#you guys that band name is illegal

[demoiselettes]

Hmm

Uzui must’ve been hecking mad at the public like

“HOW CAN YOU NOT APPRECIATE GOOD MUSIC?”

Bro tell your lead singer to learn how to sing

[archersgoon]

the actual original purpose of the modern au wasn't mediocre froi jokes or insulting finnikin or whatever the fuck. it was the quintana-centric polycule. and that's still the idea, baby!

[p0orbaby]

Why Do I Give You the Worst of Me (1)

summary: love and bad decisions collide as you struggle to balance a tour and a relationship that’s spiraling out of control

warnings: 18+ adult themes throughout

a/n: another series i’m hoping i don’t regret committing myself to… not sure how many parts it’ll be, i don’t plan anything

word count: 3.1k

-

You wake up face-first on a sofa that smells like cigarettes, spilled beer, and faintly, vomit. Not yours, you think. The synthetic fabric is scratchy against your cheek, and when you open your eyes, it takes a moment to realise it’s morning—sunlight cutting through the cracked blinds, striping the floor with dusty light. The sofa is mustard yellow, ugly in a deliberate, trying-too-hard-to-be-retro way. It doesn’t belong to you. Nothing in this flat belongs to you.

There’s a girl in the kitchen, humming softly to herself as she pours cereal into a bowl. You don’t know her name, but you know she wears Chanel No. 5 because it’s all you could smell last night when she leaned too close, whispering something you didn’t quite catch. Her hair’s a mess now—like spun gold caught in a tangle of barbed wire—but her makeup is still pristine. She’s the kind who sets her eyeliner with setting spray before going out, even if it’s just to the pub. You admire the commitment, if not the execution.

Your head throbs—a deep, insistent ache behind your eyes that reminds you of last night in bits and pieces: the gig (decent, though the sound guy fucked up your monitor levels), the afterparty (loud, sweaty, a haze of bodies and smoke), the lines of coke on a chipped coffee table, the bartender who kept giving you free shots because he recognised you from that NME interview last month. At some point, someone tried to fight you, though you’re not sure why. You vaguely remember smashing a bottle of tequila against a wall and laughing as glass shards rained down like confetti.

You roll onto your back and stare at the ceiling, which is peeling in a way that suggests years of neglect, a building held together more by stubbornness than actual structural integrity. There’s a stain in the corner that looks suspiciously like mould, but you don’t care enough to investigate. The flat isn’t yours, after all. You were invited here by someone whose name escapes you now—a bassist from another band, or maybe it was their girlfriend? They’re gone this morning, anyway, leaving behind only the detritus of a night well-lived: empty bottles, crushed cigarette packets, a single black stiletto abandoned near the door like a fairy-tale gone wrong.

You light a cigarette, despite the pounding in your head and the fact that you’re pretty sure it’s technically illegal to smoke indoors here. The girl in the kitchen glances at you but doesn’t say anything. You’re not sure if she’s annoyed or indifferent; you don’t care. The smoke curls lazily toward the ceiling, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy the quiet. Mornings like this are rare—where everything is still and soft, where the chaos of your life is temporarily held at bay by the thin walls of someone else’s flat.

Your bass is propped up against the armchair, scratched and battered in a way that tells a story if you care to look closely enough. It’s a Fender Precision, black with a white pickguard, the same model Sid Vicious used to play—not that you’d ever admit that’s why you bought it. The neck has a gouge near the third fret from when you threw it at a sound tech who deserved it (and missed). The strap is leather, worn smooth where it rests on your shoulder, and the bridge still has flecks of blood from the time you played so hard your fingers split open mid-song. You keep meaning to clean it, but you never do.

You check your phone, which is cracked and sticky with something you don’t want to identify. No new messages, except for a text from your drummer that reads: “u alive?” You don’t bother replying.

-

You’ve been in the band for five years now, though it feels longer. It started as a joke—a group of friends fucking around in someone’s garage, trying to see who could play the loudest, the fastest, the most obnoxious. Somewhere along the way, it became serious. There was a DIY EP, recorded in one manic weekend on borrowed gear, and a string of gigs in dingy pubs where the audiences were more interested in drinking than listening. Then came the break—a slot supporting a bigger band, one of those industry darlings who’d already started to hate themselves for selling out. The kind of band that wears matching outfits ironically, even though everyone knows it’s not ironic at all.

Now, you play sold-out shows to crowds who scream your lyrics back at you, though most of them probably couldn’t name your second album. Your face has been on the cover of Kerrang! twice, though you didn’t bother reading the articles. You hate interviews, but you do them anyway because your manager insists. You’re better at the photoshoots—smirking at the camera in a way that suggests you don’t care (you do).

The band is your life, though you wouldn’t call it that. Calling it your life makes it sound like you have some sort of plan, and you don’t. You’re just here, playing gigs and writing songs and doing whatever it takes to keep the wheels from falling off.

Your bandmates are a mixed bag of personalities, each one a walking caricature in their own way. There’s Matt, the drummer, who swears he’s been abducted by aliens and won’t shut up about it. Alex, the lead guitarist, is constantly high and insists on bringing his cat on tour, which you find deeply annoying. And then there’s Holly, the singer, who somehow manages to be both the most chaotic and the most responsible member of the group. She’s the one who organises rehearsals, books the studio time, and keeps you all from self-destructing entirely. You love her for it, even if you’d never say it out loud.

The girl in the kitchen finishes her cereal, rinses the bowl, and leaves without saying goodbye. You watch her go, not because you care but because there’s nothing else to do. When the door slams shut, the flat feels even smaller, like the walls are pressing in on you. You stub out your cigarette, grab your bass, and leave too.

-

Outside, London is already alive, though you wouldn’t call it awake. The streets are sticky from last night—spilled pints and kebab wrappers crushed into the pavement, cigarette butts floating in puddles of something that smells suspiciously like piss. The air has that distinct urban flavour: exhaust fumes mingling with fryer grease and the faint tang of wet concrete. You pull your leather jacket tighter around you, not because it’s cold (it is), but because it completes the look.

The jacket is vintage—or at least you tell people it is. In reality, you bought it at a high-street shop three years ago, and it’s held up surprisingly well, considering the abuse it’s endured. The lining is torn, the cuffs are frayed, and there’s a mysterious stain on the back you can’t quite place. But it’s yours, and it feels like armour. The boots, on the other hand, are real vintage: a pair of Dr Martens from the ‘90s you found in a thrift shop in Brighton. They’re scuffed to hell, and the left one squeaks when you walk, but you refuse to replace them because they’re authentic.

You head toward the Tube station, your bass slung over one shoulder like a soldier carrying a rifle. People stare, but only briefly. In London, no one has the energy to care for long. The morning commuters are a mix of suits and students, their faces blank, their eyes glazed over as they clutch takeaway coffees in one hand and their phones in the other. You feel out of place but also weirdly superior, like you’ve cracked some code they haven’t even realised exists yet.

You hop on the Northern line, ignoring the signs that politely request passengers to “refrain from eating or drinking.” You’re not eating or drinking, but you do pull out a cigarette, which is arguably worse. It’s a roll-up, so you convince yourself it doesn’t count. An old woman glares at you, clutching her handbag like she thinks you’re about to mug her. You offer her a crooked smile, which she does not return, and you put the cigarette back in your pocket because she reminds you of your nan.

The train screeches into motion, and you pull out your phone. The lock screen is a photo of your bass, which says a lot about you. There are a few notifications—mostly spam emails and an unread message from Holly: Rehearsal at 2. Don’t be late, dickhead.

You glance at the time. 11:47 a.m. Plenty of time.

-

The rehearsal space is in Camden, a dingy basement that smells of mildew and unwashed socks. The walls are lined with egg cartons painted black in a half-hearted attempt at soundproofing, and the floor is sticky for reasons you’d rather not think about. The room has seen better days—probably in the ‘80s, when it was still a nightclub and not a haven for struggling musicians. There’s a single fluorescent bulb overhead that flickers ominously, and a space heater in the corner that’s never worked.

Holly is already there when you arrive, tuning her guitar with the precision of someone who takes this far more seriously than you do. She’s wearing a denim jacket covered in patches for bands you’ve never heard of, her hair tied back in a messy ponytail. She looks up as you walk in, her expression equal parts exasperation and relief.

“Christ, you smell like an ashtray,” she says, wrinkling her nose.

“It’s called branding,” you reply, dropping your bass onto the floor with a thud.

Matt and Alex show up ten minutes later, looking even worse than you do. Matt has the kind of face that always looks slightly hungover, even when he’s not, and Alex is wearing the same shirt he wore yesterday, now with an impressive new stain across the front.

The rehearsal starts late, as it always does, and quickly descends into chaos. Matt insists on playing a drum solo during every song, despite the fact that no one asked for it. Alex keeps stopping mid-riff to check his phone, claiming he’s “waiting for an important call,” though everyone knows it’s just his dealer. Holly shouts at both of them until her voice cracks, then turns her frustration on you for being “completely fucking useless.” You take it in stride, plucking random notes on your bass and pretending to care.

-

At some point, Holly storms out, leaving the three of you to your own devices. Matt immediately pulls out a joint, which Alex lights with a lighter shaped like a naked woman. You lean back against the wall, your bass resting against your thigh, and watch as they argue over which fast-food place to hit up after rehearsal.

“McDonald’s is closer,” Alex says, taking a drag.

“But KFC’s got the gravy,” Matt counters, waving his arms for emphasis.

“It’s not even real gravy,” Alex snaps.

“None of it’s real,” you interject, flicking ash onto the floor. “We’re all just cogs in the capitalist machine.”

They stare at you for a moment, then go back to arguing.

-

By the time rehearsal ends, it’s dark outside. You pack up your gear, ignoring Holly’s death glare as she reminds you for the millionth time that you need to take this more seriously. You nod, mumble something about “artistic integrity,” and leave before she can yell at you again.

Back on the street, the air is crisp, the kind of cold that bites at your skin and makes you wish you’d brought a scarf. You light another cigarette, even though you’ve already smoked half a pack today, and head toward the pub.

The pub is your sanctuary, a place where time slows down and the only thing that matters is the next round. It’s a dive, the kind of place where the carpet sticks to your shoes and the jukebox is permanently stuck on a rotation of The Clash and The Smiths. You know the bartender by name, though you’re not sure if he knows yours.

You order a pint and settle into a corner booth, your bass case propped up beside you. The first sip is like a warm hug, washing away the stress of the day. You’re halfway through your second pint when you see her.

-

You don’t notice her at first. Not properly. She’s part of the blur—the dim bar lights catching on glasses, the low hum of half-drunken conversation, the vague sense that you’ve been here before even if you haven’t. She’s leaning against the counter, waiting for her drink, and it’s not until the bartender—a man whose name might be Pete but who you’re pretty sure is just “Oi, mate” to everyone who comes in—hands her a gin and tonic that you actually see her.

And it’s a gin and tonic. Not a lager, not a rum and coke, not something ironic like a snakebite or one of those craft beers with names like Hops and Robbers. It’s a G&T, clean and crisp, with a slice of lime balanced on the rim like it’s posing for a stock photo. The glass is crystal clear, and so are her nails—short, practical, painted the sort of soft pink that suggests she doesn’t chew them during stressful moments (unlike you). She takes the drink with both hands, like she’s steadying herself, and there’s something about that—the deliberateness of it—that hooks you.

You tell yourself you’re just looking because she’s there. Because it’s either her or the guy at the next table who’s been droning on about Bitcoin for twenty minutes straight. But it’s more than that. There’s a stillness to her, an odd kind of clarity that doesn’t fit in a place like this, like she’s wandered in from a parallel universe.

She turns slightly, and you catch her profile: sharp nose, strong jawline, cheekbones that could cut glass but probably wouldn’t because she seems far too polite. Her hair is blonde—not platinum, not peroxide, but the kind of natural gold that makes you think of expensive shampoo and childhood summers. It’s tied back loosely, wisps framing her face in a way that seems accidental but probably isn’t.

She’s not wearing makeup. Or maybe she is, but it’s the invisible kind—the kind that takes forty-five minutes to apply but looks like you’ve just rolled out of bed looking flawless. Her jumper is navy, oversized enough to suggest she might have nicked it from someone else’s wardrobe, paired with jeans that sit perfectly at her hips without being skinny. On her feet are white trainers—clean, like freshly ironed bedsheets—Adidas, the classic three stripes in black, laces tied neatly, no fraying ends.

You’re staring. You know you are. But she hasn’t noticed, so it doesn’t count.

The bartender mutters something to her, and she laughs. Not the loud, performative laugh you hear from most people in bars, but something softer, like it’s meant for her and her alone. The sound is so out of place in this dingy pub that it feels almost sacrilegious, like someone’s brought a cathedral choir to sing in a nightclub.

You tell yourself to look away. You don’t.

Instead, you light a cigarette, even though the pub is strictly non-smoking. You do it for the aesthetic, the same way you do most things. There’s a half-empty pint in front of you—lager, flat and warm, probably with someone else’s fingerprints on the glass—but you take a sip anyway, because what else are you going to do?

She turns then, her gaze sweeping the room, and you’re caught like a deer in headlights. For a second, you think she’s looking at you, but she’s not. She’s looking past you, at the dartboard on the wall behind your head. Her expression is curious, like she’s trying to figure out why anyone would bother playing darts in a place like this.

Then her eyes meet yours, and the world tilts.

It’s not love at first sight, not really. Love at first sight is for Disney films and Hallmark cards and people who shop at Waitrose without looking at the prices. This is something else. Recognition, maybe. Like you’ve seen her before in a dream or a half-remembered story someone told you once. Like you’ve spent your whole life waiting for this moment without knowing it.

She holds your gaze for a second longer than is polite. Then she looks away, back at her gin and tonic, and you realise you’ve been holding your breath.

-

You don’t approach her right away. That would be too obvious, too predictable. Instead, you wait, watching her out of the corner of your eye while pretending to scroll through your phone. It’s a shitty phone, cracked and outdated, but you’ve never bothered upgrading because you secretly enjoy the low expectations it sets. No one looks at you and expects success when your phone screen is held together with Sellotape.

She moves to a table in the corner, near the radiator, and sits down alone. No book, no laptop, no visible excuse to be here other than the gin and tonic in her hand. She sips it slowly, methodically, like she’s savouring it. Like she’s savouring this.

You wonder what her story is.

Is she waiting for someone? A friend, a boyfriend, a clandestine meeting with a lover? Or is she just one of those people who can sit alone in public without feeling like a target? You’ve never understood that kind of confidence—the kind that lets you exist without an audience, without a role to play.

You take another sip of your pint, then decide, fuck it.

You stand, grab your bass (because leaving it behind would feel like abandoning a child), and make your way across the room. Your boots squeak against the sticky floor, and you curse them under your breath. She looks up as you approach, her expression unreadable.

“Mind if I join you?” you ask, gesturing vaguely at the empty chair across from her.

She hesitates, just for a moment, then nods.

“Sure.”

Her voice is soft, but not shy. Measured. Like she’s weighing every word before she says it.

You sit, placing your bass case carefully against the table leg. For a moment, neither of you speaks. You’re not sure what to say, and she seems content to let the silence stretch. It’s not uncomfortable, exactly, but it’s not easy, either.

Finally, she breaks it.

“You’re in a band,” she says, nodding toward the bass. It’s not a question.

You smile. “Yeah. What gave it away?”

She raises an eyebrow, and you realise it’s a stupid question.

“What’s the band called?”

You tell her, and she nods, like she’s vaguely heard of it but couldn’t name a single song.

“I’m Alessia,” she says, holding out her hand. Her grip is firm, her skin warm.

“Nice to meet you,” you reply, and for the first time in a long time, you actually mean it.

[chestharrington]

Fixation

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: SMUT (fingering, handjob, p in v). Dubious Consent (coercion, power imbalance, failure to pull out), unhealthy/probably illegal power imbalance, stripper!reader, gator is an asshole (like extremely), degradation, misogyny, sexual assault (by a non major character), brief violence, kind of stockholm syndrome if you think about it, unhappy ending

Summary: Gator Tillman’s fixation of the week just so happens to be you, for better or worse.

A/N: If you know me personally please do not read this thank u <3

The foggy clouds of your breath were painted pink by the glow of the neon sign— The Venus Lounge— with a cute little clamshell opening and closing and everything. 

You had a velour sweatsuit pulled over the skimpy costume you’d wear for your next dance, hot pink and bedazzled across the ass. It was trendy maybe fifteen years prior, so it cost just about nothing when you bought it at a bin sale. 

Sweet, strawberry-scented vapor poured from your lips as you exhaled. You hated this stupid thing— you’d rather smoke a cigarette like a goddamn adult. But the owner insisted, “You ladies gotta stay smelling nice and sweet and respectable for our clientele.” Which was fucking stupid considering they came in smelling like sweat and mud and body odor. 

From the alley, you could get a sneak peek of whoever was coming your way for the night— the big spenders, the handsy ones, the cheap ones… and Gator Tillman’s stupid entourage, who you avoided like the plague.

You made the mistake of getting cozy with him. Once. A few well-paid lap dances, then a private dance in one of the dimly lit back rooms. He’d been handsy, and you relished in it, in him. A handsome, powerful guy who looked at you like you were the hottest woman he’d ever seen. You sucked him off in the private room and he gave you a hundred to shut the fuck up about it. Like you were some sort of whore.

Gator. What a stupid fucking name. His dad was a grade-A cocksucker, so it made sense that he’d name his son something so goddamn stupid. The other girls were scared of Roy, with good reason. Their boyfriend get too rough? He’d brush it off— no domestic abuse charges on his watch. The man is the master of the house, and the woman is his property. One girl swore he came onto her, and she got a broken arm when she brushed him off. A lot of people thought that stepping to the Tillman’s meant winding up dead. 

Fuck that. 

You hadn’t wanted to wind up in this town anyway. You were married, once upon a time. You had the tattoo of his name on your hipbone, a shitty rental house in West Texas, and a wedding band he bought from a pawn shop. He found a job up north, and you followed like an obedient puppy. 

It wasn’t your fault he’d racked up gambling debts— that he owed the wrong people money he didn’t have. And it wasn’t your fault that he was fucking a waitress at the local diner— thin, blonde, perky. The divorce was settled quickly— but you were left penniless, in bumfuck North Dakota, in Tillman territory. 

Well, it was a good thing you still had your looks. 

You saw the police cruiser pull into the lot, heard the slam of the car door and the mindless chatter between the valiant boys in blue. Those assholes did about as much for the city as a tick does for a dog. Your phone buzzed against your hip, warning you that your break was up. You took one more puff from your vape and slipped back in the door to the dressing room. 

You warned everyone that Gator and his boys were out there as you slipped out of your jogging suit and adjusted your dancewear beneath— a baby blue bikini set that you’d bedazzled by hand. You slipped a sheer skirt overtop and surveyed yourself in the mirror. There was still a flush on your cheeks from being out in the cold, but it would be fine. 

You slipped out onto the floor, passing by crowded tables. It was busy, even for a Saturday, which meant more money to take home. A hand grabbed your ass and squeezed it in a meaty paw. It was some drunk old guy who probably couldn’t even get it up anymore but had maintained his pervy inclinations. You bit your cheek to keep from saying anything and kept making your rounds.

“You want a dance?” You’d ask the safe guys— the ones who looked nervous to be there, whose eyes kept flitting around like they’d get caught any moment. Their button-ups were ironed, their slacks pressed. Usually, they had a nice fountain pen in their pocket. Clerks, CPAs, any of those nerdy desk jobs. 

Most of the time they declined, too nervous to go that far, but occasionally you’d get a yes, do a bit of grinding, and walk away with a nice tip. 

You’d done a few lap dances by the time you passed by Gator and his crew. Your money was tucked into the band at your hip, concealing your ex-husband’s name. 

He called you like a dog– whistling low. You froze, and turned to face him, all smug and pleased with himself. 

