#oof here comes the pa i n

[maiamore]

STAR-STRUCK

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: 18+ | W/C: 5k

Summary: You’re a fresh-faced production assistant for known action star Joel Miller. He’s not quite what you expected–but neither are you.

Tags: actor!joel x production assist reader, action film set, no use of y/n, rough/dom Joel, use of the word ‘kid’, mirror sex, rough sex, unprotected pinv, mentions of injuries & violence, Joel does his own stunts, public sex, bdj (big-dicked-Joel), Joel is not nice in this fic, more untagged read at your own discretion A/N: oof this a long one. also! i swear i've seen something similar relating to the mandalorian reference. if anyone knows the fic, pleaaaase let me know

READER’S TATT/PIERCINGS-SPO

This wasn’t what you’d imagined your life to look like. 

For the majority of your adult life, you’d clung to a glittering, idealistic vision of your future. You’d blame it on those countless movie marathons with your dad–the late nights, the worn-out couch and the satisfying click of the DVD player setting the stage for your ambitions. You’d dreamed of being a part of the magic. The glitz, the glamour, the art of it all. 

Directors like Ridley Scott, Martin Scorsese, John McTiernan captured your adolescent heart, fanning the flames of your Hollywood dreams.

You knew coming into this that it was going to be far from easy. God knows you’d paid your dues living in NYC after having moved from your small town–sharing a tiny shoebox of an apartment with three others, taking multiple part-time gigs, hustling to finally land a Production Assistant (PA) role.

And now here you were. Accommodations comped, flown to Atlanta for the shoot of some action movie you weren’t even allowed to know the title of thanks to the NDA you’d signed.

It was suspenseful, sure, but not in the sexy, thrilling way you’d imagined. More like in the “what fresh hell did I sign up for” sort of way.

“So you’ll be handling scheduling, coordinating, and helping the stylists. And making sure his overall well-being is met.”

You shuffled behind Jonah, the PA you were supposedly replacing. It was nearly overwhelming. Already built streets, custom housings, all wrapped up in a larger than life sound stage. Everyone was in their own world, working on their own tasks.

Normal people might have felt small and unseen. But you? You were still star-struck. You could be a part of something so much bigger than you, and that thought excited you. 

“7am every morning. You’ll need to be on standby to help Joel with everything he needs. So here’s the schedule.” 

More papers were being shoved to you, your arms slowly vanishing beneath an ever-growing stack. You scanned it, eyes twitching in dread. 

Every fifteen damned minutes had its own designation. Was this a movie or a military operation?

“Right! Got that. So…who exactly am I…” You squint at the bolded text on freshly printed paper, still warm to touch. “Wiping sweat at 16:45…for?”

Jonah halts mid-strut, turning back to you like you’d just insulted his entire bloodline. “What…do you mean? You don’t know who you’re working for?”

“I do.” You shoot back defensively. “Well–okay. No. Not really. I was given an NDA, so I’m–”

“It was a yes or no question, hun.”

Suddenly, you were grateful to J-hole leaving. Not so much of replacing his long ass list of endless tasks, though. 

He stops before the stylist’s station, gesturing to a cluttered board, displaying headshots and costume references for your apparent “boss.” As you step closer, your breath catches in your throat.

No way. No fucking way. 

“Joel fucking Miller?”

Your fingers, almost acting on their own, plucked one of the profile shots from the board. Joel’s broad frame was practically sculpted.  His Special Forces uniform taut over his muscles, probably for the character he was playing. Another close-up featured his face smudged with faux grime and fake injuries, his expression hardened and grim. 

And then…there were the less clothed test shots. Your gaze betrayed you, dipping to the dark trail of neatly trimmed curls disappearing beneath his belt.

Your head snapped up so fast it was a miracle you didn’t pull a muscle, as though the sheer force of willpower could exorcise the horny demon possessing you.

Jonah grins at your obvious surprise. Sighing dreamily at the profile shots of him, side views and costume shots.“Yep. Now. It isn’t going to be a problem with you now is it? We had to fire the old girl cuz’ she attempted to–nevermind. Don’t wanna get into that. It was a whole debacle. You can look it up in the files under the Miller versus Nancy lawsuit.”

You glanced at Jonah, confusion knitting your brow before returning the photo to the desk. Honestly? You probably wouldn’t have blamed this Nancy. Joel had been the blueprint for your sexual awakening. 

As fucked as it was. Considering he was closer in age to your dad than your own.

Watching him star in films by the greats back in high school had left you fantasizing, his smoldering intensity seared into your brain. God. You were going to need the entire night to mentally prepare for this.

“You tellin’ that story again?” The voice behind you sent a shiver up your spine–it was the kind of voice that wrapped around you like a thick yarned blanket on a cold night. And the kind of voice you fantasized about when you were grinding against your pillow.

You froze, every damned nerve on high alert. Turning slowly.

Joel Miller stands there. Resurrected from the photos itself.

He was dressed like he’d just walked off a lazy Sunday pickup game. Grey athletic shorts that hung low on his hips, revealing sturdy, hairy legs that somehow made him seem even more rugged. A black t-shirt clung to his frame, dampened at the collar with sweat. Navy cap sitting snug on his head.  

You couldn’t stop yourself from shamelessly dragging your eyes from the damp curls peeking out at the nape of his neck to his thighs. 

He scratches his stubbled jaw, his eyes sweeping the room before landing on you. They paused, and you realized–a little too late–that he’d caught you gawking.

Joel nudges his head towards you. “This her?”

Jonah nods, handing Joel a call sheet. “All new and sparkly.”

He looks you over–not in a predatory way, but like he was cataloging every detail. Dark and steady. And it lands on your shirt. For a split second his brows lifted, just barely.

“You watch that one?” 

Your brain stutters and you look down, realizing you’d stupidly worn your Mandalorian graphic tee. His face–or well, Din Djarin's helmeted face, was plastered across your chest along with the iconic Star Wars logo.

“Oh! Um. yeah,” you stammer, tugging the hem of the cotton as if the ink would magically disappear. 

Great. You meet the man you had dozens of posters of and you were stuttering like a fucking idiot.

“Big fan. Of the show. And, um, the movies. And, you know, your–” Joel holds up a palm, silencing your rambling. “Right.” He sounded amused, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “...‘preciate it.”

Joel never liked change. It was ironic, given his line of work. An actor, in its nature, had him slipping into new roles and personas on a constant basis. But no matter how many characters he played, he'd preferred the familiarity of a constant crew. 

So the news that Jonah was leaving and that his replacement was a fresh out of film school rookie had Joel grumbling for days.

Then he saw you.

Maybe it was the way you looked at him, like you were seconds away from fainting. Or maybe it was the shirt. That damn shirt.

You clearly hadn’t gotten the memo about dressing for long hours on set. Instead of the usual hoodie and less than glamorous foam sneakers combo, you were rocking a cropped baby tee stretched taut across your chest. 

His gaze dipped, almost involuntarily, taking in the rest of you. The way your bootcut jeans sat low and snug on your hips—to the bunch of keys and a juicy grape chapstick hung on a carabiner attached to your belt loop. 

When you shifted nervously, the movement sent a glint of light flickering from your stomach. A silver charm, shaped like a star, dangled from your belly button. He caught himself mid-thought, forcing his eyes back to your face, but the damage was done.

You weren’t as innocent as you looked. He’d figured out that much. 

Your fuck-ups hadn’t gotten you fired. Not yet, at least. Somehow, you were still here. Holding onto your job by a thread.

It still felt surreal, working for Joel Miller. You’d spent years watching this man on screen. All his works & press interviews. It seemed pretty fucking unreal to think that you now had his name saved to your phone like no big deal.

Given you weren’t able to tell anyone about it, though the purple vibrator that sat in your bedside drawer was pretty much the only thing that knew his name by now.

In the weeks that followed, you’d fallen into a rhythm with him. There were rules–unspoken ones. You didn’t ask too many questions, didn’t hover too close, and didn’t take it personally when he barked orders or dismissed you with a grunt. Joel wasn’t an easy man to work for.

What was even worse, was that in Joel's eyes, you were probably the least sexual entity to have ever existed. It stung, especially when you considered how much of your mind he occupied.

“Give me a…second. Dunno how these things work.”

You’d shifted uncomfortably, dropping to your knees to Joel’s horror. You sat on your thighs with a huff. Attempting to gather the hem of Joel’s pants to tuck into the army garters.

 “Christ. You don’t hafta…” Joel’s throat tightened as he fought the sudden, unwelcome heat pooling low in his gut.

“Huh?”

It was distracting, the sight of you so close. On your fuckin’ knees no less. Joel tugs around his belt. He snaps his fingers to catch your attention and you look up at him, with wide eyes. 

His thumbs twisting around the two metal hooks of the thin garter until it connects. “Just hook em’ together, kid.” 

You nodded at his words. Finally managing to neatly tuck it into his boots. 

Though from his vantage point, something else catches his eye–a small mark etched into your skin. Black ink at the nape of your neck, a star, delicate like the charm that hung from your belly button. 

“Ya got a thing for stars?” 

You blinked a few times before the words finally registered. Was he really starting a conversation when you were on the ground like this? You notice the slight nudge of his head towards your left. 

Instinctively, you cupped around the back of your neck. “Oh..yeah. I mean…it’s pretty and all.” You had to admit, Joel’s childlike curiosity over the ink on your body all of a sudden caught you off guard. 

He raises a brow at your admission. “What’s the point of puttin’ it at a place you can’t see. Seems pretty pointless.” 

“Didn’t put it there for me to see.” You say with a shrug. 

Joel’s jaw ticks when he realises the insinuation behind your words. He drags his hand down his face, opting to finally keep his mouth shut when the images conjured in his mind couldn’t be held back anymore. 

You didn’t quite notice his distress till you looked up after the lengthy silence that settled. 

The imperceptible twitch in his crotch area catches your attention. Your lips parted to stifle a gasp of surprise. 

Was he— “Jus’ get the hell up, kid.”

The respectable thing to do was to go on about his job. It was humiliating enough that you’d caught him in a painfully embarrassing position. 

But Joel Miller learned two new things about himself.

First, he didn’t quite mind the soft, lingering scent of strawberries and vanilla you seemed to carry. A quiet, comforting sweetness that seemed to cling to the air whenever you were near.

The second? Well, the second was far more troublesome. 

The thoughts that plagued him at night when he was fucking his fist, or someone else for that matter. It didn’t help that he was aware of such vivid and intimate details of you. It fucked with his head how desperately he wanted to draw pleasure out of you and stain that pretty little dainty star you had on your belly with ropes of his cum. 

The culmination of it all was taxing. But somehow? He managed to keep those thoughts at bay.

When the director finally called cut for the day, Joel stepped off set, muscles aching and shirt damp with sweat. He scans the area out of habit. 

Jonah would’ve been there by now–towel, water & phone in hand, ready for the usual barrage of calls and texts he needed to deal with.

Instead, it was you. 

Joel exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face as the realization hit him again. Right. Jonah was gone.

“You don’t have to look like the world’s ended, Joel.” 

He doesn’t answer you, not at first. 

“It’s not like I’m going to tell people that you—“

Joel seats himself in his chair loudly. A silent warning for you to not go there. He lets out a long, drawn out exhale. Folding his arms tightly. “Kid. Don’t know whatcha think you saw–”

That again. Kid. Was that how he saw you? You had half the mind to admit what the idea of it did to you—the idea that he might’ve gotten hard at the thought of you. 

“Hate that I even have to ask.” You begin, not letting him finish his thought. “You realize I’m not.” You were dabbing a little harder now, tossing out the used makeup wipes in the trash beside you. 

“Y’are when I’ve got a decade over ya.” He says simply. Wincing at your harsh gestures. “Don’t need the complications.” He pushes your hand away, his deep brown eyes stayed locked on you, searching, warning. 

“Leave well enough alone, got that?”

The following weeks on set proved to be grueling, even by Joel’s standards. His reputation preceded him. A stubborn, self-reliant actor who insisted on doing his own stunts. For the studio, it was a nightmare. Higher insurance premiums, a ballooning budget, and his manager losing sleep over the what-ifs. 

For Joel, it was just how he’d always worked.

But his body wasn’t what it used to be. He could feel the aftermath of his aching limbs with every roll, leap, and landing. By the end of each day, he was a drained man.

The tension on set that evening was suffocating, the kind that made every sound sharper, every movement feel urgent. 

Joel’s stunt wasn’t supposed to go wrong. It rarely did. But today was different. 

You’d seen the way his jaw tightened with every take, the exhaustion etched into the lines of his face. Monitoring him from the sidelines when the cameras were still rolling. 

Then it happened.

A sickening crunch, the unmistakable sound of something gone wrong. Joel hit the ground hard, and the set erupted in chaos. The director’s voice echoed through the sound stage, “Cut! Jesus. Check on Joel. Now!” as the crew scrambled toward him.

You froze, the towel and water bottle in your hands suddenly feeling useless. Your feet moved on instinct, but the crowd around Joel was essentially a wall. Blocking you out. 

You couldn’t get through.

“Back off. M’fine.” Joel’s voice cuts through the commotion, frustration dripping from every word. He swatted away helping hands, gaze darting through the crowd. His face twisted in anger, not from pain but from the lack of order.

“Where the hell is she?” he grumbled. 

You hesitated, your stomach knotting. His eyes finally locked onto you, and his expression darkened. “You. Get over here.”

The weight of his command pulled you forward, even as your gut screamed to stay back, letting someone more qualified deal with it.  You shuffled behind him as you’d maneuvered out of the crowd and back into his trailer. Eyes widening at the sight of blood seeping through a tear in his shirt.

“Joel, I–…shouldn’t we call–”

“Don’t need someone else,” he interrupted, his tone biting but strained. “Just. I’ll tell ya what to do. Kits in the left drawer.”

“Okay,” you murmured, trying to keep your voice steady, wracking your brain for memories of those first aid videos you’d seen on YouTube. Film school did not prep you for this. 

As you grabbed the first aid kit, you watched Joel slump against the trailer walls. You stood there, awkwardly, watching the scarlet blossom against his abdomen.

He looks at you for a moment before exhaling. “Y’know, you can ask n’ not jus’ stand there like a mute, darlin’.”

The witty remark dies in your throat when he yanks his shirt off. Effectively shutting your brain down entirely. You stare down at his body in its’ full glory. Damp with sweat and streaked with dirt. Blood smeared in jagged trails down his arm to his abdomen, mingling with grime from the fall. Joel pulls out the antiseptic wipes from the first aid kit, handing it to you.

“Shit, Joel. That looks fucking bad.” You hissed out, as though you were the one with a darkened gash on your midriff when you attempted to wipe the first streak off.

“Why…” Fuck. Your voice was cracking. “Why didn’t you just let someone else help you?”

He huffed, his dark eyes flicking to yours for a moment in amusement before looking away. “Ain’t worth makin’ a scene over somethin’ small.”

“This isn’t small, Joel,” you protested, frowning as you uncovered a deeper gash on his side. “You should’ve let the medics handle it.”

“Don’t need all that fuss.” His tone was clipped, defensive. “Been doin’ my own stunts for years. Ain’t stoppin’ now ‘cause of a scratch.”

“This isn’t a scratch.”

Joel’s gaze flicked to yours again, a flash of something unreadable in his expression. “Look, I get it, alright? But I don’t need everyone actin’ like I’m fallin’ apart. I’m fine.”

He knew deep down that his ego was far too big to admit that he actually needed help. 

“Stubborn,” you murmured under your breath, shaking your head as you pressed a clean pad against the wound.

“What was that?” 

“Nothing.”

Joel’s patience was paper thin, but he bit back whatever comment was forming on his tongue. “Enough of that. Just…tie it up” He sighs, strained, handing you a roll.

You nodded, fumbling with the bandage as your heart pounded in your ears. The wound was deeper than you’d thought now that it was clean, and the sight of it made your stomach churn.

“C’mon, darlin’. Ain’t got all day.”

You secured the bandage, tying it off with a bunny-eared bow before sitting back on your heels. Fingertips drumming on your knees, seemingly proud of yourself. 

Joel glanced down, his brows furrowing as he took in your work. “What the hell is that?”

“What?” you say defensively. “You told me to tie it.”

“Looks like ya wrapped a damn present,” he muttered. 

“Fine, I’ll redo it–”

“Don’t bother.” He caught your hands before you could move, holding them in place. “It’ll hold.”

The silence that followed proved to further intensify the air between the two of you. His grip on your wrist was firm but not harsh, his eyes locked on yours. You didn’t dare to move. 

The curve of his nose grazed your cheeks, the faintest touch sent a shiver down your spine, but he had enough sense to move away. 

You however, didn’t think, didn’t hesitate when you leaned in, capturing his lips in a quick, tentative kiss.

It seemed to have caught the both of you off guard.

Joel froze, the kiss barely lasting a second before he pulls back, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you thought he’d tell you off.

But instead, he leans forward. Kissing you harder, deeper. A palm slips to the back of your neck to anchor you in place.

With nowhere else to put your hands, you placed them on his thighs, gripping them tightly.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was desperate. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that made your head spin. His other hand gripped your waist, drags you closer until your knees pressed against the side of his hips.

But just as quickly as it started, Joel stops. He pulls back with a bated breath. His hands slip from where he held your neck. “Shit,” he mutters, his jaw clenching as he looks away. “Shit.”

You blinked, your heart racing as you tried to catch up. Trying not to let the disappointment show in your voice. “Joel–”

“Stop. I shouldn’t have.” The curtness in his tone startled you. But you frowned. Trailing behind him as he gets up. 

“Well you did.” You blocked his path towards the door of his trailer. Eyes filled with a burning persistence of him once again denying you. 

“Don’t push it, kid.”

You’d practically stepped up to him confrontationally. “—Or better yet, you gonna tell me that I imagined it?”

“You can’t do all of that and then just back off.”

It frustrated you to no end when he stonewalled you like this. Like you were some irrational kid who couldn’t read between the lines.

When Joel finally does speak, he merely says your name. With a finality you couldn’t quite refute. You bite the inside of your cheeks. Feeling humiliated at being shot down when you’d thrown yourself onto someone like this.

“Fucking coward.”

This time, you didn’t mumble. 

Joel visibly grimaces at that. You feel his hand grip painfully around your wrist, stopping you from leaving the trailer.

You let out a choked gasp when his hands shoot out to grip around your throat before you could even react. Forcing you backwards at every step. Instinctively, you grab around his wrists to loosen his grip. 

“Hey!” 

He leans down to your level, lips grazing against your ears in a deep whisper. “Fuckin’ coward, huh?”  You'd pushed all the right buttons. He'd held back for so damned long and he didn't have it in him to hold back. Not after you'd run your mouth.

You let out a shaky exhale. Teeth grit painfully. You should’ve felt scared. Horrified, really. But the tenderness in his hold makes you feel conflicted about what you should’ve felt. 

Joel’s grip held you firm. Tipping your head up. “Y’want me to fuck you that bad?”

A soft whimper leaves your lips when his back presses against you. The hardness rubbed up against your core. You shudder at the sensation, nodding weakly. 

His rough palms circle around your waist, turning you over the dressing table until your pelvis sat flush against it. The grip around your throat swiftly turns to a vice grip around your jaw. 

He tugs at your jaw. “Words, sweetheart.”

“Ugh—yes.…need you..tofuckme.” You manage through gritted teeth. It irked you to say it, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t have let up.

Joel tugs you to look up into your own reflection. Your gaze immediately sours, attempting to look away. 

“C’mon now. S’a pretty sight.” He tuts. His other palm drags the fabric of your top up harshly, pulling it up along with your bra. Your tits spilling at the notion. A gasp slips from your lips. 

“Joel!” Your palms tightens into fists on the table at the obscene sight. 

So much for someone who didn’t want to give in.

It doesn’t faze Joel, merely letting out a low whistle. Kneading them in his palms. “Perfect fuckin’ tits.”

He presses a kiss down the sides of your neck. Twisting around your nipples till they hardened between his fingers. You let out a pathetic whine at the sensation. Holding his arms firmly, you squirm as he nips your shoulder. 

“Could you just—“ Your protests don't stop him in the slightest. Nudging your head a little to give him room. He takes it as a sign to bite down on your neck, bruising you with hickeys all over. 

Joel seems to catch your nervous flickers towards the doors. He shifts your hair over one side of your shoulder. Thumbing over the ink on the nape of your neck. You hear the sound of the zipper, briefly catching sight of him shucking his pants down. He winces slightly at the dull pain shooting across his abdomen, but the desperation of needing you was far greater than the pain.

Somehow, the idea of not being able to see it made it so much worse. And as though he reads your mind, he presses his jaw against the side of your head. “Relax.” The tenderness in his tone through the roughness does manage to soothe your nerves. You nod slowly.

Your hips jolt as the cold air hits your body when Joel dips a finger under the waistband of your sweats. He teasingly brushes his fingers lightly against your skin before swiftly tugging them down to your thighs along with the flimsy cotton panties you had on. “A little warning would help.” You bite back, finally losing patience at his tactless gestures. 

Joel meets your gaze through the mirror. A lopsided smirk quirking up his lips. “Right. My bad.” You could feel the disingenuity in his tone before he taps the length of his cock against your lower back. The gesture almost mocking.

A shudder runs down your spine. He was big, unlike anything you’ve experienced before. 

He hikes your hip backwards and flush against him. Your palms instinctively clutches around the edge of the table. Joel takes his time, sliding his hard cock between the softness of your thighs. The sensation nearly sends you doubling over. Watching the weeping tip poke through in the reflection, slightly smearing his precum on your clit.

You squeeze your legs together subconsciously, earning a wince from him. He was certain he could come just from fucking your thighs like this. The pace he took now bordered on torturous. Teasing you with everything but giving you nothing. 

You took it upon yourself to stretch your hands between your thighs in an attempt to notch him in you. You were aching. Badly.

Joel lets out a grunt of disapproval, yanking your wrist to pin it behind your back. Leaving you to steady your body weight onto your other hand. “Eager little thing. Daddy ain’t ever teachya patience?”

His snark burned in your cheeks. It was a futile effort. He could see every single expression you were making from your reflection and he fucking thrived on it. Joel takes a hold of his cock, lining it up against your soaked cunt, he slowly drags your slick over his length. You were soaking him before he even started.

Your head dips, clinging onto the fleeting pleasure every time the tip of his cock bumped against your clit. 

“Joel–please just fuck me...”

So he does.

Before you could even catch your breath, he snaps his hips into you. “Deep breath f’me, sweetheart.” If not for his grip around your wrist, you would’ve probably face planted into the dresser. 

The sting from the intrusion of his thickness had your cunt tightening with every move he makes, squeezing the absolute life out of his dick.

Your hair falls in front of your face as he mercilessly fucks you. You swore you could feel him almost grazing the entrance of your cervix. “T-Too..too fucking...big.”

Joel tips his head at the sight of your pussy swallowing his cock, probably only halfway. He doesn’t say anything yet. Only humming at your whines. “I know baby.”

You look down shakily at where the both of you were connected, the lines between pain and pleasure blurring to the point you hadn’t registered the tears prickling the corner of your eyes. “Hurts…”

Joel seems to feel a tinge of empathy at the way you were struggling to take him, hiccuping through your whines. His gaze flickers to the way your pretty little face scrunched up, doing your fucking best like the good girl you were. A slight groan leaves his lips involuntarily.

All rationality be fucked.

His hand grips around your throat, forcing you to look up at the mirror. 

As humiliating as it was, you couldn’t help but feel increasingly turned on at the sight of his cock fucked into your dripping pussy in squelches. “See that? Takin’ me so ’fuckin’ well.” He sighs into your shoulder. 

The praise has you lifting your hips higher, on your tippy toes–forcing a deeper arch at your hips. With how slick your thighs were, you weren’t even sure yourself if you did come.

Nothing but the sounds of his pelvis snapping into your ass in rhythmic, hard slaps. He buries his head in the crook of your shoulder. And you hear him audibly grunt this time. Thrusting into you at a punishing pace. 

Joel could feel the all familiar tightening in his sack, he knew he was close. The sheer suction your soft, slick walls were providing him was nothing he’d ever felt before. He lets go of your throat, both palms gripped around your hips, painful enough to leave a mark. The table rattles under your combined weights and Joel’s frantic thrusts, products rolling and clattering onto the ground. He noses your cheeks, stubble rubbing against your pulse point. “Perfect fuckin’ pussy…” 

You offer a slight whimper at his words, meeting the intensity his thrusts weakly. You both still at the shuffle of footsteps approaching the trailer.

 The sharp knocks against the trailer door has the both of you whipping your head towards it. 

“Everything okay?”

Your heartbeat thuds in your ears loudly. The door wasn’t locked.

Joel doesn't answer, simply looking at you. Your expression twists in frustration. Mouthing the words ‘me?’. There wasn't time to deliberate. Your lips parts to speak, barely able to form coherent words. “Y..yeah. A-All good.” 

