#while typing this i spilled coffee on my work uniform FUCK

[tinyuselessadult]

Greaseball: i'm s o r r r y

Everyone: awee poor baby doesn't know how to spell 🥺

Greaseball: no i have a concussion

[corollaservant]

Sweet Delight // Gojo x f!reader (18+)

Synopsis: You are too nice to be serving rude customers for minimum wage. Rest assured that Satoru will take care of it.

Warnings: yandere, obsessive behavior, noncon/very dubious consent, somno, stalking, knives, deception, mind games, murder mentions, violence (not to reader).. that's all.

A/N: Yan!Gojo is Joe Goldberg to me, idk. Beta read by my guy bsf who said the ending sucked (inspired by quote used in this book)

It started on a Friday afternoon.

He was a regular, came to the store every day to get his coffee. No sugar. Iced. The order was unlike him, he seemed sweet, or at least friendly and inviting, he had the type of eyes your friends gushed over when talking about their favorite movie stars, too blue, too inquiring.

At first he smiled and handed you a bill, told you to keep the change and asked you if he could sit outside for a bit. Of course, why wouldn’t he? The store offered it and he knew it, he was just being polite. He would read from a book, whose cover you couldn’t see, seemed too absorbed and you often wondered how he could concentrate with the café’s obnoxiously loud music (owner’s order to attract customers). He’d more than often catch bystanders attention, be it his white hair, his tall physique or his peculiar blindfold, which he wore sometimes instead of sunglasses, the man was attracting people like a magnet. This one time a couple of girls sat down next to him and talked purposefully loud. He lifted his chair and brought it closer to the register, closer to you. Yet, he still didn’t speak.

The first time he spoke to you besides a thanks and can I sit outside for a bit was when a customer harassed you verbally. You got the order wrong and while you offered a second free drink, he started calling you worthless. Your eyes watered and voice broke as he stepped in

“Please do not offend the barista, it was a simple mistake.” He spoke calmly while being twice the size of the customer.

“This is none of your business, sir..” The customer scoffed as he tried standing upright to make himself taller.

“I said.” Satoru sighed “Please get the fuck out the store or it will be..sir.” While there wasn't any physical threat, the tone was convincing enough to have the customer backtrack, hiss and leave the store empty handed.

“I'm sorry for that.” You told him as he looked at you.

“Don't be, this wasn't your fault.”

“I'm Satoru by the way, remember me?”

Of course you did, he was the most loyal customer.

—

It happened on a Friday afternoon.

Your shift started at 1 PM and ended at 9 PM sharp. Satoru had a meticulous routine: 1-3 was for observing. He wouldn't call it stalking, no, that word was degenerate and he wasn't like that. He was just observing you, your hands, as they moved, expressions as you skimmed milk and some of it spilled on the counter, your interactions with customers. He couldn't risk another incident like before. 3-6 was when he usually made an appearance. Black coffee. No sugar, iced and the table just across the bar; close but not too close. He was disappointed today, you hadn't looked at him once—well, in your defense the café was crowded, yet you still looked gorgeous, even with your sleep deprived eyes and disheveled hair, so soft and pure. He loved that. What would it take for him to get your attention? He found himself balancing between proclaiming his feelings and showing you them but decided on the latter. He would—today.

6-9 he had to wait in his car this time, it was raining but he couldn't leave you out of his sight, what if something happened to you? Your stupid manager had you close the store at 9 PM all alone in the dark, what a cheapskate cunt, not hiring a second person on the shift. Should he kill him? No, that’d be too soon. He would make an appearance before nine anyway.

8:40 was when he got out of the car, sloppily wearing a balaclava he’d gotten from Suguru (his seventh grade ninja Halloween costume) and his usual black work uniform. A knife was in his hands as he noticed you from across the road washing some cups. Perfect, you weren't looking but also careless of you, exactly as expected. He barged in the store and tried his hardest to make his voice drop an octave deeper, shit, would you recognize him?

“Give me your money or I'll stab you.” He was laughing internally but had to put on a fake growl, your expression was priceless.

“P—please don't kill me!” was the first thing you said (brokenly mewled) as your poor hands started shaking.

“I said now.” He said as he stabbed the blade in the air. Damn, that was too easy, you were too gullible.

“P–please I will, I–I am all alone.. one moment–'' Poor you, you had already started crying, tears were falling down your face but you didn't seem to notice. Should he stop this now? Probably.

“How incompetent are you? Are you this slow with customers too?” He decided to tease you a little longer, thriving off of your reactions.

Your eyes shot up for a brief second, was it the customer with Satoru a few days ago? He had said something along these lines, but this couldn't be. He was way shorter and had stopped coming ever since Satoru put him in his place. You were thankful for that.

Your hands opened the register as the paper bills you held threatened to soak, you still had one glove on... you looked a bit silly.

“Hey, hey..” Satoru’s voice quickly returned as the mask was removed “It's just me, see?” He whispered, trying to soothe the tone as your eyes widened.

“S–Satoru, what!?” Your voice trembled as the money fell from your hands and you took a step back.

“I wanted to pull a prank on you, I'm sorry if I scared you.” He smiled apologetically but you still couldn't utter a word.

“W-why would you do that? That's sick!” You cried out as he came behind the bar and tried to pull you in an embrace, knife now tucked in his jacket. To get close to you, to teach you a lesson, to make you need me would be his answer. You punched him on the chest, muffled cries fell from your lips. Well... you couldn't land a blow, that was for sure, but you looked cute with your clenched fists taking out your anger on him.

“F–fuck you!” His firm hands stopped your weak, aimless punches and you sobbed on his chest. You smelled divine, even at the end of your shift.

Was this love?

“Hey.. come on now, I said I'm sorry, okay?” He said as he pulled away.

“Came to say I'll stay with you till 9, it's not safe out there.” He promised as you wordlessly returned to the sink. He'd make you love him.

Around 9:10 you closed the store. His prank had slowed you down, exactly as expected, he figured it wasn't often you lost control and he was proud it affected you. It made you susceptible to control. You silently sat with Satoru outside while he insisted on driving you home.

“I don't need a ride. I'm fine.” It wasn't funny to tamper with your feelings like that, he didn't seem like the type and he'd taken you by surprise; actions like these didn't align with the image he painted for himself. He was always so kind, so protective, so—

“Give me the fucking store keys!” was heard before you turned your attention to the voice ahead of you. A man shouted, not too loud to alert anyone but enough to make a point. The street was empty and he was holding what seemed like a paper bag as you turned to Satoru.

This surely had to be another one of his pranks? You were about to laugh when you looked at him. He seemed taken aback, frozen in his spot and his eyes squinted as your heartbeat accelerated.

“What is it with this neighborhood and robberies?” Satoru talks after a while, his tone is confident as he looks at you and the guy growls. Why is he so calm?What is going on?—

“Shut the fuck up and give me the keys or I'll fucking blow your heads off!” The man says moving his hand to your direction, was this guy bluffing? Did he even have anything under the bag? Was your life about to end? It wasn't like people didn't talk about the criminals in the neighborhood—you’d never work there if it wasn't for necessity.

“And if we don't?” Satoru stops you from reaching for the keys as he fights hard to wipe off the grin on his face. Well, that was unexpected, but he isn't scared, he never is, as you interrupt.

“Satoru! P–please! Let me give him the keys!” You cry out, the day straight out of a nightmare the longer it drags on and you honestly can't put up another fight. You'd rather have whoever this was steal an insignificant amount of money from the register than end your life. Sure, there wasn't much to live for, but it was always different when under real threat.

“You’d give him the keys, really?” He scoffs annoyed. He couldn’t believe what a victim you were, couldn't you see he was right there for you? Despite his abilities you still failed to see him. Silly you.

“What c-can we do? He..he– and we–” Was this really the time? Why is he even negotiating this?

“Bitch, stop talking.” The guy spits, tired of your back and forth, as Satoru finally addresses him.

“That’s not very nice.” He is calm.

So calm that you almost don't see his fist obliterating the guy. One punch and he's knocked down, Satoru climbs on top.He pulls his fists down interchangeably but it's fast and you can't count, must be about seven that leave the guy with no time to react, hands to his sides as he yelps. Satoru reaches for his pocket and is about to grab the knife, when he feels two warm hands touch him and he turns around.

“P–please! Let's just go home!” You sob, eyes wide and the pain in your voice breaks his heart. Home, you said? He gets up and kicks the man’s limbs like a soccer ball—blood oozes down his mouth onto the curb and he chokes on some of it. Satoru's knuckles are stained but he gives you his hand as the pulp ahead withers.

Home.

-

He gave you clothes, a sleep set he had in his closet, you’d never know it was specifically tailored and cut out to your size, how would you know? It’s not like he’d tell you he stole (he called it borrow) articles you discarded at work. Your jacket when too hot, a change of pants as he brought them to the store's bathroom and returned them just as discreetly at 5:30 PM. They smelled like you, but he couldn’t categorize the odor, it was too hard. As for the color.. that he didn't care about. Anything would work really. His mind couldn't stop racing when he heard the shower head start, you'd never agree to his hospitality but that was his home, his rules. You also had a very rough day and it didn't take a lot to convince you.

He offered you his bed, he’d sleep on the couch and despite you objecting, he got you to comply. He could only imagine how much today drained you— physically and mentally. He let you sleep, he wasn't some monster, plus he had work to do. You’d wake up around 9, he calculated, so he had time.

When he finally sat down the couch, he couldn't sleep. Knowing you were there, so close and so vulnerable broke him. He didn't wait for his hair to dry — spot cleaning blood on the sink stole away his energy as he slipped on the bed, you were facing the wall and he placed his arms around you. You made no noise but you didn't seem to be sleeping heavily either, you’d slightly toss and turn. Poor you, was it a nightmare? He smelled your shampoo, it wasn't yours really but a variation of the ones you had at home as his fingers went through strands of your hair. He came closer, wanting to feel your body's heat and moved to your chest. His fingers sought your heart as he felt your pulse. A cock pressed against you—he’d been hard for some time and it wouldn’t go away as his palms searched for your nipples. One pinch and they were already hard, shit, he thought as he moved his dick on you. What if he went lower? Would you be a good girl for him? He moved to your belly as he put one leg softly over you, angling his cock directly at your cunt's entrance from behind while he rubbed against the folds, palms finding you from the front. He loved this embrace, all his to play with. He traced the slit and rubbed some more. You felt so soft and tempting. He’d bet no one could protect you like him and that gave him motivation. Yeah, that was right, he deserved a little thank you for his hard work. He fondles your cunt while his stiff cock annoys him, he’ll deal with it later. He buries a finger inside you, your cunt is wet, he thinks and you're not even conscious. Satoru pumps it slowly, it lubricates you in the process as it coats him halfway—he groans far from your ear and pushes another. You inhale sharply.

He pops them in and out until he fears he's becoming too fast so he removes his palm and uses your slick for his pleasure now. Boxers and sweatpants are removed as he wraps around the shaft, his precum gets smeared on his cockhead and he brings it down his base, it creates a wet mess and he gets off on it. He doesn't need much visually, your back softly breathing is enough to pump faster but— you felt so warm, he reasons, should he? You’d be his soon enough so might as well. He quickly turns to your side and lowers the set you're wearing (you'd think he intentionally sized up so it'd be easier to pull them down) as he pushes your panties to the side. You were a naughty girl, wearing a thong to work. Too dangerous, the world had many perverts. He puts his stiff cock on your entrance as he tries to shove just the head first; he hisses at the contact and you move, it's too late to back down now and he grows desperate. Within a second he tilts his hips into your needy cunt—he doesn't flatter himself, he's big so it's no surprise you groan and he assumes open your eyes. You feel tight and warm and he doesn’t care about your shock—he’s close.

“What.. agh—what are you doing?!” You're cut off in between moans as he ruts into you, you choke on a cry and he picks up his pace. His cock is stuffing you to the brim, it hurts but he can't be considerate. You feel like you can't breathe, dizzy from a nap and a repeated thump down your core. Yet, a primal instinct of pleasure washes away a conscious you telling yourself it's wrong and fuck— you moan out his name. Why do you moan?

“Shit, couldn't help myself, sorry baby.” He breathes out as he bucks his hips up and you feel too full.

“Satoru! S–stop...” But your pleas fall on deaf ears as he continues, hands caressing your chest and his breath on your neck while your hips are brought to clash onto his and nasty sounds come from the contact.

“Fuck, so pretty, baby, hm?” He moans and he’s already close, cock throbs as you prettily squeeze him in. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt like this before, it’s like you’re made perfectly to accommodate him and look at you!—clenching your cunt like some slut.

“N–ugh– Satoru please—” You cry out, scared but with a heat coiling low that makes you unable to protest louder. You think of his kind eyes, heartwarming grin (“Got these bad boys for you”, as he gave you your favorite cookies) but soon they're gone away—

—replaced by his cock rutting in your damp walls. You're unwillingly sucking him in, you can't think straight, he's... good? No. He's disgusting for this. Water blurs your eyesight—it's too much.

A hand is on your clit as he bites your soft neck at the same time. God, how he longed for this. Having you in his arms. He adored you.

“Want to come on my cock, like the helpless slut you are, baby?” He whispers but it's soft—like he's teasing you for missing the bus and you cry.

“I- agh-n-no..please—” You muffle and beg and his hand circling your clit slaps on the nub repeatedly as you jerk; “I can't—I–” He doesn't pay attention, his cock is ripping you apart and you have to let go—riding out an unwarranted orgasm. He loves your mess, no, he loves you and since you're conscious (not that it'd matter), he lifts your leg up as he angles himself so deep, you yell; overstimulated and still scared.

“Satoru, e–enough!” He's bottoming out in between sticky walls and you ache, hoping for an end.

“Don't be selfish baby—fuck!” He groans as large palms squeeze around your neck and then he's cumming — fast and as much as possible, you think. It feels warm and disgusting, his breathy moans are on your ear as you force your eyes shut. What doesn't make it inside, seeps back out but it’s not a lot, since you’re fully stuffed and he takes his sweet time to pull out. You just feel that good. He plants a kiss on your back as he returns with towels and puts you back to sleep. You cry—he estimates 15 minutes before you give up and let sleep take care of you.

One step at a time.

-

It's your 3 month anniversary. He doesn't tell you that of course, its embarrassing because it's 3 months since he found you, 2 days since he introduced himself. You still work at the café but you don't have to worry, soon you’ll never have to work again, he has big plans. He is proud of himself for finding you, it wasn't often someone intrigued him so much. He liked how genuine you were, naive and a bit dumb of course but that was exactly what made you so pure. He’d bet even at your lowest, you'd never cuss anyone out. Like for example that cunt of a customer the other day but it was fine, he’d do it for you, actually—

A message from Suguru pops up.

“Comin tonight?”

“No, have plans.” He gets bored easily and this time isn't an exception.

“Again? New record?” He can always read Suguru's irony. Funny of him to think he'd stop there.

“I told you I’d take care of it.” Satoru hastily types.

That guy really shouldn't have called you a bitch, it wasn't even in the script. Look where that got him. In Satoru's trunk ready to meet Mr. Worthless. He shuts his phone, he thinks about throwing it away, there's no need for it anyways. Especially when you're here.

He thinks about some quote his dad used to tell him, how did it go? Some are born to sweet delight—

14 minutes till your shift ends. What was it?

—some are born to endless night? It all makes sense now, it rhymes, that's why he still remembers it.

Or maybe you just give the first part a meaning.

[mintmatcha]

KINKTOBER DAY 26: HATE FUCKING

Part of the Love Club’s Collab!

Takeda x reader

CW: cisfem reader, referred to as good girl, semi public sex, hate fucking

A/N: this is late but its the last collab I have with the love club!! enjoy lmao!

Only the sound of his typing echoes through the teacher’s lounge. From your spot at the door you can see Takeda, hunched over the keyboard as he works tirelessly. School’s been over for hours now, so he’s let his appearance slack; the top two buttons of his shirt are undone, exposing his collarbone. Running a hand through his unusually messy curls, the man sighs, giving himself a moment's reprieve before returning to work. The only light in the room is coming from his computer screen, painting his expression even more tired. He’s fighting exhaustion, those eyebags and weary eyes wearing heavy on his features.

Goddammit. 

Why him? 

Takeda is a fine teacher. Hell, he's widely regarded as nice-

But you hate his fucking guts.

It started when he spilled coffee all over your desk, ruining three classes worth of tests. Sure, it could have been an accident- if he wasn't carrying two full cups for no apparent reason. Takeda doesn't even drink coffee, so the fact he had two had to be sabotage.

After that, you declared a silent war. Stealing chalk, messing up piles of papers, using his office supplies- all petty things to drive the man insane.

He never retaliated with anything more than snippy comments and criticism, but you can feel his willpower dwindling. 

You try to walk as quietly as possible, but your heels give you away  slowly tapping across the linoleum.  You're silently begging that he's too involved in his work to acknowledge you, but he tilts his head towards you as soon as you get too close.

“How are yoooo-uu?" Takeda rips his eyes away from his screen long enough to look at you for a moment… then takes a second look, eyes wide with shock. He’s usually so polite, so demure, but right now his eyes betray him. He scans over your body slowly, eyes resting at the edge of your skirt. He seemingly catches himself, suddenly meeting your eyes again, the tips of his ears dusted pink. “Oh. What are, uh, what are you wearing?"

"A dress." you try not to roll your eyes. Sure. your outfit is nothing like your standard teaching uniform, its low cut and short, but you're not sure why he's making that face, "I was on the way to the bar when I realized I forgot my wallet here. Why do you care?"

Takeda pushes his glasses back up his face, forcing himself back to his work. “I,  just uh- didn't expect to see you here this late.” he clears his throat, “Especially dressed like that.”

The depth in his voice surprises you. At first, you think he’s flirting- but then you remember who you’re dealing with. With narrowed eyes, you sneer as you throw your drawer open, searching for your wallet. “What does that mean?”

“You look… nice,” he hesitates, "But-”

You have your wallet in your hands. You can just leave and let this whole thing go-

But you just can’t. 

“Nice, but?” you slam the drawer closed.

“I know it’s after hours, but, uh-” Takeda types slowly, pressing the keys as hard as he can, voice still level, “-your attire isn't exactly school appropriate.”  

"Excuse me?" you sneer. Takeda has a point, your skirt is definitely a couple inches north of conservative, but that certainly isn’t his business. He continues typing, as if entering grades is more important than anything else in the world.

“I’m just saying it wouldn’t hurt to cover up while on school property-” his voice is diplomatic, even and calm. God, that pisses you off even more.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you roll your eyes hard,  “I forgot you’ve never seen a woman’s body before-”

Takeda freezes, taking a long slow blink before turning towards you. “Excuse me?”

“I said-”

“Oh, no, I heard you.” Takeda leans back in his chair, “I just can’t believe you said something so, so... juvenile.”

You suck your teeth, trying to process why that made you so extremely annoyed. “Oh, I’m the juvenile one?”

“That’s what I said.” Takeda looks at you over his glasses, devoid of humor, “This whole  'thing' you have with me is just juvenile.”

With a speed you didn’t know you had, you press the glowing green button on the side of his desktop tower and his computer screen immediately goes black. With the only light in the room suddenly dead, you both sit, silently considering what just happened.

Okay, maybe you were being immature.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Takeda breaks as your vision adjusts. He’s no longer his usually, composed self; maybe it’s the exhaustion that’s broken him, maybe it’s just you, but he’s shaking, full on biting his lip to hold back the rage. "That was three hours of work."

You're about to apologize when he continues. "You're always so fucking annoying. I hate// you. "

Okay. You're not sorry anymore.

“Fuck you.”

“No.” He’s not backing down. "Fuck you." He leans on the consonants, spitting them out.  

You lean in with a sneer. “You wish you could.”

Takeda's eyes drag down your face to your lips, pausing there for a moment before he glances back up through those long, dark eyelashes. This close, you can see the microexpressions that you'd miss from afar: the slight swallow, the pop of his lips parting slightly, the slight heavy of a silent sigh-

"Yeah, I do." he whispers his confession.

The sharp pain of teeth clinking together marrs the pleasure of his lips finally finding yours. His skin isn't soft and smooth like you anticipated; the rough pull of stubble across your cheek as he kisses you.

His hands find the curve of your waist and, with an unexpected strength, Takeda forces you back against the desk so hard that you have to scramble to stay upright.  Your hands struggle to find purchase behind you, knocking against your desktop tower and piles of paper. 

He breaks away, eyes wide and wild, about to say something. God, if he opens his mouth and ruins this- you clutch the end of his tie, holding him in place, and hook your other hand under the buttons of his shirt.  Gently, you pull him back in, lips trailing over his stubbled jawline. He’s delicate as you imagined, sighing into the contact. You connect fully, planting your lips fully against his skin and suck a hickey right about his adam's apple, centering it in the middle of his throat. 

The way he whines is heavenly. Short, depraved little things, caught in his throat as he savors the pain. When he  pushes you away, the suction breaks with a loud, wet pop, leaving behind a red speckled mark.

"D-did you just bruise me?" his voice is low and trembling, an undertone of anger.  He touches the spot, testing its soreness, "My uniform won't cover this-"

"I don't care." your forehead presses against his, lips hovering near his, silently begging for a kiss, “‘Cause I hate you.”

You catch his lips between his canines and tug, hard enough he basically collapses against you, but he doesn't push you away again. Instead, when you release him from your pearly grip, he holds you even tighter, watching you with blown out pupils. The knot of his tie is half undone, loop drooped well below the ripped buttons of his shirt. His adam’s apple, already blossoming into a dark and purple, bobs heavy with each breath, the air doing nothing to cool the blush that burns across his face. The fog that covers his glasses starts to dissipate the longer you two are apart, and you notice they’re horribly lopsided: one arm isn’t even hooked over his ear anymore.

It’s pathetic. 

And cute.

 “I fucking hate you.”

Takeda lets go of you to push his glasses back up his nose, only for them to fall back down again and hang right off of the tip. “I actually-” he huffs. “I think you’re really charming-” Takeda’s eyes trace down your body before he meets your  eyes again, “-when you keep your mouth shut.”

God.

He’s got more of a bite to him than you thought.

And you hate how hot that is.

"Shut up-" you clench the length of the tie and drag him back to you. The force has you sliding farther across the desk, keyboard clattering up and over your phone, knocking the receiver off of it's cradle. The dial tone hums insistently, but you can’t bother to unwind yourself from him; slamming your face into his, tongue lapping at the warm, bruising spot you left behind. Surprisingly, he leans into the pain, pushing equally hard against you. His hands are a flurry as he tries to decide where to hold you-  cupping your cheek, grasping your waist, squeezing your ass, pushing you back. It’s quick, rushed as if he’s worried you’ll change your mind.

You adjust, trying to reach his neck again, but the movement does nothing but scrape your cheek against the frame of his glasses- slamming the nose piece into the brow of his nose. You both recoil with a groan.

"I hate you and these stupid glasses-" clutching the back of his neck to pull him back in, you use your other hand to grasp his glasses and practically rip them from his face. You toss them over your shoulder, far enough that you hear them skid across the linoleum.

"You keep saying that." his hands are jammed into your skirt, fingers digging into the soft of your thighs as he forces himself closer and closer, until the fabric of his pants rubs against your pussy, the thin cotton doing nothing to dull the friction. The sudden sensation is too much; it leaves you trying to inch away, but his surprisingly strong grasp has you lost in place, "You should fuck me like you hate me then."

His sudden confidence makes your breath hitch.  Despite yourself, you reach down, hands tickling over the creases of his shirt, then the tent of his pants. He rolls his hips forward into your touch, giving you a feel of his shape. 

Goddammit. He’s big.

You hate him.

And yet, you relent. "Just don't cum inside me."

You had always kind of thought Takeda was a virgin (there’s something just so innocent about him), but the way he pushes your panties to the side exudes too much confidence to be inexperienced. He’s fumbling around your hand, trying to unbutton his pants and pull down his zipper with one hand without losing contact with you.

“Do you need me to prep you-” you almost nod, but he continues, “Or are you going to take it like a good girl?”

You scoff and tug his tie harder, trying to bring him back to you. A sneer curls at your lips as he finally manages to get his cock out, slit momentarily still connected to the fabric by a sticky string of precum. “You’re not that big, asshole.” you sneer even as you help him line up against your entrance, dragging him through your folds, "Just fuck me before I change my mind."

Takeda forces his head in between your jaw and collarbone, skull banging against skull, and bites into the soft spot under your ear. Just as you open your mouth the protest, he thrusts his hips forward into you- and there's nothing to stop your mangled gasp. The sudden fullness aches and your body constricts, clamping down on his cock despite yourself.

"Oh-" his voice reverberates through your bone as he stills. "So warm." 

"Ittetsu-" you hate how soft you sound.

There's no more prelude. Takeda ruts into you, the rub of his dress pants burning your thighs. His fingers are tangling in your panties, pulling them taut against your ass into the elastic digs into the fat. The stretch no longer hurts, but builds into a deep, thick pleasure that clouds your mind. His knee lifts up on to the desk, slamming into your monitor, using the angle to fuck you deeper.

 Everything is a haze of depravity; you tangle and untangle yourself in him over and over again, trying to remain close to him as you both struggle not to slide over the desk top. You settle with your hands in his curls and your calves hooked over his ass.  His forehead is pressed against yours, each panted breath hot against your lips as he snaps his hips against you with all of his strength. You're already quiveringly close, whole body tense as you teeter on the brink of orgasm. Just a little more and-

His eyes meet yours, open, bright, and excited, and you're surprised to find you don't hate him like this.  He's cute. Genuinely, truly cute. You tilt your chin up and kiss him earnestly with no edge of hatred. It's gentle, a little silent apology for everything. He hums into the contact, eyes fluttering shut with a smile, and it's enough to push you over the edge. You cum, twitching and shaking around him, legs locked behind his thighs, keeping him in place until your body goes slack.

Takeda pushes back slowly, withdrawing. The shine of your own excitement sticks to him as he clutches his cock.

"Where?" he asks, the break in his voice telling you he's not far behind you.

"On me. 's fine." you mumble, post orgasmic bliss still fogging your mind as you gather your dress in your hands and pull it up and over your mons. A warm dribble paints your skin and underwear.  Both of you watch it pool silently, only the sound of your panting echoing through the room.

You should talk about this. You just fucked a coworker at your place of work. There should be a conversation of what this means, what the rules are, but you both just sit there, staring at the cooling jizz on your stomach.

"I still hate you." you lie.

Takeda opens his mouth, brows tilted up confusion. For a split second, he looks hurt, but he swallows it back, pushing up a nonexistent pair of glasses as his expression hardens. 

"Likewise."

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC is Half Demon and They’re- Oh Crap They’re Barbatos’ Kid!

This is the second part of that one request I answered for Dia and Barb’s possible kids. Sorry this took so long! Writer’s block, y’know? Anyhoo~ enjoy, everyone!

This story didn’t start on the first day of the exchange program, it started five days before in Barbatos’ room at three in the morning with the poor butler waking up in a cold sweat.

Oh dear, it appeared the exchange program would be up in a bit of a tizzy. He had… a child? Oh my… Barbatos hoped the young master wouldn’t be too miffed about the student not being a totally normal human.

On the day of the exchange program, Barbatos insisted he had to be present for the event, he carefully pushed a cushioned sofa in the drop zone before opening the portal. The child fell right out of the sky and landed perfectly on the couch, they were already wearing a helmet and looked quite shocked by the cushioned fall.

Well, it was a big shock to the assembled crowd, but the child gave everyone a lopsided smile and removed their helmet.

“So, I assume I’m here for the exchange program?”

Dadbatos

Well, this child was incredibly… what was the word the kids were using? chill? They were quite chill considering the situation, and was surprisingly prepared for the sudden drop into hell.

“Oh, I had a dream that this was going to happen, and I dream about the future n’stuff. I thought I’d come prepared.” “Ah, that’s very sensible.”

Diavolo recovered quickly from his shock and was positively delighted to meet this little munchkin. He insisted that they had to stay with their dad.

MC was polite, if not a bit overly calm about a lot of things. They didn’t run off to start trouble, and they didn’t seem very impressed by the Devildom itself. It was sort of like this child had a very low maximum level of excitement. Barbatos was glad his child wasn’t some little hellraiser.

He was never a child himself, so he’s a bit clueless about what children actually enjoy. Here child, have a… have an old torture weapon. Don’t use it on anyone who doesn’t deserve it :)

(I’m kidding, Barbatos is too responsible to give one of his instruments of torture to a child. That’s for when they’re older.)

“MC,” Barbatos knocked on his child’s door. “Have you done your homework?”

MC answered the door with a grin on their face. “Yep, done this week’s and next week’s. I’m getting a head start on the potions project due next week.”

Barbatos almost breathed a small sigh of relief. Thank the stars his child was responsible, it already took a big chunk of his energy to make sure Diavolo didn’t get distracted from his paperwork. Though, his stress levels did rise a tad when he got a glimpse at the mess in MC’s room.

“Are you going to clean that?”

“Nah,” MC shrugged. “It’s whatever. I know where everything is and nothing’s a fall risk. See you at dinner, father.”

And with that, MC shut the door. Well… no child was perfect.

As much as MC’s lack of cleanliness bothers Barbatos, he knows his kid isn’t being maliciously lazy, just for the love of the Demon King please stop leaving cups on the coffee tables without a coaster!

