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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

tuxedo iv, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: Your life? Oh, it’s normal. Your cat turned into a man yesterday and you just now humped his leg to orgasm. Sorry, what? That’s not normal? O-Of course, it is! It’s like... having a roommate! You argue because you recorded him without his consent. You eat noodles that he’s trying not to bat at all meal. There are skeletons in your closet. Your fingers get stuck in a Chinese finger trap and then you get fingered. Totally normal, by the way!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; Yoongi LOVES his box; smut (fem reader, mild restraint, penetrative sex, forced orgasms, intentional voyeurism (tsk tsk, Shooky), fingering); domestic and soft moments with your cat-man; non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft shy boy Jeon Jungkook (gasp!!!) POV and bestfriend!Kim Seokjin POV; breaking of the fourth wall; you ARE a furry, oh well

yes, I reference Jin’s iconic Billboard interview answer, The Lion King (1994), Yoongi’s BTS café cereal milkshake, Bill Nye the Science Guy, PENTAGON’s ‘DO or NOT’ / ‘Shine’ / ‘Humph!”, “you got no jams”, The Addams Family (1991) – also there’s a bit of a meme scavenger hunt, I reference too many to list XD

–

part i | part ii | part iii

So.

You kinda.

Humped your cat-man’s thigh to orgasm.

You animal.

“Ah… Yoongi,” you started as your cat… man tilted his head, blinking slowly. Unnerving. Why was he staring like that? It reminded you of his previous cat self, where Shooky would watch you with his minty-green eyes, cat face expressionless, whiskers unmoving. What were cats thinking about all the time anyway?

Better yet, what the fuck was Min Yoongi thinking?

You knew what you were thinking. You were thinking that you couldn’t stare at you cum stain on his pink silk pajama leg all day, because that was a master yikes. He had tons of clothes still piled next to the front door of your apartment. All you had to do was convince him to change his outfit. Simple. Easy. Don’t make this weird. Be casual. Be cool as a cucumber. Chill out.

“Um… You should… take off the pajamas… so I can wash them… there are still more clothes you need to try on from the order, right…?”

Your dignity threw up their hands. Why do I even bother being here? I get ignored, the brain in here is smoother than KY Jelly on glass, and you would know, wouldn’t you, you–

“Take them off for me.”

“… P… Pardon?”

“I’m joking.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing down at your raised hands. You abruptly dropped them, shoving them behind your back. When did that happen? Why did you make grabby hands like that? Surely not because you were expecting anything, right? Definitely not. Not you.

You need help.

Yoongi turned around, black fur tall swishing, the back of his pink silk pants half-lowered. Your jaw went slack, only to forcefully shut back into place as you realized he was still wearing his black boxer briefs since you had spent yesterday sewing tail holes in his convenience store underwear. Of course, he was still wearing them. There was no reason to take them off.

What, did you want to look at his booty again or something?

(Yes.)

He went through the doorframe of your bedroom without saying a word.

Hold on a second.

Did Yoongi let you ride his thigh to orgasm, be sweet to you for two seconds, only to fucking bounce without a peep of acknowledgment? Just fucking yeet? Act like that was totally ordinary behavior and saunter off?

Say sike right now.

A millisecond of bravery shot through you and you bolted out of your chair, your desk rattling with your sudden action.

"Yoongi–!"

You nearly collided into him. You weren’t expecting him to be facing you and you yelped in surprise, skidding on your heels. His hands stopped your hips, freezing you in place so you didn't barrel headfirst into his chest. You flailed about, struggling to regain your balance. All this happening while he continued giving you that deadpan stare. Did anything faze this (cat) man? Shit, you were too close to his face. So close you could feel his breath on your nose.

"You should change too."

Brain malfunctioning at the softness of his tone.

"... W-What?"

Then your neck, ears, face, even your past and future self, the whole timeline became hotter than a supernova, brain erupting into nuclear fusion as Yoongi's deft fingers slid up to the waistband of your leggings, hooking underneath, stroking your skin. He leaned forward, dark eyes out of your vision, chin hovering above your shoulder.

"Urk?!"

He started pushing your leggings down.

He started.

Pushing.

Them.

DOWN!!!

"You can't stay like this all day, right?" Yoongi murmured gently, voice so deep it was resonating in your empty brain, completely clear of all thoughts except those cool fingers pushing your black leggings down, the skintight fabric catching your soaked panties and taking those on the path to hell too, which was probably where you were headed at the rate this was going. "It would be a good idea to change clothes, I think."

You think, Yoongi?

Not you.

You don't have think.

A shrill barrage of low meowing cut through the silence.

Your phone was ringing violently in your room. Yoongi paused, backing up with a frown.

"Why is your ringtone a cat chattering?" he asked, tilting his head quizzically. The continuing sonata of cat chitters escalated before his dark eyes narrowed in recognition. He glared at you and pulled his hands away from your hips, snapping you out of your daze.

"You recorded me?"

"What, what, what?" You blinked rapidly, hearing the familiar sharp chirps and barks of Shooky the cat yelling at birds outside the window. "Oh! Well, yeah... it was funny," you explained weakly, trying to shake out the fog of your horny brain.

"There's nothing funny about trespassers," Yoongi hissed, turning his heel and swiftly marching away.

"Trespassers?" you echoed, blinking in confusion. That’s why he yelled at them as a cat? Did he think he owned all the land the sun touches or something? The sound was getting louder and louder, indicating the call was about to be missed. No time to think about it. You rushed back into your room, nearly half tripping with your leggings only partway on your ass, scrambling to answer your phone. There was an uncomfortable squish between your legs. Yikes. You did need to change.

"Hello? Oh, yes, the video? I'm putting it in the Dropbox right now," you babbled, clicking out of a bizarre pop-up ad with some brown-haired guy in a sienna floral shirt and a boxy smile before placing the exported video in the shared Dropbox folder.

"Sorry, yeah, I know I usually have it done earlier. It's been a weird couple of days..."

Kim Seokjin was furious.

Furious!

His best friend ignored his face. His beautiful face! How could she! He fumed, deciding to instead spend his time wisely, as he always did.

He stared at his reflection and nodded, stroking his chin. Yes. A true winner. Look at that brilliant smile. Perfect. He looked great today, as he did every day. Seokjin looked away from the mirror on his desk and went back to his MapleStory life.

After a quick change and final edits of the completed video sent off to the client, you left your room to find that Yoongi had stacked his new clothes on the coffee table. The brown cardboard box was on the sofa with him (???), as if it was a human being instead of an ordinary box. He had neatly folded the plastic packaging and placed it on the kitchen counter so you could sort it into the correct recycling.

"Oh... thanks."

He was now wearing a white t-shirt and black pants that actually seemed like they fit, the back of said pants halfway down his butt to accommodate for his tail. He was watching that historical drama; eyes glued the television. The dark brown orbs were hidden by his curtain of black hair. His pointed black ears were turned away from your direction, as if he had no desire to listen to anything you had to say.

As usual.

Yoongi's response was grunting disapprovingly at you.

You sighed, feeling a little guilty.

"To be fair, I couldn't really ask your consent when you were a cat."

Your cat-man appeared to be out of fucks to give. "You should do laundry," he huffed gruffly.

You scooted away awkwardly. "Er... yeah. Let me order some delivery for lunch first..."

"Yoongi."

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

He stared at his chopsticks, holding them up high.

"Hmm..."

His pink lips twisted, narrowing his eyes. The fingers in his other hand twitched. He had been staring at the noodles in his ramen for the past five minutes. They were probably cold now. You were getting a bit worried that he didn't like carbs or something. But then you realized that wasn't the case.

His fingers twitched again.

"They're noodles. Not string."

Yoongi didn't reply, itching to bat at the long noodles.

"Just put them in your mouth."

He gave you this look. As if to tell you, you don't usually say that. Usually someone else tells you that.

You thinned your mouth into a line.

"I know you're admiring the skinny legend that is noodles, but, yes, they're edible. Need I remind you that you used to eat string and I had to pull it out of your mouth when you choked on it?"

Yoongi scowled. Apparently, he did not like being reminded. It wasn’t that pleasant for you to remember either. At least you never had to wait until it passed through his body and never had to pull it out of the other end (ew). He peered them for several more seconds before putting them in his mouth. You noticed his ears perked up as he ate.

"You like them?" you asked.

He hummed, not looking at you. Was Yoongi still angry about the recording thing? You weren't changing your ringtone regardless of his dissatisfaction. It was cute. You liked it. And he was being a drama queen, acting all catty.

Hold on.

He was a cat.

(Man.)

"What is this?"

"Dessert."

You took a sip and choked a little at the grainy taste.

"Is that cereal?"

"Yeah. It's too hard. Better this way."

You gawked at him, holding the weird cereal milkshake with one hand and his half-sewn pants in the other. Was Yoongi being serious or fucking with you? You couldn't tell. His expression was completely neutral. His cat ears were straight up, trained in your direction, judging your reaction. He lifted his free hand and dropped a handful of rice crisps on the top of the thick white drink.

Well.

Not your preferred thick white drink.

(You nasty.)

He nodded sagely and sat down beside you.

"Show me how to sew."

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program for you to, please, consider the following.

See, by all recommendations of building healthy relationships, you should have been a responsible human being and had a serious, but necessary, conversation with your (new?) cat-man.

Hey, Yoongi, I find you quite physically attractive and we had that moment in my bedroom, so maybe there's some chemistry and, oh, I don't know, maybe you could stick that prefect looking dick inside me because I've been thinking about it nonstop since (checking watch) the literal second I realized it existed, not to be too forward or anything, you know?

That kind of speech could get you a quick restraining order in most cases, but this was your cat (man) who had lived with you – maybe against his will but, then again, he got fed regularly and when you were previously a stray you can’t complain.

So.

Do or not?

Hmm...

You could have admitted these things, but, alas, this was not the way. No, the way was to remain an absolute fucking mess every time Yoongi leaned over your shoulder to inspect your needlework, nearly stabbing yourself in the finger, your heart leaping your throat, strangling yourself with anxiety.

Fun!

Could everything be quickly solved by telling the truth?

Debatable. Yoongi didn’t seem like the kind of (cat) man to give you a straight answer. Not because he couldn’t. Mostly because he seemed to enjoy watching you struggle. Were you picking up on that?

No. You were too busy thinking about dick.

His dick.

Honestly, don't know if you should laugh or cry right now.

Jeon Jungkook flipped his phone around and around in his hand, scrunching up his face.

Should he say something?

Yes. No. Yes? No. Yes… No, no, no.

He sighed and threw his phone onto his bed.

He missed and it slid off, hitting the floor.

That was a bad sign.

“Shit.”

He dived onto the bed, scabbing around on the hardwood to pick up the fallen device. Ah, how come he was thinking about this now? He knew why. He had watched a funny cat video of a tuxedo cat and it reminded him of a certain naughty little fluffball always following around a certain owner. Jungkook hadn’t contacted said owner in nearly a year. Wouldn’t it look bad if he said anything now? But he couldn’t not think about it either. That smile was on his mind all the time now. That feeling from back then, floating around in his head. He sighed again, followed by inhaling with his upper teeth pressed against his inner lower lip, creating a loud sucking sound that no one else could hear because he lived alone.

Alone.

Jungkook lifted his phone, dying sunlight reflecting off the screen, a shine that blinded him for a short moment. He clicked his tongue, squinting as he spied the number still on the screen.

“Ah, why am I always a loser in front of love?”

He wasn’t really saying it to anyone in particular. No one could reply to him anyway.

He tossed the phone carelessly on the pillow and it slid behind it, falling in between the mattress and the bedframe.

“Shit!”

Jungkook spent five minutes fishing his phone out of the narrow crevice before firmly placing it on the bed beside him, pointing at it angrily, glaring at it.

“No! Bad.”

The phone did nothing. It was not sentiment.

Humph! He let out a frustrated puff of breath and flopped down on the bed.

His phone flew up from the force of his flop and smacked him in the nuts.

“SHIT!”

“Huh, you pick up things so fast. So meticulous.”

You watched as Yoongi brought the needle through the fabric in slow but clean strokes, following your previous demonstration. For someone who only had opposable thumbs for less than two days, he was surprisingly dexterous. Seemed like he could do a lot with his hands. No. Stop that. Stop being weird.

“Are you a genius?”

Yoongi didn’t hesitate, not looking up.

“Of course.”

You regretted asking. He continued, oblivious to your annoyed expression.

“I’m a cat.”

“All cats are geniuses?” you retorted disbelievingly.

“Most of them are.” His eyes flickered to you, eyebrows raising. “Compared to humans anyway.”

Was this a dig at you and your missing brain cells after running into things chasing after him and your brain exploding at his hotness? Which he wasn’t, by the way. Yeah, that’s right. Take that, Min Yoongi! You’re being mean, so therefore your attractiveness points are going down in this brain, yes, they are and there’s nothing you can do about it, yup, absolutely NOTHING–

He held up the pants, showing off his handiwork.

“Did I do a good job?”

His voice was soft, unsure, head slightly tilted, velvety ears eagerly perked to listen to your response.

Oh no.

Oh nooo.

Oh nooooooo.

He’s cute.

“Yeah. That looks amazing, Yoongi,” you heard yourself saying, smiling at him.

His fair-skinned cheeks flushed pink, lowering the pants quickly to snip the excess thread off, placing the needle in the cat-shaped pincushion like you had done earlier so he could carefully tie a knot to seal his hard work.

Shit.

You were whipped for him.

Damnnit.

To be honest, nothing had changed. You were whipped for him as a cat too.

“I’m going to clear out some space the closet so you have somewhere to put your clothes, okay?”

“A-ah… Thanks…” he mumbled, picking up another pair of pants. Jeans this time.

“Oh, with these you can simply cut the hole. No need to sew because this type of fabric won’t fray too much. Ah, but not directly on the seam. Maybe here?” You pointed slightly to the right of the back middle seam. Your mouth kept talking despite not having any more instructions for him. “Did you know the butt rip was fashionable among women for a little while? Under the pocket though, not the center. That’s just weird.”

Yoongi tilted his head the other way.

“Women are weird,” he said in a deadpan voice.

You narrowed your eyes. “Oi.”

He picked up the scissors, raising an eyebrow at you. “Are you not weird?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He’s got you there. Shit. You puffed your cheeks and turned around, stalking off to your bedroom. Why was he always right? One day, he won’t be right and you’ll mark it on your fucking calendar. Humph.

You slowed at your doorframe, remembering his sheepishly proud face as he showed off his sewing. Crap. What was Min Yoongi so cute for? And how were you supposed to look at other guys after knowing your cat (man) was so damn adorable? And observant and diligent? And driven to be independent, asking questions and trying to do things on his own not even forty-eight hours after becoming human? Cooking, sewing, folding his own clothes… what’s next, playing the fucking piano?

Yeah, right.

You snorted and went into your bedroom.

“What’s this?”

You looked up, half-buried in idol merchandise you didn’t even know you had. How long had these sweatshirts been sitting here in their plastic packages? And these posters left in the tubes at the back of your closet? You shouldn’t own so much stuff. You should sell it. You weren’t going to, because these were limited edition items and you would have to be crazy to sell stuff with the cute faces of your favorite idols. You stuck you head out of the closet to see what Yoongi was referring to.

“What? Oh, that?”

You wheezed in embarrassment, ducking back in the closet, pretending to be busy.

“Uh… so… YouTube and Twitch had a crackdown on using copyrighted music and I thought, well, maybe I could maybe make my own, so I brought a keyboard but, uh…”

You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly, trying to figure out how to say you had no musical inclination and only had the ability to appreciate it.

“Basically, I got no jams.”

The keyboard was still in its box. You had opened it and attempted to learn piano, but well, you were shit. Also, you gave up pretty quickly. It was embarrassing considering you had spent so much money on it and were all confident when buying it, only for it to become a hidden occupant in the back of your closet. This was before Shooky – er, Yoongi – had come into your life. Yes. It had been there for literal years.

“I was going to donate it,” you added with a sigh.

You suddenly noticed something out of the corner of your eye. You frowned and reached in, grabbing the thin, hard object before pulling it out.

A…

Skeleton in your closet.

A long-lost Halloween decoration? Why was this here?

“Can I have it?”

You looked up, holding the mysterious plastic skeleton like a small child. “What?”

Yoongi pointed to the keyboard box, black tail swishing rapidly. There was a liveliness in his dark brown eyes and his pointed ears were sticking straight up. You narrowed your eyes.

“You don’t want that skinny box for some reason, do you?” you accused.

He pursed his lips at you, scowling. “No, you can throw away the box. I want to keep the keyboard.”

Huh? “Uh… okay, I guess. More space in the closet, I suppose. Oh, wait…” You stumbled into the back of the closet, feeling around. “I brought a stand for it, hold on… fuck!” You jammed your finger against a metal pole and howled, quickly retreating your hand to massage it. Fuck, that hurt! Scowling, you reached back in to grab the metal keyboard stand and yank it out from between your tightly packed clothes.

“Are you dead?”

“Shit!”

You jumped nearly ten feet, almost banging your head on the clothing rail if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s swift movement of grabbing your shoulders, pulling you to him. He didn’t have to pull far, because he was right behind you. How did he always sneak up on you when he wore a damn bell around his neck that announced his presence? Sorcery. Aliens. Voodoo witchcraft. Now you were convinced these things existed.

(Your cat turning into a man wasn’t enough for you to believe in magic? What’s wrong with you?)

“You’re really clumsy,” Yoongi remarked.

No, you’re spooky, you thought. One of your hands was on his chest. Instant heart palpitations. And handsome. Crap.

“Are you going to do something weird again?”

Weird? You were never weird. What was this man going on about? You needed to reprimand him. Put him in his place! Enough is enough, Min Yoongi! You can’t win over me every time! You raised your head to face him, opening your mouth to give him a piece of your mind.

Yoongi was centimeters away from your face.

You froze.

Ice effect overlapping your whole body.

You dropped the keyboard stand.

Thankfully, it simply fell against your clothing, leaning against your sweatshirts. It stayed upright, held up by the clothing. You didn’t have to worry about it for the time being. It was perfectly fine, unlike you. You were not fine. Not fine at all, staring at Yoongi’s upturned upper lip and unreadable dark brown eyes, slowly blinking at you. Hands on your shoulders, holding you close to him.

Not letting go.

!!!

Jeon Jungkook placed his phone on his desk and chopped the air, threatening it.

It wasn’t sentient.

He still didn’t trust it.

He glared at his phone angrily and shuffled back to his bed to have a nice, calm rest that didn’t involve his nuts getting destroyed. Ugh. He was bored. He had plenty to do. Schoolwork. Studying. Cleaning his room covered in clothes. Attempting to cook.

Jungkook made a face at the ceiling.

The last time he tried to cook some glazed sweet potatoes they had been glued to the plate somehow. A neat magic trick, but not edible. He couldn’t get them to unstick, much less be eaten. He had to order out that night. Come to think of it, he spent most of his money on ordering out. Maybe that was a bad habit.

He ran a hand through his bleached, blond hair that had too much toner in it so it had turned slightly silvery-purple. An at-home experiment. Another bad habit.

Jungkook groaned, rolling onto his face.

“I need someone older to take care of me,” he mumbled into the sheets.

Someone older… with a certain tuxedo cat, perhaps? He pouted even though no one was there to witness his cuteness.

“Ahhhhhhh…”

He yelled quietly into his bedding, letting go.

Finally thinking about you.

In front of you, he could tease. He could poke fun. It was easy. You were just so flustered around him, not really trying to hide your attraction to him. The first time he had met you was when he went bowling with Seokjin-hyung (he won, much to the disdain of his hyung). You had stopped by to say hello and Seokjin had introduced you two. It had been a fairly innocent meeting, mostly because for a long time Jungkook couldn’t open his mouth to say anything at all. You were wearing a huge white t-shirt with a colorful strawberry graphic, a wide-brimmed straw hat, and white sneakers with black laces. It had been a hot summer day, he remembered. You were already pretty simply by standing there, chatting animatedly with his hyung. Jungkook tried not to look too closely, sneaking glances in between your conversation.

Seokjin had absolutely no qualms about shitting on your outfit.

“Yah, grandma, you’re off to pick some strawberries in the field or something?”

You had shoved him, rolling your eyes. “You’re a grandpa too! Look at you, losing to kid.”

Was that referring to him? “Ah, I’m not a kid.” Shit. His Busan dialect slipped out a little in his nervousness, deepening his voice.

Your cheeks had peppered pink. “A-ah… right…”

Oh?

Oh!

Oh!!!

You shook your head abruptly and reached into your tuxedo-cat-printed tote bag. “Here’s your freaking hard drive, you monkey,” you had said to Seokjin, handing over the small paper bag.

“Did you manage to restore all my files?” Seokjin asked worriedly, completely ignoring your insult.

You shrugged, looking rueful. “I don’t know how many you had, but I did the best I could.” You leaned forward, eyes narrowing, whispering in his ear. Didn’t matter. Jungkook was close enough to hear.

“Stop downloading porn!”

Jungkook snorted.

Seokjin glared at you. “Excuse me, I am living a healthy lifestyle, do not judge me!” he hissed. “And not in front of the child!”

Yeah, well, Jungkook didn’t let you think he was a child for long.

He wasn't really sure why he was attracted to you. It wasn't only because you were pretty. He just had a strong urge to get a reaction out of you. Ah, maybe that was it. He liked seeing your reactions to things and did everything he could to get more and more interesting reactions out of you. You never told Jungkook to stop. You told Seokjin to stop all the time.

"I swear if you make one more pun, I'm going to tie your tongue into a knot!"

"Then I'd really be tongue-tied, eh? Eh?! WAIT, NO, WATCH THE FACE, NOT MY FACE!!!"

Jungkook couldn't help himself. He had to mess with you.

Fuck.

(Yes, actually.)

He couldn't stop. It was too fun. It didn't help that you had a cute surprised face. Didn't help that you had a great smile. Didn’t help that you had an amazing body under your clothes and knew exactly how to use it (Jungkook wouldn’t admit it, but he learned a lot from you). Didn't help that you would chase after your tuxedo cat and scoop up that furball even after getting railed by him, which Jungkook found very impressive.

"Shooky, you loon, I told you to stop running on the counters..."

And you would cradle that cat to your chest, petting his head and waiting for him to purr and lick your nose before releasing him, satisfied that he was no longer going to be a menace. He still was though. He was a cat. You forgave Shooky every time.

Just like how you let Jungkook get away with everything.

Present Jungkook frowned, rolling onto his back, frowning at the ceiling. Maybe you thought he was a fuckboy and had a negative image of him. He scratched his head, tongue in cheek, thinking hard. No. You didn't seem like the type. You were never angry at him, not really, not even when he interrupted your work to mess around in bed. Exasperated, maybe, but it never seemed like you were holding an internal grudge or upset at his nonchalant actions. Ah, but he hadn’t tried to talk to you in almost a whole year. Would you think he was a dick if he tried to contact you now? He couldn’t ask you. He couldn’t ask your best friend. Seokjin-hyung still had no idea.

Jungkook laughed to himself.

He kind of went behind his hyung's back, whoops.

He looked to his left side, the side you used to fall asleep on when he spent the night. He could imagine it, your past self and his past self, your hair on your pillow, blankets loosely over your chest, his hand on your breasts as you slept.

A pair of mint-green eyes glaring at him from the left side of your body.

Jungkook remembered poking that pink nose with his index finger, the rest of his hand still on your tits. The tuxedo cat had given him a very displeased look.

"Are you mad?"

The cat didn't reply. He was a cat.

"You're really lucky. You get to be with her every day," Jungkook had whispered, not wanting to wake you up. "She takes good care of you, you know. I see how much she loves you."

The cat closed his eyes, resting his furry head on your arm.

"Do you love her back?"

Maybe. Maybe not. Jungkook didn't know. He wasn't a cat. He couldn't ask in cat language. He let go of your breasts for a second to scratch the top of Shooky's head, right between those velvety ears. He began purring like a little motor.

