#the amount of times nick just sticks his tongue out

[y3sterdaysproblem]

smoke and mirrors - chris sturniolo

chapter two

summary: your best friend Matt backs out of plans you had made together, so you replace him with his brother. the only problem is the two of you can’t stand each other.

{enemies to lovers, fake dating}

includes : explicit language, fluff, smut(penetration, oral, fingering, etc.), angst if you squint, lots of bickering, slow burn

wc: 2.5k

-

part one

“Like this?”

“No! Like… move your hips over.”

“Chris, this feels wrong!”

“Yeah, because it’s you! Come on, just come here for the picture.”

You groan and scoot closer to Chris on the bed, slinging your leg over his hips. He was laid flat on his back and you were on your side facing him. You guys had agreed on pretending to be each others’ significant others for a short amount of time, and right now you were trying to get all the pictures you could. This was the third photo position you guys had gotten yourselves into, each one getting more intimate than the last. Your mindset was, the more pictures you took at once, the less you’d have to spend time together.

“Okay, take your picture,” you tell him, throwing your arm over his torso and looking up at him.

Chris looks down at you, your faces inches away from each other. “God, you’re so impatient. Don’t you just wanna cuddle like this for a minute?” He smirks a little before grabbing his phone with his left hand, placing his right hand on your bare thigh, snapping the picture like that.

“Okay, good. Now, uh… I don’t think you’re gonna like this next one,” Chris pushes your leg off of him and you sit up, peering down at him.

“Fuck you,” you say harshly. “What now?”

He smiles and pats his lap, and your jaw drops. “No,” you shake your head. “No way, I’m not getting on your lap.”

Chris groans. “I am not going to get hard at the thought of you on top of me if that’s what you’re worried about,” he promises.

“Yeah, well, you already think I’m hot so I don’t know,” you tell him, disgusted. “Can’t we do something else?”

Chris reaches out and pinches the back of your arm, clearly unamused. “Dude, I didn’t say I personally think you’re hot, I said you’re hotter than this chick. Big difference. Besides, I’m hot, too, and you know it, so come on, sit on daddy’s lap.”

You grimace at his word choice. “That just made me want to do it even less,” you say, but despite your words, you scoot closer until you’re next to him, then swing your leg over him and sit on his lap, your crotch sitting directly above his dick.

“See?” He smiles, reaching out to place a hand on your thigh again, even though the camera wasn’t out yet. “This isn’t so bad, right?”

You can’t help it when your throat goes dry at the feeling of his hand on your leg, and he was partially right. Matt was attractive, Nick was attractive, and unfortunately the short end of the stick with that reality was that Chris was also attractive, though you’d never say those words out loud.

You snap out of it quickly and grab your own phone to distract yourself, but Chris reaches up and grabs your phone out of your hands, putting it on the bed next to him. “Gotta look interested in me, baby,” he coos.

You groan and cross your arms, body shaking slightly as you did so, making Chris suck in a quiet breath. “Don’t call me baby, we’re not actually together.”

“Stop wiggling, yeah?” He asks you, hand on your thigh gripping tighter than it was before.

You raise your eyebrows at him, staring down with a clear attitude present on your face. “I thought you would be fine and not get hard.” You mocked him.

Chris meets your eyes. “I said I wouldn’t get hard at the thought of you but you keep moving around and I only have so much self control.”

You cringe, focusing your attention on your lower half where you no doubt start to feel the beginnings of an erection forming where your bodies met. “Can you hurry please?”

Chris picks his phone back up and opens his camera, but couldn’t resist the nasty comment that sat on his tongue, begging to be spoken. “Maybe I just wanna feel you a little longer.”

Your jaw drops, face heating up uncontrollably. “Chris!”

Chris rolls his eyes at your aggressive tone. “Just kidding, jeez. Here, put your hands here.” He pulls up the hoodie to make it look like he’s shirtless and then grabs your hands, placing them both on his stomach so you’re leaning over him, your cleavage peeking through the neckline of your shirt. With the angle change and your weight shifted onto your hands, part of you wanted to tease him, and you had no idea what was coming over you in the moment, probably just the fact that you hadn’t been in this position in so long and you were craving the attention and validation of a man, wanting to feel someone fall apart underneath you, but you quickly remind yourself who you’re dealing with when he speaks again. “Oh perfect,” he says, holding his phone up to take the picture. “That’s definitely going in my spank bank.”

“Ew, Chris!” You screech at him, smacking him on the head before standing up off the bed completely. “We’re done for right now, you’re insanely gross.”

Chris laughs at you and pulls his hoodie down, sitting up on the bed. He moved quickly, but you caught on to the quick dip of his hand in his sweatpants, clearly waistbanding his dick, but you don’t mention it and he sure as hell doesn’t either. “I’m just messing with you,” he says.

“Yeah well I’m over it,” you huff, crossing your arms again.

“Alright, get out of my room then,” Chris points to the door, and you happily oblige, leaving his room and heading up the stairs, making your way to Matt’s room where you find him sitting at his desk playing games and Nick laid on the bed playing on his phone.

Matt turns his head and smiles at you. “Hey, love. How’s being Chris’s girlfriend going?”

You groan loudly and drag your hands down your face. “Fucking terrible!” You cry. “He’s so pervy and gross and just awful to be around. I don’t know how you guys deal with him all day every day.”

Nick laughs in response. “We actually like him and he likes us.”

You shudder and grab the blankets from underneath your body, shimmying under them. “I’m taking a nap, hopefully that’ll cleanse me from the objectification I’ve endured.”

Both the boys laugh at you and go back to what they’re doing as you get comfortable and close your eyes.

Before you dozed off you found yourself wondering what things would be like if Chris wasn’t so annoying and how life would be if the two of you got along. Would you guys actually stand a chance at being in a relationship? Would either of you have feelings for each other that weren’t so negative? You’ve never thought about these possibilities before, and though it scared you slightly, you brushed it aside and let yourself drift off to sleep.

-

The four of you sat around the kitchen table later that night eating Italian food that Matt had gone and picked up, and the room was silent apart from the chewing noises that filled the air. You know the food is good if everyone is quiet you always say. But unfortunately, the sweet silence is interrupted by Chris clearing his throat and setting his fork down.

“So,” he starts, looking towards you. “I’m thinking we go on a date.”

You almost choke on your food, eyes widening. “What?!” You yell, mouth still full of food.

“Ew, swallow first. And yes, but not a real date, obviously. My idea is you can go to a fancy restaurant with Matt or something and he can take pictures of you looking all dressed up and just send them to me.” Chris suggests, and it’s not the worst idea in the world. Free dinner in a nice restaurant with your best friend? Sounds like a win win to you.

“You should’ve led with that, fuckface. Almost made me choke,” you tell him with furrowed eyebrows, wiping your mouth with your napkin.

“I typically do make women choke,” he replies with a smirk.

Everyone at the table groans in disgust at his dirty comment. “Too much,” Nick says loudly, waving his hands in the air.

Chris just laughs. “So is that a yes?”

You look at Matt and he shrugs his shoulders. “I’m fine with it,” he tells you, and you nod your head in agreement.

“Great!” Chris smiles, clapping his hands together. “I’ll make reservations for you guys and let you know when it is.”

You guys both nod and go back to eating your dinner.

After everyone was done eating, you guys migrated to the couch, where you ended up sandwiched between Matt and Chris, though Chris left a decent amount of space as opposed to Matt who sat nearly hip to hip with you.

“What are we watching?” You ask, grabbing a blanket off the back of the couch and throwing it over yours and Matt’s body.

“Get a room,” Chris grumbles, looking over at you and Matt snuggled up under the blanket.

You look towards him and smile. “If you wanna cuddle with me just say that,” you tease, kicking your feet up onto his lap.

He instantly shoves your legs off of him and scoots farther away from you. “Gross, get your feet off of me. You wish I wanted to cuddle with you, slut.”

Matt and Nick both whip their head up to look at Chris, and he immediately drops his head down towards his lap, knowing he fucked up. “Chris,” Matt spits. “Too fucking far, apologize or get the fuck out.”

“Matt, it’s fine,” you tell him, tucking your legs close to your body. Chris had never really gone that far, but you weren’t super surprised by the words he said, though it stung a little bit.

“No, it isn’t. I get you guys have your little arguments but that’s not okay,” Matt tells him again, voice as stern as the first time.

Chris sighs and picks his head back up, but only focuses on the tv in front of him, still not playing anything. “Sorry, didn’t mean to call you a slut.” He mumbles.

You just nod your head and look over at Nick and then look up at Matt. “Can we just put something on please?”

They agree and start scrolling through the streaming services, trying to find something to put on.

If you tried to think about it, you never really could pinpoint the exact moment you and Chris started acting like this, it just kind of became your guys’ normal. You’d all known each other since high school, and you clicked with Nick and Matt instantly, and you always thought Chris would come around, but he never did and your relationship never got any better. The more you hung around, the more hostile your relationship got, and the more you adapted.

It started as teasing, a “shut up” here, a “you’re so annoying” there, but as you guys continued to see each other, it just got meaner and meaner, and you’re so used to it now that you can’t imagine life without it, which is why it was so hard to imagine how he was going to act at this wedding when he had to pretend he didn’t hate you.

You guys ended up just putting on a movie you’d never seen, some chick flick rom com that only you and Nick were interested in, so you weren’t surprised when Matt and Chris grabbed their phones and started their endless scroll, until Chris looked up and over towards you.

“Hey,” he starts quietly, and you turn your head to look at him. “Can you, uh.. can you come take a picture with me? She’s texting me right now and thinks I’m lying about you. Which I guess I am, but, whatever. Just for a second?”

You think about it for a couple of moments, not really sure if cuddling up with Chris in front of his brothers is something you necessarily want to do right now, but you also don’t want to ruin the deal you two had made with each other, so you lightly nod your head and remove the blanket that covered you and Matt, scooting closer to Chris.

“How do you want to do this?” You asked him, and he just patted his leg.

“Just put your legs over mine and scoot real close, that’ll be fine. I can snap it really quick,” he says, and you oblige, scooting a bit closer than before and swinging both of your legs over one of his, draped over his thigh. You leaned your body into his, and he placed his hand on your thigh, tucked between both of your legs.

“Good?” You ask, eyes flitting up over his face. He nods and lifts his phone up to take a photo, taking a couple before looks over at you and reaches your gaze.

He takes a deep breath while staring at you, hand still resting on your thigh. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice low so his brothers couldn’t hear, but it was so quiet you almost didn’t hear him. “I really didn’t mean to call you that, it just slipped out.”

You’re shocked at the fact that he offered an actual apology, considering the fact that he’d never said sorry unless his brothers had told him to, so something about this felt a little bit more genuine than usual.

You offer him a tight lipped smile and nod your head. “I forgive you,” you tell him just as quietly.

He pulls his hand out from your thighs and taps your leg lightly. “Good, now go back to cozying up with my brother before I throw up.”

You laugh and do as he says, moving away from him and back towards Matt, who smiles sweetly at you, taking up the same position as you had with Chris, placing the blanket back over you both.

As you sat there and watched the movie, you couldn’t help but steal a few glances towards Chris, watching as he played with his lip with his free hand while he scrolled, or how he giggled to himself every time he saw a video that he found cute. The way he peeked up at the tv every so often to see what was happening, then went back on his phone to pretend he wasn’t interested in the cheesy movie.

What you were completely clueless to, though, was the way he did the same thing to you, watching as you laughed along with Nick, or how you cuddled closer into his brother, his hand rubbing your arm sweetly and habitually. He even watched the way your eyes started to flutter towards the end of the movie, clearly too tired to head home, just like most nights.

Maybe you weren’t that bad or annoying, but he was so deep in it now that he felt he could never turn back, never admit that maybe one day he’d like to be close to you like you were to his brothers. He had no idea that you’d take him up on that offer in a heartbeat.

-

a/n: part two!!! thanks for all the love on part one!!

taglist

@liiixsturniolos @madelinesturn @st6niolo @mattslolita @ifwdominicfike @sophand4n4 @chris-hallelujah @sophsturns @ariana2saucyy @045696 @m-sgirl @scorpioosworld @byhrxb @vickytaa @taelovesmattsturniolo @secret-sturniolo @theboredknightcat-blog @slvtf0rchr1s @flouqissss @gabri3la-sturns @delilahsturniolo @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @vanillsstuff @avasturniolos @hornyformatt @sturnlsstuff

[chevroletdean]

biting / marking [sam winchester] ── ✮⋆˙

kinktober 2024 ship: sam x afab!fem!reader genre: smut to note/warnings: explicit – minors dni, vague descriptions of the reader, sam being a bit rough and unfair, oral (fem receiving), petnames (doll, princess and such) word count: 1.3k a/n: this isn’t proofread, sorry. i’m rushing through the kinktober at this point, wahhh taglist: comment a book emoji 📚 to be added to the sam x reader taglist (please note: ageless blogs will only be tagged in fluff and angst posts) @s7nburn

It started innocently enough, but the process definitely wasn’t a slow one. The first time around, a cozy morning after a long night, the sight of a hickey peeking out of your turtleneck awakened something in him. That’s all it took for him to know he likes a trace of himself on you. Ever since then, he’s deemed it his mission to make it as difficult as possible for you to cover up the evidence of your passionate moments.

Sam has always loved the aftermath, the remnants of your bliss – and why gradually pick things up when he could just wreck you right away? You always look so pretty when he’s done with you.

The way a sheer layer of sweat would stick to your flushed skin, making you glow. The way your hair would spill over the pillows, framing your reddened face and creating a messy halo. The way your eyelashes would flutter weakly against your cheekbones as you struggle to keep your eyes open. The way your lips would slightly part as you’d try to catch your breath. They’re prettiest when they’re kiss bitten, pink, plump and swollen.

But his favorite are the constellations of purple scattered across your body.

Because those stick for a while and they fill him with pride.

If he can have it his way – and for the most part, he does – he treats your body as a canvas. You’re already a work of art, but there’s this primal urge of his to add his signature. To mark you as his muse. Every artist has a favorite tool and his preferred method is his mouth.

Sure, his large hands never fail to find home in the plush of your skin and leave behind a print or two; just like right now. His grip is like iron as his fingers deftly sink into your hips to pin you down.

But his mouth creates the prettiest patterns on you.

You’re already covered in hickeys from his lips latching onto you; not to mention the indents of his teeth. Like little nicks, deep enough to bruise just slightly without drawing any blood. He could break you so easily, yet you continue your attempts to push yourself impossibly closer to him still, wanting more. The blind trust you offer him is addictive. You seem so fragile underneath him like this, completely at his mercy.

“You squirm too much, doll,” he grumbles. As if he could ever actually be annoyed by your adorable little reactions. Those noises fuel him further, if anything.

His voice is half-muffled by the flesh of your inner thigh, which he sinks his teeth into in warning fashion. You respond with a soft sob and he licks over the tender spot apologetically. His tongue is searing hot against your sensitive skin and despite your best attempts to still your movements, he still makes you shudder. In your defense, Sam has spent a good amount of time just kissing up your legs and thighs. You’ve long lost track of time by now, but you’d have an even harder time counting all the marks he’s left behind on your skin. There have been too many soft, wet kisses planted against your tummy and between your legs for you to keep track of.

Not an inch of you is spared by his hungry mouth.

“Sorry, ‘m s-sorry… just–” you whine, interrupted by yet another playful nibble of his sharp teeth. His lips ghost over your clit and you hold your breath. You know better than to make any commands – not that you’re in any state to form any coherent sentence anyway –, unless asked for otherwise. Even if you’re on the brink of melting after all his teasing, Sam’s the one deciding when he’s had enough, and his thirst for your taste is far from satiated.

“Shhh, I know,” he hums and you swear you can feel the victorious smirk on his lips right against your core. “Just stay still f’me, princess.”

Not that you have much of a chance anyway with your movement restricted by his strong hands. Sam shifts below you so his head is slotted between your thighs, one arm wrapped around your lower half enough to hold you against the mattress. Instinctively your trembling legs drape over his broad shoulders. You feel daring enough (and needy for an anchor) to reach down to him and he obliges, using his free hand to interlock his fingers with yours.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers and his warm breath tickles your slick.

He’s even more thorough when it comes to diving into your folds than he is kissing your thighs. His mouth is hot against you, drinking you in like you’re the finest liquor – and to him, you’re just as intoxicating. His tongue nestles into you with the intention to suck you dry and his sharp nose presses against your clit.

You whimper, your voice almost broken as your breath stutters in your throat. The sound is strained enough for him to pull back and place a gentle kiss to your center, giving you a second to breathe.

“You good, baby?”

You nod your head eagerly and squeeze his hand, but he lets go of it and gives your thigh a light pat or two, firmly enough to get you to respond properly. Sam always needs to make sure you’re still with him, attentive and enjoying yourself.

“Feels s’good, Sammy,” you confirm shyly. “Don’t stop, please.”

“Wasn’t planning on it, pretty,” he chuckles darkly, returning to feasting on you until his chin is glistening with your juices. You’d be bucking your hips wildly to grind against his face were it not for his strong arm holding onto you like a damn vice. It just makes you whine all the louder, but Sam’s in a giving mood. “Almost there, you’re so good f’me,” he mumbles, slurring and babbling his words like a drunk.

He pushes you right to that edge of pleasure, a familiar coil tightening in the pits of your stomach. Sam’s tongue flicks against you with practiced ease, alternating between flattening the muscle against you and curling his lips in a way that makes you moan. You’re on the brink of ecstasy, when he suddenly pulls away.

“N-no, please,” you complain desperately. He’s teased you enough! This is just cruel.

“Not done with you yet,” Sam huffs. “Gotta give some extra attention to more obvious places too, hm?”

Your mind is too hazy to make sense of his words, let alone respond, until his lips wander upwards steadily. He licks a languid stripe up to your navel, followed with soft nibs over your ribs. You swallow thickly as his lips close around one of your pebbled nipples and you yelp softly as he uses his teeth to give it a playful tug. He only switches to the other breast to give it the same treatment, working another hickey onto it. It’s a harsher bite close to your collarbone that makes you squeal, which in return makes him chuckle.

“Sorry, got a bit greedy there,” he grins, those hazel eyes of his clearly satisfied with seeing your cute pout. He decides to soothe that little frown away by pressing his lips to yours and making you taste yourself.

It should shock you how easy it is for him to make you forget all your annoyances. After all, you’re still left high and dry, and all it takes is a simple kiss for you to melt under him. His mouth wanders yet again, following a path across your cheekbone. His teeth catch your earlobe, pinching it gently. His kisses suck reddish marks along your jawline and down your neck.

Flushing, you arch your back, realizing he’s marking you up on purpose. He’s busy with a spot under your chin, making you gasp softly. “Sammy, the weather is way too warm for scarves,” you protest within a weak huff. “There’s no way I can cover those up.”

“That’s the whole point, doll,” Sam replies, the curl of his smirk pressed against your throat. “By the time I’m done with you, a scarf wouldn’t make a difference anyway.”

credit & links: ao3 ──〃★ dividers ──〃★ request here ──〃★ kinktober

[badnoahmens]

Shower With Me

Request: 171 (“shower with me”) with Folio (OC named Lexi)

NSFW, 18+ only. 1.1k words.

Enjoy.

The door was open, only a crack, with steam dancing along the thin beam of light that peered onto the hardwood floor. The bedroom was otherwise dim as the night sky outside cloaked the sleepy house in darkness.

It was very late, and Nick had just gotten home. Practice lately was killing him. He stayed up all hours of the day and night to perfect his craft. The tour was fast approaching and soon he would be gone for months. You wouldn’t see him for a long time, having your own commitments you needed to stick by. Even just the thought of it made you miss him.

It made you miss him so much in this very moment, even though he was merely in the room next to you. Away from you. Something that you could change.

The light poured out as you opened the door more, steam enveloping you like a warm hug as you walked into the bathroom. The faint outline of Nick's body under the hot shower moved behind the frosted glass, becoming clearer the closer he leaned to the screen.

He peers around the glass, keeping most of his body under the hot water, and looks at you with questionable eyes.

The way the water drenched his hair, curls hanging lower and darker than normal made your breath hitch in your throat. One drop threatened to fall from the lock that curled on his forehead, hanging teasingly.

Without even a word said, he beckons you to come closer, curling a finger in your direction.

Automatically, your body responds, tearing the clothes from your skin, over your head and down your legs, carelessly discarded in a pile off to the side.

Stepping into the hot shower his hands are on you, your skin cold under his hot touch. Your breath blends with the steam of the shower, feeling the hot drops sizzle in your cold arms. Nick has his hands on your hips, dipping his head to nestle in the crook of your neck. Your fingers weave into his hair, running through the drenched mop, stroking and smoothing his locks.

His kiss on your shoulder feels blazing, and the steam bellowing up around you enveloped you in a tiny world of nothing but heat. Your back presses the cold tiles, a stark contrast to the warm body you were just pressed against. Your name falls from his lips.

“Lexi”.

“I’m right here” you respond. And it’s all he needs.

You feel his knee nudge your legs apart, a firm indication to do as you're told.

His name falls from your mouth like a prayer, “Nick…” there was no more to say, the magnetism between your bodies spoke the language that was only made for the two of you.

Your fingers kneed over the muscles that ripple over his shoulders. A moan that is almost a growl falls from his lips, reverberating from the skin on your neck as he feels you needlessly grasp at him. Hands skimmed from his shoulders to his hair, entangling in the sopping wet mess of strands. This was the only thing that grounded you as your hands fell, along with Nick, as he kneeled on the white tiles. Water danced off his skin, springing off and landing around the two of you. Nick's palms run over the outsides of your legs, gliding around to the back and tracing the lightest of lines up and down. Your nerves are on fire, his touch feeling like lightning with each gentle touch.

Your weight shifts to one foot as your other leg finds perch on his shoulders. Broad hands steady your balance, splaying across the outside of your thigh.The nails of his tanned hand dig a little deeper, grasping on to what he can, grounding himself as to not completely lose all that he barely has control over at this moment.

The second his lips touch your folds, it takes an insurmountable amount of strength to stay righted. Your eyes flutter closed as the heat of his tongue makes wide sweeps that are served alongside the reverberations of a hum from his complete and utter adoration. Nick was taking his time, revelling in the fact you were completely at his mercy.

There was no denying that you loved it. You lived for it. Craved it. No thoughts, not even time existed where you were, only the pleasure and warmth and heat being emitted from between your legs.

Nick's tongue lapped gently, slowing when at the over-sensitive bud of your clit. He readjusted his own position to free his knees from the cold, harsh tile, and in doing so, rocked back on his heels. His new position forced you to stand barely on your toes with almost all of your weight hanging on the leg over his shoulder. He deepened his connection, not leaving any part of your centre unscathed by his devouring.

The bubbling began to build in the pit on your stomach, feelings of ecstasy rising with each second. Your toes curled, sacrificing your balence as you lean heavily on to Nick, his reaction purely instinctual as he braces you harder against the wall. The tip of his nose nudges the bundle of nerves, teetering you closer to fully letting go under his touch.

Nick knows, oh he knows from what sounds you make, and small twitches he elicits from you when this close, and it took all of his own strength to not completely pull away and have his own way with you.

He knew that there would be plenty of time for that later, and he was not in the market for cruelty tonight, especially not with you this hot and bothered.

His fingers curl into you, your heat enveloping them, welcoming them alongside the assault of licks, strokes and curves of his tongue.