“Right…productions cutting it close. So if Joel’s oookaaay…”

You cursed internally at how persistent whoever behind the doors was. But you nearly see white when Joel fully slams into you. Deeper than before. You couldn’t control the sharp cry that leaves your lips, but it is soon muffled by Joel’s rough palms covering your mouth.

“M’fine. Give us ten.”

Your tears pool around his hand. Gripping onto his wrists when he continues to pound into you at a faster intensity. You were whining by the time the crewmate finally left. Joel pulls you against his chest. Audibly groaning into your ears now. “Fuck. M’close.” 

You nodded dumbly, not even sure just what at anymore. Shaky hands clinging onto him like a lifeline. With a final rut, his hips stutter, ropes of his cum painting the insides of your walls.

He held it there for a couple of seconds before pulling out. All messy and soaked with your arousal.

You let out a strained exhale at the feeling of loss as your pussy convulses around nothing, pearlescent liquid dripping from your reddened cunt. 

Joel sighs wantonly at the sight. With the state of you, he was briefly worried that he might’ve gone too hard. And then he sees it. Your smaller, manicured hands, pushing more of his dripping come into your folds. Yeah. Joel was fucked.

[burntheedges]

Pas de Deux Chapter 7

Din Djarin x f!reader | 2.4k | fic masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

chapter summary: How will your next practice go, now that you've talked?

a/n: so what will dancing together be like now? Posting early because I'm traveling later today. See my notes at the end and on the masterlist about reader in this fic and ballet in general. Thank you @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta, as always!!

chapter tags/warnings: gen, ballet terms (see end notes and the masterlist for definitions and videos), fluff!!!, more talking

Chapter 7

By Monday, you were exhausted and most of you hurt, but you walked into morning class with a smile playing around your mouth.

You’d nailed Hermia, and you didn’t think you could feel better about it. Adrian had already tackled you in a hug the day before, after the third performance — thankfully already out of his glittery Puck costume. (Or Elena and Max, the costume heads, would have been pissed.) But he’d been amazing, too, and you told him so. 

As you put on your shoes for barre, you felt someone come up and stand next to your spot along the wall. You looked up and saw black shoes and black tights, and smiled.

“Hi, Din,” you said, looking up to meet his gaze.

His face was as expressionless as always, but you could have sworn the corner of his mouth lifted just slightly when your eyes met. It was small, but it was there.

“Morning,” he greeted you softly. “You were amazing this weekend.”

You grinned as you moved to stand. He offered his hand and you took it. “You saw?” You hadn’t seen him in the wings or the audience, but that didn’t mean anything — it was a packed house for all three performances.

He nodded, squeezing your hand before letting it drop. “Yesterday. I brought Grogu, too, he loved it. But we couldn’t stay after, so I couldn’t look for you to tell you how good you were. You captured her perfectly. I could feel her confusion and turmoil.” He turned to walk towards his spot at the barre and you moved with him. “It felt so… tormented. I could almost see her indecision.”

You smiled and ducked your head as you reached the barre. You grasped it in both hands and leaned into it a little. “Um, thanks.” You looked up at him and found his gaze was soft behind his mask. “It did feel good. I was really happy with it.”

He nodded at you. “You should be. It was beautiful.” He paused for a moment, looking at you, and you couldn’t think of a single thing to say in response.

Din opened his mouth to say something else, but Alexa called out for everyone to start, and you started to move towards your spot at the barre next to his. 

“Hey,” he said, reaching out to catch your arm. “Can we meet tomorrow? After lunch. To rehearse.”

You nodded. “Tomorrow.” 

…

On Tuesday, Din told you he’d reserved one of the tiny practice rooms set aside for just that purpose. You promised you’d meet him there. As he stepped away, Adrian stepped up to fill the space. You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Were you just lurking there, listening in?”

“Obviously,” he rolled his eyes. “What’s the practice room for?”

You laughed. “We’re going to work on the pas de deux, before rehearsal on Thursday.”

He waggled his eyebrows at you and you elbowed him. “Oof. Rude. It sounds like things are going better, then?”

You nodded. “I think so. We haven’t tried it again, yet, but I think it’s going to work better, this time.” You’d already told him all about your conversation with Din, leaving out the personal details Din had shared. You didn’t think he’d want you to spread those around.

“Good.”

Alexa called out to Adrian and you moved off, waving as you turned into the hallway. 

…

As you walked towards the room Din had reserved for you, you couldn’t help but notice how different you felt, compared to your walk to rehearsal, so full of dread the week before. 

You found the small room, tucked away at the end of the rehearsal hall and around the corner. You almost never came back here, you realized. 

Din was already inside, fiddling with the sound system.

“Hey, Din,” you said, smiling when he turned to look at you. You closed the door and moved to join him. “Did you go home for lunch?”

He nodded. “Grogu had a half day today, so I got to eat lunch with him.” He smiled — just a small thing, but the obvious difference from how he was in class warmed you. 

“That’s great,” you said, and sat to put on your shoes. “I’m sure he was excited to see you.”

Din made a small noise, and you looked up. He was smiling a bit bigger, and you realized he had laughed, just a bit. You grinned. “He was. He said he talked about the ballet at school and danced for his teacher.”

You laughed. “That’s so cute, oh my god.”

Din ducked his head and you thought you saw an even wider smile take over his mouth.  You looked down at your shoes to keep yourself from staring. He looked good when he smiled. (He looked good all the time.)

You cut off your own thoughts, moving to stand. “So, did you have something in mind for today?” You asked.

He nodded. “I was thinking, what if we talk through what we have so far? I’d like to hear how you think about it. What you’re feeling and how you want to show that. I think that would help me.”

You blinked. “Sure. I can do that. And I want to hear from you, what you’re thinking is going on in your character’s head. That’s how I usually start — what is she thinking? And how can I show that, in my body? Should it be obvious or subtle? And then the emotion can come out in so many different ways… but I always start from what she’s thinking.”

Din looked thoughtful. “I usually do think about that, too, but I guess I haven’t had as much freedom before. In terms of what I can do with it.”

That made sense, based on what you knew of CBC. But something about what he said caught your attention. “Din… what if we use that. In the dance.”

He tilted his head at you and leaned against the barre. “What do you mean?”

“Well, we know Kuiil wants our characters to learn from each other and then create something new together, right? Or form a new connection that affects each other.” He nodded. “Ok, so what if your character becomes freer or more open over the course of the performance?”

His eyebrows flew upwards. “Oh.” He sounded like he was as struck by the idea as you had been a moment before.

You nodded. “Yes! And so you could start from something more familiar and change, over the course of the dance. And that’s what we could work on. So you’re not starting from something so new, but instead growing towards it. Maybe we could even work that in, that my character is sort of drawing yours out? It would add to the back and forth between us, and the give and take. And I could even mirror you a bit, to invite you in! Your reactions could sort of waiver towards and away from the openness my character is inviting you to have. Right? Between acceptance and rejection. What do you think?” You ran out of breath, and you knew your hope for him to agree must have been showing on your face. Now that you’d had the idea, you were attached to it. It seemed perfect.

He looked down, and you bit your lip. “Din—“

But then he looked up, and he looked relieved. He nodded. “I like it. I think that’s perfect. And it will feel like so much less pressure. I think I was getting too in my head about getting it right from the beginning.”

“Oh, good! Ok, great.” You reached out and squeezed his arm. Almost immediately he covered your hand with his free one and pressed down gently. You couldn’t help but notice how big his hand was, as it covered yours, and you felt your face heat up and ignored it. You needed to get used to touching each other, anyway. “I think this will be good, Din. We can do this.”

You were standing so close, you realized, since you’d reached out to touch him and he’d held you there. You hesitated. “So, do you want to start by talking it through?”

He nodded. For a moment he didn’t move, but then he squeezed your hand again before releasing it and stepping away. “Let’s start from when we first see each other.”

You nodded and moved to join him in the center of the small room. As you began, you could feel it. This would work. 

…

Rehearsal on Thursday was so different, you could tell Kuiil was both surprised and over the moon with excitement.

From the moment the music started, you could feel it. You and Din were still dancing separately, still “meeting” each other in character, but you were working together. Something had shifted, since you talked and practiced and began to work together. And it might not be what it needed to be yet, but it was so much better than what it was before.

You could feel him moving across the space with you, and it was like a tentative connection formed between you that you could pull taut and release. It was almost like you were listening for each other, taking cues from changes in each other’s breath or even small movements. His body would echo one part of the music, and yours would follow another in response. You extended your leg, and something in the way he moved his shoulders responded to it. He turned, and you spun around, meeting him from a different angle. It felt good. It was new, but it was there. 

You ran through it once, and Kuiil looked like he might actually cry, or jump for joy.

“Oh, yes, yes!” He said, coming towards you in the middle of the room. He rested his hands on his hips and looked between you, smiling widely. “Yes, I knew it — I can see it forming within and between you. Well done, both of you. Could you feel it?”

You and Din both nodded, and he gestured widely with his arms. “Of course you could! The energy, you have found it. You are building it.” He nodded again. “I can see that you have talked, and settled more into your characters. Now we can truly get to work.”

And so you did.

…

February began to fly by, much faster than January, and with much more ease. You and Din found a rhythm together that actually worked. You were friendly, in the mornings in class, though he still hid behind his mask around the rest of the company. And then you started to become something more like actual friends when you were alone or rehearsing with Kuiil. 

Din seemed more comfortable with you than he had before, and that comfort allowed him to open up in a way you hadn’t seen him do yet in his dancing. Kuill began to focus on the second movement, when your characters circled each other, and you could see Din relaxing his form and beginning to open his movements beyond the emotionless technique that had been drilled into him at CBC. It was beautiful to watch — you were so impressed with him.

Two weeks later, rehearsals for Swan Lake had picked up, and so had your rehearsals for the pas de deux.

Kuill had just walked you through the crescendo of the second movement, which involved jumps, some partnered turns, and a complicated lift section. It wasn’t the first time Din lifted you in the choreography, but it was the first time you needed to rely on him and his support so completely, with two lifts and transition into a different hold. 

It wasn’t your first time being lifted by a partner, of course, but it was your first time doing something like this with Din. There was always a moment, when partnering with someone new, when you found out just how much you actually trusted each other. You didn’t need to be best friends to dance together well, but you did need to trust in the support of your partner. 

You shook out your arms and legs and rolled your shoulders. You trusted Din. He wasn’t hidden behind that expressionless mask anymore, not with you. I can do this.

Kuill started the music, and you twirled into action, leaping past Din. He caught your hand as you began to move away and spun you around him. You “fell” into a collapsed position over his arm, allowing the spin, and then he guided you upwards with light touches into an arabesque. He tugged you forward through traveling turns that crossed the stage, squeezing your hip just at the right moment to let you know when to stop. Finally you attempted to pull away, and he pulled you back and spun you in a circle into a tour jeté lift. As you landed he turned you again and lifted you upwards into a horizontal spin that finished with your hands resting on his shoulders as you stretched your legs into a fully extended split, perpendicular to the ground. You paused there, for just a moment, before he lifted you by your hips and then brought you back down gently. You sprang away instantly.

The music stopped, and you turned back to look at Din, breathing hard. You were both grinning. You froze, staring at how it transformed his face. He was beautiful. 

Kuill called out that that the lift was perfect, but that he wanted you to work on the build up to it. You almost couldn’t listen to him. You were too caught up in the feelings running through your body.

You’d never experienced anything like that before. The first attempt, and it was perfect — Din had lifted you seemingly effortlessly, and his hands had gone exactly where they needed to go. You’d communicated with each other through touch with ease. You had felt fully supported and able to truly perform to the music, even when in the air. You felt amazing. And you could see on Din’s face that he felt it, too.

“My dear?” Kuiil asked, stepping up beside you. 

You tore your eyes away from Din’s, finally, and realized you’d probably missed what he said. “Sorry! Again?” 

Kuiil nodded, and you ignored his knowing smile. He looked almost smug. “Again,” he agreed, and you stepped back towards Din.

When you looked at him again, you found he hadn’t looked away from you. “Again,” he murmured, echoing Kuiil. The look in his eyes made your breath catch.

It went just as well the second time. 

…

prev | next

a/n: such improvement!

Partnering: so in this chapter we get an extended partnering sequence. I tried to find moments that looked like what I was picturing for each piece, and they’re linked above (and they should take you to the right spot in each video) – the hand grab, the traveling turns, communication while partnering, a tour jete lift, and the lift into the split. I hope it makes sense! This video has a bit more about partnered turns (though they’re doing traveling ones here) and this one has more about what the guy is doing with his hands during those turns. I linked to different spots in this one a couple of times but the video overall is great because Mira Nadon shares some really interesting thoughts about what it’s like to work with a new partner. 

I’m going to talk more about Swan Lake next week because it’s more of a focus in the next chapter. 🦢

[salty-croissants]

if your still taking requests, can you do a Bullfrog and Rayman/ramon of their S/O is Pregnant? if you can't that's okay

Thank you for the request !

I apologize for taking longer than usual , I found myself in need of a break since I was feeling a bit too uninspired to write :,T

Anyway I’ve never really written anything for a pregnant reader before , so this was a pretty fun challenge :,) 

Hope it turned out okay ! 

Details : use of female reader ( thought I’d go for that given the prompt , hopefully that’s alright ! ) ;

established relationships ; 

no warnings needed 

Bullfrog 💚

Deep down , Bullfrog still can’t believe he is actually going to become a dad …

While he is definitely worried about how he is going to keep you and your future child ( or children :> ) safe , this frog is still really looking forward to start a family with you , and he will remind you of this a lot .

< y/n , my dear , I’m just so grateful to have you by my side , you know ?

I’m so happy about our child , je ne peux pas attendre … >

He is the absolute best at taking care of you , using all the spare time he gets when he isn’t out for missions to be there anytime you need something , no matter how small .

< I’m back mon amour ! 

Here , I brought you some more food in case you get hungry , and I also made some tea while I was at it . > 

< Thank you honey ! This is exactly what I needed , you’re amazing ~ > 

When you’re feeling a bit fatigued , Bullfrog loves to just rest by your side , with the two of you often falling asleep into each other’s arms .

And if you ever try to stay up anyway , well … your partner is very good at persuading you to do otherwise .

< Hmm … I’m not that tired , sweetie … we can still … talk , or maybe do … something else … > 

< Non y/n , you need to get some sleep … you had a long day today , and I don’t want you to stress yourself too much . 

I’m going to be right here with you mon cher , so don’t worry , alright ? > 

< Heh , alright , thanks Bullfrog … 

Oof , give me a second , the little one is starting to feel heavy … > 

Your beloved assassin adores those simple moments of intimate bliss he gets with you , and whenever he occasionally opens his eyes to check on you he can’t help but feel an overwhelming happiness , knowing that you’re the person that he’s going to share a family with …

Despite the uncertainty of your futures , Bullfrog knows that as long as you’re with him , there will always be hope for him somehow .

Rayman 🧡

Oh boy is he excited ! 

Rayman loves children , so the mere thought that he’s going to have a kid with you fills him with joy …

He never thought that he’d be able to have something like this in his life , given the way people see him despite his popularity , so you better believe that he will be showering you with affection … even more than usual . 

< Oh y/n , sometimes I still can’t believe this is happening , y’know ?

I just … god , I love you so much ~ > 

Unfortunately , I honestly doubt the Directors would show much care about the fact that their star’s partner is going through a pregnancy …

They need Rayman to be on the show , that’s what matters most to them , so as much as he hates the idea of leaving you alone he doesn’t have much of a choice …

< Damn it …

I’m so sorry … if I could stay with you I would , but the Directors … > 

< Hey it’s alright hun , I’m just gonna lay here and rest until you come back , I should be just fine . > 

< Mm … well , maybe I can convince them to let me go home earlier than usual : I don’t want anything to happen to you because I couldn’t be here , y/n … I … I would never forgive myself … > 

< Ray , love … you worry too much . 

Now come here , I didn’t forget about your goodbye kiss ~ > 

< Heh , thank you y/n … mm … ~ 

I’ll be here as soon as I can , I promise . > 

During the immensely frustrating hours where he can’t be with you , Rayman is still going to remain in contact with you by calling you and sending you texts … a lot .

“Hey sweetie ! 

This should be the last interview for today , I can’t wait to see you ! ❤️

How do you feel ? I remember yesterday night you couldn’t sleep much , did you manage to get some rest ? Oh , you should also remember to drink some water if you haven’t already , it really is important , especially now !”

“Hi Ray ! ❤️

I’m okay , don’t worry , I got some sleep and that really helped a lot !

I think our child is happy you’re coming home … I can feel it kicking since I begun writing you this message ! 

We’ll both be waiting for you ❤️❤️”

After Rayman gets home , I hope you’re prepared to be showered with love and affection for the rest of the day :

he just can’t express how much he missed you , from your voice to your beautiful face … you just make him so happy , and knowing that you’re about to start a family together is just everything he could possibly need .

Ramon 🖤

1 Now that he doesn’t have to care about his job or the orders of the Directors , you better believe that Ramon is never , ever going to leave your side , especially now that you’re pregnant .

He is terrified at the idea of losing his one chance of finding happiness in his otherwise bleak existence … he won’t allow that to happen .

< y/n , where are you going ? > 

< Ah , I’ll be right back Ram , I just wanted to go for a quick walk just outside , my legs are a bit sore and - > 

< I’m coming with you . > 

< You don’t have to do that , love … I know the wounds you got yesterday while fighting those Eden guys still hurt , you should rest . > 

< I don’t … care about that . I need to be there for you . I need to keep you and our child safe .

Please y/n … you’re all I have . > 

< Okay , okay … we’ll go together , hun . I won’t leave you . > 

< Thank you … > 

He finds it especially comforting to gently rest his head on your stomach , listening to the baby’s occasional small movements beneath … 

It’s in little tender moments like these that Ramon can finally put his mind at ease , momentarily forgetting about Eden and the mess you’re in .

< Does this hurt , darling ? > 

< Hmm ? 

Oh no , it doesn’t ! Don’t worry about it …

It actually feels very nice ~ 

Ramon’s mind often gets crowded with unwelcome thoughts about what kind of life will he be able to provide to your kid , given the critical situation you’re currently both in , and as much as he tries to keep those feelings to himself you’re able to understand what’s on his mind . 

< I know you’re worried about our future , I am too … but I just know things will be alright for all three of us . > 

< How do you know that … ? > 

< Oh , that’s easy Ram : 

I have you here with me , and that’s all I need to keep on going !

It’s not going to be easy , but I know we can face what comes next if we stick together , and we’ll be able to make our child grow happily in a good place . > 

< Heh … you always know how to make me feel better , y/n .

I love you so much , you know that … ? > 

< I love you too Ramon … trust me , we are going to be okay . > 

[dontcallmepepper]

"Please don't make me go..."

“Loki--” It was already so hard to have to do this. He didn’t need to beg her and stick around to make it even harder. “You told me that you were under control. You promised me. You lied to me.” 

[oh-for-fic-sake-library]

Princess

Masterlist

Summary: Pussy just loves Sy.

Warnings: Fluff, Swearing

A/N: here is a fluffy drabble that i whipped up.

You giggled from the door watching the tiny white kitten scamper across the floor, the heavy little pitter patters coming to a skid as she spun around at the door.

You bit your lip as sy grunted and blinked down at the fluffy kitten theat he was one hundred percent opposed to staying. And he swore down you were getting rid of it. Then he ducked down scopping up the cat before walkjng across the small hall to the fluffy cat cave he'd got to make her stay comfy.

He popped her in the bed and booped her nose with a half smile.

"Ive gotta get goin' you little fluff weed" the kitten mewed and pawed at his finger making him scoff softly at her.

"No. Dont argue, your too little to be out there round the ranch. Youll get stepped on or somthin'" she mewed again at him. You could see his eyes were sparkling. Over the pas week since you brought the little baby into your home he had been tryingnto hate her.

He didnt like cats. He liked dogs, he had aika. Who had actually taken to the kitten quickly mothering it. And even though sy instisted the cat was going, it hadnt stopped him from buying the most expensive cat food, the cosiest bed and a small mountain of toys.

Sy moved moving his hand around the kitten making her chase it and then stood up again turning catchingmyour smug look and pointed at you.

"Not a word bug it aint stayin'" he warned this time less harsh then the last time making you duck down behinde the back of the sofa to hide your giggling.

"Aw fuckin'ell" you peeked over the sofa again seeing the kitten had once again darted arouns sy and stood gaurding the door stopping him from leaving again, moewing and hissing at him cutely with her tail erect and back arched. You roared up as sy shuffled on his feet and scratched his head.

"Fuckin' cat stop 'issing at me" he grumbled and tried to move around the little grumpy 4 inch tall fluff demon, cursing the entire time. Finally he came to a stop and folded his arms at you kitten.

"I gotta go to work, i got horses to feed and cattle to run let out, its no place for a fluff nugget" you laughed harder as sy began trying to reason with the cat. Who promptly meowed her displeasure arguing with him.

"Well i cant take ya your too little" sy gunted trying to nudge her away fromthe door lightly with the toe oof his boot. But she jumped, pouncing on his foot and clung to him whislt yelling at him as loud as her little meows could go.

"Okay okay fine, ya know what you can come but you stay up 'ere on daddies shoulder. You hear me? fuckin' cat never hear the end of it" he growled rolling his eyes whislt ducking down and plucking her from his foot and placed her on his red tee covered shoulder like a parrot. She instantly calmed down and held on to him, nuzzling his neck sniffing his beard.

"Right im off with this little mouthy princess... She still aint stayin'" he grumbled and opened the door shakig his head ently not to disturb his new ranch hand.

"Of course not. Daddy~" you teased with a giggle making him stop and peak around the door with a raised brow.

"Daddy?"

"Its what you called yourself~ her daddy" you replied in a sing song voice and stood walking to the kitchen.

"Wha; no i didnt" he called after you still standing at the door clicking his his tongue before tilting his head to the kitten who was happily snuggled into the crook of his neck.

"Yes you did, you said to stay on daddies shoulder. And i himk you also just named her" you muttered wandering out of the kitchen to him with a grin.

"Did not"

"Princess?" Sy blushed and looked away with a huff, clearly he'd hoped youd not heard the tiny term of endearment. God forbid he showed anything but distaste for the feline.

"Thats what i thought. Now here is her lunch." You finalised before waving the small tin of cat food in his hand.

"Fuckin' women... Gimme that" he huffed taking the small ring pull can from you and swivelling around heading out the door. And crossing the porch

"Remeber to keep her out of the sun" you called after him as he made his way across the gravel towards the horse barn.

"Yeah yeah i know. Worry wart. Aika come on we got work" he waved you off and called the shepherd out from her spot under the porch that was made into a make shift dog house.

[flowerpowelltales]

Until You Hate Me (Liam x MC)

PART THREE - THE BEGINNING

A/N: Yes, I do feel ashamed I forgot about this series for TWO years. I also am aware most of you, who have been tagged, dont even remember ever reading this series. If you’d like to be taken off the taglist just let me know because I don’t want to bother anyone. If you want a refresher - it’s the series where Regina pays Riley to be the worst suitor ever so that in two weeks, Liam would have to marry someone Regina picked for him. Previous parts are on my masterlist. Shoutout to the Nonny who motivated me to write this part. Hope y’all enjoy! Characters belong to PB. 

Rating: G

Word count: 1692

Tagging: @gardeningourmet @delightfullypinkglitter @blackcatkita @badchoicesposts @jared2612 @princess-geek @desiree-pow-35-1986​ @emichelle​ @ao719​ @cordoniantrash @kinggliam @needalittlerain @flyawayboo @nazariortega @jlpplays1 @kimmiedoo5 @annekebbphotography​ @ladyangel70​ @eadanga​ @kingliam2019​ @nz1091​ @emceesynonymroll @texaskitten30 @mskaneko​ @custaroonie @drakesensworld​ @janezillow @ritachacha​ @lodberg​ @msjr0119​ @gkittylove99​ @sweatyrysconnoisseur​ @dcbbw​ @potter1-7harry​

“Welcome to Cordonia,” Liam said when the Royal Jet finally landed. He looked at Riley warily as she took in the sights. The flight was a total disaster and made him rethink his whole life. If he hadn’t known better he’d think she wanted to sabotage his mission.

“Looks sick,” she said and Liam sighed.

“Liam, Riley, the car is here. Come before anyone spots us.” Regina nodded towards their driver.

“Whoa, we have our own driver? That’s mad!”

Regina raised an eyebrow in a ‘do-not-overdo-it’ manner but Riley ignored it. For her it was either go hard or go home. Literally, because if she failed she’d go home with no money.

The ride from the private airport to the palace was silent; Riley was admiring the views, Liam was thinking if he made the right choice and Regina was already planning Liam’s wedding to Madeleine.

When they arrived, Regina excused herself and went straight into her office.

“What do you think?” Liam asked politely when they were the only two left.

“It looks so… majestic. Like something I’d expect a palace look like but at the same time like something I wouldn’t expect. It’s gorgeous.”

Liam turned to her stunned by her words. What happened to “sick” and “mad”? Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad, after all.

