phone vibrate several more times in your pocket. 

After dinner, while the boys clean up, you take the opportunity to slip into the living room and check your messages. 

I saw Yu Jun. I know you moved to Seoul.

Heard you landed a fancy job.

Honestly, I just want to talk to you, stop ignoring me.

Fine, but you asked for this. 

The last message flips your stomach. Below the string of unanswered text messages is a gallery of photos, photos you hadn’t seen or thought about in two years, photos you thought were deleted. You can feel your breathing coming quick. You flip through the photos to see which ones he included, and it’s the exact ones you were worried about. You suggestively pulling down the strap of your bra in one, you wearing nothing but a men’s dress shirt in another. At the shots of you in bed, nothing but a sheet strategically covering you, tears prick your eyes. “Fuck,” you breathe. 

Ready to talk?

Without hesitation you press the call button next to In Su’s name. The boys are being loud, and some of them have made it into the living room. Yeosang gives you a sharp look when he realizes you’re on the phone, and you quickly leave the room to have this conversation without prying eyes from your boyfriends.

“Finally,” In Su’s voice comes through sharply, and the sound of his tone brings you right back to two years ago.

“What do you want?” 

“I wanted to remind you of a few things,” he says simply. 

You press your back up against the wall in the hallway by the staircase, “You told me those were gone,” 

“I lied.”

“I can see that,” you manage, “I trusted you to delete those, In Su.” 

“You left me, okay? I didn’t have to do anything for you.” His voice is cutting as always, and you wince.

“What do you want?” 

“I’m applying for a job at KQ,” he says, “I’ve been trying to get hired but it’s been a lot of rejection letters. It’s definitely not my first option, but when I heard you were there and working with Edenary directly? I’m sure you can pull some strings.”

“What are you talking about?” You can hardly believe his words. 

“I don’t know how you got the job,” he says, full of smug self-satisfaction, “I’m sure whoever you’re fucking put in a good word,” 

“I did not fuck someone for this job,” you bite back, “and I can’t help you.” 

“y/n, I honestly don’t care. But you’ll get my resume on the right desk and talk to whoever you need to talk to about getting me hired,” he sighs, “and if you had just picked up my phone calls, I wouldn’t have had to remind you about the pictures, but you chose to escalate this.” 

“Are you threatening me?” Your stomach knots. 

“Of course not,” he says immediately, “but you and I both know there’s no way a pretty girl like you keeps her job working with very important people in the industry if her nudes are all over the internet.”

“I trusted you,” 

“I trusted you too,” he says, “every time you said, ‘I love you’ and you were lying. I’m sending you my resume tonight, make it happen.” The call ends with a click. 

You drop the phone, and rake your hands through your hair, “Fuck,” you mutter to yourself. 

There is no good way out of this. Either you’d sell him as a great employee to KQ and get him hired, meaning you’ll have to spend every day in his vicinity, or he’d ruin everything you’d built for yourself and the boys the past couple of months. 

“Love,” Yeosang’s voice calls. 

“Fuck,” you repeat, squeezing your eyes shut tightly before sighing and looking towards him. 

Yeosang stands a few feet away, his calm demeanor almost making you more nervous than anything. Hongjoong and Mingi stand close as well, and while you can hear the rest of the boys farther off into the house, the three of them are here, quietly regarding you. 

Mingi is the first to break the silence, “This In Su,” a look of disgust passes over his features, “you said he threatened you?” 

“Kind of,” you scrub your hand across your face and through your hair, “he wants me to do a favor for him.”

“And the favor isn’t for free.” Yeosang surmises. 

Hongjoong is the first to catch on, “y/n, what does he have?” 

You look down, the shame burning a blush up your cheeks, “It’s so embarrassing,” you admit, “I acted like such a fool.” 

Hongjoong reaches out a hand and you cross the length of the hall to reach them. Some of the others in view behind the three of them. “You can tell us,” he assures you. 

It’s hard to find the words, so you pull your phone forwards and unlock it. You open In Su’s texts and pass the phone to Hongjoong, immediately looking at your slippered feet and holding yourself tightly. You hear Yeosang’s tight intake of breath and Mingi’s low curse and your eyes close at the reaction. 

“What’s going on?” Yunho asks and you freeze, the blush deepening in your cheeks. 

“She talked to In Su,” Hongjoong says simply. 

“Oh,” Yunho, his voice is closer now and you’re sure that he’s moments away from seeing the pictures. You can’t bring yourself to look up, but you hear it when he makes a high surprised sound, “What the fuck?” 

You can hear them gathering, and Jongho says, “Are those what I think they are?” 

Hongjoong makes a terse noise, and you finally open your eyes, slowly looking up to meet their gazes. “I was very young, and very stupid,” you try to explain. 

“None of that,” Yeosang says with finality, “it was consensual, wasn’t it?” 

His words startle you and your eyes flick back down momentarily, “Yes,” you nod, “we were dating. It was something he thought would be fun, sexy. It was at the time but given how little I really knew him it was still stupid. I should have just said no.” 

“How old were you?” Jongho asks, his jaw set hard in anger as he gestures to the phone. 

“Nineteen, I think,” you can feel the blush burning and you shake your head, “I thought I loved him, and I wanted to make him happy, and when we broke up, he showed me that he had deleted them. I guess he had copies.” 

“And now he’s threatening you?” San asks. 

“Mm,” you nod, “he heard that I’m working at KQ. He wants a job,” 

“That’s what he wants?” Jongho shakes his head, “I don’t get it,” 

“He was never very diligent in school,” you explain, “we were both in the same courses, both wanted to work in the industry, but he spent more of his time chasing me around and partying than studying or working hard. He said he hasn’t been having any luck finding a job on his own, and that I owe him this for the breakup.” 

“Absolutely not,” Yunho’s voice is murderous, “there’s no way you’re working with this guy.” 

“I definitely don’t want to,” you agree. 

“Has he ever done something like this before?” Seonghwa asks. 

“Threaten me?” You laugh, “No, but after we broke up, he was hung up on me for a while. He followed me around campus a lot, sent me a lot of letters. Eventually it stopped, but it took my best friend at the time threatening him with the police.” 

“He never,” Yunho shifts from foot to foot, clearing his throat, “he never hurt you, did he?” 

“No! No, he never did anything but be clingy and it made me uncomfortable, but he never touched me,” you assure him. 

“Okay,” Yeosang interrupts, “but his texts? Even the idea that he would try and hurt your career? He’s not safe for you to be around, to see.” 

“Definitely not,” San agrees. 

You sigh and shake your head, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do except try and get him hired,” 

“I say we kick this guy’s ass.” Wooyoung offers. 

“Wooyoung, be serious!” Hongjoong scolds. 

“I was being serious.” He grumbles. 

His suggestion makes you smile, “While I love the idea of my eight boyfriends scaring the shit out of him,” you reach out and squeeze Wooyoung’s hand, “I don’t think any of you should get in trouble and cause attention. So, any non-violent suggestions?” 

“This is extortion,” Yeosang says, “you should really go to the police.” 

“I don’t know,” 

“Tell him you’ll take his resume, the job process takes time. While that is happening, call the police.” Jongho says.

“Lead him on?” Seonghwa turns to Jongho, concern evident on his face. 

“Is that safe?” Mingi asks.

“y/n is always with us,” Yeosang jumps in, nodding along with Jongho’s plan, “at least one of us. So, she promises to help, buys a little time, and before he can figure out he’s not getting a call back from KQ, the police can pick him up. I’m sure the photos can get deleted that way,” 

“It could work,” Hongjoong nods. 

You nod, taking your phone back from Hongjoong’s hands and slipping it into your pocket. “It’s not a bad idea.” You agree. 

“It’s not your fault,” Jongho says clearly, “it’s obvious that you think it is, but this In Su betrayed your trust, and you didn’t do anything wrong.” 

His arms are around you a moment later, and you relish in the crushing hug for a moment before you say, “It doesn’t change the fact that it was still stupid,”

Jongho shakes his head, “People in relationships do lots of different things on trust, expecting that their secrets or their actions will be kept private. Look at all of us.” 

You break away from the hug, giving him a squeeze of thanks, but you can’t help but say, “I’m just disappointed in myself, in trusting someone like him,” 

Seonghwa reaches for you and presses a kiss to your forehead, “Don’t be angry you loved someone, or that within the safety of a relationship you trusted someone. I’m sure I speak for everyone when I say this guy didn’t deserve your love, and that isn’t your fault.” 

“Thank you,” you murmur. 

“Text him back,” San suggests, “tell him you’ll take the resume in tomorrow, and then we’ll figure out the rest.” 

You follow his lead and text In Su back, carefully laying out the plan that you’d take his resume in that week and recommend him for the job, he just had to be a little patient while the hiring manager assessed things. Tomorrow you’d contact the police and see what you could do to get In Su caught and the pictures resolved. 

But that's tomorrow. Tonight, none of the boys seem like they want to leave you alone. You can feel their tense anger coming off them in waves at the thought that someone would do this to you, but it does nothing but make you feel more embarrassed. You’re curled in the corner of the sectional anxiously worrying the inside of your cheek and flicking through articles about revenge porn aimlessly when Wooyoung collapses down on the couch next to you and tucks close to your side. 

“Woo,” you shake your head, “I’m really not in the mood.” 

“For?” He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“I don’t know,” you sigh. 

“Give me that,” he plucks your phone out of your hands and clicks the lock to darken the screen, setting it on the table and catching your attention. 

“Hey!”

“You’re doom scrolling,” he takes your jaw in one warm hand and turns your face to meet his eyes. 

“Look,” you groan, “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I’m just trying to figure out if he’s even broken any laws. We don’t know for sure that the cops can help.”

“That’s true,” Wooyoung says, “but why don’t you let them tell us that instead of a bunch of posts on Reddit,” 

Your mouth clamps shut, and you look away from him quickly, as tears well up in your eyes you realize all of the boys are still in the shared living space. They’ve all been aimlessly on their phones or watching TV, but clearly just waiting on alert for whatever you might need, too unsure of what to say. Of course, it’s Wooyoung who breaks the uncomfortable silence. 

“Hey,” Wooyoung’s voice drops as he notices your sudden tears, “whoa, whoa, what’s this?” His hands reach for you, pulling you into his chest instantly. 

Your breath comes in an a hitched sob and you shake your head into his chest, “This is really bad, Woo,” 

“Shh,” he soothes you, running a strong hand up and down your back, “we don’t know anything yet.” 

Wooyoung shifts on the couch, dragging you over a little to sit closer to him and you feel someone drop down on your other side and rest a warm hand on your bare thigh, softly dragging a comforting line with his thumb. 

“I just thought this was over,” you sigh into his chest, tears still coming hot against his t-shirt. 

“I know,” he murmurs. 

“Come here, baby,” San says from your side, sliding closer to you and lifting your hips to tuck you in his lap. Here you’re cradled between them both, and with your head still buried in Wooyoung’s chest, San rubs a comforting hand up your back, shoulder to shoulder with his best friend. 

“y/n,” Yunho’s voice breaks through and when you lift your eyes, you see him crouched in front of you, “what can we do?” His eyes are soft and tender, empathetic and aching to help. 

You shake your head and sigh, sniffing back tears, “I don’t know,” you tell him honestly. 

He nods and rests his palm on your knee, squeezing you softly. You straighten up in between Wooyoung and San and they let you move out of their grip, but tears bubble up again and Yunho reaches forwards to brush them away with his thumb. Launching yourself forwards, you wrap your arms around Yunho and drop your head against his neck, pressing your eyes tightly closed and holding back another sob. 

“Hey,” he rocks back on his heels when you collide with him, but he steadies himself and holds you close, cupping your head with one and the other warmly on your back. Your legs wrap around him easily and he tucks you close, rocking you softly as he murmurs softly into your ear, “we’re not going to let anything happen to you, okay? Not a thing.” 

“Yunho,” you sigh, “you can’t promise that.” 

He shakes his head and makes a dismissive sound, “I can, and I am,” 

You lean back from your tight grip on his neck and meet his eyes again. Even though it’s not really a promise he can make or keep, you don’t know what the police will be capable of doing or how In Su will react, you choose to believe him. He brushes the tears away and again and draws you in for a kiss, comforting and slow, before breaking your lips apart and pressing another to your forehead. 

“Okay,” you sigh. 

“Don’t be scared,” he murmurs. 

“Yunho’s right,” San says from behind you, and you feel his warm hand rest on your neck, stroking your hair softly, “this man is nothing but a coward. He’s acting out of desperation.” 

Before you can respond, Hongjoong’s voice breaks through the moment and your eyes snap up over Yunho’s shoulder when you hear him say, “What he’s doing is definitely illegal.”

Hongjoong and Jongho are seated together, eyes trained on the laptop in front of them and Jongho nods, “It’s blackmail, but it’s also considered a sex crime.” 

“I didn’t think we recognized revenge porn,” you swipe at your eyes with the sleeve of your sweatshirt and slide back off Yunho’s lap, coming to rest on the floor between San’s open knees and letting Yunho shift around too before he takes your hand back in his. 

“We don’t exactly,” Jongho clarifies, “but he isn’t just posting the pictures, he’s threatening you with them to get something. That’s just good old-fashioned blackmail, the nature of the leverage just makes the crime more severe.” 

Your eyes widen, “Are you sure?” 

“We’ve been reading,” Hongjoong points towards his laptop screen, “I think we have enough to go on to talk to the police.” 

“His text messages,” Seonghwa pipes in, “they’re threatening, you have that in writing.” 

“They are,” you nod, the tightness in your chest releasing ever so slightly. 

“And he actually sent you the pictures,” Jongho notes, “he doesn’t just allude to them. We have proof what he’s doing is sex crime, not just a threat.” 

“They really might be able to help?” You meet Jongho’s eyes. 

“I hope so,” he nods, “but if they can’t we’ll figure it out.” 

You exhale long, your nerves that have been knotting up since he started texting you at the dinner table leaving your hands shaky and your brain foggy. Mingi’s eyes flick over you and he’s up and out of the room. It takes you a minute to realize what he’s doing, what he’s sensing, but when he returns and crouches in front of you it all comes together. 

He presses a cold glass of ice water into your hand, and you break away from Yunho’s grip to hold the glass between both hands and take a long gulp. The boys are watching carefully, Mingi nodding for you to take another sip, the shock of icy water to the brain helping ground you out of a potential anxiety attack. From his pocket he produces your anti-anxiety medication and uncaps it, dropping a single pill into his palm and passing it to you. 

Yunho rubs your back softly as you down the pill and take a deep breath, letting it work for a moment. San’s hand is a little tighter on your shoulder, and you can feel all their eyes on you. Up to this point, Yunho and Mingi are the only two that know anything about your panic attacks or your medications, and while you know they won’t judge you or think differently, the last thing you want is to be treated like glass by everyone. 

“Okay?” Mingi checks when your eyes open, tucking your pills away in his pocket. 

“Yeah,” you give him a small smile, “you knew before I did,” 

“You had that same look in your eyes,” he explains. 

You watch as Yunho and Mingi share a quick, private look, and Mingi backs up to his previous spot on the couch, gesturing again for you to drink more of the cold water just to keep things in check.

“y/n,” Seonghwa’s soft voice comes from next to Wooyoung, “is there… is everything alright?” 

Yunho turns towards Seonghwa, opening his mouth to respond but you rest your hand on his forearm to stop him and he nods, holding his tongue. 

“I get panic attacks sometimes,” you manage, turning towards Seonghwa, “they’re anti-anxiety pills to help stop them. It doesn’t happen often at all; you don’t have to worry.” You try to preemptively answer their questions. 

“Are you okay now?” he asks. 

You nod, reaching out for him and squeezing his hand, “I’m good, I promise.” 

Hongjoong clears his throat gently and you turn to look at him, “Is there something we should notice? Like Mingi did? For the future,” 

You soften at that, the way Hongjoong has started to grow more tender towards you over these weeks of living with them and spending so much time in the studio. You shake your head, “No, I can usually take care of it myself,” you shift in your seat and feel Seonghwa’s thumb stroking over your knuckles, Wooyoung’s hand coming to rest on your shoulder, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” 

“That’s not something you have to tell anyone,” Wooyoung says from behind you, “don’t apologize.” 

San is oddly quiet behind you, his hand still firmly planted on the back of your neck, and you want to twist around and see what he’s thinking but Yeosang leans forwards from his spot, “So, we have a plan?” he brings the conversation away from your anxiety directly and back to the problem at hand, and relief floods you. 

“Mm,” you nod, “I’ll call and speak with an officer tomorrow if I can and see what they need me to do. Can you send me anything relevant you found in your research that I can reference on the phone?” You nod towards Jongho and Hongjoong. 

“Got it,” Hongjoong nods, shifting his attention back to the task at hand. 

After a beat of quiet you sigh, running your hands through your hair and admitting to the boys that what you really need is sleep and some time to yourself. But then even after several hours have passed, you’re still awake, staring at your ceiling and nervously checking your phone. Your brain flicks back to earlier, and the way San said little after Mingi gave you your medication. He kissed you goodnight, but you could practically feel him thinking. 

You glance at the clock and the digital white numbers read two-fifteen. Your leg bounces restlessly against the mattress, your mind carding through the night again. You sit up straight and slip out of bed. Standing at your doorway, you decide not to think, and just go with what you’re feeling, what you need. 

Quietly you creep across the lower level to San and Yunho’s room, easing open the door as softly as you can and shutting it behind you. Yunho’s thankfully dead asleep, and easily one of the heaviest sleepers imaginable. It takes a full minute to shake him awake sometimes, and with the way he’s laid out flat on his back with a hushed, steady snore, you’re sure he’s out like a light. Using the soft city light streaming in through the windows you make your way to San’s bed. 

He's on his side facing you, arms gripping around a pillow and legs tangled up in the sheets. As quietly as you can, you ease down onto the open spot in bed and shift some of the covers out of his twisted position to cover you both, scooting close to him and running your hand down his arm. 

He groans softly, shifting against his pillow. 

“Sannie,” you whisper, tugging at the one in his arms gently. 

His arms release it easily, and you drop it off the side of the bed and move into his arms. They lock around you instantly and he hugs you to his chest, hitching a leg up over your hip and dropping his head against yours. He grumbles softly, pleasantly, and you know he’s close to waking. 

Prodding him softly you kiss his jaw and murmur again, “Choi… San…” 

“Hmm?” he sighs

“Baby,” you kiss him again, “I can’t sleep.” 

San’s eyes blink open at that, and he squints at you in the darkness for a moment before he comes fully into consciousness. He’s still a little bleary from being woken up, but he cups your cheek and leans back to get a good look at you, “What’s wrong?” 

“I couldn’t sleep,” you whisper back. 

“Nightmares?” 

“No,” you shake your head and sigh, “I couldn’t fall asleep.” 

“This whole time?” He glances over your shoulder for the time. 

“Yeah,” 

“Are you worried about tomorrow?” He asks. 

“A little,” you admit, and he nods. 

“We’ll be with you,” he kisses your forehead softly, “even if we’re not next to you, we’re there.” 

You slip your hand into his and he interlaces your fingers. With a sigh you murmur, “Can I stay here tonight?” 

“Mhm,” he brings the covers up over you a little further. 

San watches you quietly in the low light, his thumb stroking your cheek. Finally, he sighs, “Can I ask you something?” 

“Yeah,” 

“Earlier… you said,” he looks concerned, his brows ever so slightly drawn together, “are you really okay, or is that just something you said?” 

“I really am okay,” you soothe him. 

He draws you up to his lips, kissing you soft, deepening it when he feels you responding. He leans away again, “I don’t want you to be scared for tomorrow,” 

“It’s a scary thing,” The idea of filing a police report, showing strangers these pictures, leaving it in the hands of someone else to care and resolve, it all terrifies you.

He nods, swallowing hard and you watch him gather his thoughts, “I hate that someone’s hurting you like this,” he says simply. 