“You need somethin’, Deputy?” You asked, jaw clenched, raising a brow. “Because if you do, you can ask like a gentleman. I’m a lady, not a dog.”

He laughed, glancing back at his pack of asshole cops to make sure they saw the next part. “Really? ‘Cause it seems to me you’re actin’ like a bitch.” They all laughed, because of course they did. They thought he was so, so clever. Before you could respond, he held up a fifty-dollar bill between two fingers. “C’mere, girl. I want a dance.”

Your eyes flicked between him and the fifty between his fingers. You were broke, but was it worth it? He saw your hesitation and his smug grin grew. “Aw, you need it that bad, huh?” He patted his thigh twice. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Anyone in their right mind would’ve said no, and walked away with their dignity intact, but he was right— you needed it bad. 

So you approached and tried to pluck the money from his hand, but he pulled it away, clicking his tongue disapprovingly. “Nuh-uh, Sweetheart. Gotta earn it first.”

You huffed in disbelief, taking a step back. But meeting his gaze told you how serious he was. You swallowed your pride and straddled his lap, grinding to the beat. 

It felt degrading, dancing on him while his friends all leered. Your tits pressed against Gator’s shirt, his hands firm on your hips, even though he knew he wasn’t allowed to touch. If you called him out on it, he’d probably just say it was nothing he hadn’t done before.

It could’ve been one song, or maybe more. Probably more. When he finally removed his hands, he nodded for you to get off. You swallowed uncomfortably and took a few awkward steps back. 

“The money,” you said weakly.

His face scrunched slightly, like he was considering it. “Eh… I don’t think you earned it, Sweetheart. I mean, I’m not even hard.” 

He got a real kick out of that, and out of the kicked puppy look in your eyes. You swallowed it down like a bitter pill and met his gaze. “It’s not my fault that all the blow you do is killing your dick. Keep your fuckin’ money, Gator. I don’t want it.”

Which was a lie. You wanted it more than anything… but you knew you’d pissed him off. You could see the vein popping at his temple, the way his hand clenched around his beer bottle. Better to pretend you were better off without it and walk off with some dignity left.

It took about three steps to realize that there was a little less pressure on your hip than there used to be. Your hand felt along the band of the bikini and came up blank. He’d taken your fucking money. 

You heard him giggling behind you once he knew you realized, but what was the point? Who would you call to get it back? The police?

By the end of the night, you counted your meager earnings and tucked it away in your bag. Without your dancewear and the makeup and the heels, you could pass for the average citizen of Stark County. 

You bundled up in a parka before you walked to your car, a shitty, beat-up car nearly older than you were. One of the side mirrors was ripped off, and the bumper was caved in, but she ran. 

Tucked into the windshield was a tiny note, in a messy, nearly illegible scrawl— Impress me next time. You crumpled it and tossed it onto the asphalt.

  You saw him again on Monday. The club was closed on Sunday, due to an ordinance that Roy Tillman had put in place about businesses of ill repute operating on the holy day. You wondered what he thought about his son bankrolling the lives of half of the strippers who worked at the club.

He was alone, though, which scared and comforted you in equal measure. You watched him from afar, sitting at the bar, drinking a White Claw and puffing on that stupid fucking vape. 

There was a girl in his lap, one of the newer dancers who didn’t know better. Whatever. She’d figure him out soon enough. 

Mondays were slow. You did a few dances onstage, made the rounds, flirted with some of the regulars. Gator was blissfully elsewhere, which you loved. 

The night had been pretty tame until just before last call, when an overserved realtor got loud and handsy. 

“C’mon, why don't you take me back to one of those rooms without the cameras?” One asked as you gave him a half-hearted lap dance. His breath was like a punch bowl at a senior prom, and his fingers dug into the plush of your ass. 

You winced as he pulled you harder against him, and you felt the uncomfortable prod of his dick against you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He was grinding up against you, sweaty at his temples and forehead. He was deceptively strong, holding you down against him so he could rut against you and get off. “Ya know, the private rooms for the big tippers. Better than all this over the clothes stuff.”

“You need to stop,” you said, as firmly as you could, shoving at his chest to really get your point across. He didn’t let up, and gave you a smarmy grin as he began roughly moving your hips of his own accord. “Hey, stop it, asshole.”

“Hey, you’re the one offerin’ me a dance,” he said. “I sold a nice big house today, got a real good commission. I could tip ya real good if you’re nice.”

“Let me go!” You shoved at his chest, slapping at him, but he just grinned. You were just wondering if biting his ear off would do the trick when you felt yourself pulled off him and tossed aside on the floor like a rag doll. 

Then there was the soft sound of blows landing against a stomach. Then the crunch of a broken nose. The wheezy rattle of the realtor’s breath once he started spitting up blood and teeth. Each punch made you flinch until finally, it relented. 

“Should’ve let her go, asshole.” Gator’s knuckles were bloodied, and you realized he was holding out a hand to help you up. You took it, nervously, and readjusted your costume where the realtor had tugged at them. “You hurt?”

You shook your head. “I’m fine but is— I mean, is he gonna be okay?”

Gator’s brows furrowed as he spared a glance toward the bloodied pile of meat on the floor. He spat in his direction and shrugged. “Who fuckin’ cares? Goddamn lowlife.”

You wondered if he could sense the irony. His face lit up in recognition, then he knelt beside the realtor, patting him down, searching for something. He stood and held up a fancy, monogrammed leather wallet. 

He sifted through, retrieving bill after bill. “Here. Y’earned it.” It was more cash than you brought home in a week. More cash than anyone should carry on themselves at once. 

“I’m not taking that,” you said weakly. “I can’t.”

He rolled his eyes, tucking the money in your bra. “Such a fuckin’ bitch, you know that? Can’t even say thank you or nothin’.”

He left you standing there over the broken body of the asshole realtor, who may or may not have been dying. Either way, you figured the Tillman’s would handle it. For better or worse.

  “I didn’t fuckin’ do anything,” you argued, which was a lie. And it’s not like anyone would listen even if it wasn’t. Police are on their way, they said. They’ll deal with thieving filth like you.

Well… they didn’t have to get quite so personal. You sat outside the Manager’s office at the stupid fucking sex shop, picking at your cuticles until you heard the police cruiser roll up outside. You heard the door slam, and muffled chatter until you saw him walk in.

“Well… look who got herself into some trouble. And here of all places too.”

Fuck. Gator Fucking Tillman. 

You glanced up at him for a moment before returning to your nails. The shop owner was talking the deputy’s fucking ear off until you heard the question you dreaded. 

“What is it she was tryin’ to steal? I mean… there’s a lot to choose from, I’ll tell ya that.”

You watched with a thin sense of dread as the shop owner laid out your would-be haul of lingerie that had been stuffed into your purse. Gator grinned as he glanced over at you, then back at the lingerie. 

“Can I have the office? I need some privacy to interrogate the perp.” The manager complied, bending to the will of the law or whatever. Gator grabbed you by the arm and tugged you inside, closing the door firmly behind him. 

You watched as he strode towards the nice armchair behind the desk, then sat down, legs spread wide. He unzipped the stupid police vest and shrugged it off, so it landed in a pile on the floor. For a moment, it was quiet as you stared at him dumbly, then he snapped his fingers. 

“What? You want me to tell you why did it? Three fucking guesses.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “No, I want you to try it on.” 

You swallowed, and when you spoke your tongue felt dumb and heavy. “What?”

“You heard me. Try it all on, and tell me if it was worth the trouble.” He looked at you expectantly, and when you didn’t move, he sighed. “It’s this, or I take you to the station, get you booked, and all that. I doubt anyone’s gonna pay your bail, so that’s a few days before arraignment. Then it’s a court case for larceny, and let’s be honest, you’re guilty.”

You stared at him, speechless. He stood up suddenly, grabbing his things before you interrupted— “Wait! Wait. Just… sit back down.”

He grinned. “There’s a good girl. Make it good for me, yeah? You know how.”

You huffed, heart pounding as you grabbed the first set and turned around to change. You had just pulled off your shirt when he cleared his throat behind you. Your hands shook as you turned around, barely covering your tits. 

“C’mon, I said to make it good, Sweetheart,” he said with a thinly veiled sense of amusement. “Nothin’ I haven’t seen before.”

The fucking asshole. But you took a breath and steadied yourself. “Okay,” you whispered, more to yourself than anything. 

His gaze was intense, tracing each curve and dip of your body as you moved. You slipped the bra on, clipping it shut with shaking hands.

“Alright, now you can turn around,” he said, nodding towards the panties in your hand. “And do it nice and slow for me.”

Your face burned with embarrassment as you turned around, working the buttons of your skirt so you could slip it down your legs. It fell into a pile around your ankles and fanned out like a flower. You hooked your thumbs into the panties you were wearing, pink with little flowers spotting the fabric. As slowly as you could manage while terrified and pissed, you slipped them down your legs. 

When you spared a glance at Gator, he was smirking right back at you. “Give those here,” he said, holding his hand out expectantly. 

“What?”

“Geez, you’re fuckin’ dumb. Lemme see ‘em.” He more or less snatched the panties from your grip, smiling like the cat who got the cream as he held them up. “Might have to keep ‘em. Evidence.”

You swallowed down your annoyance and pulled the lacy panties up your legs. When you were finished, you turned, arms crossed over your chest protectively. Shockingly, he was quiet as he looked at you, eyes raking over your tits, and every bare piece of skin he could see. It felt like you stood there under his gaze for hours before he finally spoke up. 

“It’s not doin’ much for ya, sweetheart. I mean, you don’t look very fuckable.”

It landed like a blow to your gut. He was an asshole, so it should’ve meant nothing… but he knew exactly where your soft spots were, and just how hard to dig his fingers in. “Fuck you, Gator.”

“Aw, c’mon, sweetheart,” he cooed, patronizing and smug. “So fuckin’ sensitive, huh? Can’t take a joke. C’mere, lemme see you.” He grabbed your wrist in the tightly packed office and tugged you forward, so you practically stumbled on top of him.

You flinched as his hand moved up the back of your thigh, warm and calloused. When he gave your ass a rough squeeze, you closed your eyes and shivered. 

“Ya know, I saw your husband the other day.” His finger traced along the name on your hip— Jack. Every loop and whorl of the cursive claimed by his touch. “Looked real happy with that girl of his. Sarah, right? The waitress he was fuckin’ behind your back?”

You swallowed hard and said nothing, but he was more than happy to keep running his mouth. “Well, she’s not special. I’ve fucked Sarah too, and she just laid there like a dead fish the whole time.”

“Maybe you just weren’t that good.” You smirked as you replied, unable to resist being a bit of an asshole right back. 

“You gettin’ smart right now?” He gave your ass a quick slap, making you squeak. “I was trying to give you a compliment, but you don’t fuckin’ deserve it. You’re so fuckin’ used up that you don’t even know what good is.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m sure you think that. It’s easy to blame it on the girl when you can’t make ‘em cum, right?”

His jaw clenched, anger painting his features. “Wouldn’t you fuckin’ like to know, huh?” He caught sight of the smirk on your face and shoved you back. “Put on the next one.”

Fucking dickhead. You rolled your eyes and quickly stripped off the lingerie, throwing it in his general direction once it was off. You weren’t as graceful in dressing in the next set. Why give him a show and let him win? Once it was on, you crossed your arms and looked at him expectantly. 

“Well?”

He cocked his head to the side, a smirk playing on his lips. “Well, I like it better than the first, but I don’t think your heart’s quite in it. Gimme a twirl.”

You gave a slow turn, then met his gaze again, raising a brow. He ran a hand over his mouth, looking you up and down. You caught the slightest movement as he spread his legs a little wider. It only served to highlight the bulge in the front of his stupid fucking cargos.

“You’re really enjoyin’ yourself, huh?” You snapped, eyes narrowed. He laughed, following your gaze to his lap. 

“Well,” he began, lazily moving a hand to cup his growing hard-on. “I could always find a way to enjoy myself more. Bet you’d like that, huh?”

You ignored him and began trying on the last set you’d attempted to steal. A bright red set, skimpier than the others, which you were sure he fucking loved. Before he could ask, you gave a slow twirl. 

“Atta girl,” he cooed. He was blatantly stroking himself over the fabric, eyes half-lidded. You swallowed hard, watching the sight before you. It was like something out of a bad porno. Or a really good one. Jury was out. He patted his thigh, nodding you over. “C’mere, I won’t bite.”

A moment of hesitation passed through you, wondering if this was really what you wanted. It was like you could hear his voice in your head, asking if you could do any better. You sighed and slowly settled onto his lap. He looked at you with a funny sort of expression— not so much that he was smug, just… a bit pleased. 

“You gonna give me a dance?” His hand rested on your thigh, fingers tapping erratically. You shook your head and he rolled his eyes. “Is this ‘cause I didn’t pay the other night?” You scowled. “I mean, I think you owe me now. I paid ya back a hundred times over thanks to Mr. Realtor from the other day.”

   You stayed silent and still, looking anywhere but his face. He took your chin between his fingers and turned you to face him, so close you could taste the fruit flavor from that goddamn vape on his breath. 

“Remember how turned on you got just from havin’ my cock in that pretty mouth of yours?” He said, voice barely above a whisper. He ran a thumb along your bottom lip, tugging at it slightly. “I still remember the way you had to slip a hand between your legs to play with yourself.”

You made a weak sound in the back of your throat as you remembered it— that desperate, all-consuming need. Maybe it’s because he was an asshole, or maybe it was all of the authority. Maybe that’s why you shoplifted anyway. Because you knew he’d be the one to show up. 

“You ever been with someone as big as me before?”

You shivered. “No.”

A wide smile spread across his lips. “Since?” You just shook your head. “Betcha been dreamin’ about it too. Stuffin’ that greedy little pussy full of your fingers whenever you think about me.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t quite deny it. It wasn’t a frequent fantasy, but it was there. “You’re a real narcissist. You know that?”

He grinned. “That’s not a no, is it?” He leaned in closer, nuzzling against your throat, his breath hot. “Bet if I slipped my hand inside those panties, they’d be fuckin’ soaked.”

And despite your better judgment, you fucking whimpered. All but confirming it. 

“Yeah, I thought so,” he cooed. His hand found purchase on the small of your back, and when he applied the smallest bit of pressure, you found yourself giving in. Slowly, your hips ground against his, making a soft sigh escape your lips each time your cunt met his clothed dick. 

“Want me to find some music?” He asked with a boyish grin. “I bet I have Pony somewhere on my phone.”

You shook your head before he could even try to grab it. “I’ll kill you if you even try.” He laughed, just a bit. It was rare to hear him laugh and have it not be at your, or anyone else’s expense. 

You grabbed his hands, moving them to your waist, just at your ribcage. The tips of his fingers brushed against your tits, and he smiled.

“Takin’ charge now, are ya? You could’ve just put ‘em right here.” He moved his hands up, cupping your breasts in his large hands. You moaned softly as he gave a slight squeeze, arching into his touch. “ See? That’s much better, huh? Just take what you need, baby. I’ll give it right to ya.”

Take what you need? You could do that. You moved your hands along his chest, fighting the urge to just tear off his shirt and reveal the white tank top you knew he always wore beneath. Instead, you slipped your hands to his goddamn cargos and made quick work of the button and zipper. 

He sat back and watched as you spit into your palm, his eyes hazy with arousal. You slipped your hand inside his pants and slipped beneath the band of his plaid boxers. A low groan escaped his lips when you wrapped your hand around him and squeezed.

“Fuck, sweetheart. Just like that.” His head fell back, leaving the plane of his neck for the taking. Your lips pressed against the skin there, leaving a mixture of soft kisses and bites as you worked him in your hand. 

Gator’s stamina was absolute dogshit. You could tell when he was close from the way he’d pulse in your hand and whimper like a fuckin’ girl. You’d just have to squeeze him at his base to stave it off, give him a few seconds to cool off before you kept going. 

“You want me?” You asked, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. 

“So fuckin’ bad.” He was bucking up into your fist, chasing the sweet pleasure of your soft hand around him. 

A smile spread across your lips. “Then earn it.” You pulled back, meeting his gaze as you removed your hand from him. 

He sat there, panting and staring dumbly as you sat atop the desk and spread your legs invitingly. “C’mon, Gator. You’re a smart boy, you’ll figure it out.”

He huffed with annoyance as he stood, towering over you as he pulled off his shirt to reveal that fucking tank top. He leaned down just slightly, so his arms were caging you in. “I’ll fuckin’ earn it, alright. I’m gonna own this pussy by the time I’m through.”

He knelt between your legs, kissing his way up your thighs. You cried out as his teeth dug into the plush skin, leaving an indentation that would probably turn purple the next day. 

“You’re such a fuckin’ asshole.” He just grinned, clearly pleased with himself. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties and tugged them down. 

He was quick to drag his fingers through your slit, coating them in your arousal. The wet sounds of him playing with you, spreading you open for him, made your cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

“I’m an asshole, but you clearly fuckin’ like it, huh?” He said, holding up his fingers, glistening with your juices, as proof. His smirk made annoyance and arousal bubble up within you, tangling in an utterly infuriating way. “Relax for me, yeah? Gonna stretch you out, make you feel real good.”

You moaned softly as his fingers pressed against your entrance, teasing you with the idea of being full. A gentleman would start off slow, work you up to two fingers gradually. Gator Tillman wasn’t a fucking gentleman, but you didn’t care. 

“Shhh… open up for me,” He said, speaking not to you, but to your cunt. “That’s it, atta girl.” A low whimper escaped you as his fingers pressed inside, thick and stretching you just right. Your walls fluttered around the intrusion, needing him deeper, more, more.

“Jesus Christ, Gator,” His fingers flexed at just the right spot, making you cry out desperately. He grinned, then pressed a kiss to your thigh as he began fucking you with his fingers, acutely aware that the slightest twitch of his fingers could make you fucking sing for him. 

It’s a funny thing he does with his fingers— not quite jackhammering them in and out like most of the other guys you’d been with but not exactly too far away. And you were fucking whining for it, your hips canting against his fingers until he finally had to throw his arm across your pelvis to just, in his words, keep you fuckin’ still.

It felt good, but you were also very aware that he was purposefully, or, worse, unknowingly avoiding your clit. The more you considered it, the more convinced you were that it was the latter. He was homeschooled, apparently, by his religious nut father, which meant his sex ed was probably just porn, and not even the decent kind. 

You squirmed slightly. “Gator—”

“’M busy.”

You rolled your eyes and huffed. I mean, sure, he was good with his hands, but you would also appreciate that skill applied elsewhere. Whatever, you weren’t helpless. 

His eyes narrowed as you moved a hand between your legs, circling your clit in time with his fingers. Your head fell back as a string of moans escaped your lips. That’s what you needed. 

“God, you’re desperate,” he muttered, but he didn’t bother to redirect your hands. “I coulda done that.”

You would’ve laughed if you weren’t already so close, the pressure and attention to your clit exactly what you needed to fall over the edge. 

“I feel you squeezin’ my fingers,” he said, voice low and dripping with satisfaction. “Wanna cum that bad, huh? Can’t even take what I give ya? Are you that fuckin’ needy?” When you didn’t think to answer, he leaned over and bit your thigh again. Harder.

“Fuck!” You shouted, annoyed that you’d have a second set of bruises to cover. But your annoyance melted right back into the siren call of pleasure. 

Moans tumbled from your lips before you could bring yourself to answer. “Yes, I’m that needy,” You gasped as his fingers moved deeper, harder with every thrust in. Your fingers moved faster on your clit, making your legs twitch on either side of Gator’s shoulders.

He let you teeter there on the precipice for a little longer, until you were sure you were going to tumble straight into sweet ecstasy. So close you could taste it, sweet and heady on the back of your tongue. 

And like that, Gator pulled away, slipping his fingers from your cunt and leaving you wanting. You sat there, panting and frustrated as he wiped his fingers off on your thigh. “Too fuckin’ bad. Bend over.”