“Come inside,” he said and extended his hands towards her. She took it and then gasped at the interior.

“It’s so regal and so big and oof—” Riley was almost knocked out by a small, fluffy ball that jumped at her.

“Ah, this is Chance, Maxwell’s dog. He must feel you’re a good person because he is never that happy about strangers.” Liam smiled as he leaned to take her coat. She handed it to him and when Liam walked away to hang it, she bent over to Chance. 

“Hey, buddy! I’m super flattered you like me but can you please bite me or start barking at me so Liam doesn’t think I’m good?” She asked and Chance titled his head in confusion. “You see,” she lowered her voice, “I have a mission to complete.”

When Chace still couldn’t understand, Riley tried to speak his language.

“Woof woof woof woof,” she barked at Chance in low voice.

“Um… is everything okay, lady Riley?” Liam asked, suddenly appearing behind her. Shoot.

“Mhm. Just talking to that cute little muffin. And please, call me Riley. I’m no lady.”

“If you insist. Would you like to see your room?”

“Sure! Does it have a mini fridge? I bet it’s totally dope!”

Liam shook his head in disbelief. Riley changed her mood every few minutes. He couldn’t figure her out. Sometimes she was serious and really fun to talk to but then she changed again and acted like a spoiled teenager.

“Here we are.” Liam motioned the room when they finally reached the guest chamber. “It doesn’t have a mini fridge but you can call any of the staff members to ask for whatever you’d like, anytime.”

“Cool.”

“Ah, Liam! Riley! I am so glad to see you both here!” Regina exclaimed with a smiled on her face. “We have a dinner today with a few of our friends. Liam, please help lady Riley to prepare for it.”

“Of course, Regina. Who are we expecting?” Liam asked.

“Duchess Olivia Nevrakis, Lord Neville, Duchess Adelaide, her daughter and Duke Godfrey, lady Hana Lee and her parents, and a few of the court members.”

Liam nodded politely but started to panic internally. Lord Neville, Godfrey and Adelaide weren’t exactly the first people he wanted Riley to be introduced to. He knew too well how they treated commoners and how awful they could be. He had only about two hours before the dinner to go through the royal protocol, table manners, dress code and how to address who. When he looked up at Riley he noticed she was already studying him.

“Everything’s alright?”

“Yes, it is. I just thought we would have more time before your debut.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that! I was born ready!” she said reassuringly, which, ironically, made Liam even less reassured.

~~~~

“So when I see Hana Lee’s dad I should say ‘ni hao’, right?”

“Correct! And can you please repeat how you would address Duchess Olivia?”

“Your Grace,” Riley replied.

“Exactly. And Lord Neville?”

“…Also your Grace?”

“Yes. How would you address me, then?”

“Your Majesty?”

“No, Majesty is used for Kings and Queens. I’m not a King yet so I ought to be addressed ‘your Highness’.”

“So Regina is her Majesty?” Riley asked.

“Precisely. Now, what is my title?”

“Prince?”

“Full title.”

“Prince Louis of Cordonia.”

“Ye—What? What Louis?”

“Your name isn’t Louis?”

“No,” he shook his head. “It’s Liam.”

“Oh, right! Sorry, I’ve always had a problem with remembering names.”

Liam smiled but wanted to scream. Remembering names was probably one of the most important things Riley had to learn. And she forgot even his.

“Let me get this straight, when I talk to you I always have to use ‘your highness’?”

“When we’re with nobility, yes. It shows respect. When there’s only me and you, or friends and family, you can call me by my name,” he explained.

“Which is Louis!”

“Liam,” he corrected. Again.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Riley apologized. “I’ll just need something to associate you with… Oh! I know! I used to listen to One Direction a lot and Liam was the name of one of the singers! I liked him a lot!”

“Whatever works for you.” Liam smiled, feeling less and less enthusiastic about his mission.

~~~~

Two hours and three braincell losses later, Riley was walking arm in arm with Liam, into the ballroom. She was wearing a very expensive dress, more expensive than everything she owned altogether. She was very stressed and started to regret coming here. Pretending to be the worst suitor in front of Liam was one thing, but pretending to be the worst suitor in front of all Cordonian nobility was a completely different thing.

“Look, there’s Xinghai, he’s coming here,” Liam whispered and Riley nodded as the man approached them. Liam nudged Riley.

Okay. Show time.

“Hey hoe!” She yelled, making everyone freeze.

I hate myself.

“Riley!” Liam hissed, pinching her arm.

“Excuse me?” Xinghai asked as if not believing his ears.

“I think Riley tried to say ‘ni hao’, is that right?” Liam raised his eyebrows and Riley felt sick.

“Yes! Ni hao! I’m so sorry, I’m very bad at languages!”

Xinghai shook his head. “If you say so.”

“Hi, I’m Hana! And this is my mother, Lorelai.” A girl with a very friendly face extended her hand as if she hadn’t noticed that huge faux-pas. Her mom barely smiled at her.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Your Highness.” A man approached them and raised a glass. “I feel deeply honored to be invited here today. Her Majesty mentioned you would bring an American suitor, is this that lovely lady?”

Riley didn’t know who it was but she sure hated him already. She looked at Liam and realized she wasn’t the only one thinking so.

“Lord Neville. I am very happy you could join us. Yes, this is lady Riley, my suitor. Lady Riley, this is Lord Neville.”

“Lord? Like Lord of the Rings? Is that even a real title?” she asked.

“Excuse me?” Neville was confused and Liam embarrassed. From the corner of her eye, Riley could see Regina smiling at the sight.

At least someone is happy with what I’m doing.

“I believe we haven’t met.” A blond woman interrupted them, holding a glass of champagne in one hand and a very unhappy man in the other.

“This is Duchess Adelaide, Duke Godfrey and their daughter, Countess Madeleine. And this lovely woman by my side is lady Riley.”

“Hi y’all! Louis told me so much about you!” She heard Liam sighing.

“Hmph” was all Godfrey said. The rest of the family looked confused.

“Who’s Louis?” Adelaide asked.

“What happened to One Direction association?” Liam whispered to her when the family wasn’t looking.

“I forgot Louis was in the band, too,” she replied.

“If you excuse us,” Liam turned to Adelaide, “but we need to say hello to Duchess Olivia. Thank you for coming.”

He quickly led Riley far from Adelaide and Godfrey, avoiding other court members on the way. He couldn’t do this. At least not today. Riley clearly wasn’t ready.

“Why hello there,” a lady with red hair and a matching dress greeted them.

“Olivia. Hello. How are you?” Liam started a small talk and Riley noticed he was more relaxed talking to her than he was talking to other people. She must be a friend, she thought.

“I’m great. Haven’t been to a party that is as much fun as this one. And it’s all thanks to you. I’m Olivia.”

“Riley. You’re the Ice Queen?” Riley asked remembering Lythikos was a winter wonderland. She hoped Olivia would be offended just like the others but to her surprise the Duchess burst out laughing.

“Ice Queen! I like her already,” she said as she wiped a tear from her eye. “Absolutely loved when she questioned Neville’s title. The man’s pain in the ass.”

“I’m glad you find it funny,” Liam said firmly. Olivia shrugged and turned to take another glass of wine.

“I’m really sorry I embarrassed you, Louis.”

“Liam,” he corrected.

“Liam,” Riley repeated. “I’ve just came to Cordonia and had only two hours to take it all in. I’ll be better in time.” Not sure how better at making you hate me I can get though.

“It’s fine. Listen, it’s me who should be apologizing. As you said, you just came here and within a few hours you had to learn things I learned throughout the years.”

Riley’s eyes widened. She embarrassed him, she humiliated him and he still apologized? She felt awful.

“I still feel bad. I promise I won’t let you down,” she lied and Liam smiled.

“I’m happy to hear that because we’re visiting our apple orchard tomorrow and the press will be there to meet you, too.”

Riley gulped as she smiled at Liam.

That only meant she had to try even harder.

[we-are-inevitable]

so i'll try to talk refined // javid (ch. 1)

A/N: this is so self indulgent holy fuck

WARNINGS: implied sexual content, drunken flirting, one night stands

SUMMARY: It was supposed to be a one night stand. One night, one too many drinks, one stupid decision that wouldn't have an actual effect on anything David cared about, aside from giving him a much needed night off.

But, when his one night stand turns out to be a new every day part of his life for the foreseeable future, David has... some choices to make.

For starters: choose to ignore his obvious attraction to the muralist working in his library, or choose to face the challenge head on.

If only he knew how to navigate this plot twist.

Tag List: @tarantulas4davey @oof-musicals​ @panicky-pancakes (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

Read On AO3!

David has never seen someone as gorgeous as the man sitting across from him at the bar.

Maybe that’s a somewhat straightforward statement. David has seen a lot of gorgeous people- he grew up in New York City, for crying out loud; he falls in love with someone new on the sidewalk every day, it seems. There’s just… something about this guy, though, that David is more than a little attracted to.

It’s probably his hair. David has always been a sucker for curls, and this guy’s hair is so curly on the ends- but he has a middle part, and his bangs-but-not-really-bangs are more wavy than curly, and it’s swooped back like some popular guy from the 90’s, or, like... Zayn Malik circa late 2014. Either way, David is loving it.

But that isn’t the only aspect of this guy that he’s loving.

For one, his eyes are the most striking golden brown that David has ever seen, and his tan skin is shining beautifully underneath the gaudy, in-your-face lights in the bar. If David stares hard enough, he can make out freckles dotting the expanse of his face, spread across a sharp jawline and even sharper cheekbones.

Needless to say, David is in love. Not literally, of course- David and ‘love’ don’t really mix well- but he’s never not going to be thinking about Random Guy in the Bar, so it’s kind of the same thing, right?

David almost considers going over to talk to him, but he falters. This is a... regular bar, probably, not one of the many gay bars David frequents, and he’s probably a straight guy with a low tolerance for getting hit on by dudes but, also, it’s 2021, and David is a little tipsy, so what’s really the harm in going over to talk to Random Guy? He might get punched, yeah, but David has taken worse. Much worse. There was that time in high school, when he kissed his boyfriend in the hall and was--

No, no, now is time to think happy thoughts, Tipsy David reminds himself.

Tipsy David is a lot braver than Sober David, and as he stands from his barstool and makes his way over to Random Guy, Tipsy David hopes that Sober David won’t have a black eye in the morning.

He takes in a deep breath as he approaches, but puts on a brave face as he comes up next to the guy. “Excuse me,” He starts, and pauses as the man whips around, eyes widening just slightly, and, oh, God, he’s even hotter up close. “I know this is a shot in the dark, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t tell you how attractive you are,” David says, as nonchalantly as he’s able to, while he leans against the bar counter.

The man stays silent for a few moments, and David can practically see the gears turning in his mind- before he’s flashing a megawatt smile at David and saying, “Thanks, man. That means a lot.”

Oh, sweet Jesus, that accent is thick. It’s classic New York- like, classic classic. Old New York classic. Just this side of a stereotype, but oh so genuine, and David is living for it. His voice is really nice, too; not very deep, but gravelly and kind of rough and hoarse and oh, why was this guy blessed with perpetual perfect morning-voice? He sounds like he just woke up and rolled out of bed, so rough and gorgeous.

But that’s beside the point, because this guy is clearly not picking up what David is putting down. That’s alright. Maybe a bit disappointing, but it’s not like David had any high hopes anyway.

David gives a nod and a smirk, standing up straight. “Just telling the truth,” he replies easily, then slaps his hand gently on the bar. “Have a good one.”

“You, too,” The guy says, staring up at David. He opens his mouth, as if to say something else, but instead he just offers a smile and a nod.

David nods back, turning to walk away, feeling pretty good about the interaction. He wasn’t punched, and wasn’t rejected, and--

“Hey, wait,” The man’s voice stops him in his tracks. David turns with a raised brow, taking in the man’s appearance once more- hair, eyes, freckles, skin, jeans and a plain henley with the sleeves rolled to his forearms- and, finally, the guy speaks again. “You… You ain’t too bad yourself, y’know.”

David blinks, confused, until he takes a slow step forward. “That so?” He asks with a hint of a grin.

The guy nods, then crosses his arms. “‘Course. I ain’t the only pretty boy here.”

“Ooh, pretty boy. That’s a new one,” David smirks, then leans against the bar. “So, pretty boy, answer me this. What would you say if I asked to sit with you?”

“Well, I’d probably ask what you’re drinkin’,” The man responds, then gestures for David to sit on the bar stool next to him. “What would your answer be, hypothetically?”

David’s smile widens, and he makes a show of thinking for a moment before speaking. “Well, if a hot guy asked me what I was drinking, I’d probably say a Manhattan with bourbon,” He teases, taking his seat. “And what would pretty boy be drinking, hm?”

“Pretty boy has a name,” He counters with a playful smirk, “and pretty boy is on his second margarita.”

Before David can respond, the man raises a hand and turns to the bartender. “‘Ey, Racer, c’mere,” he calls out, and soon, the bright-eyed blond is walking over, leaning over the bar. “Bring me two tequila shots, and a Manhattan. Bourbon.”

“On it, Cowboy,” The bartender- Antonio, or so it says on his nametag- responds with a wink.

“Cowboy,” David repeats as Antonio leaves, turning his attention to the man beside him. “Pretty boy, cowboy… You have some interesting nicknames.”

“Technically, ‘pretty boy’ ain’t a nickname. You’re the only one who calls me that, sweetheart,” The man smirks, resting his elbow against the bar.

“What else can I call you, then?” David asks, raising a brow as he leans in a bit closer- far enough away to not be in the guy’s personal space, but close enough to still hear him clearly over the booming party playlist blaring in the background.

The guy shrugs, grinning easily, then winks as he looks back at David. “You could start with ‘Jack’,” He replies.

Jack.

Such a generic name, but somehow, it’s just become the most attractive name in the history of ever.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Jack,” David says with a wide grin, holding out a hand. “The name’s David.”

Jack reaches out to take David’s hand and give it a shake, and, fuck, David swears he feels sparks. He doesn’t really have time to think about it, though, considering that Antonio is back with their drinks, and Jack is smiling at David like he’s the only thing that matters.

***

An hour passes, and David finds himself particularly buzzed after a few more drinks- courtesy of Jack, who has not once left his side. They’re both just this side of tipsy, both happy and bubbly underneath the flashing lights of the bar, and are already on their cooldown; nursing cold waters and a shared appetizer to come back to at least semi-sober before they have to part ways.

Maybe part ways.

Truth be told, David would follow Jack back to his apartment in a heartbeat if Jack asked him to.

Because, well, Jack is seriously attractive. Muscles for days, a laugh that’s to die for, and there’s an underlying softness to him; he’s an artist. An actual artist. He’s a freelancer; he has a dual degree in graphic design and studio art, so he paints and makes logos and designs business cards and does murals all over the city and, wow, David falls more and more in love every second. Jack even mentioned he was going to be doing some mural at one of the libraries in the city, which made David’s heart skip a beat. A literary themed mural, done by a hot guy… David might just have to leave his own little library and venture across the city to find it.

As the clock on the wall draws ever closer to 11 p.m., David bites his lip. He glances over at Jack, who is already looking at him, and when he sees the hungry look in Jack’s eyes, he smirks. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“‘Cause you’re hot,” Jack says, as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, “and I’m wonderin’ what it’d take to leave here with ya.”

David takes in a shuddering breath, licking his lips. “All you need to do is answer a question.”

“Oh?” Jack asks, placing a hand on David’s thigh. “And what would that question be?”

David looks him dead in the eyes. They’re both silent, energy sparking and crackling between each other; Jack’s eyes are dark, dark, dark, and David has to actively resist the urge to give in and kiss him right there against the counter. Slowly, David leans in close, lips barely brushing against Jack’s ear as he asks, “Your place or mine?”

Somehow, between one moment and the next, Jack is dragging David up the three steps into his townhouse, and as soon as the door is shut and locked with a distinct click, Jack has David pushed against the wall.

Distantly, David remembers leaving the bar- one owned by Jack’s friends, presumably, considering the fact that Antonio the Bartender and Mr. Redhead Bouncer Man both whistled when Jack escorted David out by the hand. He remembers walking down the block and turning left, and remembers the weight of Jack’s palm against his own; oddly intimate for the acts they’re about to commit, but welcome nonetheless.

But David doesn’t have time to think about that. Not as he places both hands on Jack’s cheeks and kisses him with all the passion he possesses.

Kissing Jack is exactly what David thought it would be: hot, hungry, competitive, fierce. Jack is strong, but within a few seconds, David has Jack backed against the front door, boxing the smaller man in with his arms.

“Oh, fuck,” Jack gasps as David kisses his neck, gently working the skin with just the barest bite of teeth.

David pulls back, glancing down into Jack’s dark eyes. “That’s the plan,” He says with a smirk, before diving back in to kiss Jack. It’s filthy, it’s fucking amazing, and Jack’s hands are in his hair and on his stomach and reaching around to grope his ass, pulling David ever closer.

“We need to- Bed,” Jack rasps out, but makes no move to leave the position; especially not when he leans up and begins his attack on the column of Davey’s throat. Thank God Sarah has extra makeup at David’s apartment; he’ll need it for work. Hannah might fire him on the spot if he walks into the library looking like a 'harlot'.

David taps Jack’s hip, and Jack seems to get the memo. Without breaking contact with David’s skin, Jack jumps and wraps his legs securely around David’s hips; David moans with the contact, bracing Jack with his hands as he blindly carries the man through the apartment. Had it been any other situation, David would have stopped to look around; he’s always been a sucker for interior design, and Jack has good taste.

But now, David only has one idea in mind.

Jack pulls away and gestures to a dark door, and as David opens it, he’s met with Jack’s bedroom, complete with red LED lights around the perimeter of the ceiling. How fitting, he thinks as he walks forward and all but throws Jack onto the bed. David kneels between Jack’s legs and undoes Jack’s belt with a skillful hand- he’s not at all new at this, he knows what he’s doing- and within seconds, David has Jack’s stupid, threadbare henley up and over his head, tossed precariously to a random corner of the bedroom.

Two things happen at once.

First, Jack sits up, looking more vulnerable than he’s looked during the entire night, and second, David notices the two faded surgical scars on either side of his chest, right beneath his pecs.

For a moment, everything is silent as David’s gaze flicks back to Jack’s face. He looks him again, scans his chest, and his toned stomach, and his hip bones that are jutting out under the waistband of his jeans. He's caught in his own head, stricken by how fucking hot Jack is shirtless, and he must be stuck for a few too many seconds, because--

Jack clears his throat, an awkward little sound, but one that catches David’s attention nonetheless. David looks back down and makes eye contact with Jack, who takes in a deep breath and asks, “This… Is this still alright?”

David raises a brow, and breathes, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Before Jack can respond, David pulls off his own shirt and tosses it to the side, then leans back down and kisses Jack. His hands fine Jack’s hips and he gives a harsh squeeze, which makes Jack gasp and hurry to undo the button and zipper of David’s jeans.

David doesn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, he pushes Jack down into the mattress, kissing his neck, then moving to his chest, his abs, trailing lower and lower with every movement, until Jack is panting, whining, begging, until Jack is raising his hips, until Jack is pushing his jeans down.

Until Jack is gasping for breath, thighs bracketing David’s head, moaning a mantra of, “God, yes, David, please, more, more, oh, fuck.”

***

“David! Nice to see ya, hun. Did you enjoy your weekend off?”

David looks over his shoulder as he shuts the front door. His boss, Hannah, is waving him up to the front; he walks to the counter and nods, smiling as he runs a hand through his hair. “I really needed it, yeah. Thank you, Han.”

“Sweetheart, if you ever need a break, you just let me know, okay?” She shoots him a pointed look, and smiles gently. “Go clock in, hun. We got a shipment in the back that needs to be sorted and shelved.”

“Yes, ma’am,” David responds with a grin. He drops off his leather messenger bag behind the front desk, then types his number into the keypad to clock in and log into his account. Once he’s done, David walks to the storage room in the back and stares at the piles of books in front of him.

With a smile, he grabs the first stack. Hannah called him a ‘strange boy’ once, for the very same reason. Apparently, her old employees here at Duane Street Library in downtown all hated sorting day with a passion, but David finds it relaxing. It puts him in a good mood.

Not that he needs this to be in a good mood after Friday night.

David’s hands flex around the spine of a book at the thought. God, he needs to get that out of his head. It’s been, what, two days since then, but he’s still thinking about... Jack. He needs to let go; it’s not like he’s ever going to see the guy again, right? David has no plans to go back to that bar; it was nice, but he only went because there was an event he wasn’t really interested in at the bar he usually goes to- a gay bar, with frequent drag shows and performers who know David by name. A bar that has Britney and Gaga blaring at all times, not one with classic rock.

But, well, that bar seemed like the perfect place for Jack No-Last-Name, and Jack No-Last-Name seemed to frequent it, so it’s highly unlikely that David is ever going to run into Jack No-Last-Name again. It’s a big city, and he’s just a guy from a one night stand that David desperately needed in order to give himself a release.

Figuratively and literally, he thinks.

Eugh. Gross.

Pushing Jack out of his mind, David starts stacking the books onto the rolling cart they keep in the corner. He tries to at least keep them organized- first by genre, then alphabetical- and once he has about forty books on the cart, he pulls it out into the main part of the building. He starts shelving the mystery section first; it’s closest to the storage room, and it’s fairly easy to figure everything out. This mystery section is fun; all of the book spines are hidden, as the books are shelved backwards, and the only tell is the initial of the author's name laminated on the shelves.

There is a sign next to the shelf that says, of course, if you’re looking for a specific book and don’t want to search, come find an employee, blah, blah, but for the most part their guests like this little fun thing they do. It is the mystery section, after all; it’s why they hide the titles, it’s why there’s a basket of books wrapped at the end, it’s why the wrapped books only have the author’s initials and a small, vague summary written on the back.

All very Pinterest-y ideas, but fun nonetheless.

Once all of those books are meticulously shelved, David moves onto nonfiction, and then fiction, and by the time he’s finished with A through G, he’s due for another trip back into storage. H through L follows, then M through Q, then R through Z. When he’s done with the actual alphabetized sections, he gets to start on the fun little pop-up sections throughout the library.

BookTok section; the books that TikTok has been raving about, as an effort to foster more online engagement.

Read with Pride; pride month section. Books about being queer, books about queer experiences, books with queer characters- the works.

Black Authors, Black Voices; a section that has been on display for a while, since the head of the Black Lives Matter movement, about anti-racism and being a better ally to marginalized communities.

There are a few more sections like this that he does; editing them, switching out new books in place of books that have lost traction, creating little fliers and informational cards for the tables… It’s all very nice, very niche, and very much David’s little ‘baby’- his special project. It’s why Hannah hired him; beforehand, she had been trying her hardest to modernize this little library, but she hadn’t been able to hit the nail on the head. In comes David Jacobs, a 24 year old college graduate/grad student with social media management experience and generalized knowledge of what ‘the youths’ are liking, needing a job to help pay his way through grad school…

Needless to say, Hannah basically lets David roam free and do what he needs to do. Of course, she checks off on everything he does, but the new layout and new areas and new ideas are all him.

And it’s working.

The activities that he’s coming up with are getting a lot of participation. Since coming in last year, David has been able to boost community engagement- which, in turn, boosted their annual funding, and they’ve been investing that money into upgrades. Better computers for the Media Center, better toys and activities and little knickknacks for the 'Kid’s Korner' section, better decor to make the library look more lively.

Hannah even mentioned bringing someone in to paint the kid’s section, and maybe even do a nice, Instagram-worthy mural in the Media Center, and--

“Oh, wonderful, you’re here early!”

At the sound of Hannah’s voice up front, David raises a brow. He’s near the back of the library now, and only has about ten more books to shelve, so he doesn’t bother going up to the front. He has a job to do anyway, so it’ll be fine. Distantly, though, he hears Hannah and someone laughing together, which makes David grin; Hannah is always laughing, either with someone or at someone. She’s sassy and snarky and kind of a bitch, but God, does David love her. He couldn’t imagine a better boss.

He focuses on the task at hand, deciding to take his time with it, just to let Hannah talk to whoever it is she’s talking to. Eventually, though, David pushes the cart back to the storage room and makes his way up to the front.

David rounds the corner with a smile and some pep in his step, though he stops in his tracks when he sees--

“David, this fine young man is gonna be painting our mural in the kids section!” Hannah says with a wide grin, and turns away from him. “This is David; he runs our Community Outreach programs and social media accounts, plus helps me with, y’know, sorting through the books,” Hannah explains.

She then turns to David, gesturing to the man next to her. “David, meet Jack Kelly. He’ll be in and out for the next few weeks.”

David and Jack finally make eye contact, and David sees the wide-eyed realization on Jack’s face.

“Hi,” David breathes, his hands clenching at his side.

Jack blinks. Hesitates, then raises his hand to wave. “...Hey.”

Hannah grins, and giggles between them as her hands clasp in front of her chest. “Oh, isn’t this just going to be great?”

