#the traffic reports are the things that really get to me

[america-oreosandkitkats]

the unsung heroes of the internet are the funky lil guys who post decades' old radio broadcasts with commercials and all from various stations around the country. im listening to kssk honolulu from like 2003 or 4 and in between my budget shit im just lying on the cold hard ground

[slushycoookie]

A Welcome Distraction 18+

Miguel’s had an eventful day at HQ. He's had to deal with report mix-ups, two anomaly containment breaks, and half of the cafeteria being destroyed. All while not having his daily cup of coffee. Because the machine was broken when he arrived.

Everything had calmed down near the end of the day, enough to where he shut himself in his lab to destress. He ranted to you via phone call, arms folded and shoulders hunched.

“I already knew my day was going to be bad when I found out the coffee machine wasn't working.” He started, “As soon as I come in, I'm bombarded with messages saying the reports got mixed up. I thought I could at least get a cup of coffee in first. But no, turns out a lot of my spiders were pulling all-nighters for reasons they have yet to tell me.” He pinched his nose while recalling the memory, “Plus, I couldn't order coffee since there was heavy traffic due to a bank robbery I stopped before I got here.”

“Oh no…” You said, your empathetic tone already easing him.

“I let the coffee thing slide and tried to fix the reports right away. Margo was a big help so we managed to get them done in a few hours, but then we got an alert of a breakout. Not just one, but two anomalies escaping.”

“That was probably annoying.”

“It was. Which surprised me because I noticed Kaine was nearby while I was dealing with the report issue. I thought, as capable as he is, he'd handle it-”

A message interrupted him. Miguel quickly opened it, wondering if it was from one of his colleagues. Instead, he was hit with a picture of you in your black, lacy bra. The shirt raised above your breasts, cups holding you together perfectly.

Miguel blinked, wondering if this was an old message that came through. He'd usually get something like this from you in the middle of the day. Occasionally, the messages arrive late but no, you just sent it.

“You good?”

“Yeah, yes.” He cleared his throat. Your tone was normal as if you didn’t send the picture at all, “Where was I?”

“Two anomalies broke out.”

“Right.” Miguel went back to recalling his story, not closing the message containing your suggestive picture. “I had to deal with that. Worse part was it was a Green Goblin and a Taskmaster. We were able to take care of the latter quickly but Goblin was relentless. He injured three of my spiders and threw some of his bombs around. One of them ended up blowing up part of the cafeteria!”

“What? I can't believe it.”

“Believe it, baby. So now I-”

Another picture arrived causing him to shift. You were only in the bra and matching underwear. He was able to see your body, your soft stomach, hugged by the laces of the lingerie. Your plush thighs pressed together while your lips slightly parted. “Is-is that the set I brought you last week?”

You hum, “It's nice, right?”

“Very nice.” Miguel wasn’t folding his arms anymore. His body pressed against the desk and his eyes couldn't tear away from the picture.

“So, the cafeteria blew up?”

“Y-Yeah. I couldn't really assess the damage until I…took care of goblin.” He tried to look at anything else besides you but was failing. “And I made sure to have a few more of our people close by the containment area so that incident doesn't happen again.”

“Taking care of the situation, good job!”

Miguel bit his lip at your praise. He was having trouble keeping himself together, between the pictures and you actively listening. “Thanks.”

He stopped breathing when you sent him another picture. This time you were laid flat on the comforter, your bra removed, your breasts out in their full glory. It was a reward for how quickly he handled the catastrophe earlier. Now, he was staring like he’d never seen you before. His hands twitched to grope them, use them to help release the stress he experienced.

“Miguel? You still there?”

He rapidly blinked, darting away from the picture. “Yeah, yeah I'm here.”

“Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry. What did you say?”

Your voice raised an octave, amused at how he was falling into your trap. “I asked how bad was the cafeteria damaged.”

“Oh.” Miguel felt his suit get tight. His eyes kept landing on your chest and now all he wanted to do was ask for another picture. He had no interest in continuing his story now. “Can I tell you later?”

“Why? What's wrong?”

A groan escaped him, “You know what's wrong.”

“No, I don’t.” You scoffed, “I'm not a mind reader.”

“Nena,” Miguel let out a shaky breath, “are you in bed right now?”

“Yes.” Your teasing tone rumbles across his ears. “Is that a problem?”

He shakes his head as if you can see him. “No.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“Because-” Miguel licked his dry lips, running his hand over his hair to figure out what to say. He was losing the battle but was ready to accept defeat. “Nothing. Take off your underwear.”

“Wait, what? What about the cafeteria? You know I like eating there sometimes.”

“I will tell you later.” He starts palming himself through his suit. “Let me see.”

You didn't argue back. Silence took over as he waited to see the picture he requested. His mouth dropped at the final photo. You reflected in the long mirror in the corner of your room. A hand amongst your breast while your legs spread for him. Showing you his prize. His reward for the terrible day he’s had. Mouth agape, almost drooling at the sight of you. Miguel couldn’t hold on any longer.

“I'm coming over.”

[rainybubbles]

How do you meet COD Men ? - AU civilian

Soap, Ghost, Gaz, Price, König, Rudy, Alex, Nikolai

(Sorry in advance for my mistakes, English is not my mother tongue. So sorry if it's badly written, mid or if they're OOC)

SOAP as a firefighter : 

-"911, how can I assist you today?"

-"I think there's been a break-in at my place!"

-"Could you describe the intruder, ma'am?"

-"It's... a turkey."

-"A turkey?"

-"Yeah, one of those gobbling birds! My neighbors use a live one for their Thanksgiving, and it somehow busted loose. It barged into my place through the door, gave me a real fright. I dashed into my bathroom, but it went all 'Rambo' on my door, and now it's busted. My handle is broken, I'm stuck in here!"

-"Don't worry, help is on the way."

-And that's when you met Soap. There he was, showing up at your doorstep in full firefighter gear.

-"Hey there ?" he greeted, axe in hand, ready to face off against the rogue turkey.

-You weren’t kidding, he thought.

-He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the havoc that bird had wreaked in your place.

-Your poor sofa was toast, and your table was in pieces. Slowly, he made his way to the damaged door.

-"Hey there, Ah���m a firefighter. I’m here tae break down the door. Please step back."

-"Oh thanks ! I was starting to think I'd be spending the night bawling in my bathtub."

-He chuckled.

-"Wouldnae want a lovely person like yerself spendin’ Thanksgiving solo."

-"Thanks," you replied.

-"I'll get started," Soap said as he began dismantling the door.

-"Here, it looks like the turkey's gone," he reported.

-But when he turned to you, he noticed something amiss.

- Normally, people were relieved to see him, not scared out of their wits.

-His gaze shifted back, and that's when he saw it—the monstrous turkey, ready to pounce.

-Without a second thought, he scooped you up, effortlessly carrying you despite whatever size or weight you were, and bolted past the bird.

-"Why's that thing so fast?" he exclaimed.

-"They're practically dinosaurs, I swear!" you cried from the safety of his arms.

-You both made it to the street. Soap dialed up a wildlife specialist to handle the feathery menace.

-"Ah’l swearin’ off turkey forever," he vowed.

-"I think finding a new place to live might be a good idea," you whispered, still trying to calm your nerves.

-"Aye, yer neighbors are some real characters for pullin’ a stunt like this."

-"Thanks again for this. I mean, I'm sure you've got more pressing cases."

-"No’ really. Usually, it's just family squabbles. Last time, Ah had a grandma tryin’ tae kill her son wi’ mashed potatoes," he joked.

-"Grandma can get wild," you chuckled.

-"Ye have no idea. Name's John, by the way. Sorry for forgettin’ ma manners."

-"Hey, a wild turkey trying to take me out can do that to a person," you quipped. "I'm Y/n," you added.

-He grinned.

-“I owe you big time, Soap," you said, finally stepping out of the bathroom. "Guess this Thanksgiving, I'll be giving thanks for firefighters and sturdy bathtubs."

-Soap gave you a reassuring smile. "Hey, it's all in a day's work. Plus, -it's not every day I get to play hero to a person in distress... from a turkey."

-After the turkey trouble was sorted, Soap bid his farewell. Little did he know, two days later, your new neighbor would be attempting to cook aluminum in his microwave. Maybe this time he'd find a moment to ask for your number.

-------

GHOST as a chef : 

-The poor waitress had asked you twice if you wanted to order by the time your date arrived. But it was painfully obvious. 

-You had been stood up.

 -You tried to ignore the looks, the sensation of your clothes feeling too tight, too constricting. You felt like a clown.

-Staring at your phone, you sent messages, hoping for excuses like traffic or an important matter.

-Maybe he had a flat tire, or perhaps his boss demanded he stay late. Yet, two hours later, you were still there, feeling like a fool.

-That's when the message came: "Oh, I was just joking, you're not my type, you know."

-Tears welled in your eyes as you felt the humiliation wash over you.

-How could someone flirt for two months just as a joke? He messaged you every night; how were you supposed to know it was all a farce?

-Biting your lip, you stood up.

-At this hour, you hoped there were still buses running.

-You couldn't afford an Uber. Yet, as you gathered your things, the waitress approached.

-"Excuse me, but your food will arrive."

-"I... I'm sorry, but I can't... I can't afford anything here, and my date stood me up. He was supposed to pay, and..." you rambled, feeling ashamed, but she led you back to your seat.

-You felt even more ashamed. This place was so luxurious.

-"I really can't afford it, madam," you whispered.

-"It's on the house. The chef offered it," she said gently.

-"Oh."

-You didn't know if you felt grateful or not. It felt like pity, but food from a Michelin-starred restaurant was still a luxury, so you ate. It was unbelievably good. You felt so thankful to the chef.

-"I... could I thank him?" you asked after finishing your dinner.

-"He doesn't speak to clients. That's why he opened his own restaurant — so he could remain unseen by his patrons and not be obligated to accept their thanks, As he says “I Ghost clients”" the waitress explained.

-"I see. His dishes are so precise, it's impressive."

-"Yeah, he's good with a knife."

-"Well, thanks again for offering me this. It was a crappy night, but at least I ended up in heaven," you said.

-She smiled, and you left.

-But you felt indebted to him. Dishes like that cost a lot.

- Even if you didn't doubt he could afford it, you felt like you had to do something in return.

-So the next night, you baked cookies.

-You felt ridiculous with your small Tupperware and homemade cookies.

-They'd probably taste awful to him, you thought, but you wanted to repay him.

-"Hi, I... wanted to give this to Ghost? He offered me dishes last time, and I wanted to thank him. I understand if you say no. I mean, it could have poison in it, but..." you rambled to the waiter.

-"No need, we'll take it," the waiter with a mohawk said with a smile.

-You felt like he knew something you didn't. As you were about to leave, a tall, blond man walked over, holding a cookie.

-"Thanks," he said with a gruff voice behind his mask.

-Shit. Ghost was... this man?

-This mountain of muscles made those beautiful dishes? Those meticulous details came from his hands? You were impressed.

-"Do you like it?" you asked, unsure.

-"Best cookies I've tasted."

-"I know you're lying."

-"Second," he admitted. "My ma's were better."

-You chuckled.

-"I can give you the recipe. I mean, you really saved me last night. It was so... humiliating."

-"It's not. The only one who should feel ashamed is the bloke who stood you up, love."

-"You're right, but still."

-"Come back again, Friday. With the recipe."

-"I can send it by email."

-"I want you to taste a new dish."

-"Oh."

-"Having someone honest is nice. It's a change from all the compliments."

-"Okay," you agreed.

-Little did you know, Simon would always find new dishes to make you come back.

-Of course, he could ask his sous-chefs or waiters to taste, but seeing your smile or frown after a taste was so much better.

-(I need a long fic about Simon being a chef, like this AU has so much potential, plus in kitchen you have “brigade” which could be like 141)

GAZ as a primary school teacher : 

-You were on your usual delivery route, this time dropping off packages at the primary school.

-As you made your way through the corridors, you spotted Gaz, the primary teacher, who greeted you with a smile.

-"I was waiting for you," Gaz said cheerfully.

-"Oh, am I right on time?" you responded, glancing at your phone in confusion.

-"Yes, but the kids are eager," Gaz explained.

-You furrowed your eyebrows. Eager for what? Seeing a delivery person? Or perhaps the contents of your package were something special, like paintings or other intriguing items?

-"I see," you said, still puzzled.

-"Follow me," Gaz instructed, leading you into his classroom before you could protest.

-As you entered, you were met with the curious gaze of twenty pairs of eyes.

-It dawned on you as you glanced at a piece of paper – Gaz had mistaken you for the guest speaker, an athlete scheduled to address the students.

-"Sir, I think there's been a mistake," you whispered to Gaz, but before you could say more, a child wrapped their arms around you.

-"I'm so glad you're here!" the child exclaimed, melting your resolve. How could you shatter their excitement?

-You couldn’t bear to crush their excitement. Besides, it was clear that the athlete wasn’t going to show up; it was already 10 AM, and they were supposed to be there by 8AM according to the schedule on the board.

-And so, you found yourself spinning tales to answer their questions, pretending to be the athlete they expected. 

-“Um, hey there ! Being an athlete is pretty cool, you know” you improvised, trying to sound convincing.

-“How does it feel to do sports all day ?” one curious kid asked

-“Well it’s tough but you know riding horse is fun”

-“I thought you were running”

-“RUNNING ! Of course, horse is just a hobby” you blurted out

-Despite your fibs, the kids beamed with admiration, hanging onto your every word.

-After a couple of hours, Gaz approached you with a knowing smile.

-"You're not the athlete, are you?" he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

-"How did you figure it out?" you replied sheepishly.

-"When you mentioned unicorns helping your coach – that was a dead giveaway," Gaz chuckled. "But I appreciate you playing along."

-"I couldn’t bear to disappoint the kids. Kids' dreams are important," you admitted, feeling a twinge of guilt.

-"Yeah, they are," Gaz agreed. "Thanks for going along with it."

-"It was more fun than my usual deliveries, anyway," you admitted with a grin.

-“Wait, your boss won’t be mad ?! I mean two hours, sorry you must be so late, no ?”he said worried

-“Don’t worry you were my last”

-As you prepared to leave, Gaz introduced himself properly.

-"Thanks against or helping out. And by the way 'm Kyle, but the kids call me Gaz – it's easier for them," he explained.

-"It was nice meeting you, Gaz," you said sincerely, touched by his kindness towards the children.

-As you left the school, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of warmth and contentment. And to your surprise, when you made your next delivery, there was Gaz, offering to lend a hand. 

-"Thought you might need some help this time," he said with a wink.

-Maybe it was repayment for your earlier assistance, or perhaps the kids had teased him about having a crush on you – either way, you were grateful for his company.

PRICE as an uni history teacher :

-It was about 10 PM, and there you were, sprinting in high heels, your wig dangling precariously.

-"Oh, for the love of all that’s good," you muttered under your breath.

-The situation was straightforward, yet utterly absurd.

- You, a university teacher, found yourself at a costume party with a Bridgerton theme.

- After hastily getting ready at your friend’s place, it dawned on you that you had forgotten your house key.

-Sure, crashing at your friend's was an option, but you had a furry friend waiting at home who needed your attention.

-So, off you went, driving back to the only place your keys could be: the teacher's offices at the university.

- Picture this: you, clad in an 18th-century outfit, a fake wig teetering on your head, and a petticoat swishing around, all the while cursing your luck and hoping no students would spot you.

-Finally, you reached the office, finding it deserted. You located your keys and—

-"Quite the accurate ensemble, I must say."

-You froze, turning to find a man with a rather impressive beard. "Um, I can explain?"

-"Are you a student?" he asked.

-"No need to butter me up; I know I don't exactly look like one," you confessed.

-He chuckled. "Sorry, I was just trying to give you an out. You know, student parties and whatnot."

-"Thanks, but yeah, I'm the… new teacher. Guess we haven't crossed paths yet. Been here about a month," you said, extending your hand.

-"Well, isn't this a fortunate coincidence?" he remarked.

-"How so?"

-"I’m John Price," he revealed.

-Your eyes widened. Oh, crap. You just met THE history teacher of the campus dressed as a Bridgerton character. What were the odds?

-He laughed. "Nice to meet my new colleague. Heard quite a bit about your work."

-"Likewise, and… sorry about the attire," you apologized.

-"No need. It suits you. Makes me feel like a proper gentleman seeing someone dressed like that," he said with a grin.

-You chuckled nervously. "Well, it was nice meeting you, Mr. Price."

-Little did you know, your next class for the first year was a shared one with him. Dodging him might not be as simple as you thought.

NIKOLAI as a F1 pilot :

-Your friend's desperate plea over the phone stirred something in you.

-"Alright, I'll come help with the shoot," you conceded, feeling a flutter of excitement mixed with apprehension.

-As you arrived at the location, taking in the serene surroundings, you couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place among the bustling crew.

-Your specialty lay in capturing the untamed beauty of animals—dogs, cats, and the like.

-This commercial setup felt like a far cry from your usual stomping grounds.

-Engaging in conversation with the staff about the artistic direction, you couldn't help but notice the artificiality of the setting, with fake plants and trees surrounding you.

-Nevertheless, you settled in, adjusting lights and preparing for the task at hand.

-"The model is here," an assistant announced, drawing your attention to the center of the room where a man stood, completely naked.

-"Why is he naked?" you whispered in disbelief, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks.

-"It's for the charity event, featuring naked pilots for calendars," the staff explained casually, oblivious to your discomfort.

-Stunned, you turned to your friend, silently questioning her decision to involve you in this unconventional endeavor.

-"I photograph nature and animals, not... naked humans!" you protested, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

-"Well, technically, you photograph a big snake," she quipped, a mischievous glint in her eye.

-You rolled your eyes, suppressing a sigh. "Ugh, don't even mention his...thing, please."

-"I don't mind being called an anaconda," the man interjected with a smirk, his gaze lingering on you in a way that made your heart race.

-Caught off guard by his boldness, you shifted uncomfortably, suddenly hyper-aware of his proximity.

- "Sir, I'm sorry, but I wasn't warned about these... circumstances," you stammered, struggling to maintain composure.

-"I understand. If we need to reschedule, no problem, Солнышко ," he reassured, his voice low and soothing, sending shivers down your spine.

-"What did you just say?" you asked, unable to hide the hint of fluster in your tone.

-"Sorry, I meant no problem to reschedule, sunshine," he clarified, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

-"But you're... a star?" you questioned, feeling a mixture of confusion and intrigue.

-"I'm a well-known F1 pilot, yes. But I'm closer to retirement than those young ones. I doubt people would buy the calendar for me," he admitted with a self-deprecating chuckle, his vulnerability tugging at your heartstrings.

-"I'd certainly buy it for you," your friend chimed in, breaking the tension with a playful grin.

-He laughed, his gaze lingering on you with a warmth that made your cheeks flush. "And you?"

-"I... maybe? Okay, we'll do it, but I can't guarantee anything. I'm more accustomed to animals, so..." you trailed off, feeling a rush of adrenaline at the prospect of working closely with him.

-"Let's get started," he suggested, his smile softening the edges of the room and easing your nerves.

-And so, the shoot commenced, with Nikolai proving to be a surprisingly adept model, effortlessly charming everyone with his wit and charisma.

- As you directed him through the poses, you couldn't help but notice the subtle tension between you, a magnetic pull that seemed to grow stronger with each passing moment.

-"Thanks for today. Need a ride?" he offered, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

-"No, I came in my car," you replied, torn between the desire to stay and the need to escape the overwhelming atmosphere.

-"The red one?" a staff member inquired, oblivious to the undercurrents swirling between you.

-"Yeah, why?" you asked, feeling a knot form in your stomach at the thought of your car.

-"Sorry, mate, your car got impounded," they informed you, their words puncturing the bubble of tension that had enveloped you.

-You sighed, feeling a sense of defeat wash over you. "So, a ride?" Nikolai offered, his gaze softening with concern.

-"Yeah, I guess. What a crappy day," you muttered, cursing your luck.

-"Don't say that, it was great," he insisted, his voice gentle and reassuring.

-You nodded, feeling a rush of gratitude towards him for his unexpected kindness. In his car, as he drove you away from the chaos of the shoot, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over you, a feeling that was only amplified by his soothing presence.

-"Not what you were expecting, huh?" he remarked, his tone playful yet sincere.

-"Well, I wasn't expecting a race car drive, but yeah," you chuckled, feeling the tension between you slowly dissipating.

-"I drive safely. Sometimes you need low adrenaline," he explained, his words resonating with you in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

-"Thanks again for the ride," you said, turning to him with a smile that felt more genuine than any you had worn all day.

-"No problem. I mean, you've seen me naked, so..." he trailed off, a mischievous glint in his eye.

-"Yeah, sure," you laughed, feeling a warmth spread through you at the playful banter.

-"If you want, you can still come to one of my races," he offered, his gaze lingering on you with a hopefulness that sent a flutter of excitement through your chest.

-"I'll think about it," you replied, unable to suppress the smile that tugged at your lips as you contemplated the possibilities that lay ahead.

ALEX as a lawyer :

-You couldn't believe your eyes.

-A client was after you for a cup of tea—yes, you heard that right, a freaking tea!

-The same tea you accidentally spilled during a chaotic rush, and she tripped you with her feet, claiming you scalded her with hot tea. The kicker?

-You knew it was iced tea.

- But it was your word against hers, and she had a squadron of lawyers ready to pounce, while you were broke. It was pretty clear how this would end.

-You sighed, resorting to searching for lawyers online, but all you found were scams.

-One promised to chase after dead people, another claimed you'd make thousands just by being pretty, and the rest boasted about defending infamous criminals with laughably bad Photoshopped images.

-Feeling desperate, you reluctantly agreed when your mom mentioned your cousin knew someone who knew someone. You certainly didn't expect a model-lawyer showing up at your doorstep with a bright smile and legal expertise.

-"Hi, I'm Alex," he offered his hand.

-"Hi, I guess you know about my... case?" you replied.

-"Yes, there's a high chance of her winning since similar cases have ruled in favor of people like her. Remember the McDonald's hot coffee incident?" he explained.

-"So I'm screwed?" you muttered.

-"Not necessarily. I can prove she's acting out of self-interest."

-"...before you say anything, you know, I can't... afford it?" you interjected.

-"Yes. I... I used to be a prominent lawyer. Perhaps you've heard of the Shepherd case?" he mentioned.

-"The CEO who got off the hook despite everyone knowing he committed tax fraud?" you recalled.

-"Yes, I was his lawyer," he admitted.

-"Oh," you murmured, taken aback.

-"I... I'm not proud of the people I've defended. I didn't realize the harm I was causing to victims. For me, everyone deserved representation, but when I saw what Shepherd did with his ill-gotten gains... I couldn't continue down that path. I signed up to advocate for people. Not evil," he confessed.

-"So you took on lost causes like me?" you mused.

-"You could say that," he smiled.

-"Well, it sounds like Daredevil. Maybe I'll catch you wearing a latex suit at night while fighting crime," you joked.

-"You might be onto something there," he replied, his expression serious.

-"Wait, you're joking?" you asked, but he didn't crack a smile.

-"Mr. Keller, you're joking, right?" you pressed, but he just smirked.

-"Let's focus on your case," he redirected.

-"You can't just dodge my question. I need to know—" 

-"Boxing. I box at night, nothing illegal. I train kids, and I've competed in the past," he confessed.

-"I see. Why do I find that hard to believe?" you teased.

-"I'm a damn good liar. I'm a lawyer," he retorted.

-"Fair point," you chuckled.”well at least I believe in the latex suit at night”

-“Kinky”he joked, you smiled.

-Alex got down to business, helping you devise a strategy.

-Maybe with this super lawyer on your side, you stood a chance. Yet, you couldn't shake the curiosity about his secrets. Who knows what uncovering them might bring?

KÖNIG as a baker :

-König had just opened his bakery.

- Eager to be neighborly, he sent some cookies to the local shops nearby.

- However, when his customers arrived one day, one of them expressed hesitation: "You know, I was hesitant to buy here because I heard you made the florist down the street sick."

-König couldn't believe his ears.

- Ashamed, he double-checked his ingredients, but everything seemed fine.

-So, he decided to switch things up and bake some croissants instead.

-Yet, the next day brought news that the florist had fallen ill due to food poisoning.

-Determined to make amends, König sent something different the following day.

-And the pattern repeated itself. After a week of this, he finally decided to confront the florist.

-Entering their cute shop, he whispered nervously, "Hallo."

-"Hi," you replied.

-"I'm König, the—"

-"The baker," you interrupted.

-He froze.

-Well, he certainly hadn't made a good impression.

-After seven incidents, he couldn't expect a warm reception, but he hoped you’d understand he hadn't done it intentionally. He wasn't a villain.

-"I'm sorry about the pastries," he began, "I swear I don't know what went wrong. Other shops ate them and had no issues. I—"

-"I know you're not trying to poison me," you interjected.

-"Oh, but... then why?" he asked.

