#warning for anyone who does look under the cut (illegal)

[beentobeetle]

@potato-lord-but-not you said you’d have liked a traditional doodle, sooooo :]

Explodes them with mind. The first and third ones are actually bringing me to my knees AUHHH I LOVE THEM SO MUCH … Potato your designs are sooo satisfying to draw I hope you know that

WARNING! Jumpscare meant for ONLY POTATO-LORD under cut … tread carefully … oooooOOooOooHhh …

Apologies, but you birthed this wretched, childish thing, and you have to live with it (/SILLY SILLY SILLY)

Anyways. artistic recreation of the Jarthur buttsex image. It has actually plagued my head so badly everytime I try and think of sweet Jarthur things this horrid critter appears instead

[jwnzlvr]

just take it

pairing : boxer!nishimura riki x reporter!fem reader

summary : you asks stupid questions, you get very interesting answers! or, riki gets sick of your shit and he definitely lets you know.

wc : 2.4k

warnings : SMUT (mdni), noncon/dubcon themes, p in v, pwp (very light plot tbh), unprotected sex (don’t do that folks!), light edging and overstim, choking, light slapping, squirting, fingering, (slight) degradation, not proofread!, DON’T LIKE, DON’T READ (i will be promptly blocking anyone who doesn’t like and does read.)

notes : everyone say thank you ash (@gyaruoriki go read her fics !) for the idea love ur big sexy brain mmmm !!! i wrote this at midnight while thinking abt this cute guy i saw at work who had just come out of the gym wearing bandages MHMM scrumptious. anyways, yall enjoy <3

seeing riki high off his adrenaline, eyes filled with pure determination and rage did something to you. you’d heard from other sources that riki was competitive and winning his matches was always something important for him. however, you never really understood just how strong this competitiveness was until you saw him in the ring.

sweat mixed with blood dripped down his face. the bruises on his torso were indicators of how well this round was going. not good at all. according to riki, this was all YOUR fault. every time that you were a part of the audience of a match always ended in him losing. it’s been loss after loss for him lately.

‘how important could that stupid article be for her to ruin my fucking matches?’ riki would ask himself. definitely not important enough to cause him yet another loss tonight. his opponent managed to catch him off guard, throwing a punch straight to his gut. the impact made riki fold over, his hand on his stomach and a bit of blood being coughed up.

“fuck this…” he mumbled as he tried to get back up but his body decided to give out on him completely. you watched in disappointment as riki fell to the floor of the ring. the referee counted to ten, officially making riki the loser of this round and the match.

white noise filled riki’s ears and only one thing was on his mind: you. you, the one who seems to be like bad luck to him. you, the one who can’t seem to shut the fuck up. you, who always asks the worst questions at the worst times. like now. because for some reason, you thought it’d be real smart to follow him into the locker room and ask an angry, upset riki “so, how do you feel about this being your fourth loss this season?”

the simple sound of your voice made him want to punch you in the face. or stick his dick into it. he wasn’t too sure yet.

riki stared at you in disbelief. he scoffed before turning to look at anything else but you. “are you serious right now?” he asked, his fatigue dripping into his voice. “well, it’s an actual question i need to make.” you retorted, notepad and pen in your lap.

“it’s an actual question? okay. i’m pissed off. i never lose but it seems ever since you started showing up here, you just ruined shit for me. what are you even writing about on that stupid fucking notepad? are your articles even important? what do you even write about?” his frustration was absolutely evident. you thought for a second before answering him. “illegal boxing. underground boxing. and no, it’s not my fault you’ve been losing. that’s very much your problem. i’m just doing my job. it’s really not my fault you can’t handle a simple loss.”

your words set something off inside of riki. something beyond anger, beyond wanting to rock your shit. something dark. you’d really fucked up by now.

‘fuck it.’ he thought to himself before he grabbed you by the arm. “what are you-“ “shut the fuck up.” he cut you off as he threw you to the floor, immediately caging you between him and the cement under you. you couldn’t even react from how fast everything had happened. one second you were on a chair and the other you were on the floor with riki’s breath against your lips.

being in this position made riki realize how attractive you really were. sure, he hated your guts but he admitted from the start that you were hot. he knew eventually he’d try to get you alone to fuck you but he didn’t think it would be right now. or that it’d be under these circumstances.

you shook under him, you didn’t know from what. fear? shock? one look into his eyes told you everything you needed to know of his intentions with you. they held an eerie darkness to them. it shook you to your core. riki didn’t give you more time to think but hiking up your skirt, revealing your plush thighs to him. he grinned at the sight of your stockings and your panties. how cute.

“fuck, you have no idea how long i’ve been wanting to do this to you… coming into my space just to ruin shit. just made me wanna fuck that stupid smile off your face. want me to do that? actually, who cares what you want. i think i deserve at least this as a reward for you ruining my winning streak.” he smirked as he ripped your stockings off of you along with your panties.

you whimpered at how aggressive he was being. your hands immediately tried to wrap around his forearms. it seemed you forgot riki was probably ten times stronger than you, and he showed this by promptly releasing your grip on him and using one hand to push both your arms above you.

“really? do you actually think you can get me off of you?” riki’s grin widened. you felt a shock of fear down your spine. he was having fun. he was about to do something disgusting, yet he was having fun.

you couldn’t even move around as he was on top of you, his weight holding you down. “what do you want?” your voice came out in a tremble. riki only looked you up and down before answering.

“revenge. and a little fun.”

revenge? for making him lose? this was a new level of petty for you. and the way he was getting his revenge was definitely not your favorite. riki used his hands to pry apart your thighs, immediately getting a negative response from you. you didn’t even get to say anything to him before he reached his hand back up and slapped you across the face.

“don’t fucking complain. just take it.”

his thigh was slotted in between yours, putting some pressure on you with it. you tried your best to not show an expression of pleasure to him. you couldn’t let him know you enjoyed the slight pressure on you. your clit twitched at the feeling of his shorts against you.

he slotted his hand in between where his thigh was and your heat. his fingers traced around for a bit before finding your clit. he smirked as he rolled it between his fingers. he had fun watching you try to not whine at the feeling of him playing around with you.

he gave a dark chuckle at the sight before him. “i know you’re enjoying this, baby. i can feel you getting wet.” and he was right, your pussy beginning to get damp. you refused to give into his actions thought. “fuck you!” you yelled, trying to move but only making it worse for yourself.

riki decided he had enough of your brattiness and pinched your clit as punishment. you yelped at the bit of pain followed by some pleasure. your pleasure was promptly taken away when riki gave another pinch, this time hard enough to make you almost tear up.

“fuck me? gladly.” he gave a fake smile as he took his thigh back from between you. his hand immediately made its way back to between your thighs. you didn’t even get to do or say anything before two of his long fingers slipped inside of you. you couldn’t bite back that moan, letting riki know that felt good to you.

no. no, it shouldn’t feel good. but with each curl of riki’s fingers you felt your defense falling some more. his thumb grazed over your clit occasionally, making you clench on his fingers. riki knew you were starting to enjoy it and it was evident on how his fingers started to thrust in and out of you with more force than you’ve felt.

he watched as you whined, trying to deny it felt good but your body couldn’t lie. you were gushing on him and you knew it. you felt your high getting close. your hips moved on his fingers automatically as you got closer and closer.

you could taste your orgasm coming, just a few more thrusts from riki and you’d come undone. unfortunately for you, riki decided to torture you a bit. he slipped his fingers out of you just as you were about to cum. you let out a pathetic whine at the loss of contact, riki only grinning before sticking his fingers in his mouth to taste you. he hummed at your taste.

“what’s wrong? i thought you didn’t want me to touch you?” his voice dripped of fake sympathy. now he was acting like he gave a damn what you wanted. you shook your head. your head was so hazy, you didn’t even know what you wanted anymore. all you knew is you needed to cum. no matter what.

you whined at his words. “i changed my mind…” you wanted to cry at how he edged you. “just let me cum, please.” you almost begged him. that was more than enough for riki. he finally properly lifted your skirt, getting a good look at you. he then pushed his shorts and boxers down, revealing his hard cock. precum dripped from it, making your pussy clench.

he saw as your hole clenched and grinned ever so bigger. he let his middle finger graze over your wet hole. “you like looking at my dick, baby? want it in you?” he teasingly asked. you could only nod at him. you needed him in you. riki sighed exaggeratedly at your reaction. “well, i guess i can’t leave you hanging… if you’re good for me, i’ll even cum in you. you want that?”

you felt yourself drool at the idea of being stuffed with cum. it was crazy how you went from wanting riki off of you to making him cum inside you. you felt insatiable. “yes, cum in me. want you all in me!” you cried.

he silently gave his cock a few strokes before sliding into you. your jaw dropped at the feeling of you being stretched on his dick. it was so thick with a good length, it felt perfect. he went slowly as to let you feel every inch of him. after what felt like an eternity, you felt his hips press against you.

he let out a low groan at how tight and warm you were. “god, this pussy feels so good. you like having my cock in you, hm?” he moaned at the feeling of you clenching around him. there’s his answer. you let out whimpers at the feeling of him being so deep. his tip was hitting straight into your spot, the slightest movement making you want to scream in pleasure.

his hips began to slowly thrust in and out of you. the drag of his cock in your walls made you see stars and you couldn’t help but grind on him. he felt satisfaction at seeing you be a hot mess for him. “yeah, you like that…” his thrusts gradually got a bit faster, a continuous fap fap fap being heard across the locker room.

“nghh riki…” you whined as his cock was digging into you. it was heaven on earth for you. riki finally let go of your arms after a while. you moved them to wrap around his neck, your hands tugging on his hair. a low groan escaped his throat at your actions. his now free hand made its way to your neck, wrapping around it and giving a small squeeze.

you gasped at his hand around your neck. “you’re such a good girl for me, ya know? can just fuck you whenever i want and how i like. so good…” he praised as his thrusts got harsher. and for the first time that night, he leaned in to give you a kiss. it was so messy, teeth clashing and tongues dancing but it was perfect.

his hand squeezed your throat a bit tighter, making you feel woozy. his other hand went to squeeze your left tit, satisfied at how soft it felt even when you still had your shirt and bra on. the lack of oxygen made you needier and more desperate to cum. riki knew this when you began to clench around him.

“fuck, gonna cum? cum whenever you want, i said i couldn’t leave you hanging.” he gave you a hazy smile. his brain was completely fogged up. he couldn’t formulate a thought other than fucking you. he was just as out of it as you.

you felt your pleasure from before building up, trying to give riki a warning. “cu- ‘m cumming!” your words sounded choked but he knew exactly what you were trying to say. he didn’t give you a verbal response. he only gave your throat the hardest squeeze he could without hurting you. “cum for me, baby.”

that was enough for you to release all over him, your release hitting his thighs. he kept fucking you as you came, watching in awe as you squirted all over him. he finally let go of your throat and let you catch your breath as you came down from your high.

“did i fuck you that good? such a dirty girl f’ me.” he groaned as he felt himself get close to his release. he ignored your cries of overstimulation as he kept fucking you. “since you were so good, you get my cum. are you happy, baby?” he asked.

you gave him an eager nod, trying to ignore how overstimulated you were for him. “so happy, want you to cum in me. please, riki!” you moaned loudly. that was enough for riki to start painting your walls white. his head was thrown back as he released into you. you enjoyed the feeling of riki cumming in you, moaning softly at the sensation. you clenched around him to try and milk him for everything he had.

you laid on the floor with riki flopping next to you, both of you guys’s chests heaving. you were trying to catch your breath but it felt almost impossible. riki finally turned to look at you.

“you make me lose again and i’ll only be meaner to you.” he warned.

you took it as a challenge to distract him in his next match.

[dailynnt]

FRIENDS WITHIN TOUCHING DISTANCE

⊹ Summary: Jungkook and you, his childhood friend, live together in an apartment, sharing space as roommates. Your relationship, built on years of friendship, is gradually becoming strained by growing sexual tension. You decide to become friends with benefits, trying not to complicate your feelings. But Jungkook's world is not so simple. When you begin to realize that he is hiding something, you open the veil of his double life - a world of mafia, criminal activity, and risk that could ruin not only your deal, but everything you valued in each other.

⊹ Couple: Jeon Jungkook/ Fem!Reader

⊹ Characters: The Reader, Jeon Jungkook, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Min Yoongi, Kim Seokjin, Kim Namjoon, Jeon Hoseok.

⊹ 🔞 Age restrictions: 18+

⊹ 👩🏼‍❤️‍👨🏻 Relationships: ⚤

⊹ 📘 Number of part: 25/?

⊹ 🖇️ Tags: best friends, friends with benefits, slow longing, sexual tension, protected sex, unprotected sex, alcohol, drunken sex, inexperienced main character, mafia au, illegal trade, deaths of minor characters, weapons, swear words.

⊹ 👩🏼‍💻 From the author: Can you imagine that this is the 20th part? 🫣 I remember being shocked when I wrote 10 parts, and now it's 20. 🤭 What did you guys think of this part? Let me know in the comments. 🙏🏻 Do you think they'll make up quickly this time? 🤔

⊹ 🫂 Dedication: For you, my love @myjungkookthighs. You are my favorite person 😘🥰 You know that I appreciate you so much and love you🥰💜 Bright times will come and you will be happy, my love 🥺💜

⊹ ⚠️ Warning: English is not my native language, so there may be mistakes in the text. Please don't get mad at me too much! Those under 18, please don't read this story!

⊹ 📋 Tag list: @myjungkookthighs, @notsevenwithyou, @nikkinikj, @lovelyyylunaa222, @jiminiemanura, @jalexad, @kelsyx33, @bhonbhon, @unholyforjk, @byeolluvher (If anyone wants to be in my tag list let me know)

≣ Chapter Index ↓

Part 20. House of Cards.

The sensation of cold metal on your lips brings you back to consciousness. But you don't want to open your eyes. What's the point? What will you see when you open your eyes? Shouldn't you stay still until Jungkook comes for you?

Jungkook. That name sounds like a life preserver. Jungkook. Where is he? Why did he let this happen to you? Is he looking for you? Does he know you've been kidnapped? Will he make it before these people do something to you?

The sharp tip of the knife rests against your lips, pressing. But you don't open your eyes. The knife leaves an unpleasant mark on your jaw, on your cheeks.

"Jungkook…That fucking bastard." - You hear it very close and somewhere above your head. "I've been waiting for this moment for so long. Now I have the opportunity to take revenge on him by cutting his sweet whore almost to straw." - You feel your heart start to beat fast. It's as if there's a little bird inside your chest begging to be free and ready to smash against the cage just to be free.

Are you afraid of being hurt? Yes. You scared. Will it hurt? Probably yes. You gather your courage and open your eyes. The darkness of the warehouse, lit by only one lamp, created an oppressive atmosphere. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the sound of water drops falling on a metal surface. Your heart was pounding so loudly that it seemed to drown out even this sound.

A man stood in front of you, tall and stout, with rough features and a sparse beard. His eyes burned with hatred, and in his hands he was clutching a knife that looked like it was used to freshly cut the carcasses of dead animals.

Meeting his hateful glare in his eyes, you felt your insides twist into a tight knot. It was painful.

"Oh, finally, our beauty has woken up." - You don't know how long you were unconscious. The last thing you remember is being brought to an abandoned warehouse and this man, who standing in front of your eyes, ordered no one to touch you. Only to watching for you. The conversation stopped and you felt a prick in your neck and lost consciousness.

You were sitting on a chair tied up. Your hands were tied behind your back, aching with pain. Your legs were also tied, and your body was aching. You were freezing. Although you were wearing a coat, it was unbuttoned. Your thigh was visible, and your neckline was also on display. You were uncomfortable with this bastard looking at you, inspecting your body.

The man stretched his cracked lips in a nasty smile, running the tip of the knife across your cheek again, but not cutting the skin. His voice sounded ominous, and you felt every word burning you from the inside.

"Are you waiting for your saviour?" - He asks with venom in his voice. He takes the knife away from your face and touches his watch with the hand he was holding it with. "He's taking his time. You've been here for more than 5 hours." - He looks at you and you realize that it's about 7 am. "Do you think I should have played with you right away?" - He puts the knife to your neck again, this time forcing you to turn your head away.

"What did he do to you?" - You say quietly, trying to stay calm, even though your hands and feet were shaking with fear. You decided to stall for time, to start a conversation and maybe better understand why you were here.

The man was in no hurry to answer you. He ran the knife down from your neck to your chest. He was standing over you, too close, and you were very scared and disgusted at the same time.

"What did he do? Oh, girl, you can't even imagine." - He said with a smile on his lips, ugly and crazy.

"I can, if you tell me." - You say more boldly. The man wiggles his eyebrows sensing your tone.

"I had a company. A legitimate business. Not a big one, but it worked. Logistics, warehouses, transportation. And then he comes along, this dumbass and his gang." - He finally starts to speak. He squeezes the handle of the knife and presses it into the gap between your breasts. "They came to me like predators. They said I 'owed them money'. This bastard told me that Namjun was waiting for his money, but I had paid all the debts I had. I didn't understand why they sent your guy to me." - The man took a step away from you and turned his back as if thinking aloud. "But you know what? It turned out they wanted to get the securities I had. Namjoon thought I should give them to them voluntarily. And when I didn't, they sent your nice boy and he grabbed me and tortured me for eight fucking hours." - The man says and turns to you.

"Did he really do that to you?" - You ask. When he turns to you, you see his face distorted by anger.

"He beat me, cut me, burned my skin, he broke almost every bone in my body. As I was lying on the ground, bleeding, this little psychopath whispered to me that if I didn't voluntarily give them the shares of my company and the papers that Namjoon wanted, they would force me to do it. Do you know how?" - The man turned to you and poked you again with the knife. It was painful, and you felt a drop of blood leak out of your cheek.

"How?" - You asked in a trembling voice.

"He showed me a picture of my little girl, who they watched , and said he would do things to her that would make me not only want to give up the company myself, but that I would sell my soul to the devil." - Your captor growls. You freeze in horror. No. Jungkook would never do that. He would never hurt a little child. This is definitely not Jungkook.

"He would never lay a finger on a little child. You're lying!" - You snapped. A hard blow landed on your lip. It was a fist or a slap, you don't know for sure, but your lip instantly went numb and you felt a metallic taste in your mouth.

"Who gave you the right to raise your voice to me, bitch?" - The kidnapper shouted at you, hitting you painfully. You looked up at him and glared. He grabbed you by the hair, pulling your head back, and came closer. "This piece of shit is going to pay for everything now. Did you think you knew him? You don't. He's a cold-blooded killer, and I'm just lucky to be alive. My wife left me and took our child when she found out I was threatened and that I had given away my company. I lost everything because of him."

"If you hate Jungkook so much, why don't you deal with him personally? Do you haven’t the guts? Do you? Do you think that by grabbing me, you'll pay him back in kind?" - You asked boldly. It was foolish of you. You're not in the best condition to throw out words like that. But that's you, your sharp tongue hasn't gone away.

"What a long tongue you have!" - The kidnapper laughed. "I can easily shorten it for you." - He squeezed your hair tighter.

"Only cowards do that." - You provoked. "You could meet him and talk to him like a man. You could have called your henchmen for help and resolved the old issue. And you kidnapped me, and you think he'll feel bad if you hurt me?" - The man looks at you with contempt. His lips are pressed into a thin line. "You know he'll come and you'll be dead. You could have been smart and taken him by surprise, but you chose to act in a primitive wa..." - You didn't finish speaking because you got hit in the face again. It hurt so much. It woke you up. You shouldn't talk like that, in front of a man who holds a knife and can cut you without hesitation.

"Shut your mouth!" - He snarled. "You have no idea what you're talking about or what you're getting yourself into. I'm going to make him feel what I've been feeling all along. The fear. The despair. The pain. And you're going to help me do that, little one."

"I won't do anything for you." - You wheezed, shaking with pain.

"Oh, you already have. You're his weakness. Now he will run around like a mad dog trying to find you. And when he does, I'll make sure you see him suffer." - Your captor growled.

You were silent, trying to gather strength to defend yourself somehow. Your head was spinning and your body was in pain, but you didn't let yourself break.

"When Jungkook comes, you will that one who feel pain, despair, and fear again. You know that." - You say sharply. The man laughs at how restless you are.

"Do you know what people are the most frightening? Those who have nothing to lose. And I am exactly like that. I have nothing. And your Jungkook took it all away from me." - He stops talking. He looks at you, wondering where to start. "I'm looking forward to him. Now let's decorate your beautiful skin with perfect cuts." - Says your captor. He touches your cheek with the knife and you hold your breath. Another moment and he will cut your face. Suddenly you hear the sound of a struggle. The kidnapper also hears something happening outside.

"Has Jungkook really come? I have to go meet him with honors." - You see the man shove the knife into the sheath and a moment later pull out a gun. You are frozen with horror. The man loads the weapon and walks to the exit of the warehouse.

Your brain is working at full capacity. You hear screams, sounds of blows. You try to figure out how to free yourself from the ropes. But your arms and legs are tied so tightly that you can barely move.

You are literally petrified when you hear a few shots and everything goes silent. It's quiet. And you hear the drops drumming on the metal in time with your heartbeat. The door opens and you see someone coming. Because of the light shining in your face, you hope it's Jungkook. From the way he looks, it's him.

"Jungkook..." - You cry, calling out to your boyfriend. When he ends up next to your lap, you don't immediately realize that it's not Jungkook. It's Doohoon. Tears wash away your mascara, closing your eyes. You blink your eyes open and finally see clearly. He still has the bruises under his eyes, the marks of Jungkook's beatings.

"Candy..." - He touches your cheek with cold fingers. You cry harder. You're actually glad that Doohoon is here. It doesn't matter who he is. What matters is that he came to save you. How did he find you so quickly? Was it because he was following you? "Bastards. What did they do?" - He wipes away the blood running from the wound on his lip.

