#so at some point she 'accidentally' spills wine all over his shirt. (oh no. how tragic)

[coffeebanana]

I know the fandom's very excited about feligami right now but actually I think everyone's sleeping on the comedic potential of post-feligami breakup adrigaminette

[banisheed]

TIMING: Recent LOCATION: a club PARTIES: Kieran (@debauchfairy) & Siobhan (@banisheed) SUMMARY: A little incident on the dancefloor leads to a confrontation Kieran has some trouble getting out of. Siobhan stumbles in. CONTENT: Unsanitary tw (blood), Memory loss tw (minor mention, from fae binds)

“Seriously? Red wine? Who brings a full glass of red wine onto the dance floor? Fucking amateurs…” Kieran was muttering to himself, luckily alone in the bathroom but really, the presence of other people wouldn’t have stopped the angry tirade. He wouldn’t even really have minded an audience, someone to agree with him on the audacity of what had just taken place. Truly, it had felt deliberate, a premeditated crime against him and his shirt. No one just accidentally spilled that much wine. Wine that, despite Kieran’s attempts, was adamantly against being washed out. 

With a heavy sigh, he turned off the faucet, stopping the stream of cold water he had desperately hoped would mitigate some of the damage. No such luck - the top was officially a goner. Just as he reluctantly tossed the soaked garment into the trash, the door to the bathroom swung open and his eyes narrowed at the annoyingly familiar face. Red wine lady. “If you’re here to apologize, I only accept those in the form of cash. Pretty sure it retailed for around 400 bucks,” Kieran explained dryly, arms crossing over his chest, now bare underneath the jacket that had fortunately survived the massacre. 

The woman looked entirely unimpressed, letting the door close behind her. “That’s the least of your worries, fae.”

Oh. Oh. Kieran let out an amused scoff even as he took a step back, glancing towards one of the bathroom stalls. The woman - a warden, apparently - was blocking the only exit. “See, I knew you spilled that deliberately.” She took a step closer, flicking her wrist and letting a blade slide down into her grip from somewhere inside her sleeve. Kieran couldn’t hold back an eye roll. “Alright, very impressive but completely unnecessary. I’m sure we can come to some sort of non-violent conclusion?” His tone took on a different cadence, words laced with the suggestion that it would be so much nicer to follow his lead, give into the control he was currently trying to exert. She looked completely unphased. Fuck. 

—

“Seriously?” Siobhan mumbled to herself. “No one is going to die?” Why did she drag herself to a club if no one was going to die? She came to be entertained and instead there were sweaty humans swaying to mediocre music. She ordered a drink every time someone she didn’t want to talk to (everyone, anyone) approached her and lost track of how many drinks she’d had. Pleasure buzzed through her bones and so she assumed she’d hit her minimum, but the scenery was dull and human-watching had lost its charm two decades ago. They were still the same, always the same; always boring unless they were dying. Which was the point, she’d come here for the point of it all: a large crowd of people usually guaranteed her at least one death. And then they might meet the point of her knife. Technically, they’d meet the side, not the point. Contrary to popular belief—and Siobhan did think people were thinking this about her—Siobhan was a throat-slitter, not a stabber. 

It was starting to turn into that time of night when her thoughts gave up and ran amok in her head; she needed to leave. Siobhan stood, teetering only once, and suddenly realized she had to pee. It was the great misfortune of alcohol that it tended to do that. Steadying herself with her palm on the sticky club walls, Siobhan followed the signs for the bathroom. Then there were the voices, cutting through the din and piercing her attuned ears: she’d learned to listen for these sorts of things. A chill shot down her spine, temporarily sobering her. “..fae.” She knew that contemptuous tone, that spitting of the word as though it would burn through a tongue if held on one too long. It wasn’t her business; her home and left her behind and she had left it and with that leaving, she’d forfeited her ability to care. 

Fae looked out for other fae, that was their rule. What fae had looked out for her? Siobhan didn’t care. She pressed her ear to the door and listened but not because she cared. She pushed the door in—without care—and found that it creaked open with ease—which she didn’t care about. Wardens these days were so stupid; why would you risk a confrontation so publicly? Back in her day, Wardens were less stupid and everything made more sense and if she wanted to kill someone she had to walk across Ireland in the snow both ways. Honestly, she didn’t want to help the fae—she didn’t care—she was merely offended that the warden was so sloppy. Her mother always said that if you were going to kill someone, you had to do it right. 

“I’d really like a violent conclusion, actually.” Siobhan grinned, pushing into the bathroom and holding the door closed behind her, in case someone else stumbled by. She recognized the fae from wine-spilled-on-the-dancefloor fame; the scene had earned a chuckle from her from her viewpoint at the bar. She didn’t think this about most men, but she preferred him with a shirt; the wine stain really made his eyes pop. She pulled a stack of paper towels and jammed them under the door, forming a make-shift door-stopper. Straightening up, she adjusted her hair. “You’re outnumbered now, what are you going to do?” Smelling her own breath, she realized she reeked of whiskey. Yet—and even though she was unable to keep steady—she was perfectly sober in her head. 

—

This wasn’t great. Of course Kieran had assumed he could let his guard down in such a crowded place, even in towns like Wicked’s Rest, blatant murder in front of timid humans tended to be frowned upon. Hard for a warden to follow their cliched purpose if they got in trouble with the law. This one looked too angry to care - maybe she just really hated fun? Or attractive people? Sure, there was the matter of him feeding but no one was worse for wear, the people Kieran had snacked on presumably still enjoying themselves on the dance floor. Probably even having the best night of their life because of him, not in spite of his presence and influence. It didn’t really matter why this warden was so eager to slice and dice in a public bathroom, however, the why of it wouldn’t stop her. A witness might. 

Dark eyes flicked back to the door, willing it to open as the warden stepped forward and Kieran retreated, a deadly sort of synchronized dance. The iron blade glinted as she flipped it around, ready to wield, to hurt. For the briefest of moments, the constrictive weight around Kieran’s chest loosened when the door blissfully swung open, providing the witness he’d so hoped for. Only it was a completely useless witness, seeing as it was one that could be murdered with just as little regard as he could, the feeling of a second fae prickling at Kieran’s skin - followed by the return of the tightness inside his chest that hopefully wasn’t a sense of impending doom. Except the drunk and wobbly fae was ruining their chances of anyone else barging in here. Kieran wondered if the desperation in his eyes screamed ‘what the fuck are you doing?’ loud enough but seeing as the other fae’s eyes were swimming in too many drinks, he might as well have actually screamed it and garnered results just as useless. 

Kieran watched as the warden sized their new companion up, stepping back to keep both fae in her line of sight. What were the odds of the drunk lady carrying a weapon? “Attempt to kill us both is my guess,” he answered for the warden, who seemed to be done talking, her fingers tightening on the hilt of the knife. Kieran let his glamor drop as it wasn’t doing him any favors at the moment, only the second it did, the warden was moving. It was a question of a few inches, sharp iron just barely missing his chest as he leapt backwards, nowhere close to being a solution as he was quite literally backed into a corner now. Stuck between a blade and a hard place - or a Dyson hand dryer if one wanted to get stuck on details. 

—

Siobhan was a strong believer in making her own fun. If no one was going to die, what if she just killed someone? It’d been so long since she’d killed a warden; did they still bleed the same, did they die just like any other human? The warden lunged and swung and Siobhan clapped and laughed and stumbled into a sink. The warden probably thought she had easy pickings: one (literally) doey boy and a steaming drunk. Siobhan was happy to think for a moment about how wrong she was. She glanced at the other fae. Probably not wrong about that part or that she was a little more drunk than she planned on being—but she’d perfected the art of drunk murder. Sober or not, a scream was a scream. For another moment, she wondered if she should let the boy die; two deaths were better than one. She thought about it. She imagined it—somehow stuffing his head into the hand dryer, as though it were a blender, and turning it on, painting him across the walls. But no he was too pretty to die. Normally, that was a sentence she reserved for herself, in jest. But with complete seriousness, it had never applied more than to that fae: he was too pretty and it would’ve been a shame to see him gone. 

The warden’s death came to her in a drunk hiccup, chest burning with the stronger remnants of the scream. She didn’t look at it, she didn’t like spoilers for the main event, and anyway, despite her drunken mastery, if she got too excited, she couldn’t control herself. More than a few screams had come out against her designs and as she knew…sober or not, a scream was a scream. A knife slipped from Siobhan’s sleeve.

The warden lurched forward; the fae was against the wall with nowhere to go. She was aiming right for the heart and this time it was sure to hit, it should’ve hit. He should’ve been dead. Instead, she crashed into a stall door, groping at the knife stuck in her throat. 

“Stop moving.” Siobhan warned, trying to get her knife back just as the warden’s slipped from her hand. “I’m trying to…” The warden gurgled, blood gushing around the knife’s hilt. “…I didn’t want to stab you, I just…” Siobhan‘s fingers slid off the bloody hilt. “Oh, if you could just stand still…” The warden crumpled to her knees, grasping the slick hilt. Her fingers flew off and again she tried to pull it and again. And it was only when Siobhan held it, a foot planted between the woman’s breasts, that she pulled it out to the fanfare of bubbling blood. The warden toppled over with her palms pressing the geyser in the side of her throat. “I was trying to slit it,” she explained. She turned around and smiled at her fellow fae—could she still think that? “I love it when they die like this.” She turned back to the warden, pale and wheezing and trying to reach for her knife which laid—of course—just out of reach from her bloody, trembling hand. The life in her body was diminishing and it was that that Siobhan adored: the power she held, her slowly satiating curiosity (yes, she died like any other human, just as they always did). How many times had she done this? Still she marveled at it, still it assured her that she was herself. She was Siobhan. Tomorrow, hungover, she would be some other pathetic woman but here, now, gargling warden on the floor, she was Siobhan. 

Sometimes, it didn’t feel so right, but she didn’t think about those times. The warden’s blood on her body burned and she was happy. “What do we do about the body?” She asked over the warden’s blubbery gargling. “We are in public. Now, I didn’t bring my big knives but I feel strongly about dismemberment and then stuffing her in the toilets. What do you think? She was trying to kill you so you get to decide.” Not that it was an actual rule of any sort, but Siobhan was in a generous state of mind. 

—

A bit too frequently for Kieran’s taste, the second time in as many months, he found himself thinking that maybe a touch of self defense skills would do him some good. Thinking such things was absolutely useless now, wouldn’t change the events of the next few seconds but if someone as egotistical and unwilling to look within as he was ever going to lament on things not done, it would be right before an untimely death. Only the blade didn’t make contact, didn’t cut and burn and cause irreversible damage. 

The other fae’s knife had been faster. 

It was hypnotic, gruesome in such an… undignified way. Kieran wasn’t particularly messy - not in this manner of speaking, he could definitely be another sort of messy bitch when the occasion called for it - so watching this scenario unfurl was a first. Or he thought it was, a faint memory of a before knocking on a bolted door amongst so many other locked up things from the past. Somehow, drunk and fumbling, the other fae still commanded a sense of respect but maybe that was just the knife in her hand and Kieran’s adrenaline crash. He couldn’t tell like he normally did, wasn’t able to metaphorically taste this woman’s glee but the faun knew enough about joy at this point to recognize each aspect of it. Her eyes were sparkling with it, not even diluted by the alcohol. Through the fog of almost dying, Kieran tried to remember if that gave him any clues as to what flavor of fae he was dealing with. Maybe she just liked the sight of blood regardless of her heritage. 

“Hmm?” She was speaking to him, Kieran’s eyes reluctantly tearing away from the warden’s neck where the blood was coming out in shorter and shorter bursts now. Detaching his attention from the scene finally made him aware of a deep burning on the skin of his chest - some stray droplets of blood, most of the messy spray luckily having landed on his jacket. The shirt this warden had ruined would have deflected the rest. Another inhuman sound from the warden. It was never this distracting those few times Kieran had left an unwitting human without a pulse. 

You get to decide. “I… think that might take a while.” Not to mention it would be a bloody affair and the bit of iron-laden blood Kieran already had on his skin felt like plenty. Reaching for a tissue, he wiped distractedly at the blood. “We could just leave?” Why were they suddenly a ‘we’? Sure, without her he’d almost definitely be dead but that was part of the past, now. With a deep inhale, the tangy scent of blood and the remnants of some sweet perfume filling his nostrils, Kieran ran a hand through his hair and let his glamor slip back. As if on cue, a round of annoyed banging began against the door. The paper towels wouldn’t hold forever. If needed, he could easily charm some poor sap into guarding the door for a moment or two, giving them room to get out of here. At the very least him, he wouldn’t stand in the way of her chopping up a body if she was really feeling it. 

—

“Leave?” Why were some people so bad at murder? As someone who took her murdering seriously, it was offensive. Siobhan’s heel crunched the limp fingers of the warden as she walked over to a sink; the hand reaching for the knife had long since stopped as the life evaporated from the poor girl with one final sputter. Her dead were open, staring at nothing. She washed the blood off her hands. “Are there not cameras? Witnesses? Fates, it’s like you’ve never murdered anyone before.” Not like he had now either, she’d done it. Siobhan watched the blood swirl down. Her hands were stained. No, not stained. Just a little irritated from the iron. Still, she dragged her blunt nails over her flesh as if she could scratch the redness off. The banging at the door startled her up. She snapped her attention to the fae, now glamoured. He looked like someone who got other people to do the less pretty things; faun were always like that, weren’t they? They were creatures of fun, not responsibility. 

“Banshee,” she said in place of an introduction. He’d shown her what he was, she could offer him the courtesy of an explanation. “You couldn’t have hypnotized her?” If a banshee was destructive, practical, rigid, a faun was an inherent opposite. The best she could’ve done was murder. And yet, what had he done but look pretty? “You look like you had an orgy with a box of tomatoes.” Siobhan glanced at herself in the mirror, noting that she looked worse than he did. The bathroom itself looked worse than the both of them: the warden’s blood created a red carpet across the tiles. She frowned at the mess, head throbbing, room swaying. The idea of cleaning it all up nauseated her. Where there not cameras, as she has so astutely put it? Weren't there witnesses? Murder used to be much less of a hassle. “What if we simply carried her out?” she suggested, turning to the pretty, and pretty useless, faun. “We’ll just pretend she’s drunk. Humans are stupid. Their brains are tiny.” 

If they left her, would that be better? The next human who walked in would surely notice the body on the floor. And her companion was right, it would take a while to dismember. “We could stuff her into a stall,” she said. “Or, perhaps, eat her?” Siobhan smiled; it was her idea of a joke. “Or leave, yes, if your kink is watching yourself in blurry footage with big red text that says ‘have you seen this man’.” She smiled again, another joke. “It’s mine.” 

—

Rolling his eyes, Kieran couldn’t quite see how his suggestion of leaving was any worse than hers that included the grueling process of chopping up a body. Even if she did bring up some annoyingly valid points - just walking away, or sometimes running, from situations had usually worked out alright for Kieran in the past. This was his first gruesomely bloody murder, however, as the other fae so accurately pointed out. Somewhat accurately at least, this wasn’t technically the first lifeless body Kieran had left in his wake. Although was it technically a murder when it was simply a minor slip up of the feeding variety? 

She didn’t give much time to offer counter arguments to nuisances like cameras and witnesses, introducing herself without a name but the reveal of her being a banshee was much more relevant than a name. Kieran couldn’t remember meeting a banshee, could only recall morbid interests and something about screams. At least he wasn’t the only one lacking knowledge. “Wardens are immune,” he scoffed, tugging the lapels of his jacket closer at her comment and giving her a very obvious once over. Yeah, he was the one that looked a mess. 

For a moment, Kieran had forgotten just how drunk the banshee had looked when she had entered the bathroom. He was quickly reminded when she suggested carrying the warden, giant blood stain at all, out of here. “Oh my god,” Kieran groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face to the background noise of more insistent banging on the bathroom door. Followed by jokes (he hoped they were jokes, were there a species of fae that actually ate flesh?) which usually, Kieran didn’t take things seriously and jokes were welcome. Standing in a pool of blood in a crowded club? Definitely the exception. 

“Only as a fantasy scenario,” he shot back, not wanting this banshee to outwit him, the rest of whatever graphic commentary should have followed dying on his lips as an actual idea replaced it. “What if there was no footage?” Clapping his hands together as something like a plan formed, Kieran sidestepped the crimson puddle and moved closer to the door, giving a few bangs back to quiet the noise for a moment. “No one probably cared enough to notice this woman going into the bathroom - I mean, you saw what she was wearing. We just need to get out of here without anyone properly identifying us, then I’ll make sure the tapes get deleted or whatever.” 

It sort of made sense, right? Granted, Kieran wasn’t exactly sober but it was still better than any idea the banshee had come up with. “We just… need a distraction to get out of here.”

—-

“Are they now?” Siobhan mulled it over; they certainly weren’t immune to being screamed at or stabbed. Perhaps it was—as the kids in her class might say—a ‘skill issue’. Banshees had their own ideas about the other fae, and she couldn’t be certain what was a fact and what was banshee conjecture. Would now be an appropriate time to ask if all the stories of moonlit faun orgies were true or…? Still, immune or not, would he really have stood there and done nothing? Would he have allowed himself to die in a bathroom, the tackiest place of all to die in? It was wrong to think of herself as a fae—given what she’d done, given who she was—but she thought they shared an acute survival sense. Now, she was given the impression that the faun was one of those sorts of people that wouldn’t do something if they thought it to be too difficult. 

Her estimation of him did not improve; he did not, after all, seem enthusiastic about dismemberment. Siobhan frowned. “But did you see what I’m wearing? Clearly people noticed me.” She wasn’t sure if that was true; actually, remembering her stumbling journey to the bathroom, no one looked at her at all. To anyone else, perhaps the memory would’ve been humbling. To Siobhan, it was embarrassing, so she ignored it. Then she lit up, perking up like a dog hearing its favorite words, which was exactly what she was. No one loved a distraction more than her. Her mind buzzed with all of the options before her: she could scream, but it would make them more obvious if they were the only ones not dazed; she could run around in the nude, but she’d grown out of such juvenile acts. Nothing she could think of would help with ensuring that no one identified them. Siobhan only cared about the opposite: being seen, being applauded, being praised and worshiped. With her extremely attractive face, body, face…other things…how was she supposed to be invisible?

“We’re fae,” she said after a silence. Slowly, from her thigh, she pulled a wad of bills out of one of her knife sheaths. Yes, it might’ve been easier to simply carry around a purse but how could she debase herself with a bag, as though she was incapable of carrying things? In fact, it was her rejection of bags that meant the bills were miraculously unstained. Siobhan shook the bills out. The humans had their stories cautioning accepting gifts from a fae; their wisest and truest stories were the ones that warned of danger. The gift itself held no power, but in taking a gift, one offered up a favor. It was very simple to say: “take this, and promise to forget”. Every gift allowed them to set the terms for the cost, and humans never cared for the fine print of an innocuous exchange. The humans could reject them, but would a series of drunk humans turn down— “Hundred dollar bills. Most of them are fake, in fact, not that anyone can tell in dim light, and by the time they’ve accepted them…” Siobhan shrugged. She divided the cash out and held out half of the stack to her faun ally. 

“What do you think? A gift is a promise. A gift is a deal. We tell them to forget us and they will.” Perhaps it was a stupid idea, but Siobhan considered that given how attractive they were, there was no other way to be unnoticable. They were simply too sexy. 

—

From the look on Kieran’s face, it was easy to tell that he wasn’t that impressed with the banshee’s outfit. It wasn’t awful but not doing her complexion any favors, either, and with that bone structure and those collar bones, she really should have – Kieran pulled his focus back. Not the time. But if their faces didn’t make it onto what would admittedly be the prettiest wanted posters since the dawn of time, Kieran definitely needed to get this woman into the store at a later date. Willingly meeting up with another fae? Murder really did change many things. 

His faith in his own idea grew when the banshee’s face lit up and he waited expectantly, and then a bit impatiently. Kieran had come up with one half of a usable plan, it only made sense that she came up with the rest. Not because Kieran didn’t have any ideas, just simply because it was fair. Maybe he was putting too much stock in this woman’s ability to do anything but stab and joke, eyebrows raising in exasperated defeat at her statement. “Last I checked,” came his dry answer but she wasn’t listening, revealing instead a James Bond-esque hiding place and pulling out wads of cash. 

It made sense that Kieran hadn’t come up with that idea himself. He neither carried cash nor was very big on making deals but he could have come up with something similar. Given the time. Annoyingly, it was a good idea. Promising for not getting implicated in a murder but still very annoying. Kieran had definitely caught the attention of more than a few humans here tonight, as was to be expected, so forcing them all to forget made sense. “And you’ll make sure both of us are forgotten if I do the same?” he asked, words colored with distrust and the expectation of a promise as he hesitantly accepted the cash. 

Now all they needed was the time to spread their gifts and make sure no filmed evidence remained. In a few swift movements, the tissues that had been doing an astounding job at keeping the door closed were removed, door swung open just enough to snatch the person from the front of the line inside and promptly close the door again to a chorus of annoyed groans. The club goer’s expression was already glazed over by the time Kieran had him pressing his weight back against the door, carefree gaze moving over the corpse. “Huh,” the guy noted calmly before the eyes were very gently guided back to the faun. 

“Hi,” Kieran said with a smile. “You wanna help, right?” The stranger nodded dumbly and Kieran’s smile grew. 

The deal was made for the protection of the bathroom. This random stranger would most likely get in a lot of trouble being the one stuck in here, preventing access but such was the way of life. When you were susceptible to hypnosis and fae deals, at least. Once the unlikely pair of fae had finally escaped the bathroom, the tangy smell of blood replaced by booze and sweat and just general debauchery, Kieran wasn’t sure he’d ever appreciated the scent more. Glancing over at the banshee, he gave a curt nod. 

—

Siobhan’s smile twitched and her amusement slipped. Yes, she was planning on only asking the humans to forget her, not him. How did he know? Could he see it on her face? Was it a lucky guess? What about her general demeanor gave him the impression that she was self-serving and unreliable? Whatever it was…she most certainly wanted to keep at it. “Yes, yes.” She waved his concerns away. “I’ll make sure they forget us both, forget the whole night even. Just make sure you do the same.” And since he’d caught her—put a name to her wicked thoughts—by principle, she felt he was owed her honesty. Her games did have a few rules—when she felt like having them. 

Siobhan watched the faun work, realizing that was the area in which he excelled. His domain, as it were. There was an ease to his movements, a skill in his execution. Jealousy flared like the rolling lava-spit of a volcano, slipping down her body. Once, she’d been rather charming with the humans. Bitterness transformed her into a crude, argumentative woman. The idea of fawning attention made her skin crawl. But she’d been skilled at it once, surely she could do it again? Out of the bathroom, into the putrid air of alcohol and human perspiration—undesirable in comparison to the delightfully acrid musk of blood—she made her way to the first aggrieved human. He had complaints about the bathroom and stunk of gin and fruit juice. 

If she could see herself from the faun’s eyes, she would’ve been embarrassed. She lacked his subtlety; everything to her was a performance now. Her motions were big and her smile too wide as if playing it up for an imaginary presence in the distance. Siobhan thrust a bill out and predictably the man’s eyes darted down. “If you accept this, you promise to forget me and forget that man there—forget the last thirty minutes all together—and go back on the dancefloor.” The offer was businesslike instead of seductive. 

In the end, the man was confused. “Uh, yeah sure, whatever,” he said. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t taking her seriously, the magic worked all the same. He took the bill from her hand and marched back to the dancefloor in a daze. Siobhan turned and nodded to the faun, as though she’d done exactly what he had, with just the same grace. Slowly, she made her way through more and more people who’d gathered for the bathroom, sending them off, slipping between them as they left.

—

The banshee hadn’t done a great job at hiding her disappointment when Kieran set his terms, confirming what the faun had suspected - she’d had no intention of making these deals benefit him. Kieran was neither surprised nor offended, but only because the thought to leave her hanging had crossed his mind first. Being self-serving wasn’t a trait only displayed by fae but the correlation was definitely higher than among your general population. Satisfied that, however forced it was, they would have each other’s back, Kieran timidly put his trust in the woman. 

A bit too prematurely perhaps, as Kieran watched her gracelessly bear down on the first poor sucker. Whoever had been in charge of teaching this woman poise, subtlety, any redeemable social skills really, had failed. Lucky for both of them, cash managed to speak louder than words, and the banshee’s words were loud. He didn’t bother to hide the genuine disappointment on his face when she looked back to him, glad now that the two of them were diverging paths to get through all these people so he wouldn’t get distracted by her crass tactics. 

It worked, of course it worked. Even if the weight of all these binds felt foreign, this was definitely a success. The ones that hesitated weren’t given much chance to, hypnosis dialed up the second Kieran felt anything remotely resembling resistance. In a rare occurrence, the faun was more than ready for this evening to be over. Charming his way, literally, into the backrooms was just as easy and a helpful staff member made sure tonight would only live on in fae-influenced memory and not on tape.

The hope had been to not cross paths with the banshee again - what if she had the audacity to expect gratitude for the murder? - but this was proving to be anything but Kieran’s lucky night. She was stood outside as he finally emerged, head heavy and almost a bit fuzzy from the strangeness of using his abilities to this extent and for this purpose. This had really put a dampener on his evening - tomorrow would need to be amazing to make up for the cluster fuck that was tonight. “Alright then,” Kieran said curtly, fixing up his jacket. Out here under the streetlights, he could see the faint splatters of blood on his shoes. “This was… messy. And not in a particularly fun way.” It could be unrelated but he thought that perhaps the faint sound of sirens was filtering through the air now. 

—

Adding binds to the ever growing stack of binds and promises—the culmination of all that she’d made in her life—wasn’t an issue for Siobhan. These were moments she saw as disposable; in one side of the brain, out the other. More than half of the deals she made, she remembered only as a series of blurry snapshots and whispered half-words. She moved through the crowd with ease, assigning none of it—the poor guileless human’s faces, the possible bystanders, her own actions—to her memory. When she moved through the back of the club and was finally outside, it was all done much quicker than her estimations. Her stomach twisted with the worry that she must’ve been forgetting something, but her tipsy mind sent the thought away quickly. She liked to think of herself as a careful person but perhaps it was always just that: something she liked to think. Finally, the faun was beside her, and there was no sense in fretting over something that was already done. 

Fate would have its way with them now, one way or another. If there were to be consequences, they would simply have to accept it. “I had fun,” Siobhan said. She turned her head and smiled at the man, whose name she did not know and did not care to learn, and hoped to never see again lest something as deplorable as a friendship bloom between them. She thought of them as business partners and though she had technically saved his life, her own self-possession denied her any self-acknowledgement of the favor. She might’ve aided him in finding a ballpoint pen for all it mattered to her. “I would’ve had more fun if you’d allowed her to be dismembered. Imagine what we could do if we had a foot each.” And she was thinking about taking her feet—she thought Rhett’s rotten one was lonely in her home. Limbs were like guinea pigs in that way: social creatures. 

She glanced down at the faun’s foot. Maybe… “Well, it was a pleasure doing murder with you.” Siobhan lifted her gaze up to his face again. Of course, she’d done the murder, not him, but it was too late to be pedantic. She held her hand out. “Nice to meet you,” she said and waited for his hand to rise, for his hand to reach for hers, for his fingers to curl and anticipate a handshake. Then, she snatched her hand back, laughing wickedly. “Oh,” she cooed, “too slow.” She turned away and strutted down the street without a glance back; without another word. 