That’s one way to put it, David thinks to himself, and by the flushed look on Jack’s face, he’s probably thinking the same damn thing.

[narcosmx]

dating chepe santacruz would include...

a/n: chepe was a straight up zaddy and as requested here we g O 

i’m torn with chepe because i can see him going for two different types of girls but very VERY distinct type

on the one hand, i can see him wanting a bad bitch that can like hold her own with or wirhout him

like i can see him getting hard seeing you tell someone off, being fiesty and biting back

like him smirking and encouraging you like “eso, mamita, dile. como me encanta cuando me sale cabrona mi bebe” and grabbing like the side of your head to bring you closer and kissing your temple

lives to see you work a gun; proudly smiles and nods in approval when he sees you point a gun at someone’s head, the way you beat the shit out of some asshole with the butt of your gun, putting your heels on the throat of some poor fucking sucker you have on the ground as you threaten to shoot his balls off

chepe would be fucking laughing, being like “oh no que muy macho, malparido hijo de puta”

and once your done with him whether it you or him that takes care of him chepe can’t keep his hands off of you like running his hands up and down your body, smacking your ass, groaning about how fucking hot it was

fucking you immediately afterwards, sorry about it

also would get a kick out of getting you all worked up, getting you encabronada to see the way you get up in his face about something, hissing at him and pushing your fingers into his fucking chest

likes seeing the fire burning in your eyes and just before you get too fucking mad he starts giving you besitos, like grabbing either side of your face and giving you this deep, rough kiss as he picks you up

so that’s one thing right having his little firecracker he can watch go off but i can also... low...key see him having like a babygirl like whether it be a sugar baby kind of thing or just having someone to be a cute little sub he can baby 

like someone that pouts up at him and does grabby hands at him and he can roll his eyes and pretend to be exasperated when he really just fucking lives for it 

pulling you into his lap, like you can’t walk past him without him grabbing your hand and pulling you atop of him 

gets home at night and gets this little smirk like “ya llego papi, donde esta mi bebe” and smiling as you like bound over to him and jump into his arms

lowkey loves taking you shopping because you turning around to look at him with a pout like silently asking if you can get it and chepe gets to flex and nod confidently, chuckling at the notion that you would even have to ask he’s like “mamacita, por dios, tu sabes que tu nomas escoges lo que te gusta’

the fucking smirk and low laugh he gets when you get bratty at him because 1) again you getting worked up makes him laugh and 2)he gets to put you right back in your spot

makes jokes about the age difference though, teases you about como te gustan los mayores, hm, bebe

him rubbing his mustache and stuble all over your face when he kisses you because he likes seeing the way you giggle and squirm 

um you know him rubbing it along your face and ....other.. parts of your body b y e 

i don’t know i like the idea of him comforting you; i just him cooing in that deep ass voice of his and like him wrapping your arms around him and swaying back and forth as he holds you 

he’d be one to cheer you up by making you laugh, lots of him nuzzling into you 

exploring new york together because fucking adorable, like imagine wanting to take him to go see tourist shit and the whole time he talks about how seeing your reaction to seeing landmarks is by far the best thing he’s seen all day 

like the way your face lights up when the ferry goes by the statue of librety, you’re like smacking at his arm as if he’s not seeing this and you’re just awestruck that’s what chepe lives for 

i can see this scene where idk you’re being clingy or needy and you don’t want to let him go for the day, whimpering about how come you can’t go eventhough you already know why

and him like putting hands on either side of your head and kissing your forehead before giving you like a fat stack of money and being like “vete a comprarte algo bonito pa cuando viene papi del trabajo, hm. 

i just chepe defending you or like protecting you 

i’m just imagining like something happened; doesn’t even have to be something fucking big could be something minor as fuck like someone bumping into you harshly and telling them to watch where you’re going oof 

the face he makes turning around like que dijiste hijo de puta and grabbing this guy and beating the shit out of him 

chepe beating someone up is like beating them to a pulp and then lowkey mocking them as they apologize to him 

and chepe being like no me pides perdon a mi, marica, vos pidele perdon a mi mujer

lowkey that power trip of chepe holding up this guy as he frantically apologizes to you must be intoxicating as fuck

i get big ol teddy bear vibes from chepe he gives the best bear hugs and no one can fucking tell me otherwise like pick you up off the ground and squish you hugs 

but also heart eyes because chepe as a dad has me giggling how fucking adorable  would that be wow 

[darlingpetao3]

The Conference (Harry Wells x Reader)

Rating: M (Smut)

Summary: As his personal assistant, you accompany Harrison to a Science and Technology conference in Star City. You’re great at your job, though sometimes it can be difficult seeing as you’re attracted to your boss, no matter how much you try to repress your feelings. But when a series of mishaps occur while at the conference, you can’t help but fall harder for Harrison. Does he feel the same way? The world certainly starts to believe so...

A/N: Okay, so this seriously might just be one of my favourite things I’ve done in a long time. I had so much I wanted to do with this story, so it’s ended up with a word count of 5,631. I’m imagining this taking place on Earth-2 before Harry met Team Flash. I really hope you all enjoy this!

Tag List: @blogforhoes​

It’s been a few years since Star City has held its world-renowned Science and Technology Association Rendezvous conference (you think someone had to stretch to make the conference coincide with the theme of the city), but that time has returned. In fact, that’s where you’re headed now from the airport - to the hotel where the conference is to be held, luggage in tow.

Your fingers fly across your phone as you handle a few more work emails in the town car you’re sharing with your boss. You try not to look anywhere else because you feel the eyes of Harrison Wells watching you. Yes, working as the world’s-greatest-mind’s personal assistant can be intimidating, but that’s not the reason you’re mentally jittery.

It didn’t necessarily start out this way - having a deadly liability of a crush on the man - but it happened regardless. Spending the amount of time you do with Harrison Wells was bound to show his true nature. Not the front he puts up for his other employees, or the other one he hides behind while speaking to adoring and captivated crowds. You know the real Harrison Wells, even though you’re positive he would deny it until the end of his days.

“You should put that away,” he says eventually, making you look up now. “Enjoy yourself a bit while you’re here.”

“But then I wouldn’t be doing my job,” you counter, “a job you pay me to do.”

“Do you want me to pay you not to do your job?”

Why does this sound vaguely like flirting? You need to not imagine these kinds of things because that road will only lead to getting fired.

You sigh. “Okay, I promise not to work so much this weekend. But if for some reason your schedule gets screwed up, or you aren’t informed on some major deal, it’s not my fault.”

Harrison hums. “Duly noted.”

The car soon pulls up to the lobby doors of the Starling Grand Hotel. The driver helps you both with your luggage and point you in the direction of the front desk. On your short trek into the hotel, there are a series of camera flashes and shouts of “Harrison!” and “Doctor Wells, over here!”

The pair of you keep walking, but the man of the hour gives a polite wave. You think you’d be used to working for a celebrity of technology, but it has never gone away. At least you manage to keep it professional on the outside.

Once at the reception desk, you tell the hotel employee your name to confirm your reservation, only to receive a strange look from the person.

“I’m sorry, we had a system failure the other day, and I must inform you that your reservation has been reduced to one room for the two nights.”

“Excuse me?” you ask, feeling a ferocious fire igniting in your blood. Definitely because Harrison does not deserve to be reduced to anything and not because you’d now be sharing a room with Harrison Wells, supreme crush number one.

“We apologize, truly, but there are no other rooms available at this time, what with the conference happening this weekend.”

Um, DUH, that’s why we’re here!

“But we’ve included a few extra favours on us in your room as a-”

“-I’m sorry, but do you know who this is?” You gesture to your boss behind you, who appears calm, cool, and collected through this whole debacle. “THIS IS HARRISON FREAKING WELLS!” you shout. “He deserves his own freaking room!”

Harrison’s hand finds your shoulder.

“(Y/N), it’s okay,” he says. “It’s okay, really.” Harrison takes the room key from the employee, offering her a kind and apologetic smile. “Thank you.”

He guides you away from the desk to the elevators with a hand on your back all the way there. While you’d think an action such as this from your boss would cause a fiery hole to rupture through your entire body, it actually calms you instead. It’s like his touch has extinguished the flame of rage you had felt mere moments ago.

Neither of you utters a word until the elevator doors close. The corner of Harrison’s lip tugs upwards slightly.

“Go on,” you tell him, “say it.”

“You’re very passionate.”

“I just believe a man of your stature should have his own damn hotel room. At the very least.”

“So, it has nothing to do with sharing a hotel room with your direct superior?” he teases. You pull out your phone to scroll on as a distraction.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I never have, nor do I ever plan to be ridiculous.”

The elevator dings once you reach your floor. Harrison motions with a hand to allow you to leave first. You hike up the strap of your bag on your shoulder and head out to find your shared room.

It’ll be fine, it’s fine — All fine.

Alright, 1545, here we are.

You unlock the door with the key card, hearing the click. But as you push the door open, you drop your bag, and subsequently, your jaw.

Not fine, not fine, not fine.

Harrison tries to move past you, but accidentally trips on the handle of your bag and topples over, hitting his stomach to the floor with an “oof”!

He squints ahead.

“Is that… one bed?” he wonders aloud.

“Yup.”

Harrison gets up, immediately looking from the bed to you. He probably senses your unease, but you seriously hope he doesn’t catch on as to why. Sleeping in the same bed as the man you work for and have a huge thing for? You’d fantasized about such a situation before, just not like this and not so abruptly.

“I’ll go talk to the front desk,” he assures you. “If there’s nothing we can do, we’ll go somewhere else.”

“No, you know what?” you say at last. “We’re adults here, right? It will only be a big deal if we make it that way. It’s just sleep.”

Harrison nods slowly, his Adam’s apple bobs. “You make a fair point.”

“Besides, you don’t have much time before your keynote address tonight. It would be best to start getting settled and ready here.”

His smile at your practicality makes your heart flutter.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he says. You toss your bag into the chair in the corner.

“I don’t know either, Sir. Dibs on the right side.”

***

It took a little while to figure out who would use the bathroom to get ready first, and of course there were moments of awkwardness. You never knew how ga-ga you would get when you watched Harrison pop out his shirt collar, tie his tie, and straighten his cuffs.

Those small actions shouldn’t make you want to jump him then and there, and yet here you are with these feelings a PA shouldn’t have for their boss.

You decide to wear your slimming black dress for tonight’s keynote address. And no, it’s not because Harrison loves black, you tell yourself. It’s because it’s classy and sophisticated, and you’ll blend right into the background.

When you step out of the bathroom, all ready to face the crowds, Harrison looks up and immediately drops his phone at the sight of you.

“Are you… all set?” you ask him. Harrison retrieves his phone and straightens himself.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am… You look-”

“-And you.”

There’s a beat of more awkwardness. You tuck a fallen strand of hair behind your ear.

“Right, so, shall we…?” you say.

“Yup, yes, let’s,” he agrees.

You never expected to essentially be Harrison’s bodyguard as well this weekend. Nearly every person you meet along the way to the auditorium wants to talk to him, ask him a question, want a piece of him. Yeah, well, get in line. You quite literally need to hold them back so that he’ll get to the stage on time. It would not look good if this man was late to the kick-off of the whole conference weekend.

But alas, the two of you make it with a few minutes to spare. On stage right, you make sure his suit has no wrinkles, no stains, hair is perfect — all in a day's work.

“My speech…” Harrison mumbles, patting his chest and checking his pockets. “I had it… here? Where…”

He’s so cute when he gets like this, you dare to let the thought flicker in your mind. You whip out the piece of paper and show it to him. The man of the hour exhales in relief.

“What would I-?”

“-Do without me?” You grin, loving whenever he brings this up, and hand him the speech. Your fingers brush momentarily, and you clear your throat instead of the squeak-whine that wanted to come out. What is with me today? “Now go on, get out there and give those people a keynote to remember.”

Harrison lingers a moment before shaking the paper gently in his grasp. His eyes twinkle with thanks before stepping out into the spotlight. You inch as close as you can to the side of the stage and watch behind the curtain. Applause erupts from the auditorium - an ocean of onlookers, cameras, and lights.

And there’s that smile.

It’s times like these that you can selfishly admire Harrison in his element, talking about what brings him the greatest of joys. You’re glad of the suit he chose for this event - a classic midnight-black suit with a crisp white shirt. It’s subtle and powerful and perfectly Harrison.

“Good evening, fellow colleagues,” he greets the room. “For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Harrison Wells, and it is a great honour to have been asked to speak tonight.”

More cheers.

“Additionally, it is an equally great honour to be in this room with all of you, for each of you have the drive and dreams to create a better future for the world. And with your help, I believe the future will be here faster than you think.”

That’s it.

There’s no denying it.

You really are falling in love with your boss.

***

You and Harrison stand beside one another, shoulder to shoulder in your pyjamas, staring straight down at the damn hotel bed. He wears an aged heather-grey Central City University T-shirt and black sweatpants and it’s almost too much for you. Seeing the man in an expensively tailored suit is one thing, but having to witness Harrison Wells in casual clothing - the kind he sleeps in…

Somebody save me.

You feel utterly self-conscious in your lacy sleepwear, which is all you brought for the trip. It was a recent purchase, of the “treat yourself” variety, and no one was actually supposed to see you in it. Let alone your boss.

Harrison clears his throat. “Should we go to bed? I mean sleep. Should we go to sleep?” His face burns red, undoubtedly at the humiliation of having to sleep in the same direct vicinity as a subordinate. Oh, the horror.

You turn towards the man, but don’t look him in the eye.

“Probably for the best, yeah.”

The two of you pull back the blanket and get under it together, albeit at a “safe” distance from each other.

“Well… goodnight,” Harrison says to you, his face staring straight up at the ceiling.

“Goodnight,” you whisper, also finding the ceiling highly intriguing.

This was going to be a long night.

***

Something feels… different.

It’s like there’s an extra weight on your pillow-?

Holy Lord.

It would seem that Harrison, in his sleep, has moved over to your side of the bed. Your heads now share the same pillow. The smell of purely him overtakes your senses. His breath warms your ear. He is so incredibly close to you right now that you can feel him inhaling and exhaling, his chest rising and falling.

Is that his heartbeat or yours?

You may be going into cardiac arrest.

Ever so carefully, you turn your head the tiniest bit to see him sleeping peacefully like an angel. Your heart races like it never has before in your entire life. It's like it's going to burst out of your chest and run out of the room screaming. And your breathing! You think you seriously do need CPR. Your breaths are horribly uneven and hitched and are impossible to control and your worst fear at this moment is Harrison waking up to find you in this awful and embarrassing state.

How could I ever explain to him that this freak-out is all his fault because he was basically spooning me without even knowing it?

You somehow manage to drift off a little while after your near heart-attack until you later feel something nudge your leg.

Oh for goodness sake, it's his leg.

And how is it possible that your bodies seem even closer? God, I can't run away from my feelings for him if I tried, can I?

So naturally, now your leg decides that it wants to start hurting. It's going numb. Am I sleeping on it weird? You don't know anymore. What is up with your entire body trying to attack and hurt you tonight? 

You think that if you move your leg or your body at all right now, Harrison will wake up, see this position you’re both in and distance himself from you. And as much as your love/hate relationship with this closeness is, you don't want him to…

Ultimately, though, you can't handle the numbness in your leg, so you’re going to have to opt-out for a more comfortable sleeping position. You turn insanely slowly on your side, now facing the bathroom and your back to your boss.

Oh shit, he’s stirring.

And then it happens.

His hand finds your hip.

But only for seven glorious seconds.

You feel Harrison freeze and retract his hand. It’s almost as if you can see him through the back of your head - him assessing the situation and pulling back. He moves over - far, far away and back to his side of the bed.

The other side of the universe.

***

After Harrison spent the rest of the night on his side of the bed, you somehow managed to settle down and got your heart rate to return to a relatively normal state.

Presently, you work on your hair near the mirror by the hotel desk. Harrison walks past you. Neither of you has said much to each other this morning. You don’t want to bring up the incident. Clearly, he doesn’t either.

“Sleep well?” he asks.

Ha! I almost died in my sleep!

“Yes, thanks,” you reply instead. “You?”

“Yeah, good.” He clears his throat and shuffles towards the door. His hair is sticking up at all ends and you wish you had something to do with that look, but alas, you had no part in it. He wanders back with the newspaper that had been placed outside the room. He freezes in place.

“What?” you ask, frowning.

He hesitates. “Nothing,” Harrison claims but then throws the paper in the recycling. “I’m going to get ready. Long day today.”

As soon as Harrison grabs his necessities and retreats to the bathroom, you rush over to retrieve the newspaper to see what threw him off. After un-crinkling The Star City Star (honestly, this city…) you read the headline:

Is Central City’s Doctor Harrison Wells Dating His Personal Assistant?

“WHAT?” you whisper-shout. Your eyes scan below at the write-up where the author speculates further on whether you and your boss are secretly dating. There are two photos beside the article, too - black and white, zoomed-in images. The first is the moment when Harrison’s fingers touched yours when you passed him the speech backstage. The way you two are looking at each other… Is that how it really looks? If it weren’t you in this picture, you would believe these two were dating for sure.

The second photo beside the first is zoomed-in on you. Only you. You’re standing at the side of the stage, looking on as Harrison delivers his speech. There’s no visible doctoring of the photo, so you know that’s genuinely how you appeared last night: giving the scientist enormous heart eyes. It’s so plainly evident in your photographed face how you feel about him. And now all of Star City knows.

You pause.

Harrison saw this.

He chucked this newspaper in the bin and retreated without a further word on the matter.

You think you might be sick.

***

It took a little longer than you’d plan to get ready, but seeing as there were two of you, you should have factored that into the schedule. You rush out into the corridor when Harrison says, “You’re a little…”

“What?” you look down at yourself to find your shirt is not fully tucked into your skirt. “Oh, thanks.” Harrison closes the room’s door while you adjust accordingly.

Just a short way down the corridor, you hear whispering. Looking up, you see a woman saying something to a man in a hushed voice. They scurry into the elevator.

That… can’t be good.

Imagine how this looks - catching a woman adjusting herself after stepping out of the same hotel room as Central City’s hottest commodity.

You draw breath to remain calm and push the worry down.

“Alright, let’s go.”

***

Harrison is on his phone while he waits for the panel to start, but after not even a minute, he quickly puts it away. He then holds out his hand to you. “Hand me your phone.”

“Why?”

“I’m making sure you don’t work too much while you’re here. Take it all in and what have you.”

You sigh, half-wondering why he’s brought you along if you’re not meant to be doing your job. Oh well. Maybe it'll be fun without your phone?

“Boss’ orders,” you concede. Relinquishing your phone to Harrison brings a smile to his face. Eventually, you leave him to speak amongst the rest of the panel and stand at the back of the room. This is much farther away from the cameras and journalists, who are trying to move as close as they can to the table to capture the perfect shots of Harrison and his fellow innovators on this panel.

Wells, McGee, Stein, Palmer, Smoak, and Brand.

Needless to say, the room was packed.

Afterwards, you usher Harrison out the side exit of the room instead of the main entryway. It was blocked up with conference-goers. There would be no way out otherwise.

Lunch is next on the schedule, thank God. You barely had anything to eat after leaving the hotel room, so you are ready to stuff your face.

Daintily, obviously. You save the savage-eating for the comfort of your own home.

The conference coordinators hired the best catering service, in your opinion. You would literally lick your plate if you were not continuously stared at for being in the constant presence of Harrison Wells. During the lunch hour, several people had come up to the man himself, whether they be fans, old colleagues, or people searching for funding, just for a moment of his time and attention. And while this happens quite a lot generally, for some reason it irks you today.

Why can’t they just leave him alone?

And then- why can’t I just have him to myself?

You quickly bury that thought away.

As the time gets closer to Harrison’s scheduled board meeting, you have to figuratively fight off the hoards of people to get him there on time, not without a series of frowns and scowls from them. Screw them. I’ve got a job to do.

Harrison graciously thanks everyone in passing and mentions how he hopes to hear from them again. When you finally reach the designated meeting room, you stop and say to him, “I can’t help but feel I’m the Bad Cop and you’re the Good Cop, here.”

“Someone has to be.” He laughs a little, and you find it contagious. You meet his eyes for a brief moment, but break the contact, letting your eyes fall to his chest.

“Oh dear.” You reach into your bag.

“What is it?” he asks. You show him your handy-dandy detergent-to-go stick.

“You have a little…” Instantly, you begin to dab and swirl the applicator to the small stain on his white shirt around his right pectoral area. Your free hand rests flat against his left. He’s so fit underneath these clothes, though you’ve never actually seen proof of it. Not even after sharing that room last night.

The entire time, Harrison watches you - watches your hand make the mark vanish from the fabric. He is silent, save for his breathing, which you can also feel as his chest moves up and down under your hands.

“There,” you say weakly.

“Thank you,” he replies quietly.

You’re still touching him, and once you register this, you take your hands off of him like you’ve been burned.

“Have a good meeting. I’ll meet you back here when it’s over.”

“Thank you, great, yes.”

“Okay.”

“Alright.”

You take your leave, daring not to look back, no matter how much you want to. It isn’t until you make it into the lobby that you realize your boss still has your phone in his pocket.

Welp.

***

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” you apologize breathlessly while running towards Harrison in your bare feet with your heels in your hand.

He stands outside the meeting room doors. His eyes are wide and round upon seeing you, and that may be a smile tugging at his lips, but it’s hard to tell at the speed you’re rushing.

“I lost track of time, and you still have my-”

He shows your phone to you.

“Yeah, that.”

After a short moment of catching your breath, you slip on your first heel, but the second proves more difficult in your tiredness. You just about fall over.

“Here, let me help,” he offers—what a gentleman. You balance on your one heeled shoe, with assistance from his wonderful, wonderful arms as you slip on your other one. You think his arm flexes when you clutch onto it.

“Whoa,” he says as you wobble a bit, but he has you.

And boy, does he have you.

“You okay?”

“Mmhmm,” you hum and nod, not trusting your words. “We better head back to the room if we want to get ready for the banquet.”

He hands you your phone.

“Then, by all means, (Y/N), lead the way.”

***

You seriously need to stop thinking about how he said your name.

It was like a near-whisper. Like a secret. A secret you could try to decipher for hours, months, years, and never learn the true meaning because that was the enigma that is Harrison Wells.

Once back in the hotel room, you pull out your phone, at last, to catch up on what you’ve missed today.

Emails regarding in-development contracts.

Requests for funding.

Meetings to coordinate with Harrison’s schedule.

Junk, spam, email forwards, more junk.

And…

What.

The.

Actual.

F-

You make a noise similar to one you might make if you were drowning. In your inbox are a series of emails featuring various blog posts sent from familiar names within the company. All of these posts have one thing in common.

The speculative nature of whether you and Harrison Wells are an item.

Candid photos, inside scoop, rumours and catty gossip, there’s so much of it!

Pictures of you and him at lunch, you removing his stain, even him helping you in your heels not that long ago! What the hell? Who are these super spies?

There’s even an adamant blog poster insisting you’re sleeping with him because she claimed to have caught the two of you leaving the same hotel room and fixing your…

Oh God. This is bad.

Harrison turns around to you, now noticing that you’ve been incredibly silent and haven’t moved from your spot. His tie is significantly loosened, and it is not helping.

“Is something wrong? Is it the company?” he asks you. “Did someone blow up another prototype of the-”

You shove your phone in his face and look away. This cannot be happening. You just want to disintegrate out of humiliation.

“Well, then…” is all he has to say. He loosens his tie a bit more. “This is…”

“This is ludicrous, that’s what it is!” You start to feel the sheer indignation rise within you, for the both of you. “I’ll have every one of them all take these posts down, I promise. I am so sorry this is happening. People apparently have nothing better to do with their lives.”

“It’s fine, (Y/N), you know it’s not your fault,” Harrison says, calmer than you’d ever have expected. 

“I know, but it’s just still so wrong, all these lies.”

There’s a pause.

“...What if it were true?” he asks.

“What?”

“What if it were true?” he repeats, shifting in place and massaging the back of his neck. “You and I? Would that be something you’d be interested in? With me?”

He did not just ask that.

Did he?

“I- I mean, we can’t,” you fumble for what to say. “Even if I wanted to- if we wanted… I work for you.”

Harrison takes an unexpected large step forward. “Forget that for a second. Have you ever wanted this? Do you currently want this?” He gestures between you both. You swallow hard, bracing yourself.

“I do, yes,” you confess. Harrison smiles and moves yet another step closer. “But it’s not professional. You, Harrison Wells, cannot date your personal assistant, no matter how much I...”

Oxygen has stopped circulating to your lungs. Time is suspended. The man looms over you, biting his lip to keep from smiling too much.

“Then you’re fired,” he says, only before taking your cheek in his hand and pressing his soft and smooth lips your yours.

Angels sing in a chorus, you’re convinced.

Harrison pulls away to examine your reaction, carefully taking in your fluttering lashes and still-puckered lips.

“You’re rehired,” he tells you, seriously.