You continued your adventures in la la land, oblivious to this interaction.

"I guess cats are kind of simple, huh?" Jungkook mused, smoothing out the black fur on top of that little head. "You don't have to think about much. You don't have to get a job, plan for the future, or worry about being a good husband."

His hand lowered.

"But I do."

You breathed softly against him, nuzzling closer to his body. Jungkook put his hand back on your breasts and you stilled, lost in your dreams. He breathed out, warmth against your skin. He saw the side of your lips twitch ever so slightly upwards, but maybe it was only his imagination wishing to see what he wanted.

Only a wish.

He had placed his nose by your cheek and breathed in, losing himself in dreams as well.

Yoongi looked into your eyes.

Then both of you turned to opposite sides and sneezed loudly.

"Fuck–"

"That was horrible," Yoongi hissed, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand and backing up. "Ugh, human bodies are awful."

You shook your head roughly. "Someone must be thinking about me... and you, I guess..." you mumbled, clearing your head before prodding him in the chest. "Also, last time I checked, now you're human too, so jokes on you. Hope you enjoy the suffering!" You stuck your tongue out childishly.

Yoongi gave you an annoyed look, reaching over you to grab the keyboard stand. You stiffened at his closeness, but he quickly withdrew, taking the metal stand and leaving you disappointed, but not surprised. Couldn't even pretend to be shocked.

He lifted it up so it wouldn’t drag on the floor and began to walk out of the room, ignoring you.

Classic.

You thinned your mouth into a line and picked up the white plastic skeleton. What to do with this? Fuck it. Back into the closet it goes, along with your winter wardrobe, summer wardrobe, and other knickknacks.

Well.

Maybe you could donate a couple things to charity.

Like this Chinese finger trap. Why was this here?

You stuck your fingers in it.

S... shit!

Yoongi reappeared to grab the keyboard. You opened your mouth, about to ask for help, looking up to see your cat-man standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, glaring. Very displeased and disapproving, reminding you a whole lot of a certain tuxedo fluffball.

"I'll say it again."

Huh? You gave him a confused look.

He pointed to his pointed, velvety black ears.

"I'm a cat, duh."

And then he walked out. Fuck him. You didn't need his help.

You couldn’t get it off.

Panik!

Yes, you can. It was just a finger trap. You were smart. You graduated university. You had been a human for many more years than Min Yoongi. He had been human for two days! And besides, Yoongi was mean. You didn’t need a meanie to help you. You were a strong, independent woman who didn’t need no (cat) man.

Kalm.

You…

You couldn’t get it off!!!

PANIK!!!!!!!

“… What are you doing?”

You were the epitome of the emoji holding back tears.

“Y… Yoongi…” you whined.

He blinked at you, holding the manual of the keyboard upside down. The keyboard was already set up on the stand, pushed up against one of the walls of your living room. He was using the cardboard box that his clothes came in – he really loved that damn box – as a makeshift seat.

“Are you dying?”

You held up your hands, pouting. The bronze dragon Chinese finger trap was still stuck on your index fingers. It had been roughly twenty, maybe thirty minutes.

Your cat-man just blinked at you and it.

“I… can’t get it off… Help…”

He raised an eyebrow and put the manual on the keyboard before walking over to you. He placed his chin in between his index finger and his thumb, frowning. Looking this way and that. The realization was slowly kicking in.

Yoongi wasn’t hiding his smirk very well.

“You know how to take it off!” you howled, smacking him in the chest.

He cackled, backing up as you repeatedly whacked him with the back of your hands, furious because it was obvious that he knew what to do and was simply not doing it to piss you off, his grin getting wider and wider, still not saying anything, this little shit, backing up into your living room as you chased him, stupid cat-man was fucking fast, dodging you easily, your joined hands and annoyed demeanor making you a bit wobbly.

“Min Yoongi, I swear I’ll–”

“You’ll what?” he teased, raising his hands in mock innocence. “Maybe I don’t know?”

You scowled at him. “You definitely know.”

He smirked.

Shit.

It was sexy and you were supposed to be mad!

You were next to the keyboard now. And a certain something. Hm. You jerked your head to the cardboard box. His eyes widened.

“You wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“I would.”

“You wouldn’t, you heathen.”

“You better fucking believe I would!”

(You’re threatening to recycle a cardboard box to force your cat-man to get you out of a metal finger trap that you put yourself in. Um, are you okay? Better yet, are both of you okay???)

He marched over to you, relenting with an angry huff, yanking up your hands.

“There’s a trick to it, of course.”

He pressed the dragon’s horns in tandem with the dragon’s beard on either side and the trap released your red fingers, making you gasp at the sudden freedom. Holy shit. You stared at your freed index fingers. You had two hands. Wow. Amazing. Show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique…

Yoongi placed the finger trap on the coffee table.

“Hmph. This thing is probably only worth three dollars.”

You poked your index fingers together, suddenly ashamed. “Sorry I threatened your box.”

Yoongi grunted, cat ears flicking back and forth in annoyance.

You poked his stomach with your index fingers. “Er… I just… wanted you to help me...”

“You weren’t going to do it anyway.”

You puffed your cheeks, narrowing your eyes, irritation flaring back. “Well, maybe I was! What were you going to do, leave me like that, unable to use my hands for the rest of my life?” You jabbed him repeatedly in the chest, driving your point home in between your snappish words. “Hmm? I need hands to do things! Important things!”

Yoongi suddenly grabbed your wrists and held them up over your head.

(Aw shit, here we go again.)

“Y-Yoongi?!”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“What important things do you need to do with your hands?” he asked.

Oh shit.

Oh no.

Why was his vice suddenly so deep? Did he even know???

Your eyes widened, brain malfunctioning, your last two working brain cells rushing to the library to find the book titled ‘things you can do with your hands’, opening it, reading, handsy things. That was it. That was all you had at this moment. Why was it that your brain had the memory equal to the RAM of a fucking Tamagotchi every time your cat-man touched you?

Oh, yeah, that’s right, because he was a cat literally two days ago and you never thought about fucking your cat because that’s just fucking weird, but now he’s a man, so maybe it’s okay, unless it’s not, and then what does that make you? FUCKING WEIRD, THAT’S WHAT.

You yelped as your back collided to the wall. When had you walked that far? What was going on? What was life??? You were yanked back to reality as Yoongi leaned down, tilting his head, eyebrow still cocked, dark eyes darker from his fluffy black hair falling over his eyes.

“I hear you don’t always like being able to use your hands.”

Holyfuckingshitcrap.

Instantly, your cheerful brain decided to play the memory of you begging Jeon Jungkook to hold down your wrists so you couldn’t stop him and his relentless assault on your pussy, one hand grasping both your wrists and the other rubbing two fingers on your clit, thrusting his hard cock in and out of you as he abused the sensitive bundle of nerves, pinning you to your bed, panting in your face.

“You like this, noona?” Jungkook had purred.

(Respectfully.)

Voice low, deep, and sexy, driving you insane, waves of pleasure crashing into you over and over, pussy throbbing with repeated orgasm.

“F-Fuck, yes, oh fuck, Jungkook, yes… don’t s-stooop…”

Shooky had sat on the highest level of his cat tree, glaring down at you two.

Shit, shit, shit…

Yoongi leaned in even more, eyes disappearing, lips next to your ear. You felt him transfer one of your wrists to his other hand, now holding both with one hand as the other fell against your body.

“In fact, I’ve seen it firsthand,” he whispered, low, soft, dangerous.

Your brain ended the film reel in your head, giving you two mental thumbs-up and beaming happily at you as if it had done a great thing.

No, brain.

You’ve fucked me over and now I’m horny as fuck!

A needy whimper popped out of you as Yoongi’s free hand slipped between your bodies, fingers dancing deftly across the fabric of your sweatshirt, following the rhythm of your racing heart as it went down, down, too fast, sanity unable to keep up, you rising into his touch, his fingers sliding underneath the waistband of your leggings. This pair wasn’t as tight as the previous pair, but the fabric still clung to your skin just as tightly.

Wait. Is that you? Moaning?

(Yes.)

He dragged them down your hips, having to let go of the waistband for a moment to push them past the sides before resuming, you moaning in the space where he should have a human ear, but he didn’t, because Yoongi was a cat-man and his pointed furry ears were at the top of his head.

“Y… Yoongi…”

“Hm?”

His soft lips lightly pressed against your ear and you shivered. His grip on your wrists wasn’t very tight. You could break out any time. He was only loosely holding you.

“I… I am…” you quivered, voice shaking.

“I want to make you feel good.”

His murmur was so gentle, so calm, so quiet that it almost didn’t feel real. Almost a purr.

“Do you want me to make you feel good?”

Thump.

“Yes.”

You said it.

Your panties were leaving with your leggings, shoved down mid-thigh. Your name in your ear, spoken by Min Yoongi, his body hovering over yours, black hair against your cheek, his fingers slipping between your legs, your heart slamming in your chest, thighs squeezing his hand.

“Feels nice here,” Yoongi mumbled, breath feathering on your skin. A single finger grazed your wetness and you gasped, his raspy chuckle in your ear. “Wet.”

Your eye twitched, slightly annoyed. No, really? Thanks for letting me know, it’s not like I can fucking feel it myself or anything, I absolutely need your riveting play-by-play–

“Urk!”

Yoongi scooped two fingers into your pussy and felt around inside, rubbing his fingertips against your throbbing walls.

“Ah…” He was breathing hard, pushing them in joint by joint, his own inhale shallowing. “Fuck, it’s so tight in here, are you alright?”

Oh, my fucking God, Yoongi, just fucking destroy me, I’m not a virgin!

You sucked in a shaking breath, mentally beating your inner thot back down. “F-Feels really nice, Yoongi… just… a little more…” He sank his fingers all the way to the knuckles. “Fuuuck, yes, oh, fuck yes…”

You rocked your hips into it, moaning, eyes closing, building up a pace, not really waiting for him to figure out that he could move his fingers too. It didn’t matter though, because Yoongi was highly observant and diligent, and, as much as you avoided to admit it, he had seen you get fingered hundreds of times, all over the apartment, in all sorts of embarrassing positions and with plenty of visible, graphic, high-definition detail, better than any porn video.

By – yup, you guessed it – Jeon Jungkook.

Yoongi began his own pace to match yours, thrusting his two fingers in and out until you were a hopeless mess, whining and bucking against his touch, your juices coating his hand, staring up at the ceiling with the tips of his black ears in your peripheral vision, tilted towards you to listen to every single one of your sounds. His heavy exhale invaded your head, lost in Yoongi’s rhythm that was uniquely his, only able to cry out, harder or faster, losing yourself in him, his scent, the smell of your vanilla body wash, and the rapidly strengthening sweetness between your legs rising up despite it dripping down your thighs.

“Yoongi… oh, fuck, Yoongi…”

It just felt too good, speed, strength, sound, wet messy squelches of his fingers entering you over and over, your pussy responding in kind, shuddering around them, clenching tight, hips rocking into every plunge to deepen the stroke, prolonging your own orgasm, savoring the moment.

“You feel so good…”

That wasn’t you.

That was Yoongi.

Whispering in your ear, probably not even realizing his own dirty talk.

“So fucking wet and warm,” he murmured, the rumble purring in his chest, soothing but also far too sexy. “Sucking my fingers back in, fucking me back… You really like me this much?” His lips brushed your ear, chaste kisses compared to the rough fingering of his slippery digits pushing into you repeatedly, the sounds getting louder and lewder because you were getting wetter and wetter. “Am I really that good-looking to you?”

Yoongi, are you BLIND, DEAF, or BOTH???

“Fuck yes, you are, what the fuck?” you gasped out, turning your head slightly, one of his dark brown eyes locking with yours, your jaw clenched with the effort of you holding back your orgasm to respond to his ludicrous question. “You are so fucking handsome I couldn’t even last two days of being in your presence, thirsting after you!”

You heard Yoongi chuckle, the sound resonating and teasing your ear.

“Actually, you couldn’t even last one, remember?” he drawled slyly.

His knuckle grazed your throbbing, aroused clit.

“Fuck!”

Your body twisted, whining wail torn out of you as you came, pushing your head and hands against the wall, nerves sparking and shaking, intense pleasure flooding all over your senses from holding back, breathless whimpers of Yoongi’s name, grinding into his hand. He let go of your wrists. They prickled with pins and needles of lost circulation, but you didn’t give a shit, grabbing his hand between your legs and shoving it back in you before it could retreat, riding out your orgasm, milking it for every single gram of ecstasy, cherishing every single second of another’s hand inside you, not just another but your disturbingly attractive man who was previously a cat sleeping in your lap exactly forty-eight hours ago as you innocently watched American Horror Story.

“Y… Yoongi?” you panted, orgasm petering out, trickling waves subsiding.

“Y… Yes?”

He wasn’t making fun of you. You could hear the nervousness in his voice.

“Can I kiss you?”

His face appeared in front of yours.

“Yes.”

You didn’t think twice.

You closed your eyes and leaned forward, lips on his, your satisfied sigh tickling his skin, kissing him hard, the intimacy you desired for so long, moments you spent all year trying to keep it at bay, no one to show your affection but tiny kisses on Shooky’s furry head, but now one of your hands was cupping Yoongi’s cheek, deepening the kiss, him pressing back against you, sandwiching you between the wall and himself. You let go of his hand between your legs and held both his cheeks, peppering light pecks against that lovely mouth. You wanted to kiss him over and over, so nice, so lovely, his barely-there gasps drifting on your lips with every kiss.

His fingers slipped out and touched your thigh.

You drew back, heart thudding, still holding his face, his round cheeks a little squished in your hands.

He raised his hand and put his pussy-soaked fingers in his mouth.

You jerked your hands back. “Y-Yoongi!” you exclaimed, shocked.

His pink tongue slipped around his fingers, tiny kitten licks to slurp it all up. He hummed, small smirk playing on his lips. You gawked at him.

“Y-You don’t have to–”

“You like it, don’t you?”

You shut your mouth, cheeks burning with heat.

Yoongi smirked wider, nimble tongue slipping around and around, your eyes glued to the movement, brain already dreaming up lecherous scenarios. His dark brown eyes flickered to you, eyebrows rising.

“Hmm…”

“W-What?” you snapped, trying to collect yourself. He was giving you that look again. That enigmatic expression of maybe-maybe-not. Yoongi shrugged, taking his fingers out of his mouth.

“I think we should do that again sometime.”

Your mind went blank.

Again? Now? Later?

Next Tuesday?

WHEN, MIN YOONGI, WHEN?

“… Urk?”

Those cunning dark brown orbs sparkled with mischief. “Hmm, then again, maybe we’ll do something different next time,” he pondered out loud, taunting you with the suggestive depth of his voice. He backed up, tail swaying from side to side, his grin widening, turning into an open-mouthed smirk that showed off his pretty teeth and devious expression.

His next words were the verbal equivalent of pushing your full glass of brainpower right off the table and sending it crashing to the floor.

“I have a lot of things I want to try.”

part v

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

386 notes · View notes

blazedgraysons · 3 years

Note

babe can u bless us w some new years smut w papi gray ?

oml i’m sorry it took me so long to finish this but of course, angel!! lmaoo let’s start the new year out with some hate sex with gray.

warnings: so i guess the words papi gray triggered something in me because i don’t really know what this is anymore. anyways hatefucking, a smidge of choking, some dirty talk and the return of my fave: cocky fuckboy grayson. anyways hope you like it bby <333

New Year’s had never been your favorite holiday. Too many blacked-out people in a bar, all with high hopes for the year that come quickly crashing down the next day along with their hangovers. Plus, it doesn’t help that you’ve been puked on two NYEs in a row.

It wasn’t like you had a personal vendetta against the holiday, just the older you got, the more you wanted to spend New Years' at home. So you ended up creating your own traditions: Indian food, shitty beer, and rewatching your favorite chick flicks.

This is why you were so surprised to find yourself outside of a huge party this year. Your two best friends had dragged you with them, explaining how they didn’t want to ring in New Year’s without you.

“I look like a disco ball.” You groan as the three of you walk in, Ali and Stella confidently leading the way.

“You look hot.” Ali assures, smiling in what you figure is supposed to be a comforting way. She had been the one to invite the two of you tonight, and a part of you feels bad for your miserable attitude, knowing that she just wanted to spend time with you.

“Warning: Dolan at 3 O’Clock.” Your other friend, Stella, whispers into her red solo cup, and you can feel your bad mood return. Turning your head slightly, you can see Grayson Dolan walking in with his entourage, already acting as if he owns the room.

You can hear Ali snapping at Stella, reminding her how they agreed not to point him out tonight, but all you can focus on is how arrogant Grayson looked.

The two of you had never gotten along, a wrong first date leaving each other permanently on the other’s shit list. Despite your disdain for another, the two of you ran in the same friend group, so you saw each other more often than you like. At this point, everyone knew to keep you two far away from each other unless they wanted a whole night of insults, fighting, and yelling.

“Remind me why you two hate each other again? It’s been like two years.” Stella asks nonchalantly, tilting her head as she holds up her drink.

“We just do. He was a dick on our date. Some people aren’t meant to get along.”

“Aw, you two just need to kiss and makeup.” Ali coos, fixing your hair.

“More like fuck and makeup. So what if you had a bad date. The two of you still have this weird sex thing that needs to be figured out.” Stella interjects.

“I do not-“ Your friends start laughing at your loud objection, watching as your face grows hot in embarrassment.

“I do not want to fuck him!” You hiss, hiding your face from nosy onlookers.

“Why not? I would; he’s fucking hot.” Stella whispers, gesturing over to him. All three of you look over at where he’s standing against the kitchen counter, laughing loudly with his group of friends.

You hated to admit it, but she was right: he really was super attractive. He’s simply dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt, denim jacket finishing everything off. It’s nothing special, but you hate the fact that he still somehow managed to look better than everyone else here.

He looks over, smirking when he sees your little group staring at him. All three of you turn away, doing a horrible job at trying to look inconspicuous. Your back is turned towards him as you fix your hair and smoothing out your dress. Ali’s eyes light up suddenly, and she’s whispering to Stella before turning back to you.

“Stella has to pee; we’ll be right back.” She rushes out while dragging Stella to the nearest bathroom. Before you can protest, Grayson’s taking their spot.

He’s chewing his gum obnoxiously, and you can’t help the way your eyes focus on how his jaw moves with every bite.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here tonight, Y/N.”

“Yeah, I was just leaving. Decided it’s not really for me anymore.” You get out, moving past him to walk to the door. You figured you can just call an Uber and text your two friends you were feeling sick. Before you can make it past, he grabs your arm to stop you.

“C’mon, it’s the last day of the year. Can’t you be nice to me just for tonight?” He asks, eyes shining with mischief.

“ Don’t you have some other girl to mess with?” You yank your wrist back, walking off as he follows you.

“Why? You jealous.” He asks, and you know that arrogant smirk is painted on his face.

“Over you? Hardly.” You keep moving until he says something that has you stopping in your tracks.

“Did you wear that dress for me tonight?” Your jaw clenches, annoyance washing over your body. However, you figure two can play this game, so you turn around, walking towards him with a flirtatious expression on your face. He’s looking down at you, appreciating the way your attitude has done a complete 180. You wrap your arms around his neck and bring his face towards yours, leaning in as if you’re going to kiss him.

“Fuck you.” You whisper, mouth millimeters away from his. You turn away, turning to look at him over your shoulder one last time. The irritated expression on his face and his clenched jaw should’ve warned you that you were playing with fire. Still, you simply keep walking forward, choosing to look for Ali and Stella.

Maybe you could stay a little longer to see how this plays out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuck Grayson Dolan.

At this point, you weren’t sure if you were angrier at him or if you actually wanted to fuck him.

All you know is he was pushing every last button.

It started with constant flirting - just with everyone else besides you. You knew Grayson was a tease, but you swore he had given every girl at this party his signature charming smile. The one that screamed, 'I'm Grayson Dolan, and you're the only one here for me.' You had pretended like you hadn’t seen red when he leaned down to whisper a joke in some girl's ear, winking at you when he notices the way your eyes had narrowed and your lips were puckered.

It only got worse when he decided he needed a refill on his drink, coming up to where you were standing in the hallway. He slyly placed his hands low on your waist, pressing up against you to squeeze by even though you both knew that there was more than enough space.

You were in the middle of debating on whether or not you should finally leave for good this time, figuring you shouldn’t have to subject yourself to this torture when you still have leftover takeout in your fridge.

“Hey, we need to talk to you. Can you meet us in the upstairs bedroom in like 5 minutes?” Ali appears out of nowhere, blonde curls messed up as if she’s been running her hands nervously through her hair. Stella just nods casually, and you look at the two of them suspiciously.

“What are you two planning?” You ask.

“Nothing! Upstairs. Five minutes!” Ali assures, kissing you on the cheek before walking off again. You can tell she’s drunk, smelling the lingering vodka shots on her breath. However, curiosity gets the better of you, and after five minutes, you’re slowly walking up the stairs.

“Ali? Stel?” You call out, getting nothing in response. You keep walking until you reach the end of the hallway, closed door in front of you. You open it, greeted with the sight of Grayson in front of you.

“What the fuck?” You both exclaim, the door closing behind you. You jangle the door handle, cursing under your breath when you realize it’s locked.

“We’re not letting you out until you guys kiss!” Ali calls out.

“You guys got 20 minutes until midnight.” Stella laughs, both still holding the door tightly to keep you from breaking through.

“Oh my God, we’re not fucking 12. This isn’t 7 minutes in heaven.”

“Less talking, more frenching!” Ali yells, giggling loudly as her heels slowly click away.

You roll your eyes, “You two are the fucking worst.” You kick the door before sliding down against it, tilting your head against the door.

“Your friends are weird.” are the first words out of Grayson’s mouth, and you roll your eyes.

“They mean well, they’re just really … stupid sometimes.”You get back up to your feet and start knocking on the door, hitting it with your palms, anything that could hopefully get a passerby’s attention.

“Can you stop banging on the door? It’s annoying.” Grayson mumbles out from where he’s sitting up on the bed after five minutes of your obnoxious knocking.

“I’m sorry, did you want to spend New Year’s locked in here with one another. I’m trying to get out.”

He leans back down on the bed, covering his eyes with his arms. “You realize it’s locked; we’re stuck in here. No one’s coming up here for a while.”

You hate to admit it, but you know he’s right. With only 20 minutes until midnight, everyone’s going to be downstairs, not wanting to miss the main event. You walk over to the dresser, sitting on top of it as you pull out your phone to find someone to text for an emergency rescue.

“We really should just sleep with one another.”

You nearly drop your phone in your lap from his sudden outburst. “I think that’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever heard.”

“Why not? I think you’re hot; I know you think I’m hot. Stop- don’t try to argue with me; I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not paying attention. Let’s just get this over with; clear start to 2021.” He looks over at you, raising an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes, “I’m not sleeping with you Grayson.”

“What, scared you might actually like it?” He pushes himself up off the mattress and stalks over to where you’re seated on top of the dresser. You start to feel uncharacteristically timid, not knowing how to react under his dark gaze. You don’t say anything, just watching the way his eyes rake over your entire body slowly.

He takes a deep breath, “If I kiss you right now, will you let me?” You wait a second before throwing on caution to the wind, and nodding, deciding to give in to whatever tension is growing between you.

He leans down, softly kissing you before coming back to gauge your reaction.

“If you kiss anything like the way you fuck, this is gonna fucking suck.” You whisper, smiling at the way his face drops. He pulls you into him, forcing his lips onto yours roughly. It’s messy, teeth clashing into one another, noses bumping, and you love it. You didn’t want softness, you didn’t want intimacy, you wanted Grayson to let out everything he felt towards you.

He starts to roughly mark down your neck, leaving dark marks, and you whimper, desperately pulling his jacket off his shoulders. He leans back slightly, pulling his shirt over his head and your mouth falls slightly. You take in all the deep contours and ridges, not even missing the way he flexes briefly.