[caitlesshea]

begging for footnotes in the story of your life

Ana learns a lot about Buck while she’s dating Eddie, like how Buck’s the one who should be dating him.

Ana learns about Buck in stages.

First from Christopher, when she was his teacher, and he would mention his Buck or draw Buck in family pictures. 

The second from the school nurse telling her that Christopher is being signed out to go home and she sees his name on Chris’ school forms. 

The third is from Eddie, when he brings him up as a work colleague even though she suspects it’s more than that.

She just doesn’t realize how much more until the first time she sees the inside of Eddie’s house. 

His house is homey, much cozier than she’d expect for a single dad who’s a first responder. She says as much and he chuckles.

“Some of this I did, but most was my Abuela.”

Ana nods and walks over to the mantle to look at the photos. 

She sees a picture of a younger Christopher sitting in a high chair between Eddie and a woman who she assumes is Shannon. 

“Shannon?” She asks quietly.

“Yeah. Chris, uhh, wanted to put some up.”

Ana nods and continues looking. There’s some more of Eddie and Chris, people she assumes are Eddie’s parents and his Abuela, and then there’s Buck.

Or well, she thinks it’s Buck, with how Chris has always described him. She notices one photo in particular that causes her to pause.

“Is that?”

Eddie reaches up and grabs the back of his neck, almost like he’s nervous. 

“Uh, yeah. Buck built him a skateboard, we tried it out at the park.”

So, Buck built Chris a skateboard after Ana wrongly said that Chris should know his limitations. 

“I’m sorry for saying what I said.”

“It’s fine, Ana.” 

“It’s not.”

Eddie shrugs and Ana considers bringing it up again but she chooses not to, instead focusing on a Christmas photo that was taken at the station; Eddie, Chris, and Buck in the back smiling. 

Eddie follows her eye movement and he smiles. “Buck and Athena set that up. We were on shift on Christmas and he surprised us with our families and dinner.”

“That was sweet.” Ana feels a little out of her depth here. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen this soft look on Eddie’s face before but she doesn’t want to ruin the moment. 

“It was, yeah.” 

They finish going through the photos, as Ana learns more about Eddie’s life. 

He makes them dinner, although he sticks a pan of lasagna in the oven so she doesn’t know how much he actually cooked. 

They’re about to sit on the couch, when he stops and says he’s going to grab something from his room. She follows him and notices for the first time that his room is a different sort of style than the rest of the house. 

It’s all dark blues and grays with some stylish lamps and photographs on the walls. 

She almost wishes she didn’t know about Buck now. 

“I like your room,” She comments while he grabs a blanket from the bed. It’s a soft black velvet.

“Oh, thanks. This was mostly Buck. My room apparently looked like a boring hotel room so he’s been giving me some of his stuff.”

“That’s?”

“Nice, right?”

No. She was going to say weird. But she nods instead. 

“The photo?” Ana asks as she walks closer to the print on the wall. It’s the typical California style photo, the palm tree lined street, but it’s in black and white, tasteful, where they’re usually cheesy. 

“Oh, uh, Buck took that. Had it framed for my birthday last year. Said it can remind me of why I moved us here, for a fresh start.”

“Huh.” Ana can tell it’s important to him, can tell that he loves the photo and the sentiment behind it. What she can’t tell is if he loves the photo more or the person who took it. 

“C’mon, let’s go watch the movie.” Eddie grabs her hand and she forgets about the room and Buck, at least for the night. 

~~~

Ana meets Buck in stages.

She thought she’d meet him at school, when he came to pick up Christopher, or at the school play, where Christopher was the main character, or at the science fair, or bake sale. All events she knows Buck was there for.

But, she never does. Whether it’s by luck or design, she doesn’t know. But she wishes she had, because she meets Buck, awkwardly, while on a date with Eddie. 

The one night Buck isn’t babysitting Christopher, Eddie’s Abuela watching him after Chris and Eddie’s talk, they run into Buck. 

So, she meets Buck outside of an ice cream shop. 

“Buck.” Eddie freezes beside her and she sees a tall man, taller than she thought with the pictures, with a cone halfway to his mouth. Buck lets out a sheepish smile and shrugs. 

That’s when Ana notices the woman next to Buck, she’s pretty, her red hair is gorgeous, and Ana thinks she looks familiar. 

“Taylor,” Eddie says clipped, in a voice she hasn’t heard from him since the skateboard incident. 

“Eddie,” The woman, Taylor, says just as clipped. 

Ana wonders what she missed. 

“What are you two doing here?” Buck asks and then he holds out his non sticky hand. “Sorry, Eddie’s rude, I’m Buck. You must be Ana.”

She nods and looks between Buck and Eddie who are giving each other eyes. “Yes, hi, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You, too.” Buck looks at Eddie and realizes no one is going to say anything else so he looks back to Ana.

“Would you two like to join us?” Ana asks out of desperation and Eddie looks at her incredulously. 

Buck looks at Taylor and she nudges him back. “We’d love to, but I have to get back to the station, I’m on nights right now. Next time? Buck and Eddie can schedule something.”

“Sure, bye Eddie. Ana.” Buck nods his head and she smiles at him. As they leave she can hear Taylor and Buck whispering to each other.

“That was awkward Buckley.”

“It’s not my fault he didn’t say anything…” Buck trails off and then they’re too far away to hear anything else.

Ana turns back to Eddie. “They seem like a cute couple.”

“Huh?”

“Buck and Taylor? You didn’t tell me he has a girlfriend.”

“He doesn’t,” Eddie says sharply. “They’re friends.”

“Oh, could’ve fooled me.”

“Why do you say that?” Eddie asks, looking at her for the first time since they ran into Buck.

“They seem close.” Ana shrugs. She doesn’t know why she has to explain anything, or why it would matter if Buck’s dating someone. 

“They, uhh, dated a couple years ago, but I think they’re friends now.” Eddie finally manages.

“Ohh. Okay. Friends with benefits. I get it.”

Eddie chokes on nothing and he looks a little green.

“Edmundo, are you okay?”

“Yeah, lets get that ice cream.” 

She nods and follows him into the ice cream shop, not surprised in the slightest when he orders the same flavor Buck was eating. 

~~~

The second time she meets Buck is at a party in his loft. Everyone is vaccinated and Buck wanted to have everyone over before his sister, Maddie, has her baby. 

Eddie introduces her to everyone; Bobby and Athena, Hen and Karen, Michael and David, Chimney and Maddie, Albert, and then Taylor.

“It’s good to see you again,” Ana says kindly as Eddie goes into the kitchen to grab them drinks. The loft is nice, modern, and looking suspiciously like Eddie’s bedroom, but she keeps that to herself. 

“Hey, not until after dinner. You’re worse than Christopher!” 

Ana looks over as Buck smacks Eddie’s hand with a towel as he tries to sneak cookies and Ana laughs at their antics, although no one else even so much as blinks their way. 

Taylor follows her line of sight and smiles. “Oh, they’re like that. You’ll get used to it.” 

Before Ana can respond she sees Taylor slide up to Buck and helps him with setting up the rest of the food. 

Eddie comes back over to her with a glass of wine and Ana smiles even as she notices Eddie’s face is pinched. 

Before Ana can grab it she spills some on her dress and Eddie curses.

“Shit, sorry Ana.”

“It’s okay. I’ll just grab a towel.”

“Buck, I’m taking her upstairs,” Eddie shouts to Buck and he looks over and nods.

Eddie guides her up the stairs and when she sees Buck’s bedroom, she pauses. It’s almost identical to Eddie’s in style and color. He even has the same photo hanging up on the wall. She says as much and Eddie smiles. 

“Oh yeah, he came to LA for similar reasons so he had one made for his place.”

“Huh.”

“There should be Shout Wipes in the bathroom. Medicine cabinet.” Eddie points to the bathroom as he sits down on Buck’s bed like he has every right to. He probably does. 

“Thanks. I’ll be just a minute.” 

Ana closes the door and finds a towel, wetting the stain first and then finding the wipes. As she cleans, she notices the meds in the bathroom. 

She knows she shouldn’t snoop but seeing Chris’ name on one of the bottles surprises her. It looks like Buck keeps extra medicine here for backup. She notices painkillers and Eddie’s favorite brand of shaving cream. 

Feeling like she’s crossed some sort of boundary she closes the medicine cabinet and is about to head back out when she hears voices from the room.

“You spill on yourself, too?” Eddie jokes and Buck groans.

���Albert ran right into me with the dip.”

“Sucks.”

“Seriously. I can’t wait til he leaves.”

“He could go back home, you know,” Eddie says gently as Ana hears what is likely a shirt being thrown in a hamper.

“I’m not gonna do that to Maddie.” Buck moves around and then asks. “Which one? Red or blue?”

“Blue, definitely,” Eddie responds and Ana can’t see them but she has to agree, whatever blue shirt Buck puts on will bring out his eyes.

“Good, I think this red shirt is actually yours.”

Eddie laughs and Ana pauses a moment because she’s never heard that laugh before. Part fond, part exasperated. She wonders why he laughs like that with Buck. 

“Makes sense.”

“Okay, come down when you’re done, I can’t have Albert setting my kitchen on fire.”

Ana can hear Buck heading down the stairs so she leaves the bathroom. Eddie stands to come closer and she accidentally blurts out what she’s thinking. 

“You have clothes here?”

“Huh? Oh, well I did live here for a couple of months, but with the firehouse and everything we all probably have each other’s clothes.”

Eddie says it so nonchalantly that Ana can’t even respond as he heads towards the stairs. He turns to look at her.

“Coming?”

“Yeah, sorry.” She doesn’t think it’s nonchalant at all. 

~~~ 

Ana meets Evan all at once. 

It’s her first night staying over at Eddie’s, with Christopher at Hen’s house for a sleepover of his own. 

She isn’t sure what wakes her up until she hears Eddie’s sleep rough voice.

“Evan?”

Who’s Evan? 

“Yeah, no, we’ll be there.” Eddie pauses as he sits up. “Don’t worry about it, I wouldn’t miss it.”

Eddie hangs up and looks at her sheepishly. 

“Is everything okay?” She asks as she sits up as well. 

“Yeah, Maddie’s gone into labor, so I was gonna head to the hospital.”

Huh? Eddie isn’t family, why is he going to the hospital?

“Okay. Let’s go,” Ana says instead of asking that question. 

“Are you sure? I can drop you off first.”

“No, it’s fine, we can go.” 

Plus this is a way for her to assert herself as an important person in Eddie’s life. 

“Thanks,” Eddie say, relieved, as he starts getting dressed. 

Ana follows suit and when they finally head to the hospital Eddie’s a bundle of nerves.

“She’ll be okay,” Ana says quietly as she places a hand on his leg. He nods but he doesn’t relax. 

He doesn’t relax, that is, until he sees Buck in the waiting room. 

“Evan,” Eddie breathes out as they hug. Ana’s momentarily shocked, because Eddie isn’t overly affectionate with anyone other than Christopher, but he hugs Buck like it’s a normal thing. 

Both of them calm down when they hug and then it hits her that Eddie called Buck ‘Evan’. She’s never heard someone call him that, but it must be his first name. 

She wonders when Eddie got that privilege. 

She feels like she’s intruding so she taps Eddie’s shoulder and he turns toward her. 

“I’m gonna grab coffee, you two want anything?” 

Buck smiles at her but Eddie answers her. 

“Black with cream for me, sugar and cream for Buck.”

“Okay.” Ana walks away and turns around just to see Eddie and Buck sitting down and bringing their foreheads together, almost unconsciously. 

“Oh, Ana, hey.”

Ana turns and sees Chimney.

“Chimney, hi. How’s Maddie?”

“She’s good. I’m grabbing her water. And waiting for Albert to get here. I take it you came with Eddie?” 

“Yeah. Is the whole station coming?” Ana asks even though she thinks she knows the answer.

“No. Only family. Hen and Bobby said they’d stop by after she’s born,” Chimney responds and then he’s quickly turning back towards the rooms. “Tell Albert when you see him that he comes in second since he’s late.”

“Sure,” Ana says quietly as she takes the coffee back to Buck and Eddie. After they grab theirs she sits next to Eddie and sees what they’re looking at on Eddie’s phone. 

“Is that Christopher?” She asks and Eddie nods.

“Yeah, I got so many photos of him when he was this age,” Eddie speaks quietly and Ana realizes that he got sent photos of Christopher because this must’ve been when he was deployed with the Army. He doesn’t talk about it much but she can tell Buck knows because Buck squeezes Eddie’s knee in support. 

The biggest shocker, though, is when Eddie grabs Buck’s hand and squeezes back.  

She once again feels like she’s intruding on something private, something theirs, and she doesn’t know what to do. 

Luckily she doesn’t have to think too much because Albert comes running in and he and Buck start arguing over who’s going to go in first, who’s going to be the better uncle. 

“Should we?” Ana gestures to them and Eddie shakes his head.

“Nah, they’re fine. This is fun for them.”

Ana nods and sits back to drink her coffee. Before she knows it, Chimney’s back in the waiting room telling them that Maddie and baby are fine and that they can all come meet her. 

Buck and Eddie jump up and Ana trails behind with Albert. 

“You don’t want to run in there?” She asks Albert.

“Oh I do, but I don’t want to overwhelm Maddie.”

Ana nods and keeps walking towards the room. When she gets there what she sees stops her in her tracks. 

Buck is holding his niece and Eddie, well, Eddie is staring at him with so much love, adoration, and abject want that Ana feels like she’s intruding. 

Eddie turns to her and holds out his phone. “Can you take a picture? I promised Chis I would show him before he meets her.”

“Sure,” Ana says like she’s underwater. Eddie’s lockscreen, a picture of Buck and Chris, barely registers. 

She hears the baby's name, Kylee Danielle, after her uncles, and watches as Buck tears up, and Eddie grabs the back of his neck. 

She then watches Buck pass Kylee to Eddie, and if she wasn’t so shocked she would notice the way Buck was watching him, the way Maddie was watching her, and the way Albert was videotaping everything. 

She would notice that Eddie looked damn good holding a baby. 

If she didn’t feel like she was intruding on a private family moment. 

She doesn’t belong here. She doesn’t belong with Eddie. 

She looks toward Maddie and Chimney, Maddie has kind but sad eyes looking at her and Ana knows now that she’s not who Eddie is meant to be with. 

“Congratulations,” Ana says quietly. “Eddie, I’m gonna go.”

“You don’t have to go,” Eddie says as he hands Kylee to Albert.

“I do. It’s okay, I’ll call you.”

It shouldn’t surprise her when he nods and turns back to the others but it does. 

She nods to Maddie and Chimney and then to Buck, who’s looking at her with an odd expression on his face. 

“It was nice to see you again, Evan,” Ana says and she hears his breath catch. 

She calls an Uber, waits outside for it, and when she finally gets home, she realizes she took some photos on her phone, too.

Ana looks at them, sees Eddie and Buck, looking like they belong together, and sends them to Eddie with the text ‘you have a beautiful family.’ 

~~~

Ana learns about Edmundo and Evan Buckley-Diaz when she gets a change of name form for one Christopher Buckley-Diaz. 