“I know,” you whisper, tears prick at your eyes. 

“I can’t stop thinking of the hundred different ways I would kill this guy with my bare hands if I had him for a single second,” he admits, and it connects why he’s been so quiet. 

“Come here,” you shake your head, pulling him back to your mouth and shifting your position so that your leg is now hitched up over his, bringing you closer, “I don’t want you to think like that,” 

“I just want to protect you,” he admits, kissing you again, his tender care coming off him in waves, “we all do,” 

“I know,” you nod, “and you are,” 

He opens his mouth to protest but you shake your head, interrupting him again with a kiss. You didn’t come to his bed for this, but the anxiety is melting away and here in his arms you feel incredibly held. His cock twitches beneath you, and you feel him hardening against your clothed mound where your hips are slotted together. 

“I,” he shakes his head slightly and you know he’s about to move away when you interrupt him, catching his cheek in your hand. 

“No, please, I need you,” you whisper, shifting your hips slightly to grind against him gently. 

“Are you sure?” His eyes are full of concern, and you draw him closer. 

“Please,” you nod, “I can’t think about this anymore tonight, I just want to feel better,” 

San’s tongue darts out and wets his lips, his eyes drinking you in, and glances to Yunho, “We’re not exactly alone.” 

“Oh,” you glance over, but Yunho’s still dead asleep. 

“Can you be quiet?” Your head snaps back to him and you nod immediately. He smiles and you watch as he shuffles around under the covers to discard his underwear before reaching for yours. 

“Eager,” you giggle softly, and he shushes you. 

“Let me make you feel good,” he slides your underwear off and before you can blink, he’s sliding under the comforter completely. 

You lift the edge to watch him as he maneuvers between your legs, knocking them open wide easing down between your thighs. He looks up to meet your gaze and smiles, pressing a single finger to his lips to keep you quiet before easing his mouth down over your clit. 

You can’t help the soft hiss that leaves your lips at the sudden sensation, and he squeezes your hips in his warm hands to tell you to quiet down. You steal a glance at Yunho who’s shifted in his bed, arm up over his head and his blankets now around his hips, bare chest exposed. San runs his tongue up the length of your slit, darting against your swollen bud and teasing you relentlessly. The combination of San’s mouth on you and Yunho mere feet away sends a hot rush through your body, but you tear your eyes away. 

Your head falls back as you focus on the feeling of San’s mouth on you, his fingers teasing your entrance and testing your wetness. When he sinks one finger inside you fully, knuckles pressing flush against your cunt, you clap a hand over your lips and squeeze your eyes shut. 

He hums softly, feeling your hips jerk under his ministrations and adds a second finger, working you up quickly while he sucks sharply on your clit again. The sharp sensation has you arching, rocking your hips against his mouth and you keep one hand over your lips and one on your breast, kneading it softly the way you like. 

When his mouth and fingers leave you suddenly you blink your eyes open looking down to watch as he surfaces from the covers and moves over you, lining up his cock with your entrance. 

“What,” you start to say, but he shakes his head, dropping his hand over your mouth and thrusting inside you in one sharp motion. You moan against his hand, and San presses himself down hard into you, seating every inch in your tight channel, quickly looking over to ensure his roommate is still asleep. 

You’re breathing heavily through your nose, and he starts to roll his hips quickly and quietly into you. He’s biting down on his own lip to keep from making a sound, and with every push of his warm cock inside you, you feel yourself buzzing, coming up to the rolling edge of pleasure. 

He falters slightly when he reaches with his free hand to grab one of your wrists, softly tugging your hand between your bodies and nodding to you. You communicate with ease in the dark, everything so clear in his desperate expression. Sliding your fingers down your front you navigate them to your folds, and before you start to circle your clit you feel the place where you’re connected, your soft fingers catching against his slick cock as it moves in and out of you. 

He lets out a startled groan and you smile against his hand, moving your fingers over your clit faster now. He grins down at you, shaking his head at your teasing. Yunho hasn’t so much as twitched in his sleep as far as you can tell, but you both know that if he wakes up now nothing could stop you both from finishing. 

San’s mouth widens in pleased awe when he watches your brows knit together tightly, your free hand tight against the muscles of his back and the hand between your bodies picking up the pace to bring you crashing headlong into your orgasm. Your body locks up under him, and he nods as he watches you silently come as if he’s easing you along through it.

He pumps his hips faster, the bed making small creaks now, but he ignores it and drives down into you. A light sheen of sweat across his brow, a slight smile on his lips, his hands gripping you tight, and when he comes it’s with a snap of his hips to drive himself in as deep as possible and a choked breath on his lips before collapsing down over you. 

It takes a minute for both your heads to clear, but when you come back to reality and he slips his softening cock out of you, you take one last glance at Yunho to confirm that he did stay asleep the whole time. You sigh, a little relieved and smile at San. 

He cuddles you immediately, twining your slick bodies together and dragging the covers up over your shoulders. “Feeling better, baby?” He nuzzles your ear. 

“So much,” you sigh, and it’s true. At least for tonight you can relax, slip into sleep with his arms around you, your problems still problems tomorrow but your head clear enough now to know that there’s nothing you can really do at three in the morning. 

You don’t even remember dropping off into sleep, just San’s arms around you and his soothing words against your ear keeping you calm and at ease, but when you wake it’s sudden, to a broad, warm hand on your cheek. When your eyes snap open it’s morning and Yunho’s looking down at you, fully dressed and ready for his day. 

You smile up at him, but you suddenly remember where you are, the night patching itself back together in your foggy morning brain and you pull the covers up to tuck under your arms and keep you somewhat decent. “Hey,” you murmur, blushing and glancing over at a still sleeping San. 

“I have an early schedule,” he murmurs quietly to not wake San, “but I wanted to tell you good luck today. If you need anything, just call and I’ll figure out a way to step away,” 

“You don’t have to do that,” you shake your head. 

“I’m offering,” he stops you. 

You nod, “Thank you, Yunho.” 

He leans forward and kisses you softly, not an ounce of awkwardness in his actions or expression, and when he breaks away and steps back, he smiles, “I’ll see you tonight.” 

You wave quietly, watching him go, and then curl back into San’s embrace, burrowing into his arms until you have to get up, until you have to start thinking about what you would say on the phone to the police. 

It should have been easy, especially after all the research Hongjoong and Jongho did, all the evidence you feel is at your disposal. It takes time to get through to an officer, and time to get connected to one that even works cases like yours. When you finally do, the reality you worried about starts to form again in front of your eyes. The texts, while threatening in nature, do not contain a direct threat in writing. The photos were taken consensually, and he’s not breaking any law by having them in his possession. While your description of the phone call is an active threat against you, it was your word against his. The officer takes your name, copies of the evidence you had collected, and promises to look into things for you. 

For a week you stall things, you juggling work and the boys juggling their schedules as you try to figure out a way out of this. You call the detective every other day just to see what can be done, and every other day he promises he is working on things, but it starts to feel like just that, a promise alone.  

You’re in the coffee shop a block from the KQ offices when you see him again. Park In Su standing at the end of the bar with a smirk. Panic flutters in your stomach, and you feel your heartbeat pick up. You consider leaving right then, turning on your heel and walking back to your office at KQ, or better yet making it down the street a little further to the studio where you know at least some of the boys are arriving, but you find yourself frozen. 

The last contact you had with In Su was a lie, a promise to get his resume on the right desk but given that a week had passed, you’re not surprised that he’s suspicious and changing tactics. The barista behind the counter clears his throat gently and gestures to you. You’re flustered, but you hand over the money for the coffee and apologize before stepping away from the counter. In Su’s eyes are fixed on you, and you see him collect his coffee from the end of the bar and step towards you. 

Your stomach is churning. 

His smirk turns into a genuine looking smile and your breath catches in your throat. 

He calls your name. 

Your phone rings, and you jump, fishing in your pockets for it. 

Yeosang.

“Hello?” you answer as quickly as possible and watch In Su slow his steps to regard you carefully. 

“Ah, y/n have you gotten to the studio yet?” Yeosang asks and you hear a car in the background. 

“No, I was on my way,” you say. 

“Where are you now? We could pick you up,” he replies. 

“I’m…” your mouth is dry, and you steady your breathing, “I’m at the coffee house by work, I ran into a friend.”

“A friend?” Yeosang questions, the tension obvious in your voice. 

“You know him,” you hint, nervous to say his name out loud. 

“In Su,” Yeosang surmises immediately, and you hear Wooyoung in the background make a noise. 

“Yes,” 

“Are you alright?” His voice is serious now. 

“At the moment,” you settle on. 

“I’m coming,” Yeosang says firmly, “we’re close, stay put.” 

“Don’t,” your eyes break from In Su when you realize what he’s suggesting. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Yeosang says, his voice clipped, “just stay put.” 

The call ends abruptly, and you swallow hard. Your name is called at the end of the coffee bar, and In Su smiles before picking up your cup and making his way across the café to meet you for the first time in over a year. 

There are a lot of options in front of you, but the one you like the least is staying put and letting Yeosang and Wooyoung put themselves in the public eye for you. As In Su approaches, a pleased smile on his lips, you take a step backwards and try to think of a plan, any plan that would get you away from him and keep your boys out of view. 

chapter 23 will be posted on tuesday, november 1st at 5:00 PM ET

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

Limp Noodle ~ S.H.

A/n: I have never once been good at making choices so I’ll be doing both OOF! This request is dirt old but whatever. I’m actually writing requests now look at me go!

Request: “...prompt 20 or 21 Steve Harrington x clumsy male reader” by anon

#20 (here): “I can’t do this without you”

#21: “Guess who broke their nose! Me. It’s me. I broke my nose.”

Word Count: 2000+

MASTERLIST

“Are you SURE that this is a good idea?” The words came from Y/n as Steve parked the car, waving through the windshield window at Jonatan, Nancy, Robin and a new friend, Bianca. They’d all decided on a triple date and like idiots they’d let Steve, Bianca, and Nancy decide so they were now all headed on a hike. Robin was the least athletic of all of them and hated exercise of any kind. Jonathan was the one in the group who hated being outside in the sun and much preferred being inside cuddled on the could other swaddled in bed. Y/n... well Y/n was the single most clumsy person you’ve ever met.

Now, take whatever image that popped in your head when I said that and then make it ten times worse. Then take THAT mental image and multiply by it by ten AGAIN. Y/n was worse. He was absolutely sure he was going to thrip and fall over the side of some steep hill and fully die. He would be lucky to make it out of this trip without a stick going through his eye. Y/n and the outdoors didn’t mix. They never had. He could barely walk, let alone when it was uphill and outside and humid and hard to breathe and everyone was so beautiful and distracting.

Steve didn’t agree with that analysis.

“This is a great idea actually,” Steve decided with complete confidence. “Don’t worry about it okay? You’ll be fine.”

“Incorrect,” Y/n Aries immediately. “We started dating because I tripped seven times and you caught me every single one. I tripped seven times in three days Steve - and that was just the, what, one hour a day you’re with me? In THREE HOURS I TRIPPED SEVEN TIMES!” He was whisper yelling, getting rather heated. “I’m going to knock my head into a tree and bleed out.”

Steve laughed. He reached over, taking his boyfriend’s hands. “Do you trust me?”

Y/n’s shoulders sagged. “That is a cheap trick, Harrington.”

In response Steve only raised his eyebrows. When Y/n refused to answer, Steve sighed. “Y/n. Do you trust me?”

Closing his eyes a second, Y/n held in a sigh. When he opened them again, he managed a small smile. “Yeah. I trust you.” Steve went to get out of the car and Y/n caught his wrist. “Just promise you’re going to stay with me okay? I can’t do this without you. I’m serious.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Come on Drama King.” They both got out and made their way over to the other four.

“Hey guys!” Nancy greeted warmly. She had calmed a lot since Y/n had first met her. Darkened. But she was still pleasant enough, and Y/n tolerated her for Steve. He didn’t know why they were all friends after Nancy’s brutal ripping up Steve’s heart but... he expected it was that trauma bonding things that Steve and Robin refused to ever talk about with Y/n in the room.

“Hey bestie.” Robin winked at Y/n and he felt himself relax. Around her he always felt more comfortable. She got him on a much deeper level than Steve did. She had actually been the one to set them up after failure after failure of Steve’s attempts on girls who came to the ice cream shop they met at originally. It had gone up in flames recently, but they’d snagged a job at a movie store so they still worked together. Y/n was pretty sure neither of them would have it any other way, even if they sometimes pretended to hate each other.

“Hey loser,” Y/n joked back. Robin shoved him and he laughed, accidentally ramming into Jonathan as his feet almost came out underneath him. “Sorry,” Y/n mumbled.

Robin scoffed in amusement. “I always forget you have two backward feet.” This was something she said often, in reference to the popular statement of ‘two left feet’. One day Robin had proclaimed that Y/n was something worse than two left feet, and then being backward had kicked off as an inside joke.

“I’d you have that problem standing still, how do you think you’re going to do on a hike?” It seemed Bianca was trying to get in on the joking, but it hit a hard cord with Y/n.

He wasn’t in the mood to joke. “What can I say? Great day to die.” He put on the fakest smile ever. “Come on everyone!” Then he began to surge ahead, onto the trail, and the others scrambled to catch up.

It didn’t tale long for Nancy and Bianca to hit the head of the trail. Steve dutifully stayed by Y/n, but he watched the girls head with a sort of forlorness. Because Y/n was so slow and Jonathan and Robin lagged even behind him, the two girls in front were racing up and down the steep sides of the path they were on, jumping over logs and hopping up on stumps to make the path harder. They were laughing hard and having a great time. Y/n knew that Steve desperately wanted to join them.

What kind of a boyfriend would Y/n be to stop him? “Go on,” Y/n sighed, nudging Steve forward encouragingly.

Steve looked at Y/n with an expression that tried far too hard at innocence to succeed. It was so obvious he was full of crap that Y/n was rolling his eyes before the brunette even spoke. “What? What do you mean? I’m having a great time with my boyfriend which was the point of this whole thing. Have I bored you already?”

“No, but I’ve bored you. Go and do parkour with the bad ass chicks up there. Go on.” Steve hesitated, but when Y/n shot him a look, he finally did speed ahead to catch up and join in the unnecessary shenanigans that gave Y/n extreme anxiety just imagining himself doing. He sighed watching Nancy and Steve. He knew that things were WAY over between them, but Y/n found a little jealousy in the way they worked together so fluidly. They were perfect for each other - even as friends. She just kept up with him and challenged him in a way that Y/n never could, and Steve thrived.

Slowing down in his moment of annoyance, Robin and Jonathan caught up to him. “Welcome to the world of those who have to sit back and wonder why they’re not still dating,” Jonathan sighed. His voice was as laced with bitterness as Y/n’s thoughts were.

“They’re so complimentary,” Y/n complained.

“You could argue that you guys are the same,” Robin pointed out. “You both hate doing anything outside or away from home. You both love reading and photography. I mean Y/n’s incredible view of the world allows him to be a great writer, but it also connects you two. Writing and photography aren’t far from each other and you prod that every day. Nancy can’t slow down enough to appreciate things like Jonathan does, and we all know Steve is no reader.” She chuckled. “And we’ll never know how awkward and snappy got buff and pretty.”

Jonathan and Y/n smiled at that. “Imagine another world where Nancy and Steve stayed together. Then maybe you and me would have-“ suddenly he lost his words as he tripped, and Jonathan reached out to catch him. The two boys busted up laughing. “That’s the second I have to say both sorry and thank you for your reflexes Mr. Byers.”

“Ah anytime. That’s what friends do. Share interests and talk about alternative world where they’re dating and catch each other when they almost die.”

That made Y/n laugh harder.

Suddenly there was a very unpleasant thump and a scream. The three in the back snapped their attention to the three ahead and saw Nancy and Bianca freeze and look back at Steve, who had landed on the ground. His hands had risen to cover his face, and he slowly turned on his side, curling in on himself. It seemed like he’d misstepped at some point and tripped and fallen.

Perhaps Y/n shouldn’t have been the one they worried about on this trip...

-

When they finally got Steve to the hospital, it was a mess. There had been blood everywhere, and Y/n’s weirdly good driving had saved the day in a pinch once again. They’d gotten there quickly and in one piece without getting pulled over.

Only an hour later they were given news. Steve came out with the skin around his nose already bruised and puffy. “Guess Who broke their nose,” he mocked in a song songey voice.

“Me?” Y/n joked.

“Me!” Steve agreed, pointing at himself. “It’s me. I broke my nose.” He slung an arm over Y/n’s shoulders and the other four covered their mouths to hide laughs. People wouldn’t be forgiving in public if it got out that the two men were dating, so they were trying to be lowkey.

The Doctor came over behind Steve. “He’ll be fine. I’ve given him direction son how to ice it and even given him some pain killers to help with the next few hours. But it is just a broken nose, so nothing too severe.”

“Thanks,” Y/n told the Doctor. They left then, everyone heading home. Y/n designated himself in charge of caring for Steve, and called his parents to let them know that Steve ‘got tired’ after the hike and totally knocked out. They didn’t mind, liking that Steve was actually spending time with other kids again, so it went without too much problem.

As Y/n was tucking Steve into bed, Steve caught his hand to still him. “I love you.”

Y/n’s eyes widened. They hadn’t said that yet but... well, if hypotheticals with Jonathan had taught anything today, it was that Y/n was glad he was in this version of things, even if it was a little more complicated this way. So he meant it when he replied, “I love you too Stevie.”

Steve glared. “Not Jonathan?”

“Jon-“ Y/n’s deep confusion cleared as he realized what had been happening right when Steve had tripped. Jonathan and Y/n had been close. Laughing. Talking. Touching. “Oh my god Harrington did you break your nose because you were being a jealous idiot?”

“Maybe,” Steve grumbled, looking away.

Y/n laughed, gently tugging on his chin so their eyes met again. “Please sweetheart, you can’t get rid of me that easily. Me and my two backward feet are going to plague you for the rest of our lives.”

Steve’s eyes got very soft. “Do you really mean that?”

Getting sincere, Y/n leaned down and kissed Steve’s forehead. “Stephen Harrington, I’ve never meant anything more. I know we can’t get married or anything, or even date publicly, but... I don’t care. And maybe that’s some really forward thinking and we haven’t been dating that long, but I fell... a LOT of times in my life. It only made sense that the first time someone ever caught me, it was you. And it made me realize that I was gifted with my two backward feet so that one day I’d fall for you.”

Steve groaned. “That was painfully cheesy.”

“Okay, okay,” Y/n dismissed, rolling his eyes. The sweet moment was completely ruined.

“No seriously I would break my nose again before hearing that-“

Y/n reached over, turning the light off before climbing into bed with Steve. “Shut up Harrington, or I WILL break your nose again.”

Steve laughed before pulling Y/n close so they could fall asleep curled up with each other. “My cheesy, dumb, clumsy boy,” Steve mused quietly.

That made Y/n scoff. “If either of ya is the dumb in this relationship it’s YOU, Harrington.”

“Shut up,” Steve whispered. It was quiet a while before he finally followed up with, “I’d like that future with you too.”

To hide his smile, Y/n mumbled, “Good night Stevie.”

After a second, Steve replied, “Good night, Y/n.” And for now, that was the end of it.

[theperfectlovestory]

You Are My Home

I DON'T OWN THE PICTURE

Information: This will probably have multiple parts but stand alone (?) I'm a bit nervous to post this cause this is a more personal uhh imagines 😂

Summary: It's been a long time since your friends saw you, a lot has change and you are in a better place in your life. Specially the relationship part

Pairings: Elizabeth Olsen x Reader

Theme: fluff

TW: none (?)

