#that's why she feels bad when she slaps him and concedes to his request

[florallylly]

i've seen model steve harrington aus. i've seen child steve harrington aus. i present: child model steve harrington

note: this came from my own desperate need to see this conceptualized and i SWEAR i've searched, i just can't find any content with child model steve so. :(

bc little steve harrington was remarkably cherub-like. his large brown eyes and soft pout ensured endless cooing and fussing from his mom's friends. and when he blushed and ducked his head in shyness, they only complimented him more. when he got home that day, his mom smiled at him.

so steve decided that he would put up with the cheek pinching and the squealing. he sat upright in his chair, sitting on his hands so he wouldn't fidget and ruin the image. because he'd do anything to keep his mom smiling at him. if he was being particularly good that day, she'd let him lay his head on her lap on the drive back home.

but everything changed at his father's birthday gala. a nearly eight year old steve harrington sat prim and proper in his seat, but a smile lit up his face--his cheeks round and his dimples showing up. he raised his hand up to cover his giggle, but he couldn't help but laugh at some silly old man with a loose toupee. then he sees his mom approaching, and his face quickly smooths over, going back to the more polite smile he usually adopted when it came to these events.

he'd ruined it. he hadn't continued being the sweet boy his mom wanted. but then, she smiles at him. and introduces him to the man behind her, who says he's a designer. the man holds out his hand, but when steve puts his hand into his palm, he doesn't shake it. the man simply holds his hand, his eyes scanning steve's face. steve tries not to squirm under the attention. but the man nods and smiles at his mom, and he gives two brief cheek kisses to steve, whispering in his ear "you're going to be a star, darling." steve looks at his mom, confused, but she waves him off to continue talking to the man.

a few months later, steve's mom whisks him off on a trip to france. and steve is so excited to go, nearly vibrating in his seat as the airplane prepares to take off. but instead of the eiffel tower and the seine, steve is taken to a studio. he's posed and changed. once again, he's being fussed over, but instead of wealthy socialites, gossiping make-up artists squeal over him. he's "perfect for the shoot" and "the most darling little boy." steve doesn't understand, but his mom is still smiling, so he lets the nice ladies brush powder over his face.

and he looks in the mirror. his hair is a little more tousled and his lips have a slight tint to them and his eyes seem to take up much of his face. he's put into new clothes, and he feels like a doll in their hands. and when he's put in front of the camera, he simply follows the photographer's directions. afterwards, he's bundled into the car and his mom can't stop gushing about how good he was.

apparently, he's a natural. and then she goes back to fussing over him, focusing more on appearance than his behavior now. but she takes him out shopping and they eat at an upscale restaurant along the champs-elysses. and steve is happy.

and then they go back home, and his mom is so much stricter than before. she has him try out all kinds of different hair products, determined to find the best combination to keep it looking shiny and soft. she controls his food intake and what he wears and makes him use weird creams and serums on his face. but this is what makes his mom happy, so he's happy to let her.

his mom is also on the phone a lot more lately, whispering harshly about the quality of brands and steve just assumes she's being picky about the clothes she buys. later, his mom picks him up and holds him, and asks if he'd like to move to italy. she looks at him intently and it's obvious what answer she wants, so steve nods. she smiles and holds him close, and it's the most loved steve has felt in a while.

so they move to italy, and suddenly steve is a lot more busy. he's put in front of more cameras for more people he doesn't know. but he's smiling and pouting and doing whatever they want him to do. his compliant attitude and polite nature have photographers and designers alike singing his praises, and steve always looks to his mom for approval. but she's been arguing with his dad a lot lately, so she's upset more often than not. but that's okay, the make-up artists are always kind to him.

but then one day, his mom takes a phone call in the middle of the shoot. and when it finishes, she's gone. steve goes back in, close to tears, but the make-up artists still hanging around look after him until a car is sent to pick him up. this becomes a trend. and eventually, steve goes alone to his shoots. he's always taken care of by the crew and someone is always there to pick him up, but it's not fun without his mom there.

but he knows that she's always enjoyed him taking pictures, so he continues to do so, hoping that she'll come watch him again sometime soon. and he busies himself with befriending the chatty make-up artists and the bossy photographers and the eccentric designers. and he's such a cute little thing that they can't help but dote on him.

steve is never catapulted into child stardom, as his mom is picky with his jobs, only choosing luxury brands and well known designers for him. but within the industry, they call him the "little prince."

and then steve is catapulted into puberty, but his intense skin regimen prevents him from getting acne, save for the occasional zit. and his diet and religious exercise schedule help maintain his look. and he's still doing remarkably well, especially now that he's fully aware that he is a Model.

and steve has truly grown into his looks. with time, he's grown more comfortable in front of the camera and made numerous friends. nearly all of them are older than him, but they're fun and loud and it fills up the space that normally surrounds him. and they're the ones who get him hooked on american movies. steve remembers living in america, but he's been in milan so long that everything he recalls is vague.

but he watches them and falls in love with the american high school experience. so when he finally catches his mom off the phone and actually in the house, steve asks if he can go to school in america. and his mom laughs. but steve keeps asking, which devolves into begging. and his mother snaps, slapping him across the face and calling him ungrateful. she cries and begs for forgiveness, cowed into shame by steve's desperate attempt to hold back tears.

and so she lets him go to school in hawkins, indiana. an odd choice, but his parents just so happened to own a property there. (in truth, both of his parents expected him to change his mind within the year). but steve finds his place at hawkins high, because even though nobody in hawkins has ever heard of versace, steve is pretty. he's pretty and charming and he knows the right thing to say. after all, he's spent his whole life perfecting his mask.

and even if his mom ended up moving back home with his dad, leaving steve all alone in that big empty house, steve is happy. he's finally hanging out with people his age and high school is so far removed from the glitz and glam of the fashion industry. and he's settled and content with tommy and carol by his side. while he misses his friends back in milan, steve finds himself longing for the clothes more often. hawkins was certainly the opposite of milan, what with the nearest mall being two hours away and only equipped with a macy's and jcpenny.

through it all, steve is determined to be normal. he laughs along with jokes he doesn't quite get and rolls his eyes at carol's cue, and he joins the swim team. and he joins the basketball team. and he goes to parties and kisses girls and wears dumb little polos with his letterman jacket and does everything that he saw in the movies.

but nancy wheeler is different. steve can't forget his time in italy and who he is and was, and he's reminded of his old life in everyone and everything in hawkins. but not nancy wheeler. she's all hawkins and all his. and then the upside down happens.

and then nancy wheeler breaks his heart.

even after three years, his parents continue to ask when he'll go back to modeling, but he's different now. the upside down and billy hargrove beat that starry eyed little kid who thrived in the spotlight. and nancy wheeler proved that adoration and love is fleeting, so what would even be the point of trying anymore? his dad was a little more approving of steve's retirement/hiatus, saying that steve must want to go to college so he can take over the family business.

but when steve doesn't get into college, he's once again badgered by his mom to go back. but he's grown and changed and he's not sure that he can pretend anymore, so he says no. and they cut him off. enter: scoops era.

the measly scoops salary is not nearly enough to cover all of the new bills and expenses steve has, but he's not willing to leave hawkins. so he reaches out to his friends back in italy, and they refer him to their american connections. steve doesn't model at the same level as before, but he poses for a couple of zines and one artist who got a little too handsy at his exhibition. but he's able to make it through until the mall blows up.

this routine continues and he starts working at family video with robin at his side, but he keeps his side job a secret from the kids, using the excuse of visiting his parents to leave town for his shoots. he's not ashamed, but he knows he wouldn't "be normal" anymore if they found out.

but how does he explain his near mental breakdown at the sight of his healing demobat scars. they're raised and ugly, ruining what should have been a perfect body. and even though he uses scar cream everyday, they refuse to fade away completely. and how could anyone stand to be near such an ugly thing when all his life, steve was meant to be pretty? after all, love and adoration is fleeting.

[joshfuckingkiszka]

『by the way』

jmk x f!reader

I don’t do word count, because I usually don’t care but this is over 3k words and I just wanted y’all to know that. this is so nasty y’all, hope you little mongrels like it. 

THIS PIECE IS 18+ MINORS DNI

» hush hush masterlist

warnings: explicit sexual content, slapping, dirty talk, spit play, a bit of cum play but i don’t wanna give too much away so you’ll see, talking about sex with someone other than a partner (that’s not really a warning, ik, but just want y’all to know)

☼

No one was as sweet as Josh, it wasn’t possible. Even during the most intimate of moments, that sweet demeanor pushed forward, ensuring that he wasn’t hurting you, that you were doing okay, and that it felt good. It did feel good, and you had no qualms with how well Josh pleased you, and he lived to please.

He also lived to party, and he was the life of the party, after all. It was hard to miss, that beautiful smile on his sun kissed face, a light pink hue spread across his nose and cheeks from the alcohol and constant movement. You only looked away from him when Sam made fun of you for staring. It didn’t take long for Josh to make his way over to you, motioning for you to stand up from the lawn chair. When he had taken his seat, he pulled you onto him, peppering your face in kisses, giggles erupting from your mouth. You could feel his smile on your cheeks, and could hear the gagging from his brothers’ mouths.

When Jita requested your help in the kitchen, you managed to pry Josh’s arms off of you, a pout evident on his gorgeous face.

“Stay with me, mama.” God, what that nickname did to you.

You leaned down for a kiss, assuring him you’d be back soon.

“So,” Jita broached as she picked up a stack of leftover glasses, most only half drunk, “Jake told me…something, and I swore I wouldn’t say anything but I have to.”

“Okay?” You laughed, only slightly nervous.

You could tell she was trying to figure out her wording, not wanting to say the wrong thing and possibly upset you. “Apparently, and this is all circumstantial to me, Josh told Jake that you were really quiet in bed. Jake said it’s probably because he’s not doing enough but I told him to shut up, don’t worry.”

This caused your motions to cease, your eyebrows raising. Why was Josh telling other people what you did in bed? Oh god, what if you weren’t doing enough? You worried that he was no longer enjoying himself, and that worry spiraled into full blown anxiety. If you weren’t doing what he wanted, what was stopping him from finding someone that would?

Jita noticed, immediately coming to your side, soothing her hand down your back. “Don’t worry, hun, I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably just guy talk. I don’t even want to know half the shit Jake’s probably told Josh.”

“Yeah,” you conceded, “but Josh has never told me.” She nodded her head almost solemnly, and you wondered about how mad you had possibly made her at the younger twin.

“While we’re on the topic, though, why?” You had wondered that yourself many times, why were you so quiet, even though Josh never failed to pleasure you.

Sighing, you explained, “Look, Josh isn’t bad in bed, and he does plenty to make sure I’m happy. It’s just, god it’s stupid, sometimes, he’s too nice.”

“What do you mean, babe, like he spends too much time-”

“No! No, it’s nothing like that. Sometimes, I just wish that Josh…took a little bit more control. I love how he is, and I would never change him, it’s just…that, I guess,” you spoke quietly, something you were apparently very good at.

“I’m sure it’s nothing, him telling Jake, he was probably just concerned. When you get home, tell him what you want. I’m sure he’d do it, Josh would jump out of a plane with no parachute if you asked him to. He loves you,” she assured you. There it was, that was the reason he would never find someone else to take your place. He loves you.

“But, Jita, I’m not even sure what I want him to do. How in the world am I supposed to communicate that?” You dug your face into your hands, not by sheer embarrassment, as you had talked to her numerous times about the topic of sex. The two of you were close, but it still upset you that Josh was close enough to Jake to go to him about his “concerns”. Although, you guess it was kind of hypocritical, seeing as that’s exactly what you were doing.

“Babe, just tell him you want him to manhandle you and ravish you until you can’t walk!” Both of you laughed.

Still sputtering out giggles, you told her, “Yeah, okay, and lay off the romance novels. I never want to hear those words come out of your mouth again.”

“What?!” She exclaimed, “Jake’s busy a lot, I need something!”

Your giggles were only slightly interrupted by a clearing of the throat. Turning around, you saw Josh, and that dopey smile you loved so much. Practically skipping over to him, he engulfed you in a hug, placing a light kiss on your forehead.

“Hope you guys weren’t talking too much shit about me,” he lamented playfully.

Jita gave a large exhale, “The most.”

He turned to you, arms still wrapped around you, “You ready to go, mama?” You nodded, biting your lip nervously, not-so-excitedly anticipating the impending conversation once you got home. His thumb came up to caress your cheek, and you leaned your face into his warm touch.

“Oh, and Jita, your boyfriend’s out cold,” Josh told her as you were about to walk out the front door.

“Fuck!” She whined, and you could partially hear her calling out for Sam and Danny.

Once you had fully exited Sam’s house, Josh’s demeanor immediately changed, his arms falling from you, and a noticeably cold expression. When he didn’t even go to open your car door for you, it was clear that something was wrong. Everytime you joined him in his Jeep, he would immediately hand you the aux cord, even though he would roll his eyes at most of your “questionable” song choices. When the engine turned over and he hadn’t made the move to hand it to you, you began to reach for it yourself, questioning his out of character attitude.

“Nope,” he said simply, once you had located the cord, plucking it from your hands. Your head shook and eyebrows furrowed in disbelief.

“My car, my music.” Josh left no more room for discussion, and you quietly sat back in your seat, listening to John Denver’s voice fill the vehicle.

It wasn’t a very long drive, but it felt like hours passed as Josh didn’t join in the singing, his knuckles nearly white from his grip on the steering wheel. You sat back, wondering what could have possibly set him off like this. Had Jake said something to him? Had Sam? Those were the only two possibilities that ran through your mind as you watched him out of your peripheral vision.

When you did arrive home, he never moved to unbuckle your seatbelt, as he usually did, or jog to your side of the car to open your door. Instead, he simply took the keys out of the ignition and walked to the front door, not even waiting for you to unlock it. Letting out a deep sigh, worried about your boyfriend, you got out and walked to the door that he had shut behind him. When you tried to open it, you found it to be locked.

“Josh!” You called out, hoping the neighbors couldn’t hear you. He never answered so you fished your keys out of the bottom of your purse, unlocking the door yourself.

You thought he had simply forgotten you were behind you, seeing as you always walked ahead, and walked upstairs. Rather, he was standing in the kitchen, back turned to you, his palms flat on the island countertop.

“What the fuck, Josh?” Fights were far and few between in your relationship, as you both hated yelling at the other and often opted for a communicative discussion about your disagreements. He was really fucking pushing it, though.

“What?” He asked nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t left you outside.

“‘What?’” You repeated, “You locked the fucking door!”

“You have a key.”

When he made it clear he had no intention of turning to face you, you walked around the corner of the island, forcibly looking him in the eyes.

“It doesn’t matter! What the fuck is your problem? You were so sweet before we left and now you’re just being a dick,” you exclaimed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Well,” he started, his eyes fixed on yours, a much deeper brown than they normally were, “my bad. I thought you wanted me to, what was it? Oh, right! ‘Manhandle you’ and ‘ravish you until you can’t walk’.” The color drained from your face. It was you he was mad at, not his brothers, you. You had sent him over the edge.

Shifting the weight on your feet uncomfortable, you tried to explain.

“No, don’t start that shit now. You wanted me to take more control, mama, well, I am.”

“If you were listening so intently to our private conversation, you would know I didn’t know what I wanted! Besides, why did you tell Jake about our private matters in the first place?!” Your anger returned, this was his fault in the first place.

His deadpan expression told you he didn’t care about the semantics of whose fault this was. Yes, he had started it, but you had finished it.

“I wouldn’t have had to, mama, if you had told me what you wanted.” This was true, and it shamed you.

You looked down, hands nervously clasped together and you just hoped you wouldn’t cry. “I-I didn’t know. Joshy, I wanted you.”

For a moment, the softness returned to his eyes and you saw him, the Josh you fell in love with. The one who made sure you felt safe in his arms. No matter what he did, you always would.

“Well, baby, tell me what you want, honestly.” It was comforting and nerve wracking all at once.

“I want,” you took a deep breath, “I want you to be rough, and, no, nevermind.”

He grabbed your jaw harshly, forcing you to look at him. “Say it, mama, tell me. I wanna hear you scream. What’s gonna do that?”

“Be mean to me,” you muttered, but you knew he heard you, he always would.

“Sweet little baby wants to be treated like a whore? What else?” It was only then that you noticed the hardness pressed into your hip, and the throbbing heat between your legs.

“Use me, Joshy.” A low growl erupted from his chest, and the throbbing intensified, wetness beginning to pool in the skimpy underwear you had chosen.

He pulled your arm the short distance to the living room, practically throwing you into the back of the couch. The pain was dull but you didn’t even really have time to focus on it as he pressed himself into your back. When you tried to move your upper body to meet his, he shoved you back down, pulling at your hair to gain control of your movement.

His other hand moved to rub the back of your thighs. “God, I love this fucking skirt. Wore it like you wanted me to fuck you.” You could feel his fingers moving underneath your skirt, grabbing forcefully at your ass. He backed up a bit, letting go of your hair as he did, and you expected him to pull it down your legs. Instead, he flipped it, letting the material fall on the small of your back.

Josh groaned at the sight, your perfect ass on display to him, only the thinnest piece of lace fabric separating him from his goal. You knew how much he loved the baby blue lingerie set, he always made it clear how he felt. It had been a birthday present to him - well, you wearing it - and seeing how dilated his eyes had become seeing it, you always made sure to wear it if you wanted to get him in the mood. Not that it ever took much, Josh was pretty insatiable when it came to you.

“Who’d you wear these for, mama?” He lifted up your shirt to confirm you were wearing the matching bra, that didn’t cover very much, but you wore anyway.

“Just for you, Joshy.” Your response when his hand came down on the flesh of your ass was less than composed: a loud moan and your eyes rolling back into your head.

He ripped the panties down your legs, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care when their edges and his blunt fingernails scratched your legs.

Tapping on the outside of your thighs, he instructed, “Spread your legs, mama, let me in.” Finally, you thought, he’s gonna fuck me.

He wasn’t going to give into that easily, though. When you had spread your legs enough to satisfy him, he pulled your hair back into his fist, dragging your face - and the rest of your upper body - up flush to his chest.

“Open up, be a good little slut for me, mama.” You hesitantly opened your mouth, not quite sure what he was up to. Your eyes widened when his spit landed on your tongue. “Swallow.” His hand was grasping your jaw again, and you did as he said, hoping it would be enough to get him back in between your legs. He threw your head back down, never letting his hold on your hair falter.

“Please, Joshy!” You begged, the ache in your cunt sweltering to an unbearable pain.

He mocked, “Poor baby. What do you need?”

“Anything! Just please touch me!” Pleading was a good look on you, he decided. Conceding, he ghosted his fingers over the bottom of your shirt, before pulling it over your head, messing up the style you had done for the party, but - again - you didn’t care. He brought you up once more, the hand that wasn’t fisted in your hair running over the thin material covering your tits.

Because of his position, he was restricted from taking your nipple into his mouth so he opted to bite your shoulder, causing you to groan out. He licked the spot, soothing it even with his warm tongue.

“Keep making those pretty sounds for me, mama. Beg for it like a whore.” He left large lovebites on your neck but you weren’t too concerned about how you would cover them up.

“Please just touch me,” you begged once again, hoping he would break, hearing your broken voice.

He laughed, and you knew it was to tease you. “I am touching you, mama.”

“My-my,” you struggled to get the word out, “cunt.” Josh tightened his grip on your hair, pushing you further into the edge of the couch.

“Was gonna eat you out, make you cum at least twice before I fucked you. Since you wanna act like such a fucking slut, say such dirty words, I’m just gonna get straight to it. Don’t you dare cum until I tell you to, got it?” You thought it was rhetorical, that he understood you agreed with his terms.

As it turns out, it was not rhetorical, and he fully expected a verbal answer. The sound of his hand making contact with your face resounded in the silent house. It shocked you, only for a second, but that did not negate the drip of arousal you felt on your thighs.

“Words, mama.” Josh’s tone was incredibly demanding, and was turning you on to the highest extent.

“I-I won’t, I promise.”

Immediately, his hands went to his pants, and you heard the fabric of his bottoms shifting as he pulled them down. You wanted to look so badly, to see how hard he was and see the drip of precum, but feared that he would punish you if you did, so you kept your head nearly dug into the back couch cushion, hands gripping the edge so tightly you thought they might go numb.

A loud moan escaped you when you felt his cock prodding the entrance of your cunt and, even though you couldn’t see him, you just knew a smirk sat on his perfect lips. You felt almost parched when you realized how long it had been since you felt those lips on yours.

His thrusts were almost furious and you couldn’t help the obscene noises that came from you. Josh’s searing hand wrapped around your throat, bringing him flush against his now-uncovered chest. He was so warm, and it almost overstimulated you, just the feeling of him, in its entirety. You managed to turn your head slightly, finally pressing into his lips. Spit tumbled from your lips with the hostility of the kiss, or perhaps it was passion? It was much too hard to decipher at this point.

“Josh I-” You started, obeying his previous orders. When he suddenly pulled out of you, you regretted following his instructions. You whined and begged for him, and he simply picked you up, tossing you onto the couch. His strength never ceased to amaze you, but you were still upset by your lack of orgasm.

He rounds the couch, climbing on top of you, wrapping your legs around his waist tightly. You knew he had nothing to worry about, you would never let go of him.

“Wanna see that pretty face when you cum, mama.” The softness of his voice was back, but it was not displayed by his vicious pace he set once he reclaimed his spot inside you.

You screamed his name, warning him you were so, so close. “Go ahead, mama, cum for me. Be my good little whore.” His thumb caressed your chin, and you thought he might be going soft on you for the last portion of this little experiment. When his thumb dragged your jaw down, you knew he wasn’t. Once again, he spit in your mouth.

“Don’t swallow, mama, keep it in there.” You wondered what he was getting at, until he held out his pointer and middle finger under your mouth, “C’mon, let me have it.” Confused, you let it fall off your lips, onto his fingers. When he finally got what he deemed enough, he moved his hand down to where your bodies intersected, his fingers lubricating where he furiously rubbed at your clit.

That finally brought you over the edge, and you threw your head back, unable to hold back the screams. Tears of unadulterated pleasure flowed freely from your eyes, and he moaned. You could feel him finish inside of you, his head falling into the crook of your neck. For just a second, if that, you thought it was over, and he would go back to being your sweet Josh.

He was just full of surprises, though, because as soon as he pulled out of you, his fingers moved to collect his cum, and he brought them to your mouth.

“Clean me up, mama.” So you did just that, and you swore you felt his cock twitch once more.

Once the two of you had showered, and you were completely clean of the mascara that stained your cheeks, you laid in bed, full body weight practically on Josh.

“I won’t tell Jake anything else, promise.” He said, unprompted, with a kiss on your forehead. His hands ran down your side, and you shuddered as it almost tickled.

You let out a small laugh, “If it’s gonna make you do that again, tell him anything you want.”

His laughter joined yours but you were still confused about something. “Josh?”

He hummed, and you asked, “Where did that come from? I thought you were…I don’t know, incapable of that.”

As he shrugged, you knew he wasn’t quite sure either. After a minute he spoke, “By the way, mama, I’m not incapable of anything. Not with you.” It made you so soft, the way he spoke to you so gently, and you nestled further into his chest.

“Do you think I could pass these off as burns from a curling iron?” You asked, motioning to the purple marks he’d left on your neck and shoulders.

“Yeah,” he said unconvincingly, “or you could just show them off, show who you belong to.”

〚taglist〛

gvf: @doodle417​ @brokenbellz​ @gretavanfleas​ 

joshy: @prophetofthedune​ @loofypoofy​

[ventisehe]

pretty little things / genshin impact / venti

dom venti + public

warning: unedited, not proofread, (not)(safe)(for)(/work)

                      When Venti told you he has an adventure for you to accompany him on, it never crossed your mind that it would be behind the Church of Favonius, your knees scrapping against the hard and rough cement and the corners of your lips drooling as his cock thrust in and out of your throat.

                                      You choke and moan against his intruding length, and Venti takes delight in the noises you make. “Hush, my dear muse, you’re being a little too loud for someone who claims they don’t want to get caught.” He coos, and the triumphant smirk painted upon his brims broadens at the feeling of his erection reaching the back of your throat. A hand of his comes to stroke your tresses, soothing the tension knotting your body. “Or perhaps you intend to rouse the sisters from their quarters and have them witness your whorish display, and on holy grounds too.”

       Your pupils dilate at such possibility. Your heart hammers against your chest as you envision the sisters look at you in horror as they catch you allowing a man make use of your mouth for his pleasure. Despite the redness overtaking your face as humiliation strikes you, heat and wetness pools between your legs. You never thought you’ll grow aroused from simply thinking of something like that. Your reaction, of course, did not evade Venti’s sights.

                            “You seem to like that idea.” Chuckles Venti. He snaps his pelvis forward, and your throat instinctively contracts around his hard cock, and you nearly take him out of your mouth when he grabs the back of your head and forces you back to choke on him. A groan tumbles out of his lips, and he throws his head back, marveling at your discomfort and struggle. You splutter and gasp around him, globs of saliva trickling down from your mouth and dropping on the pavement. With great struggle, your nails dug against his waist as you pry yourself away from his member.

    It’s much harder than you originally thought. The very moment his thickness leaves your throat, a feeling of hollowness graces in your canal. You slowly move to take him out of your craving mouth, but your tongue refuse to leave his cock. It doesn’t cease pleasuring him, the pink muscle gliding across every angry vein popping along his manhood. You already miss the taste of his precum when you haven’t even taken him out.

                   Venti tilts his head to the side. Despite the color of pink tinting his cheeks and the tip of his nose, a look of satisfaction and mockery is palpable over his face. “Oh? What’s this? I was sure you were going to reprimand me for my words. Or could it be . . . ” He trails off as a speckle of mischief glimmers in his teal hues. “ . . . that you don’t want to do anything else but suck my cock?”

            The corners of your eyes turn to slits as you aim a scorching glower. Your hands fall to his lower garment, scrunching the material in your vice hold as you abandon any thoughts of removing his cock from your mouth.

                  You lean forward, diving in to take all of him until your nose hits his pelvis, his balls grazing your chin, and he’s back to filling your throat. You move your head back and forth, choking yourself with his cock. A string of profanities breezes past his huffing lips, and he refrains from gripping your hair and taking control of your movement.

Most of the time, Venti would lose all self-restraint and fuck your mouth without so much of a thought about you, too drunken with the pleasure your wet cavern was providing. Despite the absence of his erratic pounding, you still struggle on accommodating him. For someone with a short stature, his size never fails to surprise you or make things difficult for you whenever he enters your eager cunt or guides his length to your salivating mouth.

                        Your muffled moans threaten to reverberate through the Church. The taste and scent of his precum sends you in a daze. You drool all over his length like a dog would as your mind clouds with lust. Your hand slides your clothed folds earnestly rubs against your palm, trying to ease the arousal with the little friction you can give it. You can feel your slickness had oozed out of your

            “Ah – ah – aah, you know that’s not allowed my muse.” Venti takes a handful of your hair and pulls his cock out of your mouth. A string of saliva connects your tongue from the tip of his cock. A glob of your slobber and a thick pearl of his precum drops to the ground, and you couldn’t help but whine at the loss of his length in your mouth.

   He snickers shamelessly at your cock hungry expression. “My, my, that's the expression I adore. And I haven’t even have my cock inside you yet.” Chuckles Venti. He raises your chin with his forefinger, tilting his head to the side. His braids sway with his motion, the teal tips seemingly shining under the moonlight. “Do you want me to?”

                      You earnestly nod your head, your cunt clamping clenches around nothing. “Yes,” You whimper.

                                   “Beg, then.” Venti sneers. He takes his shaft and presses the head of his cock, smearing his juice against your lips. Your tongue darts out to lick him but he retracts, opting to slap his hardness against your face. “No cheating, my muse.” He warns, one eye closing to irk you. “Beg for me to fuck you – ” He brings his cock down to the side of your face, leaving precum in its wake. “ – behind the church, my church.”