"How did you find me?" - You ask in a shaky voice. Doohoon hurries to untie you. He unties your hands first. Your wrists burn with pain. You rubbed them with your hands to ease the pain. You waited for him to respond, but he was in no hurry to answer. Doohoon knelt down and began to untie your legs.

"I saw you run out of Jimin's club. I was right behind you. I texted you, when you were there. I knew something bad had happened. I went after you and wanted to pick you up...." - You were so focused on Doohoon words and his movements trying to free you from the ropes that you didn't hear someone appear next to you.

It's like you're in slow motion, seeing Doohoon flying backwards with great force. You see Jungkook grabbing him by the collar and punching him in the face, decorating his face with a new bruise.

"You fucking shit!" - Jungkook yelled. You had to react somehow. You saw Jungkook beating Doohoon, who was covering his face with his hands to shield himself from the blows. Jungkook pushed Doohoon against the wall and continued to beat him.

"Jungkook!" - You called to get his attention. You called out to your boyfriend again and again to get him to pay attention to you, but it seemed like his main goal was to destroy Doohoon.

"I'm going to fucking kill you, motherfucker!" - Jungkook yelled between punches. At some point, while you were trying to untie your legs, Doohoon fought back against Jungkook. He seized the moment and punched Jungkook in the face. Jungkook fell back on, not expecting to miss Doohoon’s fist.

You released your legs and stood up. Your legs were shaking and you were dizzy. You had to stop the fight that was happening. You froze in horror when you were almost to them and saw Jungkook pull out a gun and point it at Doohoon’s face. He loaded the gun in a matter of seconds.

Doohoon froze just like you, but he didn't look scared. In fact, he was trying to hold back a smile. With his peripheral vision, he sees you standing behind Jungkook with terror on your face.

"Jungkook, I came to save Y/N..." - Doohoon says, his voice desperate.

"I'll make a sieve out of your head." - Jungkook said coldly. "This is all your fault, you fucking bastard. I know."

"Are you crazy? I didn't kidnap her, it wasn't me." - Doohoon almost doesn't cry. He makes his voice sound so innocent that your heart clenches in your chest. Jungkook doesn't look like himself. He looks like the monster you saw in Niseko again.

You see Jungkook breathing heavily. He's so focused on Doohoon and the possibility of destroying him that he doesn't even pay attention to you. He didn't come over to you when you were tied up. Did he not care what happened to you? And if you were lying unconscious, all cut up, he really would have run to kill Doohoon first thing in, too?

You see Jungkook take a step toward Doohoon and put the muzzle of the gun directly to his forehead.

"You bore me." - He says. Jungkook takes the safety off the gun and you realize that in the state Jungkook is in now, he can do anything.

You run to them and shout at the top of your lungs.

"JUNGKOOK ENOUGH!" - Your voice echoes in the warehouse and your eyes finally meet the two black buttons. Jungkook sees your bruised lip and the cut on your cheek. There are traces of smeared blood on your chin. Your mascara is smeared black on your cheeks. Your eyes are red, like you've been crying a lot. It hurts Jungkook to see what these assholes have done to you. He's going to kill everyone who hurt you, and he's going to start with Doohoon, who's responsible for kidnapping you.

"Baby..." - Jungkook says quietly, still holding the gun pointed at Doohoon.

At that moment, Taehyung, Jimin, Hoseok, and a few other guys run into the warehouse. You stare at them indifferently for a second and then turn your gaze to Jungkook.

"Let him go. He saved me, and you want to kill him?" - You ask colorlessly.

"This is his handiwork. He set up this kidnapping..." - Jungkook explains. But that's not possible, because the kidnapper told you everything. And it wasn't Doohoon who took everything from the man who kidnapped you.

"What are you talking about?" - You ask, almost crying again. "The man who kidnapped me told me everything. You tortured him for eight hours to make him give the company to your boss and threatened to kill his little child. He went crazy, the man dreamed of take revenge with you, threatening to cut me into pieces. And you blame Doohoon for kidnapping me?" - All you hear was your voice filled with hysteria. You grabbed your hair, realizing the danger you were in because of your relationship with Jungkook. You were sick from the sleeping pills, from your nerves, and from the terrible Jungkook, who turned out to be a real wolf pretending to be a sheep. Everything you knew about your "best friend" and "boyfriend" was a lie and an illusion that he skillfully showed to you and his family.

"Let's all calm down." - You heard Hosok's voice. You looked at him and felt a wave of anger wash over you. The only one who was happy about the whole situation was Doohoon. Without showing his satisfaction, he was quietly rejoicing that his plan had worked out in the best possible way.

"It's your fault, Jeon, that I'm the here. Don't put the blame on someone else. You couldn't protect me, even though you promised me you would more than once." - You said. Your voice became hard because it was filled with anger and frustration. "I was really a fool to think that we could be a couple. I didn't see or realize who you really were. My feelings for you closed my eyes to your true personality, which I see right now. It's not Doohoon's fault that you've become what you are. You make your own decisions and do the things that you will be responsible for." - You stop talking, and everyone around you is stunned, like statues, frozen in place. Jungkook puts down the gun and wants to approach you.

"Baby... you have it all wrong...." - Jungkook says as he approaches you. You take a few steps back. Again, you are afraid of him, and now you are really afraid. Because you don't know the man in front of you. He only has the appearance of a man you've known since childhood.

"Don't even think about coming near me, Jeon." - You say, holding out your hand. "I don't want to know you anymore. I don't want anything to do with you." - Jungkook freezes. He feels like he's been hit in the chest with a hammer. Your words wound his soul. He looks at you and wants to hug you, wants to lean against you and hide you in his arms. Jungkook is a fool. He let everything happen: falling in love with you, telling you who he really is, having someone kidnap you, allowed Doohoon to do everything to make you think he was the really scumbag. It looks like Jungkook is really to blame and shouldn't be blaming anyone else. It's completely his fault.

"You need to go to the hospital." - Jungkook said. "Jimin will take you..." - He offered you.

"No." - You cut him off. "I'm not going with any of these thugs." - You say. Doohoon almost laughs out loud. You're a fire. He always knew you were sharp with your tongue. Unlike Doohoon, Jimin can't hold back his laughter. Everyone looks at him, especially Jungkook, who raises his eyebrows.

"Give me my phone back. I'll get out of here." - You tell Jungkook, knowing that he has your phone. Jungkook silently reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out your phone. He takes a step toward you and you take the phone away.

"Please, baby, if you don't want to go with me or Jimin, then go with Taehyung or Hoseok. You need to see a doctor." - Jungkook pleads with you.

"I don't need you to take care of me." - You say as you walk over to Doohoon. You take his hand and throw it over your shoulder. "I'm going to leave here with Doohoon. And God forbid you follow us. I'll call the police on you." - You say. You want to take a step with Doohoon, and then you laugh hysterically. "Oh right, who am I talking to. The mafia that controls the police. If the police don't protect me, I think…your mother will. Seems she's more powerful than the Seoul police." - You stare fiercely into Jungkook's angry gaze at you. "I'll tell her everything if you try to get close to me." - You threaten. A second's silence almost physically presses on everyone present. "Do you understand me, Jeon?" - You ask.

You don't wait for an answer. You and Doohoon walk away and you don't see that Jungkook is simply devastated. He is destroyed by your words and actions. From the very beginning, your relationship was like a house of cards. You and Jungkook were seduced by the possibility of feeling love, building a fragile house of cards which of fate that gave you false hope. And the real world destroyed that house in one day.

Three weeks later

Three weeks have passed, but the wounds from the experience still hurt. Not only bruises on your skin, but also deep scars in your soul. You feel empty, as if something important was torn from your heart. All these days you tried to cope, you got a job, set up a new apartment, taking things from Jungkook's apartment when he wasn’t be at home (on the third day of the new year). You tried to find a footing in your new life. But every night, thoughts of Jungkook returned like shadows.

Your mind is filled with questions: how could you have been so blind? How could you not notice Jungkook's dark side, which used to be just a vague feeling, but now became clear and obvious?

The image of him beating Doohoon and holding a gun to his head haunts you. That moment turned your perception of him upside down. He is not just the man you loved. He's a gangster. A dangerous one. Unpredictable. And although your heart screams that he is like that because of his circumstances, your mind says otherwise: you don't belong with him.

At the same time, you feel guilty. You've seen his other side, the gentle, caring one, the one who would give up everything for you. But even these memories are shattered by reality. You are afraid of him, afraid of who he has become, or who he has always been. And this fear destroys all hope. Everything fell apart in one moment, like a house of cards.

You wake up when the sun has already set. Today is your night shift at the convenience store you got a job at in your new neighborhood. There were many advantages to working there. The salary is enough for rent, the store is close to your new apartment. The scholarship will be enough to live on.

The fourth year is about to start. You will be writing your thesis. Your head is swollen with how you are going to combine study and work. You have to try again. But to be honest, you don't have much of a choice. You can't go back to Suwon to live with your parents because they still think you live alone in the apartment and are doing fine, even though you look back at your shadow even during the day. Now every man is a potential kidnapper for you. And you are afraid that Jungkook is watching you. Maybe he is, but you haven't seen or heard anything suspicious in the three weeks you've lived without him. And there hasn't been a single news from Jungkook himself. Not a text, not a call. Nothing.

You put on a black oversized hoodie and wide black pants to make yourself look big and more like a boy than a girl. You came up with the idea to do this when you were dressed to work in a store. This peculiar disguise may not have worked properly, but it made you feel at ease.

Luckily for you, in the two weeks you've been working in the store, working at night has been quite pleasant, the only trigger is being sleepy even if you've slept during the day, and maybe some grumpy man who wants to get free lunchboxes that will only expire at the end of the day.

Doohoon also bored you off a lot. He helped you find an apartment and had a habit of coming to see you whenever he felt like it. Of course, you rarely let him in, and you could almost always come up with some excuse, but there were a few times when you just couldn't do it. You are annoyed by his pre-housekeeping, he thinks he can throw money at you and you will idolize him. He reassures you that he is just "your good friend" who helps you in your time of need, and you tell him that you have had enough "friends" in your life and that he should leave you alone. But he just laughs and doesn't take your words seriously.

You put a deep hood over your head so that you can't see your face and pull on your jacket. In 15 minutes you will reach the store and take over the shift from your partner Sunchol. He's boring to tears and has a joke flatter than the ground.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket and you take it out to see who could have texted you so late. Of course, you already guessed, even before you see for Dohun's name on the phone.

"Candy, I can take you to the university tomorrow. I remember when you talked to Suyong on the phone and you agreed that you would go together to choose a topic for your diploma. I have some business tomorrow in the area of your campus, so we're on the way 😉"

You read the message and close the cocoa-talk without answering Doohoon. You roll your eyes upwards. Your eyes seem to see inside your skull. It's so annoying, he's so intrusive. You'd rather travel across Seoul by subway and bus ten times by yourself than be in Doohoon's company for an extra 40 minutes. Even if the trip takes 1.5 hours, you're calm and nothing stresses you out.

You come to work, change your clothes. You take over from your partner's shift. You tolerate his several stupid, flat jokes, almost politely, and get to work. Actually, today you had to arrange the new ramen that arrived, remove the expired food boxes from the display window, and that's it.

You didn't start working right away, around twelve o'clock in the morning, you had people coming in, and you served people almost one by one. When the flow of people ended, you were able to start arranging the goods. You did the ramen quickly. The food boxes were next in line.

You had almost finished collecting the expired food when you heard the sound of the "wind song", which meant that someone had come. You went to the counter where the cash register was and saw Mr. Yon. He was a man of about 45 and he worked in the police. You were friends with him and had interesting conversations about his work. He came in early today. You looked at the clock and saw 12.21. He usually came for groceries at 1 am or even 2 am. His work took up all his free time, so he didn't have a family.

"Are you going to have dinner early, Mr. Yon?" - You asked with a smile on your lips, holding a whole stack of food boxes. The man heard you and walked over, smiling back.

"Good night, beautiful. You're working so hard, isn't it hard for you? Let me help you." - Mr. Yon offered to help you. You shook your head in refusal.

"Thanks, but no. I've already done it. You choose what you want to eat, and I'll go to the service room and leave the boxes. That's all I have to do and my night is free." - You say. Mr. Yon smiles at you awkwardly, scratches the back of his head, and walks to the shelves with the kimpabs. You put the expired food in the warehouse and hurry back behind the counter.

Mr. Yon is taking pibimbap, onigiri with tuna in an egg, and fish cake with soup.

"How was your day today? Did you finally find out who stole that van?" - You asked about the case Mr. Yon was working on. You had a warm relationship with him, so he sometimes shared details of his work with you. Mr. Yon smiled that you were interested in his case and replied in a friendly manner.

"Yes, I know who is him. Now I just need to find him and then everything will become clearer." - The detective replies. The two of you listen to the sound of the cash register, and the man lets out a scream. You smile in confusion.

"I forgot to get a makgeolli, I want to relax a little." - He says and goes to the shelves with the algogol. While you're packing and waiting for Mr. Yon, someone else enters the store. The sound of the "wind song" doesn't let you miss anyone.

You see out of the corner of your eye that it is a young man dressed in all black. He has a cap on his head, also black, and a wide hood over it. He does not raise his head to you, so you do not greet him. He keeps his hands in his karmas and walks to the shelves of ramen’s. You look ordinary, but you feel some slight tension. In any case, you have nothing to fear. There is a detective nearby. Should you ask him to stay until this guy leaves?

Mr. Yon returns with a bottle of makgeolli and two cans of Heineken. You punch the alcohol and name the amount. Mr. Yon pays, and you watch the guy picking out the ramen. His cap hides his face well. You take the money and count the change. You want to ask the detective to stay with you and talk for a while (until this suspicious guy leaves), but while you're counting the money, his phone rings.

"Yes." - Mr. Yon answers the phone. He is silent for a long moment, you give him the change and he takes it. "I'm at the convenience store near my house right now, but I can be there in 20 minutes. Wait for me and interview the witnesses when I get there." - Mr. Yon takes the whole bag of food in his hands and smiles at you disappointedly. "I guess I won't be able to relax as much as wanted, and it’s seems I didn’t be able to eat dinner too." - You smile nervously. The detective won't be able to stay. Okay, then you'll have to taken the ��panic” button.

"It's just the way the job is. What will you do?" - You say politely.

"That's right. Have a cood night, beautiful, I'll see you tomorrow?" - He asks, getting ready to leave.

"Yes, I'm working the night shift again tomorrow." - You say kindly. Mr. Yon throws you a satisfied smile.

"See you then." - He says and leaves. You stay behind the counter and feel your tension rising. The guy in black is standing by the shelves with ramen as the detective leaves. You sit down on a chair, put the panic button in your pocket, which was meant to be used to call a private security service. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the guy go to the shelves with kimpabs and onigiri. He took some food and headed in your direction.

You don't know why, but your heart started pounding and your breathing became rapid. You tried to calm him down.

"Good night." - You greeted him, not looking up when the young man came to the counter. You waited for him to put the food on the table so you could run it through the cash register.

Your heart sank to your heels as he placed the ramen on the table and you saw the tattoo on his arm. A purple heart near his thumb, a crown on his index finger, an inscription with his initials, and an emoticon with a curved eyebrow that conveys irony or sarcasm. These tattoos can belong to only one person.

"Good night." - You hear a velvety voice, with a slight hoarseness. The voice you missed so much. A voice that instantly set your whole being on fire.

Jungkook was standing in front of you, smiling slightly, and you wanted to fall through the ground just to avoid seeing him. Just not to hear that your favorite voice. You seem to have forgotten how to breathe. You come to when he steals a box of cooked rice and a few corndogs next to ramen. You don't know what to do. But you're in a fog, so you look down and punch the goods.

Jungkook does not continue the dialog with you. He doesn't ask you anything, just waits in silence for you to tell him how much the food is.

"5900 won." - You don't say it as confidently as you want to sound.

"I will card payment, please." - He says. And you feel like you're in an invisible press. You're nervous and it shows in your hands, which tremble as you get ready the payment to the card.

Jungkook sees your hands shaking, but he doesn't say anything. He is trembling just like you, only inside. He has been wanting to come to you for so long. He forbade himself all three Sundays, which he barely lived without you. But his desire was unbearable. He had to see you, he had to hear your sweet voice, without which he cannot imagine his life. That why he here.

Jungkook doesn't know how to fix everything. He realizes that he has ruined everything. He turned their relationship into a house of cards, and now it's fallen down. But he has to start from the beginning. He wants you by his side, and if it takes years, he won't hesitate to spend them. This time he will try to control everything and make sure that no one lays a finger on you. He knows he can do it no matter what it takes.

That's why he doesn't say anything to you, he just stands there quietly and admires your beautiful face. Damn, have you become even more beautiful? Have you become even more attractive? Have you always been this fascinating?

Jungkook puts the card on the counter and the payment sounds. Jungkook takes the food.

"Does the microwave work here?" - Jungkook asks, taking a step away from the counter. You stare at him, not sure whether to lie to make him leave or tell him the truth that he's staying. Jungkook is waiting too. He knows. That if you tell the truth, it will be a sign to him that you want him to stay.

"It's working." - You say without looking at him. Your desire to have him around is stronger than any common sense you've ever had. You want to be with him. Let him eat in one place near you.

Let him stay in your life forever.

↰ Previous chapter ⋮ ≣ Index ↓ ⋮ Next chapter ↱

Note from author: By the way, for this part, I was inspired by the BTS song "House of Cards". It always reminded me of the motives of the mafia. And I also thought it perfectly described Y/N and Jungkook's relationship in my story at this particular stage. So if you want to, listen to this song while reading chapter 20.

[lennsart]

I crave reading a fic about Ravioli, but it's illegal in their era.

Like

Warriors teases Legend and Ravio for being "roommates", but then they both stop everything and shoot everyone down and explain how they "can't mention this sort of thing here" and how "Fable's done with it, but she can't do anything about the law until she's queen" and Legend tries to really hammer in the severity of the punishment for being caught acting gay.

Does this fic exist?? No one I ask can think of any about this even remotely. If it doesn't, anyone can take this idea. I can't write, but I crave this fic.

Ok so this ask is a little funny to me in the sense that anon is like "I crave.... ✨️homophobia✨️"

I don't know if a fic similar to your idea already exists ? People of Tumblr, do you have recs ?

In the meantime, I liked the idea, so there’s a little snippet under the cut for you ! It's not exactly what you suggested, I re-read your ask after I started, but the main idea is here.

(I have a specific headcanon that I haven't been able to post something about yet which goes pretty well with this : Wars met Ravio during the war of eras, yes... But an older Ravio ! And maybe he was already married to Legend, y'know, maybe he couldn't stop talking about his husband...

So it would make sense for Wars to tease Lege until he snaps, because he literally can't imagine there's a problem.)

Of course, TW homophobia & TW internalized homophobia (not much, but just in case)

“ - Look at that smile ! ” Warriors teased, poking Legend's cheek (and nearly avoiding having his finger bitten off).

“ Someone's waiting at home ? ”

Legend sighed. They had just landed in his era, and had a bit of a walk before they got to his house.

He may have been a little giddier than usual, happy to go home. It had been a while, alright ? And no matter how nice Miss Malon was, seeing her all lovey-dovey with their resident old man made him miss his own lover.

He just... Couldn't say it to the others, of course.

“ - Just my roommate, Ravio, ” he informed with a shrug.

Warriors blinked. The veteran thought that he had managed to shut him up somehow...

But after a minute, he came back with a grin that Legend didn't like at all.

“ - Roommate ? " he repeated. " You look pretty happy for just seeing a pal. ”

Legend frowned. Alright, he may have been cheerful, but he hadn't been reckless, had he ?

“ - I don't know what you mean, ” he said, neutral.

“ - Ah, you know, just saying, we've never seen you so excited, and then I learn that you have a little housemate... I can't wait to meet him, that's it. ”

Legend stopped abruptly.

" - I don't like what you're implying, cap, " he warned, scowling.

Warriors missed the murderous aura sent his way, and shrugged with a smile.

“ - Just saying, if you have a crush—

- Shut up ! ”

Maybe the screech was a little much, but Legend couldn't shake the fear that someone might hear Warriors. He already got enough shit for his lifestyle, a rumor like that could send the guards to his head again.

Worse, to Ravio's head.

He shuddered.

The rest of the chain had stopped as well, all looking at the argument.

Warriors seemed shocked, and a little insulted, too.

It was getting overwhelming, being stared at like that.

Legend sighed and grabbed the captain by the sleeve.

“ - A minute ! ” he barked to the others, dragging Warriors behind him, away from anyone who might hear.

When he estimated that they were far enough, he checked around them to be sure that no unwelcome ear was close.

“ - Damn, vet, I'm sorry for teasing, but that seems a little excessive, don't you think ? ” Warriors declared, rubbing his wrist.

The word made Legend frown. Excessive ? He turned around to glare at the captain.

“ - I don't know if it's funny to you, ” he prefaced with, " but I'm not exactly liked by the castle guards. Saying those types of things can send me straight to execution, alright ? ”

Warriors paled at the word, visibly not expecting such a heavy topic.

“ - What ? What do you mean ? ”

Legend took a deep breath.

“ - They already find excuses to get me when I behave, ” he explained slowly, intelligibly. “ If there's a word on the street that I'm committing a crime, that won't go well for me. ”

Legend didn't know how to explain it better than that but the captain didn't look like he got it. He was frowning and blinking in utter confusion.

“ - What crime ? ” he asked, weirded out.

...That wasn't the thing Legend expected him to be confused about.

“ - Loving a man, ” he said, frowning.

Another silence.

“ - You know, loving a man when you’re a man ? ” he clarified, just in case.