Word Count: 2,241

"Hey guys" you greeted, giving a small smile to your friends. It's been a long time since you all had the chance to talk together

Everyone has been busy and since you left your original city 2 years ago, the best you can do is chat with them once in a while

You are confident that the relationship with them is strong but you are sure many things have changed. But change is good, specially since you left with heavy heart and full of uncertainty

Right now you are in a good position in your life, and everyone is free, or at least made sure to make time. But still, the best you can do is video call for now

After 2 years this is the first time you've seen everyone. While they keep in touch and get together once in a while. You just were too far, both physically and mentally

"Hey, long time no see" Steve teased and you chuckled

"Damn you look good" Natasha commented "been taking care of yourself, I see"

You made a face and nodded "happy now I finally hit the gym like you always nag me to?" She chuckled

"Hey, just want you healthy"

"I know, thank you. Your voice is actually what pushed me in training" you leaned on the table, placing your cheeks on your knuckles "I can just hear you berating me for being so weak"

Everyone chuckled, agreeing that she does do that

"But in all seriousness, you look happy" Bucky complimented

Sighing, you nodded, finally at the position in your life where you can actually see yourself having a bright future

"I am, finally got my shit together, mostly at least"

The topic then transferred to your other friends, enjoying their presence even just from the screen. Laughing together just like the old times

"(Y/n)?" You turn your head to the voice, your girlfriend, Elizabeth calling for you coming from the second floor

"Darling, I'm in the dining" you answered and immediately heard footsteps

Without looking at the screen of your laptop, she smiled, excitedly tilt your head by your chin, kissing you deeply

Every one of your friends are stunned. Of course, you never showed them any public display, not like you had the chance anyway since you never really pursued anyone for years you were with them and now here you are kissing Elizabeth Olsen

Very famous actress, part of big filming companies, a producer as well

"Damn (Y/n)..." Natasha whispered and you laughed when Lizzie finally realized you were actually on a video call

"Oh no, sorry baby" she said wiping your mouth and hers with her sleeves, you shake your head to stop her

"You're fine, or not. But Lizzie, meet my friends" you gestured on the screen and Lizzie shyly waved at them. Blush dusting her cheeks as she pursed her lips into a decent smile. Your taste still lingering on her mouth

They said a quick hi to be polite then suddenly spoke all at once berating you for not telling them you are dating "the Elizabeth Olsen". The actress, the girl of your dreams

Then it was your turn to blush when Bucky mentioned that she's the reason you never had any interest in other people. She was just too 'shiny' to you, the other just seemed dull

Elizabeth looked at you with new found love in her eyes as you got bullied by your friends. She can't help but give you a quick kiss on the cheek before apologizing for interrupting your moment with them again

"Oh no, you did not interrupt at all. We probably wouldn't even know she's dating if you didn't come" Tony said and everyone told him to shut up

"It's not like how it sounds, Ms. Olsen. (Y/n) is very proud of you, she just really doesn't like speaking about her relationships" Peter explained and Elizabeth chuckled

"Oh I know, that's why we are not in public anyway" she patted your head "but it's okay. I don't want to drag her in the mess of Hollywood so if you can just keep all this between us" she gave everyone a small smile and they either shrugged or nodded

"No problem" Natasha answered "I'll make sure these idiots don't slip up"

Elizabeth gave them a big smile before she left to get breakfast. Once she is gone though they started attacking you with questions again

"Fine fine" you sighed, finally giving up "we met a few months after I left, I applied to the Marvel Studio as set decorator. I was fixing up the set the night before with a bunch of my coworkers so the shooting will proceed with ease. I'm usually just there at night so when she came looking for her phone, which I actually picked up and was planning to give to the lost and found before leaving, they pointed her to me. I gave it to her, she thanked me and that was it'' you shrugged

"Then how did you two got together"

Pursing your lips, knowing they wouldn't stop anyway you told them

It was the wrap up of the filming for Endgame. The biggest movie you will ever work with if you are honest

A bunch of A-listers are there and a lot of demands have to be met so for the first time, the whole movie you had to be in and out of the sets. You barely slept or ate in the past few months. You apartment even collected dust since all you did there is go home, take a shower, then go out

You mostly slept on set. By the end of the filming your body is screaming for rest. But you kept going anyway. This project is a very big deal for you, specially you lead the look of the set. anything that needs to be changed, moved, removed, added to the set goes through you

So basically, all day you stand in front of the set, watching the designers work their magics and you requesting changes, assessing the atmosphere in pre production and etc. and at night, clean up and set up is a bitch

One morning you were so tired you wanted to pass out there and then when Elizabeth enter the area. She was shooting all her parts today that can be soloed

You tried to keep yourself awake and alert to anything and everything so when you noticed an uneven ramp and props that she will unfortunately stepped on, your body started running before your mind can comprehend what's happening

She let out a squeal when she broke her ankle and fall but before she hit the ground and risk further injuries on her wrist that is sure to break her fall, you were catching her

But your body felt so weak that instead of staying up right, she fell on you. At least she wasn't hurt at any part of her body but you were, you hit your head on impact but it was minor

If ever, it only made you dizzy

She stood up and you did as well. You rubbed your hand on your face, ordering staffs to re-arrange and clean up the set so no more obstacle can cause accidents

You didn't even dare look at her eyes knowing those green orbs will suck your life out of you. You asked her if she's okay, also apologizing for the dangerous set up. It was overlooked that she would be indeed walking in heels, boots but heels nevertheless

"It's fine, I'm fine" she said, smiling but her eyes are full of worry "are you though? You hit your head when you broke my fall" she said, even unconsciously touching it

"Uh yeah..." you awkwardly smiled at her "it doesn't hurt, thanks" you then slowly back away. When the props have been arrange, the shooting started but your body felt so weak you had to call your assistant to cover for you

You went to the area where you always rested and slept. You were out for almost 2 hours when a cough woke you up. You sat up, rubbing your eyes and ask what they need without even looking at them

"I...brought you food, and coffee" your head snapped, looking at the voice you only dream of talking . She had a small and awkward smile and shy look in her eyes directed to you

"I was looking for you where you usually stand but noticed you weren't there" she explained, your face obviously gave your confusion away "I wanted to thank you again, the stunt director said that if it weren't for you, I would most likely break my wrist in that fall"

You slowly nodded, giving her a small smile "well, it was our fault for not triple checking the set"

"No no, please don't do that, accidents happen, I'm just here to thank you. It was me being clumsy too" You look at her with newfound admiration, a firm believer of 'never meet your idol, it will disappoint you'. But it wasn't the case with her at all

You are aware of the rumors that she's actually very kind, down to earth and serious with her job. It's a good rumor considering she is well known and if you are honest, you know deep in your heart it is true, but you never get your hopes up high

If only you met in a different circumstance, maybe you would think of trying to flirt a little but you know your place. This is a work situation and you need to be as professional as you can be. She is still an actress after all, you need to respect her space

It doesn't mean that she is being kind to you, it's an invitation to step into that space of hers. So you muster the most professional smile you can

"Well thanks, it's really no problem" you said with indifference and if you are actually not too much in your head, you will see her frown with the change of tone

She then handed you the food and the coffee "I'd actually like to talk more again sometimes" she said, swallowing the tightness in her throat "maybe for a coffee?"

The invitation did wonders in your body. Your heart is just beating a tad bit faster, your stomach filled with butterflies, your cheeks turning red. All the cliché reactions you can feel, it's there but then you moved and you groaned, your body sore from over work

You were so sure you wanted to say yes, but your body clearly wanted to say no. After this shooting, you just want to drop dead in your apartment and maybe wake up 3 months after

"I'm just so tired recently, I will be no fun" you chuckled, exhaustion dripping on every syllable "but hey, maybe a few weeks after the filming is done, if you are still up for it?"

The sadness of rejection from earlier was turned into a big grin. Her excitement sparkled on her eyes "sure, I'd give you my number then"

You nodded and gave her your phone. She didn't even have to ask for a password because you never put one in. It's easier since you give your phone to your assistants all the time to contact people for updates on props shipments and other business related matter

She excitedly tapped her number, saving it as 'Scarlet Witch' and that made you giggle. Using her screen name that's not even canon yet

"Okay, Scarlet Witch, I'll call you when I finally get some well deserve hibernation, then maybe I'll be more fun to talk to than a usual" She laughed and nodded and you are so sure you can never be more in love with her voice

She then said a few more things before leaving you to rest. You thanked her again for the food and coffee before she disappeared

"I can't believe you almost rejected her" Steve said wide eyed "she's like, your dream woman"

"Oh I can" Natasha said "(Y/n) doesn't hit uncertain, have you ever played with her on anything? All her hits are aces!"

"But it's like the chance of a lifetime!"

"Yeah! That's why you make sure you attack when you know it will hit!"

The two started bickering and you all just watched, laughing at their same old antics. Elizabeth then walk to your side, offering you a fruit bowl for breakfast, you thanked her and then invited her to seat besides you and she did, you kissed her off camera

"What was that?" She chuckled but tried to catch your lips again when you pulled away, you giggled at her pouty face

"Nothing, just suddenly can't believe I'm actually dating you" she sighed, giving you a small smile

"You might think that you're the lucky one but it's actually me" she said, pressing a hand on your cheeks and squeezing it lightly "you make my life whole, (Y/n), you filled the space in my heart where money or popularity cannot"

"And you picked up and fixed my broken pieces" you countered, leaning on her hand that's now just slowly rubbing your cheeks

"I guess we are both lucky then"

"Yeah"

Your eyes both glint the same way. Feeling like you finally found where you belong, in each other. You are home

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 26

Hannibal, Will and y/n host a dinner to put an end to everything

@dovahdokren @deadman-inc-bikeshop @lov3vivian @wisesandwichshark @scpdragon

Trigger warnings: PTSD, violence

"Hannibal, baby," You called down from the wine cellar. "Which one pairs best with the paella?"

"A Spanish white!" Will interjected.

You rolled your eyes, then looked at his shelf full of Spanish whites. "Thanks, Hannibal."

"You're the sommelier, [F/N]." Will shouted back. "Go with your gut!"

"Verdejo it is." You said to yourself, grabbing the high-shouldered bottle from the shelf.

You returned from the cellar and headed to the dining room, where Will was dutifully setting the table.

"Well aren't you the perfect little homemaker?" You commented, making sure he caught you eyeing his backside.

Will playfully snatched the wine from your hands. "We can't all be the breadwinners, can we, Ms. Restaurant Owner?"

You laughed, looking around at your triple-income house and accepting a kiss from your Will. You put your hands on his shoulders and broke the kiss.

"You know Hannibal isn't going to let you attend one of his famous dinner parties in a flannel, right?" You warned him, lips hovering a few inches from his face.

"Two guests is not a dinner party." Will corrected you. "I figured you'd know this after six months but, baby, Hannibal is always overdressed for everything."

"Better overdressed than the other way around, my treasure." Hannibal said, standing in the threshold. "Why don't you go slip in to that suit I bought you?"

Will threw his hands up. "Do you two just live to gang up on me? You know I can buy my own clothes, right?"

You scoffed. "Babe, you spent your last paycheck almost entirely at Bass Pro Shops-"

"And then we spent the day workshopping new seafood dishes for the restaurant with the fish I caught." Will shrugged. "You don’t get to benefit from it then complain."

You put up your hands in surrender. "Fair enough."

"So I don't make an ordeal out of this in front of guests," Hannibal said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out two small drawstring bags and gave one to each of you. "Happy six months, my darlings."

"Six month anniversary presents?" Will laughed. "What are we, high school students?"

"Do you not want it?" Hannibal raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't say that." He mumbled.

You opened the bag and slid the contents into your hand. A beautiful solid white ring with ornate carvings tumbled out.

"It's beautiful." You smiled, sliding it on to your finger. "What is it?"

"A ring, my indulgence." Hannibal chuckled.

You narrowed your eyes at him. "Sure, but what is it made of?"

He hesitated for a moment. "Ivory."

"Should I be concerned that you somehow know both of our ring sizes?" Will asked, admiring how his fit perfectly on his finger. 

“I think you mean ‘thank you, Hannibal’.” You corrected him. “Even if it is a little uncanny.”

The doorbell rang. Hannibal threw a dish towel over his shoulder and pointed to Will.

"Go change." He ordered. "I will not have my guests seeing you in such an unsightly state."

"It's Jack and [F/N]'s friend." Will protested.

"Sure, I'll get the door." You said. "Gee, thanks [F/N], that would be so helpful!"

You opened the door with a smile.

"Agent Crawford!" You greeted, shaking his hand.

"Oh, please." He laughed. "Call me Jack."

"And this must be Bella." You said, offering his wife your hand. "Jack has told me all about you."

"So you're the infamous [F/N] [L/N]?" Bella accepted with a smile. "It's so nice to meet you."

Jack removed his hat and coat, then handed you a bag. "For you."

"You shouldn't have." You said, knowing immediately that it was wine. Then you pulled it out of the bag. Your eyes went wide and your jaw hung open.

"Holy shit you really shouldn't have." You repeated.

Jack shrugged and smiled smugly. "I pulled some strings in evidence. Figured you might want it."

You threw your arms around his neck, keeping a tight grip on the 1907 Heidsieck Monopole.

"Hey, do I get a hug?" Said another voice.

Charissa waved to you from the porch.

"Holy shit, hey!" You opened your arms. Charissa jumped into your embrace and squeezed you. She'd always hugged you tighter after seeing you half-alive in a hospital bed with your seldom-seen lovers at your bedside.

"Jack, this is my friend Charissa Rodriquez." You introduced. "She was the one who sent you the address."

"So you're 'tip', huh?" Jack's face lit up. "The FBI owes you a debt of gratitude, Ms. Rodriquez."

"Tip?" You said, looking at both Jack and Charissa.

"The address we received came from an obvious burner email." Jack explained. "We thought it was from Chase, so we arrived with a ton of backup anticipating an attack. Turns out we needed it."

Charissa shrugged. "I thought you could never be too careful."

"Well, intentional or not," Jack said. "You helped us a lot."

"You're Charissa Rodriquez?" Will said from the staircase. He wore a grey suit with a dark blue dress shirt that fit him scarily well considering he hadn't even tried it on.

"Enchanté, monsieur." Charissa said, eyeing him up with a hungry smile. "You must be Will."

"Down, girl." You crossed your arms. Your tone was playful, but had a slight threatening bite. "He's all mine."

"Not all yours." Hannibal corrected, entering the scene to finally greet his guests. "Agent Crawford, Bella, Ms. Rodriquez, welcome."

"Wow." Charissa said, dumbfounded. "I feel like I'm meeting a celebrity."

"Oh, surely the rumors unraveled after the old place went out of business." Hannibal answered. "There are far more interesting things to talk about than myself."

"Very few, but they do exist." Jack commented.

Charissa folded her arms. "Like the bartender who stood up to a psychotic cult leader and found two wonderful boyfriends to take care of her?"

"I've heard that one!" You added. "I hear she bought the restaurant for next to nothing after it became a stigmatized property."

Carissa narrowed her eyes at you. "I still cannot believe you told him."

You shrugged. "I think it all worked out."

Hannibal gathered everyone around the table and tasked you with pouring the wine.

"Surely you know why I've invited you here tonight." He asked, taking a seat at the head. "The high courts have ruled Chase's death a suicide."

"Cheers to that." Will said, raising his glass.

"Nobody actually believes it was a suicide." Jack clarified, trying not to look at you too obviously. "But the jury didn't want to dignify him with a proper homicide ruling."

Charissa glared at you, not trying to not be obvious. "Only one person at the table knows for sure."

You shook your head. "I hit my head really hard, the details are just not there."

"But [F/N]'s DNA was on the gun." Bella added.

"But not her fingerprints." Jack said. "It was saliva. We think he tried to choke her with his fingers before reaching for the gun."

"Did you ever find that finger?" Charissa said like it was nothing.

Jack, who was more interested in the paella than the conversation, shook his head. "Never."

Your eyes widened. You left the finger with the gun, you were sure of it.

"Must we discuss the gory details over dinner?" Will said, sensing your discomfort.

Charissa rested her chin in her hands. "Would you rather talk about your three-person couple?"

"I distinctly remember spitting the finger out." You insisted.

"We found so many pieces of bone in that room," Jack continued. "It's genuinely of far less concern than the dynamite lining the walls and bunker full of cocaine, stolen medical supplies and baby coffins."

"And the stained glass window made of human skin." You added.

"You know a case is fucked when a lost finger is of the least concern." Charissa commented.

"The important thing is that it's over." Will said. "He's dead and [F/N] is alive."

Bella smiled at you. "God really is looking out for you, [F/N]."

You forced a smile, telling yourself that Bella had the best intentions. But her good intentions revived Chase's voice in your head, which was a voice you'd spent the last six months trying to forget. You tightened your grip on your utensils to relieve some tension, but it didn’t work.

The table went quiet, waiting for Bella to realize her mistake. Will put his hand over yours and looked into your eyes. He mouthed the word 'breathe' and some similar affirmations.

Hannibal raised his head, knowing the light casting shadows on his face intimidated people. "Ms. Bella, we generally don't talk religion here."

She covered her mouth with her fingertips. "I'm so sorry, [F/N], I just meant-"

You put your hand up. "Please, just don't."

"The important thing is that [F/N] recovered forty missing women and reunited them with their families." Will said. "And there was no divine presence involved in that."

You smiled softly. "I'll drink to that."

"And you'll also be happy to know that the woman who assisted him in luring all those girls into the cult," Jack added. "She's looking at twenty-five to life without parole."

"What about the babies?" Bella piped up. "Weren't there, like, at least twelve newborns?"

"That's where the department of family and child services took over." Jack answered. "Whether the biological mothers kept them or put them up for adoption is out of our hands, but I do know each child was thoroughly examined and are all up to date on their shots."

"Seriously, though." Charissa interjected. "How do you misplace an entire finger?"

"It's one of the easier appendages to misplace." Hannibal answered, speaking with experience. "I heard it wasn't just the one that you couldn't find."

Jack looked up from his plate, confused. "Now how did you know about that?"

"The man took a 12 gauge bullet directly to the hand, Jack." Hannibal said with a small chuckle. "It's more likely you find no fingers than any at all."

"The bones will turn up somewhere." Jack said, resignedly. 

He just happened to say the word “bones” as you were glancing at your ring. 

You smiled a little too wide. “They just might.”  

[foli-vora]

more than words - pt.1

A/N: I’ve had this in my head for forever and a half so it feels good to finally sort my thoughts and random notes out. Hope you enjoy!

Summary: The one person who you thought would be happy for you finally getting with someone decent was your best friend. After all, he had set you both up. Who would’ve thought he’d be the reason it all falls apart?

Pairing: best friend!Benny Miller/f!reader, Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/f!reader

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, mentions of sexual acts/sexual refences (no smut yet but it’s coming so this is strictly 18+)

pt.2 / pt.3 / pt.4 / pt.5 / pt.6

+++

Wednesday nights were pizza nights. A rule established in the early stages of your friendship with Benjamin Miller – a loud mouth, golden hearted ex-spec ops mess of a human being. A chance meeting one stormy day on the freeway, led to something you weren’t expecting – a friendship, and a solid one at that.

“– she damn near tried to suck the life out of me!”

“Jesus Ben, there are kids a table over.”

“So? They shouldn’t be eavesdroppin’ on conversations that don’t concern them.” He grins lopsidedly at your scowl of disapproval, ripping off a mouthful of pizza and humming as he chews it, head swaying to the faint music playing behind the bar. “You’re payin’, by the way.”

You snort quietly, “Don’t I always?”

He recoils, blinking in playful surprise. “Excuse you? I paid last…” he trails off, eyes rolling to the wall as he thinks but a frown soon pinches his brows. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I love you and I appreciate you.”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head as you signal for another round. “Anyways, reverting to our previous topic before you got carried away with your blowjob story.”

He makes a noise, snapping his fingers as he tries to rush chewing and swallowing his mouthful. “So,” he starts, “I’ve got a friend…”

You groan immediately, letting your head lull back. “Ben –”

This wasn’t anything new. Benny took it as his own personal mission to fix you up with anyone he thought could give you a good time and treat you well. Friends, colleagues, Hell – even his brother at one point. Will was lovely, by all means, but not your type. Both you and Will had agreed you were not a match in the slightest early in the evening, enjoyed a night of beer and pool, and then went your separate ways.