-"I thought someone would have told you, maybe Horangi, the chef at the restaurant. But I'm lactose intolerant. I assumed you knew, so I ate your pastries thinking someone had informed you. Then, I realized that wasn't the case. But if I didn't eat your gift, you might have thought I was upset with you, so I still ate them, and—"

-"It was a misunderstanding," König finished their sentence.

-"Two anxious people overthinking things, but yeah," you admitted, laughing.

-"I promise to bake you something lactose-free," he vowed.

-"Thanks, it'll be appreciated. Your pastries were good, just not for my digestive system," you replied.

-He nodded and returned to his bakery, pondering the idea of introducing gluten and lactose-free versions of his pastries. Surely not because of the cute florist who seemed to visit more often now. Nah.

RUDY as a librarian :

-You were a young journalist, eager to dive into investigative reporting, but your editor relegated you to the local sports section since you were the new kid on the block.

- It wasn't exactly your passion, but you made the best of it. Your current assignment: write about Rodolfo Parra, a former boxer.

-Avoiding the internet due to its unreliable nature, especially for local stories, you opted for the library.

- As you searched for information on Parra, a man approached.

-"Need a hand?" he offered.

-You glanced at his badge, confirming his name as Rudy.

-"Yeah, I'm digging up info on the boxer Rodolfo Parra. I heard his early days were at the local club, so I figured the archives might have something," you explained.

-Rudy smiled. "Rodolfo Parra, huh?"

-"Yeah, you know him?"

-"You could say that, but I've heard he's not too keen on journalists."

-"Exactly why I couldn't land an interview," you sighed.

-"But why write about him? He retired two years ago," Rudy questioned.

-"My boss wants it, so here I am," you replied with a hint of resignation.

-"I've got some info, but can I trust you?" Rudy hesitated.

-"Absolutely, I'll respect his privacy. I just want to know his story, his struggles. I've heard rumors about a fixed fight where a coach, El Sinombre, forced him to lose," you shared.

-Rudy's expression darkened. "It was more than that. I'm surprised you know about it."

-"I've delved into El Sinombre's dealings before. I wanted to write for investigative reporting," you confessed. "I found it odd that a sports club had ties to a pharmacy."

-"They developed stimulants to win fights, and more... potent substances," Rudy revealed.

-"So Rodolfo lost to a doped-up opponent?" you concluded.

-"Yeah. Rumor has it, El Sinombre threatened his family if he didn't comply. Rodolfo vowed never to lose, so El Sinombre took matters into his own hands..." Rudy trailed off.

-"And Rodolfo ended up paralyzed," you finished solemnly.

-"Yeah, but with rehab, he's probably walking now. But he can't fight anymore," Rudy confirmed.

-"Having your dreams crushed like that must be devastating. A fighter silenced," you mused.

-"Maybe it was for the best," Rudy countered.

-"You think so?" you questioned.

-"Boxing isn't a lifelong career. Maybe retiring was a blessing," he reasoned.

-"I don't know, having your dreams shattered like that... it must take a toll. Imagine if someone burned down your library," you countered.

-"Well, this library was my backup dream, so I'd just have to find another," he quipped.

-You nodded, then realization dawned. "Your backup dream?"

-"Yeah," Rudy admitted. "Rudy for Rodolfo. Not the smartest move for a future investigative journalist, huh?"

-"Hey! You—yeah, I was naïve, but you could've given me a heads-up," you teased back.

-"Now, tell me about your boss. Things might be more complicated than we thought," Rudy suggested.

-"Do you think El Sinombre is after you?" you pondered.

-"We'll find out," he replied cryptically.

-Maybe your beat would evolve over time...

If you want more : my masterlist

I still need to write Alejandro, Lasswell and Farah, maybe in a next part with other characters :) !

[buckets-and-trees]

Red, White & True: Las Vegas & Cleveland (2/?)

Characters/Pairings: Steve Rogers x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes Word Count: 4k Summary: Three months has raced by since you agreed to join the campaign team of Rogers for America as Steve runs for President of the United States of America. You've settled in and are starting to hit your stride campaigning, but what the state of affairs for your marriage?

Content/Warnings: marriage of political convenience, slow burn

Notes: This takes place in a post-Endgame scenario where Steve stays and generally most of TFATWS happened.

Previous Chapter | Series

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[SEPTEMBER 2 - Las Vegas, Nevada]

“Mrs. Rogers!” “Mrs. Rogers!”

You exchange a brief look with your assistant Sophia. She nods to wordlessly confirm that you have a few moments and should engage with the press. Taking a deep breath, you turn and approach the bank of reporters waiting and eager to regale you with questions.

There are a few familiar faces who’ve been consistently covering the Rogers for America campaign, some of them even assigned specifically to report on you - mostly friends, but some that could be categorized in the foe column.

“Mrs. Rogers, you and your husband are in the same city for the first time in eighteen days.” This is one of the faces you aren’t familiar with in the gaggle of press. “Are you looking forward to being reunited as you support him in the first presidential debate tonight?”

Eighteen days… You hadn’t realized it had been that long, but you’ve become a trained professional when appearing in public now, and you don’t let your face betray any shock or unease.

“Yes, we’re eager to spend time together.” Consummate professional that you’ve become, you do play into showing a little bit of surprise. “Has it been eighteen days? Who’s been tracking this? Clearly we need you on our campaign team!”

It garners some good-natured laughs from the group.

“Mrs. Rogers, you and Steve had to cancel the traditional honeymoon, has it put a strain on your marriage, and will you be taking a honeymoon any time soon?”

“Oh, Ben, are you saying this isn’t a honeymoon? I thought all newlyweds took a five-month long zig-zagging trek all across America to kick off their marriage!”

A few more laughs.

“Steve is serious about this campaign, and we both knew the sacrifices we would be making along the way. Our time together is very limited, but I can tell you, without question, that Steve will be as dedicated to his roles and responsibilities as President as you have seen him be to this campaign. One thing we speak about frequently when we do have time together are the incredible people we’re meeting as we travel from state to state and get to talk with you, see what your life looks like in each new place.” This is true. It’s become one of the unspoken safe topics you can bring up at the drop of a hat with each other. “We’re getting the opportunity to experience first-hand that although we’re all so different, there’s so much that unites us as Americans, shoulder to shoulder, regardless of the part of the country we live in.”

“Thank you, everyone,” Sophia steps up and cuts in. “I’m sure we’ll see you all tonight at the debate. A reminder that the Rogers for America campaign will hold a brief press conference ten minutes after the debate concludes. For now, you have to let me get Mrs. Rogers in the car and on the way to the university or we’re not going to beat traffic - and neither will any of you.”

Then Sophia ushers you away, and you slip into the vehicle waiting for you both.

“Good answers,” she says, as the driver pulls away. “You’re really becoming comfortable fielding their questions and directing their energy where we want to see it go.”

You smile at Sophia's praise. She’s genuine but very no-nonsense, so she doesn’t throw out compliments to placate you or anyone else. It’s one of the reasons you promoted her to your assistant. "Thanks. I do feel like I'm starting to get the hang of it. Though I have to admit, I was a bit thrown by that '18 days' comment."

Sophia nods sympathetically. "I know. It's been a whirlwind, but you're doing great. The public loves you, and your approval ratings are holding steady."

You lean back in your seat, letting out a small sigh. "Approval ratings. Sometimes I still can't believe this is my life now."

As the car weaves through traffic, your mind drifts back to the past few months. The whirlwind wedding, the campaign launch, the endless string of rallies, interviews, and public appearances. You've barely had a moment to catch your breath, let alone get to know your husband.

Steve. Your husband.

In name and public persona only, it seems. The campaign trails that are being charted and continually adjusted for you, Steve, the VP nominee, and his wife, have all four of you covering as much ground as possible, and there’s rarely any overlap, but it does seem like you’re rarely with the Mr. to your Mrs. It makes things simultaneously more and less complicated. More complicated because the lack of time together means it’s more awkward that you’re still basically acquaintances but have to look the part of happy newlyweds. Less complicated because at least you’re not messing with any deep or complex feelings.

"Mrs. Rogers?" Sophia's voice pulls you from your thoughts. "We're almost there. Are you ready?"

You straighten up, smoothing down the front of your outfit. "As ready as I'm going to be. What's on the agenda before the debate?"

Sophia consults her tablet. "You have a meet and greet with the VP and a group of the local campaign volunteers. Steve should be arriving about forty-five minutes before the debate starts. Twenty minutes before the debate, you all have a brief prep session with the communications team - updates on the developments over the day and reviewing the message for tonight."

You nod, trying to ignore the small flutter in your stomach at the mention of Steve's name. It's ridiculous, you tell yourself. You're married to the man, for goodness sake. And you both know it’s a marriage for the stability of this campaign and the future presidency.

The car pulls up to the Thomas & Mack Center at the University of Nevada, and you take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the chaos that awaits. As you step out, you're immediately greeted by flashing cameras and shouts from the crowd. You smile and wave, but don't stop to answer any questions as you make your way inside, following someone from the debate logistics team to get to the staging and holding area.

Backstage is a flurry of activity. Campaign staffers rush back and forth, last-minute preparations are being made, and there's an electric tension in the air. Your eyes scan the room, looking for one person in particular.

And then you see him. Steve is standing off to the side, deep in conversation with one of the communications strategists. Even after all these months, the sight of him still takes your breath away. He's tall, broad-shouldered, and undeniably handsome in his perfectly tailored navy suit. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he listens intently to the woman in front of him.

As if sensing your presence, Steve looks up, his eyes meeting yours across the room. His face softens slightly, and he excuses himself from the conversation, making his way over to you.

"Hey," he says softly as he approaches, leaning in to give you a quick kiss on the cheek. It's for show, you know, it’s important that even your own campaign staff thinks this marriage is more than surface level, and you stifle the small thrill that runs through you at the gesture. It’s only a gesture.

"Hi," you reply, managing to offer up an encouraging smile. "How are you feeling? Ready for tonight?"

Steve nods, his expression determined. "As ready as I'll ever be. We still have a long weeks ahead, but I think we're in a good position - and that’s what they keep saying across the team at this point."

You nod, studying his face. Despite his confident words, you can see the tension in his jaw, the slight crease between his brows. You've learned to read these subtle signs over the past few months, even with your limited time together.

"You've got this, Steve," you say softly, placing a hand on his arm. The gesture feels both natural and strange - you're still navigating the boundaries of your unique relationship. "Just remember why you're doing this. Speak from the heart, like you always do."

Steve's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you see a flash of vulnerability there. "Thank you," he says, his voice low. "I -”

But before he can say the rest of what he was going to, Sophia approaches, tablet in hand. "Mrs. Rogers, we need to go to the reception with the volunteers from the local campaign team."

[SEPTEMBER 7 - Cleveland, Ohio]

The campaign strategy meeting is in full swing, the air thick with tension and the buzz of caffeine-fueled ideas. You're seated at a long table in a nondescript hotel conference room, surrounded by a sea of laptops, notepads, and half-empty coffee cups. The walls are covered with maps, poll numbers, and hastily scribbled strategies.

Steve sits at the head of the table, his brow furrowed in concentration as he listens to the latest polling data. You're positioned a few seats away, close enough to appear united, but not his most trusted. Sam, Bucky, the VP nominee Young and his assistant, the campaign press secretary, the communications director, all sit closer to or directly across from Steve, at the heart of the table. But you are closer than the finance director, legal advisor, speech writers, and the policy directors.

You're seated next Sam on your left with Sophia on your right, taking notes and pulling up memos on her laptop.

Steve is leaning forward, his brow furrowed in concentration as he listens to the campaign manager, Jake Thompson, deliver his latest assessment.

Jake, a seasoned political operative with salt-and-pepper hair and a no-nonsense attitude, stands at the head of the table, remote control in hand as he flips through a report on polling and focus groups that have been conducted over the past two weeks with Gen Z in urban, suburban, and rural pockets of the country.

"As you can see," Jake says, his voice carrying a mix of concern and determination, "this is where we’re making progress. Enough of them are tired of the rhetoric that’s been recycled all their lives, problems that never seem to be resolved because they’re too useful as campaign issues. That’s why an independent candidate is beginning to look a lot more appealing.”

Jake clicks to the next slide, which shows a breakdown of key issues that resonated most with young voters. "Climate change, affordable education, and social justice are their top priorities. They appreciate your strong stance on these issues, Steve, but they're still skeptical about whether you can actually deliver real change."

Steve nods, his expression thoughtful. "So how do we bridge that gap? How do we convince them that we're not just another set of empty promises?"

You lean forward slightly, your mind racing with ideas. This is an area where you feel you can contribute significantly, given your background in non-profit work and your ability to connect with younger generations.

"If I may," you begin, and all eyes turn to you. You feel a flutter of nervousness but push through it. "I think we need to focus on concrete, actionable plans. Not just broad strokes, but specific steps we'll take in the first 100 days. I think it would speak to Millennials as well.”

Jake nods appreciatively at your suggestion. "Mrs. Rogers, did you hack into my laptop sometime in the last 24 hours?” He’s not smiling - he never outright smiles - but he has a proud glint in his eyes as he looks at you. “What you’re suggesting is exactly in line with what I wanted to bring to the table today. We need to show them we're not just talking the talk, we’re ready to his the ground running when they put us in the White House."

Steve nods, his eyes meeting yours with interest. "Go on," he encourages.

You take a deep breath, feeling more confident. "We should consider hosting a series of town halls specifically targeting young voters. Not just to talk at them, but to listen. Let them voice their concerns directly and then demonstrate how our policies address those issues. We could even live-stream these events, make them interactive."

Jake looks intrigued. "That should work. It plays into our strengths - Steve's authenticity and your ability to connect with younger demographics."

"We could also leverage social media more effectively," you continue, warming to your topic. "Not just posting sound bites, but creating engaging content that breaks down complex issues in accessible ways. Maybe even collaborate with some respected influencers who align with our values."

Steve leans back in his chair, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I like it. What else?”

Elsa, communications director jumps in, "These are excellent strategies we can absolutely put into play, but we're still facing challenges with this demographic. Many of them feel disconnected from the political process entirely. They see you, Steve, as part of an older generation that doesn't understand their issues."

You watch Steve's reaction carefully. His jaw tightens slightly, but he nods, absorbing the information.

"What do you suggest?" Steve asks, his voice calm but tinged with frustration.

Elsa hesitates for a moment before responding. "We need to make you more relatable to younger voters. Show them that despite your... unique background, you understand and care about the issues that matter to them."

"And how do we do that?" Steve presses.

Jake glances your way before answering. "We think Mrs. Rogers could play a key role here."

You straighten in your seat, suddenly very alert. "Me?" you ask, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice.

“Yes,” he confirms. “We have a problem and an opportunity that’s developing. That 18 days comment last week heated things up again with the public perception and scrutiny of your marriage. You handled it exactly as you should have, Mrs. Rogers,” he assures you, “that’s not our concern. But now that someone has brought up numbers for days apart, it’s becoming part of the narrative, and we already had to tame concerns over your sudden nuptials, we don’t want the state of your marriage to be the focus again.”

You chew on the inside of your cheek, and you can see out of the corner of your eye that Steve isn’t thrilled about this either.

“But the opportunity here,” Elsa jumps back in, “is that we can put that to rest and capitalize on what we’re beginning to see as the Mrs. Rogers effect on the campaign trail. Her approval ratings were never bad, but they keep climbing. The public still wonders if Steve is a politician, if he’s ready to be the next President, but they already see a politician’s wife in you, Mrs. Rogers.”

You feel a mix of pride and unease at Elsa's words. On one hand, it's gratifying to know your efforts are making a positive impact. On the other, you can't help but feel like you're being used as a prop.

Even though that is what you are at the most elementary level.

"What exactly are you proposing?" Steve asks, his tone careful but with an edge to it.

Jake leans forward, his expression earnest. "We want to increase the number of joint appearances you two make. Show the public that you're a united front, a team. Town halls, rallies, even some more casual, candid moments. Show the public that you're a team, that you support each other. It'll help soften Steve's image and make him more relatable to younger voters."

You glance at Steve, trying to gauge his reaction. His face is impassive, but there is a slight tension in his jaw.

You can see Steve is uncomfortable with the idea, but he's considering it carefully. You decide to speak up.

"I appreciate the strategy, but I have some concerns," you say. "We don't want to come across as inauthentic or like we're using our relationship as a political tool. That could backfire, especially with younger voters who are already skeptical of politicians and doing things for clout."

Jake nods, "You're right to be cautious. We're not suggesting anything overly staged or fake. Just more opportunities for the public to see you two together, interacting naturally."

Steve finally speaks up. "I agree with my wife," he says, and you feel a small, unexpected thrill at hearing him refer to you that way, even though you know it's just part of this gig. "We need to be careful about how we approach this. I don't want to exploit our relationship. But let’s make it work."

Jake wraps up the meeting quickly at that point, instructing his staff to update each candidate’s logistics team over the updated schedule that will play to the ‘Rogers & Rogers Strategy,’ and putting the policy advisors and communications team to work on implementing your suggestions into the direction they were going to propose. As every minute of the campaign season is instrumental, nearly everyone clears out of the room at that point.

You’re at the elevator in the lobby when you realize you left your jacket in the hotel conference room. Sophia says they can have an aide bring it up to your room, but you insist you’d like to stretch your legs a little more before heading up to sleep. As you head back down the hall, you’re relieved to see the door is still open, and you pick up your step. But then you come to an abrupt halt when you hear voices and your name drifts out into the hallway in a conversation between Steve, Sam, and Bucky.

“I don’t like it.”

“What a surprise! The anit-social, bionic man with a staring problem doesn’t like the idea of pal-ing around with the new Mrs. Rogers! Man, I know you only recently started to like me, but can you get on board with her.”

“Who says I like you?” he counters.

“Ha ha,” Sam retorts dryly. “You should be so lucky that next time we put you up for president so we could canvas the country for a girl who could put up with you and all your bullshit.”

Steve chuckles - something you realize you’ve rarely heard him do.

“But it’s you I’m surprised by, Steve,” Sam continues. “Why are you still holding this girl at arms’ length?”

Steve heaves a heavy sigh, and you can just imagine him putting his hands on his hips.

“You don’t even know, do you?” Sam presses him, his tone incredulous.

You hold your breath, straining to hear Steve's response. There's a long pause before he speaks.

"It's not that simple, Sam," Steve says, his voice low and weary. "This whole situation... it's complicated."

"Complicated how?" Sam presses. "She's smart, she's kind, she's dedicated to the cause. And let's be real, she's not hard on the eyes either. What's holding you back?"

You feel your cheeks flush at Sam's words, a mix of embarrassment and curiosity coursing through you.

"It's not about her," Steve says firmly. "She's... she's great. Better than I could have hoped for, honestly. But this whole arrangement, it just feels..."

"Fake?" Bucky offers, his voice gruff.

"No," Steve says quickly. "Not fake. Just... I don't know. Forced. This whole situation - it's not the same as the tour for war bonds back in ‘43, but it’s still a production. I never imagined being in a situation like this again."

"None of us imagined this, Steve," Bucky chimes in, his tone softer than before.

Steve sighs again. “And I know it’s another thing I’ve chosen that neither of you signed up for, and I appreciate you being here by my side.”

"And she's here now, too,” Sam circles back to you, “and she's trying. You can't keep pushing her away."

"I'm not pushing her away," Steve protests, but it sounds weak even to your ears.

"Really?" Sam challenges. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're doing enough to conveniently keep your distance. She's your wife, Steve. On paper, sure, but she's also becoming a real partner in this campaign. You've seen how she handles herself out there."

You lean against the wall, your heart racing as you listen to the conversation. You know you shouldn't be eavesdropping, but you can't bring yourself to walk away, not when - even if you’re not involved - someone is finally talking about the state of your marriage.

"I know," Steve says, his voice tinged with frustration. "I see it. She's incredible out there. The way she connects with people, the way she articulates our message, she’s all in and she's a natural."

"So what's the problem?" Sam presses.

"If I let her in and this doesn't work out..."

"You mean the campaign?" Sam asks.

"No," Steve says.

And then - because of course it’s that exact moment - a door just a bit further down the opens, and you have to pretend you were not just standing in the hallway eavesdropping on anyone, and you abandon jacket retrieval and pretend you were on your way to the hotel bar to catch a quick nightcap with some of the staffers.

[SEPTEMBER 8 - Airspace over Ohio]

The next morning, it’s wheels up at 7am for the presidential candidate campaign plane, and you’re on it. You’re being sent with Steve to Wisconsin.

As the plane climbs to cruising altitude, you stifle a yawn and make your way to the "war room" - a section of the campaign plane that serves as a mobile strategy center and occasional dining area. The smell of coffee and pastries wafts through the air, a tempting lure after the early morning rush.

Sophia’s intern had already supplied you with your go-to morning drink, but you grab a plate and fill it with some fruit, cheese, bacon, and a surprisingly and delightfully warm croissant. The plane's engines hum steadily as you settle into one of the seats at the table. The early morning sunlight streams through the small windows, casting a warm glow over the polished wood table. You've barely slept, your mind still reeling from the conversation you overheard last night.

You pull out your tablet, intending to review the day's revised schedule, but your thoughts keep drifting back to Steve's words. The weight of them sits heavy in your chest, a mix of disappointment and something else you can't quite name.

You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't notice someone approaching until they clear their throat. You look up, expecting to see Sophia or maybe one of the campaign staffers. Instead, you find yourself faced with Bucky Barnes.

"Morning," he says, his voice gruff but not unfriendly. "Mind if I join you?"

You blink, momentarily thrown off balance. In all the months of campaigning, you've barely exchanged more than a few pleasantries.

"Of course," you say, gesturing to the seat across from you.

Bucky nods and takes a seat, setting down his own plate of food. There's an awkward silence as he settles in, and you can't help but study him. His hair is short again - the style he’d adopted when he was pardoned not long after the Snap. He's dressed casually in jeans and a dark henley. Despite his relaxed appearance, there's an undeniable intensity about him, a coiled energy that seems barely contained.

"So," Bucky says, breaking the silence. "Wisconsin."

You nod, grateful for the opening. "Yes, big day ahead. Are you joining us for the rally?"

Bucky shakes his head. "I’ll be backstage, but no."

Another silence falls between you, but it feels almost companionable, and the two of you enjoy your breakfast. Usually people try to fill any potentially silent moment around you these days, and so the reprieve itself is nice, but it doesn’t last long. Soon you’re joined by some of the staff - some seeking breakfast, some looking for you or for Bucky. And so the next wave of action for the day begins.

next part: HOUSTON

I KNOW! WE JUMPED FROM THE DAY BEFORE THE WEDDING TO THE BEGINNING OF SEPTEMBER! But that's by design.

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I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[notsoverymerry]

lucky trip (k.ys x reader)

<kang yeosang x fem!reader> summary: On a particularly tiring work trip, you're forced to share a room with Yeosang; only there seems to be a problem with your sleeping arrangement… genre/warnings: smut, fluff, friends to lovers, use of pet names a/n: sure let me know anything you want! don't hold back, bby < 3 word count ~3.3k

KQ Entertainment greeted you with a piece of great news this morning. There's going to be a trip to Sokcho Beach to film a show segment. Two days and one night, and you can try yourself out as a camera operator.

Starting out in college, you weren't so sure you'd make it. Sound and video equipment is great; you always wanted to be the one in charge of setting it and making sure it works properly. Really, it's a perfect job that allows you to use your brain, and you've got a great one at that, and provides room for creativity and exploring hobbies in a workplace. You're curious about how they do weather reports and want to keep up with sports? Try to secure a place in a news studio. Want to go to concerts for free? Welcome to the venue setting-up team. Come to think of it, you'll see a show free of charge, and they'll pay you for it. Isn't is a dream come true? Working for an entertainment company was not something you expected to pick, yet it proved to be the right choice. Sure, it took a while before your company got rich enough to grant a decent, steady salary, but the results were worth it. The team was full of talented, ambitious people, and the tight setting laid out a path for you to become a true found family. You and other staff members cared deeply for each other, always ready to offer a piece of advice or listen to your problems. The band members, Ateez, were also sweet and kind, treating staff respectfully and being friendly overall. So, when you were picked for a short working trip, you felt excitement. You're going to be surrounded by friends, you're going to do your best to help create entertaining content for fans, and you're going to see a part of Korea you haven't visited before. Win-win, win. Bonus points if there's food you didn't try yet. The ride on the bus was a little less chaotic than you expected. At first, things were pretty usual: Ateez bickered and made jokes, and you and your team laughed, sometimes awkwardly. Despite the elevated mood all were in, bad traffic and members' exhaustion got the best of them. Hongjoong was the first to fall asleep, others following suit quickly. Sat closest to them, you turned the camera off for the remainder of the ride. Now you could admire Yeosang's sleeping frame and get some rest as well. Oh, he was just so beautiful, so peaceful like this. He caught your attention first. He was so polite and sweet, and a little clumsy. When everyone was on the brink of mental breakdown before their debut, he used to stride nervously around the building, bumping into you with enviable regularity. He nearly broke your DI and stage box unit, and thus, your conversation started. You weren't mad, you get it he was stressed, and he was thankful. Like that, a friendship blossomed. During breaks, he'd ask you about your week or if you finished that show you were into. You'd ask how their recent choreo's coming together or if he'd finally discovered a new favorite dish. You'd blabber something about new lighting or broken audio cables, and he'd always pick fried chicken over anything. You found him delightful. He found that he didn't care that much about cables, but still wanted to listen to you anyway. You're really passionate about your job. Your eyes sparkle when he comments on the sound being set just right for his earpiece. You can make puns about your gadgets all day long, and if Wooyoung rolls his eyes at the third one, Yeosang considers them actually funny (are they?). You're just so vibrant and so pretty, and he wants to be around you longer. Maybe he should learn to set up and help you. He thinks it could be a good idea. Maybe he should just ask you out on a date. Seonghwa thinks this idea is better.