“Like what you see?” He rasps out, pants growing tighter at your open arousal.

“Just because we’re fucking doesn’t mean I’m another one of your fans. I still fucking hate you.” You pull your dress off and spread your legs slightly on the dresser. You mentally thank Ali for forcing you to skip wearing a bra because the way Grayson’s face zeros in on your bare tits has you whimpering softly. He moves even closer to you.

“Doesn’t seem like you hate me right now.” He whispers, eyes darkening at the dark spot growing on your underwear. His arms are on either side of your thighs as he’s standing in between your legs. You can feel the heat coming off from his body, close enough that you can pick up the subtle nerves in his energy under waves of excitement.

“Whatever.” You’re trying your hardest to remain unaffected, calm under his intense gaze. Still, between the lack of touch and the way he’s looking like he can’t figure out how he wants to ruin you first, you start to squirm.

He pulls roughly at your underwear; you watch as his biceps bulge until the fabric falls apart in his hands. Whatever facade of calmness you were trying to maintain flies out the window. You swallow deeply, eyes wide as he tosses the ruined underwear over his shoulder with a cocky smirk. The smug look on his face is enough for you to snap back to normal and return to your usual backtalk.

“Watch it, asshole. Those aren’t cheap.”

“Trust me, I’ll buy you two more to make up for it. Now shut up; you talk too much.” With that, he’s leaning down and sucking your clit hard.

You’re not quick to compliment Grayson, but you can admit he’s incredible at eating pussy. He genuinely sounds like he’s ready to die in between your legs, quietly groaning to himself with every suck and lick. Your breath hitches at the imagery, and he’s slowly licking up your slit, savoring the way you taste for him. He gives you a few more licks before he starts sucking at your clit again, and you can feel yourself growing closer.

“Fuck, Gray- I’m about to cu-“ Before you can finish, he’s pulling away and smiling up at you with shiny lips.

“Fuck you.” You practically spit out, and he just laughs shortly, amusement barely hidden in his face.

“Before I make you cum, I wanna hear you ask nicely.” He’s leaning into you again, lips hovering yours, mirroring the same position you had him in earlier. You push his shoulder, hoping to give you some distance, but he stays firmly planted in place.

“If you think I’m gonna beg for your sorry excuse of a dick -“

He cuts you off, fingers slipping inside you, and he starts curling his fingers, your back arching into his touch. With how close you were to your orgasm, you’re falling apart in a matter of seconds. You start whimpering out his name, and he stills all his movements, thumb hovering over your clit.

“Beg.” He demands, and neither of you misses the way you tightly clench around him from the change of tone in his voice.

You stare at him long until he lightly brushes your clit, reminding you of what you’re missing in your stubbornness. You sigh dramatically before swallowing your pride and saying:

“Grayson, fuck me.” He stares at you pointedly, and you sigh again.

“Please, Gray. Want you to fuck me, please.” You whisper. It’s not a lot, but he knows that’s probably the most he’s going to get out of you at this moment, so he just smiles proudly and starts moving his fingers again. The coil in your stomach starts to grow tighter, and your toes curl when you start cumming all of your fingers. You cry out, nails scratching down his stomach as he continues to move his hand to work you through your orgasm.

He leans back, sucking up everything on his fingers before unbuckling and taking his pants and underwear off. You were glad he had made you cum before because he was big, bigger than anyone you’ve ever been with before. He brushes his dick over your entrances a few times, tapping his dick lightly on your clit. You whimper slightly, and he winks, arrogant persona back in full force.

“You’re still a dick.” You whisper, no real sting to your words.

“Yeah, I know.” He strokes his dick lightly before sinking in, and both of you moan out from the initial feeling.

He starts snapping his hips relentlessly, not giving you time to adjust to his pace. Your eyes begin to roll back, only able to focus on the wood digging into your back, arm wrapped around your waist, and dick ramming roughly into you. You’re moaning out constantly, nothing able to come to mind to express how good he’s making you feel.

However, Grayson is starting to get frustrated, not satisfied with the way you’ve laid out in front of him. He picks you up, holding you close to him before dropping you carelessly on the bed. Before you can say anything, he’s twisting your body around, so you’re on all fours in front of him and is sliding back into you, taking you from behind. You’re arching underneath him, allowing him to reach you even deeper as you moan out. He’s practically fucking you into the mattress, and from your constant sounds and ass jiggling in front of him, he’s releasing a guttural groan.

He places an arm next to your head while wrapping a large hand around your throat, lightly cutting off your air. His body is entirely over yours, encasing your entire body in his large frame. It all starts to get to be too overwhelming, and your mind starts to go blank from the pleasure, pulling at the railings to get away from how hard he’s fucking into you while also leaning back into him to get more.

“Stop running; thought you wanted to see how good I can fuck you.” He moves his hand to slap your ass, and his dick jumps from the way you start squeezing around him. He rubbing your ass, ready to spank you again, when the both of you stop from loud screams coming below you. You both hear yells about countdowns and New Year’s and Grayson’s leaning down, rutting himself into you before whispering in your ear -

“How much you wanna bet I can get you to cum before midnight?”

10!

You didn’t think he could go any faster, but his movements pick up, hitting your g-spot with every movement of his hips.

He brushes his fingers against your lip, watching as you slowly take them into your mouth and start sucking. You don’t miss the way he lightly swears when you lightly nip at the pads of his fingers. “Fucking brat.” He mutters before he’s wrapping his hand around your throat again.

He moves his hand, going back up on his knees so he can hold you still as he keeps thrusting into you.

With the way he’s gripping your hips and pulling you back into him, you already know you’re gonna be bruised with his fingerprints on your hip tomorrow.

You start to fall forward, and all you can think about is how badly you want to cum.

He starts rubbing at your clit, and you swear you can feel him deep in your stomach, knowing that he’s going to be responsible for your limp tomorrow.

“If only I knew earlier that all I needed to do to get you to shut up was to fuck you properly” were the words coming out, and you hate yourself for moaning out louder at the way he says it.

You can tell he’s starting to get close by the way he starts slowing down, choosing to grind his hips slowly into you.

You haven’t stopped moaning, volume picking up until you’re practically sobbing into the pillow. You briefly think how grateful you are for the screaming in the living room when Grayson smacks your ass hard before groaning in your ear, “Fucking cum, Y/N.”

The tight feeling in your stomach snaps, and a small spurt of wetness releases, you squirting into his dick and thighs. You practically collapse forward, suddenly exhausted, and it only takes a few more thrusts before Grayson’s pulling out to cum on your lower back.

Happy New Year’s, Y/N.” He whispers in a cocky tone, pride in how he practically has you reduced to nothing underneath him.

He covers you in a blanket before getting dressed and walking back out to the party, not even bothering to hide his self-satisfied smirk when his friends ask him why he missed the ball drop.

#cole write something under 1k challenge #sorry this took forever #grayson dolan #grayson dolan smut #grayson dolan drabble #grayson dolan blurb #grayson dolan x reader #grayson dolan x reader smut #dolan twins #dolan twins smut #dolan twins drabble #dolan twins blurb #dolan twins x reader #dolan twins x reader smut #blazedwritings

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joheun-saram · 3 years

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promise - 1 (knj)

Chapter 1: New Year’s Eve

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Summary- It’s NYE and you can’t wait to bring in 2017 surrounded by your friends, but there’s a new cute boy around. You’re intrigued but quickly find out there is it’s no good being cute when he’s literally the most infuriating person you’ve met.

word count- 3.1k

pairing- asshole!Namjoon x Reader (alternatively, edgelord!Namjoon)

rating- PG15

genre- collegeau, roommatesau, enemies2lovers, slow burn, this chapter is platonic fluff(and angst I guess), future angst, fluff and smut

warnings- alcohol consumption, marijuana consumption, Namjoon being an absolute ass, he’s against socialism for a hot second (to rile her up, our Joonie is still woke tho nw), mention of sex, Jungkook’s parents based on my actual best friend’s parents (shoutout to their amazing jello shots!)

a.n- Well, well, well... if it isn’t my simp ass writing another Namjoon series. Love that about me. Get ready for some slow burn and a lot of Namjoon just being annoying! 🥴This is a drabbleish series so most parts will be about 2-3k.

Thanks for the beautiful @ditttiii for beta reading and to @aroseforyoongi for helping me with the political argument (also for dubbing this Namjoon edgelord!joon 🤣)

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

taglist- @namyoongles @cheesecakes-randomshitz

Send me an ask to be on the taglist!

You were running late. Very late. With a sigh you watched the street pass you by in a blur, the distant roar of your bus dimmed by the rap music that blasted through your ears. You looked at the group chat to be bombarded by messages.

Jungkook: bro istg if you’re not here in the next ten minutes

Hoseok: HURRY UP! JK IS DOING SHOTS WITH HIS DAD OMFG

Jimin: OMG Y/N. WE’RE GETTING DRUNK WITHOUT YOU

Jungkook: adsdsd duddde u suk wdt syop taling foevr

Yoongi: I’m gonna drink all the whiskey I got from Korea this week if you don’t get your butt over here.

Yoongi: Jieun says hi btw!

The texts continued to devolve into nonsense as you willed the bus to move faster. You were annoyed. Jungkook had planned the new year’s party at his parent’s house, and you were beyond excited to party, having spent the entire winter break stuck at home with your parents as they argued over the smallest things. You tightened your grip around your duffle bag as the bus came to a stop. Trudging through the snow you finally reached the familiar red door of your best friend’s house.

You knocked, taking in the large three-storey suburban house as you waited to be let in, already digging through your backpack for the bottle of tequila you had brought along. If they took any more time to open the door, you were going to start drinking right there on the porch. Before you could uncap your bottle, you were greeted by Jungkook’s dad, the familiar, jolly older man moved his hair out of his eyes as he greeted you.

However, before you could finally get out of the cold, he stopped you, presenting a tray of colourful jello shots.

“Y/N! Penalty for being late. You have to take a shot!” He laughed as you sputtered, his face reddened by what you assumed was alcohol. You had known Jungkook since the two of you were freshmen in university and had routinely stayed with him and his parents during break, but you had never seen Mr. Jeon this drunk. You stood awkwardly, not knowing what to do as he insisted, your friend finally joining him and encouraging you as you tentatively took a shot.

“I changed my mind! One of every colour!” Mr Jeon exclaimed joyously as Jungkook groaned.

“Dad! It’s cold. Let her in!” He whined and thankfully, you were let in. Taking off your shoes and leaving your bag by the door, you ventured into the living room where you saw all your friends. Hoseok leaned where he sat on the couch, his face buried in his phone as he, no doubt, texted his hookup. Jimin danced next to the Christmas tree the Jeons had yet to put away with a glass of liquor as Yoongi played the piano in the corner, cuddling with his girlfriend Jieun. Bubbling warmth swelled your heart as you saw all your favourite people.

“Come on let’s get you a drink!” Jungkook put his arm around you, planting most of his weight on you due to the alcohol raging through his veins as he guided you to the kitchen through the living room. In the kitchen, you were met by the sight of his parents swaying together to Yoongi’s expert piano skills, and a man you didn’t recognize sitting at the breakfast island, talking to Jungkook’s younger sister animatedly, who seemed to be trying to leave the conversation.

Jungkook poured you a rum and coke, easy on the coke, as he made his way to the breakfast bar. You stood next to his sister, making small talk before she excused herself to go to her room. She never stuck around long during these get-togethers.

When she left, you were left standing awkwardly next to the only stranger at this party. The first thing you noticed was that he was tall. Much taller than all your friends, his dark black hair styled away from his face, a strand falling on his forehead shaped like a comma. He was dressed much like everyone else in dark wash jeans and a navy t-shirt with white leaves outlined on the sleeves, except his jeans fit him almost too perfectly, sculpting his thick thighs. Although he seemed friendly, greeting you with a pretty dimpled smile, your sudden attraction to him made you nervous.

“Hi. I’m Namjoon,” he said, eyeing you from over his cup as he sipped whatever concoction he was drinking.

“Oh shit! I keep forgetting you guys have never met!” Jungkook slurred as he sidled up to the two of you with his stool, leaving you standing between the two sitting boys. “Namjoon and I have been friends for years. I think we probably met the same time you and I did, but I guess we never ended up meeting together?” He ended his statement as a question, and it surprised you. You thought in three years you would have met all of his friends.

“Well, that and I took a break from school. I was doing an internship in California.” He beamed, clearly proud of his achievement. “I worked at Twitch, you know them?” He smirked, and you had to fight your urge to roll your eyes. Of course, he worked in Cali. You went to a university renowned for its engineering degree and it was the goal of every software engineering student to land an internship in California. Those lucky enough to achieve it used it as social currency and bragging rights. You despise those people. It wasn’t that you weren’t smart enough to land that opportunity, in fact, you were coming off of your internship with Facebook last term, but you always felt flaunting a job to be such an ugly trait. However, Namjoon was Jungkook’s friend and so you let it slide.

“Ah Twitch. Very cool.” you hummed as you drank.

“Yeah. What program are you in?” He asked, continuing the conversation as Jungkook disappeared to talk to his parents, trying to convince them to retire for the night since they had embarrassed him enough.

“Computer science,” you replied non-committedly, watching his face break into a wide smile.

“Oh, that’s so cool! Me too!” He replied excitedly. You had to admit, his smile was very charming and you let your guard down a little more. Maybe he just got influenced by kids in your program to brag about Cali. “I haven’t seen you in any of my classes though! Would’ve remembered you. None of the other compsci girls are this pretty.” He smirked, clearly proud of his flirtatious comment. You narrowed your eyes at him, immediately put off.

“So glad to know you deem me pretty enough to notice.” You rolled your eyes, before grabbing your bottle of tequila and a few disposable shot glasses and making your way to the living room. “Well, it was… okay to meet you. I’m gonna go do shots.”

“Wait! I’m sorry, did I offend you?” he asked, brows furrowed in confusion as he easily caught up to you, walking beside you and even sitting next to you on the floor, as you lined up the glasses to pour the drinks for everyone.

“No it’s cool, dude. We just don’t have anything in common,” you said nonchalantly as the rest of your friends crowded the table, excitedly taking a shot glass in hand as Jungkook waltzed in with a plate full of lime wedges and an intricately expensive-looking salt shaker. Namjoon didn’t say anything as everyone took their shots, but watched you throw back your drink, noticing the small smile that overtook your features as the alcohol from earlier finally started to take effect.

After a few more shots, the party really started. Although there were only seven people, your rowdy, borderline chaotic group had you laughing. Hoseok was going on some tale about his adventures back home where he ended up at a bar with his high school friends and got the numbers of four girls by doing a disgustingly named muff-diver shot. He bragged about his game, and you burst his bubble by telling him it was really only because he was hot. Something he didn’t take much offence to as he wiggled his eyebrows at you. Namjoon, however, came to Hoseok’s defence, much to your annoyance.

“And how would you know? I doubt Hobi here has used his A+ game on you.” He raised an eyebrow in challenge, making you scoff as you rolled your eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well… you guys are friends, I doubt he would try to pick you up.” He spoke with a logical tone, as he eyed you and Hoseok.

“Oh really? Okay Hobi. Since your game is so great. Let’s see it.” You turned around, staring at your friend next to you. Namjoon leaned back against his hands on the floor, watching the scene unfold with a smirk.

“Really darling? Don’t blame me when you fall for me.” Hoseok moved closer, finishing his drink as you huffed in annoyance. You were in your first stage of drunk, the stage where you got mean for no reason

“Get on with it, loser. Your face is making me drier as we speak.” You waved as Hoseok leaned in, his nose rubbing gently against your ear, his breath on your neck, making you shiver slightly.

“Hey baby, how about you let me take you downstairs and defile you on Jungkook’s Iron Man sheets.” His voice was low, almost a growl. You never thought you would hear Hoseok’s sexy pickup voice and you were sure that if you were someone who had not seen him whine and cling onto you after a few drinks, you’d be putty in his hand. Instead, you burst out laughing, doubling over with your hands on his thighs as tears of mirth filled your eyes. Not one to give up that easily, Hoseok continued.

“See. I’m a funny guy Y/N. Let me eat that pussy!” He couldn’t hold back any longer either, his voice breaking at the word pussy as he too devolved into a fit of laughter. His comment, however, broke Yoongi and Jieun out of their bubble as they looked up from their make out session, looks of horror on their faces.

“Please tell me you did not just say that Hobi!” Jieun chided, her voice shrill.

“That’s fucking disgusting.” Yoongi shivered as he drank more of his whiskey in an attempt to calm himself. Hoseok and you continued laughing at your friends’ reaction, the rest of the group joining in, except Namjoon who seemed to be watching the two of you with raised brows.

“Wait. I don’t get it. That should’ve worked.”

“Yeah dude. Y/N what the fuck? Let me eat that pussy!” Hoseok grabbed you by the shoulders, shaking you while screaming at your face, between giggles.

“Oh my god. I’m gonna get a stomach ache. Stop!” you wheezed, before turning to Namjoon. “Sorry dude. I’ve literally helped Hobi pee once. There’s no going back to sexy when you see him whine about forgetting how urinating works.”

“Yeah and no offence babe, but you literally had your hands on my dick and it was flaccid as hell.”

“You guys are weirdly close,” Namjoon commented, his face scrunched as he assessed you and Hoseok.

“You think they’re close, you should see her and Jungkook. They even slept together!” Jimin remarks finally sitting down after dancing by himself for the past twenty minutes.

“And it was fucking horrible. High five!” Jungkook leans over the coffee table to slap his hand against yours, the two of you giggling.

“What kind of incestuous group is this?” Namjoon remarked, sipping his drink before turning to you where he watched you leaned over the table as you still slapped your hand against Jungkook’s to the beat of the music. “So when’s my turn?”

“Excuse me?” You recoil away from Namjoon, almost jumping in Hoseok’s lap. Oh here it was; stage two of your drunk persona, anger. You felt it coursing in your veins at his insinuation. “Who the fuck do you think I am?”

“Apparently the group dick toucher.” He smirked again, that annoying lopsided smile that made his one dimple deepen in his cheek. “I promise I won’t be flaccid like Hobi was.”

“Okay! Y/N and I are going on a walk!” Hoseok exclaimed as he saw your fist clenched. He knew you were ten seconds away from punching Namjoon in the face, and he put his arms around your waist and easily hoisted you up, walking you to the front door.

“Hobi I swear to god, I’m gonna murder him.” You glared at Namjoon as he returned your heated stare with an easy smile and a wave.

“I know babe. So we’re going on a walk. Let’s go pick up some food, yeah?”

The two of you walked around the block to the nearest McDonalds, picking up an assortment of cheeseburgers and chicken nuggets for the party, even getting Namjoon what he wanted, despite your burning desire that he starve to death. By the time, you returned to the party and took a couple more shots you were sufficiently cheered up. Hoseok had that affect on you, calming your mood with his jokes and anecdotes.

Cuddled with Hoseok as you sat between his legs on the couch, the two of you shared a vape as you let the weed settle in your bones with a mellow buzz. Jimin sat in front of you on the floor, leaning against you as you ran your hands through his hair, enjoying the soft fluff. You were so glad that he had decided to forego his usual hair wax today. You felt like you were in utter bliss, your annoyance with Namjoon long forgotten. That is until you tuned into his conversation with Jungkook - not that you had any choice, because even though he seemed to be talking to Jungkook, his eyes were pointed at you.

“I’m just saying capitalism is the reason you’re sitting here in this nice home. People who can’t afford healthcare or education just need to work harder. That’s how life works.” Namjoon sipped his drink, raising an eyebrow at you, and you decidedly ignored his baiting. It was like he was trying to get you mad on purpose. You didn’t understand his gameplan. Why couldn’t he just let you enjoy bringing in 2017 like an adult?

“Dude… why are we even talking about this?” Jungkook groaned, face scrunching in distaste.

“I’m just saying people shouldn’t look for a handout when there are literally thousands of skills they could learn to make their lives easier. Why are we using our tax dollars for the lazy?” Namjoon shrugged nonchalantly, his gaze boring holes into you as you stared him down. Oh curse your stupid resolve, why did this fucker know you so well, you literally just met! Before you could stop yourself, you were speaking.

“I’m sorry, are you stupid? That is literally the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. Education and healthcare are a human right!” Your voice was louder than usual, startling Hoseok and Jimin as you suddenly stood up, walking over to where a smug looking Namjoon and a confused Jungkook sat on the floor.

“I’m not, but you must be, to not realize that we could invest in teaching people skills to make money instead of just giving them money. Don’t tell me you’re a communist.” He sipped his drink, his eyes dancing with mirth, relishing the fact that he had gotten you to argue. And argue you did, for over an hour, the room forgotten as the two of you discussed social policies and taxation laws, ignoring Jungkook’s protests (“We live in a social democracy!”). You could feel the fire in your veins as you raised your voice, while he calmly discussed the matter at hand. Even though Namjoon was the most infuriating person you had ever met, the fact that he kept up with your arguments was extremely satisfying. Your friends knew you were the kind of person to debate a point until all the sides were uncovered so they would never start an argument with you, and as much as you hated Namjoon, you loved that he was such a great sparring partner.

“Oh my god! Shut the fuck up!” Jimin yelled suddenly, breaking you and Namjoon out of your bubble, as you looked at your usually bubbly friend, staring daggers at you. You sheepishly apologized, just as the countdown began.

Everyone stood and you followed suit. However the alcohol in your body decided to catch up as you stumbled, instinctively grabbing on to Namjoon’s arm to not fall over. As you’ve started to realize is his ammo, he one-upped you, putting his arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest. Fuck, why does it feel so nice and firm?

The countdown got closer to one and you felt trapped by his gaze, an intense look in his eye as he smirked at you. His eyes travelled from your eyes to your lips and you felt as if your chest was getting tighter.

“Three!” your friends yelled, but your mouth felt too dry to speak up. You licked your lips and Namjoon’s smirk widened. Why did you find his arrogant face so attractive all of a sudden? You wanted to punch him not two seconds ago!

“Two!” He started to lean in and despite yourself, you started anticipating his lips on yours.

“One!” Suddenly, your earlier resolve kicked in. No dude who insulted you all night was going to touch you. You pushed him off turning around to Jungkook.

“Happy New Year!” You pulled your best friend towards you by his collar, giving him a loud peck on the lips as everyone cheered. Jungkook smiled, pulling you into a hug and jostling you around, giving you a chance to catch the dumbfounded look on Namjoon’s face.

You hugged all of your friends in turn, and when Namjoon, still with his mouth slightly ajar, looked at you expectantly, you raised your hand to him with a smug smile. You kind of felt bad for the way he deflated before he shook your hand, but before you could dwell too much on that feeling, he tugged you closer.

“Well played,” he whispered in your ear, his breath ghosting your neck, and you felt heat rising up your neck. You pulled away with a scowl and before he could say anything else, your phone pinged, the screen lit with the last name you wanted to see.

Taehyung (3 messages)

Oh great. What did the fuck did he want?

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skinsharpenedteeth · 3 years

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Tonight, We Are Young

So as a New Year’s gift, I give to you another NYE Malex fic, because apparently I can’t help myself. I hope 2021 treats everyone better than 2020 did!

Also available on AO3!

“This party is fucking lame,” Alex commented, watching his classmates mill around the Evans’ mini-mansion with their red Solo cups filled with vodka, rum, or whatever mixed with fruit juice or soda. He was tired of watching people grind on each other to Christina Aguilera or 50cent while was left dodging assholes like Kyle Valenti all evening.

“Well, what do you propose we do instead?” Michael asked, head hanging upside down from over the side of the pool table he was laying across. His eyes were half obscured by gold, glittery 2008 glasses and he smelled a little like weed and spring rain. Alex thought briefly about wanting to Spiderman kiss him while he hung like that, but stopped himself with a sharp reminder that they were ‘just friends’.