You barely get the words “I quit” out before you’ve attacked his mouth again, officially throwing care to the wind. You’re desperate to feel those lips again, they’re like your dreams, repressed or otherwise, come true. His hands grip your waist to hold you close to him, while your own lock around his neck.

Now it’s you who pulls back.

“Can I have my job back?”

“Not yet.”

Harrison spins you ninety degrees and presses you against the wall. A gasp leaves your throat, followed by a profoundly pleased noise of pleasure. Harrison’s hands wander from their caress of your cheeks, down your sides, brushing against your breasts as they do. His mouth does some wandering of its own - venturing down to the side of your neck.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening…” you say breathlessly to the spackled ceiling, feeling each nip of his lips on your burning skin. Every part of your body is on fire. Your lips, your limbs, your blood.

At your words, Harrison stops and searches your eyes.

“I need you to be clear with me if you want this to continue,” he says, “if not-”

“-Please, please, for the love of God, Harrison, continue.”

Impatience and desperate heat take hold of your actions. You start to undo the buttons on his shirt. When he slips it down his arms, you swallow the gasp that almost squeaked past your lips.

His. Arms. 

You’ve never seen your boss’ arms like this - completely bare and muscular and perfectly toned. These arms held you up earlier, and now you can’t help but imagine them holding you in the throes of passion.

And you may find this out very soon...

With one swift movement, Harrison has his undershirt off in no time at all and it’s kind of a miracle you haven’t collapsed to the ground. Is your mouth open? Probably. He hides that body under those suits? What a shame to keep it hidden… but then again, you’re glad. You get to see it now. Just you.

Your fingers trace the lines of his stomach muscles, captivated. You follow the lines down until they disappear under his black slacks.

But he interrupts your tracings when he starts to take off your shirt. This time, you’re ecstatic at it being untucked from your skirt. You shimmy out of that too. All these clothes are starting to become a real pain. A nuisance. A hindrance.

You’re now concerned with his black trousers still on him, belt and all. Your fingers automatically show him their keen interest and begin to unbuckle his belt, the sound of the metal clanging is music to your ears. You exhale shakily at the sight of him growing more erect before your very eyes.

You can’t help but chuckle, “We’re going to be late for the banquet dinner.”

Harrison stares at you with lust-filled, black eyes, staring you down in your bra and panties.

“Fuck the banquet dinner.”

He leads you towards the bed - the bed that had initially been your enemy. Now it’s your friend. The scientist lowers you down to your back, all the while crawling with you back up towards the pillows. Harrison hovers over you, scanning every part of you, downloading every curve and dip and line of your body. He plants a kiss to your stomach.

“So beautiful,” he breathes, working his way up with his lips, “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

“Me too,” you squeak. “But there’s just one thing…”

Harrison lifts his head from the valley of your breasts and raises an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

“You’re going the wrong way.”

It takes a second for him to understand.

The corners of his lips curl up when he does, and snakes back down your body, peppering kisses all the way.

“I’ve dreamt about this, you know,” you divulge, suddenly realizing that someone having witchcraft in their lips is a real concept. These special people make you spill your secrets.

“Is that so?”

Harrison’s slender fingers slowly pull your panties down your legs and discard them to the floor. You nod vigorously the closer his face moves forward to your wet heat. His tongue darts out to wet his lips. You swallow.

“What a coincidence,” he says, “I’ve imagined this in my head about a hundred times.”

His breath on you has you in a hot sweat.

“Only a hundred?” you hear yourself say. Harrison responds by licking a stripe upwards. Your legs tense and you let your head hit the pillow. He grips your hips and pulls you closer to his mouth. It’s wild - the same mouth that is so eloquent in delivering speeches to hundreds of people is equally talented in what it’s doing to you right now.

Kisses, licks, swirls, and dives.

You are utterly at this man’s mercy.

You always have been.

“More,” you tell him, as a general plea. Just more of everything. All of it. “More. Don’t stop.”

He hums his reply, face buried deep.

It’s encroaching quickly on you - your climax. Your hand finds his hair, soft and silky and now perfectly ruined by your desperate fingers. Simultaneously, you grind your hips up to his mouth and hold his head to you. He’s devouring you until there will be absolutely nothing left of you.

You hit your peak, and you’re falling. Falling hard.

In a couple different ways.

***

It’s the middle of the night, or rather the early-early morning.  After a night of much lovemaking, you lay there in bed, pressed against Harrison with your hand on his chest, which has only just returned to its regular rise and fall. You trace random lines on his skin. He holds you with a sort of protectiveness. You never want him to let go.

“A bit too late for that dinner, huh?” you say.

Harrison’s laugh vibrates through you and sends a shiver down your spine. Those good kinds of shivers. “We could order something,” he suggests.

“It’s three in the morning.”

“It’ll be no problem,” he assures you.

“Actually, there is a problem,” you mention.

“Which would be…?”

“I don’t ever want to move.” This moment is just so perfect that either one of you moving feels as if it would shatter it. “I don’t think I can, anyway,” you add playfully. That earns you another laugh. Harrison takes your hand in his to rest on his stomach.

“So… I’m just wondering. What does this mean for us now?” you dare to ask the big, mountainous question. “I can’t work for you if this is going to continue, you know.”

“I know,” he says quietly. “Which is quite terrible, really, because you are the best assistant I’ve ever had.” It’s your turn to giggle. “I’m sorry,” Harrison continues. You look at him straight on.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because you’re now out of a job and I’m to blame.”

“Trust me, it’s not just you. It takes two to do the horizontal tango. And besides, I couldn’t be an assistant for the rest of my life anyway. No matter how perfectly amazing my boss is. I’ll find something else. Something I love to do.”

“That’s what I love about you-” he stops dead in his sentence. His hand tenses around yours at his confession. You can’t believe his words.

“Did you really just…?” you ask, needing to know for sure if you did hear that word correctly.

“I apologize, (Y/N), I know it’s probably-” You stop Harrison from his unnecessary apology with a deep kiss and crawl on top of him to straddle him. His hand runs up your back and down again. “Firing you was the best thing I ever did,” he sighs.

“And quitting was mine.”

~

A/N2: I have to disclose that the ‘you’re hired/rehired etc’ moment is actually taken from my favourite Ed episode (S03E17 “Captain Lucidity”). I just felt like it was so incredibly perfect (both in general and for this story) and I swoon every time at that scene. But yes, I did take a page straight out of Rob Burnett and Jon Beckerman’s book with that one. Those damn geniuses.

Anon Request: Hi i think I can still request so.. Harry and reader(his PA/ a scientist at star labs) go to a science conference thing out of town. they have to spend the night at the same hotel room ( maybe busy days so rooms are already occupied or something). Things get.. spicy between them. Both ends up in a relationship(optinal). Smut! AND I LOVE YOUR WORKS!!!

[thelastspeecher]

D&D AU - Elf Kid Adventures

Hhhh I wanted to post this a couple days ago but work was busy af this week and I didn’t have the time nor energy to finish it up until today.  But here it is.  Some upbeat cheerful cute stuff to go with the good mood many of us are in tonight.  Have some adorable smol content in my D&D AU (where, for context, the McGuckets are elves and Stan is half-orc and half-elf), discover what Stan is short for in this AU, and join Stan as he realizes that he might be crushing on a member of his party.  (Hint: Stan isn’t short for Stanley.)

Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

              The sudden burst of light that had accompanied the defeat of the necromancer faded.  Stan rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of the afterimages.

              My hands feel…softer than usual.  He opened his eyes to look at his hands. His jaw dropped.  Shit.  Before Lute or Angie could see him, Stan hurriedly ducked behind a nearby boulder and looked himself over.  What’s the damage here?  One thing was for sure.  He was a lot smaller and skinnier than he had been a moment ago.  Dread built in his gut.

              A lock of red hair fell in front of his eyes.

              “Oh, fuck,” he whispered.  Spotting a puddle of water, Stan rushed over.  “Gods, no!”  The boy staring back at him wasn’t the rugged orcish man of mere minutes ago. “No,” Stan whined.  His reflection was skinny and gap-toothed, with wide golden eyes and freckles of the same color spilling across his cheeks.  Rambunctious red curls framed his cherubic face.  

              Stan continued to stare, distressed, at his reflection.  As an adult, there were only three things to suggest one of his parents was an elf: his pale skin, his golden eyes, and his long, pointed ears.  Normally, said ears were hidden by his hair, but now, they stuck out of his fiery locks.  No matter how hard he looked, Stan couldn’t find a single remnant of his orcish heritage, not even his pride and joy – his tusks.  

              I’m probably around twelve, then.  They started growing in when I was thirteen. Stan carefully probed around his mouth with his tongue, confirming that his tusks hadn’t come in.  I forgot just how much I used to look like Mom. If Stan didn’t know any better, he’d say the boy staring at him was a full elf.  Angie and Lute could probably tell, though.  Since they’re actually full elves.

              “Stan?”

              Speaking of…  Stan closed his eyes.

              “Yeah?” he called back.

              “Are ya okay?”  The voice was higher than usual, but sounded like it was probably Angie.

              “I’m fine.  I’m just gonna stay here.”

              “We have to regroup and figure out our next move,” Angie said, being annoyingly logical.  Stan groaned.

              “Fine, but don’t say anything, okay?”  He took a deep breath, then emerged from behind the boulder.  The second Angie and Lute laid eyes on him, their mouths dropped open in shock.

              “Yer a ginger,” Lute said flatly.  At least, Stan thought the boy who looked the equivalent of a six-year-old human was Lute.  The mop of dark hair covering his eyes made it a bit difficult to know for sure. “Do ya dye yer hair or somethin’?”

              “No, it got darker when I got older.  I look more like my Pops now, but I used to look like my Mom.”

              “I’ll say,” remarked the girl that was presumably Angie.  She walked over and looked Stan up and down.  “You look full sun elf.”  Stan’s heart did a strange backflip.

              “…Really?”

              “Oh, yeah.”

              “So, what exactly happened?” Stan asked, eager to change the topic away from his appearance.  Angie sighed.

              “I don’t rightly know.  I took down the necromancer, reversin’ him stealin’ our life force.  But I ain’t sure why it had this effect.”

    ��         “You don’t know why we wound up twelve, and Lute wound up six, then?” Stan asked.  Lute turned red.

              “I’m still technically older ‘n ya,” Lute protested, marching over.  Angie put a hand on top of her brother’s head, quieting him.

              “Yes, Stan, we are both the equivalent of twelve-year-old humans, while Lute has become the equivalent of…”  Angie looked down at Lute.  “Honestly, a bit younger than ya first guessed.  Five years old, I think.”  Lute’s jaw dropped.  Stan snickered.  “Lute was closer to the necromancer than we were.  Maybe that was an influence?”

              “Whatever happened, I’m just glad our clothes shrunk with us,” Lute muttered.  He rubbed his eyes.  “Oof, I’m tired.”

              “You can ride on Daisy while we travel,” Angie suggested.  She whistled, and her wolf marched over.  “She’s big enough to support ya.”

              “Sounds great,” Stan interjected.  “But where are we traveling to?”  Angie and Lute looked at each other.

              “Ma ‘n Pa?” Lute suggested.  Angie nodded slowly.

              “I think they’re our best bet.  They have centuries of experience in multiple fields of magic, after all.”  Angie smiled. Stan’s heart did another backflip. “And we didn’t head too far from ‘em when we set up our station.  So’s it won’t take too long to get there.  If we don’t run into any problems, we should get there ‘fore nightfall.” Stan scoffed.

              “We’re gonna run into problems.  We’re fucking kids!” he said dismissively.  Lute nodded.

              “Fer once, I agree with Stan.”

-----

              Lute snored softly from his perch atop Daisy. Angie looked ready to pass out as well. Stan didn’t feel much more awake himself.  He dragged his feet down the path supposedly leading to the elf settlement near the McGucket farmstead.

              So much for getting there before nightfall. If that hag hadn’t slowed us down… Stan yawned.  During their trip to the settlement, they had stumbled across an old lady who promised to help them.  Lute, younger and tired, had convinced Stan they could trust the woman. But they soon found out they couldn’t, and after an exhausting fight, they’d barely managed to escape.

              “The sun’s startin’ to rise,” Angie mumbled.  She rubbed her eyes.  Sure enough, the forest around them was beginning to lighten as the sun peeked over the horizon.  “We stayed up the whole night.”

              “‘We’?” Stan scoffed.  “You guys fell asleep at that lady’s house.  I’m the only who hasn’t had a second of shuteye.”  Suddenly, a man melted out of the woods.  Stan took an instinctive step back.

              “Children, what business do you have here?” the man asked in crisp Elvish.  Angie stepped forward.

              “Lenny-” she started.  The man’s eyes widened.  He walked over to Angie and crouched down.  Much like Lute and Angie, he had copper skin.  His dark hair was pulled into a ponytail, revealing his long, pointed ears.

              “Banjoleanna McGucket?” Lenny asked, aghast.  Angie nodded.  “You look less than a century old!”

              “Lute’s less than half of one,” Angie said, nodding at Lute sleeping on Daisy.  Lenny looked over at Daisy.  His eyes widened even further.  In the dim light, they faintly glowed green.  “We were cursed.  All three of us.”

              “Three?”  Lenny’s gaze fell on Stan, who was still eyeing the strange wood elf warily. “Ah.  I assume yer not s’pposed to be a child, either?”  He had the same accent Angie and Lute did.

              Must be a local thing.  Stan nodded.

              “I’d certainly hope so.  No proper parent would let their young son wander the woods at night.”  Lenny walked over to Stan and tilted his chin to look more closely at him.  Stan allowed it to happen.

              I’m too tired to bother protesting.  Lenny raised an eyebrow.

              “Hmm.  We don’t often see sun elf nobility around here.”

              “What do you-” Stan started.

              “I’ve spent time with our mannered cousins.  I know noble sun eyes when I see ‘em. What’s yer name?”

              “Stanaximus,” Stan mumbled, giving his full, elvish name. Lenny picked Lute up off Daisy. Lute continued to sleep.

              “Stanaximus, Banjoleanna, follow me to a place where you can rest.  While ya sleep, I’ll contact the McGuckets.”  Lenny walked away.  Stan and Angie quickly followed.  Angie nudged Stan.

              “What?” Stan hissed.

              “Why didn’t ya say you were half-orc?” she whispered.

              “I don’t look like it.  By the way, what kind of name is ‘Lenny’ for an elf?”

              “It’s short fer Leandreas.”  Angie frowned at Stan.  “Yer really goin’ to keep yer orc parentage under wraps?”

              “Yeah.  At least, until we’re not surrounded by elves.”

-----

              Stan’s eyes slowly drifted open.  He wasn’t in the same room he’d fallen asleep in. Panicked, he sat bolt upright. He, Angie, and Lute had fallen asleep at the guardhouse Lenny brought them to.  Now, though, he was in what was clearly a bedroom.

              “Oh, perfect timing!” a voice chirped.  Stan looked at the entryway to the room.  A wood elf man stood there, beaming at Stan.

              Judging by his nose and that he looks just like Lute, this must be Mr. McGucket.  Stan swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

              “Stanaximus, right?” Mr. McGucket asked.

              “I, uh, I go by Stan.”

              “Stan.  Got it.” Mr. McGucket walked over and handed Stan a pile of folded clothing.  “Go ahead and get changed, then meet us downstairs in the kitchen.  The missus and I would like to look ya over so’s we can get started on reversin’ that curse.”

              “Okay,” Stan mumbled.  Mr. McGucket smiled at Stan again, then left, closing the door behind him.

              A few minutes later, Stan traipsed downstairs. He was immediately greeted by the scent of something sweet baking.  His stomach growled loudly.

              When was the last time I ate?  He followed the delicious smells to a cozy-looking kitchen. Angie sat at a table with her father and an elf woman she greatly resembled.  That must be her mom.  Lute was nowhere to be seen.  At the sound of his footsteps, the McGucket parents looked up.

              “Stan, come over here ‘n pop a squat,” Mr. McGucket said cheerfully.  Stan hesitantly walked over to the table and took a seat next to Angie.  Busy reading a book on curses, Angie didn’t look up.  Mrs. McGucket looked at him with a studious gaze. “Well, Sally?”

              “I’d say Lenny’s assessment was accurate,” Mrs. McGucket said.  She lacked the accent of her husband and children, instead speaking Elvish in a manner that was similar to how Stan’s mom spoke it.  “Young man, you look an awful lot like the sun elf nobility I spent a lot of time around before eloping with Mearl.”

              “…You spent time with sun elf nobility?” Stan asked. Mrs. McGucket nodded.  Before Stan could ask a follow-up question, his stomach rumbled again.  Mr. McGucket’s hazel eyes twinkled.

              “I’ll get ya somethin’ to eat, son,” Mr. McGucket said, getting up from his chair.  “After you’ve gotten some food in yer belly, we can examine ya to get an idea of what kind of curse we’re dealin’ with.”  Stan nodded. Mrs. McGucket raised an eyebrow.

              “You’re a bit lacking in manners, Stanaximus,” she commented.  “I’d expect someone of your station to know that you’re supposed to thank someone for a favor.”

              “Oh, uh, I-”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.

              Great, I’m already fucking up pretending to be full elf.

              “Angie, were you and Lute poor influences on this young man?” Mrs. McGucket asked her daughter.  Angie looked up from the book she was reading.

              “What?  No!”

              “I don’t know if I believe that.”

              “Ma!” Angie whined.  Mr. McGucket placed a plate in front of Stan.  Stan immediately recognized the food he’d been given.  It was a bread made of polenta and honey, and a rare treat that his mom would make on special occasions.  It had even been served the same way he remembered from his childhood, sliced and slathered with butter.

              “Honey loaf,” Stan said quietly.  Mrs. McGucket beamed.

              “I thought you might enjoy a taste of home. Sun elf recipes can be difficult sometimes, but this is one that’s worth the hassle.”

              “…Thank you,” Stan said.  Mrs. McGucket’s smile broadened.

              “Of course, hon.”

              As Stan ate the honey loaf, he glanced at Angie next to him.  She was still engrossed in her book, her silver eyes darting back and forth.  The sunlight caught her hair, making its already golden hue look near metallic.  Her green freckles were more numerous than they had been as an adult; he could see them trailing past the ends of her short sleeves, down her forearms.  Eventually, Angie looked at him.  Stan’s heart did a weird flip.

              “Is there somethin’ wrong?” she asked.

              “Huh?”

              “Yer starin’ at me,” Angie pointed out.

              “Oh, I was just, um, you- you have more freckles,” Stan said weakly.  He could feel his cheeks burning, but wasn’t sure why.  Angie rolled her eyes.

              “So do you.  By which I mean that you actually have freckles.  Ya didn’t before.”  Angie’s eyes lit up.  She closed her book.  “Oh! By the by, I mentioned that ya never got any lessons on magic as a kid, and my ma offered to help ya out!”

              “I mean, the reason I never got lessons was ‘cause I’m no good at it,” Stan mumbled.  Angie huffed.

              “It could easily be the other way,” she said, punching his shoulder playfully.  Stan grinned despite himself, his cheeks continuing to burn.  He looked back at the McGucket parents.  They were exchanging a knowing look.

              What are they so smug about?  Stan opened his mouth to ask why they were smirking, only for Mrs. McGucket to speak before he could.

              “You know, Angie, you being a kidlet again, it reminds me of when you were this age before,” Mrs. McGucket said, stroking Angie’s hair.  “When Max courted you, it was when you were in your sixties, right?”

              “Yeah,” Angie confirmed.  Stan’s heart began to race.

              “Such a sweet boy.”

              “Angie, you have a suitor?” Stan blurted out. Angie frowned at him.

              “I was courted when I was in my sixties and clearly ain’t married now.  What do you think?” she asked.

              “Fine, I just- why didn’t you say anything about it?” Stan stammered.

              “Because it was decades ago.  Why are ya so upset about it?”

              “I’m not upset,” Stan said.  He looked to the McGucket parents for support.  The knowing look was back.  “I’m just-”  Stan stopped his sentence abruptly, the blood draining from his face.

              Heart jumping around, blushing, jealousy? Stan wiped his suddenly damp hands on his borrowed pants.  Sweaty palms?  Shit. Stupid kid body, stupid kid hormones!

              “Just what?” Angie prompted.

              “…Never mind,” Stan mumbled.

              No, you don’t have a crush on Angie.  You don’t! You-

              “Yer such an oddball,” Angie said, chuckling. Her laughter sounded like bells. Butterflies fluttered in Stan’s stomach.

              …You do.  With a cheeky smile, Mr. McGucket took the empty plate from Stan. And her parents know.

              “Stanaximus, have you ever courted before?” Mrs. McGucket asked idly.  Stan swallowed.

              This won’t end well.

[outcast-thingz]

That One Song

(I may change the title later)Hello my lovelies, I'm back with another song fic. I had a daydream while listening to this song and this is what happened😂😂

Pairing: atsumu x reader? Not really sure how to label this one

Summary: Girls night out! At least that was the plan. Just because your friends couldn't come didn't mean you couldn't go. A night of dancing and you catch someone's eyes. Next thing you know you meet his crew for the night. Who would have known dancing would get you into a little (harmless) trouble

Warnings: lyrics are a bit NSFW, it's a night club so the dancing isn't exactly clean either😂😂

       The dance floor called to you like a siren. Unfortunately, none of your gal-friends could come out tonight but that wasn't going to stop you from having a fun night. To ease their mind you texted them where you were whenever you changed locations. The current club you were in seems to have good music. You'd been on the dance floor for the past four songs without a break. The next song starts and nothing changes, you stay on the dance floor.

        Dum-pa-dum Dum-pa-dum The music wraps its sneaky strings around your limbs and body controlling you like a puppet. Dum-pa-dum dum-pa-dum left to right, left to right, your hips move to the beat. You allow yourself to be the music's little puppet as you get lost in the melody. Not much of the song passes when a feeling begins to tug at you. Your gaze follows the feeling. Amongst the crowd of people, a pair of honey-brown eyes stood out. The intensity held your eyes captive yet after a single blink they were gone; they had disappeared into the crowd. Soon enough you found yourself looking around to find the eye's owner. You accidentally back into somebody and quickly spin around to apologize.

       "He- eEeEEeeEy~ you're pretty cute." The man you bumped into seemed crossed at first but quickly softened when setting his eyes on you. The light shined against his yellowish blonde hair. His piercings were kind of intimidating.

"Hey blondy, get those hips moving we didn't come here to stand around. Oh. Why hello there~" a man with brown hair whines until he sees you. 

"I uh… I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going." You finally blurted. The two narrowed their eyes and smirks crept on their faces.

"You know, you could make it up to us" the blonde started,

"By dancing with all of us for a few songs." The brown hair man finished. 

"All of us?" You lifted a brow daringly. The brown one looks back over his shoulder to speak,

"Hey! Living sun, Kitty, what do you think?"

Bouncing over was an energetic, spikey, white and black-haired man. His golden eyes filled with the natural high of exercise.

"Hey, hey, hey. Sounds like fun to me Oikawa, I'm down for it," boisterous man cheered. "Kuroo, what do you think?" Yet another man appeared. This one had black hair and a mischievous vibe about him. Really they all have a mischievous vibe about them but he was more like a scheming kind of mischief. The new man quickly bopped all of them on their heads,

"You idiots, you going to scare her away and Astumu will be pissed at us. Let's not forget who's paying for our drinks tonight." He grins at you whilst pushing the other guys out of the way. He stretches his hand out to you,

"My name is Kuroo, please forgive my crew, Terushima, Oikawa, and Bokuto. You are extraordinarily cute but to us, you're  ~off limits~" he emphasizes while eyeing his friends who either roll their eyes or scoff. "We would be delighted if you would join us for at least this song." he kept his hand out until you gently shook it.

"Y-Y/n…" is all you could manage to say. 

       All of the confidence you had started your night with disappeared. Here you were in just about every girl's dream, surrounded by tall, attractive, and athletic-looking men. Yet you found yourself a stuttering mess. You took a step back as the song reaches a quiet part. A hand finds it's way to your shoulder gently holding it. You lift your head and meet those captivatingly intense eyes from before. It was impossible to look away.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, princess. The names Astumu. We've been watching from afar for some time, you really have some moves. I'd like to see how you do with a partner, can you do that for us?" He spoke with a friendly tone but his eyes made it seem like he was commanding you. Who knew dancing was going to be the thing to get you in trouble. After catching your breath you are able you calm yourself enough to respond.

"Y/n, a pleasure to meet you Astumu. Let's hope your feet can keep up with mine~!" The tease that slipped from your mouth surprised everyone, including you. Even so, that was enough permission for them. 

       The song kicks back into high gear and the first man to take you hand was Terushima. He pulls you close to him and lifts one of your legs to his hips.

"Vamos, fiesta; I want you, señorita," He sings the lyrics as he leans back still keeping you close so you lean with him. Oikawa is next. Terushima lets you slip from his grip as Oikawa takes one of your hands and twirls you around. He dips you whilst continuing the lyrics,

"I'm gonna kiss all your body; Sharp breath, gripping the bed sheet."