Although, now that you thought about it, Ben hadn’t mentioned setting you up with anyone for a long while. Not since before his mysterious trip.

You still didn’t know anything about it, other than he and some old work friends went on an apparent ‘vacation’. It was more than that – you knew it, and he knew you knew it, but you didn’t push the topic. Instead of interrogating him, forcing question after question on him, you let it go, sensing it was something he really didn’t want to talk about.

He had returned from that trip a few months ago, heavy with exhaustion and usually bright eyes dull and weary. You tucked him into your bed, and left him. He slept for hours. It wasn’t until much later that evening that you crept in to see how he was doing, and found him thrashing silently in the sheets, sweaty and incoherently mumbling, face pinched and puckered in pain. You didn’t wake him. Instead, you knelt beside the bed, softly stroking along his forehead until his erratic movements and breathing calmed. You didn’t bring it up.

“I know, I know,” he threw his hands up in defence with a small grin, “but I think you’ll like this one.”

“That’s what you always say.”

“No, I mean it this time. He’s a real good guy – one of my closest. I think you guys would really hit it off. I haven’t tried to set you up before because he was with the chick but she upped and left him alone with the baby and –”

“Sorry, what?”

“What?”

“He has a baby? Like a… like a child?”

Benny frowns defensively, “You’ve always said you want kids!”

“It’s still a huge commitment, Ben.”

“Jesus, I’m not walking you down the aisle! Just meet him and see where it goes. If it ends in some good sex, you say ‘thank you Ben’ and we move on. And if it ends in something more, you guys take it slow and buy me wings as a thank you.” He shrugs, looking thoroughly impressed with himself, and reaches for his beer, polishing it off in one swig.

“And what if it ends in bad sex?” You challenge, crossing your arms on the table and leaning forward to eye him critically.

He scoffs, “Woman please. I know my brothers. You’ll be in good hands.”

You take a moment to thank the waitress as she stops at your table with your beers. She lingers just a little on passing Ben his, an act he didn’t miss as he shoots her a wink and a honeyed, thanks sugar. She smiles, cheeks flooding with colour before she turns and waltzes off towards other customers, swinging her hips as she goes.

You’re expressionless when he finally turns back to you, “Sugar?”

“Shut your mouth.”

Façade cracking, a snicker falls past your lip and you chuckle. “Alright,” you concede, “you’ve got my interest. What’s his name?”

“Fish.”

… what?

“Come again?”

“Francisco – we call him Fish. Catfish, actually.”

“Your age?”

“Bit older.”

You sigh deeply, rolling your head on your shoulders in thought. You were curious, no doubt about it. Despite never being able to make anything last long-term out of the list of men Benny had set you up with, none of them were bad guys. They were all kind, funny and incredibly respectful. One great thing about Benjamin Miller was that he had an impeccable taste in character.

“I don’t know, Ben –”

He slips his phone from his pocket and swipes away at his screen before wordlessly handing you the device. It was a photo, taken from one of Benny’s many weekend trips into the wilderness. Your eyes are dragged from the incredible background of snow peaked mountains and lush green forests to the man standing beside Benny, tucked under his arm. Average build and height, a well-loved trucker cap hiding dark hair. Warm brown eyes, crinkled from a large dimpled grin between dark patched facial hair.

Benny, seeing the sudden spark of interest, grins around his beer bottle. “So, I’ll slip him your number?”

You tighten your jaw and hand his phone back, sniffing impassively as you reach for your beer. “If it means you’ll leave me alone, then fine.” You mutter coolly, ignoring his quiet chuckle.

+

“Wait, wait – you have a best friend and it’s not one of us? I’m cut, Benny. Cut real deep.” Santiago Garcia was curious, to say the least. For years, he had known the youngest Miller and he had never mentioned anyone beyond their little circle or their families. “She cute?”

Benny huffs a chuckle, leaning across the pool table and lining up the final ball. “Hell yeah, she’s cute.”

“Where you been hiding her?”

“She moved away – only came back late last year.”

Santi hums, “Ironhead – she cute?”

Will half smiles, dragging his attention away from the pool table to shrug. “She’s alright.”

His bait works. Benny snaps it up – hook, line and sinker. He stands abruptly from his shot, cue just skimming the white ball, and points an angry finger in his brother’s direction, “I won’t take that shit. She’s a damn angel and you know it.”

Will chuckles to himself before returning his attention to Santi. “Yeah, she’s cute. Show ‘em.”

Benny briefly steps away from the pool table, opens his phone and brings up your Instagram profile, throwing it to Pope and letting him scroll through your feed.

“How come you’ve met her and we haven’t?” Pope aims his question at the older Miller brother, currently bent over the table and pocketing the black ball.

He half shrugs, straightening. “He set us up. It didn’t work out.”

Santi’s face puckers into a teasing glower, and he pouts at the younger Miller. “So, what? You set everyone else up and just leave me to die alone? What’s that about, Benjamin?”

Benny holds his arms out in obvious exaggeration, gesturing deliberately to himself. “You’ve got me.”

Frankie quietly sips his beer and watches in fond amusement, content to stay in the background and away from the bickering. Like Santi, his interest had been piqued but he was somewhat nervous about the situation. He already had feelings of apprehension returning to the dating scene after the shit show of a year he’d had, and those feelings tripled when it came to potentially dating someone close to one of his longest friends. He hadn’t dated in years. He was rusty. What if he disappointed you and Benny ended up kicking his ass? It could get messy real quick.

“I don’t know, man.” He finally pipes up, crossing his arms comfortably across his torso and reclining in the bar stool after peaking over Santi’s shoulder and at the screen he was lazily scrolling through. Ha. Way out of his league. “This kinda shit never works.”

“You sayin’ she’s not good enough for you?”

Frankie shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “You know I’m not.”

“Sounds like you are.”

“Quite the opposite.”

“I’ll take his spot. Give me her number.” Santi holds a hold out, clicking his fingers impatiently when Benny merely rolls his eyes. Pope grins, settling back into his seat and elbowing Frankie softly. “I think you should go for it, man. She seems great, and you need to get back out there.”

“I can’t, I’ve got Mena –”

“And Mena’s got her tío. Go for it. You’re just looking for excuses – no seas cobarde.”

Frankie chews on his lip as he gives it a bit of thought, wondering what’s the worst possible case scenario that could come from it. A busted lip? His self-image in ruins? Scared off from dating for the rest of his life? All things he could live with.

“… alright.”

Immediately, Benny perks up from setting the pool table with a large grin. “Yeah?”

Fish sighs, long and drawn out as Pope playfully pokes his side. “Yeah. Give me her number, I’ll message her now.” Before he freaks and changes his mind.

Maybe he was just thinking too much. What’s the worst that could happen?

+

Tags: @anu-simps​

[roanniom]

The Night That Follows

Poe Dameron x Reader

Word Count: 8,000~ 

Summary: While celebrating a successful mission, you and Poe accidently ingest a mysterious beverage that makes it hard to resist one another, helping you forget the stress that weighs you down and the friendship that you’ve been holding between you two as a shield. 

Note: This is my first ever non-ADCU fic and it is dedicated to the ever lovely and supportive @paper-n-ashes who urged me to get out of my comfort zone and cheered me on.  

Warnings: NSFW, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, sex pollen, drugged drink (it’s drugged with the sex pollen by a 3rd party and not with malicious intent but it still might be triggering), masturbation (f/m), PIV sex, unprotected sex, war-related angst 

When people talk about war, they often discuss the paralyzing fear, the numbing depression. Hopelessness that spreads through your veins like cold water as you face immeasurable odds and stare death in the face day after day. And you can attest to these feelings. You experience them with each dawn that breaks, muddy in the sky regardless of the atmosphere shrouding whatever planet you find yourself waking on each morning. Your life is transient, full of ships and bases and camps. The constants are the clothes on your back, the friends in your squadron (those who survive), and the x-wing you hop in each time danger calls.

The other constant is the part of war that people do not discuss. The rush of adrenaline every time you make it out of a tough scrape. Adrenaline that burns your veins, evaporating the icy hopelessness that had flooded you up until the minute your boots hit turf and your jellied knees catch up to the reality that you are still very much alive. The euphoria that crackles in your brain when you spy your best mate zooming down from above, finally landing and throwing themselves into your arms in the hug you never thought you’d experience again after their coms had gone down in a fire fight. The absolute debauchery of a night of celebration after such a fire fight. Because nobody needs to live quite as much as those who may die.

Which is how you find yourself here, on this non-descript jungle planet, the name of which you didn’t catch during your descent because honestly there have been so many jungle planets and they have all become little more than coordinates on a screen to you at this point. You and your squad have been set up with a mini-festival by the resistance-sympathizing locals as a thank you for your recent decimation of their First Order oppressors. The operation had been pretty seamless, thanks in no small part to the excellent teamwork between you and a one Poe Dameron.

Your flying today had rivaled some of his best, which is certainly saying something since Poe prides himself on being the best pilot in the resistance. You certainly gave him a run for his money, outflying TIE fighters and swiveling shuttle cannons in a perfectly choreographed tandem maneuver wherein the two of you manipulated your assailants to ultimately destroy themselves.

As you knock back a burning shot of the local alcoholic beverage, the liquid tingling and warming you all the way down, you search the triumphant crowd for the cocky pilot who had helped you set the stage for this celebration. You wouldn’t dwell on the earlier events of the day much more tonight. Wouldn’t think much of the comrades you’d lost in the struggle. That was an ache that would throb back to life tomorrow. Tonight, the priority is living.

It is then that you lock eyes with Poe Dameron through the throngs of semi-drunken revelers. His handsome face splits into a wide, cocky grin, so you adopt an exasperated smirk in response as he pushes his way towards you. Such is the game you play. A dance, if you will. Poe plays the role of the self-assured, overly confident golden boy while you, his long suffering partner, humble him with your good-natured criticism and ever rolling eyes.

“Alright there, Sweets?” Poe practically drawls as he reaches you, the nickname both a term of endearment and a teasing reference to the sweet tooth that keeps you hoarding candies of all kinds in your bunk, much to Poe’s own benefit. You beam up at him and upend your little glass to demonstrate its emptiness.

“On my way there, Fly Boy.”

“Looks like you’re falling behind, rookie. Like you did on that triple barrel twist today.”

You throw a punch that lands a little too lightly on his shoulder to produce the grunt and showy flail that he graces you with.

“First of all, you’re not allowed to call me rookie anymore. Your dumb ass might need to be constantly reassured that you’re ‘best pilot in the resistance,’ but by now I am, at worst, second best.” Your gut warms and you’re not sure if it’s the drink or Poe’s deep, full-bodied laugh in response. “And second of all, we don’t talk about the day if we make it to the night.”

Poe almost seems to sober at your words, a phrase of his tossed back at him. The smile remains, though, and he tosses an arm around you before dragging you over to the table that’s been set up with refreshments.

“Right you are, Sweets,” Poe agrees quietly. Louder now and injecting you two into the crowd surrounding the cluster of bottles, he continues, “as for you being second best pilot, I’d rather let the squad decide before you go getting a head too big to fit in your helmet.”

This receives a laugh from the crowd as well as another smattering of slaps thrown towards Poe’s chest.

“Dameron, we all know you already have your own helmet custom made so you can stuff that massive ego in there,” your friend Myrna.

“And those curls,” you add, reaching up and ruffling your hand through his hair in that way that always makes his nose scrunch up in mock anger.

“If you must know, there’s something else they also have to custom make me…” Poe says, grabbing your wrist and forcing your hand to slide down his chest towards the bottom of his flight suit zipper and wiggling his eyebrows. You shriek and yank your hand away.

“In your dreams, Dameron.” Poe leans down toward you so that his face is close enough for you to feel his breath fan across your cheeks.

“Or perhaps in yours?”

Suddenly a small, wrinkled face appears between you. It’s an elderly female member of the local alien race and she’s beaming up at you, holding two steaming mugs and smiling around a garbled statement in a language you don’t recognize.

“Oh I’m sorry, I’m not sure I…” you interrupt her, glancing awkwardly between her massive eyes and Poe’s confused ones.

“I might be able to translate!” Myrna cries out, stumbling forward with a newly refilled glass in her hand.

“You sure that’s not just the liquor talking?” Poe asks with a chuckle. Myrna waves him off and kneels unsteadily to listen to the old woman. More garbled speech issues forward as the woman gestures between you and Poe with her mugs. Myrna nods several times and gives little hums of agreement and affirmation. You and Poe trade glances of amusement during the interaction, but you have to look away when the upturned corner of Poe’s mouth begins to distract you.

“Alright alright,” Myrna pipes up. You turn back in time to see Myrna standing back up to her full height, now holding the two mugs, while the woman waddles back into the crowd.

“What’s the deal?” Poe asks, slinging his arm back around your shoulders. You resist the knee jerk actions that come to mind, both to slap his touch away and to lean into it, standing rigid instead.

“She said these are for you,” Myrna says, pushing the steaming mugs into your hands and Poe’s.

“Did she say why?” You peer at the milky, opalescent contents curiously. Myrna has already moved on, however, turning back to the pilot she’d been hanging on before you and Poe had approached. You look to Poe but he shrugs.

“I don’t know, something about you guys deserving it.” Myrna waves her hand dismissively, obviously ready to get back to her own evening. You look up at Poe, unsure, but he’s nodding and smiling.

“Hear that, Sweets? Seems like word travels fast that we’re the top two pilots,” Poe says cheekily, clinking his mug to yours before throwing back his head and downing its contents in one gulp. Your insides ignite at his acknowledgment, as well as the bob of his adam’s apple, but your eyes still flit warily to your beverage.

“We don’t even know what it is and you’re drinking it?”

“Honey, I’m pretty sure that liquor we were taking shots of earlier was actually jet fuel, I don’t think we need to be too worried about this.” Poe smacks his lips and runs his finger around the inside of the mug. “And besides, it’s really kriffing good.”

Watching the way his cheeks hollow out as he sucks the last dregs of his drink from his finger makes a heat boil in the pit of the stomach. You decide you actually are quite thirsty, and since your curiosity is stronger than your apprehension, you knock the liquid back yourself.

“Atta girl!” Poe cheers you on, nudging you. The drink is sweet and thick on your tongue like a melted version of the ice cream you’d tasted once, many years ago. You can still remember the creamy texture, very much worth the credits paid to the traveling vendor who’d brought it to your village during the hottest summer of your childhood. As you swallow this liquid down, however, its cold temperature changes into a burn, similar to alcohol, though smoother than any liquor you’d ever had.

“Good, right?” Poe asks, eyebrows raised. You nod and lick your lips, sure that you’re imagining things when Poe’s eyes flicker down to your darting tongue.

“That was actually pretty good,” you concede with a grin.

“So what have we learned tonight?” Poe prompts, grabbing your mug from your hands and placing it next to his on a nearby table. You shake your head.

“Your cockiness extends to believing locals on a miniscule planet find you special?”

“The correct answer was ‘always give things a chance,’ Sweets, but you can continue being closeminded if you want,” Poe responds with a chuckle. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and makes to walk away.

“Fine!” You reach out and grab his arm before he can leave. When he rounds back on you with a wide smile you roll your eyes and refuse eye contact. “And just so you know, I’m a lot more open minded than you think, Dameron.”

“Is that so, rookie?” You bristle but as the glee raises in his eyes at your reaction you do your best to tamp it down.

“I’m…flexible,” you say, your grin begrudging. A hubbub breaks out beyond you in the crowd as the makeshift band that had assembled to play party music transitions to a particularly festive song, causing both you and Poe to watch as people begin forming an impromptu dance floor. When Poe turns back at you and raises his eyebrows, expectant, you throw up your hands defensively.

“No. Don’t look at me like that, Fly Boy,” you’re quick to say, but Poe’s even quicker, having already grabbed you by the hand and pulled you to him. Your body collides with his and his other hand finds the dip of your waist.

“Oh I’m sorry, what was that I just heard someone say about being open minded?” Poe asks. In a sudden fluid motion he dips you, bending you over so that your back is parallel to the ground and his face hovers over yours. “Being flexible?”

You let him pull you back up and steady yourself with a hand on his chest to catch your balance, dizzy now, most likely from the suddenness of the motion. You’re about to toss back a witty retort, possibly something that will knock him down a few pegs, but then you catch the glint in his eye and a smile spreads across your lips unbidden.

“You get one dance, Dameron.”

~*~

One dance turned into many, as it turns out. The band, upon realizing their audience’s appetite for raucous music, had begun a steady rotation of upbeat tunes. The dance floor had expanded, spilling out of its original confines in the center of the town square and into the concession areas on the perimeter. Resistance members danced and drank, their bodies jumping and moving to the beat in one chaotic mass of excess energy and euphoria. Bodies writhe against one another in all directions as people seek out friction that can confirm to them that they did indeed survive the day’s trials.

You’re experiencing friction of your own in your little portion of the dance floor. Where things had started out innocently – energetic bouncing to the beat and moving in unison – the tone had long changed. At this point Poe is behind you, arms slung dangerously low on your hips to hold you against him, hands pressed right above your pelvis. The feeling of his chest pressing against your back, his hips bracketing your ass – you’ve lost yourself in the sensations. The rhythm of the music shakes through your muscles but instead of tense and tired, they’re loose and buzzing.

Though truth be told, they aren’t the only thing buzzing. The proximity of Poe’s hands to your lower body feels charged like a magnet. Without thinking you press your hands over the backs of his, encouraging pressure on your lower abdomen. You swear you hear Poe growl behind you has his hands pull you further to him, but it could also be the roar of the crowd. Your hips move in sync, your ass grinding against him in time with the music. Escapism in its purest form is what you’re experiencing in Poe’s arms, held against Poe’s body, matching Poe’s motions. It’s heady and distracting and everything you could ask for to make living feel like living, especially in the aftermath of a day centered on death. You’re content to let this moment last as long as the universe allows.

That is until you realize that the increasing beat you’d thought was a shift in the music is actually the rapid crescendo of your own heartbeat.

Swallowing you find your throat is thick, saliva pooling in your mouth inexplicably. You take a deep breath and allow your mind to reel. How long had you been feeling like this? Why hadn’t you noticed these feelings coming on?

One of the large hands at your hip begins sliding up along the plane of your side and you get your answer. The weight of his touch lights your skin on fire as it drags up and across your collar bone. Your breath feels ragged, rattling around in lungs that can’t seem to take in oxygen no matter how high your chest rises and falls. Poe’s hand lingers on your throat for a second so you swallow again, with even less luck than before. His hand reaches up to grip your jaw which he uses to turn your head back toward him.

Oh.

Poe continues to move behind you, his motions controlling you both on the floor, but his face is strained. Sweat dots his temples, gleaming in his curls, and his teeth seem gritted, making his jaw set at a striking angle. His eyes pin you down, however, and they keep your attention as you gaze back, wide-eyed.

“You okay, rookie?” Poe’s voice is deeper than normal, huskier. The way it reverberates through your body makes a rumbling bubble up deep inside your chest. The beginnings of a moan, perhaps? You’re quick to gasp a response before such a sound has a chance to make its way into the air between you.

“I’m…feeling quite strange.”

The hand still at your waist tightens its grip while the other rejoins on the opposite side. You have to gasp again to keep from moaning. Suddenly you’re being maneuvered forward, Poe’s guidance weaving you through the crowd with ease despite the congested revelry.

Neither of you see the way Myrna is watching you both with a knowing smirk from her place draped around her own handsome pilot beau. Or the way the little old woman who’d gifted you the beverage hovers on the outskirts of the dance floor, a proud look on her wrinkled face as she eyes your retreating figures.