They’d been hanging out since Alex had offered the backyard shed for Michael’s use during the cold winter nights. He knew he was using it, but hadn’t gotten up the courage to go talk to him yet while he was there. He was afraid he’d bring his father’s attention to it if he spent too much time out there, spent too much time with another boy in a room with the vaguest notion of privacy and a bed…

“You wanna get out of here? I know a place…,’ Alex started, but Michael was already sitting up before Alex could finish. He rolled off his back and then jumped off the table to stand beside where Alex was still sitting cross-legged against the pool table leg. He grinned down at Alex, smile wide and sweet and making Alex blush a little like he always did when Michael looked right at him like that, and held out his hand to pull Alex up off the floor. Alex took his hand and Michael gave a helpful tug as Alex pushed his way up. It was too much, Alex was overbalancing and falling against Michael’s chest. Michael’s hand let go of Alex’s so he could grip his waist and help steady him. The blush that had been only a pink tinge at Michael’s smile flared red as his hands landed against his solid chest and he felt how close they were.

“Oh-OH! Watch out Guerin or he’ll take advantage of you!” a raucous yell rang out through the crowd. Alex shut his eyes and stepped back quickly, cursing the gods for creating Kyle Valenti, and also for the feeling of Michael’s hands quickly falling from his body.

“Fuck off, Valenti,” Michael yelled back, throwing up a middle finger.

“You got something to fucking say?!” Kyle yelled, obviously a little drunk, as he pushed past the intervening people and shoved Michael backwards a step or two. Alex stood shocked, not sure what was happening, when Michael shoved Kyle back.

“Pretty sure I said what needed saying. Why don’t you go back to ‘your boys’ and circle jerk until midnight? Make sure you ‘no homo’ before your dicks out though, or it's definitely homo,” Michael goaded, getting into Kyle’s face. Their chests were touching and they looked so close they couldn’t possibly be able to focus on one another. Alex reached out and grabbed Michael’s arm, his hands closing firmly around his bicep as he stepped close.

“Let’s just get out of here,” Alex pleaded, well aware of how many eyes were on them. He didn’t want this kind of attention, didn’t need to be on anyone else’s radar.

“Going to let your boyfriend tell you what to do, Guerin?” Kyle taunted, obviously itching for a fight. Michael looked at him for another moment before sliding his eyes over to Alex’s. Alex could see the softening around the edges of Michael’s eyes as they held contact with his and hoped he couldn’t see the fear in him. He didn’t think he was successful in hiding it, because Michael’s mouth jaw clenched and he closed his eyes in resignation.

“Yeah, I am. Get fucked,” Michael said tiredly, not looking back at Kyle's face but backing away from him instead. He turned and headed back towards the bedroom where everyone's coats were and then to the front door with Alex hot on his heels. Alex could hear Liz cussing at Kyle half in Spanish as they left and at least felt safer knowing they would be gone before he could shake free of her to continue trying to rile Michael into a fight.

The cold late December air hit him hard as they left the warmth of the Evans’ house and stalked towards Michael’s truck. As soon as Michael shut the driver’s door, the engine roared to life and he turned up the vents to try and make the heaters kick in quicker. Alex slid in the passenger side and quietly buckled his seat belt.

“So where we headin’?” Michael asked, turning to look over at him with his usual lazy grin. Alex marveled how quickly the anger and violence had drained out of him. He looked like he hadn’t just been about to throw punches. He was casual and relaxed as he slouched in his seat, wrist resting over the top of the steering wheel. Alex noted the mostly full bottle of Jack sitting next to his thigh and had an idea.

“Uh, once we get out of the neighborhood, hit Main going northwest,” Alex instructed, eyeing the bottle warily. He knew how he got when he was drunk, but he’d never been with Michael inebriated before. He was worried he’d say the wrong thing or touch him when he didn’t want to be touched. Drinking was easier with Maria, Liz, and Rosa because he didn’t want to kiss them or see them naked so if he collapsed with his head in a lap or held someone’s hand it was innocent. There was no intention behind it. He didn’t think he could have that same freedom with Michael. He definitely wanted to kiss and touch Michael in ways that would make his dad kick his ass if he ever found out.

Michael followed his quiet instructions until they were driving out past the city limits, high beams the only lights for miles around. Michael had turned on the radio and put the volume on low while he waited for Alex to speak. Alex fidgeted with the strings of his hoodie, pulling them taut on one side and then the other, his leg bouncing rhythmically against the bottom of the foot well. Silently, still watching the road, Michael reached over and curled his fingers around Alex’s knee. Alex froze, staring wide eyed at Michael’s hand, before he let it slip off Alex's leg and rest between them on the bench seat. He looked up and saw Michael darting a grin over at him.

“So where are we going?” Michael asked, leaving his hand between them and making Alex ache with how much he wanted to reach over and cover it with his own.

“There’s a place not too far from here where my brothers and I used to build bonfires. I figured we’d go set some shit on fire for awhile,” Alex replied, a little self-consciously. Would Michael think this was dumb?

“Cool,” he answered, his fingers starting to tap on the bench seat. Alex watched his fingers for a moment, marveling at how square and even his nails were and how perfect his knuckles seemed to be before turning his attention back to the road. He was getting distracted and they were getting close to where the turn off was.

“There’s going to be a sign pretty soon that says Camp Honor. It’s going to be over here on the left. That’s the turn we make. Then there’s a fork about two miles in and we’ll take the right fork,” Alex rattled off, wishing they were already parked so he could take a shot of bourbon to calm his nerves. He actually hoped Michael had some more weed on him. A joint would help put him to ease.

“Camp Honor?” Michael asked, shooting Alex a curious look, eyebrow raised.

“It’s a hunting camp. There’s no season right now, so no one will be around,” Alex replied. At least he hoped there was no season that time of the year. He hadn’t been up there since he was fourteen and that had been its own disaster he’d like to never remember.

The truck bounced over the ruts and hills in the barely discernible road up to the fire pit. Alex sincerely hoped that the tradition of hauling all the fallen branches and detritus from around the cabin and hunting grounds had kept up in the years since he’d been the one sent out to do most of it. They rolled up to a clearing and Alex could make out the fallen trees they’d moved to make places for them to sit around the pit.

“Go ahead and park. This is the place,” Alex said, turning to Michael and putting a hand on his arm as if he weren’t paying attention. Michael slowed the truck and put it in park. He peered through the darkness.

“You know, when you said you knew a place I was imagining… something different,” Michael said as he continued to look skeptically at what little was illuminated by the truck’s headlights. Alex rolled his eyes and pushed open his door. As soon as his Docs hit the ground, he was excited to see how high he could get the flames. Bonfire night had been the only night he looked forward to when he’d been forced to do long camping trips with his brothers and the Valenti’s. He went ahead and walked forward towards the pit, hoping against hope there was a stack of wood in its sunken sand floor. When he got to the edge, he let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and then looked over to Michael and grinned broadly.

“Let's get this thing lit and then you can turn off your headlights,” Alex said excitedly, carefully making his way down into the shallowly dug ten by ten dirt bowl they used for fire nights. He checked over the wood and was glad to see he should be able to get away with just lighting the thing up. His brothers or Kyle must be planning to come out here soon. He took a small, sadistic pleasure in knowing he’d get to use it before they would and they’d have to go get chopped wood from the cabin and haul it out here if they wanted a fire. He patted his pockets and fished out a lighter from the pocket of his black skinny jeans. He flicked it a couple times before it caught and then he carefully moved his hand down through a gap in the wood until he could catch the tiny yellow flame on the tinder. As it caught, he carefully extracted his hand and started gently blowing air towards the flame. When it started to catch and spread, he stood back up and watched it, feeling oddly proud about starting the easiest fire of his life. When he turned, Michael was smiling at him fondly.

“Guess I’ll go turn off my headlights so I don’t drain the battery and we can roll out of here later,” he commented, turning and clapping his hand over Alex’s chest before letting it slide away as he started back towards his car. Alex tried to ignore the thrill he felt at Michael’s affectionate gesture and instead concentrated on the way his breath fogged as he exhaled and how cold his hands were even stuffed in his pocket. The fire was slowly getting going, but it would be a while before it was truly letting off heat to warm them.

Scuffing behind him alerted him of Michael’s return and he turned to see him sitting on the edge of the fire ring, whiskey uncapped, and being raised to his lips. Alex went and sat next to him, leaning towards the warmth that radiated off his body almost unconsciously. When Michael passed him the bottle, he took a healthy swig, coughing as he handed it back.

“Fuck, how do people drink that shit?” he asked, wiping his mouth with his sleeve and trying vainly to hide his grimace and watering eyes.

“Pretty sure nobody drinks for the taste,” Michael observed with a grin, watching him as he caught his breath before taking another swig from the bottle himself. He didn’t cough after his swallow and Alex felt heat infusing his cheeks at how uncool he must look to not be able to handle the burn of alcohol on his throat.

“I do better with vodka,” Alex said defensively, picking at the sides of his Vans as he stared at the growing fire. He toppled to the side when Michael slammed his body into him, elbows, shoulders, and hips pressed close against Alex. Alex let out a squawk of indignation, but didn’t protest when he righted himself and could feel the warmth of Michael bleeding through his too-thin layers of clothing where they touched.

“Jesus, it’s fucking cold,” Michael hissed through gritten teeth. Alex could feel the small tremors of him shivering and he wrapped an arm around him gingerly. He waited for Michael to protest or push him away and call him a ‘fag’, but when he just huddled closer Alex relaxed against him. Alex pried the whiskey bottle out from his fingers and took another manly swallow, coughing into his shoulder when he finished.

They stared at the fire, both shivering and sharing the bottle between them. As the alcohol and flames started to warm them, Alex felt Michael shifting more until his head was resting on Alex’s chest. Alex found himself running his fingers through Michael’s curls in fascination at how the light from the flames caught the brown ringlets and turned them to gold.

“We really should have thought this out better,” Michael observed.

“Hm?” Alex asked as he stretched out his legs towards the warmth.

“We should have brought snacks and music and something else to do besides drink,” Michael complained, lifting himself off of Alex’s chest and sitting up. He took the bottle from Alex’s side and helped himself to another mouth full.

“We could tell ghost stories?” Alex supplied, ready for the incredulous look Michael gave him. It still made him laugh when he looked over his shoulder at Alex like he was full of shit. “Well, what else would you do around a fire with someone if you didn’t have snacks or music?”

“Depends on the someone,” Michael replied, innuendo lacing his voice and making something hot in Alex’s stomach churn, but eyes staring straight into the fire in front of them.

“We… we can do what you do with them?” Alex offered bravely. His throat felt dry and he was pretty sure he was going to die. Did he really just say that to Michael? Michael looked over at him consideringly and handed him the bottle.

“We are,” Michael replied shortly. Alex shriveled a little in embarrassment, but he took the bottle and dutifully took a sip, trying to shift his body away so it wasn’t leaning quite as fully on Michael’s. Alex capped the bottle and put it in the dirt between legs before leaning back onto his elbows to stare up at the stars.

“Why did you stop me from hitting Valenti?” Michael asked a few minutes later. Alex had been staring at the stars, enjoying the heat on his legs from the fire. He tipped his head back down to see Michael half turned and staring at him.

“What do you mean, why? He’s a fucking tool and not worth the effort,” Alex spit out. He didn’t really want to think about Valenti right then.

“He deserves to get his fucking head knocked off,” Michael replied heatedly, turning back to stare at the fire. Alex looked at the back of his head for a moment in confusion.

“Well, I agree, but why do you care what he says?” Alex asked, a little unsure what answer he was hoping for. Michael looked back over his shoulder at Alex for a split second before snorting and looking back at the fire.

“You’re the nicest person I’ve ever met. I just hate seeing him treat you like shit because of his own insecurities. You’re not his punching bag. You deserve to be treated better.”

Alex sighed and looked back up at the stars. The sky was starting to spin a little so he let himself collapse all the way down onto his back. Without looking, he reached out and grabbed the back of Michael’s jacket and tugged him until he was laying down also. Their shoulders were overlapping despite the fact that they each had room to move. Tentatively, heart pounding so hard Alex could swear he heard it in his ears, he moved his hand over to press against Michael’s. He held his breath and waited, tensing as if he were going to be hit, but when it never came he let the air out of his lungs slowly. Then he felt Michael move his hand and in a gesture born more of instinct than finesse, scoop his hand up and thread their fingers together. Alex’s heart beat double time, practically in his throat, as he tried to relax into the warm hold Michael had on his fingers.

He stared at the sky, but he didn’t see the stars anymore. He was too hyper aware of the dry, brittle grass poking into the back of his hand and the way there seemed to be sweat collecting in his palm from the heat between them and the way the tips of his fingers were numb with cold, and how tightly and perfectly their fingers seemed to fit around each other… There wasn’t any part of his brain that wasn’t thinking about how much he wanted the rest of their bodies to fit together as well as their hands did. Then Michael started shifting around.

“What are you doing?” Alex asked, looked over at him in concern. He tried to move his hand, but Michael’s grip tightened slightly so he let it rest back where it was. Michael was digging around in his jacket pocket and flapping his arm about as he tried to dislodge his hand from the too-small opening.

“Lemme borrow your lighter,” Michael asked, still distracted by getting his hand out of his pocket. Alex furrowed his brow, but slipped his hand into the jean pocket with the lighter and then held it out for Michael to take. When he finally freed his hand, Alex watched him put a rolled joint between his lips and then take the lighter from him. He lit the end and inhaled deeply before passing it over to Alex. Alex did the same and they both laid and slowly let out their breaths at the same time. Immediately, Alex’s head felt lighter.

“Wanna shotgun one?” Alex asked on his next turn with the joint. Michael rolled onto his elbow, letting go of his hand in the process, and looked down at him with a shiteating grin.

“If you wanted me to kiss you, all you have to do is ask,” he snarked. Before Alex could squirm with embarrassment or deny that’s what his aim was, Michael plucked the joint from Alex’s fingers, took a deep inhale, and swooped down to seal his lips over Alex’s. Alex gasped at the unexpected contact, filling his mouth and lungs with smoke and causing him to cough reflexively. When he felt Michael’s weight shift, his body tensing to back away, he brought his hand to the back of Michael’s neck, keeping him in place as he breathed the smoke out through his nose. Michael froze and Alex squeezed his eyes shut and prayed to all the Gods he didn’t believe in as he tentatively started moving his lips. At first, it was just the drag of his own lips against Michael’s, slightly dry from the pot smoke and desert air, but then… then it was like Michael melted into him. His body relaxed back to partially rest his weight over Alex’s, his lips pressing harder and his tongue swiping invitingly over Alex’s. Alex surged into it, desperate to keep kissing him, to stop thinking for a while and just let things happen. His brain had other ideas.

First, he had to figure out what to do with his hands. The one on the back of Michael’s neck was nice, but the one lying on the ground between them… did he put it on his arm? On his chest? Lower? Much lower? As they kissed, he experimentally put it on Michael’s chest, fascinated by how he could feel his heart beating even through his shirt. In response, he felt Michael’s hand curling around his waist over his clothes. Dimly, Alex wondered what had happened to the joint, but he found he didn’t really care as long as Michael kept kissing him. Alex started to move his hand up Michael’s neck. He wanted to touch his curls again, tangle his fingers in them and maybe tug a little as they kissed, but Michael pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” he panted, eyes wide and imploring as they looked down into Alex’s. Alex felt shock jolt through his system, making his fingers tingle as he stared up into Michael’s face. He weakly worked his mouth, trying to find the words to respond. ‘Why?’, ‘It’s okay’, and ‘Don’t be’ came to mind, but he didn’t know which one to actually say. “I just mean… you didn’t ask for all that.”

“I didn’t mind,” Alex finally answered in a quiet voice. He gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile and took it as a good sign that Michael hadn’t moved off him. Slowly, he raised his head as far as he could and pressed an opened mouth kiss onto Michael’s lower lip. He pulled back to do it again, and Michael’s eyes fluttered closed. The hand at Alex’s waist tightened briefly and that was all the warning Alex got before Michael’s mouth was pushing against his. This time Alex let himself sink into the feeling. He let his hands roam wherever they wanted to, let his mouth move against Michael’s, tongues touching and fleeing, let Michael shift and press a leg between his which felt better than it had any right to with so many layers of clothes between them.

Alex let out an unmanly yelp against Michael’s mouth when his cold fingers found their way under his layers of jacket, hoodie, shirt, undershirt and touched the bare skin of his stomach. Gooseflesh immediately erupted over his chest and back and he felt his nipples tighten at the shock of the cold. Michael was snickering into his shoulder as he continued to move his hand over Alex’s stomach and Alex continued to whine and flinch away from his touch.

“Stop it! Oh my God your hands are so fucking cold! Quit, quit, quit,” Alex yowled, making a grab for Michael’s hand and finding himself in a short grappling match. It ended up with him pinning Michael against the cold earth with his wrists beside his head as Alex straddled his waist. He bared his teeth at him in a fiendish grin.

“I win,” he said simply. Michael laughed again, body relaxed under Alex’s.

“Did you?” Michael asked, moving his hips in a way that suggested he was settling in, but definitely brushed his half chub against Alex in a way he couldn’t miss. Alex felt a flash of panic as he realized he didn’t know how to flirt like that, how to be casual and cool and sexy in the face of someone else actually desiring him. He let go of Michael’s hands and rolled off to sit next to him. He hoped the firelight was dim enough that Michael didn’t see the blush on his cheeks as he grabbed for the abandoned whiskey bottle and uncorked it to grab a sip. Michael sat up and watched him before taking the bottle and slugging down his own drink.

“That wasn’t a demand, ya know?” Michael said, voice subdued as he watched the fire burning down.

“I know,” Alex replied, feeling his cheeks heat up more. He pulled his knees up towards his chest and hugged them as he stared awkwardly at the fire, wishing he could go back to five minutes ago when they were pressed against each other and their mouths were all that mattered. From the corner of his eye, he could see Michael turn to look at him and he kept his eyes trained forward with every ounce of his being.

“You wanna head back in? It’s getting really cold,” Michael asked. He was giving Alex an out and Alex didn’t know if he felt grateful for it or annoyed.

“There’s a cabin not too far from here. Let’s go there. We can build another fire inside and just sleep there. Neither of us should be driving right now,” Alex offered, noting exactly how spinny the world was when he closed his eyes.

“You’re probably right. Is this like… a place you’ve been before? Is it abandoned or something?” Michael asked, sounding nervous and wary.

“No, it’s not abandoned. Kyle’s dad owns it,” Alex explained.

“VALENTI’S DAD?!” Michael exclaimed, laughing and shaking his head. “No way are we staying there. Holy shit, I can just imagine how bad that would be if we got found.”

“No, no, no. Sheriff Valenti and my dad are old friends. Mr. Valenti loves me. He’s given me, like, blanket permission to use the cabin whenever I need to. It’s fine,” Alex said, distracted by Michael’s mini-freak out enough to turn and hold his shoulders while he explained. “We won’t get in trouble. It’ll be fine. Sheriff Valenti is the exact opposite of my dad.”

Michael sat and looked at him, as if he could see the future and gauge whether the risk was worth the reward.

“Besides, we’d really be fucked if he caught us driving home this fucked up. He’d be happier knowing we didn’t try to operate a motor vehicle while under the influence. Seriously, it’ll be fine.”

“Man, okay. You sure it’d be fine?” Michael asked again, still looking like a rabbit ready to bolt.

“Dude, it’s fine. Let’s douse this with some sand and we’ll roll down there,” Alex said, standing up and holding his hand out to Michael.

“Thought we shouldn’t be driving?” Michael asked sarcastically.

“I mean, if you want to walk a mile in this cold, that’s fine, but I think you can be reasonably responsible to drive a mile in the middle of the night down a dirt road one mile per hour about idle. But if you don’t want to, that’s fine. We’ll walk it,” Alex offered. Michael had grabbed his arm and was poised to get pulled up, but Alex wanted to know his decision first.

“Yeah, it’s fine. We’ll take the truck,” he said and then Alex stepped back and pulled him up to his feet.

“Cool, then let’s throw some sand on this fire! It’s fucking cold,” Alex shouted, before going over to the bucket of sand that was always kept on the side of the fire pit and picking it up. He started slowly pouring the sand over the remaining flames while Michael went and grabbed a second bucket and took the other side of the fire to do the same. When it was dark, Michael went ahead to turn on the truck lights while Alex stirred the fire to see if any hot spots were left. By the time he was satisfied, the high beams were streaming over the edge of the fire pit and Michael was revving the engine to get it to warm up. Alex climbed out of the fire pit and got back into the truck, then slowly gave Michael directions on how to get to the cabin. When they pulled up in front of the cabin, Michael looked at it even more warily than he had the fire pit.

“This isn’t your murder cabin, is it? We’re not going to get stabbed by some dude in a shitty sports mask if we make out some more, are we?” he asked as he followed Alex up to the porch. Alex snorted and started feeling around the top of the door frame for the extra cabin key. When he found it, he opened the door quickly and ushered them both in. He flipped one of the light switches and the living room and kitchen lights came on, giving the rustic cabin a warm, yellow glow. He looked at the fireplace and grimaced. Unlike the firepit, the cabin was not ready for a fire to be lit. Sighing, he went back outside and grabbed a handful of logs off the porch pile and shuffled them inside.

Michael was walking around the inside rooms, looking at the walls and knickknacks scattered around.

“Hey, where do you guys sleep?” Michael called out. Alex turned from where he was stacking logs in the fireplace to see Michael standing in the kitchen with his hands on his hips twisting around as if another doorway would suddenly appear.

“There’s another building that’s a bunk house,” Alex explained, turning back to the fire.

“Are we going to sleep in there?” Michael asked, his voice coming closer. Alex could feel the vibration in the floor as he got closer and then the warmth of him standing behind him. Alex grabbed a rolled piece of fire starter from the box they kept nearby. He pushed it into the middle of the logs and grabbed a punk to light with his lighter. He pushed it against the fire starter and blew a little, waiting until he saw the fire starter catch before withdrawing the punk and throwing it on top of the logs. When that was finished, he turned to consider his options. He didn’t really want to run both fireplaces in the cabin. He’d have to clean them both out in the morning and that seemed like far too much work.

“Let’s go grab a couple mattresses off the bunks and drag them in here. We can push them together and cover them with blankets and stuff…if that’s cool with you?” Alex asked, looking up at Michael who’d been watching him work with the fire.

“That’s fine. I’ve got a couple sleeping bags in the truck I can bring in. We can use them as extra padding or extra cover,” he offered. Alex nodded and they smiled at each other. It was oddly wholesome, like they were just having a sleepover and nothing else.

They went out to the bunk house and Alex used the key to unlock the door. They grabbed a couple of the twin mattresses off the closest bunks and hauled them on their shoulders over to the main cabin. They put them on the floor next to one another and then while Michael went to his truck for the sleeping bags, Alex went back to the bunk house for pillows and some extra blankets. By the time they’d made their nest, the fire had warmed up the room to something almost near comfortable. Alex shrugged off his coat and hoodie, throwing them onto the couch, and then toed off his shoes before stepping onto the thin, cheap camp mattresses.

“You’re going to sleep in your jeans?” Michael asked incredulously. Alex looked down at himself and then at Michael. He had planned on it, but not if Michael wasn’t. He was already unbuttoning them as he gave his retort.

“What if I get cold?” he asked, trying to balance on one leg and work the skinny leg of his jeans off his foot with the other.

“I promise, I’ll keep you warm. I’ve been told I run hot,” Michael joked, stripping down to his boxers and nothing else. Alex tried not to get caught staring at him, but it was so much skin and he hadn’t mentally prepared himself for it. When Michael turned to pick up one of his fallen socks from when he’d chucked his clothes onto the couch, Alex got too distracted and ended up toppling over onto the mattress with only one leg free from his jeans. Michael looked over at him and grinned like he knew what had caught his attention. He reached over and grabbed Alex’s foot, swinging him around so he could work the other jean leg down around Alex’s foot.