" - Are you saying that homosexuality is a crime ?! " Warriors exclaimed in revolt, way too loud.

Legend shushed him hurriedly.

" - Yes, cap, I do mean that ! ” He hissed. “ What, does that sound normal to you ?

- Yes ?! ” he blurted out. “ Why wouldn't it be ? ”

That shut the veteran up, who definitely didn’t think that the conversation would go that way.

Legend stared and stared, trying to find the lie in Warriors’ face, to catch any sign that the man would smile and joke, “gotcha !”

But he only found profound honesty.

He couldn’t help a small nervous chuckle.

“ - That’s… ”

That was great, right ? They had established that it was probable Warriors’ time came after Legend’s.

It meant that things had changed. It was good.

Right ?

Why didn’t Legend feel as happy as he should ?

“ - Oh, ” he just said, and decided that he needed to sit down, actually.

His eyes found a convenient stump a few feet away from them. He walked to it and let himself fall sitting there.

Warriors stared at him, still with this shocked expression.

“ - Lege ? ”

“ - I’m fine, ” he answered, voice neutral. “ It’s good if it’s been decriminalized, ” he added not to look like this was the problem.

He was, in fact, actively trying to make things change in his time. Fable already promised him that revising this law was one of her biggest priorities as soon as she’d get properly crowned, but she’d probably face disapproval from most of the stuck-up nobles and so it’ll take time, and...

In the meantime, Legend was stuck with pretending his lover was a roommate, being scared to even hold his hand in public, abruptly changing his behavior everytime someone knocked at the door.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it ? He really was glad for the future to not have to deal with this fear.

He was just bitter that that was what he got.

(He was just tired of only being allowed forbidden love.)

“ - Wait, I don’t, I don’t get it, ” Warriors stuttered, still looking so puzzled. “ I’ve met… I mean, wait. ”

He stopped, joining his two hands in front of his lips, visibly trying to phrase his thoughts a certain way.

“ You know the war of eras involved a lot of time-traveling fighters, right ? Well, one of my allies came from your time, and he was definitely married to a man. ”

Legend arched a brow at him, reluctant to believe him.

“ - How can you be sure he came from this time in particular ? Maybe he came from a few decades in the future, who can tell. ”

Warriors looked like he had bitten inside a lemon for a second, and then he closed his eyes, struggling to find his words.

“ - Listen, I just, I know, ok ? He mentioned... People you know. And before you ask, ” he quickly added as Legend opened his mouth with a frown, “ I’m not going to tell you more than that. But trust me, alright, vet ? Things will get better sooner than you think. ”

Legend shrugged, but it did feel good to hear. He tried a smile.

“ - Well, that’s great, then, ” he declared. He finally got up, dusting up his tunic. “ But it doesn’t actually change anything. The type of comments you made earlier ? You keep them to yourself, here. ”

Warriors nodded slowly, something like stifled revolt and sadness in the movement. Legend didn’t feel like addressing it.

It was great that the captain felt so strongly about the subject, in this direction at least. It was also not the place… And definitely not the time.

“ Good, then, ” he commented. “ I still want to go home quick, so if we could get moving… ”

Warriors’ nod was way more sympathetic.

“ - Of course, ” he said. “ I still want to meet this Ravio. He looks like he makes you happy. ”

Legend jerked his head towards him, his warning expression not entirely devoid of amusement. Warriors raised both his hands in peace.

“ He sounds like a great friend, is all I’m saying ! ”

And it did get a little chuckle out of Legend.

“ - Oh, he is, ” he declared with a smile. “ I’m afraid you two will get along swimmingly. ”

Warriors laughed, clapping him on the shoulder as he passed by.

When they got back to the rest of the group, the curious gazes sent their way were soothed by the fact that they were both smiling.

Legend’s smile was actually getting wider and wider, as they were getting close to his house.

When he saw it on its little hill, he rushed to the door, trying not to bounce on his feet as he waited for his partner to open.

And if Warriors observed from afar as they fell in each other’s arms, he waited until they were all in the privacy of Legend’s house to wink teasingly at their veteran. After all, he never denied having a crush, which was telling for 'mister I'll never confirm what I don't want you to know'.

It was easy to feel lighter about this story when he knew it'll end well for the couple.

They just had to wait a little longer.

[atinylittlepain]

i need joel x f! reader friends to lovers 😩🫶🏻

i took this and ran with it

Birds of a Feather

joel miller x f!reader

joel masterlist

joel has met his match, and though he's trying to keep things platonic, his brother has other plans for him.

warnings | 18+ smut, drunk tommy miller requires his own warning, angst, and a little fluff

wordcount: 4.1K

................................

Joel Miller has finally met his match, and he knows it. He had balked at it initially, when Tommy assigned him to patrol with some woman. But it wasn’t just some woman. Folks around town call her Sunshine, a running joke since she’s anything but. He didn’t know anyone could be more standoffish than him, but that first shift together, the steel in her stare and the tick of her jaw had thrown any of his ideas about her right out the window. Is it any wonder they became friends so fast?

He doesn’t like to talk much, she doesn’t either.

He has a dry sense of humor, but hers has to be even drier. 

She refuses to suffer fools, and he enjoys watching her put men in their place.

He’s slow to thaw toward people, and so is she, both of them melting in each other’s presence.

Where he’s from Texas, she’s from Tennessee, the remnants of their drawls twining up in easy conversation.

He likes a stiff glass of whiskey at the end of the day, and she’s always game to join him.

But maybe one of the things he likes best is that while he’s good at pool, she’s fucking great at it, and he doesn’t mind getting his ass handed to him on Friday nights at the bar, not when it’s her doing the handing.

“Are you asleep, Miller? Or are you really just that bad at pool?” Her grin flickers under the dim lights of the Tipsy Bison, and he knows that it’s a sight not many people get to see. She cocks her head to the side, spinning her cue stick lightly in her hand as she smirks at him.

“Easy, darlin, gonna make you eat those words one of these days.” She’s not Sunshine, not to him, he refuses to call her what everybody else does. She had confessed to him once, on a long patrol shift, that she hated the nickname, but was too proud to ever say anything about it. In turn, Joel had told her about how growing up, Tommy managed to get everyone at their highschool to start calling him “Skip,” something he hadn’t told anyone in close to thirty years. His residual embarrassment had been worth it to see her smile in that moment, and it was about then that Joel realized he had made a certified friend. Though everyone else seems convinced that something a little more is going on.

“Shit.” He completely scratches his next turn, sending the cue ball right into one of the pockets as she snickers.

“What was that about me eating my words?” He’s distracted, just a little, but who could blame him when she’s wearing a pair of cut-offs that should be illegal and a tank top that turns downright obscene when she leans over the table for her own turn. So maybe there is something a little more going on, but it’s one sided, he reckons, and he’s not about to fuck up the first friendship he’s cared about in years just because he’s thinking with his dick. But, apparently, that’s not the only thing he has to worry about.

“Well, howdy, if it ain’t Jackson’s favorite tag team, frick and frack.” Joel hasn’t seen Tommy this drunk in decades. The town council had been celebrating that night, though he’s not quite sure what. Regardless, Tommy is sloshed as he loops and arm over Joel’s shoulders, a lazy grin on his face as he looks between him and her.

“Joel, Sunshine. How are we this fine evening?” While she snorts at his slurred-out question, Joel is less than amused, shrugging his brother off of him with a huff.

“Touchy, touchy, big brother. What’s got your panties in a twist? Did you break his heart already, Sunshine?” Joel can feel his face blanch at Tommy’s drawling words, glancing between him and her. While she’s still smiling, the crease between her brows suggests she’s as thrown off as Joel is.

“What’re you on about, little Miller?��� Tommy lets out a hoot of a laugh at her question, leaning up against the pool table and grinning at her.

“What I’m on about is the sweet little crush this big guy right here has on you. It ain’t healthy, really, Joel’s got it bad for you.” If they weren’t related by blood, Tommy wouldn’t have teeth in his head by now, but instead, Joel settles for letting his jaw all but drop to the floor as he looks between his giggling brother and her. She doesn’t look so amused anymore.

“It’s true! Ain’t seen his eyes get like that in a long time, those big ol’ puppy dogs of his are for you and you only, Sunshine.” Before the horror of it all can really settle in, Tommy sighs, slapping Joel on his shoulder and shuffling off with a low murmured “where’s Maria?”

Her eyes are wide when he finally looks at her, lips parted, complete bewilderment splashed across her face. And before she can say anything, Joel is turning heel and booking it out of there before everything comes crumbling down around him.

…

She’s stunned. By the whole thing really. Tommy’s ridiculous musings, the way that Joel didn’t deny any of it, and then the way he booked it out of the bar like he wanted nothing to do with her. She wouldn’t have guessed in a million years that her night was going to turn out like this. Not that she would tell anyone, but she loves Friday nights, pool nights, when she gets to spend just a little more time with Joel than usual. So for it to turn so sour so fast, she finds herself at a loss, clutching her cue stick in her hands, stuck standing where Joel left her.

There’s no two ways about it, she likes him. Things feel easy around him. She hadn’t met anyone else in town who she could talk to like she can him. He gets it, being on the road, not always having a warm place to sleep, what it means to kill. They’ve both seen a far different life than the one they’re living now, and talking to him makes her feel a little less crazy. And yes, maybe she also likes the strong cut of his jaw, the way his deep brown eyes crinkle up when she talks to him, the broad span of his shoulders, and how he squares them up when she challenges him. You could call it a crush, but she’d call it stupid, something that would only ruin the friendship, the one big good in her life, that she has with him. 

But now all bets are off. She’s got nothing to lose, and she’ll be damned if she doesn’t get the truth from him.

She knows him well enough by now to have a pretty good idea of where he stomped off to, and she doesn’t waste any more time standing around with a dumb look on her face, heading out of the bar and into the hazy light of the summer evening.

There’s a bench tucked away behind the stables, partially hidden by a small thicket of trees. A while ago, they had set it as their meeting place before patrol shifts, always getting there a few minutes early to set a plan for the day, or just to talk quietly before they had to head out. She had caught him there a few times on their days off too, an easy slump in his posture, his arms stretched out over the back of the bench. He told her he liked the quiet of it, and when she attempted to apologize for intruding, he had said that she couldn’t bother him if she even tried. It’s where she finds him now, his elbows on his thighs and his head in his hands, though his eyes jerk up when she clears her throat.

“We gonna talk about what just happened?” He lets out a long sigh, sitting back on the bench and squinting up at her.

“I’d rather not.”

“Oh, c’mon, Joel. You know I’m not gonna let this go, not until you talk to me.” With that, he gets up from the bench with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Don’t have anything to say, except I’m sorry that my brother is such a fucking idiot.” She calls after him as he trudges away, but it’s no use, he doesn’t so much as look back over his shoulder at her. Knowing him as well as she does, she can easily tell when it’s time to stop prodding, when he’s shutting down and she won’t be able to get anything out of him, so she drops it, at least for now. 

She knows that they’re going to have to face whatever this is eventually, most likely the next morning when they’re set for a patrol shift together. With the hope of a clearer conversation on the horizon, she goes home, her mind still spinning from the strange evening. She lays awake in bed with her thoughts, the only conclusion she reaches being that she just wants the truth now, knowing that there will be no going back to the way things were, regardless of what he has to say.

When she gets to the bench the next morning, eyes bleary from a night without sleep, it becomes clear that Joel is going to make this more difficult than it has to be, as he is nowhere to be found. And he doesn’t show up either, not even when it’s time for their shift and she’s mounting up at the stables. She lets out a bitter laugh, though, when she sees who does show up.

“Did he send you down here?” Tommy huffs, leaning up against the door to the stables with a sheepish grin.

“Would you be less pissed at him if I said he didn’t?” 

“What? He ask for a new patrol partner already?” She knows it sounds harsh, but she doesn’t care, anger starting to feel like the appropriate response for how childish Joel seems to be acting. Tommy just sighs.

“Look, Sunshine, I feel awful for what I said last night. I was so fucking drunk I didn’t know up from down. But it’s true what I said. Reckon he thinks you hung the moon in the sky or some shit.” That makes her pause, but she stifles the kick of her heart with another scoff.

“What’s your point, Tommy? I have a shift to cover.” 

“No you don’t.” 

“Huh?” Tommy lets out a breathy laugh at her furrowed look.

“I’m covering your shift– figure I owe you both for messing shit up so bad. I got a buddy of mine coming down in a few to patrol with me, but you’re off the hook. And I think you oughta go talk to him.” 

“Joel made it pretty clear last night that he didn’t have anything else to say.” Tommy’s frown deepens at her clipped words, and he takes a few steps into the stables, leveling a surprisingly serious look at her.

“My brother is a stubborn ass, I won’t deny that. He doesn’t really like people, or feelings for that matter. But I know him well enough to see that he’s different around you. And maybe it’s selfish of me to say this, but you’re good for him, and I’ll be damned if the only reason you two don’t wind up together is my big fucking mouth.” His words stun her silent long enough for him to step forward and place a hand on her shoulder.

“Just go talk to him, please? If anyone can get through to him it’s you.”

…

He has to admit to himself that he was hoping, just a little bit, that it’d be her knocking on his front door, his chest tightening when he sees that it is. Though she doesn’t seem all too pleased to be looking at him, her arms crossed over her chest and an edgy arch to her brow.

“We gonna talk like adults now? Or are you gonna keep sending little Miller to do your bidding?” He knows this tone of voice. It’s the way she speaks to people, usually men, that she’d rather not give the time of day to. He’s always been amused by it, the stiff jerk of her chin, the eerie calm of her words. But it’s never been directed at him before, and suddenly there’s nothing amusing about it. 

“I– yeah, yes. Let’s talk.” Real smooth, dumbass. She doesn’t wait for him to open the door any wider, brushing right past him and into his living room before turning on her heel to look at him.

“Well, there’s no real way around this, is there?” Her question hangs between them, a drooping thread threatening to snap, though even now, they still move comfortably around each other, sitting down on opposite ends of the couch and mirroring each other’s posture, elbows on thighs, heads tilted toward the other. 

“Where do you wanna start, darlin?” She huffs out a laugh, more like an exasperated sigh as she looks at him, the steel gone, only a quirked worry left in its place.

“The truth– I want you to tell me the truth, Joel– about what Tommy said last night.” He figures he’s got nothing to lose at this point. That either way, whether he’s straight with her or not, their friendship isn’t ever going to be the same, so he takes a deep breath, and lets the words come rushing out. 

“He wasn’t wrong– I mean, what he said? It’s true, I feel– I, uh– I like the way I feel? When I’m around you? And, um– Jesus christ, what I’m trying to say is– I feel very– fondly toward you.” He’d like to disappear now, to dissolve and slip down beneath the floorboards so she’ll stop smiling at him like he just made a complete fool of himself, because he did. 

“You feel fondly toward me, huh?” And now she’s making fun of him, a light laugh on her lips as he grumbles at her question. But she’s quick to catch his despairing spiral, scooting over and placing a hand on his knee. 

“I’m sorry, Joel. I don’t mean to tease. But for the record, the feeling’s mutual.” Oh. He can feel his eyebrows shoot up at her words, and her grin broadens at his reaction.

“You mean– you– what’s that word? You mean platoni–” She’s kissing him. She’s kissing him and his brain is going blank but he doesn’t need to think, not really, moving like he knows, like he’s been waiting for this. She’s as stubborn as he is, and it shows in the way they struggle against each other, pulling on clothes to get closer, teeth clashing just a bit as she slips into his lap, pushing him back against the couch as he drags her as close as he can. When she does pull away, he doesn’t let her go far, his hand holding her steady by the hilt of her neck, breathless and smiling.

“No, I don’t mean platonically. Not at all.” And then she’s kissing him again, and it’s quickly becoming his favorite feeling, though the way her hips are pressed up against his is a close second. Joel is starting to realize that they share a few other things in common as well.

They both have a hard time keeping quiet, his low groans mixing and mingling with the pitchy sighs she looses in between kisses.

And they both seem to want to get impossibly closer, his nose mashing up against the slope of her cheek as she winds her arms over his shoulder blades, holding him chest to chest.

Where he tries to get the upper hand, licking into her mouth, squeezing at the swell of her thighs, she just does the same, tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck to hold him just how she wants him as she ducks down to mouth at the arc of his neck.

Where he demands more, she’s happy to give, and to take in turn.

How they make it up the stairs and into his bedroom is beyond him, greedy hands peeling away clothes on the way up, leaving a trail of desire that they’ll have to trace later. 

She’s strong, just as strong as him, and she likes control, just as much as him, handily flipping them around on the bed so that she’s straddling him once again, leaving him wide-eyed and breathless at the sight of her. He’s got scars, and she does too, their hands running over the silvery marks, prayers that there won’t have to be anymore. Her bare cunt is a hot drag over his pelvis, and he’d like more than anything for her to shift her hips just a little lower, a little closer. But instead she ducks her head down, eyes flickering up to his as she lays a smear of kisses over his chest that begin to trail lower until she’s kneeling between his spread thighs. Joel thinks he just might die as he watches her spit into her hand before wrapping her palm around his throbbing cock, a hiss spilling between his teeth as she deftly sweeps her wrist up, her thumb swiping over his slit to smear the pooling pre-come there down his length.

“S’pretty, Joel. Prettier than I imagined.” He can’t help but groan at her words, scrunching his eyes shut and pressing his head back into the sheets.

“You– fuck– you thought about this, darlin? About me?” She smiles at his question, her lips just grazing the underside of him.

“Mmhmm, thought about you a lot. About this. We’re so alike, you and I. I couldn’t help but think that if anyone would be able to handle me, it’d be you.” And with that, she licks a salacious stripe up his length before taking him into the heat of her mouth.

“Christ– I  can– can handle you, darlin. Handle you however you want me to– fuck, that mouth of yours is a dream.” She hums at his praise, the vibration shooting straight down his cock as she bobs her head. It’s messy as hell, the slick sound of spit, her palm pressed flat against his stomach to hold him still, the drag of her tongue along his length, and the way her eyes stay on him, hooded and hazy under her lashes. 

“Thought about you too, y’know, like-like this.” His words make her stop for a moment, pulling off of him with a sigh, her hand picking up where she left off.

“And? Am I living up to your expectations?” Her words are lilted by her grin, and the sight of her lazily stroking his cock, her head tilted as she looks at him is nearly too obscene to be real.

“S’better– you’re so much better– fucking perfect.” It’s like he realizes all of a sudden how bad he wants to touch her, and then it’s all he wants, all he needs, coaxing her back up to meet in a kiss before rolling them over, swallowing the peel of laughter she lets out as he hovers over her. 

He wants to be the only one who gets her like this, the only one to hear her sighs, soft and melty in his sheets, sweet only for him as he swipes his fingers through her folds, dragging her pooling slick up to draw circles over her clit.

“So wet for me, darlin. S’just for me, huh?” Her chin jerks in a nod, whatever control she had now held in his hands, her hips canting up into his palm. 

“Just for you, Joel. All for you– please.” She doesn’t have to say anymore, he knows what she wants because it’s what he wants too. More. He presses two fingers inside of her, unable to stifle the groan he lets out at the feel of her cunt clenching around him, muffling the sound with a drag of kisses across her chest. She keens up into his touch, back arching when he takes one of her nipples into his mouth, tongue laving over the peak before letting his teeth just barely graze the delicate skin. And he learns her, all of her, the dips and swells of her body, the spot he can press against inside her that makes her brow crumple, the scrape of her nails down his back, the little whimpers she tries to silence, biting down on her lip, the way she tightens around his fingers when she’s close, and the broken sound of his name on her lips when she finally unravels for him, panting and twisting in pleasure. 

“That’s it, darlin. Feels good, huh? I did good for you?” Maybe it’s a little selfish, what he asks, but she’s happy to answer anyways.

“So good– did so good for me, Joel. Fuck, I really want you, baby.” He can feel the heat flushing up his face at her words, his mind going dizzy with the praise, and all he can do is give her what she wants, slotting his hips against hers and notching his leaking tip at her entrance. 

It’s unreal, it’s gotta be, the way she spreads open around him, close and pliant, her knee hitched up along his waist as he presses into her, both of them sighing at the stretch. For a moment, they’re still, just feeling each other, pressed so close, sweat-damp skin sticking from the contact, choppy exhales cooling down their shared heat. And then, Joel learns that they have something else in common. They both like their pleasure with just a tinge of pain.

It starts slow, the rock of his hips into hers, but she makes it clear with the press of her heel into his low back and her hand tugging in his hair that slow is the last thing she wants, and Joel is more than happy to oblige. The thump of the headboard against the wall, the slap of skin, harsh grunts and crackling moans twine around them, wrapping them up in a desperate symphony with each harsh grind of his hips against hers. 

He wants to leave marks, wants her to remember this when she runs her hands over the bruises he leaves, a purple and blue mosaic of where he touched her, where he wanted her most. And she seems intent on the same goal, nails scratching down his shuddering back, pulling him closer so she can mouth at his neck, her teeth nipping just a touch unkindly, making his eyes roll back from the sharp suggestion of pain. 

“Fuck, darlin– made just for me, huh? So good like this– wanna feel you like this– want you to gimme another one. Be so good for me, honey, c’mon.” 

…

All she wants is him. The hot drag of his cock inside her, his hips mashing up against hers, the heavy grip of his hand cupping her ass, pulling her hips up to meet his. His scruff, scraping against her chest, lips a smudge against her skin, each grunt a vibration that runs through her bones. The way he keeps her head from hitting the headboard with his forearm protectively curled there, holding himself up just enough to move his hips against hers, to look at her when she comes for a second time, spasming around him.