Kuroo slips his hand underneath your back and lightly pushes you up till you're standing straight. He pulls you towards him keeping your back facing him. He wraps his arms around you. Then he crosses them so his right hand is holding your left and vise versa. The lyrics continue

"Baby girl, yeah, I'mma put it in; I can make your bed shake." Slips away and Bokuto fills his spot seamlessly. He leans you to the left while he leans to the right,

"I can be your sin." He now leans you to his right as he leans to the right,

"Your hands scratching against me." During both moves he kept his eyes locked on yours. Suddenly he twirls you off and it almost feels aimless until you're caught. A finger under your chin and a thumb resting just below your lip helps lift your head to once again meet Astumu's intense gaze. 

"One look," he quickly move his head beside one of your ears, "I know that you want me." Tingles run down your spine, the hair on the back of your neck raises, and your body tenses up as the last lyrics are whispered. 

       You are spun around again and pulled from Astumu by Terushima and Oikawa.

"Baby girl, won't you come my way?" Now you stood in the middle of a circle made up of the five men you are dancing with. 

"Tell me all the things; that you wanna say," the boys appear to be singing in unison and encouraging you to dance. You shrug and let the music once again slink his strings around you; you let it make you a puppet. The boys sway and watch as you entertain them. You honestly didn't mind since the whole point of coming out tonight was to dance; having an audience was just a bonus. 

"Baby girl can you say my name; show me all the ways; you can move that thing," as the lyrics end Astumu works his way up to you. He pulls you close wrapping one arm around your hips. The other hand takes hold of your closest hand. The two of you sway and rock to the slow part of the song.

"I don't wanna to take you nowhere; I don't wanna waste your time; Baby girl, would you come my way," he lifts your head again like earlier with the hand that held yours. "Baby girl would you come for me?" You can't help but giggle and thank the gods that the club lights were hiding the major blush on your face.

       You dance the rest of the song with the boys and hit the bar. That's where you learn Astumu called dib the moment the boys laid their eyes on you. After some more talking, flirting, and exchanging of numbers you all head home. You immediately tell your gal friends of tonight's adventure and remind them that they really should have gone. Feeling a bit jealous, the girls ask if you'd be willing to ask the boys to go out tomorrow night. You laugh and ask away. A unanimous response of yes came back. 

"I guess tomorrow I'm going your way aren't I? Astumu?" You hummed to yourself before landing on your bed and promptly passing out.

Tag List: @1tsnoya @oof-she-needs-therapy @red-riot-rat @squishytenya

[theravencawsatmidnight]

Ice Box. Chapter One.

Part Three.

Ending!❄️

A/N. The ending!!! My first Yandere and im so happy with it!!! I honestly planned on it being a one off but people liked it and it made me want to continue. Thank you for reading !!! * (all posts can be found under the Icebox tag!)

Warnings: violence

Shoto left you after giving you his...love mark. Youre arm was throbbing and youre lip was bleeding from you biting it . You curled up against the wall with youre knees up thinking. Have to get out , have to get ...out- The AC turned back on and you got an idea. You slipped a hand under youre knees and made sure youre back was to the door. You sat there , flicking ice cubes into a pile with youre free hand.

Shoto was out and about on this bright happy sunny day. Doing his Hero work ofcourse . He skipped his meet and greet yesterday but he could come up with an excuse if someone asked him about it. Whenever another Hero stopped to talk to him he put on a happy face and lied through his teeth, they believed him ofcourse. This was Shoto, the Pro Hero. He did no wrong in the other Pros eyes. He stopped by the park to talk to some fans who were gushing over him asking for a picture and questioning him about yesterday.

“You never showed up!”

“ yeah and we wore our best clothes!”

He simply laughed and flashed them a innocent smile and spoke softly. “Something came up on my end. Im deeply sorry.” He pat their heads and the two girls squealed running off. He waved watching them run off till he spotted a tall figure looking at him. He had on all black and his hair was all over his face. Shoto growled under his breath and went over smiling.

“Long time no see Sensei!” Shoto said

“Yes i know. Ive got a question for you. One of my students is big fan of you. She left yesterday to go to youre meet and greet and never returned to UA. She still had her uniform on have you seen her?”

Shoto stepped back , his shoulders tensing up. He rubbed the back of his head putting on a worried tone. “No i actually could not make it to the meet and greet, something came up for me. Are .. are they missing?”

“Yes, ive notified their parents already . You sure you did not see anyone?” He seemed unsure of the answer Shoto gave him. Skipped his meet and greet... Y/N not coming home.

“Im sure.. man .. thats awful i hope they are found..” beep beep. Shoto pulled his phone out and Aizawa saw a smirk crawl up his face. “Listen ive gotta go, but ill keep my eyes open for them.” He waved taking off and Aizawa waited a few minutes before following the Hero.

Shoto made his way to a old abandon meat house going inside. It was a big storage building just for meet. Basically a giant cooler. He checked behind him a couple times and closed the door . Shoto went to the right and saw an old cooler, he opened the door going down steps and opened a second door to see you curled up by the wall, flicking ice cubes to a pile of frozen together ice cubes. You flinched when the door opened but you did not look. You knew who it was.

“Hello my little snowflake, im back i missed you! Did my love mark heal? Can you show me ?” He asked walking over and kneeling down next to you pushing youre singed sleeve up. ‘Healed’ was not the right word... more like frozen and very.. very red. Shoto hugged you kissing youre fore head. “Its perfect , just like you.”

You turned youre head to him. Youre face had a deep purple flush to it, youre eye lids heavy and youre lip had dried blood on it. Shoto smiled placing his hand on youre cheek warming up youre face till the purple went away. “There we go. What are you doing? Playing a game?” He gestured to the ice cube pile that was within reach of you.

“Improving my quirk.” You said honestly

Shoto’s face lit up. “You are! Look at them!! Different sizes all stuck together im so proud of you!!!”

“Me too”

“Oh snowflake im so happy , see? I told you this room would help you!!!! , can.. can i have a celebration kiss? Im just so proud of you. Our children will be amazing!!!”

“Ofcourse Shoto.”

You leaned into him and Shoto wrapped his arms around you locking his lips with youres, he hugged you while you kissed, leaning into you trying to get you on youre back. You slid youre hand back leaning on the wall with youre back to it letting him between youre legs. Shoto got between them kissing you again lifting youre top slightly.

“Shoto...” you pulled away kissing again.

“Yes ? Yes my perfect snowflake?” He said between breaths.

“Burn in Hell.” You pulled away gripping the ice cube spear you had been working on forming and shoved it right in his right eye . It slid right in . For hours you had been working on changing the form of youre ice cubes.. youre body was frozen on the inside but .. you did it. It was just like the icicle spear he held to youre neck but thicker.

Shoto yelled falling back and you jumped up grabbing the ice cube pile running to the door. You didint care if you stumbled, didint care if you fell face first on the floor smashing youre face. You had to get out. You stumbled to youre feet , Shoto’s cries filled the room and you felt heat hit youre back. You raised the ice cube pile slamming it on the doorknob smashing it to pieces. The pile smashed and you fumbled up the stairs breathing very heavily. As soon as you got to the door it opened and you fell into Aizawa.

“Oof!!!! Y/N?!?!?!” He grabbed you standing up and you saw Deku with him. He handed you to Deku and ran down the stairs . Deku held you close asking if you were okay and telling you that everything was okay now. He ran out of the building and immedietly you cried when the very hot sunny air hit you. The police were waiting outside and one of them wrapped you in a blanket.

Aizawa emerged with Shoto in his weopon and the ice cube still in his eye, his face was a bloody red mess and he was twitching. The police took Shoto away and Aizawa went to you. Deku had put you in the ambulance and was sitting by you. He jumped in closing the doors and the ambulance took off.

It only took an hour for word to get out on what happened. You refused to talk to anyone but Aizawa, he never left youre side. You were completely frozen on the inside it felt like . The nurses cranked the heat for you and brought in multiple heaters. The mark Shoto gave you was infected and you were given heavy medications for it and a visit from Recovery Girl.

When the police questioned you it was very onee sided. “Would Shoto really do this? Hes a Pro Hero.”

You glared at them and showed them youre arm. “If you dont believe me get out. If this on my arm is not enough to convince you then i dont know what to tell you”

Aizawa made the police leave and sat down by you, bringing a heater closer.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

BONUS PREVIEW FOR INFERNO. 🔥

The reportor on the little tv was outside the meat house explaining the events . “Shoto, our beloved Pro Hero was keeping a fan here against their will and freezing them alive. We believe-“ the tv clicked off and the man got up stretching .

“Oh Shoto.. you slipped up. I wish you luck in Tartarus. “ a blue flame formed on his hand and he brought it up to his face grinning. “My turn~”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[alexhogh7137]

Rule The World with Me-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Back for 10 more chapters!!!

Epilogue is here...

Chapter Forty-One: The Plan for England

Chapter Forty-Two Coming Soon...

**disclaimer** this story isn't my first priority now, the new one is. So the new chapter's will not be everyday.

Word Count 1.5k

Warnings: none

The next morning, you awake to a full bed: you and Ivar, Baldur and Freya, plus the two wolves at the bottom of the bed. Your heart could explode in your chest because of how blessed you feel. You used to wake up to an empty, cold bed a couple of years ago and now you have everything you wished for: a loving husband and wonderful children. Freya's head is on your belly, drool coming out of her lips and onto the fur covering you. Baldur is in between you and Ivar, laying completely sprawled out on his back. Ivar is laying comfortably on his side, facing you. Asena is curled up in the crook of Messiah's big neck. You are so obsessed with your family it is insane. You love your life and it is truly a blessing to be able to say that. You inhale deeply at the beautiful sight, waking up Freya. 

"Goodness you wake up so easily, little one. I just breathed!" You whispered loudly.

Freya "You breathe too hard, mommy."

You chuckle, "Oh do I now, miss drool over here."

Baldur wakes up next, "You two are so loud."

"Hey we were whispering, big man."

Baldur "I'm just kidding momma, good morning." He reaches over and kisses your cheek.

"Good morning, Baldur. Did you sleep well?"

Baldur "Mhm, did you?"

"I did." You start to play with Freya's red hair as she starts to fall back asleep from the feeling. Messiah gets out of bed first, waking your beloved. He moans as he stretches his arms and torso. Baldur immediately clings to his father like a monkey. 

Ivar "Oof! Good morning to you too, son!"

Baldur "Mornin'."

Ivar looks over at you, smiling at the sight. He reaches over and caresses your cheek. 

Ivar "Good morning, kitten. Did you sleep well?"

"Of course, I had my family in bed with me."

Ivar's eyes slowly close at the realization. He loves you all more than you could ever imagine. "Mm yes. I almost don't want to get out of bed."

"Few more minutes and then we must, I can hear that your brother's are already up."

Ivar huffs, "Alright. Well, Baldur...can mommy and I have some time alone please?"

Baldur "Mmkay. Come on Freya."

Freya "But I don't wanna."

Baldur "Come on, we slept with Ma and Pa all night, let them have some rest, okay? Besides, uncle Ubbe and uncle Hvitserk are eating without us!" 

Freya gasps and runs out of the room as fast as a lightning bolt. Asena jolting up and running after her shortly. Baldur simply laughs and gets up. 

Ivar "Thank you son."

Baldur "Yup!"

Once Baldur shut the door behind him, it was just you and Ivar. Something that never gets old. That spark never dulls and never goes away. You maneuver your body over to his, and his large arms cling to your torso with ease. You rest your head on his chest and draw designs on his abs, making him giggle because it tickles him. 

Ivar "Gods, this never gets old."

"Hmm?"

Ivar "Just us, kitten. When our kids leave the room, it is just you and I. Then we get to reflect on everything that we created together as husband and wife."

"King and Queen."

Ivar "Yes. I feel like I will never truly get used to the life we live today."

"I know, I don't think that I will either. But it is our reality, my love. It isn't a dream anymore, it is real."

Ivar "And for that, I am truly grateful." He raises your face by your chin and kisses your soft lips.

"I love you."

Ivar "I love you too, princess."

__________________________________

When you and Ivar make your way to the dining hall, Hvitserk, Ubbe, Torvi, Igor and your two children are waiting for you. 

Hvitserk "There you two are, your plates are full."

Ivar "Thank you, Hvitserk. How did you all sleep, hmm?"

"Good." They all said.

Ubbe "I still can't get over this little nugget is five now." He reaches over the table to Freya, tickling her neck.

"I know. It feels like yesterday I told her father that I was with child. And now look at her! Time goes by too fast."

Ivar "Yes well, we have to just cherish every moment because every moment is precious."

Torvi "Aw Ivar! Getting all sentimental."

Ivar "I am! I remember when Baldur was a baby, and now Y/n and I have two wonderful children-"

Baldur "Ew.." he is in that phase where he gets all grossed out by over too much attention. 

"Oh hush, your father loves you."

Baldur "I know, I love you too Father."

Ivar "But it is true. You two are too young to know what your mother and I had to go through in life before we were blessed with you two."

Baldur "What do you mean?"

"We will tell you when you are a bit older, Baldur. But as of right now, let's just say we had it rough before the gods blessed us with you and your sister."

Baldur "Oh."

Hvitserk "Did you ever tell him the day we met, Y/n."

"No! You can tell him." He nods and tells him the day that you two met. Baldur simply listens to his uncle and is fascinated. 

Hvitserk "So your mommy saved my life that day, Baldur."

Baldur "Mama saves a lot of lives!" That warms your heart to hear your son say such words. When he was born, you swore to yourself that you would make him proud of you and it seems like you have.

"I love you, kiddo."

Baldur "Love you too."

…

After breakfast is finished, Baldur takes Freya and Asena outside to have fun in the nice weather, while you grown-ups talk.

Ubbe "So I have plans brother's."

Hvitserk "What are these plans?"

Ubbe "Do you remember Alfred?"

Ivar "Oh you have got to be kidding, right?"

Ubbe "No I am not."

Ivar "You know that every time we try to overthrow him, it ends badly hmm?"

Ubbe "The last time it did but I have a plan. Hvitserk can have Kattegat, I can have England, you and Y/n have Kiev!"

Ivar "I thought that you both were fine with ruling together, what is the problem all of a sudden, huh?"

Ubbe "Nothing is the problem, Ivar. Alfred is weak from what my allies have told me. His illness has struck again. This is our time to strike him down and take England as our own."

Ivar "You mean as yours Ubbe."

Ubbe "Technology I would rule, yes."

Ivar "And you are asking what of us, Ubbe?"

Ubbe "I am asking all of you to help me, as I did for you when you needed me." 

Ivar chuckles in disbelief. 

"Just tell us the plan. We will decide if we will fight with you or not. We have the two kids, Ubbe. They need their parents."

Ubbe "And mine didn't? I still fought by your side even though I have my stepchildren..and Torvi was with Ragnar then too. But I still fought for you, didn't I?"

"Yes you did, and I thanked you for that Ubbe."

Ubbe "Of course. I just want you all to hear me out before you all decide to not join this fight."

Hvitserk "Fine. Talk."

Ubbe told you all the battle plan: where to strike and when, how it would benefit and how it would not, the reasons why it is a good thing and why we need to do this now. 

Ubbe "We can all farm! Grow old with a bunch of children and a bunch of cattle. That was our father's dream, brother's. You know that."

Hvitserk "Yes. I say we go for it."

Ubbe "You-"

Hvitserk "Yeah, I'm in."

Ubbe "Thank you, brother. I knew that I could always count on you."

Hvitserk "It is a good plan brother. I feel like it will be good for all of us. And it will make Father proud."

Ubbe "Yes, that is what I am saying."

Torvi "Ivar, what's say you?"

Ivar "Look, it is a good plan but there is a lot at risk here. I have the life that I dreamt of all of my life, I am too worried to lose it. I say no."

Torvi "And you?" 

"Can I have time to think, please?"

Ubbe "Of course. We leave for Kattegat in two day's. Have your mind up by then, yes?"

"Yes, thanks."

__________________________________

Your mind was left spinning. Ubbe's plan is solid, powerful and very persuasive. The warrior in you says to go for it, but the mother and wife side of you is telling you no. So you turn to the gods for help and guidance.

"Dear Odin, what should we do? What should Ivar and I do? Should we fight, or stay home with our children. Please give me a sign, give me a vision...something. You know above all what is good for us and what is not, so please help and tell me what we should do."

You turn around and see your husband standing in the doorway.

"Hey."

Ivar "Hey. Are you okay?"

"Yes, just fine. I wanted to pray for guidance, because that is the only thing I know what to do right now."

Ivar "Well whatever sign the gods show us, that is the path we take together. Whatever it may be, I am with you."

"Always, Ivar."

____________________________________

I am beyond happy to be writing for my baby again, i hope you all are too♡

@hvitserkmarcosource @youbloodymadgenius @ivarsgoddess @a-mess-of-fandoms @ivarthebloodyking @desiredposion

@saldelys @heavenly1927

[badboysdoitbetter]

— typical | sc

pairing: saw paing yoroizuka x reader

fandom: kengan ashura

genre: fluff, crack(ish); lovers!AU

tags/warnings: saw paing being a dumbass, you’re trying your best, like one suggestive comment

word count: 1.0k

synopsis: you love your boyfriend, you do, but sometimes he’s so wreckless you begin to wonder how long you can put up with him...

Saw Paing, while the love of your life, was the most exhausting person in all of Myanmar.

You came to watch a match? “YEAH, BABY!”

You decided to try a new position in bed? “I’M ALL FIRED UP!”

Hell, you put on a dress he thought looked hot on you. “OH MY GOD, WOOHOO!”

The two of you had been together for years, and while you were the perpetually calm, stable one in the relationship, Saw Paing was undoubtedly the fire. Life with him was never boring, and when you got the news that he was participating in the Kengan matches, it got even more interesting.

“Is this seat taken?” Your question was directed at a tan-skinned man, whose eyes were half-lidded. He opened his mouth to reply, but paused as he noticed the clothes your wearing; a traditional Burmese eingyi and htamein.

“No, please go ahead.”

Quietly, you sat down, not taking your eyes off of the match in front of you. In the arena, your boyfriend was screaming, drowning out the sound of the announcer’s voice.

Typical Saw Paing, you smiled to yourself, your eyes filled with pride. “Are you the owner of a company?” Huh?

The brown-eyed man had spoken to you again.

“Oh, no.” Your timidity shined as you stuttered through your answer. In all honesty, you were a little surprised he’d start a conversation with you at all. “Are you a fighter, sir?”

“Yes, under the orders of my leader.” You took in his words while he waited for a reply.

Turning to watch the match that had already started, you whispered to him, not wanting to withdraw your gaze from the fight.

“That’s kind of you.”

“Hm?”

“You’d put your life on the line for your country. It’s a very admirable thing to do—” Glancing at him, your voice went up at the end of your statement, subtly asking him to introduce himself.

“Gaolang Wongsawat, and you?”

“(Y/N) (L/N), it’s a pleasure to meet you.” While you turned your eyes back to the match, Gaolang studied your face.

You were pretty, that much was obvious, with voluminous hair and an award-winning smile, but what he noticed were your eyes.

They were, for lack of a better term, sparkling. Filled with pride, they beamed as you focused solely on the match in front of you. In a sense, he thought, they looked loving. The only thing he couldn’t figure out, despite his above-average ability to observe, was who the love was directed towards.

“You idiot!” Your shouts resonated through the halls, “You’re hurt, Saw Paing! You’re reckless, constantly endangering yourself, with no regard for what the hell it does to other people. You need to go to the hospital.”

“Come on, (Y/N)! It’s no big deal, see—” Wincing, Saw Paing attempted for stand up to prove that he was alright, but as he rose from the floor, all you could hear was the deafening sound of bones cracking, “It’s no big deal.”

“Di-Did all that voluntarily head trauma do something to your brain? No big deal, huh? Well then, I guess it’s ‘no big deal’ that you’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight!”

“But (Y/N)…” Dejection sounded through the quiet hall, “Please?” Sighing, you held your ground.

“Until you go see a doctor, I hope you enjoy sleeping without me.”

Wandering the halls, you aimlessly searched for a place to go, not wanting to go back into yours and Saw Paing’s shared room until you’d cooled off a bit. Looking around, you saw an open set of double doors from the corner of your eye, with the scent of food to follow.

finally, a place to eat! I wonder if they’ll have nangyi thoke or mohinga… Wow, I didn’t even realize how much I missed home—

“Oof,” You involuntarily let out a breath of air as you hit a hard surface in front of you… Albeit, you were pretty confident that walls didn’t have arms to catch you when you fall.

Looking up, brown eyes that had grown familiar stared back at you.

“Gaolang?” He quickly set you back onto your feet.

“Why’re you in such a rush?”

“I-I don’t wanna trouble you…” His brown eyes bore into your own. “Ok, it’s just,” You sighed, composing yourself, “It’s my boyfriend. He keeps hurting himself, and when I try to talk to him about it, he doesn’t even listen! I care about him so much, Gaolang, and I don’t understand how he can’t see it—”

“(Y/N)!” Heaving, you heard someone fall and as you turned around, Saw Paing was getting up off the floor and sprinting towards you as fast as he could manage.

The minute he saw your frame near one of the corner tables in the cafeteria, he was knocking over food trays, tables, and even people.

“Gaolang? What are you—never mind, not important right now. (Y/N), I went to the doctor like you asked… Turns out I have a fractured spine, three broken ribs, a bruised femur, and ADHD, but I went! Will you sleep with me now?”

Mouth gaping, you turned to see Gaolang’s reaction. A look of shock was (rightfully) etched into his face.

Could you have phrased that any worse?

“He’s the boyfriend?” In all the time you’d known him, the way he spoke at that moment was the first time you’d seen Gaolang display any real emotion.

“Hey! What do you mean by that, Gaolang?” Saw Paing pulled you to his side, wrapping his muscular arm around your waist, squeezing it lightly.

“Nothing! It’s just, the two of you are so… different.”

“Hey! You got a problem with that or something?”

“No, Saw Paing, I—”

“(Y/N), let’s get out of here… I’m sleepy.” Not waiting for an answer, he pulled you away, but not before you sent an appreciative smile towards Gaolang, silently thanking him for listening to your rambles.

Typical Saw Paing.

[detectivejigsawpines]

Hideous Creatures part 3 (Throwing down the gauntlet)

At first, Stan was enjoying himself even more the second time around.  He’d had time to figure out his routine better: what jokes to make at which moments, which “attractions” would gain the most interest from his audience-heck, he’d even found an old red fez which Ford had lying around in the attic for some reason and put it on to identify himself as the man in charge of this gig.  The weird fish symbol on the front identified it as once belonging to Pa, but Stan decided he liked it anyway.

The only stick in the mud was, of course, Ford.

He retained his scowl pretty much the whole time, even when he saw that Stan had attached signs charging the guests extra for any items they brought back with them (he referred to them as “carrying fees”), and showed off the un-notice powder he’d been given by the wizard.  And to make matters worse, when the tour actually began he spent the whole time trying to correct Stan’s explanations for what the monsters were seeing-under his breath at first (which was a little annoying but nothing Stan wasn’t used to), but getting progressively louder as his claims got more ridiculous.

Once again Stan drove up outside Greasy’s, “...home of the perpetually broken-down spinning pie trolley!”

And again, the monsters in the back stared in awe at the trolley, which was in plain view through the diner window.

“Why’s it always broken?” piped up a little dwarflin (dwarf-goblin hybrid; marginally more manageable than the gremloblin, but not by much) sitting in the back.

Stan twisted around, stretching his mouth into as unnaturally large of a grin as possible.

“Nobody really knows.”

Ford cleared his throat.  “Actually, it’s because the lady in charge of the establishment never bothers-oof!”

Stan removed his elbow from his twin’s midriff and hopped out, heading for the door and flinging it open.

“Two hundred pieces of gold or the equivalent in samples to get your picture taken with it!”

Again, he barely dodged the stampede in time.

Ford straightened up in annoyance.  “Stanley, there is a perfectly logical explanation for why that pie trolley is always broken-”

“And they’re not really interested!” Stan growled.  “They’re just here for the novelty of the experience!”

“That dwarflin was interested!  He actually asked how it worked!”

“Whatever.”  Stan stomped into the diner; he had tourists to fleece.

****

He felt a little bad about brushing Ford off like that once he’d taken a second to calm down.  Maybe the dwarflin had wanted a genuine answer about why the pie trolley didn’t work; and besides, he knew his brother didn’t like leaving other people’s questions unanswered, he was just trying to help.  And maybe flaunt his superior knowledge a little, but he probably wasn’t doing it to be hurtful. Stan might’ve overreacted.

And while it would’ve meant throwing in the towel in their argument, he would have admitted all this to Ford after the tour ended...had Ford not almost immediately continued trying to destroy the tour.

He began correcting Stan out loud on the smallest errors in description, and once or twice even on his grammar.