He slapped the side of your thigh as he stood and looked down at you expectantly. Your legs wobbled as you stood in what little room he provided you, tits brushing against his chest for just a moment as you turned and bent over the desk. 

“Isn’t this a pretty sight?” He grabbed your ass, kneading the plush skin roughly before landing a rough smack. You winced at the sting as you spared a glance over your shoulder. He landed another slap on the opposite cheek, then spread you apart with his thumbs. “You’re fuckin’ killin’ me, you know that?”

He was quick to free his cock from the confines of his cargos and boxers. Over your shoulder, you could see the heap of clothes he’d made on the floor. In the back of your mind, you noted the very careless way he treated the gun in his thigh holster, but said nothing. It was hard to focus on improper gun handling when he had his length in his hand, stroking it slowly as he took in the sight of you. 

“You’re gonna pull out, right?” You asked, chewing your lip as you looked at him.

He rolled his eyes, the tip of his cock notched right at your entrance, making you arch against him. “You’re such a fuckin’ bitch. I’m not stupid, I’ll pull out.”

The prettiest groan escaped him as he rocked against your cunt, coating himself in your dripping arousal before the head of his cock nudged at your entrance. 

“You want me?” He asked, his breath coming in pants. Your body felt like a fucking live wire, hyperaware of the feeling of him, just barely outside of where you craved him.

You nodded. “Uh-huh. I want you. So bad, Gator.”

He sank into you, nice and slow, so he could relish in the warm, soft feeling of your walls around him. A sappier man would’ve said it felt like heaven. Gator wasn’t sappy. 

“Goddamn, you’ve got the tightest fuckin’ pussy,” He managed once he’d bottomed out, every inch of him fully sheathed inside. “Forget what I said about you bein’ used up.”

What a gentleman. You whined softly, pushing back against him to silently beg for more. He put a hand on the small of your back and pushed down so your back arched even more. Then he fucked you in earnest. 

The noises you made should’ve been illegal— some form of indecency or something. Loud and whiny, desperate for more. Your nails scratched at the laminate of the desk, seeking something, anything to hold onto for purchase as he fucked you within an inch of your life. 

He was so big you could’ve sworn you felt him deep in your stomach, even though you knew physically that was impossible. Each thrust punched out a keening moan from your lips, a swear, a breathy whine, or just his stupid fucking name over and over again. 

He reached a hand beneath you, so his rough fingers could play with your clit. “This is what you wanted so bad, yeah?” He asked, voice breathy as he quickly rubbed your clit. “Say thank you.”

“Thank you, Gator.” You were practically babbling. Thank you thank you thank you. 

Over your shoulder, you watched him using your body, chasing his high. Every slap of your ass was for his own gratification, just to see it jiggle. He was only rubbing your clit so he could feel you squeeze him even tighter. 

You didn’t care. You fucking loved it. Even as he manhandled you, lifting your thigh and placing it on the desk so he could fuck you deeper, you just laid there and took it like a fucking champ. 

“Woulda fucked you sooner if I knew it’d be this good.” His voice wavered slightly with the effort it took to maintain the relentless pace he had set. He slapped your ass hard, making you yelp and clench around him. 

What you’d said earlier was right— you were needy. You rocked back against him, meeting him with each thrust. The sounds of his hips hitting your ass with each thrust were nearly as pornographic as both of your moans. 

Gator didn’t shut up most of the time, but when he was buried inside of you he could mostly only manage pretty moans. 

“F-fuck, sweetheart. You’re… you’re really workin’ for it, huh?” His words were interrupted by low moans and grunts. “C’mon. Give it to me.”

He let you do most of the work, rocking back against him, making you fuck yourself on his cock. And he looked fucking smug about it too. 

The switch snapped suddenly when he grabbed your hips and fucked you without abandon, skin slapping against skin as he roughly bullied himself inside of you again and again. 

“That’s it. Just lay there and take it, sweetheart.” His voice was breathy and strained. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “Fuck! That’s it. Just like that.”

He came suddenly, thrusting deep and hard as he spilled within you. It annoyed you that he looked pretty when he came— his mouth ajar, eyes fluttered shut, his body trembling just slightly. 

And then you were annoyed because he fucking lied. He pulled out after he had ridden the aftershocks with a few shallow thrusts and quickly redressed. 

“You didn’t pull out,” you said, your voice was strained with annoyance and anger as you looked back at him. He was getting dressed, making sure he looked alright. He didn’t even care to get you off. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He shrugged, trying to appear unbothered by it all. But you saw the annoyed tick in his jaw, the anger beneath it. Like a rattlesnake all coiled up, ready to strike if you made the wrong move. You were never on equal terms. You were no better than prey. And you should have known better, right?

Annoying, hot tears welled on your lashline, and you prayed to any higher power that he wouldn’t notice as you wiped at your eyes. You stood, doing your best to redress in silence, doing your best to remain small. He slapped a fifty on the desk and you flinched. “Buy some Plan B if you’re that fuckin’ worried about it. Jesus Christ.” He paused as he reached the door. “I’ll tell the manager we got it all sorted out. Isn’t that good enough for ya?”

You stood there, unsatisfied and used, with his cum leaking out of you, and stayed silent. It wasn’t good enough. It wasn’t anything at all. 

You walked out with fifty dollars, streaked mascara, three sets of lingerie you’d throw in the trash, and a newfound desire to get the fuck out of Stark County. And, maybe, some misplaced hope that next time might be different.

[erotica-ficx]

Obessession {JK HC!}

Pairing : Soft Yan! Teacher! Jungkook x Fem! Student! Reader.

Genre : Yandere au, Dark Romance, Age Gap au.

Summary : He can't help but want you.

TW! : Stalking, illegal/inappropriate thoughts, drug usage, sadistic behaviour, mentions of masturbation, mentions of murders and blood, mentions of recording inappropriate scenes, mentions of jealousy and being possessive + obsessive, yandere themes, party in club, mentions of drugging, Innocent! OC x Horny! MC.

Jungkook thinks he could watch you for hours.

Cute little ponytail adorning the back of your head, tied with a cute bow rubber band, small hair strands falling over your face.

The short skirts and shorts you wear adding to your gullible nature.

It all just makes you look like an eye candy.

So cute.

So pretty.

So adorable.

And so fuckable.

Jungkook can't help himself but ogle at you all the time.

Watching your each and every movement almost 24/7 and doing everything in his control to keep you close to him.

It would be a sight to drool over as you bend down with your usual short skirt riding up your thighs - almost showcasing your panties to him - making his jaw twitch.

It would just make his dick throb under it's confines as he would hurriedly fish out his mobile from his pocket to record the obscene view before him.

And of course, that was the only way he could get off well.

The thoughts of you, your pretty little body and adorable face drive him insane.

Damn.

Only he knows how hard it is for him to control himself at times.

There wasn't a single day in his life when he didn't jerk off to the thoughts of you since the day he laid his eyes on you.

During lectures, he would make sure to keep sneaking glances at you, only to find you focusing on his speech.

Which for sure would make his heart flutter.

Such a obedient little pup.

At times, he would catch someone or the other trying to hit on you.

Which would of course make his blood boil to the next level.

And let me tell you, Jungkook isn't the type to let people get away that easily.

Sometimes, you would find it weird when the guys who got a little close to you disappear in thin air.

All thanks to your yandere little teacher.

He would make sure to choke the life out of whoever tried to get to you with bare hands.

He would beat the hell out of the person until they were covered in a pool of blood.

It would satisfy his inner sadist as their screams for mercy reach his ears.

It was a pleasant sight to see those people beg for their lives as they would lie under his mercy.

Well, they deserved it.

Who the heck gave them the permission to get closer to his property?

You are all his.

His and only his.

No one can fucking dare to touch a single strand of hair on your body.

And if they do-...

Of course the consequences won't be easy.

Jungkook would dig graves after graves for you.

He doesn't even care if he goes behind the bars as long as he gets to see you.

Just a sight of you was enough to make his breath hitch, his heart skip a beat.

But now.....

It wasn't enough.

He wanted to fuck you.

It wasn't enough to just look at you and admire you.

He wanted more.

He wanted more than just looking.

He wanted to touch you.

Hold you in his arms.

Feel you.

Kiss your soft lips.

Mark you.

Make you his.

He wanted to fuck you.

He wanted to feel your skin burn against his as he would do his magic on you.

He wanted to hear you scream his name, to beg him for more.

He wanted you to be his forever.

And so he did.

It was the day when the seniors were going to celebrate their grand win in the basketball match in a club.

They invited more than half of the school.

Including teachers.

So of course, Jungkook being the vip teacher, was invited too.

Intelligent, good looking, charismatic, mesmerizing.

The black shirt he wore with a pair of matching trousers and coat suited his robust built.

The shirt hugged his upper body perfectly, showcasing the outline of his six packs and hard muscles.

Eyes turned on him as soon as he entered the club, the dim lights reflecting on him, making his features look sharper than ever.

The crowd buzzes with shouts of his professional title aka Mr. Jeon, and whistles from the seniors and juniors.

But he didn't care about them.

His eyes searched for you.

Not minding the other teachers that approached him to say their greetings, he looked through the crowd.

And finally, he found you.

Sitting near the bar stand on a stool in the corner, you were chitchatting with your bestie.

But what made his breath hitch and crotch twitch was your outfit.

The black bodycon dress that your bestie forced you to wear for tonight hugged your body perfectly, pronouncing your curves so perfectly.

Your upper cleavage was on show, which you tried to hide with your hand, along with the outline of your curved ass.

Your once tied up hair were let down freely, falling over your shoulders and face as you would again and again tuck them behind your ear.

The light and natural makeup plus the dark red lipstick pronounced your beauty more.

It was getting hard for him to breath.

Jungkook pushed through the crowd, politely greeting the girls back who were coming in his way to get a chance with him.

It disgusted him.

Did these girls have no shame?

Hitting on random men at clubs just to get laid.

The fact that they were still high scholars made him more disgusted.

As he saw your bestie leaving you alone to go to her boyfriend, he quickly came and occupied her space.

Your head shot in his direction as his deep voice reached your ears a little louder than the music playing in the background as he was near you.

"You seem to be having fun, miss Y/N."

"A-Ah, M-Mr. J-eon..!"

Fuck.

Your voice.

It was such a turn on.

So sweet and melodic.

He couldn't wait to make you scream his name under him tonight.

You quickly bowed your head after greeting him, your body tensing up nervously just by his presence.

Jungkook chuckled as he shook his head, his hand dropping on your bare shoulder.

He couldn't help but register how soft and smooth your skin is.

His hand squeezing your shoulder a little as a reaction.

"It's okay, miss Y/N. We're out of school right now."

His voice was deep and raspy, carrying a hint of something unknown to you.

You look away, your cheeks heating up with embarrassment.

"So, wanna have some drinks?"

"J-Just one is o-okay, Mr. J-Jeon."

"Mhm. You don't really seem much of a drinker, so I think that's fine."

You nod your head and Jungkook orders two drinks.

While he kept you occupied with his talks till the time the drinks arrived, he didn't let you notice as he dropped a small pill in your drink.

Which would obviously make things work out the way he wants them tonight.

Requests are open!

Follow @erotica-ficx on Tumblr or @/bangtanerotica on Instagram for more! Make sure to check out @erotica-ficx 's writings on Wattpad! (Wattpad ID - @/BangtanErotica)♡

NOTE : Requests will be taken for both BTS and Anime, so make sure to drop your fantasies! ;)

[sashiavi]

•·····🍑······• ֪٘ ︶ ͝ ٘⏝𝓣𝔀𝓮𝓷𝓽𝔂 𝓣𝔀𝓸 ⏝ ͝ ٘︶٘ ֪•······🍑·····•

𝚂𝚊𝚜𝚑𝚒𝙰𝚟𝚒'𝚜 𝙺𝙸𝙽𝙺𝚃𝙾𝙱𝙴𝚁 2023

#22•𝙿𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚂𝚎𝚡•#22

𝙰𝚕𝚑𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚖 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝙺𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚑 ʷᵒʳᵈ ᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ ⁴ᵏ

He knew this was a bad idea, a horrible idea. A potentially illegal idea? Don't ask him, he wasn't a cop - He didn't particularly want to find out regardless. But. The warm huff of his girlfriend’s giggled breath on his hardening length. The flushed expression of the usually stoic man on his blaring phone screen. They almost make him forget about the passing headlights of cars and the dripping pipes puddling on the concrete of the graffitied alleyway. 

It all started, Kaveh muses, earlier that night.

The Bumbling bustle of the bar oddly soothes Kaveh's nerves, an all-familiar place with even more familiar people. [Name] and Kaveh went out on the town with Tighnari and Cyno, leaving Alhaitham back at their apartment. He mentioned he had some important thesis he had to work on - Kaveh thinks it was just an excuse to stay out of it. Alahitham was a homebody, a grumpy near agoraphobic man that could live the rest of his life in a hole - And he'd be happy, too. Kaveh and [Name] would probably join him, the pair never wandered far from the aforementioned man. He was their rock, or maybe a boulder, temperamental, shell cracking at every misadventure the pair strung him through. Sometimes though, Alhaitham came out with the sweetest affirmations and it sent Kaveh’s brain barreling down a never-ending flight of stairs.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Kaveh’s phone buzzes on the table, lighting up with a message from his other half.. Or third? If his heart were a pie chart, he’d have a special place for both of his partners. All good things come in threes - or something - Regardless, his boyfriend texted him. And his girlfriend answers.

The ever so punctuated Alhaitham lights up his phone screen with his demands. Kaveh swears his eyes hurt trying to read his texts. He was too inebriated for this, the words swirl into a muddly ball of squiggles. He ought to punch Alhaitham in the mouth.. With his mouth… Maybe later. 

“He’s no fun” [Name] pouts, swirling her deteriorating paper straw through her drink, mixing up the once rainbow assortment of liqueur into a muddy, watery red-brown. Kaveh watches his darling [Name] slump over the table, throwing her phone down, nearly knocking over his frozen margarita and whatever bizarre cocktail she decided to order herself. Tighnari gives a soft chuckle from across the table, eyes crunched with a sympathetic smile. 

“Knowing him he’s missing you just as much [Name], he’s just not one for places like this, Cyno is the same.” Tighnari’s voice manages to cut through the live band playing away at some classic folk rock song everyone and their father knew. Speaking of; Cyno was nowhere to be seen - Long gone off to the bathroom or the bar.. Archons knows, that man was an enigma. Kaveh wasn’t sure he even existed in the first place, was Cyno real?

The ping on Tighnari’s phone nearly scares him. He shall appear Kaveh half recites in his head with an outward snort. He watches Tighnari with sleepy eyes, cheek pressed into the palm of his hand. The aformentioned man opens his phone with his thumb. He widens his eyes comically, quickly pressing the off button on the side of the device, nearly dropping it onto the table in his haste. [Name] squints at him from the table top, lips pursed and an eyebrow cocked. Tighnari clears his throat.

“Ah- Cyno messaged- He’s waiting for me in the bathro- uh I m-mean the back.. Room.. door- the back door! Cyno’s ready to leave.. I’ll see you guys around? G-Get home safe!” Tighnari stumbles of of his stool, most definitely not making his way towards the exit of the building. Kaveh blinks, sipping his frozen marg that was not-so-frozen anymore - Alright then. He side eyes his girlfriend, giving her a look - Are you seeing this?

“They’re gonna fuck” [Name] falls into a pit full of giggles, wrapping her lips around her straw, drinking up the watery thing this place called a cocktail. At least someone said it. 

“I couldn't have said it more eloquently myself..” Kaveh says, sipping into the last ounce of liquid in his glass with a bubble of his straw. Mm tequila. Yuck.

“I’ll be back in a sec, Kaveyy~ Gotta go bathroom..” [Name] hops off of her stool and disappears into the crowd. Kaveh sighs, blinking his way back into the land of the sober. He nurtures her drink with the instinct of a mother pigeon, fending for her young in the big bad city. No harm shall come to this watered down mystery juice, not on his watch. He feels the burn of alcohol in his cheeks, the subtle sway of his body as he sits and stares. Much like going to the bathroom at a house party, stuck alone for a second to really take in just how drunk you feel. The horrible feeling is quick to dissipate when [Name] comes weaving through the crowd, back over to their little table. She had a quirk about her, a sly look in her eye, twitch on her lip.

“Welcome back,” Kaveh hands her, her drink. She graciously takes it with a sweet kiss to his cheek, staining his face with her lipstick. Kaveh gets awfully suspicious when she pulls out her phone, pressing her face to his own and snapping a cute selfie, sticky lipstick stain on full show. She pulls back with a giggle, grinning down at her screen nearly pressing it to her nose. Kaveh doesn't have to inquire, she’s quick to let him in on her mischief.

“‘Nari and Cyno gave me an idea~” [Name’s] eyes looked far too awake for the time of night. Kaveh cocks a brow, squinting at her phone screen as she swipes between her gallery pictures. He sees her in all her glory, somehow managing to look absolutely insatiable in the dingy bar bathroom. Tiny dress slipped half off, pretty lips parted with her tongue poking out just enough, a dangerous glint in her eyes. He sucks in a breath, he really shouldn't get so worked up - Like a greasy school boy that caught a glimpse of a teacher's underskirt. Not that he ever did that. He ignores how his pants grow a little tighter.

“You went to the bathroom to take nudes?” He reaches for a napkin to wipe his face. [Name] rolls her eyes, sipping the last of her drink.

“Lewds, Kaveh” She earnestly corrects him with a pout, rolling her eyes as if he should have known the difference. Seemed nude enough to him.

“What, you have a secret third partner you're not telling us about?” He teases her. [Name’s] pout grows into a playful scowl, gently shoving his shoulder.

“Yeah, and they’re way prettier than you~” She bites back with a smile, shaking her head and falling into a pit of giggles that Kaveh couldn't help but join in.

“Should I send them?” She leans back in, zooming in and out on the pictures she snapped.

“To your new plaything?” Kaveh smirks. [Name] groans dramatically.

“No- To ‘Haithem. ‘Wanna tease him..” She giggles and nods her head, eyes glinting in mischief. It could be fun, Kaveh muses. He could make a hobby out of getting on Alhaitham’s nerves - Respectfully of course, he still loved him after all. 

“Tease him? He won’t be happy when we get back.. Puppy” His voice drops low, eyebrow raised with a cheeky smirk. He notices her visibly shift, mouth turned in a downturned smile, eyes squinting back at him.

“All the better, no?” She comes back at him. Touche. “C’mon, lets go now~” She beckons under his chin, pressing her finger into his skin, lifting his head with a quick flick. If she asked him to get down on his knees and bark, he’d probably do it. Who’s the puppy now - It's Kaveh.

The pair leave the bar and stand on the sidewalk by the building, [Name] eagerly scrolls through her pictures, biting her lip in an attempt to conceal her grin. She asks for his opinion, and he opts for something a little more modest, with at least some of her clothes on for imaginative purposes. She rolls her eyes at him, saying Alhaitham couldn't picture the colour green let alone a human. The two come to a compromise, pick one each and send off the cute selfie with her lip stain on Kaveh’s cheek. 

Kaveh slips his hand in hers as they begin to make the walk home, not before letting Alhaitham know -  With a little treat attached.

Kaveh doesn't even have to press the call button, Alhaitham’s name pops up bright on his screen. [Name] giggles again, hanging off of Kaveh’s arm. He swipes the answer button, pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hello, Love” Kaveh, feigns innocence in his voice, flicking his eyes to the little minx next to him.

“Is [Name] with you?” Alhaitham’s voice is ever deadpan through the speaker, the man had a knack for indifference, but Kaveh could see through it every time.

“Of course-” Kaveh starts before being hastily cut off.

“Good. Put her on please.” He sounds tense. Not the angry I'm about to blow tense. The other tense. Still about to blow - Just in an all new fashion. Kaveh masks a laugh with a sigh, handing over the phone to his other-other half. Third? He hands his phone to [Name].