Oh yeah, Luke has a big sib. Sorry- little sib, because Luke isn’t some chihuahua child, he’s a totally mature grown-up Angel.

Barbatos is the type of father who will let his child go off and have whatever kind of fun they want as long as they don’t slack on their important duties.

Barbs also has a goddamn torture dungeon so we here at Stupid Headcanons inc. do NOT recommend trying to eat MC. Doing so may result in you wishing you were dead.

Don’t fuck with the butler.

Lucifer

…out of literally everyone in the room, the last person Lucifer expected to have a secret scandal baby… had a scandal baby. Damn.

At least the human wouldn’t have to live with him and his brothers. The last thing Lucifer wanted was for Barbatos to be even more aware of the chaos that went down in that house every single day.

MC and Lucifer have a healthy level of respect for one another, but Lucifer just can’t shake the feeling that this kid is messing with him somehow.

Just, little things… MC offering him fruit and loudly assuring him that it was just blackberries and nothing poisonous, asking if the RAD uniform suits his tastes, proclaiming that the dirt was high quality-

SOMEONE TOLD MC ABOUT LUCIFER’S FIRST VISIT TO THE DEVILDOM!

MC wasn’t exactly visibly goading him, they said everything with an innocent smile on their face.

When MC starts getting nosy with the attic, he’s not terribly sure how to deal with it. He was going up against a child that could at least partially tell the future. After the first time Lucifer told them to scram, they never went back to the steps… at least not when Lucifer was there to guard it…

After everything goes down, Lucifer is glad that MC wasn’t hurt or anything. He’d come to like the child and it’d be awful to lose the only person who could get his more hyperactive brothers to calm down.

Mammon

Mammon wasn’t present for the meeting, but when he was informed later, the news was met with an eloquent: “the fuck? Huh, wild.”

He isn’t too interested in MC at first. At least until the little runt saved him from getting busted for skipping class. Mammon was just eating his lunch in the courtyard when MC passed by and calmly told him that if he skipped class he should not hang out in the west staircase because Lucifer was going to walk down those steps during third period.

At first Mammon tried to brush off the warning, but ended up listening to the kid anyway, and what do ya know! He didn’t get caught by Lucifer!

That’s when it clicked that MC could see the future, right? Right?! Ya know what Mammon could use that for?! Right?!

Gambling! Scams! Schemes! General shennaniganery!

MC wasn’t terribly enthused about the entire situation, so they may have messed with Mammon a little. Just a bit.

It’s not like Mammon ever listened when MC told him to cut his losses and leave the casino anyway 🙄

Leviathan

First reaction? Thank the anime gods that there wouldn’t be another normie living in the house with him…

Reaction upon hearing that the MC was Barb’s kid? Really? Barbatos? Wow… well, to be fair Levi totally understood why someone would be attracted to Barbatos, I mean, Levi’s watched plenty of anime involving butlers, but Barbatos actually having a living breathing child? Damn.

But still, Levi wasn’t going to hang out with some normie brat. He had better and nerdier things to devote his time to.

Whenever MC visited, Levi was up in his room. But once MC decided to poke their head in the door while Levi was in the middle of gamer raging.

They calmly sat Levi down and explained to him that he could be upset about whatever happened in his game, but lashing out wasn’t going to fix anything or make him better at the actual game.

…damn it… they were right.

Slowly but surely Levi and MC built up a friendship, and the brothers rejoiced at the lack of rage related Lotan summons.

Satan

Out of everything Satan could have possibly expected from the second exchange student, this was not one of them.

Satan began to wonder exactly how MC’s powers worked, he didn’t exactly have any concrete data to compare them to because Barbatos was so mysterious

Hm, how very interesting. Satan decided that it was up to him to satiate his own curiosity and began to study MC. To be honest, MC wasn’t being terribly interesting.

They were a pretty normal kid all things considered. MC went to class, made friends, did their work, very very normal. Well, except for the fact that they seemed to dodge practically every unfortunate thing that could have happened to them.

They’d stop at the perfect time to avoid something accidentally being spilled on them, they always had pencils ready, and they always seemed to know exactly when a teacher was coming… mad sus.

Satan eventually confronted MC about this, and they just shrugged and explained that they tend to dream about what was most likely to happen the next day and would adjust their actions accordingly.

It may have been anticlimactic, but MC did inform Satan that there would be a cat in the courtyard in fifteen minutes.

HE NEEDED TO GO!

Asmodeus

Asmo had genuinely been looking forward to the new exchange program, he was excited to have a new face around the house to shake things up! He loves his dear brothers but spending thousands of years with them makes their shenanigans become a bit… well, a bit boring.

But my oh my, the new face was being obscured by that tacky bicycle helmet… the new face looked an awful lot like Barbatos…

Once Asmo registered what was going on, he was positively enchanted with the little half human. They were just so cute! They looked like a baby Barbatos with those adorably chubby cheeks!

Oh Barbatos~ he just had to let Asmo babysit!

When Asmo managed to sweep MC away for a fun day with shifty uncle Solomon, he was reminded of all the shenanigans that he, Barbatos, and Solomon used to get up to.

*sigh, Barbie was always so busy… no time for a fun night of torture, chaos, and revelry

Anyhoodles~ MC was always such a relaxed little thing. They let Asmo vent whenever any awful tragedies occur, like when Asmo finds a sweater that isn’t in his size… *sniffle*

Beelzebub

A child of Barbatos? The best cook in the three realms Barbatos?! …hey kid want to hang out with cool uncle Beel?

Beel tried everything in his power to get MC to make him food. I mean, the genetic disposition for making good food has to have been passed down from father to child!

When MC finally made Beel food, he was ecstatic!

…Until the food touched Beel’s tongue and he realized it wasn’t good, it was just… okay. Average. Passable.

Aw man… but the kid looked so excited to have made something for Beel…

Beel really hammed up his reaction to make MC feel better. Beel was like “Wow. So good. Amazing.” “Thanks Beel.”

Very sweet child, they don’t mind being used in place as a dumbell.

Belphegor

Damn, and here Belphie was, thinking Barbatos has standards. Apparently not!

When MC went and walked up the attic steps, Belphie was almost bouncing on his toes in anticipation. This human had been a pain in the rear to call up, so he was excited to finally get a good look at them. And lo and behold, a half demon child of Lord Diavolo’s butler.

MC grinned and greeted Belphie first, using his name and asking why the Avatar of Sloth was stuck up in the attic of his own home when he was supposed to be in the human world. Belphie was flabbergasted and didn’t exactly know how to respond.

He came up with a new plan quickly. Belphie didn’t exactly know how this kid’s powers worked, so he’d continue with trying to trick them into opening the attic door. Allowing Belphie to end their miserable little life and thus ruining the exchange program.

The child continued to visit Belphie up in the attic, relaying the events of what was going on, and Belphie continued to play the part of prisoner. Until one day in particular…

MC appeared in front of the door, looking a tad more unkempt than normal, they weren’t smiling their usual carefree smile either. Their eyes bore holes into Belphegor’s skull as they flared at him.

“How long have you been planning on killing me?”

MC had seen the future where they died at Belphie’s hand, and they sure as hell were not going to let him out of the attic after that. Though, they did tell Belphie about Lilith’s true fate before they left, and assured Belphie they had no reason to lie to him about something he wasn’t directly involved in.

So, Belphie did get let out of the attic eventually, and even though MC smiled and welcomed him back all the same, there would always a barrier between the two. Broken trust wasn’t easy to mend, after all.

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Thursday (Part 2)

Monday     Tuesday     Wednesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: panic attacks, swearing, puking, concussions, mentions of injuries/bullying, homophobia

Word count: 5,138

After school, you were sitting on the couch as you furiously typed on your keyboard at an extremely fast pace. You were on a roll with these essays, they were probably going to be finished by the time you had to go back to the school to get on the bus with the team. You figured that you could even finish Annie’s essay and get started on Sammy’s US history presentation on the sociopolitical climate of the United States in the mid twentieth century to today. However, instead of covering a variety of topics like the rubric requested you to do, you were only going to talk about the significant events that happened to the LGBT+ community starting with Stonewall and going to Obergefell v. Hodges. You were also going to go in depth about how even if there are more opportunities available and more laws set in place to protect for LGBT+ people in the present then there were in past, members of the LGBT+ community still suffer heavy discrimination in the workplace and in the public. With receipts of course, the assignment required a minimum of three pictures per slide, and the group chat was a perfect source.

After that was done, you would email Sammy’s teacher (you had her last year for US history and you knew that she had a son in the grade below you currently transitioning from female to male) that you were the one that did her project and send screenshots of Sammy calling you slurs. Luckily for you, you had receipts of her being transphobic in the past that you could also send. Everything was effortlessly falling into place for you today. 

As you were typing, the front door swung open and two overly excited fifth graders ran into the house and up the stairs. A tired Schlatt followed them. “I will never know how the hell Phil keeps up with them.” 

“I dunno, maybe because he’s already raised three kids before.”

You watched as your uncle jumped and whipped his head over towards you, his hand clutching his chest. He lightly glared at you, “christ kid don’t do that, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”

You smirked at him before turning back to your laptop to continue typing the essay. You were almost done with the conclusion paragraph on Annie’s essay and you wanted to get to Sammy’s presentation as fast as possible. As you were typing, you felt a warm air fan across your neck and your uncle’s voice right next to your ear, “whatcha typin?”

You lept off the couch and almost fell into the coffee table before steadying yourself and deadpanning at Schlatt. “I was typing an essay before you interrupted me.”

He snorted, “it looked like you were on a roll, just thought I’d see what my beloved niece was writing. Can I read it?” 

Your eyes lit up as an excited grin split your cheeks, “yeah, but lemme catch you up real quick. Adrian, Sammy, and Annie got mad at me a few days ago and wanted me to do some homework for them as a sort of payment. But after they pulled that little stunt in the lunchroom yesterday, they decided to be little bitches to me and call me slurs. So naturally, I decided to change the essay prompt into an in depth analysis about discrimination LGBT people face from their peers on the daily. My english teacher’s really against homophobia and the project’s worth twenty five percent of our overall grade, so it’s perfect.”

While you were rambling on and on about your detailed plot for revenge, Schlatt couldn’t help but be proud of the person you’d become. A major part of him was impressed that you came up with a detailed plan so quickly, that meant that his cunning nature was rubbing off on you and that made him ecstatic. Sure you mentioning not being straight was new to him, but he was prepared to accept you for whatever you identified as. He didn’t care how people identified, he just cared if they were good people. And his niece was one of the best kids he knew. He’d let your slip up slide for now until you felt comfortable enough to properly come out to him. 

“That an amazing plan, fuckin brilliant. Though, you could do more.”

That piqued your interest, “I’m listening.”

“Do you have any blackmail?”

Your eyes glinted with sudden understanding, “why yes I do, uncle dearest. I just so happen to have thousands of texts from them talking shit about each other and basically the entire school. And them being incredibly racist. They would be destroyed if that came out.” 

“Two things. One, never call me that again. Two, perfect. Keep it as leverage if they try to do something. You don’t pull out all the good cards in the first round, you wait for the right moment to strike so you can win. You need to constantly defend yourself against other players and anticipate their every move. If you leak everything right now, you won’t have anything to use against them if they have something up their sleeve you didn’t know about. Patience is key in things like this.”

You absorbed every single word that came out of his mouth like it was the holy gospel. Although he was your uncle and you loved him with all your heart, but he was a sly bastard when he wanted to be. He knew his way around fighting and manipulating people just right, so you were incredibly happy that you were on his good side and he absolutely adored you. Though questionable and morally gray, he was giving you advice because he cared about you and you’d be an idiot to not heed his advice. 

“That’s genius, Uncle Schlatt. What would I do without you?”

“You’d get along just fine without me, you would’ve gotten there eventually. You’re smart. I’m just givin you a little push in the right direction.”

“I honestly would’ve never thought about waiting, I was so dead set on getting revenge that I would’ve just leaked everything all at once. I want them to feel how I felt when they were around me. I-” you paused. Would this make you the same as them? You’d be screwing up all their grades, Adrian’s job, and Sammy’s athletic career. You came to the chilling realization that you’d be the same as them. You’d be as manipulative as they were. “...Uncle Schlatt, would that make me the same as them?”

“Fuck no! You’re always gonna be better than them no matter what. When they’re at their best, you’re always gonna be a whole lot better than them. They deserve what’s happening to them, it sounds like they put you through so much shit the past few years. I actually think you could do a whole lot worse to them if you’re willing to put more work in, but it’s your plan and if you think that what you’re doing is too much,” he darkly chuckled, “you wouldn’t like my idea.”

“You’re right, they deserve everything I have planned for them. God, I don’t know what I was thinking, ‘would that make me the same as them,’” you mocked what you said earlier, “what a load of shit. Anyways, thanks Uncle Schlatt. I’m gonna get back to writing this. They’re due tomorrow and I wanna finish as much as I can before I have to go.”

“Alright, whaddya want for dinner? Phil’s gonna be like thirty minutes late from work so I’m cookin tonight.”

Oh no. No, no, no, no. That man can barley cook boxed mac n cheese, let alone anything else. He’d burn down the house if you left him alone in the kitchen with the stove. “On second thought, why don’t I help you with dinner? We can make some chicken alfredo.”

“Awe, you’d rather hang out with me than finish your homework? Ya really do love me. C’mon let’s start.”

The process of making dinner was… interesting. Multiple times, Schlatt almost spilled boiling water on himself and he even managed to burn the pasta while it was in the water. How he even managed to do that you’d never find out, you had your back turned cutting up vegetables and herbs at the time. That was when you subtly started to take over in the kitchen, giving him smaller tasks while you handled everything else. You felt bad for Tubbo, his father can’t cook for shit. 

By time you finished, about an hour passed and Philza had come home and changed out of his work clothes. The two adults sat at the table discussing something that you didn’t pay attention to while your brothers and cousin were in the living room waiting for you to finish dinner. Finally, you set the table and it was time to eat. 

Because you couldn’t have many fatty foods before any matches or practices, you had made a separate plate for yourself that only had plain pasta, chicken, and broccoli. You were surprised with how well it turned out, you were following an iffy recipe you found on the first link Google brought up. 

After dinner, you went upstairs to put your uniform on and pack a little bag full of things you might need: a small blanket, some snacks, a water bottle, and a portable charger. Oh, and fuzzy socks and a pair of crocs. You could never go wrong with fuzzy socks and crocs. Feeling a vibration in your pocket, you pulled out your phone.

Hales : )

(Y/n), I’m omw to your house

Gonna give you a ride to the school

(Y/n)

Hales you don’t have to give me a ride, I can drive

Hales : )

Don’t care

Omw, be there in like 7 mins

You swiped out of yours and her conversation and opened up the family group chat

(Y/n)

I don’t need a ride to the school, Haley’s giving me one

She’s gonna give me a ride home too

Dadza

Alright, thank her for me

Tell her I said good luck too!

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do

Dadza

(Y/n), do everything he wouldn’t do

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Fuck you I’m a good influence

Dadza

You’re really not

Wilby

^^^^

Technology Sword

^

Uncle Schlatty Patty

Fuck all of you 

You heard Haley’s car pull into the driveway and dashed out of your room with your bag. Just as you put your hand on the doorknob, a hand stopped you.

“Coat.”

You grumbled as you reached past Philza to grab your coat. After you slipped it on, you were pulled into a hug. “You’re gonna do great out there. I know you’re gonna win this, we’ll be watching in the stands.”

“Damn right she’s gonna do good, she’s my niece after all.”

Schlatt pulled you away from your father’s hug and tried to ruffle your hair before you swatted away his hand, “don’t. You have no idea how long it took me to get a perfect ponytail. I have an ungodly amount of hairspray and bobby pins in my hair right now.”

“Fine. You’re gonna kick their asses tonight.”

Tommy and Tubbo pushed past Schlatt and both tackled you into a hug making you stumble slightly back. 

“Kick their asses good (y/n)!” Tommy cheered, making you crack up before one stern glance from Philza completely stopped you. “Tommy, don’t say that. (Y/n), not funny.”

“Alright, Haley’s waiting for me. I gotta go, love you guys!” As you turned to walk through the door, you could hear your family following you and shouting “good luck”. You felt heat creep up on your cheeks as Haley rolled down her window and wove at your family with the biggest grin on her face. 

“Thank you! We’re gonna take home the gold for sure!”

You hopped in her car as she rolled up the window and chuckled. “I love your family, they’re always so full of energy. It’s refreshing to see compared to how boring my family is.”

You glanced at your entire family gathered on the front porch. Tommy and Tubbo were practically vibrating with excitement, Wilbur and Techno calmly smiled and wove at you, Philza was grinning widely at you as you saw his mouth forming words that you couldn’t hear or read, and Schlatt was grinning cheekily at you. You raised your hand to wave at them as they vanished from view when Haley pulled out of your driveway. You smiled softly, “I love em too.”

The car ride was relatively quick with the same soft indie pop music floating from the speakers and an easy going conversation with Haley about the match tonight. You both thought that you could beat the other team if everyone focused 100% and played exactly like you guys did in practices. If everyone did that, you would be unstoppable. 

Luckily for you and Haley, you were the first ones in line to board the bus so you two got the back seat with Zara and Jazzy sitting across from you guys. The hour long bus ride passed quickly and lively with you four passing around your phone and playing some mad libs, you were sure that by the end of the last game you four were laughing and crying. Sometime in the middle of the trip, you noticed that Haley would start to lean on your shoulder and continuously glance at you as she laughed. You desperately wanted to believe that it was because she liked you, but she was straight and she was your best friend. She was probably trying to make sure you were having a good time. 

When the team had gotten to the opposing school and left the locker room to stretch in the gym, you could hear your family start to scream your and Haley’s names from the front row next to you, Tommy and Tubbo being the loudest amongst them with Philza trying to get them to quiet down so you could focus. You felt your cheeks heat up as you smiled at them and Haley wove enthusiastically back at them. Zara was laughing at you two. Stretching went by in a flash and before you knew it, you were on the court facing the opposing team. 

The first match was won by the opposing team by five points. The second match stretched on and on until it was won by your team narrowly by two points. The team was going to have to shape up in the third match if you guys wanted a chance at winning, the opposing team was good. Before the third match started, Coach Williams called for a time out so you guys could talk about strategy. Before Haley could go back onto the court, you pulled her aside.

“Hales, we need to do what we practiced. The other team won’t be expecting it at all, I’ve been setting you up this entire game. They’re never going to expect you setting me up for a spike.”

“When are we going to do it though? We need a better plan.”

“I’m sure the opportunity will come and both of us will recognize it. We just can’t do it too early in the game though, that’ll ruin their surprise.”

“(Y/n), I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“When do I not Hales? We gotta get gold this year.”

The third round went by with both teams constantly swapping places until you both were tied fifteen to fifteen. You saw the ball flying towards Haley, giving her the perfect opportunity to set you up for a spike.  “HALEY NOW!” 

You watched as her face hardened in determination as she pretended like she was going to spike it by jumping high in the air and stretching her arms back, making the opposing front row players all gather in front of her. Much to their surprise, she launched it towards you as you leaped up and went for the kill. The stinging of the ball hit by your wrist and the smack sound the ball made when it slammed onto the open gym floor was something you’d never forget as the crowd around you went wild over the unexpected play. You could hear the high pitched screaming of Tommy and Tubbo over everybody else. Glancing at them over your shoulder, you saw them jumping up and down on the gym floor and looking at you with awe filled eyes and gaping mouths. The rest of your family looked at you with similar expressions, their cheers echoing in your mind. Winking at them, you turned back to your team and went straight to Haley. Clapping a hand on her shoulder, you pulled her into a quick hug, yelling over the raving of the crowd. “HALEY WE NAILED THAT!” 

“HOLY SHIT I DID NOT THINK THAT WAS ACTUALLY GONNA WORK!”

“You have such little faith in your setter! You wound me Hales.”

“Well, I would have more faith in you if you weren’t chaotic on the court, sweetheart.”

You felt yourself surge in happiness at the nickname, but you couldn’t afford to focus too much on it. Your team only needed one more point to win best in the state and go to nationals. It would be the first time in your team’s history if you reached national level, and you’d be damned if you were the one to screw it up for them. 

The last rotation went on for a while, each team fighting tooth and nail for the state championship title with clashing determination. You tried your best to block every hit and try to set Haley up for a spike, and you were successful for the most part, only missing a few blocks. You saw the setter adjacent to you set the spiker up for a spike and jumped up in time to try to block it, your arms stretched upwards and your palms out. Only, the ball didn’t hit your hands. It collided painfully with your nose, ricocheted off your face with a thwack and sailed over to the other side of the court. Your head whipped back as your body followed suit and flew backwards onto the floor. Without giving you any time to react, your head bounced back and cracked against the polished hardwood floor of the gym. Everything went black. 

“...(y……”

“..(y/n)......”

“(Y/n).”

You faintly heard someone calling someone’s name over the continuous ringing noise. Was it your name? It felt right, so it had to be your name. You peeled your eyes open to see a blurry figure hovering over you. It was swirled with tans, browns, and backs. After a while of the figure repeating your name, it slowly became more recognizable, albeit appearing twice in your vision. It took you a while to figure out who this was before your muddled brain recognized Haley.

“Hales! There’s two o’ya. Twice as beautiful babe…” You slurred out as you attempted to smile at her.

“Oh thank god, PLEASE WE NEED A DOCTOR SHE HIT HER HEAD!” Her usually angelic voice gritted against your brain like sandpaper making you cringe as pain exploded in your head.

“God babe you’re so loud, why’s so bright? I-wha's goin on?” You blearily tried to move your head to look around only to be stopped by a pair of large hands on each side of your head gently holding it in place. You moved your laggy eyes around to look at the figure. He was a blonde man with blue eyes and a hint of stubble on his chin. His eyebrows were knitted together and he looked… he looked… your brain worked to figure out why he looked how he looked. Who was he?

“Please don’t move hun.” His muffled voice was baritone. You squinted at him trying to figure out who this man was.

“Who th f-fuck… why?”

“I’m your dad hun. Do-do you not recognize me?” You made a noise in the back of your throat as your stuffy brain finally put a name to the face.

“Dad- wha’s goin on? I’on feel so good…”

“Shh, I know, I know. Just stop moving and talking. Everything’s fine. I’m here. You’re okay.”

“Mmk… Dad, where are we? I’ont know- you’re so quiet.”

“Stop moving so much. You’re on the floor in a gym. You just won your team the state championship. Now stop talking please.”

Huh. So that’s why everybody seemed to appear from above you. You strained your eyes to look around you, but you could only see your dad’s face hovering above you. “Shit I- who’s aroun’ me? Where’s Hales?”

“I’m right here sweetheart. I got the doctor, Mr. Minecraft.”

Your dad’s face moved away from your vision so fast that it made your head spin and your stomach twist. Another face appeared above you that you once again didn’t recognize.

“I’m Doctor Martin, can you tell me your first and last name?”

“Uh, (y/n) Minecraft?”

“Good, what month are we in right now?”

“Nov-November?”

“Close, it’s late October. Can you tell me who this,” he pointed to your dad, “is?”

“S’my dad Phillip.”

“That’s your dad Philza.”

The questioning stopped as he suddenly shined a blinding light into your sensitive eyes. You hissed as you tried to move your head away from the offending light only to be held in place by your dad’s hands. Your head spun as you moved too quickly and a wave of nausea hit you, making you groan and move your arm to cover your eyes. Your hand was stopped by something warm and soft wrapping around it and holding it tightly. Everything was so overwhelmingly and painfully bright and loud. You wanted to make it stop. 

“Mr. Minecraft, your daughter appears to have a concussion. I don’t have the tools on hand to determine the severity of it, but it’s worrying that her pupils are asymmetrical, she’s delirious, and has slight memory loss. I understand you live about an hour away from here, and it’s alright for you to take her to a hospital closer to your house. Make sure you keep her alert.”

Your delirious mind only registered about half of what came out of the doctor’s mouth. You mumbled gibberish as you once again opened your eyes to look around. You were only briefly able to crane your neck to the left. Several figures large and small were standing behind your dad. Your family, your mind supplemented. Slowly, your mind was starting to recognize your surroundings even if there was currently double of everything and everything was blurry.

“I’m going to help you stand up. Do ya think you can do that?”

“Yeah Dad.” You lifted your upper body off from the ground with a gentle hand on your back helping you sit up. Fighting the wave of nausea that slapped you in the face, you reached up to rub at your eyes. A hand once again stopped you. You peeked your eyelids open and lightly glared at whomever stopped you. “Hales you’re lucky you’re so cute I woulda slapped you. I like holdin but you’re bein annoying. Stop.” You attempted to make your voice sound firm, but the words that came out of your mouth were slightly slurred.

She was silent as she helped her dad haul you to your feet. Once on your feet, you saw the room spin and felt yourself start to sway slightly. An arm wrapped itself around your shoulders and pulled you close to them so that your weight was supported. They were a little taller than you were making it easy to lean on them. 

“...Can you walk?” A deep, monotone voice rumbled the chest of the person you were leaning against. 

“Mhm. ‘M not weak.” Though your limbs felt like they were made of molasses, you placed one foot in front of the other slowly. The person moved alongside you, “you’re doing so good, keep going.” That sparked familiarity in you as you stopped in your tracks and tried to look up at the person you were leaning against making the person tighten their arm around your shoulders when you almost fell over.

“Tech?”

“Yeah, it’s Technoblade. Just focus on walking. You’re almost out of the gym.”

When you realized that you were out of the gym, you sighed in relief. It was so much quieter and darker. Though it was still relatively bright, it was better than the gym. 

“S’better.”

“When we get her to the car we can give her some sunglasses or something if it’s still too bright for her.”

“Wilbs-”

“Focus on walking.”

You huffed in irritation, “don’ tell me what to do bitch.”

You felt Techno’s body jolt slightly as he chuckled, making your head throb at the sudden movement. “Just walk.”

When you walked outside, you shivered as you felt the cool air nip at your exposed skin. Right, you were in your volleyball uniform. “I’ll go pull the car around, you guys stay with her.” 

You saw a tall brunet start to walk away from you. Uncle Splat? Uncle Schmat? Whatever his name was, you were sure he was your uncle. You tried to snuggle closer to Techno, craving warmth but never being satisfied. Where was your uncle? 

After a while, you saw a car moving towards you and blinding light pointed right at you making you cringe away and groan. Techno started to slowly walk towards the car. “C’mon (y/n), you’re almost there. When you’re in the car you can relax.”

“Tommy, Tubbo, and Techno, you’re in the back row. Schlatt can drive and Wil, you’re taking the passenger seat. I’ll stay with her in the middle row so she can have some room to lay down.” Tommy and Tubbo were with you? Why weren’t they talking, they usually were very vocal.

“Tom, Tubbs didja like the game?”

They didn’t say anything as they climbed into the car. Did they not hear you? 

“They’re just… tired (y/n).” Your dad’s voice reassured you as he took Techno’s place holding you up. 

“I wanna nap. ‘M so tired.”

“You can’t sleep yet. We gotta get you to a doctor first.”

“Mm. Makes sense.”

“Let’s get you in the car hun.”

As he helped you climb into the car, you felt an overwhelming wave of nausea wash over you making you lose your balance and almost faceplant into the cloth seats. You felt yourself being gently, yet urgently taken out of the car and led to grass as you felt your esophagus shorten. Something burning made its way up your throat and spewed into the grass. You felt someone rubbing your back as you puked up your dinner. 

When you were done, you reached up with a shaking hand to wipe your mouth. “You feelin better? Think you can get back into the car or do you need to sit down for a bit?”

“Car.”

After some difficulty, you were successfully in the middle row of the car laying down with your head on Philza’s lap. Soon enough, your shoes were taken off and a blanket was draped over you. 

“(Y/n), what do you remember?”

You scrunched up your face as you squinted at Philza’s face. “I remember playing volleyball with Hales. She’s so pretty, she’s straight though. I remember the other team hitting the ball, me jumping, then nothin. Wha’ happened?”

You watched as Philza winced, “well, you got everything right so far. You got hit in the face with the ball so you fell and hit your head on the floor. You were passed out for a minute before you woke up. It was a pretty nasty fall, we’re going to the hospital now. How’re ya feelin?”

“Head hurts, ‘m seein two of everything, an I can’t think.”

“Do you know what a concussion is?” You nodded in his lap slightly, “you probably have one.”

After a while of talking, you were slowly starting to come to your senses and your speech was clearing up, but your head was still too stuffy to think about what you were saying before you said it. You didn’t have a filter.

“Do you wanna tell us about your week so far? Do you remember most of it?”

“Mhm, it was shit. On Monday I had a panic attack and Adrian, Sammy, and Annie were being bitches to me all day. They fucked up my back. On Tuesday, they got mad at me for ditching them and they had me do their homework, had another panic attack, and Haley told me that someone took pictures of our boobs ‘n stuff and they were gonna leak it to the school if Haley didn’t stop hanging out with me. Haley and I almost kissed, but she’s straight. Pulled an all nighter and Wednesday I accidentally came out to Tech and Wil and had another panic attack. Annie, Adrian, and Sammy took more pictures of me through my window, Annie outed me to the entire school and slapped me. Another panic attack, skipped the last two classes and felt like shit the entire practice. Today Adrian and Sammy told me to kill myself and I had another panic attack. ’S about it.”