She feels like liquid beneath him, undone by pleasure, only vaguely aware of the breathy chant of please, please leaving her lips with each exhale. But he knows what she’s asking for, and Joel gives it to her, pulling out with a groan, his spend smearing across her heaving stomach as he pants over her. He flops down onto his stomach next to her with a sigh, one arm slung heavy over her waist, turned on his cheek to look at her. 

“Get you cleaned up in a minute– just need to not move right now– shit.” She has to laugh at his breathless exclamation, catching the crook of his grin out of the corner of her eye before turning onto her side to get a better look at him. Hair wild, sticking up all which ways, and cheeks flushed under his altogether boyish smile, she can’t help but lean in for a kiss that he gives up willingly to her. 

“Remind me again why we waited so long to do that?” That makes him laugh, squeezing her hip to pull her closer as he turns onto his side

“Because I was an idiot.” She hums at his answer, brushing his hair back out of his face before letting her palm settle along his scruff.

“It takes two, we were both idiots.” 

“Some pair we make, huh, darlin?” 

Some pair indeed.

[paradubolical]

it's that time again

here's how to make alcohol at home

recipe under the cut. it's long. I warned you.

FOREWARD:

I do not endorse regular substance abuse or at-home distillation without proper training. Don’t hit your kids. Don’t blow up your house. It’s okay to eat shit and die, like, once every three months, not every two weeks, not every weekend. If you’re doing that, there’s not much I can do to help or give in way of advice. But this recipe is not for you. And you should reconsider some stuff if you haven’t already.

That being said.

The following is my personal method for brewing beer, mead, wine, etc. I have utilized this method many times and it has worked wonderfully. I have achieved up to 15% proof. This means that the substance you create should be perfectly drinkable and safe if you follow the instructions and use your head. HOWEVER. You should be prepared to read this whole document before making anything. There are warnings and safety precautions you need to take, and I don’t want anyone to get botulism of some shit because of a shoddy recipe that doesn’t explain absolutely everything.

I also do not encourage the practice of distillation at home. This is not because it is illegal. For those unaware, distillation is the semi-complicated process of heating alcohol to produce hard liquors. While it may sound fun to make Smirnoff from home, there is a reason we do not. Alcohol is extremely flammable. You will set yourself or your valuables on fire.

Ingredients:

1 Packet ActiveDry Yeast

1 Cup Sugar or 1 Cup Sugar Equivalent*

⅔ Gallon Water

Supplies:

1 Gallon Container

1 Suitable Cork or Lid**

3-4 Ballons, Latex Gloves, or even condoms will do honestly***

IMPORTANT:

You must have a space prepared ahead of time to store the JFCB while it brews. Remember. It will stink like hell. Anyone who smells it will know it’s alcohol. Use your noggin okay

NOTES:

*

In simple terms, alcohol is created when yeast eats sugar. You can use pretty much anything sugary. Don’t use chocolate unless you want to die.

I like to use those strawberry-flavored grandma hard candies. The stuff they make is super fucking strong and tastes like god himself descended from the heavens to kick your ass. It makes what I like to call the JFCB. It’s high-proof enough to burn your throat. So, you know, try to moderate.

**

You need something to seal the container with once you’re done. Pick wisely.

***

It’s gotta be something that can form a seal around the lip of the container, but also expand like a balloon. These are some of the things I’ve found work best.

INSTRUCTIONS:

Creating the Base

Take your 1-Gallon Container and fill it with half the packet of ActiveDry yeast. You don’t need all of it. Trust me on this one.

Pour in your 1 Cup Sugar or Equivalent.

Pour in the ⅔ Gallon of Water.

Either whisk or mix vigorously. When it starts foaming, you’re done.

Stage 1

Put the Balloon/Latex/Condom over the lip of the container. Make sure it’s secure and extremely tight, but there’s plenty of room for air to fill.

Find your designated Place to Put It. This should be somewhere nobody’s gonna smell it, and also somewhere nobody’s gonna go for the next three odd months.

Set your shit down.

Wait 2-3 weeks.

Stage 2

After 2-3 weeks, the alcohol should stop emitting gas. At this point, it’s safe to cork. Don’t do it beforehand or the container will explode.

I like to put some hot glue or wax over the lip just to make sure it’s sealed extra well. I sometimes put tinfoil too. It doesn’t actually help anything, just looks fancy.

Find somewhere nice to store it. Make sure it’s right side up. Odds are you sealed it pretty poorly if it’s your first time, and you’re gonna be in deep shit if it starts to smell.

If it does, that means you corked it too early. Move it back to your Place to Put It for like a month. Recork it after that time’s up. It might be difficult, but you’re smart. You can do it. It should be good to go after that.

And there you have it. A nice bottle of…. Something?

Enjoy. Or just leave it to sit.

FAQ:

Q: I’m worried about getting botulism from this shit. Is it really safe?

A: Usually, people don’t get botulism. My rule of thumb is that if it smells like shit you should really just throw it away. If you’re really worried, I’d also recommend throwing it away. The paranoia’s not worth it.

Q: I’m a minor. Should I try this at home?

A: Probably not. I’m a minor too, so fuck’s to say what my opinion’s worth.

Q: I want to try vodka/scotch/whiskey. What should I do?

A: You should just not. Or buy it at the store. I don’t know man i’m not the all-seeing eye

Q: I’ve heard you need an airlock for this. Do you need an airlock for this?

A: Absolutely fucking not. They are feeding you airlock propaganda. You don’t need an airlock.

[rechorites]

cw: smut under the cut

in any life, if i could hold you for a minute

see ao3 for warnings/tags

She shouldn’t even be here, that’s the first thing.

He’s been undercover for a month. Not even really undercover - how would a Malfoy even do that? But he’s been ‘fired’ from the Auror Office for a month. Certain people have always expected that of him, and it’s those certain people they’re after.

He has to be disgruntled to sell it, so he went to the Leaky Cauldron three days in to it all and drank too much and mouthed off to anyone who’d listen, about Potter and Tonks and Robards.

He feels bad about it, after, even though it was absolutely sanctioned, because they publish the worst bits in The Prophet. In reality, Potter and Tonks and Robards have done nothing except help him rebuild his life brick by brick.

So he’s there, a month in to being the kind of Draco Malfoy who’d buy illegal potions and trade Schedule III creatures, drinking at The Green Dragon.

And she just… strolls in. With the Weaslette.

They’re disguised, a little, which is all they need these days. Unlike Potter, who could never go undercover a day in his life without Polyjuice Potion, Granger and Weaslette both took great pains to fade into obscurity after the war.

Weaslette’s gone brunette, for the evening, and Granger’s hair is silky and straight, eyes blue instead of their usual warm brown. But he’d know the way she moves anywhere, the tilt of her chin, the way she walks right past him. She smells the same, too.

He’s wanted her since she joined the Auror Office.

Longer than he should have, really. He even asked her out before she got assigned as his Trainee, only to find out she was still dating the Weasel, and she was flattered, but whatever. It’s been months since her and Weasel broke up (seven, not that he’s counting), even longer since… the incident. And she danced around him for a while, after, all these looks like she knew he was watching. Touches, light, on his forearm.

He’s never been going for subtle.

He pretend to ignore the two of them. Draco Malfoy, notorious knave, doesn’t approach random women in bars, anyway. He’s just decided that. It would be stupidly dangerous, reckless, for him to talk to any Auror, undercover or not.

He waits for Zabini.

Her eyes on him are like light through a magnifying glass, burning him where he sits.

They’re clearly out on the all-nighter they make all Trainees do just before they finish training.

Let them loose for 24 hours with nothing but their wand and the clothes on their back, the goal being to get them a bit more… streetwise, although Draco himself spent the time sitting in a quiet pub in Muggle Sussex, trying to pass the time without seeing any bloody Slytherins. The Trainees are meant to find gold, Potions, whatever illicit stuff they can get their hands on. The winner has their name added to some stupid plaque in the break room.

She’s laughing with Weasley, chatting up the bar’s regular Potions dealer in the corner of his eye. She brushes her hair over her shoulder, not used to the length of it. Draco debates just leaving before he does something regrettable.

Zabini turns up, late as usual.

He lets out a long whistle through his teeth at the sight of them. “Not often you get ladies like that, here. Think they’re lost?”

Draco tries to find his Death Eater bravado, clutches the glass of his firewhiskey.

“Not for much longer, once you find them.”

Blaise smiles.

“Just what I thought, too, Malfoy. Shall we?”

Zabini is a small fish, loosely affiliated with the circle of Slytherins headed by Marcus Flint that controls large swathes of the Black market in Europe. Not a bad guy, particularly. He’s just an in for Draco, someone to build credibility with before he can move up the food chain. Fucking it up with Zabini would make the potentially years long deep cover assignment disappear, make everything he’d done so far obsolete.

Draco raises an eyebrow, tilts his head towards them. He’s still looking behind the bar, the second he starts looking at her he’s not sure he’ll be able to stop.

“After you.”

Zabini’s far more interested in the Weaslette, which is lucky, because Granger doesn’t take her eyes off him for a second. He doubts she’ll go into Intelligence long term, more likely into serious crimes or R&D. She has the brains for it, always has.

“Anna,” she says, hand out to shake like they’re at the office. It’s a shit cover name, for her. She could never be called something so pedestrian. Draco leans forward instead, turns her hand to kiss the back of it like the old Slytherin boys do. Her skin is hot and soft for the second his lips touch her hand. She keeps looking at him, too, with those wide, wide eyes. If he squints he can imagine her without the glamours.

It doesn’t suit her, the blue. Too cold.

She hasn’t been his Trainee in a month, since he went under.

Technically, he’s not even employed by the Auror Office any more.

He likes to think she’s thinking the same thing, the way she’s looking at him.

She and the Weaslette quickly make their excuses, much to Zabini’s disappointment. They’d be in mountains of shit if they blew his cover their first time out of the office unsupervised. Draco doesn’t let himself feel anything about it, either way.

And that should be the end of it. He stays there for another hour, shooting shit with Zabini, hearing about some invention of Nott's that sounds like bad news all around.

“He’s been at Nott Manor all week, hasn’t been out drinking even once. Not like him. I’m having an intervention tomorrow. You—”

“Hey.”

And there she fucking is. Behind them at the bar, waiting to speak to him just like she would at the office. He can practically imagine her in her Trainee uniform behind him, ready to tell him how many errors she’s found in his reports, or about some new lead she’s found.

Zabini smirks widely, big white teeth gleaming, and looks at him knowingly.

“Hey,” says Blaise, before Draco can even turn around properly. “Where’s your friend?”

“She, uh… had to go home.” Is Weaslette in trouble? Draco narrows his eyes slightly. There’s a quarter of a smile at one corner of her lips that he only knows because he’s seen her do it before, the look she gives him before they do something totally off-book.

“Oh? But not you?” The way Blaise is looking at her is practically indecent, and she still won’t take those blue eyes off him. He wants to curl her hair around his fingers until it’s normal again.

“No. Not me. I’m, uh… going overseas tomorrow. And I’m free for the next few hours, so…”

Draco feels hot and cold at the same time. Maybe he’s coming down with something.

Zabini looks between them, Draco looking at her incredulously, Granger with this expression on her face like she’s just jumped off a broom, not entirely sure a cushioning charm will come and save her.

“I’m sure we could find a solution to that, Gorgeous,” says Blaise, insufferable flirt to the very end.

“I—” She looks genuinely flustered, this bug eyed looks that suits her. He’s a flirt, and a minor scoundrel, but Zabini has never been in to making women uncomfortable.

“You shouldn’t miss your… Floo,” Draco says, stupidly, looking back down at the wood of the bar. Tonks would kick her out of the programme for doing something this stupid. And if his cover is blown—

“Right. Yeah. I’ll go, then.” He’s not sure if he’s imagining the disappointment in her tone.

“I’m sorry, Anna, I think my friend’s just had a brain injury. Would you excuse us a second?” says Blaise, pulling Draco practically by the collar. Granger just nods, looking uncertain, turning her head to the bar like she might order something.

“What the fuck are you doing?” asks Blaise. “She’s trying to pull, you tosser. You can’t let a beautiful woman walk away like that!” He releases his collar, looking back at Granger.

“I’ll fuck off, then.” Blaise says, standing and clapping Draco on the shoulder. “On for tomorrow, Malfoy?”

Draco nods, only half listening. He doesn’t know what will happen when he leaves, and where’s Weaslette, anyway? They’re meant to stay in pairs.

She’s wearing the stupidest outfit, jeans and a thin, long-sleeved t-shirt in the middle of winter, fitted closer than anything she wears at work. She’ll freeze outside.

“Draco?” she says, and Zabini’s gone. She looks weirdly… sad, for a second. Big puppy eyes. Rejected. Which is ridiculous, because she probably just wants a bed to sleep in and some money and Potions to win the stupid bloody game.

He smirks at her, the Malfoy smirk that he hasn’t been able to use in years, but that has made its way back on his face this last month. Raises an eyebrow so anyone watching won’t suspect. “Mine or yours?”

She looks at him, surprised. “Are you—”

If she’s about to ask if he’s sure, the answer is ‘no way’.

“Yours.”

---

He’s at a new flat, living above a seedy little tattoo shop that he strongly suspects injects more than just ink.

It’s not that bad for something paid for by the Auror Office, better than the usual shithole safehouse by a mile. His old flat was nicer, a posh Muggle flat in London that he got—well, right around when Granger and the Weasel got engaged. She’d been over, once, had looked right at home in front of the floor to ceiling bookshelves.

That had been the night of… the incident.

Tonks said the old place wasn’t fitting for the new Draco Malfoy, and she’d been right. He’d wanted a change, anyway.

Granger looks at home here too.

“I’ll find the floo powder,” he says. Sensible.

He could just summon it.

She walks in and starts poking around, opening the drawers in the kitchen.

“No wards? No Extendable Ears?”

“Not yet,” he says.

“Right.” She’s fiddling with his icebox, now, opening it to see a cold lot of nothing. She closes it, and looks back at him, arms by her sides like she doesn’t know what to do with them.

It’s a studio apartment.

Her eyes flick to the bed, lightning fast, and then back to him.

He should look for the Floo powder.

“Why are you here, Granger?” he asks, although honestly he doesn’t want to know. Can’t hear it again.

And then she’s walking past him, brushing the whole side of her body against his. She smells the same, something floral that he’s never been able to place.

Then she stops, and turns, and she’s walking backwards towards the bed, looking at him. She pulls off her shoes with one hand, drops them on the floor, and he can’t stop looking at her, those blue eyes that look so wrong on her face. That hint of a smile is back again, bigger this time, like she’s finally caught him out. She is, categorically, the sexiest witch alive.

He stands there like a bloody nun.

He takes out his wand and casts Aparecium. Suddenly it’s Granger again, her warm brown eyes looking at him, and he can’t help but follow her wherever she goes. Her hair stays the same, though, and he so badly wants it to be hers again he almost asks about it.

She sits on the edge of his bed, looking up at him through her eyelashes. She’s barely breathing, air coming out in quiet little huffs that would steam up outside.

“If you stay, Granger, there’s no going back.”

He’s standing in front of her, a hair’s breadth away from standing between her legs. The way she’s looking at him is going to break his heart, how much he wants to run the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone, how hard this will all be when she gets up and leaves.

“I don’t want to go back.”

The floor drops out from underneath his feet.

He reaches out, slowly, like she might change her mind, and brings one hand to the curve of her jaw, one hand to her ribcage. She’s so much softer than he could have imagined, the long line of her neck bare and pale where it’s usually covered by her uniform.

He kisses her softly, at first.

She’s so bloody soft, like velvet under his lips.

She leans back on her hands as he moves forward, keeps her hands to herself, and before he can think too hard about it he sits down and pulls her over on top of him, knees either side of his thighs, her ratty off-duty socks over the edge of his bed.

The first thing he thinks is that she’s… timid. He’s spent two years with her as his Trainee, her telling him off every five minutes in the office and more in the field, despite him technically being her superior officer. She’s always charging off somewhere, telling him and all the others what to do.

She doesn’t sit down fully, even, hovering awkwardly. He can feel the tension coming off her thighs, trying to keep herself up.

When he’s thought about this, before, he’s never allowed himself to think about the specifics of what she might be like. It would be too much, to think about her like that, under him or on top of him, timid or serious or whatever, and then have to go back to the office the next day and have her call him sir and watch her flirt with the Weasel over tea.

Not that she does that, anymore.

But he thought she’d be… bossy.

He kisses her, more, and Morgana help him if she isn’t good at it. His hands are demurely on her jean-covered thighs, the tight fabric rough under his palms. He’s half-hard already, just the reality of her in his bed enough to get him there.

His hands move up the sides of her hips. The soft swell of them is unexpected. He brushes the tips of his fingers against the smooth, cool skin just under the hem of her top.

She actually gasps.

She pulls back then, and part of him wonders if that’s it. Eight months ago it might have been enough, but now that he’s tasted her, now that he knows what she looks like sitting on his bed, he thinks if she gets up and walk away he might just keel over and die.

Instead, she pulls her top off.

Draco feels any latent capability of higher thought evaporate.

She is— Merlin, she is gorgeous. Smooth, sunkissed skin, muscles taut across her stomach from Auror training, the soft cruve of her hip in contrast. Plain nude bra, sensible in all ways except this one, the one where she’s in his bed in his dodgy cover studio. There are tiny scars on her shoulders, smooth little bumps that have faded with time. On her forearm is the Mudblood scar she got all those years ago. He’s seen it often enough that it doesn’t surprise him, any more, just another part of her.

He’s looking, properly looking, and she blushes.

Hermione Granger, shy. He can’t quite believe it.

She chews at her lip, hands still clutching at her top like she could put it back on. He takes it off her, gently, and drops it to the floor.

He rolls them over, again, so she’s leaning back in the bed, one arm supporting herself, the other lightly on his chest. Timid. He kisses her neck, once, not hard enough to mark, although he wants—

She lets out another gasp, breathier this time. So that works.

Her hair is so carefully straight that it doesn’t get in his face even once. Over the past two years he’s had it in his face more times than he can count, when they’ve flown together on a broom, when she’s sitting next to him in morning briefings. He found a strand in the collar of his shirt once, coiled around a button.

He runs his hands down the sides of her, once, twice, just to know what it’s like. She’s warming up now in the heat of his flat, the goosebumps on her arms calming down.

He undoes the button on her jeans, and then the zip. She wriggles down to help, and he moves aside to let her take them off fully.

Hermione Granger is in her underwear in his bed.

Black knickers that don’t match her bra. There’s a line running just above them where her tan starts, and Draco fights the urge to lick along it. She’s still got that tense look about her, and yeah, he’s the same— he doesn’t know what he wants, especially if this is the only time. Gentle, he supposes. He wants to savour it.

And she’s so quiet.

She’s nervous.

He knows it now, knows that wide-eyed lip chew from the first time they went in the field together, from when Tonks or Robards calls her into their office. Like she might be in trouble.

All that bravado from the bar gone out the window.

“Granger,” he says, not sure what to follow it up with, but it’s enough. He gets that quarter smile back again.

“I’m half-naked in your bed, Malfoy, you can call me Hermione.”

“Oh?”

She doesn’t call him Draco, though.

He kisses her neck again, and she moves this time, tilting her head to give him room. The feel of her underneath him is like some new potion they try out in R&D, something they need to bottle and mass produce. Her thighs spread apart further, tilting her hips up, and even through his trousers he can feel the heat of her through her underwear. He presses open mouth kisses down from her pointy little chin to where her shoulder meets her neck, and she tenses her thighs beneath him a few times, rhythmic enough that it’s on purpose.

But she’s still so quiet, so serious.

He’s gotten to know her enough, over the past two years, that he knows that she’s not like that all the time. When she’s happy, at least. She talks, she’s funny, joking around with Weaslette and Potter and even him, since she broke up with the Weasel.

She’s nothing like he thought she was at school. She’s better.

He runs a hand up and down her side, soothing, and she hikes a leg up to his hip. His hand goes to her knee automatically, lining her up just right over the bulge in his trousers, and he thrusts, this shallow movement that feels just right. She arches, eyes rolling back, a moan finally coming from her lips.

He wants her to do it again. Wants to keep her here, in his bed, until he discovers every noise she can make and more, every thing he can do that makes her look like that.

The urge to just pull down his trousers and bury himself inside her almost overwhelms him.

Slow. Gentle. Savour.

He goes back to her neck, sucks a little harder, and she grips his shoulder, pushing her hips up into him again. So she likes that. (He likes it too, incidentally, the idea that she’ll have to look in the mirror tomorrow and see him, that everyone will know—)

She’s back to quiet, though, quieter than she’s ever been when they’re in the field together.

He pulls back and looks at her again, tries to commit the shape of her to memory, the curve of her hip and the line of her ribcage. She reaches back and unclasps her bra, the straps going loose on her shoulders, and pulls it off.

Draco doesn’t waste time.

He kisses down from her collarbone, circling one nipple with his tongue while he cups the other one in his hand. Perfectly formed, he thinks, as they pebble quickly under his attention. She’s quiet, though, shifting restlessly against him with her hips, never settling into a rhythm.

He doesn’t want quiet.

He knows she must be capable of it, knows that bossiness must extend out of her professional life.

He sits back on his knees and runs his fingers along the inside of the elastic line of her underwear, just below her hip bones, barely feeling the scratch of the hair, and she inhales quickly, a big twitch of her thigh.

She’s looking at him again, now, those brown eyes like she can’t quite believe it’s him. Her mouth is slightly open, the pink of her tongue darting out. She nods, once, and he hooks his fingers under the elastic and pulls, down, down, down, her back arching off the bed to give him room.

He stops, for a second, and just looks again. Hermione Granger, on her back on his sheets.