“Nawhhh ‘Haitham do you miss us?” She opens the call with a sweet voice, swinging Kaveh's arm as they walk the dusky city streets. Kaveh strains to hear Alhaitham's droning voice, crackling through the speaker pressed to his beloved's ear, muffled and illegible. He can only listen to [Name], hearing half of their conversation through her replies- not that she said anything other than; various versions of 'mmhm'.

"Uhuhh~ oh? really?... Yeah..?" Her tone of voice steadily becomes more sultry with every word she speaks. A tingle runs down Kaveh's tummy, right into his groin. Curse the effect this wretched witch - his beloved beautiful girlfriend - Had on his body. He intakes a deep breath of city air, trying to keep vigilant of their surroundings, half purposely ignoring their call to calm the ache in his pants.

“Just can’t wait until we get home, huh..?” [Name] continues, voice suddenly sobered up. For some reason it turns him on more, being half ignored between their heated ministrations. He can only imagine what Alhaitham could be saying, and it riles him up all the more. The anticipation of what's waiting for him at home doesn't help - He knows what Alhaitham is like. If they fuck around, they’ll definitely find out. The consequences will be laid out for them. Regardless of who starts it, Alhaitham ends it.

Kaveh is jolted out of his running thoughts by a tug on his arm. [Name] leads him on with a giggle, down a street or two, right into a secluded passage nestled between two apartment buildings. Kaveh reels his head together, coming to so quick he swears he gives himself whiplash. [Name] presses her glossy lips to his own, pashing him loud and wet right into the receiver of the phone. Kaveh’s head was reeling, crotch most definitely bulging at the seam of his pants. He hears a faint groan through the phone, just as [Name] bites down on his plump lips, eliciting his very own keening noise.

She pulls off of him, lips wet with a sticky string of saliva, still connecting their lips together. He watches it glisten under the dim street light, snapping and joining the slick gloss adorned on her lips. His girl bites at his neck, huffing little giggles as she sinks her teeth into his milky flesh. Gods he can barely keep quiet, whimpering softly, fluttering his pretty carmine eyes closed. There's a scuffle over the line, a sound of fabric shifting through the speaker of the phone.

“Kaveh” There's a sweet whisper in his ear, sending the most delicious shiver down his spine, nearly making his knees weak. He finds the voice, his darling girlfriend, eyes full and swimming with something he was all too familiar with. There's a short beep and a phone is stuffed into his hands, video call on, camera faced to the ground. Alhaitham’s face is on the screen, brows scrunched up, eyes searching the dark picture of the video.

“Make sure I look pretty” [Name] bites her lip with a giggle, trying to mask her cheeky smile. Gods didn't she always, it was near impossible for her not to be. She lowers herself to the dirty concrete floor of the alleyway, hands already easing into the loops of Kaveh’s pants. He's hyper aware of their surroundings - distant chatterings of drunk party goers, the beaming lights of a taxi driving by. His eyes strain at the bright phone screen, nearly fumbling to keep the video steady.

“Watch him.. Make sure he touches himself~” [Name] purs against the bulge in his pants. Alhaitham watches closely as she fumbles with Kaveh’s button, unzipping his pants. She hooks her fingers into his waistband, clenching her palms into the fabric as she pulls them down his frame. Kaveh hisses, feeling the hot pressure of his trousers become replaced by a cool spike of air. [Name] fingers into his briefs on her way down, revealing the soft skin of his groin to the video. With a giggle she fully releases him, his pretty cock slaps into his tummy with a soft noise, leaving a sticky bead of pearlescent pre on his dress shirt. He hears a crackled moan through the phone speaker and his eyes are on Alhaitham. The man bites at his lip, squeezing the base of his thick length, face slowly being overconsumed by a warm red blush.

Kaveh can't decide where to look - Past the phone and down at his pretty girl? Or into the video feed on Alhaitham’s shaky camera angle. He fails to decide when he feels a hot huff of breath on his cock. [Name] kisses at his flushed pink tip, smearing the last of her sticky lip gloss all over his velvety head. Kaveh’s mouth falls open, eyes squinting down at the pretty girl below him. His grip on the side of the phone tightens as he captures her licking her tongue flat on the underside of his length, sending a hot pulse right into Kaveh’s achy cock. He bites back a soft moan, eyes already getting bleary and teary. Gods he was sensitive, and didn't she know it. He eyes Alhaitham’s expression, his lips parted ever so slightly, teeth biting into the side of his cheek. He watches as the usually stoic man breaks ever so delicately. It's something Kaveh had come to absolutely relish.

Kaveh nearly cries, his sensitive tip suddenly engulfed by the pretty girl on her knees, kissing at the back of her eager throat. She swallows around him, gagging hot over his pretty cock, forcing fresh tears to bubble in her eyes. Gods she looked almost pornographic. Mascara already beginning to turn into a black liquid mess under her eyes, threatening to stream down her cheeks. She drools over his cock, taking him back and forth, always swallowing his flushed tip down her warm throat. She eyes the phone camera, raising a brow she pulls off of his length, blowing a cheeky kiss towards Alhaitham. 

“Wish you were here~” She mockingly pouts at the man on the phone, eagerly taking Kaveh back down her throat. Kaveh keens out loud, moaning high from his throat with his head tilted back into the rough, graffitied brick wall. Gods she was rough, rougher than she ever was with him, was she teasing them? Showing Alhaitham exactly what he was missing out on? Was this how she took his cock? Rough and dirty and eager - Completely unlike the soft, doting way she wraps her lips around his own cock. Alhaitham crunches his brows, front teeth clenched with his lips parted in a scowl, Kaveh watches him stroke his thick length, the flushed velvet tip barely coming into the frame of the video.

“Makin’ a mess of yourselves in public huh? Trying to tease me? Better not come back here… If you know what's good for you..” Alhaitham’s voice babbles through the phone, playing along with [Name’s] little game. They all knew exactly what would transpire the second they walked through the door. It only eggs [Name] on further. It's her turn to moan, garbling around Kaveh’s long, pretty length as she takes him. She makes a show of sinking down on Kaveh, kissing at the base of his length, pretty eyes gazing up into the camera. Her mascara was running, pooling down her cheeks as she looked up at Alhaitham, purposely going out of her way to show him up. There's that feeling again, the burn in his tummy as he’s caught between their teasing, their little toy to rile each other up.

Gods it's nearly too much, Alhaitham’s eager shake of his shoulder as he jerks himself off, on show for only Kaveh to see. His cock aches and tenses as [Name] takes him down, rocking her whole body into him, suckling at him sweetly before fucking him with her throat. He cant take his eyes off of them, albeit blurred form the little pin pricking tears that well up in the corners of them. He stares through the phone screen, through the little square on the phone, eyes darting between [Name] and Alhaitham.

“[Name]... Haitham- [Na-].. Won't last..!” Kaveh’s hand wobbles, he was quickly certainly becoming the worst cinematographer in the world. [Name] rakes her palms over his cool, milky skin, caressing him with some ounce of her usual softness she leaves for him. A hot shiver runs straight into his groin, he can't help but thrust his hips forward, spearing his tip down her eager throat. She keens around him, swallowing hard on him, taking him deeper and faster his brain could barely keep up. 

“Gonna come? Poor baby's gonna come..? Look at what you've done [Name].. Dragging poor Kaveh into your little game..” Alhaitham’s voice mocks them through the phone. That's right.. Poor Kaveh.. All caught up between their silly game. His eyes work double time trying to focus on the two, Alhaitham’s looney expression, slightly pixelated from the horrendous phone reception in the small walls of the corridor. [Name’s] eager expression, lips wrapped around his cock, lead and wet and slobbery. He throws his head back, he couldn't bear to watch them, lest he make a mess of himself. 

He feels a hand on him, cupping at his balls, tender and ticklish - He feels himself tense, embarrassed at the man watching and hearing him through the phone, coming close from the pretty girl drooling over his cock. Gods, his brain was running overtime, absolutely reeling at everything it could. The flickering light above them, the headlights that stopped for far too long for his liking, the dripping pipe to his right. The warm engulf of his pretty girlfriend’s mouth around his aching cock, the usually aloof man in his phone, staring right at his groin with his own cock in his hand.

Kaveh’s cheeks burn, his balls ache and cock tenses hard. Gods, he was done for, unable to reel in the spike in his groin. His free hand comes down to his girlfriend’s hair, threading through the strands in an attempt to have her slow down. She manages to giggle, pushing past his attempt and suckling ever so sweetly against his hot tip. Kaveh whines and keens out loud, hiccupping in hot embarrassment, eyes finally allowing the warm tears to streak down his cheeks. He thrusts, he can't help it, giving in to [Name’s] pleasure, taking her mouth with his cock as Alhaitham watches through the camera. God he was sure he would never live this down, but he couldn't care - Not when his sweet girlfriend looks so pretty on his cock, not when Alhaitham chants through the speakers, commanding him to let go, to come for him.

Kaveh throws his head back, knocking his skull into the hard wall. He moans with an open mouth, spit hot on his tongue as his cock twitches hard. He can barely make out a short ‘Cumming-!’ before his sticky mess coasts [Name’s] tongue. He cums thick, milky ropes, whimpering as she suckles sweetly on him, edging all of his sweet, sticky cum out of him. Her tongue rolls over his achy slit, lapping up the pebbling spurts of cum that pulse from his cock.

[Name] makes a cheeky show of lapping at his pretty cockhead, tongue coated in his milky cum, smearing it all over himself. She sticks her tongue out for the camera, for Alhaitham to see, hot and milky, nearly dribbling off of her. She giggles and suckles at his swollen tip, swallowing around his overstimulated cock, earning a hot whine from his throat. [Name] stands from the dirty concrete, knees flushed and covered in a mystery dust. She snatches the phone from Kaveh, pulling him into a filthy, spitty kiss, swapping his creamy mess between them. She makes sure Alhaitham’s watching, peering her eyes to the side, seeing Kaveh’s fucked out, flushed face in the corner square as she kisses into him. Kaveh knew he surely looked a mess, lips swollen and teeth bitten, nose red with blush, eyelashes wet and stuck together. He can't bear to look.

Alhaitham practically growls, surely cumming in his own palm as he watches them swap Kaveh’s sweet, salty mess. He babbles, telling them that they’re filthy, they're in for it, pretty little things couldn't even keep to themselves. No wonder, he can barely keep himself from them regardless. [Name] pulls away first, nipping at Kaveh’s nose before turning to the man on call.

“Muah! Love you Haitham~ See you soon” She cheekily bites her lip, hastily shutting off the video call before the man could even get a word in. she crouches down, helping Kaveh re-dress himself. Oh the shame, he cannot bear to leave the sanctuary that is the dusty alleyway. His tummy flips at the idea of coming home to Alhaitham, maybe he could worm his way out? He was a victim - Just a bystander! The phone buzzes again, and [Name] giggles, shutting off the ringer and taking Kaveh’s hand into her own.

“C’mon~ Haitham is waiting~” She plants a hot kiss to his lips before dragging through the street once again.

“I don't know if I wanna ever see him again after that..” Kaveh pouts dramatically, heart pulsing in anticipation as [Name] punches in their building code. Here goes nothing, he supposes.

Hi, hello, welcome to November 😔

We're truly holding on by a thread here girlies-

Lmk if you enjoyed! Idk how I feel about this one- also idk if I regret making those texts- sksksjsh tumblr wasn't formatting them in like wOrd form how I wanted so I, for some reason created my own lmaoo

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[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐓

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: Eddie likes the girl at the Hideout, one night, he finally talks to her.

Warnings: underage drinking, Eddie being cute and clumsy

The Hideout was never crowded, and usually the only ones who stayed until it closed were four old drunks and someone who had nothing better to do than spend the night listening to a band of four outcasts play.

Once one of them had even yelled at them that if they didn't stop their noise pollution he would have called the police. Not nice.

The lights in the room were often dimmed, creating a certain atmosphere that Eddie particularly liked and the sound of his shoes or boots against the wooden floor always reminded him of what he had imagined when he read the scenes set in the taverns of the Lord of the Rings.

Eddie knew that continuing to play there when hardly anyone listened or cared about them was pointless and they certainly weren't going to be famous by keeping doing that but he had a good reason to stay.

You were always there.

You were always there, behind the counter, making a drink or opening a bottle of beer looking bored like your only coworker, a girl who must have been around your age. Sometimes you read a few pages of a book and Eddie found that extremely attractive but he would never had the courage to tell anyone.

The owner of the Hideout was your uncle and that was probably the only reason you worked there (you never seemed too excited to spend the night there).

Eddie had never talked to you but he liked to look at you from his table and try to catch some details to get to know you better. In the months that his band had played there he had only understood that: you enjoyed beer (it was the only thing you drank there), the books you often brought therr were by Stephen King so you must have liked the horror genre and, strangely, unexpectedly and surprisingly you seemed to like how his band played.

Eddie thought that not only because every time they played you put down your book and looked up at the stage with a slight, almost invisible smile on your lips but also because every time they finished playing you offered the whole band a drink.

Your uncle certainly didn't tell you to do it and they never asked you to, but you always did, even if it was usually just a glass of some cheap liquor for each of them.

Eddie remembered the first time you did that, after they stopped playing without getting any applause and sat down at a table for a few minutes with the intention of leaving soon like they usually did.

You had arrived at their table with four glasses and a bottle of Jack Daniels.

"Mh... we didn't order anything." Gareth had said looking up at you, probably worried by the fact that he didn't have any money with him.

"It's okay. It's on the house." You said by pouring the liquid into the glasses. "My uncle told me you don't even get paid to play here so...that's all I can do for you."

Eddie, like his friends, thanked you, you smiled, and he felt like he might pass out.

"Have a good night, guys." You had grabbed the bottle, your rings clinked against the glass, and then you had taken a few steps back to the bar.

After a few seconds, however, you had stopped. "I'll pretend you're all over twenty-one okay? Don't tell my uncle and don't spread the word or we'll all get in trouble."

Eddie had chuckled, he was the only one not doing something illegal for once.

After that night, you always brought them a drink after each of their "shows".

Eddie had never really talked to you, you just exchange a few "hey", "hi", "thank you" and "you're welcome".

"When are you going to ask her out?"

"What?" Eddie nearly spat out his drink.

"Y/N. When are you going to ask her out?" Gareth repeated, sitting across from Eddie at their usual table.

Y/N. Eddie knew your name well because he'd heard your uncle call you that one of the few nights he'd shown up there a few months ago and never forgot it.

"Mh... why should I?" Eddie asked looking at the bottom of his glass trying to avoid the drummer's gaze.

"Because you like her and that's what people usually do when they like someone?"

"I don't like her!"

"Okay. Either you think I'm stupid or you are stupid."

"Hey!"

"So?"

"I don't like her." He repeated.

"So it's okay if I ask her out?" Gareth asked, suddenly standing up.

Eddie jumped up causing his friend to raise his eyebrows, as if to say "I told you so".

"Ah! I knew it!" Gareth laughed before falling back into his chair.

Eddie snorted, his gaze meeting your figure behind the counter.

"Dude, at least go talk to her. This is getting exhausting." Jeff butted into the conversation.

Eddie rolled his eyes.

"If you don't go talk to her now, we'll drag you to her and I don't know how much she'll like you after that." Jeff added with a smirk.

Eddie huffed again but this time he finally got up from his chair, his feet moving towards you.

"I don't understand why we still let them play here if they clearly suck." Rachel snorted as she sat down on a stool behind the counter, next to you and twisted a strand of hair between her fingers and scrutinized it as if she were looking for split ends.

That night at the Hideout there were few people as almost every other night, two men were playing cards in a corner of the room, an old man was drinking from a bottle on the opposite side, the neon light above his head flickered from time to time, in the table near him two young men were getting ready to leave, probably on their way home to their families.

In their usual place Corrored Coffin was chatting and drinking after their "show".

"Oh c'mon. They don't suck." You retorted placing your book on the table.

Your coworker raised her eyebrows. "Really? You like that stuff?"

Your gaze instinctively rested on the guitarist, whose back and curly hair you could see from where you were sitting.

"They're good. They have potential and I think they deserve more recognition."

"Pff" She snorted, obviously not agreeing with your attempt to defend the band. "Jason says they're geeks. One of them is repeating his last year of high school for the third time. Third time, can you imagine? He must be really dumb. And there's a rumor that he has a cult or something."

"Ew."

"See? I told you so."

"No. The "ew" was for Jason. Are you still hanging out with that guy?"

Rachel opened her mouth, as if in shock. "I am, actually. Are you jealous by any chance?"

You laughed at the stupidity of her question. "Jason, of all the people in the world, is the person I'm least jealous of. Trust me."

"I'm not just hanging out with him, I'm dating him. I started talking to him during chemistry and it turns out…we have chemistry." She laughed at her own joke.

"Rachel, please. I just ate, I might throw up."

She rolled her eyes. "Ugh…you're so boring. Just because you never like anyone doesn't mean you should hate any guy I'm dating."

"It's not true that I never like anyone." You muttered, your gaze landing again on the table where the band was chatting.

"God, don't look at them." She commented.

"Is there anything you don't complain about?" You huffed.

Rachel grabbed the bottle you were drinking from off the table to take a sip of beer, knocking your book to the floor on accident.

She bent down to pick it up, then turned it over in her hands and looked at the creature drawn on the cover.

With a disgusted face, she rested it next to you. "God, you'll end up like them, worshipping the devil."

You crossed your arms over your chest. "I'll say it again. Is there anything you don't complain about?"

Rachel was about to retort but when her gaze fell behind you, somewhere in the club, her expression suddenly changed. "Jesus, he's coming here. I think I'll go to the bathroom for a moment."

Rachel disappeared into the room behind you before you knew it. "Wait, who..."

When you turned around and found yourself face to face with Eddie, standing in front of the counter that separated you two, you nearly gasped.

"Whoa, hey. I didn't mean to scare you." He raised his hands slightly as if to show he meant you no harm.

"Oh, no, you didn't scare me. It takes a lot more to scare me. You just... surprised me. You never came to the counter." You said leaning on the table and observing him closely for the first time.

His curls were a bit messy, his leather jacket was still the same, in his Airon Maiden shirt there was a small hole near the collar and the rings on his hands glittered under the light above the counter.

He looked at you with his big chocolate brown eyes as if, despite what he had just said, he was the more scared of the two and you wondered why.

After a moment, he finally spoke. "So... do you come here often?"

You looked at him quizzically and maybe that's what made him start to stutter and panic a little as he went on talking.

"I mean, no. That's a stupid question. Of course you come here often, you work here. I wanted to ask if... you work here often. No, wait.... that's another stupid question, of course you work here often: it's the your job. I just wanted to…you know what? Forget it. Maybe I'd better go."

For a cult leader or whatever they said he was, he was pretty clumsy. Especially with you.

"No no no. Wait." You leaned over to the counter to grab his hand and stop him from his sudden escape, it was soft and warm in yours.

You chuckled as he turned to you in surprise, staring at you like a puppy who doesn't understand what's going on.

He's pretty, you thought. Not beautiful, maybe. He's not the man all the girls turn to look on the street when he walks.

But he's different and he has such pretty eyes.

"Stay?" It was a question, a proposition, something you wished he was going to do.

Slowly, he sat down at one of the stools and you left his hand.

"Yeah. I work here every night, even when your band isn't here." You answered his sort of question, resting one arm on the table and your head on your hand.

"Cool." He simply said, the ghost of a smile was on his lips now.

"Meh, not really. But it's better when you guys are here." You nodded towards the table where the rest of the band sat.

This time, a real smile appeared on Eddie's face, dimples appeared on his cheeks and wrinkles around his eyes.

Yeah, definitely cute.

"So you like us." He said.

"You are not bad."

"Well, that's the best compliment we've gotten in weeks. I could almost call you our first and only fan." He brought a hand to her heart in a dramatic way, the initial embarrassment completely gone.

"Take it easy Van Halen. I just said you're not bad." You laughed, causing him to chuckle.