                                    Hearing his words had your cunt pulsating. You didn’t know why you find it exciting Venti wants to screw you silly behind the very church the Favonius constructed to worship him. Would the sisters look at you differently if they see you whoring yourseld out to a Bard? No doubt about it. They'll be repulsed at the very sight of you and whisper ill things behind your back ("I bet she lets him takes her anywhere, that filthy woman," "I don't doubt they'll try to sneak inside the church and defile the altar").

         Who cares about what they think? You think as you gaze hazily at Venti’s member. Its head throbs before you, ready to take you at after conceding to his request. I’m worshiping the Lord Barbatos in a way they can’t.

                  You swallow the saliva that collected in your mouth and raise your head to lock eyes with him, thick tears accumulating at the corner of your eyes and a small amount of his cum leaking down your lower lip. “Fuck me, Venti.” You plead, desperate for him to mount you. Your hands come to grip his shorts, tugging at it. “I want your cock inside me, I want you to fuck me behind the church. Fill me with your cum, Lord Barbatos. I need you so bad, please, please, please.”

                                That seems to strike a nerve within Venti. You gasp as Venti pins you to the pavement, pulling your skirt down and pushing aside your sloshed underwear. You feel your juices stick between your thighs. Venti hums in delight at the sight.

                  “The Lord Barbatos is most pleased with you, [ Your Name ].” Venti lines his cock up your hole, easing in slowly. His smirk widens when your whimpering spikes in resonance as he enters you. “And for that, he bestows upon you his blessing. Take it all, and take it well.”

[flareish]

Rival

akaashi x reader

summary: you and akaashi are fighting for that #1 class rank. however there is not just a scholarship at stake here but some deeply hidden feelings too

genre: rivals to lovers

word count: 2.1k

warnings: kissing, there is a kinda sexual joke

a/n: ahhh! my first request thank you so much! I haven’t written for akaashi yet but he is so great so I hope this does him justice. Love our pretty setters. 

Rage consumes you. You want to throw Akaashi out of the wall of windows right now. It’s only one test you tell yourself. One test that he managed to scrape in one point higher than you. You got 99% and somehow this idiot gets 100%. Quickly putting your stuff away you try and slip out of class before you he finds out. You would like to avoid his snarky remarks. 

“Oh, that’s a pretty good score.” Too late. Akaashi has appeared from behind you, smugness ran through his sarcastic comment. You compose yourself and bounce right back.

“Thought I’d give you a little something since I’ve been crushing your scores lately.” You fire back. He’s not the only one who can play at this game.

“Careful you might just give the spot away at this point.” That spot being #1 in class rank as well as the hefty academic scholarship that goes with it. The spot you’ve occupied for the past two years and suddenly this guy comes out of nowhere and tries to take it from you, right before it really matters. 

“Haha. Well some of us actually have stuff to do. Have fun playing with your balls.” You walk straight past him and out the class. He held a smug grin the whole time. No matter what you did it never left his face. The amount of insults you’ve thrown at each other and every time it’s you who always gets bested. 

Anger fueling your walk to the point onlookers might think you were exercising, not walking home from school. You make it home in record time. As soon as you’re in your room you immediately start studying. You’ve never had to study this hard before in your life. You don’t mean to sound conceded but academics just kinda came easy to you. Sure, you had your rough patches but you just seemed to absorb information. You didn’t really have many other passions either but your parents always said that could come later right now isn’t for fun and games it is for learning. So learn you did. 

The next day, your teacher had started a new project and decided to assign partners. 

“Akaashi and Y/N. You two will be working together.” What did you do to deserve this? You remain in your seat waiting for him to come over but he never does. You look over and see him still sat there, reclined back in his seat talking with Bokuto who sat behind him. That’s when you realize he is waiting for you to move over there. Cocky bastard. Taking a deep breath, you swallow your pride and move over there.

“Please don’t rush, I would hate for you to strain yourself.” You snap sitting down. “That’s so great you got the hint, I wasn’t planning on getting up. Thank you for being so obedient.” Still wearing that grin. Oh, what you would do to slap it off of his face. You ignore him and start working on the project. He simply resumes his conversation with Bokuto, who never does the projects anyway. Seems like you will be doing this all by yourself. Half of you is tempted to purposefully fail but then it would just hurt your grade too. Although it would be pretty funny to see his face. He ignored you for the rest of the class. Once again you part ways.

When you go home and open your computer to continue working on the project to find that it has been already done. Did he seriously not lift a finger in class just to do a rush job right before his volleyball practice. You roll your eyes before reading through his work. You realize it hadn’t been a rush job at all but was perfect. Now you weren’t sure to be happy he actually did it or pissed that it was better than what you could have done. 

After you’ve cooled down a bit you take a moment to think. Maybe he isn’t as bad as you think. You’ve never taken the time to think about why he is doing this. You just immediately jumped on that he was out to get you. That’s pretty childish now you think about it. Maybe he really needs this academic scholarship so he can go to college. There is no way you can be nice to him but perhaps you could be tolerant. You weren’t giving him that scholarship though. No matter how much he needed it, you did too. 

The next day in class you are determined to stick by your discovery. With it including being nicer to Akaashi. You were talking to your friend when he came into the classroom.

“You’re so loud Y/N I swear I could hear you from across the school.” You don’t say anything just look at him and smile. You almost see his grin falter, you’re not sure if he is surprised or scared at your smile.

“Wow have I finally broken you.” You keep ignoring him. This annoys him and he pokes you. You swat at him and he chuckles before walking off. Your friend laughs at the two of you. The teacher came into the room and everyone quickly settled down and class began. You could feel Akaashi’s stare from across the room but you didn’t dare look at him.

When class ended you are your friend took your time and ended up being the last people in the classroom.

“So is ignoring him your next idea?” Your friend asks amused by the earlier interaction, “Can’t beat him then just will him out of existence.”

“No, I’m trying to be a nicer person and embrace competition.” Your friend bursts out laughing.

“That’s not going to last long. Before you know it you will be at his throat again.”

“I don’t know. Think why does he want to be #1 so badly? The scholarship. He probably needs it for college.” You say seriously.

“Ha! As if.” Your friend laughs as if she knows something you don’t.

“Why is he secretly loaded of something?” You ask kinda curious as you pack up your stuff.

“I don’t know about that but I do know he already has multiple athletic scholarships lined up.” You pause at that.

“What?” You are in complete and utter disbelief. If he didn’t need this scholarship what was the point in stealing it from you. Did he seriously hate you that much? You were beyond angry now. You throw your stuff in your bag messily and march out of the class room heading straight for the gyms. If he wanted this scholarship so badly from you, you were going to get an answer. 

As you near the gyms however you hear something that stops you in your tracks.

“Are you seriously going to study for all those classes tonight?” One of his teammates asked in shock.

“He’s got to if he wants to keep up with Y/N.” Another teases. You make sure you are out of sight and continue listening in. 

“Wait why do you compete with Y/N. I thought you were a jock, not a nerd.” You hear laughter and something being thrown at someone. 

“Can’t you see? Our Akaashi is smitten!” You recognize Bokuto’s voice.

“Shut up you dumb owl.” Akaashi didn’t deny it though.

“He’s so crazy for them that he decided to bring his class ranking up so they would notice him,” Bokuto breaks into laughter “But now they just hate him. We got a real  player here, am I right.”

You hear Akaashi yell at him and then you hear some hitting and decide to leave before you got caught. However, not once did you hear Akaashi deny it. He was just silent and then would yell at them for outing him. For telling the truth.

Akaashi likes you.

What an idiot. Who decides the way about trying to get to know someone is by threatening their biggest goal?! You can’t deny though he’s not the only smitten one. Although lately, you have absolutely hated him, before all this you actually had a crush on him. You never acted on it because you were so busy with academics. Is now a second chance? You decided to wait for him after practice. 

By some miracle he is the last one left in the gym, meaning you can confront him without an audience.

“What are you waiting to jump me? I’ll warn you I’m not afraid to fight back.” He snapped at you but you kept quiet. This silence was driving him crazy. At least when you were arguing back with him you were acknowledging him but now. It was like he didn’t exist all over again. He was about to lose it when you spoke up. 

“You know there are better ways to gain someone affection than trying to take the scholarship that they have been working towards for the past three years away from them.” It was your turn to shoot him a smug look. He looks like a deer caught in headlights. For once you’ve caught him off guard, good and proper.

“Wha-Who said I wanted your affections.” He tried to play it off but it was written all over his face. He truly did like you.

“You know I would have said yes.” You say nonchalantly as you begin to walk away. He snaps out of his confused stupor and grabs your arm, turning you around.

“What did you just say.” No longer is he embarrassed or caught off guard but intense and desperate. Like he had misheard what you just said. Like it was a dream.

“That maybe if you had just asked me, I would have said yes.” You try to be as confident as you were a moment ago but that was hard with a blush spreading across your cheeks.

“And what about right now?” He asked, almost pleaded. This was no longer the Akaashi you had known the past year. This was something different. Something raw and intense. 

“What?” You were shocked. Was he seriously about to ask you out? Like this?

“All I ever wanted was you to talk to me. I thought that if I got my rank up that you would respect me, that I’d be smart enough to hold a conversation with you. But no matter how high my rank went, it never felt good enough so I decided that #2 would be the greatest spot I could reach. Then instead of getting you admiration and praise, you thought I was trying to steal your spot. Maybe I should have just explained then that I wasn’t but you were actually talking to me. What if after I explained it we just went back to the way it was before. Suddenly we had some common ground, so I just kept going. When you stopped talking to me today, I hated it so much. So please I know our relationship is in a weird place and we’re not even friends but-” He trailed off. He didn’t even know what he was begging for. 

It was so strange to see him like this. Normally, even with his friends, he was guarded, quick-witted, confident. Now he was so vulnerable. It sparked something in you. At first, it was just a quick thought in your brain but before you knew it your body was moving. Acting on it.

You pulled your arm out of his grasp and with it his face dropped, thinking this was you rejecting him. You didn’t pay it any mind and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling his stupidy tall body down.

With that, you kissed him.

He was frozen for a moment before jumping back to life. His hands came up to your face and he kissed you back as if he would never get the chance to again. He definitely wasn’t expecting this but he wasn’t going to waste this once in a lifetime opportunity. Eventually, you pulled away and his lips chased yours back. You caught his eyes and he relented. 

“Maybe we could work something out.” You say began a smug smile. You run your hand down his side and into his pocket, his eyes blew wide in surprise not really sure what you were doing. You pulled his phone out of the pocket and started putting your number in.

“Call me tonight.” When you handed him his phone back he matched your smug smile with one of his own. 

“You bet.” He said as he watched you walk off. Once your back was turned you couldn’t help but let out a giddy giggle.

[lavienjin]

the assistant | kth

banner made by me!

Pairing: Assistant!Kim Taehyung x Boss!fem reader Warnings: 18+ content in the form of: unprotected sex • oral sex (f receiving) • dirty talk & name calling • spitting • creampie • spanking • choking Summary: Kim Taehyung is your assistant and moonlights as a masseuse in the evening. When you came to the office the morning after a bad date, all you wanted is his hands all over your body. Word Count: 3,874 Mobile: AO3

masterlist | one | two

Taehyung snapped to attention when he heard the familiar click of heels on the marble floor. He stood up abruptly, bowing at the woman that emerged through the threshold. Your tan coat perched on your shoulders fluttered as you walked, your hips swaying with every step. You wore a scowl on your face, a rather uncommon occurrence and Taehyung wondered if the date you had the night before was that bad.

You stopped in front of his desk. "Assistant Kim," you nodded, smiling lopsidedly in his direction. "How are you this morning?"

"Very well, madam," he bowed again. He turned around to pick up a stack of papers and you groaned slightly at the amount of work ahead of you. "Here are the Jeon accounts that need reviewing."

He placed the first stack of papers on your hands before grabbing more. "Mr. Jung needs your signature for the transfer and you need to approve Mr. Kim- yes- Mr. Kim Seokjin's time off request." Before you could ask, Taehyung interjected you by adding: "It's his anniversary, madam."

Taehyung prattled on, the mountain of papers growing in your hands. Your phone buzzed twice, signifying an incoming message and your head throbbed. You closed your eyes for a minute. Forcing a smile, you nod at Taehyung, promising that the work will get done before you leave.

As he opened the door to your office, you heard him call your name. He cleared his throat, a blush starting to creep on his features, staring resolutely at the flooring. "How was your date, madam?"

You groaned louder, the headache bloomed mercilessly. You barely started the day and already you wanted to leave. "Messy," was your response.

Taehyung seemed to want to know more but decided against it. Instead, he cleared his throat again, stepping forward and closing the oak door behind him. "Will you be needing my services this evening, madam?"

Your heart quickened at the thought of his hands on your body, stroking it gently the way he only knew how. Your headache disappeared momentarily, replaced by the dizzying smell that came from your assistant's cologne. "Yes," you said, barely a whisper. Taehyung nodded and bowed, politely leaving you with thoughts of his sweaty figure, his touches burning through your skin. All the more reason for you to quickly finish your work.

"Yes!" you cried out euphorically, eyes closing and head thrown back. Taehyung's hands were on your back, pressing gently to get rid of the tight knots that were starting to form while you sat hunched over your computer desk. The nightmare date long forgotten after the busy work day.

"Too hard, madam?"

"Not at all! Assistant Kim, this is wonderful," you drawled, feeling the stress melt away with every press of his hands on your shoulders.

Who knew that Taehyung practiced the art of massages? He was a bonafide masseuse, even receiving an award for his magic hands, you found out only recently. Your friend had badgered you about getting a massage to alleviate the stress from your job before you conceded. She took you to her favourite massage parlor.

"Book Mr. Kim!" she reminded you. "His hands are out of this world."

"A male masseuse? I don't think so," you halted your appointment while glaring daggers at your friend. She rolled her eyes in response, slapping your shoulder gently.

"I'm serious! I'm not doing it," you pouted. Your friend had other plans and booked an appointment for you anyway and you had scowled through lunch with her.

To your surprise, when your scheduled time arrived, for one Mr. Kim, you saw the dark curls that you were far too familiar with. The two of you stared at each other, mouth agape.

"Assistant Kim?" you screeched, your body moving backwards as you took him in. He was in his robes, a small expanse of his exposed chest making you blush.

"Madam?" he called after you. His brown eyes were wide with shock and he dragged his hands through his hair, looking away quickly from where you stood. "I- I'll be your masseuse this evening, madam. I'll be in your care," he bowed.

Your instincts had told you to run but the magnetic tension pulled you in. Within a minute, you were on the massage table, fully clothed of course. It was awkward at first, your subordinate putting his hands on you, they shook while working through every knot on your body. You begrudgingly admitted to yourself that your friend had been right. Regardless of the awkwardness that existed in the room, you were feeling much more relaxed than you've ever been in your life. It's nice letting someone else take charge for once.

Over time, you started to realize what an asset he was and tried to book him at every chance you got. Unfortunately, so did every woman in your city. Taehyung was handsome, there was no doubt about it, his dimpled smile and dark curls could make anyone fall in love with him. Over the past few months, you've lost count over the number of flowers that would be addressed to one "Kim Taehyung" and a myriad of other presents that he tried to discreetly hide from you. It was amusing and better yet, a win-win situation… Taehyung got all the girls' attention and the number of clients you have were doubled in size. You suppose you have his hands to thank.

One drunken night, Taehyung admitted that he had to quit moonlighting as a masseuse because it got too much. It got to a point where he was so uncomfortable that he had to only take married or elderly women. There was no way to confirm if one was married, and his stress doubled, asking pointed questions about their husbands. When it got too much, he tearily handed his two weeks notice, leaving his masseuse days behind. You were heartbroken when he told the story and asked if he would be willing to work "overtime" at your house to cover the cost of living in the city. He was too keen to agree.

"Madam, that'ssa great idea," he slurred his words before falling asleep on his table. You footed the bill that night and helped drag his ass back home.

The morning after was quite unnerving for him, seeing that he woke up on the couch of his boss' apartment, the memories of the night slamming into his head.

"Hangover soup?" you called, startling him. Taehyung winced at your voice but turned towards it anyway. You stood in the kitchen, apron around your waist as your eyes fixed on the pot in front of you. 

It was a solemn gesture, a person simply taking care of the other. But Taehyung couldn't help the surge of emotions. His heart beat fast while he looked at you, a sense of longing filling his heart. All he wanted to do was hug you from behind, imagining the life the two of you will lead as he watched you cook in the kitchen.

"Hope you like it spicy!" you laughed, pouring a bowl for him and placing it on the table. "Eat up, Assistant Kim, or it will get cold. We have much to do at work today."

"We do?" he asked blankly.

"Yes, Assistant Kim," you smiled amusedly. "We need to write you a new contract."

Was it a misuse of power? You weren't sure but your worries tend to melt away as he dug his hands all over your back. You even bought him a massage table and you let him have as much access to any items as he may need.

So there you are again, in the middle of your apartment living room, Taehyung's large, veiny hands whisking your knots away as you whine underneath him. You had no idea the growing erection that comes with hearing your moans or the way Taehyung looked at you from behind, trying to keep himself from moaning as his eyes darken with need. You definitely didn't know about the late nights he'd spend after leaving your place, working his way to orgasm after orgasm as he replays the sounds you make in his mind. Taehyung wished every night that you'd understand his feelings, but you go on meaningless blind dates to appease your father and though there wasn't anyone that suited your fancy, he knew it was only a matter of time. There were a lot of rich bachelors out there and Taehyung didn't even graduate college.

Stifling a moan, Taehyung worked his way downwards on your back, squeezing the tense area carefully close to your spine.

"Taehyung," you whined and your eyes snapped open, silently praying that he didn't hear the way his name dripped with pleasure. 

Taehyung's hand stilled and you knew you fucked up. You didn't mean to moan, usually saving the time for after he left. You hear his shallow breathing, the only accompaniment to your equally panicked state. You've never called him by his name.

"My name is Kim Taehyung. It's nice to meet you madam. I'll be replacing Mr. Min from now on."

Your first impression of him wasn't great. You thought he was a flirt and would be very poor at his job. His hair was blonde then, a boyish charm still on his face. Taehyung seemed desperate for the job and you purse your lips at his qualifications. It wasn't much, but he stated that he was a hard worker and the references that he brought were stellar. You took a chance on him and you were grateful for that decision.

He proved you right in a matter of a week. Taehyung was respectful to the female clients, even though they tend to dress a bit more provocatively since his arrival. He also spoke two languages, surprising you when he spoke casually to a foreign man, giving him directions. When you asked why he didn't put it in his resume, he simply shrugged.

Your previous assistant wasn't bad, but that was after spending the better part of a decade working for you. Taehyung was able to pick things up in a matter of a month and you were grateful for his attention to detail when it got busy. His briefings were always… well, brief. Taehyung would give you all the necessary info in a span of five minutes. He wasted none of your time and you were grateful.

'Assistant Kim, please help me bring in the coffee for everyone,'

'Assistant Kim, these files need sorting out, would you kindly help me with that?'

'Assistant Kim, would you mind checking on Margaret?'

It was always 'Assistant Kim' this and 'Assistant Kim' that. You've never uttered his birth name, fearing that he'd hear. That he'd know of the nights you'd spend in bed, twisting your body as you came on your fingers, pretending desperately it was his cock instead.

So, now what? You broke your one rule when it came to your assistant. You lay face down, too mortified to get up, knowing the colour of your cheeks weren't pink because of the blush. He'd read you too well.

Taehyung cleared his throat, looking away quickly to a spot on the wall. "Madam, please feel free to get up, I will now take my leave."

You had a few seconds to decide. Would you beg him to stay? Should you laugh and pretend it didn't happen? Should you watch him leave?

You heard him shuffle hastily across your apartment and stopped abruptly to fumble for his things. And you chose. It was the easiest decision in the world.

"Taehyung," you called out again, sitting up abruptly on the massage table. You saw him freeze, turning around slowly. You couldn't go back now. You couldn't hide the feelings that were threatening to burst out of your chest.

"Taehyung, please stay," you tried again, seeing how his mouth opened and closed in shock.

Throwing caution to the wind, you got up and strode towards him, swaying your hips seductively. When you were millimeters apart, you looked up through your lashes, tilting your head slightly. His eyes searched your features for confirmation; that this feeling in his chest matched yours. But the pull was too strong and in a heartbeat, you found his tongue in your mouth, his hands on the side of your face, holding you close.

Taehyung smelled and tasted like heaven. His cologne, a deep woodsy smell, penetrated your nose with every shallow breath you take. His tongue explored your mouth, teasing your own tongue that made you weak in the knees. Needing air, the two of you pulled apart, gasping at the sudden lack of warmth.

You stare at his features, looking for a sign of regret or something worse- hatred. But his eyes mirrored yours in adoration and his hands were reaching for you. You fell to his embrace, his lips on your neck as he lifted you up, moving towards the table, his lips never leaving your body. 

He sets you down gently, arms steadying your waist as he ravishes your mouth, nipping your lower lip and teasing your tongue with his.

You moaned wantonly under his grasp, losing all sense of control in an instant. It was his turn to take the reins. You were tired of being in charge all the time. You were pliant under his touch, a trail of fire spreading across your body where he kissed you.

You moaned as his kisses traveled down to your collarbone, his fingers making quick work of unbuttoning your blouse. He left you then, his kisses stopped while he marveled at your body. You glistened under the pale low light, your eyes trained towards him. He groaned at the sight and you were burning once more, feeling a sharp pang of pain as he marked you on the swell of your breasts, unclasping your bra in the process.

"Taehyung-" you gasped when his mouth found your hardened nipple, swirling the bud around his tongue. His fingers pinched the other one, your chest thrusted forward to get more of the sensation.

"I love it when you call me by my name," he growled into your skin. He traveled still, kissing your stomach as he knelt in front of your skirt, salivating at the scent of your wet cunt.

Taehyung dove in, marks bloomed where his kisses landed on your thighs. He ripped your panties, the seams no match for his strength. You keened at the sudden chill, your spine tingling with excitement.

"Look at this cunt, so wet for me," he groaned, teasing his fingers in front of your entrance, coating them in your juices. You buck your hips, grinding slightly on the table, as you hear the normally calm Taehyung so unhinged at the sight of you.

He licked a stripe from your clit to your entrance, nipping lightly at your folds before pushing them apart with his fingers. "Pretty cunt," he murmured as his tongue found your clit, making figure eights on the sensitive nub.

You tug at his hair, the heat spreading through your body as a familiar coil in your stomach forms. His name was a prayer on your lips. "Taehyung- please," you gasp, feeling the familiar edge blooming with each swipe of his tongue.

Taehyung seemed to read your mind and with a chuckle, he slipped a finger inside of you. "Fuck, you're so tight."

His hand found its way to your waist, steadying you once more as you buck wildly at the sensation. When Taehyung slipped another finger in, it took everything in you not to rip his hair off. He was different from your previous lovers, who never took the time to make you feel so good. Taehyung alternated between feeling the sensitive bundle of nerves and scissoring you, preparing you for what's to come.

You had no time to warn him besides a screech, his name in myriads of incoherent sentences. The coil had snapped and you were careening over the edge with pleasure, staining the front of his shirt with your juices. Through it all, Taehyung continued to suck on your clit, his fingers slowing down just slightly to ease you through your orgasm.

"T-Taehyung- ah, please," you whined. Your cunt was spasming with each thrust, gasping for air every time he flicked your clit with his tongue.

Taehyung stopped when he heard your whines, kissing your thighs. He got up and leaned over you, his face glistening with your arousal. His lips were swollen from use. His dark curls were as wild as his eyes. It was going to be a long night.

His mouth crashed into yours, letting you have a taste of your juices. "Open," he commanded and you opened your mouth. He gathered saliva and mixed them with your taste before spitting it in your mouth.

"Taste so good, huh? Yes, you taste so good," he murmured, watching the way you swallow the mixture, moaning when it went down your throat.

He stroked your cheek before his hand danced around your throat, squeezing lightly to experiment. You gasped in a mix of surprise and pleasure. You were discovering a lot of new pleasures.

Your gasp earned a low chuckle from Taehyung as he leaned over to whisper in your ear. "Tell me, and don't try to deny it - " he started, squeezing your throat - "who do you think of when you touch yourself?"

"Y-You," you responded meekly. You were burning from the inside out, an itch you couldn't quite scratch. "I think of you every night."

Taehyung nipped at your earlobe, sending fresh shivers down your spine. His warm breath tickled your neck and you knew instantly. You're completely wrapped around his finger. Pliant, obedient, submissive.

"Naughty girl," he growled.

You were so focused on his hand on your neck and his whispers in your ear that you hadn't realized that his pants were off. You felt the head poking at your entrance, lubricating his length against your pussy.

"Watch my cock fill you up," he commanded, tilting your chin down.

You saw his thick cock, veins running down the shaft, as it glided inside you. You were instantly filled to the brim, your legs shaking as he thrusted, hilting instantly. "Taehyung- ah!" was all you could manage.

"You take my cock so well." 

You leaned back on your elbows, waiting for him to move. Taehyung looped his toned arms around your thighs, dragging you into him. He groaned, watching your pussy twitching to accommodate his girth.

He moved slowly at first, his free hand coming to pinch and rub soothing circles on your clit. You sobbed at the stimuli, feeling like you were going to cum any time soon. Taehyung's grip tightened on your neck and he stopped completely.

"Dirty fucking slut," he spat, punctuating each word with squeezes on your throat. Not enough to cut off oxygen, but enough that your eyes started rolling to the back of your head. "You were about to cum, weren't you?"

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "You cum only when I tell you to."

You whimpered affirmations, grinding your pussy into his length. Taehyung's eyes widened at the sight. His boss, someone he greatly admired, was fucking herself into him. Your walls clenched deliciously on his shaft and he groaned, moving to match your rhythm. Your vision swims, stars dancing when you close your eyes, as you feel his pace increasing.

Every slap of skin is punctuated with a growl, his hands digging deeper until you were sure there would be bruises in the morning. Taehyung slowed his thrusts and flipped you over, your feet touching the cold marble floor as your arms brace for impact on the table. He chuckled watching you gasp at the sudden change of position, his cock never slipping out of you. He held your hips once more, squeezing once to let you know he's about to continue. And his brutal thrusts returned, the new position giving him ample access to the deepest part of your pussy.

Your knuckles turned white as you held on the massage table for dear life, moaning expletives at the way he's fucking you. It didn't take long for your stomach to coil, the familiar feeling of your high familiar to you. 

"Taehyung," you plead, rutting against his thrusts, your pussy clenching tightly. "Please, can I cum?"

You peeked behind your shoulder to find his devilish grin, before the sting on your ass threw your head back. "Cum," he commanded simply.

With a few more thrusts, you arched your back as you found your release for the second time that night, his name uttered in a million different ways. Taehyung growled as he helped you ease you through your high, never stopping his punishing pace. Seeing your thighs shook was enough for him to hurtle towards his own orgasm, yelping your name as he painted your walls white. 

Taehyung fucked you for a little while before gently removing himself from you. "Fuuuuck," he drawled, watching your juices already spilling down the length of your legs.

He regained some of his senses and took the towel hanging from the massage table. It's primary use was to clean off any oil left on your body. But a towel is a towel. Your breath was still ragged, exhaustion settling in your bones as what you just did dawned on you.

You fucked your secretary.

The blush crept up your cheeks and you stayed as still as possible when you felt Taehyung leaned in front of your core, wiping the mess away slowly. You hid your face against your hands as he stood, placing the towel in a nearby hamper you've come to prepare when he comes to your place for a massage.

Taehyung felt the tension radiating from your body and he bit his lip, approaching cautiously after pulling his trousers on. 

"Madam? Are you okay?" he asked as he came closer, kissing your shoulder, your blouse folded neatly next to your head.