By the time they pulled up in front of the Spark-N-Save, Ford’s ribs and Stan’s elbow were both heavily bruised, and they had gotten into one scuffle over Stan’s desire to shut Ford up that nearly sent them careening off the road.  It didn’t help that the monsters had appeared to find the fighting hilarious, and out of the corner of his eye Stan had seen money exchanging hands between some of them. So it was a secretly very grumpy, but still acting cheerful, Stan Pines who proclaimed the horrors of the Idiot Box to his agog audience, and ignored his brother when he muttered, rubbing his sore side, that “it’s called a television, Stanley, for heaven’s sake you’re giving them completely false ideas about humanity!”

This time there were no manotaurs in the group, and nobody else tried to steal from the store (which might have been more to do with Stan warning them that the Idiot Boxes were guarded by a vicious Copyright Monster who destroyed people’s lives if its treasure was stolen than anything else), so they made it back to the forest without the hassle of the day before.  Stan let them know that they put the fun in “no refunds!”, and then shut the treasure chest full of payment before anyone could change their mind, and drove off.

He didn’t have to wait long before Ford started in on him.

“Stanley, you’ve gone too far this time!  You’re not just endangering people by bringing these creatures into town, you’re flat-out lying to them about everything!”

“No, I’m just puttin’ things in a way they’ll understand!” Stan snarled back.  “They wouldn’t’ve listened ta me if I’d tried ta tell them about being arrested by the cops or whatever, and I ain’t sure our laws would even apply to them if I did.  But they would listen when I told them a Copyright Monster who’s tougher than anything they’d ever seen would come after them if they tried ta steal his property.” He scowled at Ford.  “Besides, I thought you agreed that honesty’s not always the best policy.”

Ford turned away and glared out the front of the cart.  “There’s no way you can keep on making money off these people with this ridiculous farce.  Sooner or later, it’s going to come crashing down around your ears.”

“Yeah, well, I’d like ta see you do a better job, Mr. High-and-Mighty!”

“Give me a chance and I will!”

The cart screeched to a halt; it was a good thing Ford had remembered to wear his seatbelt, or else he would have gone flying forward, especially since there was no windshield on this thing.

“Okay,” Stan said, tilting the fez back on his head, “I’m a wagering man.”  He leaned on the wheel. “I’ll give you seventy-two hours, and a golf cart of your own, and you can take one tour group and I’ll take the other, and we’ll see which one they like better.”

Ford’s eyes widened.

“If the groups like you better, I guess you’re right about how I’m runnin’ things.  But if you lose…” Stan faltered for a second, trying to think of an appropriate punishment, before inspiration hit him, “you, uh, you have to eat a plaidypus-egg omelette!  And you’re not allowed ta complain about or try ta stop the tours ever again!”

Stan folded his arms triumphantly; the gauntlet had been thrown down.

And after a second, Ford rose to the bait, as he’d been sure he would.

“Fine!  But if I win, then these tours stop, and if anymore cryptids want information about the human world you have to either tell them the full truth or have them come to me for a more detailed explanation.  And you have to call home and ask to talk to Pa!”

The last part almost made Stan chicken out (not that he’d ever admit that).  But he clenched his jaw, and said resolutely, “You got yourself a deal, Sixer.”

“Deal,” Ford growled back.

They nearly crushed each other’s fingers with a handshake.

********

Ford and Mabel have more in common than they realize. And of course, he and Stan have quite a bit in common in terms of stubbornness and occasional sheer idiocy in arguing over stupid things.

[kpopfanfictrash]

The Quest to Bedding the Lead Singer of Frontman

Pairing: You / Jungkook

Creative Contributor: @moonmangyu FOR THE PERFECT MOODBOARD *sweats* 

Rating: 18+ (explicit sex)

Warnings: (oral, dirty talk, slightly dom!kook?)

Word Count: 9,582

Summary: Frontman is your favorite band in the world and honestly, the only reason you waited this long in line is to stand at the front for a shot with the lead singer. Enter sexy sound boy, who just won’t leave you alone. (punk!Jungkook)

Aaron Gendry is, without a doubt, the hottest individual you have ever laid eyes on.

Everything about the man oozes sex; from the taut length of his thighs strutting across the stage that cool, slicked-back hairstyle he wears. Just one look beneath sky-darkened lashes and every girl in the vicinity is panting for more – including you, although you try and play it cooler than the rest. Rather than scream, you twist a lock of hair around a finger to glance up from the crowd. As luck would have it, you are right at the front – standing directly before the fabled crotch of Aaron Gendry, lead singer of Frontman.

Except that being here was not by luck, it was due to arriving at the venue thirteen hours prior in the hopes of snagging this very seat. You have seen Frontman before but never front row – a fact which, today, you were determined to change.

With a final swing of his hips, Aaron finishes the song. Bright neon lights flash and then fade, the crowd all around you smelling of sweat and of beer. Screams mingling with the others, you cannot help but grin. As the stage plunges into oblivion, only those nearest to Aaron see him wiping his brow. This, obviously, prompts more screams and you fight not to roll your eyes – as if Aaron would go for someone that easy.

Shifting your weight, you press closer and that is when it happens. The Moment. The dividing line between your life before and your life after – the Moment when Aaron Gendry notices you. He squats at the edge of the stage, reaching out for his water (a clear bottle which happens to be located before you). His gaze scans the crowd and when he looks down at the row, his eyes lock on yours.

Time itself seems to still while Aaron’s gaze sweeps your body. Every inch of you is on edge. You are aflame, ice tingling your spine because he does not just look – he lingers, which is another thing entirely. Holy shit, you have no idea what to do because he continues to stare and does not look away. The stage is dark in between songs, meaning only those in the first rows can see.

Another hand clutches your arm, someone shoving their way forward and the moment is broken, world resuming around you. Aaron stands, offering a grin to the crowd and the lights blaze overhead to show his ridiculously handsome face. Smoke drifts overhead and when the venue lets out a cheer, Aaron raises both arms.

You are still standing motionless, stricken by the fact that the unthinkable has happened. At the first chords of the guitar, you manage to exhale a breath you did not realize you held.

“Oh my GOD!” your best friend, Cindy shrieks. “HE SAW YOU! RIGHT THERE! AARON GENDRY, DEBATABLY THE WORLD’S MOST FUCKABLE MAN, HE NOTICED YOU!”

She starts shaking your shoulders so hard, you cannot help but laugh. Bass reverberates through the crowd, nearly drowning out thought – but who cares about that, when Aaron Gendry locked eyes?

“He saw me!” you squeal, grabbing Cindy right back. “He did, didn’t he? That wasn’t just my imagination, right? I’m not crazy?!”

“Oh, hell no.” She grins, curly hair flopping. “That totally happened – Aaron looked at you. Not only that, Aaron smiled at you.”

Her words make you shriek with excitement, unable to contain your enthusiasm. You jump in the air, ecstatic as someone pushes you – hard – from behind. “Oof!” you exclaim, stumbling forward. The metal rail hits your stomach, knocking the wind from your lungs and for a moment you hang there, dazed and confused.

“Hey!” someone yells, loud in your ear. “Are you okay?”

The voice can be heard over the music, which is surprising given the decibel of  the concert. Cracking open an eye, you spot a guy through neon lights. He stands on the other side and there is a small, black earpiece dangling around his neck. For a moment, you can only stare because fuck, is he hot.

He is on the taller side, dressed in all-black with a t-shirt that reads, I Really Do Care, Do You? The political commentary is at eye-level and when your gaze sweeps upwards, you take in his whole frame – broad shoulders, narrow waist and the kind of arms which could lift deadweight with no problem. All of that is fine, all of that is good but when you come to his face, your eyes widen.

The guy is pretty – like, really pretty. With a strong brow and the kind of jawline you fear cutting yourself on. He peers at you from beneath scarlet-colored hair, small, silver hoops lining the curve of one ear. Swallowing hard, you push yourself up on the rail. The crowd behind you has shifted, no longer pressing you forward and (without thought) your gaze flicks over his shoulder to the stage.

“Ah.” The guy nods. He is chewing on something, probably gum. “I see you’re back to ogling the talent. Means you’re not hurt. Good.”

Slapping the railing with his palm, he replaces the bud in his ear and turns back towards the stage. You blink at him for a moment, confused – which is the only logical explanation for what you do next.

“Hey!” you yell, reaching out for his t-shirt. “You! Sound guy!”

The guy stops, turning around with one eyebrow quirked. He glance at the stage, then at you. “What?” he half-yells, straining to be heard over the crowd. “Did you drop your phone, or something?”

Scowling, you lean forward – this is one of your favorite songs and his rudeness is making you miss it. An unforgiveable offense. It is only, you do not want him to think of you are like all the rest – especially not if this guy works for Frontman. Especially not if he knows Aaron.

“No!” you yell, shaking your head. “I didn’t. I just wanted to tell you you’re wrong!”

The guy seems taken aback. He hesitates for a moment before smiling. “Oh?” Laughing, he pushes a hand through red-pink hair. “I’m wrong about what, exactly?”

“Me!” you huff, attempting to ignore the people elbowing your sides. “I wasn’t… ogling!”

The guy grins, crossing both arms over his chest. “Oh?” He leans forward, making you blink. “Then, what was the whole thing with the water bottle? You might as well have thrown your panties onstage.”

Cheeks heated at the accusation, your scowl deepens. “I was… that wasn’t – hey!” you say, slapping the bar. “That’s none of your business! It’s not like I’m wearing a sandwich board, asking to have sex!”

“Oh?” Coyly, he arches a brow. “That’s good to know. I’ll tell Aaron.”

When your mouth drops, he smirks and walks away. “Wait.” Head spinning, you reach again for his sleeve. “You know him? You know Aaron?”

Stopping in his tracks, the guy turns his head. “See?” he says, biting the inside of his cheek. “Told you. You’re the same as the rest.”

Realizing you have been tricked, you cross your arms over your chest. The act does great things for your cleavage. Tonight’s venue is hot and the crowd is all dressed in a similarly scantily-clad fashion. You, yourself are dressed in fishnets, high-waisted shorts and a cut-off which leaves little to the imagination.

What you are not imagining though, is the way sound guy’s gaze darts to your breasts.

“Hey,” you say, raising a brow. “My eyes are up here.”

The guy jerks upwards, but he has already been caught and both of you know it. It feels nice to have the upper hand for once, since everything he just said is startlingly spot-on. You do think Aaron is hot and you would definitely sleep with him if he asked – that is a large part of the reason you stand here, front row at his concert. Hearing it from this guy’s lips though, thrown back in your face… well, it kind of makes you feel like an idiot.

At least sound guy thinks you are hot, though.

“I wasn’t...” The guy sputters, glancing around. “I mean, I –”

Lowering your arms, you grin. “Whatever, sound boy.”

Frowning, his jaw clenches. “Jungkook, actually.”

“What?”

“Jungkook,” he repeats, pointing at himself. “My name is Jungkook!”

“What?!”

“JUNG-FUCKING-KOOK!”

“I know.” Grinning, you drop him a wink. “I heard you the first time. I’m Y/N.”

Jungkook’s face reddens, at an apparent loss for words and you cannot help but notice how cute he is. His gaze has a singular focus, as though you are the only person he sees. A rarity, at a concert like this. Just when he opens his mouth to respond though, someone squawks in his earpiece. You can hear it from here, the urgency obvious and Jungkook winces, returning the bud to his ear.

“Yeah?” he yells, turning away. 

You realize this means your conversation has ended – at least, for now.

Jungkook looks up and, catching you staring, raises a brow. Scowling harder, you turn to the stage but now are self-conscious Jungkook might be looking. It did not occur to you before, but now that it has, you feel more than a little awkward. It is hard not to think about what you are doing and why – he is right, it makes you cringe to consider throwing yourself at some guy.

But this is not just some guy, though – this is Aaron Gendry and as soon as you think this, Cindy grabs your arm. “Y/N,” she says, shaking you hard. “Remember that time, about five minutes ago, when Aaron SAW YOU AND SMILED?!”

Laughing, you allow yourself to be pulled from the rail. You came here for the concert, not to flirt with some boy – no matter how cute said sound boy might be. You are here for Aaron, for the band and will not let this experience be ruined by a stranger. As soon as you think this, the chords to the next song sound and you let out a squeal.

“I love this song!” you cry, breaking into a dance.

The concert flies by, each song melting into the next and you feel so high from the energy, so in tune with the music that you fail to notice the passage of time. When Aaron stops at the end, grabbing the mic and pushing sweat-dampened hair from his gaze, you find yourself whining along with the rest.

“Alright!” he yells, glancing up at the crowd. “Thank you so much for coming tonight! I’m not exaggerating when I say this is our favorite city each tour! If we could come every weekend, we would – no, really!” he laughs, speaking over the cheering.

“As if!” Cindy yells out, shoving your side.

Aaron waits for the crowd to fall quiet, exhaling into the microphone. Your gaze finds his hands, tight on the stem and you cannot stop picturing those hands elsewhere. On your body, your hair, your – gaze darting sideways, you see Jungkook. He stands at the edge of the stage, barking orders into a headset and gesturing into the crowd. You cannot hear what he says but he seems pissed – you have no time to wonder why, since Cindy tugs on your arm.

Aaron is in the middle of his goodbyes, blowing kisses to the crowd and when he exits, he glances again at the venue. Scanning the rows, he turns and when Aaron, the lead singer of Frontman, finds you – he winks. Then he is gone, ushered offstage and you are left standing in silent shock at the rail.

“I,” you say, unable to process. “What the... fuck just happened?”

All around you, the lights in the arena flicker on – people start to leave but you are locked in paralysis, hands wrapped around the cold metal of the railing. Cindy stares as well, open-mouthed in the direction of the wing Aaron exited.

“I – holy…” she chokes, trailing off into silence. “I guess the two of you are married now, huh?”

This breaks your confusion and you laugh, turning to smack Cindy on the arm. “Shut up,” you say, already leaving. “He just winked at me, that’s all – he probably does that to girls all the time. In every city.”

“Yeah, but not to you!” she counters. When you start to walk away, Cindy shrieks. “What are you doing?” she says, grabbing you quickly. “Where are you going? What if he comes back out? What if he sends a bodyguard to come gather the sexy babe at the front? You won’t be here!”

Rolling your eyes, you continue. “Yeah, because that would happen,” you say, reaching the base of the stairs. “Maybe pigs will fly, too– let’s just go, before the traffic gets bad.”

Exhaling loudly, Cindy reluctantly follows. When you pause to look back, you feel unsure what you are searching for. Aaron has not come out – although, oddly enough, this is not where your gaze travels first. Between the stage and the railing, there is no red shock of hair and exhaling gently, you turn towards the doors.

It takes you awhile to leave; even longer, to battle through traffic to Cindy’s place and then yours. Collapsing onto your bed after a shower, you cannot help but feel as if the whole day was a dream – even the colors of memory have faded, nothing but smoke on your clothes to remind you. Flicking through the feed of your Instagram, you decide you will upload the photos tomorrow. You are about to go to go to sleep when a notification appears.

It is from Cindy, tagging you in a shot from tonight – your fingers flick to her page, finding the two of you grinning like idiots before the front row. Unsurprisingly, the picture already has almost a thousand likes, because Cindy is something of a legend amongst the concert-hopping crowd. She goes to a lot of shows, tons of people follow her page and you send a like and comment before returning to yours.

Barely do five minutes go by before another notification chimes in your DMs. Somewhat confused, you sit up on your bed. The username is unfamiliar, their entire profile Private but you recognize the face from the small icon of the message. Clicking hastily on accept, you read the words of one Jeon Jungkook.

KookierThanThou: Hey, sorry if this seems weird – ignore me if it is. I just was scrolling through the concert hashtag and saw the photo of you and your friend. This is super awkward, because I don’t want to seem as though I’m telling you what to do... but I thought you should know that Aaron Gendry is kind of a dick. He makes a list of the girls each concert that he liked in the crowd and it’s the job of the bouncers to round them up at the end. He doesn’t use protection, either – just an FYI. I wanted you to know, before… yeah. I’m really sorry if this is inappropriate, again.

Staring down at the message, your thumbs touch the screen. You re-read the message once, twice, then several times over because on the one hand, he is right – this is inappropriate. You can sleep with whomever you want, even if they are kind of a sleaze; it is to be expected, really, from someone as famous as Aaron.

On the other hand – you did not know about the list and the bouncers. Nor did you know Aaron does not use protection and staring down at the message, you feel your stomach twist. That could have been you, you realize. If you had stayed, you could have been one of the girls ‘rounded up at the end,’ and reading the words in this context makes you feel slightly sick.

Lowering your fingers to the keyboard, you type back.

RageAgainstTheRegime: Hey. Thank you for sending me that message… I mean, not that I’m at his trailer, or anything. I didn’t stick around after the concert but thank you… for well, thinking of me. And thank you for sending this. That’s a lot of thanking lol but I appreciate it

It doesn’t take long before he types back.

KookierThanThou: Anytime.

That is it. Although you wait, staring at his words, he does not say anything more and you eventually exit the page. Turning to face the wall, you stare blankly before you manage to fall asleep. It is hard, since the events of today still race through your mind. Your ears still ring from the concert, from the adrenaline of the crowd and part of you is itching to send another message to Jungkook.

That would be dumb, though – he has already expressed how he feels. You were one of those girls standing in the front row and Jungkook saw right through your antics. It would be strange to reach out again. Lowering your face to the pillow, you somehow manage to sleep.

Cindy: Hey [4:10 PM]

Y/N: hey haha what’s up [4:15 PM]

Cindy: you’re going to love me [4:17 PM]

Y/N: oh, really? Why’s that? [4:18 PM]

Cindy: guess who [4:18 PM]

Cindy: has tickets [4:19 PM]

Cindy: for tomorrow’s …. POP UP FRONTMAN CONCERT!!! [4:19 PM]

Y/N: SHUT UP!!!! [4:20 PM]

Y/N: ARE YOU SERIOUS?!?! [4:20 PM]

Cindy: Y E S!!! [4:20 PM]

Cindy: you know that terrible family I used to baby-sit for? Well, their dad posted on Facebook his work gave him free tickets and I happened to see before anyone else reached out. They’re OURS! We’re GOING, Y/N! TOMORROW, 8PM! [4:22 PM]

Y/N: AHHHHHHHHH I LOVE YOU [4:32 PM]

Cindy: more than Aaron?? [4:33 PM]

Y/N: honestly yes, Aaron can suck my dick compared to my feelings for you [4:34 PM]

Cindy: wow, babe 😢 [4:34 PM]

Sitting back in your chair, you do a silent dance of celebration. The office is mostly dead at this time but still, you need to be quiet if you want to take off tomorrow. Because you will take off work in order to be front row again; mostly for Aaron, although Jungkook also pops into your mind. 

Which is silly. Ridiculous, really. You banish his presence.

This venue is smaller than the last, which makes you excited because it means a more intimate concert. The personal day you sent in was accepted with ease, prompting celebration on your behalf from Cindy 

(“Shots!” she declared, to which you countered, “No!”)

“Ugh,” Cindy groans, dropping her bag on the ground. “We’re getting too old for this, Y/N. Doing our make-up in line, changing clothes in the bathroom of Target. Nope. Next time, we buy VIP like real hoes.”

Snorting, you settle your butt to the pavement. “Sure,” you say, popping open your mirror. “With what money, though?”

“Good point.” Cindy exhales, lowering herself down beside you.

When they begin to let people in, you and Cindy find yourself at the front of the queue and – running inside – manage to wriggle your way to the front. “Holy shit,” you laugh, glancing around. “We’re so close, it’s unreal.”

“I know!” Cindy squeals, bouncing beside you. “This is perfect – this time, Aaron will definitely notice you.”

Nodding absent-mindedly, you cannot help but remember the message from Jungkook. It would be great if Aaron noticed you, sure. He is amazing – you read his interview in Rolling Stone twenty times over, memorized and loved each word that he said. His lyrics are so inspired, their meaning insightful in a way you cannot help but relate to. It is difficult to reconcile that Aaron, the artist with Aaron, the fuckboy.

Thinking about Jungkook makes you glance around the venue but there are only a few staff members in sight and he is not among them. Leaning onto the rail, you peer up and down the sides of the stage. Cindy chats with someone at your side, not paying attention – meaning, you know it is not her when someone taps you on the shoulder.

Jungkook waves at you when you turn, one hand in his pocket. “Hey.”

He is dressed similarly to last time, although this time he has layered a leather jacket over his t-shirt. He quirks a brow when you stare, hair somehow redder than before.

“It is natural?” you say, glancing upwards. People trickle in from all sides, pressing you closer but Jungkook does not step away.

“Yep,” he says. “My mother has red hair and my father has pink, so when they made me – voila! This happened. You like?”

When he bends his head, you almost mechanically lift a hand to his hair. The strands of it are soft, supple as you push your hand backwards. Nearly forgetting yourself, you brush the base of his scalp and Jungkook stills under your hand, seeing to forget his place as well.

Quickly, you pull your hand back. “Yeah,” you murmur, barely audible over the crowd. “I like it.”

He looks up at you, gaze darker than before. All banter is momentarily forgotten, until his headpiece crackles around his neck. “Yeah?” Jungkook jumps, turning around.

Slinking back, your thoughts are tinged with panic because now, the truth is staring you smack in the face – you are into this guy. You are big, fat into him – the kind of interest which can move mountains or, at least, move you closer to the railing. The start of the show cannot be far off but oddly enough, you do not feel as excited. No matter how dreamy and enticing the idea of Aaron might be – he is not real.

Not in the way you want him to be, anyways. You have this vision of Aaron in your mind – you, standing in the wings every night, him glancing over as he sings (because of course, you are the only person he cares about) and then him taking you to his room and fucking you senseless before you fall asleep. The vision is romantic, inspired, set to the tune of his music. The daydream is all the more romantic because of the lyrics he writes, the songs that he sings and the adoring fans he turns down because he is so madly in love.

It is only a vision, though – that is both the beauty and drawback of dreams. They are shiny, lovely things to look at but tend to turn transparent when put in the light. Real life – real love – is far more complicated, but far more fulfilling, once you are past its pitfalls. Looking at Jungkook, you realize he is much more solid than Aaron.

Noticing your stare, he pulls a face. “Do I have something in my teeth?” he asks, clicking off his headset. “No – on my face, then? Is my hair somehow less red than before?”

“Well, definitely not the last one,” you say, leaning an elbow to the railing. “You look like a tomato perched on top of a leather jacket.”

Jungkook bites down on his lip, stifling a grin. “Let’s not tell lies, Y/N,” he snorts. “Hey – you! Hey, hi, hello,” he nods, waving at Cindy over your shoulder.

Cindy looks up, glancing between the two of you. “Hey!” she says, taking a step closer. As she approaches the rail, you remember the clothing she wears.

A top cut even lower than yours with the words, BITE ME, I LIKE IT, emblazoned in red on the front. Her skirt is high-waisted, cut just below the ass and when she bends over the rail, her smile is dazzling. To his credit, Jungkook barely blinks.

Cocking a brow, he returns to looking at you. “Y/N,” he says, “thinks my hair looks bad. What’s your opinion?”

Cindy’s brows shoot up. “Are you crazy?” she asks. “Y/N, this guy is smoking hot – his hair is to die for. You keep doing you, bb,” she nods, shooting Jungkook with finger guns before turning away. Cindy resumes conversation with the tall, tattooed dude at the rail and you look over at Jungkook.

You cannot help but stare. Cindy is gorgeous – so the fact that Jungkook simply ignored this fact is amazing. 

“See?” he says, smugly folding both arms over his chest. “My hair is to die for.”

Exhaling, you roll your eyes. “I imagine people have died for tomatoes before.”

The corner of his lip quirks. “I’d like to hear that story.”

When you open your mouth to respond, someone bangs into you from behind. You lurch suddenly towards the railing, déjà vu plaguing your thoughts. Jungkook moves fast, grabbing your arms to steady your fall. He is close, so close that you now know he smells like leather and mint, due to the gum he is chewing.

He freezes there, fingers gripping your arms. “I, uh – I’m sorry.” Jungkook shakes his head, stepping away.

Warm air rushes between you, the noise of the venue growing steadily louder. It buzzes in your ears, blood pounding in your veins due to the proximity to him. It is not just that he is gorgeous, although he is – there is something more here, something almost electric between you.

“Thanks,” you say softly. 

Jungkook seems surprised. “Thanks, for what?”

“For the message you sent,” you clarify, feeling oddly shy standing before him. Though you have no idea of the time, the concert must be starting soon – the pitch of the crowd has heightened, taking on that urgent, feverish tone. “Thank you for the warning. Most people wouldn’t have done that.”

Jungkook’s cheeks flush. “Yeah,” he says, lowering his voice. “I’m sorry if that was weird, or whatever. I didn’t mean to intrude, but… I don’t know. You seem nice and he’s, well – he’s not.”

“I seem nice?” you say, smile tugging at your lips. The way Jungkook reacts, poking his cheek hard with his tongue, makes you grin. “Is that what you think? What if I’m not?”