Loud enough for the neighbours to hear, his name is all you choke out and the building heat tips and floods your body. Shakes that you can’t control ripple through your legs, white pleasure echoing through your limbs with the only thing grounding you are your fingers in Nick's wet hair and his palms keening your thighs. His tongue showed no mercy, lapping at whatever you were able to give him, your pleasure mixing with the hot water streaming down your body from the long forgotten shower.

Your breath was ragged, chest heaving from the roaring of Nick's name and the shudders that still tingled your toes.

Nick looks up at you, through drenched eyelashes, wet-slicked hair knotted from your fingers, and with the filthiest grin on his face. “You should shower with me more often.”

All you are able to stutter out is that of a promise.

“Your turn.”

[nvtstvrns]

Lust

In which Matt’s really mad at his brothers when they get home from filming and he takes it out on you.

Matt!dom, fem!sub, degradation kink, rough sex, angry sex, overstimulation, passing out, slight angst.

TW: this fanfiction is more kinky and smutty than the other ones are. Please don’t read if you don’t feel comfortable.

Divider credits @bernardsbendystraws

I was laying in my bed watching TikTok’s while I waited for my boyfriend Matt and his brothers Nick and Chris to get home from filming. This had become routine, usually Wednesday nights they leave and they film, I stay up until they get home and then I go to sleep when Matt is in bed with me. I knew they were gonna be home soon.

“No, I am so fucking sick of you two, actually,” I hear Matt’s voice in the kitchen. I stand up and peek out the door to see what’s going on. 

“Nah, you’re the stupid idiot here.” Chris responds to Matt crossing his arms.

“I’m done. I’m not talking to you anymore tonight.” He says. I watch him pick up his bag.

“Yeah, go cry to your fucking girlfriend, Matt. She’ll definitely help.” Chris says as he walks the opposite direction. When Matt starts working down the hallway, I slip back into his room and lay in his bed. All the lights are off.

“Hey Ma—”

“Take your clothes off,” he cuts me off. I look at him confused.

“Why?” I ask looking at the tank top and plaid pajama shorts I was standing in.

“Do you want me to take them off or will you?” He asks me. I stand there dumbfounded.

“You want to have sex with me right now?” I ask playing with the hem of my shirt.

“Jesus Christ…” he says, and he walks up to me, and he rips my shirt off, and then rips off my shorts. Without me having a chance to finish my gasp, his lips fall on mine, our teeth knocking together. I feel his hands squeeze my waist tightly, and I know they’re going to be bruised in the morning. He picks me up, and he throws me hard on the bed as he gets on top of me.

His lips make their way to my jawline, and he bites, sucks, and kisses my jawline to my neck, leaving his marks all over me. My neck was throbbing in pain, and my jaw was quivering.

“Matt…let’s just talk.” I say as his mouth reaches my shoulder.

He hovers his face back over mine his hand gripping my jawline tightly making my lips pucker like a fish.

“Let me finish. If you really want to stop, you know your safe word.” He says, and then he continues marking his territory all over my body.

‘Fall’ that was my safe word. I lay back and let Matt do whatever he needs to do. Pretty soon he’s marked all down my arms and my upper chest and neck. He moves to the soft curve of my breast. He spends a good amount of time there, his head laying in the valley of my breasts while he gives me big prominent hickeys.

“Are you done marking me..” I ask.

“Shut up.” He says and I immediately do. He starts kissing my stomach and my body jolts the ticklish sensation as he kisses down my stomach and hips. I was about to go feral.

He kisses my thighs the same way he did everything else. Leaving hickeys and bite marks. He dives right into eating my pussy his tongue moving quick. I wasn’t expecting it I gasp and squeeze my legs around his head.

“Matt…” I moan.

“So fucking wet for me…you’re such a slut. You’re my pretty slut…” he says as he spits onto my clit and then going back to licking it, my eyes felt hazy and I gripped his hair. My hips buck uncontrollably and he pushes them down. I whine and whine as I get closer and closer.

“Ma-att I’m gonna…Matt I’m almost there…MATT!!” My eyebrows knit together and my eyes roll into the back of my head. My body convulses and I continue to whimper throughout the whole orgasm. My hair was sticking to my face from the sweat. I breathe heavily.

“I’m not done missy…” he says as I start to sit up. “Turn around.” He says. I was too tired to even sit up. I feel his hands grab my waist and he turns me around. His left hand holds my face back so I’m looking at him and his right is holding me up. I hear him start undoing his jeans and taking them off. The next thing I know I’m sitting on his dick. He’s thrusting into me as hard as possible. My head is hanging back leaning on his shoulder as he pounds into me relentlessly.

I feel his other hand reach down to stimulate my clit. I scream his name and tears fill my eyes, so much pleasure at once, I felt dizzy like I was gonna pass out but I could live. He keeps his hand wrapped around my neck causing me to cough a little bit every now and then. My hands fly up to touch his arms as my orgasm hits me. His hand finds my clit and he begins massaging it as I whimper and jolt my body from overstimulation.

“I’m gonna make you cum 3 more times tonight pretty girl…” he says as he throws me back onto my back and he pushes into me. I let out a guttural moan. My moans were becoming pornography type. He pushed my legs up towards my chest to get a deeper angle. I look at him my mouth wide open and his hands gripping my legs like his life depended on it. I was going to pass out.

“Oh my god Matt…” I scream loud enough for everyone in the house could hear, the neighbors too. I let out deep groans and whimpers as I meet my 3rd orgasm.

“Please Matt…I don’t think I can…” I say my body shaking from the last orgasm.

“Yes you can…” he says as he places the pad of his thumb on my clit…I cry out in painful pleasure. My whole body was sleek with sweat and I felt like I was going to fall apart. His hands reach up to my breasts rubbing my nipples. I bury my head in his pillow as I uncontrollably let spit fall out of my mouth and tears fall out of my eyes. My hands gripped my hair and I breathed heavily almost in a hyperventilating way.

“Matt…I can’t…” I say pulling aimlessly at his hair as my body jerks uncontrollably.

“One more. Be good for me…” he says as he flips me on top of him so I’m riding him.

He thrusts up into me.

“If you can ride me good I’ll be done with you.” He says as he runs a hand through my wet with sweat hair. I had eyeliner and mascara running down my face.

“Ah…ah…ah…ghnnnn Matt…” I say hanging my head down as I feel light headed. “I’m gonna cum…” I say almost silently as I hang my head back and with one final scream I cum all over him for the fourth time that night. And that’s what I remember before I passed out collapsing into his chest.

When I wake up I’m sitting between his legs in a bath. I look around, there was a bath bomb that made the water pink and my hair was braided down my back.

“What…” I say.

“She’s awake!” He says smiling as he kisses my earlobe.

I pull away from his touch and I sit on the other side of the bath. I pull my knees up to my chest and put my head in between my knees. He went too hard.

I look back at him my eyes swimming with tears. My parts were throbbing in pain as I sat in the bath. It was ultra sensitive any small touch to it and I would jolt back in pain.

“You hurt me.” I say as a tear falls down my cheeks. I wipe them off and I hug myself again.

“You were enjoying it though.” He says as he reaches his hand out. “I swear I wasn’t trying to hurt you pretty girl.”

“I told you! More than once that I couldn’t handle it! You kept going and telling me that I could!” I say.

“You didn’t even say your safe word how was I supposed to know that you weren’t enjoying it!?” He asks and then he rolls his eyes.

“Maybe I didn’t say my safe word because I couldn’t think of it in the moment! I was light headed and I couldn’t breathe right Matt. You would have forgotten the safe word too!” I say as my body shivers.

He stops talking and he stares at me. “I’m sorry pretty girl.” He says and I let him take my hand this time pulling me into him.

“I’m sorry.” He says holding me close,

“Why’d you take it out on me?” I ask burying my head in his chest.

“I don’t know baby…I just lost it.” He says holding me even closer.

When I wake up the next morning I roll out of bed quietly careful to not wake Matt up and I pull on my hoodie and pants. I barely could walk I was so sore. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. His markings were all over me deep purple bruises all over my body. His hickeys on my neck formed a heart and below it was a small and messy but still readable M.B.S. He actually marked me.

When I walk downstairs Chris and Nick are sitting on the couch watching a random show.

“There she is!” Nick says smiling.

“Wait we can’t forget about this Nick…nggghhh Matt I don’t think I can…” Chris says trying not to giggle while he does it.

“You can take it pretty girl.” Nick says back to him and he gags to himself.

“I knew you heard it.” I say turning bright red.

“Yep. I slept on the couch last night y/n I heard EVERYTHING including when you went in the bath with him. Did he really hurt you?” Chris asks.

“Chris this is weird…” I say shaking my leg.

“I was just curious…” he mumbles.

“Why was he so mad last night?” I ask Nick and Chris.

“Oh! I called him a pussy.” Chris says.

My eyes open wide in shock. All that for Chris calling him a pussy??? He REALLY needs to control his mattitude.

Thanks for reading!

[txtmetonight]

Trapped Hearts ✆

call summary ⋆ ★ Seungmin is the best distractor in the whole world! (Real)

pairing *. * Kim Seungmin x Fem! Reader

genre⋆ ★ Fluff, A tinge of angst, Enemies to Lovers

warnings *. Claustrophobia (not really but it's the closest thing to it), language

call duration⋆ ★ 2k

a/n*. * In honor of the new skz comeback! And as I finish my hyunjin fic bc that's taking it out of me. Also, every time I go on a bike in India I have to pray that the fanfic writer curse doesn't get to me oml. On another side note, standing in a KFC in pure darkness as Chainsmokers Closer plays is an astronomical experience what the freak

taglist ⋆ ★ @kflixnet

You hate Kim Seungmin. Your friends hate Kim Seungmin. Your small kitten back that you smuggled into your dorm, hates Kim Seungmin. Everyone hates Kim Seungmin. 

Or you wish so.

Because truly, you don’t. Nor do your friends because they think he’s nice or your little kitten because she always purrs when you ‘accidently’ scroll up to his insta profile. And everyone in existence always praises him for every little thing he does.  

That’s probably what irks you the most–the amount of attention that he receives that inflates his stupid ego which makes him act like a little shit towards you.

But as you stare at the ceiling of your room while Chaewon’s soft snores rumble in the background–you can’t help but wonder about thoughts that you would categorize as the most disgusting and vile thoughts that you can ever think about.  

Thoughts about how much you actually like Kim Seungmin and his bratty attitude. And how you hold a certain fondness for the banter you both share.

And how he was so astronomically handsome that you almost swear that you saw a glowing light when you first met him, something that you would never confess.

At first, it was weird to accept your emotions for him, and the rapid flush you felt drowned your ears.  

Yet it didn’t take long for you to recognize the beating in your throat and how you just couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You threw up after that, though (but it was probably from the number of shots you took that night, just to get over your feelings).

Spoiler alert, it didn’t work and the next day you sported a major ache in your head and in your heart.  

Along with all of the traits that you secretly admire about Seungmin, he is also very dumb. You realize it now as you stand in the elevator and just from the corner, Seungmin walks out and sees you.

He even watches you rapidly click the “close door” button so he can’t get on, yet he still has the idiotic impudence to rush by and in the nick of time, stick out his hand to open the closing doors.  

You glare as he gets in. And he sticks out his tongue, successfully locking you two in. Together. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” Seungmin cheekily chuckles. He presses for the fifth floor, brushing your arm on purpose when he moves back. Your heart stops and you have to make sure that your hair isn’t tucked so he doesn’t see the red.  

“Whatever.” You mutter grumpily, stepping a bit to the left to get as far as possible away from him. With an annoying grin, he follows you too.

You usually don’t use the elevators. They’re usually enclosing and suffocating and you have that terrible fear of it falling down, leading to your presumable death.

But after a long day of walking around in black heels for a presentation for your Psychology 101 class, you opt out of using the stairs this time. 

You gained that fear of elevators after watching a bright side video on ‘survival instincts that everyone should know about'. It was safe to say, that even though you now know what to do if a moose charges toward you, you don’t have the guts to lie down in the elevator in case of a problem.  

“You look uglier than usual today.” He points at the extra makeup that you wear and you slap away his hand.  

“Shut up. You look ugly every day. Like a fucking gremlin.” You pause for a second when the lights suddenly flicker, but when you look at the screen you see that it’s still steadily going up–the elevator is a bit old so it’s slow. “Like a gremlin that doesn’t know how to shut up.”  

“I do know how to shut up. You’re just annoying.” 

“Blah blah blah. I’m Kim Seungmin and I’m such an idiot and I think that everyone is annoying because I feel like I’m above them blah, blah, blah.” You mock, laughing when he scoffs and shoots daggers into your skull.

He then opens his mouth to say something but the elevator’s lights seem to be extremely dysfunctional, turning on and off for a few continuous seconds, while the both of your just stare at the light bulbs.  

“They’re flickering because of you.” He stupidly says. And then the elevator stops. Completely, shunning you two in a void of darkness and silence–the rumbling behind the gears of the machine has stopped.

And now you’re going to pass out because whatever you envisioned to be the worst, was now coming true and to make matters worse, you’re stuck with someone that you like.  

Maybe the last part about Seungmin was actually the real worst. The true nightmare fuel.  

“What the fuck,” He strains when the emergency light suddenly turns on, shuddering a few times before you have to pray that it doesn’t go out either. 

Seungmin steals a (worried) glance towards you, who already has backed into the corner as he reaches for the blood-red phone. You both hear it ring, shrill as it echoes into the air but nothing else comes out into the receiver. 

“No one’s picking up.” You whimper, practically panicking. “Why is no one picking up?!” 

“Thank you for stating the obvious. You’re being very helpful.” He ignores your question and starts to bang on the elevator doors. It scares the shit out of you and before you know it, you’re tugging him away from the metal, clasping his hands as you tremble. 

“Stop that! You’re gonna make the situation–” 

This time the elevator drops. Just a little. But it’s enough to shaken Seungmin and you to grip onto him tight. When you both realize this, you move away from him and apologize. He just holds your gaze for a few moments before he nods and you look away at your feet. A silence follows.  

“You should yell for help.” You suggest quietly.  

“No, you do it.” 

“No, I said it first so you do it.” 

He shakes his head, “I didn’t want to be here with you in the first place, so you say it.” 

“You’re the one that came into this fuckass elevator, after!” You point at yourself, “After you saw me!” 

“Nuh-uh!” You sigh and lean back onto the balls of your feet. He looks slightly annoyed that you basically caught his intention but he compiles to your request anyway. 

“Help!” He screams. “I’m stuck on this elevator with the most annoying person ever! Ahhh help me!”  

You pinch his shoulder, which he laughs to, scrunching his nose at you. It’s kind of cute and it releases the tension in your stomach, loosening the knot.

You grin a little and join him in yelling. And all goes well as you two try to compete on who screams louder until...the elevator falls significantly, plopping down in great big chunks.  

“Holy shit!” Seungmin curses, almost knocked to his feet. 

And you’re suddenly on the floor, crouching down, with your hands covering your ears. There’s something wet on your cheeks, yet you’ve allowed yourself a world of darkness as you squeeze your eyes closed.

Seungmin seems to notice because a soft hand brushes by your hair while a gasp of deep breaths gets closer to you. You cower within yourself even more and let out a sob–you’re so embarrassed.  

“A-are you okay?” His fingers gently tread on your arm, shaking it. 

“Does it look like I’m okay?!” You refuse to look at him. 

“Yes.” He then shakes his head. “No. Sorry.” 

The elevator shakes again and you’re quivering harder, trying to draw warmth from his touch, nose sniffling.

But ultimately a thought pops out into your head and you’re forced to look at him with puffy eyes before you roll out onto the floor. That stupid bright side video was finally being some help. He looks at you surprised.  

“Kim Seungmin lay on the floor!” You cry.  

“But the floor is dirt–” 

“Just listen to me! Or you’re gonna die!” He immediately rests on the floor in a starfish position without any complaints.  The floor of the elevator is extremely small, so he’s practically lying on top of you–fully, but as you both adjust, half of your upper body is on his and his legs are spread on you.

It’s fully awkward and your heart feels like it’s about to burst from the close proximity but if it saves the both of you in the end, then you would put up with it.  

“Why are we on the floor?” He asks. He looks up for a second before he carefully turns around and wipes away your tears. You just choke even harder and he panics–starting to slowly shush you. You end up not answering his query so he continues on.

“I heard that if you’re scared, talking helps by distracting us. Let’s talk.” He waits for you to nod your head and he wipes away another tear, dragging his finger away before he points at himself.

“I'll go first. In your new story, where you’re at Jackson’s party, your lips don’t look like a prolapsed anus. They never do but just before that I saw Changbin pouting and his did so–.” 

“What the fuck, Seungmin. That’s disgusting!” 

He shrugs and tilts his head. “It was just a thought. And I said that yours don’t–it was a compliment.” 

“You suck at this.” You softly hiccup. He smiles brightly and you find that his grin is absolutely gorgeous.  

“It’s your turn now.” He reminds you. 

You think for a second on what to say. “Well–er, why do you hate me?” 

He twists his mouth “I don’t.”  

“Yeah, you do. You always make my life harder and–” 

“Well of course I do. How else do I always keep your eyes on me?” 

���What?!” You yelp. Seungmin grumbles a little but he doesn’t lose that mischievous look in his eyes. He tucks in a strand of your hair. 

“I thought that I made it obvious that I liked you–I have for ages. Maybe you are actually just dumb.”  

You’re silent–utterly speechless and you can’t stop that flurry of butterflies rippling down your stomach, the wings flapping against your throat. You don’t even think that you’re breathing. 

“You’re not joking, are you?” You lean in a little closer, a little more vulnerable than you were before as unsaid words swirl on the tip of your tongue. He seems to notice, because his warm hands cup your cheek, his thumb pawing at the skin as you nuzzle into them.  

“Why? Do you want to find out?” 

“Yeah.” You breathe. “Yeah, I do.”  

Seungmin lips taste of strawberry and it’s sweet as he kisses you. Your fingers tread over to his hair, smiling into the kiss when you lightly tug on them.

When you both pull back, he rubs his forehead against you–and you notice that you aren’t in the safety position now, so you clutch his clothes even tighter, pulling him closer to you, so he can wrap his arms around you. But now you figure that if you actually die–then you would die happy.  

“What the fuck.” You mumble, feeling all cheesy inside.  

“Yeah. What the fuck–you’re so pretty.” You lean in to kiss him once more, craving that feeling of euphoria that he gives to you. Your brain leaks out of your ears.  

You both don’t even know how much time has passed, but when you try to snuggle against his chest, the intercom of the elevator comes to life, assuring you both safety which you roll your eyes at. And finally, when the firefighters come to help you guys out and get your guys settled–you wonder ‘What now?’ 

But your lover Kim Seungmin seems to have the answers to everything. 

“You’re such a pain in the ass,” He says to you, before he steals your phone, leaving you to chase him back to his dorm. And then he turns around and hugs you tight, leaving you breathless all over again.  

Unfortunately for you two, Jeongin decides that it is the best time to come out with a bucket of fried chicken and ends up with a heart attack–purely wondering if he was wound up in a dream.  

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Nails - Bucky Barnes X Female Reader

Title: Nails

Bucky Barnes X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Tony, Natasha, Steve, Maria, Nick, Wanda, Vision, Pietro, Peter P (Mentioned), Thor, Bruce, and Sam

Requested by Anon!

WC: 2,973

Warnings: Slight fighting, Tony gets jealous, slight change in MCU timeline, Peitro lives (cause I can), Hydra never took over SHIELD, fighting mentioned, nervousness, Bucky's in love, slight angst, and fluff

You bobbed your head lightly, humming along to your favorite song as it played through your Bluetooth speaker. Sticking your tongue out in concentration, you gently and slowly brushed the nail polish on your nail, trying not to mess up. It had been a slow day for the Avengers, (and you), today being a rare break day. You were glad. You needed a break. A day to chill out, listen to music, eat junk food, and have a 'me' day.

It also meant you'd have a bit more time with your boyfriend, Bucky. All this fighting aliens and mischievous god's was taking time away from you and him. Everyday it was wake up, get some training in, maybe a meeting or two, fight someone who thinks they can conquer the world, come back and try and rest. Plus… Don't forget. Paperwork. You'd have to do some much paperwork for Fury that you'd think your fingers would fall off from far too much writing and typing.

But today was a special day, today you were going to relax with your boyfriend. If he ever came back from training with Steve that is. He left a good two hours ago, so you hoped he'd be back soon. You missed him. Even though you were with him most of the day. Waking up beside each other, sitting at breakfast, lunch, and dinner together, and falling asleep next to one another; you missed him. 

Bucky was your knight in shining Vibranium. He was your life and you wouldn't have it any other way. You often smiled when you thought back to when you first met the man. Introducing yourself to him during the fight at the airport. Sort of awkward, since you were holding off that Spider-Kid from webbing him and Sam. It was memorable, to say the least. After the battle and after Tony apologized and allowed Bucky to stay at the tower with you and the other Avengers, you slowly got closer to Bucky. And the rest was history. 

~~~

Not even hearing your door open, Bucky paused at the door. He watched as you laid on your stomach, feet kicking softly in the air as you painted your nails. Kicking the door shut gently, he finally grabbed your attention, a bright smile appearing on your face as you looked up at him.

"Hi, honey! How was training with Steve? Did you kick his butt?" You asked before going back to what you were doing. 

Bucky nodded, grabbing the small towel from his shoulders and wiping his forehead. "Hey, doll… I did kick his butt. Uh… What are you doing?" He asked, as you paused to look back up at him.

"Painting my nails." Your eyes then lit up, "Oh! Can I paint yours?" You asked, capping your polish bottle rapidly before rolling and hopping off the bed. Standing before him as you rocked off the balls of your feet, flapping your hands in the air beside you as you tried to dry your nails. "It'll be fun." You tried to convince him in a singsong voice. 

Bucky pursed his lips, eyes narrowing slightly as he glanced from your hands to the polish on your bed. You seemed to have a large amount of different colors of the said polish. Reds, blues, whites, and greens. Even a few sparkling and glittering ones. Glancing back to you, Bucky sighed softly before nodding. How could he say no to you? You were just so cute when you gave him that face. Big wide puppy dog eyes, bottom lip jut out slightly in a small pout. 

"Okay."

You jumped in excitement, even squealing slightly before you went in to hug Bucky, but stopped yourself. You scrunched up your nose, eyes gazing over his sweaty body. "First. Shower mister. You are a sweaty sweaty boy." You spoke, gesturing to the bathroom before you hopped back on the bed, organizing your polish collection for Bucky when he came back out.

Bucky sighed, a small admiring smile forming upon his lips. He stared at you for a moment, watching as you organized, completely in awe of you. How did he get so lucky? Tossing his towel in the laundry bin in the corner of the room, Bucky made his way to the bathroom.

~~~

Stepping out of the bathroom, Bucky ruffled his hair with his towel, already dressed in a pair of sweats and t-shirt. Hearing the door this time, you looked over. Eyes widening slightly, you jumped off the bed again, rushing up to him. 

"Buck, baby. No ruffling. It frizzes your hair, causing split ends." You lightly scolded, taking the towel from him. "Here. Grab and pat." You cooed, gently taking a section of Bucky's hair and patting it dry. Letting you do what you were going to do, Bucky just stood there, his arms making their way on your waist as he waited.

While he waited, he took his time to look at you. His eyes drifted across your face. The slope of your nose, the small freckles on your cheeks, your long lashes periodically fluttering as you look at his hair with such concentration.