“These are really not conducive to getting naked quickly,” Michael commented as he tugged and pulled at the denim to get them to slide down over Alex’s calf and heel.

“I wasn’t really expecting to need to get naked quickly tonight,” Alex snapped, bending his knee to pull it out of the jean leg.

“Didn’t have plans to be naked at midnight with someone?” Michael teased, tossing the jeans aside when they’d finally gotten them all the way off. Alex snorted indelicately and watched Michael drop to his hands and knees on the mattress beside him. He pulled his pillow over from the other side of the mattress until it touched Alex’s.

“Not really. I was just hoping to get a kiss,” Alex said distractedly while watching Michael curiously as he started arranging the covers to his liking. Michael looked up at the wall clock.

“We were probably making out at midnight. I think you got your wish,” he commented before dropping onto his side next to Alex. Alex felt a spasm of shock go through him. He hadn’t realized it was so late, that they’d missed the turning of the clock from one year to the next. He turned onto his side and faced Michael, looking him over thoughtfully.

“Happy New Year,” he said, smiling and running his hand down Michael’s arm affectionately. Michael spared a glance at his arm and then leaned in, pressing his mouth to Alex’s in a sweet, open kiss that made something in Alex draw tight with need.

“Happy New Year,” Michael breathed against his lips when they parted for breath. This time Alex felt bold, felt like it had to be more than a fluke of the fire and whiskey if they’d kissed twice over so many hours. He slipped his hand around Michael’s back and pulled their bodies closer together while sweeping his tongue across Michael’s to beckon him to kiss him deeper. Now there were fewer layers, less guessing, and more to explore for Alex’s hands as they kissed. He couldn’t get enough of the swell of Michael’s shoulder blades or the sharp curve of his hip bone, or the way his stomach felt as it bumped against his when they drew in deep breaths before diving back into each other. He was drowning in it, drowning in Michael touching him back, exploring his body too, and when he ran his hand under the leg of Alex’s boxers and grabbed his ass to grind their bodies together? Alex saw nirvana. It was the best thing he’d felt outside of his own hand.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Michael breathed, kissing over Alex’s jaw to his ear. Alex nodded, but he was too caught up in how hot and hard Michael’s dick felt through his boxers as it slid along the inside of his hip and wondering if he could get his hand on him, if he could put his mouth on him…

“You ever do this before?” Alex managed to gasp before slipping his fingers under the waistband of Michael’s underwear.

“Yeah,” Michael replied with a embarrassed, proud grin, “but not like with a…”

“A guy?” Alex supplied as Michael trailed off. They both let out a burst of embarrassed, hysterical giggles.

“Yeah, a guy. But also, not with someone I like as much as I like you,” he finished, bringing Alex’s face back to his so he could see the sincerity in his words. Alex felt like he’d been given a birthday present and kicked in the gut at the same time. He smiled slowly at Michael’s words and leaned in to kiss him, softly, sweetly, and with all the emotion he could muster but couldn’t put into sentences.

“I like you, too,” he managed after a few more kisses.

“I would certainly hope so,” Michael joked, bringing his hand between them to gently squeeze the line of Alex’s prick through the thin jersey material of his boxers. Alex glanced down and could see the dark spot at the tip of his cock. He looked at Michael’s underwear and was relieved to see a similar stain starting on his own underwear.

“What do you want to do tonight?” Alex asked breathily as he ran a finger lightly up the length of Michael’s hard on. His hips twitched in response to the stimulation and Alex felt a hunger for more rise in him at the motion.

“I… I don’t know? M-maybe, hand jobs?” Michael stuttered, his eyes drifting closed as Alex moved forward to kiss his neck and chest while his hand continued to softly pet his cock. Alex watched in fascination as his hand framed Michael’s covered dick while he stroked over the fabric. He wanted more to do more, wanted to see him, taste him, make him feel good.

“I think I want to try giving you a blow job,” Alex said almost absentmindedly. He heard Michael’s sharp, quiet gasp and his eyes came up to meet his.

“You want to?” Michael asked, eyes pleading that he say ‘yes’, but voice making it clear that Alex could say ‘no’ without any repercussions.

“Yeah, is that okay?” Alex asked, trying to convey the same thing with his eyes as he waited for Michael’s verdict.

“I mean, yeah, of course. I… have you ever done this before?” Michael asked hesitantly.

“No, but I mean… I’ve watched porn. I’ve done my research. How hard can it be?” Alex asked, starting to scoot his body down so he could more easily access Michael’s dick.

“Oh, just thinking about it makes it very hard,” Michael replied cheekily. Alex shot him an amused, appreciative grin at the joke.

“Okay, I’m going to…” Alex started, reaching for the waistband of Michael’s underwear. Michael’s hands met his and together they pushed and maneuvered his underwear off and then he laid on his back, bared in all his glory to Alex’s gaze. Alex tried not to stare, but Michael’s was the first real live cock he’d seen in front of him, hard, turned on, and for him to do what he wanted with. He catalogued all the differences between them. Michael was thicker than he was, uncut, and he seemed wider at the tip. Alex grasped him, running his fingers over the soft, velvety foreskin before taking a firmer grip and jacking him slowly. It was such a different sensation than he got from jacking his own cock, more fluid, and he loved watching the head of Michael’s cock disappear and reappear as his hand moved on him. He heard Michael softly exhale ‘Fuck’ above him as he kept moving his hand slowly up and down the shaft of his cock. The precum that beaded the tip was clear and shiny. Without overthinking it, Alex licked a broad stripe across the sticky head. The bitter, tangy taste took him by surprise, but he found he wanted more of it. Pulling back Michael’s foreskin he pressed his tongue over the slit of Michael’s cock before lowering his mouth to seal around the head and suck gently.

“Shit, I don’t know if I’m going to make it to the main event,” Michael hissed above him as Alex sucked on the head of his cock and moved his hand in tempo. Alex looked up through his eyelashes at him, not stopping what he was doing, and could see the strain on his face as he watched Alex’s mouth and hand on him. It made a flood of arousal wash through him to see how turned on Michael was getting, how so little was pushing him close to cumming already.

“Hey, switch sides,” Michael gasped, clutching at Alex’s shoulder. Alex popped off and gave him a confused look for a moment. “Like, bring your bottom half up here. 69!”

Alex scrambled to comply. He practically tore off his underwear and both of them rolled onto their sides to face each other. He took Michael in hand again and looked down between them to see Michael do the same. He did it confidently, like he’d done this before even though Alex knew he hadn’t, but it was so typically Michael to always act like he knew what he was doing. He’d at least been blown before so, Alex surmised, he had to know more than Alex. Michael glanced down and their eyes met and for a fleeting second, Alex could see in some microexpression that Michael was nervous too. It made him feel better, made him want to make Michael feel the way he’d felt earlier, so he closed his eyes and wrapped his lips around Michael again.

This time he felt more confident. He smoothed his tongue over the hard flesh in his mouth and pushed his lips further down Michael’s shaft until he felt him teasing the edges of the back of his throat and he knew if he kept pushing he’d gag. So he took what he could and moved his hand over what he couldn’t. He’d gotten caught up in a rhythm of sorts to what he was doing when he felt the first touch of Michael’s tongue against his dick. It was barely there, a warm pressure and then gone. When Michael came back with his whole mouth, Alex pulled back off Michael with a gasp. That was a completely different feeling, one that made his toes curl and the muscles around his spine tense with pleasure. When Michael added his own bit of suction, Alex felt sure he would blow.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he panted, leaning his head against Michael’s hip for a moment.

“Right?” he heard Michael say and without looking, he knew the bastard was smirking at him.

“So can we just agree that if each of us is embarrassingly quick, this was just a warm-up round?” Alex panted out, finally opening his eyes to glance down towards Michael’s face. It was a mistake, of course, because his lips were red and spit slick, and Alex’s own cock was only inches away from them, and Michael had just had his mouth on him and if possible, Alex felt himself get the tiniest bit harder in Michael’s hand at the sight.

“Yep,” Michael agreed succinctly, before diving back in. Alex had to concentrate not to buck his hips at the sudden sensation of Michael’s mouth on him, but he managed it. Trying to get his head back in the game, he drew Michael back into his mouth and regained his earlier tempo. A deep, throaty moan from Michael almost sent him spiraling over the edge as the vibrations ran the length of him. He echoed the sentiment and felt fine tremors run along Michael’s thighs. Slowing down, Alex decided to try to push his limit and see how much he could get of Michael in him. He moved his head down lower, trying to relax through the feeling of something blocking his throat. He pulled back and tried again.

“Shit, Alex, what are you-- Oh my god,” Michael was gasping above him, hand reaching down to cradle the back of Alex’s head. He didn’t push or put any pressure on him, just tangled his fingers in Alex’s dark locks and held on as Alex continued to slowly work him deeper. Michael tried to pleasure Alex at the same time, but it felt more like he just held him in his mouth and moaned as Alex moved over him. He didn’t mind. It felt powerful to have him so distracted, to have him whimpering and see his muscles twitching with how bad he wanted to move and thrust as Alex swirled his tongue around him and hollowed out his cheeks.

A clench of fingers in Alex’s hair and quickly frantic “Fuck, I’m gunna --” was all the warning Alex got before his mouth was flooded with Michael’s release. It wasn’t altogether pleasant, but he swallowed quickly in hopes the aftertaste wouldn’t be as bad. He backed off and looked down at Michael’s face. His cheeks were red from exertion, his mouth open and panting, and his eyes closed in something between pain and bliss. After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked down at Alex, a lazy grin on his face.

“That was awesome,” he drawled, before sitting up and moving so he could capture Alex’s mouth in an overenthusiastic, sloppy kiss. Alex laughed at him, kissing him back and pulling him close, running his hands over all his new favorite places on Michael’s body. Michael’s hand reached between them and he grasped Alex’s cock.

“Is this okay?” he asked between kisses, hand moving purposefully over Alex. Alex nodded, pulling Michael into another kiss as he let himself get worked over. When he could no longer kiss because all his attention was on the rushing feeling through his body as he got pulled closer and closer to cumming, Michael started talking.

“You look so hot like this,” he murmured against Alex’s neck. “You’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen.”

“Fuck, Michael,” Alex gasped, hips starting to make small, aborted thrusts to follow Michael’s tight grip on him.

“You looked so hot with my cock in your mouth, so focused, like you loved doing it, like you were made for it,” Michael breathed into his ear. Alex could only whimper, his body drawing tight before he started shooting, cum hitting his chest and stomach, dripping over Michael’s knuckles.

“Christ, that’s a lot of jizz,” Michael said, before laughing lightly as he grabbed someone’s underwear and wiped off his hand and Alex’s torso. “What a load of --”

“Shhh,” Alex said, turning and covering Michael’s mouth with his before he could make another terrible joke. Michael hummed contentedly as Alex kissed it, slow and languidly as he came down from his high. When Alex could muster up the energy, he reached down and grabbed one of the blankets to throw it over them. Despite there being two mattresses, they were sharing one, knees tangled together, arms wrapped around each other, chests touching.

“So what does this mean tomorrow?” Michael asked quietly when they’d begun to drowse and could no longer keep kissing. Alex opened an eye and looked over at him, having noted the tension in his voice.

“What do you mean?” he asked, raising his head and propping it on a hand so he could look down at Michael.

“Like… are we together? Boyfriends? Friends with benefits? Is this like… a drunk tumble for the holiday?” Michael asked, swallowing thickly as he pushed out the last option. Alex frowned down at him, wondering where this was coming from, why he’d need to ask. Did he want it to be a drunk tumble?

“I… I figured it meant we were dating? Like… like boyfriends. But if you don’t want that I--” Alex never got to figure out what concession he’d make to keep getting to kiss Michael.

“No! No, boyfriends is good. I-I want to be your boyfriend. I just wanted to make sure you wanted that too,” he finished, focusing on Alex’s shoulder as he ran his fingers lightly over the curve to his arm.

“So boyfriends,” Alex said decisively, laying back down, arm extended out under his pillow. He couldn’t help the smile that stretched over his mouth or the excitement that crept into his voice as he said, as calmly as possible, “I’m your boyfriend.”

“You bet you are,” Michael pronounced, meeting his eyes finally and swooping in to kiss him through his own smile. Their teeth may have clacked together because they couldn’t seem to stop grinning, but it didn’t hurt and no one seemed to care.

The night passed quietly and slowly. They fell asleep against each other only minutes before dawn started to lighten the sky, the fire burned low in the fireplace behind them, their bodies spent from discovering each other over and over. It was the happiest Alex had ever felt, the safest and warmest as he laid with his back against Michael’s chest, feeling him breathe deeply as he slept.

“Boyfriends,” he whispered into the dark room, still smiling as he forced himself to close his eyes and lightly squeeze the arms that wrapped around him.

#happy new years #malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #new years eve #rnm fic #tw: homophobic language #schmoop and smut

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intheseautumnhands · 2 years

Note

Ben and Klaus, for new years

This did not turn out to be a happy fic, whoops. XD But then, Ben's afterlife is often not a happy one.

bitterly breathe up the time that's passing Ben and Klaus, NYE 2011 -- read on AO3, or below “Do you know how many parties I could be at right now?” Klaus asks as the clock hits eleven, not for the first time that night.

“Yeah, I do,” Ben says, also not for the first time, and probably not loud enough to be heard over the sound of New Year’s Rockin Eve playing too loudly from the shitty motel room TV. He doesn’t bother to repeat himself or turn around; the complaining isn’t really for his benefit anyway. He knows, and Klaus knows that Ben knows, that Klaus would've happily spent all the money that Luther had very obviously slipped him on Christmas on drinks and drugs to quiet the ghosts. If it was just Klaus, he’d be in the middle of some kind of crowd, right now, any crowd at all, searching for any high he could get.

If Klaus had gone, Ben would have followed, miserable the entire time, but it's not like he has better options.

But Ben had asked — well, sort of asked. He'd said something, anyway; something about Klaus going somewhere he could get a good night’s sleep, knowing Klaus would hear his own exhaustion behind it. And Klaus had gone quiet.

He does that, sometimes, when Ben asks for things. Not as often as he used to, when they were seventeen, eighteen, and both pretty sure at any given time they only had a few days left before Ben's interrupted afterlife came back for him. Of course, back then, Ben hadn't wanted to ask for much, hadn't wanted to disrupt Klaus' life too much, so that when he went it was a little easier. And then Ben hadn't disappeared after all, and they'd gotten used to being this way, and he still doesn't ask for that much, really, but Klaus only gets that soft, guilty look over his requests once in a while these days.

He’d gotten a motel room, and moved the chair close to the window when he noticed Ben leaning against the wall looking outside, and he’d done it complaining the whole time, but he’d never actually left.

Ben still would have gone with him into the crowd. He would have followed and felt even more insubstantial, surrounded by people who would never see or acknowledge him, with Klaus climbing steadily towards so high that even Ben became blurry to him. Instead they’re here, in this quiet room, and with the only person around talking right to him, Ben can just about forget that he's dead, for a little while.

Klaus keeps up a running commentary, words progressively more slurred as he works towards the bottom of his bottle and sinks deeper into the pillows: the music, the hosts, the suckers crowded into the cold, the sounds coming from the room next door, sometimes what he thinks the rest of the family might be doing. Ben listens to it all with one ear, leaning close enough to the glass that he can pretend the cold is from the window, staring out into the darkness of the street.

Eventually, the excitement on the TV raises to a fever pitch. “Ten,” the crowd starts chanting, and Klaus along with them for a half-yawned, “nine,” before a sloshing that’s probably him raising the bottle to his lips again.

“Seven,” and a firework goes off somewhere in the distance, crackling bright red over the city. “Six,” and another one goes up, the tail blindingly white.

“Hey, Klaus,” Ben says, turning towards the bed, and — “four!” — Klaus is slumped down, head tipped to the side and mostly off the pillows, one hand still curled loosely around the bottle that’s lying next to him.

“Three!” — and Ben is halfway out of his seat to lower the TV and cover him up when he remembers, abruptly, that he can’t do either, and it all but knocks him back into the chair.

The ball sinks down with him, bringing them into another year Ben shouldn’t be around to see, and he can’t help wondering, as the crowd cheers and celebrates a new beginning, how many of those he’s got left.

#m: we didn't choose this life #the umbrella academy #sometimes it makes things

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everlarkficexchange · 4 years

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Fate Takes a Break

BY: @ally147writes

RATING: T

PROMPT #50: everlark discovering on their date that they’ve missed each other their whole lives (living in the same city, went to the same high school, going to the same halloween and nye parties, were set up before by different friends but stood each other up, shopping at the same store, etc.) [submitted by @sunflowerslyf]

AN: This ended up being substantially shorter than I was aiming for, but it was nice to get back into fic writing all the same. Thanks to the mods for holding this exchange again, and thanks to all the authors and artists who took part. Your creativity is what is keeping the world spinning right now.

(Not beta’d - all errors are my own)

This date isn’t quite as blind as Katniss was expecting

Still a little bit blind, though. She’s seen the guy before, she’s sure of that. But where? The weird furrowed brow look he’s sending her every time she dips her gaze towards her plate to pick out another choice sliver of cheese-herb-sauced chicken breast tells her he’s got the same weird deja vu thing going on, too.

She sighs and asks, “It’s not just me, is it?”

The guy — Peeta, she tells herself again, somehow not as distinctive a name as it sounds like it should be — huffs a quiet laugh and sets his fork down.

“Maybe we’ve just got those kinds of faces?”

“You might be right. But I’m not convinced.”

He smiles, a beyond-charming quirk of his lips. “No, neither am I. I think I would remember you if I’d seen you before.”

She blushes, just a little, and takes a sip of water. “Well, it’s our first date,” she points out. “Might as well do the twenty questions thing now.”

“And, what, deprive us of a perfectly good second date activity?”

“This will drive me insane if we don’t work it out right now.”

He drums his fingers along the edge of their table. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you not immediately pass up a second date.”

She runs her hands — nowhere near as damp now as they were at the beginning of the date — along the smooth satin of her skirt. “I could be tempted, I suppose.”

“Hmm. Noted.” He smiles that charming little smile again and leans forward, close enough that she can make out the hints of gold flecked like tiny bursts of sunshine in his blue eyes. “Where do you want to start?”

“Well,” she takes another bite of chicken before she says anything weird about his eyes that she might regret, “you’re obviously not from District Twelve, so —”

Peeta coughs. “Actually, I am.”

There’s a beat of odd silence where they do nothing but blink at each other.

“District Twelve,” she repeats, slower, like there’s a chance he misheard her. “As in, tiny ass coal town about two hours south of here?”

He quirks his brow. “Is there another District Twelve I should know about?”

She narrows her eyes. “Merchant or Seam?”

“Merchant, but I went to D12 Senior High. That was in the middle of Seam, right?”

“Bullshit,” she exclaims, maybe a little too loudly if the dirty looks she’s getting from the snooty old people at their neighbouring tables is anything to go by. “I’d remember if you were there. When did you graduate?”

“Uh, 2008?”

“Bullshit,” she says again, because this can’t be real, can it? “Same year as me. You weren’t there.”

He grins again. “I’m glad we can establish that neither of us remember each other from high school, so strike one for that, but I wasn’t there for all of it. Just… I don’t know, maybe the last three months of the semester? Didn’t seem all that worth going to graduation after not really having contributed anything. Then I got accepted to Capitol University, and —”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she cuts in with a chuckle. “Capitol University. When did you start?”

“Pretty much right away.”

She leans forward, eyes narrowed. “Major?”

He mirrors her. “Double, actually, Business and Arts. You?”

“Environmental Biology. But I had a friend doing economics, so I was around the business school a lot.”

“What was their name?”

She takes the last bite of her chicken and pushes her plate away. “Madge.”

He chuckles. “Don’t tell me, Madge Kingswood, right?”

“Uh…”

“She dated my roommate for about a year.”

“You were Thom’s roommate?”

“Sure was. For a little while after we graduated, too. Last I heard, he moved to District Two. Something to do with gem mining.”

“Hang on, are you the Peter — or, Peeta, I guess — that she and Thom tried to set me up with for, what was it… a double bowling date?”

He laughs, a boundless, joyful sound that pools warm in her belly. “I’m guessing you’re Kat with the lethal aim, then?”

“The lethal aim has more to do with archery. Did you have fun that night?”

“I got stood up, if you’ll recall?” His eyes glitter in the gentle candlelight. “Did you really have food poisoning?”

She blushes again, but she’s not sure why she’s so embarrassed. “No. I just… completely hate bowling.”

“Guess a second date down at the alley is completely out of the question, then?”

“I’d probably dredge up the food poisoning excuse again if you tried it.”

“Also noted.”

They share a smile, one that almost frightens her with the length and breadth of how it speaks of their possible future.

She coughs into her closed fist and dabs at her lips with a napkin. “Well, next thing, I guess you’re gonna tell me you were at all the music nights at the campus tavern.”

“Every Friday, if I didn’t have something due that night. Why?”

“I was in a band that played there about once a month. Drummer.”

“You behind a kit would have been a sight. What was your band’s name?”

“Victors.”

He shakes his head. “Funny. My best friend married your keyboard player.”

Her jaw drops. “You’re best friends with Finnick?”

“We went to the same elementary school. Been friends for years now.”

“He’s kind of a dick.”

Peeta bursts out laughing again. “Yeah, he kind of is.”

“Spend much time around the campus gym, then?”

“I was there on a wrestling scholarship,” he tells her, and the subtle flex of his muscles beneath the deep midnight of his suit jacket catches her attention in a way it didn’t before. “I assume you did the rounds there, too, then?”

She sighs and finishes her water. “Track Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.”

“Hate to say it, but I don’t think our paths crossed there, either.”

“No, but I did go to a few wrestling meets. My roommate enjoyed them.”

He grins again. “Guys in tight spandex, huh?”

She snorts. “Don’t ask me. I barely looked up from my phone.”

“Glad my meets provided such riveting entertainment.”

“I was literally the only one not paying attention.”

“Probably a good thing I didn’t know you were there,” he muses as he takes another sip of wine. A drop clings to the edge of his lips, and the dart of his tongue to catch it is entrancing. “I might not have placed otherwise.”

She clears her throat. “We were way up in the nosebleeds, so there was probably no danger of me distracting you. This is all kind of uncanny, though. I could know you from anywhere.”

He smiles again, a rogue curl flopping forward over his eyes. “Sort of romantic, don’t you think?”

She snorts. “That we constantly missed each other over the years? Kind of sounds like the opposite of a fairy tale.”

“Oh, I don’t know. We’re here now. Maybe the universe thinks we’re inevitable or something? Soulmates destined to be brought together. Maybe that’s why we’re familiar to each other, we were together in a past life or something.”

Her answering laugh is more like a snort. “Or maybe fate took a break, and this is some sort of cosmic screw-up that slipped through the cracks and is bound to fail.”

“Katniss,” he says, the playful glint in his eyes simmering down to something more serious, and strangely earnest. He reaches across the table, just barely grazing his pinkie against hers. It’d be dumb to say a thrum of lightning coursed through her at the touch, so she’ll just keep that thought to herself.

“If I’d seen you or, more to the point, noticed you then, during any one of those times our paths could have crossed but didn’t, any one of those times we were in the same room but I looked left and you looked right… believe me, I would have let you know, and I wouldn’t have let you go.”

“Well,” she says after a long moment, just staring at his finger beside hers, “good thing we’re meeting up now, then, isn’t it?”

That same hundred-year smile passes between them, maybe not quite as scary as it was before. “Yeah, it is.”

#Springtime Edition 2020 #ally147writes #sunflowerslyf #prompt 50 #submission

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elatedmarvel · 4 years

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Fallingwater

Steve Rogers x reader

Summary: A whirlwind romance takes you on a roller coaster of emotions.