You stood up quickly, Taehyung jumped back in surprise with a yelp. You turned your eyes slowly to his, a mask of professionalism back on your face. You cleared your throat, shrugging on your blouse as you stepped away from the man.

"That will be all for tonight, Assistant Kim," you called over your shoulder as you walked away.

Taehyung's face fell, unsure of how to proceed. His brows furrowed to the center of his forehead, his mouth gaped open a few times, clearly trying to find the words as you walked away. Your voice rang in his ears and he finally understood that he's been dismissed. As though your activities were a meeting and you were discussing his performance.

Feeling the lump in his throat, Taehyung hurriedly gathered his things, almost tripping when he heard the shower running faintly. He slammed the door on his way out, anger finally rising through his body. He stomped down the stairs of your apartment building, not bothering to take the elevator. Unbeknownst to him, you were watching from your window, your apartment giving the perfect view of the entrance. You watch your assistant punch an electrical pole in frustration and you wonder just how badly you've fucked up.

all works © lavienjin love my work? don't forget to reblog, like, and share! want to know when the newest update comes? join the permanent taglist! Posted on Tumblr: 04.18.21 at 11:11pm CST

[padfoot-and-prongsie]

Secret’s Out || Oliver Wood

Character: Oliver Wood

Word Count: 3.2k

Requested: Yes @jensenslight​

Summary: After a few drinks too many at a party, you end up drunkenly confessing your feelings to Oliver Wood.

Warnings: Underage drinking, mentions of sex, swearing

Disclaimer: I did not make this gif, credit to the creative person who did

A/N: Holy crap, 9 freakin pages. I never expected it to get that long but it was honestly so much to fun write. Let me know what you think, your comments always make my day and keep me encouraged to continue writing <3

Please do not copy or steal my work. Reblogs are just fine :)

You laughed loudly with your friends, pushing through the crowd of students after the quidditch match. Thousands of footsteps thundered down the stairs of the stadium, the air filled with shouts of excitement and frustrated groans at the results of the game.

Gryfindor had won 230-110, crushing Slytherin and deflating their heads after the way they had pummeled the red and gold the year before. You stepped out of the stadium and almost instantly deviated away from where the rest of the mob was moving towards Hogwarts. Instead, you made your way towards the locker rooms, waiting for your friends Alicia and Angelina to come out. 

The locker room opened with a bang and you instantly stepped forward, ready to congratulate the girls, but instead found yourself face to face with Oliver Wood. 

He took a step back in surprise. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, sending you a small smile. “Waiting for Spinnet and Johnson?”

Involuntarily your heart raced and your cheeks burned red. “Uh hi,” you replied back awkwardly, “and uh yes, y-yes I am.” 

You wanted to slap yourself. Why did you always have to clam up around him? Why couldn’t you just speak like a normal person?

Oliver shot you an odd look, his brows furrowing in concern.

“Game good- I-I mean good game,” you quickly stuttered, your cheeks only darkening more. “You played well.”

His mouth quirked up in a smile. “Thanks,” he said, a slight spark of amusement in his eyes. “You going to the party later?”

You nodded, deciding that it would be safest if you didn’t speak around him. 

Whenever Gryfindor won there was almost always a wild party in the common room to follow. But the ones after Slytherin were always the biggest, loudest, and had the most alcohol. With your best friends being on the team, you never missed out on the after parties.

“Well I’m going to head up and shower,” Oliver said, running a hand through his hair.

You tried to keep yourself composed but couldn’t help but stare gawkingly at the way his muscles tightened against his shirt, which was slightly damp and see through with sweat. Oh how you wished you could be the one running your fingers through his air, kissing the lips that were turned up in a slight smile. You wanted him so bad, yet he could never know. You could never tell him the secret that you had been in love with him for the past three years. Only Alicia and Angelina could ever know that.

“I’ll see you later then Y/N,” Oliver said with a slight wave, before turning and heading up towards the castle, leaving you flustered, red faced, and heart racing, leaning beside the locker room door.

You watched him go, so drawn up in your fantasies and daydreams that you didn’t notice the locker room door open once more with Alicia and Angelina loudly stepping out. They on the other hand noticed you instantly, shooting each other a knowing look when they saw the direction in which you were staring.

“Did you two have a nice chat?” Angelina asked, causing you to jump violently.

“Merlin Ang, you scared me,” you said, placing a hand over your racing heart. “I didn’t even notice you two come out.”

Alicia threw a look in the direction Oliver had gone. “I wonder why,” she teased. 

“Oh him?” you asked, a bad attempt to feign disinterest.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/N,” Angelina said, rolling her eyes. “Your face looks like a tomato and when we came out you were all but drooling over him.”

“I was not!” You defended.

Alicia raised an eyebrow. 

“Okay, fine, maybe just a little,” you conceded.

“Or a lot,” Alicia muttered, laughing loudly as she dodged your shove.

“Shut up Spinnet,” you grumbled, knowing she never would.

“If you would just get the guts to talk to him…” Angelina tried.

“You know I can’t do that, Ang,” you said, the three of you beginning to walk back towards the castle. “I clam up and can barely form words when I’m around him.”

“We know,” they both said, having had to jump in for you and talk their way out of many awkward conversations with Oliver.

“Then you know why I can’t talk to him,” you said in exasperation.

“But what if he likes you back?” Alicia asked, “you’ll never know if you don’t woman up and speak with him.”

“Alicia,” you said pointedly, “he only ever sees me when I’m stuttering, red faced, and can barely form a sentence.”

She shrugged. “True, but stranger things have happened.”

~

Oliver stepped into the common room a half hour later to loud cheers and music. It seemed the entire school was there, somehow managing to fit into the small space.

Lights were flashing, music was pounding, and Oliver really hoped the quieting charms they had but on the walls of the room were working or they were sure to be busted.

Someone ran by him and he stretched out his arm to block them. He looked down at the third year, her hand clenching a red solo cup filled with whatever crazy alcohol concoction Fred and George had whipped up.

“I think you're a bit under aged,” Oliver said, plucking the drink from her hand.

Her eyes narrowed. “So are you,” she snapped back.

Oliver gave a slight nod of agreement. “Excellent point, but that sign over there says fifth years and above, and last I checked you don’t seem to reach those requirements.”

“Well I don’t give a fuck,” she spat, stamping her foot. 

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he sighed. “Head on up stairs before a prefect finds you. In a couple of years you can make your own rules.”

She sent him a rather rude gesture, before storming up the stairs. Oliver didn’t doubt she would try to sneak back down in a few minutes.

Angelina raised her eyebrows as a girl angrily shoved past her on the stairs. She looked out, noting Oliver standing there, rubbing his forehead with a sigh.

“Ruining the fun for someone already, Wood?” Angelina asked, plucking the drink from his hand and taking a sip.

Oliver turned, noting you and Alicia were a few steps behind her.

“It was a third year,” he said in exasperation.

Angelina raised an eyebrow. “You let us in back then.”

“Because you were on the team,” Oliver argued, “and like the deal we made with Potter, you weren’t supposed to drink.”

“As if we ever listened to that,” Angelina scoffed.

She took another sip from the drink. “Damn, the Weasley’s really out did themselves this time.”

“Y/N, Alicia, wanna go get a drink?” Angelina asked.

“Sure, why not,” you said, as Alicia nodded beside you.

The three girls stepped past Oliver, with you shooting him a small smile. He smiled back, causing your cheeks to flush red. Oliver noted that with a slight grin. He always found it cute when you blushed.

You reached the makeshift bar with Alicia and Angelina. Alicia, never one for drinking, grabbed a butterbear whilst you Angelina went straight for Fred and George’s jungle juice.

“You’re right Ang, it’s not bad,” you said, taking a sip. “Definitely better than that one they made after the Hufflepuff match.”

Angelina laughed. “That one was horrible! I swear I vomited all night.”

“All night?” you snorted. “You kept at it in McGonagall’s class the next day. I’ve never seen her so mad.”

You finished the rest of your drink and refilled. “Let’s dance Ang.”

Alicia sighed, she was always the one that had to chase after you two all night. Just a couple weeks ago she had to prevent Angelina from stripping, much to Fred’s dismay, when she got particularly drunk one night. She watched as the two of you ran out onto the small makeshift dance floor, swinging your hips and laughing loudly.

Almost an hour later Alicia began to notice the alcohol set in. She grabbed Angelina’s arm, preventing her from falling into the bar as she came over to refill her solo cup.

“I think that’s plenty, Ang,” she chidded, steadying her friend on her feat.

Angelina stuck out her lower lip. “Just one more?”

Alicia gave her a pointed look. “You’re drunk.”

“I know but I really really really really want to make out with Fred but I need another drink to do that.” She argued drunkenly, before bursting out in spontaneous giggles.

“Angelina…” Alicia tried halfheartedly.

“One more mom-” she let out another string of giggles- “just on more.”

Angelina reached an arm over Alicia’s shoulder, her now terrible balance almost sending them both tumbling into the bar, and grabbed a bottle of Firewhiskey.

“Alica, make sure-” Angelina paused, gripping her friend's shoulders as she swayed from side to side. “-that if we end up have sex it’s not in front of too many people, okay?” She broke into another round of giggles, before hobbling back towards the dance floor.

Oliver watched from a few yards away, silently shaking his head at how bad his players looked right now. Both the twins were beyond wasted, and Katie Bell had passed out a few minutes ago. Even Harry, who Oliver had thought would be somewhat smart, had been convinced by the twins to take shots, and after a few cringes, had eventually gotten himself just as drunk as everyone else. Oliver almost had sympathy for him, as he wouldn’t want to be in his shoes when Hermione discovered him hung over the next day.

Oliver sighed, taking a sip from his butterbeer. Like Alicia, he didn’t drink.

Oliver heard a loud catcall from the other side of the room and turned back towards the dance floor where Angelina and Fred were kissing aggressively, seeming to almost be sucking each other’s faces off. He heard Alicia let out a groan.

Upon realizing he hadn’t seen the third musketeer in a while, he scanned the room, silently hoping you hadn’t taken after Angelina and were swapping spit with another guy.

Fortunately that wasn’t the case, and he instead found you stumbling back towards the bar, clearly struggling to stay up right.

You turned, feeling eyes on you. Your heart began to race upon noticing that Oliver was staringing at you. Changing course, you instead stumbled towards him, your brain not entirely aware what you were doing.

“Hi Oliver,” you slurred, “I haven't seen you since I got here.” 

Oliver raised an eyebrow. “Were you looking?”

You giggled loudly. “Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t,” you said coyly, poking his cheek.

Oliver’s eyebrow shot up in surprise by how forward you were.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” he asked, eyeing you in concern.

“More than okay!” you exclaimed drunkenly. “I’m talking like a normal person. Did you notice?”

You are beyond drunk, Oliver thought, but if he was honest with himself he did think your overly bubbly personality was rather cute. He did miss the constant blush you usually had though.

“I did notice,” he said, trying to bite back a smile.

“Good, because I’m not usually like that, it's just when you-” You swayed violently, causing Oliver to reach out and steady you. “It’s just when you’re around.” You finished, taking another sip from your drink.

Now this had caught Oliver’s attention and, as bad as he felt about taking advantage of your drunken state, he asked, “Is that so?”

You nodded vigorously. “Believe it or not I’ve been in love with you since Angelina and Alicia joined the quidditch team, I just never had the guts to tell you.” You laughed loudly as if the action of spilling your deepest darkest secret was actually humorous. 

That was a lot more than Oliver had expected. “In love with me?” He managed to gulp out.

“Yeah,” you said, resting a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. “Angelina said today that I should talk to you, guess she was right.”

Oliver's eyebrows shot up. “Clearly you have had way too much to drink,” he said.

“Don’t worry about me, I have a high alcohol tolerance,” you slurred proudly.

You swayed on your feet, stumbling to catch your balance. Oliver quickly reached out to stable you, holding tightly to your hips.

“High tolerance my ass,” he muttered, deciding that he better get you sat down before you actually fell over.

You let him guide you to a chair, enjoying the feeling of his hand on the small of your back and the tingling sensation that came with it.

“See, I’m fine,” you stated, sitting up right in the chair. You took a long sip from your drink and toppled sideways, giggling madly.

Oliver lunged over to catch you. Propping you upright, he took the cup from your hand. “You are definitely done here,” he said, a light smile playing on his lips.

You stuck out your bottom lip. “Party pooper,” you pouted, “why did I have to fall in love with someone who ruins all the fun?”

He stared at you, the girl who had just confessed twice, without really knowing it, that she was in love with him. You were always the cute girl, the friend of Angelina and Alicia, the one who always seemed to be red faced and unable to speak without a stutter. How had he never seen it before? How had he been so oblivious? The way you looked at him now, lips pouted, eyes feigning sadness, he wanted to kiss you so badly.

“Are you okay Oli?” you ask, reaching out to touch his cheek.

Your words brought him back. “Oli?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow. “That’s new.”

“It’s cute,” you said, grinning proudly, “cute like you.” You poked his nose, but in the action of moving forward fell straight into his chest.

Oliver let out a chuckle, pushing you back into the chair. You gripped his arms for support.

“Damn,” you whispered, feeling his tightened biceps under your hands. 

Oliver looked down at where you were staring and couldn’t help but smile. He looked back up at your face. “You good?” he asked, once he made sure you wouldn’t fall over again.

“Yeah,” you breathed, “but…”

“But..?” Oliver prompted.

“But I really want to kiss you.”

Oliver took a small step back. If he had had any alcohol in his system that would have definitely sobered him up. 

He looked at you, the way your eyes were so hopeful. But he also knew you were drunk, and as much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn’t do anything with you. At least not until you were sober.

“Let’s rain check that, Y/N, okay?” he finally said. “Wait until you’ll at least remember it happened.”

~

You woke up the following morning to a pounding headache and sudden need to vomit. After you came out of the bathroom you finally noticed Alicia, who was fixing her hair in the mirror.

“Where’s Ang?” you yawned flopping back onto your bed and trying to shield your eyes from the light. Everything was so bright.

“With Fred,” she replied simply.

“You didn’t stop her?” You asked, surprised. Alicia was usually the one to keep you two from doing anything stupid.

Alicia shook her head. “She told me not to, plus I was too busy watching you.”

You groaned. “Please don’t tell me I tried to give Jordan a lap dance again.

“Fortunately not,” Alicia giggled, before simply saying, “You were talking to Oliver.”

You shot up right then grabbed your head. Your pounding headache did not like the quick movement. “I did what?!” you exclaimed.

Alicia smiled. “It wasn’t that terrible. He even carried you up here afterwards for me.”

You looked down at your pajamas. You had not been wearing those last night.

Alicia knew what you were thinking. “Don’t worry, I put you in those after he left. I think the shirt you were wearing though is ruined, it had the jungle juice of Fred and George’s spilled all over it.”

“Damn it, damn it, damn it,” you cursed, though you weren’t upset over the shirt. “Please don’t tell me I said anything bad to him.”

Alicia sighed. “Promise me you won’t freak out?”

“Oh Merlin,” you groaned, “don’t tell me I did it.”

“Yeah,” she confirmed, “you kinda spilled the beans.”

“I could barely even talk to him before, now I can’t even be in the same room as him,” you moaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Why didn’t you stop me Alicia?”

“I was going to Y/N, believe me I was, but the way he was looking at you, caring for you, I knew he had to know, and there was no way you would have told him in any other way,” she sadly.

You turned to Alicia, wanting to be angry with her, but her sincere expression, the hope in her eyes, you couldn’t be mad at her for that.

“Cross your fingers your right,” you said quietly.

~

You stepped into the common room shortly after, a pair of sunglasses perched on your nose.

“Hey, Y/N.”

You jumped violently before turning with a feeling of dread to face Oliver.

“Hi Oliver,” you said quietly, falling into step beside him as he walked towards the portrait hole.

“No Oli?” he joked, letting you step through first before following you out into the corridor.

“I’m sorry, what?” you asked.

Oliver shook his head with a smile. “Nevermind.”

You sighed. “I called you that last night, right?”

His face lit up in hope. “You remember?”

You shook your head. “Alicia filled me in this morning,” you said, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

It occurred to you then that that was the first time your face had turned red since being in close contact with Oliver. You hadn’t even stuttered once. Why that was the case, you didn’t know. 

“About that…” he said, trailing off, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“You don’t feel that way? I know, it’s okay,” you said, shaking your head at the sheer awkwardness of the conversation. “I’ll get over it. Like Alicia said, at least you know.”

“Well, that’s the thing, I- I do.” 

That last part came out real quiet and you turned to him, eyebrows shot up in surprise, heart suddenly racing. “You do what?” you whispered in disbelief.

Oliver looked down at his shoes. “I do like you, Y/N,” he said quietly, “and have for some time.”

“Even when I can’t talk straight around you and was a drunk babbling idiot last night?”

His lips quirked up in a smile. “The babbling idiot part was actually rather entertaining for that matter.”

You stared at him, hope swelling in your chest as you looked at the boy you were madly in love with.

“You told me last night you wanted to kiss me,” he started, and your face turned red as the memory came back to you. “And I said-”

“Raincheck,” you finished, your heart rate quickening. “Such a gentleman to do that.”

Oliver took a step closer. “I’d like to cash that in now,” he whispered softly.

“Please do,” you breathed, looking up at him as he moved closer.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he gently pressed his lips against yours, his hands resting on your waist whilst yours looped around his neck.

This kiss was a thousand times better than you had ever imagined. You barely even heard George’s wolf whistle when he walked by, or when Angelina turned to Fred with a grin, saying, “That’s five Galleons, Weasley.” It was just you two, in the middle of the hall, and Oliver’s mouth moving against yours was all that mattered.

[littlespoonevan]

I would love to read a fic by you of sandy coming out to mickey, or mickey to sandy... or any version of that concept. i just kinda love the gay milkoviches

ahh so i found this one quite difficult bc sandy isn’t someone i’ve ever really written before and i don’t know what she would’ve been like before this season (though i’m guessing not all that different) but i tried my best!!! this is set during some vague time between 3x05 and 3x06 bc i wanted ian and mickey to kiss but i didn’t want any of the 3x06 hell hanging over them either ajskdh enjoy!!

*

If living in the same house as his dad is hell thenIan on top of him with his tongue down Mickey’s throat is definitely heaven. Inmoments like this it’s hard for him to remember why he’d been so resistant toletting Ian kiss him in the first place because, fuck, Ian knows what he’sdoing. He’s got one hand in Mickey’s hair and one hand up Mickey’s shirt and he’skissing Mickey like he wants to devour him.

Honestly, Mickey has just enough presence of mind topull Ian’s hips down by his belt and let him keep kissing him until his mouthis numb.

Ian’s hand is just grazing the waistband of hissweatpants when Mickey hears the unmistakeable sound of his bedroom door beingopened. He shoves Ian off him at the same time Ian rears back and away as afamiliar voice lets out a teasing, “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

Mickey sucks in a deep breath and pushes himself tosit up, never once taking his eyes off Sandy where she stands smirking in thedoorway.

“It’s not-“

“What it looks like?” she guesses. The sardonic grinon her face makes Mickey’s stomach drop as she pushes herself off the doorframeand steps into the room. “Mick, you can do better than that.”

Mickey’s blood is rushing so loudly in his ears he thinkshe might pass out but he squares his shoulders and bites the inside of his cheekas he waits for the threat or the blackmail. He knows how this shit goes, howhis family works. What he doesn’t expect is for Sandy to close the door behindher and drop onto the empty space at the end of his mattress. “At least say youwere wrestling,” she scoffs. “Or lock your fucking door maybe.”

“I told you to lock the door,” Mickey grumbles,kicking out with his foot until it hits Ian’s shin where he’s sitting betweenhim and Sandy, back pressed to the wall.

“I thought you locked it,” Ian hisses in Mickey’sdirection before he goes back to eyeing Sandy warily.

Sandy regards them both for a minute, leaning back onher hands, and Mickey tries to calm himself down. Sandy’s…well, she’s notnormal but she’s as close to someone Mickey can trust as he’s got in hisfamily.

“I guess it’s easier for girls,” Sandy says finallywith a careless shrug. “I can just say I’m having a sleepover and no one batsan eye. Then again, Mom’s always too high to notice anyway.”

Mickey blinks, brain short-circuiting as he tries toprocess what she just said. Sandy watches him, a faint, amused smirk still onher face as she inclines her head.

“You’re gay?” he blurts out, feeling mildlyembarrassed when she laughs.

“Guess this shit is genetic, huh?” she says beforeholding out her hand. “I keep your dirty secret, you keep mine. Otherwise it’smutual destruction. Deal?”

Mickey watches her, feeling completely taken aback byhow this has played out. He’s imagined this scenario so many times in his worstfucking nightmares and every time he’s always ended up dead. He’d never evenconsidered this to be a possibility.

“Deal,” he agrees after a beat, lightly slappingSandy’s hand with his own.

“Now that that’s out of the way,” she says beforelooking pointedly in Ian’s direction.

“Oh,” Mickey says, feeling clumsy with whiplash. Whatthe fuck is happening right now? “Sandy, Gallagher. Gallagher, Sandy. She’s mycousin.”

“Ian,” Ian offers weakly and Sandy gives him a shrewdlook before announcing, “I like Gallagher better.”

“So how long has this been going on?” she asks then, barrellingon with tactless abandon.

“About a year and a half,” Ian answers when Mickeydoesn’t say anything and Sandy almost chokes on her own tongue.

“A year and ahalf?” she splutters and Mickey feels his face heat up.

“I had two stints in juvie in that year and a half,”Mickey feels the need to point out, not that it even makes a difference. As ifhe did anything other than think about Ian while he was locked up.

“Still.Does anyone know?” she asks. “Wait, your dad doesn’t know, does he?”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” Mickey mutters, closinghis eyes briefly when he feels Ian’s knee nudge his own. It shouldn’t feel ascomforting as he does.

Sandy concedes that with a nod before looking at Ian.“Anyone know about you?”

“Mandy,” Ian says immediately and Mickey can’t helpfeeling the barest sense of jealousy. Shit would be so much fucking easier ifMandy knew about him too. Too bad the thought of telling her makes him sick tohis stomach.

“She knows I’m gay,” Ian explains. “But not about meand Mickey. Same goes for my family.”

Sandy nods and looks like she’s about to say morebefore Ian’s phone goes off. Mickey watches him fish it out of his pocket andcheck a text. His eyes immediately find Mickey’s when he looks up. “It’s Fiona,”he says apologetically. “I gotta bail.”

There’s a brief moment of silence before Sandy hopsup from the bed and spins to face them. “Well, I’m gonna go to the bathroom,”she announces. “And I’m gonnaremember to lock the door.”

Mickey flips her off as she disappears into hisbathroom but he’s silently grateful for the moment of privacy. As soon as she’slocked the door behind her Ian shuffles to the edge of the bed and moves closerinto Mickey’s space.

Mickey holds still, unsure whether he wants to pullIan in or push him away.

“Don’t freak out on me, Mick,” Ian requests quietlyand Mickey doesn’t think, just leans in and brushes their lips together. Iandraws him in again before he can pull away, kissing him once, twice, threetimes before letting him go.

“Sandy’s cool,” Mickey says, forcing his eyes up fromIan’s lips to meet his gaze. “I trust her.”

“Good,” Ian murmurs. “Call me later, okay?”

“Yeah, I guess. If I remember,” Mickey hedges,feeling a grin work its way onto his face as Ian fists a hand in his t-shirt topull him in.

“Call me later,” Ian repeats, punctuating his orderwith a kiss before he releases Mickey.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Gallagher,” Mickey blustersbut it’s all bravado and he has to work extra hard not to let himself smile.

Ian flips him off, walking backward towards the dooruntil his hand lands on the handle and he finally turns around. Mickey watcheshim go and ignores the way his heart twists. Once Ian’s gone Mickey takes asteadying breath and calls out to Sandy.

“He’s gone. You can come out now.”

Sandy opens the door way too quickly which suggestsshe’d been just waiting for her cue but Mickey tries not to think about thefact she might’ve overheard anything. She takes Ian’s seat against the wallwhen she returns, shoving Mickey’s legs out of the way with her foot.

“So you like him?” she asks without preamble andMickey feels his insides seize up.

“It’s just sex,” he says with a scoff, forcing hisexpression to stay neutral.

Sandy snorts and immediately calls bullshit. “Youtellin’ me you two’ve been fuck buddies for a year and a half and you don’tcare about him even a little bit? His dick can’t be that great.”

“You haven’t seen his dick,” Mickey says, huffing alaugh before instantly clamping his mouth shut.

Sandy notices the panicked look on his face andlaughs. “First time joking about it out loud, huh?”

“It’s weird having someone know,” he mumbles, shrugginghalf-heartedly as he picks at his comforter beneath him.

Sandy nods like she understands and she does, hesupposes. “You didn’t answer the question though.”

Mickey squirms, knowing he could lie but for somereason he doesn’t want to. “I don’t know. It’s just easy with him.”

Sandy looks surprised for a beat before the amusedsmirk is back. “That’s the gayest shit you’ve ever said.”

Mickey huffs, rolling his eyes, but weirdly, he almostfeels like smiling. “Shut the fuck up.”

“For what it’s worth,” Sandy says, looking oddlysincere. “Going by the puppy dog eyes he kept shooting you after I showed up,it looks like he likes you too.”

Mickey stares down at his hands as he processes that.The fact that someone has even paid attention to the way Ian looks at him ishard to wrap his head around. The fact that someone knows about him and Ian at all is hard to wrap his head around.But a part of him – and he’s surprised how big a part – feels sort of comfortedby it. Makes him feel like it’s real.

As Sandy smoothly changes the subject to the girl she’sbeen sort of seeing he thinks maybe her knowing might not be so bad.

*

[darkblueboxs]

If you're taking requests, maybe the foxes reacting to soft andreil? I love seeing their relationship through outside perspectives

Sorry for the delay! I ended up with two very different ideas for this and wrote both of them. I’ll be posting the other one in the next week or so! [EDIT: Here it is!]This was great fun to write. Thank you for the request.

In the Eye of the Beholder

Read here or on AO3

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#1 Dan

Dan raps her knuckles against the door to the monster’s flat and waits. Nicky greets her with an impressive mop of bedhair and a baffled expression which smooths over only when Neil darts past, citing brunch with Dan as his excuse for being awake at such a thoroughly reasonable hour on a Sunday morning. He’s in high spirits, from what Dan can tell, rolling on the balls of his feet as they wait for the elevator to arrive. Dan is ready to put it down to excitement over their plans – she has a stack of potential recruits under her arm thicker than Les Misérables for them to discuss, hopefully with a stack of pancakes of equal height on the side. Then she spots the light bruise peeking over the hem of Neil’s collar, and draws a very different conclusion about the source of Neil’s good mood.

She smiles as they step into the elevator, but keeps the observation to herself. While some members of the team love to badger Neil for the slightest insight into his relationship, Dan is willing to push her curiosity aside for the sake of Neil’s privacy. He has plenty other teammates to pester him without her jumping on the bandwagon.

Just before the doors slide shut, an arm bursts through the gap, forcing them open. Andrew is as stoic and terrifying as ever (not that Dan would ever admit it) even while wearing Neil’s foxprint-patterned pyjama bottoms. The quickened rise and fall of his chest is the only hint that he ran to get here.

Neil raises an eyebrow at the sudden appearance of his underdressed partner.

Andrew lobs something at Neil which bounces off his chest and lands on the floor between his feet. Neil stoops to scoop it up, and Dan sees that it’s his wallet.

“Thanks.”

“Idiot,” Andrew huffs. He retracts his arm, and the doors slide shut on the sight of him stalking back to their dorm.

Neil taps the wallet against his hand a couple times before sliding it into the wallet.

“You’re both idiots if you think I’m letting you pay for brunch,” Dan says wryly.

Neil shakes his head. “I said I was going to pick up some stuff at the store afterwards. But thanks. Brunch is on me, though.”