It took about nine hours to film the first part of the show. You tried to set things up as fast as possible. Hopefully, by the end of it, you won't be completely spent. You really want to take some time to walk around; take in the scenery, breathe fresh air, and reflect on life. The beach is wide and clean; the guide said there'll be illumination until late at night, it'll probably look really nice. The water is very clear, almost looks like a pool. You just want to admire the view without needing to control the picture frame or panic that someone might get hurt. Work-free, beer in hand, ocean gazing. What could be better?  Ocean gazing with Yeosang, probably. The whole crew settled down to have a quiet one at the end of the shift. Ateez seemed to have woken up completely, now lively chatting amongst themselves, waiting for you to put the rest of the equipment away for the night. Fresh air and cold beer will do that to you. You can feel eyes linger on your busy form. Turning around, you're met with his dark eyes. He follows your movement, not realizing that he's been caught until getting nudged in his side. Oh, now he's going to be teased the whole night. ''Wanna join them? You did great today, y/n, go have some fun.'' Your colleague tries to send you off.  You like to imagine you're smooth and nonchalant about your crush on a young and very attractive singer. Your friends, though, would use other words to describe it. What is it, let's see… Tangible? Painfully obvious? Yeah, that's the one. So they try time and time again to encourage you to confess. They leave you two in the room under a variety of excuses and give you tasks that would force you to go up to him unnecessarily often. Their efforts seem to go around both of your heads. You and Yeosang like to call yourselves very good friends. Everyone around you likes to call you fools. Just so you know.  ''It's okay. I think it's time we head to the hotel. Still plenty of work tomorrow, let's get some sleep.'' ''Yeah, about that…'' You do not like the sound of that. ''We might have got the number of rooms wrong.'' What's that supposed to mean? You're not sure you understand where this conversation is going. How can you even get the number of rooms wrong?

''Wait. No, no.'' ''Yes, you're sharing a room with Yeosang, yes.'' She sounds apologetic, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes, per se. ''He knows and he's okay with it!'' How did your sweet evening at the beach turn into a full-scale anxiety fair so fast? Of course he'd agree to share a room; he's way too nice. You should do a breathing exercise. It's just one night, and you're both tired, and you both have to get up early, so surely you will sleep. Just sleep. Nothing unusual, you'll wash up and get in bed. Yeah. You shouldn't worry about it. He probably doesn't even think of it much. Oh, god, what if you snore? With your heart beating out of your chest and your head heavy with thoughts, you got to your designated room at last. 

You don't know how much time you spent at the door, but you couldn't find the courage to enter. Maybe you'll be lucky and he'll already be asleep.  ''Oh, y/n!'' Well, shit. ''What are you doing? Did you forget your key?'' ''Yeosang! No, I was just waiting for you. To enter, you know?'' ''Such an intricate moment. I'm glad you want to experience it with me.'' Y/n.exe has stopped working. Did he mean it? You should ask what he means; you do not need misunderstandings, not with him.  But out comes, ''More like I want you to enter first to see if there's any entities present.''  Hu chuckles and reaches in his pocket for the key. The thing that comes next is something you were definitely not prepared for. You shared rooms with your friends before. The number of beds equals the number of people, right? Not today. A minute of silence hung in the air, and Yeosang let out a breath of confusion. ''Why— why are there so many beds in here?'' He asked, bewildered. 

In a relatively small room stood four twin beds. Adorned with— you do not care about artistic interior description right now. Four beds. Did you and Yeosang both get the room number wrong? You giggle. You don't know why.  ''I'm calling dibs on this one,'' you say, as you flop down on one of the beds near the window. The view is nice; you can see the waves a little afar, but you can't hear them from here. Yeosang settles on another bed by the window. You guide your eyes his way to find him already looking at you. You feel soft. Seen and appreciated. He can't just do that — to look at you like you're everything he's ever wanted. It's ufair. A soft smile is tugging on his lips, cheeks and neck tinted pink from alcohol. Suddenly, he errupts in a fit of laughter.  ''What's so funny?'' you inquire. ''We have four beds! Just for the two of us. And you're beautiful. Gosh, y/n, you're so beautiful and pretty and amazing…'' He's blabbering rather happily. It takes a moment to register what he said. You're beautiful… And it's funny. No, you don't get this man. Watching your face now very carefully, Yeosang reaches his hand for you. Too far. He can't touch you, and he's disappointed, and it shows.  ''Wanna touch you,'' he pouts. It sounds much less happy and way more needy than he had planned.  Your body moves on its own. There's an unexplainable gravity force that pulls it on his bed, a little too close for a friendship. His hands cup your face, and he sighs, relived. He wanted to feel your warmth for so long. Seeing how compliant you are, how there seems to be no hesitation in letting him near and into your personal space, and how content you look in his presence, he doesn't understand why he's never done it before. ''Yeosang,'' your voice is quiet, almost a whisper. ''What are you doing?''

He doesn't know. So, instead of answering his lips do something better. They touch yours. You can't believe it's happening. The moment your lips meet, he nearly moans. You feel so good. The kiss is head-spinning; it knocks the breath right out of your chests. He presses into you with demand, hands circling your waist to bring you closer. You don't want this moment to end. Yeosang is holding you in his arms like you'd disappear if he let go. Heat waves pulsate through your body; the way his hands linger on you makes wetness drip down your folds. You hug him back, clinging onto his hoodie like a lifeline. The room feels colder all of a sudden, and Yeosang thinks he can't let go of your hot form now. So he turns on the mattress a little and fumbles around so he can bring you to his lap. He brings your faces close once more, this time it's more heated, it's teeth and tongue and desperation. You feel his growing excitement press over your core. His mouth leaves yours to discover your neck is so sensitive for him. He's had a bit of beer, but it's your soft whimpers and mewls that get him really drunk. His hand slithers to grab and squeeze your ass. The sounds you're making are angelic, and your hands weave through his hair to tug at his strands, and it's just so right, he can't help thrusting into you.  ''Is this okay, y/n? Hmm?'' He breathes out, face back up to level with you, and his lips brush your cheek.  You nod; it takes all your brain capacity to let him know you want it too — forming words became a heavy task. Your confirmation is all he needs to lift you up and change positions, now hovering over you. He looks at you again, with shining eyes. A bit disheveled, hot, and bothered. He pushes your hair out of your face tenderly. This small action causes your heart to contract. Paitience wearing thin, you draw him back to you. 

''Do you have protection?'' ''Ye- yes, it's in my bag somewhere.'' You feel a cold prick at your skin when he stands up to roam in his belongings for a condom. It's lonely like this. All the other beds abandoned in the room must feel like icebergs, their covers rimy and uninviting. The second he's back on top of you is like a sunrise, you think. There's another kiss, the I'm sorry I had to leave kiss. He works on taking your top off. Exposed to his advances, your chest and collarbones get all the attention. His knee is between your legs, and when he bites your tender skin, you start to grind. He follows suit, now both of you groaning, trying to get rid of the rest of your clothes in a hurry.  There's plenty of great pleasures in the world, but nothing compares to the feeling of his skin on yours. To have him roam and clutch on your body everywhere he wants. You can't wait anymore; you want him, so you lean to kiss his neck up to his ear, tugging on his earlobe with your teeth. His little whimper trickles like honey down your legs. He can't seem to take his hands off you. Calling his name in a whine, your lips form a pout.  ''Please, Yeosang. I need you.'' ''I am right here, baby. It's alright, I'll take care of you.'' The nickname makes you clench around nothing. The friction that felt so good is gone; he moves his thigh away a bit so he can put on a condom. Yeosang thinks you look unreal. He wants to take his time exploring your body with his tongue, wants to mark you all over. Claim you so everyone knows. He'd spend hours eating you out, making you see stars behind your eyelids, and cry his name. He knows he can treat you right, the way you deserve to be treated. But he's so hard it almost hurts, and you look hurt he moved away from you at all. How can he ever leave his baby, even at an arm-length? So he rushes to your form and grabs your legs from under your thighs to yank you to him. You're mesmirised. You'd never think you wanted to be manhandled. But it's him, Yeosang, and it's so, so hot. His toned body glistens in the dim light coming from the window. Touching him is like heaven on earth, his muscules are tense under your fingers, and delicious sounds escape his throat. He pushes in slowly, savoring every emotion on your face. You are in bliss, hips start bucking onto him. ''Slowly, baby, I'm not going anywhere,'' Yeosang coos. 

He trusts steadily, drinking up every moan and breath you make. His own pleasure escapes him in the form of small grunts, making goosebumps run around your body. He ravishes your bare chest and collarbones in kisses and licks, wanting to mark you so badly. You are so tight and warm, your nails dig into his back, and he loses himself in the feelings completely. He speeds up and finally lets his teeth sink into the dip where your shoulder and neck meet. You mewl at the sensation; your wals flutter around his shaft.  ''What a nice little sound, baby. I think I'll bite there again.'' If your eyes didn't shut at all the pleasure he's giving you, he'd see endless dark pools your pupils turned into. All for him. Though his eyes were just the same. His lust takes over him more and more, thrusts getting deeper and harder. The way you pull at his hair lets him know you're enjoying yourself, too. The room is filled with wet sounds, skin slapping against skin, and your moans getting louder. Both of you won't last much longer.  You're a hot mess, stuttering pleas and praises and his name like a mantra. His voice is deep and full of relish, you want to record it, keep it all to yourself, and listen to it twenty-four seven. You feel so proud for making him feel this good. Your orgasm washes over like a tidal wave. It builds inside and makes you clench around Yeosang, nails leaving marks on his back. He stares at your face contorted in pleasure, feeling that impossible tightness bring him closer to his own high. ''That's good, baby, keep doing that, oh, god—'' He pulls you close so your body is pressed against his own. His hips stilling, he spills inside the condom with a groan. He's never felt so good.

Neither of you move for a moment. You need to catch your breath, and you just don't want to let go of him. Reluctantly, he tears himself off of you to clean the both of you a little. Settling into the sheets with you, he sighs and wraps his arms around you again. Your voice breaks the comfortable silence of your afterglow.  ''That was… amazing. The best sex I've had. I— I don't know how I'm gonna look you in the eyes tomorrow.'' ''Oh…'' Comes his reply. He didn't think about that. Honestly, he didn't think at all, you kind of overtook all regions of his brain. Probably even before this night.  ''I— Listen, y/n, I didn't want to do it this way. Truth is, I really like you… Shit, it probably is the worst time to ask and the worst confession you've ever heard in your life, but'' he sighs again, and there's a hint of nervousness in the way his fingers trace patterns on your arm irratically. ''Go out with me?''  He looks at you with those big, pleading eyes, lip stuck between his teeth in anticipation. Who ever told him he could pass as a doberman? ''Yeah, okay, I'll go out with you,'' you're trying to be smooth. Is it working? ''Really? Great!''  Good thing Yeosang doesn't care if you're smooth in the slightest. 

The next day starts off with a headache and a violent impulse to sleep in. If only you weren't stuck in the hotel with your colleagues. Surprisingly, Yeosang and you make it through the day without a trace of awkwardness or tension, keeping things professional and conversations light. The team is too busy working to tease you. The boys in Ateez also seem rested, even more energetic than the day before. Take the captain away from the studio to a nice beach… and he actually sleeps, huh.  On the ride back, you get a text from Yeosang asking when you're going to be free to go on a date. Your giddiness does not go unnoticed. Just then your friends decide to ask if there were any complications in your sleeping arrangement, a mischevous twinkle dances in their eyes. Time to get back at them.  ''Not at all! Our room was quite nice, and the view was great. We had four beds all to ourselves. Right, Mr. Kang?'' He offers a polite smile and nods at you and several curious sets of eyes turned his way. You're the only one to notice his eyes dart to your lips for a split second.  ''You had… four beds..?'' Your staff friends seem confused. They definitely had a different idea in mind. Hongjoong seems weirdly offended. ''Oh, so you get four beds, and I have to endure Seonghwa drooling on my arm all night?'' You definitely got the wrong room. Good for you. 

[queen-of-the-avengers]

After All This Time

Pairing: CEO!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: none

Summary: Car trouble puts you and your boss in an awkward position, especially when you two have so much history together.

Squares Filled: car trouble (2020) for @star-spangled-bingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

It’s a straight shot from your house to your job. Instead of taking the main roads and confronting traffic, you take the back roads which takes an extra ten minutes, but you make up for that with your speed. The windows are down, your hair is blowing in the wind, and your music is on full blast. You pass the halfway point when the thermostat goes from the neutral position to the big bolded H. Smoke immediately starters pouring out of the engine, and you slam on your breaks to prevent the car from blowing up.

“Shit! No, please don’t do this to me,” you beg to no one.

You get out of the car and pull your hair into a high ponytail to keep it out of your face while you inspect the damage. You pull the hood up and a cloud of smoke bellows in your face. You quickly turn and cough violently.

“No, no, no, this isn’t happening now,” you gasp. “Not today of all days.”

You don’t have time to wait for an Uber or Triple A, so the only other thing you can do is walk to work… in heels… on a dirt road. The time it will take to walk to work will be the same time or more waiting for an Uber or Triple A. Not only are you going to be late for work but you’ll have to apologize to your boss about it. Normally, that wouldn’t bother you but your boss just so happens to be your high school boyfriend.

Steve was the perfect boyfriend. He treated you with respect, didn’t undermine your values, supported you through everything, and loved you unconditionally. Everyone in school thought you two would be together forever and there was a point where you thought that, too. Right before graduation, you got an incredible opportunity to go to a different country and do a study abroad in Russia.

Steve got into Harvard for business and wanted you to go with him. You two applied for Harvard and you both got in, but you really wanted to go to Russia to study for a semester. To spare the sad details, you two broke up. It was one of the most difficult things you have ever done because you were still in love with him.

After coming back to the States, he was already in another relationship with someone. You never thought your story would end the way it did but you forced yourself to move on. For years, you thought you did. You had a few boyfriends but none of them had an impact the way Steve did.

Then one day, you got an amazing offer to work for Captain Industries as a sales director for the entire sales department. One of the job duties as a sales director is to report everything to the CEO, and luck had it that Steve was the CEO. You often had meetings with the different department directors who touch base with Steve so he knows what’s going on with his company.

The first day on the job, you and Steve locked eyes in the first meeting of the day. It had been years since you two have spoken much less seen each other, so you didn't want to make a big deal in front of everyone. You thought he would have said something after the meeting but he left like you didn’t mean a damn thing to him. Maybe he didn’t remember you, but how can someone forget the person who was their first for everything--first kiss, first date, first time you two held hands, first time you had sex, and the first time you ever gave anyone a promise ring. He was the love of your life but maybe you weren't his as much as he was yours.

When you finally reach work, you immediately head to the bathroom to fix yourself up. You must look like a sweaty mess, and your reflection confirms it. Despite the headache forming from how high your ponytail is, you keep your hair up. If you were to put it down, you’ll look worse. You look at the time and curse when you realize just how late you are for your morning meeting.

Forty-five fucking minutes. Steve is going to chew your ass out. You leave the bathroom and interrupt the morning meeting with an embarrassed look on your face. Everyone turns to look at you including Steve. He looks at your hair before locking eyes with you. Time seems to slow down the longer he looks into your eyes but you break eye contact.

“Sorry I’m late. Car trouble,” you mutter.

You quickly take a seat, and the director of marketing slides her notes over to you. You look at her gratefully and look over the notes just as the meeting resumes.

“As I was saying,” Steve says, peeling his eyes from you, “statistics show a slight decline in demand for products. Frank, have you hired two more manufacturing engineers?”

“Yes, we’re training them right now. We have been working hard creating more product.”

“Good. Y/N, how is your department doing?”

You snap your head up to look at Steve and sit up a bit straighter.

“We lost Marissa since she went on maternity leave but we won’t let that stop us from not picking up the slack. Her duties have been spread out throughout the different managers to give to their employees. I have seen a rise in sales by ten percent.”

“Make it twenty.”

“Yes, sir.”

Meetings only last an hour since Steve is so busy so the next fifteen minutes go by easily. Jules lets you keep her notes to look over and copy if needed. Most people filter out immediately but you’re one of the last ones in so you can apologize to Steve directly.

“Listen, Steve, I’m sorry for being late. My car stalled on the side of the road on the way to work. I had to walk the entire way here.”

“I need your reports on my desk by the end of the day.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

He must not be over your breakup because this isn’t the Steve you knew. You gather your things and head to your office. You almost cry from how stressed you are because you still have to deal with your car. Not to mention your headache is getting worse and you don’t have a brush to fix your hair.

It takes all day to work on the reports for Steve so you’re one of the last ones in the office even though you still have two more hours until the end of the work day. You could leave since you’re salaried but you need to make up time for being late. You walk to his office and knock once on the door, entering when he gives you permission.

“I have the reports for you.” You walk over to his desk and place them there but you don’t leave just yet. “Again, I’m sorry for being late.”

“It’s fine, Y/N. It happens.” Steve looks up and sees you squeeze your eyes tightly from the headache you have. “Come here.”

Steve stands when you approach him, and he gently takes the elastic out of your hair. He threads all ten fingers into your hair and starts massaging the area, and you close your eyes in relief. You open your eyes and look at Steve to see him already looking at you, and he sees the question in your eyes.

“High ponytails give you headaches.”

You’re shocked he remembered that. You were on multiple sports teams in high school and instead of putting your hair in a ponytail like the rest of the girls, you put it in a tight bun at the base of your neck.

“You remembered,” you whisper.

“There’s a lot I still remember.” Steve takes his hands away but doesn’t step back from you. “Go to my personal conference room and take a nap on the couch. You’re overworking yourself.”

“Steve--”

“I don’t want to hear it. Go take a nap and then I’ll drive you home. I’ll pick you up and drive you home until your car is fixed.”

He must not be in a relationship if he’s offering to do this for you. You’re not sure how you feel about that--scratch that you do know how you feel but you’re not sure if he feels the same about it. You slowly walk to the door but pause before you can leave the room. You look at Steve who is already typing away on his computer.

“Now, Y/N,” he says without looking up.

You jump and immediately leave with a smile on your face. The time for you and Steve wasn’t right back then but there’s nothing stopping you from making it right now.

x

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[mt-oe]

Idol!Mizu AU where Mizu is in a girl group 🫡 she's known for being the "handsome" girl of the group but also her and reader having constant romantic tension with each other on stage

Fans speculating whether or not Mizu and Reader's interactions are just for fan service or more genuine

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dear!

I hope you're still there! I wanted to look for girl groups with a similar trope (or at least what fans make it out to be) to better visualize the idea. Though I think I made this more dramatic than the idea.

Honestly, I really have to thank you because your idea introduced me to C-Pop and it's been great so far! Thank you so much <3

Hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa :*

warning/s: not proofread, short, she/her for mizu, implied afab reader

note: Yes, I used oshi no ko for the pic, but I do not condone incest. That's fucking disgusting. It was the only idol manga I knew with the panel vibes I was aiming for ;;

It was 6:57pm at Tokyo Dome. The venue usually filled only by the brightest and most talented idols was now filled with fans clutching their light sticks and banners excitedly. Admins from both official and unofficial fan pages handed out fan made photo cards to anticipating hands as they sang along to the music video playing as they waited and practiced their chants.

Outside, those who got out-lucked by others during the ticket selling or just couldn't afford the tickets, waited, hoping for even a glimpse of their bias by some lucky chance. Some were even hoping that a scalper would come pass by, try not minding how overpriced it would be. Double, triple, or even quadruple the price. It didn't matter. Any price would be worth it just to watch the biggest and hottest idol group in the world.

The talk of the town—the world rather.

Four members recruited as trainees at the same time, each scout claiming that they were a once-in-a-lifetime find, now formed under one group. They were charming, addicting, and they knew how to get everyone hooked.

Akemi, the group leader and princess. Born and raised in Kyoto. Undeniably pretty, soft, alluring, yet at the same time, fierce, well-spoken, and confident. "I want to be great," she said during the interview. And indeed, great she is. Rumors had it that she was the daughter of a famous businessman, but due to the lack of evidence, the rumor stayed a rumor. Ise. She may be the oldest in the group, but her charms never faltered with age. Always the face in sexy and mature concepts. Brands aiming for a more elegant and stronger appeal would come rushing at every given chance. Faced a lot of backlash at the start of her trainee days for being scouted along the streets of Kabukicho. However, after a long struggle and proving her talents, the information was finally forgotten, drowned in the sea of praises. Mizu, the lady killer. Homegrown from Kohama. The talent manager almost put her in a boy group due to her androgynous-borderline-masculine look. Usually stoic and aloof. Everyone would kill for her to smile at them. She rarely posts on social media. Her managers have to beg her for a crumb of an update. Fortunately, the company somehow found a social media manager for her. Now fans await her gym pictures, drooling over her abs, and her livestreams where she basically just does the most normal things. Everyone eats it up though. You. Everyone considered you as the doll of the group. An all-rounder, handling singing, dancing, and the most active when it came to fan interactions. You definitely had the most fan meeting fan cams. Able to handle every concept equally, whether it be the typical cute idol concept or a more mature sexier concept. The face card never declines.

Anyone who didn't know them had to be living under a rock or something.

Several news reporters struggled amongst each other to get the latest news about the on-going concert. Some fans even got interviewed about their sentiments, ranting on live television about how excited they were. Traffic reports had to be monitored constantly with how large the traffic jam was.

Finally, the clock struck 7.

It was go time.

The lights dimmed and the general announcements were given. Though it wasn't like anyone cared. They were too busy scrambling back to their seats, making sure their light sticks were on the correct settings. Excitement rushed through them as they watched the back-up dancers get into position on stage.

Cheers erupted from the crowd as the music started. The stage filled with smoke and colorful lights, adding to the hyped up feeling. Fans stood up as they saw the silhouettes of their idols, screaming their lungs out.

"Tokyo! Did you miss us?" the familiar voice of Akemi could be heard as the platform was raised, causing a massive wave of screams and cheers from the crowd. You suppressed the urge to gasp as you finally got the opportunity to see how big of an audience your group had amassed. You knew your group was famous, but to see what Tokyo Dome looked like sold out?

It was like a dream.

A sea of lights glimmering in the dark, like stars littering the vastness of the sky. Each a different color to represent their bias, some blinking multiple colors to represent their equal love for each member. If you had to envision what a fantasy world would look like, it was definitely this.

Your eyes looked over the tarps hung over the railings, all welcoming your group back in Tokyo, expressing their love. Each banner causing your smile to brighten as you sang through the mic, a bounce in your step while you roamed through the stage, wanting to interact with everyone equally.

Enjoyment ran through your body as you performed. An intense want to bring your fans the same joy that they brought you motivated you to do your best. You could feel your heart swelling with affection for your fans. The blood in your veins running faster as the lights shone brighter and brighter but never outshining you.

What can you say? The stage was your playing field.

Everything was going great. The song was going well, no technical difficulties, and none of you were getting tired yet. Your skirt fluttering animatedly as you continued to roam around, waving and reaching your hand to those in the VIP standing area. As the song reached it's final chorus, you were about to stand up straight when your foot suddenly slipped, causing you to fall forward.

A gasp made it's way off of your lips as you closed your eyes. All your thoughts going blank as you waited for the pain to hit you. However, seconds passed and...nothing.

Oddly enough, it feels like the stage became a bit more quiet. Slowly, you opened your eyes, expecting to see the floor and a bit of blood. Instead, your eyes met the surprised—and maybe even swooning—eyes of your fans.

Confused, you looked back to see Mizu's hand gripping your arm tightly, preventing you from falling. A stern yet concerned expression on her face. She looked back at you, eyes narrowing as she pulled you up into her arms effortlessly. Her lips tugged into a small smile, hands wrapping around your waist as you giggled and gave her a nod to thank her silently. Ah, damn it. You could see the amount of Tiktok edits made later.

Fans squealed at the interaction, whispering and fawning over how romantic it was. The constant romantic tension between the two of you was no secret within the community. It started as a joke during the group debut with how many times the two of you interacted behind the scenes, but now everyone's wondering whether there was something more to it.

Song after song, your group performed tirelessly, starting with songs from the cute concept albums. Eyes were on you and Akemi mostly, having fit the concept the most. However, you couldn't help but feel a particular set of eyes on you, even when it wasn't your part yet.

You looked around, before your gaze landed on Mizu's, who immediately looked away. A small amused huff leaving you as you walked over to her, bumping her lightly with your hip, making her eyes widen slightly.