As you were going through your week, the hand that was previously gently stroking your hair had frozen as the car was enveloped in a tense silence. Luckily, Tommy and Tubbo were passed out in the back seat so they didn’t hear how bad your week was. Everyone awake knew that you had a few bad days this week, but they didn’t know the full extent of it. You watched as Philza’s expression had turned downright murderous, but you didn’t really care. You were busy talking about your week.

For the rest of the car ride, Philza asked you simple questions like what your favorite color was, your favorite animal, basically your favorite everything. Eventually, the car pulled into the hospital parking lot and Philza helped you get out of the car. “Schlatt, can you take the boys home so they can get some rest? I’ll stay with her.” 

“Yeah, I’m on it. Don’t cause too much trouble (y/n), we all know you can raise hell.” He watched you for a reaction, but when you didn’t react, he coughed. “Well, I’ll see ya later kid. Good luck.”

The car drove off leaving you and Philza at the front of the emergency room building. “It’s gonna be a long night (y/n).”

“I gotta finish Annie’s essay and Sammy’s presentation though.”

“No you don’t, I’ll email your teachers.”

You two checked in with the front desk before moving to sit on the uncomfortable chairs. It was going to be a long night. You were so tired.

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[buckys-little-hoe]

The Bet | Jake Peralta x Reader

Pairing: Jake Peralta x Reader

Summary: You and Jake make a bet. Who can last longer without Sex.

Warnings: Implied Smut, my non existent knowledge of police work, sexyness lmao, mentions of drugs and murder

A/N: There is not much to say. I just wanted to try writing about someone else. The next thing that i have planned is something for our fav fast guy Pietro (who owns my heart btw)

---

It all started about a year ago. You were new to the station and immediately attracted everyone's attention. Not only were you beautiful, no, you were a real badass too. You solve one case after the other without any complications. And while you sometimes had to be physical, you looked hot too. Amy had asked several times if you could teach her how to look good while you had blood on your uniform, but you just shrugged your shoulders. In all honesty, you just did it without even thinking about it. Holt was incredibly proud to have hired someone so talented. You lived for your work, but your private life suffered as a result. 

You spent your nights researching and in the morning you just came out of bed. And so after about a week you were at your desk. Rosa came in with her blank expression and sat across from you. You gave her a smile, which she didn't return, but she gave you coffee. You accepted it gratefully and immediately felt better. "Hey, Y/N! Could you bring me the new file? It's on Peralta's desk.” Terry asked you as you sat closer and you nodded. With your coffee cup in hand, you got up and went to his desk. What a mess. Sighing, you rummaged around with one hand. Was that a crushed granola bar? Disgusted, you took your hand out of the mess and took a sip. At about the same time, Jake strutted in and was immediately involved in a conversation with Charles. So he ran backwards towards his desk. You didn't even notice your surrounding anymore, you were too focused on finding the files without your hand touching anything rotten. And so Jake ran against you. Startled, you tightened your grip on the cup, which caused the lid to fly up from the pressure and some coffee spilled onto your blouse. You whimpered softly because the shit was really hot. "Fuck ..." Carefully you lifted the blouse a little so that it doesn't stick to your skin. Jake immediately walked away from you and spoke to you. "Shit, I'm so sorry! Are you okay, Y/L/N?” He asked with a guilty conscience and you turned around. With gritted teeth you nodded and walked slowly towards the washroom. "If you want, I'll help you take it off!" He called after you and you had to pull yourself together not to beat him up. This was his first attempt at flirting, and it wasn't his last. About a month later, you were sitting across from Rosa again, but your eyes were on Holt. He was talking to Jake again, but you couldn't see what kind of conversation. Was it praise? Or maybe scolding? You were bored with no case to resolve. Besides, you were kind on a sex withdrawal. After all, you were new to this neighborhood and didn't really know anyone. You hadn't even gotten to masturbation in the past few weeks. Annoyed, you let your head drop on your crossed arms. It could be that the withdrawal made you a little pissed. "What's going on?" Rosa asked and Amy perked up her ears. And since Charles didn't really have anything to do either and was a self-proclaimed consolation giver, he came straight to it. A kind of meeting came into being. "I'm just not in a good mood," you said and looked up. "Why?" Amy asked immediately. Even Gina was now at your table. "Is it because we don't have any cases right now?" Charles asked, but you denied it. A bit of free time was actually good, but you were in the wrong place to satisfy yourself. "Stress with the partner?", Amy guessed. "I don't have anyone.", You grumbled. "Aha!" Gina shouted. "You haven't had sex in a long time!" With red cheeks you buried your head in your arms again. Satisfied, she nodded as she hit the nail right on the head. Terry came along now. "I know some nice men," he said and you rolled your eyes. Great, now everyone knew. "I know some great girls too," Rosa suggested. “That's enough, guys. If I want then I'll surely find someone. ", You grumbled and looked up again. By now everyone had a sympathetic smile on their faces. You groaned annoyed. Gina pushed Charles aside and showed you a couple of Instagram accounts with some guys. Somehow you wanted meaningless sex, but not with someone strange. Jake stepped out of the office again and noticed everyone standing at your table. "What's going on here?" He asked aloud and walked to your desk. "We're looking for someone to lay Y/N.", Gina answered without looking up. Embarrassed you avoided his gaze. Did everyone finally know? "I'll volunteer.", He grinned and everyone started laughing, including you. "Why are you laughing?" Confused, he looked at his colleagues. Charles put a hand on his shoulder. "Not bad for Jake, but Y/N is way out of your league.", He replied with pity in his voice. Jake looked at him indignantly. “Thanks, Boyle! It doesn't matter now. Y/N, take your bag or whatever, we have a little drug case in a gelateria.”Peralta said, avoiding Boyle's hurt expression. A gelateria and he didn't take his best friend with him? Excitedly, you grabbed your service weapon and your jacket. “I’m ready!"

-

"I think the owner is the dealer," you said quietly to yourself. Jake nodded in agreement. "Now we just have to catch him red-handed," he added. He turned to you and put both of his hands on your shoulders. You looked at him with a raised brow. "Flirt with him," he ordered and shook you. "What! Why? ”You hissed softly and glanced over at the guy. "You distract him and I'll go back through the door," he explained and you sighed. "Okay." So you stepped inside slowly, purposefully towards the counter and looked at the many different types of ice cream. "Hi!", You smiled shyly, and he took the bite immediately. "Hello beautiful woman, what can I do for you?" He asked charmingly with his heavy Italian accent. Your heart went soft with all the ice cream. "What can you recommend?" "It depends on what you like," grinned the man. "I like it extraordinary, maybe something Mediterranean.", You said and suppressed your gag reflex. "I should have- Hey!", He interrupted himself and looked past you. Inwardly, you just gave yourself a facepalm. He couldn’t be serious. "What are you doing back there, huh?" Slowly you turned around and saw Peralta with a mustache stuck on. You sighed softly to yourself and just mimicked your fate. "Well, searching the drugs.", He replied as if it were the most normal thing in the world. You took your badge in your hand ready to turn around when the swanky Italian slapped it out of your hand, jumped over the counter and hit you on the floor. With a thud, you landed on the floor. Jake was about to walk towards you, but you waved in the direction of the door. He bit his lip and hesitantly ran after him. Slowly you got up and cracked your fingers. Why did he have to bite his lip so badly? Now you ran after them too, it didn't take long for the Italian to land in a dead end. Jake seemed to have everything under control, so you stood to one side to take a deep breath. But when he handcuffed him, you couldn't prevent your dirty thoughts. How would the handcuffs feel on your hands? You rubbed your thighs together to release some friction. You realized one thing. Jake was the one who had to fuck you. You just had to make him do it.

-

A few days later, you were leaning your arms on Gina's desk, your bum up. In the reflection you could see his eyes on it while he was talking to Amy. Even your blouse had one button open today. At least time was running and you were getting more and more impatient. Gina told you something about a dance group and normally you'd like to listen, but this time it was more difficult. When you turned around he was no longer there. Instead, Amy gave you a friendly wave. You returned her gestures with a smile. Suddenly you smelled his perfume in your nose. He was right next to you. Your breathing became a little more irregular, as did your heartbeats. Oh God. His sleeves were rolled up and he was smiling slyly. “We're going to Shaw’s after work today. Would you like to come with us?” He wanted to know and you didn't miss how his eyes briefly wandered to your breasts. “Oh yes, Y/N! You absolutely have to go.", Gina agreed, so you nodded."I'll be happy to come, Peralta. "

-

That evening, you sat in a corner with your drink in hand. If he stopped giving you any more signs, you would look for someone else, which you would find a shame. Time passed and slowly the troop broke up. Until there was only Jake left, who sat down next to you with a new drink. "Here." Smiling, he pushed the glass towards you. You took the straw slowly in your mouth and didn't break eye contact. If he didn't get that hint now, you'd probably freak out. Instead, the detective put his hand dangerously close to your clothed core. You gasped loudly. "Could it be that you want me to fuck you?" He asks quietly and your heart almost popped out of your chest. You opened your mouth, but not a word came out. So you just nodded. “Unfortunately that's not enough, babygirl. Use words. ”Jake said. Slowly he tilted your head to one side and kissed the back of your neck. "Please, fuck me," you breathed. He removed his head and grinned. "I will, but just because you asked so nicely." Shortly afterwards you landed in his apartment. And at three in the morning you woke up and left like nothing happened. And it went on and on. Some days he would hold you against the shelves in the evidence room. On others it was in his car. And you liked the dominance he exuded. You liked how he took what he wanted from you, while still not forgetting your satisfaction. But after the sex you were always the first to go.

-

After a year it was still just sex and nothing more. So you were all the more surprised when he suddenly showed up on a date. You apologized to the nice man and pulled Jake on his ear out. He followed you gasping. When you finally stood in the parking lot, you crossed your arms. “What's this crap, Peralta?” You wanted to know, annoyed. "I ... I just wanted to make sure the guy was decent," he lied, which you could clearly see. “Bullshit. You are jealous. ", You replied." No, I am not. " "Yes you are." "No." "Yes." "No." "Yes." “Okay! Our sex is fantastic okay? But what am I talking about here anyway? You wouldn't even go a day without it.” The cop defended himself. "Oh yes? I think you're confused, darling. You can't last a day without it.” You replied angrily. “Then let's bet. Whoever gives up first loses,” he suggested. “What do I get if I win?” You asked suspiciously. Betting with Jake always goes wrong and ends in chaos, you've been aware of that since Halloween. "I'll give you the murder case." "Okay, and you?" "I want one waking up." Confused you pulled your eyebrows together. "What do you mean?", You said. "I want you to wake up with me once. No escaping," he explained with ruddy cheeks. You examined him briefly and finally nodded. "Deal."

-

It started very easily. Here and there he brushed your hips, of course quite unobtrusively. Sometimes your file fell down, so you had to bend down very low. But he didn't jump on it. So you had to get more extreme. Bananas were eaten and he was flirting with Amy. And somehow your heart got heavier. So you had to act differently. Shortly before the end of the day you accidentally spilled your water on your white blouse. While your red lace bra became visible, you apologized with red cheeks and promised to come back. You didn't miss Jake's eyes, but you had other plans. From your closet you pulled a top with a deep neckline and tight jeans that made your bum stick out. You pulled the hair elastic out of your hair and freed your voluminous mane. You even forced yourself into high shoes and for once you leave your underwear off. "Show Time.", You mumbled and drove to the bar. And as soon as you stepped in, everyone's eyes were on you. Rosa whistled loudly and grinned honestly. Flattered you gave her a hug. "I thought I could dress up a bit." You explained your outfit to her. "Good girl," she winked. She’s the only one who knew about you and Jake since she caught you in the evidence room. With a swing of your hips that could only drive someone crazy, you strutted towards the bar. The bartender leaned down to you. "What will it be, my lady?" He grinned charmingly and you laughed out loud. still focused on getting what you wanted. “A shot would be a start,” you answered. He pushed one over to you pretty quickly. "It’s on the house.", He smiled. You nodded as a thank you and drank it. The warmth spread through your body and you let your shoulders circle. And so you flirted with the bartender for an estimated two minutes, when a well-known body was already pressing against yours. And with it his erection too. Your grin grew bigger. "What do you think you're doing?" He whispered in your ear. Goosebumps graced your body. He let his hand slide gently under your top. "You don't even wear a bra," Jake said, breathing irregularly. Inconspicuously, you rubbed your bum against his reaction. "That's enough," he whispered through clenched teeth. And so he pulled your wrist towards his apartment. And for the first time you didn't care what your colleagues thought about you.

-

Tired you opened your eyes and looked directly at the alarm clock next to you. Three o'clock at night. But this time you didn't get up. Instead, you turned around, put your arms around his body, and closed your eyes again. And Jake's smile grew bigger.

[voidcat]

– “Friend” is a four letter word

Characters: Kuroo Tetsurou / gn! reader

requested by anon, prompt 1

wc & genre: 2k - mostly fluff, a bit angst by the end

a/n: the title is literally a 1 trait danger song title, pls dont come @ me, i just thought it was nice to use bc “love” is a four letter word so yea,, also pls dont ship ppl irl or ask them too many Qs abt their relationshio even if they look so good together n should date bc it is rlly rlly annoying (speaking from experience)

The first you meet Kuroo Tetsurou, you don’t even notice.

It’s not surprising, he’s quiet and doesn’t gather attention. You don’t go looking around and keeping an eye on everyone either. The most is you’re just two fish in the vast sea, unaware of one another, too tangled with your own lives.

Then comes a moment, nothing special, almost out-of-a-movie type. It begins with a joke, if it can be considered that. It’s bad, awfully bad, a horrible pun in the middle of chemistry and from the volume of the voice you can tell they hoped no one would hear. But you do, so does few who sit next to him and your giggles dance around in the air. You don’t notice it’s him at that time but you grow to recognize his jokes in the following time.

Kuroo Tetsurou feels like a mystery when your eyes lie on him one afternoon. He’s not bad looking, a part of a sports team, a key member even. And yet compared to all the other jocks he doesn’t bask in the attention, in fact, he doesn’t receive any. Others like to brag and talk smug, as if they’ve discovered life in an inhabitable area and then there’s him. You can’t even tell he plays in the team if it’s not for the uniform and tracksuit he’s in after classes.

You think to yourself, if only jocks were like him. Still, you take no step and neither does he.

Maybe neither of you need to because the universe is more than happy to provide the nudge you both seem to need.

Funny enough it’s a science project that starts it.

He’s too quiet to your liking, speaking only when absolutely necessary. As you desperately try to kill the silence that hangs in the air, he avoids it as hard, making so little sound.

An idea comes as fast the lights are on and you speak before you even get to think ‘what’s there to lose?’

“No science puns for me? What happened, cat got your tongue?”

To say he is baffled, is the understatement of the year. You’re not sure if he’s surprised you’ve heard him joke or want to hear more of them; but either way, he looks cute, with his guard down, at a loss of reaction, mouth slightly open and – is that a hint of blush on his cheeks?

It only goes upwards from then on.

Awkward conversations is how it begins, seeking each other out in close environments is where you’re leaded.

You find yourself enjoying the way he talks, listening to what he has to say, the way his face brightens up when he starts talking out of pure interest. You only hope he feels the same way about you, and from the way he often discreetly directs you to take the lead and pick the topic, he does.

In a short span of time, you two are attached from the hip. Inseparable, always doing something, going somewhere, discussing a thing or just laughing. Shy smiles replaced with a Cheshire-like grin, almost ironic considering your school’s name, that’s only a new expression on him that you like to see.

It feels freeing, natural; as the sea sighs, the rain drops hit the surface and the sun shines. Two peas in a pod, thick as thieves, inseparable…

This goes beyond high school and throughout university too, which you’re grateful for. Because times come when you wonder where would you be without him, what would you do without his support; so you thank the stars once again, for having him in your life even today.

Then comes the times you wish you didn’t spend as much time together because the people around are being insufferable. All you want is to hang out with your best friend but half that time is stolen away by the never changing questions. Those who keep asking if you’re together, as an item. As if it doesn’t rub the salt in the already existing wound, it sure makes things unbearable. Getting approached by people you never saw before is no fun, neither is dealing with those who have the audacity to think you owe an explanation about your love life.

“But why? The two of you spend all the time together! Sure you must be in love!”

As if platonic relationships do not exist, surely do you have to love someone in that way to care for them? Loving Tetsu is a case that matters to only you, you’re happy knowing he cares for you, maybe not in the way as you but at the end of the day, the bond is there in plain sight, on your sleeve.

“But you guys would look so good together! Have you given dating a try? I’m sure it’d work out! I understand if you want to keep things a secret but come on, you must have had something going on-“

Stop, stop, stop…

It gets exhausting after a while, showing its signs on you, the irritation high and your nerves are at the edge, he notices it not long after.

After a little persuasion, you spill it all out, ranting about the pent up anger you had bottled all week –month maybe. You don’t notice the way his shoulders slump as you talk and go on about the stupidity of the people. It misses your attention how he talks less than usual that day, even after the mini ranting session. You do, however, notice how he starts to act strange around you. More preserved, and not as chatty as much. Holding his touch and avoiding contact, not going out of his way to approach you any longer. This drives you crazy, hurts a part of you and you worry –what if he has grown bored of me? Did I do something to hurt his feelings? Does he like someone and avoids me to get in their eye? What has happened, what did I do wrong? And goes and goes and goes the worries and the dynamics shift in your friendship.

So with the change of dynamics, you try desperately to hold onto what you once shared. Soon enough it’s you who invites the other to outings.

When your coffee offers are denied, you bring up walks, after that study dates, as he tries to ignore one attempt of alone time, you come up with another and one evening you find yourself asking to go to a party.

Campus parties with him, are interesting, to say the least. It stings when you’re separated, a punch to the stomach when he’s awfully close to those who were flirting with him, a new kind of torture when he keeps his talks with you short at the scene but at the end of the day you always leave, together, and you settle with this too, as you settled with all his love you could get years ago.

Some nights with booze apparent in the air, you don’t bug him with questions but each party gets worse somehow, only makes the distance between the two harder.

One night you snap and let it all out, unlike that afternoon it wasn’t an asked question but an aftereffect of him pushing your nerves and once you begin, you don’t stop, letting the storm out and he just looks at you.

You stop and his gaze stays, face devoid of any emotion and you worry, all the words you’ve said dawning on you and with one last attempt you whisper “Aren’t we friends?”

Voice calm and stern, colder than that icy cocktail you had: We’re not just friends and you fucking know it.

Holding back the tears by the corner of your eyes, you blink once and turn your back, steps set on your way. You can’t recall the last time you’ve walked home alone, without him.

Some time passes, days begin to blur and you try not to dwell on things too much or think about him that much. But the brain is a traitor as much as your heart and you find yourself thinking about him too much to your liking. Not sure whether you want him to find you, you keep an eye out; maybe plan to get out of the eye sight when you spot that messy hair but there’s not much need as he’s never around.

At the same time you’re unaware that this is his way of giving you a break, providing the alone time you needed away from him; as Tetsu tries his best to gather his thoughts and shape the sentences to show how he truly feels, what he actually thinks, he keeps an eye out for you. Even the smallest of smiles on you making his racing heart worse but what lands the final blow is how rarely you smile these days. Knowing he is the reason behind, knowing he causes the weight on your shoulders and the ache in his heart, he wishes more than anything to change this as soon as he can but he is at a loss of words and actions and he hates himself for that.

When the two of you are brought together once again, as fate pushes you from behind like it did years ago, you’re not sure who looks up first. But it is Tetsu who speaks first, not giving you a chance to say anything back, call him names or yell him insults. And as he talks, eyes focused on you, locked into yours, his gaze warmer than ever, his voice nothing like that disastrous night.

“I know I fucked up and ruined the best thing I’ve ever had in my life. I have nothing to blame but myself, I know, but please. Even though it’s selfish of me to ask this… Would you give me a second chance?”

Letting go of the breath you were holding, you prepare to answer him. He doesn’t let you.

“One last chance… To start over? Because that one sentence, as cold as it sounded, had a truth to it. And I- I just can’t do it anymore. I can’t go on and pretend like I don’t have- like I don’t have all these feelings in me. I can’t nod along to your rants about how much you hate the people perceiving the two of us as more than friends. ‘Cause you got to admit. They have a point. Maybe at the beginning, yes... But we’ve not been friends, not for a long while. And you know it too whether you want to say it or not.”

As if spoken without breathing once, considering this is Tetsu that was definitely the case ,he gulps and takes a step forward.

“Will you give me a last chance and let me show you how much I can love you? Free of this ‘just friends’ title. Would you let me take you on dates and make you laugh wide and loud? Not just as your friend but as your boyfriend? As your partner in crime and in life, as Persephone is the pastel queen of hell in the realm of Hades, the sun to my Icarus, the Sodium to my Chlorine?..”

His speech was getting to you until the last sentence, your softened body goes stone cold, hands hanging in the air, Tetsu’s last pleads of “would you let me?”s falling deaf to your ears.

The gears turn quick and he realizes exactly which one of his words could leave an effect like this, be so ridiculous and bring you to a halt.

One of those smug smiles you saw on his face often, he says “What happened, cat got your tongue?”

And your mouse hanging open, all you can do is smack him on the arm, as hard as you can, for that awful salt simile and for using your words on you.

Before you know it, both of you are laughing and the air feels warm once again.

tags: @celosiiaa​ @boosyboo9206

[ravenbrenna09]

Jij Verliest - Chapter Two: Clips 6-8

master list [ previous ]

Woensdag 18:49

The address that Zoë had texted them (that he fired off to the Broerrrs) was not far from the flatshare. At best, it was a three-minute walk. It was a hole-in-the-wall bar, like the one that Senne recommended to Jens for their “guys’ night.” Through the large glass windows along the wall, he could see all five of the girls near the back of the bar. They were sitting at two tables shoved together with a mess of chairs scattered around them.

Robbe knew that he would be the first of his friends to arrive at the bar. Moyo had rushed home to check on his mom, Aaron was swinging his mom’s house to check on his younger brother, and Jens was swinging by the coffee shop to pick up Lucas, who had been scheduled to work until 18:30. Robbe had only stopped by the flatshare to drop off his backpack, making sure to grab his wallet from the depths of his backpack, before he headed out. 

When the bell signaled his appearance, every person in the bar naturally turned to see who it was. The bartender fired off a greeting and asked about his drink. Robbe was barely able to hold up his pinky before Jana came crashing into him. She threw her arms around him as Robbe tried his best not to lose his balance. She laughed before pulling back and grinning. “I’ve missed you so much!” 

“I’ve missed you too,” Robbe said. 

And he genuinely meant it. 

While he had been the one to fuck up by spilling the secret that she confided in Robbe, he had missed their friendship. When they met in groups, it was a little easier. But Robbe had been genuinely upset about hearing that she was moving to America. At her going-away party, Robbe had hugged her tightly and told her he wanted to make sure they kept in touch. He knew that he would never truly make up for his actions, but he wanted to try and be a better friend for her. 

“Here you go,” the bartender said, sliding a beer across the counter. Once Robbe paid, Jana practically dragged him over to the table, her ponytail bouncing behind her. Zoë had patted the chair to her left and Robbe sat down. Jana took her seat between Zoë and Yasmina. Though the two had seen each other earlier that day, Yasmina waved at him and Robbe grinned in response. 

Within seconds, Jana was slipping back into a conversation with Luca about her boyfriend. Robbe felt bad for accidentally interrupting their conversation with his arrival. Glancing around the table, Zoë leaned over to furtively get his attention. Though Yasmina seemed to notice, the other girls didn’t. Confused, Robbe turned in her direction and Zoë whispered, “There is a chance of Senne dropping by later. Do your best to act surprised, okay?”

“You haven’t told the girls about you and Senne?” Robbe whispered. 

“You only know because Milan caught him making coffee one morning and Milan is physically incapable of keeping his mouth shut,” Zoë reminded him. Robbe nodded. That afternoon, Milan had practically knocked down his bedroom door in his eagerness to tell Robbe the scoop, with the embarrassed Zoë on his heels. Robbe had been worried that he would have to help Zoë dispose of a body that day. “I’m not sure, but Amber might know because her brother is Senne’s best friend. So, please?”

Robbe nodded. Zoë sent him a thankful glance as Robbe took a sip of his beer. 

“Hey, Robbe,” Luca spoke up. She was seated beside Amber, who kept glancing toward the door with an increased frequency. “Where are the other Broerrrs? Are they running late?” 

Despite not being the target of the conversation, Amber turned to Luca. “Aaron had to run to check on his brother because his mom is working late at the hospital.” She paused, turning to Robbe. “I’m not sure about Moyo and Jens though.” 

“Moyo had to run home to check on his mom so he’s going to be late,” Robbe said. He glanced down at his watch to check the time. “And I’m not sure about Jens because they should’ve left the coffee shop twenty minutes ago and it’s only five minutes away from here.”

Zoë turned to him, a thoughtful look on her face. “Maybe they stopped by the flatshare? I don’t imagine that he would want to come in his uniform.” 

“Or they probably stopped to make out,” Luca said, smirking. Beside her, Amber snickered and Yasmina rolled her eyes. Zoë bit down on her lip, trying to hide her own knowing smile, and Robbe nodded. It surely sounded like Jens and Lucas. They had a tendency to get all wrapped up in each other and not look at the time. “You might want to send them a text to make sure that they’re still coming,” Luca said, snickering.

Beside her, Amber shifted out of her seat as the bell chimed when the door opened. Robbe glanced over his shoulder to see Aaron moving to meet Amber in a kiss as Moyo headed to the bar to order two beers. Jana half-turned to hug Moyo and Aaron when they approached. “You know what, I think I will,” Robbe muttered. He pulled out his phone and sent out a text to Jens. It took several moments before he got a response.

Jens: On our way.

Looking over his shoulder, Zoë chuckled. “That’s exactly what they were doing.” Moyo took a seat next to Robbe, clapping him on the shoulder. Aaron sat on the other side of the table between Amber and Yasmina, who smiled at him for a greeting. 

“Who stopped to make out?” Jana questioned, curious. The girl was half-turned to Zoë in her chair. Her blue eyes darted between Robbe and Zoë, who simply glanced at each other. Glancing around the table before returning their gaze to them, Jana asked, “Does Jens have a girlfriend?” 

Robbe smirked. “Not quite.” 

Jana blinked in confusion. Twice. Three times. Then, she grinned, looking like she had just stumbled upon gossip gold. “Wait, Jens has a new boyfriend?” The looks on their faces must’ve been answer enough because her grin got bigger. “That’s amazing! Since when?”

“About two months now,” Moyo said. He glanced at Robbe, who nodded his head to let him know that he was correct.

“Who is it?” she asked. She turned to Zoë, who glanced up. “Do I know who it is?”

“It’s Milan’s cousin,” Amber said.

“Milan’s cousin?” Jana questioned. She raised an eyebrow, reaching for her phone. “I didn’t even know he had a cousin, but it’s been so long since I’ve been on Instagram. Studying for finals while packing was absolute hell.”

The bell rang, signaling the door opening. Jens stepped into the bar with Lucas right behind him. Both of them had swollen lips and looked like they had just run from the flatshare. Lucas had switched his coffee shop uniform for a pair of shorts and a button-up floral shirt. Jens was still wearing his outfit from earlier but his shirt was wrinkled. Seeing the group staring at them, Jens grinned at them as Lucas ordered two beers. “We made it. Sorry. This one couldn’t keep his hands off me.”

Though Jens wasn’t looking at him, Lucas sent him a look that clearly stated, ‘Yeah, right.’

Jana hopped off her seat and moved to hug Jens. Even though they were almost the same height, Jana stood on her toes to fully hug him. Her ex-boyfriend returned the hug with one arm. Once they separated, he grinned at her. “How’s America been treating you?”

“Good,” Jana said. 

Lucas stepped forward with two glasses of beer in his hands. Without the use of his hands, Lucas gave him a gentle kick and Jens automatically turned toward him. He took the glass of beer without pausing and turned back to Jana, who was grinning at the two of them. “Jana, this is Lucas, my boyfriend. Lucas, this is Jana, my—”

“Ex-girlfriend,” Lucas filled in, grinning. He held out his hand to Jana, who took it gingerly and shook his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, finally. I’ve heard a lot about you from Zoë and Jens. Mostly from Zoë because we live together and your visit is all she’s been talking about for weeks.” 

“And you’re the boyfriend,” Jana mirrored. “It’s so nice to meet you as well. I’m a little caught off-guard because Jens and I haven’t talked in months. But I need to ask you a serious question.” There was a brief nervous look that flashed across Lucas’s face before he nodded. Jana looked towards Jens before leaning closer. As Lucas leaned closer, Jens glanced between the two of them confused. Then with a straight and serious face, Jana asked, “Does he still drool when he sleeps?” 

Jens blinked. “What? I’ve never d—”

“Yes,” Lucas interrupted, nodding frantically. 

Jens let out a groan, running a hand down his face, as the entire group burst into laughter. 

…

Woensdag 19:53

“No!” Jana exclaimed, covering her mouth. The rest of the group watched as her eyes darted between Robbe and Zoë, who had her chin resting against her palm. “You’re kidding! Someone actually thought that you guys were dating?” 