Word Count: 2,555

AN: I know it’s NYE and I should post a story about NYE but this was due and I’m so proud of it. This is for @nacho-bucky‘s writing challenge! Thank you so much for hosting Cait, I had so much fun writing this. My prompt was the song Fallingwater by Maggie Rogers (one of my favs songs ever, it was number 2 on my 2019 most listened). I legit did about 5 outlines before i realized I hated them all, and then listened to the song on repeat for a day before coming up with this. Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Slightly angsty and mention of sexy times.

“The moment I set eyes on her, I knew she was the one. I thought I was doing so well, but then I met her and it was like everything was under a spell.”

It was probably too early to be doing shots, but you couldn’t care. You slurred your way through a speech, how hard you worked, how much you sacrificed to become the Director of R and D at Stark Inc. Your friends cheered loudly, some whooping, before you tilted your head back and let the alcohol burn its way down your throat.

Your face hurt, but you couldn’t stop smiling. Everything you had worked for just came true, and now you were the youngest co-Director of R and D in the company’s history. Drinks with the girls seemed like the only fitting way to celebrate.

Your friend, Natasha, was letting everyone know how much you deserved this promotion when your eyes caught his. Suddenly, every word Natasha said was drowned out, and the whole bar became fuzzy expect for him.

His full lips formed into a smile, and he tilted his beer your way. Quickly he turned to his friend before sliding off his chair and walking towards you. Somehow you managed to meet him in the middle, not even sure when your legs had moved.

“Hi” you breathed.

“Hey, you’re the new co-director or R and D at Stark’s right?” and his charming smiled almost laid you flat on the floor.

“Yeah... that’s me” surprised he recognized you.

“Sorry, I just realized how creepy that must have sounded, I just work there too. Name’s Steve, I’m the director of graphic design. Tony and Bruce were gushing about you at our meeting today.” he chuckled to himself. “I have to say, you’re a very impressive person.”

“Thank you! It’s been amazing to work at Stark Inc and I still can’t believe I got promoted. It feels like a dream, to be honest.”

“Trust me, from what they told me, they would be crazy not to promote you.”

The moment of silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. You took the time to really get a good look at him. Dimples, blond fluffy hair, and a jawline that could cut through pizza. Meeting his eyes again, you blushed at being caught.

“Do you wanna dance?” he asks, hopeful. All you can do is nod.

The night passes by fast. One moment your dancing and laughing at the bar, and the next, your kissing his luscious lips and pulling off your own shirt.

Rolling over the next morning, you were met with the glorious sight of a naked and sleeping Steve Rogers. His hair was fanned out, and the sunlight peaking in hit him in all the right spots. It was torture getting out of bed and putting on your clothes, you wanted to stay and trace his freckles all day.

The sound of the front door clicking shut woke him up. Squinting from the intrusive light, he blindly felt the bed for your soft figure, wanting to curl up with you and fall back asleep. The paper on the pillow pulled his attention and he opened the note enough to read.

Thanks for the magical night! Call me sometime XXX-XXX-XXXX.

“She’s the light in the dark places in my life. No one could compare to her.”

Just like that, you’re hooked.

The next time you meet is at your first meeting with the rest of the Directors at Stark Inc. Excited to be formally introduced, and wanting to make a good impression, you had arrived early with bagels and coffee for the meeting.

You’re busy thanking Peter, the intern, for helping you, when he waltzes in. The navy suit he’s wearing does nothing for what you know is underneath. Most things don’t do him justice, it’s like he was carved by Michelangelo himself. And just like that, you’re brought back to Friday night, sweaty bodies and sultry kisses played in your mind.

You jump slightly as Bruce comes in and begins to chat with you. He’s already talking about making improvements to the new AI you’re building, but you’ve zoned out too long to really catch what he’s saying, so you simply nod along

Steve’s eyes flicker to yours, and you can see the mirth behind his smile. Busted. You hope the office lighting washes out your blush. And just as Bruce segways into another project, Tony Stark himself waltzes into the room, officially saving your ass.

Everyone takes a seat, and the meeting commences, but you’re far less energetic about it now. You try to focus on what Tony is saying, you really do, but you can’t stop thinking about the blue eyed man sitting on the opposite side of the table. It’s hard not to look at him, even his profile is drool worthy.

Hoping to god your bsing skills are up to par, you ohh, ahh and nod at the right times. Chancing another glance Steve, you find he’s already looking at you. The smile comes easy to your face before you hear Tony clear his throat.

Looking around, you realize that everyone was looking at you, and you’re racking your brain to see if you remembered to put on deodorant this morning.

“Y/N, do you want to introduce yourself, or do you want to keep ogling Steve there?” Tony asks, and you’ve never wanted the ground to swallow you more than you have in this moment.

Clearing your throat and sneaking a sip of water, you gather your wits quickly and introduce yourself, and also give a brief overview of the projects you have and are working on. 15 minutes later, you’re pretty sure everyone had forgotten about Tony’s snide remark as you give the floor back to your boss to wrap up the meeting.

Everyone takes turns coming up to you and congratulating you, shaking your hands and other pleasantries that you really don’t care for. Of course, Steve is the last person to approach and your heart skips a beat as he pulls you in for a hug. God he smells amazing.

“You were great! I really can’t wait to work with you.” he states earnestly. You give a weak smile, and chastise yourself for being so smitten with someone you just met.

“Thank you, I had a lot of great mentors.” you say, cursing your voice for breaking at the end.

Steve’s hand falls to the small of your back, and guides you out of the conference room.

“I’m really impressed with the latest model vibranium shield, looks like it could really be useful to someone in combat.” the mention of one of your projects has you lighting up, and chatting up a storm as you enter the elevator

“Yes! Bruce told me you were the one to sketch the design first, and I have to say that it inspired us to go sleek and lightweight. We really wanted--” but you don’t get to finish because his lips are on yours. It takes you a moment to process, but then you kiss back with as much fervor as you can manage.

His hands find your waist, and work their way up, while yours find his hair and neck. Anything you both could do to get closer, full on making out like high schoolers in the elevator.

The ding alerts you that the door is about to open, and you break apart. Your struggling for breath, and your lips feel swollen. The women that entered the elevator takes a moment to take in your ragged breathing and Steve’s messy hair before smirking. “I’ll take the next one.”

The moment the doors close, you both burst into laughter.

“Well, she sure won’t be forgetting us” you giggle. Steve hums in agreement before taking a step towards you and kissing your forehead.

“10 bucks says that Tony’ll know before lunch” he chuckles.

“Oh, I’m sure he already knows.” you states, pointing up to the security camera in the corner.

Steve groans before burying his head in your neck. “Worth it” you hear him murmur.

The following weeks follow much the same.

Stolen kisses and little notes are passed between the two of you in the halls. Flowers show up more in your office, and Steve has never had as many baked goods in his life as he does now.

You make a point to keep it casual, not referring as dates, no staying over at each other’s places. It’s supposed to be light and breezy.

Take out when one person is working late, breaks in each other’s office to rant or feel each other up, bubbles baths after a stressful day. It all falls into place and becomes domestic, and you never even realized the moment it had stopped being casual.

It’s a whirlwind that becomes too much when you hear three words from Steve.

“I love you”

“It feels like I’m stuck upstream without her.”

You’re still panting, and you can feel it in your bones. His skin is glistening with sweat, and you both revel in the afterglow. You know the moment can’t last forever, but you hope to stretch it as long as possible.

You sigh before pressing one last kiss to his lips and throwing the covers off your legs. You can feel his eyes staring at your back as you gather your clothes from the floor, cursing yourself for so carelessly throwing your bra somewhere you can’t find.

“Stay” he states, and you’ve never wanted anything more.

“You know I can’t” you say as you pull up your pants and button them, ignoring the way your hands shake.

“It’s getting late, just stay the night.” he begs, sliding from the bed to pull you into an embrace. He knows how to play dirty.

“I need to go Steve.” you state more firmly, his arms dropping from around you as he takes a step back to study you. After his gaze feels too strong, you start to throw on the rest of your clothes, hoping to leave before doing something you’ll regret.

“Is this because I told you I love you?” he asks, and your heart leaps into your throat. The feeling of panic begins to ebb into your bones, the same feeling you had when the words left his mouth the first time.

You had gotten ice cream stuck in your hair. He was helping you get the liquid out of your hair while you lamented about good ice cream going to waste. It was so quiet and inconspicuous that if it weren’t for the panic forming, you would have missed them.

Laughing nervously, you thanked him for his help and made some dumb excuse to go home as fast as possible. The week that followed was so normal that you were sure he forgot the incident.

Apparently not.

“No, I just need to go home” voice shaking. “Why are you ignoring this?” he asks.

“I’m not.”

“Stop denying it! I’m sorry that this freaks you out, but I’m not sorry for you knowing how I feel about you!”

“You can’t actually feel that way! We’ve known each other for 2 months!” you yell back.

“It doesn’t matter how long we’ve known each other because I know how I feel. I love you!” he shouts back, arms gesticulating wildly, it would be funny if you weren’t drowning in the moment.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Say how you feel, say you love me or that you don’t. But say something!” and now he’s pacing back and forth, hands running through his hair. You can tell he’s frustrated, but you can’t seem to feel anything but cold. It’s moving too fast and starting to spiral, and you just want it to stop for a moment.

“You always tell me just what I’m supposed to say, as if it could be any other way.” you say quietly. It’s not true, you know it’s not, but in the heat of the moment, it’s all you could do to defend yourself.

It’s silent for a moment, he’s stopped pacing and you just stare at each other.

The stand still is getting to you, and you can’t bare it another second. Grabbing your bag from the chair, you practically run to his door and throw it open.

The sound of the door shutting feels more like a knife severing your relationship.

“So, to most amazing woman in the world, I love you Pepper, and I will never stop.”

The applause brings you back to the moment, Tony and Pepper’s wedding reception. Tears you didn’t notice slide down your face, and you dab them away quickly, hoping no one noticed.

Since that fateful night one month ago, you’ve replayed your relationship multiple times. Every time you see him in the halls, you recall a night of passion. Meetings were spent thinking about jokes that you and Steve would have passed back and forth. Laying in bed, you thought of all the things you wish you had said on that final night.

You excuse yourself from the table, feeling claustrophobic, and make your way towards the bar. You had already seen Steve at the wedding, and if he was going to look so gorgeous, you were going to get drunk enough to forget.

An arm catches you on the way, and the way goosebumps rise on your skin, you know it’s him. Turning to face him, you could cry at how much better he looks up close. He had grown a slight beard, and the black suit fit him like a glove. You were sure everyone would be staring at him.

“Hi, dance with me?” he asks, so simple, so loaded.

You think for a moment before nodding. He gently sweeps you into his embrace, and you melt into him. It feels right, like everything before was unknowingly wrong.

“I miss you” you breathe, not wanting to disturb the moment.

“Me too” He hums, the vibrations tickling where your forehead meets his cheek. “I think about you all the time. Life is much more boring without you by my side.”

You both continue to sway, to content to do much else. There hasn’t been a moment that felt as warm and safe as this, this was home. It’s where you wanted to be for the rest of your life, and you’re not scared anymore.

“I never meant anything I said that night, I was terrified Steve. It was all happening so fast and it was overwhelming. I never loved you fully in the way I could.” tears welling up in your eyes.

He pulls his head back far enough to look at you before bringing his thumb to wipe the tears that escaped down your cheek.

“I pushed too hard. I didn’t think about how you felt. I was scared of losing you, and I thought that fighting for you was the way to go instead of catching you.”

You shake your head and let out a laugh, “we were both idiots.” His arms wrap around you tighter, pressing a kiss to your forehead, he laughs along with you.

“I’m not scared anymore.” you state. Before you know it, his soft lips are back on his.

Breaking apart, you know you have the biggest grin on your face.