~*~

You’re not really able to follow where Poe is directing you, mainly because of how the imprint of his hands on your body seems to be searing into your skin through your flight suit. While your accelerated heart rate was the thing you had been most worried about, now you are equally worried about the dull ache that has seated itself in the pit of your stomach. You bite down hard on your lip to keep the moan from spilling out, the one you’ve been suppressing since the moment you became conscious to your current discomfort.

When Poe’s stride finally slows to a stop only then are you able to take in your surroundings. Blinking, you’re surprised to find that you’re now outside of the town, far from the lights and bustle of the party, walking into the silent clearing that contains the squadron’s parked aircrafts.

“Why are we all the way out here?” you ask, unsettled by how deep your voice sounds in the darkness.

“Needed to get away from the crowd.” You’re even more unsettled by how breathless Poe’s voice is as he says his first words since the dance floor. So unsettled that you turn in his arms so you can finally take in his disheveled appearance fully.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t know, it’s the weirdest thing. One minute everything was fine and the next…”

“You can’t catch your breath,” you finish for him and he nods gravely. Both of your chests are practically heaving, pressing into each other with each exhale. When you become aware of this, it also brings awareness of the way his chest pressed up against yours is also adding pressure to your nipples. Since when were your nipples hard? The night is balmy, a cool breeze barely able to disturb the moist warmth that settles in the jungle terrain. You feel sweat begin to collect on the back of your neck and your hairline, much like the sweat causing Poe to shine a bit in the moonlight. And yet your nipples are hard and a shudder runs through your body, nerve endings clearly ten steps ahead of you, taking in some experience to which you’d yet to catch up.

“Wait a minute, look at me,” Poe suddenly orders, his fingers wrapping around your chin to lift your face toward his. You freeze as he stares down at you, eyes widening at whatever he sees.

“What is it?” you ask, voice urgent, almost frightened.

“Your pupils are wide as planets,” he mutters, distracted fingers drawing up the side of your jaw to press to the pulse point at your throat. “Your heartbeat is out of control.”

“I haven’t been able to calm down,” you say, nodding but getting more worried by the second. “Why can’t I calm down? Are you feeling the same way?”

Poe’s mouth presses into a hard line and he turns away abruptly, head tilting down.

“Oh fuck.”

“What?” You try to pull him back toward you but he doesn’t budge.

“I think…we’ve been drugged.”

Your blood runs cold and a hand flies to cover your mouth. You’d known tonight was too good to be true. Your mind races, making connections out of thin air, trying to place when and where you could have possibly come in close enough proximity to First Order agents to be compromised.

“But what – how – what can we do? What is it? Is it deadly?” You’re cut off by a sound issuing from Poe’s now curved body. You wonder at first if it’s a sob, which makes sense because you’re about ready to cry yourself. But then you realize it’s a chuckle.

“I wouldn’t say deadly. Just exceedingly inconvenient.”

“So you know what it is then?” you prompt, tugging at his shoulder some more to try and see his face. “Tell me!”

“Well for starters I’m pretty sure it was that drink the old woman gave us.”

Fuck.

Of course. What was the one suspicious thing you’d ingested all day? The fact that you hadn’t thought about it sooner makes you want to kick yourself, but you press on instead, anxious to have the matter dealt with.

“What does it do?” You hate the tremor that colors your voice. At that Poe finally turns around and you take him in all at once, trying to assess what he could have been hiding. His tall, wide-legged stance makes it easy to notice after a few seconds. As your gaze moves lower on his body you finally see the massive tent forming below the zipper line of his flight suit.

Without even being able to mentally process what you’re looking at your body responds immediately. A rush of warmth and wetness floods the apex of your thighs and the moan that you’d so far been able to hold in finally makes it way out of your throat. Poe’s eyes, which had recently gone hooded, widen in response to the lewd sound. You clap a hand over your mouth and snap your eyes back up to his face, away from the rigid shape that had made the muscles inside you contract wantonly around nothing.

“It’s made from a plant that’s meant to accelerate sex drive,” Poe says matter-of-factly.

You almost don’t hear him because your eyes have already slid back down his body, feasting on the sight of his impressive bulge. You’d heard stories of Poe’s sexual prowess, many from the man’s own loud mouth. You knew he’d satisfied many members of the Resistance, male and female alike. But you had never truly let yourself consider what he’d be like. What he’d look like. What he’d feel like…

“Why would she possibly give that to us of all people?” You feel like you’re going to cry. The feelings coursing through your body are overwhelming.

“Maybe she went around spiking many people at the party. Maybe she just thought you and I would look hot together? You can’t blame her for that one.” Poe winks at you and it diffuses some of your angst. You let out a tense laugh and shake your head.

“How do we make it stop?” you force yourself to ask, just as you force yourself yet again to look back up in his eyes. Poe averts his own, a sheepish look overtaking his face. When he doesn’t answer you step forward and grab his arm in alarm, trying not to consider the way his bicep bulges under his sleeve. “Poe?!”

“We have to…take care of it.”

You’re launching yourself away from him before he can finish the sentence. You probably knew the answer before you’d even asked the question, but his words still sent electricity through your spine.

“We can’t. That’s…that’s crazy – you’re crazy, Dameron!”

“Hey, you think I like this? Standing here like an idiot with my dick so hard I can barely see straight?”

The sexual nature of his words, spoken so plainly and without euphemism for the first time, makes a new wave of wetness pool between your legs against your will.

“Don’t….talk about it,” you say through gritted teeth, closing your eyes in an attempt to center yourself.

“What? Don’t talk about my aching cock?” he asks, almost as a challenge. He’s frustrated now, egged on by your attitude.

“Stop it.”

“Are you about to tell me you aren’t wet right now?”

You turn your back on him in a childish and fruitless attempt at blocking out his words. When you don’t reply you hear his footsteps as he approaches from behind.

“If we’re both having the same reaction, and I’m certain we are, then I’d imagine you’re practically dripping right now.”

His words would have made your eyes cross if you didn’t have them shut so tightly. A hand molds around your hip while the other grasps at the side of your neck, both working in tandem to pull your back flush against his front. The impact, though gentle, knocks the wind out of you. Or whatever wind had been in you in the first place. His lips are at your ear then and you melt into his touch.

“If we take care of this together we’ll go back to normal.”

“…back to normal?” you ask, simply repeating and not really aware of your words.

“Exactly.”

“I…I don’t know.” Poe’s hardened length is pressing into your ass now, insistent and firm behind you. The hand on your hip migrates lower to pull you against him. A swivel of his hips causes your own to follow the momentum, gyrating in their own right.

“We can be quick,” Poe coos, his voice vibrating over your earlobe where his lips are making contact with your skin. Another low chuckle sounds. “Or I can take my time if you want. Either way, I can promise you’ll enjoy it.”

There’s your cocky Fly Boy.

You wrench yourself from his grasp and take a few steadying steps away before gaining the wherewithal to turn back and face him once more. He looks supremely disappointed, arms still outstretched in the place where you had just been.

“Does this really have to be a…team effort?” you ask, face screwed up with discomfort. Poe runs a hand through his hair and casts a distracted glance about your surroundings.

“I mean I guess theoretically one could take care of themselves – ”

“Great!” you cut him off and stalk around to the other side of his x-wing. Of course he’d brought you to his ship. You look around for your own but when you can’t find it you plop yourself down on the ground.

“Are you kriffing serious?” comes Poe’s angry voice behind you as he stomps over. “We could bang this out and feel better but you’re just going to – ”

“Oh ‘bang’ this out? Real nice, Dameron.”

“You know what I mean.” You can practically hear his eye roll.

“The other side,” you say simply, lowering the zipper on your flight suit. When you don’t hear the sound of his retreating footsteps, however, you pause. “Stay on the other side of the ship, Dameron.”

He grumbles but does as you say. When you finally hear the sound of him throwing himself to the ground, you lift the tab of your zipper again. However, the loud and sudden ziiiip indicating that he’s yanked open his own garment seems ring out then in the clearing and you’re inundated with mental images of what that must look like. Poe sprawled on the ground with his flight suit open and askew. You imagine the expanse of his chest, the way the muscle would ripple in the shadows of the jungle. You’d seen him without a shirt before, the arms of his flight suit tied at his waist as he reclined beneath his x-wing making repairs. Covered in sweat and grease. The memory and the subsequent lurid thoughts have you dipping your hand down into the small opening you’ve made in your clothes, not fully comfortable enough to expose yourself entirely to the elements. When you reach the place between your thighs you have to swallow the gasp that bursts forth at the realization that Poe had been right. You’re not just wet. You’re dripping.

“Fuck.”

You think you say it quietly but a chuckle from the other side of the ship proves otherwise.

“Need any help over there?”

You ignore him and try to focus in on your own body, closing your eyes. You allow a hand to ghost over your breast as you ease a finger through your folds. You feel the insistent thrumming of your pulse even down below and your breath is shallow in your chest. The images dancing behind your eyelids show you flashes, glimpses of things you try to banish from your mind. The angle of Poe’s jaw. His faint, ever present stubble. The arch of his eyebrow. The curve of his smirk. His ass in those pants.

“Sweets…”

Poe’s voice interrupts a whimper you hadn’t even realized you were releasing.

“Poe.” Your voice is small and it cracks around his name. Your muscles are contracting but nothing you do eases the sensation. It just continues building within you. “It hurts.”

“Just come over here. I don’t even have to touch you. Just let me help you through it.”

You ponder the darkness before you, the way it envelops the other aircrafts in this makeshift parking zone. You hear a shick shick shick behind you and your cunt aches. Completely in response to the siren call of Poe Dameron’s building pleasure. You’re immediately intensely jealous. Jealous of the way that, you assumed, he was having more luck getting himself off than you were, despite the fingers inside you right now. Jealous of the way his voice didn’t crack when he beckoned you over.

But most of all jealous of the fact that he’s the one currently touching his hard cock. Not you.

You will yourself to stand up, pulling your hand out of your flight suit but not bothering to zip it back up. On jelly legs you make your way to the other side of the ship. The far side, facing away from the town square and the distant glow of the party you’ve now forgotten.

As you round the edge of the x-wing you bite your lip at the sight before you. Poe is indeed sprawled out with his suit zipped all the way down. His thick member protrudes from the bottom of the opening, a fist moving up and down rapidly, pulling from root to flushed tip in skilled motions. However the eyes that gaze up at you from under his unruly mop of curly hair are not doused with pleasure and satisfaction as you’d imagined. Instead he looks pained, almost agonized. At the sight of you he sits up a bit and does his best to give you a reassuring smile though it comes out as more of a grimace.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful, rookie.”

“That’s the drink talking,” you dismiss, despite the way your stomach swoops as you move to settle yourself down next to him, careful not to make contact. “And you know I hate you calling me rookie.”

“I’ll call you anything you want, baby, as long as you start touching yourself.”

Your cunt pulses at his words so suddenly that you almost double over. Your breathing, already ragged, speeds up as you feel the overwhelming urge to have something deep inside you. Dropping your hand into the opening in your suit you halt, however, watching Poe warily in your peripheral vision. He catches you looking and reluctantly stills the hand moving on member.

“Would sitting back to back help?” he sighs. You nod, scrambling over so that your back is to his.

This is better. This is much better, you think as you dip your hand back between your legs and into the waiting slick. You drag a finger in tight circles over your clit and do your best to calm the racing thoughts that flit back to images of Poe’s body.

The body that is currently pressed to yours, though not at all in the manner you would prefer.

Poe grunts then, making you lose your rhythm.

“This isn’t the first time I’ve wanted you, you know.”

You cut your answering gasp off at the source, not daring to make a sound lest it interrupt this information that you desperately needed to here. He interprets your silence correctly and continues.

“I’ve thought about you. When I’m in the cockpit on my way to some distant planet. When not even hyper speed can get me there quick enough before thoughts of you creep in.” He almost sounds mad, but you get it. The emotions coursing through your body along with the hormones are driving you wild and you don’t know how to feel.

“What…what are the thoughts about?” you can’t help but ask.

“I’d love to say it’s your smile or your brains or something sweet like that. And I do think about those things too, don’t get me wrong,” he says on a hoarse chuckle. “But it’s mainly your body.”

You slip a third finger inside your cunt as he says this, his words and the feeling mixing to cause you to let out an unchecked moan. You feel Poe’s body shudder against you.

“Shit Sweets you’re killing me.” You feel him tense as his hand begins moving faster. “I think about how you look poured into that flight suit. The way your tits and ass jiggle when you hop into your x-wing – fuck.” Another shudder wracks through his body and you can’t take it anymore. The way you’re touching yourself isn’t the way you usually do it. Not in those rare moments where you’ve got the sleeping quarters to yourself and you’re able to get yourself off in your bunk to images of a chiseled jawline, a clothed bulge, rippling muscles, soft, curly hair…

You abruptly pitch yourself forward to balance yourself on your knees and one hand while the remaining hand redoubles its efforts between your legs. The shift in position ends your physical contact with Poe and he swivels to see.

“What are you – ”

“Don’t turn around,” you gasp out. Your new angle works in your favor as your swollen clit becomes more sensitive, pulled down by gravity so that every swipe of your finger becomes more potent. “But for the love of gods, don’t stop talking.”

Poe is taken aback by your sudden forwardness, but he doesn’t let it faze him for long. Instead you hear his renewed efforts at jerking off as the sound of skin swiping across skin, made smoother by spit and precum, gets louder behind you.

“What do you want me to talk about? How much I wish it was your tight little pussy I was fucking instead of my fist?”

The whimper you release at that statement is unlike any sound you’ve ever made and it only spurs Poe on.

“And I just know you’re tight. I know it. And wet too, just like I guessed you were. I can hear it, baby,” he practically growls and you become intensely away of the slick, creamy sounds coming from the rapid in and out, in and out rhythm of your fingers delving into your cunt. “You’re dripping, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” You close your eyes and hear his words and wish the fingers inside you were harder, thicker, him.

“You wish it was my cock inside you, I know you do. You don’t want to admit it but you wish I was pounding into you, making you feel good. Making the ache go away.”

Your answering whine confirms his beliefs and he lets out a triumphant grunt.

“Fuck, baby. I want it, too. Bury myself deep inside of you and fuck you till that drink wears off and you’re still screaming for me, that’s how good it would be.”

“Oh gods.”

“Tell me who you’re wet for.”

“Y-you.” It comes out small. You’re shocked that you even say it, especially with how much you’ve been fighting all of this. You want it. You want it in your bones and in your blood and in your tight, spasming cunt. But you also want Poe’s friendship. Want him to tousle your hair on the way to the hanger. Want him to keep sending you funny messages over your data pad, constantly trying to outdo your own silly riddles and jokes. Want to tease him and eat dinner with him in the mess hall and slap him when he says something stupid and yell at him when he does something dangerous and cry when he doesn’t come back on time from a mission…

A sob finds its way out of your body, sandwiched between two moans. You’re not sure Poe even heard it until his voice reaches your ears again, this time gentler.

“Sweets? Is this working for you?”

You take a shuddering breath before answering.

“No.”

You practically hear Poe slump in defeat, the rhythm of his hand on his length slowing down. You bite your lip before continuing.

“Take me, Poe.”

“What?” Poe whirls around so fast you feel the air woosh over you as he disturbs it. You jump to your feet, still facing away from him and yank your flight suit over your shoulders and down your body, stepping out so it pools on the ground. He watches as you get back down on your hands and knees before him in your underwear, ass in the air, waiting for him to catch up.

“I need you, Poe. Just…just please get inside me,” you say, reaching back to pull the damp fabric of your panties aside, exposing your glistening, swollen folds for him to see.

You don’t have to ask him a third time. He’s on you so fast that you’re confused by his motions. It takes a few seconds before you realize that he’s taken your discarded flight suit and stretched it out on the ground, positioning you over it so that your hands and knees are protected from the dirt. The sweetness of this considerate action is offset by the way his fingers dig harshly into your hips, maneuvering your ass so that it lines up with his pelvis. You tilt forward, aided by pressure on your lower back which raises your click cunt to the level of his cock.  

“I’m going to make you feel so good – ”

“No more words, Dameron. Just shut up and get your cock inside – FUCK.” He spears you mid-sentence and you immediately fall down onto your elbows. Your ass still in the air, held in place by his hard grip, receives a smack and you cry out, feeling no pain. Only pleasure as the sting ripples through you and into your clenching cunt. He feels it deep inside you and groans.

“Maybe you’re the one who needs to shut up, baby.” His words issue forth from gritted teeth. “Always fucking teasing me with that fucking mouth.” His hips rut into yours, taking up an unforgiving pace, while the rest of his body folds over yours so his chest pressed flush to your back. One hand closes tightly around your chin, wrenching up your head and dragging a finger over your bottom lip which has grown plump from biting. “This beautiful, bossy fucking mouth. Always telling me off, telling me what to do.”

Your tongue darts out to meet his skin and his other fingers caress your chin in response. It’s a stark contrast to the almost feral way he is still clutching your hip and driving into you over and over.

There’s almost no resistance. You’re tight, cunt clutching onto his throbbing cock in an effort to keep him buried inside, but you’re wetter than you’ve ever been and it’s making his thrusts effortless. You assume it’s a side effect of the drink. But in some part of your brain you can’t believe that a plant could possibly make a man’s cock feel as good as Poe’s does right now inside you. How a plant could cause you to feel pleasure that is not simply rooted in the way his hand drags down from your jaw to wrench your breasts out of the cups of your bra. How a plant could in any way magnify the surely already intoxicating feeling of Poe’s mouth working at the side of your neck, the curve of your shoulder.

“This working, baby? This doing it?” Poe checks in then, not relenting in his thrusts. Never relenting. “You’re squeezing me, so I know your little pussy likes it.”

A shuddering gasp kicks through you before you can answer his question and he laughs. The vibrations go straight from his cock to your clit and you whimper some more.

“Your sounds. I want to record these little sounds you’re making and play them back when I’m flying. Have you fill the space in my x-wing till I can’t take it any more.” Poe presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder, nipping and then laving the skin over with his tongue. “I’m going to hear these sounds in my dreams.”

“It’s…just…the drink,” you practically hiccup, barely able to form thoughts from the way your body has focused all energy, all recognitions of nerve endings to the space between your thighs. Poe slaps your ass again and you keen.

“Just listen to yourself, baby. No drink is making you sound this hot. That’s all you, Sweets.”

Before you can argue further you do take a second to listen. To the way your shallow breaths mix with whimpers and whines. The gurgle in the back of your throat when his cock bounces against your cervix. He’s right. It is hot. You are hot. You reach a hand down to your clit, desperate to increase the already mind-blowing stimulation, greedy for more.

“You feel so good. You’re sosososogood,” you barely manage to slur. Despite your inability to fully speak you make the attempt because you assume that if hearing your gasps is egging him on, your words will amplify it. And amplify it they do. Poe’s hips stutter for a second before he drops down heavier on you, thrusting deeper and from a more primal place. A hand savagely kneads at one of your breasts, playing with the nipple.  

“I’ve never been this full. I can’t take it, I can’t…”

“Seems like you’re taking it pretty well, baby,” Poe coos, pressing more kisses to the side of your neck.

“I need m-more,” you gasp, realizing with urgency that the pressure in your core is finally building past the plateau of the last…hour? Half an hour? How long had this been going on? All night? It doesn’t matter because Poe’s inside you and he’s listening to you and suddenly you’re being slammed into with all the force he can muster. He expertly wrings pleasure from your body and you feel yourself careening toward a release that you can’t describe. Just out of reach and full of all the potential energy inherent in an object rocketing toward the moon only to soon plummet back to the depths.

“Poe! I…I…oh fuck…oh gods…I…”

“Go on, baby. Cum.”

“You ha- ahhhh. But you…y-you…” You’re babbling. You’re incoherent, not wanting to leave him behind in the blinding ache that comes before release. Your hands are fisting in the flight suit below you, desperate for something solid, something substantial to hold onto.

“Don’t wait for me, Sweets. Let go.”

And then his hands are closing over yours, fingers interlacing and squeezing down, pinning you to the ground with white knuckles that would hurt if you weren’t squeezing him right back, finally grounded in the way you needed.