“Yeah,” Zoë said, nodding her head. Jana laughed. “We were just walking around the supermarket, trying to get stuff for dinner that night, and this older woman walks up to us. She was as sweet as she could be and really well-meaning. But she started going off about how cute we were together and how we would have beautiful children with bright brown hair—because this was a few months ago, when I had grown my hair out because it was completely fried.” 

Jana nodded in understanding and Robbe snickered. 

“But have you seen the two of you?” Luca spoke up, laughing. “You would. If you two were each other’s type and were into each other.”

Zoë rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Anyway, she wouldn’t let either one of us get a word in on this conversation to correct her. It lasted nearly ten minutes and we were just standing there, waiting for this conversation to end. And she finally stops talking and she’s looking so proud of herself, right, but, then…” She paused dramatically, pretending to think, before she turned to Robbe, a sly smile tugging on her ruby red lips. “What exactly did you say to her, Robbe?” 

Robbe sighed loudly as he leaned back in his chair. “Are you really going to make me say it?”

“Yes,” Jana said. 

Zoë nodded, scrunching up her nose. 

“What did you say?” Luca asked, her eyes wide.

Three seats over with an arm wrapped around Lucas, Jens raised an eyebrow and smirked over at him. “We’re waiting for you, bro.”

Robbe let out a sigh, leaning back in his chair. His friends were staring at him, waiting for him to speak. Zoë was already descending into borderline manic laughter before he even said a word. “After a few seconds of staring at her, I said, ‘My boyfriend wouldn’t be happy.’” As soon as the words left his mouth, his friends were overcome with laughter and it boomed over the entire bar. Robbe pursed his lips to try and keep his smile down, but he lost control of it quickly. “She was mortified.”

Zoë laughed in agreement, leaning against Robbe’s shoulder. 

“As she should,” Lucas remarked, wiping tears from his eyes. Beside him, Jens was trying to control his laughter. “That’s what she gets for assuming.”

The bell rang, signaling that someone else had entered the bar. “Are we interrupting something?” Senne de Smet moved in their direction, smiling nervously at all of them. There were looks of confusion on all of their friends’ faces, with the sole exception of Lucas, who looked impassive, while Robbe tried his best to act shocked. The former playboy was wearing a black hoodie with a pair of denim jeans and a t-shirt. He made a beeline for Zoë, who reached out for his hand. 

Before Senne had even taken her hand, Amber stood up on what Robbe presumed to be the footrests of her seat and practically shouted, “I knew it! You guys are back together.” Senne laughed, wrapping his arm around Zoë and patting Robbe’s back. While still resting her head against Robbe’s shoulder, Zoë wrapped her arm around Senne and pulled him closer against her side. “Why didn’t you tell me? You knew I was right!” 

“Did I?” a deep voice asked from behind Senne. The voice tugged at something familiar in the back of Robbe’s brain. He tried to search it, pin down the detail of where he had heard it before, but he was coming up empty. As soon as he felt like he had a clear vision, it disappeared between his fingers like smoke, fading into the air. Zoë glanced at him, her eyebrows narrowing in confusion. Robbe could see the question forming in her eyes, but before she could ask, someone moved around the table, draping one arm over the back of Amber’s chair. “Senne doesn’t bore me with every little detail of his love life. Just like I don’t bore him with every detail of mine.”

Amber rolled her eyes. “Somehow, I highly doubt that.” 

Robbe felt his eyes go wide and he swallowed the gasp that threatened to escape out of his mouth. 

It was him.

The guy from outside the bar. 

Sander.

In the bright lights of the bar—and a little bit more sober than on Friday—the man looked different than he did in the alleyway. For starters, Robbe could see him a lot more clearly in the brightly-lit bar. Robbe could see the scar beside his right eye and the beauty mark on his cheek. His jawline was sharper than he thought, capable of cutting glass and steel, and his full lips turned up in a smile. He stripped off his jacket and Robbe saw it all in slow-motion; the reveal of his gray graphic t-shirt, the sunflower, the dragonflies, the forest, the silver ring on his right hand. He ran a hand through his bleached hair, exposing the brown roots against his scalp, and tossed the jacket on the back of Amber’s chair. 

Shit, Robbe thought. The guy, Sander, was even hotter than Robbe remembered. 

From two seats over, Lucas turned to him and raised a knowing eyebrow. Robbe tried to subtly flip him off. 

“Why is that so hard to believe?” Sander asked. 

“Because,” Amber remarked. “The two of you have practically never left each other’s side since Luka moved to Brussels! I find it very hard to believe that you wouldn’t know. Especially with your innate ability to ‘know all.’”

“Well, we have left each other’s side, thank you very much,” Sander pointed out, gesturing in the direction of Senne without looking. Robbe wondered, briefly, if he would remember him from outside the bar. There was a part of Robbe that hoped he didn’t, because he would get a second chance at making a good first impression. Plus, Robbe wasn’t generally a memorable person. “Besides,” Sander said. In one quick moment, he leaned over and took a sip of the drink in her hand before moving on like it never even happened. “It wasn’t my secret to tell, because I’m sure they had their reasons.”

Amber rolled her eyes. When he tried to reach out for another sip, she turned and pushed him away with her free hand. Sander pouted (cutely) and Senne let out a booming laugh. The focus at the table quickly shifted to Zoë and Senne. Robbe felt like he could barely hear the imposing questions that the group was throwing at the couple because he was watching Sander, who was glancing at each of them in turn. 

Then, his eyes landed on him, emerald green connecting with brown, and Robbe felt as though an electric current shot through him at maximum intensity. There was a look of recognition that flashed through Sander’s eyes and his lips turned up into a greeting grin. His mouth fell open, like he was about to speak out loud, speak to Robbe, and he could feel his stomach flipping around and—

“Robbe?”

For a second, he didn’t register the lighter voice and he thought it was Thomas, because he was the only person that would be looking for him. But the wave of panic was only temporary, quelling when he spotted the short black bob cut and the septum piercing over Senne’s shoulder. Once he spotted that, he felt his body relax immensely as Zoë turned to glance at him. “Noor?” he said. 

The girl grinned at him, deep red lipstick and all. 

Once Zoë had moved her head, Robbe climbed out of his seat and moved towards the girl. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing a featherlight kiss against his cheek, and Robbe dutifully mirrored the action against her own cheek. Behind him, the chattering returned to normal and Robbe stepped back from his friend. Noor beamed up at him. “How are you doing? It’s been a while since we’ve talked.”

“Yeah,” Robbe said. “About four months now, right?”

“Yeah, last time I think we talked was a week or two after dinner.”

Once or twice a year, the handful of Antwerp streamers liked to get together and have a homemade dinner at one of their places. From the major streamers with thousands of daily viewers, to smaller ones like Noor, across all games and genres, everyone was invited. They even had their own Discord server. At the last dinner, the two of them had hit it off rather quickly. They had talked all evening about Noor’s girlfriend and her artwork, Robbe’s trouble with Thomas, and day-to-day streamer stuff. After the party, Robbe had kept in contact with her, but the break up forced him into a mindset of living day-by-day and they hadn’t talked a lot since. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Robbe started, running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry about not responding to you. I was going through a—”

“Hey,” Noor interrupted gently. Robbe stopped as the black-haired girl beamed up at him. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. Come on, I’ll buy you a drink and we can catch up on the last few months.”

“Are you sure? I can buy your drink.”

“Nonsense, Robbe,” Noor said. She grabbed him roughly by the arm and pulled him in the direction of the bar. Glancing behind him, he saw that Senne had taken Robbe’s seat and Zoë leaned against his side. The rest of them had fallen into easy conversation. “I am perfectly capable of buying your drink. If it makes you feel any better, you can buy my next one.”

It sounded like a fair trade. “That sounds good to me,” Robbe replied. As soon as Noor let his arm go and the bartender leaned over to take her order, Robbe found his eyes wandering back over to the table. He stared at the group, not really absorbing what he was seeing until his eyes flitted over to Sander, who stood in the space between Amber and Aaron, holding a single glass of beer that Robbe hadn’t seen before. He stared at him for a beat as Sander conversed with his friends. 

Then, his green eyes darted back to Robbe and the electric shock returned, coursing through his entire body.

“So,” Robbe said, abruptly. He turned his gaze back to Noor, who counted out money for the bartender. She glanced up at his voice and pushed the beer glass to him by the coaster. “How has your life been the past five months?”

…

Woensdag 20:58

To add three new chairs to their table, they had to shift the tables around to make room. What transpired was a lot of laughter and giggles as people bumped elbows and knees to scoot around. Sander had originally tried to squeeze his seat between Amber and Aaron, but the blonde pushed him out of the way. As a result, he ended up sitting on Amber’s other side, between her and Luca. Every once in a while, Robbe’s eyes would automatically search the table and land on Sander. Most times, the bleach-blond didn’t notice. Sometimes, he did—green connecting with brown—and Robbe would promptly look away. 

In the impromptu shifting of the tables, Jana’s glass had nearly toppled over, losing half of its contents in the process. They all laughed as Jens, ever the bartender, rushed to get a wet towel before the beer dried or left a stain and hit his head on the table as he stood back up. When he returned to Lucas’s side, the older boy placed a kiss on the bump and Jens grinned at him before proceeding to snatch his phone and keep it out of his reach.

“Jens,” Lucas practically shouted, even though the corners of his lips were turned up into a smile. He tried to stand up on the footrests to get his phone, but Jens moved it out of his reach. “What the fuck? Give me my phone back.”

“I told you that your mom is doing fine,” Jens said, trying to sound stern and, ultimately, failing as the corners of his own lips pulled up. Across the table, Sander sat up, leaning toward Amber. Without meaning to, Robbe watched him as he whispered something in her ear before getting up from the table. His eyes followed him until he disappeared out the front door, the bell signaling his departure. When Robbe blinked back to reality, he was thankful to find none of his friends looking at him strangely. “She and your uncle are having a great time and she’s okay.” 

“Jens—” 

“She’s okay,” Jens replied, smiling down at him. “I promise. You’ve just got to let her relax.” 

There was a nagging feeling at the back of Robbe’s head and his eyes wandered back over to the front door. It had only been a few seconds since he had left, but Robbe couldn’t help searching for Sander. Even though Robbe knew he was completely out of sight. Robbe had wanted to properly introduce himself, to show that he wasn’t always upset because of his ex, to thank him for checking on him when he left the bar in complete duress. 

But Robbe didn’t want to come across as annoying. If Sander wanted to speak with him, he would have. It had been over an hour since Senne had arrived with his two roommates and Sander hadn’t moved from Amber’s side. Yet, he engaged in group conversations with Amber and Luca, teased Senne from across the table, and tried to act aloof with Aaron, who seemed eager to please him for some reason. Thomas used to tell him that he could sometimes try too hard—and that was the last thing that he wanted to do. 

Robbe swallowed. 

When Robbe tried to turn back to Noor, he felt something tugging at the back of his brain, urging him to jump to his feet and head outside the bar. Swallowing the anxious bubble that was forming in his throat, Robbe slid out of his chair and got to his feet. At his movement, Zoë looked up at him with curiosity. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Robbe replied. The excuse flew to his tongue without hesitation. “I just wanted to check in with my mom. She’s been quiet most of the day.” 

Zoë nodded. 

Robbe moved across the bar, heading in the direction of the door. Behind him, he could vaguely hear his friends asking and Zoë repeating his excuse without blinking. As he made it to the door, he pulled out his phone and found his messages with his mom. Stepping out into the mild summer night, he typed out a message to her and sent it quickly.

Robbe: How has your day been? You’ve been quiet. Was it a busy day at work?

As he stepped out beneath the canopy above the door, he let out a breath. It was nearing 21:00, which is generally when his mother took her medications. Almost all of her nightly pills had a side-effect of making her sleepy and they all worked fast. Combine that with her love of getting absorbed in a television show before bed and Robbe wasn’t expecting to hear from her until the next morning. 

Glancing up from his phone, he found Sander quite easily. 

It wasn’t like it was hard. 

Outside of the bar, the street was only partially lit with sconces attached to the brick wall. There were the lights on the street, but they hardly did anything to brighten the sidewalk. It was naturally dark. But Sander’s bright, nearly-white hair stood out among the dark street and the shadows. He was standing on the edge of the sidewalk, facing the street, with a cigarette between his fingertips. 

For a moment, Robbe stared at him, wondering what he should say. There was a part of him that wanted to run back into the bar and pretend like he had never left. But there was another part of him that wanted to step forward and thank him for talking to him on Friday—and, maybe, just maybe, talk to him some more. And it was this part that ultimately won the match in his chest, causing him to take a step forward to Sander. “Hey.” 

Sander glanced up, still holding the cigarette in his fingertips. At the sight of Robbe, standing there with his hands in his pockets, Sander grinned. “Hey.” There was a brief pause before Sander held out the cigarette to him. “Want a drag?”

On Friday, Robbe had said no. 

Now, he took a bold step forward and lifted the cigarette from Sander’s fingers. Sander’s hand dropped to his side as Robbe placed the cigarette against his lips, inhaling a long puff of smoke. A smirk quickly overtook Sander’s smile as green connected with brown again. Robbe exhaled and handed the cigarette back, their fingers briefly touching “I never thanked you.”

“For?” Sander asked.

“For Friday.”

“Oh,” Sander said. “But you did. Thank me, I mean. Right before you left.”

Shit, he was right. “Well, I don’t feel like I properly thanked you, because I was buzzed and upset and ready to leave.” There was a look on Sander’s face that Robbe couldn’t identify. But it made his stomach flip. Not like the anxiety-filled flipping that Thomas evoked. Something else. Something different. “And now I’m still buzzed, but I’m not upset or eager to leave. So, thank you.”

Sander smiled at him. “You’re welcome.”

Sander took another drag of the cigarette and turned his eyes back to the street in front of him. The silence washed over them in waves. There was a hint of awkwardness coursing through the air and Robbe wondered if it was just him who felt it. Then Sander glanced at him and caught him looking. But Robbe didn’t look away this time. “So,” Sander said. He held out the cigarette to Robbe, who took it. “How do you know Zoë?” 

“We live together,” Robbe replied. He placed the cigarette against his lips and took another drag. As the smoke filled his lungs, there was a look on Sander’s face, like he wanted to know more, like he wanted to know everything that Robbe would give him. He exhaled the smoke into the air, idly twisting the cigarette in his fingertips. “We went to high school together. I lived with her and Milan when I was sixteen for a bit, and then permanently when I was nineteen.” Sander nodded, looking like he was about to say something else, when Robbe added, “How do you know Amber?”

Sander’s eyes went wide, like he hadn’t expected Robbe to notice, and he smirked over at Robbe. “She’s my little sister,” he said. Sander took the cigarette from Robbe’s fingers. Their fingers brushed, sending a surge of warmth through his body, before it was gone, like it was never there. “Well, step-siblings technically. My father started dating her mother in middle school. We used to hate each other back then. Now, we’re practically blood.”

“Ah,” Robbe hummed, grinning. 

“What?” Sander asked. 

“Nothing,” Robbe said. “That’s just why you’re giving Aaron so much shit, huh? Because you’re being the protective older brother?”

Sander shrugged, exhaling the smoke in one breath, angled slightly upward so it would miss Robbe’s face. It jetted out of his mouth, briefly making him look like a dragon. “What can I say? I’ve always been quite protective of her, especially when there’s a new boy in her life,” he said. “You know, you should go back to the bar.” 

“Huh?”

“The bar. From Friday,” he added. Sander crossed his arms and leaned against the back of the tree. “Your ex being there kind of left a bad memory, you know? And you might never want to go back. But you can always go and make a new memory there, right?” 

“Yeah,” Robbe replied, nodding. “Yeah, I guess I could.” 

Suddenly, the door to the bar behind them swung open. In a bizarre sense of déjà vu, the two of them turned to see who it was. Zoë was standing in the doorway, a concerned look on her face as she stared at Robbe with a raised eyebrow. He was about to speak when Zoë asked, “Is everything okay with Mama?”

Oh. Right.

“Um, I sent her a text but…” Robbe started, feeling the warmth flooding to his cheeks. If there was anything telling on his face, Zoë didn’t mention it. He pulled out his phone and, sure enough, there was no text message from his mama. “It’s likely that she’s gone to bed and didn’t check her phone. Sorry, I would’ve come back in sooner but Sander and I started talking.” 

“It’s okay,” Zoë replied. Her eyes briefly darted from Robbe to Sander then back to him. “I just got worried and wanted to check to make sure that everything was okay.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Robbe said, trying to tamper down the blush on his cheeks. Zoë headed back inside, the door slamming shut behind her. Robbe bit down on his lip, turning to Sander. The man was still leaning against the tree, shrouded in shadows, but there was a knowing smirk tugging at his lips. Somehow, the smirk made the blush on his cheeks intensify and Robbe headed inside. Behind him, he could hear Sander stomping out the cigarette before he followed him.

[witchy-lili]

Sander Sides Coffeeshop AU! Part 2

Well I didn’t expect part one to get that much attention..

Thank you all :)  Trigger warning : Hum, alcohol ? I guess ? tell me if I have to put something in there ! 

The first one was originally just a simple shitpost, but seeing this positivity encouraged me to write more ! So have that ! Oh and, use this song for a certain part of the chapter. Enjoy~

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Damn was this a tiring day for the owner. Logan closed the cafe’s door after the last customer, not even turning the key, before dropping down on one of the angle sofas, sighing loudly. He lifted his rectangle glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was tired, but now wasn’t the time to sleep.

The cafe, as much as he loved it, wasn’t enough income to maintain a stable life. He wasn’t in debt, lord knows how much he hated seeking help from others. “I always counted on myself, why change now ?”. The day was not the only time he was behind a counter. After closing his eyes for a few seconds, he stood up and went to look in his bag and looked at the hour on his phone. Eleven twenty four pm. It started at one am. He had enough time to freshen up. And so he went out, his blazer on his shoulder walking under the moonlight after putting the key in his pocket.

Home sweet and dearly home. It wasn’t much, just a simple black and white apartment with hints of deep navy blue. Hanging his blazer on the hook present on the back of his door. A soft creature came, rubbing against his legs, calmly purring.

-Well hello Plato..

The cat answered with a soft meow as Logan gently patted his fluffy cream fur which composed the majority of his body. The face, tip of the tail and paws being darker, almost black, but the cherry on top was the two icey sapphires eyes, as cold as his master’s. Only the hue was different, Lo’ having more greyish eyes. Speaking of the devil, he walked up to the living room connected kitchen, taking out a can of cat food to pour it into one of his little fuff ball’s bowl then filling the second one with water.

-There you go, you cuddle head.

Question remained, why would someone who struggled with money have a pet ?

Logan was always in control, trying his best to think about the most logical and brainey solution to a problem or way to improve his life, but even he could not just walk away from a crying kitten under the rain. He remembered the day. He was still a college student, his life was a wreck, a twelve sided Rubik’s cube with the colors constantly changing every single time he moved them. It was the same period he decided to close himself off and focus on school work but even he couldn't stay unmoved by a crying dirty kitten under the rain.

He smiled thinking about it again, all the nights worrying about Plato, putting him in his sweater while he was studying just to keep him by his side, all the books he read to learn how to properly take care of a cat, all the scratches he got, but also all the kisses and head rubs. Logan absentmindedly looked at the clock. Almost midnight.

-Shit.

Who thought he could lose himself thinking about how much he loved his companion ? Now he had to be fast. He’d usually take the time to enjoy the warm water on his skin, usually hugging himself in the process, trying to emulate the feeling of a long lost embrace, but now it was pretty late. He needed to go. Where ? Well his side job. Logan quickly dried his dark chestnut hair before putting on an elegant uniform. A white shirt buttoned to the top under a navy vest and a pair of jeans. Simple but efficient. Just like he always did.

The dark haired man arrived in front of a bar’s backdoor. Just on time after a really painful sprint considering he wasn’t the athletic type. He entered and went to the changing rooms, just to put down his bag and finally go to work. That was the program, but apparently the strawberry blonde seemingly pissed man bursting in. Only a thought crossed Logan’s mind “Oh for fuck’s sake.”.

-Oh my god Lo’ you’re here i thought i’d never see the light of day !

-..Pretty normal considering it’s past one am. -Now calm down. i’ll make you a quick drink and look for your gloves, your makeup is perfect. Just go sit down.

He walked towards him clutching his arms, the barista cringed at the contact but kept a straight face before finally realising that his friend was in a long cherry red all sparkly dress and same colored heels.

-You got a representation tonight Roman ?

-Yes and it’s an ever-loving catastrophe ! I can’t close this fucking -but amazing- dress by myself, i don’t know where my gloves are and i start in five minutes ! Jesus, am i sweating ? Am i sweaty ? Is my makeup dripping ?

The usual scenario, Logan sighed before kindly pushing his friend away and turning him to, first of all, close the dress, having to stand on his tiptoes to reach the end. Roman was already a bit taller than him, but with those heels, phew, how could he even walk in these ?

Such a drama queen. Literally and mockingly. He tapped the performer on the back before straight up going to his dressing room, the gloves were just here, sitting on the edge of the mirror. Pretty sure Roman missed them because of his stress. He then went to the bar, discreetly pouring him a bottom of whisky and coming back with the two items. Blondie jumped on his heels to hug him again, making his poor friend spread his arms to avoid damaging the gloves or spilling the drink before giving them after the embrace.

-You are a lifesaver you nerdy coffee man !  

-Don’t mention it. I have to get working, good luck.

Finally. Putting on a black apron, he came behind the bar and started serving the clients. Tonight was going to be busy. Why ? Well, Roman was performing, his angelic sultry voice brought everyone in. The lights dimmed in the club, only the stage was illuminated. The singer walked in, projectors reflecting against his strass covered dress and gloves. Claps and whistles welcomed his grand entrance as he took the microphone, glazing over the room. Logan gave him a nod and a thumbs up to encourage him. The instrumental started to play.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_LqbV36OhtQ&ab_channel=CalebHyles

Where have you been? Been searching all along Came facing twilight on and on Without a clueWithout a sign Without grasping yet The real question to be asked Where have I been?

The tone always sent chills down Logan’s spine. He often heard him sing, but he could never not be surprised by his talent. He forgot himself, slowly breathing, calmed by the jazzy tone of the song. Forgot himself so much that he didn’t notice the new customer sitting at the bar and calling him for the last few seconds. The barista shook his head and turned, starting his usual pitch… -Sorry for that. What can i… ...only to be met with the amber gaze of a familiar face. The man of this morning. What was his name again ? Janice ? Janelle ? Jamil ? Logan’s eyes became cold and stern again, along with his voice. -..serve you. -Looks like i was right. You’re not as boring as you seem to be. -Do you want to drink something ? I have other clients. The man in the melon hat turned his head left and right with a smirk. He was the only one sitting at the counter. -A Snakebite, if you know how to make it right. Logan raised a surprised eyebrow. It was literally two ingredients. He was clearly mocking him.  Without a word, he took the honey flavored whiskey and lime juice and put them in the shaker with some ice before energetically, well,shaking it and straining it in a shot glass, putting it in front of the snide individual then turning back to look at his friend. -Delightfull isn’t it ? I’ve rarely heard such a sultry and heavenly voice at the same time. -Well, it is Roman. They looked at each other for less than half a second before having their attention taken by the singer. Roman got compliments and flowers thrown at him at the end of his performance, and after some quick talk with fans, he sat down at the bar, sighing happily. -Damn that felt good ! Sooooo~, how are my two favorite boys doing ? Logan seemed surprised and pointed the curious man.

-You know him ?! -Yeah of course you dummy dumb ! I was the one who gave him your cafe’s address ! Ain’t he the loveliest ? -My my, thank you Romie, you’re going to make me blush. His eyes were still on Logan, still mocking him, he could have sworn even seeing this snake of a man quickly stick out his tongue to taunt him. Well. Looks like this was going to be a long night.

--------------------------------------------------------------- Surprise surprise ! You probably realized by now that I was really inspired by the talented Caleb Hyles with his “Beneath the mask” cover for this song. I just love the atmosphere. Hope you lovelies enjoyed this piece of writing ! 

[gemstoneconstellations]

Pretty boy makes me pretty stupid

Summary: anon request for a “sassy but awkward af around her crush” reader who says dumb things while Bakugo, the oh so loving best friend, makes fun of her for it.

Wordcount: 3250

One good thing about UA, other than it being one of the top schools in Japan, is the new dorms. There is so much freedom; besides the large amount of homework and high expectations that came with being a UA student, the dorms are very laid back. It made bonding with classmates easy and presented the opportunity to mingle and meet with the students from the other classes.

It also presented the perfect opportunity to meet the perfect boy. 

You were dragging your feet as you made your way from the dorms to the school. You’d just spent the whole night working on a mock publicity event for a pro-hero for your media and marketing class. Business course students have nearly three times the amount of homework when compared to the other classes and this week seemed to be worse than usual. You were exhausted and contemplating whether a fourth cup of triple-shot espresso was worth the potential heart attack when suddenly, you were face first in the grass, wondering what had just happened.

“I told you fuckers to hurry it up, but do you two ever listen to me? Nooooo.”

“Hey! I needed to do my hair; it takes time to look this good.”

“Guys! Seriously?” You were still trying to orient yourself when you were hoisted off the ground. “I’m sorry about them; we have an early guest speaker today and are running late. You okay?”

You blink up at the figure that was helping you dust off your uniform. Concerned red eyes were staring right into yours, throwing you off and into a daze. Is it your deprived brain or is there an angel before you? “Um, yeah.” It must be your brain because when the boy before you smiled at your response, you swear he sparkled.

“Shitty Hair! Hurry your ass up!”

He waved to the people shouting before turning back to you. “Ah, sorry I have to go, and sorry about my friends knocking you over.”  He lowered his head to you and then ran after the other two students waiting for him.

“What were you doing? Were you flirting? My bro is growing up.”

“No, I was cleaning up after the two of you like always.”

“Fucking excuse me?” The three of them continued to banter, completely forgetting about you. At some point your feet began to move again, on autopilot, towards the school building.

You couldn’t shake out of your daze all the way to class, where you sat down at your desk with your head in your hands as you stared into space. You didn’t even notice your classmate and friend taking his seat in front of you. “Ugh, I’m so tired. That assignment has been really kicking our asses. Everyone looks half dead or already decomposing.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I think I’ve maybe slept about ten hours in the last week. Did you get any sleep last night? I know you said you forgot to do something in the proposal.”

“Mmhmm.”

He turned around to look at you, concerned that you weren’t saying any actual words. “Are you listening ___?”

“Mmm.” You just continued to hum, blinking at nothing in particular.

“Hello? ___? ___!” A hand waved in front of you, mildly startling you and making your eyes focus on your classmate. “What is wrong with you?”

You sighed, laying your head down on the desk, using your arms as pillows. “I think I saw a red angel.”

“How much coffee did you have? Did you sleep at all last night?”

Your brain was trying to process what was being said, but you were so sleep-deprived that nothing stuck. “Sleep… what’s that?” Eyelids too heavy to keep open, you succumbed to the darkness and went into a deep slumber.

“___! Did you just die? Can I have your math homework if you’re dead?”

~

Thankfully, the teachers had mercy on your class and the business course students got a small break. This meant that they went home with only a couple of assignments, rather than an entire backpack (or briefcase for some extra-people) full of paperwork. 

It took  sleeping for an entire day over the weekend for your brain to start making sense again. However, you were still unsure if the red-eyed angel was an actual, real boy or a very vivid daydream fueled by the large amount of caffeine in your already exhausted system.

You got your answer during a joint project with the hero course students. The business students had to work on scenarios to help improve the hero-image of the heroes-in-training for mock interviews. 

Your class was assigned to 2-A and your partner was a very soft spoken boy, Koda. Things were going smoothly as the two of you tried to work out what he needed to improve on when screaming suddenly started at the  front of the room. “I can’t do this! You are just impossible! You can’t just yell at people and expect them to thank you for it! A powerful quirk doesn’t make you a good hero, ya know?!”

“Hah?! Fuck you! You know jackshit about being an actual hero! You couldn’t make it as a hero, so you decided to ride the coats of those who can! You fucking hero-wannabe!” Explosions went off in the blonde’s hands as he stands up to shout back at your classmate.

Your classmate yelped and pushed his chair away. “That’s it! I can’t work with the constant threat of being exploded!”

Aizawa sighed in front of the room as he sat up from inside his sleeping bag. “It hasn’t even been five minutes…I’m too tired to deal with this. Trade partners with someone, I don’t care. Just be quiet and get your work done.” The tired hero lay back down and closed his eyes. That’s it? Are teachers even allowed to nap in classrooms?

You were questioning the hero course’s future when your name was shouted. “___! You need to switch with me! You’re the only one who would be able to handle him.”

“Huh?”

You jumped back as your classmate made a beeline for you, practically pushing people out of the way. “If this beast explodes, you would be the only one that wouldn’t get hurt. We won’t have to worry about you.” He grabs your shoulders and starts shaking you.

Dizzily, you try to decline since you were happy with who you got as a partner. “But Koda and I—”

You were cut off as e fell to his knees, hugging your legs. “Please! I will either die from him or me stabbing myself with my pen! Please!” You cringe as he began to bawl his eyes out, snot threatening to spill from his nose as he did.

Nope, nope; a shiver went down your back at the image of his bodily fluids touching your bare skin. You pulled your legs away and started kicking him off. “Oh god that’s so fucking gross! Okay, okay! I’ll switch! I’ll switch! Just stop it already! I’ll switch with you! For the love of god and my sanity, please wipe your nose with a tissue! Not my leg!” What the hell had the infamous Bakugo said to make him like this?!