"Alright." You snapped him out of his dreamy daze. "Hopefully, your hair will be all cute and wavy soon. Now, let's get your nails did. I already sorted out all my colors." You spoke, grabbing Bucky's hand and leading him the few feet to the bed. Sitting down, you gestured with your hand over your polishes. "I've got basically every color of the rainbow, even glitters if you're feeling fancy." 

Bucky peered down at your collection, his gaze sweeping over the reds, yellows, blues… Until he looked back up at you. "What do you think I should do?" He asked and you hummed.

"Well, if you wanted to do some matchy-matchy I'd say either silver or black. But if you wanted, we could do your favorite color? Or dealer's choice. But these are your nails, you can do whatever you want with them."

Bucky nodded, before deciding. "I'll do black then. Keep it simple." 

You nodded, grabbing the blacks from the bed. "Alright, would you like matte black, glitter black, shiney black, or my personal favorite… holo black?" You asked, holding out the polishes in your hand out for him. Bucky paused for a moment, before grabbing the matte black. You nodded in agreement. "Alright, hand the hand." Bucky gave you his hand, as you shook the polish and observed his nails. 

Setting his hand on your knee, you opened the lid of the black matte and pushed the brush on the edge to get rid of the excess polish before you began painting. Bucky watched as you did so, impressed by how steady your hands were. And like when he came into the room an hour before, you stuck the tip of your tongue out from your lips, humming to a song on your speaker. Again, he couldn't help but stare. Simply enamored by your presence. He felt his heart pound in his chest as his stomach flipped. He loved you. Every inch of you. From your head to your toes, you were perfect. 

You capped the lid, tightening it before you put it back on your bed. "Okay, all done!" You exclaimed, smiling down at your work before you looked up at Bucky. "Do you like them?" You then asked and Bucky looked down at his newly painted nails before he looked back up at you.

"I love them, doll." He spoke and you clapped your hands together with glee. "Thank you."

"You are welcome! I'm so glad you like them. I didn't even mess up. Though it is easier to paint someone else's than my own." You chuckled out, Bucky copying; you laugh being so infectious. "Do you wanna get some lunch? I can teach you how to make that avocado toast I like." You offered and Bucky gave you a small smile and nod.

"I'd like that." 

Hopping off the bed, you grabbed Bucky's metal hand, dragging him out the room. "Oh!" You exclaimed, looking up at Bucky as you walked, "Dry the nail polish like this." You spoke, before flapping your free hand in the air. "We don't want to ruin the nails." Bucky nodded before flapping his hand in the air like you showed him. 

Entering the main kitchen area, you and Bucky headed to the toaster. You reach up to grab the bread from the cupboard as Bucky grabbed an avocado from the fruit bowl. Working on showing Bucky how to cut the avocado and what correct spices and additives you'd need, Sam made his way into the kitchen, back from his run and shower. Grabbing a cup from the cupboard, Sam glanced down, noticing Bucky's polish.

"You painted your nails?" He asked, pausing what he was doing as both you and Bucky looked over at him.

"I painted them." You corrected, watching carefully as Sam stared down at Bucky's hand. "Do you… Want me to paint yours?" You asked hesitantly, before Sam looked up at you.

"Would you? I've never had them painted before." He spoke almost sheepishly as you gave him a smile, before spreading the avocado paste on the toast.

"I'd love to. Just after Buck and I's lunch." You agreed, tapping your toast against Bucky's and taking a bite.

~~~

Setting up all your polishes on the kitchen counter, you sat on the bar stool as Sam sat on another. Bucky sat on the counter, snacking on a plum as he watched you ready your polishes. 

"Alright. What do you want for your nails? Multiple colors? One color? A design?"

"You can do designs?" Sam asked and you gave him a shrug.

"Kinda. I can do flowers, leaves, hearts… You know… Simple stuff. I'm not like a pro or anything." You laughed out awkwardly as Sam pondered over what he wanted. 

"Could you… Could you do clouds?" He then asked, an idea forming.

"Like realistic or 'Toy Story Andy's room wallpaper clouds' clouds?" 

"Andy's room." Sam answered and you gave a nod.

"Absolutely, that's simple. I suppose you want a blue sky as the background?" To that, Sam gave you a rapid nod.

"Alright, let's do this."

As you painted his nails, which took a bit longer than Bucky's, a couple more of your Avenger friends entered the room. Steve rounded the corner and greeted Bucky before pausing when he spotted you and Sam.

"What are you two doing?" He asked as you grabbed a water bottle from the fridge.

Sam gave the soldier a smile, showing him his finished nails from one hand as you worked on the other. "Y/N's painting my nails."

"Oop," You spoke up, glaring up softly at Sam. "Don't move too much, birdy boy. Don't want to mess up." You scolded as Sam dropped his hand back down.

Steve smiled at the sight, taking a sip of his water. "Y/N, would you mind doing mine?" 

Sam sputtered a small laugh. "You want red, white, and blue?" He asked teasingly as Steve just stared at him.

"I mean… That was the idea but now you're making me contradict myself." He spoke and you glared once more at Sam.

"Steve can have whatever he wants. Don't tease him, or I'll tell the team what you did yesterday during the meeting." You threatened, Sam's eyes widening slightly as he shook his head.

Steve furrowed his eyebrows, "What happened at the meeting?" He asked but Sam shook his head.

"Nothing."

~~~

Natasha was the next Avenger to enter the kitchen, also pausing when she saw you now painting Steve's nails. Red, white, and blue. His thumb nails sporting his shield design. 

"What's going on here?" She asked, leaning against the counter beside Bucky as he ate his third plum of the day. "You starting a business?" She jokingly asked and you chuckled. 

"You know… I really could. But no, the boys just wanted their nails done." You spoke, finishing Steve's last nail. 

"Thanks, hon." He spoke, flapping his hands in the air before scooting off the bar stool.

You gave the man a smile, "Your welcome, Captain Bootylicious." Before turning to Natasha, leaning your elbow on the counter as you rested your hand under your chin.

"Do you want me to do your nails?" You asked the red-headed assassin as Sam slid up next to her.

"Yeah, look at mine." He spoke, showing off his nails to her.

Natasha hummed before she looked at you and gave you a nod. "Yeah, I'm down." 

You smiled brightly, already having a design in mind. "Awesome. Come on over, babe."

~~~

Tony whistled a tune as he entered the main living area of the tower. Hearing chatter and pop music, he paused his tune. Heading to the kitchen, Tony watched as Natasha and Bucky sat on the counters, Steve stood beside Bucky, Sam was at the stove making pancakes, Bruce was chatting with Thor and Vision, and you were painting Wanda's nails. Tony was beyond confused, looking even closer to see that everyone had their nails painted too. He was bewildered.

"Having a party without me?" He spoke up, gaining the group's attention as he walked in the slightly now crowded kitchen to grab a red Powerade. "I'm offended."

"Yes." Thor spoke, "A nail painting party."

Tony furrowed his eyebrows. "Nail painting party?" He repeated and the team gave him a nod.

"Yeah, turns out, Y/N's really good at painting nails." Natasha spoke, donning her black widow designed nails. 

"Interesting. Everyone got their nails done?" Tony asked as he spotted Bruce's nails, a soft icy blue. "Even you, Bruce?" He asked and the scientist nodded.

"You only live once." He shrugged his shoulders as Thor gave him a heavy clap on the back as he burst out into laughter. 

"The Spiderling taught me that that means 'yolo'." He commented, his nails sporting yellow and blue lightning bolts, the background pink, very retro. 

"You know, Stark…" Wanda spoke up from beside you, as you finished her nails up with a top coat. "You should get yours done too."

"Yeah, Tony Pepperoni." You began, pointing the polish brush at him. "Everyone's doing it."

Tony rolled his eyes as he gave you a smirk. "I don't see everyone doing it." 

Just then, Pietro speeded in, stopping beside Tony. "Hey, are you getting your nails done too?" He asked, before showing off his shiney holo blue nails to Iron Man. "I got blue." He spoke as Tony sighed. 

"Tony, what's wrong?" Steve started, pushing off the counter. "Anyone can have their nails painted." Only to make Tony dramatically sigh again.

"That's not the problem." He practically whined.

"Then what is the problem?" Vision asked, obviously confused as Tony opened his mouth to speak.

"I wasn't invited." He pouted, before everyone let out a laugh. "What? It would've been nice if someone told me." He ranted, as Wanda got off the stool, blowing softly at her glittery maroon nails. 

"Well, Tones." You begans, patting the stool seat. "I'm ready for my next client." You offered as Tony made his way to the seat and sat down. "What'll you be having?" You asked in a southern accent as Tony spied the colors. 

"Red and yellow please. It'll match my suits."

You grabbed the two colors, shaking them, "Coming right up."

~~~

"Why are Natasha and Bucky sitting on the counter?" Tony asked as you finished up his nails.

"Because they're snacks." You answered, earning a laugh out of the team.

"Oh, I'm a meal." Natasha asserted, flipping her hair over her shoulder elegantly.

Hearing the elevator ding, you paused what you were doing to see Nick Fury walk into the room. He also paused as he stared at you and the team. Unfreezing, he cleared his throat. "You all didn't show up to the meeting." He spoke simply. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. "There was a meeting?" You asked and Nick nodded. 

"Yes. About the new program we are starting. It was at four." He spoke and you hummed. "I sent you all a message."

"Well, I've been in here for a good two or three hours… My phone has been in my room." You shrugged before going back to finishing Tony's nails. "On silent." You added with a small smirk.

"What about all of you?" Nick began, crossing his arms as he glared at the rest of the team, "What are your excuses?" 

"I've been here this whole time." Steve spoke, as Bucky, Natasha, and Sam nodded in agreement. "I would've come if I had known."

"I would've come too." Bruce spoke up.

"I don't care for meetings." Wanda sighed as Pietro nodded.

"They are boring." He added. 

"I, Director Fury, would've made it but I wanted to stay with Wanda." Visions spoke as he looked down at Wanda with a dreamy smile. 

Fury sighed, "And you two? What about you?" 

"I don't have a phone." Thor answered.

Tony sipped his martini, "And I don't care."

Fury let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand down his face. Looking up, he watched in shock as Maria entered the room from the bathroom, her nails painted a mossy green with small pink flowers. She paused when she spotted Nick, gulping.

"Commander Hill." Nick greeted deeply as Maria stared at him as if she was a deer in front of headlights.

"Director Fury." She greeted back, before slowly walking over to grab her juice. 

Fury sighed again, before staring  at his team in front of him. "I don't know how New York is still standing." He muttered before taking a seat on the stool in front of you. "I'll have purple." He spoke defeated, the team cheering as you smirked, grabbing the purple polish from the counter.

"Director Fists of Fury. Welcome to the party."

[ehlnofay]

The travellers arrive at the lake earlier than they expected, a good few hours before sundown.

“I think we have time to find an inn after all,” Veezara says, his shifting feet treading boot-prints into the pebbly sand. “There’s certain to be one somewhere on the shore.” Or not too far from it, at least; Lake Ilinalta may be bad luck, or said to be, but travellers still need rooms and innkeepers still need coin.

Torr, who is already leaning his knapsack against the trunk of a tree, shrugs. “Eh. I like it here just fine.”

He sits down in the dirt to punctuate the statement.

Veezara remarks, “You have managed to avoid going to inns for a remarkable amount of this journey. You know you can afford it, yes? You have the money?”

Torr scrunches up their face. “Don’t use observations you made while shadowing me across the country against me,” they complain. “And yeah, I know. But I’d rather send it back to Windhelm.”

“Of course you would,” Veezara mutters, half-fondly; Torr sticks his tongue out.

“’Sides,” he says, after a moment’s silence, “it’s nice out here. I’m learning so much about the land, Veezara, about nature. You wouldn’t deprive a poor city kid the chance to learn about nature, would you?”

Veezara laughs at him; but he acquiesces, so Torr counts it as a win. They start undoing the ties of their knapsack. They’ve both been walking for ages now, and Torr’s hungry. (He’s not as good at dealing with hunger as he used to be, either – which is probably a good thing, but also means the food in his pack is disappearing at an alarming rate.)

His friend does not have the same idea.

“If we’re going to spend the afternoon resting,” he says cheerfully, “then we should at least make the most of it. Let’s go swimming. The water is beautiful.”

Torr digs a half-stale hunk of bread out of the pocket of the knapsack. “You go,” they reply. (Do they still have that crock of jam they nicked from the wedding in Solitude? The bread looks a bit too tough to eat on its own.) “I can’t swim.”

When they glance up, rock-hard bread in one hand and the other feeling for a jam jar in the bag, Veezara is staring as though they have two heads. “What?”

“You can’t swim?” he asks, incredulous, and Torr snorts.

“Veezara,” they say patiently, “I grew up in Windhelm. Where would I have learned to swim?”

“There’s a harbour, isn’t there?”

Torr cackles. “You’d get battered by one of the boats in five minutes flat, if you managed to last the cold that long. Not even the Argonians down the docks ever swam in there. Nah, never learned. You have fun, though! It does look nice.”

It really does, the sun slowly beginning its descent into the mountains and valleys to the west, glittering bright and merry off the water. The Lake Ilinalta itself is almost luridly colourful, reflecting the blue of the sky with picturebook vehemence. Torr hadn’t known water could look so bright – back home the harbour was always just grey.

Veezara nudges their leg with his toe and they look up. “What?”

“Unacceptable,” he says firmly. “Do you have a clean change of clothes?”

Torr’s been switching between the same three outfits since they started this job (‘cept the duds they stole to blend in at the wedding.) “Clean enough.”

“Good,” Veezara says, and leans down, grabbing Torr’s arm and hauling him up. “I am teaching you to swim.”

 By the time the sun touches the distant mountaintops, Veezara seems well on his way to making good on his promise.

They’re standing in the not-quite-shallows but not far from the shore, Torr in his undertunic (which he figured could use the wash) and Veezara in his grey linen trousers, and after ages of gruelling work Torr seems to have at last got the hang of kicking.

Gruelling is a bit exaggerated; Torr can think of many things worse than spending an afternoon splashing ineptly around under the warm sun. Even if they’re not sure that water activity is quite to their taste – the first ten minutes were spent inching into the lake and yelping at the mushy squelch of the dirt between their toes. Then when Veezara coaxed them into dunking their head in the water (most important part of swimming is holding your breath, apparently) it went right up their nose and then the next five minutes were spent trying to get their dripping hair out of their eyes and refusing to go get a hair tie out of principle. Veezara laughed at them again, and said they looked like a half-drowned skeever; but that’s easy for him to say, he’s been swimming long as he can remember and he doesn’t even have hair.

But Torr’s mostly got the hang of it now, he thinks; even if it took him a long time to get used to the odd sensation of water lapping against his chest, and even if he was worrying about slaughterfish for so long and bringing it up so much that Veezara stopped finding it funny. (Excuse him for being worried about stories of fish that can take a chunk out of you afore you catch a glimpse of them! Torr’s heard they like more temperate waters like the ones down Falkreath, and as a human that can’t swim he’ll be at a disadvantage if any do show up. This is their home turf.) He’s actually kicking now, instead of just slapping his feet noisily on the surface of the water, and he’s able to stick his head underwater without immediately choking down half the lake, which Veezara says is about as much as can be hoped for in a few hours.

“You’re doing wonderfully,” he keeps saying, which Torr is pretty sure is a load of shit but appreciates anyway. “Try to roll your head to the side, you look like you’ll snap your neck in half bending it backwards like that – there you go.”

Torr sucks in a breath and douses their head underwater again.

“This sucks,” they complain when they shift their head to get air again. “I’ve been doing this for ages and I’m not even moving.”

Veezara says placidly, “You’re more than welcome to let go of my hands if you want to try a few strokes on your own.”

Torr only tightens his grip. “No thanks,” he replies. Water gets a bit in his mouth. Veezara grins.

(It really does suck. But Veezara is so enthusiastic about the whole thing, and they don’t want to disappoint.)

(Besides, it’s nice, in a terrible sort of way.)

“Actually,” Veezara says, and he doesn’t finish the sentence.

The thing about the lake is that it moves, the waters ever gently pushing and pulling, and Torr’s pretty focused on trying to manage the kicking and the moving to breathe and the not getting muddy lake water in his eyes at once – so it isn’t until Torr notices Veezara’s knees gently knocking against his chest that he realises he’s tipped onto his back and is moving them slowly and steadily away from the shore.

Torr startles, takes in a mouthful of lake water, chokes. It dribbles unpleasantly down their chin as they gasp, “Veezara!”

Unruffled, he says, “Now we’re moving.”

Torr swallows some more water and starts coughing. (It’s foul-tasting stuff.)

Veezara looks concerned, then. He tries to reach down to brush the wet hair out of Torr’s eyes, murmuring, “Hey, hey,” like they’re an agitated animal, but their grip on his hands clamps in a way that implies they’d rather rip off his fingers than be detached from them.

“I’ve got you,” he tries. “You’re fine, yes? I’m not letting go.”

Torr spits out a mouthful of water. “Can’t just start swimming me across the bloody lake with no warning!”

“I recognise that.” He’s still swimming unceasingly backwards while Torr coughs and kicks. “I’ll keep it in mind for next time.”

“No next time,” Torr says. “Never getting in the water with you again, you’re a menace.”

Veezara laughs at that. “Nonsense. It’s an important skill to have. You never know when you may need it.”

Torr manages to catch enough breath to blow a raspberry.

They keep moving – Torr keeping up his steady if ineffectual kicking, Veezara effortlessly swimming for the both of them – for a while, until Torr is soothed enough to stop coughing and gagging and to just barely loosen their grip on their friend’s hands. Not enough to stop worrying about whatever could be lurking in the depths (mostly slaughterfish, maybe one of the huge crabs, although the lake is supposed to be haunted so he thinks a bit about ghosts too) but at least enough to stop vocalising those worries.

It really is nice if he calms down a bit. Nice colours. The movement of the water is unnerving but nice once you get used to it. The fact that Veezara’s going to the trouble is nice, too. Torr honestly never gave swimming a thought before today (he was in Windhelm, after all, what kind of madman would think about swimming there) but it’s clearly something that Veezara values, that he wants to share with him. Torr’s never quite gotten used to this in all the time he’s been in the Brotherhood; other people being the ones to go to the bother. Other people teaching and showing and explaining things. Weird – but nice.

“Keep kicking,” Veezara prompts, and Torr does.

They reach a rock jutting from the lake, its surface warm from the sun, and grainy. It’s too smooth at the sides to climb but Veezara gives Torr a boost. Torr turns to help him up – and sees how far they are from the banks, and feels a little sick. (They could maybe swim a stroke or two, if they were lucky, and the bank is… definitely further than that.)

Veezara denies the offered hand. “I’d rather get a proper swim in while you’re getting some shut-eye,” he says teasingly, and Torr thinks about falling asleep on the rounded top of the rock surrounded by water who knows how deep and feels sicker.

“Suit yourself,” he replies, and curls up a bit, because he is cold in his still-dirty now-dripping undertunic, and the sun is nice. (Falkreath and its ridiculously mild weather.)

The rock is actually quite nice too. Not too cold. No jagged edges. In a nice quiet place, where the water laps gently against the stone. As far as places to sleep go, Torr definitely could do worse – no, tell a lie, they have done worse. Under a posh house’s porch comes first to mind, though in their defence, they’re pretty sure they had mild hypothermia at the time. Weren’t thinking quite straight. At least no owners of the rock would likely burst onto the scene and start screaming bloody murder to get off the property while they’re trying to have a kip.

“Hey Veezara,” Torr calls, the movement of his jaw feeling funny against the coarse stone, “you’d haul me out if I fell into the water, right?”

“No, I’d let you drown,” he says. His voice, floating on the water from somewhere past Torr’s head, is flat enough to indicate exactly what he thinks of that query. “Of course I would, Torr, what kind of question is that?”

“The kind of question asked by someone who’s tired. Thinking of taking you up on your suggestion.” (He isn’t really. He’s not actually going to sleep on the rock. But he is tired – been walking all bloody day, and almost every day before that since Solitude.)

Veezara’s voice comes again, fainter. “Scream if you need me.”

“Will do.”

Torr tilts his head back, face to the dimming watery-blue sky, and shuts his eyes.

He likes times like this – slow-paced, no fuss. He’s never quite sure how to manage in them, but he likes them. (That’s why it’s best when they coincide with travelling like this – he gets to relax while also having a distinct spot to work towards. Still something to do, there’s just no drastic rush.) It’s luxury to get to lie down on a silly rock in the fading warmth of an afternoon on the lake.

Would be nice if the others could be here, too – though that’s an image which makes Torr laugh as soon as they conjure it. They can practically see it – Gabriella sitting cross-legged and stately on the banks, Arnbjorn grumbling about the weather and the water and the pointless break in routine, Festus huddled up under a tree with a notebook. Astrid and Babette at least would probably be good sports about it – and Cicero might like it, if he could be persuaded to leave the coffin.

But Torr’s never actually seen Arnbjorn and Cicero in a room together except for meals, and not even then half the time. So maybe a lake day would not be nice. Torr can see it going sour quickly.

Oh well. Still a funny image. (Maybe one day – after the stress and the glory of this job is over in full, and everyone’s had time and space to get used to each other – it would be possible.)

“Veezara?” Torr calls. “What are the odds we could do something like this with everyone?”

The lake is silent. Torr opens his eyes. “Veezara?”

The lake is silent.

They sit up.

Maybe he’s playing a joke on them, they think uneasily. Maybe he’s hiding somewhere to get a rise out of them. But that’s not his way, and anyway, there’s nowhere to hide; the water all around the rock is smooth and undisturbed, and there’s nothing else to hide behind.

“Veezara,” they shout again. There’s no ripples, nothing.

He’s a good swimmer, right? He said. Surely a strong swimmer can’t drown in a calm lake.

(Except with outside influence. Veezara never denied that there were slaughterfish in the lake, and Torr’s heard they can drag you down.)

(That’s probably not happening.)

(Veezara’s been under the water, presumably, for an awfully long time now…)

“Veezara,” Torr says again, though he highly doubts there’s much use.

He’s crouching on the little rounded rock, trying not to think about how much of it is submerged in the depths, how deep the water here might be, how far below his friend might be. There’s a ripple to the side of it, suddenly, and he leans over to try to see what it is (Friend? Fish?) except –

Except he dripped water all over the stone and made it slippery, and he pitches over the edge and into the water.

Torr’s not ready when he goes under, hasn’t taken a breath. He scrabbles at the side of the rock for purchase, scraping his hip and knee painfully, but it’s too smooth and too steep and his hands won’t grip. He can’t tell how deep he’s fallen – tries to look up, reaching as though there’s something to grasp – but he can only murkily see how the sunlight breaks on the surface and he doesn’t know how far he is. Shit.

Shit shit shit. This is why Veezara shouldn’t have dragged him out onto the rock!

They hadn’t had time to take a breath, so now they really need to – only that’s an absolutely awful idea, so they’re just floundering, trying to break the surface and grab onto the rock all at once. Their lungs are aching, and they’re scraping their whole body against the stone in their efforts to climb it, and it’s really, really not working, and shit. This is so stupid. They’re a bloody assassin, on their way home after killing the Emperor’s cousin at her own wedding, having spent years on the streets in Windhelm where getting caught outside in the wrong weather could freeze your fucking face off, and they’re going to die because they fell off a rock.