The lights soon dimmed as the group finally finished with the first half. The other members leaving the stage to give way for each other's solo songs.

Wiping the sweat off of your forehead, a cold sensation suddenly pressed against your shoulder, making you jump. It was Mizu. In her hand was a water bottle. She chuckled and handed it to you, amused at the residual rush you felt. "You're doing an awful lot, aren't you?" she chuckled, sitting down next to you, her pants already changed for her solo.

"Well it's Tokyo Dome after all," you sighed dreamily, taking a huge gulp of water before smiling sheepishly at your makeup artist who looked pissed at you for ruining the lipstick she just retouched. "Who knew we'd reach this far?"

Despite spending your trainee days together, the blue-eyed idol was still an enigma to you. Someone you felt a strange sense of longing and comfort, but at the same time, someone you couldn't quite grasp.

Mizu smiled fondly at you, patting your head. "I always knew you could do it," she mumbled, eyes studying your form. The amount of stamina you had for performing never ceased to amaze her. Unbeknownst to you, she shared the same sentiments. You were incredible to her.

"Hey! No touching the hair!" you huffed, swatting her hand off playfully. "And you're here with me too, aren't you?"

She raised an eyebrow and gave a small nod, smile never leaving her lips. "I am, but you.." her voice trailed off into a fond whisper as she stood up again. Cerulean eyes squinted as she laughed softly, her voice hinted with something else. Admiration? Attraction? Love? "I never doubted you. You're more of an idol than anyone in our group."

You were about to question her about it, a small tightening feeling in your chest. You knew about the fan allegations and you knew Mizu knew about it too, but sometimes she made you feel like they were true; that your fans had noticed something you didn't.

As you opened your mouth to ask, her wardrobe manager rushed into the room and immediately scolded her for wandering off when it was almost her solo. She flashed you a small smile and a little wave before her face rested back into her usual stoic expression.

A sigh left your lips as you stared at where she previously sat. 'I'm going crazy, aren't I? She's probably just doing this to make the act more believable..' you thought, standing up as well to talk over to your makeup artist.

Your heart hurt slightly at the thought. What will happen once all of this was over? When the audience no longer cared about the small smiles and touches she gave you? You wished you could stay here forever, to be by her side through the ups and downs of this idol life. Maybe even after, in a more peaceful one. But realistically...

Mizu would forget about you then, wouldn't she?

The inner turmoil boiled up in your chest, making you sigh. 'I need to stop. We're in the middle of a concert,' you thought to yourself. Your eyes traveled to the small TV they had set up backstage, watching as the love of your life you bandmate performed her song.

The twinkle in your eyes brightening as you watched her. Each lyric, each dance move, each fan service, making your heart clench with a strange sense of longing. "She's going all out, isn't she?" your makeup artist said softly, attaching the gems to your face. You quickly snapped out of your love-dazed trance and huffed. "A bit," you replied. "But she's not going to outdo me."

It was frustrating. How both of you tiptoed around your feelings but never taking a step forward.

No.

You couldn't take the step forward. A step forward meant the end of your career. Her career. You couldn't do that. Not when she was shining so brightly.

After a bit of preparation, it was finally your turn to be on stage, performing your solo. Undeniably, your performance was impeccable. Choreography practiced to perfection, each note hit, and every pose timed to give the most impact. However, despite how seemingly well you were performing, your thoughts were plagued by the uncertainty you felt.

After all this, it would be over anyway. When the lights of your idol career stops shining, so will her small reassuring gestures, so will the butterflies she gave you.

As the song transitioned to the next album, you were pulled out of your thoughts by a hand on your waist, giving you a small pat. Ocean eyes squinting as she smiled at you reassuringly. "Keep your mind on the stage," she whispered against your ear before turning her mic on.

She's right. You were getting distracted.

"Oh who do you think I am," you jokingly whispered back, covering your mic before joining Ise and Akemi walk around the stage. A chuckle escaped her lips as she watched you move, eyes filled with admiration unbeknownst to you. The interaction making her fans swoon as the romantic scene fueled their fantasies. She soon joined the rest as everyone did their best to give the performance Tokyo deserved.

Confetti flew around as the performance finally ended. You were now accepting gifts from your fans, catching stuffed toys thrown onto the stage. The turmoil in you continuing to brew, the stage really brought you a strange kind of happiness. Would you choose to stay here? Or would you take the dive forward into love?

Like a prince charming, here to save you from your thoughts, Mizu gave you a small pat. A hug hidden by the smoke covering the stage as the platform lowered. Oh why the hell were you thinking so much?

Maybe someday, the both of you would finally brave it out and confess. Maybe someday, the world will accept two idols falling in love. But today was just another job well done.

[futuremrsreid]

Redemption (S.R.)

Summary: When Spencer risks his life on a case and doesn't want to see how dangerous it was, reader tries to talk some sense into him. It results in a lot of yelling and some other things.

A/N: So..... smutty angst, as promised <3 I hurt myself while writing this. Enjoy.

Content Warning: Smut (18+), very very mildly dubious consent, a bit of dark Spencer but he's just traumatized, angst, sad, dominant Spencer, kinda sub reader

Word Count: 4,1k

I was pissed. Actually, pissed didn’t even begin to describe the rage I felt at that moment. 

We were currently in Florida, hunting another psychopathic bastard as always. Everything was fine and under control, up until the moment Dr. Spencer fucking Reid decided it would be a good idea to drive to the unsubs location alone because he was “closest to him” and because we “didn’t have time” and nearly got himself killed in the process. Luke and I had arrived just in time to prevent disaster, but Spencer still got a few bruises on his face. 

I was furious and let him feel it by yelling at him while he was getting checked out in the ambulance. But like always, my yelling resulted in his yelling. We went at it for a couple of minutes but Emily put a stop to it before it got really bad, concerned about the reporters at the scene who already started to take a few pictures of us.

:keep reading:

We didn’t talk or look at each other for the rest of the case. Emily let Spencer get away with it because everything turned out fine, but I was not feeling gracious. 

When Garcia informed us that there was a storm that would delay our flight for the next couple of hours, Emily decided that we should just spend another night in the city and fly back in the morning. We all drove back to the hotel and when we arrived, I was on Spencer's heels all the way from the car to his room. He didn’t even try to stop me, he knew there was no point to it.

“That was so fucking irresponsible, Spencer! What were you thinking”, I started to yell as soon as I had closed the door behind me. I wanted to say “stupid” instead of “irresponsible” but decided against it. I wanted him to understand that he can’t do shit like this, and not insult him.

“It worked out fine, y/n. I don’t understand why you’re getting yourself worked up over this!” He rubbed his hand over the side of his face, clearly done listening to me.

“It only worked out fine because Luke broke like every rule you can break in traffic to get to the scene as fast as possible!”

“Oh right, Luke, my hero. I should go thank him, don’t you think?” he chuckled humorlessly and rolled his eyes.

“Maybe! He’s the reason you’re not dead.” I tried lowering my voice. This wasn’t our first fight, and I have learned in the past that screaming won’t help.

“I would have been fine! I had it under control, y/n. God, just leave me alone”, he spat and I felt a stabbing in my chest at the way he didn’t want to see how much danger he put himself in.

This wasn’t the first time he risked his life like that and I hated it. All of us hated it. Spencer seemed drawn to dangerous situations, it had been that way when I joined the team and from stories the others told me, it had been this way before that.

When I met Spencer, he was freshly out of Prison. They hired me together with Matt after Agent Walker died. The first time I saw him, I knew I had to befriend him. What I didn’t know was how easy it would be and how much easier it would be to fall in love with him. 

I tried to push it down, to get rid of it, scared that it would ruin everything, but there was no way of falling out of love with him, which made the situation even harder. Spencer didn’t seem to realize how much he hurt me whenever he risked his life like this. I wasn’t even sure he realized how much I cared about him. 

“I’m not going to leave until you admit that you were wrong.” 

“Well, this is going to be a long night then, because that’s never gonna happen.” He turned and walked away from me, removing his suit jacket and draping it over one of the chairs in his room. I sighed.

“Spencer, you need to stop risking your life like this. You're gonna get yourself killed”, I pleaded, but it fell on deaf ears. I tried to get him to look at me, but he avoided my eyes. “Please. I can’t lose you and especially not like that.”

“The day will come when you and the rest of the team realize that this is exactly the way it is supposed to end for me. Dying in the field would be an honorable death. It’s the only redemption I will ever get.” 

“What?”, I breathed and my heart stopped for a moment, “What do you mean, Spencer?”

“I meant what I said.” 

“Redemption? What redemption, Spence? You don’t need any, you haven’t done anything wrong.” I was confused and hurt by the way he said it. It sounded almost suicidal. 

“Yes, I have. I have done horrible things in my life, y/n. I will never be able to make up for them.” 

“You don’t have to! Everyone makes mistakes. You are a good person Spencer. You’re kind and gentle, you saved hundreds of lives in your career, you don’t need to make up for anything.” I tried to get through to him, but it was like I was hitting a wall.

“Prison changed me, it turned me into a different man. I’m not nearly as gentle or kind as I used to be.”

“I don’t know you any other way. I almost can’t imagine you being even more gentle than you are now. I don’t think anyone can be.”

“I was though”, he countered almost immediately, still unable to look at me, “I think you would have liked the man I was. He was gentler, kinder, and more deserving of you than I could ever be now.” He didn’t even sound sad when he said it, almost like he had accepted his truth from the moment he met me. 

“You know, you talk about yourself like you are the worst man in the world”, I said in an accusatory tone.

“Am I not?”, Spencer scoffed, raising his voice slightly while going on, “We hunt terrible men every day but in the end, how different am I from them? What makes me a good man and them a bad one, y/n?” He was almost yelling now, stunning me for a moment too long. When I didn’t reply, he turned to finally look at me. “Tell me y/n, what is it about me that convinces you I’m not every bit as bad as them?” The desperate look on his face made me take a step toward him but for every step I took, he stepped two back.

“Spencer, I-” My voice faltered and I didn’t know what to say. I knew he wasn’t anything like them but I wasn’t able to find any words that would convince him. When my mouth stayed open but no words left it, he took my silence as an invitation to go on.

“I almost killed Cat Adams, did JJ ever tell you that?” He spat, walking over to me and pushing me back until I hit the wall. 

“I put my hands around her throat and choked her until she was clawing at my wrists. And I didn’t stop then”, he moved even closer to me and I was unable to move away, the words leaving his mouth freezing me into place, “I told her that I was going to kill her and I meant it. I would have strangled her if JJ hadn’t pulled me off her.” He moved even closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Her eyes were filled with fear, and you know what? I enjoyed it, y/n. I loved the way I scared her, the way she struggled for her life against me.”

He leaned in and I felt his breath ghost over my ear when he said the last words of his cruel monologue. “So tell me, y/n. Tell me how different I am from those men.”

He stayed where he was, his hands at his side and his mouth grazing my ear. He was trying to intimidate me with his speech and to be honest, he would have convinced me if it hadn’t been for the way his nose brushed against my hair, inhaling my scent like he was convinced this was the last chance he ever had to commit it to memory. 

“You can’t scare me with your words, Spencer. If you want me to believe how terrible of a person you are, you’re gonna have to show me because I will never believe it otherwise.” He probably calculated every possible outcome of this situation, but when he pulled back to look at me, I knew that he didn’t expect me to respond like this.

“Cat Adams is a monster who had you tortured and assaulted. She kidnapped your mother. Do you really expect me to feel bad for her? I never even met her. If you want to scare me away, you’re gonna have to do better than that.” 

There was a long moment of silence where we just watched each other. I thought I managed to break through to him for a second, but Spencer was on a mission to make me despise him, and he was determined to make it happen. His eyes darkened and he straightened up, towering over me.

I felt a sliver of doubt about my faith in him at that moment and he must have seen it cross my eyes because when I lifted a hand to push him back, he harshly grabbed my wrist and spun me around, using his body to push me against the wall. My arm was twisted behind my back and when I started to struggle out of pure instinct he took my other wrist in his hand and held both my arms behind my back, resulting in me being pushed more into the hard surface, my cheek flush against the wall.

When the shock had left me, I opened my mouth to ask him what the fuck he was doing, but Spencer was faster than me. He took his other hand and held it over my mouth.

“Do you believe me now?”, he whispered in my ear and I felt my pulse quickening. “You are so fucking naive y/n and honestly, you’re a little stupid too. What the fuck makes you think I would never hurt you, huh? You don’t know me.” 

It was those last words that took me back to reality because I did know him. I knew the way he brought everyone on the team their favorite food when they were sad. I knew the way his voice got an octave higher when he started talking about something that excited him. 

I knew the way he recited his favorite poems when I struggled to go to sleep after a tough case.

He won't hurt me. 

He would never hurt me.

He would never do something like this.

So, against every instinct in my body, I tried to calm my heart down and closed my eyes. I tried to speak but his hand on my mouth didn’t let me so I jerked my head back and stunned him with my sudden movement long enough to say a few words I knew he definitely didn't want to hear.

“You are all talk Spencer Reid. You would never hurt me and we both know that”, my voice was louder than I had expected and I felt his hand tighten around my wrists, “You can push me against the wall and insult me and tell me the terrible things you could do to me all you want but we both know that you would never lay a hand on me without my permission and you would never hurt someone who didn’t deserve it.”

His hand loosened and I used this opportunity to free myself of his grip and turn around. He was angry that his plan didn’t work and I saw his hands twitch with restraint, but I wasn’t scared of him. 

He had just proved to me that he was the man I knew he was.

“You’re not an abuser, you’re not a rapist-”

“Shut up.”

“- and you’re not a murderer. That’s what makes you different Spencer.”

“I said shut up!”, he yelled and I did the only thing I knew to do in response to that. I yelled back.

“Or what, Spencer? Are you gonna pin me against the wall and put your hand against my mouth again like the bad person you are, huh?” Spencer got angrier and more frustrated with every word I was saying but I was determined to speak my mind, “You’re gonna shut me up like the scary man you are, Dr. Reid? You’re gonna-” But I didn’t get further than that because in a heartbeat he forced me back against the wall again with his hands on both my cheeks and his lips pressed against mine.

He pulled back, “Please y/n, please shut up”, and the desperate tone in his voice awakened something primal in me.

“If you want me to shut up, you’re gonna have to make me because I will never stop trying to convince you that you are a good man, Spencer.” When he didn’t say anything I went on. “You are kind and gentle and-” 

He kissed me again, and this time I kissed him back until I wasn’t able to breathe anymore. His kisses wandered to my neck then.

“You say I am a good man, but you don’t know the things I thought about doing to you”, he bit the skin on my neck then and I gasped, which seemed to spur him on further, “I want to pin you down and fuck you until you’re crying. I want to make you feel so good that you can’t take it anymore.”

His kisses moved up my neck and to my ear. “ I want to break you into a thousand pieces and put you back together again. I want to ruin you for everyone else, I want to lock you in so that no man can ever look at you again and at the same moment I want to show you off to the entire world because you are the best thing in my life. I want to take you and make you mine”, he cried out, holding my hips in a bruising grip.

“Then take me, Spencer. Take me, break me, ruin me, I don’t care. I am already yours. I have been yours since the moment I met you.” He looked me in the eyes then, searching for any lies, any doubt, and when he didn’t find any, he kissed me another time.

“Say it again”, he demanded and let his hands travel down my body.

“I am yours, Spencer.”

“Again.” His hands roughly shoved up my skirt, his breath warm on my neck.

“I’m yours.” When his hand brushed against the damp panties I was wearing, I sucked in a breath.

“Again.” 

“I’m yours, Spencer. Only yours. Now please do something.” My plea seemed to finally push him over the edge because a second later he was moving the cotton aside and his fingers met wet skin.

He told me “Again.” over and over again, but the longer his fingers were moving inside of me, and the louder the sounds of my pleasure got, the more his demanding turned into begging and it wasn’t until I felt my orgasm wash over me, that he stopped our back and forth to press his lips against mine once more. 

My legs were trembling when he removed his hand from my cunt and the way he looked at me while bringing the same fingers that were inside of me moments ago to my lips didn’t help steady them.

He didn’t need to say anything, I knew exactly what he wanted. I don’t think he was quite prepared for the sight before him when my lips accepted his fingers and my tongue swirled around them though, because Spencer's eyes became even more feral at it.

“Fuck.” He removed his fingers and in only a few seconds removed my shirt, took off my bra, and had my skirt on the floor. I tried taking off his clothes too, but when my fingers started to unbutton his shirt, he gripped my wrists and walked me over to the bed. 

“If I had known that our fight would end in us having sex, I would have waited until we had something better available than a cheap hotel bed”, I breathed out a laugh. I figured he’d laugh as well but he returned a soft “Do you want to stop?”

“God no, but this bed is gonna squeak really loudly”, and this time I was met with a laugh. He didn’t interrupt when I started another attempt to undress him. When I was done with his shirt he finally raised his hands to touch me again and my whole body shivered when his palms made contact with my breasts. Feeling my erect nipples on his skin must have awoken yet another thing in him because the next thing I knew he was throwing me onto the bed. I didn’t even have time for a shocked gasp before he was on me, pinning my wrists down on the mattress.

“You know when I told you I want to ruin you”, he said while letting his hands travel down my body to grip the waistband of my panties, “I really did mean it.” And with that, he ripped the cotton apart and threw it to the side.

He continued to deny me any time for a reaction when he grabbed my thighs and pulled me towards him. His hips took their very rightful place between my thighs and pressed against me. 

We both moaned when his covered bulge pressed against wet and hot skin.

“Beg me to fuck you, y/n.” I think he was expecting me to hesitate, but I was desperate for him to touch me.

“Please fuck me, Spencer,” I moaned and ran my nails down his back.

“Huh, I thought you would put up more of a fight, to be honest.” He sounded disappointed, but his eyes told me that he was relieved I wanted this just as much as he did.

“Do you want me to?”, I still asked, wanting to give him everything he yearned for. 

“Another time. I think we dragged this out long enough for today”, he said and with that, he took off his underwear and I got to see all of him for the first time. I knew he would be beautiful, and it applied to any part of him, but I couldn’t fully conceal my shock at the length of him. 

And that smug bastard smirked. “Don’t worry darling, we'll make it fit.”

And with that, he moved back between my thighs and lined himself up with my entrance. I expected him to at least try and tease me a little but he started to push inside me immediately. 

We locked eyes while we both felt inch after inch of him sink inside of me. It was intense, erotic and so intimate that I felt the urge to look away. He must have felt it too, because when he was fully buried inside of me, his lips pressed against mine in a bruising way.

When he started to move and his lips started their way down to my jaw and neck, I completely lost it, moans and whimpers flowing from my mouth in a volume that even surprised myself. Spencer thrust harder and deeper the louder I became.

“I know you were worried about the bed being too loud, but I’m pretty sure your moans are covering that sound up pretty successfully, angel”, he panted with a labored breath and heat rose to my cheeks. I was trying to remember if any of our coworkers shared any walls with Spencers' room, but he was literally fucking me stupid so I just removed a hand from his back and bit down on my fingers, hoping no one has heard yet. When Spencer saw, he slowed down. He reached down the side of the bed and lifted up my torn panties, and then proceeded to remove my finger from my mouth to push the cotton in its place. “There, now you won't have to hurt your finger”, and with that, he picked up a brutal pace again.

He was muffling his own moans by pressing his mouth onto my shoulder, no doubt leaving behind a dozen of hickeys. He was losing it, I could feel it in the way he pushed his fingers into my hips and the muscles in his back tensing. I wasn’t doing much better, my thighs were trembling and my panties were barely concealing my noises anymore. The room smelt like sweat and sex, Spencer’s skin was hot on mine and I never felt more whole in my life. I could feel my orgasm building inside of me.

“Touch yourself for me, angel. I want you to come with me.” I didn’t hesitate and started rubbing circles over my clit. It only took a few moments until my orgasm washed over my entire body and Spencer quickly ripped my gag from my mouth to kiss me. My thighs and cunt clenching around him, pulling him into me as deep as humanly possible, must have pushed him over the edge because after a few more strokes he stilled at my deepest point and came.

He released my lips from his and put his forehead on mine so we could both catch our breaths. It was quiet for a few minutes. I could feel his cum dripping out of me between our bodies and spared a quick thought to the poor person that would have to clean these sheets. I couldn’t bring myself to care though, not with the way he kissed my skin and nuzzled his face into my neck. I moved a hand to his hair to run my fingers through it, the strands curling once again from sweat wetting them.

“Tell me again.” He spoke so softly I almost didn’t hear, and I’m not sure I was supposed to. It took me a moment to realize what he meant but when I did, I moved my mouth to whisper in his ear.

“I’m yours, Spencer. As long as you’ll have me.”

“Forever then?”, he pulled away to look at me, but before I could answer, there was a knock at the door.

“Ayo Spencer, are you and y/n still fighting? We decided to go to a bar a few blocks away, but you’re only allowed to come if you don’t put us all in a pissy mood”, Luke's voice seeped through the door. I could feel Spencer trying to come up with a reply but before he had a chance, I spoke up.

“Actually, Luke, we’re still in the middle of fighting and I don’t think you want either of us there with you right now.” I tried to sound mad and I must have been convincing enough because even Spencer furrowed his brows at the tone in my voice. I smiled at him and trailed a hand up his arm to reassure him that I was just putting up a show.

“Well, okay just… Try to remember you two are friends and don’t actually want to kill each other”, he replied almost nervously. Damn, we must have really worried the team with our fight this time.

When we heard his footsteps moving away, Spencer started to detangle us from each other. He was still inside of me and when he pulled out, I sighed at the empty feeling it left behind.

“I’m gonna get something to clean you up.” He tried to stand up but he didn’t get very far before I pulled him back. I held his face in my hands and made sure he was looking at me when I said the words I know he desperately needed to hear.

“Forever.”

[fluentmoviequoter]

Two of Them

Requested Here!

Pairing: Jim Street x fem!reader

Summary: When Hondo asks you to help catch a car thief, you meet Jim Street. As you get to know one another, you learn that you have a lot in common, but balance each other out perfectly.

Warnings: r loves cars/owns an auto shop & is sarcastic and makes jokes (very similar to Street), mentions of robbery and murder, fluff, softie Street

Word Count: 4.7k+ words

A/N: There's so many things I love about this request and a ton of (personal) references! I hope you all enjoy!🤍

Masterlist Directory | Jim Street Masterlist | Request Info\Fandom List

Someone wolf whistles as the garage door opens, and you walk faster to see what is worthy of such attention. When you step into the garage if your auto restoration shop, your jaw drops.

“Is that a ’59 Impala?” you ask breathlessly.

“Sure is,” Joel, your righthand man and drivetrain expert, answers. “She’s here for a tune-up. I know you’re busy, boss, so I can handle this one.”

“Yeah, right!” you exclaim. “All of my childhood dreams are under that hood.”

“You dreamt about reconstructed motors as a kid?”

“Do you talk to your wife like this, Joel? Because she’s never going to let you buy a C-10 with that attitude.”

He chuckles before he waves toward the office. “Impala owner is in there. Wants to talk to you.”

“Thanks, Joel. Don’t start without me!” you call over your shoulder.

As you enter the lobby, you put on your best customer service smile and straighten your shirt.

“Good afternoon,” you greet. “You must be the owner of that beautiful Impala.”

“Yes, ma’am. My friend Rick Castle told me that you were the person to see. I had the car restored by a guy in Texas, a ground-up rebuild, but it’s not riding as smoothly as it was before. The passenger side – sorry, I’m not very good at explaining these things – it almost feels like it’s bouncing while I drive,” he explains.

“Okay, that’s really helpful. It sounds like it’s probably an alignment issue. We can look at it today and give you a call when we find the issue,” you suggest.

“That would be great. Thank you.”

You review the paperwork he completed with Joel quickly before telling him bye. After putting his contact information into your computer system, you rush back to the garage.

“Let’s find out what’s causing the involuntary hydraulics,” you tell Joel.

“Hondo, get 20 squad in here!” Hicks calls.

As they gather in the situation room, Lieutenant Lynch queues a video pulled from a security camera. Street recognizes the location as the building they raided a few days earlier but remains quiet as she begins speaking.

“This is, of course, the building you raided. If you’ll recall, we hoped to locate an unidentified subject tied to several car robberies, assaults, and more recently, carjacking with deadly force. He killed a driver during a carjacking gone wrong and has continued to get more violent with each crime. We still haven’t identified the perp, courtesy of his never-ending vehicle supply and seeming knowledge of traffic cams. He didn’t seem to think about the security camera across the street from the parking garage before the raid, however.”

She presses a button on the tablet in her hand, and the video begins to play. Several cars come and go, but there’s nothing unusual. Hicks raises his hand to point to the time stamp, and the guys watch, waiting for some smoking gun or clear picture of the guy running from the cops. All that happens, though, is a man leaving in a convertible. Lynch pauses the video again and looks up expectantly.

“Was that a Triumph?” Luca asks excitedly. “Those are still rare in the states, even decades after they stopped manufacturing them.”