You hand your sad, sniveling classmate the notes you’d made with Koda and begrudgingly dragged your feet towards the front. Sitting in the seat beside Bakugo, you dropped your head onto his desk loudly and gave a not-so-enthusiastic robotic introduction. “Hello, I’m ___ ___, it’s sooooo nice to meet you. Please take care of me as we work together.” All that work with Koda, down the drain…now you have to restart with the asshole of the hero course and the class is half over!

“The fuck?”

You sigh to yourself again and hand over your notebook with mock interview questions, not even looking up as you spoke. “Here, I know you aren’t much of a talker and we don’t have a whole lot of time left, so just answer these questions. The first five are for me to get a feel of what type of hero you want to be and how you want to be seen by the public. The rest are basic talk-show type questions; answer those like it is a real interview please. When you’re done, we’ll go from there. And please answer them fast; I do not want both of us to fail because you feel like being an ass.”

Surprisingly, the notebook was taken from your hands and you could hear pencil scratching against paper. “I don’t fail at anything,” he muttered. Huh, so that’s what motivates him.

After a few minutes, the two of you were silently sitting as everyone else spoke with their partners. You were so tempted to take a nap. “These questions are so fucking personal.” So the rabid Pomeranian of UA does know how to speak at a normal tone.

“Yeah, that’s pretty typical. People are nosy about their idols; they want to know everything. That’s why you have to be careful about how you word things. Not just for possible misunderstandings, but also to protect some of the privacy you have. I’ll help improve your answers while keeping your personality and image in mind.” You finally sat up and began to stretch your back. Glancing at the notebook, you are surprised to see he was more than halfway done.

He huffed as he scribbled down another response. “This doesn’t sound like business-type shit.”

Leaning against the desk with your chin resting in your hand, you began to read some of his answers. Like you expected, they were going to need a lot of work. “It’s PR stuff; it all helps your popularity and brings in more money. So it’s a different part of business type stuff. I want to be a PR Manager, so this kind of assignment is right up my alley.”

Bakugo hummed as he silently continued the questions. Another few minutes went by; class was close to being over, with less than ten minutes left. “So what did that loser mean about you being able to handle my explosions?”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat; your quirk isn’t not something you are very comfortable with telling someone like a hero-in-training, but he can’t say anything worse than what others have. So, fuck it. “It’s my quirk. It’s similar to a shock absorption-type quirk, but my body takes the energy from the force of impact to make my body more solid and keeps it from taking damage. It doesn’t make me stronger since it stops my muscles from tearing and growing mass. I still go flying if hits hard enough. Sometimes I break whatever I run into if I hit it hard enough. Really, it just makes it impossible to get hurt if someone hits me and my hand won’t break if I punch someone. It is lame and boring, I know. At least I’ve never had a bruise before.”

For some reason, Bakugo kept surprising you by asking questions you never expected. “So if I threw you into a wall, it wouldn’t hurt and you’d might break the wall?”

“Uh, I guess? Never really tried, though I did break a desk when someone pushed me once.”

He snorted at your owlish expression. “Your quirk is lame? You sound like some other idiot I know.” Bakugo looked over; you followed his eyes to Kirishima, who was in the center of the class. Like he could sense someone looking at him, the redhead turned towards you two and smiled. Your eyes widened as his teeth practically sparkled, taking in his red hair, and memories of someone who had helped you when you were half brain-dead came to mind. He waved at you and a daze came over you as you gave your own meek wave. Okay, he really is that pretty.

The bell for lunch went off, waking you from your awkward blatant staring. You tried to quickly gather your things and went for your notebook, only for it to be lifted away from you. Bakugo grabbed your wrist with his free hand and began to drag you with him. “I didn’t finish it yet. I’ll finish them after you show me your quirk.”

“Huh?”

He paused for a moment to look back behind him. “You heard about her quirk, right nerd? Let’s go; I know you’re fucking dying to see it in action.”

“AH, c-coming Kacchan!” Midoriya proceeded to follow Bakugo as he dragged you away. And that’s how you ended up being tossed around like a rag doll in the hero’s course training hall. Did you just somehow become friends with Bakugo Katsuki? You had no idea. At this point, you were just going along with what he wanted as he dragged you around. Both of you finally ended up in the cafeteria, exhausted, and found the closest empty table to collapse at after Bakugo told you to sit somewhere.

At least you are sitting down now. You had no idea where Bakugo went, but you aren’t being tossed around or interrogated anymore. “What he do to you?”

You groan at whoever had just asked you another damn question. “I don’t want to talk about iiiiiiaaaaaaaa…” Your tongue lost all ability to form words as soon as you opened your eyes to see Kirishima sitting beside you. Other people were now sitting at the table but your focus was on the sparkling redhead before you.

He raised an eyebrow at you and that’s when your brain noticed the cute little scar at the top of his eye. Are scars supposed to be cute? “You okay? Seriously, what did Bakubro do to you?”

“I didn’t do jackshit.” You jumped at the sound of trays being dropped, signaling Bakugo’s return. He motioned to the tray in front of you as he sat down and began to eat his lunch. He bought you lunch? That’s kind of nice…after everything. You gratefully began to eat. “I wanted to see if what they’d said was true and it was fucking was. She can’t punch for shit but she makes a good weapon.” 

You choked on rice at Bakugo’s snicker. “Hell, no. You are not using me like some kind of bat. You and Midoriya suck, big time!”

“Ooooh, Kacchan and Deku sucking together.” Ashido and Kaminari both teased.

“Shut the fuck up before I beat you to death with ___!”

“Don’t use me to threaten people!”

And that’s how you were sucked into the hero students’ group. You went from barely catching glimpses of them to playing video games with them in their dorms. Even though the project with Bakugo was done, you still joined them at lunch and hung out outside of class. Which meant more time for you to stare at Kirishima.

“You are going to be my fucking PR manager when we graduate.” Bakugo declared as he sat in front of you. The hero students had gotten their grades back on the public relations project and, surprisingly, Bakugo had listened to you, passing the mock interview with one of the highest scores.

You smiled brightly at him as you continued to eat, others sliding into their seats as you spoke. “I’d rather die.”

Kaminari elbowed Bakugo in the side, earning a growl from the ash-blond. “Man, you are not delicate at all. She’s a lady who needs to be treated with care.”

Bakugo shoved Kaminari away from him, knocking him into Mina. “Pfft, she’s anything but delicate. Would something that’s delicate be able to go through two walls of concrete without getting injured?”

“Wow, you’re pretty strong for someone who’s in the business course.” Your body froze at the sound of the deep voice coming oh-so-close directly to your left. You glance over to see Kirishima smiling down at you and you found yourself momentarily forgetting how to swallow, chewing on the now tasteless food longer than you needed to as you stared at the gorgeous boy.

A foot kicked at your leg, waking you up. You turned back to your tray, stuffing your mouth more. Somewhere along the line, after you'd remembered how to swallow, you realized that Kirishima was still looking at you, patiently waiting for you to respond. “No, I’m not anything special. My quirk just lets me take a punch.”

God bless everything on this earth for letting you hear that boy chuckle like you’d actually said something funny. “Cool, maybe we can fight sometime?” You watch him pick up a piece of meat. Speaking of meat, you can’t help but admire all the fine work that the hero course has done for those arms.

Fuck, he’s looking at you again. His cheeks were so full and looked so fucking soft and squishy, you wanted to touch them. Ugh, he’s throwing that smile at you and you’re just fucking melting in your seat. Your swooning also killed your brain cells. “You can punch me anytime.”

The entire table went quiet, though you could practically hear Bakugo fucking grinning. “What?”

You quickly turned back to your food, laughing loudly and awkwardly. “I said sure, anytime! Wow the food is really good today!” Someone just put you out of your misery. 

The asshole in front of you tried to pretend to cough into his hand, but his shaking shoulders were a dead giveaway that Bakudick was laughing at your pain and deserved a swift kick in the shins. “Ow, motherfucker.” You ignored his glare and finished your lunch.

“Anyways! My mom finally sent me a bunch of my horror movies, anyone up for a night of fear and jump scares?!” You could kiss Mina for changing the subject, all eyes turning towards her. The table started making plans about movie night in one of their dorms during the weekend. You zone out for a moment, thinking about the assignments you should make sure you finish before  Bakugo comes to drag you to this gathering while he mumbles about if he has to suffer through social interactions, so do you. 

“You coming too, right?” Kirishima turned to you, closer than he was before, looking you right in your eyes.

There’s no way you can say no. “Yeah, I love spooky things and jump scares...” Not really; ghost movies freak you. Most jump scares leave you unable to sleep with the lights off and limbs tightly wrapped in your blankets, afraid of what might come out from the dark unknown under your bed.

“More like you like the idea of jumping on Kiri-” You flung some food at Bakugo, not caring if some got in his eye. He’s too observant for his own good. Bakugo wiped his face, snarling. “That’s it! You wanna fucking go?! I will fucking throw you across the fucking campus!”

Lunch was over and you were hanging back from the group, who was talking about what they will be doing during their hero training classes. 

“‘You can punch me anytime’,” Bakugo mimicked you,  snorting beside you and gesturing towards Kirishima, who was laughing at something Kaminari was showing him on his phone. “Real smooth. And you fucking piss yourself whenever someone catches you by surprise, so I know that horror movie stuff is bullshit.”

You bump the asshole with your shoulder. “Shut up, like you have room to talk. We both know it wasn’t you who was interested in how my quirk works.” Your eyes spot a familiar head of curly green hair. “I wonder if Midoriya likes horror movies?”

“I will fucking murder you.”

[ditch-witches]

Mirror Mirror (Dean-Charles Chapman Smut)

requested: yes/no (ask and you shall receive)

pairing: Dean-Charles Chapman x reader

warnings: smut, aggression, swearing, etc. (i DoNt kNoW wHaT iM dOiNg aNyMoRe)

word count: 2,230 (WHY IS THIS SO LONG IM SORRYIDKWHATHAPPENED)

a/n: If you prefer soft!Dean, please exit stage left because I did him so dirty... - Love, Grayce.

You stuffed your hands in your jacket pockets, pulling your phone from its hiding place as you attempted to find out exactly where you were going. The bustle of the set brought a smile to your face as you mixed into the crowd of people moving towards the large battlefield seeming to grow out of the green hills. You had planned on coming to pick Dean up for the day, a surprise which was welcomed due to your connections with the historians working on the film when you had pitched the idea. You were greeted by a few of Dean’s co-stars---friends that you had met at parties and other events for the movie---deciding to stand on the grass beside a vaguely familiar face. She explained the scene to you briefly but it came out in a jumbled mess. She seemed to know about as much as you did about the movie except you knew she had a rather large role in it.

Someone backed into you, the both of you turning quickly to apologize to the other, but you bit back your words as you realized the person was Timothée Chalamet. You blinked, slightly bewildered at the lanky boy in front of you. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t spill anything on you, right?” He quickly spoke, looking you over slightly.

“Honestly, if you had I probably would have thanked you,” you quirked, letting out a nervous laugh.

He furrowed his brows slightly with a smile. “Okay, then I take back my apology.” He eyed your outfit. “Do you work here or…” He trailed off, chewing on his bottom lip as he attempted to place you.

“Oh! No, I’m just visiting,” you gestured over towards the scene and something clicked in his head.

“That’s where I’ve seen you! You’re Dean’s girlfriend,” he replied with a sense of relief in his voice. He tucked the script under his arm he was holding and wiped a hand on his jeans, holding it out for you. “I’m that one asshole from Lady Bird.”

You chuckled, taking his hand. “I know. My sister’s a huge fan.”

He laughed. “Oh? How old is she?”

“Sixteen,” you quipped with a small smirk. He acted as if he had been shot. “I’m joking.” Someone else---someone also rather good looking---crashed into your shoulder, knocking you forward and into Timothée’s cup of coffee. You winced in anticipation of the burning sensation from the liquid, but it never came, instead, it had splashed all over him. “God, I’m a babe magnet,” you murmured, digging in your purse for a napkin. Timothée laughed loudly at your comment. Your mouth gaped slightly. “Oh, my god. That was inappropriate. I have no idea why I said that,” you stated with no inflection in your voice, causing him to giggle a little harder.

“It’s not a big deal. It was the medieval gods coming after me for not being in character. I’m not sure if you knew this but denim wasn’t popular with the clergy.” He took the sorry excuse for a napkin with a smile.

You smirked at him. “Really? I always thought Thomas Aquinas was a boyfriend cut type of guy?” You both giggled. You spotted Dean out of the corner of your eye heading towards the two of you, a rather confused look on his face. Your eyebrows perked up at his attire. His flowing hair and armor were a stark difference than what you were used to seeing. Mainly it was so surprising to you because Dean’s unofficial uniform had become sweatpants and a hoodie. “You look amazing,” you jeered, a smile on your face as he joined you.

Timothée sent him a weak smile as Dean noticed the stain on his pants. “I see you two have met,” he jested, nodding to the stain. There was something off about him but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Timothée began to explain the situation to a derisive expression of Dean’s. The director calling it quits pulled your attentions away from the conversation and a few people came to shuffle Timothée away. He sent you an apologetic smile as you waved him off. When he was finally out of sight, his eyebrow raised at you and you tilted your head.

“Are you alright?”

He sighed. “I’m fine. Don’t go anywhere.” You stiffened slightly as he left for the costume trailer. You felt almost guilty like you had done something to piss Dean off, but you weren’t even sure if he was mad.

You walked in silence beside Dean, your hand in his and his other absent-mindedly jingled his keys. The parking lot was beginning to empty as you finally reached his car. “Hey, babe magnet!” You turned to see Timothée’s car pulling up next to you. He smiled at you. “It was great running into you today.”

“Yeah! Uh, send me the bill for dry cleaning, okay?” You stated, sending him yet another shamed expression. He brushed it off.

“Don’t worry about it. See you Monday, Chapman,” he waved, pulling away after Dean sent him a smile. You noticed his face tense again. The car ride was also in silence, the tension in the air thick enough to slice with a knife. You were worried about talking to him. He had never hurt you and you knew he wouldn’t, but if this was just him being grumpy and tired, it’d be better to confront him at home.

“D, are you okay?” You asked, finally getting inside your house.

He turned to you, his deadpan expression ticking you off slightly. “I’m fine.” You crossed your arms protectively over your chest, narrowing your eyes at him.

“No, you aren’t.”

“You and Timothée seemed to really kick-off,” he quipped, an eyebrow slightly raising in your direction. His muscles tensed and he clenched his jaw slightly. The sharpening of his features sent a shiver down your spine. He looked at you almost darkly.

You shook yourself out of checking him out to send him a scoff. “So…” He took a step forward, his expression twisting slightly into an almost jokingly dark smirk. You fought not to pull him against you. “Are you jealous?”

It was his turn to scoff. “Why would I be jealous? You came home with me.” He stood in front of you, his eyes almost glaring into yours. You hated to admit it, but such a display from him turned you on more than you would have expected. He reached forward to run a strand of your hair through his fingers. “You’re fucking me.” You remained silent, your excitement building under his tinkering gaze. He took more of your hair in his fist and pulled you against him, crashing your lips together in an almost breathless task. His other fingers dug into your hip, bringing you flush against him. You wrapped your arms around his midsection as he tugged your bottom lip between his teeth. His tongue slipped into your mouth roughly and you moaned against his lips, your body feeling like jelly in his arms. His hands moved beneath your shirt and then down to your ass, gripping you harshly and grinding into you. At this point, you were already ready for him to have his way with you, and he seemed to get the point.

He broke away from you, leaving you almost whimpering. “Get upstairs,” he gruffly commanded before almost chasing you up the staircase, his child-like humor returning for only a moment until kicking your bedroom door shut and pulling his shirt over his head. You slipped your dress off as well, kneeling on the bed as he walked over to you, his lips finding yours again in a searing kiss. He pushed you back on the bed before dragging you towards him with a tight grip on one of your thighs. “Jealous… Me?” He mocked. He settled above you pressing his lips against your neck and biting at the skin, eliciting a moan to fall from your lips. His hand snaked down your body at an excruciating pace to slip between your body and your underwear. He began to rub circles against your heat, leaning off of you to see your expression. You rested your hands on his neck, pulling him down to kiss you briefly so you could hide a moan threatening to burst through your body. He slipped a finger into you and you groaned, wrapping a leg around him as he began to pump his finger in and out of you. He added another as your hips began to move with his rhythm. You dug your fingernails into his back and his dark expression flashed to pride.

A knot began to build deep within you as he alternated his speeds. You felt yourself tightening around his fingers; at this rate, you’d be done for within seconds. “Dean…” you whined, ready to make him quicken his fingers inside of you, but instead he retracted himself, sitting back on his knees and pulling you up to sit across from him. His fingers slipped into his mouth as his other hand reached up to rub a thumb against your swollen bottom lip, agitated from his tugging and biting. He wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you into another agonizingly short kiss before getting off the bed and dragging you into the bathroom with him. He pinned you against the counter roughly, his lips capturing yours as his tongue once again danced with yours. You held onto his shoulders to steady yourself as he unclasped your bra, his lips once again leaving yours to suck on your neck, his hand squeezing your breast while the other settled on the counter behind you. You slid your hands down to the waistband of his sweatpants, unlacing the tie but he grabbed your wrist, halting your progress.

“Don’t,” he barked. He roughly turned you to look into the mirror. Your hair was disheveled, lips plump from his previous actions, bruises littering your neck and chest. Dean looked glorious and in complete control behind you as he slipped his pants off, taking his boxers with them. He practically ripped your underpants down your legs before pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “I love you,” he said, moving your hair off your neck and looking into your eyes through the reflection of the mirror. You found yourself breathing rather deeply, overcome with pure passion for him. “Remember that.” Your eyes locked to his as a sardonic smirk spread across his face and you bit back a grin of your own.

God, you were in for it.

He spat in one of his hands before wrapping it around his cock, pumping his hand a few times before bending you at the waist and slamming into you. You groaned at the aggressive nature of his action: something so different from his usual manner in the bedroom. You gripped the edge of the counter as he pulled out of you only to fill you back up once again, snapping his hips into yours. As he pounded into you, letting a string of curses fall from his lips in a deeper octave you hadn’t reached before, your eyes shut in pleasure, attempting to keep yourself together.

Dean drove a fist into your hair yanking your head back up and tsking at you in disappointment. “Watch, sweetheart.” His lust blown eyes burned into you through the mirror as he leaned over you slightly, pressing his lips to your back before standing up straighter and pulling your hips against him, driving himself deeper into you. You knew his fingers would leave bruises and, in a way, you wanted them too. Dean moaned, biting his lip at your slack-jawed expression, his thrusts sloppy. You were thankful for his tight grip on you because your knees were weakening by the second, with each of his movements.

You couldn’t take the wait anymore. “I’m close…” you moaned, looking up at him through the mirror.

He shook his head. His pace picked up even more and your eyes threatened to roll as goosebumps began to spread over your body. “Beg,” he grunted.

“Please, Dean.” It became harder and harder to hold yourself together as you felt each of his jerks and movements. He leaned over you once more, his face next to yours in the mirror. Both of you were covered in a sheer layer of sweat with the look of pure lust for one another mixing with the colors of your irises.

“Cum.” It took milliseconds to reach your climax with his permission and he rode out his own orgasm against you, leaving the two of you panting and barely able to stand. He pulled out of you and you dropped to your knees slightly, a lazy expression covering your face. He helped you up and he leaned against the counter. You took this opportunity to fully examine his work. He watched you with bliss still playing in his eyes.

“Shit, if I had known it took spilling coffee on Timothée Chalamet to bring that out in you, I would have done it sooner,” you jeered, smirking at him.

Dean stood up, crossing his arms and sending you a cocky grin. “Joke all you want. I’m not the one that was bent over the sink, my love,” he quipped, cheekily slapping your ass as he exited the bathroom.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Imagine:

Readers long time crush, Erik Stevens, knocks on her door dressed as a pizza delivery stripper and he doesn’t realize he has the wrong address until it’s too late.

I’m telling y’all now this is funny 🤣🤣 I couldn’t stop smiling and laughing while writing this. Erik is Hoe Erik okurrr.

She popped her ass in her kitchen to the Jersey Club Mix playlist she had on loop all day. It was her off day too. Y/N decided to make a batch of chocolate chip cookies for her gifted cookie jar she received for her birthday. It had the words “Scorpio’s Winning” on it. A particular beat had her twirling her spatula in the air, throwing her ass in a circle with her tongue sticking out.

“Aye!!! This my shit! I miss my Jersey fam.”

Chuckling, Y/N adds the chocolate chunks. She was a traveling Chef who was born and raised in Jersey but moved to Annapolis, MD for her college education. Currently, she was living in Boston with a cozy bakery. She had dreams of opening Bakeries across the east coast.

Dreams her long time crush that she met way back in Annapolis, MD told her to pursue. The thought of him still made her shiver. He was so young at the time, around twenty one. She would always see him in her neighborhood running in the early mornings with his Navy sweatshirt on and matching sweat pants. From there it extended to them hanging out for drinks and getting to know eachother. He would talk about his early life in Oakland, CA, his accent swooning her. Flirtatious, full of life, an ego big enough to make everyone in a room feel small, and lets not for get all around fine as HELL.

She missed him a lot, and honestly, he was one of the reasons why she even moved to Boston. He always talked about becoming an Engineer once he furthered his career in the Navy turned Military man. He was so mature for his age, most of the young niggas chasing after her still acted like they were eighteen. Nah, Erik had an old soul. Women older than him couldn’t believe he was only twenty one.

“Erik Stevens,” she blushed while molding her cookies on a tray lined with parchment paper. Her belly growled, a tiny frown of frustration on her face. She didn’t cook a damn thing and cookies would not be the meal of the night today. There were a few cups of spicy noodles in her cabinet she could hook up a ramen dish with veggies and egg. Once the cookies were in the oven, Y/N washes her hands, heading to take a quick shower. Once there, she stripped out of her t-shirt, the only thing on anyway.

The shower water spilled over her back and hair, her eyes closed and a satisfied sigh escaping her mouth. Tonight’s agenda: eat a bowl of vanilla ice cream with some cookies, sit on the couch with a glass of wine and read her fan fiction favorites. Smut was a number one but she started up with some Angst and now she was even more hooked on that. She could read a nice scary one tonight. Fully clean and skin smooth from the oil she applied in the shower, Y/N leaves the bathroom completely naked, walking out to check her cookies.

They were just about finished, having her entire place smelling like a bakery in the early morning. She rubs her hands together, squealing like the fat girl she was. Y/N’s motto was: love what you have and fuck whatever others thought. She’s tall and thick. 5’10 with a lot of curves to match. A Stallion. Pulling out her good wine glass, Y/N pours a generous glass of white wine, taking a small sip with a soothing hum.

“I’m about to have a good ass night,” she talks to herself. In the middle of shaking her hips within her toasty kitchen, a knock comes to her door. She raises a single brow, smacking her lips from her wine.

“Not tonight, fuck that,” she rolls her eyes, walking out of her kitchen and to her bedroom, the knocks came again but harder. She walked to the door, staring through the peep hole at a man’s back with a pizza box in hand. Scrunching her face with confusion, Y/N talks loud enough for the pizza guy to hear.

“I didn’t order any pizza, sir,” she says politely.

“You sure? Address said apartment 3B.”

His voice. Why did it sound so familiar?

“Well, apartment 3A didn’t order anything. But since you’re so persistent you can leave the box and I’ll take it for free.” She laughs loudly, causing the man on the other side of the door to laugh. He sounded good and she didn’t even see his face. Y/N was looking through that hole again, trying to catch this man but his back was still turned. Was he hiding?

“Is this some kind of joke?” She spoke with an attitude.

“Why don’t you open the door and see,” he challenged.

“Now why would I be dumb enough to do that?”

“This pizza hot and ready like little Caesar’s open the door, Baby girl.”

Just like a trap, she see’s a box of pizza open and sizzling, two toned and veiny arms with fingers perfectly manicured and thick stretching out while holding open the pizza to her. Her mouth watered.

“Damn, that does look good.” It was a legit box of pizza and he looked official with the uniform and all.

“Mhm, had to hold back from stealing a piece myself,” he started making sounds of satisfaction, drawing her in each time his deep yet raspy voice let out a mmm and a so good.

“Fuck it.” She was ready to open the door, unlocking it but before she could unhook the chain she stopped quickly, forgetting about her nudity.

“You good?” He chuckles.

“You out here about to have me show you my birthday suit!!!” She could hear him get close to the door.

“Birthday suit, huh?” The fact that she could smell him from behind the door...damn. He smelled so fucking good.

“Birthday suits are better then pajamas.”

She blushes, biting her lip.

“Can you give me a second?” She softly closes the door, quickly rushing to her room to retrieve her robe. It was gonna be a grab and go. He was giving it away for free so oh well. Wrapped in silk, Y/N rushes back to the door, finally opening it and coming face to face with-

“Free Pizza.” He held his arms out wide, dazzling smile on his face. The smile she remembers. The same pouty lips, unruly eyebrows, long lashes, dark eyes, and deep dimples. Her stupefied expression made him blink twice rapidly, the same look shaping his face as well.

“Y/N?!!!!” He finally spoke.

It was Erik Stevens in the flesh.

“What the fuck?” She whispers.

Erik Stevens is a damn pizza delivery guy?!!! After all these years this nigga was selling pizzas? She expected him to be a Doctor in Engineering living in a bomb ass condo with a bad bitch that he fucked every day. A bad bitch she wished she was.

“What. The. Absolute. FUCK.” She spoke again but louder. The music blasting a floor above her couldn’t match how loud she just yelled. Erik almost drops the pizza box. He catches it in time with swift reflexes.

“Nice to see you too, Y/N,” he looks her over, nodding his head with a slight smirk, “You look the fuck good girl. Almost had me dropping this box of pizza. Had a nigga trumped.”

“Ha,” she was light headed. Erik Stevens the damn Pizza guy. She was so shocked. This was a real awkward moment.

“Erik,” she starts before shaking her head. She couldn’t even put into words what she wanted to say to him in that moment.

“Something burning?” He sniffs the air.

“MY COOKIES!!!!!” She rushes into her apartment, leaving the door open while Erik slips inside. He was just as confused and shocked as she was. Box still in hand, Erik walks through her living room, taking in anything he could about the Y/N he missed out on. Still the same after all these years. Back in her presence, Erik watches with humor as she curses about her burnt cookies.

“I CANT BELIEVE-“ she stops mid rant, looking over her shoulder at Erik.

“You left your door opened,” he points to the door. Y/N just stood there looking at him while the burnt tray of cookies and an oven mit were in her other hand.

“Y/N, stop staring at me like that.” Erik shakes his head away from her, tossing the pizza box on the counter, “You got pizza now so why not eat that instead?” His voice has a teasing edge to it.

“Are you aware that I am so speechless right now!” She placed the tray of cookies on the stove, “I mean...ERIK!!!!!”

He laughs, removing his uniform hat to reveal short dreads. She damn near fainted.

“I’m aware, I ain’t expect to come here and see you looking the way you do. Just as fine, just ass...thick.”

He really says that after all these years. He could have said that to her years ago back in Annapolis, MD.

“Oh my God,” Y/N dramatically clutches her chest, “Aint no way this is happening to me tonight.”

“Oh yeah, it’s happening,” Erik bit his lip at her, “you look...”

They both laugh. Damn, what a reunion.

“Can I get you anything? She started opening cabinets, talking so fast she barely breathed.

“Coffee? Water? Juice? Some wine? Something stronger? Oh shit! My bad I forgot you’re working- speaking of work I never saw you as the pizza delivery guy type, I mean, not tryna down play you or anything you just seemed like you had bigger plans, much bigger plans-“

She turns, eyes almost leaving her sockets, standing before her in a male thong with a black bow tie around his neck and a body that would knock you on your back, was Erik Stevens the pizza delivery guy turned stripper.

“WHAT THE HELL?!!!” She yells out. This man was oiled down and everything. He steps around the kitchen island, eyes low and dangerous, lips turned up into a sly smirk, body on POINT.

“You serious?” She laughs nervously. What was this? She had to be fucking dreaming. Right off the back he just strips down, ready to seduce her. This man was wild.

“Somebody come wake my ass up!!!” She yells while pinching her forearm.

“Ain’t no dream here, babygirl, you look like you hungry for something else and I got that shit for you.”

Trapped, Y/N was in between the counter and a whole man. She could feel his dick on her thigh. This was quick. He was about business with this male stripper mess.

“LAWD!” She yells, looking anywhere but at him.

So, this man is a male stripper?! She kept thinking on a loop.

“Don’t act like that now you know you want this Y/N. You’ve been wanting this for a while.”

“You knew about that?!!!” She couldn’t believe this man was in a damn thong. What in the hell.

“Erik you gotta cut me some slack this is not how I planned our reunion would be like!”

His hands were on her waist now, lips close to her ear.

“Let’s make it a good reunion then, let a nigga put his nuts in your face.” He laughs and you gasp in pure shock.

“Did you-“ you blink at him like he was an extra terrestrial.

Out of no where he starts grinding on you, no music playing just his hips moving. What kind of stripper shit is this?

“No music?!” You laugh out loud.