Along with the name form is an official form of guardianship for Buck, declaring him Christopher’s other father. 

~~~

Years later Ana learns about Ellie Buckley-Diaz when her fathers drop her off for her first day of kindergarten. 

“Eddie. Buck. Hi,” Ana greets them as they come out of the front office, paperwork in hand and an excited five year old bouncing on her toes. 

“Ana,” Eddie says warmly and Buck smiles. “Principal now?”

“Yeah, for a couple of years.”

“Congrats.” Eddie smiles and then turns to his daughter who pulls on his shirt sleeve. 

“Daddy, I want to see my classroom.” 

“I’ll take you,” Buck responds and gives Ana a smile. He squeezes Eddie’s shoulder once and then takes Ellie’s hand. 

“Papa! We have to see it right now!” 

“Okay, okay, little monster, we will,” Buck chuckles after her. 

Ana turns back to Eddie and he smiles after them and then turns to her. 

“I’m happy for you,” Ana says and Eddie looks at her curiously.

“Thank you. I am sorry about how…”

“Water under the bridge.” Ana waves her hand and points to a photo of her and her son, Milo, and Eddie smiles. 

“He’s beautiful.”

“Your daughter is, too.” Ana wants to say she looks like a perfect mix between the two of them but she keeps those thoughts to herself. 

They’ve never been close enough for that kind of conversation. 

“Thank you. She’s certainly energetic, takes after Evan,” Eddie says this with such fondness that Ana’s thrown back to the hospital when Kylee was born, and how he looked at Buck even then. 

“Nothing wrong with that.”

“Nope. Well, it was good to see you, I’m sure we’ll run into each other again.”

“Yeah, of course.” Ana smiles as he walks away, towards his family.

Ana looks at the photo of her son again. 

Learning all of these things about these great people led her to her greatest joy. 

She can’t be mad about that. 

[imaginethoseguys]

Liquid Courage

Hi, I need to submit a seminar paper in 10 days so naturally I wrote this 3k+ fic for Itadori Yuji girl, bye

Pairing: Itadori Yuji x fem!S/O Word count: 3.3k Warnings: fluff, drinking, drunk confessions, slight angst, au motifs Summary: No matter the chosen activity, Yuji would be equally excited to simply spend time with her. He didn’t even need her to reciprocate his feelings. He felt comfortable in his lovable bubbly state, and she most likely loved him as a friend, so all was well. Trying to take things further would be a risky move anyway and he would not dare take his chances at the expense of making things worse between them because the last thing he would ever want is to make her upset or uncomfortable. He still remembered all her stories about friendships she inescapably lost after the “I need to tell you something” texts in the middle of the night from guys who she felt comfortable enough to be herself with.

Yup, no way that was happening. a/n: Itadori's in his 20s (as well as s/o)

gif credit

It wasn’t Yuji who offered to spend the Friday night at a bar. He didn’t enjoy drinking that much, and there was some weird old movie at the local theatre that they could watch and make fun of together. But it was an unusual occasion, they were on a week-long mission, dealing with curse activity in Osaka, and, well, it was  her  who asked, so of course he agreed. He never went against her suggestions, he trusted her fully, maybe even too much. Possibly, it was her way with words. Somehow, she knew exactly what to say in situations where Yuji often found himself at loss for words. She was reliable and reassuring and had a certain kind of warmness to her.

Or, possibly, it was Yuji’s six-years-long crush on her that had him blushing and hyperventilating at anything she did, so opinions were divided on this one.

No matter the chosen activity, Yuji would be equally excited to simply spend time with her. He didn’t even need her to reciprocate his feelings. He felt comfortable in his lovable bubbly state, and she most likely loved him as a friend, so all was well. Trying to take things further would be a risky move anyway and he would not dare take his chances at the expense of making things worse between them because the last thing he would ever want is to make her upset or uncomfortable. He still remembered all her stories about friendships she inescapably lost after the “I need to tell you something” texts in the middle of the night from guys with who she felt comfortable enough to be herself. Yup, no way that was happening.

“Oh, look, they have homemade plum wine!” her exclamation brought Yuji’s attention back to reality. “And it’s in pitchers too. Lucky!”

“You do remember you can’t hold your liquor, right?” he said, propping his face on his right hand while watching her mumble giddily “plum wine and soda, plum wine and soda.” She lowered the laminated menu sheet and leveled him with an annoyed gaze.

“I am a grown young woman who earns a living by exorcising curses, I’m pretty sure I can handle a glass or two,  Yuji .”

“Including that time when you threw up on Fushiguro mid-conversation?”

“That was graduation! And we did shots.”

“Yeah, it was also 7pm.”

“Enough of you, mister.” She threateningly pointed a finger at him and turned around to call the waiter. Receiving an acknowledging nod in return, she turned back. “Besides, if we’re talking about you, everyone is terrible at holding their liquor in comparison.”

“I’m just heavyweight.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“You’re just a beast machine who suppressed the King of Curses and can run 50 meters in 3 seconds,” she shook her head at her own description, “no wonder you’re Special Grade. Why do you bother drinking at all? Pretty sure it does nothing to you.”

“I don’t do it on my own. I like the company.” He said timidly.

“Aw, see? This is why I love you.”

Yuji’s eyes widened unintentionally, but she didn’t look at him long enough to see it, her attention swiftly taken away by an approaching waiter. He assured himself he was better at controlling his feelings, but it was all falling apart now, like a bunch of lies, because he could feel his entire face and ears pulsate from heat. He stared at the way her lips moved, making the order.

as a friend as a friend as a friend as a friend as a friend

“Yuji? Yuji!”

He snapped back, looking even more surprised.

“You wanted the Ginjo-Shu, right?”

His gaze lingered on her face, open and bright, with eyebrows slightly raised.

“Yeah.”

This is fine.

* * *

“Ah, see? This is exactly what I was talking about.”

Yuji furrowed his eyes helplessly and took the glass from her hand. She tried to down her drink in one motion but missed and spilled it over herself. Looking back now, he wasn’t sure if it was her being lightweight or her not stopping in time.

“When did that even happen,” he mumbled to himself, “she was fine a minute ago.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” she moaned in drunk annoyance, “because I  am  here.”

“So it seems,” Yuji smiled.

“And I may be many things, but there’s one thing that I am not, and it is deaf. Or stupid.”

“Yup, that’s two things though.”

She sighed loudly and leaned back on the wooden wall of their booth. They were surrounded by soft mixes of white noise: distant frying and sizzling from the kitchen, clinking of glasses, and giddy discussions of the upcoming weekend. They could almost feel like they belonged here, to the normal crowd of Osaka drinking their weekly stresses away, complaining about their bosses, bills, and personal dramas.

Is that what it’s like to be normal?  Both of them thought.

Yuji looked over at her and felt the heat returning to his cheeks. This drink spill felt too deliberate to be accidental. And her bra was very thin, and the bar’s AC was on and—

Yuji groaned and swiftly took his hoodie off, almost throwing it in her direction.

“Wear this, please.”

She didn’t really fight it and slowly put it over her head, beginning to crawl inside. She stopped somewhere in the middle and breathed in.

Ah, it smells so good. Smells like him.

She pressed the fabric into her face, taking in his scent. When did he manage to put on cologne? That’s just unfair.

“You okay in there? Are you stuck?” Yuji looked questionably at the wrinkly bundle that was now his hoodie with her somewhere inside.

“Listen, Yuji.”

“You’re just gonna talk to me like this, huh?”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured in a soft voice. “I know this isn’t how you would spend your night, but—I wanted to—you know. But in the end, I just—and—”

Suddenly, she felt a gentle tug, and her head popped out of the hoodie, revealing Yuji’s face lightened by a warm smile.

“I told you, I like the company.”

There was a needle prick somewhere around her heart, and she pressed her lips together, taken by a sudden wave of sadness.

“Let’s get back, yeah?”

* * *

Their hotel wasn’t far from the bar, but due to her condition, the walk back took longer than usual. Summer was ending, the air was still warm, but there was a tingling coldness with each wind blow,  a careful reminder of the approaching grey sky and smell of wet concrete, covered by tired leaves.

The path to the hotel entrance was hidden among the sleeping quarters, illuminated by floor lights, and framed by tall bamboo sticks. Yuji walked first and was right in front of the automatic sliding doors when he stopped and turned around to check on her. Instead of right behind him, he saw her at the beginning of the entrance path with her head down.

“Hm? Are you okay? Wait, are you sick?? Then stay right there, if you wanna throw up, do it—um—” he swiftly looked around. Seeing a gardening pot near one of the doors across the street, he pointed at it. “Here, maybe in this pot? Wait, no, this is a nice neighborhood, imagine waking up and finding vomit in your plants… ah, maybe in this bamboo? I’m not sure if it’s real though… ah, but this hotel allows hosting of jujutsu sorcerers because the owner is a friend of someone from the higher-ups, and if we vomit here—"

“Yuji.”

“Oh, maybe vomit in my t-shirt? And I’ll carry it to the nearest dumpster? No, that’s a horrible idea. Are you sure you can’t hold it until we get to our room? Then—”

“I’m not sick, Yuji!” she said loudly, maybe even too much so. “Although all this vomit talk is grossing me out.”

Yuji raised his eyebrows. “Then what’s wrong? Wait, did drinking uncover your hidden phobia of hotels? I read that somewhere…”

She smiled sadly. “You’re such an idiot.”

He bared his teeth, clearly offended. “Well, I’m sorry for trying to be helpful! Jeez, if you can’t walk – just say so, I’ll carry you to our room.”

“I don’t want to go to our room!” she yelled again. Yuji’s eyes widened in surprise, but he didn’t say anything.

“Because then we go to sleep, come back to Tokyo and—I—” She squeezed the hem of his hoodie, “and I’ll never get another chance.”

There’s a short silence after her outburst. Yuji glanced over her hands that were clenched in fists and looked to the side.

“I mean, it’s not like this is our only chance to visit Osaka, we can always book a vacation and come back here.”

“Huh? Who cares about Osaka? It's—”

“I’m not very smart,” he interrupted her quietly, “so you’ll need to be straight with me, otherwise I won’t understand what you mean.” Then, his voice got even quieter. “Or I’ll start imagining things that aren’t real.”

“Yuji, I—” she tried to speak fast, because she felt a betraying lump in her throat, “I never wanted to drag you into a bar. There was this old movie at the local theatre that we could have watched, but I—If I didn’t drink, I would have never gotten the strength to say the things that I’ve been meaning to say for a long-long time. And this trip felt like a perfect opportunity, and you’re right, I’m a lightweight and I overdid it, and I was so close to saying it, but I thought—I cherish you so, so much , Yuji, it hurts me to even think about it. I tried to tell you before, after graduation, but you distanced yourself from me that night, so I figured it was a bad idea. I still think it is, but I—Yuji, I—”

Yuji shortened the distance between them with a desperately fast sprint and grabbed her with both of his hands, squeezing her so tight that she could barely talk anymore, her face pressed into his chest. He was silent for a bit.

“I distanced myself from you during the graduation night because you looked so vulnerable. I thought you were doing things you would regret the next day, so I didn’t want to take advantage. Because when you’re like this with me, I,” his hands trembled, “It’s so hard for me not to be selfish.”

“Wait, Yuji,” she tried to move away from him, but no matter how hard she pushed, she would never win Yuji in a battle of strength. “Please, let me finish.”

“No,” he sounded uncharacteristically serious. He lowered his head and pressed his cheek to her forehead. “When you say that this is not the way I would spend my night… You can invite me to dumpster dive or read books about molecular physics in a public library, or lick poles in winter, and I’ll choose it over anything else. When I found out we would go on this mission together, I was so happy. I can be doing the grossest, most stupid, and pointless things, but if I’m with you – it would be the best way to spend all the time I have. I hate being alone, and it's all I ever felt for so many years of life. But when I met you—when I’m with you – I feel so warm. You make me forget about the bad stuff. When you’re next to me, I—I feel wanted. So please,” his hands weakened his grab on her frame, letting her lean back and catch a glimpse of his face. “Please, don’t give me false hopes.”

Their breaths were hot and shaky as they looked each other in the eyes, hypnotised by each other’s presence. She cautiously moved closer to him and cupped his cheeks. Yuji swallowed thickly, he had to stop himself, but her hand was soft and warm, and the number of times he dreamt about this exact moment didn’t let him move an inch of his body. She raised herself on her tiptoes and leaned to his lips. She smelled so sweet, and her body was so close to his that—

“Ghh, stop,” Yuji groaned and pressed his forehead to hers in agony.

“Why?” She asked breathlessly, “you don’t want this?”

“ No ! I mean, yes. God, I want this so much my head could explode, b-but,” he leaned back slightly, revealing his glowing red face, from the neck to the tips of his ears. “You’re drunk, and we’re tired and I,” he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “I want this to be right. If you wake up tomorrow and don’t remember any of this, I—”

“Stop talking,” she moaned and pulled him back by the fabric of his t-shirt, crushing her lips into his, arms then moving up to snake around his neck. Yuji had to resist. He had to, but when she touched him like this, the taste of plum on her lips, and when her—

“Mhm,” Yuji groaned hopelessly, feeling her tongue explore the insides of his mouth. It was hot and wet, and he felt like his heart could stop. Suddenly, he was so putty in her hands, he would do anything for her to keep touching and kissing him like this. No, for her to do anything she wanted with him. He would make a pact with a curse and sell his soul to stay like this a little longer, or to never feel the need to breathe again, so her lips can remain sealed with his forever. Still desperate for air, however, he forced himself to pull away, a shining string of saliva stretching between their lips.

She breathed in, preparing to talk. “I—”

“No, please, don’t say it.” He pressed their foreheads together again, breathing heavily. “Allow me to be selfish. I—I want you to say it tomorrow, in the morning. So that—”

“—It’s real?” she finished for him.

“Yeah,” he smiled bashfully, looking into her eyes. He could see himself in the glassy reflection of her eyes. They were bright and kind, and they looked at him the way he never thought would ever happen. He never thought he would be close enough to her to have the chance of examining just how deep and gentle they are.

Yuji moved a hair strand away from her face. “C’mon, I’ll carry you.”

He lifted her in one motion and pressed firmly to his chest. She could hear the rapid pounding in his chest, and it made her heart race after it. Pressing her ear closer, she could almost hear his thoughts. She didn't really need to hear them, she got the general idea from how uneven were his breaths and how his fingers trembled around her form.

While they waited for the elevator inside, she looked at him.

“Can I keep kissing you?”

His face heated up for a hundredth time this night, as he diverted his gaze nervously. She could feel his hands now squeezing her a little tighter.

“Y-yeah. I would like that.”

* * *

Yuji did not know that pain can bring such an amount of happiness with it. There were two single beds in their room, but they ended up sharing one of them together, which resulted in soreness and numbness in different parts of Yuji’s body. His back ached from arching it so that he didn't fall, and he couldn’t feel his right arm anymore because he went to bed while hugging her. Not that he was complaining though. He could go to sleep on hot coals for all he cared if that meant she would lie on top of him. Feeling her body next to his sent vibrations down his spine. Suddenly, he heard her groan, and his heart fastened its pace.

Nanami Kento was right when he said that getting old is manifested in small things. One of them was getting morning sickness and headaches from any amount of drinking, moderate or otherwise. She hid her face in both of her palms and turned to the side, trying to hide from the morning sun. Sliding the palms down to her chest, she was met with Yuji’s glowing but anxious face: his hair was a mess, and there was a big imprint on his right cheek from the pillow wrinkles. She smiled softly, reaching out to fix one of his hair strands.

“Hi,” she rasped.

“Hi,” he responded, sounding relieved.

“Remind me to never drink again,” she said, turning on her back tiredly. “I lose years of my life from each hangover.”

“I mean, it’s exactly what I’m doing each time, but the strategy doesn’t seem to be working.” He chuckled, slowly getting up from the bed. “I’ll bring you an aspirin.”

Her eyes traced his features radiating in the morning sun as he made his way to the coffee table across the room. He had plenty of scars across his back and more on the chest. None of Jujutsu High students got anything close to normal school life, but Yuji certainly took the cake. And to remain so gratuitously giving and caring all while dealing with so much burden and pressure—her heart sank from just the thought.

She sat up as Yuji sat in front of her on the side of the bed, giving her a glass of fizzling water. She smiled in gratification and brought it to her lips.

“By the way, can you tell me what we ended up doing yesterday? I don’t remember shit,” she said nonchalantly before starting to gulp down the medicine.

The look on Yuji’s face filled with terror and chagrin; he felt his fingertips grow colder as he grasped the bedsheets beneath his hands. He lowered his gaze in silence, feeling the heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Meanwhile, she downed the glass and put it on her nightstand. Looking back at him, she lifted the corners of her lips.

“Kidding.”

He let out a questioning yell and grabbed a pillow, aiming a blow. “You’re so mean! Never  ever  do that shit again!”

He threw the pillow into her face, and she laughed, grabbing his hand, and pulling him on top of her. Yuji positioned his hands on both sides of her head and felt the familiar heat run up his neck to his cheeks, nose, and ears.

“Sorry,” she whispered softly.

“I’ll think about it.”

She lifted her hands and palmed his face, looking deep into his amber eyes. Yuji swallowed thickly, both of his palms twitching uncontrollably.

“Yuji.”

“Y-yeah?”

“I love you.”

The warmness from her hands went deep beyond his face. He felt her arms reach out gently into his chest and cradle his heart, calming its frantic heartbeat and holding it with such care that it sent lumps to his throat. He fought back the quivering of his lips as her thumb stroked across the scar right beneath his eye.

“I love you so  so much,” she murmured fondly, squinting from her growing smile. Yuji lowered his body closer to hers and hid his face in the crook of her neck, hugging her from behind.

“If you don’t stop, I might die.”

“Why?”

“I shouldn’t… feel this happy.”

She closed her eyes contently and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing a slow kiss to his temple. “Well, that’s not for you to decide, dumbass.”

She played with his messy hairs, breathing in his scent.

“But if you don’t reciprocate, I might die as well.”

Yuji rose sharply on his hands and leaned forward, crushing his lips into hers for a quick second.

“I love you,” he said loudly after breaking the kiss. Then he leaned in and kissed her again.

“I love you. I love you I love you I love you,” he kept repeating after kissing her over and over again. “I lov—” She interrupted him mid-sentence and took initiative, thrusting into his lips and parting them with a twirl of her tongue. He moaned and gave in, moving his head to the side.

Please, don’t leave me

I’m with you until the world collapses

[restapesta]

Fucking Milkovich

words: 5.5k

Five times Ian pulled Mickey away from starting a fight and the one time the roles were reversed.

1. THE STORE

The old lady had been side-eyeing them since they accidentally bumped into her at the wine aisle, Mickey backing into her as he and Ian led a loud, heated discussion about whether or not the Rose that was in Ian's hand was the same one from the gay party they had attended a couple of days before.

Ian was dead set on saying that it was the same bottle of pink wine and that even if it wasn't, it probably tasted the same, all the while Mickey was dead set on proving to Ian that the bottle was most certainly not the same one and that they should crack it open and try it even if they were still in the middle of the supermarket. They were bickering back and forth, not paying much attention to their surroundings, and Mick had backed away from the rack of wines, unceremoniously colliding with the gray-haired lady who was pushing a cart filled to the brim with groceries. It was a miracle the items hadn't toppled out, considering there was a mountain of them. Ian wondered how steadily the lady must've been pushing the cart, and how close his husband had come from knocking it all down.

Mickey had muttered a quick sorry and Ian had shot the lady an apologetic look when she just stared at Mickey and the tattoos that covered his hands and arm, blatantly revealed by his short-sleeved t-shirt. Ian had told him he looked hot in it that morning, so Mickey had kept the jacket off, appeasing his husband's gaze. He felt a bit cold but Ian's eyes following unapologetically as his arms flexed made it all worth it.

Ian gestured for Mickey to leave the aisle with his eyes, accompanied by a sharp tilt of his head -- and they continued their way to the other racks of food and drinks, Ian placing the bottle of wine in their own basket. They weren't there for a full-on grocery run. They were in Costco purely because their snacks and beer needed stocking up, and they needed some shit for the mac-and-cheese Mickey had been craving. Ian had lost a bet while they were at work today so he promised to make him some -- a deed Mickey was quite happy about.

They bumped into the lady once more at the cash register. There were some people six feet in front of them (considering they kept their distance), unloading their stuff, and the woman was mere inches behind them, as if she was waiting in line with the couple, not behind them, pressed close. Mickey shot her a glance and when he noticed her scowl, he gave her a slight smile that Ian knew was obviously not a smile, but rather a 'hello lady I crashed into, why are you standing so close, back away from me and my tall ginger before I tell you to back the fuck away'  threat. He had a feeling the lady caught on to what Ian did, but chose not to comply, considering how her scowl deepened and how she seemed to press impossibly closer.

Mickey and Ian shared a look but kept their mouths shut, preparing to unload their shit onto the moving thingy -- but then the old bat spoke.

"Least you could do is let me cut the line." She was looking straight at Mickey, and to Ian,  judging by the look on his husband's face, it seemed as if he was considering it. But when his gaze swept over the pile in her cart -- the one almost spilling over -- he simply shrugged, "No. I couldn't."

Mickey kept unloading the few items they did have, and Ian followed his lead, but the lady was persistent. "You are very unkind."

Mickey simply muttered an 'uh-uh' as he grabbed the money out of his jacket.

"You should be ashamed."

Mickey rubbed his eyebrow with his thumb and Ian knew that signaled danger, so he pushed him lightly with his shoulder, gesturing for him to pay. Mickey obliged begrudgingly, choosing to ignore the bitch. The cashier was just finishing placing their shit into the plastic bag, handing it to Ian, also handing Mickey back the change. They were going to leave the place unscathed.

Too bad the bitch couldn't keep her mouth shut.

"You should put a leash on him."

Before Mickey had a chance to jump her and gauge her eyes out, Ian wrapped his hands around his torso and pushed him towards the door of the store, whispering 'calm the fuck down' to him curtly, the grocery bag in his hand making it harder to sustain his husband. It wasn't the first time he had done this, and he doubted it would be the last. It was somewhat of a struggle but Ian managed. He also tried to ignore the look of pure horror on the grandma's face.

When he was finally able to get Mickey through the door -- while the guy spewed graphic insults at the hag -- he let go, making sure to keep him a safe distance away from the store.

"What the fuck is it with old bitches being so fucking rude?" Mickey muttered loudly, grabbing the bag out of Ian's hand and pulling out the Rose. He opened the bottle easily and took a long gulp, emptying a third of the bottle with it. His face scrunched up immediately. "I fucking told you it wasn't the same one!"

Ian just shook his head.

Fucking Milkovich.

2. THE JOB

The day had been pretty slow. They had their regular cash pick-ups and deliveries, and they had finished most of them, considering how the day was nearing its end. Both Ian and Mickey were ready to get back home and crash on the couch, maybe down a beer or two, and especially take off the uniforms that had truly made them sweat today. Spring was coming, and fuck if Ian wasn't ready for the onslaught of discomfort the camo brought on with it. Mickey didn't look like he minded it much, but Mickey was Mickey, so it wasn't a surprise. Ian, on the other hand, was already considering alternatives.

They were delivering their last bags of weed, taking a long ass drive to fucking HerbalCare, knowing it would take them a while to get back home too -- but the Northsiders that owned the place were kind of their regulars, so they were used to it.

Both Ian and Mickey expected the usual chick to show up and pick up the marijuana when they eventually got to the place -- the one with the curly red hair and a sassy attitude -- but instead, an unknown guy did with a large-ass man following shortly behind.

The first guy looked like any other -- casual clothing, friendly face, easy demeanor -- unlike -- what Ian supposed was -- his bodyguard. He looked like a capo with his broad shoulders, tight black shirt, tattoos littering his body, head cleanly shaved. Ian glanced reluctantly at his own thug, mentally praying Mickey had a bullet that could take down the motherfuckers in front of them if necessary.

"Can I help you, gentlemen?" The normal-looking one spoke.

Mickey nodded, also slightly taken aback, but not letting it show. "We have a delivery for HerbalCare." He glanced at Ian. "For Dina? Wasn't it?"

Ian nodded slowly, assessing the situation.

"I'll take it from here." The guy responded, eyeing Mickey up and down. "Dina is currently busy at the moment." Mickey didn't seem too happy with the asshat's statement. Ian wasn't either, naturally. The man had an odd vibe to him -- he seemed on edge despite his cool facade, and Ian saw straight through it. He glanced at Mickey who seemed to have been noticing the same thing. They were not handing shit over to these assholes. There's a certain trust you had to earn before claiming a couple of thousand dollars worth of weed from Gallavich Security.

"How 'bout I just speak to Dina, yeah?" Mickey's voice was calm and eery -- he was in boss mode. The mode that even scared Ian, sometimes. It was dangerous territory these guys were treading on if Mickey had resorted to going into the mode only slightly less scary than Milkovich thug mode.

The dude, still nameless, smiled without humor. "Why don't you just give me the weed, huh?"

Mickey pulled out his gun swiftly, pointing it straight at the guy's head. The shock on his face only lasted for a moment before it turned into a smirk. The capo next to him pulled out his own, only slightly smaller than Mickey's, pointing it at Mickey's head.

Well, shit.

Ian pulled out the gun from his waistband, feeling slightly worried for his and his husband's safety, pointing it at the tall-ass man. It was like a scene from a movie. A poor, shitty-quality one.

"How about we all just put down our guns and we'll come back when Dina gets here?" Ian's voice was smooth and the silence hung lowly over them for a couple of moments. Ian was never a gun sort of guy, but rather a talk-it-out one.

They eventually all put down their guns, albeit reluctantly.

"Okay, then. Guess we'll be seeing you." The guy muttered as he turned his back to Ian and Mickey, capo following behind, shooting them a glare. Their movements were slow and deliberate, but eventually, when they were a safe distance away, the capo turned around and shot them the middle finger.

Ian was just barely in time to stop Mickey before he leaped out to kill the motherfucker.

He wrapped his arms around him like a boa constrictor, attempting to stop him from committing homicide. As always, it took a while.

Mickey growled after a minute or two, finally calming down, glaring at the spot the asshole thieves were a few moments before. "Oh, you fucking will be seeing me. You'll be seeing me in your nightmares, you motherfuckers."

Ian barely contained himself from rolling his eyes.

Fucking Milkovich.

3. THE ALIBI

Ian had been nursing a beer for the past hour while his worse half had already downed three. Mickey was on his fourth glass of Budweiser, slightly tipsy, but not quite drunk just yet as he and Ian enjoyed their night out, something one might even call a date (correction: something only Ian would call a date).

They had gone out for chicken wings, played some pool after dinner -- even took a fucking stroll out -- and now, they were chilling at the Alibi Room, enjoying each other's companies, talking about anything and everything, laughing at Kevin's jokes and making fun of Kermit and Tommy, the regular drunks of the Southside.

It was a slow day today, their job weighing a little extra heavy on their shoulders, but the night was swift, in contrast. In fact, they were having a really good time, letting go of all of the fucked-up things happening in their lives right now, the burden coming off of their shoulders, even for a little while. And Ian was especially looking forward to the sex that was bound to follow when they got back home. Hell, if Mickey continues drinking the beers at this pace, maybe even in the bathroom -- it truly only depended on the level of horniness the drunken state would illicit.

They were still enjoying their alcohol and horniness when Kermit had decided to remind everyone of a comment. Ian guessed it wasn't supposed to be that big of a deal. Both Ian and Mickey had dealt with far worse from people far shittier than Tommy and Kermit. But the comment  --  the one about how Tommy was against their wedding, saying it was a man-woman thing -- didn't really sit well with either of them. Ian had no idea how the topic even came up, and the whole 'kind of drunk and talk-y' Mickey wasn't helping the case, but the words most certainly had an undesired effect on the couple.

Mickey had stilled immediately.

It wasn't that big of a deal. Homophobes were all around them, and they knew that Tommy was as gay and as homophobic as any of them, and Mickey would probably ignore the comment had he not been this content with the night he was having.

Here he was with Ian, having a great time, enjoying his life, his marriage, and over-all his husband, and this asshole was going to ruin it with this comment. This stupid, meaningless comment.

Neither Ian nor Mickey lived in a fantasy -- the one where everyone was supportive of the gays and where love was simply love, no matter if it was between a male and a female, or a male and a male -- but sometimes, they forgot what world they actually lived in and in those moments they were at their most vulnerable to these sort of remarks. They cut them deep, Mickey especially.

He was so happy with Ian, so happy with his marriage, the life they shared, that the outside world rarely even mattered. But when he heard someone saying how they shouldn't have gotten married -- shouldn't have been enjoying their love and relationship, shouldn't be where they are now -- Mickey got pissed.

"Oh yeah, Tommy? Man-woman thing?" Mickey's voice was unnervingly steady.

Kevin eyed Kermit, silently conveying the question, "why the fuck would you say that". Kermit shrugged but Mickey only had eyes for dear old Tom. He was watching him like prey.

Tommy gulped, not as afraid of Mickey as he used to be, but definitely not one-hundred percent safe around him either. Everybody knew Mickey protected himself and his family -- Ian and the Gallaghers -- only. Everyone else could just go fuck themselves. Tommy fell into the latter group.

"That's just the way I've been taught. Y'all are good, enjoy your marriage." He attempted to climb out of the hole he had dug for himself but it wasn't really working. The asshole had made it too deep and had fallen into it headfirst.