“It’s not stock,” Street adds with a shake of his head. “That’s not standard suspension, and the paint is too new to be original. Whoever brought that over had a lot of work done to it.”

“Which is great, makes it easier to find,” Hicks agrees. “Except there’s no plates, no registration, and no one has reported it missing. There’s not even a T3 in that color registered to anyone through the California DMV. We have something to look for, but no more information on who we’re looking for.”

“I know someone who can help,” Hondo says. “Classic cars, new paint, rebuilds…”

“You have a car guy?” Deacon asks. “Why?”

“Of course, I have a car guy,” Hondo scoffs. “My dad may have introduced me.”

“That makes more sense,” Luca says, nodding with Deacon.

“Hold on, guys,” Lynch calls. “The tech team thinks they may have found another lead. Consensus is this video is the same driver.”

She plays a new video, this one taken from a gas station camera. Another newer sports car pulls in, but no one exits the car. It sits for nearly three minutes, then pulls out.

“I’m not as versed as these guys, but that looks like a Lamborghini,” Tan comments. “Can’t be too hard to trace those in Los Angeles.”

“It is when they don’t have the original drivetrain. The back tires spun out way too far in that turn. It’s been modified, too,” Luca points out.

“He’s either got a thing for modified sports cars or he’s someone who’s flipping them to be completely different cars after he steals them,” Street hypothesizes.

“Your car guy gonna be able to help with that?” Hicks asks Hondo.

“Oh, yeah,” he answers. “This case’ll be closed in a week.”

“Then get out of here. You’ve got a rare car to track down.”

“One more thing,” Lynch says. “Really, I promise this is the last thing. None of those cars have been seen again. Seems like he drives them once and then ditches them.”

“He has to have his own garage, then,” Street says. “One that I wish I had.”

“Then it’s a bigger target,” Hondo declares. “Let’s roll.”

The chime connected to the front door of your shop rings loudly and you tell Joel to go check on the customer. You are under a 1977 Chevrolet Nova and elbow-deep in the engine bay. Even if you’d wanted to be the first face they saw, given that it is your business, you wouldn’t be able to get out from under the car before they assumed no one was here.

“Ah ha,” you murmur.

You pull the broken mounting bracket down past the ballast. It falls to the floor with a loud ting before you roll out from under the car. As you sit up and wipe your grease-covered hands on your coveralls, you see Hondo looking at you with his brows raised.

“Hello,” you greet.

“You got a little something right… everywhere,” he jokes.

“Funny,” you reply as you stand. “If your eyesight is that good, it’s no wonder you made SWAT.”

Someone laughs behind him, and you lean to the side. His entire squad waits in the lobby, and you wave before returning your attention to Hondo.

“I take it you’re not here about your dad’s car then,” you muse.

“Not today. We need some help with a case, if you have the time,” he explains.

“Sure. I’ll have Joel take you to my office. Let me clean up and I’ll meet you – all of you, I guess – in there in a minute.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.”

“You owe me an entire car at this point, Hondo,” you call as you walk out of the garage.

Once you’re out of your stained overalls and have washed all of the grease and car-related grime off of your skin, you return to your office. Hondo and three other men wait beside your desk, and you invite them to sit. Hondo introduces you to Tan, Luca, and Street, and you shake each of their hands before you sit across from them. Hondo rolls his eyes when you smile at Street, but you’re not sure why.

“So, what exactly does Metro SWAT need from an auto shop?” you ask.

“Long story short, there’s a guy stealing sports cars; classics, fresh off the floor, and everything in between. Then he’s customizing them, driving them once, and ditching them for a new illegally obtained ride,” Hondo answers.

You nod as you think, then lean on your elbows on your desk. “Why customize them?”

“To make them untraceable, we think,” Luca answers. “You can’t report a car missing if it doesn’t exist anymore.”

“That tracks,” you agree. “But then the question becomes, how do you ditch them? You can’t leave something like that at a chop shop, the parts would bring more issues.”

“Private garage,” Street says. “Or maybe he’s selling them out of the county. Lots of possibilities.”

“It takes an incredibly rich, incredibly dumb person to treat cars like that,” you comment.

“We deal with criminals,” Hondo interrupts. “Rich and dumb is kind of our thing.”

“No, Hondo, cars aren’t like people. They fight back, they don’t just disappear without a trace.”

“She’s right,” Street adds. “These cars are more than property to be stolen.”

“What are you saying?” Hondo asks.

“Ever read Christine?” you joke.

“Or heard of Decepticons?” Street adds.

You smile at him again, and he nods before he winks quickly.

“So, can you help us or not?” Hondo inquires.

“Yeah, of course. What do you need me to do?”

“We’ve got some security cam footage of the cars he’s altered. We need to know where he’s getting the work done, or info on where a private garage big enough for a collection like this would be.”

“I’d be happy to look. I can’t promise anything, though. My clientele is more of the rebuild this classic or fix this issue not the I want to make a rare sports car even more unique off the books.”

“That’s why we’re here.” Hondo looks at his phone quickly and huffs. “Uh, Street, you stay and go over the videos with her. Deac said he and Chris need backup.”

“You got it,” Street answers.

Hondo thanks you quickly before he, Luca, and Tan leave. You’re left alone in your office with Street and aren’t sure how to start a conversation after joking together while Hondo filled you in on the case.

“Uh, here’s the videos. There’s only a few on this, but it should be enough to get an idea of what he’s doing,” Street says as he passes you a memory stick.

You take it from him and insert it into your computer. As the videos begin playing, you rewind it, pause it, and take a few notes. The cars in it don’t have anything in common, other than the fact that they’re stolen and modified.

“Well, I can say for sure that my guys didn’t do this work. Nobody I work with did, either. I’ll ask around and see what I can find,” you tell Street.

“I appreciate that,” he replies. “You know, when Hondo said he had a car guy, I was expecting…”

“A guy?” you guess.

“I mean, yeah. Middle-aged, beer belly, his name on the sign. The usual.”

“Sounds like my shapewear is doing its job if you don’t see a beer belly,” you joke.

“Please, you know how pretty you are,” Street replies.

“Seems like you think so.”

You lean forward and smile as you return the video drive to Street. He returns your smile and opens his mouth, likely to make another joke, before Joel knocks on the door.

“We’ve got another customer, boss. With a ’73 Corolla,” he informs.

“Excellent timing,” you mumble.

Street stands as you do and says, “Call Hondo, or me, whoever, if you find anything. Thanks for helping.”

“I will. Thanks, Street.”

He leaves through the lobby, and you take a deep breath. Joel smiles as he watches you, but you tell him to get back to work before he can comment.

“On what?” he yells behind you.

“Hondo, we’re not even doing anything,” Street groans in HQ the following morning. “Just let me go make sure she doesn’t need help or anything!”

“She knows more about cars than you do,” Hondo answers.

“That’s not what I mean. C’mon, man, she has an auto shop. Are you really going to make me sit here when I could be solving a case in my dream garage?”

“Hondo!” Deacon calls. “We’ve got another video. New car this time, but it doesn’t look modified.”

Street looks toward Hondo expectantly, and nearly cheers when Hondo sighs and tells him to go. He accepts the video and rushes to his motorcycle. Work will be more fun with you, he thinks.

“You’re back,” you say when Street walks into the garage.

“And you’re working on a 1960s Mustang,” he says dreamily.

“1964,” you tell him. “Want to take a look?”

“I’m supposed to be working. We have a new video with a different car.”

“Surely it can wait a few seconds, so you can look at the new 289 sitting pretty under the hood.”

“Yeah, we can wait,” Street agrees as he follows you to the hood of the car.

After Street takes a few minutes to admire the work you’ve done on the Mustang, you lead him to your office and bring up the new video.

“I haven’t seen it, but the people in the lab didn’t think it had been modified,” Street explains.

“Okay. Let’s see,” you say, turning the screen toward him.

Your shoulder presses against his arm as you watch, but you’re both too interested in the sports car on the screen to notice that you’re in shared space.

“I don’t see anything,” Street says.

You drag the video slowly and pause it when the wheels turn.

“That car shouldn’t be all-wheel drive. It’s a minor conversion compared to the other work you’ve shown me.”

“Who makes a Datsun 240z all-wheel drive?” Street murmurs.

“Who steals a Datsun 240z?” you counter. “They stopped making them for a reason. Short of a complete overhaul, they weren’t worth their weight in metal.”

“As right as you are, that doesn’t bring us any closer to finding this guy.”

“No,” you agree. “And none of my friends have heard anything. We’re getting the word out, though, so as soon as it reaches the right person, I’ll have more information for you. It’d be great if he decided to switch garages and was my next customer.”

“It would be easier.” Street leans back in the seat and looks at the pictures on your wall. “Best and worst customer to date, go,” he asks.

“Ooh, okay,” you say excitedly. “Best? A writer who lives up in the hills has brought me over 20 different rare classics to restore from the ground up. The worst was last week. Kid came in with a brand new, stock Lambo Huracan and wanted the double-clutch tranny switched out for a 4-speed automatic.”

“In a Huracan?” Street repeats incredulously. “I… I feel like I just aged twenty years.”

“Tell me about it. I asked him if he could drive it the way it was and never got an answer.”

“Did you do it?”

“Are you kidding? No! I’m in this business for the cars, and that’s just sacrilegious.”

Hondo knocks on your open door, and he’s leaning against it with his brows raised when you look up.

“There’s two of them!” he exclaims dramatically as he looks back at the rest of the guys. “I thought you and Street were bad enough separately, but this isn’t fair.”

“Can I help you Hondo?” you ask, ignoring his comment. Although, you don’t hate him viewing this as you and Street, together, as one.

“I just came to see if anything came of that video,” Hondo says.

“Nothing inherently helpful. Your smoking gun is still lost.”

“Keep looking,” Hondo requests, tapping his knuckles against the doorframe before he leads 20 squad away.

Street watches him leave, shakes his head, and turns back to you to ask, “How’d you get into cars?”

“My, uh, my home life wasn’t great growing up. Cars were my escape. From the time I was old enough to realize that walking out into the driveway to mess with the cars got me away from the fighting, I was out there constantly. Then it became a love for cars and everything they mean to people. This isn’t just my job, it’s my passion.”

“I lived in foster homes for too long,” Street says. “When I met my brother, Noah, he got me into motorcycles, which led to cars. We dreamed about getting a Ducati someday.”

“See? Cars mean something, they’re more than electronics and gas to get you from A to B. They’re life itself for some of us.”

“And you treat them like that. When I get that Ducati, I’ll bring it to you.”

“For what? Those are perfect as is.”

“Maybe it’ll just be an excuse to see you.”

You smile and shake your head, but you know that you’d welcome him in, anytime, with or without a Ducati.

“… And then after the toe, caster, and camber are matched up on both sides, we can move on to complete the diagnostics,” you finish.

“Okay,” the young girl says. “I need to call my dad really fast. Can I come back in and let you know after that?”

“Of course. Take your time.”

As she walks out, you notice Street standing in the doorway to the garage.

“That happen often?” he asks, gesturing toward the girl standing outside.

“Occasionally. Mostly with younger customers,” you answer. “Must be nice to have a parental relationship like that.”

“Tell me about it.”

“So, what can I do for you, Officer Street?”

“Are you ever going to call me Jim?” he asks.

“I like cars, so Street is more fun,” you reply with a shrug.

“I actually came to give you a break. Hondo said you’ve been sending him updates day and night. You have to step back from it all before you burn out,” Street explains.

“I can’t. I have cars to finish, and some of my contacts have leads that seem promising, but they have to go through a chain of different garages, and…”

Street steps to you and lays his hands on your shoulders. He waits until you look into his eyes and relax to say, “You need a break. Trust me.”

“I need to finish with her,” you whisper. “Five minutes?”

“Five minutes,” he agrees. “And then I’m dragging you out of here if you won’t go willingly.”

Five minutes later, you follow Street into the small customer parking area outside the lobby. He walks to a motorcycle, and you eye it in admiration.

“This is your bike? It’s gorgeous, Street,” you say, running your fingers over the smooth metal body.

“It’s fast too,” he replies.

You accept a helmet and put it on as he climbs onto the bike. The Cardo logo on the side of the helmet catches your attention, but as you sit behind him and wrap your arms around him, you’re more than happy to ride in silence and decompress.

When you get back to the garage, you climb off the bike and hug Street before he can swing his leg over.

“Thank you,” you say softly. “I did need that.”

“I’m not just a pretty face, you know,” he jokes as he returns your hug.

“Neither am I. And you shift into fourth too soon. That’s why it revs harder.”

“I knew coming to see you would embarrass me eventually,” Street laments. “But at least you’re pretty and really close to me.”

“I can move,” you say against his shoulder.

“No, thanks. Not until I have to go back to work.”

His phone rings in his pocket and you laugh as he grumbles, “Hondo always has to ruin the moment.”

The phone on your desk rings again as you lower the new L1 engine into a C-10. You roll your eyes at the sound but refuse to answer it.

“Somebody else answer the phone!” you call. “I can’t answer another stupid question today!”

Joel salutes you as he walks through your open door. He returns a moment later with the cordless phone in his hand and smiles.

“It’s Street. Would you like me to pass along your message?”

You extend your cleaner hand and tuck the phone between your ear and shoulder to say, “Hey, Street.”

“Can you remove the hemi from my Charger?” he asks. “It’s too loud when I drive.”

“I will hang up on you,” you threaten.

The line beeps and you pull the phone from your ear with pinched brows.

“Not if I hang up on you first,” Street says from the doorway. “Which is rude, by the way.”

“Have more videos for me to watch?” you ask loudly as you lean into the engine bay of the truck.

“No, just wanted to drop by. Nice body… the truck, I mean.”

“Sure, you did.”

You grunt as you stand and pass a screwdriver to Street.

“I don’t work here.”

“Yet you’re here every day,” Joel says from inside the cab of the truck.

“Not my fault your boss freelances for my boss,” Street replies.

“I told Hondo this morning that I hadn’t heard anything,” you interrupt as you wipe your hands on a rag.

“I know. I just wanted to drop by. I got off early, so, here I am.”

“Hmm. I was hoping you’d say you were undercover or something.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to believe this is how you dress when you’re not in uniform,” you joke.

“You’re covered in-“

“I’m at work,” you defend. “Hazards of the job. And don’t bring up the fact that my laundry room smells like motor oil because you can’t prove that.”

Your phone buzzes on the workbench behind you, and you apologize as you walk past Street to get it. He watches your eyes widen as you press the screen a few times.

“Call Hondo,” you demand.

“But-“

“I know who your car thief is. He’s on his way here right now with the Triumph T3.”

“How? Why?” Street questions.

“The guy he hired to do the work thought they were really his cars. Apparently, my name came up and with the message about him going through the automotive grapevine, his former mechanic recommended me for a modification tune-up,” you explain quickly.

Hondo arrives less than ten minutes later with the rest of 20 Squad. He asks what is so urgent as he looks between you and Street, though there isn’t much room between you.

“He isn’t ditching the cars. He’s still driving the cars because the Triumph slid last night and now he’s bringing it here to be repaired,” you tell Hondo.

“Okay, it slid and he’s bringing in one stolen car. What does that mean for me? And no automotive speak,” Hondo replies.

“Could I interest you in the Cybertronian translation?”

“Tell me what my bad guy did.”

“If I can convince him to list every car he may want me to work on in the future, could you get a warrant? I’ll try to get an address and a name for him, though they may not be legitimate.”

“We can certainly try,” Deacon agrees. “But he doesn’t seem like the type that will answer questions.”

“I have a way of getting people to talk. Especially car people. Guys like him like to brag, so if I one him up, he won’t have a choice but to tell me what you need to know.”

“Just be careful,” Street says. “Don’t let him get so cocky he thinks he has to prove himself in any way except talking about cars.”

“I won’t. But you guys need to get out of sight. He’ll want to see the garage and get a feel for the security.”

“We can pretend to be security,” Street argues.

“Nah, you got a cop face, man,” Joel says from inside the truck.

“Joel, I’m going to marry your boss and ask her to fire you,” Street shoots back.

“I want to hear more about that later,” you interrupt. “But seriously, get out of sight.”

A few minutes later, a Triumph T3 stops outside of the lobby entrance. The man who enters looks like the driver in the security videos, but you have to get more information before anything else can happen.

“Hi,” you greet. “You must be the gentleman Josh told me about. He said you had a classic, but I was not expecting a ‘50s Triumph. That’s a gorgeous car, sir.”

“I appreciate it. She’s my baby, but the steering is a bit off since I hit a wet patch last night and the back end slid.”

“That sounds like a simple enough fix. If you can just fill out some information-“

“Josh said you’d do this off the books for me, like he has. Cash upfront.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” you agree. “Go ahead and pull her into the garage.”

He nods and exits the front door. You sigh and move into the garage, planning how to get him to talk about the other cars he has stolen and where he keeps them.

“Nice facility,” he compliments as he enters your garage. “Yeah, well, I’ve got a couple incredibly rare classics that I work on often, and those customers deserve the best.”

“Rarer than a 1953 Triumph T3?” the man asks, defensive and growing insulted.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve had a Model T in here, several European cars, including a T2, plus modern sports cars.”

“I’ve got a garage full of classics that make those seem like Hot Wheels.”

“I don’t know,” you murmur as you lift the hood of the Triumph. “I’ve had my hands in a 1931 Bugatti Type 41. I don’t think it gets much better.”

“My collection is worth a dozen of those outdated bugs!” he exclaims. “The Triumph, a Lamborghini Aventador with custom drivetrains, and I’d bet this car that you haven’t seen a Datsun 240z in mint condition with all-wheel drive. If your little dump of a garage could handle even that! My 25,000 square foot garage has cars you’ve never even heard of.”

“LAPD SWAT!” Hondo calls as he and his team enter the garage. “You’re under arrest for grand theft auto, carjacking, assault and battery, murder, and about fifteen more charges that I don’t have the patience to list. Now, when an arrest warrant goes through without a name, you know that’s a bad person.”

“Do not push him up against this car!” you demand as Hondo grabs his shoulder. “Toolbox, wall, anything other than a pristine T3.”

“Thanks for the help,” Hondo calls over his shoulder as he leads the thief out of the garage.

“It’s a shame such a pretty car has to go into evidence before it returns to its owner,” you tell Street.

“Yeah. Listen-“

“You didn’t hear a word I just said, did you?” you ask.

“Do you want to go out with me?” he asks.

You smile as you answer, “I’d love to.”

“Trust me, you’re gonna love this place,” you promise as you take Street’s hand. “All of the food is served in trays that look like classic cars.”

Street laughs as you bounce excitedly and uses your joined hands to pull you close.

“If you could buy one classic car, what would it be?” he asks.

You answer without hesitation before asking him the same question.

“Car? Probably an Aston Martin or a ‘60s Impala. Something sleek, classic, dangerously fast,” he answers. “Motorcycle is still a Ducati.”

“You’d suit an Aston Martin or an Impala,” you agree. “Or you can just ride shotgun in mine.”

“I was born to drive,” Street says dramatically.

You laugh at him as you slide into a booth in the restaurant. Street follows, setting the tray of food before you as he sits beside you.

“Are all of our dates going to be car-themed?” Street asks.

“You’re the one who already planned our wedding, and I’ll go ahead and tell you now that I’m not firing Joel, so you tell me.”

“I don’t care what we do as long as you’re there,” Street decides.

You smile as you turn toward him, and when you raise your chin, Street kisses you quickly. You momentarily forget about the car-themed trays holding your food, too distracted by his affection to care about which model you got. But then he tells you he got the better one and you push him away from you to check. Street laughs as he pulls you close again, and you’ve never been happier to have so much in common with one person. Maybe there are two of you, but the balance and love Street brings is perfect.

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 19

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: welcome to the draaamaaaa! non-consensual drugging (not reader), the vaguest hint of medical trauma, brief mention of chapter 2's assault scene

wc: 2.3k

Chapter Selection

Thirty minutes after Alfred came to pick Damian up, a mandatory city wide lockdown was called into effect. The news mentioned Mr. Freeze and some botched experiment with Poison Ivy's pheromones. I immediately tried to call Jason; he had been planning to come over around dinner, but the lines were busy. It seemed everyone was trying to contact their loved ones.

I texted Damian, asking him to let me know when he was home, and pulled out a roll of duct tape to start sealing up the cracks in my doors and windows. I set out my emergency candles and flashlights. Then I filled pots, pans, and the bathtub with clean water, just in case. And finally, I began cooking a couple steaks I had that needed to be made sooner rather than later, just in case the gas went out before I got another chance. You never knew what a villain-fueled lockdown would bring, so it was best to plan to lose all of your utilities. I vaguely regretted not getting that camping stove when it had been on sale, but I also really didn't love the idea of storing propane in my apartment. 

Once my steaks were done, I checked my phone again. Damian was home safe, and told me in no uncertain terms that I was to remain safely indoors. But there was still nothing from Jason. I frowned, trying not to panic. He was probably just having trouble getting through, just like I had.

Me: Hey baby, lockdown's pretty scary, huh? Hope you're safe! ❤️

5:40pm

I settled in to watch the news, hoping the Bats would get things under control soon enough. The only footage available was from the traffic cameras, but the picture they painted wasn't particularly pretty. It seemed every vigilante was out for this one. I watched in a sort of terrified trance, remembering how tiny Robin was at the gala. But there he was, fighting Mr. Freeze. … He was strong, and a skilled fighter. But God, it just wasn't fair…

Me: Jace? You safe?

6:30pm

Eventually, the fight was over, and the reporter started talking about the plan to get the pheromones neutralized. We were instructed to stay in our homes for the time being while Gotham scientists worked out a solution. I sighed softly, honestly a bit glad for the excuse to not go in to work the next day. The boss had been getting a bit testy with me over not being available anytime, any day anymore, and I didn't want to deal with it.

Me: Hey baby, lockdown's pretty scary, huh? Hope you're safe! ❤️

5:40pm

Me: Jace? You safe?

6:30pm

Me: … Jason? If you're getting these, I'm getting really freaked out. Please tell me you're ok.

8:45pm

I frowned, texting Steph, Tim, and Dick next; ‘I can't get ahold of Jason. Have you seen him today?’ The minutes ticked by, an hour passed and no response came from anyone. I was curled up on the couch, trying desperately not to panic, when a sharp tap tap tap on my porch door startled me out of my panic spiral.

I carefully made my way over to the door, nudging open a spot in the blinds so I could peek out. There, on my porch, was Nightwing. He had some kind of breathing apparatus hooked up to his suit, and what looked like a cyberpunk face mask in his hand. When he saw me looking at him he waved excitedly, holding up the mask.

I frowned a bit; “... Um … hello?”

“Hello, citizen! … Your assistance is needed! I have a mask for you, go ahead and pop the door open for me?”

“... No?!”

“... Please?” He frowned a bit, holding out the mask more insistently.

“... What could you possibly want from me??”

He chuckled a bit awkwardly, shifting his weight between his feet. “... I really don't want to shout through your door for this …”

“Well that's just too damn bad. You can shout, or you can go.”

“... I assume you were watching the news this evening?” I nodded. “Well, one of my … co-workers' breathing filters got damaged, and he's inhaled some of the pheromone blend.”

I frowned deeply. “... I'm sorry? … Will he be ok?”

“We think we can make an antidote, but we need to get him to the Batcave to get a sample of his blood, and he's a bit … overly agitated for that. He won't get in the Batmobile. We have reason to believe you'd be able to help with that.”

I scoffed at that; “how, on god's green earth, am I meant to do that??”

“... I can't answer that. But I think you're the only person who would calm him down right now.”

“... Uh-huh. … Which one of you is it?”

“Red Hood.”

“... Why would I be able to calm Red Hood???”

“... I … can't answer that either. … Please come anyway. … Call it doing your civic duty?”

“Pft! That's not gonna work on me.”

“... How about helping a big, scared kid who doesn't know what's going on right now? He just knows his body is being ripped out of his control again, and he can't stop it, and everything seems like a threat.”

I froze, blinking a bit. Fuck, that sounded bad. “... How are we getting there?”

Nightwing perked up at that. “I've got my bike! Come on, let's-”

“Hold your horses, bird-boy! Let me get changed.” I sighed, shuffling into my bedroom. I pulled on a pair of jeans, my riding jacket, and grabbed my helmet, silently thanking Jason for giving them to me - and begging the universe that he be ok, wherever he was. Before leaving my room, I grabbed the red flannel Red Hood had given me all those months ago. Might as well return it, since I was going to see him again.

I ripped the tape off the door and knocked, getting Nightwing's attention. I took a deep breath, opened the door, and he passed me the mask. I slipped it on quickly; “Thanks. … I'm not going down this way, so I'll meet you in front of the building?”

Nightwing nodded, jumping off my porch, and I went back inside, sealing the door back up before I ran out the front door. I pulled my helmet and gloves on and hopped on the back of Nightwing's bike, sighing softly. “... Can't believe I'm doing this…”

“I can't believe you made me wait for you to change your clothes…”

“When my boyfriend finds out I got on a vigilante’s bike, he's probably going to have an aneurysm. If he found out I did it without proper protective layers on, he'd probably try to kill you. I’m trying to help you here.”