Torr can’t help but exhale, now. He manages to clamp his lips shut before he breathes in again, but his chest is burning and he can’t breathe in and he can’t get a grip on anything and he really needs air and he gasps and it hurts like hell and there’s nothing but the weak sunlight to hold onto –

And then there is something to hold onto. Torr clutches at it, his hands scraping and grasping, and then he’s rising, and then he’s above the surface and he’s trying to exhale and inhale at once and it doesn’t work and he’s coughing and retching over the water, still scrambling for height, and they’re moving.

It feels like Torr’s coughing up a lung. But eventually it soothes enough that they can shift their head to look – and it’s Veezara, dragging them towards shore with a set look on his face.

It turns out he can swim a lot faster when he’s not catering to Torr’s fear. Even when he’s practically carrying their spasming dead weight, he’s still going at a speed that would leave any may-or-may-not-be-there slaughterfish nowhere.

He hauls them out of the lake, onto the bank, and lets them cling limpet-like to his arm as they continue to cough and splutter and generally have a bad time. There’s air enough to breathe – but their chest still aches, exhausted, and they think they might have bashed most of their body against the rock in their efforts to climb it. They can see blood beading, thin and watery, thin and watery, on their grazed wrist. There’s a little blood on Veezara’s head too, in the creases between the scales. Torr hopes they didn’t do that.

Veezara lowers him onto the dirt of the bank. Torr spits something – lake-water and phlegm, maybe – onto the ground and rasps, “Sorry.”

“What? No.” Veezara flicks hair out of their face. “Don’t apologise, you almost drowned. I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“Thought –” But Torr’s chest aches as soon as he starts talking, so he presses a fist to his chest and quiets. Veezara goes to their packs and finds a threadbare blanket in Torr’s knapsack. It’s a sweet gesture (even though Torr fruitlessly tries to stop him draping it around his shoulders – now his sopping hair will drip water all over it!)

“What happened?” Veezara asks, after a time. “I was only out swimming for a few minutes – I shouldn’t have left you when you can’t swim, but how did you even manage it?”

Torr pulls the drenched blanket tighter round their shoulders. “Couldn’t see you. I was looking and then I fell in.” They look up at him accusingly, then. “Thought you drowned! Where were you?”

Veezara stares at them incredulously.

“What?”

“Torr,” he says, and gestures at the side of his neck –

To the shape of the gills, standing out against the scales. Torr blushes painfully red. “Forgot,” he mumbles, and tips his head back. “Nine, I’m such a dope.”

Veezara laughs.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” he says, much too sweet and earnest for such a stupid mistake. “Really, I shouldn’t have left you alone when I knew you can’t swim. It’s entirely my fault.”

“At least partly my fault for being an oaf,” Torr argues. He snuggles further into the sodden blanket. “Least you kept your promise.”

Veezara looks blank a moment – then he smiles. “I did say I’d get you out of the water, didn’t I? I seem to be making quite the habit of rescuing you.”

“Oi. I could have managed Solitude on my own.”

“Keep telling yourself that.”

Torr balls up the dripping blanket and throws it at him; he laughs.

[farfromhome97]

Born Cursed : The Beginning

War Is Near

Warning: nakedness, self-doubt, cursing, some sexual tension, fighting, gore, overall carnage

18+

The warm water soaked away my aches and pains as I stared off into space. Using a washrag to thoroughly clean the sweat and grime from the day away, noting different nicks and small bruises the many days of training had given across my body.

Placing the rag on the side of the bath, I ran my hand over the surface of the water in front of me, finally contemplating the current decisions I was making.

I had to do what I needed in order to survive. Still, the prospect of war wasn't something that came with ease.

I would be killing other humans by the end of tomorrow. Trying to explain to myself that it was either them or me, that these people were destroying the Earth and I was just helping keep it the way it was.

I was doing what was right in order to survive.

But, even trying to justify my actions, the little voice that followed me everywhere spoke to me:

It should be you to die instead.

My jaw went tight as I clenched my teeth together, my fist balling as I held them underwater against my thighs, trying my best to keep calm.

Even so, the condescending tone of my fathers' voice was still loud in my head.

You know he'll do the same to you when he can't use you anymore. Nobody will ever want a cursed thing like you around.

Pulling my hands over my ears I whispered to myself, telling him to leave me alone, to deal with his voice when I needed to focus was just like him, always furthering negativity at the perfect time.

No matter what you do you'll always be useless, just like your mother. Worthless as the day she gave birth to yo-

"Just shut UP already!"

I shouldn't have screamed it as I smacked my ears over and over, yelling to my father that he was wrong.

No matter what I did, he always spoke in times of doubt, knowing I had no choice but to become stronger, more level-headed.

Not for Sukuna, not because of my father, but for myself and because I needed to.

Sighing as I tried to drown out his voice, I prayed loudly to whoever listened to give me strength and courage, lying to myself that I wasn't scared before dunking my head below the water, staying submerged for over a minute or two, watching the bubbles from my nose float up to the surface, the voice finally dying out completely.

Before I could lift myself from the water, two large hands plunged below the waters surface in front of me, shutting my eyes from shock as I tried to push the hands away from me, only for them to take a hold of them and pull me up from below the water to the surface, the sudden change causing me to inhale a small amount of water.

The flickering lights were dimmed from the water in my eyes as I coughed water from my mouth. Before I could speak I swung my hips backwards inorder to be released, only to feel a third hand grasp the small of my back and pull me forward, my eyes shooting open to find Sukuna smirking down at me.

Yelping as I did my best to cover myself, I flailed in his grasp telling him to let me go, watching as his eyes my face before raising a brow.

"So fickle."

Was all that was said before he did let me go, water soon filling my vision once more as I swam to the other side of the bath.

"I am not fickle My Lord, I was bathing! Whatever made you pull me from the water?!"

Instead of answering me, Sukuna only gazed down at me with a smirk, crossing his arms in front of him.

Huffing, I stood from the water, sticking my tongue out at him, crossing my own arms and puffing my chest out in hopes to appear taller.

Instead, I only received loud laughter, blushing as the curse held his stomach and threw his head back, the sound echoing against the walls, I was still as bare as the day I was born.

A small yelp left me as I covered myself again and darted back below the water, only stopping when it reached below my chin.

"Yes, fickle indeed, little mortal. No need to be so shy, being naked is to be in our natural state."

Coming to sit on the edge of the bath, Sukuna grabbed two bath towels in one hand as another reached across the water and threw them on my head.

"Mortals always have been shameful. Such pity."

Instead of covering, I stood as they fell to the water, made my way to the edge, climbed out of the tub only slipping slightly before sitting on the edge next to him, pulling my other leg out.

Once I was fully seated I looked over at Sukuna, watching as his smirk disappeared and something unfamiliar, a look I'd never seen before crossed his face. His nostrils flaring slightly as his breaths deepened, noticing from the corner of my eyes when his biceps tightened under the grip of his hands, only speaking when he said nothing, my voice barely a whisper.

"Am I shameful now, Lord Sukuna?"

Looking up at him, shrugging before I stood, and made my way out into the many hallways, running slightly when I left, clutching my goods and heading to my room, giggling the whole way.

I almost slipped several times, my laughter bouncing off the dark hallways as I heard Sukunas steps behind mine.

Finally at my rooms door, the door handle becoming slippery due to wet hands, cursing with my laughter as I finally pried it open, running to my wardrobe immediately getting dressed.

Walking to the little table I had everything for my hair to be taken care after a good dunking, letting the oils brush down to make sure my ends stayed hydrated.

Hearing the knocking of who I assumed to be the king himself, jumping, since never once had he knocked on anyone's door he was king he owned everything here.

Putting my face in my hands, I peeked as he walked through the door, crouching down to fit through the frame.

"I am sorry, My Lord, I-"

"You are not shameful, Y/N."

Sighing, I crossed my arms over my chest, looking up at the tall curse in front of me. He has always been beautiful, but in the lighting of my room on a summers night, he looked angelic, as if sculpted by the gods, something I did not consider myself to look like.

He had no reason to be shameful. Even still, I couldn't let him know how weak I felt, not when being weak would mean being killed.

"No, not when death could be at any time."

Kneeling down to my level, his crimson eyes fixing on mine, his hands crossing over his bent knee.

"You are an interesting mortal."

Smiling, I leaned closer to his face, looking at him close for the first time felt thrilling, always being so far from his face. His tattoos sharp but slightly raised, his eyes that never seemed to blink, staring right back at me.

"Thank you. Good night, My Lord. May sleep find you well."

Rising from his place, Sukuna placed a hand on my shoulder, rubbing a thumb across the large scar that showed below my sleeve.

"Where did this come from?"

Looking down at his hand, I let a shakey breath go before speaking.

"My...father, My Lord. He was not a nice man."

Instead of questioning further, Sukuna only nodded, removed his hand before wishing me a good night and telling me that we would be leaving in the morning for the Yuhtan forest. War was indeed near.

-The Battle Of Curses & Thieves-

The metal of armor and footsteps was all I heard walking to the tall hill, my place beside Sukuna as we walked in front ahead of Curses and Spirits alike, my eyes looking everywhere I could, taking in everything I could.

The large trees surrounding the area only partially as a clearing came into focus, soon seeing the hundreds of humans clad in their own armor, looking up at us from afar.

Sukuna cursed under his breath, a snarl across his face as stared them down before flicking how eyes to me, a human fighting with him.

Fighting against the humans that have stolen from him. Humans who looked at me with disgust, who would soon all be dead because of their own misdeeds.

"Are you ready, Y/N?"

I looked up to Sukuna, who standing proud, looked back down to smirk at me.

Holding my hands to the side, feeling the cursed energy grow in my hands, almost like holding a sword, extending my reach as my walking began to slow.

"I have no choice but to be ready, My Lord."

Nodding, Sukuna finally stopped, raising a hand as the sound of footsteps coming to a hault and armour clinking to a stop was all to be heard until Sukunas' thundering commands.

"Kill them all!"

Within an instant, the once quiet fields of grass became loud with the shout of human chants, the sound of metal clashing as the fighting began.

"No one is to be left breathing, Y/N."

To my left, I was flanked by three men clad in armour and helmets, their swords flashing in the sun as they ran towards me.

Swinging my hands in front of me, I watched as my shadows covered their necks one by one, bringing my hands above my head and back down, the heads of the men rolling off of their necks as blood spewed from the wounds.

All hell was breaking loose.

Moments later, I was lost in the middle of the field, Sukuna having gone elsewhere, meaning I had to protect my own skin.

Another wave of thieves came stomping my way, flanking me on all sides, even behind me as I drew my shadows closer to me.

Stopping completely, my chest rose rapidly as I tried to catch my breath.

"Traitor!"

Watching as the swords rose, closing in on me, yelling the word to me as I gained my bearings, a hot searing pain hit my side as I brought my hand to my chest;

"No. I am so much worse."

Blinding light filled my vision, their horrid screams echoed through the field, so loud that my knees hit the ground as I covered my ears. The sounds of flesh being torn still present, crying as they begged me to stop.

Too quickly, much too sudden, everything was quiet.

All I could hear was the sound of my own heartbeat. Picking myself up, I ran.

Not looking down, up, left or right, I went as fast as my feet could take me as I clutched my side. I had to make it home.

Home? You don't have a home, remember?

I needed to find Sukuna, was this over?

I couldn't tell, there was no sound anymore only the voices in my head, my sight unfocused, the war was over, we should be going home now.

Sukuna? He's gone, Y/N. Just like everyon-

"SHUT UP HE DIDN'T LEAVE!!"

Stopping, I let my knees fall as I finally felt the ground, barely catching my face with my free hand, breathing harshly through my mouth as I tried catching what little breath I had.

He wouldn't leave....right?

Pain shot through my side, curbing my thoughts, blood trailing through my fingers.

I groaned as the pain spread, feeling my muscles begin to ache and the familiar headache beginning to form behjnd my eyes.

I tried to look around me, only for my vision to tunnel into darkness, praying that I was found before I took my last breath.

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A/N!!: 😈 laughs manically

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Taglist!: @m0ch1nut 🥰

[full-of-mercy]

A note of tension Wolfwood didn't realize he was holding uncoils. They had time to build that connection, fighting back to back, keeping watch over one another. That did not die.

It survived. It is still there, and it translates so satisfyingly that it feels perfectly natural, even if neither of them are particularly natural themselves, and he is still settling into his skin. It is a lifeline, another one, tethering him to the here and now.

"What, you think you get to get lazy now, pawning that shit off on me? I don't know what you don't know, Tongari," Wolfwood barks, all rasp and gravel in the way that might have come with a swat to the back of his needled head. Fortunately for Vash, Nick's hands are occupied with dough, because it is a delicate process to stretch the glutinous stuff without tearing it.

There's still the glimmer in his eyes, though. Warm, playful, affectionate, unguarded. The sort of thing that dark spectacles would veil and often did. Just like they veiled the intensity of want during their travels.

"'Sides, you're the one with the list," he appends, low and teasing and almost flippant but not quite, all the while attempting to pretend not to be mollified with the sweetness of little pecks with each time they meet in the middle. Impossible. First a quiet 'hm' in his throat, and then a squint, and then he falls into the rhythm of affection too, kisses and then puckish flicks of the tip of his tongue, and it is so...

Soft. They could never afford to be soft before, and that is not lost on Nicholas.

Tawny skin darkens at the edges of his ears, mostly covered in the outgrowth of clean-fluffy hair; if he isn't bashful about it, maybe it will go unnoticed. Of course, that can no more go unnoticed than the nacreous glimmer of light in Vash's gaze could go unnoticed. They are, both of them, percipient.

Instinct, survival technique, it hardly matters. Nicholas wants. He wants voraciously. This is nothing new. But--

Well, maybe he has reason for a little bit of restraint. Firsts and all. And a completely new venture into tenderness. Maybe the look of wonder on Vash's face isn't fragile. Maybe it isn't uncommon. But it's precious. And he wants to keep it. There he goes wanting again.

Soon enough, they have both halves of the dough log pulled, pulled, pulled, spun out into bouncy noodles gently twisted together with enough of a coating of flour that they do not stick. They can put away an enormous amount of food, and while this isn't exactly spaghetti, it will certainly rival the piles of pasta they battled over now and again.

"Hmmm, these look good. They'll cook up quick. Just boiling water and salt. Maybe if we got enough oil we can fry the, uh." The cast-off bits, he indicates without looking away, and then reaches up to deposit a smudge of flour on the tip of Vash's nose.

Backpedal, sidestep, he starts off toward the open bathroom, wiping his hands off on the apron with a cheeky grin.

"Guessing you'll want to gear up and head out. We intend to be here when people start showing up?"

The scent of blood and the taste of it on his tongue as he slowly licks it from his lips ignites a smolder in Wolfwood’s eyes that does not go unnoticed and Vash can’t help but wonder if it’s due to their closeness or if Wolfwood had merely been better about hiding it before.

Feathers, glowing lines, and more, all the attributes that were decidedly not human; Nicholas has seen everything and he can still gaze with the embers of wanting in his eyes. Vash has no basis for what too much too soon looks like other than an inkling that Wolfwood would absolutely seize upon any encouragement. 

It is tempting. Tempting, and if they fall to those cravings, they might miss the window for any productivity altogether.

Maybe he is lucky if Wolfwood misses the brief flare of light in his eyes, the branch of pale markings on his irises like a flash of lightning striking across the sky, but Wolfwood has always been perceptive and Vash would have better luck shoving his head into a mound of sand if he truly does not want Wolfwood to see.

A shot glass does not offer much space to hide behind nor a compelling reason to relinquish touch. 

“I know, it’s shocking I got this far.” Nearly half that had been spent wandering the desert with his brother. Watching humanity struggle to gain a desperate foothold in a hostile environment that threatened to wither or weather away anything they built or grew with sand and sun. He doesn’t remember the last time he had a chance to truly celebrate his birthday. Under the shade of an apple tree, maybe, telling his brother about everything that had happened since and how humanity continued to chug along. 

Even if Knives had not been Wolfwood's direct tormenter, the fact that the Eye of Michael had been created to fulfill his brother's directives is not lost on Vash.

“Yeah, with kids sometimes.” If he wasn’t already being chased around the town square by a horde of them, dodging balls or catching them with his face. Vash pulls down on his lower eyelid and sticks out his tongue at Wolfwood. "If you're the one who supposedly has more to learn, shouldn't you pick what's next?"

The dough has firmed up with some kneaded attention and it jiggles, obscene in the way that only Wolfwood can manage regarding the most innocent tasks. 

"Alright."

He squints at the log formed out of dough as if it deserves suspicion. 

Pull and fold. Seems easy. Vash pulls going just far enough until Wolfwood signals to reel the stretched dough back in, and when their hands meet in the middle for a fold, he punctuates it with an audible smooch on the lips. They establish a rhythm of pull, fold, kiss, and Vash smiles throughout, completely delighted by the unremarkable fact that they have made noodles from scratch.

"It's starting to look like noodles!" Vash stares in open wonder at the coil of dough they've pulled into actual noodle shape. "I read that some Earth cultures ate a specific type of noodle to ensure happiness and longevity. You're supposed to eat 'em without biting them at all."

It feels appropriate to hope for both happiness and a long life for both of them, even if Vash has never been particularly superstitious. "I just think they taste good."

[ilkkawhat]

5.11 Who Shot Sherlock?

[deliwrites]

ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕗𝕠𝕣𝕥 𝕊𝕝𝕦𝕥 // 𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙 𝖔𝖓𝖊 // Dream Team

// DATE // 26th of October 2022 // PAIRING // DreamTeam x fem!Reader, george x fem!reader, sapnap x fem!reader, dream x fem!reader // WARNING // flirty!reader, ACTUAL NSFW PICS(sensored, tried to very in body types, it was hard to find tho), Phone masturbation, use of real names, tease!reader, playgirl(ish)!reader, sexting // WORDS // 2,5k+ // SUMMARY // George is in America, so the teasing begins as you wait impatiently for your visa. // SERIES // Intro // Part One // Part two // Part three // Part Four // I'm open for serie title suggestions for this one! Feel free to comment your suggestion here or sent it into my inbox!

// MASTERLIST // ANONLIST //

George had just met up with Nick in Orlando. But I couldn't let him off so easily for leaving me. I know I was being petty. I just love teasing them. And with George far away as well, that just made it all the easier.

When I teased him before, there would be consequences. He would keep the punishments for when we met in real life. I wouldn't lie, I enjoyed the punishments every time.

But now, there are no consequences. I left the texts at that for now. Leaving him to wait in anticipation.

It was dinner time, so I strut into the kitchen. Waiting patiently for one of them to call me. They promised they would once they had all met up. While in the middle of mixing pancake batter, my phone started ringing.

💚 Clay 💚

Clay was calling me. With a giddy smile, I pick up. Turning on my cam for them.

"Hey, cuties!" I call out. Setting up my phone, so I could continue mixing the batter.

"Hey Y/n," the three of them call back.

"What are you wearing?" Nick sounds confused, making me stop mixing. Looking down at myself.

"I'm just wearing shorts and a crop top," I chuckle. "How does that confuse you? Do I not look cute?" I pout.

"You always look cute, Y/n/n," Clay says and I can hear the smile in his voice.

"Thank you, Clay," with a prideful smile I continue mixing.

"Whatcha making?" George asks.

"Pancakes, but let's stop talking about me," I stick out my tongue. "How was the meet-up? Tell me everything!"

"Well, first," George starts. "I got so lost in the airport," He chuckles, continuing his story, while I turn away from my phone for just a minute. Putting down the mixing bowl, I grab a ladle, placing it by the stove next to my phone.

"All you had to do was follow the signs, and you manage to get lost," Clay bullies George, I can picture him rolling his eyes. Though, I can't see it. My back is still facing my phone when I bend over. Shamelessly putting my ass on display for them, a tiny smirk playing on my lips. To my surprise, they stay silent as I grab the frying pan. Coming back up, I turned swiftly back to the stove. Wishing I knew what faces they were pulling right now.

"And then what?" I ask.

"Right, uhm, yes, then I got escorted by staff. They had heard that there would be a lot of commotion at the airport. So that was nice," George chuckles. "After getting my luggage, I found Nick. He had bought a stupid whiteboard-"

"Ha-ha-ha, at least I got something with your name written on it," Nick cuts him off. "But anyways, we then safely got to the car. Drove home, and I kid you not. These two were nervous as hell," he chuckles as the other two protest his claim. Making me giggle at the banter. Filling the heated pan with butter, waiting for it to melt.

"I think, I'll go ahead and believe Nick," I point my spatula at my phone, laughing cause I could already picture George looking offended. Clay probably too but I had no idea what he looked like.

"Clay was literally a bouncing ball in the house. He was nervous and excited," Nick continues. "George was nervous and very giddy."

"I'm not surprised," I smiled, pouring in the first amount of batter for the pancake. "I would be all of those, along with ... anxiety," I sing-song 'anxiety'. Chuckles coming from them.

"When you're finally here, we'll take care of you," Clay says reassuringly.

"God, I hope it's soon," George groans desperately. "Y/n, I need you here! I need you to keep me sane with these two."

"Excuse me!" Nick and Clay exclaim. Giggling, I put my first pancake on a plate. I listen to them fight it out as I put more batter in the pan. Then dressing up my pancake.

"I'm very impatiently waiting," I tell them, cutting into the 'fight'. "So impatiently, in fact, I may have packed a box or two already," I send them a grimace, before pouting. "I just wanna be there too," I whine softly.

"Soon," they promise me.

A week goes by. Sadly, still no visa for me. But in that week I got more than enough teasing in.

Y/n Hey Nick, you wanna see what I got? 👀 🧡 Nick 🧡 Of course, what did you get, darling Y/n 😈 I hope you're alone

What do you think of my new thigh highs? 🧡 Nick 🧡 🤤 Look at you, darling So gorgeous Y/n put them on just for you 🧡 Nick 🧡 Aren't you just the sweetest 😏 If only I wasn't currently walking through IKEA with the others. Y/n Have I caused a little problem? 😏 🧡 Nick 🧡 Yes, but I'm wearing sweats So, I'm in luck But I hope you know how much trouble you'll be in when you're here. Y/n Is that a threat or a promise 🥵 🧡 Nick 🧡 You naughty minx You'll figure it out soon enough

I was seriously getting so impatient. We would call every night, but now I didn't get to see any of them on cam. They would always be in the same room when they called me.

One night they were even spam-calling me while I was ... busy.

💚 Clay 💚 is calling

ignores call.

💙 Georgie 💙 is calling

groans in frustration ignoring the call.

🧡 Nick 🧡 is calling

Sighing audibly, I swipe away from the porn. Answer the call.

"STOP CALLING ME!" I yell down at the speaker. It's followed by silence from them. The room just filled with my panting and the sound of my vibrator. Very much actively vibrating inside me.

"Is- is that-"

"Yes!" I cut Clay off. "I'll call back later, let me fucking fuck myself please!" I whine, so fucking desperate for an orgasm. Having been chasing that high for the past 5 minutes they've been calling me.

"Uh- yes," George answers hanging up the phone, or at least, I think he does. With a sigh of relief, I pull the porn back up. Hand slipping back to my vibrator. Slamming it inside me with the thursts the male makes in the video.

It takes just 5 more minutes before I finally reach my high. Dropping my phone next to my head. Panting heavily, I twitch as I take the toy out. A squeak leaves my lips when it accidentally rubs against my clit.