“We’ll see,” Dan says, which means no. “Okay, I’ll admit it. That was sweet of him.”

The corner of Neil’s mouth twitches. “Nah. He’s just making sure I come back with the junk food I promised him.”

“Sure.” And, oh, Dan had been trying to be good, but she really can’t help herself any longer. “So, did you guys mean to give each other matching hickeys, or was that just a fun little accident?”

Neil slaps his hand to his neck and groans.

All in all, it’s a great morning.

 #2 Kevin

Aaron’s trial is coming up. Kevin wouldn’t care (well, he would, but for different reasons) except that it’s making the cousins snippy and fractious. More so than usual. Andrew isn’t sleeping properly, although he would deny that it had any relation to the trial. Unfortunately, his insomnia is contagious, which ends with Neil losing focus at their night practice, having spent the best part of a week running on fumes and gatorade.

Kevin has been patient – patient by his standards, anyway – but the third fumbled catch in a row snaps his temper like brittle bone.

“Get the fuck off my court, Josten.” Kevin says, smacking the base of his racquet against the floor.

“Fuck you,” Neil answers reflexively. He stops to push his lengthening bangs back from his face.

“I’m not joking. You’re in no state to play. Get the fuck out.” Kevin wishes Neil would take it as the blessing it is, a night to re-focus and re-calibrate, but instead he’s glaring Kevin down like he just asked him to eat sewage.

Neil turns away from him to send another ball barrelling towards the goal. It misses by an entire foot.

“Neil,” Kevin says sharply, readying for a fight that neither of them have the energy nor patience for.

Before he can begin, the doors to the court bang open. Andrew stands in the entrance, arms crossed. It’s the expression that ends an argument before it’s had time to start; Kevin knows it far, far too well.

Andrew leads Neil away to the showers while Kevin continues his drills.

When he’s finished washing up, he finds the pair in the team lounge, collapsed on the wider of the couches. Neil is asleep, slumped into Andrew’s side. Andrew looks up as Kevin enters, but he doesn’t move his hand from its resting place in Neil’s hair. Although Neil was the only one of the pair training that night, Andrew’s hair is plastered against his head as though he, too, is fresh out of the shower. Kevin tries not to consider the implications.

They wait in silence for a few minutes, watching as Neil sleeps, properly sleeps, for the first time in far too long. Neither are willing to disturb him, but the night is late and Kevin has a whole host of classes waiting for him in the morning.

“I’ll walk back,” says Kevin. Andrew meets his gaze for a long moment before nodding briefly. The bags under his eyes betray him.

Kevin darts back into the lockers to pick up Neil’s abandoned kit bag. When he passes them again, Andrew has slouched onto his side, having manoeuvred Neil in front of him so they can both lie comfortably. His arm is slung protectively around Neil’s waist like Andrew is prepared to beat off the world to keep him there.

Kevin knows they spend more nights in each other’s bunks than out of them in the dorm, but somehow they’re always up and away before anyone else is awake enough to give them any hassle over it. Kevin doesn’t care, but Nicky can be overbearing at the best of times, and Aaron is… well, Aaron. But here, in the privacy of an empty stadium, it looks like Neil has finally found enough security to drop off at last, and Andrew looks ready to follow. Kevin shuts the door behind him, not quite smiling, but close. It was strange to some, the idea of Neil and Andrew, but anyone who saw them curled up together would see it plain as day. They just fitted.

The next day, Neil is closer to being himself again, and no more is said on the matter.

 #4 Matt

Matt has to admit that press duty with Neil is never boring. The interviewers seem to share his opinion, visibly perking up when Neil follows Matt into the room. They lost to the Bearcats, but it was close enough that Matt doesn’t have to lie when he says that he’s proud of the team’s performance today.

“Some are saying that the failure of the defence line in later stages was due to Minyard’s performance in goal in the second half. How would you respond to that?

Matt doesn’t know why he bothers opening his mouth; the question may be directed to him, but he knows damn well that a boulder in the shape of Neil’s fury is already barrelling in this hapless reporter’s direction. “Well-”

“Last time I checked, this was a team sport,” Neil says loudly. “Was I hallucinating that, or has there been a few rule changes since yesterday?”

Matt isn’t sure whether to laugh or groan. Coach had told Matt to keep an eye on their resident fire-starter as though anyone was at all capable of controlling Neil when there was a mic in front of him. Matt feels sorry for the poor sucker that will one day be assigned to the role of Neil’s publicist, because he’s sure that Neil will drive them into an early grave alongside Matt’s.

“You have to admit that the number of goals that he let in-”

“I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that his entire defence line had already played two full quarters before he even stepped foot on court. People get tired the longer a game goes on, of course defence is going to suffer in the second half. But sure, keep pinning it on the goalie you clearly have it in for.”

Matt claps a hand on Neil’s back. “What he said,” he agrees, staring down the reporter.

They take no further questions.

Matt doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but when he leaves the showers to see Andrew and Neil alone in the locker room he ducks back out of sight. He walks into at least one dramatic confrontation amongst his teammates per week, and sometimes the best way to deal with the daily bouts of fox drama is to hide and wait for the storm to pass.

“Point me to where I asked you to lead my own personal crusade.” Andrew’s flat tones echo off the tiled floor. Matt regrets leaving his Ipod in his bag. The conversation doesn’t seem too personal to overhear, but Andrew and Neil have never been the easiest reads.

“I’m tired of them talking shit about you just because they have a vendetta against anyone with your…” Neil trails off. Matt imagines him to be making several expressive hand gestures; it’s hard to condense all of Andrew’s history and circumstances into one word. “…everything,” Neil settles on.

“Your principles should not intersect with my business.”

“Even if it could affect your future career?” Neil’s words are met, unsurprisingly, with silence. “Besides, yours do.”

“Explain.”

“When I first came here, you told Nicky to back off. Not out of concern for me. Because of your principles.”

This time, the silence stretches so long that Matt doesn’t think Andrew is going to answer.

“Point,” Andrew concedes.

“Besides, is it so bad that I’m standing up for you?”

“Only when it’s making new enemies for you. How many does one man need?”

“I’ve got room for a few more,” Neil says. There’s a rustle of movement, and, oh, are they kissing? Matt strongly suspects that they are kissing. It’s more than his life is worth to look. He takes a few steps back, rattles his kit loudly and makes as much noise as possible before entering the locker room. The pair are a safe distance apart by the time he enters, and Matt gives them a probably-not-convincingly-casual nod before busying himself with his change of clothes.

The pair spend the journey home holed up together at the back of the bus, and if he suspects that they’re doing a little more than talking, Matt keeps it to himself.

They’ve earned a little privacy, after all.

 #5 Aaron

“Well, maybe if you stopped and took the time to, I don’t know, explain literally anything that you do, we wouldn’t be in this fucking mess.”

“Aaron,” says Bee, a gentle reprimand. He isn’t in the mood to hear it. His attention remains on his brother, who’s features remain the same stony, impassive blank that they have in almost every joint session to date. It’s an expression that makes Aaron want to tear his hair out, or kick his brother’s face in, or both.

“What would you like me to explain?” says Andrew, more of a challenge than an offer. Aaron snorts, because, where to fucking begin?

“How about we start with your little fuck-buddy, seeing as you’re so keen to start on mine.” Earlier that week, Andrew had returned early from a class to find Aaron and Katelyn together in their dorm room. The result, while not outright violent, had been deeply unpleasant for all involved. And of course, Andrew was being an ass about it.

“Aaron. We’ve talked about this. How can you expect Andrew to talk about Katelyn respectfully if you won’t offer the same respect to his own partner?”

Aaron scoffs. “It’s not the same.”

Andrew’s eyebrow… it doesn’t quirk, but it twitches. “Oh?”

Aaron gestures vaguely. “You know what I mean.”

“I can assure you that I don’t.”

“Me and Katelyn. You and Neil. It isn’t the same.”

“How so?” Andrew’s tone isn’t in the danger zone yet, but it’s edging towards it.

“I’m not talking about the gay thing. I’m talking about…” The hand Aaron was waving clenches into a fist as he drops it into his lap. “Don’t make me say it.”

Andrew and Bee share a look over his head.

“Aaron,” says Bee.

“I just, fucking…” Aaron grapples with words, struggling to find a combination that won’t rip them apart any worse than they already have been. “How the fuck can you expect me to believe that you and him… that you’re real. That you’re normal, that you’re like us, after everything those fuckers did to you. What makes him so different?”

Andrew watches him. Just when Aaron resigns himself to the fact that no answer is coming, Andrew speaks. “If I ask him to stop, he stops.”

Aaron bites down on the inside of his cheek so hard that he thinks he might have drawn blood. “It can’t be that simple.”

Andrew shrugs.

“How?”

Andrew’s eyes flicker upwards, like he would rather be anywhere else, having any other conversation in the world than this one. “We have a system. We don’t touch each other without asking first. We listen to each other. We talk. What more do you need me to say?”

Aaron falls silent. He doesn’t know what he needs from his brother, still, but it’s something.

“I have a question in return,” Andrew’s eyes flick to Bee. He isn’t looking for permission, but she nods in encouragement nonetheless. “Katelyn. What makes her so different?” Andrew meets his gaze dead-on as he turns Aaron’s own words back on him. “How can you trust her, after everything that bitch Tilda did to you?”

And finally, it all clicks into place.

Aaron forces himself to look his brother in the eyes. So much like his, yet at the same time so different. “Okay,” he concedes at last. “I see.”

Because, at last, he does.

 #7 Allison

Neil appears at Allison’s door with a black eye, a bust lip, and the words “don’t freak out,” spilling from his mouth before she can get so much as a word in.

“Great start,” she says, pulling him in. “Who do I need to kill?”

“My shoelace came undone and I ate shit while I was on my run. I just need enough makeup that I can get through class without looking like I’ve been in a fight again. Do you know how many of my lecturers have taken me aside to give me the domestic abuse hotline?”

“You should know how to do this yourself by now.” Allison rolls her eyes as she leads Neil through to the table.

“You’re better at it,” he admits grudgingly, and oh, doesn’t that just warm her heart to hear.

“Nice try. You’re still taking me out for coffee after this.”

Neil pulls a face, and Allison laughs. It doesn’t take long – Allison has treated him in far, far worse shape, as much as she’d rather not think about it – and soon there’s only the faintest smudge around Neil’s eye.

“Can I tempt you to some mascara? Glitter?” Allison asks, waggling her eyebrows as she spreads the contents of her makeup bag out for his inspection.

“Maybe next time,” says Neil, “When I’m not going to a calculus lecture.”

“But that’s the best place for it.” Allison dabs the tip of his nose with her brush, and Neil’s face scrunches up as he tries to hold back a sneeze. His hair flops back down over his forehead as he moves, falling into his eyes.

“Don’t move just yet,” Allison says, yanking a drawer open and fumbling for the kitchen scissors. “I’ve been meaning to deal with that mop for weeks, and right now I have you trapped.”

“Oh, no,” Neil says flatly, but still he surrenders herself to her demands. Wise move.

“Perfect,” says Allison a few minutes later, ruffling Neil’s hair to shake away the last loose strands. “Ready for the red carpet now. I hope there aren’t any cute guys in your maths class, or Andrew is going to go mad with jealousy.”

Neil snorts. “He’s not really the type.”

“Mhmm,” says Allison, because in her experience, everyone is the type.

Speaking of the psychotic little devil himself, Andrew bursts through the door just as Allison is brushing up the last of the trimmings.

“Hey,” Neil says, apparently impervious to Andrew’s thunderous entrance. Andrew ignores the greeting, taking hold of Neil’s chin to turn his face from side to side.

“Kevin said you fell,” he says, relinquishing the grip. Allison half-turns away, pretending to busy herself tidying but really listening, because the monster’s overbearing-boyfriend performances are rarely seen in public yet endlessly entertaining.

“Shoelaces. Who could have seen it coming?”

“I did. And warned you. Twice.”

Neil winces. “My bad.”

Andrew mutters something under his breath that seems to involve the words kill you. The day Allison understands their relationship is the day that she gives up on any and all gossip for the rest of her life.

Then, Andrew pauses, distracted. “Did you trip and fall onto a pair of sheers?”

“Allison gave me a haircut. How does it look?”

Andrew holds his hand in front of Neil’s face. When Neil nods, Andrew runs it quickly through his hair, gently tugging at the roots as he goes. “Awful.”

“Hey,” Allison interrupts, outraged. They both start, and Andrew’s hand drops away, like they had forgotten she was there. Which was the point, really. She holds the scissors in Andrew’s direction. “You’re next, scraggy.”

“When I’m dead,” Andrew replies flatly. It’s clear he isn’t joking. Neil shakes his head at them both.

“Come on, then,” Allison says. “Neil’s taking me for coffee. Give us a ride and I’ll buy you the sugariest, most expensive drink on the menu. I’m hoping the diabetes will finish you off if lung cancer falls through.”

Andrew glances between them. “Fine.”

Sugar and Neil; the keys to Andrew’s stony little heart.

 #8 Nicky

Nicky is fully capable of responding to his cousin’s newfound domestic happiness with maturity and decorum.

He just chooses not to.

This has nearly ended in violence no less than eight times. But really, how can he be expected to let it lie when his cousin, who came to him an unruly, violent teen to whom any conversation was like pulling teeth with plastic tweezers, is, for the first time, experiencing the gay teen college romance Nicky could only have dreamed of?

With his fiancée a million miles away, Nicky has to live vicariously when it comes to matters of the heart. There is no better subject for this than his violent baby cousin, who, it seems, isn’t such a baby anymore.

Nicky is beyond late for his class already when he realises that his laptop is dead. He had been skyping with Eric until ass-o-clock in the morning, forgot to plug it in before passing out in his bunk and is paying for it three-fold. He has two options; pencil and paper (what is he, a toddler?) or steal someone’s laptop. The answer is both clear and obvious.

Andrew’s is the first to hand. He most likely won’t surface until noon, by which time Nicky will have returned from class, leaving him none the wiser. The perfect crime.

Or it is the perfect crime until Nicky opens the laptop in the middle of his seminar to a webpage that is filled with very, very unsafe-for-classroom content.

Nicky slams the laptop shut. It wasn’t a video, none of the sites Nicky knew from his own fits of late-night loneliness. Large blocks of text, diagrams that were more analytical than downright pornographic. Nicky slides the laptop open again, just enough for the screen to light up once more, and tabs up. No, not porn. Informative. Educational.

The girl beside him, although unable to see his screen, is giving Nicky some very strange looks. Nicky glances back to the laptop before sliding it shut once more. Pencil and paper will have to do.

The class is drier than dirt, leaving Nicky’s mind with far too much space to think. A dangerous pastime in Nicky’s case, Eric would say teasingly. Nicky had assumed – well, not that he had thought about it, much, but Andrew always seemed so set and sure of himself that it was hard to imagine him googling how-to guides like an acne-riddled teen the night before prom. His apparent innocence is weirdly adorable. Not a word Nicky uses out-loud in his cousin’s presence, but true all the same.

Nicky remembers his first time. Awkward, uncomfortable, and involving entirely the wrong set of genitals. He can only hope Andrew and Neil’s is better.

He shouldn’t get involved. He really, really, shouldn’t.

Nicky slips the laptop back into place mere moments before Andrew slouches into the living space. Nicky watches him as the coffee-maker gurgles away, thinking.

“Andrew.”

Andrew glances up. Nicky isn’t sure what he reads in his face, but it must be setting off alarm bells, because his hands move almost unconsciously to his sleeves. Nicky holds his hands up.

“Hey!”

“What?”

“I just…” Oh, this is a lot more awkward than Nicky anticipated. “You know, I’m always here for you. If there’s anything you want to talk about.” He clears his throat. “If you have any questions…”

Andrew’s eyes narrow. They flick in the direction of his desk. Nicky remembers, far too late, Andrew’s impossibly perfect memory. He would remember the exact position he left his laptop in. Nicky is busted.

“Don’t borrow my laptop,” Andrew snarls. The coffee brewer clicks, and it may be the only thing that saves Nicky’s life.

“I’m sorry! I was in a rush!” Nicky says weekly. “If it’s any consolation, the guy who sits behind me now thinks I’m a grade-A pervert.”

Andrew slams a mug down on the counter so hard he almost cracks it. “One more word. One more.”

“I won’t. I won’t, I promise, I’ve been there, okay?”

Andrew takes his coffee and his laptop and leaves without another word. Nicky counts it as a blessing.

The next day, he’s working his way through the mother of all essays when Andrew enters the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Nicky keeps working until Andrew pulls a chair over to Nicky’s desk and sits in it. He stops typing mid-sentence, fingers hovering over the keys.

“Everything okay, Andrew?”

“I want you to take a moment and remember how many knives I have on me right now.”

“A lot, I assume.”

“A lot,” Andrew confirms. “If I had any other choice in the world, I would take it. But I have you. So, I’m going to ask you something, and you are going to be calm and level and mature and everything that you usually are not when you answer.”

“Of course,” Nicky says in a heartbeat. He can’t think of a single time Andrew has ever come to him for help, not even when he was wrapped up in bed and coughing his lungs out the day before his AP Calc exam. Nicky has never been more determined to get something right in his life.

“How,” Andrew says, stops, starts again. Today is full of firsts; Andrew is usually so careful and measured with his words. “How do I do it without hurting him?”

Nicky’s heart is ready to melt or break or explode, maybe all at once. “Oh, Andrew.”

“The knives, Nicky. Remember the knives.”

“Okay,” says Nicky, and he tells Andrew everything he can. He wants, more than anything, for Andrew to be safe and happy, and if it involves going into details that even Nicky is squeamish about discussing with family, then that’s what he’ll do.

He offers to write out a list of reliable books and websites for Andrew to check out, ones he used himself and others Eric recommended to him. Andrew shakes his head.

“Just tell me. I’ll remember them.”

When they’re done, Nicky almost claps Andrew on the shoulder. He thinks better of it, hand hovering mid-air before he withdraws it. “Andrew.”

Andrew is half-way out the door, but he stops, which is more than Nicky expected.

“You’ll be fine.”

Andrew huffs, and abruptly disappears. Nicky smiles to himself as he turns back to his essay.

It took him a long time to piece it all together, but the truth is that Andrew really can be quite sweet, in his own terrifying way.

Nicky wonders how long it will be before he has to give Neil the sex talk too. Maybe he should offer.

Best not to; he has some self-preservation instincts, after all.

 #9 Renee

Renne likes to think that she has improved at reading Andrew over the years. Some of his quirks are more obvious than others, however; it doesn’t take a student of human character to notice that when Andrew wants to spar, it’s usually because he has something on his mind.

Renee is hardly in a position to judge, not when she finds the cut and blow of a vicious fistfight as cathartic as he does. There’s still a piece of Natalie Shields underneath all of Renee’s growth like the pit at the heart of a peach. Sometimes the best way of holding her down is by letting her out in controlled increments. Give her the inch so she won’t take the mile.

As usual, it is only when they have beaten each other to exhaustion and back that Andrew is ready to talk. They sit cross-legged in the centre of the room, slurping down apple-juice cartons like kids in the playground, and finally, Andrew speaks.

“I want you to train Neil.”

Renee sets her carton down. “I thought Matt was teaching him to box.”

“He’s a shit boxer.”

“Neil or Matt?”

“Both.”

Renee shakes her head. She reaches back to pull out her hair tie, letting her bangs tumble back into their usual place. “Is there a reason Neil hasn’t asked me himself?”

Andrew is silent. There it is; the heart of the matter.

Renee sighs. “I’m not going to force Neil to train with me if he doesn’t want to.”

“I don’t force Neil to do anything,” Andrew says sharply. Renee winces; it was a poor choice of words on her part.

“Why do you think he needs it?”

“Matt is teaching him how to box. It’s not the same as real fighting.”

Renee hums. “Can’t he do something for fun?”

“That’s not the point. Besides,” Andrew pauses. “Matt only knows how to fight like the fuck-off giant that he is.”

Renee can’t argue with that; Matt never had to learn the same style of combat that she and Andrew did. He may teach Neil how to throw a good punch, but there’s a big difference in stance and strategy when your opponent is a foot taller than you. Renee and Andrew learned that the hard way.

“And who is it that you think Neil is going to be fighting?”

Andrew waves one arm in an all-encompassing gesture. “Have you met him?”

“Andrew.”

“Renee,” he shoots back, imitating her tone and inflection.

“What did he say when you suggested that I teach him?”

Andrew scrunches up his features in an imitation of Neil’s ugh face. “He said that he gets enough bruises as it is.”

“He’s not wrong.”

Andrew doesn’t roll his eyes, but his eyebrows twitch as though he’s considering it. “He also said he doesn’t need to get any better. Because he…” Andrew grimaces. Sharing is still tough for him, even after years of therapy and trust. “He has me to protect him.”

“As I said,” Renee says, smiling. “He’s not wrong.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“He has his moments.”

They finish their juice boxes in silence.

“Well,” says Renee, getting back to her feet. Her legs may be going stiff, but there’s still some fight left in her. There always is. “I may not be able to train Neil, but at least I can train his bodyguard to the best of my ability.” She holds her hand out to Andrew. After a moment of careful consideration, he takes it, using the pull to swing himself to his feet. “One more round?”

Andrew nods, determination setting in his eyes like concrete. “One more round.”

Renee likes to think that she has improved at reading Andrew over the years. This time, as they trade hits and kicks, it isn’t anger or frustration powering Andrew’s movements; it’s something far more powerful.

She thinks – hopes – prays – that the worst of Neil’s fights are behind them. All the same, she sleeps a little easier knowing that, should the day come, Andrew will be at his back with a knife in each hand.

That’s love, after all.

.

Thank you for reading - please let me know what you thought

Still open to requests!

[imaginedcreaderinsert]

❤I want to request the reader is apart of the royal army on Tameran and while in a battle she falls from space and she meets the boys and Kori. Jason and the reader fall in love, ya know, but they dont admit it because they are both stubborn babies. Kori gets news that Tameran is getting into another battle and before she admits her feelings to Jason she leaves. Years later Kori and the reader return and feeling are shared between Jason and reader. Lots of angst/fluff (love your work btw😘)

Summary: Explained in the ask itself……… Thought I took a small liberty. ¡ENJOY!

Word Count: 3574

TW: Fluff and angst. In that order. I choked up a bit in A CERTAIN PART.

People that asked to be tagged: @sarcasmismyfirstlove, @dora-the-grownup

A/N: Sorry that I took so long to write this thingy. I loved writing it and I love asks, but my mind is not in the right place, and hasn’t been due to the situation these last days. I have a bit of uni work still on my back and that has been stopping me from writing, but your comments and asks always lift me up, I swear!!! You are all so precious. I hope your lockdown is going better than mine and that your loves ones and you are all safe and healthy.

A chance —  Jason Todd x Reader

Some would say it’s a coincidence, but Tamaraneans don’t believe in these. Specially not at war, specially not in battle. Tamaran is at war, an ongoing civil war instigated by its own inhabitants against King Myand’r due to his own decision of enslaving her precious daughter, Koriand’r – Komand’r, Kori’s elder sister, is still leading the battle, wishing to take the throne. But they resist, they will hold long enough until they manage to arrange something. Koriand’r doesn’t have it too bad herself, she thinks to herself, sprawled on hot sun, next to a very very hot body. She slaps, jokingly, perhaps too harshly, Roy’s chest. It is slightly burnt, and that might be why he reacts the way he does, howling and feigning death. Kori doesn’t still get human humor, but she has time.

           She’s experimented with humans, has had her fair share of friends and lovers – amongst which Dick Grayson, Jason’s older brother, still remains, they think. Truth is sometimes she can’t even remember the tone of his voice, his pitch or his laugh. Some would say it’s sad, but it’s just not useful. Tamaraneans can be emotional, but they are warriors at their core. It won’t change, no matter how much sun the humans insist on taking, or how much time they insist on spending to rest after eating before entering the sea. She couldn’t care less, truthfully, but she likes to play by the rules.

           It never was (Y/N)’s forte, really. Maybe that’s why in her attempt of escaping, she changed routes to a place they never thought of following her into. After all, Earth was where the banished seemed to go. Who would think that such a prideful and honored warrior would end up there?

           She crashes into it harshly, though; there’s no elegance in her movements, or her landing when she falls into the water, to apparently never surge ever again. Koriand’r feels it under her skin even before she sees her, which she is not able to due to the speed which she falls into: Roy is paralyzed, and so is Jason, who was holding two drinks before stopping dead on his tracks at seeing the scene in front of him. The redhead and him are the first to react. She is out of the water in less than five minutes.

***

           She is beautiful and hot. Like, literally – she is burning as Jason checks her temperature for third time in a row. Kori instructed that no one should touch her as Tamaraneans possessed abilities tightly tied with the sun. It basically meant the more she received, the more chances there were that she would regain consciousness. It had been a while, but there was a feeling of restlessness in Jason’s chest since he had laid eyes on her. Maybe it was her deceiving beauty, softness (she was muscles and tough skin, there was no need of touching her to prove that up); or the waves of her still humid hair, her glistening lips. He knew it was lust, maybe more if not as much as he had felt when he had seen Kori for the first time. She was a unique beauty, with something different which had nothing to do with the physical: dreams died under her eyelids, restlessness in her fingers, which sometimes trembled. She had not muttered a thing, and yet Jason was entirely charmed by her. He didn’t quite believe in those things, but there was something that he would name as “aura” or “vibe” that he felt up from her. She oozed it, and Jason could not get his eyes off from her, which is maybe why he had offered to take Roy’s turn to watch her as well. Koriand’r was impressed to say the least, not expecting this from him at all. Maybe Roy. Not that they had anything serious going on, of course.

           “Myan…”. She mumbles, for first time; her voice is soft, dry. Jason shouts Kori’s name and asks for water as he gets closer to the bed the moment he sees her try to get up on her own. “No, no-“

           She almost evades his touch, wiggling out of it tiredly, but can’t, in the end. Jason admires her strength, her fluttering eyes that reveal a very intense color (typical of Tamareans, perphaps? Kori possess a similar one), and her furrowed brow, like a pouty kid which makes him laugh. She has to rest for some days, but in the third one, she is out of the bed and crouching on the sand.

           It takes him by surprise, carrying a small and humble breakfast as he was, to actually see her out of bed in big clothes and kissing Roy. He can only deduce it has been sudden, since his friend’s hands are paralyzed, hovering over her waist like still seeing where to land. The kiss deepens and only then he grasps her waist, which immediately seems to stop the motion. She squirms, almost pushes him to the sand, taking both by surprise. Is she not used to people caring, touching, or is she just sensitive there? By her slight blush and her bright eyes he can deduce it’s the later as he gets closer and helps his friend get up, as lowkey moody as he feels. What the hell? There is an explanation that doesn’t come until Kori is present and puts them up to date. “A way of learning”, she explains, to which she giggles when he sees Roy’s reaction, confused and mouth gaping. By the way he looks at her when they are having dinner on the beach, he can see he feels something for her. Good for him. That’s great.

***

He should be having a nice time, relaxing and gaining back strength from the last missions they had been involved in in their little exotic heaven, but he doesn’t. It bothers him more than he would admit that Roy seems to enjoy way too much her attention, which she returns, in small quantities. That, to Jason’s own disgust, pleases him – he should not be happy for his friend being rejected, but in a way Jason has been caring more for her. He did not expect something out of gratitude, nothing of the sort, but he thought she would notice.

And well, she does in the end.

They start slowly, with small thanks for breakfast, wandering on the beach, sometimes reading in silence when the sun is down, and the sky is purple. It bathes her darkened skin and she is gorgeous, but more than that, is getting to know her. She is so curious, so inquisitive about the little things and full of life. At times she seems to be on edge, specially with loud sounds, but she slowly gets used to them; Jason, from what Kori has told them, supposes that’s what war does to people. She has scars on her back, her thighs; her skin is hardened, proud badges of honor that she shows off with the little and short clothes she shares with Kori. They both have similar physiques, if anything she is slightly smaller, but they both have curves where they are supposed to, and are full of sharp edges, toned muscles and lean figures. Anyone would envy them.