"Okay, I'll take that."

You stayed to talk to Eddie for a few more minutes even if it seemed like only seconds, the rest of the people in the club had all already left by that moment and the sky outside was completely black and moonless.

"Hey, time to close." Rachel's voice from behind you distracted you from your conversation with Eddie.

You looked at the clock on the wall, it said three in the morning.

Eddie got up. "I tell the guys it's time to go."

You nodded, but you were sorry to stop spending time with him.

"So...will I see you tomorrow night?" He asked with a hopeful tone in his voice.

"I already told you, I come here often." You laughed, repeating his words.

"Yeah, right." He smiled. "See you tomorrow then."

"Good night, Eddie."

After a bit, the band left and you couldn't help but follow Eddie's figure in the parking lot in front of the Hideout with your gaze.

"Don't tell me you like that weirdo." Rachel commented as she grabbed her purse.

You continued to stare through the dirty glass at Eddie's van disappearing into the distance.

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I do."

In my head this was the beginning of a possible mini-series but I don't think I liked it enough to continue it. Let me know what you think.

Tags: @jacklesdeanvessel @morning-sky7 @pipsqueakkitten @navs-bhat @michaelfuckinglangdon

[mamsieur]

Evil Twin | Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Floyd!Reader

Summary : Who would have guessed that sweet and discreet Bob had a twin sister who was his opposite ? Not the Dagger Squad, that's for sure.

TW : mention of past abuse, mention of abusive relationship, mention of alcohol, mention of sex, angst and fluff, angst with happy ending

Length : 6980 words

AN : Bob is the sweetest and I'm sure he's an overprotective brother.

posted on AO3 July 22, 2023

You were the quintessential of the pop-rock star.  You had a lot of problems with the press, both concerning your love life and the setbacks of your ex-band.

The first problem was that you were often seen leaving hotels with different partners : the press loved that you didn't settle down and always made a big deal out of it. You didn't really care, you knew the tabloids always twisted the truth just to sell more garbage. What bothered you was that your mom kept calling you about it, wondering why you couldn't be discreet and serious, have a normal job like your twin; the perfect little Robby, pride and joy of the family. He was in the navy, serving the country, and your father liked to remind you that Robert was doing something useful, something great. Yet, you didn't care what the public and your family thought of you. You just wanted to play your songs, have fun on stage and in the studio. It was your cop-out after some traumatic experiences you went through in high school.

As for your problems with the band, it was a different kettle of fish. 

You were the lead vocalist and guitarist. You loved being on stage, it made you feel powerful, in control. You were backed by three talented but lazy guys about your age. It was your agent's idea to put you in charge of them. And what a great idea. At first it was fun, you had a good time. But as time went by, their excesses slowed down your rise in the charts. And they wasted all their time, energy and money on the wrong things. Every day, the press had a scoop about them doing something illegal or immoral. The last one on their list was being seen exiting a bar with underage fans.

Those recent events forced your label to give you a choice; either the whole group was fired or you could continue as a solo artist; your producer and staff knew that you weren't really a troublemaker, so it was a once in a lifetime opportunity for you.  You didn't even hesitate to sign your new contract ; and that led to a new scandal in the press, creating false drama between you and your ex mates. But as much as you were determined to make a name for yourself, you also needed a break from all the “scandal” that was going on. You made a deal with your producer and new agent: you had one month to come up with at least two singles, while you could go anywhere you wanted to find inspiration and relax.

And what could be more relaxing than the seaside ? The beach, the sun, the salty air, the feeling of being in an eternal summer ? It was perfect. You booked your flight to San Diego and rented a small beach house on Airbnb.  What could possibly go wrong? 

Well, maybe running into your twin brother at the local bar.

The Hard Deck seemed like a pretty chill place and the owner, Penny, was really nice. You spent some evenings there, trying to come up with some lyrics over a Coke.  She was curious and you were happy to share what you were working on, even though you hadn't made any progress. She had that reassuring aura, and talking with her was like talking to an old friend that you knew all your life. She was genuinely interested in what you had to share, and gave you some advice when she could. She also was curious to hear your voice and tried a few times to get you at the piano. You refused politely each time, feeling strangely shy.

It took you a week and a half to work up the courage to go to that piano.

The bar was rather empty, which was unusual for a Saturday night but made it easier for you to convince yourself that it was okay. You discreetly started to warm up your voice and started a version of Your Song - Penny confessed to you it was one of her favorite songs.

In a corner of the bar, by the pool table, a group of pilots were surprised to hear the piano playing at this hour. "Looks like someone stole your seat, Bradshaw," a tall blond man sneered.  "Looks like it, Seresin." Bradley raised an eyebrow and leaned over to see who had taken his place at the piano. The others gently urged him to join them; after all, he was the musician among the squad. He pretended to be annoyed by their request and joined you for the last chorus.  You were surprised, but smiled quietly and finished your "performance" with him. You made room for him on the little bench, and with a look of approval, you moved on to another song of his choice: Ain't no mountain higher .  The patrons of the bar, who had become more numerous, were delighted to have a private mini-concert. Some of them started to dance, others joined in singing. It was a fun experience.

After the end of the song, you smiled and shook the hand of your partner of a moment and let him enjoy the piano by himself. You made your way back to your stool and asked Penny for a glass of water. You felt a presence next to you and turned a little to see who was there. You easily guessed it was a navy man ; the uniform - talk about obvious -, the perfectly styled hair. You grinned at the tall blond man in front of you.

“So, does that pretty voice have a name ?” asked Jake with a smirk. You rolled your eyes at his flirtatious tone and his pushed Texan accent.  “Well yes actually, I’m-” “Y/N ?” You frowned, immediately recognizing the voice that had spoken your name. You easily spotted his surprised face among the other navy people that were close to you and Jake. "Robert?" "Don't tell me you're his girlfriend..." "What? No!" you shouted at the same time, making a few of the others giggle. "Gross!" you pretended to vomit. "She's my sister, Hangman," Bob sighed. "Twin sister, to be exact," you precised.

You couldn't help but giggle at the shocked looks on the faces of who you assumed were his colleagues. He was suddenly flooded with questions, and you enjoyed watching him turn redder and redder. Then they focused on you. "You two don't look alike at all," Reuben said, scanning you in detail. You rolled your eyes and smiled, leaning against your brother as you poked his side. "Robert took the height and brains, I took the charm and talent." 

Your brother sighed and ran his hand over his neck, slightly embarrassed. His teammates were happy to meet you, especially happy to annoy Bob, and Natasha seemed to realize something. "Your voice sounds familiar... I've heard it somewhere before... in a band, right?" " Nemesis ," you smiled and nodded, mentioning your old band, "but I'm solo now. Kept the stage name though." "Quite a few scandals with that band..." your twin mumbled.  You decided not to pay attention to him. Like your parents, Robert had never understood your career choice, arguing that you were brilliant at school and could have done anything else. Of course you were pretty intelligent but you had fallen in love with music as an outlet for your pain. But your family didn’t seem to accept your way of coping with your traumas.

The rest of the evening went off without a hitch. You got to know your brother's second family. They all had their own personalities, but that's what made them so endearing. Jake invited you to join them the next day, since it was their day off and they wanted to relax at the beach. You gladly accepted.

Robert didn't say much to you, the atmosphere between you was cold and tense. Natasha noticed it, so she joined her WSO to chat. "What's wrong, Bob? Your sister seems nice and yet you're here, not saying anything to her." He sighed a little as he watched you chatting and having fun with the others. "I'm worried about her," he confessed, "she… she hides herself in that personna… that Nemesis …” “Aren't all artists ? I mean, they wouldn't take a stage name otherwise.” “I guess… but I’m scared she’s losing herself…” he said softly, glancing at you. He grumbled when he noticed that Jake was flirting with you; and you didn't seem to refuse his advances either. Natasha let out a soft “damn” when Jake slid his arm around you and Bob almost jumped off his seat, mumbling an irritated “that’s it”. 

You felt a strong hand gripping your wrist and you were drawn out of Jake’s embrace and out the bar. “The hell Robby ?” you scoffed once outside, “I was in the middle of a conversation !” “No you weren’t, you were flirting ! With one of my teammates !” “First off, he initiated it ! And second, in what world is that your business ? We’re grown ups, I can handle some flirting !” “Well, first off , you’re my sister and second , Hangman is… he’s not the type to settle down !” he tried to explain himself but you just rolled your eyes. “Oh my god, you sound just like dad ! Why should I settle down ? I’m having fun, I’m happy that way !” You pinched the bridge of your nose, annoyed. “Stop trying to father me, I’m doing fine since I left !” “Yeah, you seem real good in the local news,” he mumbles, putting his hands in his pockets. He didn't even look at you as he said those words. You hated it when he did that, always half-assing his thoughts. You couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh, tilting your head back.  “And now you sound like mom. I can handle my life just fine Robert. I don’t need your concern, let alone your judgment ! I’ve never been better, ok ? Leave me the fuck alone !”

You were lying. You both knew that. He could read into you so easily, it made you sick. Call it ‘twin magic’ or ‘sibling intuition’, you still hated the way his blue eyes looked at you with worry and questions in them, knowing all too well that you were not fine. 

You passed him, going back to the bar to get your stuff and pay Penny. Out of spit - and mostly because you wanted to - you handed your number to Jake and left with a smirk. You could hear the squad gently hassle Hangman who proudly showed off the piece of paper you gave him. 

A little fun won’t kill you, would it ?

The next day, you joined the Dagger squad on the beach, near the Hard Deck. 

They were playing a strange football game ; dogfight football , attack and defense at the same time, Natasha explained to you.  You watched their first round and second, it seemed fun. At least, Bob seemed to have fun. You remembered he was not a teamsport guy younger. He actually hated the fact that your dad made him go to the tryouts for the football team in high school. To his misfortune, he got in. You smiled and sighed remembering those days.  Sometimes, you missed the time you were close to your twin, when you could tell him everything, before it all fell apart in junior year. A cold shiver ran down your spine while you thought back about it. Your life changed so much at that time, you didn’t like to remember it.

Crouching in front of you, Jake snapped you out of your reverie. “Hey there darlin, care to join us ? We’ll be gentle, promise.” he said with a playful grin. You arched an eyebrow and sneered. “Oh please, don’t be, I can handle it.” He laughed and helped you up. You were put in his team against Natasha, Bob, Bradley and Reuben. You were - to your own surprise - pretty fast and efficient. Javy and Jake joked around saying that being stealth had to be running in the family. 

You really had fun, even laughing with your brother. You didn’t know who won but you scored the last point of the game, and Jake put you on his shoulders to celebrate before tossing you in the water. “You’re a dead man, Seresin !” you shouted, before laughing. Robert helped you out the water and gave you a towel without a word. You silently thanked him and you all took a water break while deciding what to eat.

Reuben and Mickey volunteered to go get the pizzas and while they did, Natasha proposed a volleyball match. She decided that Bob and you would be in her team and you smiled. Bob couldn’t help but let out a soft chuckle ; the two of you loved that sport when you were kids. When you went to your grandma's house for the holidays, you used to play against your cousins. Of course, you kicked their ass. They called you the Evil Twins. Once your heads were in the game, you were unstoppable. And Bradley, Jake and Javy would soon understand why you and Bob were so happy to be on the same team. 

The two of you didn’t even need to talk to understand the next move of the other. Even Natasha didn’t really understand what was happening. You won the first, then second, then third match. You laughed at the exasperation of Jake and Javy, Bradley on the other hand was just tired of running around. He quit with Natasha, leaving Jake and Javy to find a strategy to strike Bob and you down. “Like the old times huh ?” your twin smiled, giving you a bottle of water. You returned the smile and nodded. “Let’s show them. Evil Twins ?” “Evil Twins.” He clapped his hands with yours with a grin. Oh, the other two weren't ready for the beating they were about to get.

Javy called it quits after the third set. They lost them all and he was getting tired. Jake was pouting while you jumped on your brother’s back. “Evil Twins for the win !” Natasha laughed. You giggled, while Robert ran around like a doofus, you on his back, taunting Jake.  "Don't tease him too much, you know he's a sore loser!" sneered Bradley. "Nonsense!" sulked Jake, "I always accept my defeats, except they never happen.” The rest of the team rolled their eyes, both annoyed and amused.

Reuben and Mickey returned with the pizzas, and the rest of the afternoon was less athletic. Some went for a swim, others played cards in the shade of an umbrella. You chatted peacefully with Natasha and Jake, Robert never too far away. Strangely enough, you were glad he stayed close. Sometimes he would join in the conversation, but he remained Bob, preferring to watch and listen rather than talk.  It was a nice afternoon, you felt like a teenager on holiday with a bunch of friends. Bradley and Javy started a water fight by grabbing Bob and throwing him in the water. You and Natasha ran at the boys to avenge him and one thing led to another and you all ended up in the water, friendly fighting each other.

The sun slowly got low, the afternoon ending peacefully. You stayed at the bar with the squad, learning more about each one, more about your brother’s ‘new’ life. They told you about their life on base and about the bird strike that Natasha and Bob had suffered from. You scolded your twin because he never told you about it. He defended himself by saying that it was not that big of a deal, but by the looks on the others' faces, you knew he lied.

Part of you was jealous of him. You both left home around the same time, and he seemed so happy now, away from your parents and their intrusive presence, away from your father's demoralizing, degrading and demotivating comments. You couldn't understand how he could be doing so well when you were struggling to find yourself, to be happy. This question echoed in your head and made you feel too much in the room. You excused yourself and went outside for some fresh air. You were pale and shaking, and anxiety was getting the better of you. You tried to ease your breathing and closed your eyes to focus on the sound of the waves in front of you. You could hear the laughter and indescribable conversations in the distance, mingled with the music and singing. It was somewhat peaceful and yet you couldn't calm the flood of painful memories that invaded your mind. Every laugh reminded you of your ex's, every burst of voice a little too loud made you cower. You didn't want to think about it anymore. You wanted to forget everything. You just wanted it to stop. It had to stop. You had to get away from it all. You had to-

“Y/N ? Are you ok ?”

Your brother's gentle voice made everything disappear. You felt yourself breathe again. But you knew it would only be temporary ; because seeing him worried would make you weak and anxious again.  You took a deep, shaky breath before turning to him. You tried to hide the tremble of your voice, and put on a fake smile. "It's okay... I... I have to go home. Thanks for today, it was fun!" You passed him in a hurry, still pale and scrapie.  

He sighed and bit his lip before summoning his courage. "What are you running from? You... you looked like you were fine, and then all of a sudden you're running away. " "Robby, please-" "What happened?" "Nothing, I-" "Did someone say something?" "No! I just-" "Did I say or do something wrong? Tell me!" "Then let me talk for god’s sake !" you clenched your fists then sighed. "You didn't do anything wrong, Robby. It's just that... I can't..." your voice cracked a little and you leaned your head back to hold back your tears. Bob's head tilted in concern and he stepped towards you. "Can't what? You can't do what?"

You didn't answer, shaking your head. You couldn't put into words the confusion you felt. You searched for words and began to pace back and forth. "Can't do what Y/N?" Robert insisted gently. "I... fuck... fuck." 

Your voice and your whole body were shaking. It was getting harder and harder to hold back the tears. How could you tell your brother that you envied him and hated that feeling ? How could you envy him for building his life, a life filled with healthy loved ones that were there for him? How could you hold a grudge when he was the one who got you out of your abusive relationship at the risk of his acceptance into the naval academy ?

He took another step towards you, reaching for your hand, but you stepped back. "Hey, come on, tell me-" "I can't get over it, okay?! I-I can't figure out how and why you managed to grow up and I'm stuck at 17! Why do I always feel like I'm in pieces, alone, like he 's still running my life, like he 's always there, over my shoulder, no matter what I do?" "Y/N... it wasn't your fault-"  "I know!!! I fucking know it wasn't my fault!!” you cut him, almost screaming, “I know he 's the one who did this to me, who pretended to love me, who beat the shit out of me and abused me every single day for months! I know all of that ! Then why am I still stuck there ? Why am I the one still struggling?! Why am I the one who feels like a complete failure ? Why can't I let it go?!" your bottom lip was trembling as tears rolled down your face. “Why can’t I just move on ? Why do I always hear dad saying ‘told you so’ or mom sighing every time I mess up ? Why don’t they ever want to talk about what happened but they urge me to just forget about it ?! Why don't they support me ? Why don’t you ?!” 

You gasped, trying to catch your breath, before you whimpered and cried like a baby. Bob stood still for a moment before pulling you into his arms and hugging you. He suspected that the events of your past were still haunting you, but not to this extent. And you felt that he didn't support you... he felt like shit. How could he neglect your feelings so much, how could he act the way he blamed your parents? He let you cry against him for a long moment, swallowing his discomfort. He was the one to blame, and he had to focus on you. "I... I'm sorry, Y/N. I... I didn't realize that my behavior was hurting you… I'm just worried, and I didn't show it the right way. I'm an idiot." "A big idiot," you mumbled, sniffling. "Yes, a big idiot. And I'd really like you to let me help you. We... We have contacts with some really good therapists for post-traumatic stress and stuff... I could give you their numbers?" You just nodded, your tears finally stopping.  "I'm sorry I yelled at you..." you mumbled. Bob smiled and pinched your side.  "Don't be, I deserved it. I’m sorry I tried to interfere between you and Hangman…" “He’s actually a sweet guy behind his smug facade, y'know ?” you smiled and chuckled to his falsely doubtful face and the little 'meh' he let out.

As promised, Bob put you in touch with the therapists he'd told you about, and negotiated a longer return period with your agency. You had a full month and a half more. You started to really work on the singles, and your sessions with the therapist were helping. You knew you'd have to keep seeing one when you got home.  But going wasn’t something you wanted to think about. As the days went by, you didn't want to leave San Diego. Your brother and the Dagger Squad were stationed here permanently, and you needed him in your life.

Him and Jake.

You always thought that the two of you were just a fling, that you or he would get tired of it and move on. But neither of you did. You spent more and more time with him, he'd crash at your Airbnb - uninvited - every now and then with a movie or dinner.  The more time you spent with him, the more you fell for him and you didn't want it to end as a one-night stand, you knew that much. 

As you got to dig beneath his proud, cocky, arrogant facade, you discovered a gentle man full of insecurities. He talked about his father, who was not exactly the ideal role model and the fact that he didn’t have the best of relations with him. He talked about his mama, and with the look he had in his eyes, you knew he worshiped the woman ; based on what he shared, you figured Mrs Seresin was more than strong and dedicated to her children. He told you about his sisters, both of them a couple of years older than him, and his nieces and nephews. He loved the munchkins - his terms, not yours - and you saw in his eyes how much he meant it. They were his whole world, but he’d never admit it.

You tried to take your time with him but he had a strange effect on you ; you found yourself opening up to him, faster than you thought.  You'd never told anyone about your abusive relationship - except Robert. And Jake had listened to you without judgment or interruption. He sat there, ready to absorb any information you wanted and were able to share.

So you were torn between your desire to get back to the recording studio in New York, to get back to work, and your desire to stay in the peaceful everyday life you'd created in just a few weeks. You had to go back. You had obligations to keep. Maybe after you fulfilled your part of the contract, you could negotiate and come back to San Diego? This thought was the only thing that kept you working hard. You succeeded in writing three more singles than the agreed two. You were quite pleased with yourself.

And sooner than you realized, you had to go back to New York.

Natasha, with the help of the rest of the team, had organized a little surprise going-away party at the Hard Deck. Penny was in on the secret and had given them the bar to themselves. You loved the surprise and the evening was unforgettable. Bradley had insisted on karaoke, and you dragged your twin along. Robert rolled his eyes, but played along. You had the time of your life and enjoyed every second of this last night with your new friends. They made you promise to call them whenever you could, to think of them and to come back as soon as possible. They took you home and spent a few more hours with you before letting you rest. But just when you thought everyone was gone, you found Jake on the couch, waiting for you. You felt butterflies in your stomach as you saw him there, his eyes anchored in yours. You detailed his face, as if to remember it after you'd left; his slightly wavy blond hair, those beautiful green eyes, his perfect jawline, his cocky smile. That damn smile that made you weak in the knees like a teenager. God, you hated that smile as much as you loved it.