"Oh, I'm so fucking happy I have your approval." Mickey bit back.

"Oh, no," Ian muttered lowly. "Mick."

"You should be happy I don't have a gun on me now. Now, while I'm on a date with my husband." He annunciated the words slowly, making sure Tommy understood and heard them very well and remembered them for good. Ian's heart fluttered at the mention of the word date, but he reeled it back in for now. He could enjoy it later when Mickey wasn't on the verge of murdering someone.

"Hey man, how 'bout you just calm down?"

Tommy really wanted to die today.

Ian was pushing Mickey out of the bar before he strangled the man with his bare hands. Mickey cursed as they were leaving, resisting his husband as he attempted to drag him out. Ian barely got them through the door, and when he did, Mickey tried hard to go back in.

Ian hissed at him to stop. Eventually, Mickey did.

"I see him one more time, I'm killing him, understood?" Mickey was baring his teeth at the bar as if Tommy could see him. "Him and his counterpart."

Ian closed his eyes briefly.

Fucking Milkovich.

4. THE BLEACHERS

It had always been their spot. From the beginning, it was a place for Ian and Mickey to run away to, not just to hook up, but to escape their lives and the turmoils of their families, each fucked up in its own fucked up way. It was easy for them to just disappear for a while, fucking against the fence, shot-gunning beer with no one to reprimand them for when they left the cans on the stadium, the world completely oblivious that it was the odd duo. Not just Mickey Milkovich, the infamous Southside thug, and not just Ian Gallagher, the skinny army ginger -- but both Ian and Mickey, a pairing no one saw coming, not from a million light-years away.

It was easier back then, sure, but now, it was better. They used to just fuck underneath the bleachers, making it nothing more than a hook-up spot, barely touching after sex, drinking beer like just a couple of friends, not like they were in between rounds, Ian aching for more, Mickey denying him access to it. Ian knew Mickey wouldn't even admit they were friends back then.

But then again, it was different then than it was now.

Now the bleachers were their spot. Not just a fuck spot like it used to be. No -- it was a hangout spot. They didn't have their own place yet -- that was still a work in progress -- and when the Gallagher house became too loud and too messy for them to just enjoy their night, outside of the confines of their room, they went to the bleachers.

It wasn't a regular occurrence, more like a once-a-month sort of thing, but it still felt great and rejuvenating -- it felt like them. A space in the dark where they could just talk and drink and mess around and make out in, unapologetically relieved of the burden on their shoulders, whatever it may be.

Tonight was a night like that, a night where all they wanted and needed to do was escape -- Terry's death was still weighing heavy on Mickey's soul, for reasons Mickey and Ian both had yet to uncover, and the house was brimming with too many Gallaghers with too many opinions and observations. They needed a break.

The spot under the bleachers was supposed to be reserved for them as always, and they had brought along a six-pack of beer as well, deciding to just get drunk, even if they still had to get to work the next morning. It would be a good ending to a shitty week.

But the asshole kids sitting at their spot weren't gonna let that play out.

Ian and Mickey were aware that they were grown-ass men, but it was ten pm and these children had no right to even be near the bleachers let alone smoking and drinking underneath them. They were far from teens and they reminded Ian of himself and Lip when they were mere eleven-year-olds trying to figure the messed-up world out.

Mickey didn't really see it that way. He was clearly just annoyed.

"Beat it." He said in a curt voice, flicking his wrist to point to the imaginary exit. Ian followed suit reluctantly, only after trying to convince Mickey to just let them have at it and go to the dugouts instead.

"No Ian, we came here because this is our spot and these little fuckers need to go." Mickey had responded.

Ian was aware his husband had issues.

He was used to it.

The kids laughed, the three voices laughing merging, sounding more like a pack of hyenas. "Watcha' gonna do about it, grandpa?"

Mickey had a very shitty couple of days.

Mickey was not a well-tempered person.

Mickey was on the verge of killing something.

These kids were the catalyst.

When Mickey took a swift step towards them, Ian was once again -- how many times was it, now? -- holding him back. The kids scattered around, scared shitless of the thug. They were gone in the blink of an eye.

Ian felt sorry for them, but he was happy that, at least, Mickey didn't dump their tiny bodies in the river. Not that Mickey would've actually done that.

Ian hoped.

"I was one second from threatening to eat them for lunch," Mickey grumbled. He then pointed at the free spot. "At least they're gone. Gimme that beer, I wanna have some good drunk sex."

He made a gesture with his fingers and smiled as if nothing had happened. Wasn't Ian supposed to be the crazy one?

Fucking Milkovich.

5.  THE GALLAGHER HOUSE

Debbie Gallagher was extremely annoying nine times out of ten. Ian Gallagher knew it. Mickey Milkovich knew. The entire Gallagher clan knew it. But today, she seemed especially bitchy.

It was a Friday night -- usually reserved for a good home-cooked meal, chilling on the couch, watching TV,  and just having a family night altogether. Even Lip and Tami were in the house on Fridays, bringing Fred along to play with Franny and Liam (who would more-so look after them than play with them).

That's how the nights usually went.

But tonight, Debbie the Brat had every intention of fucking it up.

She sauntered into the house, bitchiness oozing from her pores, head held high even though it should have been bowed down in shame. She was drunk off her rocks, and she was dragging Franny along with her.

"Hi, assholes." She greeted the family in the kitchen, letting go of Franny's hand, pulling her sunglasses off to reveal blood-shot eyes. God knows where the hell she had been today. All Ian knew was that she left the house sober with Franny and was now completely drunk, if not high, the little girl still trailing behind.

"Wash your hands, Fran," Liam instructed, eyeing Debbie up and down. She seemed even more fucked up than usual in his eyes.

She plopped herself down on the closest free chair which happened to be across Mickey. It was quiet for a few moments, everyone waiting for something to happen. Debbie was an unpredictable drunk, something they were only lately discovering.

It seemed like Debbie had woken up today and chosen violence.

She looked straight into Mickey's eyes. "Your cousin is a cunt."

Mickey raised an eyebrow while the other Gallaghers observing the exchange. Ian was sat next to him. He put his utensils down, not sure how this exchange was going to unravel, also pulling Mickey's knife out of reach, in a way he hoped was inconspicuous.

Just in case.

"She is a self-absorbed cunt who has no business in this house anymore." Deborah continued as if someone gave a shit. Mickey especially.

He shrugged. "Last I'd seen her was the morning after you guys broke up. I couldn't give less of a shit about whether or not she's with you or not with you. For fuck's sake, the break-up happened a long-ass time ago, get over it." Mickey looked down at his plate, continuing to eat his dinner, clearly signifying the conversation was over. He glanced at Ian when he couldn't find his knife.

Instead of moving on, Debbie grabbed a loaf of bread and threw it at him.

Mickey stilled.

Carl elbowed her hard but she paid no attention to the warning. She was having a staring contest with Mickey Milkovich. One she would eventually lose.

"Back the fuck off, Debbie," Ian warned himself.

She switched her gaze from Mickey to Ian. Her gaze was murderous. "Or what, Ian? You'll try and kill me with a bat?"

Collective silence fell over the table. Noone seemed to be breathing. All eyes switched to Ian, gauging his reaction, not believing the words that had left Debbie's mouth, but even warier of the ones that were bound to leave Ian's.

Ian had other things occupying his mind, though, and one of those things was his husband who was probably a second away from killing his sister-in-law.

"You bitch." Ian held Mickey down by his shoulders as he attempted to climb over the table and tackle her to the floor. "You and your condescending cunt can fuck off."

"Mickey. Come on." Ian pushed him out of the chair and shoved him lightly, indicating for him to go upstairs.

"No, Ian. She needs to be set fucking straight, or else you'll have a new Frank on your hands. This bitch." He fought against him as Debbie just sat still.

"Mickey." Ian shoved him towards the stairs, afraid he would have to explain to the cops how his husband murdered his sister if Mickey didn't leave the room, immediately. Mickey noticed Ian's serious expression, and slowly climbed up, all the while muttering to Debbie to go fuck herself.

Ian glanced at Debbie from where he stood.

"What?" She asked, innocently.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?"

Debbie snorted. "Sorry if I hurt your feelings. Not like it wasn't true."

"I couldn't give less of a shit whether or not you think I'm crazy. You come in here and talk to Mickey like that again, I will be using a bat. Only then you'll see how crazy I can get." Ian was dead serious.

It was the first time since she came in that her eyes truly widened in fear.

He backed away upstairs slowly.

The rest of the Gallaghers were silent for a moment before they all collectively shot Debbie a dirty look, soon erupting in chatter, as if nothing had happened.

It had been merely a few seconds before Ian had entered their room, when Mickey finally started his rant, talking shit about Debbie, defending Ian being at the core of it all.

He had a lot to say, and Ian was going to listen to it all, like the supportive husband he was, always taking Mick's side.

As he listened to Mickey rant about Debbie, he thought about what he had said to her. It was true -- every single word that had left his mouth. He hoped she and the rest of them -- no matter who it was -- understood.

Mickey was more important to him than anyone else in this world, even his sister. He was Ian's family, his next of kin, the one Ian trusted and loved the most. When push comes to shove, he will chose him, no matter what. He will always choose his husband, the love of his life, his worse half.

God, he was soft.

Fucking Milkovich.

+1 THE STORE, THE JOB, THE ALIBI, THE BLEACHERS, THE GALLAGHERS

"You really keep me from killing people, man. Feel like I should thank you."

Mickey had muttered that lowly in the dark, his head resting on Ian's chest, both of them naked, enjoying their post-sex bliss. It was then when they were at their most open, letting out emotions and feelings that usually didn't seep into the mundane day.

Ian ran his fingers along Mickey's bare back, enjoying how Mickey shivered against them. "You do the same thing." He answered simply.

Mickey raised his head slightly to look at his husband. "No, I don't. I've never had to physically pull you away from stabbing or strangling someone."

"You do realize I usually get as pissed off as you do at these things."

"These things?"

Ian rolled his eyes in the dark. "C'mon Mick. You really think I'm okay with an old lady calling you rude and ignorant and judging you like you're nothing but a street rat. Or some assholes flipping us off after trying to steal our weed?" He adjusted his arm so it rested over Mickey's shoulder, Mickey's cheek pressed into his peck. "You think I don't get mad when Tommy talks about how we shouldn't have gotten married because we're men? Or how Debbie had the audacity to talk to you like that, in front of me."

"You never react to it, though. That's why I don't pull you away from starting shit. You kind of just stay calm." Mickey responded to Ian's short monologue.

Ian chuckled. "Mick. If I wasn't so busy pulling you away, I'd probably be the one murdering them all."

This time Mickey raised his head to fully look at Ian. They adjusted their positions so it was easier to keep each other's gaze.

"I'm serious," Ian responded to Mickey's expression of disbelief.

Ian was completely and utterly serious. That shit happened a lot.

In fact, had Ian not been so busy pushing Mickey out of the store, the plastic bag filled with shit they needed for dinner and the expensive -- but probably not correct -- Rosè in one of his hands, making sure his husband didn't go to prison for stabbing the geriatric bitch, he would have gotten really fucking pissed and probably have gone off at the grandma himself.

If Mickey didn't attempt to go after the fucking thieves, like the sociopath he was, Ian would've probably pulled out his gun and pointed it at the men's fucking back. Maybe he would've even tried emptying the clip.

Mickey trying to strangle Tommy was good enough of a distraction for Ian not to beat the asshole up himself. How fucking dare he talk about marriage like that, the drunk bitch. Ian would've been a second away from hurling himself at Tommy and beating the shit out of him -- but fuck it if Ian was gonna let Mickey get arrested for aggravated assault and risk his parole.

The kids at the bleachers didn't bother him. He knew Mickey had a soft spot for kids himself, so it was more of a hissy fit than a homicidal fit.

Debbie was the one that truly made his blood boil.

"You know," Ian began. "I would've probably signed a death warrant on Debbie and mine's relationship that night if you weren't there."

"How so?" Mickey was caressing Ian's cheek with his thumb, giving him the biggest case of heart-eyes. Ian didn't doubt that was how he was looking at Mickey himself.

"When she was saying that shit, all I could think of was making sure you didn't kill her. I barely registered what the fuck she was saying. I was trying to keep you from flipping the table and making Franny an orphan." Mickey rolled his eyes but kept silent. He knew there was truth in Ian's words. "But, if you weren't there. If Debbie had just started talking about me and the whole bipolar thing and I didn't have you to keep me from actually letting the words sink in..." He drifted off, not knowing how he would've reacted. The words would have probably cut him deep.

Shifting closer, Mickey pressed his palm against Ian's cheek. "Do we need to talk about how you should under no circumstance listen to your bitch of a sister? What happened all those years ago happened while you were manic and off your meds. Her using that as a comeback in an argument is low and a fucking betrayal. Right now, you are the healthiest you've been since your diagnosis and you shouldn't let her get in your head. Hell, if I have to, I'll fucking try and murder anyone to stop the words from -- what did you say -- sinking in?" Ian laughed wetly, feeling himself get emotional over Mickey's little speech.

"You're amazing, Ian." He finished. "I'm proud of you."

Ian pulled Mickey's body close, making their naked bodies press flush against each other. Their noses touched as Ian took a moment to appreciate what the universe had given him. The soft lines of Mickey's face, the blemishes, and the tiny scars -- the eyebrows Ian had joked were iconic to him -- everything that made Mickey Milkovich his Mickey.

A kid forged in hate and homophobia, morphed by the Southside into a short-tempered thug, capable of murder in the blink of an eye if you so much as looked at him wrong. A Milkovich taught to care for nobody but family, to stay loyal to them and never snitch, but also taught to put a bullet in their fucking heads if betrayed. A hard-ass and a thief, ready to shamelessly steal from any store of his choosing, barely giving a shit whether it lands him in juvie or not.

A man capable of so much love. A man who took care of Ian when he was at his worst, made sure to keep him safe and protected. The man who came out for him in front of his worst nightmare, all so he could keep Ian, even if he was nothing but a mess kept together by unawareness. A man capable of murder for Ian. A man capable of running away with Ian. A man capable of going back to prison for Ian. A man who loved Ian, and would always try to keep him safe.

"You done staring?" Mickey smirked at him.

Ian smiled, shaking his head slightly. "I don't think I'll ever be." He then added, quietly, "I'm so lucky."

Mickey nodded, his lips mere inches away from Ian's. "I am too."

Soft lips moved against each other slowly, creating a rhythm Ian never wanted to lose.

He knew he never would.

His life, even after all the worst possible shit a person could imagine, was pretty fucking great. All thanks to Mickey.

His husband.

His partner.

His soulmate.

His worse half.

His Milkovich.

THE END

[peachyteabuck]

ceo chronicles. pt iii ~ wanda maximoff

series summary: a set of fics based off of the main au of sugar baby/mommy or daddy dynamics and ceo aus. each fic involves a separate universe wherein each character is the ceo of a different company and you’re their sugar baby. sexy times ensue.

fic summary: something goes very, very wrong at one of wanda’s business dealings. you are left to help her pick up the pieces - no matter what that means. 

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

words: 2398

trigger warnings: possessive wanda, anger-fucking, collars, spreader bars, riding crop, ball gags

notes/other: this was done for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor ‘s “old hollywood” writing challenge, my prompt was “Must I always wear a low cut dress to be important?” - Jean Harlow and has been bolded within the fic!

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Wanda storms into the penthouse, her stiletto heels clacking against the dark, hardwood floors.

She’s angry, furious – and whether or not it’s aimed at you doesn’t matter, your heart picks up in your chest either way.

“That two-timing sun of a bitch!” she screams, throwing her purse on the ground. Her coat follows shortly.

You watch her, eyes wide in terror, as you stand in the kitchen. She bought the place for its open floor plan and, initially, you had liked it too.

Now, though, with nothing to hide behind, you regret not going with the more closed space in SoHo.

“That motherfucker undersold me,” she screams, standing in place as she yells to no one in particular. “He told me the piece was worth one point two fucking million, and it sells for less than a hundred fucking thousand!”

Oh fuck. If you weren’t scared out of your goddamn mind before you sure are now.

There are two things in this world no one should fuck with when it comes to Wanda’s possessions:

The first is you.

Once, a man accidentally brushed against you at a gallery opening and Wanda nearly bit him – throwing red wine on his white shirt and screaming at him to leave.

Once he was out of her sight, she dragged you to the nearest bathroom, leaving a deep hickey high enough on your neck that you couldn’t hide it before making you show it off to the guests for a few more hours.

The second, is her money.

It’s not that Wanda’s not charitable, far from it; she claims millions on her taxes every year.

It’s just that she’s in charge of those things. She decides who gets what and when, she controls when her Black card is used and why. When people promise to bring her a certain amount of profit, they better fucking deliver, or else…this happens.

This meaning her getting so mad she looks like she could cause wildfires. All those earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, everything – those aren’t tectonic plates, no, they’re something much more powerful.

Wanda’s anger can move mountains, make species go extinct.

And, most important by far, it can make you shake in fear.

“That fucker, I should have known when he asked that I wear some fucking,” you can hear the venom in her voice, spitting over everything as she grabs the Stoch – the nice stuff, from the lockbox deep in the cupboard. She throws the bags of junk food – the chips you like and the cookies she loves – across the kitchen before stabbing in the code with her perfectly manicured nails. She doesn’t speak until she’s had two sips straight from the container, face wincing slightly before she sets it back on the counter. “To wear some fucking slip to the meet up, as if he needed to see me in anything at all! Ugh!” she scoffs, taking another long swig. “Must I always wear a low-cut dress to be important?”

You don’t reply, staying silent and inert as what could be the scariest thing unfolds in front of you.

Out of nowhere, she stills, taking exactly three, ten-second-in and ten-second-out breaths. It’s after that that she steps over to the large navy-blue sectional, sitting on it with her feet flat on the floor.

“Get on your fucking knees,” Wanda hisses.

You drop to the floor without hesitation, petrified.

Wanda watches you intently for a moment, jaw clenching as she moves to sit on the couch, feet flat against the floor. She pats her right hand against her right knee twice, and you immediately understand what she wants.

You fall across her knees, one arm grabbing her ankle while the other folds behind your back for her to grab – each action desperate to be obedient, to try to throw a fire blanket over the ravenous, burning thing that’s overtaken her.

There’s very little warning before she’s pulled the sundress up and bunching it into your fist, giving you little warning before leaving a slap against your ass – barely covered by the flimsy cotton underwear.

She ignores you, when you cry out, ignores you when tears begin to stream from your eyes and when blood spills from your bottom lip when it gets caught between your teeth.

It isn’t until your ass feels like it’s been branded when she lets up, inadvertently giving you a moment to breathe as she clenches her fists in front of her.

“It’s not enough!” Wanda screams, pushing you onto the floor. You fall against the wood hard, making you cry out in pain as she stomps away. “It’s not enough! Why isn’t it enough!”

Through the ringing in your ears you can hear her in the bedroom, the distinct sound of a six-bolt padlock being clicked open ricocheting in your eardrums. The only thing locked with that sort of hardware is the chest Wanda keeps all your kink-related items in, separating into layers by the degree of play.

It starts light at the top; blindfolds and a few cute collars with equally cute pet names engraved onto small heart-shaped nameplates. One of them is even diamond-encrusted, PROPERTY OF WANDA spelled out in bold print across pink faux leather. You can picture them even as your brain becomes fuzzy, can see them vividly against a distinct white velvet Wanda picked out especially.

The second layer, and the third (due to the size of the collection) are dildos, vibrators, butt plugs of more sizes and varieties than you can count. You can hear her removing those two shelves hastily, tearing through the rest of the box until she gets to the last level, the one you fear the most:

They’re rarely used, only barely broken in. A spreader bar Natasha got Wanda as a gag gift about a year ago. A riding crop Wanda bought at a kink convention awhile ago on an intoxicated whim. A thick collar meant for posture made of pure, soft leather and a solid gold latch. And, lastly, a fine leather ball gag, deep and black and beautifully handmade.

All four of them stiff and mean, just like Wanda in times like these.

She calls you into the bedroom with a shout, smiling when she hears you rushing from your felled position in the living room.

You can see the last fleeting moment of it when you cross the threshold, see that her anger has an end and this is not some permanent fixture in your still-budding relationship.

“Down,” she says simply, and you drop, sitting back on your heels.

Your hands remain palms-down on your thighs with your spine straight as one of those expensive paintings that decorate so many of the walls in the place you and her call home.

It stays that way – your spine parallel to the walls – as the collar is dangled in front of your eyes before being secured around your neck.

“Too tight?” Wanda asks, emotionless.

You shake your head as she sticks two fingers, the pads pressed into the soft skin of your neck. “Good.”

The ritual is repeated for the ball gag, the toy wrapped around your head and subsequently checked for fit.

She then instructs you to get on the bed, perpendicular to her as you lay on your back. You can’t see it – but the rustling and distinct clacking sound of metal pieces moving together can tell you she’s grabbing the very toys you’re terrified of the most.

The plain white ceiling gives you something to stare at, to fixate on as you feel the soft leather cuffs tightening before being checked. It’s almost sweet – the little ritual – if it didn’t immediately lead to your imminent torture.

You can feel her stepping back, heated eyes raking up your body slowly, surely. She watches carefully as your cunt pulses under her heated gaze, watches each muscle twitch as you anxiously await her next move.

Wanda looks at you the same way you think starving lionesses look at zebras separated from the safety of their heard. Her eyes zero in on her pulsing cunt, watching for the perfect moment to-

SMACK!

The riding crop comes down quick against your center, a sharp pain causing a fiery heat to spread up your ribs and down to your toes.

“Does that hurt, baby?” Wanda coos, twirling the end of the crop between the fingers of her nondominant hand.

You nod, trying desperately to gasp for air as drool spills out of the sides of your mouth. “Mmm,” is all you can get from behind the plastic. “Hngf.”

Wanda just laughs down at you, smacking the end light enough not to hurt but hard enough to tease you.

“Aw, my pretty little thing,” a faux pout paints itself across her face. “Such a sensitive baby.”

You whine, overwhelmed and desperate and oh so desperate to press your thighs together for any kind of pressure where you need it most. But no, of course not. Wanda wants to see you struggle, looks down at you with a smirk playing across her lips as you twist and beg, hoping she’ll find it in herself to give you mercy.

Given how the hours previous had gone, though, you doubt she’ll give you any.

“I’m going to give you one of these,” Wanda snaps the crop against your left inner thigh and smirks when you yelp. “For each hundred thousand I lost today.”

You do the mental math – whole body tensing. Nineteen. You’re about to get whipped nineteen times with a toy you haven’t broken in…

Shivers run up your spine and each muscle in your body tenses – whether in fear or anticipation, you don’t know and don’t really care to find out.

The first one comes down against the same inner thigh as before, sure to leave angry hot welts that will need constant care in the next few days. The second goes against the opposite side – skin previously untouched now screaming.

The third and forth are against your hips, fifth and sixth hitting just above your knees.

You lose count after that, mind numb as your wetness pools onto the freshly cleaned comforter. Between your racing heartbeats and the blood in your ears you assumed Wanda had finished with you, but coming to for a breath of fresh air only makes to bring the final blow – this time against your cunt.

With the gag the only sounds that reverberate off the walls come from deep in your chest, screams remnant of a horror experienced from another room. Wanda smiles as she watches you squirm as sparks of pain jump across your center and thighs.

There a few moments of silence as your panting curbs to low breaths, giving you a moment for recovery as your vision clears and the ringing in your ears stops.

It’s only then that Wanda gets up, trailing her fingertips across your sweaty skin as she walks past you.

“C’mon kitten,” she murmurs, stepping out of sight and back towards the chest of toys. “Let me make you feel good…”

Your brow furrows in confusion, pulling weakly at the restraints until you hear a plug being insert into an outlet, and the distinct sound of a long, long cord being unraveled.

The sound of the vibrator makes you groan in anticipation – ecstatic and terrified of how Wanda will use it on you. If she thinks you’ve been good, maybe she’ll be nice – get you off with it pressed against your clit with three of her fingers buried deep inside of you.

Or, if she remains unsatisfied with your performance, she could keep you just on the edge or pushing you over it until your begging meets expectations or she gets bored enough to stop.

As the head is pressed to your clit you nearly scream with relief – the soft vibrations and even softer words hitting you like droplets during the first rainstorm after dry season. It washes over you, coating your skin in delicious relief as your buck your hips and cry out.

Each word, each scream, remains muffled by the sphere in your mouth, but Wanda coos down at you nonetheless.  

“Such a pretty little girl you are,” she says, watching you with the same hawkish gaze as before. It feels more reserved, though, as if she was watching over you rather than attempting to pin you down. “Such a pretty little girl for me.”

She climbs over you, then, never letting the toy leave your body as she pulls your head into her lap. Wanda looks down at you as you fall apart, watches you with eagle eyes as you cum.

As the initial waves of pleasure subside, you sigh in relief.

That is, until the head of the toy is pressed to your center once more. The next orgasm, and the one after that, and the one after that and-

They’re nearly painful as they hit you like a spray of bullet, like you’re being tased. You’re crying and doing your best to wail as you writhe around, Wanda cradling your face the entire time.

Your brain is numb when Wanda decides you had enough, whole body limb in her arms when she switches the soaked toy off.

She unties you with quick fingers, allowing you to slump against her as she takes off the rest of the restraints that litter your body.

“Rest up,” she tells you plainly as you nuzzle into her side. “I’m still pissed.”

You smile into the bare skin of her ribs, leaving a small kiss on the warm skin. Despite her tone, you can tell there’s not much behind it – fury that had settled just beneath her skin long dissipated into something she can save for the next time that man dares show his face in her presence.

There’s a pause once you stop adjusting, a heavy beat of silence that neither of you feels a need to fill. It’s a long while before either of you says anything, and even then the words are quite soft-spoken despite the two of you being the only ones in the large house.

“I love you, you know that, right?” Wanda whispers into your hair.

You give a small nod, unable to move because of the soreness attacking each of your muscles. “Yeah,” you mumble, voice equally low. “Yeah. I love you, too. Do you know that?”

Wanda smiles. “Yeah, yeah. I do.”

[oftenderweapons]

White Wine + Spinach & Artichoke Dip + Chef’s Choice!!

Pairing: Seokjin x reader (nicknamed Angel)

Wordcount: 2.2k

Genre: drabble for Bangtan Bistro (details here); smut; established relationship

Rating: 18+

Tonight we’re serving

- White wine: Kim Seokjin

- Spinach and Artichoke Dip: smut

- Chef’s choice (Italian Wedding Soup — “Your waiter accidentally spilled a drink on you and keeps apologising profusely, even though you accepted his apology the first time he said it”)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: roleplay (waiter!Seokjin customer!yn), swearing, alcohol consumption, slightly dommy reader, sort of body shots (?) kinda (?), breast worship, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected oral sex (use dental dams ffs!!!). Serious talk here. Angel does a potentially stupid thing: alcohol, sugars and bacteria (all naturally contained in wine) can seriously upset your vagina (more precisely your pH and the bacteria that keep it healthy). Two important things to do if you happen to be dumb enough to imitate her: 1. Pee afterwards (after masturbating, after oral sex or penetrative sex, that’s good anytime you have some action down there) 2. Wash your vulva (the outside of your intimate parts and NOT the inside) with fresh water and specific soap. Sorry for the sex ed note, but I’m a strong advocate for educational smut. 

On a side note, since the word count is tight and I’m not ready to start some characters with a couple lines, I’ll casually put this into a Seokjin x Angel fic (check out Seokjin’s idol!AU masterlist — sksksk sorry for the self promo 😉)

Crediting my (unfaithful) fiancée @joheunsaram for beta reading (SHE LOCKED HERSELF OUT OF HER OLD BLOG, AND SHE’S BUILDING HER NEW ONE, PLEASE GO TAKE A LOOK SHE OWNS THE MOST ADORABLE JOONIE FIC)

Enjoy 💜✨

Sitting at your dinner table felt especially difficult tonight. Maybe because you were hyper aware of the white silk slip you were wearing, and that you had casually found it on top of your bed inside a refined cardboard box with a sophisticated golden swirl on the lid.

“Wear me to get undressed,” the small note inside read, your guts instantly fluttering at the thought. Seokjin’s handwriting spelled nothing but care and attention to detail. You knew his rushed writing and his careful calligraphy. From this detail alone you could tell he had plans. Elaborated ones.

Sitting at the table, you saw him suddenly emerge from the kitchen, in formal slacks and a white shirt, hair swept back, leaving his gorgeous forehead all there for you to see. “Good evening, miss. I’m pleased to see you have returned to our restaurant. I will be your personal waitperson for your stay. Here to serve all your cravings.” He smiled kindly, trying not to stare at your cleavage, gloriously exposed by the low neckline of the slip. The cream colour looked amazing on you. He was almost sorry for what he was about to do.

“Oh, that’s so kind of you. This restaurant does indeed have the best service.” You looked up at him with a polite smile. “And the cuisine is unrivalled.”