"Shit, that was hot," my eyes widen at the unexpected voice. A voice I immediately recognize as Nick's.

"Are you serious," I mutter breathlessly. "You know what, fuck you guys, no call tonight," reaching for my phone, I ignore their protests. Hanging up the phone.

I can't believe they stayed and listened to me masturbate. If I had realised that would have been so much hotter. I wouldn't have even needed the porn. They could have talked me through it. Tell me what to do. I would even willingly turn on my cam. Show them exactly what I was up to.

I doubt they would agree with that tho, all together that is.

Y/n So, did you enjoy hearing me, last night? 🙄 💚 Clay 💚 Baby, hear me out I may have stopped George from hanging up I just couldn't pass up such an opportunity 😏 Y/n So you let the other two hear it too Maybe if you called me privately 💚 Clay 💚 Maybe what? Y/n Maybe I would have answered Let you listen to me 👀 💚 Clay 💚 God those pretty noises you make They are still playing on repeat in my head Y/n Yeah? 😏 Liked it that much? 💚 Clay 💚 How could I not? You are so gorgeous in every way Y/n What about this?

Am I gorgeous in this? 💚 Clay 💚 Is that new? Y/n It is 😊 It reminded me of you, so I bought it 💚 Clay 💚 It looks beautiful on you 🤤 Bring it Y/n I will 💚 Clay 💚 Good Cause I'm gonna fuck you in it 😈

In the next three weeks, I had multiple late-night calls with all three. Separately, sadly. I listened to their commands, masturbating to their wishes. Hearing them fap on the other side. It was honestly, so hot.

"Pull your shirt up," Nick would say. "Slowly, make them titties bounce."

"Awh, are you wearing those just for me?" George's voice is surprisingly deep. "Spread those thighs for me, love."

"Bounce that pretty ass for me, baby," Clay's voice sounds so raspy when says it. It sends delicious chills down my spine.

Finally

Fucking finally, my visa arrives.

7 weeks after George left for America. It's finally here. It arrives early in the morning. 9 am to be precise. It's literally midnight for them. Do I care? No, not really.

Midnight their time, I'm spam-calling the group chat.

"Answer the fucking phone, idiots!" They end up not answering. Huffing in frustration. I end up posting it to Twitter before they even find out. Of course, I first called my parents about the news. Mom was able to leave her job early. Lucky her for having a good bond with her boss. Dad sadly couldn't get off, but he would definitely be there tomorrow.

y/u/n - 1m The idiots wouldn't wake up. So you guys are the first to know. I GOT MY VISA!

Not long after I posted the tweet, mom arrives. She's come with empty boxes upon empty boxes. Even though I wasn't taking everything with me. For the next few hours, we are running through the house. Gathering the most important stuff that I needed to take. Clothes for at least a few days go into my suitcase, along with other necessities.

Mom spoke so lovely about this entire situation. I was kinda surprised. When I first told her about this plan she was very hesitant. She was worried for me, which I understood. I would be moving thousands of miles away. To live with three boys that I met on the internet. She had spoken to them before but for all we knew, that could all be fake.

But when she had gotten more used to the idea. Noticed how much fun I had with these boys. She started getting to know them herself. She obviously knew George, but Nick and Clay were an entirely different story. She basically did an entire background check on them. How you might ask. Well, when she came over months ago, we were baking a cake for dad's birthday. While we were busy, they ended up calling. I was going to decline, but she told me to answer them. I couldn't even get a word in before she went ahead. Introducing herself and immediately asking questions. It overwhelmed them a bit, but they too understood the concern. They promised her they would take good care of me. Which that helped my mom calm down from her own worries.

"Have you booked a flight yet, then?" she asks me. We were currently in my bedroom. Throwing clothes, either on the bed or into a suitcase. Mom was folding them neatly, while I decided which went where.

"No, not yet," I tell her. Throwing a beautiful sundress into my suitcase.

"Hun, you should wear it on the day of the flight," she says, taking the dress out of the suitcase. "You'll make them swoon," she wiggles her eyebrows teasingly.

"Mom!" I gasp, giggling at her actions. "They are just friends," she hums like she doesn't believe me. Putting the dress back on a hanger. She stands up and hangs it on the closet door.

"I still think you should wear it."

"Alright, I'll wear it," I give in with a fake annoyed sigh. "But, yeah, I haven't booked a flight yet. I need them to be awake for that. They need to be able to pick me up."

"And they still haven't called back yet?" she asks.

"No, they are probably stil-" my sentence is cut short when my phone starts to ring. My mom is quicker than me. Grabbing my phone from the bed. She answers the call, putting it on speaker.

"Well, good morning Nick, did you have a nice sleep?" she asks kindly, having read his name on the contact. Though I can't help but giggle. Already imagining the confused look on Nick's face.

"Good afternoon, Mrs y/l/n," Nick answers, soon followed by the same greeting from the other two.

"Oh, you're all here, how wonderful," Mom talks with delight. "Did you hear the news yet?"

"Ah, no, we just woke up," Clay answers.

"What the news," George asks curiously.

"Oh, George dear, it's so good to hear your voice," I palm my face, which she notices. "Anyways, my daughter dearest has finally received her visa."

"Really!?" Clay's voice is filled with disbelief but excitement.

"Yes, I can't believe you guys ignored my calls," I pout, not that they could see.

"We're sorry," Nick apologizes sincerely. "Who else have you told?"

"Twitter," my mom answers quickly. Almost rubbing in the disappointment she has on my behalf. George audibly sucks in a breath. "But it's alright, as long as you promise to take good care of my angel."

"We promise! 100%," Clay promises wholeheartedly. "Cros my heart and hope to die."

"Good," she says sternly. "Now, I'll give you my daughter. You guys can go discuss a flight," she hands me my phone, standing up from the bed. "I'll be in the kitchen making us some tea, alright?"

"Thanks, mom," I smile, sending her a kiss as she leaves.

"Yeah, yeah," she says, closing my bedroom door behind her. Taking the phone off speaker, I put it against my ear.

"Surprise," I tell them. The line is instantly filled with chaotic screams. They are talking over each other. Here and there I can catch onto a few sentences.

"George, go look up flights," Nick.

"Her room is not ready!" Clay exclaims.

"8pm flight?" George.

"Guys, calm down," I giggle. The screams slowly coming to a stop. "Look, I'm not packed. Mom is a big help and my suitcases are almost ready. But I still have my entire setup to pack and organize for safe shipping-"

"Don't worry about your setup," Clay cuts me off. "We'll get you a new one here."

"I- Clay, that's going to cost me a fortune."

"Y/n, I said we. It's going to be fine. All you have to worry about is the flight. Anything else that does not hold important value to you. We can buy here."

"I-," I huff a sigh, contemplating as I look around my room. "I need to go through more of my stuff first. Can I call you guys back at like, dinner time, my time?"

"Of course, take your time. We'll be one call away at any time-"

"Beside midnight for some reason," I cut Nick off, fake annoyance lacing my voice.

"We said we were sorry!" George says making me giggle.

"I know, I'll talk to you guys later, okay?"

"Yes, good luck packing. If you have any questions on what you do or don't have to bring, just message us okay?"

"I will, see you soon," I grin before hanging up. A content sigh leaving my lips. It's finally happening.

// MASTERLIST // ANONLIST //

// SERIES // Intro // Part One // Part two // Part three // Part Four // I'm open for serie title suggestions for this one! Feel free to comment your suggestion here or sent it into my inbox!

[timextoxhajima]

Boundary [Dana’s 700 Special]

Track: Fever - Enhypen / TiO - Zayn / Close - Nick Jonas, Tove Lo

➣ Member: my og bias owo

➣ Genre: idol! ju x stylist! [fem] reader

➣ Warnings: swear words and if you squint, some smut

➣ Word Count: i’m like 100% sure it’ll be as long as accelerate [i was wrong it’s nowhere near but whatever]

➣ A/N: Thank you for 700 followers. You are all nothing but amazing ♡

➣ Taglist: @taesty-wander-lust​ @tbzzhoe​ @suzy-rainbow​ 

He’s going to be the absolute death of me.

The thought is loud in your head, and you were almost sure you would’ve blurted it out had the filming studio been empty. Breaking Dawn was blasting from the speakers behind the MV director, experimenting with some strange angles that you’ve never seen any other MV director try with the group before. 

If you thought Reveal was dangerous, this might be worse.

“Okay! Let’s do that hook into the chorus first and we’ll see how that angle goes!”

“Breaking Dawn, I see-”

“Cut! Juyeon-” The director snorts while staring at the monitor from the camera. “That was great but um, we’ll need to rate the video if we release this one.”

Never mind. It is worse.

“Yah, Juyeon!”

“Ahh... seriously?”

“You already have enough screen time, why are you so greedy?!”

The members crowd around Juyeon and shove him playfully as the director films that part from the monitor, and brings his cellphone over to the group to see. You can barely hear the music from the phone, given how far you were standing from the filming area. 

The group of 11 burst into loud yells and frustrated groans, with Younghoon and Chanhee giving their iconic ‘OoO’ faces to Juyeon. The main man chuckles, embarrassed, and shakes his head while waving it off.

“I didn’t intend to make it so suggestive, sorry!”

“It’s alright, that was great, really!” The director assures him. “It’s just that we can’t release that without rating the MV, and you guys don’t really have that kind of reputation yet so, we won’t do that for you guys now. But anyways, can we get a 10 minute break and we’ll pick up where we left off?”

The boys celebrate in unison, Eric immediately rushing off for the washroom, some members going to the staff to ask for their phones, others going for the monitor to check their progress and the remaining approaching their stylists for appearance maintenance.

So, when Juyeon approaches you with that sly-mixed-with-shame smile, you can’t help but to shake your head at him. 

“Really? He asks you to go all out and you look like you want to eat the camera,” Pulling open your little kit, you set it on the table next to you. You pull out the comb and hairspray and start adjusting his hair again - all that dancing’s pushed some strands out of its rightful position.

“Aw, so you agree that I looked good enough?”

“What?” The pitch is higher than expected, but you hope your feigned annoyance camouflages the pinch of jealousy. “Please! The director said it’ll be rated!”

Juyeon laughs, standing with his feet a little more apart than natural for you to have easier access to his hair. 

“Well, you’re the one who did my hair and makeup. If it’s anybody to blame, wouldn’t it be you?” 

His words halt the sharp end of your comb in his hair, and you poke it into his scalp for good measure while puffing out your cheeks. He chuckles it off. 

“Excuse you, sir, Cre.Ker gave me a color palette and a set of reference pics. Ever since they cracked the code with you with Reveal, they just won’t stop with this genre of style on you.”

“I mean... I definitely prefer my current style over what they did to me in Boy.”

The memory cooks up a bunch of images in your head, and you fail to stop the giggle that runs off your tongue when you return the comb to the kit. 

“Aw, come on, that was cute,” Picking up a brow pencil, you fill in the tiny fade-out. “You were, what? 19? No reason for you to look as raunchy as you do now.”

“It’s a pity you only met me just before I become ‘raunchy’.”

“Why? I mean, ‘Juyeon’s not a good boy’ though. Raunchy’s closer to that than what you did pre-Reveal.”

“I meant it!” Juyeon widens his eyes and his brows shift up his forehead just as the tip of the brow pencil lifts off his skin. “I’m happy Cre.Ker’s letting us show what we want to.”

“And I’m happy for you too,” You finish up on his foundation where it’s starting to wear off. “But one day, you’re gonna cross a line and break some hearts.”

Juyeon smiles as you cap on all your equipment and close your kit. Resting one hand on your hip, you quickly give his hair one last poke before he resumes his normal standing position.

“What if I only want to break specific hearts though?”

A frown befalls your face and you forge an ugly look by crooking your lips. “What? Was that an attempt to flirt? Please stop,” Waving him off, you turn and pick up your kit, walking away on your heels as Juyeon tails you.

He’s just practising flirting on me at this point. Best friends and best friends for what? Get MY heart broken? PLEASE.

“Flirt with Kevin if you want, he’ll give you better advice,” You turn to the film area and sure enough, Kevin was busy twerking into the camera and Changmin’s just face palming himself. 

“Oi Kevin! Stahb it!” You yell across the space and Changmin points to you, turning to yell at Kevin.

“Yah, even y/n’s telling you to stop!”

Chuckling, you turn into the dressing room as another hair stylist finishes with Sangyeon in the mirror. 

“Hello sir, you look kinda tired today, are you resting well?”

“Don’t get me started. Schedule’s packed into June,” Sangyeon subtly shakes his head, but his stylist holds his cheeks and shifts his face back to face the mirror.

“Sangyeon, please face the mirror. It’s not my fault if your hair gets messed up again,” The hair stylist grins as he picks up the hairspray.

“Sorry,” Sangyeon blinks at him and purses his lips. Juyeon crashes into the two seater-sofa in the corner of the dressing room and groans tiresomely, resting his head on the top surface of the headrest. 

“Well, you should get some rest before Kingdom kicks in,” You place the kit on the dressing table and sit down in the two-seater next to Juyeon. “It’s not going to be an easy fight, y’know.”

“Right! You used to be ATEEZ’s hairstylist!” Sangyeon’s eyes widen and you can see him struggling not to turn to you directly instead of trying to find you in the strangest angle of the reflection in the mirror. 

“Yeah. Those guys are intense, and I mean intense! Six out of eight are known for performance skills and the other two... one produces 99% of their tracks and the other belts out notes even I can’t reach.”

“You sound like you were sent from KQ to intimidate us-” Sunwoo struts in and waves an annoying finger in your face.

“I’m not-” Swatting his finger away, Juyeon leans forward and pulls Sunwoo’s hand. “I’m just saying for good measure- it’s not going to be easy. Stray Kids is also going to be great competition, not to mention iKON and-”

“AhHH, we get it!” Sunwoo shushes you, swinging his hand with Juyeon’s.

“No matter the outcome, you all need to know that you guys were stellar last year. I was new then, but it was absolutely stunning to watch you guys work and put so much effort into your performances.”

“Oh my God, yeah, you could not shut up about the Danger performance,” Sangyeon cooes, letting his stylist finally finishes and shifts to pack the hair equipment. 

“I’ll bet it’s cause your best friend over here got the most screen time,” Sunwoo perks up a mischievous brow and smirks at you.

Juyeon’s eyes widen and stares at the youngest, “I didn’t get the most screen time.”

“If not you then who?” Sangyeon butts in as he stands.

“Uh... Changmin?”

Sunwoo and Sangyeon go quiet. 

“Yah, you had a good amount of screen time too!” Sangyeon turns and blurts out at Sunwoo, playfully shoving him. 

“Y’all are being loud in here,” Kevin’s head pops out from beyond the door frame, one of his stylists tagging behind him and struggling to pat down his clothes. 

“No, tell me if Sunwoo had more screentime than Changmin in Danger from last year,” Sangyeon wraps an arm around Sunwoo and slowly walks him out. 

“What? I don’t know, Changmin had the opening and the dance break...”

Sangyeon’s hairstylist follows closely, and by instinct, he shuts the door behind him, leaving you with Juyeon in the dressing room. It’s humid, from all the lights turned on in the room, and the leather seat wasn’t the most comfortable thing to sit on.

Turning to Juyeon, his eyes are gently shut, and frankly, he looked like he was about to fall asleep. The backrest of the sofa sinks when you lean back, mimicking his position.

“You have like four minutes left so don’t even think of falling asleep.”

“I’m not sleeping,” He offers a tiny smile on his lips, eyes still shut. 

“Sure, you’re not.”

“Wake me up when the director needs me.”

“You wish,” The leather under your legs squeak when you push yourself off, but he sticks out an arm at your stomach and pushes you back down. Judging by the miniscule smirk on his face, he’s just messing with you. “What do you think you’re doing? I have a job to do and you have a music video to film.”

He remains quiet. Someone shouts at Eric outside.

“You’re being fucking weird today, sir,” You lift a hand and grab his arm to move it away, but he swiftly wraps his fingers around your wrist and yanks you forward instead. 

Using your palms to keep the distance between your faces, you’re hovering above him now, breath on his upper lip. The sweat’s begun to collect in the lines of your palms, stuck to the arm rest by his side and the cushion he’s leaning on. 

Your vision immediately darts to his face upon the bold move, and he’s got that slight smile prancing on his lips when he’s thinking of a joke or something funny and doesn’t want to say it. It’s been a good year of being Juyeon’s best friend (apart from the members), so you’ve definitely grown to know how to read him by his actions.

You sigh, rolling your eyes and removing your legs from next to his thighs.

“Juyeon-”

And then he cuts you off by holding you in position with his arm around his waist, challenging your knees to hold you up - because if they buckled, you’ll land right on top of him. 

“What the Hell do you think you’re doing?” 

Knock knock

“y/n, are you done with Juyeon’s hair? Filming’s resuming!”

There’s an awkward tension between you and Juyeon now, with his eyes wide open and staring into yours, arm still around your waist. But having his nose just inches away from yours and his breath breathing down on your philtrum feels so surreal. It feels like it’s a dream that you’ve failed to pull yourself out from.

He parts his lips, then purses them, and sighs through his nose. 

“Yeah, she’s done! I’ll be out in like, two seconds!”

Your gaze finds his and you’re panicking when he’s moving again. Within two seconds, you’re flat on your back on the length of the couch - and this time, he’s holding himself above you.

“What the- I-”

“We’ll continue this later back at the company, I promise,” Then he rounds your cheek and presses a kiss into your cheekbone instead.

He pulls back, offering you his kind smile and a ruffle into your hair for good measure. Nothing in your body is working when you hear him shuffle for the door, and it clicks shut behind him, with Breaking Dawn already blasting in the filming space.

Sucking in a deep breath, you don’t realise how hard your heart is thumping in your head until you hear your own shaky exhale. You don’t know where to look, you can still feel his grip on your waist and his breath on your upper lip, and everything’s just a mess right now.

What the Hell just happened?

“Eric - Dior Shirt Size M...” You mumble under your breath, fingers gripping the pen to the clipboard so hard, your writing would probably leave a mark in the sheet under. 

“I think this is the last luggage!” Younghoon’s stylist drags the black case in, lining it up with the last unopened one. “Need help?”

“Yeah, just open the luggage for me and separate Sangyeon’s clothes from Jacob’s, but otherwise I can handle it on my own.”

She nods, laying it down and unzipping it for the clothes to spew out. “How’s working here? It’s been over a year, right?”

“Mhm,” You glance at her, obviously tired. “It’s alright, but thanks to your advice since last year, I don’t think it could’ve been better.”

With a kind smile, she looks up at you, placing Sangyeon’s pants over his stack. “You’re experienced from ATEEZ, so it wouldn’t have been that hard anyway.”

She stands, resting her hands on her hips as you walk over, squatting to check Sangyeon and Jacob’s clothes. 

“So... what’s going on with you and Juyeon?”

I’d like to know too.

“Huh?” You look up at her, head tilted to the side with a sneaky cocked brow. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, please- All the stylists here know you and Juyeon are like- hanky panky nowadays. Pretty sure the boys know too, or at least have some idea.”

A cackle runs your throat dry as you graduate your attention to Jacob’s clothes. “Is that what they’re calling it? ‘Hanky-panky’? Cute.”

“Do you know why they’re still in a meeting this late?”

“No, why would I bother? As long as I don’t lose my job, it’s none of my concern.”

“They’re in meeting to be informed that their dating ban has been lifted.”

Your grip around the pen tightens, but halts abruptly. 

“Ah...” She sighs, contemplated with herself. “Cat got your tongue? Or should I say... Juyeon got your-”

Interrupted by the practise room door being pushed open, both of your attentions immediately flit to the new commotion. 

“Oh, Juyeon! Meeting’s over?”

“Yeah,” He turns and closes the door behind him. His hair was still waxed up from the day’s schedule, makeup still on but fading. Clothes snug around his shoulders with his belt tight around his hips. Those stupid jeans never did you any good since day 1. “Sangyeon said he left a ring in one of the luggages so he sent me to come get it while he counsels Kevin for twerking.”

“y/n’s just going through Sangyeon’s wardrobe, so she might find something,” Your colleague’s begun to take small, insignificant steps towards the door, and your anxiety begins to increase with every inch she places between the two of you.

“Which is why I’m here,” He stuffs his hands into his back pockets.

“Right, right,” Now, she’s already got her hand on the door knob, glancing past him and at you with wide, glistening eyes. “I gotta go check your wardrobe for tomorrow so... I’mma go now, and uh... security comes by around 12am. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“What-” You blurt out, receiving a sharp, surprised look from Juyeon.

“Bye! Bye Juyeon!”

“Bye,” He waves. 

“No, wait-” 

And so, the door clicks shut behind her, and her shadow behind the translucent material disappears down the corridor. 

The whir of the air-conditioner in the practice room fills all the awkward openings in the room, but all you can hear is the rapid thunk of your heart in your brain - as if that was even possible. 

Thunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunk

“About earlier today-”

“Give me a moment while I look for Sangyeon’s ring. What does it look like?” Standing up too fast, your vision goes white and a second of dizziness throws you off your balance.

So, of course, Juyeon rushes over and holds you by your waist before your ankles or knees give way. The incessant blinking makes you wish you could actually pass out right now, because your weight’s in his arms and you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye.

“Iron deficiency much?” The corner of his lips curl up into his cheek before releasing you. “Do you need to sit down?”

Clearing your throat, you turn away first. “No, I-”

“Good, because I have some points to make and you’re gonna stop running away from them like you’re doing now.”

The change in tone runs chills down your spine and goosebumps erupt all over your skin - thank god you were wearing a blazer, safe from his observation. 

“How have you tolerated it so much?” He folds his arms across his chest, tilting his head innocently but his eyes say otherwise. It’s always his eyes that tell a whole different story from the person he’s known to be. 

“Y’know, being around me but you’re so calm and collected and I just...” He shakes his head, and to your dismay, takes a step forward - which drives you backwards. “How?”

His voice is too sing-songy. It’s too calm and collected for you because you’re about to barf up your dinner, which was a good 4 hours ago now. There’s nothing left in your stomach to barf up. 

He takes another intimidating step and you wince at your inability to look him in the eye.

Another step back. 

“Like, I know we’re friends but my God-” Shaking his head, he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip.

Another step forward. Another backward.

“It’s upsetting that I can look ‘raunchy’ and it doesn’t seem to do anything to you... But seeing you the way you are every other day makes me want to- just-”

Another step forward. 

One more one back.

And your breath halts.

Your back hits the wall, the rear of your skull lined with the pillar. 

Oh, no.

Gritting your teeth so tight, your jaw starts to ache and your temples are throbbing. 

“I’m not seeing things, right?” A flicker of curiosity sparkles in his eyes when you muster up the courage to look at him - only to regret it instantly. “It’s not in my head that you feel the same way I do, right?”

“I... Don’t know what you’re talking about- You’re an idol... and I’m- I’m just your stylist and I-”

“‘Just my stylist’?” The comment forces his brows into a slight frown, before he lifts his hand and covers the bottom half of his face with his palm. “Rethink what you just said.”

Sucking in a deep breath, your chest wells with a horrid mix of desire and self-discipline. Those two don’t go well together. 

“We can talk about this some other day,” You choose to say, dragging your body along the pillar in a bid to shift out from the wall-Juyeon sandwich like a fool. He lifts his arm and presses his palm into the pillar behind you, caging your poor, poor soul in this fateful corner of his stupid practice room.