"Enjoying the view?"

You didn't realize that he had stood up and was now so close to you. A deep blush spread across your cheeks and yet you couldn't take your eyes off him, your gaze locked with his. You bit your lip and grinned. "So what if I am, big boy?" you teased. He huffed, amused, and his hand slowly reached for yours, your knuckles brushing. His other hand reached for your cheek, his thumb stroking it tenderly. You leaned into his touch, feeling yourself melt under his gaze. He said nothing, his eyes never leaving you. "What?" you whispered, your heart beating a little faster. "That's how I want to remember you." "Like what? Tipsy and tired?" you laughed a little. "Na. Happy... relaxed... you look beautiful." Jake whispered back, his cheeks taking on a rosy hue. Your stomach fluttered and you found the courage to interlock his fingers with yours. "Sounds like I have you under my siren's spell, Lieutenant..." you teased, biting your lip. "You certainly do, ma'am," he whispered again, the gap between the two of you only a few inches. You felt your confidence slip from your fingers, your eyes on his lips.

"Kiss me..."

It's an almost inaudible beg that escaped you, and you didn't even have time to be embarrassed that you felt him on your lips. The kiss was sweet, tender. You squeezed his hand into yours, and his free one slid around your waist, holding you close. You wanted the kiss to last forever. With amazing ease, Jake lifted you against him, his hands going under your thighs. You wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. He carried you into the bedroom, his lips exploring yours, your jaw, your neck and your collarbone. Your fingers brushed through his soft hair and soon you felt your back against the mattress.  Your clothes ended up chaotically thrown around the room as you undressed and kissed each other. The moon gave you just enough light to never lose sight of him. His eyes devoured you before his hands discovered your body. He asked you if you were okay every step of the way, and you never thought being asked for consent could be so arousing.

That night was the best sex you've ever had. It was slow and tender at first, and when you were both comfortable enough, it got rougher, in a good way.  You fell asleep curled up against him, rocked by his heartbeat.

The next morning you woke up alone in bed. Jake left a note on the nightstand, saying he had to go to work early. "Call me when you can, have a safe flight. PS: Gonna miss you. PPS: If anything happens to you on the flight, I'll hunt the pilot." You chuckled and tucked the post-it into your notebook. You quickly got ready and Robert took you to the airport.

The ride was rather quiet, neither of you wanting to be separated again. He helped you with your luggage and waited with you until you finally had to go. You hugged him tightly and thanked him for the past weeks. "Call me when you get there, okay? And don't forget to hydrate. And eat. And..." "Ok Dad," you joked with a smile, "I'll call you, don't worry. Love you, Robby." "I love you too. Be safe."

8 months.

You have been stuck in New York for 8 long months. You did a lot though. A new album, some concerts, some interviews and photo shoots. The 'scandals' in the press disappeared and the journalists finally focused more on your songs. You video called the Daggers as much as you could - almost every day - and texted a lot with your brother, reassuring him that you continued to see a therapist and that you were doing well under the stress. But the one you called and texted the most was Jake. Every day you had a sweet good morning text, and every night you had an equally sweet good night text.

You missed him.

You missed them all, of course. But Jake Seresin was under your skin. And as hard as it was to admit, you loved him. You couldn't wait to see him again. Of course, no one knew you were together. Natasha seemed to have doubts, and sometimes Bob was somewhat suspicious too but as long as they didn’t ask you didn’t say anything.

8 months of hard work and your agent agreed to let you go to San Diego as he made an arrangement between a recording studio and your label.  You told no one but Penny. You wanted to surprise the team. You had one last show to do in New York and then you would catch your flight to California. 

Before the concert, you called your brother, knowing that he would probably be at the Hard Deck with the others, since it was almost 7:00 p.m there. As soon as he answered, you could hear the team around him. "Wow, look at you Nemesis! You look great!" Natasha said, smiling broadly. You laughed and thanked her when you heard the other whistle and complimented you. "Not too stressed?" Bob asked as the others calmed down. "Well, it's the last show for at least six weeks. I’ll try to make it fun!" "Of course you will," said a voice you recognized immediately. "Hangman, you look good," you teased as you saw him appear on the screen. You noticed the slight blush on his cheeks as he spotted you in your dress and makeup. He didn't have time to reply that you had to go on stage.  "Ok bye guys, gotta go, love you!" you hung up and had time to see a text message on your phone : 'You better keep that dress'. You smiled. You may have fallen in love with Jake, but you also knew you had him wrapped around your finger.

The show went smoothly, and after a celebratory dinner with your team, you went back to your soon-to-be-outdated apartment. All your things were packed and ready to go. You couldn't wait to move to San Diego. Your flight was at 3 pm in New York and you were scheduled to land in California at 6 pm. Bless the time zone difference, if you were lucky, you could get to the Hard Deck before the team and wait for them.

But since nothing ever goes exactly according to plan, your flight was an hour late. That wasn't too bad, you could still surprise them, you just had to change the way. You contacted Penny and asked her if she could manage to distract them. She agreed and gave you permission to use the back door to be more discreet when you entered. Your excitement was through the roof, you felt like a child on Christmas Day.  By the time your cab reached the bar, your heart was pounding in your chest. You couldn't believe you were finally there, finally where you felt at home. But you had to be reunited with those you considered family to feel completely at home. You almost ran to the back door of the bar, re-reading the instructions Penny had sent you: she'd distract the Daggers by asking them to bring back some heavy beer packs and other beverages, and you could hide discreetly by the pool table.

The perfect plan.

You did as she said, a smile forming on your lips as you heard your friends in the distance. You were stressed, but not in an anxious way, you just couldn't wait. You picked up a pool cue to keep your hands busy. When you finally heard them coming, you bit the inside of your cheek to keep from screaming ‘surprise!’. The first person to spot you was Mickey. His eyes widened and he stopped dead in his tracks, almost tripping Reuben, Natasha and Javy. They didn't have time to grumble before Mickey pointed at you, speechless. A small laugh escaped you as they froze in front of you, one after the other. Only Jake, Bradley and Robert were missing. Bradley and your twin were chatting, a little bit behind, and you soon heard Robert's voice.

"Are you guys okay? You look like you've seen a ghost..." His voice became almost inaudible at the end of his sentence, as he realized they were all staring at you. You smiled at them and tilted your head. "Are we playing, or are you afraid of losing?" you asked with a bit of a laugh. Natasha couldn't hold back her laughter and almost ran to hug you. "It's good to see you again, Mini Floyd."

The others came right after to greet you, hugging you and sometimes lifting you off the ground. You laughed, happy to see them again. Your twin was still frozen, not believing his eyes. You scooted up to him and pinched his cheeks. "Good evening Robby, did you-" You didn't even have time to finish your sentence before he pulled you into his arms. You smiled and hugged him as tightly as you could, small tears of joy escaping from both of you.  "It's good to see you," he finally said, "Missed your stupid face.” "Oh I know you did, you can't live without me dearest brother !" you chuckled. You caught up with everyone, admitting that you were on a break, but not telling them that you were here for good. You wanted everyone to be here to make that announcement but someone was missing.

You paid for your round of beers - and sparkling water for Bob - and went looking for Jake. Why wasn't he here?  Penny grinned as she noticed the look on your face. "Don't worry Y/N, he's just on the phone with his sister. One of his nephews' birthdays, I think." "Thanks Pen- Wait, what are you-" "I know everything dear, he talks too much for his own good if you ask the good questions." "How did you find out?" you whispered, making sure no one was listening. "Well, it wasn't really hard. Some of your interviews or shows have been aired," she pointed at the old TV, "and the calls you made ; he just had that look in his eyes. I can tell when a man is head over heels. He certainly is."

You blinked and shook your head in disbelief. Of course she'd guessed; Penny knew the squadron like her own children. She chuckled and handed you another beer. “Go surprise him.” You smiled and nodded, heading to the front door. Your heart fluttered when you finally heard Jake’s voice. It was hushed but you could feel his smile through his soft laughter. You waited for him to end his call, still hidden by the door. You bit back a chuckle when you heard him saying goodbye to the kids with a baby voice. It was ridiculously adorable.

“Hello stranger, does that pretty voice have a name ? ” 

He was a bit startled and turned to you hastily, not believing his ears. A surprised expression appeared on his face, but a flirtatious smile quickly took its place. "That's my line, baby." "Oh really? Supposed I forgot," You grinned proudly and took a step towards him, "Did ya miss me, big boy?" He grinned and grabbed your waist, sending a sweet shiver down your spine. "Not as much as you missed me." You rolled your eyes in amusement and set the beer you had brought him aside. You took a moment to just drown in his green eyes, the light of the sunset making them look surreal. How could he be so handsome ? 

He was quite speechless to have you here, it made you smile. Jake was always so talkative, it was strange to have him so quiet around you. "Cat got your tongue, Seresin?" He chuckled and stroked your cheek. "Why don't you check?" You smiled and finally kissed him. You had waited 8 months for this feeling and it was just so good. His soft lips against yours, his strong hands on your waist, fingers digging lightly into your flesh. You put your hands on his neck, parted your lips to let his tongue reach for yours. One of his hands slid up to cup your cheek and you leaned into his touch as the kiss ended.  "I have to admit, I missed that," he whispered with a grin, his forehead pressed gently against yours. You huffed and rolled your eyes, "Told you I had you under my spell." He laughed and kissed the nape of your neck, holding you close. You smiled and stroked his hair before stepping back.  "Let's join the team before ‘Tasha gets suspicious."

You took his hand and headed inside, eager to tell your friends the big news.

You missed the atmosphere of the Hard Deck. The soft songs from the jukebox, the always nice patrons, your favorite people at the pool table or playing darts... everything was so comforting. Your smile widened when you reached the Daggers, dragging Jake with you. "Look who I found outside," you teased, "good old Hangman.” "Ah, you should have let him out," Bradley sneered, sipping his beer. “Real funny Bradshaw, I know you already missed me.”

You let the two men fight like two children and when you noticed Natasha's eyes on your hand in Jake's, you blushed a little. She grinned and whispered something to Reuben. You could read a little 'damn it !' on his lips as he frowned. "Okay guys, Javy and I won! The bet is over!" "What? No!" Bradley was outraged. He grumbled and handed Natasha a bill.  "Wait a minute, what bet?" your twin asked. "Well, my dear Bob, it seems that our little Jake and your sister... are together." You blushed and wanted to hide, not knowing how your brother would react. Jake was already arguing with Javy, telling him he was a traitor for betting on it, since he had confided in him on the subject.

"Oh, I've known for a while," Robert said simply with a smile. "What?!" you huffed, letting go of your boyfriend's hand to face your twin. "What do you mean you knew?" "Well, for starters, Jake stayed with you the night before you went back to New York. And you hid the hickey he left on your neck badly. Then I got suspicious when every time we ended our video calls, he got one in the next two minutes; and he's not the most discreet when he's on the phone. But I knew it when he bought that really nice necklace and asked me, of all people, for advice. A week later you were wearing it. So yeah, I knew," he shrugged with a smile, laughing a little at your expression. "What? I just thought that neither of you were ready to tell anyone? But you seem happy so it's okay."

You were surprised. You didn't think he'd take it so well, but you weren't going to complain.

So the evening began with a secret revealed. You didn't hesitate to stay close to Jake, even ending up on his lap when the bar was full. You listened to their adventures from the last few months - at least what they were allowed to share.  It was good to be with them again, to find that comfort.  After Mickey bought his round, he turned to you. "Well, let's ask the burning question: how long are you staying?" "To tell you the truth... I'm not leaving. I'm moving into my little house 10 minutes from here tomorrow," you smiled. "And you didn't tell me?!" said Jake and Bob at the same time, making them blush under the laughter of the others. "I wanted to surprise you! I've got a new deal with my label, so I can stay here." "Cheers to that! To the definitive return of Y/N Nemesis Floyd," Bradley decreed, raising his beer.

You all laughed and toasted each other, happy with the news.

All was finally well.

You had finally found your place, and you wouldn't change it for the world.

[sunflowervoltwentyeight]

Happy 28th! Here is my February 2024 fic rec, organized by word count, from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Remember Me Fondly by kiddle / @bluejeanlouis (73k)

“You’ve told the beginning of the story so many times. I want to hear the end.”Louis laughed, scratching at his chin. “I can’t say I really know when the end happened.”“How about the tour of ninety-five?”“Alright.” Louis took a deep breath. “But it took a few steps to get there. What would you like to know?”Penny cleared her throat.“How did you first meet Harry Styles?” Grunge legends Fearless Doe topped the rock charts in the ‘90s, but they spent the decade kicking Smudge off their heels. From lawsuits to jaw-dropping scandals and a surprising joint world tour, the two bands share a complicated history.

Twenty-five years later, frontmen Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles are finally ready to sit down and tell the world their two sides of the same story.

Truth may vary.

I Would Know You From Touch Alone by staybeautiful / @harruandlou (72k)

They had never been face to face before now. They’d never touched, skin to skin, until Harry landed a punch to his face, high on his cheekbone.

Louis shoved him off and was pulling his fist back from Harry’s abdomen before he realized his face wasn’t tingling because of the pain.

It pooled out from his cheek, over his face, down his neck and spine. A shiver in the late September night. Heat, sparks - whatever you wanted to fucking call it.

or The Tomlinson and Cox gangs have hated each other for over forty years. Harry Styles, the grandson of Gritty Cox, was freshly back to the city after uni when, on his first night out, he punched the Tomlinson heir in the face. It shouldn’t have mattered, their gangs have done worse to each other. But all it took was one single touch to recognize your soulmate. Louis was adamant that being soulmates changed nothing, not who they were or which family they were loyal to. Or, at least, it shouldn’t have.

A Yuzu Grows in Brooklyn by stylinsoncity / @aliensingucci (66k)

Harry is a recent implant in new york and a young chef opening a restaurant called yuzu. louis, a music teacher and broadway lover, has been around the block for a while. in a city that's so fast-paced, they're slow to catch on to each other.

Ferricadooza! by suspendrs / @suspendrs (65k)

Harry can’t even fathom the idea of surrendering; he’d fight ‘til he died, if he had to, anything to keep from surrendering.

Or, the year is 1963, homosexuality is illegal in the UK, Louis owns a gay bar, and Harry’s an underground boxing champion with an unfortunate enemy.

The Recklessness in Water by LarryOn (50k)

Louis Tomlinson is miserable. He's stuck on a family vacation at a lake cabin in New Hampshire when all he wants to do is bemoan his sorry existence and wallow in his sweatpants. As if the humidity and mosquitos weren't bad enough, he becomes the singular target of an obnoxious lifeguard named Harry.

Passing By by Larry_you_know / @larryyouknow (48k)

Sometimes, people are in each other's lives just for the briefest of moments. They meet and then go their separate ways because being vulnerable is scary and it might be easier to not let anybody else in. But some people aren’t meant to be just passing by. Maybe when they open their eyes, they can learn things about themselves they haven’t known before. If they let their hearts speak they will find a way to be together.

Or the one where Harry doesn't even know he's into guys until he meets Louis on a boat trip. There's something more to their friendship but it ain't gonna be smooth sailing.

Rivers 'Til i Reach You by embodied (29k)

Louis can’t begin to understand how he’s always this close and still can’t manage to make Harry his. He stands up and gets another beer.   AU. Louis studies astronomy; Harry studies Louis. They spend their summers on the water and it shouldn't be complicated (spoiler: it is).

You Promised Forever by indierection (amandamoraisa) (21k)

[Harry wants a baby. Louis wanted a baby. Now he's not so sure.]

Of course they've always wanted to have kids, even as young as they were in 2012. But it's only ten years later, when they've been married for already three and One Direction is no longer together, that Harry and Louis will finally get to start their own family. Or at least that's what they thought, because Louis suddenly feels the pressure of fatherhood on his shoulders as he realizes he has to be responsible for another human being; and if that's not terrifying he doesn't know what it is. He is, in fact, having these sudden panic attacks when he thinks too much about the future. Yet, Louis just sucks it up because he's losing his mind, but Harry has already to much on his. Besides, in the end they are fireproof. Aren't they?

The Sunshine Stays by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird (15k)

It's three years after One Direction got back together, and Harry and Louis have just come off a world tour. They're enjoying a much more relaxed schedule the second time around, allowing themselves to bask in married life. Until, one day, Louis surprises Harry on vacation, and there are some surprising consequences.

[little-robin-h00d]

Happy Halloween! :D a Halloween Town Ienzo for your viewing pleasure!

I was able to do art for the first time in years recently, and I absolutely WENT OFF! The muses put me in a headlock and didn't let me go until they were satisfied, so this boi got done just in time for Halloween!

The amount of detail i put into this guy is INSANE! But the glazing and light filters messed up the small details that were only really visible anyway at 800% zoom, so i'll be including those under the cut.

Embroidery

Almost every embroidered symbol is unique, only mirrored on the other side of the coat. From top to bottom: the Nobody symbol, the Heartless symbol, a symbol found in the old mansion in Traverse down combining the fleur-de-lis heart and a crown, the symbol of Ansem the Wise, the Kingdom Hearts symbol, a stylized rose, an eight pointed star, the player pin from The World Ends With you and the one from the sequel, a symbol found in Scala ad Caelum, a rounded star, a book, scales of justice, a beaker, Sephiroth's symbol with the wing inside the meteor, Shinra's logo, the buster sword from Final Fantasy 7, a chocobo, a cactuar, a moogle, fleur-de-lis, Red XIII, the Unversed symbol, Nobody symbol, Heartless symbol, Kingdom Hearts symbol, Roxas’ symbol, Eraqus’ symbol, numbers 1-14 in roman numerals.

The general mirroring stops here, and the symbols on the right are: a sun, moon, pentacle, meteor, hidden Mickey/lucky emblem, demon and angel wings on a heartless symbol representing Riku, sea salt ice cream and a thalassa shell for Xion, and Roxas’ symbol and a cut-off Oathkeeper keyblade.

On the inside of the coat’s embroidery are funny easter eggs to fill out the space because I ran out of ideas, from right to left: Sans, Loss.jpg, Amogus, Anarchy symbol, the cool S, the symbol for pi, Bill Cipher, Kirby, Ali from “Welcome to Demon School! Iruma-kun”, Elmo, a rat, a bat, the Palestinian flag and a watermelon (free Palestine!), two band-aids, the Pokémon type symbols for ghost psychic and dark-types, and the Genshin Impact element icons in order as they appear on the loading screen.

The text inside the Lexicon reads…

Page 1:

Once upon a time, a young boy became a prince. However, this story is not a fairytale…

This is a tragedy.

[This is the story of] Radiant Garden, and the [events that led to its] fall. It all began with [a man with amnesia, and a] series of experiments [by the apprentices of Ansem the Wise,] students of the Heart. [The amnesiac man, only remembering his name was Xehanort, was taken in by] Master Ansem.

… it is unclear when … point of no return.

Page 2: Little Ienzo rarely spoke, but [that certainly didn’t mean he] didn’t understand. The edge of the book reads: see every atrocity, hear every rumor, never shut up.

The rest is illegible.

Page 3: … Heartless because Xehanort had… body…

Page 4: Ignis Fatuus: fool’s fire, will-o-wisp. … illusion, delusion.

There is also text on all of the floating pages!