Of course it was. He was the chef. Although he liked playing a role, he didn’t like faking the food. He always looked it up very carefully. He had his cookbooks. And he had received a new one for his birthday. You had a vague idea of who might have gifted it.

“Would you like to try the chef’s special for the night? I am sure you will be absolutely surprised by it. And I mean in a positive way, of course.” He said, standing with his hands behind his back, which made his whole chest look broader. The two loose buttons at the top of his shirt were forming a small, inviting triangle of smooth skin, glistening under the kitchen lights.

“I’d love to try that. I am sure the chef knows what I like. He’ll sweep me off my feet.”

He looked at the floor with a small bow. “You will be entirely pleased, from appetizers to dessert.” He looked at you from under his lashes. “I will make it my personal goal.”

“Then, we shall begin.” Seokjin exited the room before coming back with a small basket of mixed bread, breadsticks and small bites of toasted bread. “I recommend a fresh, bubbly white wine. A lovely Pinot Gris from Neuchâtel. Fresh, well structured, flowery and on the dryer side. It will mix well with the vegetable-based menu of the night.”

You nodded, very interested — actually interested. Seokjin could play any part he wanted with proper research and dedication. He could probably impersonate a surgeon or an astronaut if he put his mind on it.

“Thank you for the detailed recommendation.” You smiled politely, watching as he opened the bottle and poured just one finger of wine in your glass.

You took a sip and nodded in approval. It was really something different. Seokjin had truly opened a new world to you, made up of International cuisines and niche wines, and finding pleasure in something as basic and necessary as eating and drinking. You doubted you could ever go back to your frugal meals after discovering all the tastes and textures he had introduced you to.

Like the Artichoke dip with scrumptious bacon crumbles on top you had eaten for appetizer. And the mushroom ravioli you had for your main course. Now you were staring at your empty glass, feeling slightly sorry at Seokjin, standing beside you and watching you eat. “May I have more wine, please?” You asked, looking at him sweetly.

With a courteous nod, he moved closer, taking hold of the bottle standing in the cooling bucket right beside you.

You didn’t pay much attention as he accidentally lost balance of the bottle and let his arm twist clumsily, the wine spilling on the front of your silk slip.

It was cold. Very. Especially since it had been cooling in iced water for a solid half hour. And it had been chilling in the fridge before that.

Your nipples hardened immediately, almost as quickly as apologies began to bloom from Seokjin’s lips. “I am so sorry, miss. This is unforgivable. I apologise with my whole being, this is unacceptable—”

You hid your smile quickly as you saw him grab a handkerchief and try to fix the damage, getting on his knees and trying to dab the liquid away. “It’s okay, it can happen. You must have been very tired and hungry.” You tried to sound calm, kind and compassionate, while all you wanted to do was grin and undo his belt.

“I am wholeheartedly sorry, miss, your poor dress, this is unforgivable.”

You tried to stay within your role as he pressed the kerchief to your arm, drying up the liquid.

“Stop apologising, dear, you’re already forgiven.” You said, looking down at him and noticing how his eyes stayed glued to your nipples. “Or maybe you would prefer earning my forgiveness?”

He nodded, averting his gaze and blushing.

You bit your lip at his rosy cheeks, asking yourself how he could reach such a level of impersonation.

“Maybe you could clean me up.” You suggested, pressing two fingers under his chin and making him look at you. “But it would be such a shame to dry it up when you could get a taste of how fine this wine is— and what a delicacy you have been serving all night.”

He looked at you, wide eyed, almost innocent as you took his hand and made him cup the cold, soaked silk covering your left breast. “Come on, you can take a lick, darling. Don’t hesitate.” You encouraged him, leaning forward, the naked skin just above the neckline meeting his gaze with cool, flowery-scented pearls of wine running down the curve of your breast and slowly soaking your dress.

Not entirely convinced, he shyly let the tip of his tongue peek from his parted lips, giving the tiniest lick to the fabric, acting oblivious to the way your skin sizzled at the thought of being met by his sensual touch.

He gave one more lick, collecting the liquid on the fabric that stuck to your skin and left no room for modesty, exposing even the usually hidden dark spots of your moles.

“You need to suck or you won’t get the real taste.” You said, his lips disappearing into his mouth as he tried to hide a smile. You were glad you still managed to get him out of character every now and then. Though that was rare. He is a professional, after all.

He moved closer to your skin, the wet kerchief plopping to the floor as his hand landed on your knee. You turned toward him, giving him more access as he stood on his knees and licked at the skin over your breastbone, looking into your eyes as the other hand lowered the top of your dress so that he could dip his tongue on the crevasse of your breasts. He slurped up the liquid lewdly, clicking his tongue. “Very fresh. Flowery, as the seller promised it to be. Absolutely delicious.” He grinned. “Perfect to pair off with more delicate meats.” He replied expertly, brow creased in acknowledgement as he explained. “Maybe we could try more delicate cuts.” He hinted before diving for your nipple, sucking it in his mouth from over the fabric, the stark contrast between the cold feel of the fabric and the hot saliva mixing up with the wine. The hand on your knee slid toward your thigh, gripping the soft flesh and spreading your legs open as the other hand came to help.

There was no more hiding at this point.

“Miss?” He called once his hand reached your outer hip, searching for the thong supposed to match the slip.

“Yes, dear?”

“Something’s missing.” He said, giving you a dirty look.

“I guess I’ll be the one who needs to apologise, after all.” You said coquettishly while he licked your other breast, sucking and biting to get as much wine as possible.

You knew there was a low chance of you being bruised or marked the day after — silk is a sturdy fabric after all — but the idea of finding such signs of passion on your skin got you impatient. “Maybe you could have a taste of the finest cut. It must be so frustrating watching people eat the delicacies and leave you there, standing.”

He nodded with a sorry look in his eyes before nuzzling his face against your breasts. “May I, miss?” He requested, so handsome and kind.

“Of course, darling.”

With a breathy chuckle, he parted your legs even farther apart, tugging the skirt up and finding your naked, wet cunt right before his hungry eyes. “A fine cut indeed, miss.”

“All yours to eat,” you purred, the low, sultry tone turning into a light moan as you felt his finger enter you.

“Creamy.” He murmured, drawing circles against your g-spot before lowering his face and taking a quick sniff. “The aromatic complex is overall round and well built.” He destroyed you by simply adding a slow, wide lick, parting from you and clicking his tongue a few times. “Salty… with just the right amount of sour. Deeply inviting. Aphrodisiac to say the least.” He growled between your labia. “I will gladly feast on it, miss.”

You smiled. “All you need to do is get started already.”

He did. He treacherously added one more finger, acting completely casual as he slipped two digits inside you and started teasing your g spot, rubbing it in a way that let you know he intended to make you explode in a matter of five minutes at worst, two at best.

To top it all off, his tongue swirled against your folds, giving neat, flat strokes from your hole to your clit.

You stared at the wine, knowing precisely that you shouldn’t do that, and that you were risking it. Nevertheless, he might call you Angel all he wants but he knew your true nature and you had hidden it for way too long.

With a devilish smirk, you stretched out your arm to the table, grabbing the bottle before holding his head in place, squealing once you felt his fingers go deeper as you scooted your ass forward, leaning back and transforming your torso in an awfully slippery slope.

Seokjin stared as you bunched the slip up, exposing your breasts to the chilly air, rubbing the freezing glass of the bottle against your nipples — one at a time — moaning once Jin started moving his fingers faster inside you.

As he hummed and you felt your edge crumble, you pressed the rim of the bottle to your navel and tipped the bottle downwards, a small rivulet running down all the way to your pelvis, while also getting caught on the crease of your belly and dribbling along your sides. The cold sensation gave you a chill that mixed with the fiery hot flame in your guts and made you lose your mind completely.

Seokjin was completely drowning in the sight and feel and sounds of you. You were giving small breaths that almost turned in whines when you exhaled too hard and too quick, your hips were undulating right against his tongue and his nose was perfectly slotted between your folds and his hand. He felt your high peak, your muscles pulsating as the cold liquid met his tongue, his mouth confidently switching to a sucking motion now that he knew you were turning more sensitive and he had to let your clit go. What he didn’t let go of was your g spot, devotedly worshipped by his soft fingertips while he focused on sipping all the wine away. There was maybe the equivalent of two glasses left inside the bottle, so he let you execute your foolish plan without worry.

Your eyes opened slowly as the wine stopped flowing, his fingers slowing down as your hand met his wrist.

You were ecstatic and aroused at the same time, especially once Jin cleaned his face with the back of his hand, eyes focused on yours.

“My favourite meal.” He murmured, licking his lips, placing his hands around your waist as he got back on his feet, kissing your left nipple, and then your right one on his way up.

“Let me clean up here. Get in the shower.” He murmured gently. “You owe me some apologies, am I right?” He provoked, dangerous warning lining his voice.

You weren’t in control anymore. “Yes, sir.”

[mxchellesworld]

𝟑 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟓

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐂𝐚𝐭 𝐀𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐫𝐮𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐧𝐯𝐲.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: mentions of sex and masturbation 

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

***

It had been a few days since you’d seen Cat and Spencer. After lunch you decided it was time to make your way back home. A quick exchange of numbers and the promise of seeing each other soon and you were back to your mundane routine of getting adjusted to the city. The short uber ride to your apartment, which they insisted they paid for, was spent answering texts from your friends and confirming you were still alive after they left you. 

You spent the rest of the day doing laundry for the week and cleaning bits of your apartment. It was still pretty bleak, with empty walls which you longed to fill with pictures and art. Your room was a bit more lively with knitted blankets your aunt made long ago and the light of the warm lamp in the corner filling the space. 

Sunday was bland with the task of getting groceries. You decided to walk since the store was a block away. You made your way down the streets in a simple sweater and leggings, foregoing any makeup. Walking into the store the older lady at the register greeted you with a kind smile. 

Picking up a basket you made your way down the isles trying to get your things quickly to get back home and sleep the day away. While searching the snack section you stood in front of the popcorn deciding between buttered or kettle. You heard footsteps and saw a worker make his way down to restock the shelf. 

He was tall and you noticed the way his shirt rose as he reached the top shelf. Spencer could probably reach that no problem, you thought to yourself. He caught you staring and turned to you with a smile. 

“Having a movie night?” he asked walking closer. You could smell the scent of his cologne, strong but not overpowering.  

“Not really haha, but don’t get me wrong a catch up day of my favorite show is definitely on the list,” you replied returning with a small smile. 

He leaned in reaching for one of the boxes, subtly boxing you into the space. 

“Well this is my favorite kind,” he said handing you the box, “Ya know perfect to amount to eat alone.. or share.” 

“Oh,” you said surprised with a chuckle trying to play off the heat rushing to your cheeks. 

You were about to respond when you heard a voice from the end of the aisle, “Y/n.” 

Think of the devil and he shall appear.

Spencer was walking over to you holding his own basket filled with essentials like milk and bread. He looked like he did on Saturday, wearing those grey sweatpants which made you thank the stars above. On top he had on a simple tshirt and cardigan combo making him look extra cozy. 

“Hey Spence,” you said looking past the employee. 

“Did you get the popcorn baby?” he said looking the worker up and down. 

You furrowed your brow seeing what he was playing at, “Yeah yeah, he was just giving me a recommendation,” you turned back to the worker, “thanks again.” 

The worker nodded, red in the cheeks from facing Spencers death glare, before he walked away and rounded the corner. 

“What the fuck was that,” you both said at the same time. 

“He was just trying to help,” you said waving around the box of popcorn. 

“Come on princess you’re smarter than that. He was obviously trying to flirt with you.”

You scoffed before answering, “What don’t tell me you’re jealous.” 

“Oh I’m not,” he said with a smirk, “I’m confident in the fact we’ve proved who you belong to.”

You rolled your eyes before he spoke again, “Plus I know a boy like him could never satisfy a greedy little whore like you. Tell me, are the handprints still there?”

You opened and closed your mouth not being able to answer him. The laugh he let out told you he new he had won. 

“I think I’m done shopping,” you said walking past him. 

“Alright princess have a good rest of your day. But don’t think Cats not hearing about this, and she won’t be very happy.”

You felt your insides heat up at the thought of Cat knowing. What she would do to you. 

“Uh huh bye Sir,” you said stressing the title. 

You made your way to the older lady who you saw when you walked in, “Find everything alright?” she asked kindly. You nodded and pulled out your wallet to pay. 

God she had no idea. 

_

That interaction replayed in your mind from that night into your days at work. Neither of them had texted. Maybe Spencer forgot and never told Cat. The wait for something to happen was torturous. 

Your friend had noticed you were spaced out. Looking longingly at your phone during your breaks or lunch. It wasn’t like your feelings were hurt much for being ignored but more so the ache between your thighs was having a reaction. As you predicted trying to use your fingers or that sad vibrator in your bedside drawer was doing nothing to aid your release. 

You were out at the cafe around the corner from the office you worked at having lunch with one of your coworkers. She was going on about the night she had with the guy from the bar over the weekend. 

“Then he bent me over the couch! God it was so good,” she all but moaned. 

“Uh huh.” 

“I swear we were up until like 4 am going round after round,” she continued. 

“Right.”

“After that we sacrificed a goat on Saturn.”

“Oh wow,” you said looking down at the unlit rectangle next to your sandwich. 

“Y/n,” she said snapping her fingers in front of you. 

“What,” you said raising an eyebrow. 

“You’re being really shitty right now. I’m trying to tell you about how I literally got my back blown out and you’re staring at your phone like it’s gonna unlock the key to your future,” she said exasperatedly. 

Welp she wasn’t entirely wrong. 

“Abbie I’m sorry. I’m just waiting on a text. But please tell me more,” you said nodding for her to continue. 

“No, I wanna know fucked you stupid this weekend to make you act like a lovesick puppy,” she said putting her elbows on the table to rest her face in her palm. 

You internally debated telling her. I mean so far she has been the nicest and most welcoming to you, definitely bff material. But on the other hand you didn’t know if you were allowed to bring them up to other people. Technically it wasn’t a rule and what they didn’t know didn’t hurt them. 

You took in a deep breath before spilling your guts,” So basically after I noticed you guys were gone I accidentally walked into a sex club then later that night I fucked the owners and now we’re in a throuple type situation.” You ended with an awkward smile and waited for her reaction. 

“Oh the bdsm club? Isn’t it like the Library something?” she said casually. 

You sat there blinking for a while, “Out of everything I said thats the part that caught your attention.”

“So you had a threesome, very nice, we’ll get to that part. Tell me about the club.”

“Uh ok. We’ll it’s called the Underground Library and it’s what you’d imagine any bdsm lounge would be like. Red lights and sexy music playing in the back. There’s a bar and uh playrooms where you can watch others.”

She hummed taking in the information and sipping on her latte, “So the sex?”

“God it was so fucking good.” You both laughed and you spent the last few minutes of your lunch break telling her about what they did to you. Safe to say you knew your panties would be a mess by the end of the day just replaying those memories in your head. 

_

It was finally Thursday, you were so close to the work week ending and having a night with Abbie. The plan was for her to help you do a little shopping for your home then redecorate and spend the rest of the night sipping on wine with a pizza. Absolutely perfect. 

The day went by yet again without a notification from the people you wanted. At this point you came to the conclusion the incident was forgotten and left in the past. 

Friday you woke up around 10 and let yourself lay in bed, answering emails and lounging around until noon for you to get ready for your day with Abbie. After a while you got up to make a quick breakfast and make a list of items you planned on buying. 

You thought about getting a throw for the couch and some nice curtains. Maybe some wall decor. You were so excited to finally have a place to yourself and style it to your liking. 

Having roommates in college was fun but the solidarity of being able to walk around your own place basically naked and sing as loud as you wanted was liberating. 

Noon rolled around and you made your way to the bathroom to take a shower. The water pressure on your shoulders was breaking through to all the stress of the week and you instantly felt it melting away. 

You hopped out, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel and looking in your closet for what to wear. You settled for jeans and an oversized flannel, putting some comfy booties on your feet. You looked at your phone to see Abbie had texted and she would be on her way in 45 minutes. Using the remaining time you did your hair and makeup, just the basics for your day out. 

Your phone dinged with a simple text that read “here”, you grabbed your purse and the list on your kitchen counter and made your way to the elevator. 

You saw her little red car right in front of your building. The sound of music playing through the speakers could be heard from a few feet away. 

You pulled the door open and she greeted you with a big smile, “Hey! You ready to spend away that paycheck,” 

You laughed before answering, “You know it.”

The trip was made with nothing but laughs and a horrible mix of you guys singing to the radio. 

_

After a few hours and trips to multiple stores you guys stopped at one of the vendors in the mall to get some soft pretzels. Looking around you saw a fancy lingerie store and an idea popped into your head. 

You tapped Abbie on the shoulder to get her attention, “Hey I know you’re dead on your feet but theres one store I wanna go to. Do you wanna just grab a table? I’ll be like 20 minutes tops.”

“Yeah no prob Y/n/n,” she said holding her hand out for the bags you had in your hand, “this cinnamon twist is calling my name.” You both shared a giggle before you turned and skipped over to the store.

A woman wearing a dark purple sweater greeted you, “Hello darling, are you looking for anything in particular?”

“Nope I’m just taking a look around, thanks,’ you said with a smile. 

Walking around you saw a display of a matching set. It was baby pink and lacy and it left little to the imagination of the mannequin. Perfect. 

You looked over the table finding the set in your size and walking to the dressing rooms. Quickly you basically ripped your clothes off, speeding to get the fabric on your curves. It was stunning, complimenting your skin and hugging your curves. 

You pulled your phone out and hit the messaging icon. If they weren’t gonna text then you had to bite the bullet and put on your big girl panties to do it first. 

Typing in each of their contact names you made a groupchat and hit the camera option. You lifted your hand to get a flattering angle and gave the mirror your best pout. 

“Do you think it’s a good color?” Sent. 

One last glance in the mirror and you knew this was going home with you. Changing back into your clothes you slipped your phone in your pocket and made your way to the register. 

“Just this for you today honey,” the woman asked. 

“Yup,” you said pulling out your wallet. You heard the chime of a text and a smirk came across your face. Finishing the transaction you were excited to see what their reaction was. 

Walking back to Abbie you saw her on the phone and raised your brow in question. She started to get up and you took some of the bags from her hands. Once she was done with the call she put her phone in her purse and looked over to you. 

“Change of plans. Sam, the guy from the club, called and he’s coming over to mine tonight. So raincheck on the wine and pizza?”

You waved a hand dismissing what she said, “You’re all good, go catch that dick.” She laughed and pulled out her keys as you guys made your way out of the mall. 

In the car you pulled your phone out to check the message. It was from Cat. 

“I’m not sure. Maybe your little friend from the grocery store can help you pick.” 

So Spencer did tell her. 

You quickly replied, “You know green isn’t a good look on either of you.”

Another chime. “Why would I be envious? Last time I checked you came on my fingers, in my bed.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at her words. You tried to think of a response but this time Spencer responded. 

“Come to the lounge at 7. And wear that underneath your clothes.” 

“Yes Sir.” was all you said and the conversation ended. 

Looks like you and Abbie both had other plans for the night anyways. 

𝐚/𝐧; 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐢'𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐭. 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐚𝐫!!

[operationcavill]

Professionals 2 - August Walker

August Walker is hired by Parker Industries to protect the companies most important assets; Mr. Stephen Parker himself and his workaholic, do-it-all executive assistant. 

Part 1

*Contains a bit of a time jump

He doesn’t normally feel so guilty after speaking his mind, but he felt as if he should apologize. He settles into his room and still can’t get the interaction off his mind, the way the tone of her voice changed. He begins to log the distractions Y/N causes, in order to learn from it. It's the only way he knows how to correct himself.

Week 1 Distractions:  

Humming

Scrunches her nose when reading

Rolling her eyes at me

Week 2 Distractions:

Pony tails

Making Coffee

Asked me to peel her orange 

Gin Gin??

Week 3:

Cut the crust off my grilled cheese

Eating pickles as a snack

Video Calls with Joey

Refuses to call me August 

Week4:

Dances in her bedroom

Waters all the plants except the one in my room 

Eats too many pickles

Still won’t call me August

About a month into their stay, August finally admits to himself that he’s attracted to Y/N. He gave up on his lists and although he would never say it, made tougher security measures for her. He was now working his hardest, for her. The best thing about it was that he could tell she was doing the same, she was ignoring how she felt about him. At night, it consumed him. It was almost torture. He would stand outside her door after his routine sweep. 

He’d listen to her sing along to Pearl Jam, which he did not expect at all. He could hear her laugh on the phone while talking to her friends. He could also hear her touch herself. He drove himself crazy with it. His forehead would rest against the wall as he listened to her gasp and moan to herself. He wondered how she did it. Did she tease herself? Did she use a toy? He’d let his mind run wild with the thought and when it was a particularly tiring day, he, too, would touch himself.

After weeks of back and forth meetings, long car rides, and occasional flights back to the city, they finally have a weekend free. The rest of the security is on call back at their hotel, but given permission to explore. Meanwhile, Parker, Y/N, and August are cooped up in this lake house that Parker insisted he stay at. 

August checks in for the evening, making sure boss man has no plans to leave for the time being, “Go on, Walker. I’ve finally got time to catch up on sleep.” He nods and continues his sweep across the house. Y/N is not in the house, he barges into her empty bedroom, then back to the study. He finally spots her on the veranda, sipping on a glass of wine and just sitting. Every so often, she closes her eyes and takes a deep breathe. 

He leans against door frame and speaks loudly, “You know, you’re supposed to tell me if you’re going out.” 

She gasps, almost spilling her wine, “Shit!”

August doesn’t seem phased by her movements, “Could’ve said you’d be outside.”  

“I don’t need constant security, and I didn’t go anywhere, I’m sitting on a porch.” She takes another sip from her glass. 

“Actually, as part of the company, you do need security and it’s also raining.” 

She rolls her eyes, her go to reaction, “I like rain.”  

He looks up at porch covering, “Yeah, well, it’s too cold and foggy out here.”

“I’m fine.” He watches her plop a piece of candy in her mouth. 

“Y/N—“ He gears up for yet another one of his speeches but she cuts him off before she has to endure it.

“August,” He doesn’t want to admit that he loves to hear her say his name, even if it comes out strange due to the candy in her mouth.

“The last thing we need around here is you with a cold. You’re miserable as it is.” His statement comes out harsher than he intended. He only meant that she’s already in a tough situation, and getting sick would only make it harder on her.

“You know what, Walker? You’re miserable! You have not once tried to be kind, not once tried to have a conversation with me. I don’t think you do anything but sulk. ‘Oh, I’m August. I have a mustache and a gun.’” She mocks his scowl, “I haven’t seen you smile at all, do you even have teeth?” 

August wants to give her an ear full of banter but he can’t bring himself to be playful, he’s tired snd she looks pitiful. He gives her a false, but bright smile, “It’s getting late and it’s about to storm.”

She grunts as she gets up from her chair, “Goodnight.” 

He notices her cardigan on the back of the chair and grabs it, making his way toward the stairs, then to her bedroom door. He stands there for a moment before knocking, trying to decide if he should apologize or not. She greets him with her hair in a lazy ponytail and a toothbrush in her hand, “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you left your sweater downstairs.”

“Oh, thanks.” Y/N narrows her eyes at him, wondering why he’s just standing there, “Is there something else?” He’s sorry, but he shakes his head and bids her goodnight. 

Y/N would be lying to herself if she hadn’t been noticing little things about August. She notices that he tries to hide his smile when he hears Joey ask about him, or that his eyes seem bluer when it rains. There was a particular shirt of his that was a little tighter than his others and she didn’t want to admit to herself that she wanted to see what was underneath it. She tried to deny how good looking he was, even with that ridiculous mustache. 

Thunder claps just has Y/N snuggles into bed. She loved the sound of the heavy rain hitting the windows. When she was a little girl she would sit and just listen. Her brother, Jacob, would always make fun of her but it was something she enjoyed, just her and the rain.

...

The power flickers off and y/n heads to the hall linen closet for a lantern and maybe some candles for the hall. She knows she won’t be able to stop at this point in her book. The closet door swings open and she tries to catch something as it falls out. She winces at a broom smacking against the floor. Everything is still quiet, so she continues her search for a lantern. She hears a noise come from behind her and jumps. Y/N turns her flashlight toward the creaky floor and the beam lands on August, “Oh my god! You have got to stop scaring me!”

“I’m doing my job. I heard something.”

She points her light at his torso, “And came to check it out without a shirt?” She accidentally let the light linger there, taking in a very toned core. She knew he was in shape but, well, he was fit.

August tried his hardest not to stare, it may be dark but her can certainly make out her half naked silhouette, “You’re not wearing pants." 

“I didn’t expect to you to ambush me while I was looking for more flashlights.”

“Such a professional business woman with polka dot panties.”

She pulls her shirt down but it does nothing to cover her, “My underwear is none of your concern.” She presses one of the extra flashlights to his chest, and walks toward her room, “Go to bed.” 

Y/N huffs as she hears a knock on her door just as she closes it,  “I don’t want to go to bed.” 

She get’s ready to slam the door in his face but he has his hand on the door knob,“Then do something else.” He opens the door further and gives her and up and down. 

“I thought you’d be the whitey-tighty type.”

“Well, that’s ridiculously out of line.” She puts her hand on her hip.

“I don’t think you care what I say anymore.” 

“Excuse me?” 

He closes her bedroom door, leaning his back against it, “I have a thing for bratty smart girls in cute little panties.” He drinks in her shocked expression, “What? The one time you don’t have something to say?”

“I have plenty to say.”

“You seem pretty quiet over there.” 

The lightning flashes makes him look even more devilish, like a cheesy hour movie. He looks like he’s on a mission, and August Walker never abandons a mission. “I like to choose my words wisely.”

“That so?” 

She gulps as he walks closer, “Yes.” She feels so exposed, as if the small lantern on her nightstand was as bright as the sun. 

They’re only about a foot apart now. She could reach out and touch his chest if she wanted to, and she wants to. Just like he could read her mind, he whispers, “What are you waiting for?” She blinks hard, realizing people can’t actually read minds.

“I'm-I'm not waiting for anything.” He likes it when she’s nervous, he likes that he seems to be the only one who can do this to her.

“You’re so fucking stubborn. I see you looking at me, and I know you see me looking at you.”

He can see her brow furrow in the dim light and makes his move before she can argue. He grabs the back of her head, kissing her surprisingly softly. Her hands land flat on his stomach and he feels her nails on his skin when his tongue passes against hers. He pulls away and gently tugs her pony tail. Y/N looks doe-eyed and desperate. “You want me to go?” She doesn’t respond, “Fucking answer me, Y/N. I’ll pretend it never happened, if that’s what you want.”

[Tagged: If you’d like to be tagged, just shoot me a message or ask!]

@igotkatiepowers  @xxxkatxo  @lunedelorient  @heartfelt-pen​  @omgkatinka​  @viking-raider​  @summersong69​ @hell1129-blog​ @lilzebub���  @mansaaay​ @henryobsessed​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @cavillshmavill​

*This was supposed to be all in the first part but something funny happened and they got split up!

[shadowhuntertrash]

High Notes

Chapter Two

Characters belong to Cassandra Clare

It had been two days since the girls had told them about the tour and Thomas was freaking out. How was he supposed to one, go out in front of all those people every night, two, see Alastair practically every day for five months? Thomas had barely packed anything, he was currently standing in his room staring at his suitcase which so far held a pair of sweatpants and his “Move, I’m gay.” t-shirt his friends had gotten him when he came out.

   He hadn’t come out to anyone other than Matthew, James, Cordelia, Lucie, Christopher, and his sister Barbara. It wasn’t that he was scared to tell the rest of his family because they were very accepting of Matthew and James, but this voice in the back of his mind kept telling him that if he told his family they wouldn’t like it because it was their son.

   Their only son. The only person in his family who could carry on the name. Well there was always Christopher and Anna but no one in his immediate family besides himself. Thomas also had quite the fanbase and did not want to find out what their opinion was. He was scared they would turn on him which had happened to others before.

   So when he told his friends they kept his secret. They respected his reasons for not telling anyone but it didn’t keep them from telling him he was an idiot for not believing them when they said his family wouldn’t care. 