And you’re cumming.

And cumming.

You feel every muscle in your body seize and spasm and bliss roils out through you in waves. You shake and stutter under him, feeling fresh wetness gush down around his cock as he fucks you through the feeling. You keep waiting for it to stop but it doesn’t, it only intensifies. It must be a side effect. Of the drink not the man. But when you feel yourself transcending the moment, the way your soul feels like it is literally floating above you, you use the out of body experience to take in the man who is causing this pleasure. The way he cages you in, bracing you through the storm of your orgasm, giving more and more to keep the flame burning as long as possible.

His muscles ultimately seize sometime around when your soul seems to sink back into your body and you’re one again enough with your senses that you can feel him paint your walls with sticky, hot cum. He doesn’t drop his weight on you like other men have after the completion of such exertions. Other men who had focused more on the destination than the journey, leaving you as wanting for release as you were wanting for air under the pressure of their body weight. Instead, Poe pulls you of you and flops to his back in the grass beside you. Without him holding you up you crumble down, face pressing into the fabric of your rumpled flight suit instead of the dirt, thanks to Poe.

A few minutes pass, silent except for the sound of your slowing gasps for air. When your breathing evens Poe sits up on his haunches to guide you back into your flight suit. You’re sticky from sweat and your combined cum, but you couldn’t care less with your bones liquified and your eyelids heavy. Gone is the buzzing ache, in its place a heavy sleepiness. When Poe lays you, now clothed, gingerly back down on the ground you automatically curl into him, allowing him to wrap his arms around your body.

Neither of you shares another word. You don’t have to.

Because shortly after you doze off. And for the first time in a long time your final thoughts before sleep overtakes you are not of the dread the morning will bring, but the solace you found in the night.

~*~

When you wake it’s to a dawn as grey as all the ones before it. Hazy with receding fog and with the promise of all the danger that looms ahead in the hours soon to follow. One of the planet’s suns has already breached the horizon, and you raise a hand to cover your eyes as you peer out from under the x-wing’s protective wing. Looking down you take stock.

Your flight suit is on but fully unzipped, leaving your chest and stomach entirely exposed, all the way down to your lower belly. A large hand covers one of your breasts, fingers twitching against your flesh as the man attached to it continues to dream. You follow the length of his arm to take in his body, tucked close into your own, equally unzipped, his broad torso showing through the gaping fabric. You watch Poe’s abdominal muscles contract with his inhales and exhales for a moment while you check in with your body.

The humming from last night is gone, that much is for certain. This makes you believe that the effects of the drink have worn off. You’re quick to question this hypothesis, however, when Poe stirs in his sleep and his hand squeezes down a bit on your breast. Your breath catches in your throat and fire shoots through your veins. A lingering symptom, you wonder. Or perhaps just a normal, biological reaction to sexual stimuli. You kick yourself mentally because of course it has to be the latter. It couldn’t be the third option which you won’t even allow yourself to fully consider.  

You require a shower urgently, it occurs to you suddenly. And food, a realization that coincides with a rumbling in your empty stomach. Knowing you’ll never have a good enough excuse to extricate yourself from this gorgeous man’s arms you steel your nerves and pull away. When you stand, Poe groans and allows an eye to crack open, his hand flying up to shield his eyes from the rising sun. You’re silhouetted against the dawn and he takes in your outline. The curves of you.

“Morning, Sweets,” he says, voice hoarse with sleep this time instead of sex.

“Morning, Fly Boy,” you reply simply with a small smile. You feel a buzzing in the pocket of your suit then and pull out your mini com unit, even more portable than your usual data pad. The message that blares across the screen and you relay it before Poe can reach his own device which had similarly vibrated.

“We’ve got a new mission. Briefing is in an hour and then we take off.” The information feels stilted as it leaves your lips. How can you feel so entirely, earth-shatteringly changed and yet in many ways everything is still the same. The sun still came up. The war still rages on.

You look down at Poe and his intense expression as he watches you makes you think that he’s wondering the same thing.

Your heart thumps in your chest, this time unaided by any drugged drink or the eyes or hands of a man whose existence seemed both your making and undoing. Routine is the only thing that can calm these nerves. Routine is what is required to survive war. Routine and protocol and boundaries.

You zip up your flight suit with finality.

“See you at the briefing?” you ask, though its more statement than question.

“Of course.” Poe’s response is quiet as he continues to watch you from his reclining position. You’re still above him and at a distance, a position he often associates with you.

You smile and give him a good natured salute before turning and making you way back toward the town where you know the rest of the Resistance members are already bustling about and preparing for the day.

Another day you hope you, and Poe, will be lucky enough to outlive.

~*~

Doing a smaller taglist since it’s a Poe fic and I’m not sure if everyone on my usual taglist is into it (Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed for future work!): @paper-n-ashes @mariesackler @tlcwrites @foxilayde @mylifeisactuallyamess @sacklerscumrag @jynzandtonic @millenialcatlady @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @hopeamarsu @direnightshade @leather-flannel-liquor @fizzywoohoo @aliveandlonely @wayward-rose @safarigirlsp @emeraldsiren20 @finn-ray-nal-beads @maryforyou @maybe-your-left

[pascalpanic]

Oooh the fluffy prompts are fun! Could you do “are you sugar personified or something?” with Javier?

Birthday Cake (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Summary: Your best friend Javi, the storm cloud to your rainbows and sunshine, is celebrating a birthday today. Gotta cheer the grump up!

W/C: 1.9k

Warnings: language, Javi has dirty thoughts. of course he does.

A/N: idk I just think he’s neat 💖 thanks for the prompt!!

Few people know things about Javier that weren’t common knowledge. Most people know that his full name is Javier Peña, he’s from Texas, he’s fantastic at his job and he’s a womanizer.

You and Steve Murphy are two of the people with more knowledge. You know that he has a sweet tooth but doesn’t recognize it. You know his favorite brand of cigarettes, his favorite brand of whiskey, he always knocks twice in a quick succession on a door. He’s a wild card in the field, but he’s incredibly predictable around the embassy and as a friend.

You work as an Intelligence Research Specialist at the embassy, processing raw data and turning it into intel. This means you work closely with the agents, but Peña and Murphy are your favorites. Steve is the only man who doesn’t hit on you in the entire building, and Javier is the only man who can do it in a way that makes your stomach flutter a little.

You’re the go-to gal for the two mustached men. If they need data, you’re the one they find. And that’s often- the two men love to make impulsive decisions about fieldwork, and you’re the one who has to give them the grounds to go do things. You’re the one who decodes the wiretap that the agents place. You help with interrogations sometimes, and give the men recommendations on what they should do. It’s rare that any of them, besides Peña and Murphy, listen to you, though.

The three of you are the triple threat around the office; wherever you go, the other two men aren’t far behind. They follow you like ducklings to the mother bird with the information, the details, the who-what-when-and-where to their how.

The two men enjoy you too. Steve loves your baking. It reminds him of home. Javier, on the other hand, rarely comments when food is presented to him, but he’ll eat plenty of the sweet treats when he thinks no one is looking. Javier refers to you as a “ray-of-fucking-sunshine,” usually through a mouthful of whatever you baked last. Your positivity and energy is the complete opposite of his gruff demeanor.

Javier really likes you, more than he should. He wants you, wants to kiss you deeply and lay you down on his bed and absolutely destroy you. You’re just so fucking cute, always with that infectious good mood. You see the shit these men do on the daily, and you still seem almost naive. No, not naive. Just hopeful. That’s rare, and Javi admires it.

You like them, as more than coworkers, as friends. Steve is a funny guy. You like him and his wife, Connie. They’re good company. You live next door to the Murphys, which puts you right near Javier too.

Javi, you two called him outside of work. He had a dry sense of humor, and was hard to pull away from the job. They both were. You were better at compartmentalizing than they were. He was handsome and flirtatious, but you figured he’d never like you. Too different of people.

The three of you shared details of your lives at work. Steve would talk about his adoptive daughter’s latest milestones, about his wife and his arguments. You and Javier didn’t have much to share. Your heart twinged every time Steve mentioned another hookup Javier had had.

Something about him is magnetic. Javier makes you grin and giggle and shy away but come out of your shell at the same time. But of course, you’re coworkers and friends. Just friends. It would be impractical to think that you could be something more, if he even wanted to in the first place.

November rolls around in Colombia, and with it comes Javier’s birthday. November 8th, in a year he refused to tell you. Steve told you later. The Murphys and you are the only people aware of this. Javier doesn’t like a fuss to be made over him. Of course, knowing you, a fuss is the only thing practical.

It’s a Sunday when Javier turns a year older. Connie and Steve are doing something with their daughter, probably. Javier doesn’t have friends besides you or Steve. That motivates you to go even grander.

You wake in the morning with a grin. November 8th. After taking your time waking, you find your way to the kitchen and begin the process. You lovingly fold the dry ingredients in a bowl, then add the wet ones. A beautiful looking cake batter forms, and you dare to lick the spoon once the cake is in the oven. It’s good.

As it bakes, you hum to yourself and find your way to the phone. “Murphys,” a sweet voice rings out. Connie.

“Hey lovely,” you say with a grin. “Is Steve home?”

“Yeah, what’s up? Please don’t be calling for work,” she says, even though the tone of your voice indicates it isn’t.

“Oh, no. I guess you’d know: it’s Javi’s birthday. The two of them doing anything tonight?”

“I completely forgot,” Connie gasps. “But no, not that I’m aware of.”

“Just checking. Thanks, girl.”

“Yeah, any time.” Connie hangs up right as the oven beeps that the cake is done.

-

A knock comes at Javier’s door in the evening. He opens it to find you with a beautifully iced cake, a bottle of whiskey, and a grin. “Happy birthday,” you say as you see him, and his neutral expression grows to a small smile.

“You know I hate birthdays,” he chuckles lightly.

“That’s too damn bad, because I love them. Do you have any plans for tonight?” You ask him.

He’d been considering calling up one of his girls to fuck until he forgot his name or how old he was getting, but he’d much rather be with you. “No,” he shakes his head.

“Wanna share this cake and whiskey?” You ask, hope in your eyes as you lean forward a little.

Javier laughs.

“Are you sugar personified or something? Come on in,” he says and moves to allow you in. You set the cake and whiskey down on his counter and immediately head for a cupboard where you know he keep the plates. “Thank you for this.”

“Of course. It’s my best friend‘s birthday, gotta treat him.”

“I’m your best friend?” He asks, somewhat in disbelief as you return with two plates, two forks, and two glasses of whiskey.

You shrug. “Of course you are. Who else would it be, Steve?” You snort as you sit at his table and he sits across from you.

“Just… no one back home?”

You give him an honest smile, your perky demeanor dropping. “No, Javi. You’re my best friend. I genuinely enjoy you as a person. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes.”

You sigh and reach for your purse. “You’re a piece of work, Peña,” you sigh as you stick a couple of candles into the cake. You don’t smoke, but you carry a lighter for Javier and Steve, which you grab from your purse and use to light the candles. “Okay. Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you,” you sing softly to Javier, grinning and looking into his eyes.

He doesn’t deserve you, he thinks to himself. Someone so beautiful and kind and yeah, beautiful, so stunning, and yet you never go on dates or hook up with anyone, even when it’s so easy. Why? He selfishly hopes it could be because of him.

“Happy birthday dear Javi… happy birthday to you.” He knows the drill. He blows out the candles and they go out easily. “What did you wish for?” You ask sweetly and quietly, slicing into the cake.

“Can’t tell you.” It was you. He can’t tell you that not because he fears it won’t come true, but because he fears what could come after it.

You sigh. “You’re impossible,” you tease and scoop a slice, handing it over to him. He pops the bottle of whiskey open and pours a glass for each of you.

“You’re the impossible one. All sunshine and rainbows in the middle of a fucking drug war.”

You shake your head as you scoop yourself a piece. “Someone has to be. No one else was taking the job. You think I enjoy it? I get pissed sometimes too. I hide it.”

“You, angry? I’d like to see it,” he shakes his head and takes a bite.

Rolling your eyes, you take a bite of the cake too. “Hiding my feelings for the good of others since the day I popped out of the womb.”

His face softens. “Hey.”

You shake your head. “Sorry to be depressing. It’s your birthday, after all. How does it feel to be a year older, hm?” You ask, trying to put the facade up again. It only half works.

Javier sets down his fork. “Hey, brillante.” Shiny. “I know you have more feelings in there. Tell me them.”

“Since when have you been one for emotions, Javier?” You ask dryly and raise an eyebrow.

He nods. “That’s fair. But you can tell me anything. I’m your best friend, right?”

Sighing, you look down at your plate. You don’t want to admit that what you’re thinking about is how you don’t want him to be your best friend, you want to love and adore him and be more. Lovers, partners, anything. “Hey. Answer.”

The frustration gets you and you snap. “I care about you, Javier. I like you. I think about you a lot. As more than just a friend, really. And I shouldn’t, because we’re coworkers and friends.” The words flow before you can stop yourself.

He’s taken aback. He certainly didn’t expect that. “Oh.”

You bite your lip. “That’s exactly why I held that in for so long. Because you responded like that. It’s not your fault, either, so don’t say that, that you’re sorry you don’t feel the same, that-“

Javier stands and walks to your side of the table. He squats to your seated height. “Look at me.”

You do, albeit in a confused way. “Yeah?”

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long. I’m about to do this for me and me alone, because I know you want to do it too.”

“What?”

He kisses you, cupping your face in his hands. He tastes like frosting and whiskey and cigarettes and oh god, it’s heavenly. His calloused fingertips against your cheeks, his warm and plush lips against your own. He means it, you can tell it. He breaks away, breathing heavily. “Hey. My ray-of-fucking-sunshine. I want you, I’ve wanted you for a long time now. Since I first laid eyes on you.” He brings your face close to his. “Never hold it in again.”

You close the gap between the two of you, kissing him again. Hard. Passionately. You hold the back of his head with one hand, the other snaking around his shoulder. You stop for a second and stand, and he follows. “Goddamn, you really are sugar personified.” The gap closes between your lips, from mutual movement forward, into another needy kiss.

You throw your arms around him, making a soft noise of need into his lips. “Javi,” you shudder as his lips trail to your jaw and then to your neck.

“Got my birthday wish.”

[peachbear88]

You're Timeless to Me

A/N: Inspired by "You're Timeless to Me" from Hairspray. (Yes, I did steal a bit of this from the movie. Hush.) If you haven't see the movie yet, GO FUCKING WATCH IT. Sorry, this was super rushed because I started not liking it halfway through writing it. Ya know?

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Reader

-=+=-

"How could you do this to me?" I trusted you!" Yelena screams, the wind drowning out her silent sniffles.

"Babe, nothing happened!" She scoffs.

"Nothing my ass. You were on top of her!" You sigh. There was no use arguing your way out of this one. Once she thought she knew something, there was no telling her otherwise.

"Styles keep a-changing-"

"No." She warns you, backing away.

"Worlds rearranging-"

"Don't try and woo me with your charming songs." She mutters, waggling her finger at you, reprimanding. She thinks they're charming, you smile to yourself.

"Lena, you're timeless to me." She flushes bright red, turning away to hang up some clothes in a futile attempt to hide her flustered state.

"Hemlines are shorter, a beer crossed a quarter,"

"But time cannot take what comes free." You grab her wrists, trying to meet her eyes but she pulls away, turning to the laundry basket on the floor.

"You're like a stinky old cheese, babe," she gasps, sending you an affronted look. "Just getting riper with age."

"You're like a fatal disease, babe!" She shakes her head disapprovingly, the hints of a smile flashing across her pale face. "But there's no cure so let this fever rage."

"Some folks can't stand it, say time is a bandit," You grab her hand, twirling her around. "But I take the opposite view." She pulls herself from your grasp, returning her attention to hanging the sopping wet bedsheets on the drying rack. "'Cause when I need a lift, time brings a gift!"

"Another day with you!" You waltz around the rooftop with an imaginary partner as your wife watches you amusedly. "A twist or a waltz, is all the same schmaltz with just a change in the scenery."

You grab her by the waist, bringing her in for a quick but loving kiss.

"You'll never be old hat, that's that." She wraps her arms around your neck as you dance slowly, your hands clutching her waist. "You're timeless to me."

"Oh Y/N, I love you." She chuckles, shaking her head.

"Fads keep a-fading, Castro's invading, but Y/N, you're timeless to me." You spin her around, catching her in your arms. "Hairdos are higher, mine feels like barbed wire, but you say I'm chic as can be!"

"You're like a rare vintage ripple." She boops your nose, making you giggle. "A vintage they'll never forget. So pour me, a teeny weeny, triple." She raises her imaginary wine glass in the air. "And we can toast, that we ain't dead yet."

"I can't stop killing, your hairline's receding, and soon we'll have nothing at all!" She grabs you hand, pulling you along with her. "So you'll wear a wig, while I roast a pig. Pass that Advil!"

"Glenn Miller had brass, that Chubby Checker's at gas, but they all pass eventually." The two of you waltz around the rooftop, the street lights twinkling below you. ""You'll never be passé, hip horray! You're timeless to me."

"You're like a broken down Chevy!"

"All I need is a fresh coat of paint."

"And Lena, you got me goin' hot and heavy! You're fat and old-" she gasps. "Baby, boring you ain't!"

"Some folks don't get it, but we never fret it, 'cause we know that time is our friend!"

"Yeah!"

"It's plain to see, that you're stuck with me, until the bitter end!"

"And we got a kid who's blowing the lid, off the Belova family tree."

"You'll always hit the spot, big shot, you're timeless to me." You murmur, leaning in.

"You'll always be du jour, mon amour. You're timeless to me."

"You're timeless to me."

"You're timeless to me."

"You're timeless to me."

The two of you collapse in a nearby sun chair, attempting to catch your breath.

"So you really didn't cheat?"

"Never." She sighs with relief.

"You're timeless to me."

-=+=-

Taglist: @username23345 @musicinourlips @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @trikruismybitch @ima-gi--na-tion @nicole-rayleigh-hot @olsensnpm @peabrain-likes2read

[storiesforallfandoms]

man’s world ~ harley quinn;birds of prey

word count: 1965

request?: no

description: every bad guy in town is after harley quinn after the announcement of her breakup with the joker, but harley is about to make a very powerful friend to have on her side

pairing: harley quinn x female!reader

warnings: swearing, violence, mentions of murder

masterlist

There was no need in counting the money given to me. I could tell by the size of the tack that it wasn’t enough. “You stiffed me again.”

Roman rolled his eyes at me. “I told you I’d pay for a clean kill, that wasn’t a clean kill. You’re lucky I paid you at all.”

“What do you mean? How can a kill be any cleaner than arsenic poisoning? I even framed that chemist guy that had a grudge against the target, it’ll never be traced back to you.”

“Sorry, did I say clean? I meant I wanted a messy murder. Your plan was smart, but I love the theatrics of it all. Next time, I want a show.”

I rolled my eyes and started to walk away. I really wished I could find a new employer. Roma was the absolute worst boss. He was an asshole misogynist that overworked and underpaid me. But he had a lot of leverage on me, what with me being his hitwoman and all, so until I could find a new employer, I was basically bound to Roman.

“Wait!” Roman said. I sighed and turned back to look at him. “I do have a pretty big job for you. If you do this, I promise you I will pay you in full. A large sum, too.”

“I’ve heard that before, Roman,” I said and turned to walk away again.

He stood from his desk and quickly approached me, grabbing my arm to stop me. I raised an eyebrow and yanked my arm away. Most people were too afraid of Roman to behave like this around him. However, most people weren’t his hitwoman, meaning they didn’t have the dirt on him that I did.

It was a balanced relationship we had, whether Roman wanted to admit it or not.

“I mean it, (Y/N),” he said. “This is a big job. If you do this, I will pay you double, no triple the original price of this hit.”