           “… I know.”

           “Well then start acting out like it. Your people need you, I need you.” She pleads. Jason has never heard her plead, not even when they had a water fight with Roy, which ended up with Kori up his shoulders and (Y/N) up Roy’s. “You have been out too long, and as much as I start to get Earth’s charm-“

           “You understand? How so? Roy Harper? Jason Todd?”. Kori insinuates, making his own heart skip a beat, almost as if she knew he was listening, fruit on his hand, having stopped midtrack from paying (Y/N) a night visit, maybe after going for a walk in the beach.

           “Koriand’r, we have been holding out for too long. We need you back, I need you back. If that’s not enough, then I don’t know what I’m doing here. I should return home, I have a duty.”

           It feels like he’s going against time from that onwards. Roy and her seem to have “a night”, some hours out in the sand where they sit close to each other but without a touch between. Jason wonders what it is, as he observes them both from the balcony of their home, maybe trying to read lips – but they are in silence, content sighs leaving her mouth as they stare at the infinite ocean. They look further than they really are, and Jason cannot help but think they are wasting time. He is wasting time.

           He decides to kidnap her. It’s childish, quick and exhilarating in a sense – stealing her from his friend as they get lost in the fauna, giggling and hand in hand running. She is quick on her feet and had gotten up with ability, used to it almost, before running after him, Jason leading until they were deep into the nature of the island. They’ve never explored that area before, and they have been stupid. Too stupid.

           “There might be a hot source underneath this. It’s not dangerous, I promise”. He explains, slowly pulling her into the small lagoon they’ve encountered. It’s warm inside, not hot, but definitively a change from the water. She seems reluctant to enter. “Please? I… I heard you back there. With Kori.”

           That takes her by surprise, and she slowly concedes. They both get into the small lagoon, cascade not too far from where they are – still they manage to hear each other without shouting. The water covers both of them more or less to their hips. It’s stupid how incredibly gorgeous she is. He can’t stop staring, and he shouldn’t be that obvious. Jason has had her fair share of lovers, women mostly, and even if he knows this kind of things can work with some, she is Tamarean. Is it rude to stare?

           “What did you hear?”. She inquires, moving through the water, slowly the water rising as she gets deeper onto the water. She is grabbing Jason hand, taking him with her.

           “I just know you plan on going soon. You have an on-going war and you want Kori going home with you. She explained her situation to us. The bare minimum”. She doesn’t look at him as he talks, which makes him nervous. He has never been nervous around women, but there’s something on (Y/N) that makes him squirm at times. “I think you should do what you feel like doing.”

           “That’s very easy to say. But I’m not like that, I’m-“. She seems to falter, not be sure of what she wants to say. She frowns, almost annoyed at herself. “I’m bound by duty. Everyone is. I can’t fail them too.”

           “I would like you to stay”. He simply says, bold as ever. This time she does look at him – and her eyes are bright, full of emotion as Jason pulls her closer to his body. “I want you to stay here. With us.”

           >> And I know it’s too much to ask. I know you are bound by duty, and-I have had that. I was… Restricted, let’s say, by someone else a couple of years ago. Bound by my duty to a certain city, so I-I understand. I swear I do. But that did not make me happy, and I did not agree to how a certain someone handled things over. So I left, I met Roy, Kori, I joined a couple of groups and after I left again – and now, finally, I am happy. With you. You are – gorgeous in all senses. Don’t think just in the physical sense, please. Your inquisitive nature is fascinating to me, and the way you listen with your eyes when you look at me. You make me feel seen, heard and it has been really a long time since I’ve felt like that. I adore the scrunch of your nose when you don’t get something, and your playfulness. I see you too, (Y/N) – and the way you fight with us is dirty, is sassy. It says a lot about your character, and sincerely I love that. Your attitude, your morals, the way you are bound tom something else you firmly believe in, your freedom… I know it’s asking too much but stay. Please.

           There’s silence, but her eyes are filled with sorrow. She lets go of his hand and has to physically hug herself, both arms across her chest, as if to not fall into pieces. She feels like that too – for the first time heard, listened by someone else and not because of her military expertise, but because of who she is. Jason Todd, the strange human known as “Red”, has deliberately tried to get to know her better, get her involved in human customs and shared a couple of things with her without expecting anything in return. He has cared for her in a way that few people have done.

           “Jason-“. And he knows, once she turns around and looks at him, eyes full of hurt and angst. Jason hurries to her side, embracing her fully for first time and she sighs, almost desperately. She won’t cry, she tells herself, she commands to her own body as his warm body envelopes her in a way that no one has ever done. That hug is enough to break her in every little possible way.

           The horror, the hurt she has been carrying, Jason Todd can make it go away, even for a brief time. There was a dark time where she thought of herself as nothing more than a machine, a war one with the ultimate purpose of resisting… Which by no means feels like living. It’s barely scratching the surface. Jason Todd makes her feel alive, like she has finally taken the desperate breath of hair her lungs were aching for. Jason gives her the hope that there is something more besides war, the horror and trauma that comes with it; makes her feel like there’s something to come “home” to.

           But she won’t, she can’t. What if she breaks him? Tamaraneans love, when they do, for life. Losing their long-life partner can be fatal, and people can’t die because of heartbreak, but for their people, it weakens them, incredibly so. What if humans are the same? They are incredibly fragile in some aspects, and even if she knows that Jason Todd is an exception (from what he has let her know), she doesn’t want to think on what it would mean if she were to promise him something she won’t be able to accomplish.

           “Don’t say anything”. He mumbles into her hair, maybe knowing her answer. She grips him harder and doesn’t let go.

***

           She leaves the next morning. They have slept on her bed, have embrace each other tightly, still wet and cold – but there’s only warmth between their tangled bodies as he gets woken by her movements, as silent as he is sure she has tried to be.

           (Y/N) is not wearing her typical outfits, but rather an armor – it’s like silver, shiny and very resistant. It covers her most essential and dangerous zones, while still giving her some flexibility. Jason thinks he has never seen female strength so well represented.

           But this is not a show-off, not a runway try-out – Kori appears soon after, wearing a similar armor, slightly more jeweled, and signals her out. (Y/N), almost obediently, follows. But before leaving the room, leaving him behind, she grabs the frame, almost as if afraid to leave the room, her fingers slightly trembling. Is she scared? He hears her take a deep breath and go.

           Jason takes exactly five seconds to decide before he jumps off his balcony. The height is not crazy, but enough to make Kori shriek, as she sees him first, which makes (Y/N) immediately turn around. She grabs him, as their bodies almost clash and clench to each other, desperately. They feel like the last two people on Earth.

           “Please, try to come back.”

           “I will. I will try, I promise”. She nods, glassy eyes and nodding fervently.

           She commanded her body to not cry, but she has never been too good at following orders to start with.

***

           The conflict takes five years. Neither of them are allowed to write, or return briefly home. Koriand’r acts as commander, and (Y/N) is her second. Every thought they have is fixed on war and coming home – to different ones, apparently.

           In the five years they’ve fought, Jason Todd travels with Roy – he is still a mercenary, thank you very much, but becomes somewhat legal. They move here and there, and they never stay too long at any particular place – but they always have their holidays at the small island where they met her. They stay for a month in summer, longer than they’ve been at any place, just in the small hope she will come home someday, sometime. His anxiousness grows worse as years pass and doesn’t hear anything from either. Jason and Roy care deeply about Kori, but he can’t help but feel a bit empty without (Y/N). He hasn’t tried with anyone else, because no one else can catch his attention like she did. Maybe if he tried harder, he would, but he has no interest.

           He is fine on his own too. He has been like that for a long time.

***

           Kori appears first. Tired, fallen from the sky like a light bolt, it’s impossible to miss her. She cries when she embraces them both, perhaps too tired, too hurt from what she has seen and suffered from. They hug her tightly, but Jason quickly tries to ask about her, with her eyes. And she negates, sadly, before crying more into his shoulder.

           “I tried, but I couldn’t. She said it was the only way, and I trusted her. But then she blew up the place and… I didn’t know she stayed behind. I’m-I’m so sorry.” Jason hugs her tightly, his chin on her shoulder. He has been shot to the heart, and he can’t stop the tears that fall from his eyes.

***

           “Jason, dearest:

           I don’t have much time – I never have, honestly. I wished I could have found a better time to write you. At the start of the conflict, so you could know I didn’t die in the first weeks, like many did. Or that I was still alive – hurt but breathing, as I have been in these last few days. Instead, I am forced to write you in my probably last minutes on the universe. My people are worth fighting and dying for, Jason. I hope you will in time forgive me. I wish we could have met under different circumstances, that we could have lived on that small and precious island forever, frozen in time and covered in annoying sand days and nights to no end. I wish I could have met you sooner, on another timeline or alternative universe where I was not forced to make this decision, but it isn’t possible. Not in this life. Not here. You made me feel seen, and you reminded me that this war if worth fighting over so that my people will live, like I did when I was with you.

           Every day with you was worth living. I do not regret meeting you, just not being more sincere, honest. Love is probably too much of a strong word for us, but I’ve never felt like I do with you right now. I probably never will. I’m sorry I couldn’t try harder, but there was no other way. I love you, Jason Todd from Earth.

           Always yours,

           (Y/N).

***

           Jason feels frozen in time. He can’t feel, he is not sad – he knows he is, that something is empty, but he can’t feel that. Everything is numb. He reads and rereads the letter Kori gave him on her behalf every now and then, and he thinks he can hear her voice as he goes through it again and again, but when he looks up she is never there, and he is utterly lost. Roy helps, but Kori’s presence becomes somewhat bitter – he doesn’t blame her, but her absence helps, doing whatever she may be doing with all the free time she has now.

           There are days when he doesn’t have the power to get out of bed, but the lightning bolt that crosses Gotham, almost breaks the sky, makes him peak out of his sheets. There’s a commotion, shouts, and a violet sphere protecting something in the middle of the street. Roy is in, with his uniform, as Jason jumps out of bed. Could it-?

           He almost jumps out of the window, getting out from his safe house as quick as he can. Roy catches him up, mid-air, and lands them perfectly, Jason immediately pushing his way through the crowd until he gets there.

           Kori is protectively hovering a battered and unconscious figure, in the ground – she is clearly hurt and shows sign of starvation and torture. She would be unrecognizable if it weren’t for her eyes, which slowly blink up and adjusting to the change of scenery.

           It’s her. It’s her and that’s all that matters.

           They have a chance. One more chance.

[vandnana]

Loving You Is Easy

Part Seventeen

The ride to the train was terrifyingly dull. For the first two hours, Chanyeol took a nap, but the for the next two, he sat listening to his music and watching videos to pass the time. When he woke up, he had a billion texts from the group chat he had with Junmyeon, Baekhyun, and Sehun, all impatiently waiting for his return. Chanyeol searched through his other messages, hoping to find one from me, but there was none. He knew that I was working, but it didn’t stop him from texting me. Yet, they were all just pictures of himself, his reasons rooted in the fact that I could “forget how handsome he is.”

He reached Schenectady at around nine o’clock, and once he stepped out of the train and into the vastness of the station, his friends ran at the sight of him, immediately pulling him into a group hug. 

“Ugh, you smell disgusting.” Baekhyun fake-gagged, making the others laugh.

“I took a shower this morning. Maybe it’s all of you.”  Chanyeol retorted, pulling them away.

“Yeah, you know what, it probably is me. I had sex this morning.” Sehun proudly announced much to the disgust of his friends. Junmyeon slapped his arm, but Sehun just crossed his arms confidently.

“So, was it with your girlfriend or a girl - friend?”

Sehun patted Chanyeol’s shoulder lightly, “You know I don’t make friends with girls.”

Chanyeol rolled his eyes, and Junmyeon had a repelled expression. Baekhyun looked at Sehun as if he was going to cry proud tears. 

Approaching Sehun, Baekhyun patted his chest hard, “Look at you, taking after me.”

“You guys are disgusting.” Junmyeon still had the same appalled face.

“Oh, you’re one to talk mister ‘I had sex in the back of the library.’” Baekhyun had his eyebrows raised with a sly smirk. 

Chanyeol put a hand over his mouth, an accusatory look in his eyes, “You did it in the library? What the hell is wrong with you?”

Junmyeon looked slightly panicked, stuttering over his words as he tried to speak. “O-okay, y-yes I-I did do that, but but Baek fucked a girl at the car wash and Sehun literally had sex with a girl and her parents were in the house!”

All three of them started arguing, offended by each other’s jabs, while Chanyeol watched, thankful that he wasn’t like them.

Chanyeol interjected the arguing that quickly escalated to yelling, “Okay okay okay okay. All of you shut up. We need to go home so I can fix your guys’ mess.”

They calmed down, huffing a little in anger before giving each other a nod that meant they were all good. 

The atmosphere became bubbly again as they rode in the car, their music blasting through the open windows. It didn’t take long for them to arrive, and once Chanyeol stepped out of the car, his surroundings felt like a distant memory.

The entire time that he had been with me felt like more than what it really was. It became the new normal for him, for the both of us. He admitted in his mind that he had forgotten about his life upstate for a while, too immersed in the beautiful present he had with me. But, I wasn’t with him and he had to endure it. He missed me, but couldn’t voice it either. He still hadn’t told them about me, and the guilt he suppressed found him again. 

Entering the house, he was horrified. They hadn’t bothered to clean up at all in preparation for his return, and if anything, it was dirtier. Chanyeol set his bag in his room before going into the kitchen to inspect everything.

“While I do this, can you guys please clean the house? All of the cleaning stuff is in the garage. Mop, dust, vacuum, throw all of this trash away, and do your laundry.” Chanyeol began with a pleading tone, but shifted into a demanding one.

They all whimpered and whined at his requests, but conceded when he suggested they switch roles. 

“Fine, Sir Chanyeol. We’ll clean the Chateau.” Baekhyun jokingly bowed, Junmyeon and Sehun following his lead. 

“Oh my god, just go!” Chanyeol motioned for them to go away, and they jumped at his abruptness, scattering toward the garage and laughing.

Chanyeol crouched down, opening the cabinet underneath the sink. He stepped back once the pungency inside attacked him. There was a huge bowl underneath the leaking pipe, and it was a dark sewer green, bubbling with remnants of god knows what. 

He got up immediately to save his nose, and looked around more. The first thing he noticed was the microwave that looked like it was seconds from falling apart, and the next thing were the doorless cabinets, the detached doors all stacked near the garbage can. He opened the fridge, remembering that it had no light. The only thing in there were cases of alcohol and a flashlight. Chanyeol wanted so badly to shut the fridge door aggressively out of frustration, but he fought against it, closing it gently instead. 

The trio came out of the garage with all of their cleaning supplies, and were oddly compliant. They all started in the gigantic living room, designating different jobs for each other. If the kitchen wasn’t in such a gross state, he would have been proud of them for actually listening to him. As he passed their cleaning figures on the way to the garage, he looked at them disapprovingly. 

The only one who noticed was Junmyeon, who looked more apologetic than anything. Chanyeol shook his head at him before disappearing to get everything he needed. He carried trash bags, protective glasses, gloves, masks, and a toolbox to the kitchen. He put on all of his protective gear before crouching down to fix the pipes underneath the sink. It would have taken less time if there wasn’t so much gunk inside of it. He tried his best to detach the pipe, but it wouldn’t budge at all. Everything inside had found its way out of the seams, and because it sat untouched, the gunk hardened on the outside. 

Chanyeol felt defeated as he sat on the floor, wondering how he was going to get the pipe out. He resorted to drenching the outside of it with water and using a hair dryer to heat the pipe. His arm got tired holding the hair dryer up, but it was worth it. His idea actually worked, but once the pipe was loosened, an eruption of gunk flooded over the top and bottom of it, spilling into the trash bag where the gunk bowl used to be.

He cleaned everything up, then reattached the pipe. He made sure that there were no leaks, and once he did, he leaned over the counter, exhausted. This one task already drained Chanyeol’s energy, and his stomach growled at him, begging for food. 

“Damn, you look like hell.” Baekhyun walked over to the island, sitting down on one of the chairs to inspect Chanyeol’s state. 

“Because of how disgusting all of you are.” Chanyeol snapped, his head drooping down low, threatening to crash onto the counter.

Junmyeon came up behind him, grabbing his shoulders reassuringly, “Sorry we’re making you do this. It’s just, you know we would do more bad than good.” 

Sehun found his place on Chanyeol’s right, leaning his elbows on the counter, “If it makes you feel better, we did try to fix this stuff. The microwave doesn’t work and we tried to take it off of the wall, but somehow we broke the bottom of it. We gave up after that.” 

Chanyeol lifted his head, taking off the glasses and mask he was still wearing, “What would make me feel better is some food. I’m not buying though.”

Baekhyun stood up from the chair, bowing again, “Anything for you Sir Chanyeol! But, you might want to take a shower again. You stink. Bad.” 

The four of them decided on a burger place they had gone to all through college, suddenly feeling the appeal of nostalgia. When they walked in, every worker recognized them, motioning the boys to sit down at the booth they had always sat at.

The owner’s name was Penny, a short lovely woman with silver, curly hair, and the minute she saw Chanyeol, she hugged him tightly. “You’re back! It’s never the same when it’s just the three of them.”

“Ouch, Penny. I’m hurt. You know you’re the love of my life.” Baekhyun pouted, rubbing his heart. 

She grinned at him, laughing at his usual antics, “Oh, you know I love you all. So, what will it be? The usuals, right?” 

They nodded happily, and she whisked herself away toward the kitchen. Chanyeol was habitually checking his phone, eagerly anticipating my texts, and trying to be sly about it. 

“What’s so interesting on your phone that you have to keep looking at it every five seconds?” Sehun squinted, eyeing him suspiciously.

Baekhyun and Junmyeon were on the edge of their seats, hoping to get a juicy answer.

“I’m just checking on Halmeoni. You know how she gets worried when I leave.” 

They all groaned, rolling their eyes.

“You’ve been gone for what...a month and half? Something interesting must have happened.” Junmyeon urged in a whiny tone.

“Th-there’s nothing. It’s just the same as it’s always been. I help Halmeoni out at the shop, and I just...am there.”

Sehun looked away disapprovingly, not believing a word that he was saying, “Okay, whatever, but you seemed all worked up over that ‘event’ you were talking about.”

“Yeah, you were all ‘I have an event to go to and I’m expected to be there blah blah blah.’” Bakehyun imitated Chanyeol’s deep voice, making Sehun and Junmyeon laugh loudly. 

Chanyeol was serious though, shrugging his shoulders, “Well, I’m here now, right? Don’t worry about it.”

“Fine, fine, we’ll stop bothering you about everything, since you’re so dodgy.” Sehun surrendered, leaning back into the booth with his arms crossed. 

“Thank you. So why is-” Chanyeol began to speak, but was interrupted by the vibration of his phone in his pocket. His eyes lit up and his heart started beating irregularly fast as he quickly grabbed it, hoping that it would be me. He couldn’t contain the grin on his face as the screen read my name. 

He jumped out of the booth to take the call, almost hurdling Penny as she arrived with their food. She turned around, confused then looked at the boys in the booth for answers. They were just as stunned and confused as she was.

“What was that all about?” Penny asked, placing everyone’s plates in front of them.

They shrugged their shoulders at her question, then thanked her profusely for the food.

“I fucking knew there was a girl. You think he’s that excited to talk to his grandma?” Sehun scoffed, biting into his burger. 

“You’re so right. He’s such a little liar. Why wouldn’t he tell us though?” Junmyeon had a distressed tone, contemplating the reasons in his head.

Baekhyun and Sehun both laughed mischeviously in unison.

“Come on, isn’t it obvious? If she was his girlfriend, he definitely would have told us. But, he didn’t. Why? Because they’re not together.” Baekhyun explained, looking at Sehun who was nodding his head.

Junmyeon pieced together their reasoning in his head, glaring at them, “You guys really just have no boundaries, huh?”

“What? Chanyeol can like that girl all he wants, but if she meets me and just so happens to want me instead, then...I have to give the girl what she wants.” Baekhyun licked his lips as he leaned back into the seat. 

Sehun jeered at Baekhyun, a lopsided grin forming on his face, “As if she would want you. Clearly, I’m the better option.”

“Please guys, whoever this girl is, she wouldn’t want either of you.” Junmyeon smirked, satisfied at his jab.

“Oh, but she’d want you instead, of course.” Sehun responded sarcastically.

Junmyeon nodded, pursing his lips, “It’s entirely possible.”

The booth was bursting with laughter after his simple response, and Penny called out from the kitchen, urging them to eat the food before it got too cold. They listened, chomping down on their food, while Chanyeol’s sat untouched. 

Outside, he felt warmth engulf him as he heard my voice.

“June, hi!” 

“Hi! Sorry, are you busy right now?” 

“No, no not at all. What’s up?”

“Nothing, I just wanted to talk to you. How’s it been back?”

“Well, I fixed the pipe under the sink, and it was disgusting. It took way longer than it should have.”

“Okay, but the fact that you could fix it by yourself is impressive.” 

“What can I say? I’m a regular handy-man. Anyway though, what have you been up to?” 

“Besides trying to remember how handsome your face is...I’ve just been working.”

Chanyeol blushed, the smile he already had growing wider, “Do you need another refresher or are you good?”

I laughed, “Well, you sent a million so I’m okay. So, you’re just going to be working on the house all day?”

“Yeah, basically. I’m going to try and do everything as fast as possible. Maybe I can still make it.”

“Chanyeol, I really appreciate that you would do that for me, but it’s all tiring work. If you rush, you’ll just be exhausted by the time you get here, and I’d feel bad. Just get here when you can and spend some time with your friends.”

Chanyeol let out a defeated tone, “Okay, okay. But what are you going to do while I’m gone?”

June squealed into the phone, unable to conceal her excitement, “Later, I’m going over to Kai’s to try on the dress he made me, and then we’re going to have a sleepover.”

Chanyeol gulped, “A-a sleepover?”

“Yeah, Halmeoni’s making the desserts for tomorrow, and she said that it would be better if I just slept over because she wouldn’t be able to spend the day with me, and I have to get ready at Kai’s anyway.”

A fuming jealousy seeped through him, but he remembered the moments we shared the night before. Things were different between us, and that calmed him down.

“Oh. Yo-you’re not gonna be sleeping in the same bed, right?”

“I’m sleeping on the couch, but I don’t even know how I’m going to sleep without you.”

Chanyeol paused, looking down at his feet sadly, “Yeah, me too.”

In my heart, I felt his sadness, “I’ll just call you when I’m about to go to sleep, maybe it’ll help.” 

“I like that idea. I’ll be waiting for that call.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you then, Chanyeol. Don’t think about me too much.” 

Chanyeol whimpered at my words, “You’re literally all I think about.”

I hummed happily, wishing that he could see my eyes sparkle as I thought about him.

[bellakitse]

Michael vs Lox the duck - part 2

Chapter summary: Four years into the future, their family has grown. Michael and Lox are still at odds but find common ground in the people they love.

PART ONE

Michael wakes up in an irritating but very familiar way. He opens his eyes, letting out a sigh as he finds the bane of his existence sitting on his chest, glaring at him in the way only a duck can.

"If you shit on my chest again, I'm making roasted duck for dinner," He promises the feathered menace.

Alex lets out a sleepy groan, slapping a hand at Michael's chest, his wedding band cold against Michael's skin. "You know, maybe if you stopped threatening to eat him, Lox would warm up to you."

"Maybe if he stopped being such a jerk, I would."

Alex cracks open an eye, it's amazing he can look so unimpressed so early in the morning. His husband truly has a gift. "It's been four years, Michael, at some point there needs to be a ceasefire between you two."

Michael turns on his side, causing Lox to let out an angry honk as he hops off Michael and lands in the middle space between them, letting out another hiss he waddles to the end of the bed and hops off. He spares a moment to give the duck a half-hearted glare before turning to get a better look at Alex, taking a moment to admire the tan skin of his back as he lays on his belly. A little over three years of marriage and almost fifteen since they first got involved with each other, and he still can't quite believe that they finally got it right and that he gets to wake up with Alex by his side every morning.

"You're thinking sappy thoughts," Alex groans into his pillow, a finger reaching out to tap Michael’s brow. "Your sappy thoughts always lead to morning sex, and we don't have time."

"First of all, my thoughts aren't sappy; they're romantic," Michael says hauntingly, holding up his index finger. "Second, we will always have time for morning sex. You agreed to that when you married me."

Alex gives him a smirk as he shifts over to bring his face closer to Michael's. "I knew I should have asked for a prenup."

“Romance is dead,” Michael grumbles against Alex’s mouth, smiling into the kiss.

Alex hums in agreement. “Yes, the honeymoon period is over, soon we’ll only have sex the 2nd Sunday of every month.”

“Don’t you ever joke about that, Alex Guerin,” Michael scolds before a sly grin works its way to his face. Alex’s eyes darken, the way they always do when he calls Alex by his married name. “Morning sex is starting to look like more of a possibility now,” he murmurs as he starts to roll Alex onto his back, covering him with his body, more than ready to get lost in the wonderful feel of Alex’s skin when the monitor on the bedside table picks up a noise.

Michael lets out a groan, dropping his head on Alex’s shoulder while Alex shakes with a low laugh. He pulls back to give Alex a half-hearted glare that he can’t even pretend is real in the face of a happy Alex. “To be continued.”

Alex runs a hand over his rough cheek. “Absolutely,” he says with a dirty grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief, and leans up to give him an even dirtier kiss that leaves Michael panting. “But first, our little cockblocker is requesting an audience,” he grins toward the monitor as the word ‘Dada!’ comes through it.

“Tease,” Michael huffs out, laughing as he rolls away from Alex toward his side of the bed. Grabbing the pair of sweats, he’d discarded on the floor the night before; he pulls them on. “Stay in bed,” he orders, pointing his finger at Alex as he sits up. “We’ll be right back.”

He walks down the hall into the other bedroom, his heart full as he takes in the little boy who is up in his crib, a toothy smile on his face as he spots him.

“Dada!”

Michael smiles just as wide. “Good morning, bud,” he says softly, picking up his son when the little boy lifts his arms at him. “Did you sleep well, Andy boy?” he asks before looking down at Bagel, who is in her usual spot by Andy’s bed. “Good morning to you too, baby girl.”

He walks out of Andy’s room with the boy on his hip; Bagel follows him out but goes in the direction of the kitchen like she does every morning once he or Alex have Andy with them. She never leaves the little boy alone; only once he’s in their arms does the sweet beagle head for the doggy door in the back. They’ve had Andy with them for a year now, having adopted him when he was seven months after a long, lengthy adoption process. He still remembers holding Alex in his arms the first night Andy was home with them, how they both cried, so happy to finally have him with them.

“Let’s go jump on daddy,” he says to Andy, tickling his side, earning a shrieking laugh out of the little boy, his light-colored eyes bright with enjoyment.

“I heard that,” Alex says, sitting at the edge of the bed, prosthetic in place.

Andy lights up even more, if possible, at the sound of Alex’s voice. Letting out a string of baby babble as he spots him, reaching for him with grabby hands. “Da!” he yells, trying to get out of his arms to get to Alex’s; he’d be offended if he didn’t understand the effect Alex has on him too.

Alex reaches out as he passes their son to him. A soft smile on his face as he takes the boy, pressing a kiss to his forehead, running a hand over his soft-brown hair. “Hi, baby,” Alex whispers against Andy’s temple before pulling back to look at him. “Did you sleep well, sweetheart?” Alex continues as he stands with Andy in his arms.

Michael pouts when it becomes clear that Alex is ready to leave the room. “I thought we were going to get back into bed?”