   Thomas snapped out of his thoughts when he saw Matthew leaning against the door to Thomas’ room. Christopher and James were out with their families spending time with them before they left for the tour.  

   “Thomas, sweetheart, love, dear friend of mine, please stop stressing. You’re stressing over Alastair more than I ever did over Jamie and that’s really saying something.” Thomas feels a familiar heat rise up to his face. He was blushing like a grade school girl. Was he really that obvious?

   “No one can ever beat you in gay pining Matthew Fairchild.” Is what Thomas chose to say. Matthew threw his head back and laughed. “That may be but you sure are putting up a fight. I’m serious though Tom, the more you stress about it the worse it’ll be.” Matthew said flashing him a serious look. It looked out of place on Matthew’s face. It was a rare sight.

   Thomas smiled slightly at him. Matthew had never liked Alastair much, something about childhood enemies, so it meant a lot that Matthew was being so chill about Thomas liking Alastair. “Thank you, Matthew. I’m serious thank you.” Thomas says in a small voice smiling at Matthew crookedly. 

   Matthew rolls his eyes and smirks. “It would make me a bit of a hypocritical asshole to have judged you for that. I’ve done far worse things than loving Alastair Carstairs.” It hit Thomas then, just how much Matthew saw through him. As if he was see-through. That’s what always made them so close. They were such total opposites that it was almost unbelievable just how they read each other so well.

   Thomas smiled sincerely at Matthew and Matthew swatted his arm. “Okay, enough seriousness I can only endure small doses at a time.” Thomas laughed and shook his head at his friend. Matthew laughed back. “Do you want some help packing? I’ve already finished.” 

   Thomas smiled, that was such a Matthew thing. It was a common misconception that Matthew was a procrastinator. He was actually the opposite, he was one of those ungodly people who do things as soon as they are asked to.

   “Of course you have, Matthew.” Thomas said exasperated. “If you could, I would greatly appreciate it. I always forget something important.” Matthew gave him a knowing look. “Don’t worry Tom. I won’t let you forget anything important.” Thomas nods and they spend the next three hours packing. With a brief intermission where they had a pillow fight after Thomas accidentally hit Matthew with his pillow. 

   At least he wasn’t as freaked out as he was before. 

____________________________________________________________________________

   Thomas, four days later, was standing in his parent's living room laughing with a glass of wine in his hand. His mother was sitting on the sofa next to his father. 

   His father, Gideon, was a successful politician like his father had been before he went corrupt. Unlike Thomas’ grandfather, Gideon was well-loved among the people. Thomas’s father and mother, Sophie, had one of those sickeningly sweet love stories that the people loved. 

   His father had gotten a maid when he was sixteen (spoiler, it was his Sophie). Gideon had been in love with her “from the moment he met her” and had done everything he could to see her. Including asking her to do just about anything and everything for him which his foolish teenage brain had thought was a brilliant idea. 

   It wasn’t and Sophie had grown up despising him until one day they fought over scones, Thomas had always found that part hilarious. Once Gideon had had a chance to explain why there was a pile of scones under his bed Sophie had allowed him to take her on a date. And the rest was, well, history.

   Thomas had always loved that story. He had grown up wanting one just like it, his two sisters were in the same boat. His oldest sister Barbara had found that in her current boyfriend Oliver. They had that cute barista, coffee addiction story. Oliver had to write his number on Barbara’s cut four times before she finally called him. They had been sickeningly lovey-dovey ever since. Thomas’s other sister Eugenia hadn’t found that yet and so they whispered about how disgusting Barbara and Oliver were when they came to family dinners.

   They were all sitting in the living room. Barbara was sitting in one of the lounge chairs next to Eugenia's chair.  Thomas was sitting on the floor with his back against Barbara’s legs. “It was hilarious I have never seen him so red!” Barbara exclaimed in hysterics, over some story about Oliver spilling coffee all over some scary-looking man covered in tattoos.

   "What a Prince Charming." Thomas said tilting his head back so he could look up at his sister. Barbara smacked his face lightly and laughed. "Isn't he!" They all laugh again. Thomas looks back to his parents to see them both looking at him, sweet smiles on their faces. Thomas smiles back immediately. 

   "Tommy we're so proud of you." Sophie says in a soft voice. Thomas beams at her, it was no secret he was 100% a momma's boy. “Your music, your lyrics are who you are. We have always encouraged you to be your true self and you always are.” His father said affectionately. Thomas feels a ball of guilt tightens in his stomach. 

   It was true they did always tell him to be himself. He wished he could be. He really really did, but alas it wasn’t the time. He couldn’t really tell them and then take off for five months. So he holds it in and flashes them a carefree smile.

   “Thank you. I hope you know you’re all my inspiration. I wouldn’t be where I am without you.” I say looking around at all of them making a point to look at my sisters as well. Barbara smiles kindly at him. “As lovely as it is to hear your brother tell you you’re the inspiration to all his love songs, I do hope we’re not your only inspiration.” 

   I shove her and laugh. “Barb! Stop! Not at all what I meant! Way to ruin a moment!” Barbara and Eugenia laugh and Gideon and Sophie roll their eyes fondly. “Okay! Okay! Sorry but Genie and I were wondering who you write all those love songs about!” Barbara says wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. I freeze and force a laugh out looking down at my hands. I clear my throat but no words come out.

   “I think that’s quite enough girls.” Sophie said in her simultaneously kind and stern voice. The girls stop laughing and pout. “But-”

   “You’re mother’s quite right, girls. I think we should leave poor Thomas alone.” Gideon says backing Sophie up as he always did. Thomas felt a rush of affection for his parents, so loving, so kind. So unlike some of his other friends' parents. He feels a pang of sadness go through him as he thinks of Matthew with his nice but absentee parents and Cordelia and Alastair whose father abandoned them and whose mother died.

   “I love you all. I’m going to miss you quite a deal more than I thought I would.” His sisters each squeeze one of his hands. “Oh darling, you say that as if we aren’t going to call every night!” Sophie says with a sparkle in her eyes. Thomas groans acting annoyed but his smile is a dead giveaway. 

   Gideon stands up and walks over to Thomas. “Thank you for coming and saying goodbye. We will miss you sorely, I wish I could stay longer but I have a pressing meeting I attend to.” Thomas smiles and stands up feeling his father’s arms around him. He holds on tightly. His father wasn’t the most affectionate person so it was nice when this happens. 

   He squeezes one more time before Gideon lets him go. “It’s quite alright Pops. I’m glad I get the chance to see you all one more time before I head off. I would stop by tomorrow but we are heading out at five and I’m afraid I won’t get the chance.” Sophie smiled kindly walking over to him to hug him goodbye. 

  “That’s quite alright Tommy, but don’t you dare forget to call when you leave and arrive no matter the time.” Thomas nods leaning down to rest his chin on his mother’s head. Thomas was quite tall and affectionately called ‘Giant’ by his sisters quite frequently so his mother and her petite figure didn’t even come up to his chin. 

   Thomas pulls back and kisses his mother’s cheek. “I wouldn’t dream of it mum.” Sophie nods her approval and moves to let Eugenia hug him. “I hope you have fun, Tommy, but not too much.” she says, pulling away enough for him to see her wink before pulling him back in and whispering, “But remember protection, we don’t want any little feet running around just yet.” 

   Thomas pulls away abruptly sputtering. Eugenia laughed and pats his shoulder. “Genie!” He says betrayed. She laughs again before moving out of his way. “Now get out and go see the world brother!” Thomas shakes his head and waves to his mother, father, and sister once more before walking to the door with Barbara.

   They stepped outside the door and Barbara closed it softly before turning to Thomas, it was then that Thomas noticed the tears in her eyes. He frowns and shakes his head. “Don’t you dare start crying Barb, you know it makes me cry.” Barbara let out a wet laugh before pulling him in close for a hug. He melts into it.

   Out of all his family, he was closest to Barbara, mostly because he didn’t have to hide anything from her. “I do suggest you keep me updated with Alastair. I mean it. Every detail. If he sneezes I want to know. She says tears started to slide down her face. Thomas feels the back of his throat and his nose starts to burn.

   He clings to Barbara tighter. “Stop it. I’m crying now stop it!” He says pathetically, starting to shake slightly. Barbara hugs him tightly once more before pulling away and hastily wiping the tears off her face. “Sorry sorry don’t cry it’ll make me worse and it’ll be an endless cycle.” Thomas laughed and nodded, drying his own eyes.

   Barbara smiled at Thomas through her wet eyes, she placed a hand on each of his shoulders. “I love you Tommy don’t forget that.” She pulled away and smiled wider. She reached up to her neck and unclasped her necklace. It was just a chain and Thomas wondered what it was for before she handed it to him and took her ring off her finger. It had footprints around the band. It was very pretty Thomas had to admit.

   Barbara handed it to him and flipped it so he could see the writing on the inside. He frowned and took it from her so he could hold it closer and read it. He felt tears building in his eyes as he read it. ‘Where we go, we go as one.’ It was something Barbara had been saying to him since he was five. Thomas felt the tears slide down his face and grabbed Barbara in a bone-crushing hug. 

   She laughed but Thomas could hear the tears in her voice. “Thank you.” He whispered through the tears. Barbara sighed and patted his back before whispering a quiet, “Always.” and pulling away. 

   She shoved him away without bothering to wipe her tears. “Okay now go you big loof.” Thomas smiled and kissed her cheek before turning and walking back to his car. He missed them already.

[fantastic-bby]

Protect Me, My Aurora

Pairing: Reader x Hongjoong

Word count: 2.3k

Genre: Angst, light angst, kinda fluff but not really 

Summary: Hongjoong struggles to move on without you 

Warning: Mentions of loss, grief, death

A/n: I cried writing this, edited it and cried more. Then I listened to Aurora and I cried again. I basically cried the entire time. Also bold = flashback.

He had spent so long trying to recover but it just wasn’t going to happen. Every night he thought about you, every night he wished you were by his side, every second that passed he wished he could spend it with you. Days passed, then weeks, then months, then a year. He had spent a year trying to forget you desperately. His mind would go blank when he saw something that reminded him of you, his heart would ache when he would think of you, his soul yearning for you whenever he remembered how it ended. 

He never imagined what his life would be like if you left, but now he had to face the pain with every passing moment. He missed your touch, your voice, your warmth; he missed you. But how was he supposed to get you back to him? He wondered every day what it would be like if you hadn't left. All he could do was replay the memories you shared together since that was what was left.

"Hongjoong-ah." You walked into the toilet in one of his sweaters that was too big for you. You wrapped your arms around his waist as he brushed his teeth. "Good morning." You sighed, pressing your cheek to his bare back. He washed his mouth and placed his toothbrush in the cup before turning to you,

"Good morning, (Y/n)." He smiled as he hugged you back, pressing a soft kiss on your head. "How are you feeling, jagiya?" He asked as he pulled away, inspecting the cut on your nose. You smiled as you moved your head away,

"I'm better now that you're here." You giggled. "You are my medicine." You leaned up and pressed a kiss to his nose, "You make me feel better. My aurora."

He was broken as he sat in his bedroom, forcing himself not to look through the old photos you shared together. He sat on the messy covers, his knees to his chest as he stared at the drawer of his dresser that held a box containing all that he had left of you. The sweater you would always wear sitting on his lap as he took in your scent. He needed to move on but he couldn't.

"Joongie-ah, which one is nicer?" You walked out of the bedroom in your robe, holding up two dresses. He looked at the navy blue one, then at the white one, 

"You're still gonna look beautiful in whichever." He shrugged but it wasn't the answer you were looking for. 

"Joong, I'm serious!" You pouted at him. You wanted to look nice since you were attending an awards show with Hongjoong, an awards show where ATEEZ were nominated and you were sure they were going to win.

"The navy blue one is lovely, Jagiya."

He reached into his bedside table and pulled out a notebook. He flipped through the pages, stopping at one of the songs he had written. Aurora. He remembered how excited you were when you first heard it. Despite writing it for ATINY, he knew he wrote it for you as well. He was struggling before he met you. Being the only trainee at KQ was hard enough, he had the pressure of leading his group members. When he accidentally bumped into you at a cafe, spilling coffee all over you he wondered now whether it was fate that brought you two together. You pulled him out of the darkness and surrounded him with light, keeping him safe from all his bad thoughts. 

“Shit!” He frantically tried to catch the falling cup but it was too late. Your crop top was covered in iced coffee, goosebumps forming on your skin from how cold it was. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” He quickly grabbed tissues and handed them to you. 

“I-It’s okay. Today’s not my day.” You let out a small laugh as you started to dab the coffee off of your white shirt. He was looking at his phone when he turned around, unaware of your presence right behind him and he ended up bumping right into you, spilling your coffee all over you. 

“I’m so sorry, I’ll buy you a new drink.” He quickly turned around before you could say anything and you just let him. 

“An iced mocha.” You spoke out at him, loudly enough that he would hear you and he nodded, heading straight to the cashier. 

His mind was suddenly being overwhelmed with all the times you spent together as he read through the messy, scribbled lyrics of Aurora in his notebook. His tears were dripping onto the page and onto the writing. 

“Joongie-ah, this is so nice! How did you come up with it?” You asked, your face showing pure awe and admiration as you listened to the new song he had come up with. 

“We were performing one day and I looked at the crowd. It looked like they had some kind of aurora surrounding them.” He smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulled you into him, “I also thought about you a lot while I was writing this song. You make me really happy, jagiya.” Your face was quick to blush, not knowing how to react. 

“You think of me as an aurora?” You asked. 

“I think of you as something that brought light to my darkness. Your light protects me from all my negative thoughts.” He smiled, bumping his nose to yours, “You protect me. You feel like an aurora.” 

His hand was running along the page before he couldn’t take it anymore. He shut the book and placed it on the bed, his head in his hands as he sobbed. It was too much. There was a hole in his chest and no one but you could fill it. His spark was being put out without you with him. He was losing himself without you. 

“(Y/n)? Jagiya?” He stepped into your shared apartment to see you wrapped in multiple blankets a mug of tea in your hands. 

“Joongie-ah!” You called and he quickly stepped out of his shoes and towards you. “It’s scary.” You pouted and pointed to the TV, showing a horror movie playing. He chuckled at you, 

“Why didn’t you wait for me to come home first?” He sat himself beside you and you immediately scrambled out of the blankets to cling onto him. 

“I thought I could prove to you that I don’t scare ea-” You cut yourself off with a scream when a jumpscare popped up and buried your face in his chest. 

“You definitely proved yourself, (Y/n).” He laughed as he held you.

He got up from his bed and grabbed his car keys, not sure of where he was going but he needed to get out of the apartment. He wiped his tears away, glad that none of his neighbours were in the lift with him. He quickly walked out of the lift and into his car, igniting the engine and driving out of the parking lot without hesitation. He was still unsure of where he was going as he cried, struggling to see through his tears as he drove. 

“Joongie, be careful.” You whined as he pretended to swerve the car playfully, making you squeal. “Im serious!” You slapped his arm lightly as he laughed. 

“I’m always careful when you’re here, (Y/n).” He poked his tongue out at you, giving you his free hand to hold while he drove. “I’ll stop now, okay?”

“Promise?” You held out your pinkie at him when he reached a traffic light. 

“I promise, my aurora.” He wrapped his pinkie around yours with a smile on his face. 

The car stopped at the side of the road, his head dropping to the steering wheel as he cried. He stepped out of the car and dragged his legs across the grass and up the hill. He wiped his tears with the back of his hand and fell to his knees in the grass. He looked up at the night sky, trying to stop his tears. He looked around the familiar spot, more memories flooding him

“Keep your eyes closed, jagiya.” He smiled as he guided you up the hill. 

“You’re responsible if I trip, Joongie.” You said as you kept your eyes closed, making a chuckle leave his lips as he stopped. He moved your hands off of your face to reveal a picnic mat neatly laid over the grass with plates and a pair of wine glasses. “Joongie,” You gasped at the sight. 

“Happy anniversary, (Y/n).” He sat you down, pulling out a wine bottle from the picnic basket, filling up the glass. He handed you one of the glasses and raised his own, clinking them together. “These two years have been amazing. I’m so glad that I bumped into you that day.”

“I am too.” You smiled as you sipped on the wine. 

He looked at the ground after he realised where he was; this was not where he wanted to be. He pulled himself off of the ground and stumbled into the car, starting the ignition and stepping on the pedal. He drove once again, his car halting in front of the cafe. His heart stopped, his breathing halted and he stared at the doors of the closed cafe. He remembers your meeting so well. All the dates that happened in this cafe, all of the surprise parties that happened at this cafe. But he knew this was not the right place. He stepped on the pedal, his mind still trying to figure out where his heart was taking him. 

His car halted for the last time that night and he looked at the sight of the location in front of him. He turned off his car and climbed out, walking into the place his heart wanted to be in. As he walked closer, it played in his head. 

“(Y/n)-ah?” He called for you when he stepped into the apartment. He pulled his phone out of the pocket at the sound of the ring and answered it without looking at the caller I.D. 

“Hyung,” Jongho’s voice ran through the speaker, “You need to come down here now.” He didn’t even listen to the rest of the what his younger member had to say and he was bolting to his car. He had never driven so fast before. He barely had enough sense to park his car properly as he barged into the building, pushing past all the people inside he found Jongho and Seonghwa sitting at the benches with their heads in their hands. 

“Where is she?” Hongjoong asked them. Both of their heads lifted up at the sound of his voice, 

“She’s in there. We can’t go in but we can look through the window.” Seonghwa stood up and brought Hongjoong to the window looking into the Intensive Care Unit that you were lying in. He felt his heart break at the sight of you on the other side, multiple tubes stuck into your mouth as the doctors were desperately trying to keep you alive. 

“No,” Hongjoong whimpered out, helpless as all he could do was watch. He didn’t move away from the window for the next four hours until the doctor came out, his legs were aching from standing but he didn’t care. 

“She’s awake. You can come in and see her if you like.” He opened the door to the ICU and Hongjoong ran inside. 

“(Y/n), jagiya,” He practically fell to the side of the bed as he took your hand in his. Your head slowly turned to him, 

“Joongie,” You whispered, your voice unable to get any louder with the tube that was pumping oxygen into your lungs stuck down your throat. 

“Jagiya, what happened?” He asked, standing up and brushing your messy hair. Your head instinctively leaned into his touch as a tear ran down your face. 

“Joongie,” Your hand shakily brought him closer to you. “Hongjoongie, I’m always going to protect you, okay?” You whispered into his ear. He pulled away and stared at you in disbelief, already knowing what was happening. 

“(Y/n), please, just hold on a little longer. Please. Jagiya, don’t let go just yet.” His tears were streaming onto your hand as he shakily pressed your hand to his lips. 

“I promise I will never let anything happen to you. Like you said, I’m your aurora.” You were crying yourself, the tears difficult to stop. “I love you so much, Kim Hongjoong. I’m sorry, but I have to leave now.” Hongjoong brought himself up, pressing one last kiss to your lips and pressing his forehead to yours as you drew your last breath. He shakily brought your knuckles to his lips once again, kissing your hand repeatedly as he held on to whatever of you he could.

“My aurora,” He sobbed into your hand, “My aurora.”

He fell to his knees on the ground, staring at your grave. Your name was engraved in the tombstone, the years you were alive written right under. He placed his hand on the tombstone, his heart finally being where it wanted to be. His hand shakily ran over the engravings, his lips parting but unable to form words as they trembled. His tears were watering the soil, his head hanging low as he cried. 

“Jagiya, it’s been a whole year.” He managed to make out, “I still miss you. Everyday I miss you more and everyday I wish I could’ve been there earlier to save you. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you when all you did was protect me.” His words were choked, his throat was hoarse from the crying and his face was swollen. His couldn’t stop the tears even if he actually tried. “My life feels like nothing without you, everyday I wonder about what it would be like if you were still here.” His hands moved to gently touch the wilting flowers that laid right atop your grave. “But I know you’re still here when you can be. I can feel your presence. Your aurora. I can only ask so much from you and you promised me.” He pulled his knees to his chest, lowering his head, 

“The one last thing that I ask of you. The only thing that I will forever ask of you,”

Protect me, my Aurora. 

나를 감싸줘, my Aurora

[paulvibe]

Just Friends - Part Two (Paul McCartney x Reader)

Words: 1.9K

Warnings: None

Summary: You and Paul go to dinner

Authors Note:  For the purpose of saving ourselves from the mullet phase of the early 70’s Paul, I’m going to put his style circa Let It Be sessions :)

---Edited and updated as of 11/12/19

FRIDAY AT 7:57pm 

Nerves fluttered about your stomach. You waited patiently outside of your bakery, continuously checking the small watch that adorned your wrist. The street was mostly quiet, save for a few people walking about. For a Friday, it was surprisingly calm. The sun was beginning to set, leaving the sky a beautiful lilac shade, with a few pink clouds.

Dinner. You were going to get dinner with Paul McCartney. Though you never thought of him as Paul McCartney. To you he was the kid who got his pant leg stuck in his bike chain going full speed down a hill, and broke his arm as a result. He was the kid who accidentally snagged Mrs.Smith's wig off in front of the entire sixth grade class. He was the kid who threw mashed potatoes across the lunch room, hitting Principal Stevens right in his glasses and got away with it. He was just Paul. 

However, your heart still acted up after all these years. Stupid feelings and emotions. It was just dinner with an old friend, nothing more was to come of it. I mean, you definitely want your friendship back, however the romantic aspect didn’t seem to be in your reach. He was a superstar, and you? A simple baker.

A black car pulled up in front of your bakery and parked. You swallowed and watched as Paul climbed out of the driver's seat. He looked nice, donning a button up shirt, with a less dramatic sweater- compared to Monday’s- on top. He also wore black pants with a nice pair of loafers. He looked so dashing.

“Right on time.” You spoke, glancing at your watch. Paul chuckled and opened the passenger door. 

“This is my second first impression, got to make the most of it.” He spoke with a wink. You climbed into the car, and Paul closed the door. The car smelt new, like it’d never been driven before and it looked nearly spotless; even the floor was clean, no little dirt clumps or pebbles from outside. Paul’s door opened and he climbed. He gave you a delighted look before buckling himself in and pulling away from the curb.

“Reminds me of taking you to dance in your dad’s old cruiser.” The man spoke, gazing at the road ahead. The pink sunset was in the rear mirrors now, but still cast a beautiful lighting to the world.

“We almost crashed... and Tommy Redd spilled beer down my dress.” You laughed at the memory. The look on Tommy’s face was priceless. Paul was angry, and the boy merely stood  like a deer in the headlights of a truck.

“My hand hurt for a week after that.” Paul spoke, flexing the fingers of his left hand. You recall seeing Paul’s fist collide right into Tommy’s nose. And the gross crack it made over the sounds of the pub.

“I remember walking home that evening holding your wrapped up hand,” You laughed, turning to face the man better. His gaze was still focused on the road, however you studied the profile of his face, now noticing the age that had taken over the last ten years. He had little wrinkles by his eyes now, still little-- but there. He had more freckles now across his nose bridge and cheeks, and his forehead wrinkles had gotten more prominent. His beard was fluffy and his hair was slightly longer, almost mullet-like. 

“I wouldn’t have admitted this back then, but it’s been over ten years now-- I used to fake my hand hurting so you’d take care of me.” The musician spoke, a gentle grin spread across his features. 

“I know.” You gave him an endearing look. “It was obvious, you’d play guitar for hours with no issues, then suddenly when I’d come over your hand would hurt.” Paul chuckled at your comment and then shrugged.

“I’m an excellent flirt.” He winked, causing you to blush.

---

Paul had insisted on taking you to this certain restaurant across town. You had never even heard of it, so you didn’t give much of a fuss. Once you had arrived, Paul had the valet park his car and led you into the restaurant. It was lavishly decorated, small tables littered the dining room covered in white tablecloths and little centerpieces with lit candles. A large chandelier was in the center of the room, giving off a warm lighting. You noticed the place was empty, save for the staff.

“Mister McCartney,” A voice spoke, you turned your attention to the sound, your eyes greeting a tall man wearing a suit. 

“Mr. Anderson, darling, thank you for the accommodation.” Paul responded, shaking the man's hand. He nodded in return, grabbing two menus and began leading you to a private section of the restaurant. Paul grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together causing a hot blush to cover your cheeks, as you two followed Mr. Anderson. He seated the two of you at a table with only two seats, placing the menus down and nodding at Paul.

“I’ll be back with the wine menu.” He spoke politely, giving a slight bow before walking off. Paul pulled the chair out for you, then pushed you in before seating himself. 

“I feel so under dressed.” You murmured with a chuckle. You’d decided to go semi-formal for the evening, wearing a simple dress and flats.

“I think you look lovely.” Paul smiled just as Mr. Anderson returned with the wine list. He placed it on the table giving Paul a moment to look over it before ordering a bottle for the table. The waiter excused himself once again, promising to return with the bottle and glasses. You and Paul sat quietly, looking over the menus. You glanced up from the little booklet in your hand, studying the man across from you. The yellow light from the chandelier and candle added a gentle glow to his being. You felt your heart get heavy, not from being upset, but from feeling content. 

Mr. Anderson returned with the bottle of wine Paul had got in a small bucket filled with ice. He popped the cork and poured two glasses before placing the bottle back into the ice and asking if you were ready to order.

--

“I want to know everything.” Paul spoke softly, sipping his wine. After a twenty minute wait, your food was ready and now sat in front of you. You felt the wine beginning to take effect, as you were on your second glass and your body was becoming less tense. It almost began to feel as though no time had passed at all, and it was still 1961. 

“Well,” You began, swallowing a sip from your drink, “After you left, I graduated and moved on to nursing school. I did that for about seven years, if you count my schooling.”

“I never knew you had it in you.” Paul spoke with a smile, taking a bite from his meal. “I’m sure you’ve got some stories.”

“Oh god, tons.” You remarked with a chuckle, “I once had to pull out a little barbie shoe from a grown man's nose. His daughter shoved it up there while he napped.” Your comment earned a chuckle from the man across from you.

“And now you’re a baker?” He asked, giving you a glance.

“Yes, I am. I decided nursing isn’t my thing anymore. I wanted something more domestic, less hours.” You responded, finishing off your second glass of wine. Paul didn’t waste anytime pouring you a fresh glass.

“Have a boyfriend that I need to beat up?” The musician then asked. You couldn't tell if he was serious or just joking, but the comment still made your stomach do flips. Paul had always beat up your childhood ‘boyfriends’. Not too harsh, just a simple punch telling them to treat you right. You know, the guys in middle school that you kiss once and then never talk to again.

“Nope, not at the moment.” You replied, feeling more tipsy now, “Why do you ask?”

“Just curious,” Paul murmured, taking a sip from his glass. Your eyes caught the man’s, noting how dark they were in the dim lighting. His stare added more butterflies to your stomach. You couldn’t tell if you were just tipsy or smitten, but all you wanted to do was jump across the table and kiss him.

---

After dinner, you directed Paul to your small apartment across town. The two of you remained in a comfortable silence while the radio played a rock tune. It was now dark, nearing eleven o’clock. The streets were dead save for a few drunks walking from the pubs. The streelights caused a gentle illumination to combat the dark of night, and reflected off cars parked along the streets. 

The fact that Paul was famous still stunned you. Millions of people across the globe adored him, even with The Beatles no longer being a band. You thought about the people who’d kill to be in your position. In the same space, breathing the same air as their celebrity crush.  

“How’re your parents?” Paul spoke, interrupting the ambiance, and your thoughts. 

“Still trying to control every little thing about me.” You shrugged, looking over at the man. “They-- well, my mother-- thinks my choice to leave nursing was stupid. She believes I should find some guy and marry. I’m twenty-seven and single.” You didn’t mean to unload on the man, but the wine was still affecting you.

“Jesus.” Paul murmured. His hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. He recalls those nights you’d call him from a telephone booth after leaving home because you’d gotten in a fight with your mum. 

“Sorry,” You whispered, playing with the hem of your dress. Paul’s hand left the steering wheel and gently laced his fingers with yours.

“Don’t apologize.” He spoke softly, glancing between you and the road ahead. “I’m here for you, darling.” His gentle words gave you fuzzy feelings all over. You fell back into a comfortable silence before you pointed out your apartment. The man pulled over to the curb and parked. 

“It was lovely to catch up.” Paul spoke after turning the engine off. His features were softened by the orange street lamp above the car. The street was quiet, save for the crickets that chirped from the grass. You watched as Paul adjusted the way he was sitting to face you better. It felt like high school again. Sitting out late past curfew, talking, dreaming. Paul would always talk about how he wanted to go somewhere with his music. Traveling around with John and George, then Ringo, certainly paid off.