I should’ve walked away, I could’ve walked away. Roman wouldn’t stop me if I did. But I couldn’t lie, the money sounded good - if Roman actually gave me what he was promising this time.

I sighed and motioned with a hand for Roman to go on. He smiled like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Do you know who Harley Quinn is?”

~~~~~~

It didn’t take long to find where Harley Quinn decided to live after the Joker kicked her to the curb. It was severely under protected, unless you classified a sweet Asian man as “protection”.

He tried to stop me as I made my way to Harley’s apartment. “Who are you?”

“I’m an old friend of Harley’s from Arkham Asylum,��� I responded. “I wanted to surprise her, I just got out.”

“She’s not home right now.”

“Even better! It’ll be a big surprise!”

I hurried away before he said anything else. I knew he’d be suspicious, but I trusted him to not tell Harley I was there.

I picked her lock and let myself in. The moment I stepped into her apartment, her pet hyena sat up at attention, assessing the stranger that had just entered his home. I pulled the hamburger I had bought from the bag in my hand and offered it to the hyena. He raced over and excitedly gobbled down the food.

I knelt down to pet his coarse fur. “Good boy. I’ll take you in when I finish with this job.”

Luckily, I didn’t have to wait for her long. Shortly after my arrival, the sound of the doorknob turning alerted myself and her hyena that she was back. I pointed the gun as the door swung open. Her eyes widened when she saw me.

“Hello Harleen.”

Roman’s words - “I want a messy kill” - echoed through my head as I pulled the trigger. Harley quickly jumped to the side, just narrowly avoiding my bullet. She dove behind her couch and I continued to shoot bullets into it, causing feathers and fluff to fly into the air. Harley’s hyena let out a laugh-like bark that was drowned out by my gunshots. When my clip was empty, I quickly changed it to a full one.

Knowing that the gunshots would’ve alerted Harley’s landlord, I quickly crossed the room to her open door and closed it, locking the door and even breaking the knob a little for good measures. I wasn’t going to let this job bust, not with so much money on the line.

“Look, whatever Mista J did to you, I’m sorry!” Harley called from somewhere in the room. “Haven’t ya done your research? He brainwashed me! I only did what he said cause I thought I loved him!”

“Joker never did anything to me,” I told her. “I’m just here on someone else’s behalf.”

“That’s a long list to narrow down,” she responded. “Mind giving me a hint? Maybe an initial?”

I traced her voice to a desk that was turned to face me. This wouldn’t have normally been suspicious, if it weren’t for the fact that the desk was pushed right up against a wall, rendering it technically useless. In the small slit between the bottom of the desk and the floor, I could see Harley’s colorful shoes peaking out.

“Actually, I have a message from him,” I said. “Roman says ‘Good Riddence.”

She must’ve known I had found her, as, just before I pulled the trigger, Harley jumped up from under the desk, successfully launching it at me. The sudden movement startled me enough that my shot lodged itself in the ceiling instead of in her head.

“Oh, Romy!” Harley exclaimed. “Couldn’t even be bothered to come kill me himself? What hurts!”

She dove behind another plush chair as I took another shot at her. I exclaimed in frustration and went to approach the chair. Before getting close enough, Harley raised her hand, which was now holding the white t-shirt she had arrived in.

“Truce!” she called. “Just for one minute, give me a truce. And then you can decide if you want to continue with your killing. I won’t stop you, you ain’t the first to try and off me today.”

Against my better judgement, I sighed and shoved my gun back into the waistband of my pants. “You have five minutes to say your piece, Quinn. I have a lot of money on the line here.”

She popped up from behind the chair like a Whack-A-Mole. She was now in a plush, pink sports bra, her suspenders pulled over it now instead of the white t-shirt she was holding in her hand.

“I can’t blame you for wanting to cash in on a good paycheck,” she said. “I wanted to get a look at ya for a minute. You know, without the bullets and whatnot obstructing my view. I wanted to see if I recognized ya.”

“Why would you recognize me?”

“I frequent Romy’s club a lot. I think he only tolerated me because of Mista J, which would explain why he sent a hitwoman after me when I announced our breakup,” she explained. “You do look familiar. Do you frequent the club, too?”

“I don’t tend to talk with Roman about business in public. It’s not exactly the smartest move.”

“I suppose not, but I’m sure I’ve seen your face there before.” She thought for a moment before snapping her fingers. “Oh! I know! You were there the last time I was! I broke a dude’s legs and you were talking to Romy at the time!”

Oh wait, she’s right. I was there that night.

I could remember well: I had just finished a job. Roman had called me to his club for my payment. I guess he knew I wouldn’t lash out in front of all those witnesses when he stiffed me again. I was furious when he handed me less than half of what he had promised. That job had almost gotten me killed, but he viewed that as a failure. He told me he was debating not paying me at all, but knew I’d walk if that was the case.

His smug as smile as he walked away still infuriated me to that day. I wished I had punched him right in his stupid fucking face, made a scene in his club and announced to the world that Roman Sionis had hired a killer to take down the people he didn’t like. I’d go to prison if it meant Roman went with me.

“Man, you were angry,” Harley said, leaning her arms against the chair and resting her head in one of her hands. “What were ya talking about? Did a hit go wrong or something?”

“Nearly,” I responded, looking away from Harley so she wouldn’t see my anger again. “Listen, I gave you five minutes and they’re almost up, so maybe you should - ”

“He stiffed ya, didn’t he?” Harley cut me off. “I bet he does that a lot. He doesn’t exactly treat his female employees all that nicely. You heard the stories from that singer he has? The Canary? I can’t believe she quit working for him and made it out alive.”

She almost hadn’t. I had to save her ass from Roman that night. It was the night I almost walked out, too. The first time, anyways.

“He’s a misogynistic prick,” Harley hissed. “Thinks women are objects that should be beneath him. I don’t know why you let him treat you like dirt when you do all the dirty work for him. You should be the one stiffin’ him for cash!”

“It doesn’t work like that,” I told her. “Being the killer for hire for Roman Sionis, he has too much dirt on me. If I tried to leave, or if I did anything he didn’t like, he could ruin my life in a second. I’m stuck with him until I can know for sure that I’m safe.”

“How do you know you wouldn’t be safe with me?”

I scoffed at her question. “You’re wanted by everybody - every villain, every hero, and every regular pedestrian. You don’t have the Joker to protect you right now. You’re a walking target, being with you is the unsafest place to be.”

“Safer than with Roman Sionis,” she said. “Sure, I can’t pay you top dollar for killin’, but I like to get my hands bloody myself. I ain’t here for this hitman/hitwoman shit. You and I, we could do some serious damage together.”

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like her proposal. Even if it would land me in a world of danger, working with Harley Quinn was a lot better than having to work for Roman Sionis anymore.

“The two of us alone, no matter how powerful or how...psychotic, are not enough to go up against Roman,” I told her.

Harley smiled brightly, knowing that what I was saying was technically an acceptance to her invitation. “Way ahead of you sister! I’ve already recruited Romy’s ex-Canary, and that legendary Crossbow Killer. We’re puttin’ together our own little girl gang.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Sounds like you were prepared for this.”

“Let’s just say, you’re not the first person Romy has sent after me.”

I had a feeling there was a reason Roman didn’t warn me about the first person sent after Harley Quinn.

She approached me and threw an arm over my shoulder, as if we were magically best friends. I looked at her close proximity before looking back up at her smiling face. “I could kill you right now, you know.”

“I know, but you won’t,” she said. “We’re best friends now, and we’re gonna take down Roman Sionis together.”

I couldn’t help but smile at her as she said this.

[daydream-believin]

What About the Smaller Picture (1)

Summary: Merlin knows best. And what he feels is best for you and Douxie right now is to sit around and wait for him to come back from New Jersey, Merlin-knows-when. (1) You’re a NJ kid yourself. Merlin has sent you to go keep his apprentice company in CA. No further instructions. (part 2)

Warnings: swearing, im a little rusty

Word Count: 948

a/n: aaaaaaaaaaaaaa here have the setup to a new series. just a little something to keep me occupied during the wait for RotT

The early morning darkness cast a blue hue over the empty street. your hand was raised in a fist. You took a deep breath and settled your nerves. Damn. Meeting new people was scary. but that’s okay. It’ll only be scary for the moment. You tried not to hold any expectations for the person who lived behind it, but he wasn’t going to be scary. Maybe in time he’d be a good friend. All it took was time. And that first leap, of course. The hourglass has to be flipped for it to work. For the moments to pass the threshold of scary over into the home of familiar. Time to rip the band aid off. You knocked on the door.

One beat. Two beats. You heard a shuffle. Saw something black streak across the window. A much slower, bigger black figure came towards you, opening the door to greet you. The ringing of the bell filled your ears. Across from you stood a tall wizard with eyes that appeared golden in the warm light of the bookstore. His tank top dipped really low. With no sleeves, his muscular spellcaster’s arms were highlighted by his intricate rune tattoos. It seems your heart skipped that third beat.

“Uh- may I help you?”

“Oh, uh- I’m the new guy?”

“I think you’ve got the wrong place. I haven’t hired anyone new.”

Your anxiety spiked at that statement. Maybe you did have the wrong place. You glanced up at the sign to triple check. Nope. GDT Arcane Books, it read. That was the right place. That was where you were told you were supposed to go. You tried your best to speak up.

“N-no? This is the address. I’m not- I’m L/n.”

The wizard looked confused, and sort of shook his head, ever so slightly, to indicate he had no idea what you were talking about.

“Y/n L/n,” you clarified. It did not help. Welp, you were well into your adrenaline high at this point.

“Uh this is the business place of Hisirdoux Casperan, if I am not mistaken?”

That seemed to catch his attention. Glancing around the street to make sure no one else was around, he silently took a step back and motioned you inside. Old floor boards creaking beneath you two was the only sound competing with the heartbeat in your ears. The bookstore smelled like Christmas somehow. It was well into the latter half of May. The wizard walked behind the counter, setting his elbows down onto the countertop to lean over while talking to you, still on the other side.

“I’m terribly sorry, but I don’t- ah,, Your name doesn’t bear any significance to me? But you know mine, so I assum-“

“O-OH OKAY SOo yeah uh I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that Merlin forgot to tell you about me,” you said that so fast he almost didn’t catch it, and you now felt bad for interrupting him, but when the realization had finally hit you, you couldn’t help blurting it out.

If saying his full name had caught Douxie’s attention before, the mere mention of Merlin took the cake. Those golden eyes got a little bigger. Eyebrows raised, he looked at you inquisitively for another one of those damned beats until it hit you that he was waiting for you to continue your story. You know, provide more context. Of course, tell him dummy.

“So like uh Merlin sent me? Here?”

“Okay,”

“He said he could use another hand on deck with all the shit that’s gonna go down soon,” you scrunched your nose to hold in a laugh, “Well, paraphrasing of course, the old geezer definitely didn’t say that but you get it uh,”

You looked down at your shuffling feet for a second. You popped back and extended your hand to Douxie. “So! Name’s Y/n L/n, and I’m your new pa- partner? Do wizards have partners? Coworker? Yeah.”

Douxie shook your hand. His hand was callused, and not at all soft. And you may be a little touch starved because this brief contact felt like pure electricity that lingered long after he let go.

“He said something’s going to happen soon? Did he give you any instructions?” Douxie asked, and remembering his manners, quickly added, “nice to meet you, by the way.”

“Yes. Vaguely. He sent me here, but all he told me to do once I got here was to wait for further instruction. I thought that meant you’d have them. and nice to meet you too.”

Douxie shook his head in exasperation. “Nope,” he popped that ‘p’, “sounds like Merlin.” There was no doubt in his mind that you were telling the truth. “Of course he wouldn’t have told you anything. He gave me the same vague orders too.”

Douxie laughed dryly. “Well, welcome aboard Team Merlin, Y/n. Come on. How about I give you my famous welcome tour, show you around our lovely town of Arcadia,” He put his hand up to his mouth and stage whispered like was telling you a secret, “Spoiler alert, it’s the best town in the world. It’ll ruin all other towns for you from now on. You’ll never want to leave.” He winked as he took your hand and led you out the door. You tried your best to hold in the giggles. So, your new partner was a thespian. Good to know. Douxie almost instinctively flipped the sign on the door before remembering it was still early enough that he had never turned it to ‘open’ in the first place. Doux called out to his familiar before activating the magic lock.

“I’ll be out today, Arch! Keep watch!”

[renchinworld]

THE BLIZZARD IN JILIN

Renjun x fem reader 

fluff & angst // word count: 3.2k

This is the story of Renjun’s childhood friend who he left in Jilin when he followed his dreams of becoming an idol.

Now six years have passed, dozens of awards, hundreds of thousands of fans, and a triple million selling album later... he comes back home to see her engaged to another man. 

A blizzard is coming to Jilin and it’s the strongest one China has ever seen. 

___ ___ ___ 

 “I passed the auditions!” Renjun hugged you tightly, shaking you from side to side in joy. “I’m going to Korea!”

“Congratulations.” You smile, tears forming at the sides of your eyes.

Renjun’s dream has always been to be an idol, but your dream was always him. To be with him. 

For him to spill out the words that his eyes never fail to say everytime you catch him staring at you. 

For him to realize that maybe he didn’t give you his coat on cold winter mornings when yours did not make you feel warm enough just because he thought of you as a friend.

For him to tell you that what he truly wants is to just be an ordinary man in Jilin, grow old with you, chill with each other in the warm fireplace as you look back on your lives in old age.  

To leave it all behind and choose you.

But that would be selfish. That would leave Renjun always wondering with what ifs. He would be with you but his heart would be stuck with a dream he never got to achieve. Like an empty vessel of a person you once loved. You can’t bring yourself to do that to him just to make him stay. 

You love him so much to cut off his wings when he wants so badly to fly. 

“Shouldn’t you go home and pack?” You ask with a forced smile. You’re on the verge of crying in front of him. He needs to go before he sees your tears.

“Right!” He jumps. “By the way, you’re the first one I told. I’m gonna prank my family and tell them I didn’t get accepted first hehe. Serves them right for trying to stop me from going.” 

“You meanie.” You chuckled and he smiled. 

“Come on. You know I love them and it’s just for light fun,” Renjun ruffles your hair and you almost tell him not to leave you then. You bite your lower lip to stop yourself and his eyes land on your lips before he clears his throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You’re always the first one he told everything to. That was your place in his life. But now, seeing him walking away from you, you realize he no longer belongs only to you and you to him. 

He will be loved by a thousand screaming fans and he will perform for them in return.  He will end your calls at night earlier than usual because he has to meet other girls and boys in the morning for a fansign event. He will eventually stop messaging you as he becomes busy and you’ll wonder if he forgot about you completely.

Renjun will get his wish while you can only dream of yours. 

He will be shining as always. Under the bright, blinding spotlights and the glowing eyes of his many supporters. While you will be at your hometown, staring out at the snowy mountains, reminiscing the days when he looked at you the same way his fans look at him now.

Then you will wake up one day and realize that maybe this is bearable enough. 

Maybe it’s okay to continue on, knowing that in this short life you met the one you’d choose in a hundred lifetimes, but he couldn’t choose you in this one. 

Maybe you’ll finally agree to that arranged marriage your parents have been trying to set you up to. 

And maybe you will change your dream to an actual goal instead of a person who will end up leaving you. Maybe, just maybe… you will forget about Renjun too.

And that’s exactly what you did. Or so you thought.

___

5 YEARS LATER

“Honey, remind your fiancé that we’re having his family over for dinner,” your mom says, poking her head out of the kitchen. “Call him, okay?”

You nodded and proceeded to just text Hendery. This arranged marriage isn’t out of love and you both know it. He’s in love with someone else and you’re not willing to give your heart to him. There’s no reason to call each other over things you can just text.

“He says they’re coming.” You said, walking towards the kitchen and making yourself green tea by settling it over ice and waiting for it to melt. Someone you once loved told you this is the best way to make them.

“You didn’t call him?” Your mother asks, concerned. You shrugged. “He’s a nice boy, sweetheart. You’ve been engaged for years and yet you still--”

“Mom, please,” your smile never reached your eyes. “We’ll be fine.”

“Is it because of Renjun?”

You gulped. The mention of his name felt like the cold air that hits you when you step out of the house. It felt like beautiful smiles fading into the background. Like a thousand dreams that were thrown into the fire but the ashes keep on coming back, smothering you and making it difficult to breathe.

“No.” You said almost immediately. 

“I heard he’s back home, taking a short vacation.” She presses on, concern plastered on her face as she studies your expression. “Have you talked to him yet?”

“He’s probably forgotten about me.” Your heart was clawing at you from the inside. “Let’s stop talking about him, mom. Do you need help?”

“No, honey. I’m almost finished. You should just get ready.” She pats your back and goes back to cooking dinner. 

___

Finished with making yourself look presentable, you went down stairs. 

You stopped halfway when the doorbell rang.

No one rings your house doorbell. Hendery texts you whenever he’s in front of your house. Your father just goes in when he comes home from work every month. 

Only delivery men use that contraption. But it’s night time right now. What delivery company would be on duty at 8 in the evening?

“Sweetheart, open the door for me, okay? I’m setting up the table.” Your mom called out from the dining area. 

Something feels off. What if it’s a murderer? Nah, you’ve been watching too many true crime documentaries.

You looked at the peephole just to be sure. 

You wished it was a murderer instead. 

That would’ve been better for your health than Huang Renjun carrying a bouquet of flowers in front of your doorstep.

“What happened?” Your mom walks towards you. You look back at her, the color in your face gone. “Why aren’t you opening the door?”

She grabs the doorknob but you stop her, shaking your head. You hissed. “Don’t!”

Your mother’s eyebrows furrowed. She peeks in the peephole and sighs before she uses her strength on you and forces the door open despite your struggling.

“Oh look, it’s Jilin’s superstar! Welcome back!” She smiles, genuinely happy to see the boy who made your entire province proud. Asian parents amirite. “Come in, come in. Just in time for dinner.”

“Thank you for your hospitality.” Renjun says as he steps in and pays his respects. His voice was deeper than you last remembered. He was taller, more regal looking and even more handsome. How is that even possible?

Your eyes meet and a million memories flood through your mind. Him hugging you, telling you that he’ll be back soon. Not soon enough. You crying every night until one day you just stopped because you became numb. Not numb enough. Him saying goodbye on the phone one last time before he ghosts you. You cursing him on the top of your lungs and crying in the middle of a storm, wanting to just sink into the snow and freeze outside for years to come.

“Hi,” he says and hands you the flowers. Your eyes flutter, your hands are shaking as you receive it. You don’t know if you should be angry or what. “How are you?”

How are you? You chuckled bitterly. “Great, thanks for asking.”

“Hang his coat, honey. I’ll be in the dining area if you need me.” Your mom says quickly to mask the contempt in your voice and leaves the both of you. If your mother noticed anything, she pretended not to notice. The tension was so thick, it probably suffocated her.

“Won’t you ask me how I’ve been?” He smiles and your throat constricts. You don’t say anything so he sucks a deep breath, continuing. “We’re triple million seller idols now.”

“C-congrats.” You say, forcing yourself to not say more because if you do, you might say things you'll regret. You place the flowers down and he hands you his coat for you to hang. A whiff of his perfume passes. He smells like how a cozy and warm morning would be if it was a scent.

“I’ve missed you. I’m sorry for not reaching out--” You didn’t have enough time to process what he said because your phone suddenly rang in your pocket. He nods, eyes never leaving yours. “Go ahead. Must be an emergency.”

It was Hendery. You picked up. He only calls when it’s really important.

“Yes, Hendery?” Renjun's expression darkens at the mention of Hendery’s name. “A blizzard? Okay, I understand.”

You walk past Renjun and went to the dining area where your mother is. “They can’t come, mom. Can’t drive because the blizzard suddenly worsened.” 

“Oh no,” she pouts, then her expression changes when he sees the man standing behind you. “No worries, we have a guest to help us finish the meal. Don’t we, Renjun?”

“Of course, it’s an honor.” His honey voice from behind surprised you. You didn’t know he followed you. “Careful.”

He caught you in his arms when you almost tripped. You were quick to stand up and remove his hold on you. Your mother just stared amused. You were always too composed and collected, but Renjun brings out a clumsy side to you she’s never seen before.