Alex gives him a look, rolling his eyes as he spots his pout. “It’s 8 am, Michael, we’re lucky he’s not screaming for food, Bagel, and Lox too,” he points out, before smirking. “Or you for that matter.”

Michael gives him his own eye roll but concedes. “Fine, if I don’t get to spend the morning in bed with my husband and my kid, I want blueberry pancakes.”

“Seeing as you’ll be the one cooking, while I dress Mr. Andrew here,” Alex starts, nibbling on Andy’s fingers when he brings them up to Alex’s mouth. “We can have any type of pancakes you want.”

“How magnanimous of you,” Michael calls out when Alex walks away.

“I’m a giver!” Alex shouts back laughing, and Michael has to smile as its followed by Andy, letting out a jabbering shout of his own, putting in his two cents.

***

Michael stands in their kitchen, pulling out what he needs for the pancakes. He looks through the kitchen window and sees that Bagel and Lox are playing outside, not too far from the house, even with all the land they have on the part of the old Foster ranch they now own. Michael shakes his head, Alex, to this day, won’t tell him just how he managed to get the land back from the government or just how much he gave old John Foster for the couple of acres he bought off him. Right after they had gotten married, Alex brought him out to where his trailer once stood and showed him the property lines, a wedding present Alex had said with a nervous smile on his face.

‘I know how much this land means to you, why you always wanted to be on it. It’s where your family crashed. I want to give you even a small piece of your family back if I can.’

They made love that night as husbands on the bed of his truck on the land that was now theirs. Holding Alex in his arms, he whispered his most simple truth to him.

As long as he had Alex, he had all the family he needed.

He fills Bagel and Lox’s bowls and opens the door with his mind, whistling for them before turning back to the people food. He’s mixed the batter and has the skillet heating up when Alex walks back into the kitchen with Andy, dressed in baby jeans and a white shirt with a horse on his chest, he smirks as he sees the cowboy hat that Alex has placed on Andy’s head.

“What?” Alex shrugs as he places Andy in his high chair, sidestepping Bagel and Lox, who have come back into the house, he reaches down to give each of them a pat on the head. “He’s my little cowboy.”

“He’s going to drop it into his food again,” Michael warns.

“I’ll take it off him when the pancakes are ready,” Alex assures him, pulling out one of Andy’s sippy-cups and filling it half with apple juice and half with water.

Andy, who is following Alex with his eyes, lets out a delighted shout. “Juice, juice, juice!”

“I’m coming, you little juice junkie,” Alex grins as he hands Andy his cup, taking his hat off when he tilts his head back to drink.

“And there goes the hat,” Michael comments as he flips over a pancake, only to have Lox bite down on his bare foot. “Shit!” he shouts as he drops the pancake on the floor. Lox lets go of his big toe, letting out a victorious honk as he grabs the pancake between his beak and waddles over to Bagel.

Michael scowls at the creature. “You evil little-“

“Shit!” Andy shouts happily, and Michael freezes as Andy says the word once more, he looks over at Alex, cringing at the glare Alex is sending his way.

“Michael,” Alex growls at him with his hands on his hips.

Andy screams the word a third time, and Michael bites down on his lip to keep from laughing. “Oops?”

Alex glares at him for another second, before rolling his eyes. “I had a kid with a bigger kid,” Alex mumbles to himself, his lips twitching when Michael sulks at him.

“Are you not going to say anything to your feathered demon?” Michael scowls. “He bit me again, to steal food again.”

“Wear shoes,” Alex points at Michael’s feet.

Michael glares at his husband even harder before turning back to the skillet, Alex chuckles under his breath as he walks over to him. He remains silent and strong as Alex wraps his arms around him, kissing the back of his neck.

Michael tries not to react, but it sends a shiver down his spine. “Did the big bad duck, hurt you?” Alex mocks him, but Michael doesn’t care, not when Alex starts to suck on the meat on his shoulder.

“He’s a demon,” Michael answers, tilting his head to the side to give Alex more room. He sighs as Alex presses soft kisses on his skin, his hands going under his shirt to play with the fine hairs at his belly, teasing the edge of Michael’s pants. “Don’t start what you can’t finish,” Michael warns. “And don’t think you can distract me from the evil you allow in our home.”

Alex stops kissing his neck and lays his forehead against Michael’s back, his hands going to his hips, and he feels Alex shake as he silently laughs.

“He was just paying your cooking skills a compliment,” Alex says through warm chuckles. “He loves your pancakes.”

“Sure, side with Lox,” Michael grumbles as Alex continues to laugh, he takes another pancake off the skillet, before pouring more batter.

“I love your pancakes too,” Alex continues, placing one final kiss on his shoulder. “So let's get moving, your son has been calm way too long without food.”

Michael nods, finishing up the stack of pancakes enough for the three of them, he takes one and splits it in half, placing it in front of Lox and Bagel, he narrows his eyes at the duck. “See, you impatient jerk,” he says, taking his fingers away quickly before Lox gets any other ideas. “I was always going to give you some, punk.”

He turns back to Alex, who is now sitting at the breakfast nook, with three plates, one for him, a smaller one for Andy (plastic with ducks on it because Alex likes to troll him), and one for himself.

It’s Andy’s favorite, and like clockwork when Andy sees his plate, he shouts ‘Lox’ loudly. The duck recognizing his name looks up and waddles over to Andy, letting out a honk that makes Andy lean over the side in his high chair to look down at the animal, calling for him again.

Michael sighs heavily as there usual morning routine of Andy and Lox communicating starts. Alex feeds Andy pieces of pancake between the baby babble and duck sounds. It kills him, but Andy loves Lox, Bagel too, but she’s a sweetheart of a dog, so that makes sense. But Andy adores Lox, and given the way Lox lets Andy grab at him, pet him, chase him, never snapping his beak at him, it’s obvious Lox loves Andy too.

No, in the last four years, the only person Lox still hasn’t warmed up to, is him.

“What are we doing today?” Alex asks as they eat.

“I have to check your car,” Michael answers, reaching up to wipe a drop of spittle from Andy’s chin. “I heard a rattle yesterday when you got home.”

Alex tilts his head, frowning. “I didn’t hear anything.”

“Well, you suck at cars, baby,” Michael smirks through a mouthful as Alex shoots him a look when Andy follows his lead and baby talks through masticated pancakes.

“I have you for that,” Alex points out.

Michael nods. “Which is why I will be headfirst in your car today. I could use some company outside though.”

“Oh?” Alex questions with a raised eyebrow, smiling at him.

Michael shrugs with a smile of his own. “You can relax, layout, and get some sun. I’ll work and have something nice to look at.”

Alex’s smile grows fond, and he reaches out to run a hand through his curls. “Vitamin D is important.”

“Exactly.”

***

Michael is head deep in Alex’s SUV.

Bagel lays by the left tire, next to him, sweet girl that she is while Alex and Andy sit a few feet away from him on the grass, with Lox waddling around in circles around them. He turns his head and catches Alex lifting Andy over his head as he lays on a blanket, playing airplane with him. Andy is giggling nonstop, kicking his feet up and down as Alex makes airplane noises, lifting and lowering him to his chest. He smiles at the picture they make, his heart squeezing at the sight of Alex and their son. The little boy was so happy and carefree in a way he and Alex never got a chance to be as children. He shakes his head of the melancholy thoughts before going back to his work, leaning over some more to get to a bolt.

“I like how you bend over that hood, cowboy,” Alex shouts out to him, and he can hear the smirk in his voice. “Yeah, baby, give me a show,” he continues teasingly when Michael leans even further.

Michael shoots him a filthy smirk of his own over his shoulder, and up’s the ante by removing his work shirt, snickering when he hears Andy shout fuck, meaning that he’s heard Alex say it. Full-on laughing as he hears Alex try to fix that mistake. It’s quiet for a moment when he feels a body brush up against his back.

“Tease,” Alex whispers against his ear, his hands coming to rest on Michael’s waist. Michael turns around to face him, a triumphant smile on his face. Andy is due for a nap soon, and if he plays his cards right, a nooner is in his future.

“You said you wanted a show,” he whispers, letting out a gasp as Alex pulls him tighter to his hard body.

Alex doesn't bother answering him and instead lets out a groan before pulling him into a hard kiss, his hands clutching Michael's curls, while Michael's go to Alex's back.

Later, Michael will think about how it only took a moment of them not having eyes on Andy for it to happen. Later, when he's not frozen with fear.

Bagel growls at their feet, and Alex pulls away from their kiss to look down at her.

"Bagel?" He questions, looking over to where she is staring, a constant growl emitting out of her. "Michael," Alex whispers, alarmed, warning him, but he's already spotted what has Bagel angry.

In the moments that it took to kiss Alex, a coyote had made it into the property and was just a few feet from where Andy sits on his blanket, playing with his toy horse. The coyote stares at Andy with black eyes, making his way closer.

Lox, who up till now had been waddling around Andy, puts himself between the wild animal and their son, letting out a squawk that sounds very much like the one Lox likes to give out before he flies at Michael's face.

"Michael," Alex says again, and it kills Michael that he can hear the fear in his voice, in a way he has only heard twice before. When the hammer came down on his hand and when Michael refused to leave Caulfield.

What happens next, happens too fast, even for Michael to understand. He's ready to use his powers to push the coyote away from Andy or pull Andy towards them when the coyote lets out a growl of his own and springs forward faster than he thought possible.

Alex shouts, running forward, with Bagel going ballistic as she follows him. But it's Lox that gets there first, flying into the coyote's face, screaming and flapping his wings, like the hell beast Michael has always seen him as.

It snaps Michael out of his frozen state, and he pushes the wild animal away from his son and his defender, but not before the animal that is snarling at Lox gets his teeth on him. Michael doesn't think he's ever heard such a weak noise come out of Lox than the one he let's out as he drops to the ground. Michael feels it like a physical blow.

He pushes the coyote harder with his mind, sending it flying off their property line.

Alex picks up a startled Andy who has started to cry, holding him close to his chest. He repeats over and over, 'you're okay' as he lays kisses on the side of his face, trying to soothe him.

He turns to him with wide eyes. "Michael, Lox-," He trails off, worriedly, looking back at the duck that is laying quietly a few feet away.

Andy, who has started to calm down, hiding his face in the crook of Alex's neck, looks up at the mention of the duck's name.

"Lox?" Andy questions, his little voice smaller, his bottom lip begins to quiver when the duck doesn't react to him calling out for him.

Michael runs a hand down both their backs, before walking towards where Lox is resting. Bagel, now by Lox's side, nudges him with her snout and lets out a whine. Michael kneels down and gingerly picks him up, letting out a sigh of relief when the bird makes a small wounded noise. He looks back at Alex, feeling useless when he spots the wet sheen of his eyes, his own eyes stinging. "We need to call, Max."

***

He sits on the leather chair in the living room with Lox quietly in his arms; it’s the first time the duck has ever let him hold him for this long, his feathers are dirty and reddish-pink on one side from where the coyote bit into him. He runs a wet dishrag over the feathers trying to clean the poor duck up, wincing when Lox lets out a low hurt sound. Bagel, who is at the foot of the chair, lets out a whine of her own, her expression sad as she rests her head on her paws and looks up at her brother, and Michael with soulful eyes.

Alex, who is sitting on the couch with Andy, his phone to his ear, shoots him a worried look. He focuses on the duck, but he can hear Alex explaining what happened to Liz, asking her for Max.

“Dada.”

Michael looks up, Andy, who has climbed off the couch now stands next to him, his small hand on Michael’s knee. He looks at him with those big hazel eyes of his, he isn’t crying anymore, but it’s obvious the little boy can feel the tension in the room by how subdued he is.

“Hey bud,” he says quietly, running a hand over his soft hair, trying to muster a smile for him. His stomach dropping as he remembers just how close his little boy was to getting hurt. “Are you okay?”

Andy nods slowly, his eyes on Lox, who is looking back at him but not raising his head from where he has it on Michael’s forearm.

“Lox okay, Dada?” Andy asks, his bottom lip giving a slight wobble, and Michael feels a wet ball of emotion in his throat.

“He has a boo-boo, buddy,” he says, clearing his throat, his eyes catching Alex’s over his head. He’s still whispering to Liz, but his gaze is focused on them, his expression wrecked. “But Uncle Max will come and fix him,” he continues looking at Alex again, getting a nod and the words 15 minutes in return.

Andy looks at him and then at Lox.

“Boo-boo?” Andy questions for a moment before he leans down and presses a kiss on Lox’s head, he gets a small honk in return from the duck and looks up at Michael with a hopeful smile, so innocent Michael has to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from crying. “Better?”

Michael smiles for the first time since he spotted the coyote. “Yeah bud, I think that really helped, now Max won’t have to fix much. You did most of the work, good job,” Michael says, his hand coming under Andy’s chin, relieved when Andy gives him a smile of his own, before going back to Alex.

Alex pulls Andy to his lap, letting the boy rest against his chest as they both watch Michael with Lox.

“Finally getting along,” Alex says quietly, with a slight smile as he holds Andy close. He keeps running his hands over him, and Michael spots the slight shake in them as he keeps unconsciously checking to make sure that Andy isn’t harmed.

He sees the comment for what it is, Alex’s desire to make light when he’s still rattled, and he hates that he can’t get up right now and pull Alex and Andy into his arms. Can’t hold them the way he needs to, the way Alex needs him too, not until they make sure Lox is okay. He thinks for a moment with dread what will happen if Max doesn’t get there in time or if he can’t heal Lox and pushes the thought right out. Refusing to contemplate it any longer, for Alex and Andy’s sake, and even his own.

Instead, he flashes Alex a weak smile. “The second Max fixes him, he’ll be biting me again, and we’ll be mortal enemies once more,” Michael jokes. “This truce is unnatural.”

Alex chuckles half-heartedly. “There is a disturbance in the force.”

Michael opens his mouth to comment when there is a hurried knock on their door. “Open up, Guerins!” Liz calls out.

Looking down at his watch, he sees that it hasn’t been the 15 minutes since Alex was on the phone with her, which tells him she drove and not Max.

Michael unlocks the door with his mind, knowing that Alex doesn’t want to get up from where he’s holding Andy.

Liz rushes forward with Isobel on her heel, and Max brings up the rear.

“Is Andy okay?” Isobel asks as she comes around to sit next to Alex, checking on her nephew. Andy lights up when he sees her and crawls out of Alex’s lap to hug her.

“Izzy!”

Isobel hugs her godson tightly. “Hi, sweetheart,” she whispers in his ear, looking at Alex. “I was with them when you called, are you guys okay?”

Alex licks his lips, giving her a slight nod. “Yeah, only Lox got hurt,” he answers, and they all turn to look at Michael and the duck in his arms, hearing his name, Lox lets out another pitiful noise, and Michael looks at Max.

“Max,” Michael starts, cringing when his voice cracks. “Help.”

“Max fix Lox,” Andy says, looking at his uncle. Michael can see how the words and the faith Andy has in him hits Max square in the chest by the sound he makes. “Dada said.”

“You heard our nephew, babe,” Liz pushes her husband forward. “Work your alien Jesus magic and fix the family duck.”

Max steps towards Michael, while Liz goes to Andy, kneeling by Isobel to kiss him. He vaguely hears her talking to him in Spanish, and he understands enough to get that she is telling Andy that everything is going to be okay.

Max bends down, placing his hand over Lox, looking at him.

“You okay?” Max whispers, his face pinched with a concerned frown. Michael feels the sting in his eyes again, and Max’s expression softens, he places a hand over Michael's curls for a moment with brotherly affection before focusing on Lox. Michael holds his breath as light appears under Max’s hand, still after all this time, after knowing that Max brought someone back from the dead, he’s amazed at his power.

It takes a second that seems to go on forever, but after a moment, the light disappears, and Lox, who was barely moving, now lifts his head, spreading his wings as he stands on Michael’s lap, letting out a normal pain-free squawk. Bagel jumps up, barking as she licks at Lox, and Michael quickly puts Lox down on the floor before he has a lapful of duck and dog.

"Lox!" Andy shouts happily, climbing out of Isobel's lap with Liz's help and rushes over to Lox and Bagel as fast as his little legs can take him, plopping down on the floor with them he giggles loudly when Bagel starts licking at his face. Lox crawls into his lap, seemingly talking to Andy through a series of honks and quacks that Andy answers by quacking back.

"Quack, quack!" Andy grins, giving Lox another kiss on his small white head. "All better, Lox!"

Michael smiles as he looks down at his son, seeing that his siblings and his sister-in-law are doing the same. Alex, on the other hand, is looking away, his hands clenched tightly on his lap.

"I'll make coffee," Michael announces, earning a raised eyebrow from the women in the room. He's not known for playing host. "Alex, come with me."

Alex startles at his name, his gaze going to their son, who is now ignoring all of them in favor of crawling around, following Bagel around with Lox bringing up the rear. Alex starts to shake his head.

"Alex," he says more forcefully to keep him focused, his tone softening when Alex's eyes widen. "Baby," he says gently. "Come with me, he's fine. Isobel, Liz, and Max are here."

Isobel, who is next to Alex, reaches over and places her hand over his, pulling on his fingers until his hand relaxes.

"Go help him, Alex," she says softly with a reassuring smile on her face. "Michael sucks at making coffee. He makes motor oil, save our stomachs."

Liz walks over to Andy, sitting on the floor next to him. "Give us some Titi time," she adds, giving Alex a smile of her own. She tickles at Andy's stomach, chuckling when the boy lets out a set of giggles, flashing a toothy grin.

Alex hesitates for a moment longer before standing; he passes Isobel and Max.

Michael catches out of the corner of his eye how Max squeezes Alex's shoulder when he walks by. It loosens some of the tension in his shoulder to see the affection his siblings have for Alex.

He gets to the kitchen and waits for his husband, his heart aching at the way Alex holds himself. He radiates tension and fear. Everything about his body is hard lines, pulled tight like guitar strings about to snap.

His eyes meet Alex’s, and the ache grows as he sees the sheen in them.

"Alex, baby," he whispers, desperate when he sees Alex's eyes grow wetter. "Talk to me."

Alex opens his mouth, and a sob comes out, his eyes going wide with embarrassment. He shuts his mouth, biting down on his bottom lip to keep from making another noise so hard Michael fears he'll draw blood. He takes a step forward, flinching when Alex takes a step back.

He swallows hard around his own tears. "I'm sorry," he whispers, blinking rapidly. "I should have been faster, I froze, and Andy could have been hurt," he shuts his eyes, the moment playing again behind his eyelids, the fear roaring back, and this time he can't stop the tears that slip out. "Lox did get hurt, and that wouldn't have happened if I had just been faster, I'm so sorry Alex."

Alex lets out a hurt noise, and Michael makes himself look at his husband again, tears falling down Alex’s face.

"I shouldn't have walked away from Andy," Alex whispers, his words choked as he tries to stop crying. "You were working, and I was responsible for him. If I had just stayed next to him, this wouldn't have even happened."

Michael shakes his head, grateful that when he takes a step towards Alex this time, he doesn't step away. "Baby, no, this wasn't your fault," he assures him, his hands going to Alex's waist.  "You can't blame yourself."

Alex gives him an ironic smile. "But, you can blame yourself?"

Michael stops short at the question. "You don't blame me?" he questions quietly, wondering how he could not when Michael is choking on guilt and worst-case scenarios.

"Of course not, Michael!" Alex rushes, his hands gripping, squeezing at Michael's waist, pulling him against him as he wraps his arms around Michael. Michael makes a noise and clings to Alex, hiding his face in the crook of Alex's neck, now he can't stop the tears or the shakes that course through his body. The events of the day catching up to both of them as they shudder in each other's arms.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again into Alex’s shirt, and Alex hushes him,  running his hands up and down his back.

Alex pulls back, cradling him between his hands, his thumbs wiping away at his tear-stained face. “Michael, do you blame me for what happened?” Alex asks, his brow furrowed.

“Of course not,” Michael lets out a huff.

Alex quirks the left side of his mouth and for the first time, starts to lose the tension on his shoulders. “Well then, if you don’t blame me for what happened today, you’re not allowed to blame yourself either.”

“I should have been faster,” Michael argues. “I can move things with my brain; I should have-”

“-You wouldn’t have let Andy get hurt,” Alex stops him, holding Michael’s face in place when he tries to look away. “You would have gotten there in time, Michael, you would have kept him safe,” Alex assures him, his eyes locked on him until Michael gives him a slight nod.

“I was so scared,” Michael confesses after a moment of quiet between them, from the kitchen he can hear Liz laughing, followed by Andy letting out an excited shout. He smiles at the sound, relieved when Alex smiles too.

Alex sighs, and leans in, resting his forehead against his. “Me too,” Alex says quietly.

 ***

Isobel, Liz, and Max leave a few hours later.

Michael finds himself on the couch with Alex, Andy between them, and Bagel and Lox on either side of them.

They have the Disney channel on, because, after a year of having Andy with them, it’s either that or Nick Jr. in the Guerin-Manes household. He lets out a groan that is drowned out by Alex laughing and Andy clapping excitedly as the theme to Ducktales starts.

“Lox!” Andy shouts, pointing at the duck and then at the screen. Lox answers by flapping his wings as he sits next to Alex. Bagel, who has been resting her head on Michael’s thigh, barks a few times.

“I guess you are overruled, babe,” Alex shoots him a smirk, his eyes dancing with amusement as he starts to hum along with the song.  Michael would glare at him if he weren’t so cute, bobbing to the song.

“DuckTales! Whoo-hoo,” Alex sings as he leans down close to Andy, who looks at him with wide-eyes and an even wider smile.

“Whooo,” Andy tries to mimic Alex and then looks up at Michael. “Whooo.”

Alex snickers, raising an eyebrow at him. “Are you going to leave your son hanging?”

Michael tries to remain serious, but can’t help the slight snort that leaves his mouth; he runs a hand over Andy’s soft hair. “Whoo-hoo.”

Satisfied that they’ve all said it, Andy turns his attention to the screen, Alex follows suit, while Michael is happy with just watching them for the rest of the evening.

Hours later, after cartoons and a quick meal of spaghetti that ends up more on Andy then in him, they watch as Andy starts to get sleepy. It’s earlier than usual, but given the day’s events, followed by guests, Andy missed his nap, and it's beginning to show.

“He’s going to wake up so early tomorrow if he goes to sleep now,” Alex comments as he picks up an already half asleep Andy.

“There goes morning sex,” Michael quips, waggling his eyebrows when Alex shoots him an unimpressed look.

Alex shakes his head, but Michael spots the reluctant smile on his lips. “I’m going to get him washed up and in bed. You take Bagel and Lox out to the yard,” Alex orders him, his smile growing. “Then, you can make a case for evening sex.”

“Yes, sir,” Michael teases as he heads for the back door, calling out to Bagel, who speeds ahead of him into the yard. He stands a few feet away from her, watching as she sniffs around, trying to find her perfect spot.

“Go with your sister, Lox,” he says, looking down at the duck who is surprisingly still standing next to him instead of by Bagel. Lox never sticks close to him for long, usually preferring the company of everyone else in the house above his. He studies the duck for a moment longer, his feathers are stark white again and smooth, not a scratch on him. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he would never believe that the duck had been hurt in the first place.

He sits down on the grass and snaps his fingers the way Alex does when he wants Lox to come to him. Lox never listens when Michael does it, so his eyes widen when not only does Lox come, but the duck climbs into his crossed legs.

“Are we friends now?” he asks quietly, a little worried that he is going to get a beak in his face at any moment. Lox looks at him before nudging at his hand with his head. Michael knows what he wants, but he still hesitates for a moment before he starts to pet Lox’s small head and down his back. “How long will this truce last, dude?” he questions, and he swears that Lox gives him a stink face.

“Okay, okay,” he continues quickly, petting softly. “Not looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

They stay like that for a while as Bagel wanders close by.

“Thank you, Lox,” he starts, feeling ridiculous for it, but needing to get it out anyway. “Thank you for protecting him today,” he says, feeling a lump in his throat as he strokes the small animal with the protective streak of a giant. “You and I don’t always get along, but we love the same people, so thank you, buddy,” he says, leaning down, placing a kiss on his head.

When Lox snaps his beak at him this time, Michael can see that it’s playful.

***

Michael makes it towards his and Alex’s bedroom once he’s left Bagel and Lox in Andy’s room. Both settling in by the foot of his crib as the little boy sleeps soundly.

Alex sits at the edge of their bed, down to his boxers, his prosthetic is off, and he's going through his nightly PT.

He sits next to him. Waving his hands away, he takes over massaging at Alex’s stump. Alex leans back on his hands, letting out a content sigh as Michael rubs him slowly and methodically. He watches as Alex's eyes start to get heavy. He can’t help but smile, amused even as evening sex quickly evaporates under his skillful fingers.

When he's done, Alex crawls up to the head of the bed and slips under the covers, watching him through half-opened eyes as he heads to the bathroom for a quick shower.

He's surprised when ten minutes later, Alex is still awake as he makes it back into their bedroom. He goes to his side of the bed and gets in, barely laying down before Alex is rolling over into his arms, his head resting on Michael's bare chest, a leg thrown over Michael's.

They lay like that quietly, Michael running his fingers through Alex's soft hair as every once in a while, Alex turns his head to press a kiss on Michael's chest.

"I think Lox and I have reached that ceasefire you were talking about this morning."

Alex lets out an amused sound, his fingers drawing circles at Michael's side.

"We had a good conversation," he starts, not bothered by the way Alex laughs silently at his words. "And we've come to an understanding."

Alex lifts his head and looks at him, his brown eyes shining with humor. "And what understanding is that?"

"That he's a jerk," Michael smirks as Alex looks more amused. "And so am I," he continues, his voice going soft. "But we both love the three same beings, so we're going to get along and protect them together."

Alex looks at him with that love on his face that steals Michael's breath away, always. He pulls himself up until his mouth is inches away from Michael's.

"I love you, Michael Guerin," Alex says against his mouth.

Michael feels his heart skip. "I love you too, Alex Guerin,” he says, kissing him.

Alex's eyes are a shade darker when he pulls away from the kiss. "We should go to sleep."

"Really?" Michael can't help but whine. He was sure sex was in his immediate future.

"Yep," Alex says easily, ignoring his tone as he lays back down on Michael's chest. "You need your rest. I plan to wake you up at midnight with your dick in my mouth and my fingers in your ass before I fuck you till our kid wakes up, you'll need the rest."

Michael lays there; mouth opened at the filth Alex just spewed so easily like he was talking about groceries, hard as a rock in his underwear, and a completely unbothered husband on top of him.

"Now I know where Lox gets his evil streak," He grumbles after a moment, closing his eyes, willing himself to sleep in the face of the promise of sex in a few hours. "At least he only attacks me with his beak."

Still, he falls asleep to Alex, softly laughing at him.

[bluesfortheredj]

“When are you going to take me out then?” Ben asks as you wipe around his face gently with a cotton wool pad.

“You mean when are you going to buy me a coffee?” you smirk back as a smug grin appears across his face.

“Oh, no no no!” he chuckles, “you’re the one who’s been eyeing me for weeks Miss (Y/L/N), so I do believe you should take me out to dinner.”

“Is that so? Close your eyes for a second…” you say as you tap some neutral coloured eyeshadow into the corner of his eyes, “open up… Perfect.”

“I know I am,” he shrugs nonchalantly.

“I was more talking about my handiwork, but whatever,” you say, rolling your eyes.

These moments definitely meant a lot more to you than they did to him, but you knew that someone like Ben would never see you in any other light than as a friend and someone to casually flirt with every now and again when he was bored. Unfortunately this didn’t stop you from wishing deep down that it was more than that, and there was always a tiny flutter of hope when his eyes lingered on you for a little longer than usual.

“See you later then, yeah?” Ben asks as he gets up from the chair.

“If you’re lucky.”

“I’m always lucky, babe,” he winks.