“Yeah, it was,” You nodded in agreement, “I’ve missed you Pauly.” All the years he was gone you didn’t fully want to admit that you missed him. You found it better to suppress those feelings and ignore his face plastered across every media. However, running into him again reignited the flame. Now it felt as though it might burn hotter and brighter than before. 

“Can I see you again?” He asked softly. “I mean I’ve got a busy schedule, but I- I do want to see you.” You felt your body warm up and your stomach flutter

“O-of course!” You said a little too enthusiastically, the wine was getting to you still. 

“I’ll give ya a ring.” He spoke, his eyes boring into your own.

You gave him a slip of paper with both your home phone, and bakery phone number so he could reach you whenever, then exited the car. You could feel his stare on your back as you entered the flat, but you didn’t dare turn around.

[kittae]

Catastrophic Karaoke

Pairing: BTS OT7 x reader

Genre: light comedy? lol idk, Vampire!AU

words: 1516

Warnings: strong language, mentions of blood, fainting

Disclaimer: prompt found on @writing-prompt-s and used some oneliners from this list, also inaccurate representation of Goth culture as a whole with no ill intentions.

⟶ Halloween prompts masterlist

You’re not entirely sure how you ended up here, if you’re being honest. ‘Here’ being standing in the middle of a living room that isn’t your own, your shirt drenched with blood that isn’t yours and surrounded by a group of wide-eyed men while My Chemical Romance on Singstar still blares in the background.

“Um… is this...?” You gesture at your chest, the dark fluid sticking to your naked skin through the formerly white cotton of your T-shirt after Namjoon’s spilled the content of his cup all over it. You still cling onto the smallest shred of hope, the minuscule possibility that maybe they just like to make their party punch this deep red and...thick. Even when the trenchant smell of rusty iron keeps filtering through your nose and making you sick to your stomach.

“___-, we can explain.” Namjoon grimaces upon watching you gag, Jin’s eyebrows shooting up to make a face that translates to ‘We can?’.

“It’s not not blood.” Taehyung helpfully contributes to the situation, earning pained groans from the older men and a fistbump from the only younger one.

“Oh my– Whose blood is this?!”

Hoseok snorts in slight disbelief, although accompanied by a smirk of pure amusement. “Uh, not the question i’d thought you’d ask but okay.”

Jimin furrows his eyebrows, confused. “Wait, what question should she be asking then?”

“Answer the damn question!” You shriek, already in the process of peeling off the blood-drenched article of clothing as any ounce of shame gets thrown out of the window along with your dignity, to make place for skin-crawling horror as you strip down to your bra.

“Don’t worry, ___-, we’re not monsters. People consent to getting their blood taken when they volunteer.” Namjoon tries to placate the circumstances but quite possibly only manages to make it worse.

“People volunteer to get their blood taken from them?!”

“Well, duh? As if you’ve never donated blood before?” Hoseok counters.

“Yes, Hoseok, to the fucking hospital!”

“Exactly! Which is our main source, so it’s all morally justified! Aside from the fact we don’t exactly have permission to take those donations.” He pulls a face. “Oops.”

“Have you ever considered you’re taking this whole thing way too far? Like, out of the seven of you, there was not one of you who didn’t want to be a part of this sick shit? I knew you guys were hardcore but you’re drinking human blood! What the fuck, you guys?!” You angrily throw your hands up and allow yourself to breathe after your breathless rant.

The group exchanges worried looks before Jin speaks up, talking slowly as if he’s trying to make something clear to a toddler. “___-, we don’t really have much of a choice…”

Watching how your expression goes from angry and disgusted to utterly confused and lost, Jimin comes to rub your back in an attempt to comfort you. “Oh honey, we thought you knew…”

“What?” You ask, voice significantly smaller now you’re suddenly not sure about your earlier convictions anymore. An even crazier thought briefly crosses your mind, though you quickly push it to the back just when jimin’s compassionate voice forms a strong contrast with the words he speaks.

“That we’re vampires. We just thought that, you know...You knew.” He shrugs a little sheepishly.

“Vampires? No, you’re just hardcore goths. Like wannabe vampires because there’s no such thing as...Actual vampires. You’re just pretending!” Nervous laughter bubbles up your throat as you try to make light of the situation by treating it as a joke. Of course it’s a joke! “You’re just messing with me for Halloween, aren’t you? With the fake blood and all, you almost got me there! Ha ha!”

Instead of the expected roaring laughter, an uncomfortable silence fills the entire room for ten excruciating seconds before Hoseok releases a fake breath. “Well, this is awkward.”

“Speaking of awkward, where’s Yoongi?” Jungkook suddenly remarks, pointing out the elder’s absence for the first time that night.

Yoongi! He hates pranks even more than you do, so he’d definitely be on your side when you tell him how the others tried to scare you!

“Probably still sleeping downstairs– Wait, ___-, where are you going?!” Namjoon calls out for you, alarmed, when he watches you sprint down the stairs and into the basement.

“You don’t think she…. She’s not going to…?” Jimin sputters, eyes wide in fear.

Namjoon nods his head, a sad and sorry expression marring his handsome face. “May she rest in peace.”

It’s not like you’ve never seen the basement before, but every time you visit the underground room, the view still manages to astound you. Most people have a clear picture of what basements should look like and more often than not it’s a bare, cold place where you just stock firewood, wine and cans of peas or something. Well, picture the complete opposite and this is it. It’s spacious, cozy and fully furnitured including seven luxurious coffins. You stopped asking questions a long time ago, taking your friends’ odd lifestyle choices not too seriously. Some people just get really into their subculture and that’s completely fine. Who are you to judge, right? 

“Yoongi.” You call, three polite knocks on the rich black oak of the closed coffin signaling your presence.

The cover of the casket opens slowly, mechanically, until it reveals the sleeping form of a pale and black-haired man, eyes closed and brows furrowed in a displeased frown.

“Who has the audacity to wake me up but not actually die?” He murmurs, still not opening his eyes and laying as static as a real corpse.

“Yoongi, you have to get up there. They’re all messing with me and I need you to tell them to knock it off.” You plead, feeling slightly guilty for interrupting your friend’s nap but you seriously need an ally up there.

“Oh, it’s you. Why is that my problem?” He peels one blood-red eye open to watch you pout down on him. “Where is your shirt?”

“They also opened your one hundred year old bottle of whiskey.”

The little white lie doesn’t miss its effect as Yoongi’s practically jumping out of the coffin to sprint upstairs, and that’s saying something considering you rarely saw him doing more exercise than moving from the couch to the basement and back.

“Which one of you fucktards opened my father’s whiskey?! Answer me!” You hear his voice thunder from the living room before you join them again.

“Ooh, fucktard! That’s new!” Hoseok quips and whips out a small notebook to quickly write something down. “By the way, ___- thinks we’re either hardcore goths or pranking her and she lied to get you out of the coffin.”

“She thinks we’re what?”

“Goths. Google it.”

Yoongi begrudgingly does as the younger man says and fishes his phone out of the pocket of his robes, briefly scrolling through the results and shrugging. “They have no idea what it’s like being a real vampire but i like their style.”

“Yeah. Apparently some even drink each other’s blood, too.”

“Humans do? Wild.”

You can’t believe your own eyes. Yoongi, playing along with all of this?!

“Look,” You raise your voice, sternly planting your hands above your hips, “I may not be the sharpest tool in the… toolbox. But I’m not buying this vampire crap! And someone give me a fresh shirt, for fuck’s sake!”

“Honestly, ___-, we really are vampires. I just thought you already knew.” Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“Some of you wear cross necklaces. Jimin wears silver rings.” You counter.

“So?”

“I don’t see any of you catching fire?!”

The long overdue collective laughter finally resounds through the living room and a shred of relief washes over you when you think they’ve finally decided to drop the act because they can’t keep it up anymore. So you wished.

“Sweetie, those are just rumours from hundreds of years ago. I can’t believe you’d still fall for those.” Jimin manages to enlighten you between laughing fits after falling off the couch.

“So what, I’ve accidentally joined a vampire coven, then?” You ask, sarcasm dripping from every word.

“Yeah, pretty much. We thought you were funny so we decided to keep you.” Taehyung answers seriously, but still flashes a warm, boxy grin at you.

A wide, boxy grin. A toothy grin. Two long, pointy teeth. Fangs.

As you look around the room, at your friends still roaring with laughter, you start noticing the same lengthened teeth with sharpened ends in each of their smiles until everything goes dark before your eyes and the last thing you see is the Singstar mic rolling out of your hand and onto the ground.

The laughter stops abruptly, another tense silence taking place as they all stare at your limp body on the floor in shock.

“I found a T-shirt...” Jungkook feebly announces, holding up the shirt he’d just gone to get you from downstairs only to find you knocked out cold.

Hoseok takes a hesitant sip from his own cup. “This is going to sound controversial, but I think that went well.”

[white-collar-lawmen-and-conmen]

Five Times He Flirted, A Sixth She Caught On

Requested by: @aboutstark

Summary: Neal is very interested in you, but you aren’t catching on. 5+1; themed with holidays and celebrations because I’m excited for Christmas.

Words: 2,405

1. Valentine’s Day

           Although you hadn’t been on the team for very long, one thing was very clear to you: Peter loved his wife very dearly. He let you all leave almost an hour early on Valentine’s Day just to be sure he made it home on time for their plans. It was sweet, and thoughtful. Diana was smiling more than usual about going to her reservations with her girlfriend, and you noticed that Jones had gotten lost very quickly.

            Your team’s informant, Neal, stopped at your desk on his way out, holding his fedora in one hand and his blazer over his other arm. You looked up with a sincere smile. Neal puzzled you a little bit in a lot of ways, and you didn’t know him very well yet, but you liked him.

           “Special plans?” He asked, gesturing with one hand to a photo on your desk of yourself and a male friend.

           “Nah,” you replied, shaking your head. “For single people, Valentine’s Day is just an excuse to buy lots of chocolate without feeling self-conscious.”

           Neal gave you a small, bright smile and laughed. “You have nothing to be self-conscious about,” he promised, his lips still in a handsome crooked grin. “Though I’d be happy to buy your chocolate any day.”

           “Finally, a man who gets me,” you joked, giving him a friendly nudge with your elbow.

           Neal smiled at you before looking ahead, checking his watch casually. “I was thinking about checking out a new restaurant that opened up in my radius. It looks chic. There are roses on the menus.”

           “That sounds lovely,” you noted, checking your pockets. When you were sure you had everything you needed to head home, you gave Neal a polite smile. “I hope you have a great time!”

           While you left ahead of him, Neal frowned slightly. Sure, he wasn’t certain if you were even interested, but maybe he’d been too subtle.

2. Birthday

           It was just a little cupcake. You didn’t understand why the rest of your team was acting like you did something major.

           It turned out that Neal’s birthday had slipped by the month prior without you even knowing. You apologized and brought him a cupcake the day after you learned, and he asserted that he appreciated it but he didn’t really celebrate. Still, you felt bad for not even knowing. He was your friend.

           Since that morning, Diana, Jones, and Peter had been acting a little bit strangely, giving you looks that varied from suspicion to knowingness when you were trying not to pay attention to them. It made you feel odd. Eventually you couldn’t take it anymore and you went right up to Neal.

           “Are you allergic to something in cupcakes?” You asked, exasperated. “Because all day, people have been looking at me like they know something I don’t, and at least one person is judging me for it.”

           Neal looked just as confused as you did for a moment before his expression cleared. “It’s nothing,” he assured you smoothly, although you were certain at that point that he knew exactly what the reason was. “We don’t usually bring up birthdays in the office. It might have just seemed odd.”

           “Oh…” Great. Now you felt even worse for making something out of it.

           He reached for your elbow and touched your arm gently. “Hey, it’s no big deal,” he promised. “Thank you, really. And I love red velvet.”

           “Ah,” you said, not too reassured. You didn’t want to stand out when you were still, relatively speaking, new. “You’re welcome.”

           “And,” Neal added, dropping his hand to his side. “If you’d like to go out, we could have dinner. Or just go for desserts.”

           “No, it’s okay,” you hastily said. “Well, I mean – if you want to go out – but it’s about you. If you’re happy not celebrating, then that’s fine. We don’t have to do anything. I just – I wanted to acknowledge it. You’re my friend.”

           Neal’s smile was smaller, but still warm. “You’re mine, too.”

           He watched you go and silently rolled his eyes, making a note to himself to talk to Peter later. No doubt the agent had gossiped about Neal’s wine-plied admission that he’d been flirting with you, and now the others were curious if the cupcake was secretly romantic.

3. Fourth of July

           You weren’t a huge fan of July 4th. Or, more accurately, you weren’t a huge fan of the night of July 4th. All of the fireworks, partying, and rowdiness made it hard to get some decent sleep once you were done looking at the explosions out your window, but this year you were at least making a good memory out of it. The Burkes invited you, as well as several other friends, to a late evening cookout on their back patio.

           After chatting with Diana, you spent some time making small talk with one of El’s friends. Then Satchmo barked, almost right as the doorbell rang, and you excused yourself to answer it.

           “Hey, thanks for the save,” you said to Neal as you opened the door. He was carrying a bottle of nicer wine, as well as a six-pack of Peter’s favorite beer.

           “It’s that bad? Maybe I should escape while I can,” he joked, letting you take the beer so he could close the door and pet the dog.

           “It was just the small talk,” you admitted, almost embarrassed. “I’m not very good at it, and it turns out that I don’t know very many people here.”

    ��      “I’ll be your wingman,” he volunteered, giving you a charming smile. “Just stick by me. I’m great at making conversation.”

           “Works for me,” you decided, walking with him to the kitchen and setting your respective loads onto the table. “How late are you staying? I can save you a taxi fare.”

           “For the fireworks, definitely,” Neal nodded, smiling brightly at you. “And I’d love that.”

           “You like fireworks?” You asked curiously, surprised by how eager he seemed. Although they were loud and flashy like he acted, you suspected that Neal was a quieter, more private person than he let on. You had noticed that he had a great skill of speaking a lot while saying very little of substance, and in your experience, that ability was best honed by people who didn’t like to share much about themselves.

           “Don’t you?” He asked, avoiding the question with a raised eyebrow.

           “Yeah,” you said, “But I asked you.”

           “I love them,” he said, starting to smile again. “Otherwise I’d be less comfortable with all the fireworks I feel between us.”

           “Oh, for – that was so cheesy!” You giggled and swatted his arm.

4. Halloween

           The bell on your cute choker jingled. “Hey, Neal, could you help me with-“ You looked up to meet his eyes while you spoke to him, but you stopped midsentence instead. “Are you wearing eyeliner?”

           Neal gave you a disarmingly handsome grin and countered, “Are you wearing face paint?”

           You started to bring a hand up to your face before you remembered not to touch it. You were worried you would smudge your nose and whiskers. “Yes, I am,” you said, playfully arch, daring him to call you childish. “I’m a cat and I’m adorable. What are you, a vampire?”

           “Also yes,” he said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his ankles. “American Horror Story.”

           “Oh,” you realized, tilted your head, and looked more closely at him. Other than eyeliner and maybe some pale powder, Neal had coiffed his hair differently and instead of a dress shirt under his jacket, he was wearing a solid black button-up with the top buttons undone. “Huh. I can see it. You watch American Horror Story?”

           “A friend may have suggested it,” he admitted. “I couldn’t get past the death house.”

           You giggled a little. “The eyeliner’s working for you,” you reassured, bending down slightly at his desk to put down a file for him to see. “Anyway, I wasn’t sure what this meant, I thought you might know.”

           Neal looked over the page and ran it through quickly, giving you a concise explanation and even helpfully explaining a connection that you hadn’t noticed yet. When you thanked him, he smiled at you and picked up the papers to hand them back. Your hands accidentally brushed, but you didn’t mind it.

           “Any time. I love cats,” he teased.

           “Who doesn’t, Donovan?” You shot back good-naturedly.

5. Christmas

           The FBI was a government facility, so technically, they weren’t supposed to endorse any particular cultural tradition over another. That didn’t stop its agents from putting up some little decorations around the WCCD come the holiday season. You saw a couple miniature dreidels and menorahs, but mostly, you saw small, decorative trees and strands of tinsel hanging off of desks. Someone put cinnamon and ginger in the kitchenette, and an entire box of cocoa mix, so the air even smelled like the season.

           You smiled at the little mistletoe sprig hanging over the kitchenette’s doorframe on your way inside for some hot chocolate. It may not be strictly professional, but it was cute, and following a long, slogging case that you had started to think you wouldn’t close, you could use something to lift your mood.

           The steam of the water percolator helped to perk you up, and after adding your cocoa mix you tipped in some cinnamon. You added a coffee mixer to your mug before picking it up, feeling the heat tingling in your hands.

           Once you felt like your cheeks weren’t red anymore, you turned to leave, holding your cocoa close, only to see Neal leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, a modest smile on his face. He was wearing a green- and red-striped tie. “That smells fantastic,” he said, eyebrows lifted slightly while you smiled.

           “It really does,” you agreed. “There’s spices in the cabinet, next to the mugs if you want to make some for yourself,” you helpfully advised on your way out, passing by him.

           “Y/N,” Neal called for you, sounding amused, and you stopped a couple feet away. Careful not to spill your drink, you turned around inquisitively. The artist looked up over his head suggestively to the mistletoe you had just passed under.

           “Have you been standing there by the door just to claim the mistletoe made you kiss someone?” You accused, grinning playfully.

           “No, that would be silly of me,” Neal defended with an equally playful gleam in his eyes, even while his expression stayed serious. “I’ve been standing under the door for an excuse to kiss you.”

           Your smile widened almost to the point that your cheeks ached. “Very cute, Neal,” you chuckled and went to your desk.

           Neal bit the inside of his cheek while looking after you, then looked up again. The plastic berries in the sprig shone where the light touched them, and it did look very inviting. He withheld a sigh and turned around to make some cocoa. It really did smell good.

1. New Year’s

           The Burkes held another little party for New Year’s Eve. It was too cold now to cook on the grill or to leave the patio door open, but the toasty smell of El’s gingerbread and the comforting haze of a glass of red made you feel warm and content. Peter was catching up with a friend from another division and their beer bottles clinked in a toast; the dog’s collar jingled while Satchmo moved somewhere warmer, out of the way of moving feet; the kitchen was the most crowded room as El took a fresh cinnamon-apple pie from the oven.

           The intense smells and suddenly having more people around you, combined with your slightly jumbled thoughts, made you a little claustrophobic. You slipped through the small crowd to the patio, pushed open the door, and walked into the cool air which hit you like a shot of caffeine. As your mind cleared, you hugged yourself and kept your hands warm under your arms.

           The door opened and closed again, and a familiar cologne scent met your nose through the crisp air. You smiled slightly. “Following me, Neal?”

           Neal, who carried a glass of water so cold there was still condensation dripping from it, offered it to you. “You looked like you needed a moment.”

           “Yeah,” you agreed, taking the cup and sipping. “Thank you. I didn’t have much, I suppose it’s the tiredness, too.” You yawned but covered your mouth. “I want to stay and watch the fireworks.” If they went high enough, then you would be able to see them from the townhouse.

           “You know,” Neal started, his tone light and a little suggestive, “I hear that on midnight of the new year, it’s a good idea to kiss someone.”

           “Yeah, supposedly it’s romantic, especially underneath fireworks.” You nodded, putting your glass on the porch rail.

           “We both like fireworks,” he continued, raising his eyebrows at you.

           … Something snapped into place in your mind. “Wait, are – are you flirting with me?” You asked, incredulous. Why else would he be implying that he wanted to start off New Year’s Day by kissing you? Although shocking, it was also very flattering, and your cheeks warmed in spite of the cool breeze.

           Neal’s mouth twitched. The corner of his lips lifted into a wry half-smile. “I have been all year, thanks for noticing.”

           “Oh, no,” you moaned. “You mean this whole time-“

           “Yep.”

           “And I-“

           “Yes again.”

           You started to laugh a little. “I’m sorry.” It was a little embarrassing that you’d been so oblivious, but it was also very sweet that he had kept trying, even after so long. It made you feel like you had butterflies in your stomach, a feeling of nerves and affection that you hadn’t felt in a long time. “You’re right, we do like fireworks…”

           Neal smiled widely. “Is that a yes to the kiss?”

           “It’s a yes to the kiss,” you confirmed, checking your watch and seeing that it was only a couple minutes away. “If you’ll say yes to a real date sometime soon.”

           Neal slipped his arm around you. His hand splayed on your side and he rubbed his thumb warmly over your shirt. “I have been trying to take you on a real date for ten months,” he said with emphasis, playful. This time you knew for sure that he was teasing you. “You have a deal.”

[jamesashtonisbae]

The Freshman Series Ch. 2

Word Count: 4,577

Pairing: James x MC (the series), Chris x MC

Rating: Mature 18+

Warnings: Language, sex

Summary: Ch.2 of Book 1 of The Freshman by PB.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to pixelberry studios.  A lot of dialogue is from PB.  I will change the storyline a bit when things are out of character for people, particularly Lacey and James. 

Ch. 2

"Chris?” Lacey asked incredulously.  “You're my roommate?"

"That's why I recognized the name Lacey!  Nice to see you again... roomie!" Chris exclaimed, hip bumping Lacey.

"Yeah... great to see you too," Lacey shook her head incredulously.  She was still shocked, and had yet to take in the rooftop.  Had she taken it in, she would have known that it overlooked the English building, and that she could see the twinkling lights of the city.  It was pretty and shone of the future, it shone of possibility.  All of her possibilities were before her on this roof.  She wasn’t entirely sure if that included Chris.

"So... what about this roof, huh?  You can see the whole town from up here..." Chris gestured towards the cityscape.  Lacey joined him, leaning up against the railing.  She noticed that he wasn’t looking out at the city and was now looking at her.  Their eyes met and he smiled.

"Yeah!  So beautiful..." Lacey said softly.

"'Beautiful'?  I can only assume you're talking about me,” a tall, quirky guy said.  She took in his outfit and noted he had styled his clothing very intentionally, but very casually.  Classic sprezzatura.  Lacey could feel energy rolling off of him, and her face lit into a smile as she turned to say hello.

"I wasn't-" Lacey started.

"I'm just messing with you.  I know, I know, I can come on a bit strong.  The name's Zack, but you can call me your number one fan because you are straight-up crushing that look,” Zack said with a laugh.

"Nice to meet you... It sounds like you know fashion!" Lacey smiled at him, knowing her outfit was not that great, but that she did look super cute wearing it.  Chris had confirmed that the minute he saw her up on that roof.

"Well, one of my ex-boyfriends was a model, so... kind of?" Zack said tilting his head off to the side.

"I'd say that makes you our resident fashion expert,” Lacey threw her arm around his shoulders.

"Please promise me that means we can go shopping together sometime,” he implored.

"Ahhh!  Only if I get to come too!" Kaitlyn exclaimed, throwing her arms around both of them.

"Sounds like fun,” Lacey said, happy she had found some people who seemed to be pretty cool.  Zack, Abbie, Kaitlyn, and… Chris.  What she was going to do with Chris was still a mystery to her.  He seemed to be interested in her, but then there was Becca. Lacey was having a really hard time reading him.  But she thought he was really attractive, and he seemed to be a caring, kind guy.  He went out of his way to grab some napkins for her, he took the brunt of her fall the instant they met.  He didn’t even know her and he was looking out for her. Maybe she should see where it could go… What were the odds she would meet that hot guy across the quad?  He was probably just going into the English building to use the bathroom.  And he was probably a professor or TA and it would be inappropriate.  Yeah, it would never happen.  Chris seemed more than willing to at least get to know her, maybe she should give him that chance.

"I feel like we're still missing someone..." Abbie said, looking around the rooftop, pulling Lacey out of her own thoughts.

"There he is!" Chris said, pointing across the roof.

At the far end of the roof, Lacey spotted a guy sitting by himself looking out at the stars.  He was wearing a flannel short-sleeved shirt and had dark, floppy hair. With a grin, he gazed up at the sky.

"Tyler!  Enough with the shy nerd act!  Get over here and talk to our new roommate!" Zack yelled, gesturing for Tyler to join them.

"Oh... hey there.  I was just trying to see if I could spot Cassiopeia.  The constellations are just a little different here than back home in California,” Tyler mentioned as he sauntered over.

"You're into stargazing?  I used to do that all the time when I was little,” Abbie said, turning her attention to Tyler. Her eyes were lighting up and she didn’t seem to notice anyone else in the moment.  Tyler, on the other hand, was getting very nervous.  Lacey giggled at how cute they were.

"Oh really?" Tyler finally managed to sputter out.

"Lacey, sidebar,” Zack touched her arm and gestured over by the doorway.

"Okay, just to fill you in, my boy Tyler has a massive insta-crush on Abbie.  And I'm making it my mission in life to get those two crazy kids together.  Are you with me?" 

"You want me to play matchmaker with you?  Consider this match made,” Lacey responded, with a grin.  She knew that Tyler was going to have to overcome the nervousness he experienced when he was around Abbie.  It was cute.  But if they were ever going to go out with one another, something was going to have to be done.

"Glad to have you on board.  Let's get started,” and he was off.

As he headed back to the group, Zach pretended to trip and accidentally pushed Abbie into Tyler!

"Tyler, I'm so sorry!  I... er... thanks for catching me,” Abbie stated, placing her hands on his forearms.

"Any time!  Uh... I mean.. any time you fall into me!  Not... any other time!" Tyler said, standing her up and patting her shoulders before turning around quickly.

"This could take a while,” Zack said what everyone was thinking.

"So... what now?" Chris asked the group as they all joined together on the furniture.  It was comfortable, wicker furniture, with vibrant pillows on the seats. And matching wicker tables.  He sat down on the ground in front of Lacey.

"I think this is supposed to be a party, right?" Lacey asked, pushing herself up on her chair and leaning forward.

"Maybe we could start with some drinks?" Chris noticed Lacey was trying to push them to do something, to start some sort of conversation.  And he reached up and squeezed her knee.

"Uh, Lacey, I've got a bottle of wine down in my room.  Want to help me go get it?" Kaitlyn asked, making eye contact with Lacey, then glancing down to Chris’s hand on her knee.

"Do we really need two people to grab a bottle of--" Lacey started.

"Just come on!" Kaitlyn drug her away before she could finish her objection.  They hurried downstairs, and Kaitlyn pulled her into the kitchen as she started fishing through the cupboards.

"Okay.  Confess.  You're into Chris, aren't you?" Kaitlyn asked as she rummaged through the cabinets to find the wine.

"What?  Me and Chris?" Lacey sputtered.  It wasn’t like she wasn’t initially attracted to him, or that she wouldn’t want to be with him.  He was sweet, he was thoughtful, kinda funny, seemed to be worth having interest in.  But Kaitlyn didn’t need to know all of that.

"I'm just trying to warn you... I'm pretty sure he mentioned something about a girlfriend,” Kaitlyn said, leaning in conspiratorially, “But if you ask me, he’d choose you in a heartbeat.”

"What?  You mean Becca?" Lacey asked.  Becca had told her they weren’t together. Maybe something had actually changed in the past couple of hours.

"The bossy sorority girl we ran into at Welcome Week?" Kaitlyn inquired.

"Yeah. When we first met, she was, like, Exorcist-level possessive of him,” Lacey said.  She seemed to remember Chris being uncomfortable with her, but she had been wrong before, she could be wrong again.

"No, the girl Chris mentioned wasn't Becca.  It was someone from back home,” Kaitlyn said.

"Huh.  Now I'm curious..." Lacey wondered why he was flirting with her if he had a girlfriend.  And why he hadn’t told Becca he was seeing someone while she was all over him.  It wasn’t really fair to either of them for him to withhold that information from them.

"I'm pretty sure I know how to get him to spill his guts,” Kaitlyn interrupted her thoughts.

"Oh yeah?" Lacey was kind of curious. It would rule out Chris as someone to date if he wasn’t single. 

"Oh yeah.  Watch and learn, my young apprentice.”

"Aren't we pretty much the same age?" Lacey asked incredulously.  

"Details, details.  If we play our cards right, you'll get to ask Chris anything you want…”

Lacey followed Kaitlyn up the stairs, a little confused.  Back on the rooftop, Kaitlyn opened the bottle of wine and starts pouring it into glasses.  She leaned over and whispered to Lacey. "This is step one."

"Okay..."

Kaitlyn handed Chris a glass of wine.

"Heh.  I'm more of a beer guy, but thanks,” he said, tilting his glass towards Lacey, who had taken her seat on the couch behind him.

"Want a drink Lacey?"

"Oh, ah, no thanks.”

"So responsible... I'm impressed,” Kaitlyn stated as she poured a few more glasses for the rest of the group

"Oh.  I just don't drink,” Lacey said.

“Why’s that?” Chris asked.

“Well, for starters it’s illegal.  And I don’t need it to have fun.  I don’t care if other people drink, but it’s the decision I made for myself, and I don’t regret it.”

Chris smiled over at her and took a sip while making eye contact with Lacey.  Zach passed out the rest of the glasses, and Tyler poured Lacey a cup of sparkling cider to toast with.  

"To one hell of a freshman year!  Cheers, everyone!" Chris raised his glass.

"I'll drink to that!” Zack said with a shout.

“Cheers, everyone!” Lacey raised her glass, and everyone took a drink.

"So what now?" Abbie asked, as they settled into a bit of an awkward silence.  Even though they were all trying to make friends, they were a bit unsure of how to interact with one another in that moment.

"I'm glad you asked, Abbie... I think it's time for us to play some Truth or Truth,” Kaitlyn added.

"What's that?" Abbie asked, knowing the answer, but still needing Kaitlyn’s explanation.