“Play something then, Y/N,” he steps away while she walks backward to her phone on the kitchen counter. He wanted to do this, okay. She could play along and have a little fun. Laugh about it with his ass later. Y/N thought to pull up her ass shaking playlist but she didn’t see Erik as the type of stripper to put on a show to twerk hip hop. Finally, Y/N pulls up her slow jam playlist, settling for some Ginuwine. So Anxious starts playing, a big ass smile on Y/N’s face. She was trying her hardest not to be goofy about this shit but clearly, Erik didn’t care that he was at the wrong house. He had to have known this wasn’t the place for him to be.

“Well,” she sits on her couch, “Give me a show then, Stevens.”

Erik walks towards her, eyes low and body making her bite her lip. Erik stands before her, his dick in her face and Y/N’s eyes zeroing in on the big target. The minute he started grinding in her face, muscles moving in conjunction with his seductive hip rolling, she was ready to pull out her money.

“Shit, I forgot my money.”

She felt like she was back at her sisters bachelorette party all over again. The stripper there had her in a damn fantasy world. She gave him all her damn money.

“Don’t worry about all that, Y/N. Think of it as a little gift from your long time crush.” His dazzling smile made her blush from her cheeks down to her neck.

“Well can I at least touch you?”

Erik props his leg up on the couch, dick almost smacking her in her face with his excessive grinding and moaning. Jesus.

“Girl if you don’t enjoy your damn self.” He laughs when Y/N reaches out to drag her shaking fingers down his abs.

“JESUS.” She says through clenched teeth.

A loud thud from above her followed up by cheering and laughter caught her attention. Y/N put two and two together, a small smile creeping up her face.

“Looks like your supposed to be in 4B not 3B.”

Erik raises a single brow, “At least you’re keeping me with a hard dick until I get up there.” His hands were on the back of the couch now, his chest and abs in Y/N’s face while her hands rubbed his ass all the way around to his thighs. The song switched out to Pretty Ricky- Grind with me.

Out of no where, Erik picks Y/N up from the couch, seating himself and placing her in his lap. Erik lifted his hips from the couch, rolling them up into her naked crotch, causing her to bounce. This was torture. This was going to end up being a fuck session not a strip session.

“Okay, Erik, I think I’ve had my fun,” she was flushed and horny.

“Nah, lets keep going, baby girl.” His eyes with those lashes...she couldn’t look at him anymore.

“What made you become a stripper-WHAT!”

Erik lifts her legs to his shoulders, grinding into her like he was fucking her. She knew at this point her entire pussy was out for him to see.

“Stop asking questions,” he grabs her ass, squeezing it firmly while his hard dick rolled from her ass to her pussy.

“Erik this is fucking wild!!!” Y/N would have a laugh and maybe a cum or two later from this moment. Who was answering her prayers? Who out there besides Erik knew of the big crush she had on this gorgeous man. Erik didn’t even know she lived in Boston. This was some fate type of shit. His lips on her neck brought her back to reality.

“Don’t kiss on my neck like that unless you plan on fucking me!!!!” Y/N had no filter at this point. Erik was like a celebrity crush. Imagine being brought on stage by your favorite male artist and he’s grinding on you and making you feel special, THATS what this felt like.

“You wanna fuck?” He looked at her genuinely serious.

“Uh-“ he cuts her off.

“I mean, for you I can make that happen.”

Now she was wondering if he was a male escort. This man here...

“Erik...I’m telling you now...I know my pussy is all out there and it’s whatever but can you PLEASE STOP TEASING ME!!!”

Y/N lifts from Erik’s lap, pausing her music. Erik throws his head back, a booming laughter escaping his mouth while his muscles bounced in tune with his fit of chuckling. Y/N had to bite the inside of her cheek to calm her laugh.

“Aight cut that shit out I wanna be serious for a second.”

Before she could speak, Erik’s phone goes off. Groaning, he lifts from the couch, tucking one of his nuts back in place in that damn thong. Y/N had to put a fist to her mouth to control herself.

That thang is hanging! She thought salaciously.

“Yeah, this Daddy Kill, babygirl.” He smiles into the phone, gold slugs gleaming, “apartment 4B?”

He looks over at Y/N, both of them silently laughing. Erik clutched his ribs from the pain of laughter.

“Sorry for the late timing, sweetheart, I’ll be there real soon. Nah, keep the drinks going and make sure y’all ready and horny cuz ima put on a real good show,” Erik laughs with a bite of his lip, “Y’all some freaky bitches, aight bye.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open from hearing a Erik reader to those women as bitches. Without a flicker of care, Erik hangs up.

“So wassup, Y/N?” Erik walks further into her kitchen, “you said you got some strong shit, how about Hennessy? I need some extra energy for the 15 women upstairs.”

Y/N makes his drink while a thong wearing Erik stands before her, glistening and chiseled.

“Here you go,” she hands him his drink, “now tell me what made you become a damn stripper? And what else do you do? Cus you talking about sex is extra.”

Erik smiles with a shake of his head, “I am indeed a male entertainer, still working on my Engineering doctorate but after doing some experimenting online with live cam and all that I got a lot of hits. So now I do my own thing on the side. I strip, do live cam, have regular submissives.”

“You must make a lot of damn money to do this shit,” Y/N makes a drink for herself.

“I do, it’s a business on the side, Y/N,” Erik was overly humored, “You knocking the way I make my money, ma?”

“No!! No I just... I would have never expected this,” she shakes her head, “Are you in a relationship?”

Erik kisses his teeth, “Nah, single and I wanna keep it that way for a while.”

“Damn, I’m tryna shoot my shot and you just blocking me,” Y/N laughed, half way joking and half way serious. If they were together he wouldn’t be doing this anymore for other women, just her.

“You ain’t shoot your shot before what’s so different now? Is it cus my dick in your face?”

“No, it’s cuz I thought I would never see you again.”

Erik walks over to her, picking her up and sitting her on the kitchen counter. He plays her music again, grabbing her arms to place around his neck, moving her from side to side. She pouted, giving in to his antics.

“You make me sick,” she looks him in the eye, “you should probably go-AHHH!”

Erik picks Y/N up, bouncing her on his still hard dick. She was dripping on this man, he played entirely too much.

“Alright cut it out!!” She swatted at him, Erik putting her down with a smile.”

“Y/N, I missed you,” he chuckles, “You right, let me get up out of here.”

Erik walks away, picking up his fake pizza uniform, putting it on. Y/N runs her hands over her hair and adjusts her robe, heart still fluttering and legs wobbly. She walks over to the pizza, hovering her hand over it and noticing it was cold.

“Don’t worry about that, it’s just a gimmick.”

“Too bad. You sure you don’t want any money for your excellent services?” Y/N joked.

“Ha, I told you I’m good girl.”

Fully dressed, Erik finished off his Henny, grabbing his hat to put on and the box of pizza from the counter. Erik walked over to Y/N, grabbing her chin and placing a soft and lingering kiss on her cheek.

“You gonna miss me, Y/N? I promise to come back and see you since you’re in Boston now. We got a lot of catching up to do girl.”

Her heart skipped about two beats.

“You better.” Y/N rolls her eyes.

“Sorry I gotta leave you like this, but I can’t miss out on my money.”

Fuck them bitches upstairs, she seethed to herself.

“It’s cool, you’re just gonna make it up to me when I see you next time.”

Erik pulls out his phone, “give me your number.” He was telling more so than asking. Y/N gives him her digits, Erik storing it in his phone and saving it.

Y/N walks Erik to the door, the further they went the more she dreaded it. Opening the door, Erik walks out, turning to give her a tight hug and that same lingering kiss but to her forehead this time. He was really driving her crazy. Erik wasn’t going to make this crush thing easy. A fun night turned into a boring one.

“Bye, stupid,” she shoved him.

“Bye, girl.” Erik walks away and up the steps, turning to look over his shoulder from time to time with a smile on his face.

“Pick that lip up,” he teases.

“They don’t deserve your body!!!” Y/N yells after him.

“YOU SO STINGY!!” He yells back, Y/N closing her door behind her with a huge grin on her face.

It only took a few seconds before she heard the door opening, Erik giving the ladies his intro.

“Pizza delivery for 4B, right?”

[omgrachwrites]

Schooled (Bucky Barnes)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes/OC

Summary: After the passing of Ava’s father she starts acting out which drives her right into the arms of one gorgeous Professor Barnes.

Warnings: fluff, lil bit of angst, mentions of dr*gs

Words: 2260

A/N: Can you guys believe I’ve posted twice in one week?! I don’t think I’ve ever typed the word ‘Shakespeare’ so many times and on Shakespeare day as well, its pretty fitting! I hope you guys all enjoy this, please let me know what you think and if you would like to be tagged just shoot me an ask! I love you guys very much! xxx

Part Four - Halloween

Bucky sighed to himself as again he marked another unsatisfactory essay, he couldn’t believe those essays were written by the students in his class. The first few were okay but barely, the next couple had just been plain rubbish and the essay that he had marked before this one was downright plagiarised. He looked up at his students who were working on their projects with the exception of Ava and Loki; they were passing notes to one another. Bucky thought that he should say something but he didn’t want to single out Ava. Again. He remembered how embarrassing that was from his own college days.

He raked a hand through his fluffy hair as he looked back down at the pile of essays that he should have marked weeks ago. Now was the perfect time to get the marking done before the work load piled up. Turning over the top essay he saw that it was another one on Shakespeare. He was pissed off with himself, why the hell did he put Shakespeare on the syllabus? The last essay he had marked on Shakespeare there was an author’s note at the bottom of the page, explaining why they thought that Shakespeare was a ‘cool guy’.

Bucky was sure that being a ‘cool guy’ wasn’t very high on Shakespeare’s list of what he wanted to leave behind. Massaging his temples, Bucky looked at the name that was at the top of the essay and saw that Loki had written it. Loki had transferred from Cambridge with a glowing recommendation and now it was Bucky’s chance to see if he lived up to his expectations.

From the first paragraph of the essay Bucky was hooked, it was probably one of the most engaging essays that he’d read about Shakespeare. It was plainly obvious that Loki was passionate about Shakespeare and that was what Bucky wanted in a student, somebody with a bit of passion. By the time that Bucky had reached the end of the essay it was obvious that this was the highest mark on a paper so far. It was so good that Bucky would have even allowed an author’s note about how cool Shakespeare was and it would have even made him laugh.

“Mr Odinson,” Bucky started and Loki looked up with wide eyes, Ava also looked up at him, “I really enjoyed your essay about Shakespeare, it’s the best one I’ve read in a while.”

Loki looked slightly confused and hesitant but he smiled all the same, “well, thank you very much sir,” Ava nudged Loki’s arm and gave him the most dazzling smile that Bucky had to look away.

“Right guys and gals, get going and please enjoy your weekend. Next time we’ll be picking up Shakespeare, Hamlet to be exact,” his announcement was met by an influx of groans but Loki looked excited, “oh, don’t sound so glum, according to Mr Owens, William Shakespeare was a cool guy,” he grinned and there came a whoop of agreement.

“Yes! Right on sir!” Bucky laughed and dismissed the class; Ava shot him a faint smile on her way out.

As Ava walked out, Steve was walking in and did a double take when he saw Ava, “wait, what the fuck?” Steve mouthed and he backtracked himself into the hallway.

Groaning, Bucky stood up and followed his friend out of the lecture hall, “Steve come on! Don’t,” Bucky pleaded but it was too late.

“Ava?” Steve called out, way to keep a low profile Bucky thought, Ava turned around at the mention of her name.

“Steve? Is that you?” she laughed and narrowed her eyes, “I’d ask what you’re doing here but obviously by the look of those shorts you’re the gym coach,” she gestured at his outfit, causing Steve’s ears to go red, “is Sam here too? Maybe we could have ourselves a lovely little reunion,” she rolled her eyes at Bucky.

“I thought that you had graduated university,” Steve said slowly, pointing out the obvious and he looked from Ava to Bucky and Bucky shrugged nonchalantly.

“Yeah Steve, so did I, I mean that is what you told us right Ava? Or at least that’s what you implied,” Bucky knew that he was acting like a child but it was hard for him not to feel offended. Especially when she looked so beautiful in ripped blue jeans and an oversized green sweater.

“Oh my god Bucky, all I did was lie to you! I didn’t realise that it was a crime, maybe your pretty face kept you safe from women lying to you but we’ve all got to start somewhere,” she walked up to him, “so please, stop treating me like a fucking war criminal, alright?” she snarled, jabbing him in the chest.

This girl certainly was a far cry from the woman that he’d met in Greece, “it was good to see you though Steve, really it was,” she looked around the corridor to make sure no one was coming before she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed Steve’s cheek. She shot an angry look at Bucky as she walked off down the hallway.

Steve looked amused and was about to say something but Bucky shot him a venomous look that made him shut up. Bucky sighed and the two best friends walked off down the hallway together and into the car park.

“So,” Steve started, deigning it safe to speak as they squeezed themselves into Steve’s tiny vintage car, “tough break huh, where do you want to go for lunch?”

Bucky was starting to get a migraine from all the marking he had done and the frustrating encounter that he’d had with Ava in the hallway, “yes Steve, it is a tough break, I must have been especially wicked in a past life to deserve this, and honestly, I don’t mind. As long as they sell Irish coffee, I need some sort of alcohol,” he sighed, rubbing his temples.

Steve nodded as he started the car and when he spoke, his voice sounded a little weird and high pitched, “I know the perfect place, I’ll call Sam on the way and see if he’s free to meet us.”

About ten minutes later Steve was pulling up outside a little café, it was absolutely packed inside so Steve and Bucky sat outside – it was a pretty nice day – to wait for Sam. When Sam turned up there were a group of girls that giggled and swooned at Sam as he walked to Steve and Bucky’s table, he was still in his firefighter uniform. Bucky rolled his eyes and grinned as Sam sat down opposite him, he couldn’t see why Sam just couldn’t get changed into regular clothes before he came out on his lunch break.

“Sam, you could have at least gotten changed, you’re making the rest of us look bad,” Bucky chuckled and Sam shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Sorry Buck, I just can’t help it if the ladies love me,” Sam winked, “how are you and that incredibly hot TA?”

Bucky shrugged, shaking his head as he nervously began to rip up the napkin that was in front of him, “that incredibly hot TA and I can be nothing but good bed mates,” Sam was saved from replying because at that moment the waiter came to their table to take their order.

“Just three coffees please man,” Sam said to the kid who nodded and scrawled it down in his notebook.

“Make one Irish,” Bucky smiled and turned to look at Steve who looked crestfallen which was pretty out of character, he was staring at his shoes. Bucky was about to ask him what the matter was but a lightbulb went on in his head and he smirked, “oh my god. It’s here isn’t it? She works here,” at Bucky’s words Steve’s head whipped up and a dark flush spread out across his cheeks which confirmed Bucky’s suspicions.

“Who works here?” Sam frowned, on the wrong page from everybody else and Steve gave Bucky a threatening look which Bucky promptly ignored.

“The girl he’s got a crush on, I hear she’s an English beauty,” Bucky chuckled and clapped Steve on the shoulder, “I just can’t understand why you won’t ask her out.”

Steve looked at his best friend like he’d just suggested the most outrageous plan, “what the hell are you talking about Buck? I can’t just ask her out, a woman as beautiful as her must have a boyfriend. She could do a lot better than me anyhow,” Steve shrugged, he’d been nervous around girls ever since high school.

“Seriously man, our local bar is throwing an early Halloween party tonight. How about you invite her to that?” Sam suggested reasonably and Steve rolled his eyes shaking his head.

“It’s three weeks till Halloween; it’s completely ridiculous celebrating it this early!”

“Yeah, that wasn’t really my point,” Sam sighed, “but never mind,” Steve fell silent almost instantly when their coffees were brought out.

They were brought out by a pretty woman with short dark hair and by the look on Steve’s face this was the woman that he’d been lusting after. Steve was hopeless when he was around women that he liked, that was made plainly obvious as Steve wouldn’t say a word to the waitress when she came outside to collect cups and plates. She even smiled at him once which caused Steve to completely lose his head and spill coffee all down himself. When Steve went to the restroom Buck wrote Steve’s name and number down on the bill.

“He’ll thank me one day,” Bucky said to a smirking Sam.

——————————–

Ava walked out of her room, her heels clacking on the hardwood floor and she stood in front of Loki, turning on the spot, “what do you think about my sort of costume?” she giggled, she was going to an early Halloween party with Wanda and MJ tonight. She had decided to go as a princess but she made her outfit casual so it could be seen as normal party attire.

Loki leaned back on the couch, raising an eyebrow appreciatively as he looked her up and down, “you look fantastic.”

Ava giggled and flushed slightly at the compliment, “are you sure that you won’t come? It won’t be the same without you.”

“I might come later on but if I don’t, have a wonderful night love and stay safe,” he smiled and Ava nodded, blowing him a kiss before she headed out of the door.

Ava met MJ and Wanda at the bar and Wanda held up a sandwich bag with cookies in the shape of ghosts inside, “they’ve got pot in them,” she giggled, during the first three weeks of their final year Wanda had taken up a new hobby, “senior year of college is fantastic!”

“Maybe later Wand,” Ava giggled, shaking her head, “do you girls want some cocktails then?”

Soon enough the three girls – after one too many cocktails – were dancing in the middle of the room, drinks in hand. They’d also had a little nibble of Wanda’s homemade pot cookies but they weren’t really giving any effects at the moment.

“I still can’t believe that Bucky is your goddamn professor!” MJ shouted down Ava’s ear as she sucked her iced cocktail off the stirrer. Ava giggled, playing with the ends of her hair, not getting a chance to reply as Wanda spoke up.

“Are you going to start sleeping with him again though?” she asked and Ava shook her head, too much had happened between them.

“No, I’ll get us some more cocktails shall I?” she didn’t wait for an answer before she walked over to the bar, desperately wanting to get away from the conversation. While she was at the bar she felt a hand on the small of her back, she turned to see that it was Loki. He looked so handsome. He’d sprayed his curly blonde hair black and he was dressed in Victorian attire.

“Loki! You came!” she giggled and gave him a hug; he chuckled as he kissed the top of her head.

“Are you drunk?” he asked.

“Loki,” she gasped playfully, “however did you guess?”

“Well Miss Stark, your cheeks are perfectly rosy from the liquor and you look undeniably beautiful,” Ava giggled at his words and gave the gorgeous boy another hug. Over his shoulder she saw Steve – with a beautiful woman – Sam and Bucky. Bucky had some beautiful blonde perched on his knee. Despite herself, Ava couldn’t look away.

Loki pulled away from the hug and followed Ava’s line of sight, “ah, do you fancy Professor Barnes?“ he smirked.

“Something like that,” Ava thought there was no point in lying about it; she was still attracted to Bucky.

“And, he’s looking this way, how about we give him a show?” he winked and Ava nodded, wondering what he could mean.

In a flash Loki had her in his arms, leaning her back slightly, “I hope this doesn’t make things awkward between us,” he murmured before kissing her. She was pleasantly surprised but only for a second before she kissed him back, running her fingers through his thick curls. Loki grunted into the kiss as Ava pushed up against him before pulling away and the pair turned to look at Bucky.

The woman was now sitting beside him instead of on his knee and he was looking at Ava and Loki with a mingled look of amusement and perhaps something else, Ava couldn’t be entirely sure.

——————————–

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@void-imaginations​ @theonelittleone @leclerc-stan  @thejemersoninferno @allthingswildareshy​ @mikariell95​ @charles11700​ @writingkeepsmewhole​ @lovely-geek​ @white-wolf-buckaroo​ @goodolbucky​ @rosemoonmist​

[fairyshuuu]

The taste of gold 1/2

.summary. You work in one of the most expensive places in the world. The glitz and glamour is a daily, by now. The one thing you don’t expect, is for the boss to take an interest in you. A really obnoxious, annoying interest. .word count.  9.5k .pairing. baekhyun x reader .genre. fluff

part 1.   part 2.   smut.

There’s a certain range of colors that scream rich. Breathe it, kiss it every day before they go to work, the sound of coins hitting the bank. Soft, gentle colors, like champagne, and peach, and gold, that wrap around you and continue the gentle shades of their skin and warm them from within the cells. There’s royal blue, the color that tastes like the deepest part of the sea, the most open part of the soul, and maybe also the most deceitful part. Rosé, and burgundy, and velvet, colors that stick to your tongue and make a home there, drinking you in. They call attention, shout it at the top of their lungs and while you might never wear rich, you’ve seen a lot of it.

You’ve seen it when you walk out of your apartment, gold glitter reflecting off the dark tinted windows of the private limo that waits for some equally dark dressed woman. When you get off the tram and walk to around the corner to see Heaven’s Gate reflect the sunrise off of it’s spotless glass windows, visible from what you can only imagine is every corner of Seoul. When you walk into the over-sized hall through the back door and tug on your uniform, catching your reflection in your golden name tag. When you scoot in next to the two other girls at reception a few minutes before 6, and glance carefully at the heels so high that they cannot be comfortable. The dresses so soft and shimmery that if you were to look too long you might damage your retinas.

Those colors that scream rich. You don’t think you like those colors. Secretly, of course, you long for them at the same time. You long to touch and smell and breathe those colors, those fabrics, those drinks and those people like everyone else. But they’re not meant for you, you think. They wouldn’t match with the blush of your cheeks, the dark under your eyes and certainly not with the snow white color of your soul on a rainy day. Still though, it’s enchanting to watch, like visiting the zoo for the nth time. You know what types of figures will pass the doors, but can’t find it to look away.

The women with smiles of a million won, diamonds draped around their dainty fingers and necks and littered in their hair like they were born with them attached to their skin. The ones with the long champagne dresses, flaunting their elegant slim shapes and giggling while connecting their arms with the date of the evening. The men with suits that look so crisp that they must have never been worn before, those who slide their black cards across the counter with a smile. Before you got a job at Heaven’s gate, you honestly believed that every rich person was terrible. A stereotype, sure, but one taken from reality, you assumed. Most people here though, are polite, magical at their best and at least helpful at their worst.

There are the few rot apples in the bunch, the teenage boys who come in smoking, smile on their soft lips like the entire world revolves around them and maybe it does to an extent. The girls who give sneers when the bellboy drops one of the twenty-eight bags that were pushed into their hands. But these are exceptions, and so you’ve grown to admire the beauty of gold. You admire the confidence of the people who walk into the hall like they have nothing to lose and everything to gain. You get lost in the eyes of the woman who sends you a wink when you give her a deep bow and rush to hold the door open for her and her pristine blood-red heels.

You eat them up like cherry ice cream, because in truth, you don’t know how long this will last and you long to keep a little bit of the glamour locked in your mind, dusted on your fingertips. Heaven’s Gate is the largest and most reputable housing chain in South Korea, and maybe even all of Asia. It’s only affordable for people who have so much money that they could fill a swimming pool with it, of course, but it’s gorgeous, and the people in it are too. How you ever got a job, even a minor one, is still beyond you. If Heaven’s Gate was a cake, she’d be so sweet that you get cavities just looking at it, if she was a person, you’d beg for a single breath in your direction.

As you carefully sip on a cup of coffee in the back room, you sigh. Even this room, one for the staff that no guest will ever see, is grandiose. It’s almost painful, how much money it must cost to exist in the vicinity of something like Heaven’s Gate. The name is no lie. You let your nail run over the marble counters for a second, and glance around the room. The table is a white marble, chairs decorated in gold, the curtains are a delicate creme and the lights are golden chandeliers that create sparkles on your skin. Your damn coffee tastes like it came straight from up in the clouds, for fuck sake. You take a look out of the window, and press your lips tight. The floor-to-ceiling windows give you a view into the small car park that sits behind the complex, displaying the billions of won worth of cars that have their own little paradise.

The car park is also called the Garden of Eden, and even this is no lie. The cars are shrouded in the shadows of the tall, blindingly green trees, and surrounded by millions of flowers that all somehow look too expensive for a normal garden. There’s a little waterfall that runs from farther into the park, and runs past the first line of cars as if the cars themselves need a nice view too. The large white fountain that lights up in gold when evening falls is just visible from the window here. You sigh, and put your cup down, placing it in the dishwasher under the sink. You don’t need to do this since the cleaning crew passes every two hours, but you feel guilty leaving it out to dirty the beautiful counters.

A gentle knock comes on the door, as you look up in slight surprise. Your co worker Bea walks in with a small smile on her cherry lips, and gives you a little nod. She is, much like you are, dressed in a silk top, a soft gold of color, and a deep coal colored pencil skirt. The gold name tag sits proudly on the right side of the uniform, name engraved into it clearly. Her black heels tap against the heated stone floor as she walks over to you and starts making a cup of coffee for herself. “Do you want one?” She asks over her shoulder, to which you gratefully decline. “Ah, is your break almost over?”

“Yeah,” you glance at the clock once, “I still have a minute and fifty-three seconds.” Bea giggles and nods, while you move to the mirror to check your uniform, just to be sure. When you first got it in the mail, you thought a mistake must have been made. Which employer gives their employees a silk blouse? You’d spent the whole of your first day terrified of spilling anything on the fabric. You quickly understood how important impressions here were, from the bellboys to the chefs in the kitchen, everyone looked like they walked straight out of a fairy tale. You wipe your hands on the soft white towel once, and nod. About time to get back to work.

“Oh, Y/N!” Bea suddenly calls, as you turn to look at her. “Are you coming to lunch later? I want to go but I’m not sure if my schedule will allow it.”

You bite your lip. “I wasn’t planning on going, honestly.” You internally let out a long sigh. All of it is a lot, the company lunches. The morning staff gets to go to lunch at three, to make sure all the guests have had their meals before, and talk and drink until about five. All while the afternoon staff is helping the guests. It’s a whole gathering, and that almost every single workday.

“But you can? You’re missing out on an amazing meal paid by the company because you want to?” At her shock, you giggle, and nod.

“I feel guilty letting Heaven’s Gate pay my food.” You admit, glancing at the clock again. Thirty seconds. You might have to cut your exchange with Bea short.

Bea hums, and takes a sip of her coffee as she leans her back against the counter. “I don’t know if it’s true but I actually heard that the employee meals aren’t paid by Heaven’s. I heard it’s straight out of the Boss’ personal bank account.”

Your mouth almost falls open unceremoniously, but you manage to hold it in. Lunch for hundreds of employees, everyday? “That can’t be, right? Why would he do that?”

“He always says in interviews that he wouldn’t be anywhere without his staff. Maybe he’s thankful.” You look away from the pretty girl to stare at the floor, in shock. If that’s true, the Boss would be even more sickly rich than you thought. But no, that’s crazy. No one can be that stupidly rich. Right?

You’re sure everyone is losing their shit. You’re losing your shit along with them. Your heart beats about seventy times a minute too fast, and your throat is as dry as the Sahara desert. Something about seeing the more experienced employees freak out, made every string in you snap. The boss has never been in Seoul for longer than a week since you started at the company, which means that you’ve never had to interact with him before. Haerin, the head receptionist, touches up her lipstick quickly, before sliding her chair back in place, and presses a hand to her chest. Bea looks about ready to throw up, and you’re sure you must be icy white from stress, or as red as a strawberry.

“Don’t worry, girls.” Haerin smiles as she looks over at you two, but you can see the nerves swim in her eyes too. “The Boss is a nice man, and you probably won’t even have to say anything. Just don’t stare too hard at him with your love-hearts, Bea.” Bea chuckles at the comment, and send the older girl a little glare. At the comfortable banter, you feel yourself relax a little. You’ve been around people who could buy your life more times than you can count. This is worse though. This man is your employer, and he could choose to fire you right on the spot, if he so pleased. No one apparently expected him to pass by today, since he was in Paris ‘till yesterday, but Haerin’s wide-eyed announcement came before you had time to process.

You’re silenced when a car pulls up in front of the entrance, a white Porsche with fire-red tires. Two people of staff rush over to open the doors of the car, and help the people out. The woman that slips out of the passenger side is tall, a model no doubt, and flicks her blonde hair over her shoulder with a gentle smile of her delicately manicured face. She wears a dress as blue as the water in the Bahamas, to match her eyes. The man that slips from the driver side hands his keys to the staff, and says something with a blinding smile, before walking over to hold out his arm to the woman. The man is taller than her, and has beautiful honey colored skin, and black hair. His tie matches her dress. They both make it up the stairs to the entrance, million dollar smiles on both of their faces. The flashes of paparazzi are blinding.

When you glance at your co workers, they seem to relax slightly. Haerin puts on her beautiful welcoming smile, and bows to greet the guests. It’s not the Boss, but still your heart pitter patters almost right out of your chest. Even quicker than usual, you think, Haerin has the room key in her hands and offers it with a smile, receiving the black card of the man in return. She hands it to Bea, who passes it to you, for a quick scan. You then hand it back, and glance back at the gorgeous couple. You might never stop getting starstruck while working here. When the payment confirms, Haerin sends them off with the last bit of info, Bea handing them the flyer carefully. The man gives a grateful nod to each of you, before leading the elegant woman to the elevators.

You don’t get time to process, because a loud growling engine makes a halt in front of the entrance just as the white Porsche is driven off. This time though, the paparazzi are snapping so many pictures that the entire evening sky is light up with white. You straighten your back to look, but all you see is the flashes of cameras left and right. You can only imagine him getting out, sending a charming smile at the cameras, and walking up the stairs confidently. The security turns toward the entrance as well, making sure to keep any paparazzi out. They do this anyway, but this time it seems like it might be necessary. The glass rotating door soon reveals a person, bathing his shape in a glow from the flashes.