“Juyeon, we need... boundaries in this industry. One scandal and it’ll destroy your career.”

“Boundaries?” He buckles his elbows, shrinking the gap between your noses. “Boundaries are for idols who still have a dating ban.”

Breathing down your nose, he’s too close for comfort. You can smell his cologne, the scent of his hair wax and see the bumps on his cheek under the faint layer of makeup. You don’t realise you’re trembling until he tilts his head ever so slightly, free hand reaching up to your chin to steady your face.

“Stop running from me,” Shaking his head painstakingly subtly, he whispers into your lips. “You were mine from the start and you know that.”

The adrenaline rush through your nerves sets off fireworks all over you when he slots his body against yours, lips fitted with yours like puzzle pieces; against the wall, with his palms on your cheeks. There was no care or consideration with how much strength he was channeling into this kiss - it feels so pent-up, so frustrated. Without warning, your body resigns as you circle your arms around his shoulders.

Gripping the rim of his collar in your hands, his hands drop to your waist and holds you closer, if it were even possible. A million thoughts race through your head - and at the same time, none. This moment was something you didn’t even know you needed. 

Juyeon’s hands roam the small of your back as he keeps you against the wall, relaxing into the kiss and sighing into it instead. 

This bliss comes in the form of him. Him who provides you all the sinful wants deep down inside you. 

But this bliss doesn’t last, for the practice room door swings open violently and tears Juyeon off you.

“I told you to find my ring, not hook up with your crush!”

[chris-continues]

OK IM NOT A HUGE COFFEE FIEND BUT ILL DABBLE MY OPINIONS IN HERE

Sorry these r all out of order my thoughts are like fucking scrambled asf dude LMAO

Meryl likes hazelnut infused coffee, something dark and not too rich w/ minimal sugar and oat milk perhaps? Probs doesn’t care if it’s iced or not, but she tends to take small sips every now and then and iced lasts longer, so usually iced.

Milly likes something with caramel and she gets a pastry or smth. Maybe a cake pop if they’re at Starbucks, a Boston cream donut if they’re at Dunkin (that’s my personal fav sooo) but she doesn’t really care for caffeine, she’s indifferent towards it. Mainly enjoys the sweets.

Vash also prefers the sweets but likes a classic French vanilla I think ^^ nothing too crazy, but he does like it iced because he has a habit of getting excited and burning his tongue (or spilling it on himself). A bit on the sweeter side, doesn’t really care for what kind of sweetener, basic amount of milk or cream, he’s easy like that. He does love doughnuts, though I’m sure we already knew that.

VASH WANTS A MATCHING PAIR i am debating on what kind he’d have hmmm (pullin up pinterest rn) 

These bad boys and he wears his funky socks with them, occasionally mismatching (which drives Nai crazy) (he finds the shoes tacky) (he owns a pair in white. Because he sticks with neutrals. Because they’re versatile. That bright red he always wears is going to catch up with him…)

Ur so real for the Wolfwood cooking hcs dude he has such questionable taste it’s so random ALSO LMAO IS COLLEGE AU WOLFWOOD JUST ME WRITING UR SELF INSERT?? Wolfwood is so real tbh

I think he also likes to get bacon bits and shredded cheese to toss into a potato. Like if he’s feeling fancy he may even buy sour cream and make this his main meal for like the whole week. Dude makes a baked potato every day. Same toppings. (Meryl questions how the hell he doesn’t go insane)

Milly and Meryl are such amazing roommates dude them being domestic is so sweet (they end up dating) (LETS GO LESBIANS LETS GO) (I’ve been debating on implementing Vashwood or not because I am writing reader into this au for drabbles soooo ig we’ll see lol) but they pair together so well. Their decor differs on the side of the room; Milly has her books stacked on her desk with a few mementos from home placed sweetly, funky cowboy hat hung from her bedpost and a few hooks Meryl was sure to triple check didn’t have the adhesive that peels off the damn paint from the walls because she is NOT paying extra because the walls got all dinged up. Milly has a bulletin board her family got for her to stick photos onto, though all of the photos adorning it consist of Meryl’s Polaroids they share :)

Meryl’s side of the room consists of an extension cord. Several. She has to charge her headphones, watch, phone, laptop, this- (me projecting rn ngl) and you’re so right by the fact she likes nothing bulky ish (like the over the ear Sony or Bose headphones) she’s into smth more compact. She has her AirPods case attached to her belt loop 24/7, it makes for a cute little touch.

They have a rug that gets constantly trampled on every time the guys come over T<T Meryl is glad she read up to not get a nice carpet because it’ll get wrecked. She was right.

Milly also has a wii she found at a garage sale that they play Mario party 9 on, it makes for a fun night with some takeout and woo! They’re having fun! Oh god- Nick, that roll totally sucked- HEY DONT ELBOW ME! AAA! -Vash

HURRY UP AND CHOOSE YOUR ITEM -Meryl

The star is over on that side of the map right?? -Milly

(That HC has been rotting in my brain for over a month. A MONTH.)

Milly’s handwriting is sweet and simple. She has the midwestern grandma handwriting iykyk, she saw her grandma/mom’s handwriting and loved it so.. it just kinda stuck.

Meryl’s handwriting is straightforward, it kinda reminds you of teacher handwriting although I do think when she’s stressed or rushed when writing you can tell. Her letters taper off more, it’s a bit more shaky, everything flows together a bit more.

And yeah Nai having to basically parent Vash since they were 16 means getting used to their eating habits. He’s gone over his diet w Vash (since Vash is limited on what he can eat/how much he can eat since it damages his body- medical stuff). Vash teases him on it but there’s a definite line, the worry creasing his brother’s brow doesn’t whiz past him.

He knows he means well and wishes him the best- along with the fact he definitely feels he owes him. They’ve been through a lot together, and something small like this is a way for Nai to show he cares. Hence why Vash always makes time to eat with his brother, even if it’s silent some days. Even if it sometimes feels tiring to have silence, (the need for music or smth lol) they’ll still eat together. On some days Vash will chat with him at the counter as Knives cooks, feeling sort of guilty for his concerning eating habits some days.

He’s trying. For Nai. Some days it’s hard for him to do anything, and he truly feels he doesn’t deserve his brother some days. Doting in his own way.

College AU Thoughts (cont.)

Writing more college au solely because ONE OF THE COOLEST PPL EVER @macncherries did Wolfwood art (here check it out), but have some more random college au thoughts

TAGS: @lune010 @h4venpha @vashfantasy

-Meryl probably has some really nice gel, ballpoint, colored pens that she literally abuses all the time. Sometimes her notes aren’t even totally neat she’s just sleep deprived and highlighting/underlining the important areas of her textbook as she listens to her lecture

-Vash definitely has to listen to audio playback of lectures- does he try to take notes in class? Yeah. But they look like chicken scratch, his handwriting pales in comparison to literally anyone else’s T<T listening while he does smth else really helps w/ how he learns (autistic vash) (cough)

-Meryl and Milly have matching pairs of rip-off Birkenstocks they found at like Marshall’s then saw a pair w a marijuana leaf and Milly went, “Reminds me of Wolfwood!” So they got it (to Meryl’s amusement and dismay). Wolfwood wears them often

-Ok, I’ve been debating on this hc that Vash sometimes gets invited to parties, considering he’s a bit of a campus celeb. Handsome, athletic (tennis player legend), but he can easily get overwhelmed. He’s having fun with the fame for like a good 30 minutes to an hour and then he just kinda tires out more as the night drags on.

-Meryl’s outfits consist of her wanting comfort yet maintaining her usual feminine flair. Yoga pants with a cami and a simple jacket, or on nicer days more of a fitted sweater. Perhaps a jumper and a baby tee/turtleneck underneath- I think when she’s feeling it she def likes Monica Helper’s looks from Friends. A casual, yet still sweet vibe.

-for accessories she probably has an Apple Watch and the staples- hoop earrings, her classic dangle/rectangular earrings, some silver hardware if she’s feelin extra funky and a classic black belt because I do believe she hates it when her jeans are too low it’s a big thing that annoys her to no end.

-On the other hand, Milly’s outfits are less fitted and I think she’s more laid back in her appearance, preferring some of the crew necks she’s collected from several events her siblings have been to or hand me downs from her country family. She wears vintage athletic wear though, it’s cute on her and it suits her well.

-she has a few simple scrunchies she remains loyal to, not wanting to cut her hair short and often tying it up. When she feels more femme she’s got some cute necklaces that pair well with any cute sweaters she has- she also has some maxi skirts she wears too! :) (can’t find an exact image of what I have in mind + I have a 10 image limit on mobile lol)

-Meryl avidly has to live off of coffee. Girl is always so organized but truthfully she’s half alive due to the fact she’s a frequent visitor at the campus cafe and is familiar w/ some of the baristas who often cut her slack if she ever needs a pick me up.

-Vash is like a crazy good teacher, to some people’s surprise. He can word concepts in a way that breaks them down easier, sometimes he even has some little memory hints he uses lol. For any other ND kid in class who’s a bit bashful they usually flock to him, he’s got such a charming aura and never fails to make anyone feel a bit more comfortable.

-Wolfwood teases Meryl for her aforementioned coffee addiction, but I’d imagine he takes a liking to something like a pink drink. Like- usually that stuff is too sugary for him, but smth about it has him coming back for more!!

-Meryl has an array of podcasts she listens to- I think she def dabbled in true crime maybe?

-Milly and Meryl’s shared dorm is actually really chill. There’s some clutter on each side but they’ve got a shared mini fridge (Meryl got it but doesn’t mind Milly using it because she likes her) it’s stocked with pudding cups

-Milly got Pinterest after Meryl wanted to share ideas for food ideas on weekends (they’re both on a meal plan but still need to eat on Saturdays and Sunday’s lol) so they usually end up going out for some cheap takeout w/ Vash and Wolfwood or make something in a rice cooker they found at a thrift store that works kinda ok… for the price they got it.

-Like they’re cutting up spam, eggs, tossing rice on there, some veggies they got and sometimes they splurge on cheap fruit like bananas and apples

-They both like to eat well and unlike Vash and Wolfwood they won’t live off of instant ramen and takeout (although Vash eats pretty well considering he lives with Nai, who makes sure he regulates his diet due to sports and Vash’s long list of medical concerns)

-Wolfwood eats like shit though I’ll be completely honest

-The guy knows how to shop. But he doesn’t want to. So he lives off of cup noodles and old pizza, takeout and shit, and thanks to crazy fast metabolism he works it off whenever he does some form of working out and whatnot.

-Will agree that he has the best of the best songs, his music taste is unparalleled. Like he’ll be busting it down to 6up 5oh Cop-Out (Pro/Con) by Will Wood from his middle school days then some new metal he’s gotten into (he peeked over Knives’ Spotify playlists) OO OR OR THIS IS LOVE BY AIR TRAFFIC CONTROLLER (I’m def not protecting w/ what’s on my Spotify rn I’m shit at song names I just know vibes)

-Vash likes hyperpop and rave typa stuff it stimulates his brain in just the right way tbh

[indiee19]

Knee Socks

Alex Turner x reader

Summary: AM makes a music video for Knee Socks and your playing Alex's lover in it, then things get heated between you two after filming.

warnings: smut, fingering, oral sex (f! receiving)

word count: 2342

✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑ ✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

You parked your car in the designated spot for you, nervous for what you were about to do, couldn't believe that Arctic Monkeys had hired you to play Alex's ‘secret lover’ in their new music video, Knee Socks.

You mentally prepared yourself before you got out of your car and walked to the set that you would be filming on. When you got there you were greeted by the director, hair and makeup artist, and costume designer, not any members yet though. You introduced yourself to them even though they already knew your name. Then, the hair and makeup artist took you to a trailer to get you ready. They styled your hair to perfection, and put on light, or natural, makeup. Then, it was time to get your clothes on.

You walked over to another trailer and were greeted by the costume designer once again. She handed you a sky blue Lacoste that was most definitely not your size, black lace panties, and white knee socks. How fitting for the song.

They pointed you to a small dressing room where you changed and admired yourself in the mirror, never knowing that you would look this amazing with the outfit on. You exited the changing room and asked the costume designer where you needed to go next.

They told you that you needed to go to the set which they gladly led you to. It was a nice small suburban house, not to different from the one you grew up in. You saw the director and walked over to him to find out what you needed to do.

"Alright, so, you're going to be inside the house for all of the video. And near the end of it, Alex is going to knock on the door and pick you up and carry you inside," he said.

"Okay, anything else?" You asked. He was quick to reply, asking you if you were okay with smoking and doing a more 'scantily clad' thing. To which you replied yes. He then pointed you to a person that would tell you how to move, kind of like choreographer.

She started explaining what all you needed to do such as swaying your hips 'seductively' and that you would have to pretend to be on the phone with someone. Though, you still wanted to know what the director meant by "doing a more 'scantily clad' thing."

"Do you happen to know what the director meant by doing a scantily clad thing?" You questioned her. She took a moment to try and get a sense of what she was going to say to you. "Oh, well, what he meant is - actually, follow me and I'll explain it," she answered, bringing you into the bedroom in the house. You sat on the bed waiting for her to explain it to you.

"Okay, now, I'm assuming you know what fingering is," she said, sitting down on the bed as well. You nodded and waited for her to continue. "Well, you don't need to actually do that, you just need to make it look like you're doing it. So, just watch what I do, okay," she added.

Once again you nodded, watching her as she just put her hand between her legs. You mimicked her motion and then she stopped.

"That wasn't so hard," you said, standing up along with her and walking out of the room to be greeted by the director again.

"Are you ready to begin filming?" He asked. "Yes," you replied. They quickly finished setting things up and got ready to start. You were slightly nervous, excited nonetheless, but you still hadn't met Alex which made you nervous. You are playing his love interest so it would've made sense for you to meet him beforehand, or at least one of the other members, like Nick or Jamie.

Then, you began filming. It was fairly easy to do, you had shared off your nerves from earlier and became quite confident in what you were doing, you even did the scantily part effortlessly. Then, it came time to do the final part of the video, the thing that brought your nerves back.

You waited for the knock on the door which queued you to open the door and jump into his arms. Then, knock. You opened the door and saw Alex stood there in a black pair of trousers and a white button-up. His hair slicked back, his quiff absolutely perfect. Then, without warning, he grabbed the underside of your thighs and picked you up.

He stepped forward allowing himself inside the house and shut the door, then the scene was done.

He put you down, looking you up and down with his big, brown doe eyes. "You okay?" He asked, taking a small step backwards away from you.

"Yes," you replied, amazed by how hot he looked.

"Alright, and we are officially done for the day," the director said. You and Alex walked out of the 'house' and you started to walk away, going to change back into your normal clothes, wanting to cover yourself up just a bit more. Then as you started to head in that direction, Alex grabbed you by your wrist. You turned around to face him, to find out what he wanted.

"Uh, um, I know we just met, but w-would you like to come back to me trailer, and hang out with me there?" He asked, not removing his eyes from yours. You didn't even have to think twice, saying yes almost instantly. I mean, how could you turn down an invitation to hang out with Alex Turner in his trailer?

He smiled and led you to his trailer. You got there and he walked in first, gesturing you to come in as well. You looked around once you got in, it wasn't big by any means, but it was quaint, it was meant for one person after all.

You sat down on the very small couch. "You want anything? Coffee? Tea? Something to eat?" He questioned.

"No thanks. I'm good," you replied. He nodded and sat down beside you, even though he was sat very close to you. There was a small amount of awkward silence for a few minutes. It wasn't because you didn't like him, it was just that you didn't know what to say.

After a while though, Alex broke the silence, "You look really pretty in that," he said, gesturing to your ensemble that you had on. You hadn't really noticed or cared that you were in it until now. Colour started to creep into your cheeks.

"Thank you, Alex," you said, not looking at him even though you could tell that he was looking you up and down. "Really, I mean it," he responded. You finally looked up at him and you both locked eyes. He leaned in and kissed you. It was passionate and needy, yet soft and gentle at the same time. Your lips moved in rhythm with his.

He pulled away and started kissing down your neck, sucking and nipping at it. Your hands found their way into his hair, messing it up. He pulled away from your neck and looked you straight in the eyes.

"Can I take this off?" He asked, tugging lightly on your skyblue Lacoste. "Yes," you said. A smile tugged on the corners of his mouth. You lifted your arms as he started to lift up your shirt, throwing it to the floor. He didn't have the patience to fiddle with the clasps on your bra, so instead he pulled the cups down, allowing your tits to spill over the strapless bra.

He wasted no time before leaning his head down, sucking one of your nipples in his mouth, his other hand squeezing and fondling with the other one. Your moans and whimpers filled the room.

He lifted his head from your breasts and moved away from you slightly, pulling you to be full laid down on the couch. You propped yourself on your elbows, wondering what he was doing. He crawled back on you, kissing your lips softly, then your neck, collarbone, breasts, stomach, and right above where you wanted him, the ache between your legs suddenly growing immensely.

"A-Alex, please," you begged. He looked up at you, starring you down with his big, chocolate brown eyes. "Tell me want you want, baby," he said.

"Please, touch me," you said. He smirked, sitting up and shuffling back. You were confused at first, then you knew what he was doing when he slid your panties down your legs until you could kick them off, kissing up your thighs, coming closer to where you needed him most.

All of a sudden, he spread your legs and buried his face in between them. His tongue lapping at your folds, teasing your clit. Your moans the only thing that you both could hear, your hands finding their way into his hair again, slightly pulling on it, causing him to let out a small moan, sending vibrations up your body. He moved from your clit and folds to your cunt, sticking his tongue in you, fucking you with it. His nose lightly grazing against your clit, driving you crazy. He removed his tongue from your cunt, replacing it with two of his long slender fingers. His mouth returned to your clit and folds, lapping at them in sync with his fingers that were pumping in and out of you. Suddenly, he curled his fingers deep inside of you and pressed down harshly on your clit with his tongue at the same time, which sent you spiraling. He kept pumping his fingers in and out of you, letting you ride out your high.

Once you came down from your high, Alex removed his fingers from you, making you whimper at the emptiness they left. He sat up, straddling your hips.

You sat up, helping him take off his shirt as well as unclasping your bra, throwing it down as well. He stood up and took of his trousers. He pulled his long, thick cock out of his boxers. He sat back over you, kissing you passionately. You moved your hand down to lightly stroke his cock, causing him to moan into your mouth. He sat up again, pushing away your hand, tugging on his cock.

The head of his cock began teasing your folds, spreading the wetness. "P-please, Alex, please," you said, breathing heavily.

"What, love?" He teased. You rolled your hips, desperate for some friction, even if it was the smallest amount. To hold you still, he grabbed your hips, not allowing you the friction you so desperately craved.

"You want me cock inside you?" He smirked. You nodded eagerly. "Beg for it, love," he said, still teasing your folds with his cock.

"God, Alex, please. I need your cock inside me. Please," you begged, doing what he wanted. "That's it," he said, lining himself up with your entrance.

Without warning he snapped his hips forward, slipping inside of you easily. He gave you time to adjust to his size before moving.

Once you signaled him to move, he slid almost all the way out of you only to slip all the way back in, setting a pace. Your eyes closed after a few thrusts, moaning loudly. Alex noticed that your eyes had shut and suddenly stopped moving, making you open your eyes.

You looked up at him confused. "Eyes on me, baby," he said. You nodded and he started thrusting in and out of you again, going faster than the first time.

His thumb found its way to your clit, rubbing circles on it in sync with his thrusts. Then Alex heard people outside his trailer, you on the other hand, didn't. He quickly moved his hand from your clit to your mouth to quiet you.

Someone knocked on the door and asked, "Al, you in there?"

"Uh, y-yeah, Matt," he responded, trying to catch his breath. "Okay, well, have you seen your lover," he joked, but still being serious. "We can't find her anywhere but her car is still here, so have you?"

"Umm, no, no I haven't. Hope you find her though," Alex said, his voice cracking mid sentence. "Okay, let us know if you see her or tell her that we're looking for her," Matt replied.

"I will," Alex said as Matt walked away. "Okay, now where were we," Alex asked, regaining his confidence, removing his hand to go back to your clit to rub circles. He started thrusting I and out of you again, but this time he was rougher and faster with them.

His pace kept increasing, your moans getting louder and louder. You began to not care about them even though you were very close to being caught. As his pace gradually increased, you began getting closer to the edge, your orgasm building quickly.

"Alex, I-I'm close," you panted. "Me too, love," he replied. His thrusts became sloppier indicating that what he said about being close was true.

Three more thrusts.

One. Two. Three.

He pressed down on your clit which tipped you over the edge. He wasn't far behind you, taking only a few more thrusts before his hot release coated your walls, riding out both of your highs.

Once you both calmed down, Alex collapsed on top of your chest. "Wow, you really are amazing," you said. "Am I? You weren't to bad yourself," he smirked, kissing all the way up your chest to your lips. Just then, Matt entered the trailer. "Al, you sure you haven't seen-" you paused.

Then, you woke up, Alex right beside you. You sat up, then noticing Alex shuffle and wake up.

"Mm, baby, what's wrong?" He questioned.

"Nothing, just woke up from dream," you answered.

"What were your dream about?" He asked, now curious.

"Well, it was a naughty dream ... with you," you said slyly. Alex shuffled closer to you, kissing up your neck, "Tell me more and maybe I'll make your dream come true, love."

[milkyway-writes]

i’m not ready for that s.r.

pairing: Steve Rogers x black!Reader (anyone could read though)

summary: Even though Steve has been living in modern times for a couple of years now, he still finds himself not used to the present, especially when it comes to women. But when he meets you, an outspoken girl who completely embodies the kind of woman “he’s not ready for,” Steve is forced to reevaluate what he wants.

warnings: 18+, explicit language, dry humping, unprotected sex, sex in a hotel room, a small age gap (but not mentioned much), probably some typos and/or bad grammar, disregard for card games and 60′s music

word count: 2,828

author’s note: This is my first time writing a fic! So, tell me what you think and if you’d like more stuff from me. 

After waking up in a world filled with people dressed in unfamiliar clothing, using confusing language, and carrying around these tiny devices they called “phones,” Steve experienced the expected amount of disassociation. He said things which earned him weird looks, struggled to understand modern references, and sometimes secretly wished he could just go back to his own time. 

But if anything, Steve Rogers was determined. 

He kept a notepad to track the new things he learned and reviewed them in his spare time. He made an effort to listen to the radio and watch popular TV shows. Steve even managed to tailor his wardrobe to a certain degree. Except for the khakis. The khakis were essential. 

Despite his acclimation and newfound understanding of the 21st century, Steve still struggled with women. And in all honesty, he doesn’t even feel that open to dating. He’s completely content with simply working and living his life, romance not much of a priority of his. 

But Natasha keeps pushing it. 

“What about that girl from accounting?” she says, “Laura, Lisa…”

"Lillian,” Steve answers, “lip piercing, right?" 

"Yeah, she's cute."

"Yeah, I'm not ready for that.”

•••••

So, when you show up with a total disregard for authority, a smile that could fool the devil, and a snarky attitude all complete with a cute little nose piercing, Steve doesn’t quite know what to do with you. 

Your words are much bolder than any woman he knew from the 40’s. You behave with a certain level of confidence and self-assuredness that it’s impossible to believe that you’re only in your twenties. And you don’t shy away from showing men up, never one to hold your tongue. Steve notices that you don’t mind interrupting people. You seem to get a glint in your eye each time he clenches his jaw after you’ve cut him off. 