First floating page:

Design (and art) By: Little Robin Hood 1 Halloween Town Ienzo Wizard/Blue Mage + Will-O-Wisp Fanart encouraged, but please credit [the design]! I have lost so much sleep over this boi… Record: 22 hours awake TToTT

Second floating page:

I hereby relinquish my heart to Xehanort. In order to [successfully] achieve the goals of Organization XIII, I shall be given the number VI, and the title of Cloaked Schemer. I shall apprentice under lord Xemnas directly, and pledge loyalty to the Superior of the In-between. I shall don the cloak and a new name, and act as the Superior’s eyes and ears. None shall be above Xemnas, and my loyalty shall be his alone. Until our goals are finally achieved, my name shall be…

X Zexion

Third floating page: an abridged short version of the “Fresh Prince” theme song

Fourth floating page: T’was the Nightmare before Christmas And all through the streets, every monster was preparing for next Halloween! But good ol Jack had another idea - why not invite Sora and friends? And thus, Ienzo let his magic work, now ready for fun and festive fright! What fun forms might his friends take..?

Fifth floating page: dictionary definition of Wizard and its etymology

[marshmellowjay]

Sorry for the long wait! Here's the long awaited headcannons!

MCYT react to Neon-Beatboxer Reader

Ft- C!Technoblade, Bench trio, C!Philza, NTT!Brutus/Orpheus, Accelerate Dream Team.

C!Technoblade

Now he doesnt really get it at first, like why so...neon

Like in regular daylight it kinda looks strange but then he saw you at night and was like "ohhhhh ok"

He honestly loves the style and is down with dying his hair again to make it glow in the dark, it'll just take alot of convincing lol.

The beat-boxing part though.

He is all for it. Loves the competitions and there is a really reaallly slim chance of him joining in. Never zero though so you test your luck ALOT.

Graffiti is his favorite part over all.

He loves the designs and colors. He may even let you graffiti his builds a bit if you beg enough.

So overall he loves the aspect of it all and would try it out himself sometime.

10/10 he loves it.

Bench Trio

They love your clothes like they think you are so cool. New role model acquired!

If you do underground secret (maybe illegal) Beat-boxing championships they will BEG you to go!

Especially Tommy.

Now if you do cave in then they will again beg you to dress them up appropriately for the championship, neon body paint, glow up eye contacts, temporary glow up hair dye and all the glow up clothes! Maybe even some glow up graffiti paint cans.

They are so hyped during the whole thing! Especially if you are in the championship!

They cheer the loudest for sure!

If you let them do graffiti for a bit afterwords they are gonna be so excited! signing their twitch/youtube names and all.

Be prepared for Tommy to tell sbi though and being a babysitter the whole time lol

9/10

C!Philza

You already know the drill with dadza.

He goes full parent mode making sure the body paint and hair dye isnt lethal and making sure you stay out of trouble.

But other then that hes chill.

No he wont dye his hair but he will entertain your ideas by painting his nails glow in the dark green and putting on glow body paint on his hands.

Best know he will show up to every championship ship to make sure you stay safe but he does enjoy it non the less.

He does have sensitive eyes though so he wont stick around for to long but he will be there most of the time.

If he can't make it he'll just send one of the sbi to watch you. (never tommy though, hes learned the hard way)

9/10 hes chill

NTT!Brutus/Orpheus

The moment you guys started getting along is the moment he knew you would rope him into something like this.

He does like it dont get him wrong, he even drags his band members to the championships and does all the get up. He does like to use the getup as an excuse to cosplay himself though.

His scars are is neon and glowing.

He even adds the pink hair strip. He blends right in with the crowd lol

but he is responsible and makes sure you are alright and he is the getaway driver when the feds show up to crash all the fun.

He loves your style and is shocked to find out your hair dye isnt temporary

he also thinks your beat-boxing is really cool and fun.

10/10 best getaway driver ever

Accelerate! Dream Team

They LOVE your style so much!

They also ADORE your car. (which is neon (f/c) and glows)

You obviously met at a race so they were really hyped when they saw a new competitor/racer

After the race they had went up to your car and knocked on the window to try and greet you.

When you got out of the car they were flabbergasted by your style, you were in full outfit ready to go to your underground championship. Glowing hair,body paint eye contacts outfit and all.

They immediatly knew they needed to go where-ever you were going so they introduced themselves and asked where you were heading, you took them to the championship and they loved it!

Sapnap got bodypaint that made him look like he had lava all over.

Dream just stuck with the green glow eye contacts

while george did the glow up nail polish and blue splotches of body paint on his face and the rest is history.

Sapnap definitely joins in on the beat-boxing championship though lol

11/10

[staawberru]

my childhood friend wrote a gay omegaverse faction about me! chapter 5

An what do y’all think of all the pov changes? Do u like them or would you like on your pov?

chapter one | next chapter | last chapter | masterlist

 ??? Pov 

  I am so excited to surprise them. I mean why wouldn’t I? I’ve been gone for three months and I’m finally coming home. Of course I didn’t tell anyone, I wanted it to be a surprise! And it will be, but I don’t want to come home empty handed, so I’m going to get a celebratory cake, cookie cake, of course, it’s the best flavor. I finally roll up to the grocery store and an obnoxious sign greets me. I find a suitable parking spot and get up, grabbing my purse. When I finally got in the store, I headed straight to the bakery section after grabbing a basket to carry the cake, picking the cheapest one. I'm a broke college student, no way I can afford a big ass cake. I picked out a simple cookie cake with the words “happy birthday” even though it was no one’s birthday. What can I say? I’m just cool like that.

   With the fact that it’s 14 bucks, an absolute steal, and that I had saved 35 bucks for this, I have 21 dollars left. I could probably get some soda and one other thing if I wanted, but what? Jobie liked Monster (edgy bastard) and my parents liked anything alcoholic, so I get Dr Pepper, the best soda. It’s on the highest shelf, which was a problem, and I was about to just give up, but I saw a taller guy just loitering. He wore dark baggy jeans and had a band tshirt. He was drinking beer that looked like he just pulled it from the shelf. He looked mean but I decided, instead of being a pussy like normal, I was going to man up and ask him to help.

   “Hey uh-“ 

    “Yes, I’m over the age of 21, yes I’m going to pay for this, yes I understand I can’t just grab things off the shelf.” before I got a sentence in he started to answer my hypothetical question. He probably had to say this a lot of time to have it memorized like this.

   “Oh, no, I don’t care what you’re doing,” I say. This seemed to make him give me another glance. “I was wondering if you could help me reach that bottle?” I pointed towards the Dr Pepper. 

  “So you're not a store manager?” He asked, still suspicious.

  “No, no, I just need that bottle.” He still looked unconvinced but held the soda out for me. 

   “Thank you!” I smile gratefully. It was 7 dollars which left 14 bucks for myself, or maybe I can pay for the guy's beer. He did help me after all, and he barely looked over the age of 18. Is it illegal to give minors alcohol? Maybe, but I’ve been itching to do something bad so I can tell off my friends for making fun of me for being a goodie two shoes. I mean, I have to be good for my parents. It’s probably bad to brag I gave a child alcohol, but whatever. 

   “Hey, you don’t look a day over 18,” I  comment casually, heart beating. I’m so dangerous. He looked backed and smiled sheepishly. He probably thought it was going to tell, but I was cooler than that. I swear. 

   “Do you want me to buy it?” I ask. His face lightens immediately. 

   “Free beer, I'd be an idiot to decline that,” he smirked and started to follow me like a puppy.

   “Sooo,” I stretch the o's, hoping to break the slightly awkward silence. I hoped he would talk more, but he doesn’t react at all to my words.  

   “Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask.

   “What are you, my mom?” he rolled his eyes.

   “Ah, sorry, too personal!”

   “I have a boyfriend,” he said. “His name is Jobie, I don’t think he likes me.” That made me pause. Is he dating my brother? Why haven’t I heard anything about this? I mean, there’s a chance there’s another Jobie, but when was the last time you met someone named Jobie? 

   “You know, you two look a lot alike, you and my boyfriend, I mean,” he said. I reached the cash register and put my items down.

   “That’s funny, I have a brother named Jobie,” I laughed awkwardly. 

   “Oh shit, you must be his sister. June right?”

   “Juney, and yes, he’s probably my brother. What’s your name?”

   “That will be 31.49 dollars ma'am,” the cashier interrupts. I pause my conversation with Jobie’s apparent boyfriend to pay. 

   “Thank you so much,” Looking at Jobie’s boyfriend as he continues to follow me, probably waiting to get his beer. Once we step out of the store, I hand him his drinks. 

   “Here you go,”. I kinda want to invite him over. He should meet the family. But it doesn't make sense that he would say that Jobie doesn’t like him. Whatever, it’s not my relationship. 

   “Kendyl.”

   “Huh?” 

   “My name’s Kendyl,” he said.

   “Oh, well, nice to meet you Kendyl,” I smile. 

   “Well, I guess this is goodbye,” he said, starting to walk off. I pause, debating whether or not I should ask him to join. It didn’t seem like he had a car so I decided to invite him

    “Wait!” I called out. “Would you like to join me to come to our house?” I ran after him. Unfortunately, I’m definitely not in shape, just a short jog over toward Kendyl left me panting and out of breath. 

   “I’m- going to our house- and was wondering- if you wanted to join- it doesn’t seem like you have a car,” He looked at me like I was crazy, but agreed nonetheless. Now we’re in the car, sitting in awkward silence, my least favorite thing.

   “So, which grade are you in?” I say, trying to break the tension.

   “Senior.” 

   “So you're 18?” I ask.

   “17.”

   Dang he really didn’t want to talk. Whatever, I just focus on the road, even if I wanted to rip my own ears off. Soon we made it to the house. When we walked in it was quiet, suspiciously so. Jobie was probably home; he didn't really have a social life so there’s no way he’s out partying. I put the groceries down on the dining room table and walk towards Jobie’s room. Kendyl took off his shoes and followed me upstairs. When we got to his room we heard a slight shuffling. And a muffled voice. It seemed like it was trying to call for help. This made me especially suspicious. Is something bad going on? I looked at Kendyl. He also looked confused. I open the door, ready to attack anything that dared try and harm me, but when I opened the door I saw the most peculiar thing. [name] on top of Jobie and Jobie trying to push him off. Jobie looked at me with scared eyes.

   “What the fuuuccckk.”

[patchworkgargoyle]

Dudes Kissin' Dudes

So this post broke my writer's block...

Buckle up for a fluffy fic of Eddie thirsting over Steve at the bar after he overhears him tell Robin he's kissed dudes before. Modern AU, aged up, first meeting and first kiss, rated T, 3.1k words! Also posted to ao3!

One of the things Eddie loves about bars is people watching. Some nights he'll just sit at the counter and observe the throngs of people. It’s fun to admire their looks and their clothes and the way they dance, sometimes to make up stories about them in his head about who they are, why they’re here, what they’re in search of. He’s gotten quite a few NPC ideas from it, the occasional character or two. 

The other thing he loves is the buckwild stories he overhears. No one gossips like loose-lipped drunks. He weaves some of those into his campaigns too but mostly he just gets to have a good laugh or a sigh of relief that he’s not living out that particular drama.

The bar Eddie visited tonight was a little further than home from usual, but the queer scene there was always great and there was a live band playing that he’d seen a few times before. He’d heard a few good stories tonight too–a woman walking by exclaiming about some roommate entanglement gone wrong, one person’s aunt having been arrested for an illegal zoo complete with an emu that almost disembowelled a guy and then escaped–so it’d been worth the longer trip.

For now, he sat at the bar nursing his third drink, one elbow propped up as he scrolled through instagram to snoop on whatever his friends were up to and hoping the lull in patrons passes. A couple people had come up to chat, but no one sparked any mutual interest. It was fine, he wasn’t really on the prowl tonight.

Or so he thought.

Two people approached the bar, just one stool’s distance away, and Eddie’s eyes flicked up from his screen on instinct. The one furthest from him, with a dirty blonde bob, wore a bright patterned shirt and suspenders combo that screamed lesbian, to which he gave an internal nod of approval and solidarity, but then her friend pulled up beside her. And oh. Oh, her friend.

In the dim lighting of the room he still somehow shone just a little golden. Mole-flecked, with a strong nose and wide, easy smile. Warm eyes that sloped in a graceful downturn made him look a little soulful. And his swooping brown hair that fell with a touch of deliberate unkemptness that made Eddie want to mess it up, see if it was as soft as it looked, dig his fingers in and pull. He can’t look at the guy’s lips too long or he’ll start imagining things he really ought not to do outside the privacy of his own bedroom.

Unfortunately he also wore the straightest outfit he’d seen all night: khaki shorts and a white and blue striped polo. He would’ve looked right at home at a frat party, even ordered a bland pale ale those types chug right from the keg. Sighing, Eddie returned to his phone. There was no way he’d waste any more energy mooning over a straight man. Of course, that doesn’t mean he won’t eavesdrop.

Settling in, the pair leaned against the bar and surveyed the crowd. They started to catch up and the woman–Robin, he learns–went on a rambling rant about a needy client at what sounds like her translator job. Apparently the friend’s name was Steve, if Robin’s shouted, “Twenty-five pages in two hours. Two hours, Steve!” was anything to go by. He just listened with encouraging head-nods and appropriately offended gasps as he drank, sometimes surveying the other people mingling or dancing. Eventually, he stopped her with a smack to her shoulder, and pointed with the hand holding the bottle off in a corner.

“What about her?” he asked with an eyebrow wiggle, and Eddie narrowed his eyes as he stared at this guy.

“God, no. She’s way out of my league,” Robin says. Eddie relaxes, glad he’s not about to listen to some dude creep on someone.

“Are you crazy? Robs, leagues don’t exist, for one-”

She cut him off, claiming, “That’s what hot, confident people say to make us awkward ducklings feel better.”

“You’re not an awkward duckling, you’re a very majestic full-grown lady duck. And I bet you twenty bucks that lady duck over there would be thrilled if you crossed this pond to talk to her.”

“Please, for the love of god, never call me or another woman ducks ever again. That’s just weird.”

Sputtering, Steve said, “I was just following the- the metaphor!”

Eddie valiantly contained a snort while Robin rolled her eyes so hard her head rolled back with them. He appreciated the dramatics. But, looking at the woman Steve referred to, Eddie saw his point. He kept it to himself, but he believed in Robin.

Steve levelled a determined look at Robin. “Listen, I’m a phys ed and history teacher, not english, you get what I mean. You could absolutely sweep her off her feet.”

Frowning, with only a tiny bit of a stubborn pout, Robin fussed with the curling corners of the label of her own beer. “Well, what happened to this being girl’s night, huh? If I go home with someone–which I’m not saying I will, dingus– then you’re probably gonna have to hang around the bar all sad and alone and stuff.”

“Honestly, I’d probably go back and watch a movie with Roommate Greg.”

Robin made a face. “Not Greg. I can’t wait until he moves out.” Sighing, she finished her drink, left the bottle on the counter and asked the bartender for another. “I’d feel better if you’d be able to find your own lady duck here, but I think you’d be out of luck. If only you liked kissing dudes too.”

Eddie gave a silent, slightly ironic amen to that statement. But then, as if the gods themselves heard his plea, Steve said something that nearly had Eddie spitting out his drink.

“I mean, I have kissed dudes before.”

Robin went silent as Steve’s head turned to face her, her eyes wide, mouth open. Eddie’s phone screen had enough time to go black as he waited, on the edge of his stool, to learn more about this very handsome Steve kissing dudes sometimes.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve told you this before, Robs, it’s not that shocking.”

“Apparently you haven’t! I definitely would have remembered if my very straight male friend suddenly confessed to me that he’s ‘kissed dudes,’ plural, to my face,” she said, both hands gesturing wildly. She almost knocked over her refill.

God, Eddie wished he could see Steve’s face now, but he refused to move much in case they both realise he’s desperate to hear what comes next. He couldn’t even look away, he just stared like a weirdo, but he couldn't help it. This was juicier than killer emus. Eddie flat-out refused to acknowledge why, despite the tiny thrum of excitement in his chest.

Shoulders falling with a heavy sigh, Steve shook his head and leaned further into the bar, all too casual for this conversation in Eddie’s opinion. “It’s not that big a deal, jeez. Sometimes, with my old friends-”

“You do not mean Tommy and Carol.” Steve was quiet and Robin’s eyes got even wider. “You do not mean Tommy and Carol!”

“Well, yeah, it’s just. Y’know, when you’re hanging out at a bar and you’re at that happy tipsy point, not drunk, like, you’ve still got all your awareness or whatever, sometimes you just wanna show your friends you’re happy they’re around.”

“By… kissing them.”

“Uh-huh.”

“On the lips?”

The shrug Eddie witnesses is surprisingly easy for the sheer amount of obliviousness Steve was clearly carrying. “Sure. I won’t do it with someone who wouldn’t want it, of course, and after Carol saw me and Tommy do it a few times she’d asked him to stop, so we did, but if you’re confident in your sexuality it shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

“Steve. You are like my platonic soulmate and brother wrapped into one, and I mean this with all the love in my heart, but you are, on some occasions, extremely dense.”

“Hey,” Steve said, sounding offended, and Robin placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean you’re stupid. But sometimes it takes some time for things to click, my guy, and this might be one of them.”

Eddie couldn’t help but agree at least a little, having struggled with his own comphet demons, but even as an out and proud bisexual he certainly never kissed his friends unless he was trying to annoy the shit out of them or they were in a “with-benefits” situation. There were so many more ways to show appreciation than to tenderly kiss your buddies on the mouth.

As Steve started to speak again, someone walked up to the stool between Eddie and Steve, his eyes on Eddie. With a slightly mean grin, swung his foot up onto the stool with a clang and said, “Sorry, waiting for a friend.” The guy left with a judgemental side-eye but Eddie couldn’t care less. When he glanced back at Steve, Robin caught his eye with a confused look, and Eddie quickly unlocked his phone to pretend to be busy, hoping the low lights hid the slight flush in his face. It’s not like he hasn’t been caught doing this before, but in this case Eddie really, really wanted to hear the conclusion to this conversation.

“Let me get this ‘straight,’” Robin began, “you’ve kissed Tommy, on the mouth, multiple times.” Steve nodded. “In front of his girlfriend.” Another nod. “With tongue?”

“No, never with tongue.”

“But like, softly. You’re not mashing your faces together.”

Steve sounded annoyed when he stated, “I know how to kiss, Robin.”

“Humour me.”

“Yes, it was soft.” He’d crossed his arms now, and Eddie had to force his eyes away from Steve’s biceps.

“Did you… enjoy it?” Robin asked, much more gently than the rest of her inquisition. 

“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t like it.”

“I know I’m thoroughly a lesbian but I cannot fathom enjoying kissing Tommy Hagan even if I wasn’t.”

Steve snorts at that and some of the tension leaves his shoulders at the joke. “It’s not just Tommy, though, like I’ve done it with Jonathan, so it’s not just one person.”

Robin’s lips curled inwards like she was biting back something she desperately wanted to say, but wouldn’t. With one long breath in, then out, she said instead, “Okay. So. Two guys you’ve enjoyed kissing.”

“And Argyle. He’s great about it, actually, we kiss all the time.”

“Three. Guys.”

“Guy friends,” Steve clarified, as if that helped anything.

“That’s like this far away from being boy friends.” She held up two fingers that were basically touching, right in Steve’s face, and he swatted her away with a laugh. Taking her hand back, she leaned forward instead, asking, “Have you ever, I dunno, tried kissing a guy who isn’t a friend?”

Something in Eddie’s gut dropped at the question, making room for butterflies that had absolutely no right to be there and needed to vacate immediately. At the same time, a tiny, loud, selfish part of him wanted to raise his hand and yell, “pick me! Please, for the love of everything holy, unholy, and in between, fucking pick me!”

“What? No. That’s rude, I’m not just gonna walk up and kiss a stranger, I’d either be a massive creep or get punched.”

“Not if you ask, and especially not in this bar. You’re allowed to experiment, if you’re open about that.”

Silence lay thickly between them as Eddie watched Steve tilt his head to the side. Like he was actually considering it. He even let out a small “huh” and Eddie felt the seconds slide by like molasses, his own head tilted down at his phone but his eyes fixed on that perfect head of hair just a few feet away. Slowly, Steve turned so his back was to the bar again, and Eddie saw those puppy dog eyes glancing over the other patrons.