He needs to memorise her while he has the chance, wants to kiss every bare inch of skin and figure out what she likes, the warm light brown of her skin such a contrast to his that he can hardly take his eyes off his hand on her thigh. She’s all laid out in front of him, and he can hardly decide where to look, the dark pink between her thighs, her breasts, high and drawn tight with her arm raised above her head.

She’s chewing on her lip again while watching him, arm creeping over her forehead like she might cover her eyes.

He drags his fingers across her inner thigh, the skin there so soft he wants to rub his face up against it.

One step at a time.

Every muscle in her stomach goes tight, clenching quickly. She’s looking at him now, her arm half covering her eyes, chest bare and the other hand gripping onto the sheets for dear life.

He runs his finger through the length of her, and her hips jerk as she sucks in a ragged breath.

She is— Merlin, she is wet.

He rubs her clit, just a little, and her chin comes up, a feral little jut as she bites her lip again. She’ll bite it clean off if she’s not careful.

“Malfoy,” she says, quiet.

He rubs again, small circles around in a way that girls have liked before, and her eyes flutter.

“More, Malfoy.” There she is.

“More, like what?”

“I don’t—I want—” She takes a deep breath, frustrated that he’s making her say it. “Harder. Inside.”

He grins at her, and then moves down to kiss the skin of her stomach, lower again just above her hipbone, and she twiches again, arse coming off the bed.

“Malfoy—” Her eyes are wide again, surprised. “What are you doing?” Her voice is pitched higher, just a little, like maybe she really didn’t expect it.

Draco moves his free hand under her thigh, nudging her down the bed in response, so his knees are on the floor. She goes, quickly, and he gets one of her ankles hooked on his shoulder, his right hand still working her slowly, firmly, her hips moving rhythmically in response to his small circles.

Her heel is cold and sharp against the fabric on his shoulder, and she’s resting on her elbows now, looking at him with that wide-eyed look she had when he brought her up here.

He looks at her in the dim light of his shitty little flat, the dark wetness of her. The potency of wanting makes him lose his breath.

“Hermione,” he says quietly. “Let me.”

She looks at him still and opens her legs further, tilting her hips up towards him with intent. He moves his face down and licks, hard, slipping his finger down and pushing into her where she’s the wettest, the hot warm closeness making him feel out of control. He uses the flat of his tongue against her clit, long hard licks that she presses into. She’s tight around his finger, and the feeling is enough to have him pressing his own hips uselessly into the side of the bed, erection trapped in his trousers.

“Is that…” he starts, and she nods her head quickly. “Are you sure?”

He’s been privvy to her uncensored opinion on everything for almost two years: everything the other Trainees do, the laws and policies that govern them, the intricacies of all the assignments they’ve had. He actually thinks, possibly, this is the longest they’ve been in a room together without her telling him what to do.

He finds an angle she likes, the barest of sounds coming out of her, and the smell of her wetness is heady and intoxicating. He wants to smear her over him, all these primitive instincts coming out of nowhere.

He adds another finger, this ‘come here’ motion inside that Pansy taught him, and her leg jerks down, rubbing against the bone in his shoulder.

“Fuck, Draco. Don’t— don’t stop.”

She coils up in front of him, the heel that’s still on the bed pushing down and tilting her towards him, and she’s breathing heavier now, almost as if—

She takes this deep intake of breath, sudden, and her head drops back, pink flush spreading all across her chest. It doesn’t take long until she’s gasping, little noises that must mean she likes it.

Her hips come up, quickly, almost hitting him in the nose, and she comes fast, clenching around his fingers, quick and rhythmic. It’s short, not a particularly big one, but he tries to make it last, grinds his tongue into her clit.

He doesn’t stop moving until she makes this rough moan, flopping back on to the bed with her eyes closed, slipping her leg off his shoulder.

“Was that—?”

“Oh my God, Malfoy.”

So yeah, he’s pretty pleased with himself.

He wants to do it again, but his erection is starting to border on painful, something about having her in his hands and not acting on it.

He wipes his face on her inner thigh, drops a kiss there that feels far too affectionate for what they are to each other. She groans when he pulls his fingers out, slippery and wet, and he licks them just for another taste. Her eyes are open again, watching, and she grabs him by the lapels and half drags him up the bed on top of her.

He tries use his arms to keep his weight off her, but she pushes them out from under him in the same way they got taught in non-magical combat, pushing her face into his neck and bringing her legs to wrap around him.

“Oh, shit,” she says, looking down at where she’s just rubbed herself onto his trousers. “Why are you still wearing clothes?”

He laughs at her, then, a low rumble. “I got a bit… distracted.”

She looks pleased now, at least, and then she goes tense again and rolls him over onto his back, straddling his stomach. Before he knows what’s happened, she has her wand in her hand, pointing down at him.

He has the good sense to feel alarmed.

Then, without any warning, she vanishes his top, leaving him bare-chested. She lifts her hips—and Godric, that’s a view—and vanishes his trousers too, leaving him in just his boxers.

She gives him a wicked grin for a second, just a trace of the Granger he’s gotten to know, and then is straight back to serious. The second is enough, though, and already he wants to find whatever will make her look at him like that again. She smiles more at him now—or did, when he was still at the office—this bright, open thing that makes his heart leap out of his chest every time.

She pushes him all the way up the bed, man-handling him in a way that he’s fond of immediately, until she’s hovering above his thighs. She pushes down his boxers off his hips, slow, like maybe she’s trying to savour it too, and he’s hit with such a wave of affection for her that it’s practically indecent.

She looks back at him when she decided he’s in the right place, and the sight of her, naked on his thighs next to his cock, all that smooth tan skin and the hair on her forehead starting to frizz up again with sweat, might nearly be enough to get him there.

Hermione has other plans, though.

Her hand is on his cock, suddenly, and his hips jerk so suddenly it almost bucks her off. She laughs, loud and teasing. “Is that… alright?” she asks, a sly grin on her lips. She’s pumping up and down, a hair’s breadth on the side of too tight, and any part of Draco that could have responded coolly was gone, dead years ago when the day turned up at the Auror Office with a black eye from training saying she’d been assigned to him.

Draco lets out a choked noise that might be a laugh. "Yes. Yeah.” The visual of her hand on him is something that he will never, ever forget. He doesn’t know how he’ll ever function normally again.

He wants to be inside her, needs it more than he needs air to breath, but she’s looking at him calculatingly, pumping him up and down, this twist at the head that’s well-practiced enough that he doesn’t want to think about who she learned it from. She’s serious again, all trace of laughter gone.

And then she tucks her hair behind her ears.

Draco refuses to think anything, but already she’s bending down, shuffling back a bit in a way that’s smearing wetness on his legs.

“Hermione, you don’t have to—”

“Let me, Draco,” she says, an echo of his words earlier. He can’t take his eyes off her, and she takes him in her mouth. The warm wetness is almost too much, the sight of her on top of him like this, the view down her back and the curve of her arse.

He pulls on the sheets so he doesn’t grab her head, and she brings one of her hands around the base of his cock, setting up a rhythm, and he can hear himself half-panting as he watches her, just watches and watches.

She picks up one of his hands and rests it on her head, and fuck, fuck—

He makes a strangled noise and grips her hair by accident, too tightly, but she moans on his cock and he feels the vibrations all the way down in the base of his spine.

He pulls her off quickly, her mouth making this indecent wet noise as she comes off that almost packs him in.

She sits up on his legs again, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Up to standard, sir?” she says, cheeky, the kind of shit she says to Potter when she does some bullshit assignment in half the time and twice as good as anyone else could.

Draco feels like his brain has gone smooth.

She rubs across his chest, now, feeling the planes of him, finally looking like he won’t turn around and bite her—or maybe like he will, who knows, with this girl.Hhe thinks the orgasm has calmed her down, and possibly also seeing him almost come in his boxers at the sight of her. He imagines it would have an ego-boosting effect.

Salazar, he’s missed her.

It’s only been a month, and now that he’s over the surprise of having her here, in the bar and in his bed, he can’t remember why he ever took this assignment, why he would be so stupid as to give up having her at the desk next to him.

Well, he can. But she’s here now.

She’s moving forwards, close enough that her stomach brushes against his cock every time she arches her back, and Merlin, the way she’s looking at him is doing it for him almost as much as anything else, this focused, studious look that makes him think of her in the bloody Hogwarts Potions lab, the way she always drove him up the wall with confused wanting.

“I’m… uh, not on the Potion,” she says. Of course not, no Weasel around. He shouldn’t be pleased that it probably means there’s been no one else.

“Right.”

“Have you—I mean, do we need to—” she gestures at him, presumably asking if he’s been with anyone else, if they need the Contraceptive Spell or something more. She looks like she doesn’t want to know the answer.

“Just the spell.”

“Right.” She gets out her wand and a muscle in her cheek twitches, satisfied with his answer. She points it at herself, and then him. He’s never let anyone else cast it, before, certainly not any of the Slytherin girls who would have happily taken the Malfoy family fortune, even if he came along with it.

He must trust her, or whatever.

She pushes herself up onto her knees, catching her lip between her teeth again as she lines them up, the wetness at her entrance catching the head of his cock. She feels so unbelievably good.

He holds his breath as she sinks down.

He feels it everywhere, her on top of him, the pressure of her on his cock, tight, tight, and he’s thankful she pauses at the bottom to catch her breath because he needs it too, an awful amount. She bows her head, her hair coming over her face.

There’s a strip of a streetlight coming through the window and it lands across her, a straight line of skin illuminated.

“Will you tell me something?” she asks, quiet again.

“Anything,” he says, all pretense out the window. She could ask him to change his name to Derek Milford right about now and he’d do it, no questions asked.

A broad grin spreads across her face as she looks down at where they’re joined, and clearly he’s given too much away.

“When did you first… like me?”

She’s blushing, too, and he’s actually— Merlin, he’s inside her. If ever there was a time to be honest.

“A long time ago, Granger.”

And she lets him get away with it, just smiles and tilts her hips, the smallest movement that has them both tensing. “Knew it.” And then she’s rolling her hips, slowly at first, wicked little flicks at the end that make him feel as though he couldn’t possibly get any deeper.

She keeps her eyes open, looking down at him. She takes one of his hands in hers, skinny little fingers scrabbling against his palm for a second before lacing their fingers together.

There’s no way he can stay undercover after this. No fucking way. He’s going to go back to Robards and beg for his job back, sting assignment be damned.

He wants to stay here forever.

“Hermione,” he says, and her eyes flutter close. She likes hearing her name.

Her hips start to roll properly, now, a quick rhythm as she leans forward on his chest, and he brings his free hand forward to her her clit, pushing apart her folds. The feeling of the join where he’s inside of her is something else, and she gasps quickly as he touches her like it’s too much.

“You don’t have to—” she starts. “I can usually only… come… once,” she says, voice dropping on the word come in a way that makes him twitch, like maybe the Tattoo Parlour downstairs might hear. He’s filled with the urge to make her loud, properly loud, so the whole of bloody Knockturn Alley can hear Draco Malfoy fucking Hermione Granger.

“Right,” he says. He’s not disappointed by that, not really, but if he’d known it had been a one and done situation he would have drawn it out longer, savoured it properly. Would have held her on the edge until she had to talk to him. If he stays here, if she goes back—

He wanted to see her do it again. That’s all.

He rolls them, her leg coming up to hook around his hip, sticky thighs open wide, and she moans—loud—as he bottoms out, back arching against him. Which—

She doesn’t sound like someone who can only come once.

She’s not an idiot, she’s had sex before, obviously, and she would know if she could—

Draco finds a rhythm, slow and gentle, like he hasn’t got anywhere to be. He won’t last much longer, her hot and wet around him. She looks the part, too, all mussed and sweaty, eyes half closed. His hand creeps back down between them.

“It still feels good, though, right?” He rolls around it, in case she’s sensitive, but she’s pushing her hips up with every thrust in a way that says she’s definitely not done, heels digging in to the mattress to get the leverage she needs.

‘I—Yeah. Really—Keep going,” and her voice makes him stutter a bit, how husky it is. Her hair is over the pillow, so long like this.

He kisses the corner of her mouth, now, and she tilts her head up to kiss him properly, grinning like she’s just remembered she can. He kisses down her throat, pausing on a spot that makes her groan, sucking. Finally, she’s making some noise.

“Yes, Draco. Right there.”

He can feel it inside him, building and building, but he just has to—

She did say usually.

His teeth graze her pulse point just as her knee moves back just a little, and she cries out, loud, head thrown back as he keeps circling her clit, that same relentless pace. She goes tense all over, inside too, which is a feeling he totally wasn’t prepared for, and lets out another noise somewhere between a yell and a moan.

Her hips are pressed all the way forward as he drives into her, pushing and pushing against him like she can’t do anything else.

“Draco,” she says, loud, warningly. “Draco, don’t, fucking, stop— don’t—” His hand between her legs is beginning to cramp, awkwardly pressed between them, but she’s getting that same flush on her chest, and now he’s close enough to see it on her cheeks too, this rosy tint that he can see spreading across her like something blossoming.

One of her hands clutches at his back, hard enough to hurt, her neatly trimmed nails still long enough to scratch, and he wants it, he wants to look in the mirror tomorrow and see all the parts of her she can leave behind, wants to mark her in some dark, primal way. He wants her to think of him.

“Please, Draco,”she whines, and Merlin, that really does it for him, this greedy tone in her voice that makes him want to give her the world. She’s sweating, and he stops sucking her neck long enough to lick a broad stroke on her collarbones, the taste of her like salt and Hermione and sex.

“Fuck, Hermione, you sound so good. Like it when you moan.”

He moves his hand off her clit, pulling her ass closer, and then goes back and makes the circles tighter, brushing over it each time, and suddenly she’s loud, like proper, Muffling Charm on the door, loud, a long moan that scratches his brain just right, everywhere.

“I wanted you in eighth year, even, before this all,” he’s whispering in her ear, and she likes that, these tiny little groans in time with his thrusts. “And then when you joined the Auror Office, that first week, all this time—” Her arms are wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him close, and he’s so close, but he just feels like she might—

“Draco, Draco, please.” She’s meeting every thrust, just at the edge of her range of motion, these quick pulses of her arse. “I’m so—please.” And fuck if that doesn’t do it for him, the sound of his name and her practically begging—

“Hermione, just like that, fuck. You’re so perfect.”

He is so fucking close that it actually hurts not to come, sheer bloody-mindedness the only thing keeping him together.

Something hits just right, and then she’s making this high, long noise as she comes, so loud it rattles around his brain. Her legs come up, dropping them to the mattress, pulling him so close he can’t even move without her following him. He can feel it inside of her, this tight, quick pulsing of her cunt that’s nearly too much for him.

He doesn’t stop thrusting the whole time, the shallow movement of his hips fucking her into the mattress as he wrings it out, her hips and thighs gripped so tightly around him that there’s not even an inch between them as he does it, her orgasm long and deep.

Her cunt flutters for what feels like an age, every twitch sending shocks up his spine.

When it finally stops, he rests on his elbows, but she pulls him down again, right on top of her, his face next to her neck.

She laughs, then, this bubbling, hysterical thing that he feels through his whole body, still inside of her.

“You’re going to be so insufferable about that, aren’t you?” she says finally, patting down the sides of his body like she’s checking he’s still real.

He barks out a laugh at that, too, because yes, he is. “Me? Insufferable?” And she smacks him, gently, on the side of his chest.

He would pull the moon from the sky for her.

She yawns, loudly, exagerrated like she’s messing with him, and he looks up at the clock. Eleven, still ten hours before she needs to be back at the office in uniform. Now that he’s got her loud, he would place a bet that next time she’d start that way.

She pulls back a bit, looks at him. “Need something, Malfoy?” she asks, cocky and self-satisfied. She clenches around him once, breathing through her teeth at the feel of it. She must be so sensitive.

Morgana help him, he wants to tell her everything. Wants to tell her that he’ll lock the door and keep her here forever, get his old flat back and let her re-organise his library the way she was obviously itching to do that night, that he’ll go back to being an Auror properly or quit being an Auror entirely or something, anything, whatever she wants.

She rolls her hips once, and then pulls her knees up and apart with her hands, wide, so she’s totally spread open in front of him. Draco feels his mouth drop open.

“Go on, Draco." She cocks her head to the side, daring him, just like she would in duelling practice, this knowing look like she sees right through him. “Show me what you can do.” Her eyes have gone all dark and glossy.

And fuck. That is one hell of an invitation.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says, and she snorts at him, brushing her hair off her face. It’s a relief, actually, that she’s his Hermione underneath, the same one he’s gotten to know at the office, at the Auror bar. Not that he wouldn’t like her all kinds of ways, but—he likes his Hermione a lot.

He leans forward, rubs his nose in the hollow behind her ear, and starts thrusting, running the whole length of himself slowly out and then pushing back in, a quick flick of his hips hard and fast. She starts clenching against him, tight and on purpose as he pulls out, this pressure all around that builds so quickly he can’t believe it.

He gets sloppy, ragged, the feeling of her everywhere. Hermione Granger.

She brings her hand up to his hair and runs her fingers through it. It’s catching up to him now, that edge that’s been there since she had his hands on him, her mouth on him, the hot, tight, relentless pull of her. He’s been putting it off for so long that it actually hurts, just this side of pain.

“I’ve liked you for a long time, too,” she says, and that does it for him. That really does it for him.

His whole brain goes white and fuzzy.

He thinks he must keep thrusting, some ungainly noise coming out from his mouth, but he can’t remember it after.

He melts on to her, unceremoniously, and she kneads her hand on his scalp and runs it through his hair, pulling it up in all sorts of directions.

They’re silent for several long minutes, the sound of their breathing and her heartbeat underneath him.

“Are you really staying undercover?” she says eventually, quietly into the air. It’s cold in here now, the sweat on his back cooling rapidly, the wet between their legs turning sticky.

He doesn’t have an answer for her. Or he does, but he doesn’t want to tell her, doesn’t want it to be real.

“There’s a plan, Granger. It’s not— there’s no one else.”

“Yeah. Only one Malfoy.”

He laughs, grim, thinking of the two other Malfoys left alive who would probably die of shock to know what he’s doing right now.

He shifts, pulling out of her, and she lets out this groan that he wants to hear every day he’s alive on this earth. He grabs his wand, cleaning them both off, gentle between her legs. She watches him with her eyes going all sleepy between her lashes.

The thing is, Tonks has been on at him about going undercover for years, long before Granger joined the Auror Office, ever since he started. A unique opportunity, she called it, given his past. But he never gave it a single thought until a month and a bit ago, when he thought—when it seemed like Granger finally, finally stopped dancing around him, when he thought he really had no chance.

He opens up the duvet on one side, nudging her underneath, one last effort. Ten hours left.

He would have waited for a lifetime, if he knew she might have said yes.

“I’m going to lose the bloody game,” she says, half asleep now. “Ginny will never let me hear the end of it.”

Longbottom had won, in his year, after repeating the last year of Auror training and turning up unexpectedly with a bag full of Potion vials and 100 Galleons. He’d never told anyone how he’d done it.

She wraps into his side, soft and clean and small, rubs her head against his shoulder fondly.

“We only have to be there at nine, you know. We could go again.” She wanders her hand over him slowly, badly disguising a yawn.

He pulls her closer, kisses the side of her head on one wayward curl. “Sure, Granger. Whatever you want.”

She’s asleep in minutes, dead weight on his side as her breath deepens.

He looks at her, face blank with sleep.

She shouldn’t be here, sure, but Merlin, he’d give anything to keep her.

[mrprettywhenhecries]

i don’t think you notice (what you did to me) redux [b.h]

three. | start your engines

Billy Hargrove ✘ Win Lewis (OC)

✗ w.c. 2.3k words ✗ warning(s). canon x oc pairing, f!oc, suggestive themes, smoking, illegal car racing ✗ a/n. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated 💚✨

[ masterlist ] [ win lewis bio ]

Win wasn’t surprised that come Monday morning, Vicki was giving her the silent treatment, turning her nose up at her every time their paths crossed, but it wasn’t until third period gym that she found out why.

Coach Walsh was in the midst of splitting the boys up for a game of five on five, shirts versus skins, while the girls sat on the sidelines to watch, which Win was more than happy to.  When Billy was assigned skins, he wasted no time pulling his gym shirt over his head and tossing it aside while shaking out his hair.  When he caught Win watching, he winked, flashing a cheeky grin her way.  Rolling her eyes, she quickly looked away, only to notice the other girls sitting with their heads together, whispering amongst themselves.

“Tommy said he saw them leave the bathroom together, half undressed, after being in there a while,” Carol said, cutting off when she noticed Win listening.

“Win?” Tina cried, looking betrayed.  “You hooked up with Billy at my party and you didn’t even tell me?”

“What?” Win demanded, her eyes narrowing as they fixed on Carol, who shrugged, the ghost of a pleased smirk on her lips.  

“That’s what Tommy told me.  He saw you guys go into the bathroom together,” she said, the look on her face just daring Win to deny it.

“Well Tommy’s fucking wrong,” Win snapped.  “Nancy-fucking-Wheeler spilled punch on me, so I went to the bathroom to clean up and Billy followed me,” she explained.

Carol snorted.  “Yeah, and when you came back out you were only wearing your bra,” she pointed out, smacking her gum.

“Because my shirt was soaked!” Win countered, growing more aggravated by the second.

“So, if you didn’t fuck, what were you doing?” Vicki asked.

“We talked.  That’s it.”

“Uh huh, sure,” Vicki scoffed.  “You know, Billy’s not denying it.”

“Of course he’s not,” Win grumbled under her breath, looking back out at the court just as Billy knocked Steve to the ground and stole the ball, throwing a trick shot under his leg.

“Steve!  I need to talk to you.”

Nancy Wheeler’s sharp voice cut through the air, followed by Mr. Walsh’s shrill whistle.