Everything about you is overwhelming to Steve. 

Any time he tries to correct you, you scoff, blowing air through your plump lips. Always rolling those brown eyes in annoyance. (It makes Steve want to scream.)

Nothing is ever easy with you. There is always a rebuttal, or some type of teasing remark, or simply a look that tells him “you can’t tell me what to do.” It enrages him. Steve doesn’t think he has ever met a person who could find a way to fight him on every single thing.

Now, as he looks at you standing with your hands on your hips, freshly-manicured nails on display, Steve wonders how he’ll ever manage to get through to you.

•••••

You hadn’t known much about Captain America before you’d agreed to work with him and Natasha when S.H.I.E.L.D. started falling apart. 

You had been working for the agency for a while now, assisting in the capture of criminal individuals as a sort of immunity for your own crimes. Your skills were too valuable to waste, and honestly, they knew you’d escape any prison they put you in anyway. Despite this, you weren’t the most reliable. 

You often took risks, and your youth raised a sort of concern amongst other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. No one trusted a girl whose main motivation to be an agent was to avoid prison. And because of this, Nick Fury did not bring you on for the Avengers Initiative right away. You needed time to grow, time to figure out your priorities. 

For two years, you focused on your development, learning how to control your abilities and use them most effectively, and in the meantime, you only took on small missions. You were happy with this, so happy that when Fury began reaching out to you with the intent to bring you back on for more advanced missions, you promptly avoided them.

One quiet afternoon, you were feeling the soil of your succulent, trying to figure out if the plant needed watering when you got the call that Nick Fury was pronounced dead. 

Immediately, your stomach dropped. 

Your mind was racing as you rushed to the hospital, hoping that this was all some sick joke. A test. Something Fury had comprised to teach you a lesson. 

Natasha noticed as you stood frozen at the door of the hospital room. Your heart ached seeing him lie there lifeless. 

While you pretended that you didn’t care about him, Fury had always been important to you. He had given you a second chance when you didn’t even think you deserved it. He saw potential in you when others saw you as a delinquent. This grief, coupled with the knowledge that S.H.I.E.L.D. had been compromised, led you to agree to work with Natasha and her new friend, Steve Rogers. 

•••••

Since the beginning, your presence had been an immediate concern to Steve. Along with your untamed attitude, he didn’t like the way you would make hasty decisions that left him wondering if you were still alive. He had to bite his tongue at your stubbornness. And each roll of your eyes pushed Steve further and further to the edge. After a while, he had had enough and pulled you to the side to express his disapproval. 

You stare at him expectantly with your hands still on your hips, waiting to hear why he’s singled you out.

He lets out a breath, “these antics of yours have got to stop.” 

You instantly laugh. Because he has to be kidding. 

It takes everything in him to remain calm when you flash him a smile and saunter away, throwing a “oh loosen up, Captain,” over your shoulder. 

He has to stop himself from watching your hips sway. He catches your wrist. “No. Not ‘loosen up.’ You need to be more responsible.”

“Well you need to understand that I’m not a soldier,” you yank your arm back. “I’ll follow your plan,” you offer, “but sometimes things don’t go as planned and we have to make adjustments,” you say, speaking slowly as if Steve’s a child. 

He steps closer, now towering over your small frame. “Your ‘adjustments’ almost always result in dangerous situations.”

“Really?” You cock your head to the side, “Is that right?”

He narrows his eyes at you.

“So, this is coming from the man who jumped out of an elevator?” Your perfectly arched eyebrow raises tauntingly. “Right?” 

You chuckle as he rolls his eyes. You don’t miss the hint of a smile in them. 

•••••

You do eventually try to be more of a team player, sticking to the plan when you can. You figured you’d be working with them more often, so it was in your best interest to make yourself easy to work with. Your efforts don’t go unnoticed.

Steve is grateful that you don’t pull any surprises when the Winter Soldier makes his attack. The revelation that it was his best friend already enough to throw him off. 

Surprisingly, when Steve decides to go after Bucky, you offer to join him and Sam. Your excuse being that you don’t trust two men to get the job done. 

Honestly, you just didn’t want to go back to your life before. Working with Steve was exciting. He was exciting. The way he’d catch your eyes after you’d say something snarky made your stomach flip because there was a hint of a threat in them.

You enjoyed the way he wasn’t afraid to touch you. He liked to grab your arm and pull you to him when you didn’t listen. He’d once backed you up against a wall when he thought you weren’t telling him the full story pertaining to the mission. And while he was angry, you couldn’t help wondering what it’d be like to have him take you right then and there.

You had come to terms with the fact that you wanted Steve Rogers. You just didn’t know if he’d want someone like you. You were aware that he probably hadn’t encountered many women like you in his past life. 

•••••

While your eye rolls and sassy comments do remain, Steve finds himself enjoying your presence despite himself. The struggle between the two of you slowly morphing into playful teasing, teetering the line between that and sexual tension.

“How’d you end up here anyway?” Steve asks as he lays down an ace of spades. 

You grimace and tuck your king of hearts back into your hand in embarrassment. “We’re on a mission, silly.” You giggle, the diamond in your nose catching the light.

“Mhm very funny,” he says. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

You don’t say anything. The only sound coming from your breathing and the Solomon Burke song that’s playing through your phone speaker.

You hum along as you pretend to search your hand for a card to play. 

Steve nudges your knee. You’re not sure if it’s because you haven’t answered him or because you still haven’t put down a card. 

“You mean how’d I end up doing this? Working for S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

He nods.

“It’s a long story,” you manage to let out.

“We’ve got time.”

You sigh and place your cards down on the mattress knowing you were gonna lose anyway. 

“A while back, I lost someone…someone very important to me,” you say, “and all I wanted was to hurt the people who took them from me.” You glance up to meet Steve’s eyes, “one thing led to another, and I sort of lost myself. I hurt people in ways I never intended to, caused the kind of pain that,” you search for the words, “that I had always been so afraid to feel.”

“I was so blinded by rage,” you shake your head, “I just completely forgot my morals.”

You feel the bed shift, and Steve reaches out for your hand. 

“Long story short, Fury offered me a job. Said I could use my skills for good. And next thing you know I’m going on these crazy missions and catching ‘bad guys,’” you say using finger quotes. 

You sigh, “you must think the absolute worst of me now, huh?” 

Steve chuckles, “no, not at all.” He pauses and his eyebrows crease. “It actually makes me respect you more.”

You let out a laugh, “well then, sir, you are most definitely twisted.”

He shrugs, “maybe I am.”

You notice that he never let go of your hand, and for a second you swear you feel a flutter in your abdomen. Lightly, you slide your fingers up his arm, tracing the veins. He doesn’t move or protest. Instead, he brings his other hand to rest on your knee. You look up at him as his hand moves from your knee up your thigh, gripping you firmly where your shorts end.

Steve looks at you for approval, and when you nod, he pulls you in by your hips and leans in, letting his lips ghost over yours.

You haven’t felt like this in awhile, and it takes a lot of strength to hold back a whine. Steve continues to tease you, only letting his lips lightly touch yours while rubbing circles into your hips under your shirt. Impatiently, you link your hands together behind his head, and when you grasp the hair at the nape of his neck, Steve finally leans in, letting his lips press against yours. 

Almost instantly, you climb onto his lap, straddling him. The playing cards from earlier are hastily pushed aside as Steve scoots back, bringing you with him. 

His hands find your hips again as he sucks on your bottom lip. You softly grind into him, causing Steve to groan into your mouth. He works to control himself. He hadn’t expected it to feel this way with you. So desperate, so needing.

You can feel his hardness through the material of his sweatpants, making your arousal even more apparent.

Steve leans down to kiss your neck. The feeling of his tongue makes you buck your hips, searching for some type of friction. His hand travels up your side and comes to cup one of your breasts. He runs his thumb over your nipple, feeling it harden. 

This must give him an idea as he moves to pull your shirt over your head. He grabs you again and takes your nipple in his mouth. You moan, continuing to grind onto him as his hands cup your ass. At this point, you’re sure that your arousal is leaking through your shorts.

Steve feels completely lost in you, your body setting him on fire and awaking something within him he doesn’t think he’s ever felt before. 

He continues his assault on your breasts as you fight to control your arousal. You feel his cock twitch under you. “Please, Steve,” you say breathlessly.

“Please what?” He mumbles around your breasts.

“I need you.” 

Those seem to be the words he needed as Steve promptly flips you over, roughly yanking your shorts down. He tosses his shirt off as you grab onto the waistband of his pants, urging him to take them off. He pushes you back on the bed, leaning over you. You feel his knee press into your cunt and let out a moan. 

Steve grabs your face, kissing you sloppily, and trails his hand down your body. You nearly grind onto his hand as he places his thumb over your clit and rubs slow circles over it. 

“You like that, honey?” He teases as he rubs you over your panties. 

You nod, biting your lip. 

He grabs your chin, “I said do you like it? Answer me.”

You cry out, “yes, Steve yes,” You whimper, “please I need more.” 

He scoffs, “who would’ve thought to get you to act right, I’d just have to play with this pretty pussy?”

You let out a pitiful whine. 

“Now you wanna be a good girl huh?”

You’re afraid you’re going to cum just from his words when he stops and drags your panties down so slowly that you want to scream. The smug look on Steve’s face makes your face burn. He’s enjoying this too much. 

Once they’re off, Steve settles between your thighs, making you look him in the eyes before reaching his hand down and dragging the head of his cock from your folds to your clit. You moan as he gently taps it against your clit a few times and makes a comment about how wet you are. There’s a hint of a smirk on his face as he lines himself up at your entrance. Steve groans as he eases into you. You wrap your legs around his waist, encouraging him to go deeper.

He bottoms out, and you both moan. Steve begins to thrust, and you’re already so worked up that you know you won’t last long. He brings his hand down to rub your clit causing you to cry out. 

His thrusts become more forceful. Your eyes close tightly, your sharp nails digging into his shoulders. He leans his forehead against yours, “I know you want it, sweetheart. I know you wanna cum.” 

His words shock you but send a wave of pleasure straight to your core. 

“Come on, honey, cum for me.” Steve says as he thrusts into you. Your walls spasm around his cock, causing him to groan into your neck. He never lets up on his thrusts though, continuing to slam into you as your first orgasm ripples through your body.

“You feel so good around my cock, baby,” he brings a hand up to lightly wrap around your neck.

You groan in response feeling your abdomen tighten once again.

You can tell Steve is close now, his thrusts becoming frantic and rushed. You clutch onto him as the sounds of slapping skin fill the room. Your name falling off of his lips repeatedly in your ear.

“Cum inside me, Steve,” you plead, “I wanna feel you.” He groans at your words, and you feel his hand tighten around your throat. You look at him, and his eyes are dark with lust, you feel yourself clench around his length. The look he’s giving you fills you with a primal need. You plead one more time, pushing Steve over the edge. His thrusts begin to slow, the feeling of him filling you up is enough to bring about another orgasm.

You find it difficult to keep your eyes open. Sleep begins to take you, and you drift off with Steve guiding you to lay your head on his chest. 

With one hand caressing the side of your head, Steve stares up at the ceiling of the hotel room, Nina Simone’s voice floating out of your phone. 

“It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life for me,”

“And I’m feeling good.”

•••••

Initially, seeing a girl like you would have made Steve doubt himself.

But now, he knows he’s ready for you as he sits next to you holding your hand as you prepare to get your first tattoo.

[vasiktomis]

Pomegranate, Chapter 17: Quiet Earth, Part I.

John Seed x Female Deputy

Rating: Explicit.

Read it on Ao3 here!

Notes: Thanks all who have been keeping up with this! I'm so consistently floored by the amount of content creators we have in this fandom corner and the sheer level of workmanship that exists here. This is the first chapter of Pom that I'll be posting to tumblr, and I'm hoping to draw up a little sketch with each update. If you have any suggestions, I'd love to hear them! Big thank you to @shallow-gravy and @consumedkings as always for dealing with my stupidity and being a pair of top-notch angels, and also just like, everybody who takes time out of their day to engage with this? Y'all really sticking with ultra slow burn and I swear after some wicked angst in the next couple of chapters I'll finally be able to throw some well-deserved smut at you. WARNINGS: Forced conversion, descriptions of dissociation and derealisation, explicit language, sexual content, depictions of violence, guns, blood and gore. Canon-typical debauchery.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Don’t touch him!”

Mary May lunged with enough force for John to feel the wake of air sweep through him, even with how quickly she was snatched up and yanked back to her place. The soles of her tennis shoes squeaked against the floor as she was dragged to the far side of the room, unable to be trusted with providing audience to Nick’s Atonement.

A shame, really. It was nicer as a shared experience.

The Baptist rolled his jaw, off-setting some of the tension arising from the shrieks that the blonde flung at the back of his head. He righted himself, taking the tattoo gun from one of his faithful with a gracious nod, and turned his attention down to the pilot currently pinned to the floor. Without a word, he sank to his knees, straddling the man, keeping silent as he could just to listen out for any change in his demeanour. Fear. Grief. Defeat. Acceptance. A sign to prove his readiness.

Nick didn't flinch, breathing hard through his nose and watching with hateful eyes. John hovered an indicating hand over the man’s bare chest, bruised from the fight he’d put up against his capture, mentally mapping out placement. Then, he came in with the needle, beginning with the stem of an ’E’, right in the centre of Nick's sternum.

The pilot snorted, masking discomfort with indifference, turning a wince into a scoff. “Figures you don’t use stencils. I ain’t got a hope in hell of this turning out good, do I.”

That casual old Nick attitude. He missed it.

If only he’d let him do this 5 years ago. He wouldn’t have had to miss it.

John feigned offense. “Oh I’m sorry, Nick. Did you want me to do the rest in cursive? Add a feather? Infinity symbol?”

“For fuck’s sake-”

“Talk about tonal dissonance. It’s not meant to be pretty.” He grumbled. “Might’ve gotten a little more practice if you’d-”

A yell from the rear entryway pulled John’s hand away from his canvas. More squeaking. More interruption. Jerome Jeffries getting hauled into the church, held under each arm by the pair of Chosen that John had sent looking for him.

The Baptist cast a look over his shoulder at them, content with the sight of Jerome adequately beaten and bloodied. “Ahh. Pastor. Try to run and hide? It’s no wonder your flock ran astray with a shepherd so quick to leave them to the wolves.”

Jerome ignored him. No reply. No eye contact. A crime John noted to make worthy of capital punishment in the New Eden. The Pastor was set down beside Mary May, who immediately began seeing to his injuries. Murmuring bubbled between them.

“Did you reach them?” The bartender asked. Must’ve been a negative, because the next thing she did was curse.

“The Deputy was calling when they caught me.”

And if she had half the spine to come and broker an agreement for her friends, she’d be inbound.

“Could you at least gag them? I’m trying to concentrate.” John ordered no one in particular, earning another scoff from Nick. “The faster we work, the less we’ll have to get through once she arrives. The quicker we can be out of this heinous town.”

“Stay away from her, shitbag.” The pilot ground out, this time unable to save face when John retaliated, pressing the gun just a little too hard, digging down through an extra few layers of skin.

“Nick Rye, you’re a married man.” John tutted playfully, resuming his work. “That sin of yours again. Take, take, take. Didn’t think the Deputy to be your type. Wouldn’t say you’re hers, either.”

Nick looked downright disgusted at the prospect. Less concerned for the state of his wife - which meant she'd been a likely getaway. “Always been so fuckin’ jealous.”

“Come again?”

“Think folks are stupid? Think I don’t know you?”

“You don't know me, period.” John bit back, skin on the back of his neck flushing between boiling and freezing.

“Anyone else givin’ you this much trouble’d be long dead by now. That shit on the radio? Reckon you’d be talkin’ like that if your family could hear you across the river?” Nick continued, averting his gaze when John shot him a particularly poisonous look. He didn’t, however, find it necessary to respond to such a veiled accusation.

At least until -

“Everybody knows you wanna stick it to her, John-”

As if he’d been awaiting the chance, John’s free hand shot to Nick’s jaw, aching in protest when he squeezed, not stopping until he could feel the man’s molars beneath his flesh. “That’s about enough from you.” He crooned.

John had his desires, yes. He’d accepted that much. Had he not been sworn to celibacy, he might have jumped at the opportunity to respond to Cora’s advances last night. That said, she was still an outsider, and while her Atonement made the prospect less dicey, he couldn’t consciously consider laying with the woman in real life.

No matter how torturous it had become to gear his thoughts toward anything else.

He could be content with just her company, without making any further advances on her. Last night had simply been a moment of weakness, and he’d prevailed by stepping away.

“If you’ll excuse me.” John switched off the little machine once he’d completed his piece and promptly stood to beckon for replacement parts. Mary May might have gotten away with an allergic reaction last time he’d attempted this, but considering he’d be slicing it out of her within the hour, he couldn’t see any reason for her to be complaining. The bartender had been a thorn in his side from the start. While Nick and his wife had once lent John their...whatever a sinner’s closest equivalent was to friendship, Mary May had always been trouble. Wore her heart on her sleeve and trusted no one she hadn’t grown up around. Bolshie. Almost fucking killed him, once.

John busied himself with needle transfers and a pleasant expression. He could feel the woman’s eyes on him.

Did she think what Nick proclaimed? That complete and utter lie?

How fucking crass. No, he did not want to ’stick it’ to Cora. At least, as far as anyone else was concerned. He was fond of her, and - while yes, he had encountered temptation - if one disregarded the cum-stained, stolen panties in his pocket, and the conjured fantasies, and the purely incidental erection he’d maintained after the Deputy stuck her tongue down his throat last night - there was simply no evidence to suggest to anyone else that he was even remotely tempted to break the rules.

Sex was the furthest thing from his mind. It was mere coincidence that today had just so happened to fall on a morning in which he’d needed to trim.

…

If, however, she were to decide that she wanted to continue what she’d attempted last night, then surely he couldn’t be to blame if he only failed to stop her. It wasn’t technically fornication if he didn’t initiate it. Nor was it considered intercourse if -

“Brother John.”

John jumped, heart stopping, whipping his head around to the Chosen standing at the door of the church.

“What?" He asked thickly.

“The Deputy’s arrived.”

Right on cue, the crackling of gunshots drifted in alongside the Chosen’s announcement.

“Tell everyone to hold their fire.” John ordered. “We have them outnumbered tenfold. The Deputy can’t be stupid enough to create a hostage situation. Direct her here, and peacefully.”

The Chosen’s throat bobbed, swallowing back outrage, and John squinted hard at him, trying to dispel the flicker of green light in the mist outside as it settled against the man’s temple.

“John, I don’t think-”

He never got a chance to act on that incoming insubordination.

Instead, he jerked, cut off by a sickening crack as a section of his skull blew out of his head. Red mist and liquified brain matter followed, splattering against the doorframe, and the Chosen slumped lifeless onto the front step.

John wasn’t so much shaken by the killing as he was irritated by everyone else’s apparent refusal to let today go according to plan. Maybe also the pile of brains and hair now sitting on his once-pristine red carpet. He’d made this easy for the woman: kill everyone he could round up, leave her with no one to claim duty to, and get this all over and done with. Have her home by mid-afternoon. Embark on a new chapter and achieve salvation. It was that simple.

Woe to him for trusting in her common sense.

“Fuck’s sake. Wrath begets more wrath.” He muttered, smoothing a hand over his chin. He didn’t have the patience for this any longer. “Fine. Sister -”

A woman stood from the pews as soon as John made eye contact, equally as unshaken by the scene mere feet away.

“Send out word: the Deputy wants to sacrifice her friends for the sake of a fight.” John punctuated the end of his sentence with a click as he returned his focus to jamming the needles into his tattoo gun. “Give her what she wants. Take her by force.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The smokescreen was beginning to clear, but despite the weight it was taking off her lungs, Cora would’ve preferred it remain just a little longer. At least until they’d cleared out the town. Had they been quicker, it might have lasted longer. Covered their approach to Fall’s End. Given them more cover to sneak about unseen.

The streets, while still hazy, were visible now. It wasn’t a difficult task watching Peggie silhouettes run from building to building in search of her team. Resistance members and civilians were either in the process of being rounded up, or littered the road and pavement, dead. The Ryes, Mary May, and Pastor Jerome were yet to be seen amongst either group.

Same went for Boomer.

Aside from the barking of orders from Chosen and faithful, there was little sound. Knowing how much of a fuss her dog had put up the last time he’d been caught by the Project struck Cora’s nerves. He was his own alarm, and he would not go peacefully.

Not hearing him was an indication of the worst.

Some part of her brain argued against the idea. Vouching that John wouldn’t have hurt the creature. That was her dog. He had to be an exception to the massacre, no matter how vicious he behaved.

She had to find him, and creeping through the rear entry of the Spread Eagle was the first point of call.

Luckily enough, the back door had yet to be boarded up. Peggies who rushed past covered windows hardly stopped to peek inside the place for fear of being tainted by the presence of alcohol. Sneaking in was simple enough, too, at least once Jess had picked the lock.

“I’m going to pretend that door was open.” The Deputy murmured her equivalent to praise, passing into the building.

Grace headed straight in after her, taking a left to search for any sign of Mary May while she took a right toward the stairs.

“You pretend the Cook’s head was already gone when we found him?” Jess whispered.

“Freak accident. You all saw it.”

“First floor’s clear.” Grace announced from the serving hatch in the kitchen, clearly unhappy about it.

“Right.” Cora acknowledged, “I’ll check up top.”

The second story was as dead-quiet as the first. Furniture had been knocked over in the hallway and bedrooms had been raided. None of it indicated anything good, but she still had to know.

Cora pushed open the door to her room, and while she held no expectation of what she’d find, her heart sank anyway.

It was empty.

Boomer was gone.

Only his makeshift collar and a tattered bandana remained atop the rug he’d been snoozing on that morning.

Her dog.

John had either taken him or killed him, just like the rest. He’d do the same to the rest of her team. She should’ve taken the Baptist’s offer before the latter had even become a possibility.

“No sign?” Grace affirmed once the Deputy slipped back down to the first floor. “My guess is either they’re in hiding, or John’s giving them special treatment. If they were dead he’d be parading them.”

Sharky and Hurk exchanged a frown when Cora offered only a nod, notably more meek than usual.

“Was he in there, darlin’?” Adelaide asked, a little too gently not to invite a sting to her eyes.

Cora felt her jaw clench. It was a different breed of nausea, trying to keep her composure under the scrutiny of the rest of the team. She managed to shake her head, and Adelaide’s hand found her shoulder.

“Could still be with the others, yet.” The woman offered.

“So how do we find them?” Jess asked.

Find John Seed, of course.

“Finding them’s one thing. Getting to them might be the harder part.” Cora began. “The smokescreen’s only getting thinner and there’s Peggies everywhere. It's grasslands from here to the hills. No way we can herd everyone across a field on-foot, safely. We’ve got to make sure they stay freed, first.”

“And?” Jess huffed. “We’re gonna kill some Peggies, right?”

The blonde considered that.

“We split up. Search the buildings for anyone who hasn’t been caught yet. Round them up and plant explosives as we go. With enough chaos, maybe we can have a shot at turning the tide in the short term.”

Sharky was practically trembling. “Explosives, like, everywhere?”

“Everywhere. The more damage, the better.” Cora replied. “Adelaide, Xander, pair up. Sharky and Hurk, same with you.”

“And us on range?” Jess grinned, trading a look with Grace who maintained absolute stoicism. “I’m so into that.”