When he walks through the door, your eyes have trouble processing. You’ve never seen a person ooze so much confidence. Byun Baekhyun. Ceo of Heaven’s Gate, along many, many other businesses. Only 27, and owns 13 companies, each worth millions, along with some of the most expensive properties on earth. You don’t know how high he is on the richest people list, but the top ten would definitely not surprise you. Baekhyun casually strolls over to the reception smiling like he owns the place, because he quite literally does, and leans his elbows on the pristine pink marble.

You can’t help but stare. His gorgeous face is lined by a sharp jaw, cute button nose and pinky lips fitting on there perfectly like a dolls features. They are accompanied by the prettiest, most enchantingly seductive eyes you’ve ever seen on a man, all coated in a shine that seems to come from the inside. His hair is a shimmery copper brown color, striking against his dark, deep blue eyes. Contacts, you guess, but not any less breathtaking. His suit is a royal blue too, shining in the light like Cashmere, and stretching over his wide shoulders just that tiny bit, as he leans forward. His lips curl up on his cute cheeks, a gorgeous smile slipping on, gentle and proud.

The suit becomes him perfectly, a handmade addition to his entire persona, accenting everything attractive perfectly. Wide shoulders and chest, slim waist, strong legs and a perfectly shaped butt. Not that you’re looking. He’s absolutely, entirely made of gold, you’re sure of it. You are probably drooling. After staying silent for at least a few seconds, Mr. Byun takes out his card, and slides it across the counter towards Haerin, who looks more than a little starstruck too. She gives him a deep bow, and scans the card, smiling nervously. “Good evening, Sir. It’s lovely to see you visit once again.”

The man nods, and finally straightens up, winking at her. “Likewise.” In a split second, Haerin’s cheeks flush a bright red. Mr. Byun looks around the beautiful welcome hall for a bit, as if taking in his creation, and back at the paparazzi outside. It’s only after a second you realize Bea is shoving you with her arm, gesturing to hand her one of the flyers. You flush and hand it to her, right before Baekhyun can see. “Is the top floor free this week, Haerin? If not, my penthouse will suffice.” He brushes his hands over his suit jacket once, and smiles again. You’ve never seen anyone’s face light up so much with a single smile.

“The top floor is free until Friday, Sir. Should I move the reservation of the residents to another floor?” Haerin quickly informs, a small frown on her gentle face.

“No need.” He takes Bea’s flyer into his long fingers with a teasing crinkle of his nose. “I’ll stay on the top floor until Thursday, and then move down to my penthouse.” He gives Haerin another little smile when she nods in understanding and indicates things on the computer. You snap out of your staring long enough to reach into the drawer to your side and take out the key card, handing it to Bea carefully. Room 208, on the hundred thirtieth floor. You almost laugh at the irony. They call it a room, but the home is bigger than your entire apartment floor.

When Haerin hands him the card, he gives her a little bow, and starts walking backwards. He glances through the door for a second, feigning a frown. “Be careful with my car!” He calls, before giggling and looking at the reception desk on more time. As if someone so rich would care what happened to their car. “I’ll see you ladies later. Have a good evening.” As he turns to walk over to the elevators, his eyes meet yours. Just a split second, they meet yours for the first time this evening, and widen. He keeps walking but a second later, he looks again, definitely straight at you. Your cheeks probably flush bright red. Then he’s disappearing into the elevator with confident steps, and out of view.

Bea’s hand wrapping around your arm pulls you out of your dreamy fascination and back into reality. “Holy shit. That was so intense.” She whispers, leaning into you a little. You blankly nod, and look back at the elevator. That must have been the most surreal moment of your life. You know of Byun Baekhyun, of course, you’d be an idiot not to know of your filthy rich boss. The first time you heard his name was four years ago, long into his career but fresh into yours, back then he had black hair and stared you down on a magazine cover as the most influential man of the year. You’ve read about him and seen his pictures more times than you can count but nothing, nothing does him justice. You decide it’s the eyes. They don’t capture the full magic of his eyes.

With a yawn, you settle behind your desk. You’ve never had the night shift before, and you imagine it shows. You’re determined to stay professional though, and blink a couple of times in hopes of getting the need of sleep out. You briefly wonder how many people would be passing through the doors this late, or early, but since it’s enough to have a whole crew work through the night, it must be a decent amount. Then again, you guess rich people have a lot of parties to attend to. Unlike you.

The silence is broken by the back door being cracked open, and a knowing smile walking through. Sehun, you read from his name tag, smiles at you and waves. He walks over and takes the seat next to you, not before placing a large cup of coffee in front of your face. “So you’re the poor soul they got to do night shift, huh?” With a giggle, you thank him for the coffee and take a sip. You’ve seen Sehun a few times around, when you came on mornings early and he left late, and once at the paid lunch. You haven’t spoken much before, but he seems quite nice.

“I volunteered, actually.” At his comically offended look, you break out laughing. “I know.”

“You must either be very dedicated to this job, or crazy.” Sehun concludes, taking a sip himself with a grin. “I mean, if you want a raise I’m sure you could just ask Mr. Byun and he’d transfer some pocket change to your account.”

You snort, looking away. “Yes, of course. That’s how people get raises, isn’t it?”

Sehun hums, before folding his one leg over the other, and leaning back in his chair a bit. He’s wearing the male version of your uniform, white button-up and light golden tie, along with black slacks. He smiles when he sees you looking. “This is your first nightly reception job, isn’t it?”

You nod. “It is. It’s also my first time being with just two behind this desk, if I must admit.”

“You’ll have to hand people keys and scan their cards, think you can handle it?” His grin only grows when you don’t respond. “You know, the nights aren’t that bad. They’re pretty fun, actually. You get to see a lot of people stumble in on stilettos and with partners they definitely didn’t leave with.” This, in all honesty, surprises you. The people who enter during the day are so polished, so spotless, that any doubts didn’t cross your mind. Of course, humans are still humans.

Sehun groans for a second as he stretches his back, before he gets up from the chair. “Give me just one minute. I need to use the toilet real quick. I’ll be back in a flash, okay?” You nod, and watch him leave around the corner with some hurried steps, before taking a deep breath. You look at the windows, who now give a clear view over the fountain, as it lights up the driveway, along with the lines of spots. While you stare, a black Lamborghini rolls up slowly. Your palms get sweaty, as you look back and forward between the car and the way Sehun left. You’ve heard the speech you’re supposed to give new guests a million times by now, but you’re far from head receptionist.

The lift dings, making you scream internally and quickly put Sehun’s chair where it’s supposed to be, standing up smoothly. Out walks, with a casual stroll, Mr. Byun himself. His hair is styled away from his face, wearing a deep brown suit jacket that has the Gucci logo littered all over in sparkling letters. His hands are stuffed into the pockets, bulging them as if that piece of fabric doesn’t cost more than your rent, as his shoes tap calmly across the perfect floor. When he looks over at the reception desk, his eyebrows shoot up, confusion evident on his face. He walks over, before coming to a halt in front of you. He smells really nice, you notice. You don’t have a clue what scent it’s supposed to be but don’t doubt it costs way too much. A hint of sweetness, but laced with masculinity.

“Good evening, Mr. Byun.” You start, hoping the smile distracts from the nervous way your hands are clasped behind your back. “How can I help you?”

Baekhyun smiles at you, something that makes your heart slam, if possible, even harder against your rib cage. His eyes rake down to catch your name tag subtly, as if he doesn’t want you to notice. And if you weren’t staring so hard you would have missed it, too. “Good evening, Y/N. Where has your colleague gone?” His eyes are on yours the whole time, eye contact way too intense for you to take. Your heart really might soon give out if he keeps this up.

“He’s just gone to the restroom, Sir. He’ll be back soon, I’m sure.”

Baekhyun hums in thought, before tapping his fingers on the marble, and glancing behind him. At the other side of the room is a door towards one of the many lounge rooms, now bathing in a gentle dimmed orange light. You doubt there’s anyone in there right now, apart from the serving staff and their champagne bottles. He turns back to you, and fishes something out of his back pocket, pressing his lips together. “Well, I’d like something delivered to my penthouse, please.” He sorts through a stack of at least ten different cards, sliding a gold one over to you. You nod, as you wait for the rest of his words. “Another mini fridge, for on the balcony. I’m sure I once had one but I think I might have moved it to my jet at some point.” He smiles.

You open your mouth to answer, only to realize you don’t have anything useful to say, and nod a couple times in acknowledgement. You slide the gold card towards you and grasp it between two fingers, leaning over to scan it. It slips though, and is sent clattering to the floor in the otherwise silent room. You can feel blood surge to your cheeks while you bend to pick it up, wishing you could just sink into the floor from shame. “I’m so sorry, that was clumsy-” When you get up, you smack your head into the bottom of the desk, and double over with a little yelp. “Aw, aw, aw, aw, aw.” You rub the back of your head when you straighten up, and just sigh. At this point, you don’t know if your nerves give up trying to entertain you or if you’re just numb.

You scan his card, and slide it back over to him, right when Baekhyun chuckles. You look up to see him looking with an endeared smile. “Are you okay over there?”

“I’m okay.” You ensure with a little guilty smile, waving your hands in front of you, and lean over the computer to confirm the order.

Baekhyun leans over the desk though, and into your space. “Let’s see.” He mumbles, gently placing his one hand on your cheek and the other behind your head, rubbing it back and forth gently. Your brain goes so fried that you can’t even make a sound, let alone move. It’s about three seconds of physical contact you were entirely unprepared for. He smiles again, before letting go. “That’s definitely going to be a bump.” You think you mouth a ‘thank you’, but at this point you might have said anything or nothing at all. He puts his card back into his back pocket, and takes a step back from the counter, looking over at his car. “Ah, walk with me?” He motions his head just slightly, as an added nudge to get you to move.

“Uhm- I-” You tumble, wiping your hands on your skirt, “the reception will be empty if I…”

Baekhyun smiles. “I think guests will forgive you walking the owner to his car.” His voice is a tad lower when he teases, going along with the little tilt of his eyebrow. You swallow, and nod, hurrying around the long desk on your heels to walk over to him. Right at that moment, Sehun comes around the corner. His eyes widen significantly when he notices that he just missed the Boss himself, and then even more at you. He sends you a questioning look, that you just mimic as you come to a halt next to Byun Baekhyun himself. You will yourself to wipe the mute look of shock of your face and smile.

Baekhyun holds out his arm, that you grab just ever so lightly, your fingertips barely brushing the fabric of his suit. He starts walking then, a smile on his lips that you catch from the corner of your eyes. You two walk through the door smoothly, into the chilly night air, and descend the beautiful stairs. In the few seconds it takes, you think you’ve gone through about a thousand logical reasons why you’re doing this, and a thousand more illogical ones. Baekhyun grabs the key from the man in front of him with a little nod, and deposits you to wait around the passenger side. He hurries his steps just a little to get into the low car, and rolls down the passenger window.

You blankly watch as he leans over to the console, and fishes through something to look up at you. You bend over so that you can take whatever is in his outstretched arm. “Take this to go get yourself an ice pack and some painkillers, please. I’m sorry about your head.” In your hand are six bills of a hundred thousand won. Before you can even open your mouth to discuss about the huge amount of money he just stuffed into your hands without looking, he sends you a blinding smile and a wave. “Don’t get too cold in that stuffy reception. Have a good night, Y/N.”

“You too.” You can just mumble, before the black Lamborghini speeds out of the driveway, into traffic.

Bea makes a face, and looks over at you once. “I mean,” she mumbles, stuffing one of the pralines in her mouth like it’s no big deal, “they’re cute, but they can’t be serious, right?” On the counter in the back room lay three golden boxes, with each of your names scribbled on top. Haerin giggles as she too takes out the present, and holds it up in front of her with her eyebrows shooting up. You can’t hold a little smile. In the bow is a pair of extremely soft, thick thigh high socks, black and with little bows at the front. You too untie the pretty packaging and open the box, breaking out in giggles. Bea shakes her head but smiles, mouth dropping open. “I mean, it’s not that damn cold at that desk. This is just overkill.”

“I think they’re nice.” You grin, poking the extremely soft, woolly fabric. You carefully take them out.

Bea glances at you and gives you a little shove. “As a uniform?!” She frowns when you laugh, and place the socks back in the bow. “I’m going to be sweating my ass off.”

Haerin shakes her head. “It’s designer.”

“Of course it is.” You sigh, shaking your head. You glance inside to check the label, and sure enough. Marc Jacobs. You don’t want to know how ridiculous the price of a couple of socks was. You pout, but pop off your heels, and bend down.

“What are you doing?” Bea questions, looking over at you.

“If Mr. Byun wants me to wear these, I’m going to wear these. At least until he’s back in New York or Barcelona or something. I’m not losing my job because I’m feeling a tad hot.” You giggle when you glance over at her begrudgingly put on the socks as well.

“How can I put my heels over this? It’s just silly.” Bea sighs, but she clearly isn’t ready to lose her income either. Not that you’re so sure Mr. Byun would just fire her, thinking back to yesterday. He genuinely seems like a good person, just coated in much more money than any sane person needs. When you turn around to put the box away, your eyes widen slightly. On the inside of the box is a tiny message scribbled in pen, the same messy handwriting as on the top of the box. ‘How’s your head? -B’

You don’t dare tell your co workers, because what would they think of you? Instead, you take the box and the other empty ones, and stack then next to the trash can, before walking out the door and behind the desk. Your head is fine, a little sore but fine nevertheless and you can’t help but wonder why your Boss would care. You didn’t use the money he gave you yesterday, but did go buy an ice pack after work, in the little shop the closest to the station. There’s only expensive stores in the vicinity, and you were not going to spend twenty thousand won for an overpriced luxe ice pack that you could easily get for two thousand won instead. You had just placed the money in a white envelope and placed it on your desk, in a hopes to get to deliver it back to him.

You don’t know if other people would have just taken the money, but you felt guilty about it. As you settle on your chair, the lounge across the reception catches your eye. There were definitely no huge flower bouquets on the tables last night, let alone three luxurious beige leather couches, with gold rims. Baekhyun sure had a vision for his company, and he never seemed to be satisfied. You look away when Bea and Haerin come to take their places too, talking among themselves quietly until they take place, then slipping into professional mode. It’s 6 now, and you only got off at 4 earlier, which left you with about half an hour of sleep, which you decided to skip as well. You just figure you could get an extra long night when you get off at 3.

At around 1 in the afternoon, you find out that you’re really not the type to go without sleep. You can barely keep your eyes open, and keep falling asleep on your hand, only to snap awake when your head bobs too much forward. Bea snickers every time it happens, but doesn’t say anything. She’s also had the night shift a few times when she was a newer employee and she ended up even more zombie like than you. Still though, you keep an eye out for Mr. Byun. He doesn’t pass reception the entire morning, and at two, you start getting a bit fidgety. You’d really like to deliver him the money right away, so that your conscience got a little break. You excuse yourself, and stand up. “I need to go deliver Mr. Byun the documents of the ordered mini-fridge before my shift ends. Would it be okay if I went up now, Haerin?”

Haerin blinks her long lashes at the clock quickly, before nodding. “Of course. He’s still on top floor, I think. And when you go, would you mind dropping off some of the paperwork left here?” You give her a grateful bow, and stand up to take the papers from her. You just did a quick prayer that he would not be at lunch yet, and hurry your steps to the elevators. The gorgeously gold decorated elevators, along with a deep black sort of stone. It wouldn’t surprise you if this too, was marble. You quickly press the button, and cross your arms over your chest. Though you’ve been to visit the ‘rooms’ a few times when you just started working, you’ve never ever been up higher than the fiftieth floor. Both because you’re mildly scared of highs and because that’s where the really, really rich people live.

You step into the empty lift slowly, and brush your hand on your skirt, before pressing the very top floor. Hundred thirty, to be exact. When you said Heaven’s Gate might be visible from every part of Seoul, you weren’t kidding. It’s the second highest building in the world to date. You have to scan your employee card, to get up to it too. With a deep breath, you watch the doors close. The calming music that plays is vaguely recognizable, but you’re too busy flicking your eyes all over the elevator in worry to care. When you get up to floor seventy two, within a sickeningly quick span of time, the lift stops, and opens. In walks a tall man, his stature standing far above you with dark hair and even darker eyes. Your breathing holds.

World class singer Park Chanyeol is standing in an elevator with you. His voice plays through the speakers in the small room. He sends you a warm smile, and presses the button, before the door closes again. Trying to stay professional, you only glance over twice, clenching the papers between your fingers too tight. Park Chanyeol is one of those people you had heard of staying in Heaven’s Gate, but had never actually seen. He’s wearing a dark suit, very crisp and clean looking, and his hair is styled neatly. He’s not wearing any type of make-up, you notice, used to see the singer on magazines in his signature soft glam eye looks. He still looks incredible though. When the elevator reaches it’s destination, he steps out, sending you a little nod of the head.

You only dare breathe after the doors close again, and continue up, watching the floors flash by in an instant. When you finally get up to the last floor, you need to take a deep breath to calm your nerves and gather your wit. When you walk out, you’re surprised to be in his actual house. You’re inside his actual house, without being checked by security or anything. You just look around blankly, and swallow. This isn’t the case with the lower floors, so you’re not sure what to do. “Uhm,” you clear your throat, and knock on the frame of the elevator once, “Mr. Byun? I have the paperwork for your order and the ones that were left for you at reception.”

A soft hum comes from somewhere in the stupidly large place, followed by a raspy voice, no doubt from sleep. “One minute. I’m putting on clothes.” You can feel the heat flush your cheeks, as you look out the window. “Take a seat!” He calls after you, and you move to do just that. The couches are decorated with Gucci logos, most likely custom, and way too soft for a normal person to have. It keeps surprising you, even though it shouldn’t. The view from the wall of windows though, genuinely makes you gasp. You can see the Ocean. That shouldn’t be possible, and yet, you’re so high up that it is. It’s faint, sure, but you can see it. You put the papers down on the coffee table, no doubt designer, and walk a little closer. Though you don’t dare look down, you watch with held breath. It’s like being up in the clouds.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” You turn to watch Baekhyun walk around the corner, his hands crossed over his chest comfortably. He’s in a black, silk blouse, and black slacks. The shirt stretches over his shoulders ever so slightly, keeping it snug. You smile at the fabric choice. He sure has a preference, doesn’t he.

“I’m not such a fan of heights,” you admit, moving back to take a seat in the couch as he asked, “but you can’t deny the view.” Baekhyun nods, crossing the room to take a seat in the couch opposite you. With a polite smile, you slide the papers across the table, and sink back into your seat. “I don’t know if you have need for the receipt of the mini-fridge, but I thought I’d make sure. And the other bundle was sent up by Haerin.”

Baekhyun nods, and crosses his one leg over the other, quickly flicking through the pages. “Ah, taxes, taxes and more taxes. Of course.” He smiles, puts the papers down, and catches your eyes as he gets more comfortable in the soft plush. “Well, thank you, Y/N. I could have gotten them on my way down but still, I appreciate it.”

“I also,” you swallow, putting the envelope in front of him with a slight blush, “wanted to return this. I can’t just accept a sum of money from you, Sir. It would go against everything I stand for and I just… wouldn’t feel comfortable accepting it. Though I am very grateful for the thoughtfulness that you have shown me.” Baekhyun’s smile falters for a second as he opens the envelope, glancing inside swiftly. He places it back on the table just as fast, his mouth corners twitching.

He stands from the couch, and walks around it to stare out the window, stance casual but screaming authority nevertheless. “I hope you like the socks at least. I saw them last night and thought them quite cute. Don’t you agree?” He glances over his shoulder to look at the black socks that cover your legs today, and then at you, eyebrow lifting in question. You nod quickly. “I’m glad. You looked cold yesterday.” He turns to face you. “Do you know why I started construction on Heaven’s Gate in the first place? Do you have a clue?”

You stare at him but are unable to give a useful answer, instead picking at your skirt. “No, Sir.”

“Because I wanted to build the highest building in Asia. That’s the only reason. And investors were kind enough to see the opportunities that would bring and helped me bring it to life. Point being,” he smiles, leaning over you a little top pick the envelope back up, “I have so much money I don’t know what to do with it anymore, Y/N. Do me a favor, and take the money?” He holds the envelope in front of you again. You stand up though, and let your arms hang limply to your side.

“I can’t do that, Byun Baekhyun.” You bite your bottom lip, but stay stubborn, even when Baekhyun’s eyebrows shoot up in an amused frown. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a company lunch to attend. I hear it’s being paid by the Boss himself, and I wouldn’t want to miss it.” You ignore the way your stomach flips when you walk towards the elevator and get in. Just before the doors close, you catch Baekhyun’s giggle as he walks away. You hope you didn’t just lose your job, but hey. Like your parents always say, ‘Don’t let a man buy you what you can buy yourself..’ You smile as you go down, crossing your arms over your chest. Not even a man who makes billions a year.

Safe to say that when you arrive to work after the weekend, you’re more than a little surprised to see a huge bouquet on your desk, a beautiful mix of pinks and reds, with in the middle some sort of golden ornament. You stare at it blankly for at least a solid minute, enough to have Bea creep up behind you. She squeals when she sees it, rushing over to slap your arm. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend. How romantic is this?!” You frown, and bite your lip, before shoving it a bit to the side. You don’t have a boyfriend. Along the side hangs a little tag, with the familiar scribbly handwriting, though this time a lot neater. ‘Please bring a stapler up to my penthouse, floor sixty. I’m in desperate need -B’

You roll your eyes, but take the stapler from the drawer under your desk, and stand up. “I’ll be right back. Apparently I need to bring Mr. Byun a stapler.” Bea sends a questioning look but nods, and waves at Haerin as she enters.

“Oh, Y/N,” Haerin blinks in surprise, “I thought you weren’t going to show today. I heard you’d be busy. I’ve already called Minhee into work for today.” You pout, confused. Had you been taken from the schedule to bring him a stapler? Really? You just pull up your shoulders, and look at her, just as lost. “Maybe a mistake has been made. I’ll check.”

“I’ll go bring Mr. Byun his stapler in the meantime, then. If I don’t return, assume I’m busy. Or dead.” The girls giggle when you walk past the reception to make it over to the elevators again. The journey up goes peacefully, and a lot quicker. You exit into the hall, in front of the pretty white door with, you guessed it, gold handles. Was it really necessary to get you to bring him a stapler?  Still, you knock, and wait patiently for the door to open. It does, quicker than you imagined it would. In front of you stands a half dressed Byun Baekhyun, chest still bare and his hair still damp and sticking in wild directions. He takes a step back, to let you in.

“Ah, the stapler. Great. You’re quick.” He doesn’t wait up for you to follow behind, and leads you into the huge place. Top floor might be gigantic compared to this, but you might even prefer it. It’s a two story, for one. Dark steel beams hold up the second floor and make up the staircase, giving it a classy but industrial feel. Still, there’s chandeliers left and right, glamming up the room. You spot the rose-gold sink, and swallow. Right. Rich. You hand him the stapler after catching up with his steps, not daring to look over at him yet. Baekhyun just smiles as a thank you, and picks up the bundle of papers from the dinner table in front of him, entirely out of glass except for the dark steel frame. He makes it a point to staple the bundle in your view, and nods. “Perfect, it was missing just that.”

He hands you the staple back, before moving through a door to your right, as you follow behind blankly. That was why he needed a stapler so damn bad? For a single bundle of paper. Baekhyun soon returns, after having put on a white button-up, a lot more casual than you’ve seen him up till now. He adjusts his watch once, before beaming down at you like he’s a kid on Christmas morning. “I didn’t expect you to come so quick, but that’s okay. We can grab breakfast, and then go on with the day after. I have a meeting at 5 but should be able to make it for dinner.” You blink. Breakfast, dinner? Your face must give off the clear confusion you feel, because Baekhyun pauses. “I need to get a present for a friend, a surprise. And since you were so helpful on Wednesday, I thought you’d make a great model for my shopping spree.”

“Oh.” Is all that comes out of your mouth, as you watch Baekhyun dig through a drawer full of car keys, picking one out and tossing it to you. He smiles when you catch it, and pauses in front of you, giving you a one over.

“You’re going to get blisters walking in those all day.” He motions his chin to your shoes, and turns around to make a thinking noise. “Follow me, pretty please.” He leads you past the kitchen and past the stairs, to another room. It’s a giant walk in closet, which makes your mouth drop open. He walks to the far side, and presses a button to have the shoes rotate and disappear, making place for new ones. “Here. I get a lot of presents from companies, and get a surprising amount of female clothes and shoes each year. You can pick some you like.” You make a noise of disagreement, but Baekhyun grins. “To wear. Today. Just today. Don’t get all worked up.” He moves to leave the room and tuts his lips. “You’ll get wrinkles on your pretty, little face like that.”

You decide to just do as he says and pick a pair of shoes to wear, settling on some gorgeous black ankle boots with a slight wedge. When you walk out, Baekhyun looks up. His eyes rake over you in silence, long enough to have goosebumps break out on your skin. When he looks away, he nods, and gets up from the couch. “You look pretty.” He motions you to follow then, and leads the way. You just know that if he keeps acting this way, you’ll have to quit. You can’t fall in love with your boss, and knowing you that is definitely going to happen if Baekhyun keeps this up. The damn man is too charming for his own good, and he knows it. You follow behind the handsome man begrudgingly, not forgetting to leave the stapler on the kitchen counter as you leave. Stupid stapler.

Turns out, you’ve never been in a Ferrari before. Also turns out, Baekhyun drives really fast, and by the time you get out you must look like a threatened cat. He parks along the side of the road, because why worry about your car being stolen when you can just buy another the next day, right? He walks over to open the car door for you and holds out his hand, that you ignore out of shock and maybe a little because of the car ride. He smiles though, and points towards a petite shop, that looks very expensive even from the outside. You follow him, ignoring the potent stares of the people that pass by, and thank him as he holds the door for you.

Baekhyun tosses his jacket over one of the tables, effectively claiming it, and walks toward the counter. “This is my favorite breakfast place.” He nods, glancing over his shoulder to watch you. You hum and take in all the delicious pastries that are laid out in the display in the shape of a heart. Baekhyun straightens, and looks outside a second. “What looks best to you? I can’t choose.” Everything looks good, you can’t blame him. You do notice that there’s no prices anywhere to be found, which always means it’s overpriced. Still, you hum.

“That right there, with cherries looks so good.” You nod, and look over at him. “And the chocolate truffle thingie.”

Baekhyun nods and smiles, before turning to the lady behind the counter. She has a bright smile on her pink lips, black hair pulled back in a tight pony. “Good morning, Mag.” He drums his fingers on the glass display. “I’d like the usual, and the cherry pie and chocolate truffle cone for the lady.” You turn to stare at him with wide eyes. This little… Before you can intervene, he takes your hand and pulls you to the table he so elegantly claimed. You’re put in the chair, and watch as Baekhyun slides in opposite you, a proud grin on his lips. You have never… met a man this extra.

The woman comes to place your plates in front of you quickly, as you thank her profusely. You keep a glare on your face at Baekhyun though, as he takes a bite of his chocolate chip muffin. When he sees it, he smiles. “Look, I ordered it now. Will you please just eat the damn thing, or are you going to let it get thrown away?” The woman returns with the last place, which just has strawberries, a light pink instead of red. You follow her with your eyes a second. Yup, this place definitely is way out of your budget. “Y/N.” Baekhyun mumbles, as on cue, “It’s my treat. Now please, stuff something in your mouth so that I don’t feel like a huge asshole.”

You sigh, but pick up the little fork, and eat a bit of the cherry pie. You can’t stand the idea of food being thrown away. When you chew, you’re very glad at your decision. It’s seriously heavenly, and you almost moan at how good it is. Baekhyun smiles in accomplishment when you eat too, before putting one of the strawberries on your plate. “Taste one of these too.” He motions, as he picks up his coffee. “They are my favorite.” You kind of don’t want to give in to all of this. Of course, you can’t help your curiosity, and pick up the baby pink strawberry. You pout, a full on puppy eyes-pout.

“It tastes like money.”You mumble sadly, looking at your shoes. This sends Baekhyun into a laughing fit.

From the moment you enter the shopping mall, you feel out of place. Everyone here is dressed to the nines, and while your work wear is far from cheap, you feel silly in your name tag. Baekhyun doesn’t seem to notice, leading you around the place like he’s ready to visit every shop and actually buy things. You sigh. You suppose this should be fun, but it just gives you stress. The bill for breakfast was fifty thousand won, and you now feel a strong need to pay Baekhyun back. He doesn’t need it, but you do. For your sanity.

Baekhyun enters a jewelry shop then, dragging you along. He’s too giddy about this. “Who is this friend of yours?” You instead mumble, and look around the shop, careful not to touch anything.

Baekhyun is looking into a glass confinement with shimmery eyes. “She’s been a good friend ever since I first started. She’s getting engaged so I want to get her the best gift she can have.”

“The most expensive gift.” You blurt, looking around the shop.

Baekhyun turns, frowning slightly. “Not necessarily.” Your cheeks get warm when he sends you a little look, one you can’t immediately decipher. “These products are so expensive because they are made from great materials, by great artisans. Which is why I don’t care how expensive it is. I want the best for the people I care about. I like spoiling people, I guess.” He walks over to the counter and says something to the person behind it, before turning back to you. “Is that a bad thing?”