“Go on, Harrington, but make it quick,” he warned, jerking his head toward where Nancy stood by the door, her arms crossed over her chest.

Though curiosity tugged at her, Win took advantage of the brief timeout to hurry down the bleachers and grab Billy by the arm, dragging him toward the hall.

“Hey Win,” he chuckled, amusement sparkling in his ocean blue eyes as he let himself be led.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” she hissed once they were alone.

“You mean, other than dominating on the court?” he asked, his lips curling smugly.  “Did you see that shot I just made?”

“Billy,” Win warned, planting her hands on her hips.  “Why does everyone think we slept together?”

“Oh that,” he mused, frowning as he shrugged.  “I didn’t say anything.”

Win growled, taking a step closer.  “That’s exactly my point, you’re not denying it!”

“Yeah, and–?” Billy asked, blinking at her as he tilted his head infuriatingly.

“Tell them it didn’t happen,” Win ground out, jabbing her finger into his sweat slicked chest.

For a moment he didn’t respond, chewing his lip as if deliberating.  “I don’t think I will,” he finally said, wearing a grimace as if he actually felt bad about it.

Taken aback by his alacrity, Win merely gaped at him, unable to formulate a scathing enough response.

“I figure it’ll be true sooner or later, so why deny it?” he explained, smugness radiating off him in waves.

“You–you absolute creep!” Win exploded, fury running through her veins.  “Do you actually think I’m gunna want to sleep with you after this?”

Billy’s husky chuckle brought her up short.  “Has anyone ever told you how cute you are when you’re angry?” he asked, amused by her indignant expression.

All Win could get out was a furious “You–!” before Mr. Walsh interrupted.

“Hargrove, Lewis, quit flirting and get back in here, we have a game to play.”

“We’re not–” Win began, ready to argue when Billy cut her off.

“C’mon Win, you heard the man,” he said, flashing a grin.  Appeased, Walsh nodded brusquely before turning and heading back inside, not waiting to see if they were following or not.

Stepping past her, Billy paused, leaning in closer.  “For someone who can dish it out, you sure can’t take it, can you?”

For a moment, Win merely stood there, rooted in place, seething with incredulous disbelief, her pulse thundering in her ears, hating the effect he had on her.  “I’m gunna kill him,” she muttered under her breath once she finally followed, setting her jaw and sitting as far away from the other girls as she could.

If looks could kill, Billy Hargrove would have been dead long before the end of gym class.

By the time lunch rolled around, Win was still stewing, barely paying attention as Heather and Tammy Thompson joined her at her table, far away from where Tina, Carol, and Vicki sat.

“Did you hear about Nancy and Steve?” Heather asked, opening her milk carton and her question roused Win from her thoughts.

“She seemed pretty pissed this morning.  Wonder what that was about,” Win mused, moving her peas around her tray with her fork, and Tammy leaned in conspiratorially.

“Apparently they broke up at Tina’s party.”

“Poor Steve,” Heather murmured, shaking her head solemnly.

“Yeah…” Win agreed halfheartedly, feeling eyes on her.  When she lifted her head, she wasn’t surprised to see Tina and Vicki staring at her from across the room and she rolled her eyes.  “I kinda have bigger fish to fry right now though,” she muttered.

Heather glanced over her shoulder, following Win’s eyeline to the other girls, now huddled together whispering about something, no doubt Win.  “There are worse rumors they could be spreading,” she pointed out, her lips quirking into a small smirk.  “They’re just jealous.  And who can blame them?”

“I guess…” Win groaned, piercing her meatloaf with more force than necessary.  “He’s just so smug, it makes me wanna knock him down a few pegs.”

“Well, it’s not like you can make him admit the truth,” Tammy said.  “Talk’ll die down eventually and people will move on to new gossip.”

“Wait.  That’s it!” Win exclaimed, oblivious to the other two girls’ confusion at her sudden outburst.

“What’s it?  What’re you talking about– Win?  Where’re you going?” Heather cried as Win scraped back her chair and jumped to her feet, already heading for the door.

“To issue a challenge that even Billy Hargrove won’t be able to pass up!” Win called, not looking back, making her way to the bleachers, having a feeling he might be there.

Sure enough, Billy was leaning against the railing, cigarette between his lips, and Win wondered for a moment if he’d merely stolen her favourite spot or if he’d been waiting for her, the thought making her stomach flip traitorously.

“Hargrove,” she called.

Billy pulled his cigarette from his lips as he turned to her, lazily blowing out the stream of smoke as his gaze traveled over her.

“Well, well, well, wondered if you were gunna show up,” he drawled.  “Couldn’t stay away, could you?” he taunted.

“Actually, I’ve come to issue a challenge,” Win said, raising her chin defiantly, her eyes flashing.

“Oh yeah, what sort of challenge?” Billy asked, his brows raising as he wet his lips.

“A race.  Your Camaro versus my Chevelle.”

Billy’s grin grew, no doubt thinking he’d have it in the bag.  After all, as far as he knew, Win wasn’t supposed to be driving her daddy’s car, so how good could she actually be?

“What’re we playing for?” he asked, flicking his cigarette away and moving closer.

“If I win, you have to tell everyone we didn’t sleep together.”

Billy considered for a moment.  “Alright,” he finally drawled.  “What do I get if I win?”

Win shrugged.  “What do you want?”

A smug grin spread across Billy’s face at her question.  “A date,” he answered simply.

“A date?” Win asked, her brows pinching in confusion.

“Yeah, Princess, a date,” he repeated.

Win shrugged.  “Alright, fine, whatever you want.”

“So when and where is this little race taking place?” Billy asked, inspecting his fingernails, as if he couldn’t really care less. “Four p.m., Quarry Road,” Win answered.  “That good for you?”  

“Sure thing.  See you there, Princess,” he drawled, grinning confidently.

“Don’t be late,” Win warned, turning her back on him to head back to the lunch room.

When Win arrived at the Quarry Road, she was surprised to find that word had spread and a small group of their classmates had already gathered to watch the race.  Sneaking the car out a second time hadn’t been too difficult with her father at work, and for once she was glad for his long hours.  

The more spectators there are, the more witnesses there’ll be when I win, she thought as she got out of the car to face Billy, who was already waiting, leaning against the hood of his Camaro, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Shall we go over the rules?” Win asked, holding his gaze as she approached.

“Yeah, whatever,” Billy scoffed, pushing off the car to meet her, towering over her.

“The length of the race will be a quarter mile and the first to cross the finish line wins.  Sound good?” she asked.

“Yeah, let’s do this,” Billy said, holding out his hand for her to shake.

Win looked at it for a moment before taking it.  Billy’s hand tightened around hers and he leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“Better start thinking where you want me to take you out on our date,” he drawled, wearing a cocky grin.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re expecting something more?” Win replied wryly.

“Depends on how good the date goes, right?” Billy chuckled.

“Don’t count your chickens before they’ve hatched, Hargrove.”

Win pulled her hand free and climbed behind the wheel, the Chevelle rumbling loudly to life as she turned the key in the ignition, the vibrations seeping into her.  Billy’s engine roared obnoxiously in response and several of the guys on the sidelines cheered.

Carol took up position in the middle of the road by the designated starting line and Billy cranked his radio up, his hands drumming on the steering wheel as the music blared.

“Ready?” Carol called, lifting her arms above her head.  Win revved her engine in response, her hands flexing on the wheel.   

“Three, two, one–!”  Carol cried.  On ‘one’, she dropped her arms and let out a shriek as both cars tore past her, their tires squealing loudly.

Billy’s Camaro pulled ahead and Win could hear him crow over the roar of the wind and the radio.  Unbothered, she pressed the gas pedal down, watching the speed climb as she switched gears smoothly, finally opening up the throttle fully.  She crested a hundred as she caught up to him–knowing he was about to top out in speed.  Turning to flash him a smirk, she floored it, passing one twenty as she hurtled past him, leaving him in the dust, the wind whipping her hair.

The look on his face as she passed him was gold–his incredulous expression darkening as she crossed the finish line ahead of him.  There was no contest, it was more than obvious who the winner was.

Win’s Chevelle skidded to a stop several yards away and she climbed out just as Billy parked next to her–the others running over to join them.

“Win!  Win, you did it!  You won!” Heather cried, nearly knocking her over in her excitement.  “That was so rad!”

“Thanks,” Win laughed, peering through the crowd, searching for Billy’s face.

When he noticed her looking his way, he scowled, shrugging Tommy’s hand from his shoulder before striding toward her purposefully.  However, as he stopped in front of her, he wet his lips and turned his eyes on her car.  Opening the hood, he took one look at her engine and let out a wry laugh at the sight, shaking his head.

“Well, colour me impressed,” he drawled, shutting the hood.  “Even if you are a sneaky little thing.”

“That’s on you for underestimating me,” Win countered, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her chin defiantly to hide the tremor of adrenaline still coursing through her and vibrating outward.

“No, no, I can admit when I’ve been beat, especially when you looked so good doing it,” he added before shrugging.  “It’s just a shame we won’t get that date.  That is, unless you’d like to reconsider?” he murmured, watching her expectantly.

“In your dreams, Hargrove,” Win replied, a grin playing at her lips.  “Now I believe you have something to tell them,” she said, nodding toward their classmates clustered nearby.

“Yeah, yeah,” Billy muttered, turning to them and whistling loudly to get their attention.  “LISTEN UP!” he bellowed, cupping his hands around his mouth to amplify his deep voice.  “Let’s get the record straight!  Me and Lewis here, haven’t fucked–”

He turned to look at her, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face.

“ – YET!”

Billy’s announcement sent a ripple through the crowd, while some didn’t seem to believe him, others let out relieved sighs at the news.  Win, however, turned away from them, unsure how it made her feel.

“That what you wanted?” Billy asked, appearing behind her, looming over her shoulder.

“For your information, it is,” she countered, spinning around to regard him.

Or at least, close enough.

Billy shrugged, reaching for a smoke.  “This isn’t over yet,” he said, giving her a pointed look as he lit his cigarette.

“If you say so,” Win replied coolly, opening her car door.  “See you at school.”Billy nodded, blue eyes darkening in thought as she pulled away.  She’d definitely won that round, but Billy wasn’t about to give up yet–he merely needed to change tactics.

Bear with me a moment while I talk a little bit about the car Win’s Chevelle is based on because I like to nerd out about this at any opportunity I get:

This particular ‘69 Cevelle COPO was originally owned by my dad when he was young. Now what made COPO's (an acronym for Central Office Production Order) stand out from the other cars of the time was its 425hp L72 V-8 engine. This was one of the most powerful engines put into a car on the regular market, because they were specifically built with special hardware right off the assembly line rather than have them modified by a third party, but they weren't well known because in outward appearance they looked like regular Chevelle SS's and they weren't advertised in dealer brochures.

In 1969, only 323 COPO Chevelles were produced. Of those 323, only 3 were the tuxedo black and red pinstripe finish. And of those 3, only 1 was the four speed manual transmission shown above. This is literally a one of a kind car and it was a part of my family’s history.

The last I had heard of this car, it went to auction and was sold for over $300k several years ago. I will forever weep that for whatever reason, my dad let it leave his possession (I believe he literally just gave it to one of my uncles who sold it), so I decided to give it to Win in my heart.

✗ taglist. @super-unpredictable98 @sailorskunk @heartbreak-sandwich @princess-marida

[our-future-is-up-to-us-2]

The Jackal

Whooaaaaa we're almost caught up I swearrrr WHOOAAA living on a prayerrr (Fic number 8 and it is currently the 9TH!) @narcosfandomdiscord

Enjoy <3

Prompt #11, Book Of Pit Stops: Rush

Word Count: 1.1K

Relationships: Charles "The Jackal"/Nuria

Warnings: SPOILERS! Spoilers galore!! Episodes 1-5 of this show have been watched by me, and thus, a patchwork of spoilers throughout this rambly fic! Beware if you're a spoilerphobe!

~ Read the fic under the cut ~

The Jackal lives in secret. He hides from everyone and everything.  

He dons disguises and becomes people who he’s not meant to be, for example, a certain Herr Thirsk, who, to The Jackal’s knowledge, may or may not be real. 

Passports are essential if he’s globetrotting. No one bats an eye at the switches, at the effortlessness of it all. If it says he hails from Germany, that’s where he’s from. Then France? He’ll be a Frenchman for a day, who cares?! 

The information is proper, organised, and it looks legitimate. That’s all that counts in The Jackal’s line of work: Efficiency, quality, and legitimacy. 

After all, someone is set on hiring him, paying him grand amounts of money to make as many kills as possible. A hitman does what he needs to do, whatever it takes to target the best of the best. 

He uses bespoke weaponry and state-of-the-art prosthetics. His materials, his safes, all of it, are top-notch. There’s nowhere in the business that he can fail, except for his own human error. 

He trusts his gunmaker to the ends of the earth, he trusts his aim to make the kills, and he trusts others to give him whatever he requires. 

Because, as he tells Nuria one sunny day in Cadiz, it’ll hurt the brand if people don’t pay him what he needs. It’s not all about the money, though, and even worse if people don’t follow his orders. 

If he sets instructions, they’ll be met. If someone fumbles, then they’re out of the game. 

The Jackal avoids taking unnecessary phone calls and explicitly warns his loveable Spanish relatives not to post whatever photos they take of him. As beautiful as celebrations and warmth and memories may be, he simply can’t risk being exposed. 

***

After the ordeal with Manfred Fest, a very classy and striking ordeal if he does say so himself, he’s attracted attention. Or, at least, a ‘killer’ has done so. A killer could be anyone, but only someone of his expertise could make the shot from 3815 metres away. 

He travels in taxis from one place to the next, keeping his language fluency intact with every country he visits. He passes Nuria after she’s dropped him off at the airport, but is his cover blown? 

If he’s not answering his phone, then it won’t be. 

Besides, he has a tingling, almost unwelcome feeling that his wife will find out. And, if she does? If the other Charles, Jackal’s in-law, helps her, then he’ll know.

He doesn’t have a safe without passwords, a lock without a key, or a room full of secrets without protection. 

A camera inside a prosthetic face. A marvellous touch. As his wife snoops around, horrified by what she’s seeing, he’s seeing her right back. 

It’s harmful to the relationship, detrimental, in fact, but he’ll just class it all as ‘industrial espionage’. You know how it goes, Nuria, a bit of spying, a bit of illegal activity, and… 

A lot of murder, but The Jackal doesn’t reveal that much.  

***

It’s so satisfying to see people at his mercy, to watch their trembling hands as they kneel before him. Whatever string of ‘oh, god, spare me, please, no!’ that escapes people’s mouths never deters him. Unless there’s something more to offer, The Jackal will do away with them. 

Man, woman, guilty, innocent… Doesn’t exactly matter. If they’ve misunderstood their obligations to him, then, their time is up. 

***

The Jackal bites back a laugh as he gets wind of recent news: A girl, one named Emma, dies in custody. The police are legally responsible. Whoever sent her into custody is feeling guilty for the rest of their lives. 

Isn’t it perfect, for the authorities to be in the wrong? In their attempts to catch a criminal, a killer, a hitman, they misstep. 

Well, they don’t just misstep. They’ve killed a daughter. They’ve ruined a mother, a father, a family. All of the girl’s friends will be devastated, all the good she hoped to achieve in life has been thrown into the gutter. 

He stares at the article for a while, never once losing his focus. He laughs, and laughs, and laughs. 

When Nuria catches him in the act, swiftly barging into his study, he hums and settles. The rush almost becomes too much, but he closes his laptop. 

Her gaze implores him to talk, so he does. 

Still, he demurs and deflects, “No, no, it’s nothing, really,” A certain twinkle in his eye reveals everything to her, “Well, if you must know, my work has just become very interesting. ” 

“You’re in that place again!” She hisses, but he remains unfazed, “You’re always there, and never here… Come on , Charles. Come back to me.” 

He leans back in his chair and shrugs, “I’m here, darling. I’m here. ” 

“You don’t get it,” She shakes her head, “Because, sometimes, I look at you, and I just see–” 

“What?” He intervenes with a lazy smile. A gentle tilt of his head. Charm, suaveness, everything in between, “Tell me. What do you see?” 

With a sigh, she decides she can’t help herself, walking over to him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. She holds onto him, lets her smaller body sink into his lap. 

“I’ll tell you what I see,” She whispers, “I see a motherfucker. ” 

“Oh, fuck you!” He replies, equally as quiet, and their lips meet not long after. 

It’s just one of the many games they play. Teasing, banter, time alone, they cherish it. Nuria can tell when he’s drifting away, off with the fairies of business and stocks and, well, whatever he actually does. 

So, it’s her job to bring him back to reality, to remind him of the people he has: It’s her and her love, it’s little Carlito, turning two years old tomorrow. 

He goes for long periods of time, doesn’t come back for a few days, then a week, then two. He tells her, over and over, the same sentiments: People are too inconsiderate, they have no empathy, he’ll be back as soon as his shifts are over. 

Whatever he does, the majority of it is out of her control. 

She can only hold onto him when he’s physically here, when Charles is in her reach. 

Otherwise, she is full of doubt, confusion, and emotions that extend beyond herself. Her family can only calm her so much. 

She needs Charles, the lover, the husband, the family man… Not Charles, the sketchy, flighty businessman. 

Not Charles the hitman, Charles the plotter, Charles the ruthless manipulator and assassin. 

‘Industrial espionage’ is all it is. And hopefully, that’s all she’ll ever know. 

[captaincarriekathryncoffee]

This will be the one and only time I talk about politics on this platform. People of all walks are free to follow or unfollow as they wish.

I was never very invested in politics, always tried to see both sides of an issue, and never even voted until this election.

But it’s because I’ve educated myself, and because I really believed in a candidate that I thought had a chance that I decided to.

I know a lot of very divisive policies were on the line here.

Take a particularly divisive one-for example I would not choose get an abortion myself. But I do consider myself pro choice, because I don’t think it should be up to ‘state’s decisions’ if a 10 year old girl is raped and gets pregnant, or if someone desperately wants a child but the pregnancy isn’t viable and the only option is pregnancy termination or to die from sepsis, and a doctor faces jail for providing care.

And yes these cases sadly have already happened, they’re no longer hyperbole.

I’m in a pretty privileged place where yes things maybe won’t affect me that much.

But I also work in a Medicare funded field. If Medicare funding is cut well then what happens to my job down the line?

My partner works in a state funded special education program.

If the department of education is eradicated-which is a promise Trump has made in project 2025-then what happens to his job that he’s gotten a degree and worked for years for?

I have Hispanic family members.

What happens if/when the proposed ‘mass deportations’ happen? Doesn’t matter if you’re legal, illegal, 1st or 10th generation per his opinions. Someone could say ‘hey you don’t look like you should live in America’ and that’s that.

Is that taking it to the extreme? Perhaps. But it’s still unfortunately a real possibility.

At his last rally his supporters fully called Puerto Rico ‘a floating pile of garbage’. He is talking about people.

Also, this is a man who literally has substantiated felony and abuse charges against him. He would not be allowed to get a job in a McDonald’s in America but he can be president.

I see something wrong with that.

The way I see it is under a liberal government, you’re free to disagree on things.

No one is forcing anyone to be gay, or trans, or to get an abortion if you don’t want it. Just… don’t “approve” of these things, whatever, that’s fine. No one is forcing you to be religious or not to be, to agree or disagree with anything you don’t wish to.

People can be angry, sure, but your fundamental rights remain the same.

But under a conservative government, a choice can quickly become a crime. And that’s what I think is deeply unfair.

I don’t think this is the end of the world by any means.

I hope to god it’s all talk and that nothing earth shattering will actually happen.

But I’m frankly disturbed that so many people don’t see the warning signs of a nation that is about to get even more divided by hate.

Ultimately I will never hate an individual because of the choice of candidate they made.

Can I be disappointed? Yes. Deeply.

I don’t understand how people chose him now and I never will. But ultimately everyone does what they think is right.

We will simply have to see how this all plays out for America.

[newengland-alligator]

First Lines

Tagged by the wonderful @paraparadigm , thank you so much!

I am no-pressure-tagging @crystalromana , @illegible-scribble , @sillyliterature , @aeide and anyone else who would like to do this!

Everything is under the Read More (warning: this will be long lol). Links to the fics are located in the titles, be aware that to read the full fics, you have to be logged into an AO3 account.

Eivor and Hytham Hunt a Questing Beast (Assassin's Creed, General Audience, Complete)

It was a lovely morning in Ravensthorpe and Hytham stretched languidly in his bed. It was warm, birds were were chirping and the smell of cooking fires and flowers wafted on the breeze. To tell the truth, Hytham really didn't want to get out of bed.

But he had to. Too much work to do and not enough hours in the day to do it.

Taking one last moment to snuggle into his pillow Hytham forced himself to rise. After a quick wash he dressed himself and went in search of breakfast.

Walking up the path that led from his cabin/office to the longhouse, Hytham was distracted by the sight of Eivor walking down the path towards him, carrying the largest war-axe he'd ever seen.

When You Come In Quick To Steal A Kiss/My Teeth Will Only Cut Your Lips (Vampire Academy, Explicit, In-Progress)

The swarm of Strigoi at the elementary campus has lessened significantly. There was only a few left, their numbers being swiftly picked off by the guardians present.

As the last one fell dead upon the ground, a terrible wave of fear forced me to my knees.

I was in Lissa's mind and she was beyond terrified. A Strigoi stood in front of her, and who reminded me of Nathalie...if Nathalie had lived into her late twenties before turning Strigoi.

The Strigoi smiled with a mouth full of fangs, before lunging at Lissa. My vision went dark as I was pushed back into my own body. This could only happen if Lissa was unconscious. Or dead.

Past Voices Call My Name/No Quiet Life for Me (Assassin's Creed, Mature, In-Progress)

C. 855, Early December

It was Eivor's cries that awoke Sigurd.