That man could easily turn you into a nonsensical ball of mush with that wink, and you fight to smile at him instead of collapsing into the nearest chair and having to fan yourself with a magazine. He walks away and you let out a deep breath before gathering up your items and putting them neatly away, then whipping out your small apron which had various bits of make up in to do touch ups on set. This was the last shoot of the day and you were hoping it would go smoothly so everyone could actually leave on the time stated on the schedule, as you had some much needed catching up to do with Netflix.

You stay hidden behind the crew for most of the scene; only fixing Rami’s make up when he’d exerted himself a little too much, and the sweat had made his forehead a little streaky. The end of the scene was a sight to see when the cameras stopped rolling and the four men packed into a group hug; it was heart warming to see the comradery between them after a relatively short time together. You begin to walk away slowly until you hear your name slip from Joe’s mouth, and suddenly you find yourself ducking behind a table to get a better listen on their conversation. This was a bad idea.

“Oh come on, Ben!” Gwilym scoffs, “there’s so much chemistry between you guys, it’s ridiculous.”

“Don’t be silly,” Ben laughs.

“Seriously?” Joe questions.

“Just harmless flirting really,” Ben shrugs.

“Who are you trying to convince, us or yourself?” Rami asks.

“There’s nothing to convince myself of, mate. It’s banter between two people, it’s all it ever will be,” Ben replies casually.

The guys begin to protest at his words but you can’t make out what they’re saying over the sound of your heart tearing into pieces inside your chest, and you curse yourself for ever letting that slither of hope manifest inside you in the first place. You quickly run from set back to the safety of your trailer where you slap your palm against your forehead harshly.

“Stupid, stupid fucking idiot!” you hiss at yourself, “absolute fucking twat!”

You knew it, you fucking knew it really. Why the hell didn’t you listen to yourself in the first place?! As if a guy like Ben would even think about being with someone like you. You’d made yourself feel like an absolute fool for ever entertaining the idea that it could be more, and you hated yourself for it. That tiny flutter of hope should have been squashed as soon as it came about.

Luckily the end of the day was upon you and you were first to run out to the car park and scramble to get in your car as fast as possible. As you look up from the steering wheel you spot Ben and Joe, and they both wave to you, but you can’t stand to even think about waving back, and you rev your engine loudly as you fly out of there to get home and eat away your sorrows with chocolate.

You wake the next morning to a blissful few seconds where you forget what you heard the previous day, but when your mind clears it hurts almost twice as much as it did before, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you think about having to walk into work in a couple of hours.

“How’s my favourite girl this morning?” Ben asks as he breezes past you and flops down in the chair ready for his make up.

“Fine,” you say through gritted teeth while you prepare to turn and face him.

“You sure?”

“Yep,” you reply, popping the ‘p’ to release some tension.

“Right...” he trails off, knowing what you said was complete bullshit.

The next few days go a similar way; only replying to Ben when absolutely necessary and never exaggerating on your short, sharp answers. He knew it was to do with him, as you were much more talkative to the others, and it certainly didn’t go unnoticed.

“Right, what’s wrong with you?” Ben asks as he storms into your trailer after four days with the silent treatment.

“Nothing,” you sigh as you turn away from him to rest your hands on the dressing table.

“Stop bullshitting me, (Y/N), because I see you talking to Joe, Gwilym, and Rami okay, and yet when it comes to me it’s as if you hate me. What the hell has happened? We used to have such a laugh.”

You stand up straight and turn to face him with your arms now folded across your chest in a defensive manner.

“If having a laugh with me meant nothing anyway, then what’s the big deal?”

You see the fear cross Ben’s face as he realises you’d overheard his conversation with the other guys, and he brings his hands up to his hair where he runs his fingers through his locks nervously.

“That… That was a load of shit,” he says, “as if I meant any word of that.”

“You sounded pretty convincing to me, mate.”

“I… God, I’ve fucked up… I only said those things because I wanted to get them off my back about the whole situation. You know what they’re like! I didn’t want them butting in all the time when whatever we… or, I feel, should be between us, and us alone.”

“Right,” you scoff.

“It’s true! Please, (Y/N), it’s you, always has been, always will be.”

“It’s banter, it’s all it ever will be,” you frown, using his own words against him.

You see the genuine hurt in his eyes at you repeating his remarks, and he knows he’s fucked up big time with this.

“Fuck. That cut deep,” he whispers, taking a seat on the couch in the corner.

“Did it?” you ask with fake surprise.

“I’m so sorry (Y/N). Honestly, so fucking sorry. Please believe me when I say I didn’t mean any of what I said to them. I’ve fallen for you really bloody hard, and I didn’t want anything to mess it up, but then I’ve gone and fucked it before anything’s even begun.”

You watch as he looks up at you with pleading eyes; there was no faking this kind of reaction, no matter how good an actor he was.

“I think you owe me a dinner,” you concede with a sigh.

“Dinner, coffee, a film, anything you want,” Ben grins as he stands up.

“Just… Tell me first if you’re going to pretend you don’t fancy me, yeah?”

“Does that mean you like me too?” he smirks, raising his eyebrows.

“What do you think?” you ask with an eye roll.

Hello love, I’ve an angsty Ben request! Reader is a makeup artist for bo rhap & there’s always flirting between her & Ben. But she overhears him talking to Joe & Gwil & he says nothing will ever happen between them it’s just harmless flirting which upsets her so she only talks to him when she has too. After a few days of her being quiet Ben asks what’s wrong & she admits to hearing him & he tells her he didn’t mean it & just didn’t want to tell Joe & Gwil how he felt. Fluffy ending please!

@peachllobotomy @lv7867 @aynsleywalker @wolfgirlxslytherin @pink-lemo @painthatiusedto @n3shama

[softstraykidsimagines]

Variety show

Summary: You and Jeongin, by some happy (or not?) coincidence, ended up on the same variety show, but could you both keep your relationship a secret with prying questions?

Requested: yes

Pairing: Jeongin x Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, idol AU

Word count: 3.5k words

Warnings: written at 11pm, so probs sometimes weird sounding and im too tired to check

A/N: 1) don’t even ask me abt the group name idek what i was thinking. 2) DAmn sON i didn’t mean to make it this long. 3) fun fact: at first this was gonna be a comedic bulletpoint story, then i changed it to a feeble emotional roller coaster (i really do mean feeble af). 4) i hope you like it <33

MASTERLIST

“Please welcome our wonderful guests, Five Times Brighter!!!”, called the MC, followed by the cheers from the audience. One by one your group members and yourself filed out onto the small stage to greet the crowd. You were quickly ushered into a seat, where you could witness the sheer amount of people who had come to watch, obscured slightly by the blinding glare of the stage lights.

You felt your throat tighten. This better work out, you thought, feeling ill at ease by knowing there must have been at least ten cameras pointed at you and your comrades. What would we do if anyone found out? You shook your head violently with a pout. Stop it. Nothing’s gonna happen. You’re overreacting...

You were jolted out of your thoughts by the voice of the MC as he raised his voice again. “And now please welcome the rookie legends themselves! The great award winners, Stray Kids!!!” The room erupted into screams of fans as the nine handsome boys jogged out from backstage.

Your stomach did an uncomfortable somersault. Don’t make eye contact! If you do, someone will definitely notice!! Then you’re finished!!! You mentally slapped yourself and took a deep breath. You then realized that you’d placed your index and middle finger against your throat, an uncanny imitation of Felix taking his pulse as he became nervous. You’d somehow picked up the habit from the cute Aussie boy as you hung out with him at the same time as Jeongin. With a gulp, you slammed your hand back onto your lap and stared unemotionally at the boys as they sat on the other couch across from you from the MC’s center chair.

When everyone had sat down, the room went annoyingly quiet. You swallowed back anger as you waited for the MC to ask something and distract you. Finally:

“First, I’d like to ask both groups if they could tell us what inspired certain songs in their album”. Some applause followed as you forced your muscles to relax. “Should we ask FTB first?” The crowd cheered.

Your smile started becoming a little more genuine. Nothing bad, just a mindless answer to your average question. The ‘What inspired you to write X’ question was always a default for some reason. But at least it was eas-

“Y/n!” The blood drained from your face at your name. Oh... oh no... “A little birdie told me”, the MC said cheekily, “that you wrote one of the most successful songs on the album. ‘Winged love’, wasn’t it?”

You started to loath the MC, or whoever had decided that that specific question would be a good one. It’s true, you had written and composed the song, but your inspiration was exactly what you wanted to avoid, as your mind flashed to moment you got the idea for the lyrics.

~~~~~~~~~

“Try to pick your feet up a bit more here”, you said, poking Jeongin’s leg as he posed awkwardly in front of the practice room mirror. He groaned in retaliation, muscles trembling from exhaustion.

“I can’t do it”, he whined. “It’s useless. Just go on without me and practice on your own. You’ll do so much better without me dragging you down”.

You scoffed without any amusement. “Like Hell I will. I’m staying right here until you can get this. I said I’d help, so I’m helping”. He gave you a pitiful look, and you smiled softly. “Let’s take a break, then. I’ve got biscuits!”

“I don’t usually eat at this hour”, Jeongin said hesitantly.

“You don’t usually practice at this hour”, you answered matter-of-factually. You didn’t wait for an answer and dragged your boyfriend down to the floor, rolling to your side and grabbing a huge packet full of snacks and tearing it open mercilessly. You offered one to the boy in front of you, who conceded with a sigh. “Cheers!” You knocked your biscuit against his, making a couple of crumbs fall to the ground, and shoved the entire thing into your mouth. Jeongin stared at you until you made a face, cookie still lodged between your cheeks, making him burst into laughter. You fought not to spit your snack out as you sniggered with him.

“How do you do that”, he asked.

“Mmmfmm ru wha”, you said, still trying to down your food.

“Always find a way to make me feel so much better, no matter how battered I feel”, he said, mesmerized. You stared at him uselessly, so he continued. “When I’ve been at my worst, or when I’ve felt like giving up, you’ve been there to pick me up. You’re like my pair of wings”. You stayed quiet, scared to knock him out of his reverie. He smiled faintly. “At this point, I could jump off a mountain, trusting you to catch me if you said you would. And I always feel safe with you. No matter what scares me, I feel better when you’re next to me, as if you’ve become a hypothetical shield. And I want to be the same, I want to always be there for you, whenever you’re feeling down, I want to be the first person you think of going to”. He suddenly curled his fingers and squeezed his eyes shut. “That was so cringey I’m sorry”.

You giggled softly and wrapped your arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder. “It’s a little cliche, I admit. But it’s the best kind of cliche. Because I feel the same way”. You lifted your head kissed his cheek. “I’ll always be right here. And I’ll always trust you to be there too”.

~~~~~~~~~

Your eyes came back into focus, as your mind started racing, scrounging for a decent story that could convince the public that it had nothing to do with the very boy who was sitting only five feet from you.

“Uh-uhhh”, your mind became completely blank. “My... One of my old friends”. You cleared your throat. “Whenever she was upset, I would want to do anything to make her feel better. And I did do some pretty stupid things”. You smiled sheepishly at the pitch black half of the room where the fans giggled in reaction to your stutter. Your confidence grew as you continued: “The lyrics represent what I wanted to be to her. I wanted her to feel as if she could trust me with anything at all. As if I could always pick her up if she felt low”. You finished and prayed that it was enough.

The MC nodded, thoughtful. “So she never said the things in the lyrics out loud?”

You shook your head. “She wasn’t the most extroverted person”, you answered. “But I hope that that’s how she felt”. At that, everyone seemed satisfied and applauded. You bobbed your head, looking back at your clenched fists in your lap. I’ve gotta be more careful. One slip-up and I’m in deep-

“How about our favorite maknae”, the MC laughed, turning to SKZ. Your pulse went sky-high again.

-shit.

Jeongin let his eyes go wide, and pointed at himself. “Na?” He asked in an innocent voice. Despite your nerves going crazy, you managed to chuckled along with everyone else at the cute act.

The MC wasn’t an exception, though he quickly regained his posture. “Yes, I believe it was you who wrote the song ‘Midnight Walk’, am I correct?”

The boy nodded with a bright smile. “That’s right! And the first ever song where I wrote one hundred percent of the lyrics!!” He glowed with pride, and a secret burst of happiness for him shot through you. You could still remember when he’d told you about his accomplished goal.

~~~~~~~~~

You swung your hand, latched onto Jeongin’s, back and forth as you both strolled down an empty trail that ran along the Han River. “So?”, you prompted.

He looked back at you. “What?” He was playing innocent. Of course he was. You giggled and started swinging your connected hands even more, feeling blood rush through your slightly chilled fingers. Without speaking, you both started skipping forward, bumping each other and giggling like children. You loved that. That you could both move in sync without having to communicate. This continued until you pulled him to a stop.

“Okay, now actually tell me. What did you wanna say earlier. You looked as if you were about to explode with excitement”.

Jeongin grinned happily. “I...” he spoke excruciatingly slowly. “...have written.... my own song! And it’s gonna be on the next album!!!!!” At this, he picked you up and spun you around, until you felt too dizzy to stand on your own.

You laughed with him, and leaned on him. “Jeonginie, that’s amazing! I’m so proud of you”. You kept clinging onto him. “What’s it called?”

“I haven’t decided yet”, he confessed. He was quiet for a moment. “Do you think I could name it after a fun memory with you? Without being too obvious, that is”.

You nodded. “Yeah, I think you could get away with it”.

And so he grinned broadly. “Okay, then. How about I call it midnight walk, after tonight?”

“Why tonight of all things? We’re just walking”, you asked incredulously.

“Because the simplest memories with you are the best”, he answered, squealing a bit at the overly sweet phrase.

You laughed. “Alright then. Are you allowed to spoil a few lyrics for me?”

“Of course”, said Jeongin, hoisting you up so that he was half carrying you. “It’s my song after all”. His voice went up a notch with happiness. “A few lines feel a bit random, without context; but just remember that I thought of you while writing them”. You hugged his arm until you thought you might be cutting his circulation. As you both kept walking, you slowly regained your balance and he listed a few lines from his oeuvre. That was the best walk at 1:30am you’d ever had.

~~~~~~~~~

Jeongin was still beaming at the MC, who began fanning himself dramatically. “His smile is so blinding”, he called, and there came calls of agreement from the audience. “But you still haven’t answered”. The room went silent again. “What inspired you to write the lyrics of ‘Midnight Walk’?”

Jeongin gave another dazzling smile. “It was a lot of different things; it took months of me scribbling down random ideas to be able to form something logical”.

The MC nodded again. “Of course, the lyrics do vary a lot. But I think we’re more interested in the more romantic sounding ones in the song”. The crowd ooh-ed, as if confirming the statement.

Your boyfriend grinned once more. “Well, those specific lines are dedicated to someone very special in my life”.

NO! You had to bite your tongue to stop yourself from yelling aloud. He knew about the warnings, as well as you.

~~~~~~~~~

“Both Stray Kids and Five Times Brighter Will be on a variety show on the second weekend of the month”, stated one of your managers, standing next to JYP himself. Everyone nodded together as the schedule was recited in its entirety. It was all standard, except for the fact that the two groups had never been on a same show.

As the schedule came to its end, both groups dispersed to continue practice, but JYP called Jeongin and yourself aside. “I’d like to specify something”, he said in a tone that let you know that nothing good was coming. “When you’re both on that variety show in the middle of the month, I don’t even want you two to make eye contact. We don’t want anyone knowing about your relationship. I’m warning you now, keep it under wraps, and there won’t be any problems”.

You and Jeongin nodded, eyes round. As JYP finally walked away, you turned to your boyfriend. “Why the Hell does he want us to stay a secret?”, you failed terribly at keeping the anger out of your voice. “You’re allowed to be dating by now, so am I. No one needs to know that we started going out before my ban was up. So what’s his problem?”

Jeongin pulled you against him. “I don’t know, but let’s just do as he said. I don’t wanna think about what could happen if something goes wrong”. You eventually agreed, still grudging.

“It’s still unfair that we have to hide when we’re so happy”.

~~~~~~~~~

The memory raged in your mind, nearly as loud as the screams of shock that wracked the studio at Jeongin’s words. Everyone stared at him with wide eyes, as he smiled calmly. Jeongin, what are you going??!!!!

“They’re dedicated to someone special in my life”. He had to raise his voice to make himself heard. “Whom I’ve not met yet”. There was a collective gasp at the strange turn in his statement. “One day, I want to be able to say those things to the love of my life, on a walk at one in the morning”.

Everyone aah-ed in understanding, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. You weren’t sure if you wanted to smack him or kiss him, but at least no one suspected anything anymore. And he’d very secretly hinted at the walk when he shared the lyrics with you, in the dead of night. Your heart swelled with warmth and love for the boy.

“Look at y/n, they’re blushing!”, yelled the MC. You were so shocked that you yelled out as everyone shouted teasingly. The MC started laughing. “Are you thinking of anyone in particular, y/n? Anyone you’d like to take a midnight walk with?” Electricity filled the air.

None of your damn business, you thought hotly. But of course it was. Your entire life was not yours to control, but the public’s. You made a face as if you’d swallowed a particularly sour lemon, which incidentally seemed to be a pretty good answer for the public.

“Apparently, y/n isn’t at all interested in a relationship”, chuckled the MC. He quickly continued with a bunch of other standard questions, and you imagined the different ways you could smack him and still get away with it. Maybe I should throw a bucket of water at him, then he wouldn’t be so obnoxiously happy, you thought, in your own world.

You werre making eye-contact with Jeongin, and realized with a start that you’d been staring at him this entire time. You checked that no one had remarked, but the cameras were strained on Changbin as he complained about being woken up too harshly by Woojin, to the amusement of most. You quickly stole another look at your boyfriend but, almost too subtle to notice, he shook his head, looking a bit panicky. You immediately understood and glanced elsewhere, trying to act interested in some tangled cables by a stage light.

When the questions had dragged on long enough to make your feet go numb, it was finally time for a game before the show came to an end. You stood up gratefully, hobbling a bit to get to stage right. You craned your neck to see what game you were meant to play against Stray Kids, and with a crashing wave of horror, you realized that Pocky Stick packets were sitting on the tiny stool near the stage wings. You saw from the corner of your eye that Jeongin was looking as displeased about the idea as you, even though everyone else seemed almost thrilled.

This is nuts, you kept repeating to yourself. Either I’ll have to play with one of SKZ, WHO KNOW JEONGIN AND I ARE DATING, or I play against Jeongin and people realize that we seem too comfortable. It’s a lose lose situation oh shit oh shit oh sh-

“How about the desert-fox-maknae and y/n, who seems so keen to avoid a little kiss!”, yelled the MC, who was tantalizingly close enough for you to punch. You faced Jeongin, who had become unusually pale, and you fought back your own panic as you were passed a Pocky Stick.

Your stomach churned as you both stared at each other, sweat beading at the hairline. Someone gave your shoulder a push --you didn’t know who, and you couldn’t force yourself to care-- and you bit into you end of the stick. Jeongin bit the other end and cheers rose in the crowd, deafening you and making your eyes water.

You weren’t sure how long you both kept staring at each other, but in the seconds --it could’ve been hours-- that Jeongin’s eyes bore into yours, something seemed to click in his mind, and he clenched his jaw with determination. You nibbled a bit of the Pocky Stick and noise in the room went up. Slowly the gap between your lips became smaller and smaller until you were close enough for you to hear his heartbeat, or maybe it was yours, pounding in your ears.

You squeezed your eyes shut, your senses completely abandoning you. We must be less than a centimeter apart! And then you felt a firm hand clasp your wrist. Before you could understand what was happening, Jeongin’s lips smacked against yours. But not by accident. This was with decision, the Pocky Stick forgotten. From habit, you kissed him back, your ears ringing. As you pulled away, you realized it had been him who had grabbed your wrist, and he’d put a the other hand on your waist to pull you closer. The ringing in your ears was from the screams that came from the audience.

Panic rose up in you again as what had happened sank in. We kissed... on live TV!! Your heart was in your throat. What’s going to happen to us? Jeongin said something that never made it to your ears, but looked something like ‘trust me’. He turned to everyone watching, now in a confused frenzy at what they’d witnessed. “Y/n and I are dating”, he stated simply, which was followed by an enormous uproar. He continued in a yell. “We weren’t meant to say anything, but I think it’s unfair that we have to keep our happiness a secret, just for the satisfaction of the public. So now you know!!!” His last words were drowned out by more screams of shock and confusion as you were both pulled off and away from stage.

You had become light-headed, everything becoming an incoherent blur as your receded into your own chaotic thoughts. What’s gonna happen what will JYP do to us will we be kicked out of the company oh god what if I become the reason for Jeongin leaving Stray Kids I couldn’t live with myself--

In your daze, you were pushed into a small waiting room. “Wait here”, said a gruff voice. I’m going to pass out! The world is tilting to the left! And now the right... Left.... Right.... You leaned against a wall and looked at Jeongin, who stared back at you, expressionless. After a few seconds, you started violently trembling.

“What are we going to do”, you breathed, more to yourself than to your boyfriend. “They’ll hate us, they’ll kick us out of the company! Why did you do that?” You had no anger in your voice as you stared at Jeongin, just helplessness. He walked over and wrapped his arms around you tightly but with a little tremor.

“I don’t know”, he confessed, and you sniffled slightly. “But I thought of what you’d said when we were told to stay quiet. We shouldn’t have to hide, especially because we’re so happy. I think if JYP wants to kick us out, let him”.

“No, no, Jeongin!” You let out a panicked sob. “What about the other boys? You can’t leave them, not just for me! What ever happens, you can’t leave Stray Kids!”

You both stood there, holding onto each other tightly, for a long time. After what felt like hours, you both sat down on the shiny floor of the tiny room, still not letting go of each other’s hands. You had calmed down now, and just sat quietly. Suddenly, Jeongin sat up and grabbed his phone. “What are you doing”, you asked, your voice slurred and muffled from exhaustion.

“The show was a live broadcast wasn’t it”, asked Jeongin. “And because it’s the evening, most of the world will have been awake. Which means...” He tapped the Twitter icon and the app came to life. He immediately went to the Trending page, and with a gasp, you saw #JeonginAndY/nDating on the second most popular tag.

“Oh my God”, you breathed. You didn’t think the effect would be so big. Before you could stop him, Jeongin tapped on the tag. You yelped and looked away, not wanting to see any of the awful comments people had made.

“Y/n...” Jeongin’s voice was laced with shock.

“I know, I know, you don’t have to tell me it’s bad”, you say in despair.

“It’s... Everyone’s congratulating us!” Your eyes snapped open, and you swung your head around to glare at the bright screen. Thousands upon thousands of tweets had the trending hashtag, with people voicing their wishes of happiness for you as a couple, in English, Korean, you saw Spanish and french and Japanese. Message after message flashed by as Jeongin scrolled downwards. He started laughing; softly at first, then loudly, like a child how had received a special gift for Christmas. “They’re happy for us! Y/n they’re happy for us!!” He hugged you tightly as you laughed with him, more out of relief and exhaustion than anything else.

After a few more minutes, spent with you both bent over the phone and reading all the happy tweets, one of the staff came in to let you know that JYP was on his way to talk. “He didn’t sound as angry as we expected though, if that makes you feel a little better”, he said sympathetically. You thanked him as he wished you both luck and closed the door. And you turned back to Jeongin.

“You know... I don’t want to jinx it but... maybe this wasn’t as bad as I thought”, you said apprehensively.

The boy hugged you tightly. “Well, no matter what happens, we’ll always be there for each other. Right?”

You smiled, thinking of ‘Midnight Walk’ and ‘Winged Love’. “Right”. You felt warm, think about the lyrics you’d both written, saying you’d never leave the love of your life.

Because it was true.

im sorry idek what the ending is anymore but eh this was the third draft soooo...

[victoodles]

Nicknames and Late Night Dances

Hey! It’s my first RDR2 story! I’m working on more but I hope you like this one. I don’t know how this works but if you like my work and wanna send me requests, I’m down for pretty much everything. Xoxo gossip girl! Find it here on AO3

Warnings: Nada :)

The gang’s hoots and hollers could be heard from Valentine all the way to Saint Denis. A celebration with no rhyme or reason, but still just as spirited. With the uncertainty that there would ever be a sunrise to come, everyone partied as if heaven’s gates would be waiting for them bright and early the following morn.

Drinks were plentiful as generous portions of booze were passed from one hand to the next; leave no cup high and dry. Arthur nursed his beer slowly as he observed his ragtag family, mentally preparing for the shenanigans that would soon follow-the ever dutiful guardian.

Everyone was up to something, rambunctious as always. Sean made pitiful, lecherous passes to a drunk Karen, who responded in kind due to her excessive inebriation. Dutch was sitting with Molly, a familiar grip on her thigh as they sipped on finer liquor together; Miss O’Shea was too highbrow for whatever the commoners drank. Lenny and Hosea recklessly played “five-finger fillet”, which to no one's surprise, ended with sliced hands and hearty laughs at their blatant stupidity.

Javier sat by the fire, casually playing his guitar as people sang-some slurring-dirty songs in tandem with his strumming. Amongst the jovial crowd was you, cheeks pink from one drink too many and your voice louder and prouder than the rest.

Color Arthur surprised that a usually dignified lady such as yourself was bellowing filthy tunes with the likes of Uncle and Swanson. He quickly found a familiar tint adorning his cheeks, similar to yours, and he couldn’t pin the blame on the alcohol this time around.

Arthur was constantly enamored by you but seeing you like this, unrestricted by the commonalities of a society you had long abandoned, he found you even more captivating than before. With a lopsided grin and the fire casting delicate shadows upon the contours of your face, Arthur committed the image to memory so he could immortalize it in his journal later that night.

He hadn’t even realized he was starring, something he was usually hyper aware of, but with the flames emitting such an enchanting glow that continued to envelope you, he felt himself spellbound.

As if starlight had come to life, was the first thought that came to mind; he mentally reprimanded himself for sounding like such a lovestruck fool. Although despite that, he found no shame in admitting to himself that all those pretty poems you and Mary-Beth tittered about could never hold a candle to your beauty.

Too lost in his own head, Arthur hadn’t realized that you had looked up to meet his lingering gaze. Now exposed, heat quickly crept up the back of his neck as your smile widened and you proceeded to eagerly wave him over to the campfire. His feet acted before his mind could catch up and he started in your direction, not before taking an excessive swig of his drink in a sad attempt to calm his nerves.

While Arthur lacked the liquid courage, you on the other hand had enough of it for the both of you. The whiskey you’d been sampling had sent a warmth blooming through your entire body, weakening the shyness that usually reared its ugly head around Arthur. You were a well-spoken, educated woman but your feelings for a certain Mr. Morgan had reduced you to a blushing, bumbling mess.

“My lady,” Arthur said affectionately and he tipped his hat to you, “everyone,” he acknowledged the rest of the group with considerably less enthusiasm. The men responded in kind, grunting their hellos.

Almost as soon as he arrived, you had hopped up from the log you were perched on to meet Arthur, beaming at him even more now that you were in his presence.

Having your inhibitions assuaged thanks to a healthy dose of Uncle’s personal booze supply, you wrapped your arms snugly around Arthur’s sturdy shoulders, catching the usually stoic outlaw off guard.

“Ar-tie,” you singsonged, rather loudly; you had no idea where this newfound nickname had come from but your drunk alter ego seemed to enjoy throwing all formalities to the wind. Arthur’s eyes widened, his blush clearly visible as he found himself in your warm embrace.

A universal silence fell over the circle, Charles and John trying to contain their snickers as they eagerly awaited for the rest of this sickeningly saccharine scenario to play out.

Arthur sputtered pathetically as he tried to process the entirety of this overwhelming situation that he quickly found himself in.

You were so close to him, a distance he previously would’ve considered improper especially with a lady of your caliber. But now, with alcohol fueling both of your systems, he wasn’t so sure he could bring himself to care.

He could faintly make out the scent of wildflowers in your hair-a mix of lavender and honeysuckle. How could someone who lived amongst criminals and was constantly surrounded by depravity smell so sweet?