“I’m like fallingwater.”

~~~

Thank you so much for reading! Feedback is always welcome!

#nachobuckychallenge #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve x reader #steve rogers fan fic #steve rogers imagine #steve fanfiction #steve fanfic #steve rogers fan fiction #steve fan fiction #steve rogers AU

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amydancepants-peralta · 4 years

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we’re the fortunate ones (spinning ‘round the sun) ☀️

Here is chapter one of my entry into the @b99fandomevents 2020 vision challenge: Peraltiago celebrating NYEs, throughout the years/seasons.

More to come soon ☺️ (ao3)

season one: with these things there’s no telling (we just have to wait and see)

The first time Amy Santiago spends her New Year’s Eve with Jake Peralta, it happens completely without her volition.

She had been working alongside Jake (and the other detectives at the nine-nine) for three years now, and until Captain McGintley decided to partner them up together, had been able to avoid sharing too many cases with him. Jake was, to use his own terms, a Lone Wolf - so determined to be the hero that ran in to save the day that he often left little to no regard for the consequences. It was entirely different to the way Amy preferred to operate, and it was just one of the reasons why they often butted heads.

But a few months ago McGintley had retired, and Captain Holt (aka, her RABBI) had taken charge, and now the two of them were getting assigned together on a steady basis.

To say her tolerance level had risen to an all-time high was an understatement.

When the call had come in about a major drug bust going down on the docks at New Years Eve, Amy had been torn between the desire to be part of the action and the urge to lay low and attend the party her best friend Kylie had organised. In the end, tactical operations had won out over beer pong with strangers, and by 8pm she was in an unmarked car with Detective Daniels, making just enough small talk to make the passing time bearable.

Until, Daniels got a personal call three hours in and had to leave, and Holt had called in the relief team. Which so happened to be Detective Peralta.

In all honesty, Amy tries her very best to not let out a defeated sigh as her louder than normal partner jumps into the car, slinging a backpack undoubtedly filled with unnaturally-coloured drinks and bags of candy coated in sugar into the footwell before bending his legs and collapsing onto the seat. His smile is bright, but then it always is, and when she hands him the second pair of binoculars Amy notices how cold his hands are.

“The docks are cold at night” he mutters without prompting, and as Amy looks over him he shrugs. “You’re my partner. Even if I wasn’t in the stakeout with you, I was going to be around.” It was an oddly mature thing for him to say, and she stares for a beat longer, blinking in confusion with her own binoculars still resting in her lap. Turning his attention to the docks in front of them, Jake gives Amy a glance from the side of his eyes before shifting uncomfortably in his seat, obviously aware of her staring, and after a minute Amy lifts her binoculars and points them directly at Jake.

The image is distorted, obviously. If she turned the dial in the middle a little, it would focus on the flurry of curls in his overgrown hair; but for now she waits, and it only takes a few seconds before he sighs.

“What are you doing, Santiago?”

She lowers the goggles, gripping them with her fingers as she stares her partner down. “I don’t get it.”

Jake turns to look at Amy, furrowing his brow and glancing at their surroundings before returning his attention to her. “See, how it works is … you point those things at the stuff that’s really far away, and they become bigger through the lens.”

“I don’t need you to explain telescopic imagery to me, Peralta.” Amy huffs, her exasperation obvious as she drops the binoculars to her lap, folding her arms to her chest accusingly. “I’m talking about you. You had the night off. You could be literally anywhere else in the city right now. Why were you waiting outside?”

Another shrug. “You’re my partner, and I thought you might have needed backup.”

“Nuh-uh. Not buying it.” Narrowing her eyes, she gasps as a realisation strikes her. “The bet! You know you’re going to lose, so you’re trying to steal these arrests from me.” Raising her hand, Amy points one neatly manicured finger at her partner. “Sabotage! That is the lowest of the lows, Peralta. You have every right to be nervous, because I am clearly going to win this bet, but taking them from me? Unbelievable.”

Jake rolls his eyes, shaking his head in disbelief as Amy talks, and the look on his face only irritates her further. “Ah, firstly? I’m all for a little bit of fantasy, but making yourself believe that you’re going to win this bet is just foolish, Santiago. I am obviously the superior detective here. Secondly, I meant what I said earlier. You’re my partner. If you’re on a stakeout, I’m on a stakeout.” He pauses, feigning interest in the roof of the unmarked car they were in before muttering, “Holt is turning me into a better cop, or … whatever.”

Amy lets a silence fall over the two of them as she absorbs his last statement, hands fiddling distractedly with the strap on her binoculars. She wasn’t wrong - this whole evening had been completely out of character for him. But maybe his constant trips into the captain’s office were finally beginning to sink in; and maybe Jake was beginning to realise that as strong as they are on their own, they were far stronger as a team. She mumbles out a thank you, and he waves his hand at her, reaching for the car stereo and turning it on. Instantly, music blares from the speakers.

“Peralta!” she whispers, brushing his hand away from the knob and turning the volume down as her eyes dart around the docks for anyone that might have heard something. “You’ll blow our cover!”

“It’s nearly midnight, Santiago. We were going to miss the countdown.”

“The only thing we were going to miss was the handover taking place, you doofus!” He stares her down, this time holding his own against her withering gaze, and finally she sighs in defeat. “Alright, fine. We can listen to the radio. But on LOW, Peralta.”

He rolls his eyes again, and honestly sometimes he is just like a child, muttering “Fine, mom” as he turns the dial ever so slightly towards a higher volume. The music is gone, and two disc jockeys are talking in it’s place, reminding all their listeners that midnight was only three minutes away.

“Perfect timing!” Jake calls out, scooting his butt to the back of his seat as he leans down into the footwell, unzipping the backpack he’d dumped down there earlier and pulling out two small white cardboard boxes. Amy’s brows knit in confusion as she recognises the logo on the box - these were from Mia’s Brooklyn Bakery; a tiny little store about three blocks from her apartment, and her favourite place to sneak in a sweet treat. How Jake knew that, was something she didn’t understand.

“That’s my - ”

“Your favourite bakery?” Jake interrupts, smiling when Amy nods quickly. “Yeah, I figured. I’ve noticed the box one or two times when you’ve brought in a snack from home, and I googled the place a little while ago.” Huh. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad detective after all. “And I just thought, being on duty and all, we can’t really have champagne to celebrate the new year … but there’s nothing in the guidelines about cupcakes, right?”

His smile is so sweet, and Amy can’t help but return it. “Right.” Jake hands her a box, smile breaking out into a grin as he settles back into his seat, and Amy can feel his eyes on her as she opens the lid. The cupcake is vanilla, swirled with a sweet pink buttercream and tiny glittery sparkles littering the top. It looks delicious, and is exactly what she needs right now. “This looks amazing,” she states, looking over at Jake as she lifts the treat out of it’s box. He’s done the same already, and holds his up to hers in a silent cheers, peeling back the lining as the radio announcer reminds them there is one last minute until the countdown to 2014.

She takes a bite of the cupcake, licking off a little bit of frosting that remained on her lips and raising her eyebrows in surprise as she begins to feel tiny bursts inside her mouth. Quickly, she turns towards Jake, swallowing as she cries out, “Pop rocks?!”

“Fireworks,” he corrects her with a wink, taking his own oversized bite and giggling as the candy gets to work. “If we couldn’t get to the fireworks, then the fireworks were just going to have to come to us, Santiago.”

His enthusiasm is contagious, and Amy watches from her seat as he takes a swig of the orange soda he’d pulled from his bag to wash the cake down. It was different, seeing him in this light. Tonight, Peralta was more than just another detective from the precinct. He was her partner, who had sacrificed his New Years Eve to wait out in the cold, holding delicious snacks on standby and turning himself into the bright light that had warmed up her otherwise mediocre evening. He was still a man-child, but perhaps a slightly more mature man-child than she’d given him credit for, and … if she was being completely honest with herself? Just a little bit handsome.

Jake grins over at Amy as he returns his drink to the cup holder, and Amy can’t help but grin right back as she takes another bite, this time prepared for the miniature explosions as they pop against her tongue. A childlike giggle threatens to escape, and eagerly eats the remaining piece before the feeling fades. “This is so good!”

A terrible cover of Auld Lang Syne begins playing on the radio, interrupting their feast, and Jake wipes at the crumbs surrounding his mouth. He’s quiet as the song plays in the background, chewing on his lower lip before twisting towards her, resting his back against the car window. “Happy New Year, Amy.”

There’s a bunch of tiny explosions in her throat, and Amy wants to blame it on the cupcake but it just might be the tiny glimmer of something in Jake’s eye. Taking a deep breath, Amy pauses before smiling back at her partner. “Happy New Year, Jake.”

The song cover turns into a dance mix, blasting through the tiny speakers as the DJ obviously raises the volume in studio, and both detectives screw their face up in disgust, Jake’s hand reaching the power button first. They sigh in relief as a silence falls over the vehicle, and quickly Jake reaches for the binoculars still in his lap, holding them against his face and switching seamlessly back to Detective Mode. “So no sign of our perps yet, huh?”

Amy clears her throat, mirroring Jake’s actions with her own pair of binoculars and aiming them towards the shipping containers set up along the edge of the dock. “No, I think the intel might be a bust.” Pulling the lens away slightly, she glances over at Jake before facing forward again. “Looks like you’ll have to figure out another way to beat me at this bet, Peralta.”

He scoffs, a loud psh sound falling from his mouth. “Please. It’s you that needs to beat me, Santiago. In all seriousness, you really should be prepared for the worst date of your life.”

She can’t find the right thing to say in response (letting out a choked laugh instead), and so they get back to surveillance in silence, wrapping up the operation when Holt calls them in an hour later.

It’s another two weeks before the bet is over and Amy is forced to concede defeat. And despite all of her reservations, she finds that a date with Jake Peralta and his crushing debt wasn’t nearly as bad as she let herself think it would be.

#FLUFF TO COME I PROMISE!#b99 fandom events #b99 fanfic #Peraltiago New Years Eves #peraltiago fic #peraltiago fanfiction #myfic #happy January 14th!

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neshabeingchildish · 4 years

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Somebunny's in the Holiday Spirit

Share-a-Lair 03

Okay... If you’re not here for Thunderbolt, I fear that I have wasted your time for a couple of chapters and I sincerely apologize, because it looks like that’s the bulk of what is happening here. We’ll see a little Hensper sprinkled in, but Thunderbolt has taken over both my life and more directly, this story. So, Thunderbolt Thots Assemble! @adorkable-blackgirl @chenoahchantel @kiddangers (This is a Christmas chapter that i didn’t finish until today. Hopefully the NYE one won’t take as long.

Charlotte had gifts, decorations, and stockings in the trunk of her car. She pulled into the driveway near the tower entrance and texted Henry to meet her outside and help her with boxes. Max had already sent an email to their lab that under no circumstances were they to do anything "Chrismasy" in the shared space.

After being approved as a guest, Charlotte tried to be mindful of the roommate's wishes. Henry and Jasper were on the "we pay rent here too" side of the issue. Neither of them actually DID pay rent, really. Jasper's checks came from Junk N Stuff, and didn’t go into this place ever, at all. Meanwhile Charlotte received 2 checks - one from Junk N Stuff and one from S.A.L. Inc… because whenever she worked from the lab in the shared lair, she got a check for that. Share a Lair was a little bit more organized than the Man Cave. Henry was making Kid Danger money, but his rent was paid in successful missions by S.A.L. Inc.

Share A Lair was to help heroes get out on their own, so as long as they were working, they had a place to stay, basically for free. If they worked like Max did… nearly everything was free. Max hadn't had to foot a bill of any sort since he was there.

Charlotte tried to explain to Henry that if he had a different roommate, some of their amenities might skip at times. In essence, to be grateful that Max Thunderman was his roommate, because Max always had high end assignments and those meant more resources in the lair and less that Henry had to contribute to the lair.

The least they could do was respect his wishes about shared space. So, she kept the decorations limited to the tower and Henry's lab. But, she also didn't want to leave him out completely. After everything was set up, she went to the shared space with one of her hand made Christmas stockings and a gift, which she wrapped and labeled “From Your Lairmates,” then simply left outside of the door to his section of the house. She turned around and almost bumped into Max, but he stopped her with his hands on her arms and she yelped in surprise. He smiled and let go of her. “What are you doing sneaking around my lair?” He wasn’t in his uniform, but she could tell that he had been working. He had a certain “after mission” look to him. Kinda sweaty and tired, but skin still glowing and hair probably made perfect again immediately following battle.

She huffed out a breath and said, “I was leaving your stocking and present that we got you.”

“We, or you?” He wondered, reaching down on the floor for the items.

“I mean, I’m the one who actually physically knitted and filled the stocking and shopped for and wrapped the gift, but it’s from the three of us.”

“You're the only one who works, of the three,” he noted. She was going to debate that, but he had a point, and he started talking again anyway, “Well, I’m not really a Christmas kinda guy. I do stuff with my family, for their benefit, and that’s about it, but thanks anyway.” He tried to hand her back the gifts, but she stepped back to avoid them.

“You touched it last. Yours now,” she said and headed back for the tower. Max rolled his eyes, sighed and watched her leave. He went into his chambers, secretly giddy and curious what she’d gotten him. He did a little dance as soon as she was out of sight and rocked his head from side to side in excitement.

First off, inside of the stocking were some very nice mini hair supplies - organic stuff with honey, lavender and vanilla. She complimented his hair a few times and he noticed that she had began following all of his social media platforms and often liked photos where he knew that his swoosh was IT.

Then, there were a few gadgets that he wasn’t familiar with and he wondered if she maybe made them herself. 1. A flexible compact mirror that could attach to your hand to be held in your palm without actually holding it - it bent with the movements of his hand, but returned to a flat surface when he looked at himself again. 2. A device that claimed to be a patch that helped glands with odor… He didn’t know how he felt about THAT, but he was a heavy sweater and tended to get smelly easily when he had to fight, so she’d probably gotten a whiff of that a time or two in the past few weeks. That troubled him. He’d have to be sure to be fresh and clean whenever he saw her next. In fact, he sniffed his arm pit and grunted. WHY? Maybe it WAS his glands. 3. A safety detector. This one claimed to be able to program up to a dozen people’s vitals into it and always be able to check and see that they were okay. He smiled. That could be a HUGE comfort while he was away on missions… But also… She had treats in there! He effing LOVED treats.

Fudge square Rudolph, snowflake shaped peppermint bark, large snowman sugar cookie, chocolate Black santa cupcake… They were goofy, but wound up being super delicious. He felt bad, not because he stuffed his face and went into the kitchen after his shower to gorge himself on every treat that he could find in the place.. He KNEW that she’d been the one to do all of this and he hadn’t even considered getting any of them anything…

Max rushed into his parents' house and jetted by Phoebe and their parents on the couch.

"Well, hello to you too!" Phoebe teased.

"Can it, Pheebs. I've gotta find a Christmas present for my… roommate's assistant…" he heard himself as he said it and knew it sounded silly. He went into the lair in the basement, anyway. Phoebe followed.

"So… finally ready to admit that you've got a crush on Charlotte?" She teased.

"What? Never. I'm just pressed for time and was given a gift last night."

"What was the gift?" Phoebe wondered.

"I don't know, Phoebe. Christmas hasn't happened yet." He opened a vault and grabbed out a bunny, "Oh! What about this? A woman would like this, right?"

"A stuffed bunny? I guess. Not necessarily for Christmas, but…"

"This isn't a stuffed bunny. Know what, I don't need your help. You don't even know her."

"Excuse me? We met for coffee three times since I saw her at your place."

He set the bunny down and tried to look casual. "She say anything about me?"

"That you're a cocky know-it-all." He frowned and picked the bunny back up, "I don't have time for this. I need to make adjustments on this thing and make it more suitable for her."

"Good luck with your crush!" She cheered as he made his exit.

"Good luck with your pores!" He called back.

She gasped and touched her face, then said, "He's psyching you out. Your pores are excellent."

This was Henry's first Christmas out of his parents' house. The tree that he and Jasper put up and decorated had only a few gifts under them that they opened on Christmas morning. The three friends were opening things whenever Charlotte heard the call beep from the two way lab screen and went to answer it.

Max was there, with bedhead… though she couldn’t tell if that was natural or forced. Still extremely cute, though. “Merry Christmas, Max!” She cheered. He fought a smile. She was SO STINKIN’ CUTE in an elf suit onesie, with a hat and brown elf ears, holiday paint on her face, and red and green glitter in her hair. She watched him curiously as he stared at her, then when her smile began to awkwardly fade, he remembered where he was.

“Hey. I’m gonna send your gift through the chute,” he said.

“Oh, you didn’t have to rush some gift. We didn’t get you something so that you could get us something.”

“I didn’t get “us” something, I’m giving you something. It’s coming through the chute,” he repeated and pressed the button. Charlotte opened the chute and it was a large plastic chest with padding and a wrapped present inside of it. She opened the chest and got the box out. “Wanna open at the same time?” Max wondered.

She looked up and saw that he had the present that she left for him. She was surprised that he hadn’t opened it yet and just hoped that whatever he got her wasn’t going to put what she got him to shame. She nodded and they both tore into their presents, like little kids, smiling and then taking a moment to examine what they were looking at. “OH MY GOD!” She squealed. “Is this one of your ingenious gadgets?” she wondered.

Henry and Jasper came over to investigate as Max proudly answered, “Yeah. It’s not exactly new, but I thought that you could appreciate it. I call it the Productivity Pet. It’s basically like a little minion, to help you complete your tasks, since you’re the only person over there that ever actually does any work.”

Henry scoffed, “I do work! I do superhero work!” He said.

He was ignored. “Awww, Thanks, Max! Well… Hopefully, you don’t hate what I got you, then. You’re not very easy to shop for, because as far as I know, you either have or create everything that you could possibly need! But, I didn’t find any indication that you had one of these bad boys.”

“It looks like a mini food replicator?” He tried guessing.

“Accurate!” she cheered, “Well, sort of. It’s a portable auto snacker with about a thousand desserts programmed into it. I heard you liked sweets.”

“Where’d you hear that?” Max asked, only slightly distracted from the fact that he was about to eat about 50 lbs of sweets from that thing, “And also, did you use this to make the desserts that were in my stocking?”

“I didn’t, but you can bet that I programmed the recipes into it.”

He hugged it to his chest, “I’m not sure why I HAVEN’T made myself one of these!”

“Happy Christmas, Max!” Jasper cheered.

Max winced a smile and said, “You too.”

Charlotte picked up her Productivity Pet, which was in the form of a brown bunny with a puffy tail and grabbed the instructions. She forgot to shut off the screen, mainly because Max usually did that, and so he watched her go with her friends and study her gift. He heard Henry ask her, “Why didn’t he get US a present?”

“You’ll have to ask him,” she said, but she couldn’t stop smiling. Max annoyed her at times, being cocky and kinda rude, but she now thought that there was someone softer in there. She had no idea that he was having trouble leaving the screen, because he could still see her admiring her gift across the room.

Charlotte had gotten jewelry from Jasper, some e book collections from Henry, a ton of great stuff from her family, a weird hat from Schwoz, and a photo of Ray from Ray. The only thing that she was actively using was the Productivity Pet, which she had began calling Penelope. She also had given her bunny clothes that she made, programmed a ton of stuff into her database and carried her around in a small pet carrier. Henry and Jasper made fun of her for it, but this bunny was one of the best things to ever happen to her. She was basically a little smart device that looked like a bunny! And Charlotte was able to put her in little flower crowns and do numerous things with her. She was a diffuser, an ambient light, a calendar, could make calls, download media - Charlotte had her reading the books that Henry bought her as she worked. She could access all of Charlotte’s social media, AND she was a projector, so Charlotte could use her in a similar fashion as the Whiz Watch.

She was on Henry’s couch with Penelope on her lap, reading her a story, while she worked on some homework for one of her courses and waited on Henry to return from an assignment when she heard moving around in Max’s lab. They must've left the comm open on the 2 way caller.

Who knows how much power was probably wasted? She went to turn it off, with her bunny tucked cozily beneath her arm like a pillow, and saw that Max had two bunnies of his own, moving around in the lab. That probably was NOT safe. She was going to press the emergency button to alert him, but he came in before she could and fussed, "Colosso! Balfour! What are you two doing here?"

"What did you do with Bunny Clyde?" One of the rabbits asked.

"Ugh. I gave her away. She was just sitting in a vault anyway."

"You think I hadn't been in and out of that vault?" The one called Colosso asked.

"You broke up a happy home!" The one called Balfour fussed.

"This is SO weird." Charlotte said, and they turned to look at her.

"Oh God,"Max said.

"Bunny Clyde!" The rabbits cheered.

"Sorry. Ignore this! I mean, ignore what? There are no bunnies!" Max said and turned off the screen.

"And it got weirder." She pressed her luck and went to his lab, where he was vigorously fussing with two rabbits while she waited for access. Nobody just walked in there. What if there were protocols in place? He sighed and granted her entry.

"Hey.. How many of these do you have?" She wondered.

"We are not the same!" Colosso said, indignantly. "But, she is the only lady bunny that I ever get to see."

"She's not REAL, Dr. Colosso!" Max said, exhausted.

"Wait.. these are REAL RABBITS???" Charlotte asked, wide eyes and super intrigued. "Did you TEACH them to talk, or was a device involved?"

God, he wished he could take credit for this. But, he couldn't, and anyways, Balfour said, "We were humans. We're now imprisoned in bunny bodies by The Thundermans and this one, the WORSE Thunderman of all, took away our Bunny Clyde to give to his stupid new crush."

"Hey!" Charlotte and Max both said. But next she said, "I'm not stupid," while Max had said, "She's not my crush!" Then they looked at each other and said, "Or what he/she said."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. The LEAST you could do is set up playdates!" Colosso insisted.

"Okay… I guess my fake bunny could have playdates with your real bunnies that are actually villains is bunny body prisons. Starting now. I need… a strong tea." She handed Penelope to Max and left the lab.

"Ugh. Look what you've done. She thinks we're weirdos!" Max complained.

"Who needs her?" Colosso asked. Max just fumed and sat Penelope down on the table. She was still reading Charlotte's story.

Whenever Charlotte came back to get her, Max explained, "He gets lonely and used to have stuffed animal friends sometimes. I made her to help him out, but whenever he got his son, I figured that he didn't need her anymore."

"I understand if you need to keep her," she lied.

"No. She's yours now…"

"Oh thank God, she is literally the best gift that I've ever gotten!" She cheered, accepting her back. He smiled brightly. That was literally the best compliment that he had ever gotten. I think I’m starting to like this girl, he thought. It sounded vaguely familiar in his mind. Like he’d felt this way before. Oh shit. This was how he felt when he first really saw Allison. He liked Charlotte. Ugh. He did have a crush. He had just admitted it to himself. Phoebe was right. He watched Charlotte smiling at her bunny as she held a paw up and waved it at Max on her way out. Oh well, he thought, with a goofy grin as he waved back to a robot bunny.

#Share a Lair #henry danger #the thundermans #crossover #crossover fanfic #Nesha Crossover #Thundanger #Thunderbolt

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goldeneyedgirl · 4 years

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Fic-Mas Bonus Round: Hybrid, Again

Yeah, I lied XD Christmas Eve bonus round! And because everyone seemed really enthusiastic about this fic, I picked two chunks of Hybrid for you all. (And if I were to consider Fic-Mas: NYE Edition, I’d definitely like to know what you would all like more of - your choices are more Hybrid, any of the Unexpected Second Life fics, All These Broken Things, or seeing if I can dig up something from Memento Mori.)

Onwards!

(This happens before Jasper bites Alice, after Alice’s first day at Forks High.)

Dinner that night was quiet – Dad and Simon seemed worried about my first day of school when I hadn’t reported making loads of friends, and loving everything about Forks High; I had chosen to omit my interactions with Edward Cullen and Rosalie Hale when they asked.

Cynthia did most of the talking during the meal, and was slowly painting me a picture of her life – she was a good student, very popular, and loved any sort of club or co-curricular. Definitely a joiner. And absolutely bursting with excitement to start ninth grade next year, and finally be in high school.

“So, who did you hang out with today?” Cynthia finally turned to me. Her dinner plate was barely touched – she’d been talking too much to eat – whilst I was on my second helping.

“I didn’t,” I said, stabbing a piece of carrot.

“Really?” Cynthia frowned. “Who did you sit with at lunch?”

I wanted to smile at her middle-school view of the world. As if there was nothing more horrifying than sitting alone at lunch. And then I wanted to punch something because in a town this small, Cynthia probably had more friends at Forks High than I would ever have, and she was only fourteen.

“I went to the library. I need to catch up in a few subjects,” I shrugged. “And the cafeteria food was really bad.”

“It’s nice to know that things don’t change,” Simon chuckled. “Forks High always made the worst mac and cheese known to man. That stuff was a hate crime.”

“You said you weren’t behind in your classes,” Dad said to me, frowning. I guess as a teacher himself, the idea of his own daughter failing her classes was a pretty bad one, though I was a little curious why Cynthia and I attended a local public school when Dad taught at a fancy private school.

“Just a chapter or two in Algebra, and I think a little in Biology,” I said. “Nothing that I can’t get caught up in.”

“Okay, but if you find yourself overwhelmed or really behind, we can get you a tutor over the summer,” Dad said. “I looked over your transcripts, there are some gaps in your schoolwork we’ll have to address at some point.”

That was a polite way of putting it. There weren’t gaps in my schoolwork, there were great gaping holes. Even from before Mom died. But afterwards, there was foster care, time on the streets, my time at the hospital – I don’t think I ever technically attended sixth or eighth grade.

“You have your doctor’s appointment in the morning, Alice,” Simon jumped in. “I had an in with the best doctor in town, and he agreed to see you tomorrow first thing. Just so we can get your medications sorted.”

“Great,” I said unenthusiastically. Another doctor, paging through my endless file claiming I was completely bat-shit nuts. I knew I’d been living on borrowed time as far as medical intervention went. There was an entire pharmacy of psychiatric meds locked up in Dad and Simon’s room that the hospital had sent with me.

Simon had been overwhelmed by the sheer number of them, and the three pages of contradictory instructions, that he’d decided not to drug me until we spoke to a doctor in Forks. Which was definitely a good thing, since the medications the hospital had me on left me drooling into my pillow most of the time.

Or screaming for help.

“Carlisle is a really good doctor,” Simon said kindly, obviously seeing the look on my face. “Actually, an amazing doctor. Way better than we should be able to get out in the sticks. And he’s a good person – he won’t do anything that doesn’t sound right to him, and you’re comfortable with. I promise.”

“Everyone says that,” I said, suddenly full and wishing I hadn’t eaten quite so much. “They say, ‘We just want what’s best for you, Mary-Alice’. Then they find out I stabbed a doctor and they can’t sedate me fast enough.”

Rice fell out of Cynthia’s mouth when I said that. “You stabbed someone?” she said, her eyes wide.

“Cynthia,” Dad warned, but all eyes were on me.

Cynthia ignored him. “Why?” she asked, leaning forward. And I felt it, like something physical that wrapped itself around me. The memories; the fear and complete hopelessness. It was like I was being smothered. As if my ghosts weren’t already carved into my skin permanently, where everybody could see.

“Cynthia, enough,” Simon said sternly.

“No one ever cares about the why,” I said softly, looking at the placemats, a swirling pattern of orange and red. I remembered doing it, grabbing the little plastic scalpel, slashing from his ear to his chin, and being dragged away. Being drugged, strapped down and ignored, like some kind of animal; nobody ever asked me why I’d done such a thing, just assuming that it was my fault. “Can I be excused?”

“Certainly,” Dad said, looking worried. “Do you want us to bring you up some dessert?”

“Key-lime pie,” Simon offered. “My mom made it, so not quite as good as mine, but still worthy.”

I shook my head. “No thanks.”

I slipped out of the dining room and upstairs, pausing on the stairwell to hear Dad and Simon lecturing Cynthia about pushing too hard and asking too many questions. That I had had a very hard life, whilst hers had been comfortable and happy.

Sometimes, everything that had happened hit me like a truck, and I just… I kind of just went through the motions. Locked every emotion down so that I didn’t have to deal with any of it. The pain, the terror, the complete misery. It was easier just to feel nothing.

I showered and climbed into bed, the scent of flowers wrapping around me. I thought about asking Simon for one of my sleeping pills, but that required energy and interaction, neither were things that I was up for.

Instead, I just curled into a ball and pretended to sleep when Dad and Simon checked on me, separately, later. I didn’t manage to fall asleep until much later, after everyone else had gone to bed, slipping into soupy dreams of white rooms and not being able to move.

And then the dreamscape changed, clicking into place.

A vision.

There was no specific way I could tell the difference between a dream and a vision of the future, but I always knew the difference. I had no control over them – some nights, it would be an unending string of visions to wade through, and then nothing for weeks at a time. Mom had tried everything, but there was no way to instigate them, or to choose who or what I would see. Whatever my gift was, it did what it wanted.

I was in a living room with fancy art on the walls, and a piano in the entry way.

The vampires were gathered there – Rosalie Hale and curly haired bear-man were seated on the couch, though she looked agitated enough to jump up and pace at any second. A slightly older woman with light brown hair was seated at a small writing desk, tapping away at a laptop absently, with her attention on the group; Edward Cullen was standing with a light-haired man in front of an actual marble fireplace. And the blonde-boy was sitting in the window, staring out into the night.

“Does she know?” the man asked the red-headed boy with a gentle, patient manner that I wanted to like immediately.

“I don’t know,” Edward said, looking frustrated. “Her thoughts jumped around a lot. She never thought ‘vampire’. But she was alarmed by us.”

“What did you hear?” the woman asked, closing the laptop.

“At lunch, she hated the food, wasn’t particularly impressed with Forks in general, happier to be with her father and his family that she’d admit to herself. Then it was alarm bells, her trying to work out an escape plan. She was very, very concerned about Bella and her safety.”

“She warned Bella, verbally,” Rosalie pointed out. “To be careful.”

“Hm. And you had a class with her? Was she well then?” the man asked Edward.

“Distressed. She had scars that were seen by others when she was changing. Bella said that they were ‘bad’, over her back and her thighs. The other girls were focusing on a particularly nasty one on the back of her leg, so I don’t know the extent. I heard something about a hospital, and when I mentioned hospitals in passing, she became agitated.”