“It’s a shame her fiancé couldn’t meet her childhood friend.” Your mother sighed when all three of you were seated. You and Renjun sat across from each other while your mom was beside you. “The blizzard really did it this time.”

“Fiancé?” His brows knitted, mouth hanging open, waiting for your mom to say he heard it wrong. 

“Hendery.” You said, not looking at him while taking a bite of the steak. “We’ve been engaged since 2018.” Since you stopped talking to me.

“Ah, of course,” he takes a bite out of his food but his eyes are still glued on you. “Congratulations.”

“They’re to be married next month. So exciting!” Your mom exclaims beside you and brings more food to your plates. “Eat up, babies. You both grew up so fast. You’ll probably have babies of your own soon!”

You cleared your throat, feeling the heat on your face. You probably looked so red right now.

“But…  next month?” He asks again, this time not bothering to cover his distaste of the marriage topic. “Isn’t that too soon?”

You said nothing. Why does he care anyways?

Your mom explains for you that Hendery’s parents have been trying to get you both married since last year but you keep on saying you’re still too young. 

“Right!” Renjun extends a hand to prove his point. “What if she changes her mind?”

He looks at you, trying so hard to steal your glance from the food. You give in and look at him. You almost gasp. This is the first time you’ve ever seen Renjun look this desperate. Not when his parents told him not to go to that audition. Not when he talks about becoming an idol. This was much more intense. Like he was about to do unspeakable things to you if you don’t answer him right now.

“I-I don’t think I’ll change my mind.” You finally say, feeling the heaviness in your chest spread through your body, tingling at the end of your fingers. 

“Of course you won’t.” Renjun leans, shoulders rolling back as he adjusts his posture. He says nothing to you throughout the whole meal. He smiles and humors your mother when she shares more stories but he has never looked at you again.

___

“It’s dangerous for you to leave now,” your mom says, worried. Renjun insisted on going home because their house was within walking distance, but the air was blowing outside at terrifying speeds. “Just stay the night like you always do when you were kids, hmm?”

But we’re not kids anymore. Now, we’re young adults who are totally frustrated with each other. That’s not a good idea. But going outside is evidently much worse.

“You can use her brother’s room.” Your mom laughs from the living room where they both are. Your brother Lucas has rarely visited since he married. “You’ve always been like a son to us anyways, even her brother gets jealous of you sometimes.”

Renjun laughs with her, remembering the good ol’ days. You roll your eyes. 

“Thank you so much. I’ll behave, I promise.”

Your mom turns to look at you. You’re washing the dishes in the kitchen. “She’s always insisting to hand wash instead of using the dishwasher. I taught her well.”

“I’ll help her. Please get some rest.” He smiles warmly at her and walks towards you. You both hear your mother go up the stairs, leaving you and Renjun alone again.

“Next month, really?” He asks, grabbing the plate from your hand.

“We’ve already talked about this over dinner.” You sigh. “Just drop it.”

“Are you even sure you want to marry him? Don’t you like someone else?” His tone carried a meaning behind it. Like he knew. 

What does he even know?!

"I'm marrying him and that's final." You say sternly, your patience drying up. “That would make me happy.”

“Since when did you start lying to yourself?”

The ticking bomb within you explodes. Years of sadness turned into rage and it filled your heaving chest. Your eyes started to water. Renjun settled the plate down when he saw your expression and faced you, apologizing immediately.

“Please don’t marry him.” He suddenly pleads as he kneels down, touching your hands and looking up at you. “Come back to me. Please.”

“What? Why are you so--” you stop to breathe out loudly. Tears began spilling and your heart felt like jumping out. You wanted to shout in his face. Why do you care?! Why are you begging?! What are we?!

But only a fountain of tears followed. Years of practicing what you would say if something like this happened just blurred in your mind. No amount of practice will suffice once your first love comes back and tells you something like this. None.

“I’m so sorry,” Renjun stood up and wiped your tears away. His eyes also started to become teary. “I know I’m not in the position to tell you that but I still did. I also know I’m way too late, but I just want to tell you that I love you. I really, really love you. I tried to forget my feelings because I know it would be difficult for you to end up with someone like me, but I just can’t get you out of my head.

“Every time my group members asked me if I liked someone, I would say no but in the back of my mind all I see is you. Whenever someone sings your favorite song, I would remember how beautiful you looked when we sang it together. Every moment I go up on stage, I always wondered if you’re watching me from somewhere in the crowd. Every winter when it snowed in Seoul, I would think of how the snowflakes fell softly on your hair here in Jilin. I may have left, but my heart stayed with you.

“I’m sorry I stopped talking to you. I knew you liked me back so I thought it would be selfish of me to let you wait for so long because of the path I chose. You didn’t stop me from following my dreams back then despite that. So I thought to myself, ‘she sacrificed for me, but I can’t do the same for her?’ and I decided that I needed to let you go. You deserved to be happy, too.

"I stopped reaching out so you could forget me and finally be happy in someone else’s arms. I was ready to let you go. But when I heard you were getting married next month, I couldn’t bear it. I can’t imagine it. I’d rather die. I’d rather give up on everything than see you walk down the aisle for another man--”

His voice cracks. Head drooping down into yours as he hugs you tightly. As if he let you go now, he would lose you completely. As if he doesn’t squeeze you like this, you will end up continuing with the marriage. 

You looked up at the ceiling, tears flowing and mouth hanging open from his words. Isn’t life funny? For years you were scrambling for answers and in just a mere minute, everything has started coming together.

“Renjun...” You say, your voice low and shaky. “I can’t breathe.”

He loosens his hold on you and looks you in the eyes. His hands cupped your face. “Did you hear me? I said I love you. I said I really, really, really love you.”

“I heard, dumbass.” You cough up a small laugh, the tears won’t stop falling. “I love you too.”

He sighs, relief washing over his face. “Marry me instead?”

“Dude, don’t you think you’re going too fast?” You say, your hands planted on his chest. Eyes puffy. Renjun only found it cute. 

“The last time I stalled, I almost lost you. So I’m going all-in now.” 

“You’re a kpop idol. What am I supposed to do if you're on tour and I need to give birth, hmm?”

"Don't you think you're moving faster than me? I'm just at the marriage part and you're already at pregnancy." He chuckles. "Then again, maybe we can rearrange the order of things…" 

You smacked him on the chest lightly. Who knew he could make dirty jokes like this now?

"You told my mom you would behave."

"Your mom likes me and wants grandchildren. I don't think she'd mind." 

"Shut up." You say with a smile and he kisses you. You didn’t expect him to come in stronger than a blizzard and break down all your defenses. His kiss. His truth. His love for you. Him.

There’s still a lot to be done before you two can be free to love each other without worries. But it doesn’t matter. No matter how challenging it is from here on out, you two will have each other and that's all you need. It would be like this. Always. 

Renjun's kiss deepens and he smiles victoriously as you melt into his arms. A dozen awards and a ton of trophies he received, but none of those comes close to winning your heart.

___

From upstairs, your mom smiles to herself. She heard everything when she went to ask what's taking so long but backed away quietly when she heard you both crying.

"I knew these kids just needed a little push. Oh, oof. We have to cancel that engagement…."

___ ___ ___

a/n: Dude I loved writing this so much I actually didn’t want it to end lmao

[ohheyitsokay]

first base

part 6 of the ‘hey batter batter’ series

pairing: Francisco Morales (Frankie, Catfish) x reader

wordcount: 2.7k

warnings: strong language, illusions to part trauma

summary: it’s a Triple Frontier Baseball AU! Trust me, you don’t need ot know anything about baseball.

In this chapter, the guys start to explain baseball both as a game and a career to the reader, and Frankie takes a step in the right direction instead of running.

>> 

It was Francisco’s idea for someone to walk you to your car, but Will ended up doing it, his mind too lost in thought for his usually sharp eyes to see. They missed the drop in Frankie’s shoulders, the tilt of Santi's head, and the way that even after the goodbyes, your fingers waved an extra  wave at just one of them before you turned away. He didn’t say anything as you walked and thanked him again for inviting you to his grandparents with everyone, and apologized for James’ absence.

“Thank you,” he said finally, his accent was more pronounced and you almost thought he was going to shake your hand before he pulled you into a rough hug.

“What for?” the Millers, you were learning, were physically affectionate, but there was something in the way he did it, something in the way he said it that made you pause.

“The other night, and,” he shrugged, for once not quite knowing what to say, and you could almost see the words swimming behind his deep blue eyes. With a content sigh, you perched on the edge of the hood of your car, settling in for a real conversation with William Miller. Ironhead, they told you, a golden top athlete and responsible older of Ben, and the whole group. There was a huff, as he acknowledged it, smiling a little bit.

“You guys protect him,” you offered, and he crossed his arms, leaning next to you. Will blinked, then uncrossed his arms again.

“Yeah,” his hands moved along the grooves of the car, as if he was concentrated on being open with you. “We have to.”

“You’re his big brother.” 

You didn’t ask, but they’re not? but it was implied. The sturdy first-baseman stilled, looking right at you. If this had been less of a conversation, it would have occurred to him that the prolonged time alone with you was creating a curiosity what was killing his friend inside.

“We were all him, a few years ago,” his eyes felt like they were boring into yours, intense in a comforting way, like he would ask permission before peering into your soul. “High on attention, moving too fast to think, caught up in the parties and girls and... all of it.”

Nodding while he talked, you muttered not relatable underneath his voice and he half smiled as he continued. Still, you understood what he was getting at.

“It got bad,” he said it like he had rehearsed it, or maybe had said it before. “Redfly wants it back, bigger, better. He could do it, too, if…” Will talked with his hands just enough to wave off the end of that sentence. “We all made mistakes. Did shit we aren’t proud of. Still sort of recovering from that. Just… don’t like seeing him make some of the same choices.”

“He’s got a big heart,” you said, asking not for confirmation, but out of curiosity. He grinned, breaking his frustrated reminiscing and nodded.

“You’re good for him,” he pushed off the car, a signal that he said what he needed to. Another hug, and at the same time as you said, “I like you guys,” you could’ve sworn he added, “For all of us.”

Pulling back, you stared, but he didn’t repeat himself, and you finished your goodbyes. The drive home, you forgot to turn on the radio the whole drive, thinking.

There was a place for you, with those five boys, it wasn’t a crazy once-in-a-lifetime thing. And maybe it was time to stop fighting it.

-

There was nothing about Francisco that you didn’t like – except he spilled your secret.

I actually don’t know anything about baseball.

Frankie was mad he shared it, too. His daydreams of having you pressed against his side – or better yet, in his lap – as he explained the beautiful game to you dwindled before his eyes. His friends were yelling, indignant, and excited. Already the evening was being planned, to watch a game and explain it to you and with resignation he knew they were all looking forward to it.

So, two evenings later, he found himself trying to get a seat next to yours on the little couch of Santi's rental. You brought snacks and a recording James had given you, and were wearing an old team tshirt that made his heart flip over in his chest.

It was silly, how eagerly they all waited for the recording to start, just boys excited to strut their stuff and show off.

“So exactly how much do you know?” Will was on your other side, the most relaxed of the bunch, sipping something fizzy. He seemed amused, more than anything.

“Let’s just assume I know nothing,” you shrugged. They were sure that wasn’t true, but it made it more fun.

“That’s me!” Santiago said, raising his eyebrows and pointing. It was, which you obviously knew, but you asked for it. Tom, who was gripping a beer while hovering by the food and texting, coughed a laugh.

“Okay, smart-ass,” you grabbed a handful of candy off the coffee table and threw one at Santi’s head. “You’re the pitcher. What do you do, other than throw the ball?”

He caught it, grinning, before Ben chimed in.

“Nothing.”

Santi made an offended noise in the back of his throat. He explained it to you – he was in control, throwing the ball in different ways to manipulate the batter.

“So, if all goes well, the batter misses and you catch it,” your eyes found Frankie’s, confirming, and he shrugged, more focused on restraining himself from pulling you against him. They then explained, strikes were good, but sometimes it was equally good to make the batter hit it badly.

“What’s a bat hit, at this level?”

Benny’s chest swelled a little with pride as he said anything he could catch. They corrected him – anything anyone could catch. That would give the other team an “out" faster than three strikes.

His voice was deep, but his laughter was lighter as Benny launched into a story like a overgrown kid trying to share. You could barely follow it as he jumped around and the others began to interject the pieces that he missed. It made you smile, how passionate they were about what they did.

Frankie saw a chance in the midst of the loud conversation, swallowed hard, and took it, sliding a little bit closer to you. He kept his voice low, as he explained that he and Pope would communicate the plan with hand signals. It was a gift from them, really, to let him show them you, your eyes alight as you looked at his broad, scarred hands.

The snap of the ball hitting a bat broke the moment, and all of you turned back towards the screen. Tom tuned in, telling you what he did in the outfield – mostly standing and running and catching and throwing – before he excused himself and slipped out. There was a joke somewhere, about the differences between infielders and outfielders, but no one made it.

You watched a tiny version of Will hit the ball, and the camera followed it as if flew all the way over the heads of the opposing team, past the fence and into the crowd.

“A home run?” That was one thing you didn’t really need to ask, but Will looked proud, anyway.

“Who has the record?” The real question, executed with raised brows and a conspiring sip of your drink as Santi made a face at you. At this point, you had their measure - jealousy wasn’t stronger that their comradery. 

Your elbow bumped Frankie’s ribs and even though it didn’t hurt, he winced. “Will,” he said, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“It’ll be me in a few years,” Benny added with his wide smile, not even trying to dodge the pillows and pretzels thrown at his face.

“Sore subject?” eyes in Frankie’s, it made him thaw -that you were talking just to him.

“I’m a bad batter.” It was the truth. It wasn’t really in his skill set and he normally didn’t mind because it meant he had to do it less, but… he really didn’t like letting you down. It didn’t seem like you really cared, though, he hoped with all his heart that he wasn’t hallucinating when you slid closer to him. You made a joke about how you would certainly be worse, and his daydream about teaching you returned in force.

“Actually,” Santi’s quiet voice seemed more thoughtful than teasing, and he leaned in so only Frankie could hear him. “Recently you’ve been better,” he punched his friend’s arm and added, “Because you’ve got a good luck charm.”

They both looked at you, squinting at the screen and comparing your score sheet to the correct one.

“I guess so,” Frankie’s tone was just as thoughtful.

-

Throughout the evening all the remaining men were affectionate with you, and it was weirding you out. You had just gotten used to being friends with minor celebrities, and now? 

It may have been the fact that you were just letting them show off their skills but something had definitely changed. It was like it was settled, your place with them, your value to them. Ben had sat in front of you, and asked you to run your fingers through his hair like you had before, as he explained what a shortstop did. He played it off like he didn’t do much, genuinely humble – but as it turned out, they were the most valuable player on the team, the core to communication and guidance. It was sweet, that he got so excited to share it with you, and accidentally let it all spill out.

Will remembered your drink, and teased you more than he ever had, letting himself banter with you and Santi.

Their hands were on your shoulders, ruffling your hair, on your arm, your knees, brushing or squeezing like they were trying to communicate to you how thankful they were that you actually cared. It was nice, but most of all, it was comfortable. It reinforced what Will had laid the foundation for - you really were a part of this, for the long haul.

Best of all was how close you were against the solid warmth of Francisco’s side. His arm was over the top of the couch, respectfully, and his fingers caught on your shoulder and the tips of your hair, like his restraint was crumbling. 

When the game was over and the Miller boys faked yawns and slipped out, the weight of his arm settled, finally, and you leaned into him. Soon, you would have to pull away, pretend you hadn’t wanted to cuddle him fully so you wouldn’t overstay your welcome, but it was hard when it seemed like he wanted you to stay, too. 

You made the time less awkward for Santi, though, since your final question was for the two of them, anyway.

“Will talked to me the other day, about before.” They snapped to attention, looking at you cautiously. “Would you guys… tell me, sometime? About all of it?” Knowing what you meant, the air was thick as they exchanged glances.

They didn’t have time for it all. Frankie’s hand fidgeted on your shoulder, and his grip on you tightened. You reached up and touched his hand, a reassurance, or maybe insurance for his overthinking mind, before you forced yourself to pull away. It didn’t need to be right now.

“Yeah, if you want,” Santiago was a man prone to talking, charming, working his was out of unpleasant situations. He fought the instinct. 

It came out haltingly, the high of their success, and how each one of them had crashed down in their own way. They didn’t share too many details of the other men just themselves, and how it had felt.

For Santi, he threw himself into the game, overworking his mind and body until his knees gave out. It cost him a small fortune in treatments, a lost contract with his last team, and forced him into a break with his long term girlfriend. He thought his life was over, shot straight into the ground, and ended up in continuous therapy for both his mind as well as his knees. Will dated a girl who was in it for the wrong reasons, had his proposal on tabloid covers before he saw it, and locked himself away. Tom drank himself into a quiet, secretive 30 day rebab. 

It was the hardest to share - Frankie’s drug use, his spiral as he balanced the two extreme sides of his life. He mentioned his family, his sister and he baby like weights on his shoulders, and his eyes told you and Pope both that he would tell you more later, when and if you wanted him too.

They each had been devastated by their mistakes, and you were almost in awe of them as they talked about keeping each other accountable, building and holding each other up, these past few years. There was plenty, like Will said, that was still healing, still being worked on, but it was amazing to see how far they’d come.

Francisco watched you closely, also fighting himself internally. It was a miracle you hadn’t run away, and he could see it like a sunrise on the horizon - hope. An actual real chance that he would get a shot with you, a real shot without secrets and faking it and anxiety. 

You were thanking them both, hands cleaning up as you asked them if there was anything you should be conscious of in the future. He wasn’t jealous when Pope hugged you for a beat longer than normal, and he had to smile at his friend’s excitement as he talked about what baseball had become to them, and how tight their friendships were.

“Now you’re stuck with us,” Santi really meant it, and Frankie made a sound so you knew he agreed.

His mind was running as you walked together to your cars, but the feel of you wouldn’t leave his chest and he couldn’t stop just... talking to you. 

The conversation had turned back to the game, and your growing love for it had nothing on his growing feelings for you. When you stopped at your car, he couldn’t bring himself to keep going, to move past and head home. The flow of words lulled and he found himself hovering close to you, above you like he had in the kitchen of your abuelo’s home. Your eyes flickered across his face, and he watched your tongue wet your lips subconsciously, and it was all over.

 Frankie pulled you into him, kissing you as gently as he could manage. He meant for you to be able to pull away, if you wanted to - if it was too much, all of the information. You didn’t take it, kissing him back and letting him press into you until your back was against the cool metal of the car. 

When you had watched them play, really watched and understood, Frankie had loved the way you looked at him, had thought nothing would feel better than your adoration. 

He was wrong. 

Feeling you in his arms, pinned between his body and your car, kissing him back like you wanted this as much as he did was the most intense thing he’d ever experienced. 

Pulling back, his voice was rough as he asked you if you’d want to talk, sometimes soon, just you and him. You were just as breathless as he was, and your affirmation felt as good as a homerun. When he stepped fully back so you could open the driver’s side door, your head ducked as you smiled at him, and he wanted to eat you alive. 

But he let you go, and as you drove away he thought about stealing after you, but he didn’t. There was a time and place for that, but after such a  perfect moment, Frankie was content biding his time. He still had more work to do. 

>>

taglist

@fangirl-316 ​ @scribbledghost ​ @writeforfandoms ​ @beautyagegoodnesssize ​ @princess76179 ​ @mrsbentallmadge ​

hey batter batter taglist

@icanbeyourjedi @studyofawearymind  @hnt-escape @athalien  @the-witty-pen-name ​ @daffodin ​