"It's Truth or Dare... except you have to pick Truth,” she explained.

"No dares?  So no one's running naked through the quad?" Zack asked, a bit disappointed if he was ever asked to admit it.

"All in good time.  We've got a whole year together, after all,” Kaitlyn said.

"Fair point.  Since it was your suggestion, why don't you answer the first truth, Kaitlyn?" Zack asked.

"Oh, why don't we start with someone else?  Like... Chris, for example?" Kaitlyn protested.

"Nice try! Go ahead, Lacey!  Ask her something!"

"Okay, Kaitlyn... Tell us about your first kiss!"

"Ugh, you just had to go there, didn't you?" Kaitlyn took a sip of her wine and lolled her head backwards.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to…” Lacey started, unsure of if Kaitlyn wanted to talk about it.  She probably shouldn’t have asked.

"No, no.  Rules are rules.  My first kiss was in middle school with this guy named Aaron.  We were at a party, and we were all playing Seven Minutes in Heaven.  And Aaron had just eaten a jalapeño on a dare,” Kaitlyn explained, wincing.

"Hot," Abbie added as a comment.

"Yeah.  Really hot.  When I came out of the closet, I was blushing, and everyone thought I liked him, but it was just that stupid pepper! I haven't gone near guys or jalapeños since,” Kaitlyn grimaced,

"That's too bad... ‘cause jalapenos are bomb,” Tyler said with a laugh.

"Yeah, and so are guys,” Lacey added, turning to Abbie and winking.  Abbie let loose a cackle and leaned forward, clutching her sides. 

"I'll take your word for it.  Who's next?" Kaitlyn queried.

Soon, it was Zack's turn to ask a question.  He put on an exaggerated thinking face and scratched his chin... "Hmm, what to ask, what to ask... Got it!  I want someone to tell me their ultimate fancy!  Sorry, ultimate fantasy... this is some strong wine!"

"Or you're a total lightweight,” Kaitlyn threw out that possibility, resulting in a pout from Zack’s end of the couch.

"Says the girl who's gone from sitting on the couch to lying on the ground after two glasses..." Chris pointed out with a laugh.  He was getting looser and more open with the glass of wine he’d had as well.

"What?  It's comfortable..." Kaitlyn said, stretching her arms and legs in the air and waving them around.

"So Zack, whose ultimate fancy did you want to hear about?" Lacey pressed.

"You know what... I already forgot!  Who should I ask, Lacey?" Zack asked her, leaning on her shoulder from the three drinks he’d had.  Everyone seemed sleepy but Lacey, but she didn’t bring it up.

"Chris,” Lacey said matter-of-factly.

"Okay Chris.  I want to know your ultimate fantasy,” Zack said, nestling into Lacey’s shoulder.  Chris set down his glass, which he’d only filled once. Lacey assumed he wasn’t going to pick it back up again.

"Wow. Let's see.  Nothing too crazy... Like, I'm a fireman, and I save a girl from a burning building.  And then she's really... grateful.  You know what I mean,” Chris added, winking at Lacey. 

"Oh yeah, we definitely know what you mean,” Kaitlyn giggled, curling up in a ball on the floor.

"Interesting... I guess we should be careful not to leave any candles burning up here... or maybe we should leave them burning,” Lacey winked back at Chris.

"That part is up to you, I guess,” Chris said, leaning towards Lacey.  After Zack had moved off of the couch, Chris had moved and sprawled out on the same couch as her, but now his shoulder was pressed into hers.  He leaned in and whispered, “Wanna try it out later?” Lacey pretended not to hear.

The game continued as Lacey waited for her opportunity to ask Chris a question...

"Ugh, don't freak out, but... I've never actually kissed a guy,” Abbie said.

"Wait not even one?  I've kissed, like, twenty!" Zack exclaimed.

"On the same day?" Tyler asked incredulously.

"Very funny, Tyler.  Although... three of them were on the same day, yeah,” Zack added with a giggle, grabbing Lacey’s leg and trying to get her acknowledgement.

"...and the best part is?  I never got caught,” Kaitlyn said with a snort.

"Okay, you're officially the coolest person I've ever met!" Zack shouted, wrapping his arms around Kaitlyn.

"Who skinny dips in a public pool?" Lacey asked, knowing she wasn’t un-fun, but she wasn’t super daring either.  She probably would have done it if her friends had done it, but she wouldn’t have done it on her own.

"Heroes, Lacey.  Heroes." 

"Okay, Tyler... I dare you to kiss..." Zack started.

"You can't dare me to kiss anyone.  There are no dares!" Tyler protested.

"Oh yeah, I forgot..." Zack, sighed in disappointment.

"Damn... I was hoping I could dare Lacey to plant one on me..." Chris said, leaning into her shoulder a bit harder.  Their eyes met, and he grinned.

Lacey bit her lip and smirked in his direction.

A few rounds of questions later, and it was Lacey’s turn to ask Chris. 

"Looks like it's your turn to ask me a question, Lacey,” Chris smirked over at her, his eyes softly peering at her.

Kaitlyn leaned over to whisper to her while she think of a question, "Try not to be too obvious Lacey."

"Chris... have you ever been in love?" Lacey asked him, making hard eye contact with her.

"Dang.  Lacey going straight for the serious topics!" Tyler shouted, a bit too loudly.  Probably the alcohol.

"It's okay.  Yeah... I was in love, once.  Throughout most of high school, actually,” Chris leaned over, looking up at Lacey through the tufts of his hair which were covering his eyes.

"So you dated the same girl through all of high school?!" Kaitlyn said, also very loudly.

"Basically.  Hurt pretty bad when she broke it off, but... those were good times."

"Sounds like she was pretty special to you,” Lacey whispered, her hand finding his knee.  She squeezed softly, and they made eye contact again.

"She was.  I wasn't going to get into this, but... My ex's name is Nicole.  And she's the first person I ever loved.  We were together for three years.  But when she decided to go to another college, she dumped me on the spot,” Lacey could see the pain in his eyes as he smiled at her.

"That's so... harsh,” Abbie slurred.

"To be honest... I'm still not over her.  And it'll probably be a while before I am.  That's why I promised myself that I'm just going to have fun here.  No serious relationships for at least a year!" Chris said with a brilliant grin.  Lacey shook her head.

"Huh.  That's idiotic.  How can you make such a stupid rule?  What if you miss out on the love of your life because you don't want to get 'serious'?" Lacey started defensively. He was flirting with her like he was interested.  No Lacey, this is college.  People don’t always have serious relationships in college. A lot of the time, flirting is just casual.  All Chris wants is something casual.

"Well... I kind of assume the love of my life would be willing to wait a year for me to figure things out,” Chris said pointedly. Did he think Lacey was implying she was the love of his life?  She had just settled on things being casual with him.

"You just keep telling yourself that..." Lacey muttered.

"Listen, enough about me.  Can I ask Lacey a question in return?" Chris asked, turning to Kaitlyn, who was sprawled across the floor.

"What do the rules say, Kaitlyn?" Lacey put her hand on Chris’s knee as she leaned over to ask Kaitlyn the question.

"So far it seems like the rules are whatever Kaitlyn wants them to be..." Zack said from the floor.  He had moved there after the fourth, or was it fifth, bottle was opened.

"Ask away, Chris,” Kaitlyn sang.

"Okay Lacey, what's your take on love?" Chris nudged her and tilted his head.

"Love is just a chemical reaction,” Lacey stated plainly.

"Is anyone else shivering?  Because that was ice cold,” Zack shouted out into the night.

"Hey she's not wrong..." Tyler said, laying across his chair.

"Still... even if you believe love is purely chemical, it still affects you the same.  It still feels real,” Chris said, putting his hands on hers.

"Hmm... I guess my flawlessly logical brain had never thought about it that way,” Lacey teased.  There was a magnetic pull between the two of them, and she couldn’t deny it.  She was practically in his lap, their lips were practically on one another’s.  If he so much as twitched, they would be kissing.

"Interesting... very interesting,” Kaitlyn was obviously watching them gravitate towards each other.  And they were not watching anyone else.

A few rounds of drinks and questions later, Abbie looked at her phone to check the time.  "Well, I've hit my embarrassment quota for the night, so I think I'm going to turn in..." 

"What?  It's so early!" Kaitlyn shrieked. Lacey knew that Kaitlyn needed to go to bed.  They all did. Lacey wasn’t tired, and Chris didn’t seem to be either.  His face was pressed into her shoulder, and every so often, he would whisper something flirty into her ear.

"It's two in the morning..." Tyler said.

"Exactly! Honestly, I'm a little tired.  But I just want to say this is the most fun I've ever had,” Kaitlyn started trying to get up.

"Me too,” Tyler got up and started toward the door.

"It's going to be an amazing year.  I'm so glad I have you guys as suitemates,” Abbie shouted out, leaning on the couch to get up.

"And on that note, I'll see you in the morning,” Kaitlyn said.

"I actually think I'll head to bed, too.  Besides... we've got plenty of nights like these to look forward to, right?" Zack asked.

"I guess you're right,” Kaitlyn said. Everyone was making moves towards the door, except for Chris, whose hand had moved to Lacey’s shoulder and was lightly massaging it.

As Kaitlyn and the others left the roof, she shot Lacey and Chris one last, meaningful look.

"What was that look all about?" Chris asked, having torn his eyes away from Lacey’s long enough to see Kaitlyn.

"Uh nothing!  Just... one of those looks, I guess!" Lacey said, rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly, while Chris took her hand and pulled her up to walk to the railing.

The two of them gazed out over the starlit campus, Lacey shivering in the night air.

"So... not tired?" Chris asked, running his hands up and down her arms to warm him up.

"Not yet.  And I want to savor this, you know?  Our first night as a suite,” Lacey said, leaning into his shoulder, wanting to be close to him, like she had been all night.

"It all starts here.  You nervous?" Chris asked, wrapping his arms around her.

"A little.  You?" Lacey glanced up at him.

"Oh, I'm terrified.  But it's a good kind of terrified.  And… so long as you're around, I'd say there's a lot to look forward to,” Chris stared deeply into her eyes, reaching over to pull her even closer.

"Chris, you must think you're pretty smooth, huh?" Lacey asked him.

"Not at all! I've dated exactly one girl, Lacey.  Unless you're counting the time I picked a flower for a girl in my kindergarten class.  I'm the exact opposite of smooth, trust me,” Chris said, running his finger down her arm.

"Well... you could've fooled me,” Lacey tilted her head up to look into his cornflower blue eyes.

"Really?" Chris asked, surprised.

"Really.  But don't let it go to your head, big guy,” Lacey punched his arm softly.

"Listen... I know I must be throwing out mixed signals.  The truth is, I'm really not looking to start anything serious.  But... here, in this moment with you. Things just feel... right,” Chris said, gazing down at her.

"Chris,” Lacey started, “let's go to my room.”

"God, I was hoping you'd say that,” Chris said, pulling her down the stairs, hand in hand.  They were giggling giddily, sparing glances at each other.

"So, this is my room... you might recognize it from your similar room down the hall,” Lacey said, pulling him into the room, and spinning around.  

"I like what you've done with the place,” Chris chuckled, pressing a hand to Lacey’s back and pulling her closer to him.

"Yeah, I have a lot of unpacking to do... But all that can wait,” Lacey said as she wrapped her arms around him, rubbing them over his back.  She pulled Chris in close and tilted her mouth up to his.  Their lips met in a passionate kiss as they ran their hands over each other, pulling on each other’s clothes, somehow not close enough to one another.  She pulled his shirt up over his head, running her hands over his chiseled chest. She expected him to be ripped, but not this ripped.

"Someone's in a hurry..." Chris said, Lacey swallowing his words in a kiss.  She pulled him closer, and then pushed both of them toward the bed.  Lacey shoved him down, then crawled on top of him, running kisses down his chest.  Then, she decided to stay there.  He moaned as she bit his chest softly.  The moan spurred her on, as he ran his hands under her flannel.  She could feel herself becoming more and more aroused by the moment.  Chris’s lips were on her forehead as she kissed up his neck, teasing him with soft playful kisses, and then sucking hard, but not long enough to leave a mark.

"Oh, I'm just getting started..." Lacey smirked up at him through her bedroom eyes.

Without another word, Chris rolled over on top of her, pulling off her shirt as he went.

"Nice move,” Lacey whispered from underneath him.

"I thought you'd like that,” Chris said, running his hands down her newly bared sides and then under her underwear.  She bucked her hips up towards his hand, and he moved it lower.

Lacey let out a long moan, kissing him on the mouth again.  He continued to work on her with his hand.

“Chris, don’t you dare stop now.”

“Whatever you say.”

He continued, eventually taking off both of their clothes and meeting her where she wanted him most.

Later, Lacey and Chris lay beside each other, their faces nearly touching on the pillow.  He stifled a laugh, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners.  

"What are you laughing at?" Lacey said, pressing her finger to his forehead crinkle.

"I'm not laughing, I just... I don't know.  I'm happy I guess,” Chris smiled.

"Me too.  This was... nice." 

"It really was."

Lacey smiled and looked down shyly, her fingers tracing figure-eights on Chris's upper arm, their legs tangled up beneath the sheets.

"Well... I guess I'll head back to my room.  Unless... you want me to stay a little longer?" Chris looked over at her hopefully.

"I don't know... do you want to?" Lacey asked, pulling him impossibly closer.  Even though she was content with it staying casual, she didn’t think it would be too harmful for him to spend the night.

"Yeah.  I do." Chris pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Good answer,” Lacey responded, slipping into sleep.

What seemed like a moment later, Lacey’s phone rang, waking her up.

"Ugh, what time is it?" Lacey moaned, noticing she was laying on top of someone’s arm, quickly remembering that she had hooked up with Chris.

Lacey carefully groped in the sheets for her phone, trying not to wake him, and found it beside her pillow.

"Four missed calls?  From my parents?  What the..." Lacey asked.

She walked down the hall and stepped out into the chill morning air to take the call.

"Mom?  What's going on?  Why did you guys call me four times?" Lacey questioned, very concerned.

"Lacey, there's something I need to tell you..." her Mom said.

"Did something happen?  What's wrong?" Lacey asked, still very worried.

"It's your father.  He... lost his job.  We can't pay your tuition!" her mother exclaimed.  Lacey could tell that her mom was so torn up about it.  She felt badly for her mother.  But she thought about the hot quarterback in her bed, and she instantly became frustrated.

"But, but... I haven't even started classes yet!  Mom, don't worry.  I'll figure something out."

"We're so, so sorry about this, Lacey.  We're going to make this right, okay?  Your father just needs some time to find a new job.  We love you!" 

"Yeah... I love you too,” Lacey said, a bit downcast.

She hung up the phone.

"This can't be happening... What am I going to do?" Lacey asked, mostly to herself.  She was so worried that she was going to have to leave, that as she walked back to her dorm, she almost ran into the attractive guy she’d seen across the quad.

“Oh, sorry!” she exclaimed, a few tears on her cheek.

Concern lit up the man’s features, “Oh, it’s okay. Do you need something?  Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, fine.  Sorry.  I’m a bit distracted.  Thank you though.”

Lacey pushed past him and into her dorm.  What was she going to do?

[lankylevi]

Rating: E Pairing: Levi/Eren Chapter word count: 3k Tags: Modern au, Blind date, Strangers to Lovers, Policer officer Levi, Barista Eren, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Top Levi, Power Bottom Eren

Summary: Despite Eren's previous attempts at getting Mikasa on board with the fact that he’s perfectly happy being single, she still took things into her own hands and set up a blind date for him. A modern day, blind date (gone wrong) au.

Note: This is the fourth and (for now,) final chapter, a big thank you to my wonderful beta, and friend, @i-am-verybusy. Couldn’t have done this without you, babe.

Previous chapters: chapter 1, chapter 2 and chapter 3 on tumblr.

Read on AO3 or below.

It has been two weeks since their first official date and Eren, being the overanalyzing little shit that he is, paces nervously in front of the restaurant.

Twenty minutes, Levi is already twenty minutes late. No call, no text. Nothing. No warning that he’ll be running late, or something last minute came up. Is he being stood up?

No, Jaeger. Levi wouldn’t do that. Or would he? Fuck. Shit.

Biting his bottom lip, peeling the dry skin till the point he’s surely drawing blood, he decides to dial Levi’s number. Trying his best to ignore the pitiful stares he’s getting from the couples entering Il Giardino.

“Come on, come on, come on.” He taps his foot anxiously, phone cradles between his cheek and shoulder. “Pick up, Levi.”

Voicemail. “Of fucking course.”

He calls again, not giving up just yet. His heart beating faster and faster with every beep, hands trembling as he fumbles with the hem of his coat. Fingertips turning blue from the icy wind.

“Not now, Eyebrows! You fucking- Eren? Hello?”

Eren lets out a long breath, shoulders relaxing as he slumps against the wall. “Hi.”

“I’m so sorry, Eren. Eyebr- Erwin literally threw a shit pile of papers on my dask and I can’t leave this shithole.” Levi breathes heavily in the microphone, frustration clear in his voice. The rummaging of papers not going past Eren’s ears.

Eren licks his lips and sighs. Knowing he shouldn’t feel angry for what happened, but disappointment twists his stomach upside down. “Uhuh, you could’ve at least called me. I’ve been standing here in front of the restaurant for almost half an hour, Levi.”

“I know… I’m so sorry, love. Let me make it up to you. I’ll take you somewhere nice next time.”

“I don’t want a next time,” Eren spits out, slapping his hand on his forehead when he realizes how awful that just sounded. Shaking his head, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I mean, I want to see you now. That came out wrong.”

Levi exhales sharply. “Jesus, my pen almost snapped in half. Don’t say shit like that unless you want to kill me.”

“It has been two weeks already,” Eren continues.

“Please don’t pout, I’ll drop by your place tonight. I’ll bring some wine, how does that sound?”

Eren smiles sheepishly, blush creeping onto his cheeks and hiding it under his scarf. This will be the first time Levi will see his place and his heart beats so fast he feels like a bubbly teenager all over again. “Better. You have my address?”

“Yes. I really have to go now, Eren. Eyebrows is ready to fucking riot. See you tonight, I’m really sorry.”

Rolling his eyes, he cannot help but chuckle under his breath. “Cute. See you tonight.”

Before Levi has time to argue, Eren hangs up the phone and walks back to his car, ready to drive home and make sure his apartment is spotless.

Leaning against the doorframe, blocking the way through, Eren grins, “Oh, well hello, Mister Food Inspector.”

“Brat.” Levi mutters but gives him a quick peck on his cheek.

Clamping his jaw shut, Eren barely keeps himself from gaping at him. Levi looking like a fine piece of ass in his uniform. Control yourself, Jaeger. Play it cool.

“Now, now. Is that a way to talk to your date who you stood up earlier? That’s bad customer service. I’m going to have to give you a bad review.”

Smiling subtly, Levi’s eyes narrow. “Then it won’t matter if I give you this bottle of wine either, right?”

“Fine.” Eren says and moves to the side, admitting his defeat and granting Levi access to his place. “Welcome to my humble apartment. Take your shoes o-, okay you already took your shoes off.”

Levi grins back as he hangs up his coat. “Can’t dirty your place when you’ve obviously been cleaning.”

Dumbfounded, Eren blankly stares at him. Accepting the bottle of red wine as his mouth hangs wide open, almost offended.

“It smells like cleaning products.” Levi explains as he makes his way further through the small hallway and inside the rest of the apartment. “My nose never lies. Actually, that’s Mike’s line.”

“Mike?” Eren asks and gestures Levi to sit down on the sofa in the left corner, that certain warmth he always feels when Levi is around calming his nerves. He sets the bottle on the kitchen counter and takes two wine glasses out of the cupboard.

Levi hums, “Mike is a police veteran as we call them. That nose of his is freakishly accurate. Better than a fucking dog’s.”

Eren chuckles, excitement bubbling in his stomach everytime Levi tells him more about his job. So far, he knows ‘Eyebrows’ is Erwin, Levi’s boss. Then you have Moblit, who’s always anxious except when shit goes down, who is actually dating the waitress who served them on their, accidental, date. Now Mike, a veteran who has a strange, but apparently very useful asset. “So, that Mike, please tell me he has a huge nose.”

Levi laughs, tilting his head to the side and accepts his glass of Chianti as Eren sits down next to him. “The fucking biggest you’ll ever see.”

“I’d love to meet your coworkers someday.” Eren blurts out and instantly curses himself, cheeks heating up.

Nice way to go, Jaeger. Push yourself into his damn life.

Watching Eren out of the corner of his eyes, smirking, Levi takes a sip of his wine. “We have a monthly night out with the squad.”

Eren bites his lip, avoiding the cop’s watchful gaze. “So, that means…”

Levi sighs and places a hand on Eren’s thigh, squeezing it lightly. “Do I have to spell this out for you?”

“Probably.” Eren shrugs.

Rolling his eyes, Levi takes a hold of Eren hand and looks him straight in the eye. Piercing blue meeting ocean green. “Join me next time.”

Cheeks turning crimson, Eren quickly downs his drink. The first gulp lightly burns his throat and the warmth spreads through his torso. Damn this stuff is strong.

“Easy there.” Levi laughs but adds more to Eren’s glass once it’s empty. “Tastes good?”

“Yeah.” Eren smiles sheepishly and holds the glass with two hands, afraid he’s going to stain the couch, or worse, spill his wine on Levi and dirty his uniform. Speaking of his uniform, it wasn’t exactly like he had imagined it would be. He had thought the fabric would be light blue, but it was a dark navy colour and so were his pants. It actually looked like a jumpsuit if he had to be honest, but the thought that Levi fought crime in this attire, was more than his little gay heart could take.

“Eren?”

Lost in thought, Eren shakes his head, trying to stop his sinful imagination. “Sorry, what?”

“Do you want to go minigolf next time?” Levi repeats, pronouncing every word.

Eren’s brows furrow. “I didn’t think you’d be the type of guy to enjoy minigolf.”

Levi shrugs, “I’m usually not, but Shitty Glasses wants to double date and I thought you might, uhm, enjoy it.”

Levi bites his lip and Eren is ready to combust on the spot. Was Levi actually nervous? It’s cutest thing he has ever seen. “I’d love to. It’s a date.”

Smiling contently, Levi takes out his phone and texts his friend, Eren guesses.

He drinks the rest of his wine. Seriously this stuff was delicious. Smooth, warm, leaving him all tingly; he should really write the name of the brand down. He pours himself another glass and inspects the bottle. Squinting when he can’t seem to read the label. Oh well.

“Wait a second, Eren. Don’t drink it so fast.”

Eren cocks his head to the side. “Hmm? Why not?”

Shaking his head, Levi takes Eren’s glass out of his hands and places it on the small coffee table next to the sofa. “You’ll end up drunk if you drink another glass of this. It’s pretty strong if you’re not used to drinking it regularly.”

“Oh, I see.” Eren lowers his gaze, biting his lip. Slightly embarrassed if he has to admit.

“Hey,” Levi says and cups Eren’s burning cheeks with both hands. “I wouldn’t mind if you were drunk, theoretically, but it would be a shame if I couldn’t touch you tonight.”

Eren blinks briefly, breath hitching in his throat. Did Levi really just say those words? This must be a dream.

Without any warning, he leans forward and hesitantly locks their lips together, testing the waters before he pulls away.

The kiss seemed to ignite something inside of them that had been locked up ever since they day they met as they start devouring each other. Teeth clashing and tongues colliding and desperate for control as Eren runs his hand through Levi’s hair, scraping his undercut before he entangles his fingers into his dark locks. Moaning when Levi’s hands slither under his shirt and over his naked torso, feeling like fire on his skin.

“Bedroom.” Levi orders between pants and kisses, and raises both of them off the coach. Eren’s legs firmly wrap around his waist. “Which way?”

Eren shamelessly ruts his hips against Levi’s stomach and moans when the cop grazes his teeth over his jawline and attacks his neck, sucking on his sweet spot. “Hallway. Right door.”

They stumble into the room but Levi manages to drop Eren down gently on top of the bed. Wasting no time to get rid of his own shirt as he straddles Eren’s hips and kisses his neck again. Licking a hot stripe over his pulsepoint before he nips at the sensitive skin and grinds it between his teeth.

Eren moans at the attention, hands roaming over Levi’s abs, hips jutting upwards. Creating the much-needed friction they’ve both been craving. “F- Fuck.”

Levi quickly gets rid of Eren’s shirt and jeans, leaving him in his boxers as he throws the rest on the floor. Giving Eren no time to collect himself as he runs the flat of his tongue over the defined length, fabric rough on his tongue.

“Oh my God.” Eren moans and entangles his fingers into Levi’s hair. Breath hitching at the back of his throat when Levi lowers his boxers. Taking the elastic between his teeth, pulling it down and freeing his cock from its confinement.

Levi glances at Eren, giving him the time to say ‘stop’ if he wants to, and waits for his cue.

Nodding his head, all air leaves Eren’s lungs when Levi takes him fully into his mouth. Cock hitting the back of his throat before he starts bobbing his head up and down, running his tongue over the underside of his length. Fuck he’s really good. If he keeps it up like this he’s going to come within minutes. Shit.

Levi releases him with a pop, “Uhm, Eren?”

Confused, Eren raises his head off the mattress. Heavy lidded and panting harshly. “Huh?”

“I think we have an audience.”

“What?” Eren asks before he looks at the open door. His cat wagging its tail in the doorframe. Shrieking, he quickly covers himself with his hands. “Oh my God, Titan!”

“Titan?” Levi’s eyes falter between Eren and his overly curious cat. “Please don’t tell me he likes to watch.”

Groaning, Eren pinches the bridge of nose and wiggles free from under Levi’s hold. “No, he’s just- I don’t know. I have no explanation for this.” He sighs and gets up from the bed, completely embarrassed and shoos his cat away. “Get out, you damn mood killer.”

Damned cat.

After closing the door, he turns his attention back to Levi and briefly forgets how to breathe. The cop is leaning against the bedframe, moonlight shining straight onto his abs and making Eren’s mouth water.

“Eren?”

He shakes his head, grateful Levi probably won’t be able to see him blushing uncontrollably.” Sorry, I got distracted.”

Levi lets out a puff of air and smirks. “I take that as a compliment. Now come back here.”

“It was meant as such.” Eren winks and crawls on the bed, chuckling under his breath. Lips teasingly brushing over Levi’s lips as he straddles his waist.

“Really now?” Levi purrs and latches onto Eren’s neck in response, leaving a sloppy suck under his ear and nips at his jawline. “I could’ve sworn I saw you blush like an idiot.”

Eren lets his head lull back, eyes rolling back into his skull when Levi slowly starts stroking his cock. He licks his lips, “Nope. Maybe you need to get your eyes checked. “

Chuckling lowly in Eren’s ear, Levi gives him a few quick pumps before he massages the two round globes of his ass. Fingers ghost between his cheeks.

Taking the hint, Eren leans to his side and rummages through the nightstand. Taking out a bottle of lube and a condom, and placing it on the bed.

“Eager are we?” Levi smirks smugly.

Eren grins and bites his lip. “Very. Now, get me ready.”

“Ohh, bossy bottom huh?” Levi wets his lips and pours a gentle amount of lube on his fingers. Coating them, rubbing them together to warm up the mixture and wasting no time to start teasing Eren’s hole. “I like that.”

Eren, now long past the point of feeling any shame, lets out a high-pitched moan when Levi’s slick digit breaches his entrance. Always loving that burning stretch, he pushes down and starts rolling his hips while kissing Levi, moaning and panting heavily against his mouth when he adds a second finger.

“Fucking hell, Eren. You’re fucking gorgeous,” Levi groans and keeps thrusting his fingers in and out his tight hole.

Eren smiles lazily, hands falling onto Levi’s shoulders, looking for leverage, when he pushes down onto his prostate. Abusing it to the point he can’t think straight and turns into a blabbering, whining mess. Panting Levi’s name against his lips. “Levi. More. ”

“More?” Levi teases and withdraws his fingers, leaving Eren’s hole twitching and empty.

Before Eren has time to protest, Levi slides his cock between his cheeks. Slick with lube and precome.

“Fuck.” Eren curses and snaps his head forward, eyes boring into Levi’s skull, he loses his patience. “Yes. More.”

Eyes wide and mouth hanging open, Levi watches Eren reach for the condom and rip the wrapper open with his teeth.

He reaches behind him, skillfully rolling the latex over Levi’s engorged cock and gives a few, efficient pumps.

Levi shudders and Eren loses his last piece of self-restraint when he sees the cop briefly lose himself to pleasure. So fucking hot.

Drizzling a generous amount of lube on his palm, Eren slicks up Levi’s length. Wasting no time to line Levi’s cock up with his entrance and pushing his hips down. He bites his lip to the point he’s almost breaking the skin, loving that mixture of pleasure and pain as his hole burns from adjusting to Levi’s thick length.

Levi lets out a low moan when he’s seated all the way inside. Black strands of hair plastered across his forehead, pink hue colouring his cheeks. “Going to ride me, huh?”

“I always like a challenge.” Eren grins and maneuvers his body so his nails are digging into Levi’s thighs, keeping him steady as he snaps his hips up, only to slam down again. “Shit.”

Levi sucks in a sharp breath when Eren starts rolling his hips in earnest, setting up a bruising pace that’ll leave his hole sore for days. He grips onto Eren’s hips and starts thrusting upwards. Meeting every snap of Eren’s hips, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the entire room.

Despite his knees trembling, feeling as if they’re going to snap under the force of his thrusts, Eren keeps bouncing on Levi’s lap. All air leaving his body when Levi wraps his hand around his throbbing length, stroking him in unison with his unforgiving pace. Heat starting to pool in the pit of stomach, warning for his fast approaching climax. “Fuck, I’m-“

“Me too,” Levi rasps, fingers digging so hard in Eren’s thighs they’ll surely be leaving marks. “fuck, Eren.”

Suddenly, Levi’s hips stutter and his eyes roll back. He calls out Eren’s name with a sprained cry and it’s enough to push over the edge as well. His release splashing hot between them and onto the cop’s chest.

Catching his breath, Eren lets his body fall down on Levi’s torso, not caring about the mess. Levi’s softening cock slipping out of him as they lay together, panting heavily, eyes fluttering shut.

It’s dawn when Eren awakes, sun shining bright onto his face through the open curtain. He’s tucked in bed, clean, and with his boxers back on. The smell of coffee and something sweet filling up his nostrils.

It takes him a moment to recollect his thoughts, the vivid images of last night flashing before his eyes.

With a proud grin, he gets up from the bed and shuffles towards his living room, finding Levi cooking breakfast in nothing but sweatpants. Wait, were that his sweats?

“’Morning.” Levi nods and Eren cannot help but smirk when he sees the trail of purple lovebites across his neck.

Biting his lip, Eren winks. “’Morning.” He leans onto the kitchen counter, not caring about the morning wood he sports in his boxers. Quirking an eyebrow when Levi hands him a steaming cup of coffee. “Coffee? Really?”

Levi shakes his head, smirking smugly. “Just try it.”

Brows furrowing, Eren takes a sip of his cup. Eyes widening as the liquid rolls over his tongue, tickling his taste buds. “One question. How?”

“Would you believe me if I said I used to be a barista back in college?” Levi grins and leans his back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest.

“Nuhuh.” Eren stares at him with open mouth. “You’re lying. You hate coffee.”

“A policeman never lies,” Levi retorts quickly, clearly enjoying himself, “and put some clothes on, that dick is too tempting.”

Eren grins and swirls around, swaying his hips as he strolls towards his bedroom. A mischievous smirk curling on his lips when he hears Levi curse under his breath and follow his footsteps.

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