“No.”

…

“Say what?”

“No more ranged attacks. I need you and Grace to head back to the van -”

Jess was advancing on her before she’d even finished her sentence.

“You’re pulling me outta the fight? The fuck gives?” The huntress loomed over the Deputy, incredulous. Cora made an effort to stay put, but Jess’s insistence managed to outweigh her stubbornness, forcing the blonde to compromise by leaning as far back as she could without falling.

“We can’t keep running on short-term wins.” Cora insisted. “We have to put our foot down. No more small assaults. No more hoping John gets demoralised enough that he hands himself over.”

Sharky frowned. “What’re you saying?”

She met his gaze, puffing out her chest, retaking her space. “I’m saying the Henbane Bridge is unmanned right now. If we get word to the County Jail, there’s no roadblock to stop them from helping us win this. John Seed’s throwing everything he can at us. I say we try for the same. I say we end it for good. We’re gonna take back Holland Valley. Today.”

“...You really like that dog, huh.”

“That too.”

Jess looked unconvinced. “So the two of us are running errands while the rest of you are holding the fort? Fucking bullshit.”

“I told you. No more range.” Cora bit back, jabbing a thumb toward Hurk and Sharky. “You’d rather send Boshaws and Drubmans to convince Tracey to send us her best people? No offence.”

“None taken, bitch.” Adelaide grumbled.

Grace exhaled, throwing away momentary hesitation. “We’ll be fast.”

Cora traded a nod with the sniper before looking to Jess once more.

Still unconvinced.

“They have cars with guns on them, remember?”

The corner of Jess’s mouth ticked. Temptation.

Mission accomplished.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The tacky fucking carpet was the first thing she noticed, creeping along Main Street. Bliss petals had been sprinkled all over the road leading up to the church.

The carpet ended at the door. An invitation if she ever saw one. Boastful. Arrogant.

A pang of dread ached through Cora's bones, holding her in place while she drew her revolver. It could be an ambush. It probably was an ambush, but there was nothing she could feasibly do to avoid it. If the others were in there, then she couldn't wait around any longer.

She had to do this. At least hold out until Jess and Grace returned, with or without help.

She'd been running for long enough. All other options had been exhausted. At least John offered the least awful defeat.

Drawing close to the entrance, the Deputy pointedly avoided examining a dead crow that had been impaled upon the wall. She inhaled, holding the breath in her lungs, steadying her heart rate.

It was only freedom.

She opened the door, immediately training the gun out before her, following its guide into the room.

About a dozen Peggies dotted the space, leaning against walls, lining the pews - all angled at the pulpit, observing Nick on the floor. He stifled a cry while John sliced through the final remaining layers of skin binding the tattoo to his chest, peeling the word 'GREED' out of his flesh. Blood pooled on the floor around them, and the moment John had stepped away, the pilot was descended on with antiseptic and bandages.

The Deputy waited for nausea at the sight to take its course. It never did. She was all but numbed to the sight.

"Deputy, run!"

Mary May's voice cut through the silence, and the bartender lurched from her own spot on the ground. Guns raised all around the room, swinging around to aim for Cora.

”Hold!” John barked immediately, unconcerned when the Deputy shifted her aim to him. Instead, he busied himself with washing his sullied hands. “Hold your fire.”

His followers obeyed.

Cora, meanwhile, cocked the revolver in her grip. One foot edged into the room, and she glanced around for the Project’s captives before returning her gaze to John. All on the other side of the room. Pinned. Fuck.

“Hope County Sheriff’s Department.” She announced, staring the Baptist down, ignoring the grin that crept onto his face - like he found it fucking funny. “Weapons on the ground. Step away from the hostages.”

“Hostages?” John snorted. He gestured Pastor Jerome, Mary May, and Nick. “These are guests! This is their Atonement. This is your Atonement.”

“Drop the fucking weapons.”

John’s patience thinned. Quickly. “I’m not doing this with you.” He replied simply. “Not today.”

With his own look around the room, John inclined his head. An unspoken order to which everyone carrying a gun turned them on her allies.

“We both know you don’t have enough bullets for everyone. Nor do you have the time. So why don’t you put down my gun and surrender.”

“Don’t-” Mary May was cut off with the tap of steel against her temple. Warning.

John was right. She was outnumbered. There was no chance of getting any of them out with force alone.

She inhaled. Exhaled. Watched the fondness slip back onto John’s face like it had never left, and set the gun on the floor.

“That’s my girl.” John murmured. Then, he motioned. “Get her ready.”

Cora’s stomach dropped as two sets of arms coiled around hers, each pulling and pushing, prickling at her skin with unfamiliar, sickening touch. Biology told her to resist. Escape the sensation. The downward pulling.

“No, stop it.” Escaped her while she squirmed. “Get off. Stop touching me-”

“Her friends can’t be far. Find them.” The Baptist ordered, turning away toward the pulpit.

Cora’s knees hit the floor. There was no holding the repetition of protests, but even as she consciously elevated the volume of her voice, it grew quieter in her ears. Calculated attempts to jerk away and make an escape became automatic twitches.

One of John’s followers - a female - crept into view, fingers tugging at the top button on her uniform collar. John readied a tattoo gun over the woman’s shoulder, and the Deputy’s mind screamed alarm bells. Get out. Escape. Fight back. Regain control.

“I won’t hurt you, sister.”

This time, she sank, curling forward, angling herself away from the woman. Another attempt, and she wrenched away again, snarling. Then, the Peggies around her must have gotten tired of all the fuss, because the tear of cotton clawed at her ears. Ringing through her brain.

Her back felt cold all of a sudden.

Green material slipped down her arms, and at the sight of her own uniform pooling in shreds in her own lap, Cora ceased her thrashing. The shredded shirt was yanked from her belt and tossed aside, and she watched with growing resignation while John turned back around.

His gaze found hers. Then flickered downward, first to the compression bra, then a margin to the right. “Here I thought you’d be unmarked.” He commented, inspecting what was visible of the old ink on her lower ribs while he approached.

Hands pressed against Cora’s shoulders, and she drifted back until her shoulder blades hit the floor.

John continued to loom until he stood directly over her. He sank to his knees, expression softening with his descent until he was on all fours on top of her. He looked almost adoring, and she hated how it comforted her, just slightly. She hated how the hands had disappeared from her limbs, and yet she still made no further attempt to escape. He had every ounce of power now.

She didn’t know she’d started trembling until his free hand swept over her collarbones, mapping out her chest, calming the gooseflesh beading on her from the chill, or the fright, or perhaps just that this whole thing felt so humiliatingly exposing.

A blush swelled over John’s throat, maybe indicating some straying line of thought. He snapped out of it and settled to sit on her hips. “This looks familiar, doesn’t it?” He teased, hovering the tattoo gun right over the centre of her sternum.

“Dont.” Was all she could manage. Weak. Pleading. “I don’t want you to.”

“You have no idea how good you’re going to feel after this.” John cooed.

One of his fingers drifted along her jaw. An attempt at comforting her, but to no avail. He looked equal parts gentle and feral with excitement.

The machine buzzed, lowering pitch when the needles finally pressed into her flesh.

This was it.

She’d lost. There was no going back, anymore. No more normal, no more ridding herself of this family. They’d taken everything, and now they were claiming ownership over her, too.

The others were being hunted. It was only a matter of time. John was working too quickly. They’d be gone before the Cougars even crossed the river.

Cora’s nerves muted. Sound closed to just the rumble of blood in her ears. She receded into herself. Found a backseat in her mind, away from the sensory overload and the humiliation and her own failure while her body quietly continued: ”Dont, don’t, stop.”

She’d lost, and John wouldn’t stop. Not while he was branding the evidence of his victory into her flesh.

Defeat tasted worse than anticipated.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Bullets whizzed overhead while Sharky and Hurk took cover beneath the window, watching helplessly as the aisle of potato chips and bar nuts was torn to shreds by the onslaught. Dorito dust filled the shop like mustard gas.

“Cuz, I think they found us!” Hurk barked, snapping an arm over his head in defence when a stray round ricocheted off the front counter.

“What gives you that impression?” Sharky hit back, hurriedly setting down his shotgun and shrugging his backpack to the floor.

“How many are there?”

“How about you check?”

“How about you check?”

A moment of quiet occurred while the cousins glared at each other, leaving their standoff to a battle of no blinking. Then the Peggies outside must’ve finished re-loading, because the back wall of the shop was suddenly being shot into swiss cheese.

They were okay. Everything was cool. Addie and Xander had taken their share of explosives and gone the quiet route. Grace and Jess were gone. Shorty had disappeared into the church, and while he couldn't count the best, Sharky was pretty confident that John had caught her.

Could they have kept on looking for survivors and breaking out captives? Sure - but why do that when they could kill, like 40 birds with one stone and beeline for the gas station? It was conveniently across the road from the church, empty of any and all life barring the dormant tanks underground. An explosion that big was sure to fuck up like a good portion of Main Street. Not even the Chosen would be able to resist checking it out.

Disconnecting the safety switches had been easy. He’d been arrested for doing it like 5 times already. Cops, Peggies; it didn’t matter - Sharky knew what he was doing, and without the giant swinging dick of the law hanging over him, the man was on a mission. Cultists shooting at him was fine. He was used to that.

Threat of death or no, he wasn’t giving up the chance to see this place blow sky high.

“We’ll be outta here any second, Hurky.” Sharky assured. “Just gotta sprinkle a little C-4 around the place and we’ll be gone before it even goes off.”

Hurk was sweating. A lot. He was accustomed to being shot at, but normally, he had more than just Sharky to get him out of a tight spot. “Alright, bro. Gimme some. Many hands and what have you.”

“Fuck yeah. First step, toss some at the tanker outside. We wanna get the place as fiery as possible up here to wake up the big boys underground, and-”

Sharky stopped in his tracks, eyeing the backpack he’d just been in the process of unzipping.

“-uhh.”

“Uhh?”

“Hurky, can I be real with you?”

“Is now the best time for a deep and meaningful?” Hurk hissed, crawling toward him nonetheless.

The arsonist stuck his hand down the pack, rifling through fluff and mesh. “I, uh, I think I brought the wrong bag. And by think I mean know without a shadow of a doubt.”

Hurk watched as his cousin tugged the green, furry headpiece of a dragon out into the open.

“You brought-...”

“I brought my fursuit.”

“Not the C-4?”

“Not the C-4.”

“Okay, bro. That's fine. I'm not mad. Human error. Not even a little bit?”

Sharky checked again, just for good measure. “Nope...so, uhm...you got a match?”

Hurk ran a hank through his hair. “Not to poo poo your ideas, but that probably ain’t the best move.”

So just like that, they were fucked.

Jess and Grace still hadn’t come back. The others were nowhere to be seen. Shorty was holed up in that church, and he and Hurk were about to be rounded up by born-again virgins.

Shit, if that were the case -

“Well, if this is gonna be the last opportunity.” Sharky grunted, tugging the suit out and unzipping the back. “May as well enjoy our last minutes of freedom, huh?”

Hurk took the cue, creeping across the destroyed shop floor and reaching for a popped bag of pretzels. He sat back against the wall, leaning against the rocket launcher he’d propped up against the corner.

“Man.” The brunette sighed, staring at the floor. “If only we had some other kind of ranged, explosive device.”

“No shit.” Sharky agreed. “Some high velocity shit would fix this.”

They exchanged a sympathetic look once the arsonist had zipped himself up and crept over and sit beside his cousin, both leaning on either side of the RPG.

Hurk held out the bag.

“Pretzel?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Was that so bad?” John asked, placing the tattoo gun aside and framing the Deputy’s marked chest. ’WRATH', in true black, beading with blood. The skin surrounding the text was mottled and inflamed. Excess ink covered the area in patches, gathering in the dip of her cleavage, disappearing beneath her sports bra.

All that sin, already leaking out through the exit he’d made for her.

Gorgeous.

Cora didn’t respond. That was fine. Shock was normal. She’d thank him once this was all over. For now, she just trembled, lock jawed, dissociated gaze searching what John had thought was him until he sat up. No, instead she was watching the ceiling.

John flashed a smile, blocking out a tiny streak of dread at the sight of the woman so vacant. Sweeping a lock of stained hair over her shoulder, he smoothed his fingers past her neck, attempting to gently angle her focus back to him. “Hey. You can come back now. We’re all done.”

You're finally on the other side. React to it. React to me. Look at me-

The boom came first, hollow and deep, and John felt the floor beneath him rumble. Chandeliers and decorations wobbled from the disturbance. Several of his followers shot from their seats, immediately abandoning the Resistance leaders they’d guarded in favour of pacing back and forth, trying to get a look at whatever was happening outside.

“Is this it?”

“Is it the Collapse?”

“It’s time?”

“John, is it the Collapse?”

The panic escalated quickly, forcing the Baptist to break his attention away from the empty woman below him and rein in the flock.

“Calm down.” He exclaimed, “It’s not the Collapse. It’s probably just-”

Another boom. Almost deafeningly loud.

This time, the whole church shook. Windows shattered in their creaking panes and smashed to the floor while pews squealed heavily in protest.

Contrary to his assertion, John dove down, covering the Deputy with his body. Holy shit, was it the Collapse?

The tremor must have been enough to snap Cora out of her trance, because a muffled “Get your tits out of my face.” buzzed against John’s chest.

Tragically, however, the Baptist never got the opportunity to reply to her. Had it not been for the fucking tennis shoe colliding with the side of his skull, he imagined he’d have something very clever to say. Alas, pain shot through his head and he jerked to the side, fighting against the blow to stay put. A snarl from Mary May, his apparent attacker, sounded in retaliation. She dove into him, knee driving into his ribs, throwing him off of the Deputy.

His thoughts left him for the briefest moment, overtaken by ensuing gunshots and shouts and the shrieks of the bartender as she was clawed away from him. Her hand shot forward right as she was yanked up, intended as a punch. It didn’t land, and John couldn’t help but shoot her a smirk for her failure.

“Deputy, gun!”

Nevermind. It wasn’t a punch after all. Mary May had been pointing over his shoulder at the revolver that had been surrendered on the floor. His revolver. The same one Cora was now scrambling toward.

No.

John lurched, heart leaping into his throat.

Not now. Not after he’d won. Not when they were so close.

His hand found the leg of Cora’s pants, wrenching, pulling her away from the weapon, and she kicked against him. Her finger tips slid against the barrel of the revolver, tugging it into her palm.

God wouldn’t fucking undo his victory.

John snarled, catching the Deputy’s wrist when she tried to aim - at him no less. Without her own recovery time achieved, he was able to wrestle the weapon from her easily enough, flattening her struggling body beneath his just long enough to hook an arm around her waist. He twisted around, holding the woman’s back against his belly. Her squirming ceased with the press of the muzzle against her head, and the moment her allies had taken notice of the change, everything went still.

Finally.

A little civility.

Several of John’s followers lay on the floor, either dead or close to it. Only a half-dozen remained, though the pair of Chosen had survived and placed themselves closest to their leader.

Pastor Jerome had procured a handgun from within his own bible - something that pulled a breathless laugh out of John as he surveyed the others. Nick hadn’t been able to arm himself, but he’d still tackled one of the faithful to the ground. His knuckles were bloodied. A familiar sight. Mary May had wrestled a gun of her own away from the woman who’d seized her. She aimed it shakily at John.

Armed but outnumbered, outgunned, and now, they were in check.

They never learned, did they?

“The way you people behave, you’d think salvation was a bad thing.” John tittered. “Right. Now, let’s try this again. Atonement, or damnation.” To punctuate his meaning, he tapped the muzzle against Cora’s head. She grunted in protest, and he ignored her. Of course it was a bluff. No one else knew that but him, though. It was too risky a move for the Resistance to let him do away with the one person that banded their factions.

She was their leader. They couldn’t lose her.

John looked around the room once more, locking eyes with Jerome first - then Mary May. “Are we going to behave?”

The answer was immediate and clear: a gunshot cracking through the Baptist’s ears and the flash of a blast spilling from Mary May’s weapon. Cora’s elbow driving into his stomach and the reaction time of his Chosen snapping to attention, covering him, already hauling John out of the church and onto the street.

Fuck no, he wasn't leaving without his prize.

"GRAB HER!" John howled, struggling against the attempts to get him to safety. "Leave the rest!"

It was a reluctant effort, but the Deputy was yanked along as well, shoved into Johns arms on his repeated orders, with me, with me.

“Mary May, what the fuck!” The Deputy roared over her shoulder.

“Sorry Deputy! I missed!”

Missed?

“You sure about that? Jesus fucking Christ!”

More shots sounded, but only the noise pursued them from the building. It wasn’t until John had shoved Cora into the back of the waiting truck that he realised how warm his hand had gotten. Wet, too.

“Get to the ranch!” One of the Chosen snarled up front, casting a look back at the Baptist while the vehicle took off, watching as he peeled away from the blonde to inspect himself.

Blood.

He was bleeding. But where from? Barring the sting of his scabs and that kick to the head, nothing hurt. There were no wounds hiding under his sleeves or -

A hiss sounded from the Deputy beside him, curling in on herself.

Shit.

She hadn’t elbowed him.

“Cora-” John scrambled for her. "Cora, let me see."

“Told you not to call me that.” The Deputy grit out, kicking at him until she’d well and truly jammed herself into the corner of the seat and the car door. Her left hand gripped her right forearm, just below the elbow and to no avail. Crimson coated the skin on her side, encasing her arm completely and seeping through her fingertips.

She was bleeding. Not heavily, but steadily.

”Deputy.” John bit back, advancing. “You’re hurt. Let me help-”

Just like that, the kicking resumed. “Don’t touch me-DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME-”

“For once in your fucking life, just relax!”

Only incomprehensible snarling came in response.

John rolled his jaw, brimming with as much irritation as he was adrenaline. The Resistance had made their choice. Regretful, but final. He’d gotten what he came for, and he wasn’t intending on losing her just because she was too stubborn to accept help.

He glanced at the revolver still in his grip. Then back at Cora, rotating the grip toward her. A threat. “Are you going to let me help, or am I going to have to calm you down?”

“Don’t you dare.” Her words came hoarse. She gave scowling a red hot go, but without the rationale to deny him, the Deputy lacked conviction. She exhaled. “Fuck it. We've done this enough already. You get ten minutes. Then you’re under arrest.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Her cheek twitched. A weak chuckle. The slightest flash of acknowledgement as she let him press his weight over her forearm. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t pulsing; nor was there a puncture wound. A gouged strip had been carved into her flesh where the bullet had grazed, but nothing vital seemed to have been struck.

“That - you can keep saying.”

"You're a flirt when you're in shock, Deputy." Had John not been too busy regulating about a dozen other emotions, he might have flushed at her words. For a moment, he just sat there, basking in the borderline friendliness on her face. Then, it occurred to him that they were among watchful company, and he cleared his throat, returning to his task.

Minutes passed. No more words were exchanged. Not until they’d passed the Rye and Son’s sign.

The Chosen in the front passenger’s seat looked over his shoulder, dismissing another over the radio before regarding the Baptist. “The Resistance isn’t making ground. The faithful are still rounding up stragglers, and we’ve taken casualties, but numbers are looking strong. Medic will meet you at the ranch, John. We can deliver our newest sister to the Gate while you recover.”

John inclined his head. “Much obliged. We need this one to stay with us until she’s completed her vows. She can’t be trusted unsupervised, but I won’t put the responsibility of containing her back on our people again.” He looked to Cora, then. Her face had run pale and she’d gone clammy, but she remained upright. Just...woozy. Pacified, for now.

He’d got what he came for. Fuck the rest.

“I have something to say.” The blonde announced, swaying against John’s arm. “I know why Mary May shot me.”

“This another one of your jokes?” John deadpanned.

“This one’s funny, I swear.”

“...go on, then.”

“It’s because I never tip.”

For a moment, Cora looked very satisfied with herself. Then, she retched, slumping forward into the Baptist’s lap when he instinctually jolted out of the potential line of fire. He hurried to steady her, keeping tight hold over her wound, and grimaced while the noise escaped her a second time.

Thank God nothing came out; his shoes would’ve been the first to know about it.

The Deputy didn’t sit back up.

That was fine. So long as she wasn’t dead. So long as she wasn’t fighting back.

“It’s all the sin escaping you.” John explained, off-handed, when a complaining grunt sounded below. “Evil being expelled from your body. You’ll feel better soon.”

“Pretty sure it’s my blood pressure, actually. Soon as I’m good again, you’re history.”

When one disregarded the fact that she’d had a gun trained on him earlier - and the blood drying uncomfortably on his clothes - and the persistent pounding of a headache from Mary May’s heel, this was almost pleasant. The quiet roads. The Deputy, all but atoned with her head on his thigh. Not fighting back. Conceding defeat. Peaceful.

He got what he came for.

He’d won.

He was saved.

Passing his thumb over Cora’s ribs, John’s attention was pulled back to the old ink peeking out from beneath the band of her top. Text, blurred and flattened enough to be years old, and too obscured to decipher.

“Thought I’d be your first.” The brunette murmured.

“Jealous?”

Yes.

“Don’t be ridiculous. What’s it say?”

“‘The Mountains Are Calling’.”

A sickening wave of dread passed over the Baptist. The rock forming in his throat, icy and bitter and seizing him against any reply.

The mountains are calling.

Jacob. Joseph. The Trials. Atonement wasn’t the final step. Handing her over to his brothers was the final step.

He got what he came for, but the woman in his arms wasn’t the trophy intended for him.

He was saved. He’d redeemed himself. He’d completed his task and Joseph would permit him beyond the gates. That was all he was supposed to do. That was enough.

That had to be enough.

“‘And I Must Go’.” John completed quietly.

Cora tilted her head a little, not quite looking at him - almost like she was trying not to. “You know John Muir.”

“Not enough to warrant a photo on the bedside table.”

“Shut up.”

There was nothing convincing about the chuckle he offered. He was too busy observing her, studying the side of her face. Committing her to memory as if he hadn’t spent years acquainting himself with every spot and micro-expression.

“Maybe working for you will be bearable.” She murmured, and John’s heart only sank further. "If I don't manage to arrest you."

The mountains are calling.

She still had no idea that all the promises he’d made her had been fabricated. That she wouldn’t be staying. That he’d lied to her.

The mountains were calling. In a few days time, she’d know it. She’d despise him. She’d be taken off his hands and he’d assume his regular duties once again.

He’d saved both of them.

Cora’s thumb absently grazed back and forth on his knee. Ignorant. “Can I ask something?”

It took everything in him not to mirror the action against her skin.

“Of course.”

“Can I start next Monday?”

"What happened to you being such a workaholic?"

"To be honest with you, I'm really fucking tired."

She’d be incredible. Jacob would love her. Joseph would be proud. John had accomplished something near-impossible for his family, and even if the Deputy hated him - even if she forgot him entirely, he was content with the knowledge that he’d have brought her to salvation.

Even if they never saw each other again, he’d know that she’d passed through the gates. That she’d climb to the surface once the world had been scorched clean. She’d rebuild, and marry, and have children, and he’d do the same.

Hopeful anticipation and the agony of longing had never felt so similar before.

“Fine.” John smiled, giving in, sliding his fingers up her arm and coaxing a stray lock of hair out of her face. There were no promises he’d be able to do it again after this. “But on one condition.”

“What?”

“Spend those days with me.”

Cora stirred, angling to peer up at him out of the corner of her eye. She smiled crookedly.

“Deal.”