Nightwing chuckled a bit and we took off, flying down the road like a bat out of hell. I couldn't imagine how I was meant to fix this, or even what we would find when we got there, but I had to try. I couldn't imagine the Red Hood being scared of anything, but the way Nightwing spoke about him made him sound so fragile. ‘his body is being ripped out of his control again’??? Again??? What had this guy been through? And how was I supposed to help??

We arrived much faster than I would have expected, and I slid off the bike, looking around. Nightwing took my helmet for me, pointing to the alley. The Batmobile was pulled to the side, and Batman himself stood like a gargoyle by the driver's side. Spoiler was hunched over by a dumpster, murmuring softly. She looked up as I approached, sighing softly. “Thank God. You're up!”

Her voice sounded familiar, even through the breathing mask, but I didn't have time to dwell. I wanted to get home soon; with my luck Jason would finally text me back while I was out here doing this. I stepped closer until I could see him; the Red Hood, on his knees behind the dumpster, clutching at his chest and hissing softly, like an injured cat.

“Um … Mr. Hood?” I crouched, trying not to startle him.

He jumped anyway, looking up at me. His red helmet didn't show any emotion, but as far as I could tell he was focused on me. “... Hi, Mr. Hood. I don't know if you remember, you saved me from a would-be-rapist last March?”

I slowly held the shirt out, but he didn't move. “... I brought your shirt back.”

He continued to stare at me, so I slowly inched closer. When I was finally close enough to touch him he flinched, hiding his helmeted face in his hands. “N- no … no, go … go away … H- how'd you get here? … The lockdown …”

“... I … I can't really do that, Hood. … Nightwing brought me.”

He growled, a broken, choked sound, distorted by his voice modulator. “... You're supposed to be home … supposed to be safe …”

I nodded slowly. “... Yeah, yeah I am. So … do you think you can come out of the alley with me? … There's a lot of people really worried about you out here. They just wanna get you somewhere safe so they can take care of you.”

He shook his head quickly, choking out; “no! No needles! No needles!”

I nodded slowly, gently shushing him. “Ok, no needles. We don't have to do anything you don't want to do. … Let's start with a few deep breaths, yeah? Can we do that?”

He slowly tilted his head toward me, and I moved my hands slowly up from my stomach to my throat as I breathed in, then back down again as I breathed out. I did this several times before he started to follow along, slowly letting his breathing sync up with mine. “There we go, well done. Do you think you can stand?”

He nodded once, slowly rising to stand against the wall. I slowly approached, offering him the shirt again. Gingerly, he reached out to take it, being oddly careful not to let our fingers touch. His gloves were torn open, revealing bloodied knuckles. “Can we go to the car? Looks like you've got some cuts, I bet they have a first aid kit over there.”

He flinched, shaking his head a bit. “They'll heal.”

“... They'd heal best if we cleaned them first. Can we just get some water on them, rinse the dirt out?” I slowly lifted my hands, palms up, offering them to him; “please? … I won't let them do anything you aren't ready for, I promise.”

His body seemed to move on instinct; as our hands touched he froze, whining sharply. “... Fuck … no, … d- don't want to do this … m'sposed to protect you …”

I gently squeezed his hands. “You have protected me. You protected the whole city. You did your job, Hood, and you did it well. Now let me help you. Please?”

He shuddered and collapsed against me, suddenly wrapping his arms around my waist like I was a life raft in the ocean. I grunted softly, stumbling a bit, but managed not to fall over. It briefly crossed my mind just how pissed Jason was going to be when I told him about this; if vigilantes showing up near my work made him grumpy, what was he going to do about one clinging to me like this? But I pushed the thought away, determined to get Red Hood into the Batmobile so they could take him to get treated.

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, awkwardly patting his back. “... I've got you. You're gonna be ok. Let's get to the car, ok?”

He let me guide him to the Batmobile, clinging to me the whole way there. I could feel Batman staring us down as I slowly coaxed the giant man into the back seat. He let me rinse his scraped up knuckles with a bottle of water, but wouldn't accept anything else. Before I could leave, he pulled me onto his lap, nuzzling my neck and whining softly. “Ah! … U- uh, Mr. Hood, I do have a boyfriend now…”

He groaned softly, holding me tight and whispering. I only caught the occasional word, the voice modulator garbled the rest; “need ……. So pretty ……. Soft …… mine …. Love …. Fuck, just wanna …….. neeeeed~ ….”

Spoiler wrinkled her nose a bit, shrugging. “... It'll be easiest to get him treated if we just … let him be. …. Think you can sit like that for … 20 minutes?”

I sighed softly. “... I guess?”

I rubbed his shoulder gently, letting him continue to mumble and nuzzle against me. Jason would be pissed, but at least Red Hood wasn't being particularly handsy. He was actually keeping his hands very carefully on my calves or waist, never venturing between the knees and the waistband of my jeans, weirdly respectful for someone drugged out of their mind on Poison Ivy's pheromones, whether those pheromones were corrupted or not. Batman and Spoiler got in the front seats, and we sped away. I saw Nightwing riding behind us as we raced out of the city.

“... Should I be keeping my eyes closed or something?”

Spoiler turned back to face us and laughed a bit. “... Maybe? I guess. And you can take that mask off now. By the time we open the doors we'll be far enough away from the affected area.”

I nodded, sliding the breathing mask off and closing my eyes. Red Hood stroked my back, purring softly. I sighed, patting his shoulder more. I tried not to think too hard about how I was going to explain this to Jason. I'd think of something; something that would keep him from confronting the Red Hood when this was all over.

Next ->

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Taglist (open): @jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa @whore-of-many-hot-men

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if I got in the habit of reporting traffic violators that piss me off?

Age and gender not important. You see, recently I installed a dash cam on my car, now every time I drive I have video recordings of all my trips.

The area I live in is notorious for irresponsible driving, it's not an exaggeration when I say that I almost get into accidents 5-10 times per week.

I have thought of reporting these people but tbh my laziness is the only thing stopping me, but I'm thinking of doing it when someone REALLY pisses me off. I have got used to it that I'm desensitized to it, so it'd take a lot to pisses me off. I'm not talking about people who turn without using the turn signal or make a U turn from across the street, I'm talking people that are drifting on high traffic roads etc. But also I feel if I started doing that, it'll eventually escalate in reporting people who just piss me off and make me late but not actually threatening my safety, like someone who is driving on two lanes and won't allow me to pass, or driving too slow in the wrong lane etc.

Also to make it clear, I'm not calling the cops on them per se, the whole process is online, I'll be reporting them with attaching the video for evidence, the person viewing it will issue a ticket that the driver will be notified of by a message, and they'll have to pay a fine, and depenting on the violation itself it might going to cost an arm and a leg.

On very rare occasions the cops will get involved, like when someone is a repeat offender committing serious safety hazard acts.

I justify this by saying if they don't want to be punished, maybe they should be driving more responsibly, but on the other hand, these acts are so normalized and they all think it's not a big deal, and if they are struggling financially they might end up starving and sometimes even in jail.

I'm just hoping that if I report a few people, some of them hopefully will make a viral tweet warning other drivers that there are 'secret agents' on a lookout all the time and they need to be careful, just like how they do whenever a new speeding camera gets installed on the road, like they'll memorize its location and drive responsibly when they pass by it, but my dashcam isn't bound to a specific location, they will never be able to tell when they might get recorded. To be clear I don't want them to starve or get seriously harmed, I just want them to practice safe driving. WIBTA?

What are these acronyms?

[devskindawritingblog]

Hi, can you write a Victoria Neuman fic where Victoria and her lover are just finally having a relaxing time on vacation since Victoria is always working and popping heads (if you know what I mean.)

Warm Weather

Click to help Palestine 🇵🇸 🍉

AN: My first Vicky request!!!!! The reader is gender neutral but Zoe does call them mama but the reader isn't necessarily a woman ( Just not a man). I don't really have a clear idea of when this is set in. I am mentioning the FBSA because why not? I honestly don't remember how old Zoe was so I made her like 6. I really love this request it’s so cute because she really does need a vacation. Also sorry if it sounds weird I like just finished editing it now 😅

word count rounded: 2.8k

Victoria sat in her office typing away at her computer. The whirl of the air conditioner lets off a quiet but steady humm and she skims through a report. The FBSA has been a huge workload for her and the work just seems to pile up. The report was somehow terribly written from someone in her bureau. There was a multitude of spelling mistakes and the person used the wrong their about 4 times. She sighs running her hand through her dark curled hair. Her eyebrows furrow creating the little lines on her forehead that you’d kiss when she was deep in concentration. 

She glances over at the clock and quickly back out the window as she realizes the sun is starting to set. She sighs again, reaching over to an old coffee to take a sip. She quickly spits the cold coffee back into the cup. Victoria grimaces and coughs as she stands up to drop it in a trash can near her desk. She leans against her desk looking out at the bright lit office buildings and flashing lights. Some of them are off as the employees pack up their desks and shut off their computers.

Victoria looks back over at her computer, she should really finish the report but it's getting late and she promised she would be home to put Zoe to bed. She pushes herself off her desk and goes over to her computer, shutting it. Right before she can slip it into her bag she hears her phone vibrate on the desk. Victoria grabs it, opening it up as a message from you comes through. 

“ Hiii Vicky, are you almost done at work? Zo Zo told me that mommy is a much better book reader then me 😘”

Victoria smiles and that's the last thing she needs to give her a final boost to quickly pack up and go home but before she texts you back.

“I’m on my way home, tell Zoey that i’ll read her one when I get home. I love you 😘”

As soon as she sends it she packs up her stuff quickly making her leave from the office and locking up. The way back to her home is a quiet one away from the bright city lights and blaring horns of traffic. Her quaint, cozy home was perfect for the three of you. It was away from press and work and has a park across the street for Zoe. She approaches the house unlocking the door. She peeks her head around the corner hoping to see you, but she realizes you and Zoe are probably in her bedroom. 

She slips off her coat, hanging it up on the hanger. She heads up stairs, the carpeted stairs creaking under her heels. She drops her stuff in your shared bedroom before heading into Zoe’s room slowly creaking open the door. She smiles at the sight of you and Zoe cuddled up asleep together on the bed. Your head is against Zoe’s headboard and Zoe is cuddled up to your side with a few story books scattered on the bed. She opens the door and walks toward the two of you chuckling to herself as she cleans up the books. 

She smiles fondly, kneeling beside the bed to give her daughter a kiss on the forehead. She cards her fingers through Zoe’s hair as the girl snuggles more into your side. Victoria shifts over to give you a kiss on the forehead as well, rubbing your arm softly trying to wake you up without startling you. “Babe…....wake up” She whispers, brushing a strand of hair out of your face as your eyes slowly blink awake. 

Your eyes adjust to the dim light as you breathe in quickly, spooked by the face looming over you. “Jesus f-..Vic..” You lay back against the bed when you realize it's just her. “My gosh Vicky…..you scared me. I thought you were.. I don't know. I must have fallen asleep while I was laying with Zoe.” You say rubbing your eyes. “Sorry honey I didn't mean to scare you.” She smiles softly pulling you into a soft kiss. “I told her that I'd cuddle with her until you got home… I guess we were both a little sleepy.” You say after you pull away from the kiss. You smile fondly as you reach over to fix Zoe's hair and slip out from under her. You lay her head down on the pillow and tuck her in before giving her a little kiss.

You slowly slip out of bed and follow Victoria to your shared bedroom. She slips off her work clothes heading to the bathroom to wipe off her makeup and put on her pajamas. You lay on the bed slipping under the covers. “How was work baby?” You ask as you hear a dramatic groan coming from the bathroom. “Ughh don’t even get me started on work today babe.” Victoria grumbles to herself peeking her head out of the bathroom before she slips under the covers with you. “Hey…. maybe you need a little break? You say pulling her into your arms and running your fingers through her curled hair. “A break would be perfect.” She sighs, settling with her head on your chest. “I'm being serious though. You need a break. You need a vacation away from all the work and supes. Just me, you and Zoe on some beach, somewhere far away. Hopefully with a spa.” You explain while rubbing her back as if you had this idea planned for a while.

“I’d love a vacation. I’m just so tired and stressed with work…… but you know I do need a break and I want to do something fun with Zoe before she gets to the age that she is embarrassed to be around us” Victoria laughs and sighs, imagining a warm break lounging on the beach. The three of you havent been on a true vacation since you took a road trip a few years ago to go visit your family. “See! It's a great idea ....c'mon you're like the boss right? You can totally take a break. They can handle it without you for a week. Hughie is pretty competent at his job.” You joke as she looks up, shooting you that look. 

She mulls it over, her face is twisted into deep concentration as she thinks it over. You smile leaning down to kiss the lines that appear on her forehead. Victoria smiles scrunching up her nose and you tilt your head down to kiss it too. “........fine you're right. Let's do it. Let's go on a vacation!” She exclaims and pulls you into a deep kiss.

~A month later~ 

Victoria was finally able to get a full week off for the vacation to your excitement and Zoes of course. She was ecstatic to go somewhere warm, she raved about bringing home a pet dolphin. Neither of you were about to break her heart so you went along with it. You spent the night before packing all of her stuff into her own little suitcase. Zoe hardly slept the night before, she ended up sleeping in between the two of you on your bed. It was Zoe’s first time on a plane and she was somehow more excited then scared. She sat next to the window almost the whole ride. Victoria spent the flight reading a book you got her for her birthday that she never had the time to read.

It was about mid day when the plane landed. The air was humid but nice compared to New York weather. It was a bright blue day. The perfect day for a vacation. Zoe was standing in between you and Victoria. She was holding one of each of your hands as she swung back and forth, brimming with excitement. The three of you made it to the hotel room and flopped down on the beds exhausted after the day you’ve had. It felt so peaceful and calm laying in the hotel room. Well as peaceful as your 6 year old jumping on the bed. Zoe did eventually calm down and go to bed in between you and Victoria.

“This is so perfect, baby. Tomorrow is going to be so much fun. I'm thinking we could go to the beach…. I did a lot of research. I know you like plans but we're on vacation. But if not, I have lots of ideas.” You ramble on as Victoria watches smiling fondly as she nods, taking it all in. “That all sounds wonderful baby. I love all your ideas and research… but i'm also totally alright with just doing anything. I'd love to just relax.” She says holding your hand in hers as she lays her hand on your shoulder. “Yeah.. relax. We can do that…. Plus I’d love to see you in a bathing suit.” You smirk, leaning down to give her a kiss on the side of her neck.  

“Oh…. really?” Victoria smirks, pulling back this time giving you a kiss on the neck. “Yeah. I’ve only seen you in those pants suits… which do make you look really hot babe, but I think we both need some beach time” You sigh leaning into her kisses as she doesnt pull away. “I agree.” Victoria grins, pulling back to kiss you on the forehead. You both fell asleep cuddled up with Zoe sprawled out on top of you. The soft snores of your wife and daughter helped lull you to sleep.

You woke up to the little whispers of Zoe as she tried to wake you up. She speaks softly into your ear as she pokes your cheek. “Mama? Mama?” She whispers poking you cheek rapidly and as you eyes flutter open she moves her attention to Victoria. “Mommy? Mommy?” She continues poking Victoria in the cheek. Victoria groans and rolls over waking up as well. “Zoe? It's a little early for this…Can you go back to sleep?” Victoria grumbles sleepily as she plays with Zoe's hair. “How about you cuddle with us for a little longer?” She says pulling her close as you cuddle into both of them. You give both of them a kiss before drifting back to sleep to the constant stream of questions from Zoe.

When the three of you finally got up it was at a more decent time. You all went down to get breakfast and helped Zoe make waffles. Vic made a b-line to the coffee. Even if she is on vacation Victoria definitely needs her coffee, especially to deal with Zoe. After breakfast Zoe begged to go to the beach, it would be her first time after all. The three of you got all dressed up for the beach.

You chased Zoe around the hotel room trying desperately to get sunscreen on her. “ Zoe! Come here please! C’mom this isn’t funny” You chase her around as she giggles screaming about how “you’ll never catch me”. She somehow evaded you for a good minute before Victoria scooped her up as she came out of the bathroom. The young girl squeals as Victoria carries her over to you. Zoe gives in letting you  put sunscreen on her. 

As the three of you make it to the beach Zoe makes her way right to the water. You and Victoria put the stuff down before following her into the water. “Mama! Mommy! Look at the waves, I’m gonna be a surfer when I’m older.” She giggles and splashes around in the shallow waves. “ I’m sure you’d be an amazing surfer Zo .” Victoria says, smiling  fondly as the three of you make your way deeper into the water.

As much as Zoe loved the ocean she still isn’t that tall. She waddles over to you the water up to her chest. You scoop her up in your arms placing her on your hip so she can continue to enjoy the water. “Mommy! Look, I'm a mermaid!” Zoe giggles as you dip her into the water and she swims over to Victoria scoops her up. “Good job bug. You’re a very pretty mermaid” Victoria beams as she spins Zoe around in the water. 

Victoria whispers something into Zoe’s ear with a devilish grin spreading on her lips. That same smile spreads on your daughter's lips, she really is Victoria’s daughter.  You raise an eyebrow. “Hey… what are you two planning.” Zoe giggles before she splashes you. You gasp and cover your face. “You little devils.” You giggle and playfully splash them back.

You spent more time just enjoying the water before you made your way back to your beach towels. Zoe got right to work making a sand castle because instead of a mermaid she wants to be the ocean princess now. You and Vic layed out the towels on the sand so you could relax. “If you're gonna tan at least  put some sunscreen on.” You say as Victoria lays down putting on her sunglasses. “C’mom, don’t make me chase you like Zoe.” You giggle poking her in the side. 

“Fine….. you’re the responsible one. I don't want to get sunburnt. Especially not on my vacation.” Victoria sighs and rolls over reaching for the sunscreen. “Wait… let me do it. You always can’t reach that part on your back.” You smirk, grabbing the sunscreen. She shoots you a knowing look before smiling back and rolling over for you. You squirt some into your hand and rub along the small of her back. She sighs softly letting out a small noise. “ Wow, that actually feels really good.” She relaxes, closing her eyes. “You’re really really tense Vic.. you definitely needed this.”

Victoria leans into your touch as you massage the sunscreen into her back muscles. You move up to her shoulders massaging it in. You make your way down her arms and back to her legs kneading it in. She sighs rolling over and chuckling. “You really got into that huh? You got like magic hands baby. Thank you.” She smiles leaning up to pull you into a soft kiss. She finishes with the sunscreen and lays down on the towel. 

After the long day at the beach you, Victoria and Zoe all went out for dinner at the hotel. There ended up being a little movie night that you also went to. It was Moana which was perfect because it has been Zoe’s favourite movie for a while now. She danced and sang along, having the best time of her life. Till she crashed and ended up falling asleep in Vic’s arms. 

You carried a very asleep Zoe to the room while Vicky walked beside watching you occasionally leaning over to give you a kiss on the cheek. You laid Zoe down on the bed to sleep and you and Victoria went out to the balcony to enjoy the warm breeze and beautiful sunset. You both sat on a lounge chair cuddled up together. Vicky had her head rested on your shoulder while you intertwined your fingers. You pressed a little kiss to her forehead breaking the silence.

“It’s beautiful….. Today was perfect.” You sigh smiling as Victoria pulls her head out and gives you a smile. “ it really is…. Gosh I really needed this. Spending time with my two favourite people.” “You also look really good in a swimsuit baby.” You tease kissing along her neck. She laughs a hint of teasing In her voice “ oh? Is that why you wanted to rub me down earlier?” She smiles, raising a brow at you. “That is not what I was doing. I was protecting my wife from the dangerous sun rays while giving you a massage. Plus you liked it.” You shoot back with no bite to your tone.

She sighs and cuddles into you. “I’m just kidding love….it was wonderful. You have like magic hands.” She says holding your hand out to inspect them. “ Maybe I should have been like a masseuse.” You chuckle to yourself. “Hmm no these magic hands are just for me” she says leaning down to kiss the back of your hand softly. You return a kiss this time to her lips. You cuddle back into her side as the sun starts to set. The sun slowly begins to sink behind the sea. It would be a beautiful sight had your wife not been sitting next to you. She lays head on your shoulder as the both of you sit in comfortable silence. The perfect end to a vacation day, you couldn't wait for the next days to come.

[amethystfairy1]

✨Hello hello!✨

I'm Amethyst (she/her), and I'm your local fanfic gremlin. I've written a lot for a lot of fandoms, right now I am caught in the Hermit/Traffic/Empires brainrot, and if that's how you've ended up here, welcome welcome!

The tag for my random blog stuff is: #amethyst rambles

And I also always post here whenever I post on A03, be it with a new chapter or an entirely new story!

Right now, I have two WIP AUs!

Through the Sky-Blue Cracks 🌤️

My Hot Guy/Cute Guy, Over-City/Under-City AU that has a lot more going on in it now, it's grown pretty big and is organized in chronological order, not by publishing order, so I write up and down on the timeline filling in parts and pieces as I go!

TTSBC takes place in a modern/slightly sci-fi AU with superheroes, biotech, secrets to hide, trauma to unpack, and as much humor as I can attempt to fit in as well!

Features the local superheroes crushing on each other, anxious writer meets intrepid reporter, the drama professors who can't keep their hands to themselves, penpals gone wild, resident middle-aged married couple who happen to be a mobster and a mad genius, the local cottagecore lesbians, bad boy butterfly and cat lady, protective big sister, Zom-Mom and Sentient Glowstick, a very tired Guy-in-the-Chair with a permanent headache, and more yet to be added! I've got lots of plans left for this AU, so if you're interested, please come check it out!

Tags for the AU are:

#through the sky blue cracks

#ttsbc au

#ttsbc ficlets

Traveling Thieves 🪽

My dark fantasy AU! This one has some heavy themes going on, so I'd encourage reading the tags carefully before jumping in! I'm very proud of how it is turning out, dealing with breaking out conditioned headspaces, survival in a sick system, negotiating power imbalance, the power of friendship (no, really), and of course we've got elves, mercenaries, magic, swords, sorcery, rogues, redstone, and lots more fun stuff like that! Also lots of adorable birbs, one traumatized fiery boy, a mer with an attitude, a good doggo, and hurt/comfort galore! Giving everyone a chance to believe that they've all got a shot at getting lucky.

Tags for the AU are:

#traveling thieves au

#traveling thieves ficlets

I think that's all that going on with me right now...so yeah! I love getting the chance to ramble about my worldbuilding, so by all means, give me an excuse and I will make entire posts about that sort of thing!

My DMs are open and I promise I'm not scary! I love rambling and making fandom friends, so feel free to reach out if you wanna chat!

Thanks for coming by! 💖

[notscarsafe]

Okay, so in honor of all the Hermits stirring things up on Twitter today, let's REALISTICALLY consider Season Ten. What do we know, what are our clues, actually???

(Speculating and overanalyzing are really fun so I'm just going to embrace my tendency to Listify Everything and spill my thoughts on Season Ten under the cut!)

First Evidence: The Words of the Hermits.

Nine Days ago Scar said in his Jellie tribute video that Season Ten was “Just around the corner”. Five days ago on the 18th, right after the Hermit meeting that probably finalized their start of the season plans, Cub posted his cryptic tweet whose incorrect capitalizations spelled out “SEASON TEN SOON”. I can't imagine either of those hermits using that phrasing if the season start was more than a month away.

What's more, Gem posted yesterday the 23 that “If hermitcraft s10 doesn’t start soon I’m gonna explode!!!” I can't imagine Gem being that impatient unless there was only a couple of weeks or maybe just one week left before filming.

Second Point to Consider: Hermit Conscientiousness.

The Hermits sre generally really kind to each other and have known when the Hermitcraft Vault Hunters challenge was going to end (Jan 31st, midnight) for months. Per Iskall, the videos of the Herald Vault will drop February 1rst and I can't imagine they'd want video competition between that content and the new season.

Clue Three: The Streaming Activities of the Hermits.

The sheer amount of time Joe has spent playing Vault Hunters lead me to believe they can't have started filming for Season 10 yet. Seriously, when Joe finally has a day without a bonus Vault Hunters stream I'm gonna get mighty suspicious. Joe has streamed more than three hours of Vault Hunters every single day for a week. There was Wednesday when he did his art stream, but I wouldn't expect that to have been a launch day because:

Fact Four: Editing turn around times are so grindy.

The traffic series always has a several day turn around for editing time (IE film Monday post Friday) and several Hermits still struggle to get them out on those days. Even if the hermits were going to ignore the Vault Hunters conflict and start filming season ten this week, tomorrow even, they'd just barely have enough time to squeeze those videos out before the Herald Vault videos. As I'm editing this post Impulse just said he's trying to finish his office reorg this week and have a tour out next week. That does not sound like 'filming this week and editing the new season opener' behavior.

If it goes as Iskall indicated on stream, the Vault Hunter hermits will film the Herald Vault and post as soon as possible on February 1st, meaning the earliest they could kick off season ten would be Friday the 2nd. Even if they film on then I can't imagine them dropping new season videos/having them edited any earlier than Monday the 5th. Furthermore:

Clue Five: A lot of Hermits are very protective of their weekends.