He was lying on the edge of the ice, directly under the cliff he vaguely remembered falling down from. He struggled carefully to his knees, body and head aching from the fall. He had no idea how long he had been out, but it must not have been long as it was still dark out and he could smell the strong scent of death and fire on the night's breeze.

Carefully crawling around the horse-sized hole in the ice not five feet from him, he made his way over to Eivor's body.

She was barley moving, so still that for a terrifying moment he thought she was dead. There was so much blood, coming from the wounds on her head and neck.

Carefully, oh so carefully, he shifted her body across the ice till they were safely on the solid ground of the snow-covered bank.

Cutting some cloth from the bottom of his tunic, then wetting it in the snow, Sigurd tried to gently clean the blood from Eivor face.

The gash to the head wasn't deep, but had bleed a lot. The wound on her neck was far more worrying.

It looked like a wolf bite, and while it didn't look deep enough to be life-threatening, it was the chance of infection that was the danger.

Even if she does live, Sigurd thought, she'll have a nasty scar.

Sigurd finished cleaning Eivor up the best that he could, and had wrapped more cut-off tunic strips around her neck when the sound of approaching men caught his attention.

For one happy moment, he thought it was his father's men, but then he realized they were coming from the direction of the ruins of Heillboer.

Kjotve's men.

All would be armed to the teeth, all to happy to make prisoners of Eivor and him. Sigurd knew he could not allow himself to be captured, Kjotve would use him to force his father to surrender his title and lands to him, and then would probably kill Sigurd anyway.

He had to escape now, before the men got any closer.

He stood, then tried to bend over to pick up Eivor's unconscious form. His left knee buckled, on fire from where he had hit it during the fall. He could barely walk, nevermind try to run while carrying Eivor.

Tears steaming down his face, Sigurd made the hardest decision he'd ever had to make in his fourteen years of living.

He left Eivor and made his escape alone.

Across These Endless Skies (Wynonna Earp, Mature, Complete)

It was a dark and stormy September night. The winds were howling like a pack of starved coyotes and the moon was playing hide and seek with dark clouds.

Wynonna was sitting out on her front porch, wrapped up in two blankets and nursing a mug of whiskey-with-a-shot-of-hot chocolate.

Nights like these were her favorite. All that was missing was a thunderstorm. Something about nasty weather calmed her mind down like nothing else but getting blackout drunk could.

Waverly was asleep inside, nice and cozy under her four blankets and two comforters.

She really should try and get some sleep like Waves, but Wynonna felt too on edge to try. She felt...almost like she was waiting for something, but what that was she couldn't tell. Maybe it was because it was the anniversary of Ward and Willa's deaths.

It had been a decade since that night. Same weather too.

Fuck this. Wynonna thought. If this is what I'm going to be awake to think about, I'll just take myself to bed instead.

She chugged the last of her now-cold boozy cocoa and stood up to shuffle inside.

The sound of panicked hoofbeats stopped her in place.

There, out in the darkness came a figure riding at breakneck speed towards the homestead. Wynonna threw off her blankets and released her pistol from where it sat in it's holster on her hip.

As the horse (were her eyes playing tricks on her or did that horse have six legs?) came to a rough stop at the gate, the figure dismounted and moved to enter the homestead's yard. Wynonna stepped out from the porch's shadow, raised her pistol and spoke.

"Stop right fucking there or I'll blow your head off. Who the fuck are you and why are you trespassing on my land on the middle of the night?"

The figure froze where they stood, then started to slowly raise their hands.

"Don't move!" Wynonna barked out. If this fucker reached for a gun...well it'll be the last thing they do.

"Peace," the stranger spoke, voice deep and sounding slightly brittle. "I'm only reaching to take my hat off."

Wynonna waited patiently, finger on the trigger in case of deception.

The stranger lowered their hood and took off the black Stetson. Above them, the moon chose that moment to come out from behind it's veil of clouds, it's light showing the face of the stranger to Wynonna.

"Doc!"

Put Your Loving Hand Out, Baby (Sir Gawain and the Green Knight 2021, Explicit, Complete)

Here I am, thought Gawain as he road up to the castle's outer wall. Back to this place, and my lord within. Oh my Green Knight, I have traveled far to see you again.

It was a full year since they had last seen each other, on the day that Gawain had faced the Green Knight, and earned a green sash.

Gawain had returned to Camelot, but thoughts of Lord Bertalik had refused to leave his mind. Many a night had Gawain dreamed of his lord, clothed all in green, gently stroking Gawain's cheek.

Two months of these dreams passed by, and then Gawain received a letter. It was from Lord Bertalik, who wrote of missing Gawain's companionship, and how he wished for Gawain to write him back. Gawain did, and the dreams became erotic.

Just as the dreams had reached the edge of being unbearable, a letter from Lord Bertalik had arrived, inviting Gawain back to Castle de Hautdesert for a Christmas feast. Gawain had written back his acceptance.

[childofchrist1983]

What I tell you in darkness, that speak ye in light: and what ye hear in the ear, that preach ye upon the housetops. And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell. - Matthew 10:27-28 KJV

Jesus Christ knew that the Apostles would be persecuted for proclaiming the Kingdom of God and was warning them. It is also a warning for us as fellow Christians. The Apostles would proclaim the message risking death and were often persecuted, jailed, beaten and, except for the Apostle John who died a natural death, were eventually killed. For two more centuries, the early Christians faced the same torture and death at the hands of the Romans. Most of us do not face the same dangers, but the world is still not happy when we work to bring the light and Truth of the Gospel and Jesus Christ and His Kingdom of Heaven into the world today. I know that this is something we have talked about before and will talk about again, but Jesus wanted the Apostles and disciples to be reminded more than once what the consequences were for those who believe, and we still need those reminders.

Satan, Beelzebub, the devil - whatever we choose to call him - is still highly active in this world and looking for souls to devour (1 Peter 5:8). It can be so hard to recognize him! We face him in so many situations at work, at home, with our friends. Children and teenagers aren't the only ones who are affected by peer pressure. Drugs - both legal and illegal - are seen as the solution to pain. Drinking and driving is rampant. Road rage happens over something as simple as someone being cut off. Families are under stress, so violence becomes the solution. Workers can be encouraged to cheat their employers or their customers. "Everyone is doing it," is a catch-phrase for giving in to temptation. To encourage doing the right thing is looked upon as not "being with it."

We can actually be punished or ostracized for living the Christian way of life. And so, we still need to hear this message. Beware of those who can destroy the soul. God created this world and all things in and around it. He knows this world and its temptations. We are still under fire from the works of the Satan, the devil. As well as anything or anyone else who tries to make us follow and serve the world and our flesh over following and serving God. May God humble and strengthen us and give us the wisdom to know when we are being lured away from Him and His Holy Word and the courage to say "No!" to Satan, this world and our sinful flesh and "Yes!" to Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ and His Gospel Truth daily. May He sanctify us through His Holy Spirit and Holy Word, which is the ultimate Truth. (John 17:17) and keep us spotless from the world in regard to our sins.

Everyday, we must remember to thank Him for the grace that He poured out for us on the cross. He has freed us from the burdens of sin and guilt. May He help us to always walk in His grace and Holy Spirit, not by our own measure. May He give us the humble humility to know that our freedom and eternal salvation is found only in Him, so that His grace may sustain us, and we may never lose sight of His love and light and mercy. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for calling us to Him and to serve Him. May He equip us to do all that He has called us to do so that as He works through us, He may use us to produce fruit, to reach others, and to encourage all brothers and sisters in Christ. May He work all of these things in us and through us for His Kingdom and His glory. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all His creation, for His miraculous ways and for everything He does and has done for us! Keep the faith and keep moving forward in your walk with Jesus!

Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Word and for sending His Holy Spirit so that we might have His grace, not only to awaken us and transform our hearts in our spiritual rebirth and guarantee our eternity with Him, but to also call upon Him whenever we are in need. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for all the reminders of His love and mercy and faithfulness within His Holy Word. He is bigger than any challenge or circumstance in our lives. Knowing this within our minds and our hearts, nothing can deter our faith in Him and His Truth. May we all accept Him and His eternal gift of salvation and ask that He would transform our hearts and lives according to His will and ways. Thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His Holy Spirit who saves, seals and leads us. May we always thank Father God Almighty and the LORD Jesus Christ for His almighty power and saving grace. For He is our strength, and He alone is able to save us, forgive our sins and gift us eternal salvation and entry into His Kingdom of Heaven.

May we make sure that we give our hearts and lives to God and take time to seek and praise Him and share His Truth with the world daily. May the LORD our God and Father in Heaven help us to stay diligent and obedient and help us to guard our hearts in Him and His Holy Word daily. May He help us to remain faithful and full of excitement to do our duty to Him and for His glorious return and our reunion in Heaven as well as all that awaits us there. May we never forget to thank the LORD our God and our Creator and Father in Heaven for all this and everything He does and has done for us! May we never forget who He is, nor forget who we are in Christ and that God is always with us! What a mighty God we serve! What a Savior this is! What a wonderful Lord, God, Savior and King we have in Jesus Christ! What a loving Father we have found in Almighty God! What a wonderful God we serve! His will be done!

Thanks and glory be to God! Blessed be the name of the LORD! Hallelujah and Amen!

[black--sun]

“I thought I knew that.” But he didn’t have any trouble tonight. 

Ichigo silently thumps his head back on the door after it’s closed. He screwed up. Coming here to warn Shiro hadn’t been in question for more than a few minutes. But he shouldn’t have given in and fucked him. It was good. It was always good. But he’s never understood the power Shiro seems to have over him to make him do dangerous, ill-advised shit. And he likes it. He could walk away if that sway Shiro has felt terrible, but it never does. 

He pushes out a breath and looks either way down the hall before deciding to explore the place. It’s Shiro’s mansion, but maybe someone who runs security has a place here to run it from. And if not, he’ll settle for finding whoever is in charge. 

It’s late. It’s the time of night when people are either gone or sleeping the rest of the night off. He only meets one person on the stairs to the first floor, and they’re too high to even realize Ichigo is out of place. He doesn’t see cameras, but that doesn’t mean they’re not there. Though he also doubts Shiro wants so much illegal shit recorded. 

He avoids meeting anyone else, stepping through doorways and keeping out of sight until he finds what he’s looking for— a small space that looks like a rarely used office. His first thought is that it might be Shiro’s. There's no pictures, and he has to rifle through files to find a name. That doesn’t help him with a face though, so he puts everything back.

There’s the sound of a foot scraping across the floor. It’s his only warning before a dark figure springs at him from the doorway. He steps back. He’s supposed to be the only dark, creeping figure. 

There’s the glint of a knife in the dim light from the hall. The man slashes, and the knife slices air inches from Ichigo’s face. 

He should’ve left his weapons with Shiro. Then he could’ve pretended to be a guest from the party getting lost. Seems like the kind of tactic that could be easy to use around Shiro with all the partying. But that would be a pretty hard sale right now when he has so many knives on display. The security guard hadn’t even hesitated to attack. 

The guy is good. Long years of training good. 

Ichigo narrows his eyes and his own knife finds his hand. He feigns a stab, testing the man’s reflexes. 

With so many guards around, the temptation is to hurry to end the fight before they can be called. But rushing only leads to mistakes, especially in such a dark room, so he trades feints and half attacks, waiting for the man to commit to a strike, so Ichigo can counter. 

The man hesitates though, eyes straying to the door and then he hisses, “He’s upstairs, fool. Not down here.”

The statement has ice sliding through his veins. It must be his office, Ichigo realizes. And even though the man seems to know who Ichigo is, he doesn’t lower his knife and doesn’t stop circling for an opening. Maybe he’s waiting for Ichigo to back off first. Ichigo doesn’t care to guess. 

There's a snarled curse when Ichigo doesn’t back down, and when a real attack finally comes, Ichigo parries with his own larger knife, cringing at what’s going to be a gouge to the blade’s edge as he blocks the slash, holding the man’s blade arm to the side. The man’s lip curls like he’s trying to decide how incompetent Ichigo actually is for playing swords in a knife fight, but before the sneering words he’s gearing up to spew have a chance to leave his mouth, Ichigo yanks a new blade free with his left hand and snicks it neatly up under his ribs. He grabs for Ichigo’s hand, but not fast enough. The shock clouding the man’s face brings a wave of satisfaction. When the bastard staggers, Ichigo yanks the blade free and sidesteps, ducking a swinging fist to loop his arm tight around the man’s neck, flipping the knife, and jabbing the next blow into his kidney from behind. He twists the blade to make the kind of cut that’d be hard for a surgeon to fix.

Ichigo isn’t sure how the man is still on his feet, but he nudges his knee from behind and he crumples, gasping and bleeding out. He should’ve yelled, Ichigo thinks, but he doesn’t.

Ichigo watches long enough to be sure the man won’t get up then goes to the desk, clicking on a lamp and scrawling the note he promised to leave. Except he hesitates, wondering if there are any other traitors on Shiro’s staff that might dispose of the evidence before Shiro has a chance to wake up the next afternoon.

Ichigo tucks the note in his pocket and goes to shred some more curtains. Rope would be better, but he’s not running around searching for it. Shiro can afford more curtains. 

Ichigo hauls the body the short distance to the center of the house, and then hangs it from the tiered light fixture. He pins his note to the body with Shiro’s knife. Find someone to manage security that knows how to keep people out of your room, dumbass.

It’s his favorite knife, but he did promise to return it forever ago, and if not now, it probably won’t happen. He avoids jabbing arteries or anywhere on the body that might leave his note too bloodsoaked to read. There are subtler ways to deal with a body, but he doesn’t want subtle. He’d rather Shiro’s entire staff be aware that the guy died because he was bad at his job. He hauls the body over the railing to swing a wide arc. The fixture groans and squeaks with the weight, and he turns to leave when blood starts dripping on sleeping figures below. 

Ichigo departs the opposite direction of the blood trail in case someone follows it. Shiro might not get to sleep in until midday after all.

The way Ichigo says that sounds so casually polite, like he's a guest in someone's home and spilled a glass or something. Not like he just fucked his ex. But maybe that's the point. This means nothing. Shiro snorts. "Mostly, yeah." That can't possibly be a surprise.

Enough of his high is wearing off, pumped through his system faster with all the adrenaline and activity, that he's starting to feel a little more like his sharp-tongued self. "I'm not easy to kill. You should know." He's not sure what Ichigo cares if he lives or dies at this point. In fact, he's just starting to realize it's weird that Ichigo came to warn him. Or maybe he noticed that earlier, but got too distracted to dwell on it.

Sure is such a half assed response. He suspects that means Ichigo wont be taking him up on the offer, but that's probably for the better. This is all going to be a mistake in the morning- or whatever time he rolls out of bed hungover and in dire need of a shower. Not the sex part, he'll have no regrets about that. It'll be all the renewed junk that's probably going to flood in behind it. Shit he's been trying to choke the life from for years now. What a mess.

He hears the sound of Ichigo leaving his room and refrains from sitting up. Instead, he heaves a heavy breath rolls overs, burying his face in his pillow and letting the dark he finds there loll him into a heavy sleep.

[aris-ink]

May we get a part 2 of need a friend?? IT WAS SO GOOD UGH like how can hobi be yan but also respectful gosh i love him

YES ilysm

tagging @sxtaep as promised 💖

pairing: hoseok x reader

genre: friends to lovers

warnings: brief mentions of reader's boss being inappropriate, mentions of blood/death and violence (not towards the reader), oral sex, rough sex, daddy kink, praise kink, marking, l o n g i n g, lots of kisses, creampie

The next morning lingered on his eyelids, sunlit and sweet, just like the taste of you on his tongue. It was as though the universe wrapped around him with its silky, starry frame, no longer a stranger nor a foe, but an old friend that would always be there to welcome him home. Everything shifted the moment he entered a completely new door with you.

The only thing he wasn't sure of was just where that door was leading. But it seemed like waiting for the answer to unfurl naturally was not such a bad option, because your hand was warm in his grasp as he walked you to work, your fingers fitting so perfectly in between his. Your kisses tasted faintly of the coffee you've shared on the way, and he wished he could make you his primary source of hydration, drinking you in, tasting different flavors off your tongue for the rest of his life.

Still shy, or perhaps too embarrassed for public displays of affection, you pulled away from him, the tip of your nose cold as it brushed his.

"Need to go in," you murmured.

Hoseok fixed up your scarf, deciding not to tease you, and left a parting kiss on your forehead.

"Okay. Stay warm."

You smiled up at him, pushing your hands into the pockets of your coat.

"I got a message earlier saying my that boss isn't in," you sighed. "For the first time in a year. Must be some special occasion."

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, cocking his head to the side. Truly, what an unexpected turn of events indeed.

"Oh yeah? Well, good for you, right?"

You nodded, biting down on your lip.

"You have no idea. He's such a mean creep."

Your choice of wording had Hoseok's shoulders stiffening. Oblivious, you continued your rant, shaking your head.

"All the girls know. It's so exhausting dealing with his arm around you all the time. Or touching the small of your back to pass through," you huffed, clearly resisting the urge to roll your eyes. "He never does it to any of the men, though."

Met with silence, you looked up at Hoseok. The odd, stoic look on his face didn't match his eyes. Because from miles off anyone who knew him could see that he was pissed.

You placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay?"

Was he okay? The cool morning air suddenly seemed suffocating. He felt hot under his coat, so hot he didn't think he could stand still for another second.

"You..." He sighed heavily, making great effort not to sound strained. "You should report him."

You shrugged.

"He's not doing anything illegal, so I can't. He's just annoying."

You stood up on your toes, pressing a warm kiss into his cheek.

"I really gotta go. I'll see you later."

Hoseok sighed again. The little gesture only added fuel to the fire.

"Have a good day."

He watched you go in with a smile that faded as soon as you disappeared from his sight. He reached into the pocket of his coat and took out his phone, dialing the same number he had messaged last night in a hurry.

"Are you on your way?" The voice on the other side whined.

"I am. Is he still alive?"

Jimin hesitated. "I think so. Can you hurry up? I wanna take care of this and go home."

"Keep him alive," Hoseok snapped, completely ignoring the rest of the sentence.

Jimin scoffed.

"What the fuck? Do I look like a nurse to you?"

"Unless you have a book on necromancy, keep him fucking alive. I mean it."

"For god's sake," Jimin gritted. "Whatever. Just hurry up."

Hoseok really wished he could have spent the day closer to you instead, but it looked like he had too much work cut out for him in the garage. Sometimes death was a mercy, a soft kiss goodnight that marked the departure of the soul. Stained white from the grim reaper's cold, bony lips.

Not everyone deserved a peaceful departure. Hoseok had his own scythe, and his kiss was stained red.

*

It was after five pm when you arrived at his place, the sky already darkening, as typical in autumn. The spare key to his place hung around your neck for the past year, and you've grown used to using it casually, just as Hoseok had always dreamed. He left the kitchen when he heard the familiar turn of the lock, greeting you with a hug. His arms were tight around your waist, pressing you close to his body. You responded immediately, tucking your head under his chin, letting him breathe you in.

"You okay?" You asked, closing your eyes as he held you.

"Yeah," Hoseok whispered. "Just missed you."

Just want you. Just need you.

The longer he stood there, the more like himself he felt again, all the anger flowing off of him, just like the blood did in the shower. You were his peace. He wanted to lay his head down and find rest within your body and soul. There was no end to the laments of his heart when you were involved, and there was no point in holding back anymore either.

You lifted your head, looking up at him, pretty eyes and pretty lips opening to ask a question.

"Do you want to-"

You were cut off by his lips pressing into yours hard, like he wanted to imprint himself on you. Leave you tainted with red too, although a completely different shade, with all the love that dripped and dripped from his aching heart. You stilled in surprise, only for a moment, before opening your mouth to the warmth of his tongue, your feet moving backwards as his moved forward - until your back came into contact with the wall.

"Missed you," he repeated in a mumble, veiny hands sliding down to your ass to give it a squeeze.

The soft moan you let out made him throb, his cock pressing into the outlines of his jeans.

"Missed-" you gasped, leaning your head back as he proceeded to leave kisses along your neck. "Missed you, too-"

"Not as much as I missed you, baby," he hummed, already working on your unbuttoning your shirt, his knuckles brushing against your breasts.

"Wait," you pushed at his chest, making him pause, his eyes searching yours. His stomach twisted. Did you change your mind? Did you want to go back to the way things were before? The panic made his heart clench like a fist in his chest.

And then you pressed your lips to his jaw, your hands dropping to his zipper.

"Let me help you, daddy."

Hoseok groaned, leaning one arm against the wall as you knelt down before him, not trusting his knees not to buckle. If going to hell was the price for this, for having you, and keeping you safe from the shadows, he would greet the devil with a firm handshake.

He panted softly as you unzipped his jeans, like the heat of the flames of hell was already enveloping him. He didn't care. All he cared about was your hand dipping inside his briefs, the touch making his cock twitch.

His urgency must have seeped into you through his kiss, or maybe that was what ignited it in the first place. The same kind of hunger that has been biting at him for what seemed like years.

He watched you wrap your hand around his shaft, flushed and aching for attention. His free hand landed on top of your head, stroking your hair.

"God," he breathed. "Such a good girl. Who's my good girl?"

He could feel the heat of your breath fan over the tip of his cock, the most beautiful moan sneaking past your lips. You glowed under the praise, your tongue sticking out to lick a drop of precum off him.

Hoseok shivered.

"So good..."

He wasn't sure if he was referring to you or how you made him feel. Maybe both.

You licked him from the balls to the tip, his knees weakening at the sensation. You didn't tease further, taking his cock into your wet, warm mouth and sucking. The next groan that left him was guttural.