Your hypnotic aroma was almost enough to make him forget about your ridiculous shortening of his name-almost.

“Artie?” he asked incredulously. He was a hardened criminal, the secondhand gun and leading enforcer of the Van der Linde gang. A bad man. And here you were, drunk and without a care in the world, calling him something not even Jack had thought to come up with. You pulled back from him, much to his dismay, with a faux-pout pursing your lips.

“Yes, that’s,” you paused to lightly bop him on the nose with your index finger, “you.” The rest of the gang had abandoned any form of subtly as unrepressed chortles could be heard from practically everyone around the campfire.

Little ol’ you was making the infamous Arthur Morgan, a man with a bounty of over five thousand dollars, more flustered than a common schoolgirl. They weren’t naive to his feelings towards you, keeping to themselves lest they want to meet the business end of his wrath. But this was too hysterical to ignore, and they felt safe making jests at Arthur’s expense with you in tow.

“Artie why don’t you sit down with us,” Javier offered cooly, the smirk tugging at the edge of his lips practically giving away his teasing undertones. Arthur was about to retort when he was cut off by Uncle’s loudmouthed interjection.

“Yeah Artie, my boy, you look a lil’ red in the face! Take a load off and enjoy the company of the fine mistress called whiskey,” he whooped, slapping his knee as he keeled over from a fit of laughter due to his own witticism.

Completely oblivious, you laughed alongside the other men as you linked arms with a disgruntled Arthur. He scoffed in response to this incessant mocking, quickly tossing back the rest of his beer to alleviate his rapidly increasing heart rate as you continued to move closer to his side.

Your attention soon diverted from the conversation to Dutch’s gramophone, a gentle melody emitting from it and drifting up to the moon above. Excitement took ahold of your heart and in turn you took ahold of Arthur’s hands, the joy radiating from you almost palpable.

“Artie,” you chirped, earning another wave of sniggers, “dance with me!” It wasn’t so much a request as it was a demand, as you already started tugging him towards the music’s origin.

“D-dance?” he stuttered. He wasn’t known for his charm and grace and yet despite that, you were asking this of him anyway. And who was he to deny you of anything you wanted?

But at the risk of making an even bigger idiot of himself in front of you, he couldn't help but hesitate. You noticed his apprehension and turned towards him, hands on your hips in a stern fashion similar to Abigail before she’s about to scold Jack for misbehaving.

“Yes dance, silly,” you chided, resuming your place around his arm before softening your expression again. “Do you not want to dance with me, Artie?” you said sullenly; the sad look you gave Arthur was irresistible and almost impossible to refuse.

He sighed heavily, shooting daggers at the men ogling the two of you from around the fire and then returning his attention back solely to you, ready to concede to your wishes.

“As my lady commands” he said, ushering you closer to Dutch’s tent by the small of your back-always the gentleman. The two of you stood next to the gramophone, the record idly spinning as it produced a pleasant rhythm.

Arthur extended his hand and you excitedly gave yours in turn, not expecting such a soft kiss from his chapped lips to grace your senses. Your flush was amplified by his chivalry and you bowed your head in response, like a true lady of high society.

His arm found a comfortable place around your waist and the two of you began swaying in an almost perfect tempo to a song unknown to the both of you.

With the entire camp peering at this tender moment between you, the only audience you two acknowledged were the stars twinkling faintly above.

Arthur surprised you with an elegance and poise that could be expected of a Saint Denis socialite, but still making it an experience that was uniquely him. You giggled as Arthur clumsily twirled you around before bringing you back towards him, your chests mere inches apart. He cocked an eyebrow at you in mock accusation at your sudden outburst.

“You are full of surprises, Sir Artie,” to which Arthur let out his own hearty chuckle for the first time that night.

“I’m no sir, my dear lady. Just trying to please.”

“And you are doing a fine job, cowboy,” you purred, putting extra emphasis on your last word and catching his attention for yet another time that same evening. It seemed to be a talent of yours and he had no qualms about your skills. A nickname, so suitable for him, sounded absolutely perfect coming from you.

“No more Artie?” he questioned with a humorous tone, giving you another spin. He was never one for dancing, but with you, it came as simple as breathing. You smiled at him mischievously, daring to lean in closer. He didn’t object.

“I was just teasin’, didn’t mean to make you sweat cus’ of it,” you admitted.

To be perfectly honest, you didn’t take into account the backlash from the rest of the gang that would result from your drunken roguery. But you were tired of letting your lack of confidence get in the way of pursuing a man who you held such a deep level of admiration for. Right now, you had absolutely no regrets about any of your actions.

Arthur laughed again, a lovely yet rare occurrence. “Well no offense taken darlin’, despite those buffoons I’d say this evening ended quite pleasantly.”

With that, he dipped you gracefully as the music gave one last bombastic crescendo before its grand finale. A majority of the gang awarded the two of you with a hearty round of applause, but Arthur paid them no mind.

Gently, he pulled you back to him as you both regained your composure. He looked down at you fondly, brushing strands of hair that came loose during your dance back behind your ear. Even disheveled, you were still a marvel to behold in his eyes.

Your gazes were locked to one another, fingers still intertwined. Arthur, bless his heart, was unsure of how to end this beautifully intimate encounter. He had already taken so many risks tonight, and if said risks weren’t related to some sort of gang heist, then it meant he truly was taking a leap of faith outside of his realm of expertise.

You could practically feel his frantic heartbeat thrumming against your own chest. Feeling bold, a hand found its way up to his neck and you stood on your tiptoes to place a single kiss on his cheek yet dangerously close to the corner of his lips.

As quickly as you gave it, you retreated in hopes of seeing his earnest reaction and you were not disappointed. Almost baffled, his free hand lingered where you had kissed in an attempt to reaffirm he wasn’t dreaming. You placed your hand over his, and gave him a loving smile that almost knocked him off his feet.

“You know where to find me later,” was all you said as you sauntered away, his line of sight following your form as you leisurely strolled back to your tent.

Another moonlight dance was definitely in store.

[ghostofviperwrites]

Hooking

Requested by @omegaliciousss

Pairing:  Kenny Omega/FC

Category:  Smut

“There’s no hiding how hot and bothered you are” and “How much do I have to pay?”

Kenny Omega didn’t get a lot of free time.  So when he did he liked to take advantage and spend the day in bed with someone.   Male or female, it kinda depended on his mood.  Today he was leaning towards the female variety which was why he had chosen this bar.   It had a reputation around town and he knew he could find some easy pickings.  He had been hear for about an hour nursing his beer and was starting to get frustrated.   Sure women had come up to him, but it was starting to hurt his ego that they were all working girls.  He had nothing against them, more power to them, but he didn’t have to pay for sex. Never had and he had no intentions of starting now.  

The corner of his lip turned up as he watched another woman approaching.   She was making him rethink his no paying policy he thought as he took in the long legs showcased by her almost indecently short miniskirt.  The cleavage bared by her low cut top was nothing to turn a nose up at either.  

“Hello handsome,” She purred with a seductive smile on her painted red lips.  

“How much do I have to pay?” He asked bluntly.

“I’m not a hooker,”   She snapped indignantly.  

“Could’ve fooled me,” He smirked taking a long pull of his beer.  

“I was thinking about fucking you, but now I think you can fuck yourself.”  She huffed stomping back to her corner booth, keeping her glare firmly on the handsome stranger seated at the bar.   She muttered to herself cursing him under her breath.  For the first time in her life she tries to be a femme fatale, dress sexy and go after what she wants and she gets called a whore.  She also threw a few well-placed curses at herself for still staring at him.  She just couldn’t stop looking at him, from his muscular body showcased to perfection by that tight white t-shirt to his gorgeous blonde curls she wanted to bury her fingers in.   She must have gotten lost in a daydream as she stared as she was startled when he slid into her booth and she had to shift suddenly uncomfortably aware of an intense tingling between her thighs from her little fantasy.  

“What do you want?”  She snapped with a sneer.  

“You,” Kenny replied with a smile that didn’t help the situation between her legs.  

“Too bad.  You had the chance and lost it when you called me a whore.”  She responded with a saccharine sweet grin.  

“Can you blame me?”  Kenny said nodding towards her attire.  “You’re dressed exactly the same as the rest of the girls in here fucking for money. So let’s cut to the chase. I want you, you want me.”

“I don’t want you,” she protested earning a roll of the eyes from Kenny.

“Bullshit.  There’s no hiding how hot and bothered you are,” He said.  “Think I can’t tell when a woman wants me?  Think I don’t see you shifting in your seat and rubbing your legs together. You’re hot for me.  No sense denying it.”   Kenny smirked and shifted forward, elbows onto the table.  “I can put you out of your misery.  Let me take you home, bury my tongue in your sweet little pussy and eat you out until you’re begging for mercy.”  

She found herself staring in his hypnotic blue eyes unable to look away, swallowing hard as her breathing quickened.  

“Why don’t you put both of us out of our misery? Say yes,” Kenny implored.  Unable to resist those baby blues any longer she found herself nodding in agreement, taking his hand when he rose from the table and following him out of the bar.  

As soon as they got back to his place, Kenny made good on his word, tossing her on the bed as if she weighed no more than a feather before pushing her down on the bed, getting the skirt up over her hips and burying his face between her thighs.  

“Please, no more…” she begged panting as she rode out her third orgasm with Kenny’s tongue buried deep inside her.   She shuddered as she felt his lips smile against her folds trying to get away from him when his tongue swiped across her clit.  

“I told you that you were going to have to beg for mercy,” Kenny grinned up at her, beard glistening from her juices as he kept her in place with his hands on her hips.   “Beg me.”  

“Please Kenny, I can’t take anymore.  Please, please, please, please” She chanted thrashing her head side-to-side as he continued licking over her pussy.    She almost cried in relief when he pulled himself up onto her body, nestling himself between her thighs.  The head of his cock pushed at her opening, sliding in effortlessly through her juices.

The sounds of skin slapping filled the room as Kenny pounded into her cunt.  Unable to resist them any longer her hands buried themselves in his curls, urging him on faster as her legs moved to embrace his hips.

“That’s right baby, fuck my dick.”  Kenny groaned as you pushed yourself up to meet his thrusts. “Give me one more.”  He commanded his hands gripping into her hips as he pounded away.  

“I can’t,” she said breathlessly as her own body belied her words.  She could feel the orgasm building as Kenny drove into her.  

“Yes you can.  C’mon one more.”   Kenny said pressing his lips to hers as he felt his own impending release. “Now.”  She was shocked when she came on command, gripping his cock as she screamed through another orgasm as Kenny’s hips stilled and he filled her with his seed.  

“Fuck, I should be charging you for that.”  Kenny said as he rolled off of her, smiling as she punched him in the arm with a glare.  

“Yeah, maybe you should.”  She conceded with a smile shifting to lay her head on his chest.  

[ohnojustimagine]

Never Let Me Down

Reader/Eita, Reader/PAC; smut, 3780 words

me: frets a ridiculous amount about my fic being too repetitive

also me: writes basically endless variations on the theme of "dude asks/tells 'you' to fuck other dude" yet doesn't care

-

You've decided you don't like Pac. And you've been here a while now, having first started hanging out backstage back when R.E.D were still Antias, so you've seen a few gaijin come and go. They're a mixed bunch, mostly; some nice, some not, some fitting in easily, some definitely not, but all of them at least try to show the appropriate amount of respect and deference to the company and to whatever stable they might be assigned to join.

But Pac doesn't even bother to do the minimum. He seems totally uninterested in being an actual part of R.E.D, keeping to himself, rarely supporting the other guys at ringside during their matches, only ever acting as if he's part of the group when the conflict is something that directly involves him. It kills you that he's seemingly just waltzed in and taken the championship, that everyone has to pander to him when he's done barely a single thing to deserve it.

He has his own space backstage too (separate from all the other wrestlers because god forbid he actually spend time with the group he's supposed to be representing) and every show Eita's been sending in a different girl, trying keep the asshole happy, but so far, no one has been up to whatever no doubt impossible-to-meet standard he deems acceptable.

They've all been dismissed, pointedly requested to not come back, and you've asked some of them what he's like, if he's too rough, if he hurt them.

"He barely even touched me," one of them tells you, and another chimes in, saying, "He's definitely not too rough, just..." She shakes her head. "More like mean, you know, he wants you to really know you're so not worth his time, like you're so beneath him." A third girl nods, and adds, "As if he gets off on trying to make you feel like shit."

And yeah, you've been with guys like that, which is why you're not exactly excited by the fact that it would seem tonight it's your turn to see if you can please the champion. At this point just about every other one of the regular girls has tried and failed, and you're not sure if you should be insulted by how far down the list of prospects you appear to be or flattered because you kind of suspect that the only reason it's taken so long is because you know you're one of Eita's favorites.

Because even now, he seems reluctant to let you leave him, making out with you in the hallway just down from the firmly closed door to Pac's personal locker room. He's leaning back against the wall, pulling you into him, hands on your ass, sliding up underneath your too-short skirt. A few people wander past, barely paying you any attention, and Eita licks your neck, saying, "You know it's just for tonight."

"I know," you say, and he kisses you again. You reach up, stroking either side of his face, running your fingers through his hair, still not used to the new length of it, so short and soft under your caress. You kind of miss it, the way it used to fall in his face when he fucked you, how you'd tangle your hands in it when he ate you out, but the way it looks suits him.

He pulls back just enough, gazing at you, not saying anything, and you know he doesn't want you to go. "How long till the show starts?" you ask.

"An hour or so," he replies. "But we're on last."

"You're tagging with him?"

Eita nods. "Yeah, me and Yoshida."

"But he's the main event, right?"

"He's the champion," Eita says, simply.

You wrinkle your nose in disgust, huffing out an irritated breath. "I don't know why we're all supposed to kiss his ass, guy's a fucking dick."

Eita laughs at that. "Sweetheart," he says, "if you want nice, go hang out with MaxiMuM or those Natural Vibes losers. We don't do nice here, if you haven't noticed by now."

"I know, I know," you concede, because you truly do enjoy what a bunch of fucked up assholes the R.E.D guys are, but at least they're loyal fucked up assholes, who know how to back each other up.

"And you need to get in there," he says. "Get him in a good mood before the match."

You're pretty sure that there's no such thing as a good mood for Pac, only less bad ones, and you're really not looking forward to spending time with him. "Can't you at least fuck me first?" you ask Eita, pouting at him.

"No," he says, but you can hear it in his voice, how tempted he is.

"Please?" you say. "I'm sure he's not going to get me off, can't you?"

"You know I'd love to," Eita tells you, "but I can't disrespect the guy by sending you in there when I've just fucked you."

"Like he deserves any respect," you scoff, and Eita gives you a look.

"Whatever you think he deserves," he says, "you need to treat him right. I hope you know that."

"Of course I do," you reply, taking a step back, away from him. "And fine, no fucking." You roll your eyes sarcastically, gesturing exaggeratedly at yourself. "Nice fresh pussy for him."

Eita smiles affectionately, again pulling you into his embrace, kissing along your jaw, his tongue on your ear. "Baby," he murmurs, "your pussy's always fresh."

"It is?" you reply, with a playful giggle.

"Oh yeah," he tells you, breath tickling hot on your skin. "It's sweet, like candy."

You can't help laughing, and Eita grins at you, turning you around, pointing you towards Pac's room and giving you a encouraging slap on the ass. "Now go make me proud," he says. "If there's any girl who can satisfy that picky piece of shit, I'm sure it's you."

You sigh, turning back briefly to blow him a kiss, but then you head off down the hall, more serious. You need to get your head on straight for this, you know that, and you take a deep breath, refocusing.

You stand at the door, running a hand through your hair, shaking it out, consciously relaxing your face into as innocently wide-eyed an expression as you can manage, and then knock.

"What?" you hear that very particular accent call out impatiently, and you enter without being asked.

The room is small enough there's not even a couch, just a few chairs and a table pushed up against the wall, a clothes rack with bent, empty hangers, a smudged-looking full-length mirror. There's a few water bottles lined up along the table, towels and kick pads and boots scattered over the floor, and Pac's sitting in one of the chairs, engrossed in his phone, wearing only an R.E.D hoodie and his trunks, his bare legs spread wide.

You stand there, waiting, and it's not until a good few minutes have passed that he finally seems to deign it worth his time to even look at you. His hair is pulled back, which, you decide, is not particularly flattering to his features. He's not ugly, in your opinion (though you're aware some of the other girls disagree on that) but he's definitely distinctive-looking, and he mostly seems to make that work for him. You’ll admit the guy has a certain presence, even if it's not an especially pleasant one. "Hi," you greet him, bowing, keeping your voice bright.

"Oh," he replies, archly, sneering at you, and you'd like to sneer right back, but instead you keep your demeanor neutral, verging on submissive. His eyes slide disdainfully over your body, openly and unabashedly judging you. "Is this who we have tonight?" he says, sounding unimpressed. He frowns, then asks, "You speak English?"

"A little," you reply with a deliberately timid, uncertain smile. And that's a lie, as it happens, because you're actually fairly fluent, but you'd rather not have to talk to him any more than you have to.

"A little," he repeats. "So not at all then, I'm guessing." You don't let the smile on your face waver, nodding as if you don't understand, and he sighs. "You're not even very pretty, are you?"

You're careful not to visibly react, but you scoff internally, because you know perfectly well that's not true. Maybe you're not quite as blindingly stunning as a few of the other girls, but you wouldn't be here if you weren't pretty, so this guy can go fuck himself if he thinks that's going to get to you.

"Take off your top," he says. He holds the lower edge of his hoodie, making as if to pull it up, and then gestures at you. And of course you understand, but you very deliberately hesitate for just a moment, interested to see how he'll react, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as if you're nervous.

"For fuck's sake," he spits out, standing up, stalking the few steps it takes to reach you and then grabbing the hem of your tank top in both hands, roughly dragging it up and over your head. You move your arms enough to make sure you don't impede him, watching as he tosses the top aside, eyes glowering at you, dark and unfamiliar. And there's anger there, yes, impatience, but there's something else too, an almost predatory gleam about the way he's looking at you, and you're suddenly very, very certain that so far, you're giving him exactly what he thinks he wants.

"And the bra," he orders, and you lower your gaze, reaching behind you to unfasten it, slipping it off, folding your arms in front of you to cover your breasts, still looking down at the floor.

"Shy, are we?" he says, laughing, and you let out a small, distressed-sounding whimper as he grasps your wrists, his grip like absolute iron as he pulls your hands away from your body, exposing your chest. He stares at you, clearly enjoying what he perceives as your discomfort, and you breathe in sharply, watching him smile.

He releases your hands, and you rub your wrists a little, making what you hope is a suitably wounded noise, gasping as he reaches up to cradle your jaw, thumb on one side of your face, his fingers on the other, and though this touch is not so forceful, you know that's only because you're not fighting it.

He waits to see how you'll react, and when you don't resist, he leans in. You're expecting him to kiss you, but his mouth only hovers over yours, so close you can feel the warmth of his lips, his breath, the unkempt curls of his beard brushing against your skin, and while you might be acting, playing innocent just to get him going, this is still actually really fucking hot and you're finding yourself genuinely turned on by it, by him.

You move just enough to close the distance between you, your lips parted ready, your tongue licking tentatively into his mouth, and you have to actively stop yourself from being too forward, giving the game away too soon, but he kisses you back, just for a minute, then shifts away.

"Hmm," he muses, like he's perhaps beginning to understand, but he doesn't say any more. He sits back down, looking up at you as he pulls down his trunks, and you're assuming he'll just move them enough to get himself out for you, but instead he takes them right off, kicking them away from his legs. He slides his ass forward on the chair, his thighs wide apart, one hand on his cock, giving it a few rough strokes, and you would think a guy with an ego this size would either be really big or really, really small, but he's actually somewhere in the middle, nice but unspectacularly average, and that suits you just fine. "Come here," he says, beckoning to you, and when you're close enough, he takes hold of your upper arm, shoving you down onto your knees. "Now," he tells you. "Let's see what you can do with that mouth."

You rest your hands on his thighs, which are almost shockingly solid, and you're used to guys who are built with muscle, but Pac's on a whole other level, sculpted to a degree that's almost unnerving. And you're not so sure whether that's actually attractive to you, but the feel of him under your touch is something else, and you swallow, concentrating, not allowing yourself to be distracted.

You lean in, your tongue snaking out to delicately lick the tip of his cock, teasing a little, and you hear him make a noise that might be irritation, but it evens out into a low, needful groan as your lips glide soft down over his head, gently sucking at him, taking more of him in.

You're expecting him to force you, maybe pull you onto him, but his hands hang loose at his sides, fingers curling slightly as you go down. "Yes," he hisses out when you move back up, your tongue circling around him, lips hot and tight on his shaft as you again slide lower.

The room is quiet enough that you can hear yourself breathing, the wet sounds of your mouth working on him, your own heartbeat increasingly loud in your ears, and you squeeze your thighs together, shifting your hips, something stirring restless inside you.

"Stop," he says, the word exhaled as he taps you sharp on the shoulder, and you ignore him, taking his cock deeper into your mouth, swallowing around him. "I said 'stop'," he repeats and when you still don't pay any attention, he shoves you away, roughly pushing you off him. "Are you fucking stupid?" he snarls, and you don't say anything, sitting back on your heels and licking your lips, staring up at him, letting the role you've been playing fall aside just enough to let him see you, your eyes knowing and sly.

He frowns at you, and it takes a second, but then he smirks, darkly amused, and a shiver flickers through you, white hot with anticipation. "Oh," he says, nodding. "Is this what we're doing? We're playing games? Because I can play too, if that's what you want."

You don't give yourself away, keeping your gaze steady, with no indication you understand what he's saying, but you unzip your skirt, sliding it off along with your panties as you get to your feet, standing close in front of him. He looks at you, thoughtful, then runs the backs of his fingers slow up the inside of your thigh. You inhale as his touch finds its way between your legs, confident yet delicate, as if exploring, feeling out how wet you are, how open.

"You're liking it, anyway, aren't you?" he says, and you watch as he sucks on his fingers.

He's at least a little intrigued, you can tell, curious to see what you'll do next, and yes, you think to yourself, because you've got him right where you want him for now.

You bend, tugging at the hem of his hoodie, and he shifts enough that you can take it off him, raising his arms, settling himself back as you throw it aside, and you drink in the sight of him, because damn but his body truly is something to behold: wide-shouldered, with traps that arc thickly up towards the back of his neck, pecs like broad, curved slabs, sloping down to chiselled-out abs. And maybe it's all too much, too exaggerated to be actually beautiful, yet it's still somehow fascinatingly hot, the way he's made himself into what he is, how much work and discipline must go into maintaining a physique so extreme.

You lean forward, reaching behind his head, carefully teasing out the tie that holds his hair back, pulling the long, damp strands of it forward so they drape over his shoulders. You look down at him, satisfied, smiling to yourself, and he doesn't say anything, staring back at you.

There's box of condoms sitting ready on the table, and you take one out, offering it to him. "What a strange little thing you are," he murmurs, and you don't know if he's pleased or perhaps maybe unnerved, but he doesn't hesitate, opening the condom, taking it out and rolling it down onto himself, ready. He grips your waist, tense and tight, and you line yourself up over him, holding his cock, lowering yourself down into his lap.

He inhales a deep breath at the feel of you around him, his eyes shuddering closed for just a moment before they snap open and you begin to move, his hands guiding you, demanding, into the rhythm he needs. You lean in to lick at his mouth, and he bites your bottom lip, pulling on it, his teeth sharp but you only whine with pleasure.

"God," he grits out, and you're happy to let him use you, careless of your own desires. Because maybe you could come, if you wanted to, if you focused enough, but your mind is wandering back to Eita, waiting for you somewhere outside this room, and Pac might be inside you, but it's Eita's cock you're thinking of, your hips rolling forward, legs tensing as you speed your movements.

He's close, you can tell, and so you moan, throwing your head back and tightening yourself around him, crying out loud enough to make him think you're done. "Yes," he says. "Oh, yes," pulling you down onto him, his hips lifting off the chair, and you hold onto him as he thrusts up into you, releasing himself, hissing a low, extended breath, every muscle in that remarkable body visibly tensing as his orgasm peaks.

But then he's finished, and he looks up at you, and for a second you think he's going to kiss you but then instead he pushes you off his lap, busying himself with removing the condom, tossing it in the trash.

"Go now," he tells you, waving at you dismissively, the meaning of it unmistakable, and you nod obediently, pulling on your bra and top, stepping into your skirt, shoving your panties in the pocket as you slip on your shoes, and you can feel him watching you, something unspoken hanging in the air, as if unresolved.

When you're dressed, you bow, and you're just turning to leave when he says, "You can come back." He enunciates each word, gesturing vaguely. "After the show, I want you to..." He stops, muttering, "Fuck," under his breath, frustrated, clearly assuming you're not going to understand him.

"I can come back after the show," you say, in English. "If that's what you want."

And he looks up at you, startled, his shock obviously quite genuine. "Well," he says, narrowing his eyes, a careful smirk of what might be admiration creeping slow across his mouth, "it seems that was quite the act you put on for me."

You shrug, and say, "Sorry," but you make sure you don't sound the least bit apologetic.

He stares at you for minute, and you don't look away, waiting until he again speaks. "I think perhaps," he muses, "that you need to be taught how to behave."

You raise your eyebrows slightly, not backing down. "I do always like to learn something new."

He laughs at that, and says, "Don't be too clever, then. Don't think you can make a fool of me."

"I wouldn't ever do that," you tell him, and yeah, you won’t need to, because you couldn't be more sure, that this is what he truly wants, someone who's a challenge, someone not so easily broken or tamed. "After the show, then," you say, turning to leave. "I'll see you," you add, and he doesn't reply as you close the door behind you.

You wander down the hallway, thinking to yourself, only looking up when you hear Eita say, "Hey."

You smile, following as he takes your hand, leading you around a corner, away from sight. "How did it go?" he asks. "What did you do?"

"Sucked him," you reply, casually. "Then he fucked me."

Eita nods, serious. "That's good," he says. "He hasn't always done that with the others." He frowns as he looks at you. "Do you think he was into it?"

"I mean, he wants me to come back again, after the show's done," you say. "So yeah, I think he was into it."

"He wants you again?" asks Eita. "Really?"

"Really."

You hear him breathe in as he smiles at you. "Oh my god, baby," he says, his hands on your shoulders, backing you up until you're against the wall. “You're so good, aren't you?" He kisses you, mouth like something hungry and needful, and you're just as greedy for him, your breath catching tight in your throat. "Did you come?" he asks, and you shake your head. "You faked it for him, though?" he questions, suddenly concerned.

"Of course I did," you assure him. "And I mean, I could have come." You shrug, like it’s nothing, but you know it’s not. "He's actually not bad, but I wanted to save it for you."

"Fuck," Eita exhales, his hands sliding down your body, and you hike up your skirt enough that you can bend one leg up, wrapping it around him, tilting your hips up towards him.

"Please," you whisper, because you can feel how hard he is, and he shoves his shorts out of the way, cock pushing rough inside you as you whine. And god but you need this, so on the edge of it that it only takes a few thrusts before you're coming, moaning against Eita's mouth, and he's seemingly just as desperate, his orgasm almost immediately following, and he holds you, panting.

"You're amazing," he says, kissing you, your mouth, your face, your neck. "You know that? Fucking amazing, baby."

And maybe you are, maybe you aren't, but you only care that he thinks so. "Don't you need to go get ready for your match?" you ask.

"Yeah," he says, with a regretful sigh, and he steps back, pulling up his shorts. "And I guess I won't see you after."

"Can you wait for me?" You take his hand, fingers interlaced through his, squeezing, holding on, not willing to let him go. "I don't know know what he'll want, but after..." You look at him. "I might need you, after."

"I can wait," he tells you, lifting your hand, pressing it to his lips, eyes warm. "As long as it takes, I promise."