You don’t answer, though you feel like shaking your head. Instead though, you come to stand next to him. You wring your hands together in front of your lap. “Is it true?” Baekhyun just stares. “That you pay the company lunches from your own account?”

“Yes.” Baekhyun just nods, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “I wouldn’t be anywhere without the people who maintain my company. Treating them is important.” You pout, and look away. So he is that sickly rich. “Why do you look so shocked?” He thanks the man when he returns with more necklaces, and turns to you instead. “You do know I make billions every year, right, Y/N?” You don’t. Well, you suspected it, but hearing it come from his lips is something else entirely. Baekhyun seems so normal. He seems like a normal, kind, if somewhat annoying person. He matches entirely to the image you had of him, and not at all at the same time. You don’t know how to feel about that either. Baekhyun, seeming to know you won’t answer, sighs, and taps your arm gently. “Here, I need a female opinion. Pick one.” At your glare, he smiles, and holds his hands in front of him like a shield. “I won’t buy it for you like I did last time, I promise. It’s really for my friend.”

You sigh, and turn to the necklaces, checking each one carefully. If this is what he took you out to do, you were going to do it to the best of your ability. Your eyes land on a dainty little necklace with a single diamond in the middle, and from that, two that would fall down the chest. It’s a gorgeous piece of jewelry. “That one.” You point, glancing over at Baekhyun again. He stands pressed next to you, his eyes on your face. You tuck your hair behind your ear when you notice, and look at the floor. “That one would look really pretty on any girl.” Baekhyun hums, and picks it up gently, holding it between his slim fingers. He takes a step towards you again, and nods.

“Brush your hair back for me.” The whisper makes you stare up at him with big eyes. You look at his shoulders instead when he smiles, and brush your hair from your neck. His arms go around carefully, leaning into you so close you can not only smell his shampoo, but also feel his breath dust over your shoulder. He flattens your hair out a little, and takes a step back. All the while his eyes are on yours. He pauses, and then nods. “You were right. It does look really pretty.” When he takes the necklace back off, you hold your breath, heart beating against your rib cage steadily. A small curl comes to the corner of his lip when you squeak softly at the coldness of his hands.

He places the necklace back, and nods at the man. “We’ll take this one. Please package it well, it’s for a gift.”

When you two leave the store, Baekhyun taps your arm. “Here.” He pushes a small pink box into your hands, different from the black packaging the present had. “This one is for you.” You open it carefully. Inside, is a thin golden necklace, with in the middle of it a tiny little glass-like shape. A diamond bird. You look up at Baekhyun, who is a few steps in front of you now, and swallow. You can’t accept this, can you? “It’s a reminder that you can get over your fear of heights.” Baekhyun explains, his hands in his jacket pocket. “Everyone can become someone they dream of being, you know. I didn’t start with all this money either, after all.”

“Baekhyun, I-”

“I thought it was Mr. Byun to you.” He smiles, before looking around the huge mall, and then back at you. “Please just take it? It’s a present, okay? And more than that, it’s a request. I’ll drop you off in a bit, because I don’t want to hog you all day. But I am taking you to dinner tonight.” Baekhyun smiles when your mouth drops open. “If you say no, I’m not going to fire you, don’t worry.” He shrugs, and sends you another blinding grin. “If you say yes, it’s a date.”

I cut it here because super rich!Baekhyun made me go a little off track and make a huge ass fic, so there will be a part two to this. I hope you enjoyed the first part, at the very least.

If you liked it, please let me know by sending me a message. I’d appreciate it so much. I’ll try to get the next part out as quick as I can, so that you don’t have to wait too long. Thank you for reading!!

[consulalexander]

Vicious Velvet (Shadowhunters/Sweetbitter AU) 1/?

I know we’re feeling a lot of feels tonight, fandom, so hopefully this serves as a good distraction. This is my attempt at a TMI/Shadowhunters restaurant AU. Inspired by Sweetbitter by Stephanie Danler— if you haven’t read it, especially if you’ve worked in the restaurant industry, GO READ IT.

Title from the song “High Hopes in Velvet” by The Cab.

Meshing inspirations from both the books and TV show into one because it’s fic and I can and because Alec will always be my precious BLUE EYED son. Malec, Clace, Sizzy and more feels galore.

I don’t own these characters. Try not to hate me after this.

  Part One

“For a moment, or a second, the pinched expressions of the cynical, world-weary, throat-cutting, miserable bastards we’ve all had to become disappears, when we’re confronted with something as simple as a plate of food.” — Anthony Bourdain

The Institute. The sign reads like a death sentence, like it’s judging her, creeping under her hot, flushed skin. It’s where many have gone to die, to be lost in the sea of scallops and truffles and demi-glacé, of boredeaux and top shelf whiskey and dim, flickering candles on heavy, expensive table clothes.

It’s her first day, and Clary Fray is positively terrified.

“Relax, you look like you’re constipated,” Simon Lewis, her best friend since the days of diapers and coloring on walls, says from behind her.

“Have you seen where you work?” Clary asks, still unmoving. “It makes Mordor look appealing.”

“Nah, that’s only Maryse, our resident Sauron. She’s always in her office, anyway, you’ll never see her.”

Clary doesn’t quite believe him. Simon’s only been working there for six months, but he seems to have forgotten the traumatic hour he spent, just like her, alone in a room with Maryse Lightwood, owner and manager of The Institute Bistro.

She’s still not sure how she landed this job, Simon’s good word be damned.

Simon pushes her forward toward the dark double doors.

“C’mon, we’re gonna be late,” he says.

It’s just another job, Clary. Woman the hell up.

Simon opens the front doors, ushering her inside. The restaurant is dimly lit; she can barely see her hand out in front of her as her eyes adjust from the bright sunlight outside. It’s empty save for the employees walking around in their perfectly pressed black clothes, getting everything ready to open.

A woman with a long, intricate blonde braid stands next to one of the closest tables to the door, filling a line of crystal salt and pepper shakers, expertly sweeping any spills off the immaculate red tablecloth and into her palm with a silver crumber.

“Hey, Lydia,” Simon calls to her. “Is Maryse in?”

The aforementioned Lydia looks up, eyeing Clary with interest. Clary squirms a little under her gaze; it’s hard, intrigued at her squeaky clean newness but laced with potential judgment.

She’s bordering on panic now. 

“No, not today, she had a meeting with the lawyers,” Lydia says, wiping her hands on the crisp black apron tied around her waist.

Simon steps back so he’s a hair behind Clary, nudging her forward gently.

“This is Clary, she’s the new host,” Simon says. “Clary, this is Lydia, one of the servers.”

Lydia sticks out her hand; her shake is firm, an iron vice around Clary’s hand.

“Nice to meet you,” she says officially. “Welcome to The Institute.”

Clary smiles, albeit a little wary. “Good to be here.”

Lydia leans forward, still gripping her hand, like she’s about to tell Clary a secret. 

“Pro tip,” she says, “get better shoes.”

Clary looks down at her worn black Converse and flushes to match her fiery hair.

“Tried to tell her but Fray’s a Converse addict,” Simon laughs, side-eyeing Clary. “She needs to go to shoe rehab. Can’t pry them from her cold dead hands.”

“They’re comfortable!” Clary retorts.

Normally, she’d laugh right along with him, but she’s no longer Simon’s confident best friend. She’s a vibrating bundle of nerves, her thoughts screaming fuck I knew I should’ve splurged on some stupid server shoes, of course it’s the first thing she notices, god I’m not going to fit here.

Simon gives Clary a look like she’s having a stroke, and clears his throat.

“Um, where’s Alec then?” he asks.

Lydia waves her hand vaguely, already back to the shakers.

“Somewhere in the wine cellar I think,” she says. “I heard yelling down there earlier.”

Simon grabs Clary’s arm and drags her toward the pristine bar, ducking behind the glossy mahogany counter and descending down a darkened stairwell in the back hallway. The door at the bottom screeches open, deafening, and then they’re in a modest cement-walled cellar, the musty air curling around them. Rows of wooden shelves line the walls and stand from floor to ceiling, bottles of varying sizes and dust accumulation stuffed in every crevice. Two large, industrial refrigerators dominate the back wall, displaying columns of white wine.

A man stands there with his back turned, writing in a small notebook.

“Hey, Alec,” Simon shouts, leading Clary over to him.

Alec turns, stowing the notebook in his back pocket. He’s incredibly tall, which only exacerbates Clary’s five feet two inches. His eyes are piercingly blue, making Clary somewhat uncomfortable in their fierceness, and the sleeves of his black dress shirt are pushed up to reveal black, swirling tattoos. A small, dangling silver earring in his left ear catches the dim light and sparkles, odd and delicate on his large frame.

He’d be handsome if he wasn’t scowling.

“Sorry to bug you,” Simon says hurriedly, “but Maryse isn’t here and Clary starts hosting today.”

Alec’s eyes flick over to Clary, narrowing at her in distrust. 

“I know, Mom told me she was starting today,” Alec says gruffly.

Mom?  

Suddenly, Clary realizes who this is. Alexander Lightwood, eldest son of Maryse and Robert Lightwood, assistant manager and bartender at The Institute and a general pain in Simon’s ass. Clary recalls countless agitated phone calls and emergency coffee runs these past six months, Simon consistently bitching about some entitled asshole named Alec who hated Simon for no real reason.

This asshole, apparently.

Alec grabs a bottle off the nearby shelf and points it at her.

“Should be a pretty typical Wednesday night,” he snaps. “Nothing too crazy. You’ll be shadowing Simon. Your job is to answer phones, take people to their seats, taking and calling reservations, and maintaining the flow of the restaurant. A monkey could do it. I’m bartending. Lydia, Maia, Jace and Helen are serving, try not the get in the way.”

He pulls the bottle away and gives her an obvious, stern once over, lips curling into a grimace when he spots her shoes.

“Uniform is all black, no jeans, no t-shirts, and lose the Converse next time.”

Alec walks up the stairs, the floorboards creaking under his feet. Clary stares after him, mouth ajar, before turning to Simon incredulously.

“Does he ever smile?” she asks.

Simon shrugs. “I’ve never seen it. He might not even know how.”

Clary sticks her tongue out at the direction Alec just went and follows Simon back up the stairs into the heart of the restaurant.

“You clock on in the kitchen,” Simon says.

She tails him down the steps (the and host station are on a platform, while the rest of the restaurant stretches out down a small flight of stairs) and through the vast main room, her feet springing on the plush blood  red carpeting.

Simon pushes past two massive steel doors in the back, gleaming like a looking glass. Suddenly, Clary’s immersed in the chaos of the kitchen as they prepare for the day.

Two men on the line, dressed in crisp black chef coats with blood red detailing on the cuffs and collar, are shouting at each other in Spanish. Hypnotic Latin bass thumps in the background from speakers mounted on the wall. A man with his hair tied back in a braid is swaying his hips to the beat, mixing something white in a large steel bowl.

People push past the doors at regular intervals, barely giving Simon and Clary a glance. They’re carrying buckets or trays or come in to shout something at one of the men before ducking back into the ether. It’s a controlled disaster; Clary doesn’t know where to look first.

“Into the fray, Fray,” Simon teases, leading her down the aisle between the doors and the first set of stainless steel counter tops. Clary rolls her eyes.

They head to the far back of the kitchen, toward a small door labeled “office”. The glass panes on the door are ancient with dust, the glass crawling toward the bottom of the window in ripples.

Simon turns the knob, and they step inside the office, illuminated by low desk lights. The space is lined with three different desks shoved against the walls. A large leather office chair takes the space in the middle of the desks, for easy access to each one. The amount of clutter overtaking the desks astounds Clary, who’s rather neat by nature: mountains of documents and files, recipe notes written in scrawling calligraphy, jars of unopened spices, boxes exploding with bubble wrap, scattered pens and various mugs. A laptop, sleek and shiny, is propped on a stack of cookbooks, opposite a large boxy computer that could’ve walked out of Clary’s childhood.

Simon leans over the mess, sweeping a multicolored silken scarf off the old keyboard and clocking himself in, before doing the same for Clary.

“Super easy to clock in,” he says, turning back to face her, “just find your name and type in your birthday.”

The office door bangs open dramatically, making Clary jump out of her skin. A man walks in, tall and lithe, jet black hair spiked high on his head and rings glittering on his fingers. A gentle smirk dances on his face, and he’s dressed in the same chef’s coat as the rest of the kitchen staff, with the added exception of shimmering thread woven throughout the coat.

“Hey, Magnus,” Simon says, awkwardly gesturing to Clary behind him. “This is my best friend Clary, our new host. Clary, this is our head chef Magnus.”

Magnus holds out his hand; the bracelets stacked on his wrist clang together as he moves. Clary’s mildly impressed with how perfectly accessorized he is.

“Pleasure,” he says, a vague, lilting accent dressing up his words. “Welcome aboard, biscuit.”

She shakes his hand, stunned into silence. Magnus doesn’t seem to mind-- if anything, he seems used to that reaction-- and grabs the scarf from the desk, tying it around his head to keep his hair back.

“Sherman,” he says, adjusting the knot of the head scarf. “Tell Jace if he sends back one more wagyu burger today because he forgot to put in the temp, I’ll wagyu him.”

It takes Clary a moment to realize he’s talking to Simon.

“Still not speaking?” Simon asks.

“Nope,” Magnus says, enunciating the ‘p’ with a loud pop. “Yesterday was unforgivable. Five burger. FIVE. Raphael almost threw a plate at him.”

“I wish he had,” Simon mutters to himself.

Clary raises her eyebrows at him. Magnus grabs a black, sparkling notebook from behind the laptop and pats Clary’s head as he breezes by.

“Good luck, gingersnap,” he says out the door. “Don’t forget, Simone!”

“Well, that was almost right,” Simon says with a good-natured smirk. 

That’s the thing about Simon. Nothing seems to faze him, like water off a duck’s back.

“Alright, Fray,” Simon says. “Let’s put you to work.”

**

Most people would say that irritation is Alexander Lightwood’s default setting. Those who truly know him, however, know the difference between normal, surly Alec and irate, pissed off Alec.

Today, he’s the latter.

He tries not the let work take over his life-- he really does. To be fair, he doesn’t have much of a life to speak of beyond work, but the point still stands. 

Unfortunately, when your parents/bosses are going through a nasty divorce, which takes over every single aspect of you and your siblings’ lives because nothing about your damn family is quiet or discreet, suddenly your attention is inundated with wine orders and staffing and reps and catering... all while steadfastly trying to avoid the splintering marriage infecting everything you do.

Alec pauses in stocking the bar and grimaces down at his phone, seeing the flood of passive aggressive texts from his mother. He slams the phone down on the bar top and puts his head in his hands, massaging his weary temples.

“Jace!” he calls.

He peeks through his fingers to see his best friend and adoptive brother bound toward him, sliding behind the bar with grace and sidling up to Alec. He leans against the counter, a picture of ease, his golden hair curling over his forehead in that just-rolled-out-of-bed surfer boy way, eyes shining.

His cheer only irritates Alec more.

He passes his phone over wordlessly, watching Jace’s expression morph into disdain as he reads. He wrinkles his nose.

“So, I take it the meeting didn’t go very well,” Jace says with a snort, handing Alec his phone back.

“That’s an understatement.”

Alec sighs, leaning his hips flush against the counter. He reaches up subconsciously toward his ear, fiddling with the small silver arrow charm dangling from the lobe.

“At this point, it’s just constant fighting over Max and the restaurant,” Alec says, frowning, eyeing Simon carrying the host sign to the door, the little redhead girl following at his heels. Jace watches the pair curiously, eyes trained on the redhead-- Clara? Cora? Alec can’t remember for the life of him-- with interest.

“Poor kid,” Jace says of their baby brother, still watching her and Simon set up the host station. “This can’t be good for him, witnessing all this fighting. We should just adopt him.”

Alec raises an eyebrow. “He’s already our brother.”

“Yeah, but if we adopt him then he won’t have to boomerang between Maryse and Robert, which I think everyone can agree is not good for his health and development. Besides, you know we’d be kickass parents.”

“I’m not going to be Max’s new dad, parenting you is enough work.”

Jace gasps dramatically. “You impugn my honor, sir. I’m wounded. Wounded!”

Alec rolls his eyes.

“Go impugn yourself,” he says, tugging on his earring again as he looks out over the hustle of the restaurant opening.

Jace turns away from the host station, looking at Alec. His eyes track Alec’s fingers, toying with the charm, and when Alec glances back at Jace, he’s met with a knowing grin that Alec is tempted to slap off his face.

“What?” Alec asks, annoyed.

“Nothing,” Jace says, still grinning. “I like the jewelry. Where’d you get it?”

Alec’s hand jerks away from the earring like its burned him, and glares venomously at Jace.

“Shut up,” he snarls.

Jace holds his hands up in surrender.

“What? I’m just admiring,” he says, all innocence. “It’s a good look for you. You should wear it more often-- oh wait, that’s right, you’ve been wearing it every day since your birthday.”

Alec rolls his eyes so hard he’s somewhat concerned they might fall out of his head.

“It’s easier to just leave it in,” he says, refusing to meet Jace’s eyes.

Jace’s grin turns lecherous.

“Sure that’s all you wanna leave in?” Jace says.

Alec hits him with a check presenter.

“Can you shut up?” he hisses, eyes darting around. “We’re at work!”

Jace snorts. “Yeah because no one knows about the raging hard on Magnus has for you. I just gotta ask-- why didn’t he get me a birthday present? Maybe I want some jewelry too.”

Alec hits him again, this time over his head, the leather of the check presenter making a violent smacking sound.

“Can you ask him where he got it at least? I wanna match,” Jace laughs, dancing away when Alec lunges at him.

Jace is saved from strangulation by a melodic voice ringing out from the kitchen doors.

“Alexander!”

Magnus.

Jace waggles his eyebrows at Alec, swinging around the bar and striding over to the host station before Alec can figure out what to throw at him. He heaves a long suffering sigh and turns around to see Magnus striding toward the bar. His usual head scarf, today a deep maroon with multicolored designs, is tied around his head and small gold hoops glint in his ears. Gold eyeliner flicks out in a sharp wing around his eyes, making them appear cat-like and complimenting his warm brown skin.

He’s stunning, as usual, and Alec has to fight to not seem noticeably affected by him.

“Yeah?” Alec says as Magnus approaches, eyes on his forehead because it’s the safest place for him to look.

“I’m short a box of sherry,” Magnus says, leaning against the bar and folding his arms on top of it. “Have you done the liquor order yet?”

Work. He wants to talk work. This, Alec can do. He meets Magnus’ eyes-- they’re glittering, a kaleidoscope of green and yellow that sucks him in a little too deep.

“Uh, no,” Alec says, trying to focus. “I mean, I’m doing it now.”

He holds up the notebook next to him as proof, littered with his illegible scrawl.

“I’ll put on another box and get them to credit it,” Alec says, all business.

Magnus cocks his head to the side, eyes fixated on the tattoo on Alec’s neck, peeking out from the stiff collar of his black button down. Alec had never thought much about tattoos until Jace came home on his eighteenth birthday with his first one, an elegant falcon stretching across his shoulder. Maryse and Robert had both freaked, screaming at Jace for how he would be presenting himself at the restaurant. Alec and Isabelle, Alec and Jace’s sister, had loved it. Alec remembers tracing it every chance he could with his eyes, back when he was still closeted and hating himself, when Jace stirred up someting more than just brotherly affection. He’d been fascinated by the dark lines racing through Jace’s golden skin, running his fingers over his own pale forearms at night and wondering what it would look like on him. 

He came out to his parents soon after that, followed by his first tattoo to erase the pain of his parents’ rejection. His tattoos are his response to pain, and he’s been getting at least one a year, if not more, ever since.

Magnus is still staring at his neck and Alec’s face heats up like a stove top.

“I bet Sebastian stole it,” Magnus jokes-- sort of. Sebastian, their closing prep cook/dishwasher, isn’t the most trustworthy person. Alec has it on good authority that he’s pilfering spices; the only reason Magnus hasn’t fire him is because he’s their fastest dishwasher.

Alec can’t stand the guy, and almost hopes Sebastian actually did steal the sherry so Magnus stops dancing around letting him go.

“Wouldn’t shock me,” Alec says, glancing down at the notebook and scribbling a case of sherry on the ordering chart.

Magnus watches him; Alec fidgets under his gaze and looks back up.

“Anything else?” he asks, desperate for Magnus to go back into the kitchen so he can breathe normally again.

Magnus shakes his head.

“Nope,” he says with a coy grin. “Just looking.”

Alec’s cheeks grow so hot eggs could fry on them. He sputters, feeling clumsy, clearing his throat and shuffling his feet.

Magnus laughs, like the tinkling of chimes, pushing himself up from his lazy slouch over the bar. He winks at Alec.

“Thanks, darling. Back to the dungeon I go,” he sings, spinning on his heels and sashaying back toward the kitchen’s double doors.

Alec watches him go, frozen, eyes hypnotized by Magnus’ hips swinging back and forth.

Goddamnit.

His phone buzzes, snapping Alec out of his stupor shamefacedly. He shakes his head like he’s getting rid of a fly and glances down at the screen.

MOM: I’m getting Max and coming in for dinner. I cannot be around your father. Reserve me a table and get out the merlot I like. Tell Magnus I’m not doing carbs, I want the spaghetti squash in place of the pasta in the bolognese. Did the Sonoma rep call yet? I need you to do payroll I won’t be able to this week with all these damn meetings, your father is impossible.

Alec’s head falls on the bar in despair. 

How he’s going to get through tonight, he has no idea. 

He lifts his head up like it’s an anvil and sighs, rolling his neck and relishing in the crack of his joints.

“Alright, it’s showtime,” he calls, looking toward Simon and nodding at him to flip the sign. “Let’s open.”

[chimchimsauce]

Det Cep Xenu (1)

Det Cep Xenu: noun// fiction// A fictional or otherwise illogical phenomenon that occurs in reality 

Soulmate AU

Chapter One 

The last time Jimin checked, his closet did not look like this. He is fairly certain - at least 99.9% - that his closet contains his and Hobi's clothes, not a bedroom. Especially not a bedroom he’s never been in before. The idol stands in the messy room, confusion furthered by the pure exhaustion weighing heavily on his bones. There had been several interviews today, as well as filming for a Run episode to be released in the coming months for ARMY, He had had fun - he always did - but it was past two AM and all he wants to do is change out of his uncomfortable clothes into soft pajamas.

He isn’t even going to shower even though he knew he would regret it in the morning.

But instead, he finds himself in a messy bedroom, clothes strewn all over the floor. Upon closer inspection, he could tell the articles belong to a girl. He even spots a bra or two laying around, some panties thrown in a pile in the corner.

“What type of dream is this?” He asks himself aloud, convinced he had passed out in the closet and is having some sort of wack dream because of it.

He still feels exhausted.

At the sound of his voice, a lump buried under the sloppy covers groans and shifts, before setting down again.

Jimin sighs, figuring that this was some sort of Oz type dream, where he had to ask the “Characters” here questions or something in order to make his way out of here. He’d had those types of quest-based dreams before but they usually took place in large castles or scary woods, never in bedrooms in desperate need of cleaning.

Deciding to just go with the flow, Jimin practically drags himself over to the bed pressed flush against the cream wall, careful to avoid stepping on anything and - is that old dinner? The idol’s nose wrinkles in disgust.

His dreams are going downhill.

Arriving at the bed, Jimin has to crawl on it, avoiding a couple pair of scissors, a backpack with binders and papers spilling out of it and a pair of dirty sneakers. The room even smelled slightly.

Disgruntled, the tired man pokes the lump harshly, only for it to groan and readjust once more. He then shoves it, putting in as much force as he can in his exhausted state. The lump goes flying over the edge of the crowded mattress and lands with a dull thud on the floor.

“Gosh, I’m up! I'm up! Geez, Mom! You didn’t have to kick me off of the bed!” The lump complains loudly in English before shedding its polka-dotted comforter shell and revealing an exhausted-looking teenage girl.

A foreigner wearing sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt with a cat riding a rainbow through space while playing the electric guitar on it. She rubs her eyes and yawns as she stands, blinking a few times before opening her eyes completely.

For a moment the two of them simply stare at each other, heavy silence blanketing the room.

“What type of Guardian are you?” Jimin asks, confusion lacing his voice.

She blinks once.

“Jimin?”

“You know my name?” He asks.

The girl blinks at Jimin, clearly not understanding a word he’s saying.

Jimin sighs heavily.

“Why would I have a dream like this? The Guardian doesn't even speak Korean,”

She rubs her eyes again before muttering something under her breath (Y/N, you’re having delusions. Go back to sleep.) and wrapping herself up in the covers and climbing onto the trash heap of a bed.

Jimin is half tempted to lay down there with her, he’s so tired.

After all, it’s only a dream.

But he cannot force himself to slide under the covers with her, no matter how tired he is. The place is so disgusting and -

Jimin’s eyes widen in realization. Maybe this is his quest. Clean this pigsty and he’ll pacify the Guardian enough to either get his next quest or a clue or something.

Extremely reluctantly, the idol starts to clean the room, throwing trash in the garbage can and the clothes in the overflowing hamper. He then begins putting things back where they belong - or at least where he thinks they belong - and tidying things here and there. Straightening the sloppy books on the shelf even going so far as to organize them alphabetically (he knows that much, at least).

An hour or two later, Jimin is certain he’s going to pass out. But at least he’s completed his mission.

Or not. The lump hasn’t moved one fucking centimeter since he began. He decides then and there to thoroughly give up, cracking under his exhaustion and crawling into the now made bed (he had to move Lump girl around a few times to get it that way) and closing his eyes, falling asleep instantly.

When he wakes up next, it is to the worried faces of his members. Jimin sits up with a groan, rubbing at a sore spot on his neck and flinching at the pain that shoots up throughout his nerves,

“Where were you, Jiminie?” Hobi asks, concern evident in his tone.  

It takes the man a moment to process the question.

“What?” He asks, voice hoarse and painful.

A glass of water is shoved his way by the maknae, the boy looking thoroughly upset.

“We couldn’t find you, Jimin. You said you were going to change clothes ad go to bed, but when Namjoon wet to check on you because you were taking so long, you weren’t there. We tore the house apart, but we couldn’t find you. And you left your phone in the kitchen. Where did you go? And then just as we were about to call the managers, we find you passed out on the closet floor. What happened?” Hoseok asks, eyes wide.

Jimin’s head was swimming and he had to hold out his hand, signaling for his concerned brothers to be silent for a bit.

After a minute or two of heavy silence, Jimin’s thoughts are clear enough to answer.

“I - I don’t know. I was just super tired,” The boy says, darting his tongue out over his chapped lips, “I think I just passed out from exhaustion,”

Namjoon frowns, a small crease forming between his brows.

“You need to take better care of yourself, Jiminie,” The leader says, rubbing Jimin’s head affectionately.

Jimin nods.

“I’m sorry for inconveniencing you all,” He says.

The members disregard his apology.

“Just sleep, okay? We have a couple of hours before we have to head into BigHit. Take something and have a nap. We don’t want you passing out again,” Seokjin inputs.

Jimin nods and makes his way to the bathroom to take some medicine under six pair of watchful eyes before diving into his covers, once again falling into deep slumber, his strange dream disappearing from his mind.

When Y/N wakes up, her bedroom is completely spotless. The mess her room had turned into under the stress and exhaustion of school was gone. She blinks a few times to make sure her eyes aren’t tricking her.

They aren’t.

Her room was completely straightened. Even her laundry was clean and folded, put away in the proper spot.

Her mom must have gotten sick of the mess and decided to handle it all on her own.

Y/N doesn’t have time to question it, however, as she realizes with a start that she’s late. Terribly, tremendously late to her part-time job at the local coffee shop.

Cursing loudly, Y/N rushes through her routine, hastily throwing on her uniform and pulling her hair into a sloppy ponytail. She checks the time once more as she tosses her purse into the passenger seat of her car.

2:23 PM. Her shift started at twelve.

After receiving a scolding so bad she nearly burst into tears and being told she had to work an extra shift the next day to make up for her mistakes, Y/N falls into the usual pace of the quaint coffee shop, filling orders and bussing tables. Her shift ends at five and she heads back home to do some studying for a test scheduled for the next Tuesday.

By then, her Mom is home, tapping away at a computer on the living room couch. Y/N heads over to kiss her Mother’s cheek.

“Thank you for straightening up my room, Momma. I really appreciate it,”

Her Mother frowns slightly.

“What are you talking about, Y/N? Your room was clean when I got back from work this morning,”

Her mother is a nurse who works at the local hospital, working graveyard shifts and running two and fro, exhausting herself.

Y/N’s eyebrows draw in together in confusion.

“I didn’t clean it,” She says, voice laced with concern.

“Well, who else did? It’s only the two of us here. You’ve been so tired lately, you probably straightened up late last night and just don’t remember it,”

Y/N sighs, remembering how difficult school has been lately. It seems she has a new test or project every week.

“Yeah, that’s probably what happened,” She says, rubbing her temples slightly, “Anyway, I’m going to study. Call me if you need anything,”

Her Mother nods, clicking once more on her laptop, paying bills. Y/N heads up into her room, tossing her purse on the bed and pulling out her notes, diving into studying, the strange dream she had last night not even crossing her mind.

Chapter Two