His hands tangled in your hair, tugging lightly.

"Good girl, oh fuck."

You were so captivating. No matter how much he wanted to close his eyes, he couldn't stop staring. The sight of you on your knees, mouth full of him and teary eyes made his balls clench. And the feeling of it? Of the wet, hot tightness swallowing him up? He had to tug on your hair harder to get you to stop, because coming this quickly again would have been somewhat embarrassing. And he needed you so much.

"Baby, get the fuck up here," he urged breathlessly, his hands already wrapping around yours to pull you up. You threw your arms around his neck, your breath knocked out of your lungs too with the force of his next kiss. The muffled, questioning noise of surprise was quickly swept away by his tongue, his hand securing the back of your head as he pushed you back up against the wall.

"Daddy's had a really-" he huffed in between the kisses, dragging your panties down your legs, "long fucking day."

He lifted you by your thighs, gritting his teeth when he felt your hand wrap around his cock again, guiding it to your entrance.

You were so wet.

He moaned, hooded eyes stuck on yours as he pushed his hips forward, sinking inside you inch by inch.

This was his home. His place of rest. He was nothing but a wanderer before the first time he found himself in your arms.

He bottomed out with a small shudder, setting a hard, but unhurried pace right away. He needed you so much. Needed an outlet for all this tenderness swelling in his heart, filling his head with violent thoughts at the very possibility of your smile fading for any reason. His cock throbbed with every deep stroke, his lips restless on yours, low, throaty moans slipping past them.

"You're so tight, baby. Wanna-" he paused, once again battling with his own thoughts. He tightened his fingers around your thighs, putting all his trust in you and trying to let go, just as you had done for him yesterday. "W-wanna- shit- come inside you every night."

"Yes! Please, daddy," you breathed, your cunt tightening around him.

He wondered if you knew just how much he meant his words. That this wasn't just dirty talk. He groaned either way, your begging making his stomach jump.

"Such a good fucking girl. So beautiful," he rasped, his pace suddenly increasing. He fucked you faster, filling your cunt to its limits, and watching you take it so well.

"Shit. Daddy's perfect girl."

You whined into ear.

"Harder, please."

Hoseok attached his swollen lips to your collarbone, immediately complying with your request - how could he not? His cock pounded into you as he sucked on your neck, desperate to leave behind a mark, both inside and out.

"Thank you, daddy," you moaned, "love you."

If not for the pleasure that gripped his stomach at the words, shock would have made him still inside you. But instead he ended up tumbling towards what felt like a cliff, and all he wanted was to fall off it.

So he continued to fuck you, quick to react instead of over thinking for once, his head snapping up.

It occurred to him that you may have just been fucked out, but your glassy eyes were on him, unflinching, eyelashes fluttering so prettily.

He was gonna come.

He groaned, kissing you more, fueled further by your eager response.

"Oh, love you more, fuck, daddy loves you so much more."

He could feel you squeezing his cock with your tight walls, the little cries leaving your throat urging him on.

"Fuck yeah, come with me," his breath trembled, his lips endlessly distracted, dropping kisses wherever they could reach - your neck, your cheeks, your shoulders. "Come for daddy, lemme fill you up."

His hips almost stuttered when you arched, your cunt pulsing and leaking around his dick. He grunted, not able to hold off, his balls clenching and releasing all the cum he was so desperate to fill you with. He groaned louder, his fingers digging hard into your thighs.

"Oh shit, yes, good girl."

Something akin to a whimper left him when his orgasm passed, his entire body feeling fuzzy. He registered your lips pressing into his shoulder, his heart skipping a beat.

You made him feel fragile and invincible all at once. How was it possible?

He sighed, carefully setting you down, his hands caressing your waist. He pulled you into a tight hug, no words left in him to describe how much this meant to him - how much you meant to him. He wished he could dip a feather in the night sky and write you a letter in starlit ink. He wished he could stay with you every second of every day until you grew old, and still lie entwined with you when six feet under the ground, 'till his bones turned to dust. But all he could do for the moment was hold you, and somehow despite everything, it was enough. More than enough.

[anisette-blackwirth]

SAGAU: Scaramouche comforts you after a bad day

spoiler warning: references to scaramouche's backstory and real name, inazuma archon quest spoilers

content warning: language, discussion of American politics, poverty, economics, war, mass manipulation, and Scaramouche generally being an asshole towards people not the reader. Not exactly a cult AU but close enough.

notes: I've been working on an SAGAU world for a while, just for myself. I'll go back to the beginning of the story later! I will!! Heck, I'll even set up a proper blog later. I just really need to vent this one lmao

Did I intend for this to be my first ever writing post? No. But did Roe v Wade piss me off on Friday afternoon, enough to want to get pats on the head from a skrunkly little war criminal? Also yes.

disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. The advice within is not intended as actual advice. The writer does not endorse any illegal activity.

[Fanfic under the cut!]

You had your head down and buried in your arms on your desk, just trying to breathe and calm down. The day had been truly awful.

You'd woken up to a mistimed bill coming through and putting your bank account into the negatives, complete with the dumb $30 overdraft fee. You'd forgotten to grab the breakfast muffin you left on the counter before you drove to work and subsisted on crackers you had stored in your desk for lunch. You checked the internet halfway through the day and found out about Roe v Wade being overturned, and then almost had an accident on the drive home because you'd merged without looking in your blind spot twice. You felt stupid, tired, and defeated, and you'd hopped into your personal office in Genshin just to get a break from everything. You hadn't even told anyone you were here yet, you just wanted to breathe and collect yourself so you could be the capable, intelligent person they all thought you were.

So when you heard Scaramouche's hat jingling as he hopped down onto your balcony, you threw any remaining sense of self-preservation out the window and didn't bother hiding your excitement to see him.

"Scara~mouche~!" You popped your head up and looked over at the man, grinning as his eyes narrowed and he tilted his head. Aww, had your greeting confused him? Well, you did usually try to avoid giving him any ammunition to use against you in the future, in case he tried to betray you....

Well, fuck that for today.

"What's wrong with you? You look like shit," he said. You just smiled and beckoned him closer.

"C'mere", you said as you waved your hand at him. His expression turned even more confused, but he walked up next to you and even bent down when you continued waving.

"What is i-"

You pinched one of his cheeks and pulled it gently, stretching his face. "My little skrunkly~"

He slapped your arm away and stepped back, but you just propped your head on your hand and laughed as you looked at him fondly.

"What. The hell. Is wrong with you? Are you drunk?"

"No," you said with a sigh. "Just tired. And I like looking at your face."

"You don't usually act an idiot about it," Scaramouche said. He rubbed his face and glared at you - even though you were pretty sure you hadn't pinched him that hard. If you'd actually hurt him, he probably would have electrocuted you immediately or something.

"It was just... a really bad day," you admit. "I didn't have much to eat." Scaramouche doesn't say anything and continues to stare at you, so you start explaining to fill the silence. Before you can really stop yourself, you've told him about your entire day... and he's listened to every word.

You put your head back in your arms out of mortification. Of all the people you could have vented to, you really had to choose the one who was probably already disgusted by humanity? Really??

"So all your salary goes to other people? And they just reversed a law protecting you? Why the hell are you putting up with that?" Scaramouche asked.

"Because I need my job. To live. I need to make money to survive in my dumb world. I might lose my entire paycheck to bills, but at least I have food and a roof over my head." You blinked back a few stray tears born of frustration at having to defend yourself to yet another person. "I don't have the money to even leave the state. It costs money to move…. The banks won't loan me money because I pay too much in bills. And I can't break the lease on my apartment without having to pay even more, so I can't even move somewhere cheaper nearby…" You tapped the desk with one finger, and then two, just burning off frustration. "That's what I tell myself anyway. You probably think I'm just dumb and weak."

Scaramouche didn't reply. Eventually you stopped tapping the desk and just focused on breathing. No thoughts, only breaths.

"I'm just going to say it." Scaramouche spoke up after some time.

"Go 'head," you muttered into your arms.

"I manipulate people like you all the time. It's disgustingly easy." 

You made a vague whine of protest into your arms. He wasn't wrong, but - A knuckle bonked you on the head before you could even finish your thought. 

"Shut up! I'm not done. Most people are obvious targets, you know that?! Humans are stupid."

Instead of knocking you on the head again, his hand… turns to rest its palm on your head?? His hand doesn't move another inch, but.. is he… patting you??

Scaramouche continued without acknowledging it. "They're even stupider when you take away their safety. As long as you're focused on surviving, you're not thinking about what's happening. You just put one foot in front of the other until you drop. …You sheep are the easiest to target because you're too focused on surviving to be smart."

"So I am dumb," you mutter.

"Because you're in danger all the time," Scaramouche said with a laugh. ....It was not a kind laugh. "You can't stop and think if you have to keep moving. Being afraid makes you exhausted. And the people pulling the strings keep you tired and afraid on purpose."

Scaramouche is actively shifting his hand back and forth over your head at this point. Maybe it's absentminded? You try not to move at all, so he doesn't realize. "If I need someone to manipulate, I find people like you: isolated, with nowhere to run and everything to lose. Then I either make them depend on me, or get them angry and set them loose. Offer them a way to seize control of their own destiny for just a second."

"Like Watatsumi?" you say. 

"Like Watatsumi," he agrees, and his hand moves again, all the way down your hair - okay, that was definitely a deliberate pat, what the hell- "I funneled sheep towards the priestess for over a year before we started selling the delusions. Now, use your brain: why do you think the rebellion was based in Watatsumi?"

"Uh..." You wrack your brain for the answer. The Inazuma Archon quests were a while ago, so it's hard to remember specific details, but if you think about the map... "Maybe because it was a safe place for a base? It's far away from the main city, so they could defend it better. And maybe Kokomi - er, the priestess - had her own soldiers already?"

"Right," Scaramouche says. You still don't want to move, but you imagine you hear a smile in his voice. "Watatsumi is far from Narukami, so it's easy to defend. They had their own supply lines. But distance helped the army, too. They could pretend like nothing was happening back home."

"Isolating people is how you make them vulnerable. If I had wanted the resistance to win, I'd have funded resistance fighters on Narukami directly. Or just splintered the Tri-Commission to pieces."

You turn your head to look up at him. "Yeah, that sounds like you. ...Kunikuzushi." You hesitate, but nervously add his real name onto the end of your sentence and hold your breath to see if there's a reaction. His eyes narrow, but he just hums and moves on.

"Wars keep civilizations down. The longer we kept Inazuma focused on internal war instead of the outside world, the better. Because then the people who weren't fighting for their lives had time to plan. You're in a war. The people in charge know that and are using it against you. You're stupid because they're making you stupid on purpose."

"So what do I do?" you ask. 

"You still need me to spell it out for you? You're vulnerable alone, so talk to people. Find others in your world with the same situation and talk. Talking is free, right? Stop being naive and hoping for a miracle: use resources you have instead of waiting for ones you don't." 

Scaramouche makes a wide gesture to the office around you. The office you had been gifted.

"You have people falling over themselves for you here, right? You're their precious god or whatever? So eat here. Sleep here. Make that alchemist teach you how to paint. Make the lawyer look at your laws."

"I'm n- Yanfei…?" you ask. Scaramouche rolls his eyes. 

"Yes, obviously her. She has centuries of Liyue's laws memorized and is starting on Inazuma's. She'll help your "lease" problem. If you can bring clothes-" he tugs on your obviously modern t-shirt "-into this world, you can take things out. Have someone figure that out, or something."

Hope bubbles up in you for the first time in what feels like weeks, and you honestly can't help it: you lean over and hug the Balladeer around his waist, pressing the top of your head into his side. 

"Thank you, Scaramouche. Thank you so.... so much."

His hand presses on your shoulder for a second before relenting, like he can't figure out whether to push you away or not. 

"It's- ugh. Whatever."

You stay where you are, heart pounding as you push your luck. You can tell he's uncomfortable, but you still get another minute of hugging out of him before he pushes you off and walks briskly towards the balcony. But he stops before leaving completely. 

"Your pronunciation sucks, by the way. It's Kunikuzushi," he says, placing exaggerated emphasis on a different syllable. 

And then he's gone.

Was that…. Was that his way of asking you to say it again?? 

[sunnyjae]

Hello, can you do Car sex with Jake. Thank you

sure 😸 i think i went a bit plot and dialogue heavy with this one but here you go

thanks for the request, lovely!

just a reminder for anyone who feels like requesting - if you want me to be a bit more specific for stuff i can feature in your request, find my prompt list here

don't do it in a car ♡ sjy

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. I put my smut strictly under the smut tags on here to protect you guys so don't open anything with a warning like this one. Please.

pairing ♡ jake x fem!reader (no real explicit dom/sub dynamics)

genre ♡ suggestive, slice-of-life, fluff, smut, non-idol!au

warnings ♡ dirty talk, fluff, riding, creampie (more fluff and side plot than smut tbh)

word count ♡ 1.8k

summary ♡ jake likes you and finally has time to spend with you alone...in the car...on a road trip.

author’s note - i wasn’t really all that confident with this one lol, i normally write domestic scenarios but I hope this works for the anon 😌

You feel Sunghoon throw you a look when Jake offers to have you sit on his lap through the two hour car ride. Heeseung tells the group that he’s fine with taking turns with Jake so you don’t end up cutting off the blood supply in his legs, to which you laugh, but you also bite your lip at the prospect.

Going on a sort of MT (or ‘membership training’, as Jay called it), you and the guys happened to miscalculate the number of seats needed in the car you rented (Jay was blamed because he volunteered to choose the car and drive all of you to the cabin).

“I’m so sorry, sweetie.” Jay apologises to you for the third time in ten minutes as the others argue about where you’re supposed to sit now.

“She’s fine,” Jake dismisses Jungwon’s screech with a wave, the younger explaining that this whole situation is illegal and your safety should be a priority. Of course Jake knows this, but he’s not missing the opportunity to cuddle you.

“Wonnie, you’re right, but I’ll really be fine.” you smile at him reassuringly.

A silence settles as Ni-ki and Jungwon take their seats in the front of the minivan. “Promise to make Jake shut up for the whole ride?” Sunoo raises his hand in question, Jake sending him a glare in return.

You laugh again, glancing at Jake who welcomes you with open arms, “Babygirl!”

The pet name makes you grimace and Jake pouts playfully, eyes wide with mock hurt. His seat is at the back where there’s the most space, so you’re half glad you won’t have to be squished against the aisle or one of the windows.

Your skirt is cute and rests around the upper mid thigh, and Jake has to swallow at the sight, lubricating his dry throat. He loves short skirts, particularly on you, as the girl of his dreams.

He just wishes he could flip the material over and-

“Jake?”

“Huh?” he clears his throat, eyes on yours now.

“Make some space for me?”

“There’s always space for you,” he gives you a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, belting himself up and you pout in response, climbing in and gripping the back of the front seat before sitting yourself over Jake’s thighs.

He nearly swears aloud at the warmth radiating from you, taking in the fruity smell of your perfume and new shampoo.

Without hesitation, he wraps his arms around your soft midsection, allowing you to rest your back over his chest, “Good girl,” he mutters.

The pet name does something to you that you find difficult to explain.

You shuffle over him, finding the perfect spot to feel comfortable as the car rolls out of the car park. Jay spares a glance through the front mirror to make sure you’re okay and notices your cute lips pushed out into a pout. “You doing good back there, hon’?” he asks.

“I’m good, Jayjay.” you confirm with a smiley nod.

Jake’s hands move to your hips and you look down. He presses you even closer to him (if that’s possible) and you can almost feel his satisfied grin as he rests his head back on the headrest with closed eyes.

Your cheeks heat at the realisation you’re sitting on Jake and having him so close, so intimate, and he doesn’t mind at all.

Forty-five minutes into the drive, you’re sitting sideways on Jake’s lap with your back against the side of the car, a thick blanket over your back and your head resting in the area between your friend’s neck and shoulder. Your eyes are closed and you hum absentmindedly, using your fingers to stroke at the side of Jake’s face and ear. He smiles too, without your knowledge, his own eyes closed in the bliss of the moment.

You press a barely-there kiss on the skin of his jaw and he sucks in a shaky breath.

This was the first time you two were cuddling and yet it didn't really feel like it at all. Jake moves his head away from you and opens his eyes, pressing his lips to your cheek with a soft smile, admiring your pretty eyelashes and cute features.

“Jay hyung,” Jungwon says hesitantly.

“Hm?” Jay hums, glancing away from the road.

“Ni-ki feels sick,” he informs him.

Jay visibly tenses up, “Okay, we’re pulling over. Hold on Riki.” he affirms, making you look over the headrest to look at the oddly silent and apparently nauseous youngest.

“Breathe, Riki, you’ll be fine. Just don’t speak, everyone be quiet.” you hush, feeling Jake rub the skin of your cheekbone soothingly.

Then, when Jay pulls over, you watch the younger boys hop out and assist Ni-ki by patting his back as he bends over. Worriedly, you slide off Jake hop out of the vehicle to meet them. Ni-ki is breathing heavily, struggling to hold in his nausea.

“I didn’t know you had travel sickness.” you mutter, stroking down Ni-ki’s back.

“Neither did he apparently,” Sunoo adds, brows furrowing and bending over to look at Ni-ki’s face.

Jay hops out of the vehicle following you and stands with the rest of the group, Jake watching in slight jealousy as you take care of his younger friend (the minimum one should do, he tries to remind himself).

“Jealous, huh?” Sunghoon smirks at Jake when he turns around in his seat up front.

Jake swallows, eyes shifting from the outside to his best friend. “Pfft.” he shrugs.

Sunghoon laughs aloud, making you cast a glance back to Jake. He waves sheepishly at you and you send him a charming smile, heart fluttering. Your smile never failed to make the boy swoon, although he always laughed it off in the heat of the moment.

When Ni-ki makes his way back, feeling better after drinking some cold water, he mutters a thank you, pulling you into a warm hug. You pat his head and back, cheeks puffy as you grin to yourself. “Always let me know if you’re not feeling well.” you tell him.

He looks at Jake as he hugs you with a smirk and the Aussie feels himself straighten up, raising a brow at the younger’s odd expression.

Ah, it was jealousy. He concludes.

“Why don’t we just stop the car here then? We can go to the grocery store across the road and stretch our legs.” Heeseung stands up from his seat. “Come on, Sunghoon.” his eyes find Jake’s with a prolonged stare. “You and y/n are staying in the car.”

That’s how you ended up back on Jake’s lap with three of his fingers pushing and and out of your hot entrance, his strained voice in your ear as he listened to the filthy wetness sounding from below.

“Please, can I ride you?” you mutter, arms circling his neck, and he groans out a rough “Fuck, yeah sweetheart,”

Pulling himself out of his jeans, already hard, he bucks his hips up at the feeling of your hole at his tip. “Jake, please put it in, please fuck me.” you whisper, kissing his ear softly.

He wastes no time and inch by inch enters your pulsing heat, stroking at your hips until he is fully inside. “Shit, Jake.” you curse.

“This skirt really did something to me,” he groans, allowing his fingers to fiddle with the hem. You noticed his love for skirts some months ago but you didn’t know it affected him this much.

Jake bought you a cute checkered skirt for your birthday last year, and you didn’t think anything of it, but he was clearly satisfied with the fact you wore what he got you - especially if it flattered you in all the right places, just like this short number did.

“You like it?” you sniffle into his neck, beginning to move your hips up and down slowly. “You like it when I wear short skirts for you, Jake?”

He almost chokes, and he’s not entirely sure if it’s the comment you made or whether it’s your delicious tightness enveloping his dick. Jake swears again, willing himself to keep talking for your sake as you ride him faster. The filthy sound and feeling of your wetness makes you bite your lip, his cock pushing into just the right places with consistent nudges at your special spot. You squeal when his thumb finds your clit with ease.

“I love it, sweetheart. You're gonna wear more short skirts for me?” he pants, almost cumming in you when you clench around him tightly, the sensitivity of his tip almost too much for him to bear.

You nod frantically, eyes boring into his dark ones, “Yeah,” you swallow. “I’m not gonna wear any panties anymore Jake,”

“You gonna let me slide in whenever I want, baby?” he questions, licking his bottom lip. “Gonna let me cream your pussy, just like you’ve always wanted?”

“Yeah, cream me Jake - please,” pulse already going a mile a minute, you feel lightheaded at the pressure and fullness in your lower abdomen.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” Jake’s cock twitches inside you, alerting the both of you to his impending orgasm.

Yours draws to a climax, thighs shaking over the top of his. Your arms are wrapped so tightly around Jake, you fear you’ll collapse if you let go. “Come first, love, that’s it.” He mutters, quickening his fingers on your clit as you cum hard.

You tremble as it hits, eyes squeezed shut, and you’re so distracted you don’t really feel Jake hold you down before he shoots his load into you. “Well done baby,” he sighs, satiated.

You pull yourself up to look at him and press your bitten lips to his as he grinds you down on his creamy cock, smirking. “Hmm,” he hums, “So good for me, still so tight.”

“Yeah?” you shyly simper, leaning in to whisper into his ear, “When we get to the cabin you can fuck me again,”

“Can I?” he strokes your cheek affectionately, a cute grin taking over his lips. “I guess i’ll have to decide what to do with you later, right love?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, your own lips breaking out into a grin.

He curses when he feels you suddenly clench, “Fuck,”

“OH SHIT.” you smack your hand over your mouth.

“What’s wrong?” Jake panics, suddenly groaning when you shuffle on his lap, your gaze off somewhere behind him.

There are the others with shopping bags, heading back towards the van.

“They’re coming.” you whine.

Jake whimpers, glancing back towards the window and indeed, he sees the guys on their way. “Well, shit.”

note - i update my masterlist regularly, hinting at any upcoming posts so if you feel like checking out what i'll be posting soon then take a look here