“Have you even seen anyone checking me out, though?” Steve asked.

Robin stared right at Eddie, and he swore his heart stopped. Oh fuck. “Probably the guy who’s been looking at you like you’re his last meal on death row all night.”

Oh fuck.

Twisting, Steve finally noticed Eddie. If his heart had stopped when Robin completely caught him out, it started back up again at a rabbit-fast pace, blood rushing straight to Eddie’s cheeks and ears, staining them bright red. Having the full force of Steve’s gaze on him was equal parts awful and wonderful and deeply fucking embarrassing. It was worse when Steve started looking him up and down, eyes tracing a languid path down Eddie’s body and along the leg still resting on the spare stool.

He knows what he looks like, and it’s nothing like Steve. Lankier, dressed in all black and ripped denim. Eddie had just enough self-esteem to acknowledge he could attract a few people with his long curls and dark, intense eyes, but not enough to think that this guy right here, seemingly checking him out, would find anything all that appealing. And yet.

“Hey,” Steve said when he got back to Eddie’s face, all calm confidence.

“H-howdy,” Eddie squeaked, zero charm to be found.

“I’m Steve.”

“I’m Eddie,” he said with slightly more vocal control, and the slight smile that brought to Steve’s face could spawn entire hair metal ballads.

Steve readjusted so he actually faced Eddie, and Robin leaned on his back, peering over it with a conniving little smirk. “So I guess you heard all that,” he said, and Eddie nodded.

“Yeah, uh, sorry about that, I didn’t mean to-”

“Oh you totally did,” Robin said, grinning.

Eddie’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but all that did was make Steve chuckle. It wasn’t even a mean chuckle, he sounded amused, like they were all in on a joke instead of justifiably pissed that a stranger had heard their entire private conversation. Robin, also laughing, pushed off of Steve with a pat to the back and a “good luck,” walked off towards the dance floor. Eddie watched her leave with only a little bit of malice.

“So what do you think?”

His head whipped back to Steve, who’d stepped a bit closer. One of the track lights above highlighted the natural tan to Steve’s skin. Eddie bet he’d look stunning with a bit of glitter on his cheeks. “What?”

“About experimenting, dude,” Steve laughed, “you don’t have to if you don’t want to, I won’t push. I’m not a shitty person.”

“And you’re just. Okay with this.” He couldn’t help waving a hand between them with a disbelieving shake of his head.

“Wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t.” Steve’s arms were crossed again, making some frayed wires spark in Eddie’s poor, overwhelmed brain as he took in Steve’s patient, friendly smile. His lips made this adorable wide v-shape like that, and whatever remaining restraints held Eddie back from this idea swiftly dissolved at the idea that he could kiss that smile away, even if only for a moment. Even if he knew he’d probably think about it for a year, or, likely, more.

With a sharp exhale, Eddie said, “Fuck it. Yeah. Let’s do it.” He stood, finding he was more or less as tall as Steve, and dredged up every ounce of bravado he could manage. “Any time you wanna stop, you stop, ‘kay? I’ll back off.” He paused to lean closer, glanced down at Steve’s lips with all the hunger he’d been fighting off all night, then back up for effect. “But don’t blame me if I rock your world.”

“You’re a dork,” Steve teased but, if Eddie wasn’t imagining things, he sounded just a little breathless.

Eddie closed the distance. Instead of getting right to kissing, he gently nudged Steve’s nose with his own, ghosting his full lips over Steve’s and earning a tiny, frustrated huff, and finally, with a smile, Eddie dove in for a kiss. It was soft, like he imagined Steve giving all those other guys, and intentionally short. Eddie pulled away a smidge, only to find Steve chasing after him, his broad hands grasping Eddie’s belt loops and yanking their hips closer.

Their kisses grew more fervent. Hands roaming, Eddie got his wish and buried his fingers into that silky soft hair, his other hand cupping the small of Steve’s back and bringing them flush together. He could feel the small groan in Steve’s chest when Eddie pulled his hair just the right side of too hard and gave a short laugh. Steve swallowed it, drew his tongue over Eddie’s lips in a question Eddie answered by letting him lick his way inside. Fuck, Steve really did know how to kiss.

A push, and Steve was pressed into the bartop, his hands slipping to Eddie’s ass and kneading while Eddie had him pinned. He could feel Steve getting hard in his preppy little shorts, felt it against his own hardness and couldn’t help but grind into it, both of them moaning low into each other’s mouths as their kisses grew hungrier, sloppier. 

Neither of them remembered where they were until hands slapped both of their shoulders and they jolted apart, pupil blown and lips pink.

“Welp, looks like you figured your shit out, dingus. I’m heading home with Chrissy here,” Robin wiggled her and the woman that was apparently Chrissy’s hands in the air between them all, Chrissy giving a little giggle.

“Hey, I knew I was right about the lady duck!” Steve said, still clinging to Eddie, and Robin groaned.

“Yeah, and I was right that it’s not straight to enjoy kissing your guy friends. Have fun, be safe, make good choices, give me the address of wherever you’re going,” she said, turning to leave, but glanced back. “Also, nice to meet you Eddie. I’ll probably see you around.”

Eddie snorted but waved goodbye before turning his attention to the handsome man he still had trapped against the bar. Steve was already looking at him with a mix of heated desire and genuine interest that bolstered Eddie’s ego considerably. “How would you say your experiment went, big boy?” he asked despite still being able to feel the results between them.

“Pretty good I think.” Steve’s hands wandered up under the hem of Eddie’s shirt, making his shiver. Shit. He wanted those hands everywhere immediately. “Wouldn’t mind a few more test runs though. Gotta follow the, uh, scientific method.”

“Of course, of course. We definitely need to see if the results can be replicated.” As he spoke, Eddie started to trail light kisses along Steve’s jaw, then down his neck.

“Fuck yes.”

P.S. If you got this far and liked this trope, but want something a little 👀spicier👀 may I recommend greatest hits by @/scarcrossdlvrs? (I didn't wanna tag you bc I didn't wanna force you to read this just to see why you were tagged! xD ) Enjoy!!

[leafie-draws]

learning about parasitic plants now and all of these would make sick band names

the fact that parasitic plants can actually hide in the ground for years, literally sniff out a host and even have a PREFERRED host is hilarious and scary to me

tomatoes literally evolved to have bristles on their stems because parasitic plants like eating them so much. and then there's this guy:

morning glories are invasive pricks that like committing plant crimes and are poisonous to herbivores, nearly impossible to get rid of and are illegal in most states. the more you know ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ👍

[libraryoffandomsuniverse]

my lover's the sunlight

masterlist

I was looking through my old writing from years ago and came across this imagine I'd completely forgotten about. It's a different writing style to my normal headcanons, but I'm trying to branch out. I'm not sure if anyone still writes for the 100, but I can't bring myself to delete something which is nearly 2k long.

This is set during s1. No warnings, apart from Reader being grumpy to everyone and a complete goober for Raven (who only appears at the very end).

word count: 1911

You've been on the ground for less than an hour and already there are fights breaking out among the delinquents. You don’t join them; you goes with Wells Jaha to first bury the bodies of the two idiots who took off their seat belts, and then to find a water source. Digging in the dirt comforts you and gives you something to think about other than the hysteria that’s bubbling up inside your gut and threatening to overwhelm you.

Because while everyone else seems content to explore, you're coming to realise that your survival is up to the rest of the group. You have all been sent down as an experiment, that none of the adults seem to believe you'll really survive.

(You want to throw up.)

++

You have known John Murphy for less than a day and you already despise the other boy. Murphy’s attempts to remove a girl’s wristband by holding her face to the fire makes your head roar and suddenly you leap at him.

The pair of you roll around in the dirt, fists flying until eventually you have the advantage. With Murphy’s head in a headlock and a borrowed knife to his throat, you lean in and whisper into his ear, "if I ever catch you doing something like that again, I’ll kill you, and bury your body in the woods."

You release Murphy, who slumps to the ground and return the knife to Bellamy Blake. The gathered crowd slowly begins to move away.

"Nice moves," Blake says. "What did you say you were arrested for?"

"I didn’t," you reply brusquely, walking away.

"So what was it?" the older boy persists.

You turn and look back at him. "Wasting oxygen on an illegal spacewalk," you say simply.

Blake’s low whistle is interrupted by the return of the Mount Weather party, who are missing the kid with the goggles.

++

You volunteer for the rescue mission. You try to reassure the kid’s friend (you think his name is Monty) that they’ll find his missing friend, but you doesn’t know how successful you've been.

Soon you're wandering through the woods with the others. You overhear Murphy and Blake murmuring about wristbands and rolls his eyes at their predictability. Like hell you're taking it off; it’s letting the Ark know, your family know, that you're still alive.

Soon enough Murphy starts cajoling you about removing the wristband. You let his words fly over him as they walk.

"I’m telling you now," you turn his head to look at the boy behind him, "you’ll have to pry this band off my cold, dead body before I take it off."

"That can be arranged," Murphy starts forward, but you shove him backwards into a tree.

"Guys, come on," Wells says.

You stare at Murphy as you continue. "I mean it. You try and remove it, I’ll stick a knife in you."

You turn and quickly walk off, fast enough that the others have to jog to catch up.

++

The power struggle is resolved. Clarke Griffin assumes control – although Blake makes a compelling argument. It’s close until you speak up.

"I agree about how oppressive the Ark is, but without communication we’re completely screwed. We have no weapons, no technology and very few people with useful skills. That’s not counting the Grounders."

Somehow your words are enough to sway the majority of the group into following Clarke. She throws you a grateful look, while you nod in return.

There are still pockets of resistance, but they gradually fizzle out.

++

You quickly notice how people move away when you approach them. You talk to Wells about it one afternoon while sorting out rations.

"They’re scared of you," the other boy points out, with a grin.

"What?" The baffled expression on your face makes Wells’ smile grow.

"You don’t smile much," he explains. "Plus that knife fight with Murphy was pretty vicious."

"Oh," you say. Then, "I promise I’m not usually that violent. But there’s just something about him that–"

"–makes you want to punch him in the face," Wells finishes. "You’re not the only one who feels that way."

You chuckle before changing the subject.

(Wells is beginning to feel like a friend. You're not sure how you feel about that)

++

You eventually let Monty use your wristband to make contact with the Ark. It’s a spontaneous decision on your part, made after you saw the younger boy’s frustration at his failed attempt.

"Take mine," you offer, holding your arm out.

Now they’re sitting together, you watching as Monty carefully fiddles with the band. "Do you have family up there?" you asks.

Monty nods. "My parents. You?"

"I’ve got my parents and Raven," you swallow heavily as you think about them.

Who’s Raven? Monty asks.

"My girlfriend," you reply. "She’s amazing. Only eighteen and already a Zero-G." A smile creeps onto your face as you talk about her. It's an automatic action at this point after all these years of knowing and loving that girl.

Monty whistles in awe.

"Yeah," you laugh a little. "She’s the youngest one in over fifty years. She’s going to change the world."

Monty makes a noise that resembles a laugh. "Wow," he says. "I never would’ve picked you to be this…"

"Hmm?"

"Sappy," is the reply.

"That’s Raven for you," you laugh.

"You know if you walk around with that look, no one’s going to take you seriously?" Monty teases.

"I don’t know why everyone thinks I’m scary," he muses. You really don't. You consider yourself to be fairly even tempered.

"It’s because you never smile and you’re good with knives," comes the reply.

(Even though the attempt ends up failing, you still can’t see it as a complete loss.)

++

Finn Collins shows him and Clarke a bunker in the woods one morning. You look around and groan loudly when you spot a book about origami.

"Not a fan?" Finn asks, moving to see what's caused your displeasure.

"Not really," you reply.

You remember finding a similar book in the Ark library years ago. You had suddenly being seized with the idea of making something for Raven’s birthday, which had been coming up. You remember folding the paper for hours until finally getting the right shape and how much longer it took you to make the same thing with metal.

Eventually you'd finished it, and felt flushed with triumph at the bird, which had looked sleek and silver against your kitchen table.

Raven had nearly cried when you gave it to her. She’d put it over her head before kissing you passionately. Your heart had stuttered every time you saw her fiddle with her new necklace.

"I admire people who can do it," you say. "But honestly my hands haven’t really been able to do anything like it. I don’t have enough patience."

(That said, all the frustration and sore fingers had been worth it for the look on your girlfriend’s face.)

++

As the days go by, the delinquents gradually succeed in making a society of sorts. You throw yourself into work, whether it’s building, hunting or healing (you'd approached Clarke and offered to assist her with medical matters.

"It’s dangerous to only have one doctor," you'd said, "and even if you still do the more advanced stuff, at least I can help with bandages and minor injuries. You won't be overstretched."

"You’d do that?" Clarke had replied, a hint of gratitude seeping through her voice.

You later realised that was the moment Clarke became a friend.)

But all your attempts to distract yourself are useless once night falls. Lying in your tent, your thoughts always drift up to the sky, to the Ark.

You compose letters in your head, letters you'd send your family if there was any way of contacting them.

Dear Dad, I’ve never seen this much green before in my life and I miss you.

Dear Mom, today I caught three rabbits while hunting and I miss you.

Dear Raven, I’m helping Monty construct a door that mechanically opens and closes the gate and I miss you.

Dear Dad, I know you always said to use your words, but I swear to god I’m going to punch John Murphy in the face one day.

Dear Mom, there are so many flowers down here, you’d love it.

Dear Raven, I’ve seen so many birds and I can’t wait to show you.

Dear Raven, every time I try to go to sleep, all I can see is you.

Raven, I love you and I miss you.

Raven, Raven, Raven.

You know you're not the only one missing their families. You've heard enough people talking and crying about theirs – you tends to avoid those people. A combination of faith and living to spite the Council who sent you down to Earth keeps you going most days.

++

A shooting star appears in the sky when you're on watch one night. It burns bright across the dark sky and you suddenly remember your Mom’s bedtime stories of wishes made on stars and how they promise to come true.

"That’s not a shooting star, it’s from the Ark!" someone cries out.

"Maybe they’re sending more people?"

(You hope so.)

++

You head out with Clarke early the next morning to find the pod. You eventually come to a clearing where the pod landed, only to find it open and the occupant already outside. Your heart stops as you see one of the people you've missed the most since coming to the ground.

"Raven?" your voice is barely a whisper. If this is a mirage, it's a cruel one.

Your girlfriend turns her head and the glee on her face (at finally landing on Earth, no doubt) deepens as she sees you. "Y/N!"

You abandon all composure as you run to her. She's just as quick and both your bodies collide hard.

"Oh my god, oh my god, it’s you," you babble as you hug her tightly.

"I’ve missed you so much," she whispers into your ear, sounding just as manic.

You turn your head to chase her lips and the kiss that follows is one of the sweetest you've shared. Hands move over clothes and skin as they trace familiar paths.

"But how…?" you ask after a minute, leaning your head back. Your hands stay tangled in her shirt and hair, mirroring hers which clutch your jacket in a white knuckled grip. Neither of you are willing to let go of each other just yet.

"Abby Griffin," she says proudly. "She helped me get the parts to get this baby working."

"How old is that thing?" You ask, twisting your head around to look at the pod before returning back to her.

"Eh, only 97 years old," Raven shrugs nonchalantly, but you can see her pride fighting to the surface.

"Only 97 – you could’ve died Raven! You could’ve been injured! The ship could’ve blown up on impact!"

"But it didn’t," your wonderful, brilliant, crazy girlfriend counters. "I’d do worse for you and I know you’d do the same for me."

"Yes I would, but that's not the point–"

(The rest of your protests are interrupted by Raven kissing you again and the sound of Clarke’s laughter in the background. Raven already knew you would act like that; Clarke didn’t and finds it hilarious to reconcile this new information about Y/N L/N with the picture she already has of you.)

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

do you guys know of any everlark fics that are based on robin hood? specifically looking for one where katniss is the robin hood-figure in the story- i can’t find it!!

Hello Anon!

Thank you for this ask! Below is a list of Robin Hood x THG fics, it looks like several are Katniss as Robin Hood but some are not. Figured I'd list all I could find here though! Happy reading!

Between Poverty and Prosperity-Gamemakers (ff) Summary: In Panem's woodlands, the villagers of Twelve struggle to stay alive while those in the Capitol enrich themselves. Katniss Everdeen attempts to right this injustice, stealing from the rich to support the poor. She'll stop at nothing to help the people she loves, but she cannot fathom how far these actions will take her from the world she knows. Robin Hood AU, Everlark. Bullseye (An Everlark Robin Hood Adventure)-hutchabelle (ao3) Summary: Peeta Mellark is the Kingdom of Panem's Robin Hood. All he's missing is Katniss, his Maid Marian. Daughter of Robin Hood-we'reonfire (ff) Summary: Most people say Robin Hood was the best archer in the land. Legend has it, he had a secret daughter. The Merchants turn their noses up at the "tale for the feeble soul." Little did the poor Merchants know, that another Robin Hood was about to give them a run for their money. Hunter Hood-CrystallineX (ff) Summary: Take a Robin Hood, except he's a she and doesn't tow around a band of merry men. Add a sister studying to be a healer, and a baker's boy dreaming of something more. Let the games begin. AU Legend HGRomance (ao3) or (ff) Summary: People in the kingdom whispered about a legend: a boy with a bow. They said he took up residence in the woods, hiding out while committing random acts of kindness, namely stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. Historical AU. Robin Hood. Of Arrows and Burnt Bread-sadbrowngirlpoetry (ao3) Summary: Halle Mellark is in love with Robin Everdeen who is best friends with Gayle Hawthorne, and that complicates matters. Then the Games happen, and that changes them entirely. AU series of interconnected one-shots. Genderswap rewrite of The Hunger Games. Robin hood and the juggling lumberjack-Thatoneloserkid (ff) Summary: Katniss tries to teach Johanna how to shoot a bow while Johanna tries to teach Katniss how to throw an axe. Robin Hoods Identity-I-piTy-Da-FoOl (ff) Summary: He saved me, the one that fascinates me the most. That boy has something about him. Something alluring. And even I, Katniss Everdeen, the unknown warrior that most fear, is attracted to him. She has no time for this. She has to take care of her soldiers. They're her life. Will Katniss's mother make or break her? Will Katniss keep her reason to fight? Or will Snow take it away too? Sparrow-jennajuicebox (ao3) Summary: Mad, I might be. But I will never be convenient. Tales-writing4mylife13 (ff) Summary: My name is Katniss Everdeen, but you may know me as Robin Hood. I steal from the rich and give to the poor. The Sun Thief-bubblegum1425 (ao3) Summary: In the land of Panem, over a decade ago, the royal house Mellark was overthrown by the usurper Coriolanus Snow. Though the terror-filled reign of Snow and his sons has now nearly extinguished the last spark of hope in Panem's people, one boy with a bow and his Merry Band seek to restore the faith and overthrow the King. An Everlark take on Robin Hood. Fantasy AU What's a Mob to a Queen?-orphan_account (ao3) Summary: At 17 years old, Katniss vanishes off the face of the earth. Five years later, on the day of Prim's birthday, Katniss shows up at the doorstep of her old home with an ultimatum for both her sister and lifelong best friend: "Come with me now and leave everything you know behind, or stay here and never tell anyone that you ever saw me." Peeta and Prim are shocked and overjoyed to discover that Katniss is alive, but that's not all: she is the Mockingjay – the queen of a powerful, definitely illegal but morally good organization. But reuniting with Katniss has costs; they will both need to say goodbye to their old lives and their old identities if they want to survive here, and Katniss will need to decide whether or not she can truly trust her two oldest companions. Will they find a way to get their old lives back, or will they join her in her life of danger, wealth and power?

If anyone knows of a fic like this, please reblog, reply, or send an ask with fics fitting this idea and I’ll add it here!

As always, if you have any questions, comments, or suggestions, please feel free to shoot me an ask!