Pearl for example almost didn't join the Decked Out visitor day because it was a weekend. It may be that Monday the 5th would be the more likely earliest useable day for filming after Vault Hunters ended. With editing turn around, we'd guess the start date to be Friday at least.

In Conclusion:

My totally bullshit overanalyzed but still blind guess is that the Hermits will film season ten starting February 5th and will drop videos sometime between February 7th and 9th.

That being said, Cub's cypher today that may have just been trolling said season ten would be “sooner than we'd think” so they may surprise me yet.

Keep an eye out for days where no hermits stream or days where Joe does a brief “1 hour chill stream” to see when the Hermits might be suspiciously behind the scenes. I won't be mad if I'm wrong, overthinking is fun. Either way I hope you join me in hypong up the new season and the new Hermits joining the Hermit Fam. I can't wait!

(Note: this post originally reported the herald vault videos as dropping the 2nd which was an estimate from a stream, but Iskalls video today reported they'd drop the first and this post has been edited to reflect that ❤️)

[countrymusiclover]

1 - First Name Basis

Part 2

Feisty Coffee Girl

Tag list - send an ask to be added

Seattle is known for one thing: tons of rain and anyone who comes here always complains about it. Now that's not to say that those who have lived here their whole life don't get annoyed by it too. Nobody likes walking in the rain. Most find enjoyment in it because it means you get to stay in bed all day or you're a farmer and your crops desperately need some water. Anyway to the point of my ranting of rain is that I would find enjoyment in it on a particular morning. The morning I met the particular surgeon who would change my whole life forever….

The morning started out like any other; the news reported a heavy chance of rain. Jumping out of bed I missed my alarm and one of my friends who was supposed to babysit today was running late. Holding my phone up to my ear I was running around like a mad woman. “Caroline, please hurry. I need you to please be here.”

“I'm coming up the stairs now. I got stuck in traffic. Why is today so important exactly?” My best friend from home who I had moved with here asked me.

My sister Izzie and I grew up in a trailer park in Chehalis, Washington. Our mother basically raised us on our own until Izzie told her she wanted to go to medical school. Our mother spent up the money that we had saved for this to some psychics she went to see. I didn’t really understand why she needed the appointments but I could assume it was because both her daughters got pregnant young. Yet only one of us kept the baby….and I was the one who did it. “It is important because my boss said I would be getting my promotion today. The only requirement is that I come in earlier than normal.”

“Okay now I remember. And calm down, I am outside your door.” She knocked on my apartment door three times while I tossed my phone on the coach, heading to open the door letting her inside.

Caroline Brooke, my childhood best friend, smiled at me. Her curly blonde hair falling over her shoulders when she sat down at my kitchen island. “Why don’t use ask your sister to watch Eve?”

“Because she works 40 hr shifts and she’s only just an intern. She can’t afford to miss a day.”

“And apparently neither can you.” Caroline sent me a half glare. “Have you ever thought about giving your mom the spare room so she can watch her?”

Shaking my head I knew she had a good heart but she didn’t grow up around my mother all the time. My mother was happy I kept my baby up until the point when I had started working at the diner near our trailer park and I wouldn’t give her my money that I had earned. “Caroline, I love you. But my mother only cares about herself nowadays.”

“Sorry," I asked. Hey uh we should probably get Eve to school soon.” She clasped her hands together in her lap.

Looking back over my shoulder to the clock I saw it was almost 9:30 and I needed to be at work before 10:15am. Sliding on my feet I went down the short hallway to my daughter’s room creaking it open. “Everly, we need to get going. Caroline is here to take you to school.”

“Okay, mommy.” Everly came out wearing an orange sweatshirt with an orange on the front and some blue jeans and tennis shoes. She ran past me hugging my best friend sweetly. “Caroline!”

Grabbing my bag by the front door I slipped on my brown boots. I had put on my black leggings and a long green sweater that was required for our uniforms at the coffee shop. Caroline walked towards the door with me and so the three of us headed downstairs. Entering the store my boss Mandy came around the back corner. “Stevens, I need you to work the orders for a few hours until our meeting.”

“I'm on it, boss.” I called her from the back room. This had become our busy morning with the heavy rain everyone wanted a warm drink to fight off the cold. Scrambling around with a tray of coffee I handed them to each one in line who had already prepaid.

I heard someone call my name to head back to the front cash register. “Y/n! Somebody’s at the register waiting.” Della, my work friend came around the corner throwing her brunette curly hair in a ponytail switching jobs with me.

Moving back to the register seeing a guy with green eyes and brown hair. He also had a good scruff going on his chin. “Well now my day just got a whole lot better. You’re the first beautiful thing I have found in this city since I flew in last night.”

“Oh wow. I was not expecting this to start my morning off. Uh what can I get you?” I chuckled, tucking some loose hair behind my ear avoiding his gaze.

The stranger sent me a smile. “A bone dry cappuccino. Unless you have any other recommendations.”

“I’ve had the blueberry scones here and they are pretty good.” I tilted my head to the side.

The stranger reached into his jacket pocket. “I’ll take one of those too.”

“That’ll be $8. 05.” I finally lifted my gaze up to his. Blinking my eyes I just stood there for a second as he handed me some cash and I saw it was a twenty dollar bill. “Uh this is too much. I’ll give you change back.”

The stranger sent me a smirk shaking his head no. “You can keep the change, little blonde.”

“The names Y/n for your information since you didn’t choose to read my name tag.” I rolled my eyes at him, slightly turning around to make his coffee. Pouring the different liquids in a cup focused on my task until he spoke up again.

“My name's Mark. Mark Sloan even though you didn’t bother to ask me. “

Putting the lid on the cup I faced him once more sliding the cup to him. Opening the food case I slid the blueberry scone in a paper bag and handed it to him too. “Ah first name basis already. Next thing I know you’ll be asking me out on a date for just giving you your coffee.”

“I mean I am a lot of fun on a date. I could be down if you’re interested, especially for a night in bed.” Mark smirked at me, raising his coffee cup up and taking a long drink.

My face heated up quickly at the way he just blurted that out in public. I haven’t dated anyone since I had gotten pregnant back when I was thirteen. Izzie would get pregnant two years later. I felt it had become too hard to date or all awkward with me having a young kid. “Oh I don’t know about that. I am not great with dates.”

“You seem like you’d be pretty fun to me.” Mark chuckled, picking up his paper bag. He reached across the table writing down something on one of the comment cards we had near the register. He holds out the note in front of me.

I knitted my brows together confused at what he was holding out towards me. “What’s that for you already paid me?”

“It has my phone number on it. If you’re interested you should call me later.” Mark offers still waiting for me to take it from his hand.

I paused briefly just staring into his eyes. He was obviously attractive there was no doubt there. Della rounded the corner tapping me on the shoulder. “Y/n, our boss wants to see us in the back.”

“You seriously think I am going to go on a date with a stranger?” I ignored Della standing there.

Mark kept his gaze focused on mine. “We’re on a first name basis, Y/n. We wouldn’t be strangers if you take me up on my offer right now or sometime later.”

“Y/n?” Della called my name again.

I didn’t turn my head away when I lifted my right hand taking the note out of his hand smiling before Della was tugging me away from him by my forearm. “I’ll think about it. I…I’m coming. Hey I’m coming - I’ll think about it, Mark.”

“I’ll be waiting for your call, little feisty blonde.” Mark chuckled watching me and my coworker going around the corner and he found himself wanting to see you again the next day.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[honey-flustered]

Eddie Had A Little Lamb (MDNI +18)

Summary: Eddie is trying to be good and with your help, he could be exactly that. But Kas, on the other hand, thrives in all that is unholy and he’ll stop at nothing to bring you and Eddie to the dark side.

Kas!Eddie Munson x Virgin!Religious!Reader

A/N: This is a spicy piece of work. I hope I did this concept justice as this was a request. Please let me know what you guys think since it’s my first time writing kas!eddie. Thank you for reading and please enjoy!

Word Count: 8.7k+

Warnings/Tags: Dub con elements, religious themes, extreme blasphemy, possessive!kas and eddie, innocent!reader, whole big bag of (fluff, smut, angst) mentions of mental health, dom!kas, dom!eddie, use of “daddy” and “master”, corruption/innocence kink, finger sucking, drooling, dumbification, belly bulge, blood kink/drinking, p in v (unprotected), loss of virginity, minor monsterfucking elements, mention of traffic light bdsm system, biting, scratching, face fucking, spit kink, dacryphilia, oral sex (m & f recieving), small breeding kink, creampie, cum eating, doggystyle, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fingering, use of fox tail butt plug, anal play, reader referred to as “lamb” “bunny” “angel” , some violence, mentions of minor character death/disappearance

There’s a reason why lambs are considered a symbol of innocence. The poor things nary a clue when they’re brought to the offering table, gloriously prepared to be slaughtered for the pleasure of man.

Kas pities you. For that was exactly what you were in his eyes: A poor little lamb. Eddie hadn’t realize that he was currently wrapping you up prettily—with a bow on top—to be presented before the beast. Nonetheless, Kas will happily accept this offering. For now, he will wait. He’ll let you come closer until it’s too late to turn and run.

“Eddie,” You say, taking his hands in yours with a sincere smile. “I’m glad you’ve decided to come to Bible study. What’s brought you here tonight?”

Aside from atoning for my sins, you mean?

“I wanna keep trying with this religion thing. Maybe become a better person. I don’t know if I’ll ever believe in God, to be honest with ya,” He admits. “But I’m hoping to prove everyone wrong about me. I’m more than what’s on the surface.”

Eddie’s consumed with guilt. He’s not been himself lately. A few nights ago, Eddie walked home from Gareth’s home, considering it was not much far from where he live. He was randomly attacked by a rabid bat. Bitten and disoriented, he soon blacked out. When he awoke, he found himself covered blood, the metallic taste in his mouth. Then, the missing reports came in about a missing elderly man. Although Eddie was not certain, he believed to be responsible for the disappearance of that man.

Ever since then, he’s been doing all he could to suppress the appetite and that godforsaken voice. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. He was depraved, sick and twisted! That part of him was so far removed, he had a name for himself: Kas.

Usually, staying awake and alert was one way of stopping this undiscovered being within him. Of course, Eddie couldn’t always stay awake. So the next big thing was to sign up for the local church’s mentorship program in which young adult church members assisted the ‘lost’.

“You’re just misunderstood. Sometimes people are afraid of things they don’t understand,” You smile. “Like you must be terrified coming to a place like this. I’m sure everything you heard today sounded a bit foolish to you. I get that everyone outside the congregation thinks we’re all ‘Jesus freaks’ but we’re all just trying to understand things, ya know.”

“If it’s any consolation, I’ve been called a freak, too. That never stop me from wanting to join the program. Although, I can admit that this bible study thing’s not my style.”

“I’m really happy you did come though. You usually say you’ll come when I invite you but don’t turn up,” You began.

Well, it’s not like he actively tried to avoid. He’d come every day if it meant that he got to look at you. When he was partnered up with you for the mentorship program, it was as if he’s one the lottery. But of course, Kas took a liking to you as well only his desires for you were beyond inappropriate. Kas planned to ruin you. So Eddie avoids you as much as he can all so that he can protect you.

“It’s just really nice to see the effort you make towards this.” You finish, cleaning up the desk of books and placing them on the shelf.

“I get cold feet sometimes,” Eddie explains, stacking the chairs away. “Crowds and events also aren’t my thing. But I figured it would make you happy and since you’ve worked so hard steering me in the right direction…all I can do is try.”

You nod. “So are going to do prayer at your place or mine?”

“Yours, I guess.” Eddie says.

Let her come over to our place, idiot.

No, we’re going to her place that way you won’t be able to try any tricks while her parents are there.

“Oh, umm, I was kinda hoping you’d say your place? I know I suggested mine but my father is little overbearing and I didn’t want to just invite myself to your place.”

“I’m fine if your father’s a little overbearing. My Uncle Wayne was at one point of my life.”

“No, you don’t understand. I love my father but he is ‘spy-level crazy’ overbearing. You’d probably never show up again or would ever like to speak with me either. I would know. It’s happened plenty times before.”

“O-okay. We can do it at my place. Just a little warning, Wayne’s working a late shift so…we’ll be alone.”

“Oh…t-that’s okay. We’ll be on our best behavior.” You laugh nervously.

“Exactly.” He joins in on the awkward laugh.

After cleaning up the church library, the two of you got in his van and head to his home. Eddie’s never been to your home and vice versa but he knew you came from an affluent community. He could only imagine what you must think seeing the trailer park.

“Well, um, this is my home.” Eddie says, holding open the door for you. He’s never self-conscious about showing off his place. Couldn’t give a shit about materialism. But he wanted to impress you.

“It’s lovely,” You smile, having a seat on the couch when you recognized that some pillows and a comforter. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is this where you sleep? I didn’t mean to—“

“Oh no, no. You’re fine. Sit wherever you like. My Uncle actually sleeps there. My room’s down the hall,” He clears his throat. “W-we could go in there and do the session there. T-the prayer session.”

“Yeah, t-that sounds good.” You follow his lead.

Eddie thanks the imaginary man in the sky for reminding him to clean his room today. He nervous shifts on his feet while your eyes scanned the room, smiling.

“Your room’s really cool.” You compliment.

“Really? I’m sure your room way cooler.” And bigger.

You look at his red electric guitar hanging up on the dresser. “Whoa, I’ve never seen it up close before.”

“You’ve seen me play it?”

“Oh yeah, I watched you perform one time. My parents don’t allow me to listen to that kind of music but…my friend and I snuck into a show one time after you put the fliers all over the school. You did really great.”

The lamb’s got a naughty side.

Eddie disregards him. “Thanks. The band and I have been working on those songs for years.”

“I’d like to hear more music like that sometime. All my cassettes are of gospel music.” You say, almost sounding annoyed.

“I can fix you a mixtape of all the songs I like. Then, you could tell me all about the songs you do and don’t like during community service.”

“That would be great! But I’m not sure if I can bring it home with me. I don’t even own my own walkman. I share it with my sister and she loves to hog it.”

“Sure you can. You can even borrow mine. We could keep it as our little secret.” Eddie says, putting a finger to his lips.

You laugh. “Okay. Why not? I can live on the edge sometimes.”

Eddie sits on the edge of the bed, patting the seat beside him. You sit, a small gap between the two of you. He could tell that you were uncomfortable, you hands crushed between your thighs as you avoided his stare.

Why don’t you get a little closer to her? She wants you to. I can feel it.

You’re full of shit, man.

“Should we pray now? Or would you like to talk about the study’s topic?” You asked.

“Not even sure what tonight’s topic was even about?” Eddie admitted.

“It was about repentance. How sincere we are in regretting our wrongdoings. We can do a prayer where we apologize for our sins. It doesn’t have to be out loud if you don’t feel comfortable.”

“I’m not sure how to do that.”

“You mean, prayer?”

“Yeah, like do I just talk?”

“Exactly,” You giggle, sliding off his bed to lower onto your knees before him. Eddie’s breath hitches at the sight. This was going to do wonders for his late night fantasies. You, being on your knees and looking up at him through your long lashes was going to do wonders for his late night fantasies. Fuckkkk. Was he really going to pop a boner right now? In front of your fine ass. “You clasp your hands together like your high-fiving yourself and you just talk to him as if you were talking with me. Don’t hold back either say everything. Then, at the end you say ‘amen’. It’s kind of like hanging up the call.”

“Should I keep my eyes open?”

“It’s preferably better if they’re closed,” You lay a hand on his thigh. “You’re probably shy. Not a problem. I’ll just pray for the both of us. Then, next time, you’ll join me.” You squeeze your eyes shut and whisper a prayer.

A lust for a taste. Just one taste.

His legs move on their own accord, standing up so that he’s towering over your small frame. You smelled so fucking incredible. Just…one…taste.

Eddie’s heart beats rapidly, vision blurring as he began to see double. You were oblivious to his inner turmoil, peacefully praying away.And just like that it felt like Eddie had taken the backseat in his own mind.

“Amen,” You finish, looking up at him in surprise. “Oh, I didn’t feel your presence in front of me. You move as swift as a mouse.”

“And you as gentle as a lamb.” He smirks.

This wasn’t Eddie speaking. No! The being known as Kas has taken over. Eddie being so sleep deprived, he didn’t have a fighting chance against him.

You stand on your feet, checking your watch.“Oh, no. How is it already time to go? We hardly got anything done. I’ll have to go. My parents are probably anticipating my arrival by now.”

“It’s only 7 pm, bunny. Is it your bedtime?”

“I can assure you I’m a big girl who sleeps at anytime I please,” You chuckle. “It’s supper time. My family always eats together.

“You should call your parents. Tell them you’ll be staying for a bit. I’m sure they wouldn’t want to keep you from a lost soul who’s eager to learn about the Lord.”

“I-I…I’m not sure if they’d be okay with that. My father was on the fence about me even coming here. Mother had to defend me.”

“Mama does know best. She knows her little girl wouldn’t do anything Jesus wouldn’t do,” Kas winks before holding out the house phone. “Go on. Let make the call. It’ll only be for one more hour.”

No, Kas! Fuck you! Let her go home!

“O-okay,” You take the phone from his hands. “I’ll just take it in the living room in case the conversation needs to be said in private.”

“Do whatever you wish.” He bows, holding open the bedroom door for her. She exits.

Kas!

If Kas weren’t so proud, he’d laugh. The game of chess has been set in motion. Striding over to his bedroom’s dresser, he looks at the reflection in the mirror.

“You rang?” He smiles a toothy grin, his top canines extended.

“Stay away from her,” Eddie hisses. “She doesn’t deserve to be treated like your meal.”

“Then, you shouldn’t have starved me,” Kas grunts angrily. “Besides…she looks good enough to sink my teeth into.”

“I won’t let you hurt her.”

“I’m not gonna hurt her. At least…not in a way she wouldn’t like.”

“Good luck with that. There’s no way her parents will let her stay.”

You walk in, prompting Kas to turn and face you. A smile on your face as you too your seat back in his bed.

“After a some convincing, my father says that I can stay for just one more hour.”

“That’s fantastic.” Kas says in feigned excitement, silently gloating in his head.

“Although,” You play with your thumbs. “I kind of told a little white lie. I told my father that we weren’t left unsupervised.”

“Probably for the best.”

“I feel so guilty, though. I rarely lie to my Father unless it’s reasonable and even then I still end up telling him. I told him I snuck out to see your concert. It’s probably why he doesn’t…” You quiet down.

“Doesn’t…like me?” Kas finishes.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“No, I understand, bunny,” He sits down, scooting closer to you. “Your father’s justified in wanting to protect you from me.”

You smile. “Why would I possibly need to be protected from you? You’re sweet, funny, and interesting. You couldn’t hurt a fly.”

Kas smiles at her cluelessness. “Think about it, bunny. Why do you think your father would be worried you being alone with me?”

“Because it’s late?” You say, softly.

“Because he was once my age. Because he could only imagine that i’ll be doing exactly the things he used to do with your mother before they were married.”

“Y-you mean fornication. But that’s a sin.”

“Sinning’s a part of human nature. It says so in the bible: We’re all born sinners and what not.”

“You’re right about that. B-but church folk say that marriage is important first to enjoy things of that nature.”

“What if I told you, you don’t have to marry…to fuck?”

The emphasis on the swear word sends chills down your spine. You bite your lip to keep him from hearing your heavy breathing.

“I mean, come on. Would you really wanna marry a bad lay? With each new generation, sex is more liberating, raunchier and nastier. It doesn’t always have to come with strings attached. That’s what makes it sooo fascinating. You get to fuck whoever and whenever. Why enforce these principles on yourself when there’s always something new to learn about it. Don’t you like fun?”

You swallow hard. “I do but lots of things could be fun aside from…sinning.”

“What could be more fun than feeling the best pleasure you could ever imagine?”

“Going to church could be just as pleasurable.”You try smiling again to keep him from thinking he’s affecting you.

“It could…but you wouldn’t know that for sure unless you’ve been fucked? But not just regular fucking. Hard, fast. The kind that takes your breath away and makes you feel like you’re dying a little.”

“I experience that above worldly pleasures and the physical. That’s why this mentorship program is out in place, Eddie. It shows us how to seek happiness outside of those things. It’s like a spiritual awakening.”

“I can give you that with just my fingers alone, bunny. You don’t need to talk to some imaginary man in the sky when you’ve got one right here willing to show you things that’ll rock your world.”

“Like what?” You weren’t sure why you kept this conversation going. It was supposed to be about God. About today’s bible study topic. Not…this! But your curiosity got the best of you. You were like a scientist poking and prodding for your latest discovery.

“Have you ever played with yourself?” Kas asks, eyes ruby red. You being so lost in his trance, you couldn’t bother to realize that you were staring into the eyes of a monster.

“You mean, touch myself… down there?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Yes,” You breathe. Somehow, you don’t feel embarrassed to admit this to a guy you’ve had a crush on since the 9th grade, never acting on your feelings because your world had never aligned up until this point. “But not directly.”

“What do you mean, bunny?”

“I’ve never put a finger inside or touch there at all when I’m pleasuring myself because I’d feel too guilty if it were by my own hand. So I…” You look away and trail off, afraid to continue.

“Go on. Don’t be shy.” Kas encourages, a hand on your knee.

“I…shove my pillow between my legs and rub against it.”

“That sounds hot as fuck.” He shift closer to you, his knee touching yours.

“It’s shameful.” You whisper.

“It’s natural. I get that feeling, too. You just want some release. You deserve that. Don’t you, bunny?”

“I’m not sure.” You clamp your thighs together, bringing his attention to the hand that’s rested on your knee.

He slithers a hand up your soft, supple thighs and squeezes. You let out a quiet squeak. “I think you do. You’ve been such a good girl.”

His hand move further up before wedging between your inner thigh. “Tell ya what…maybe I can teach you some things, too. It could be my gift of appreciation to you.”

Kas stalks over you, eyes staring into yours while you gradually fell against Eddie’s pillow.

Don’t you fucking dare, Kas!

You’re shaking and Kas places a hand over your heart, feeling it pound against his palm. It was so delicious. You are just so full of life. And blood. Innocent, pure blood.

“So you’re a virgin?”

You nod.

“I can change that.”

He’s being weirdly crass! You thought to yourself.

And yet, you throbbed for him. Your hands have the sudden urge to pull his face down to yours for a passionate kiss.

But Kas makes the first move, lowering his face above yours. The guitar pick necklace dangling above you slots itself between your breasts when his lips are just inches away from yours. You close your eyes, feeling the lightest of touch only to quickly dissipate before you could even register its presence. You hear a pained groan, opening your eyes to see him rubbing his temple, eyes screwed shut.

“Eddie?”

“Sorry about that, bunny. Got a real pain in my head head just now,” Kas laughs. “I’m ready to continue if you are.”

“Actually, do you think you could take me home,” You reach for your bag beside you, standing on your unsteady feet. “This was…a night.”

Kas exhales deeply. “Why not?”

He sluggishly reaches for the keys of the van, leading you out the door to his van. The rest of the car ride was quiet but the exchanging spoke loud enough. When Kas arrived to your home, you gathered your things slowly almost like you were thinking of saying something.

“Umm, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Maybe.” Kas says, nonchalantly.

“Okay,” You say, discouraged. “Goodnight.”

You pull the door handle but it wouldn’t budge. After couple of tries, Kas leans across your seat.

“Sometimes, you gotta give it a little shake.” He strongarms the handle, popping the door open.

He could here your breathing above him, you really were inexperienced. The slightest touch or breeching of your personal space and you’re flustered.

Kas decides to have fun with this, making sure you can feel his breath ghosting over you skin as he gradually looks up at you. When you felt it tickle against your neck, you shudder. Just as he’d hoped: goosebumps light up your skin.

“Goodnight.” Kas finally says.

“Mm, yeah.” You rush out, going up to the front door. He waits for you to enter and he’s off, cursing himself. You were a lot harder of a catch.

But it wasn’t lost on him that you’d been rubbing your thighs together. You probably couldn’t wait to get back to back to your room to hump your pillow until sunset. Kas prides himself in this thought.

“Thanks to you she thinks I’m some perv.” Eddie complaints.

Kas groans. “Don’t you have an off switch? Besides a pervert is exactly what you are. Don’t pretend you weren’t thinking of fucking her, too? I didn’t hear you once complain when I asked her about playing with herself.”

“You won’t be coming near her again, Kas. I fucking swear it. From now on, I’ll be serious with my avoidance of her.”

“We’ll see how long that’ll last. Hell, she’ll probably come looking for us first after the time I just gave her.” Kas winks through the rearview mirror.

Eddie could feel himself slipping into his own mind, trying to find solid ground. If he didn’t figure out a way to find the balance within himself, Kas will take full control. And who knows how many people’s lives could be at risk.

—————

Eddie’s ashamed. After your confessions last night, he touched himself, imagining the way you’d sound moaning as your wet pussy dragged along your pillow. He imagined what words you’d say when you climax. Would you call for God? Would you swear? Would you call out for his name?