When Jungkook swallows, his grip tightens on the rail. He looks swiftly away, red hair falling into his gaze. It makes you want to feel it again, push it back from his face – you imagine tugging this between your fingers, crushing those full lips to yours.

It seems Jungkook thinks the same thing, based on the way his gaze drops to your lips. “I’d ask you to prove it,” Jungkook says, hoarse. “You seem pretty damn nice to me.”

Before you can speak, Jungkook steps even closer. His lips brush your ear, making you shiver. “You seem like the kind who sneaks out not because they can’t leave, but because they don’t want to wake anyone up.” His smile curves, breath brushing over your cheek. “You put up a good front but at the end of the night, after you’ve been fucked, you just want someone lying beside you.”

Breath catching, your gaze darts to his. “Like you’re so different?” you say, barely able to hear yourself over the music. “You think not caring makes someone bad? Please,” you scoff, not looking away. “That’s the most cliche bad in the book. I’m bored just thinking about it.”

Rather than disagree with you, Jungkook just smiles. “Hm.”

“And besides,” you say, nodding up to the stage. “You know I’m no saint. You know I came here, am standing here because I wanted to be fucked by him.”

Jungkook’s gaze darkens. “Wanted?” he says carefully. “Past tense?”

You do not look away. “Maybe there’s someone else I’m more interested in now. Maybe there’s someone else I want to, how did you put it?” Leaning forward, your lips brush his cheek. “Fuck me like hell.”

Jungkook’s throat bobs when he swallows. “Shit,” he mutters beneath his breath. Before he can reply, the lights go out around you.

The entire venue erupts, people screaming and pushing you forward. By the time the lights blaze back on, you find yourself far way from the rail. Jungkook is not longer paying attention, expression is frantic as he barks orders to no one. Turning around, he seems consumed by his job – until your gaze finds his pants, lips parting at the way he walks. Stiffly, tightly, hiding an obvious bulge.

Before you can linger, Cindy grabs hold of your shoulder. “Y/N!” she screams. “I CAN SEE THEM IN THE WINGS!”

Turning around, you attempt to scream with the crowd but everything about this seems less exciting than before – your gaze keeps darting sideways to the small amount of space between the rail and the stage. Jungkook keeps looking at you, as well – the amount of times your gazes meet is borderline obscene. Definitely noticeable, if anyone else were to look.

It is midway through the concert when the thing happens again – Aaron is singing his heart out, one of your favorites and when his gaze searches the crowd, he spots you. Lingering on your face, his lips lift in a smile and although he is undeniably handsome, your body does not tingle the same way as before. Instead, you find yourself glancing at the other thousands of doe-eyed girls looking at him. Aaron must be used to that; he must be fine with girls throwing themselves at his feet and, with a small shiver of disgust, you look away.

Aaron moves on, a tiny crease in his brow and when his gaze slides to your left, he finds Cindy. She gasps, clutching your arm to shriek in excitement. You join in because it is exciting – just not as exciting as Jungkook, biting his lip and scanning the crowd. Fuck, he does not seem to realize how hot he is – which makes sense, given that 99% of the individuals here tonight are here to bone the lead singer.

You are the only one looking at him and when his gaze drifts to you, he sees. Jungkook stares, the air burning between you and it is hard not to think about what he said earlier. Hard not to think about his reaction when you mentioned wanting to be fucked.

The rest of the concert passes in a haze of neon lights and dark crowds. When the last song is over, Cindy turns to you with a sigh. “I miss them already,” she whines, draping herself over the rail. “When will they come back?”

Trying not to laugh, you nudge her. “I know, I know – but hey! Aaron looked at you, remember?”

Cindy instantly perks up. “You saw that, too? I’m not crazy!”

“No,” you say, starting to leave. “You’re not crazy.”

When she starts to break down the details, you glance over your shoulder – it is more than a little disappointing to find Jungkook nowhere in sight. You wanted to give him your number, or at least say goodbye but it appears this was a one-sided desire. Facing Cindy again, you suddenly key in on what she has been saying.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” you say, holding up both hands. “You want to go where? With who?”

“The Bar!” she cries out, clapping her hands. “It’s that place right outside the stadium – Jeff texted me he’s heading there with friends. I don’t want to go home, yet, Y/N – don’t make me go home!”

She looks so sad, lower lip protruding that you cannot help but laugh. “Ah, shit.” Groaning, you glance down at your phone. “I don’t know, Cindy. It’s late and I just kind of want to go back.”

“I can take you there, if you want.”

Head snapping up, you watch as (like something from a dream) Jungkook steps into view. He seems more normal now, with his earpiece removed and hands stuffed in his jacket. There is writing on the back, you realize. Something about punk not being dead – but this is of little importance, when compared to his offer.

Cindy looks triumphantly at you. “See!” she says. “This is perfect. I can meet Jeff and the others while sexy sound boy takes you home.”

Your mouth drops, appalled because Cindy does not even know Jungkook – she just wants to party.

“Uh, Jungkook,” he says, arching a brow. “I’ll also answer to sexy sound boy, though. It’s cool.”

Cindy squints up at him. “You’re not a psychopath, are you, sexy sound boy? Or a murderer? Or a drunk? Or high on any sort of drugs – legal, or otherwise?”

Jungkook appears to fight back a smile. “Nope, to all of the above.”

“Right, then!” Cindy claps both hands together. “I’ll be off and Y/N – maybe take a cab,” she says, looking dubiously at Jungkook. “Sexy sound guy sounds super boring.”

With that, she is gone – disappeared into the crowd and leaving you gaping behind her. Tomorrow, you two will have some words because your concept of safety differs wildly from hers. Clearing his throat, Jungkook brings your gaze back to his.

“You don’t have to say yes,” he says. “I totally get it if you don’t want to ride with a stranger. I just thought – I don’t know, it would be nice to get to know you.”

Jungkook pauses, finger running over the hoops in one ear. He seems nervous and in the end, this is what convinces you.

Before you can change your mind, you begin to walk up the stairs. “Just a ride,” you caution. “I assume you’re parked in the staff parking lot, and I don’t want to deal with the traffic.”

Jungkook nods, following silently and not contradicting your statement. As you leave the venue, the noise lessens until the only audible sounds are your footsteps, distant traffic and the fading yelling of people. Jungkook walks casually alongside you, both hands in his pockets while you sneak glances at his profile.

He really is gorgeous – which is strange, when paired with the way that he acts. He has this blunt, almost caustic edge laid over genuinely good intentions. It is a combination almost too good to be true, which is why you come to a stop on the other side of his navy-blue Camaro.

“Hey,” you say, laying both arms on the roof. “Tell me something about yourself that kind of sucks.”

Jungkook pauses while opening his door. “I’m sorry – what?”

“You know.” Casually, you wave a hand. “Tell me something you’re bad at, or some fault that you have because right now, you seem almost perfect and I’m kind of concerned.”

“Uh.” Jungkook smiles, clearly holding back laughter. “What if that’s my fault? Everything I do is too perfect, it’s a burden.”

“Pass,” you sigh, shutting his door.

When you move towards the building, Jungkook’s laugh rings out from behind you. “Okay, okay!” he says, grabbing your arm.

Coming to a stop, you let him turn you to face him. “Yes?” you ask, eyes dancing.

Staring at him, the electricity between you is palpable. This, you will admit, is part of the reason you stand here. Jungkook makes you curious, since this is something you have not experienced before – you have never been so aware of another person, never wanted another person’s hands on your body so badly.

“Communication,” he blurts, only to wince. “I’m that guy in the group chat who never texts back. You know, the one who sees a message, tells himself he’ll respond and then doesn’t. I hate one-on-one conversation because it makes me uncomfortable – unless I know the person. I – yeah.”

“Hm,” you say, glancing down at his hand on your arm. “Okay, makes sense.”

“Okay?” Jungkook says, eyebrows shooting up.

“Yeah,” you nod. “That was honest. Previous responses I’ve gotten include, ‘my dick is too big,’ and, ‘people say they climax too much when they’re with me.’ Your comment was Shakespearian compared to them.”

“… Who?”

“Lord. Don’t make me hurt you.”

Jungkook laughs, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket. There on his forearm is a tiny line of text. “Super violent, super aggressive,” he says. “I don’t think any harm will be necessary.”

Leaning forward, you read the words of his tattoo.

These violent delights have violent ends and, in their triumph die like fire which, as they kiss, consume.

Staring down at the stark ink, you swallow. “Why that line?”

“I liked it.” Jungkook shrugs, tugging his jacket back down. “Thought it sounded badass, you know. Plus – it’s fun to tell people it’s a lyric of Frontman and see how they react.”

With that, he turns towards his car and leaves you staring after him. You cannot help it; you laugh. “How do people usually respond?” you say, lowering yourself into his passenger seat.

Jungkook smiles, switching into reverse. “They normally agree with me,” he says. “They say it’s one of their favorites lyrics – and then I silently judge them for the rest of the concert. Kids today,” he tuts, shaking his head. “Not knowing classic literature.”

Trying hard not to laugh, you lean your head to the seat. “Seems kind of rude,” you say. “To lead them astray like that.”

“Maybe.” Jungkook shrugs. “I happen to think it’s ruder to pretend you know something you don’t. No one is omniscient – better to say you don’t know, than spread wrong information.”

Opening an eye, you survey his profile. Lights from the highway flick over his features, casting him in alternating illumination and shadow. “I agree,” you say softly. “10 S Maple Ave.”

“Huh?” Jungkook looks over.

“My address,” you remind, lifting a brow. “It’s 10 S Maple Ave. – do you know where that is?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook nods, switching lanes. “That’s not too far from my place.”

Hearing him say this, you sit up in your seat. “Your place?” you repeat, confused. “You live around here? I thought... you were a part of Frontman’s crew?”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “I am,” Jungkook says. “Kind of. Whenever Frontman’s in town, I like to manage their performance myself but more accurately, I’m their lead sound engineer.” He grins. “Aaron and I go way back.”

Staring at him, your mouth drops a little. “That seems like a crucial bit of information to leave out.”

“Oh.” Jungkook pauses, then shrugs. “Well, add that to the list of flaws, I guess.”

“Great. I’m also adding you’re kind of a dick.”

Jungkook laughs, choking on the sound. “You can insult me however you like, I can take it.”

“Oh, really?” you say, curling your legs higher to face him. “And why is that?”

Smirking, his gaze flicks to yours. “Each insult you give just makes me want to wipe that smirk from your face even more. Makes me want to hear my name moaned even louder.”

Mouth turning suddenly dry, your fingers grip the edge of his seat. “That… you…”

“Yes?” he says calmly, tilting his head.

Having no response, you face forward. Far be it from you to acknowledge the sudden heat in your veins, the way his look makes you want to pull over the car. “We’ll see about that,” you mutter, staring out at the road.

Jungkook exhales, continuing to drive and although your conversation continues, it is only surface-deep. He asks you a question, you answer and vice versa, while in the back of your mind, there is only one thing you think about. Fucking him every way imaginable – in the kitchen, on your sofa, in the shower. Jungkook taking you hard from behind, his fingers digging into your ass. Maybe once or twice with him on top, powerful thighs thrusting into you with ease. Already you know you are wet and Jungkook has not even touched you yet, has not even kissed you.  

You are so busy thinking about him, you barely notice the moment you arrive. Jungkook parks on the street beside your building, background music still playing, soft on the stereo. When you glance sideways at him, he is already looking your way.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, even though you both know the night is not over.

His grip tightens on the steering wheel, then releases. “Not a problem. I hope you get in safely.”

“Oh,” you say, glancing over his shoulder. “To be honest… the guy who lives next door is kind of a creep. I wouldn’t mind if you walked me to my apartment?”

“Sure.” Jungkook nods, turning off the car. “That seems like a good idea. Whatever you want.”

Unbuckling your seat belt, you exit – Jungkook follows, locking the car behind him. “Better to be safe,” he explains, holding open the door to your lobby. “I won’t be gone for long, but you never know.”

“Of course,” you say. Grabbing his hand, you step into the elevator. “Just in case.”

Jungkook’s fingers trail your wrist, sending sparks down your spine. “You should probably stand closer,” he murmurs when the elevator starts to rise. “Just as a precaution.”

“Mm,” you agree as Jungkook steps forward, hovering before you. His hands slide down your sides, your back hitting the elevator. “How sensible.”

Jungkook inhales, bending his nose to trace from neck to jaw. “Sensible – my middle name,” he murmurs, lips stopping at yours.

“I thought your middle name was fucking,” you say, hips pressing upwards. “Jung-fucking-kook.”

“If you want it to be,” he agrees, opening your lips with his own.

His kiss is hot, bruising while your mouths move roughly together. Jungkook’s hand digs into your hip, the weight of his body heavy and you cannot help but moan when his leg pushes between yours. Arms finding his neck, you press yourself closer – Jungkook tastes like the gum he was chewing, although this dissolves in your mouth the longer you kiss.

When the elevator dings, you do not want him to stop. Breaking out of his grasp, you struggle to catch your breath before pulling him into the hall. “This way,” you say, adjusting your top. “I think I’d feel better if you... checked out my place.”

Jungkook chuckles, coming up from behind to kiss the nape of your neck. You pause at your door, fumbling with the keys because Jungkook’s arms are already around you. His lips are hot on your throat, hands soft on your hips and your eyes keep fluttering, losing yourself in his touch.

“Jungkook,” you croak, nearly unrecognizable. “Please… I have to get open the door.”

He lets go, taking a step backwards but just one look at his face shows he is as affected as you. Jungkook’s breathing deepens, gaze dark while you shove the door open. Barely do you make it inside before he shuts the door and you are finally alone.

“Come here,” Jungkook growls, pushing you against the frame. He kisses you rough and you respond to him in kind. Your purse hits the floor, biting down on his lip. Jungkook’s breath hitches, making a mad scramble for the hem of his t-shirt.

Grabbing your wrists in one hand, he yanks these above you and pins your back to the door. Jungkook kisses your neck as you shiver, his other hand drifting towards the front of your jeans. He stays there for a moment – his lips painfully teasing while he holds you taut to the wall.

“Jungkook,” you moan, into his mouth. “I want to touch you.”

“Do you?” he says, hand grazing the curve of your breast. His thumb flicks a nipple, making you squirm. “How bad?”

“Bad,” you gasp, head hitting the door while he sucks a bruise to your neck. “I couldn’t stop thinking about fucking you all night.”

Keeping your hands overhead, Jungkook lowers his thumb and traces your wrist. “You couldn’t?” he murmurs. “What did you think about?”

“Everything,” you confess, barely over a whisper. “Your dick in my mouth, your head between my legs, you fucking me sideways – bent over, on top, below me. Any way and every way, God.”

Jungkook hisses, the noise painful. “Shit,” he mutters. “I wanted to tease you more, wanted to see you beg underneath me but…” With a whine, he grabs your wrist to lower your hand to his pants. “You’re so fucking hot, I’m practically bursting.”

Eyes wide, you trace over his bulge – Jungkook was not kidding when he said he was hard. Pushing his hips forward, you feel the clear outline of his dick and when you swallow, Jungkook brings his thumb to your lips.

“Suck,” he commands, and you obediently open.

Lips closing around him, you start at the base of his finger. Hollowing your cheeks, you pull back until he stares at you in awe. You repeat this, adding tongue until Jungkook groans, imagining the same on his cock. Free hand finding his belt, he unbuckles this quickly and lets it fall to the ground.

Before he can utter a word, you drop to your knees. Staring up at him, you spread your legs slowly. There are some who do not like to suck dick, feeling it allows for little attention while they do so. You feel exactly the opposite. The sight of a guy undone by your touch; turned in to a needy, whimpering mess – for you, this is more of a turn-on than most guys eating you out.

Jungkook’s eyes widen when he sees you on your knees. Keeping his gaze, you tug his jeans to the floor. Jungkook is left in only his underwear, those powerful thighs concealed from your view – it seems wrong to keep them hidden and so, you gently pull his underwear to the ground. Inch by inch, Jungkook’s cock is revealed and when he stands naked before you, you sit back.

He is incredibly turned on – if that was not obvious from the way he keeps licking his lips, hair messy and ragged from his hands running through it – it is clear by the thick shaft of his cock, erect from his hips. You stare for a moment, gaze tracing over his veins, his tip hardened and red. When you bend to lick upwards, Jungkook barely is able to stifle his moan.

Closing your mouth over the tip, you gently add your hands. Jungkook groans even louder, eyes fluttering shut when your hands slide even lower, stroking him fast while your mouth sucks him off.

“Shit,” he exhales, sounding a little unsteady. “Y/N, god.”

Emboldened, you suck harder. Lowering a hand to his balls, you run your fingers over him gently, pulling him closer to deep-throat at the same time. The combination is overwhelming, you can tell by his expression – eyes scrunched up in pleasure, roughened moans on his lips. Jungkook reaches suddenly down, grasping your hair. When he pulls your head forward, you try not to gag.

“Look at me,” he gasps. When you do, Jungkook inhales at the way your eyes water. Gaze narrowing, his thighs flex as he fucks your mouth. “You look so pretty like that,” he murmurs. “Taking all of my cock. Can you fit more, baby?”

Moaning in approval, you let him feel the vibrations while you relax your throat. Jungkook’s expression turns to bliss and his hips stutter for a moment before he regains his motion.

“Shit,” he exhales, thrusting harder. “You’re so good, Y/N… so fucking good, holy – I’m going to come, ah!” With a gasp, he withdraws his cock from your mouth. Exhaling deeply, Jungkook’s chest rises and falls while you sit back on your heels.

“What’s wrong?” you say, innocent from your place on your knees.

Jungkook opens his eyes, staring at you swollen lips and spread legs. “Get up,” he rasps. “Take off those clothes.”

Standing slowly, you tilt your head sideways. “No,” you say, smug. “Undress me.”

Jungkook pauses a moment before moving, striding fast to your side. Pulling you forward, into a kiss, he makes you to feel every inch of him. Cock digging into your stomach, his fingers slide into your hair and when he is done with your mouth, he breaks free. Jungkook’s hands find your shirt, lifting the material overhead to drop down on the floor.

His fingers slide beneath your jeans’ waistband – you did not wear fishnets tonight, opting for less complicated clothing. Jungkook undoes first one button, then the next until your jeans are shoved down to the floor. Kneeling, he presses a kiss to your panties.

He hovers for a moment, breathing in your arousal and you whimper at the sight, nearly breaking control. Gaze flicking upwards, Jungkook meets your own. “Are you already this wet?” he murmurs, slipping a finger between your legs. He strokes over your underwear. “Just from sucking me off?”

“Yes,” you whisper, watching him stand.

Jungkook does not respond, leaning forward to open your mouth with a kiss. His hands slide down your body, gripping your ass and grinding his hips against yours. You give in, arms curving about him while Jungkook undoes your bra with one hand. The straps are quickly shrugged off, leaving you mostly naked against him.

Jungkook bites down on your ear. “Where do you want me to fuck you?” he pants, fingers pushing your panties aside. He slides in a single digit, making you gasp – you stand halfway on tip-toe while he finger-fucks you in your living room.

“I,” you groan, tipping your head back. “I don’t care – I just want you to fuck me.”

Jungkook chuckles, sucking rough against your throat. “Just once?” he teases, curling his finger inside, then adding another. His thumb brushes your clit and you whimper, grabbing hold of his biceps to keep from coming undone.

Normally, it would take much more than this to get you off. There is something about him, though – the night, the build-up and Jungkook’s lips and his fingers. It all hits in just the right way. “Oh,” you gasp, when his thumb circles the hood of your clit. Biting down on your lip, you bury your face in his shoulder.

Jungkook’s chuckle vibrates your body. “I want to fuck you more than once tonight,” he says quietly. “In each way imaginable. I want to spread you out on your bed and lick your pussy until you scream – but that may have to wait until the second time, because I’m fucking dying to be inside you.”

“Oh?” you groan, too concentrated on the feeling of his fingers inside your soaked cunt.

“Mm,” Jungkook nods, continuing his torturous motion. “I might come just standing in front of you – that’s how hard I am. Y/N,” he groans, pleading. “Please let me fuck you.”

Already, your body is tightening, clenched around the length of his fingers and you nod, jerking your head towards the door. “Let me get a condom,” you say, while Jungkook withdraws from your body.

He nods, bringing his hand to his mouth and you watch, jaw slackening, as he licks his fingers clean of your juices. 

“Hurry,” Jungkook exhales, his gaze dark.

The sight leaves you weak, body trembling as you disappear into the bathroom. When you emerge with a condom, you fairly fling it his way. “Put that on,” you demand, shimmying free of your panties. “I want to be fucked by you from behind, over the armrest of this couch.”

Jungkook stares at you a moment, before coming to his senses and ripping open the packet. He is at your side within seconds, pulling you forward – he does not turn you around just yet, opening your mouth against his in a heated kiss.

“Shit,” Jungkook groans, playing with your nipple between you. “I’ve never been so fucking turned on in my life. I swear to god, Y/N... what are you doing to me?”

“I don’t know,” you groan, because you do not – you have no idea what this is, nor why he feels like an addiction. Wildfire spreads through your veins and you only know that you want him, and want him now.  

Jungkook nods, turning you around. When he spreads your legs to either side, you inhale. His cock teases, brushing over you for a moment – he trails a slick path from your clit to cunt several times. He does this again, until you whimper against him and then he grabs for your hips, pushing inside.

You gasp, chest hitting the couch as your hands scramble for purchase. Jungkook groans, unmoving and stays like that for a moment, cock buried inside you. He is so large, stretching you in the best way possible and when he withdraws from you halfway, you whimper in protest.

Chuckling, Jungkook’s hands smooth your back. “What?” he asks, kissing your neck while he slowly pushes back in. “Is that better?” he murmurs, hips rolling against you. “Do you feel better like that, full of my cock?”

Nodding, your fingers clench around nothing because fuck, you have never felt like this before – never been so turned on, so aware of your partner. Jungkook seems to slip in and out, that is how wet you are for him and rather than be turned off by this, Jungkook hisses in pleasure.

“I can’t take how fucking drenched you are,” he murmurs, fingers spreading your arousal. “You feel so fucking good. I’m about to cum right now, inside you.”

“Do it,” you moan, arching your back while he fucks you. “I want you to cum, baby – please, I can’t take it much longer.”

Jungkook speeds up, hips moving faster. Your legs somewhat collapse, knees hitting the couch. Now it is only Jungkook’s hands holding you up, pulling you onto him with each thrust of his hips – he fucks into you roughly, letting the couch brush over your clit.

“Shit,” you gasp, knowing he will leave bruises but not caring in the slightest. Nothing matters besides his cock hitting deep, your entire body clenching with each stroke and when he makes a strangled moan of your name, it is too much. “Fuck!” you cry, pushing your hips backwards. “Please, Jungkook – oh! I’m going to come, I can’t, I – Jungkook!”

With a final groan, you let go – waves of pleasure crashing around you. Jungkook makes a choked noise of approval, feeling you come. He keeps going, fucking you through your orgasm until he gasps out your name and releases as well. 

Dazed and fucked out, you simply lay there like that – Jungkook’s chest rises and falls, pressed to your back before placing a soft kiss to your spine and slowly withdrawing.

Exhaling shakily, you move to sit on the sofa – feeling suddenly self-conscious, you grab a pillow before you. Jungkook removes his condom to tie in a knot, tossing this into the garbage and glancing at you.

“Why’re you so far away?” he asks, noticing your expression. Walking closer, he smooths a hand through his hair that does nothing to fix it.

Shrugging, you hold the pillow tighter. “I – I wasn’t sure, if…”

Jungkook expression softens. “I...” He exhales, almost hesitant. “I was hoping you wanted someone to lie beside you tonight?”

Cheeks heating, you stare. “I – only if that person wanted to, that is.”

“I want to.” Jungkook moves closer. Lowering one knee to the sofa, he brushes your lips with his. “If you want me, too.”

Pillow falling, you reach up to kiss him – properly, tongue and all. “I’d like that,” you whisper, grinning when his forehead drops to your own. “Besides, didn’t you say something about a second time…?”

Jungkook’s answering smile is wicked. “And a third and a fourth,” he agrees, standing up from the couch. “Might want to go get some Gatorade, it’s going to be a long night.”

“Hm. Isn’t that a Frontman lyric?”

Jungkook pauses in the door to your bedroom, scowling over his shoulder. “Give me ten more minutes to get hard, and I’ll wipe that name from your lips.”

Giggling at his petulance, you scramble up from the couch. “You should send that to Aaron,” you nod, brushing past. “As a song title idea.”

“That’s it!”

Squealing, you dart past when Jungkook makes a grab for your waist and, tumbling into bed, you grin at him from the covers. Jungkook flips you off, walking into your bathroom and you laugh out loud, unable to help it.

It is hard not to consider what he said on your couch. Honestly, you have no idea what this is, either – but it sure as hell is something. Something much, much better than bedding the lead singer of Frontman.

© kpopfanfictrash, 2018. Do not copy or repost without permission.