The next thing he knew, his hands were down his boxers, stroking his cock and sniffing the parts of the sheets where you were lain against. It was pathetic. Desperate. He hated to admit that Kas had been right. Eddie wanted to fuck you hard and deep, making you take every inch of him.

The next day—as Kas predicted—you were actively searching for him. Eddie made sure that whenever you were entering a room, he was exiting.

He’s been successful for the most part. The occasional times where he would run into you, he’d quickly rush off explaining to you how he’s needed in a different department of the church. But despite that, he was at ease knowing that you’d be safe from him.

That was up until he was reminded of bible study. In which, Eddie had to sit in a room of close proximity to you. You’d try to sit next to him and he’d pounce at the very moment the hear your body radiates against his skin.

He needed to think fast. So when the meeting begun, Eddie made sure to sit in a chair with the seats around him filled. Every now and then, he’d catch your stare. Especially, when the two of you shared a momentary smile at one another when the lead went on about the “devil worshipping game of Dungeons and Dragons”. Once the meeting concluded, Eddie’s attempts to walk out the door when the lead begs him to stay to clean up again along with You like the other day.

He reluctantly agrees, starting in a corner of the room far from you. Every now and then, he’d catch himself staring. Did you have to dress goddamn stunning today? Like a goddamn angel. It wasn’t fair.

You pretend as if you needed something in the section he was hiding in, casually walking around him. “Hey! I was looking to speak with you today.”

“Really? Oh man, I’m sorry.” Eddie wasn’t much of an actor.

“You seem like you’re very busy today. It’s nice to see that you being so active here.”

To avoid all my problems, of course.

“Everyone’s been talking about it,” You continue. “Nobody could have seen it coming. Eddie Munson, church goer.”

“Well, no one’s as shocked as my friends. They still don’t believe it, pictures and all,” Eddie laughs before clearing his throat for a more serious topic. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I was being a dick—sorry I mean, jerk.”

You look at him strange.

“Did I say something wrong?” Eddie asks.

“No. It’s just funny that you’re apologizing for cursing,” You giggle. “Yesterday…you were sort of a sailor mouth.”

“Oh, right. I’m not sure what came over me.“

“To be quite honest, I kinda liked it,” You smile, looking down in your lap. “Everyone’s so formal and proper all the time. It’s nice to hear something…different.”

“Oh…” Eddie’s floored.

“Anyway, how’d you like today’s study?”

“Not my favorite, honestly. They talked so much shit about D’n’D being ‘demonic’.” Eddie says, putting on a gravelly demon voice.

“I’m really sorry about that. I know it’s a sensitive. It was very admirable of you not to interject your points even though you could have very well done so with no judgment. In my opinion, it’s only a harmless game. I’ve been curious to play it.”

“You should come by my club sometime, then. I can teach you all that I know.”

“I’d love for you to teach me.” Your smile fades when you’re reminded of the implications of your statement. Eddie catches this, nervously twirling the rings on his fingers. Neither of you meeting each other’s gaze.

You clear your throat, breaking the silence. “Eddie…I have a few questions.”

“Sure, angel. What’s up?”

“Is there something you’re hiding from me? I want you to know that whatever it is that you feel you can’t tell me…you really could tell me. I may not be a great liar but I can keep secrets.”

Yes, actually. I have a lust for blood because I’m a vampire with an alter personality that attacks humans for their blood and now we’re competing to claim you. : Is what he wished to say… instead he simply puts it at a, “It’s complicated. But I don’t think I have much to say.”

“It’s just that you’ve been so different lately. I’ve never know you to remotely care what people think of you. Or go to church meetings and want to learn about the Bible.”

“People aren’t born religious, they find their way. I did.”

“Yeah but it’s like you’re doing it to make up for something. Whatever it is…you should know that you don’t have to deal with it on your own. You don’t have to avoid me. And if it feels like I’m not forcing you into doing this program in anyway—.”

“I chose to sign up for this. None of this is because I’m force to do this. If anything I like being around you, I’m just going through a lot of stress. It’s hard learning to be more responsible and in control.”

“I know what you mean,” You laugh. “I feel like I nearly lose control all the time. Especially…when I’m with you.”

His eyes widen at your bold admittance.

“Yesterday, I was on the edge, waiting to go over. It’s like that whenever I’m near you. Like, I’m hanging on by a thread that just gets keeps getting thinner and thinner, anticipating the moment it snaps.”

“That’s exactly how I feel.” Eddie says, feeling as if a weight’s been lifted off his shoulders.

“Is it wrong that I wish for you to teach me those things you said you would? To think such sinful thoughts right here on church grounds?”

He swallows audibly, adam’s apple bobbing. “I wouldn’t think so.”

“I’ve always liked you, Eddie. I like you. Not whatever constructed version of you that you’re trying to build to appease the masses. I’m interested in you and the things you like and how excited you are when you get to share them with someone,” You close the space between your bodies. “When I think about you…I can’t stop the ache I feel between my legs. No matter how many times I touch myself at night.”

“Oh, angel,” Eddie breathes. “You’re gonna break me down.”

“What I feel is so intense that all I could do is touch myself to get some release. You were right. I don’t want to deny myself of what I need. I need you.”

“I need you, too. So fucking bad. I could never get you out of my head.”

Your eyes light up. “Really?”

“How can I? You’re amazing. And you’re really pretty and nice and you smell like a dream. Whenever I look at you, I just wanna hold you and kiss you.”

“I can’t stand it. I want you now.” You whine, grabbing the collar of his jacket to press your lips to his.

He’s more confident in his kiss with you, tongue running over your bottom lip. You grant him the permission to explore your mouth, deepening the kiss. You even tasted incredible, too.

Eddie feels as if he’s on top of the world and he hopes Kas could see him now.

That’s checkmate, asshole.

You break the kiss, a line of spit connecting your lips before you lap at it with your tongue. A heat creeping up on your lips when you remembered exactly where you were.

“I hope these old cameras don’t work.” Although, something within you says the opposite.

“Come on.” Eddie takes your hand, leading you to the back corner of the library.

He turns you over, your back against the bookshelf as he starts off by kissing your neck. He, then, resumes moving his lips over your pouty ones, his skillful tongue works its wonders. When his hands reach your butt, he cups it and uses the leverage to glide your clothed core over his denim-covered thigh.

“First lesson in pleasuring yourself, if you’ve got a partner…use ‘em.” Eddie says, grinding you down against him causing you to moan out.

You cover a hand over your mouth afraid that you’re being too loud. He quickly removes your hand away.

“It’s just us, angel. I wanna hear you.”

“But what if someone walks in?”

“Don’t care. Show me how you play with that pussy when your at home. Ride my thigh.” His hand collides hard on your ass, the sting hurts so good.

“Please.” You rasp, rutting against his leg like a dog in heat while he sucked on your neck.

He wanted to taste you so badly. Drink of your nectar as if you were the very source of life itself. So, once he felt like he’d gotten his fill, he drops down to his knees before you. You were confused at first until you felt his hands creep up your dress, finding the band of your panties.

It was a blessing you decided to wear nice underwear today.

He slides your pink thong down your legs, hiking the skirt of your dress around your hips. The look on his face was enough to make you feel like a goddess. His hooded eyes, fluttering as he watch your honeyed arousal seep from your puffy lips.

“It so damn perfect.” Eddie groans. Not wasting a second longer, he dives in. His tongue licks a long stripe up and down your slit before taking in the sensitive nub between his pursed lips.

Your knees begin to buckle underneath you, the only thing keeping you up is his hand on your abdomen.

“Ngh..ooo please! Eddieee.” You whine, biting your lip to keep from screaming. In that moment, there was no turning back for you. You’ve now experienced the kind of pleasure your pillow could never compare to.

You almost felt sorry for denying yourself this kind of bliss. But it was worth the wait because now you get to indulge. And indulge you did, grinding your sodden cunt against his face. His arms wrap around your thick thighs, pulling you into him as if you weren’t close enough.

Eddie kisses your pussy like does when he kissing the lips on your face, savoring the feeling against his. He collects your juices on his tongue then spits back onto your throbbing pussy before sucking it off again. It was absolutely filthy. Something you’d never seen which was enough to make you cum hard at the sight alone.

Your walls clench and unclench within you, desperately needing to be filled. As if he’d read your mind, he slips in a thick digit into you. Then, another. You gasp at the sensation. It was foreign but it intensified your orgasm to the point where you reached for the books behind you to ground yourself into reality, knocking them to the ground.

You were like a work of Michelangelo. He watches intensely as you cry out and writhe against his mouth and fingers. The sounds of his moans combined with the suction noises would have anyone fooled that he was currently eating a 5-star cuisine.

“Oh, yess, daddy.” You let out a guttural groan, the whites of your eyes shown.

Eddie liked the sound of that, laughing wickedly against your thigh. He knew he’s won, taking you down piece by piece until you crumbled. He rubs your clit until your shaking from overstimulation, pulling his hand away to breathe again.

He smirks. The little tease. You smile back, panting. Your hair’s probably a mess from all the thrashing.

You expected him to slide your underwear back up your legs. Instead, he sniffs them and groans, pocketing them.

“Mine now.” He claims with a smile.

“You’ve definitely rocked my world.” You praise, now that you could form a coherent sentence.

He chuckles, helping you straighten yourself out. “So did you. I’ve never been so turned eating pussy. Nearly came in my pants like some prepubescent kid.”

“I want more.” You jump him, kissing with tongue and tasting yourself.

He pulls away, cradling you in his arms. “Whoa, whoa. Let me take you out on a date first. Let’s take things a little slow.”

————

He was no better than Kas. Eddie was just as thirsty for you. Just as much to credit for your corruption. There was no slowing down between the two of you. Ever since you’d began dating, things have been intense.

There was lots of kissing for sure and Eddie loved going down on you every chance he got. He was a addicted to your taste and the way you sounded, determined to make you scream his name whenever the two of you were alone.

You’d asked Eddie to go to the sex shop with you because tonight was the night. You and Eddie have talked about it for these past few weeks now. He was going to take your virginity. Like you’d always dreamed about.

You were looking for your first time to be somewhat experimental but also as loving as possible. You knew Eddie would provide that. But there wasn’t just Eddie Munson who’d partake in your christening…Kas would soon make his entrance.

“You should buy that,” The little devil in Eddie’s mind says, drawing Eddie’s attention to the foxtail anal plug hung up on display. “It’ll train her ass just right for what I plan on doing to her tonight.”

“Fuck off. I’m not letting you get in on this,” Eddie bites. “She’s mine.”

“Did you really think I wouldn’t come out to play when our girl’s begging for our cock?” Kas says, smugly.

“Get the fuck out of my head, Kas. You’ve caused enough trouble in my life.”

“You can deny me all you wish but it changes nothing. I am your most primal desires and truest of nature. I am you,” Eddie could feel himself weakening. Kas growing in his awareness. “I have you to thank, though. You prepared the little lamb nice and ready for me to partake. Maybe I’ll let you take the reigns…eventually.” Kas chuckles, darkly.

“Eddie,” You skipped giddily over to him. “I think I’m ready to go now. I didn’t get much other than some condoms and lubricant like you said.”

“What do you think of this?” Kas says, picking up the foxtail, curling it around your neck as you look in the mirror.

You giggle. “What is that?”

“Oh, you’ll find out.”

—————

You made it to Eddie’s trailer and your nerves manifested into butterflies aimlessly fluttering in your tummy. This was going to happen. You were going to lose your virginity to Eddie Munson. But as excited as you were…you couldn’t bring yourself to step out of his van.

A part of you felt guilty. Like you wanted to call it off in that moment. You’ve been saving yourself for marriage but all your views and moral values were slowly unraveling. Was God looking down at you right now?

“Hey, bunny?” He says warmly, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Something wrong?”

Your eyes look into his and suddenly you’re skeptical of the man before you. His pale skin contrasted with the darkening around his eyes which in return highlights the ruby red of his irises. “H-hey, um, Eddie?”

You say the name itself in the form of a question, which prompts him to catch onto your suspicion. And yet he smiles. “Yeah?”

“What if I were to say that I’m having second thoughts about this?”

“That’s normal. But that’ll pass. I promise I’ll make this enjoyable for you.”

You grip the edges of your skirt. “It’s just that…it feels so different. Y-you feel different again.”

The moonlight over his faces leaves one side lit brightly against his skin while the other half of his face was shaded in the dark.

“What makes you say that?”

“There’s something about your energy that’s… shifted. And your eyes—It’s like that night all over again. The night we almost….” You swallow the hard lump in your throat. “You’re not Eddie, are you? W-who are you?”

The corners of his lips curl. “You’re a clever little lamb, aren’t you? That explains why you ran off that night. Do you always run from danger?”

You frigid in your seat, watching his every move.

“My name is Kas. Think of me as an enhanced version of lover boy who’s, by the way, watching us through these eyes. Right now. Tonight…I’ll be filling in for him by filling in you.”

“You,” You whisper, pointing at him. “You’re the one that’s been influencing me and Eddie to do these unholy things. You’re possessing him.”

“Bunny, you’ve gotta stop reading that fairytale crap. It rots your brain. I’m no demon,” His fangs extend and you’re scared shitless. “I have no part in controlling Eddie’s emotions or yours. He’s been wanting to fuck you since he saw you. I couldn’t blame him. You’re so sexy.” He growls, leaning in.

You hold up the rosemary around your neck. “I’m protected by God.”

He smirks, reaching out to squeeze the pendant between his index and thumb. He bends the copper in half. You’re shocked to see that he was able to hold it without it negatively affecting him in some way. “Your God can’t save you. No one can. And with my cock down your throat, no one’ll hear you scream either.”

“What do you want?” You hiccup, a tear trickling down your face.

“To fornicate.” He mocks.

You try pulling at the door handle but to know avail, resorting to climbing into the back of the van. His manic cackling is a form of torment.

“You’re exactly where I want you, bunny.” Kas chortles, hopping out the driver’s side to yank open the double doors of the van. “I’ve always wanted to pop your cherry under the stars.”

You kick at him but he’s quicker than you, catching your legs and pulling you towards him. He forces your legs open for his body to stand in between. Climbing over you, he crashes his mouth over yours, teeth knocking in the impact. Your mouth opens at the force, allowing him bite down on your tongue and draw blood. You yelp out in pain, which dissipates into pleasure as he suckles on it.

You’re grinding your core into his hardening erection. He pulls away, looking between your bodies.

“Would you look at that? Looks like our girl wants me, too, Eddie.”

“Eddie?” You stopped rolling your hips in embarrassment, prompting him to slap the side of your thigh.

“Hey! Did I tell you to stop?”

“But Eddie…” You whimper.

“Awww, you scared he’s gonna be mad your humping my leg like a desperate little whore? He’ll be a lot more pissed at me for the things I’ll be doing to you.”

He thrusts his hips against you, pressing his erection into you. You whine out. “I’m sorry, Eddie.”

“Don’t be. He’s right here with us. He’ll feel every part of this. I just get to take the lead,” He pulls himself up on his knees. “Would you like to see what’ll be splitting you apart?”

You nod. You’re not sure why you’re flooding in your underwear at such graphic language but the thought of being impaled by him forcefully was more than inciting.

His shirt is the first to go, chest and abdomen riddled with large scars that made you question his survival of whatever attacked him. You follow his happy trail, his hands just above it before they find their way to his belt. The metal clanking of his belt fills the silence then the quiet zip of the zipper.

He straddles your upper body, the crotch area close enough to your face. “Pull ‘em down.” Kas demands.

With shaky hands, your fingers hook around the waistband of his boxers and pants, lowering them slowly until his cock springs out and hovers over your face with a bounce. You eyes widened in pure horror and fascination. Not only was it huge but it was freakish. Two toned with a rose pink tip, it jumped and wiggled as if it had a mind of its own. As if it were a tendril-like entity.

“Oh my god.” You squeak in shock.

“He looks happy to see you,” Kas smiles. “Why don’t you have a taste?”

You reluctantly stick your tongue out, licking a small strip up the tip. You taste the saltiness of his precum on your tongue then rest your head back against the layers of comforters.

“What was that? Suck on it.” He demands, growing impatient.

“But I don’t know how.”

“I’ve seen the way you eat popsicles, sweetheart. You’ll do just fine. Here, I’ll even help you,” Gripping your hair forward, he sheaths himself down your throat. The entity of a cock, wriggling inside your throat and forcing you to gag. “Oh yeah, that’s it.” He moans.

Kas forces your head down on him over and over. Your trapped between his legs so there was no running. The gurgling sound beneath him eggs him on as he fuck your face roughly. He yanks your hair back for a moment, a thick glob of spit dripping from the tip. You take in as much as air as you could.

“Look how pretty.” He pulls down on your hair, forcing your mouth up and open. Sticking his tongue out, he lets the saliva trail down onto your awaiting tongue.

You aren’t given enough time to compose yourself. Kas shoves his length down your throat once more, adamant on choking you with it. At one point he pinches your nose, using his handle around it to push and pull you down around him. You could hardly breathe but you would not allow yourself to tap out, wanting to please him.

He lets go of his hold around your nose and you learn to breathe through your nostrils, bobbing your head back and forth.

“Now, you’re getting the hang of it,” He says, breathlessly. “Here’s your reward.”

He collects the mass of spit drip between your mouth and his cock. You feel your panties push to the side and then that familiar pressure within you. You clamp around his fingers immediately.

“Ooo, yes please.” Your eyes roll back into your skull like always.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” He groans, pounding his finger into you so deep that you could feel the band of his rings tap against your clit. “What do you say, bunny?”

“Thank you, Master.” Your hips lift up to meet his thrusting fingers, your hand curled around his thick length as much as you could fit to jerk him off.

He circles his finger around something inside you that you hadn’t known you’ve possessed, flicking the trigger repeatedly until the sounds of your wetness echo in the vacuum space.

“I’m close…gonna cum.” Your legs are shaking as you pant for dear life. The pressure building more and more. “Oh god.”

“Not god, bunny. God couldn’t give you this much pleasure.”

You whine and babble, tears running down your face. Then, you’re gasping, eyes fluttering. This was going to be an intense one. One that scared you so much that you nearly ruined it on your own trying to suppress but Kas’s fingers knew how to draw your orgasm when you begged for it to retreat. No way could you handle this and come out sane.

“Unnh, mmm.” Now your toes are curling, arousal seeping and just before you snap…he pulls his fingers.

You’re hyperventilating. You hated him. You wanted to stop this. To give up. How could he be so evil?!

You cry out your frustration and he’s amused, studying features while you threw a tantrum beneath him.

“I was going to let you finish but then I remembered you tried running away from me…again,” He chides. Yet, now you cry and beg for me. So what is it? Are you mine or not?”

Your chest rises and falls, hot and angry tears streaming down your cheeks. “You said I deserve release.”

“Then, prove yourself worthy. Move me.” He smirks.

“I wanna cum,” You groan, throwing your head back in frustration. “Wanna cum on your fingers, Master. Please. I belong to you. I’m yours.”

“Alright, bunny.” He coos, shoving his fingers into you again. And It’s like he’d never left. The pressure is there again and somehow there’s layers upon layers of it. One push of a beckoning finger against the pearl within you and you’re gushing endlessly.

You’re wetting the comforter beneath you, calling out into the night without a worry or care in mind as if he didn’t have neighbors. He doesn’t stop his ministrations and your convinced he’s trying to keep the trend of you screaming loud enough for people to think you’re being murdered.

“Just one more.” He says, wriggling against it again and you’re so sensitive that it feels like he’s broken something in you so that all you can do is leak out your arousal.

You tremble and jolt, eyes glossed over. Unaware of him sliding himself off you, it wasn’t until your legs are pried open again that brought you back. You look up at him, his pants fully removed.

“Take off your clothes. I’m done waiting.” He commands.

You oblige, shyly removing your clothing and garments until you lay bare before him. He looks you up and down, the entity-like cock stiffening in your direction.

You expected him to roll on a condom. Instead, he flip you around on your stomach.

“What about wearing a condom?” You panic.

“I’ll be filling you up with my cum. Think I could get your belly all round and swollen for me?”

You shook your head. “No, please.”

“You know how to end this. Say it and I’ll stop right now.”

He was right. Eddie had taught you the colors in case you needed things to stop or go slow. But you didn’t want any of that. You craved the full experience. You silently lift yourself on all fours, pushing your ass against him to show how badly you need him. It was going to hurt going in this way your first time but you weren’t a quitter.

“That’s my girl.” His hands squeezed around your waist, fingertips digging into your belly. The fat tip his cock at the entrance of your core.

You exhale, feeling the pressure and then just as he said…you’re being split apart. “Oh, ffff-“

“What’s that?” He teases, inching into you some more before snapping his hips forward. He’s officially fed you the entire length, stretching you beyond comprehension.

The wind is knocked out of you, your hand searching for something to grip. “Oh, fuck.” You squeak.

“Feels so fucking good ruining you.” He laughs, hitting sharp thrusts into you. Pound for pound, he elicits a noise out of you each time.

Kas smells the familiar scent of blood on his length and his bloodlust spikes. He fucks into you hard and your knees give out, now laying flat on your stomach.

“Oh, fuck, Master. Thank you.” You whine, biting into the sheet below you.

He’s relentless taking you as if you’ve been through this times before. No mercy. Your breath and words snatched away with each nudge of his tip teasing you g-spot. He pulls you up on your knees again and you feel a cool gel ooze onto your puckered hole. His thumb teases the entrance, circling around it until it’s replaced with a cold metal object that breaches through your anal cavity fully.

“Your ass looks so yummy, bunny.” Kas moans, spanking your ass roughly, yanking on the tail.

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” You chant, overwhelmed by the feeling of both your holes being filled.

“Howl for me.” He says, slapping your ass again.

You don’t even have to try. You were doing that exact kind of noise. His neighbors would for sure voice their complaints.

You feel his cock doing something to your walls that seemed near impossible as it suctions itself to your walls, keeping him snug within you while it searched for its main target.

Kas grunts with every thrust going deeper and deeper into your channel until reached your cervix. You began to salivate, mind numb. Was he in your stomach? You didn’t have to wonder long, feeling him apply pressure near your belly button. Oh yeah, he’s deep in your guts. Rearrange them for a permanent indentation. He’s officially broken you and you’re not understanding your reality at this point.

“You’re squeezing me tight, bunny. You gonna come?”

“Uh-huh.” You pant, eyes crossed.

“Then, fucking ask for permission!”

“Please make me cum, Master. Please. I’ve been a good girl. I wanna cum!”

His fingers find your swollen nub, rubbing it back and forth . Your legs give out once again but he doesn’t miss a beat, stroking long and deep into your squelching core. Skin slapping against skin as your ass jiggled at the force.

“I’m cumming!” You cry out, squirting your juices at anything in within range. Kas takes this opportunity to bite into your neck and feed. It all felt so overwhelming. Now you’ve understood it why the french call it ‘a little death’. You’re positive that your heart’s stopped momentarily during your convulsions.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You bite down on your finger, he’s still drinking of your blood.

Kas’s warm seed shoots through your warm channel. He unsheathing his sharp fangs from your neck, mouth bloodied as he pumped away in your clenching core. His moans enough to make you whine again at the sound even though you’re pretty much spent.

Once, he’s sure he’s pushed his cum far enough into the deepest parts of you, he stills and slides out of you slowly. His dick is covered in a mixture of cum and blood. You mourn the loss of him as if his place was meant to be inside you. He collapses in the space next to you, caressing your backside and playing with the tail thats still plugged in you.

“How do you feel?” He asks.

You turn over on your back, panting. “I feel…like I just had a spiritual awakening.”

“Didn’t I tell ya.” He chuckles.

“I’m also really lightheaded.”

“That’s both the orgasm and the blood loss. You’ll need some food to replenish.”

You hum your understanding.

Kas curls into your side, pressing kisses into your shoulder. “Do you like me, too? I know you like Eddie but do you like me?”

“I do,” You nodded. “I like every part of you.”

“Even if there were some…darker parts that you don’t get to see.”

You had to think about that one, piecing together Eddie’s arrival to the church along with the very idea of Kas. “I think that because I like you…I’m willing learn to understand you. But I don’t want anyone to get hurt. So, if you ever need to feed, I am yours.”

He nudged his head into the crook of your neck. Kas choose not to tell you about the missing man, wanting to start a new clean slate with you. Maybe you had influenced him just as much as he did you.

“Hey, Bunny. Lover boy’s looking to cut into our time. So if I go, just remember that I fucked you better.”

You giggle, playing in his hair. Kas shuts eyes and reopens them and they’re the familiar brown cow eyes.

“Eddie?” You place soft kisses all over his face when you notice his glare. “Are you mad at me?”

“I’m not mad, angel. But I won’t be so nice either.” He captures a hardened nipple between his teeth and bites down, making you scratch angry lines down his back. His mouth latches onto your creamy pussy, drinking of its essence. You were sensitive but you sigh in delight, hands in his hair as you arched off the van floor.

Should you be a lamb, then you shall serve yourself as a precious offering to your kings?