“I spoke with her step-father, and he expressed concern over her psychological state. Apparently, she’s had a history of mental illness and abuse, and he wanted someone he trusted to see her and work out how to help,” the man said. “From her records, she’s quite disturbed, though he repeatedly assured me that her behavior has been absolutely normal since she arrived.” The man looked over at the boy in the window. “Jasper, did you notice anything?”

He looked over. “Curiosity, agitation, worry, depression – the usual teenage maelstrom,” he said slowly, disinterestedly.

“If she’s mentally unbalanced, it wouldn’t be hard to stage an ‘accident’,” Rosalie said archly. “We wouldn’t even have to move; it could just be one of those things. She wouldn’t be much of a loss.”

“Would be pretty rough on her family,” the big guy murmured, holding his hands up when Rosalie shot him a look. “Just sayin’, Rose. She only just got here.”

“I don’t think we need to worry about her that much, just yet,” the man said finally. “It’s always a possibility, but Edward, you didn’t hear her identify us; some humans are just more in-tune to their instincts. And there’s a possibility that her medical status can be used to our advantage if she becomes a problem.”

“What about Bella?” Edward asked immediately.

“If Bella could befriend her, that would allow you more access to what she’s thinking. That would be enough for the time being,” he concluded. “At a rough guess, I doubt Mary-Alice Brandon is going to pose much of a problem.”

Edward spun around to Jasper, a glare on his face. “Really?” he snapped.

“What?” the woman stood up, looking worried. I wondered if that was her default state of being.

“He thinks she smelt delicious,” Edward spat.

“Another singer?” the man stepped forward, looking downright alarmed.

Jasper heaved a sigh and shook his head. “No, nothing like that,” he said, in that slow, dull manner. “Just a stray thought. Nothing will happen, I promise.”

“Maybe Bella should stay away for a few days,” Edward said grouchily, still giving Jasper a filthy look.

“Leave him alone, Edward,” Rosalie snapped.

“Please, like you wouldn’t break him into little pieces if he slipped up again,” Edward snapped back, and Jasper rolled his eyes and stood up to leave.

“Are we done?” he asked, and when the man nodded, he left the room, leaving the others to bicker in peace; everyone slowly faded away as my vision turned back into my dreams.

(This scene is far in the future - like Ch 13. This thing is The Slowest Burn.)

My pitching was clearly stronger than they anticipated; at least, the surprise on Emmett’s face as the ball smacked into the palm of his hand implied so. It obviously wasn’t as impressive as the pitches thrown by Rosalie or Jasper, but still better than they expected.

Of course, once all the Cullens acquiesced to my participation in the baseball game, Edward vocally encouraged Bella to join in as well.

“If Alice is playing, Bella can play,” was his argument, whilst Bella stood at his side, looking uncomfortable. Hell, she always looked uncomfortable. I wondered if anyone had ever introduced her to the concept of sweatpants and ice cream.

“Alice is less likely to drop dead if she takes a fastball to the face,” Rosalie scowled. I eyeballed the blonde; that statement felt very much like Rosalie was trying to work out how to dispose of me.

“Fractured skull at best,” I agreed serenely.

“Bella is still rehabbing her leg, Edward,” Carlisle said gently.

It happened in a second; the ball sailed from Edward’s hands, and Bella swung. She swung too early, and the ball flew past and cracked her across the face. I heard her gasp of pain, of the blood that seeped from her nose instantly, the sound of the bat hitting the soft ground.

And I looked around to see five hungry vampires staring at the blood that was pouring from her nose, Bella’s hands cupped over her face.

Esme and Rosalie were backing away; Esme’s face was concerned but strained, whilst Rosalie’s was blank – her attention was on Emmett, who had taken two steps forward before retreating, his eyes completely black.

Edward and Carlisle were focused on Bella – a broken nose was one of the few injuries I hadn’t sustained over the years, but I could tell from Bella’s reaction that it was excruciatingly painful. The smell of blood was beginning to affect me, I couldn’t imagine how hard it would be for…

For Jasper.

I looked over and he was still standing there, completely still.

If I had thought that he had looked feral the night that he attacked me, I was mistaken. He had still looked human then – sinister, terrifying and dangerous but still essentially human.

Now I was glimpsing the monster behind the man.

His eyes were, somehow, blacker than Emmett’s, and dull. His face was completely devoid of any kind of emotion, his gaze focused on Bella. I could picture his muscles tensing for the attack, and with a sick feeling, realized that Bella probably wouldn’t be the only one hurt today. No one else had picked up on Jasper’s intentions yet, and I was incredibly aware that I couldn’t stop him.

But I could certainly slow him down.

I darted across the field, my hair whipping across my face, and flung myself at Jasper, my arms wrapping around his waist. It didn’t escape my notice that this was the closest we had gotten physically, and I was trying to stop him committing murder.

“Please don’t, please don’t,” I chanted to myself. “Jasper! Stop it!” I finally cried out as he began to move forward, dragging me with him, and Edward finally looked up at the sound of my voice.

Jasper shook me off fairly easily, without looking down, and I knew I had to go into full fight-mode; it didn’t matter who or what Jasper was to me, I had to pull him back from killing Bella.

My leg shot out, and whilst Jasper stumbled for a second, but righted himself. I could hear Emmett and Rosalie yelling in the background, and when I looked around, Jasper’s fist came out of nowhere and caught me in the side of the head. For a second, I was seeing stars, and then I was back – Jasper had managed to get Emmett and Edward tangled in each other, Rosalie and Esme were hovering between where Carlisle stood with Bella.

#TwilightFicMas2019 #twilight fic #twilight #alice cullen #jasper hale #cullen family #my writing #my fic: hybrid #surprise bonus round #jalice #alicexjasper

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babemazzello · 5 years

Text

Joe Mazzello x Reader - NYE Party

Description: You and Joe have been together for a couple months now and you want to spend New Year’s Eve together.

Warnings: None, just a bunch of fluff.

You and Joe were at someone’s house. They were a good friend of Joe’s, but you didn’t really know them very well. You knew they worked with Joe and they were in the movie business, but it didn’t really matter to you. All you knew was that you were in a big house with a bunch of people you didn’t know and your boyfriend.

Joe was very protective of you the entire party. He knew you weren’t much of a partier, so wherever he went, you came along. He never left you along to experience an awkward situation with someone you didn’t know. He also had his hand in your back pocket the entire night. His hand gently placed in your pocket, making it clear to everyone that you were his. You liked this protective side of him. It was something that only really came out at parties. He was always afraid that some guy would come over and steal you away. You both knew that wouldn’t happen, but he liked keeping his hands on you just in case.

As the night went on, both of you drank. Small drinks here and there. Nothing to get you drunk, but enough to have both of you feeling tipsy by 11. The house had many rooms and there were enough decorations to fill up a convention center. Streamers, lights, confetti, hats, whistles, beads, everything. Whoever’s house this was really loved the holiday. This was the first time you had a boyfriend on New Year’s Eve and you had been looking forward to the kiss for a couple days now. You had it all planned out in your head.

You were going to be positioned perfectly outside with everyone around you screaming the countdown. Party hats and beads donning your head and neck. The clock would strike midnight and you and Joe would passionately kiss, undeterred by the mass of people around you and the fireworks blasting off in the background. It would be perfect and exactly like a scene out of a movie.

As the night went on and the minutes passed, you realized that this perfect start to the new year probably wouldn’t happen. You were both pretty tipsy and it was too cold for anyone to be standing outside for longer than a minute. Joe had been mingling with friends all night, and even though you had been attached to his side the entire time, you never really got a moment alone. This made you a bit sad. It was still early in your relationship and you were convinced that he wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off you the whole night, but you were sadly mistaken. It was a bit of a selfish wish, but it was still something you wanted.

“Do you want another drink, Y/N?” Joe asked, taking his hand out of your pocket for the first time tonight.

“Sure, but nothing too strong,” you answer. He leaves you for a split second and comes back with two beers. You each start sipping them while his hand finds its way back into your back pocket. After a little while, Joe talks again.

“Where do you want to watch the countdown?” He asked, scanning the room for possible spots.

“I don’t know,” You replied, also scanning the room. “There’s just so many people here. It’s a little crazy. Joe watched your face. It showed hints of sadness, worry, and anxiety. Emotions you tried to hide behind an optimistic facade.

“Hold on. Stay here.” He put his hand on your shoulder as he walked away. He made his way through the mass of people, disappearing from sight. You looked around the room. It was mostly drunk people dancing and smiling. Enjoying the night around you. You liked the holiday, but some people lived for it. And it seemed like all those people were here. Joe came back soon after and outstretched his hand for you to grab. “Come on,” He said. You grabbed his warm hand in yours and he pulled you through the crowd. People dancing and bumping into you as you walked. Eventually, you were through the crowd and Joe led you to a door in the closest hallway. It was marked off, but Joe lifted up the tape. I gave him an inquisitive look and took a single step back.

“I don’t think we’re allowed back there.” I joked, pointing at the tape.

“It’s okay, I asked my friend if we could go back here. He said it was okay. He knows we won’t break or steal anything.” He laughed. He pulled me underneath the tape and once we were past, he squeezed my hand to comfort me. He reached his hand out for the first door he saw and slowly turned the knob. Behind the door was a beautiful bedroom that looked fit for a king. It was themed with a brilliant red. There were high bed posts and the covers had traces of gold thread that made the entire room look regal.

There was a red couch on the other side of the room. It looked like when you sat in it, you would never be able to get up. This made you want to sit on it even more. Joe let go of your hand and laid down on the couch. His head resting on the armrest. He slipped his shoes off and rested his feet on the couch. You just stood there watching him.

“Are you going to stand there forever or are you going to join me?” He joked and laughed. You slipped your high heeled shoes off and walked over to the couch. You laid on top of him being very careful not to hurt him. Your head resting ever so gently on his chest as his arm came around your shoulders to play with your hair. You reached your arm around to hug his torso as you both laid there, never planning to get up. You could hear and feel his heartbeat through his chest. The sound of his breathing calming you down the longer you listened. The muffled sound of the other party-goers faded away as the two of you laid there. “You know,” You moved your head to look up at him. His eyes sparkling in the dim yellow light illuminating the room. When he smiled, you could feel yourself melting into him even more. You were putty in his hands. “Being here with you is more than anything I could have ever asked for.”

“I feel the same way,” You reply.

“I got lucky this year,” He whispered into your hair before he kissed your forehead. “You’re just so beautiful.” He paused for a second. “I know that you don’t really like parties, but it means a lot to me that you came with me. I just want the last seconds of this year to be spent alone...with you. I couldn’t think of a better way to end the year.”

“Me neither,” you whispered. You nuzzled your face back into his chest. His chest rising and falling underneath your head. You could hear through the wall that people were gathering from all around the house. The muffled voice turned into a dull roar as everyone gathered, preparing themselves for the countdown. Neither of you moved from your spot. “Countdown,” you commented. “It must be starting soon.”

“Yeah,” he smiled. Then you began to hear them start counting down in the other room.

8. You looked up at Joe to see that he was already staring down at you, taking in as much of your face and hair as he could.

5. You moved your hand from his side to his chest, ready to push yourself up toward him for the kiss.

2. You pushed up slightly until your faces were even. Joe’s eyes never left yours. The intensity between you was palpable.

1. Your lips locked in a passionate but lazy kiss. The alcohol in your systems hindering your kissing abilities. You didn’t care, and neither did he. You got to kiss the man you were in love with on New Year’s. His nose pressed into your cheek as you kissed with closed eyes. His hand moved to the back of your head to press himself harder into the kiss. You both tasted slightly of alcohol and it was wonderful.

When you pulled away, you began to realize how tired you really were. Your eyes dropping and ready to rest right away. You gave him one more quick peck as the party behind the walls roared. You tried to scoot back down to lie on his chest again, but he stopped you. When you look back at him, his face was serious with a hint of scared. You brought your hand up to cup his cheek. You stroked your thumb back and forth hoping to coax him out of whatever trance he was in and back to his happy, loving self. he put his hand on yours and locked eyes with you once again.

“I want to start this year off right.” He said. He paused as he seemed to collect his thoughts. He breathed out and talked. “I love you.” You readjusted yourself in your seat. This was the first time he said those words to you. Words you had been wanting to hear since your first date. Words that now had so much meaning and weight behind them that made your alcohol filled body want to break down and start crying.

“Really?” you asked, suddenly awake. You were smiling wide and couldn’t contain your excitement. Joe nodded with a wide smile as he held on tighter to your shoulder. “I love you too.” You said with the excitement of a child. You plunged your lips into his once more. The passion was thrilling and you tried to be as close to him as possible. The moment was vulnerable and intimate and you loved every second of it. You melted into his kiss, finally happy to get those words out of your system and into the open. A weight had been lifted off you. You and Joe sat there kissing in the New Year, undeterred by the people through the wall partying and drinking.

It may not have been the movie ending you wanted, but in many ways, this was better than you could have imagined.

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader #john deacon #queen #bohemian rhapsody #borhap #borhapboys #roger taylor #brian may #freddie mercury #ben hardy #gwilym lee #rami malek

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cnc-hoebayb · 5 years

Text

Nos cae la noche y tu me abrazas..

I forgot to post this yesterday oops

Lol but here’s my little part for this cute collab @quisieracnco helped put together, so if y’all haven’t checked out her nye hc go check it out it’s perfect. Also i know that @cncohdamn already made a lil chris imagine for this too and it’s literally the cutest so go check that out babes!!

So here it goes, some mad cheesy stuff for your NYE 😘

**Y’all gotta read this shit while listening to the live version of Fiesta en Mi Casa- no exceptio ns!

You fiddle around with the straw in your drink as you sit backstage waiting. The dressing room was far, but the music was loud, giving you little goosebumps as you faintly hear the final song. You smile to yourself, feeling that some energy you had every time you heard that guitar riff.

The crowd goes crazy closer to the end and you cant hear anymore, something good must’ve happened. More screams and cheering is heard continuously, the song must have just ended. You gather your things quickly, knowing you were all gonna make a run for it as soon as they left the stage.

The performance was gonna be broadcasted through the city, it would be on every billboard and screen as the clock hit midnight. So you were prepared for when the boys stormed into the room, grabbing phones, jackets, and snacks before heading straight out into the cold city air.

You felt excited, waiting for that final moment of the year always left you with so much energy. And as you start to wonder if the butterflies in your stomach can get any faster, you’re caught off guard by a sudden hand on the small of your back.

You stare up into esos grandes ojos cafés and watch as they focus onto you. “Ya estás emocionada?” He asks and you nod with joy, “you already know it,” his hand still not moving from its place.

Chris wasn’t afraid to get close and be touchy with you, you thought; but this - this was different. Something off about this kind of touch. His hand had found a spot on the side of your waist, almost pulling you in possesively as you speed walked through the city.

Your thoughts must’ve shown through your expression because at that same moment, his cheeks flushed a little as he justified himself. “Parece que tienes frío....”

You smile and let him keep holding on. He guides you through the streets until you finally make it to a heavily crowded area in the middle of the block. There’s lights and screens illuminating the scene and it starts playing from the beginning of the prerecorded concert.

The boys all start cheering, hyping themselves up from the crowd. Richard and Erick are jumping and dancing, while Zabdiel and Joel are beatboxing over the beat of the song. You look up at Chris and he’s beaming, his eyes full of light.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” You nudge him with your shoulder. “It’s weird sometimes, but i like it yeah” he looks down at you and smiles one of those heartfelt ones you know he really means.

“Thanks for being here, by the way,” he looks at you sincerely, “you’ve helped us out a lot during tour too, i really appreciate all you do..”

“Aw Chris,” you respond shocked, not sure where the sudden sentiment came from. You had grown close with all the boys over the time span you’d worked with them, and it was easy. They accepted you not just because you were new, but because they genuinely liked spending time and having fun with you.

Chris would always find ways to remind you of that.

“I have a surprise for you..” he smirked and wiggled his brow, already back to his playful self. “Chris nooo,” you whined, “you know how impatient that makes me, you have to tell me noW!!” You jump up and down pulling at his arms, begging him to fess up.

“I’ll give you a hint,” he grounds you by placing a hand on your shoulder. “It’s something we’ve been working on lately.” You give him a mean look to express how much you hated that hint.

“Bro deadass what the fuck u mean,” you pout and he cackles like an idiot. “Guess you just gotta wait,” he turns away from you with a sly smile and watches the performance continue on the screen.

A few minutes pass and the set is almost over - meaning the year coming closer to an end as well. You watch as a few of the boys scope out the girls they’ve been eyeing to be their kiss. As they go up and work their flirty magic, touching hands to waists, whispering sweet nothings to these lucky girls.

“I’m surprised you’re not already out there with em,” you edge on Chris.

“Naw i already got my target planned out,” he says in a cocky tone and your heart drops a little. It wasn’t a secret your feelings for him had grown into something more than friendship. In your eyes he was perfect, everything was always so natural with him and you felt so comfortable, so how could you help yourself??

You nod solemnly and stare back at the screens, not wanting to make eye contact with him. The last song starts and your heart immediately skips a beat.

“Con tus caderas,

No necesitamos ni bombillos ni estrellas..”

A little smile creeps across your lips and you feel Chris look at you. “What is it about this song that even gets to you?” He laughs and questions. You shrug how you always did when someone asked you that.

“No sé, i just, me siento algo más de mi. Like I’m not even in my own body when i hear it, es como el cielo, like spiritual i guess.” He looks at you with his mouth wide open, defientely about to make fun of you.

“You sound like you’re high,” you nudge his shoulder and stick a tongue out. “I can’t believe you sing the damn song and don’t even get it.” You turn to him with a finger over your lips, “now shh i wanna listen,”

You close your eyes and feel the cold air against your skin, taking in every part of the music.

“Cuando estamos juntos el mundo se detiene..”

When you open your eyes back up you’re half expecting Chris to be gone, off to win over his notorious mystery girl for the night.

But your eyes flutter open and you’re shocked to see him standing there, closer than ever at your side. He hangs his arm over your shoulder and whispers “i think i know what you mean now, the way the song feels..” you nod with a smug look on your face.

He sways with you to the music and sings along when his part starts. You curl up into his arm, accepting it fully.

“Puedo ver planetas en el techooo” He sings to you playfully and you follow along.

“Hey that reminds me,” you start, “What the heck was everyone screaming about earlier, what did you guys do-“ he cuts you off with a hand on your mouth lightly.

“Shh, bebesita, that’s the surprise,” you lick his hand in retalliation and he wipes it off on your jacket.

Back up on the monitors you watch as the song breaks down to its last minute, the clock counting down as well. Your eyes light up as something new happens within the song. You scramble to look for Richard in the crowd as you hear it,

“Veremos lo que pasaa”

“ShiT!!” You scream and hit Chris’ arm. “You guys practiced, omg he did the high note,” he laughs and gently guides your head to look back up. “That’s not all,” he says and you’re lit up.

“Chris-“ you say unbelievably, “did you do it??” You refer to what you both knew what was about to happen. These little parts of the song were so new and so impactful, he had been too nervous to ever follow through live. His voice could do it easily, no doubt, it was just nerves holding back his full capacity sometimes.

He looks so excited and tries calming you down, “brooo just keep watching.”

You bounce to the breakdown of the beat and little bumps form on the surface of your skin - every time. The tension is in the air the closer it gets to what you’re expecting, and a mixture of the crowd around you counting down already.

“10

8”

The music goes,

“Seremos felices, eso dalo por hecho”

“5

4”

You grab onto Chris’ hand absentmindedly and he squeezes it back. His other hand instinctively grabbing onto the bottom of your jacket, slowly turning you to face him.

“Hay una fiesta en mi casaaaAaA”

“1..”

For some reason you feel tears swell up in your eyes. The essence of his voice continuing for what feels like forever. Every second of it resonates through your bones, in your blood, your soul, your whole being.

It’s everything you could want in this moment and you turn to Chris to say how proud you are of him and-

His lips crash to yours in a passionate mess. It’s an act of something that’s been building up too long, something that needed to be let go.

You give in to it, lost hopelessly under his spell. He’s soft and tender, everything you imagined this moment to be. You wrap your arms tightly around his torso and he holds your cheek.

It feels otherworldly, and you have no other motive than to make it last. The music rings through your head and everything becomes more magical. His lips press to yours in long intervals, each touch together has a million words behind it.

He tastes exactly how you imagined and you think that now you might be addicted. Slick lips part from each other and it feels like a movie scene.

Like you’re both in a little bubble that’s only meant for the two of you. Snow drizzles around the bubble and he holds you into his chest, rocking you as he sings lightly along..

“Nos cae la noche y tú me abrazas...”

The guitar feels like a lullaby while in his arms..

You smile and look back to him, humming along to his own harmony. You tip toe up and kiss him again, not wanting to ever stop. He giggles a little too humbly against you and you pull a strand of his hair to shut him up.

“Don’t ruin this,” you sass and he peppers your lips with soft fast smooches, holding your cheeks in his palms.

The music fades out from their perfect voices and nothing else matters. It’s just you, and Chris, and that perfect little bubble keeping everything stopped in time.

#wow i love cheesy shit yall #uwuwuwuwu #chris mi corazón #cnco #cnco imagine #feliz fin del año

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theolddarkmachine · 5 years

Note

Sheith prompt: We don’t have enough jealous Shiro and one-sided Jeith. I wanna see him go crazy when James gets too close to Keith and Keith actually ENJOYS his company.

New Year’s Prompts: Jealousy + Jeiro

I hope y’all can see why I had to pair your prompts together, my sweet Jeith/Jeiro anons. I couldn’t manage to make this happen during NYE, but I think I got everything else! Consider this a sequel to You Can Look, because apparently I can only write Jeith/Jeiro type things if they’re in that ‘verse XD

Also on AO3

******************************

Shiro isn’t jealous. He has no reason to be. Keith is his, wholly and completely, just as he’s Keith’s.

He swears he isn’t jealous, but there’s something frothing in the depths of his chest as he watches James’ head fall back with a boisterous laugh at something Keith had said, and, well, it feels a lot like it could be jealousy.

The duo had grown closer in the past few months, their history forgotten to the necessities of war, and in that time, they’d learned they actually got along quite well. James’ sense of honor paired well with Keith’s own sensibilities and loyalties, almost making them foils of the same principle.

And, if he was being an honest man, Shiro is happy for Keith.

He truly is.

The problem here isn’t the newfound friendship between the two, but the light touch James brushes across Keith’s bicep, and the imperceptible way that he leans into it.

The problem, is the quick glance, bright and sharp, that finds Shiro before Keith hides it behind a sip of water.

Sweat still slicks their skin, fresh from the sparring they’d just finished and Shiro’s face runs hot at the flush that paints across Keith’s cheeks, and the way way his pout forms around words in a near obscene recollection of their previous night.

He feels his growl, more than hears it, as it rumbles through his chest.

“You good, buddy?” Hunk’s voice is bright and concerned, making Shiro jump as he turns away from another one of James’ smiles that’s expertly aimed at Keith.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?” Shiro asks, trying not to think too hard about the way his words come out far too clipped to pass as nonchalant.

If Hunk notices, he doesn’t say as he just shrugs, eyes pulling down to Shiro’s fist.

“Just wondering what your drink could have done to you to deserve that,” he offers, moving his gaze back up to his face from the travel mug. Another pealing sound of laughter cuts through the air of the otherwise quiet gym. It pulls Hunk’s chocolate stare past Shiro’s shoulder, and his face goes soft with knowing.

“Ah,” he says sagely as Shiro loosens his grip, silently admonishing the Altean arm for the grooves its worked into the metal.

“I’m fine,” Shiro repeats, sounding strangled as he looks up at Hunk in time to see the flash of his eyes rolling. Smile cracking with a low chuckle, he reaches out and drops a palm to Shiro’s shoulder.

“I’ll leave you to being fine, then,” Hunk says, flicking his look past him again before slightly shaking his head. His fingers press into the meat of his shoulder in what he imagines is supposed to be reassurance before Hunk turns over his own to leave.

“I’m fine,” Shiro growls again, seconds too late as he hears another laugh.

This time, it’s Keith’s.

His fingers twitch back into the dented mug as he turns his attention back to the duo.

He isn’t jealous. Shiro swears he isn’t.

But there is something roiling under his skin, and it pushes him towards the pair before he can further contemplate just how not jealous he is.

Neither seem to notice his quiet approach, a fact that only makes the thing in his chest roar louder as he drops his arm around Keith’s shoulders. Pressing into the touch, Keith looks up at him, small smile already sating the tempestuous emotion.

“Hey Shiro,” his voice brushes over his name. It’s soft, and quiet, and Shiro sees the flash of something in James’ eyes that mirrors the frothing pit at his core.

“What’s up?” Keith follows up, words colored with what sounds all too bright with concern as he flicks his gaze to his sparring partner for the slightest moment. The thing in his chest roars, beating itself against the cage of his ribs as he leans into Keith and runs his nose against his temple.

“I was just thinking about how good you look right now,” he soothes at his ear, voice dangerous as his breath stirs the waves of his hair. The smile he tucks against Keith’s skin is pointed.

“And how you’d look even better on your knees.”

A shudder rolls through Keith, and it tickles beneath Shiro’s arm as he pulls back to admire the deepening flush of his skin.

“I need to speak with you in my office,” Shiro says, directing his words to Keith as he looks to James. The MFE’s scowl is deep and stormy in a way that makes the thing in his chest purr.

“Head there now,” he continues, brow twitching up as he holds James’ stare.

“Admiral’s orders.”

A soft sound escapes Keith as he nods at the words.

“Yes, sir,” Keith hums, words warm and pleased as he pulls away.

“See you later, Griffin,” he says with a quick, two fingered salute to James before turning on his heel. Biting down on his smile, Shiro tries not to follow the slight sway in Keith’s step as he reaches the door.

The quiet buzzes between them, charged with electricity as they hear the door open and shut, leaving them well and truly alone.

Shiro basks in it for a moment, dragging his look over James before nodding curtly at him in dismissal.

Okay, maybe he’d been a little jealous, he thinks as he follows behind, tracing Keith’s path as triumph tickles in his veins.

It’s still quiet behind him, eerily so, as he feels the burn of a stare at his back. Pausing at the doorway, Shiro turns a look over his shoulder. Standing with his chin tilted high, James is still standing there, shoulders tight in almost defiance.

Almost.

“You too, cadet,” Shiro says, loading his voice with authority. Light sparks in James’ eyes as he continues around his growing smile, “admiral’s orders.”

Turning away once more, Shiro pushes his way through the door and into the hall, not bothering to confirm if James is following.

He knows he will.

After all, this was all just a part of the game that they play, and James deserved a treat for being such a good boy.

***

#jeiro #takashi shirogane #keith kogane #james griffin #teeeeechnically one-sided jeith lol #voltron #new year's prompts #AND THEN THEY WENT BACK TO SHIRO'S OFFICE AND [REDACTED] WITH KEITH [REDACTED] WHILE JAMES [REDACTED]#Anonymous

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blacksheep28 · 5 years

Text

IKEA Days

The group headed for the door.

She paused, heading for the living room to dig out her keys and nab her real clothes. “Hey, you boys can start the car, I need to change real quick.” The keys were pressed into the hands of whoever was closest before dashing off to get ready. Papyrus gasped, practically exploding with excitement at being entrusted with the keys. The group headed out. “we’re just starting the car, not driving it,” Papyrus reminded them.

Once she had a bra on again and she’d smoothed out her hair as much as possible, Shannon rejoined the boys outside. “So where to first?” “PAPYRUS MENTIONED A PLACE CALLED IKEA THAT SELLS FURNITURE PUZZLES!” Sans exclaimed eagerly. "Yep, it sure does." This would be fine, right? She'd put together IKEA furniture before. It couldn't be that bad. "Alright. Figure out where you're all sitting and hop in, I'll drive." The lazy Papyrus settled into the back while the other Papyrus and Sans engaged in a staring contest. Sans looked at them from the front seat. “that seems intense.” Papyrus whipped to look at him. “SANS! WHEN DID YOU GET HERE?” "Well. Shotgun it is. Hope you can navigate well, Sans," Shannon shot over at him with a smile. "Middle row or back row, you two, we have places to be." The shocked pair clambered into the back and settled down. Sans chuckled. “I’m a great guide.” "Alrighty, guide us safely to the mystical land of IKEA, my greatest guide." Shannon pulled out of the driveway and headed towards the city, flipping on the radio and offering out an AUX cord. "Any of you have musical preference?" “better than girl guides,” Sans joked. He pulled out the map. “OH! I LIKE FAST MUSIC!” Papyrus volunteered. “BATTLE MUSIC!” Sans added. “how about swing?” Papyrus asked. "I'm going to pretend you mean the Canadian version of Girl Scouts and spare you from my fist in your face," she smiled sweetly, then tossed the cord back towards the middle console. "I like it all, take turns." Shannon suddenly felt like she was thirteen again and helping take care of too many children at once. Sans blinked. “girl scouts? not girl guides?” So many jokes he’d have to redo. Papyrus took the cord first and blasted out Everything is Awesome. "That what we call it where I'm from." Shannon raised a brow at the music, but didn't take back her cord and tapped her finger along the wheel in time when she found the beat. Sans directed Shannon along as Papyrus took over and put on Sing Sing by Benny Goodman. Her tapping switched immediately to the old fingerings she remembered on the tenor. "Whoever picked this wins definite brownie points," Shannon shouted back towards the boys. Papyrus grinned. “will hold you to that honey.” She grinned towards her rear view mirror and felt a little remorse when they pulled up to the IKEA. It was fun getting to know their music tastes, in her opinion. "Okay, so this place is easy to get lost in. Nobody wander off," Shannon stressed, pointing at Sans and Sans. "You especially. I could spot the others from a mile away, but I'd lose you two forever." “got it. no wondering.” “SANS! SHE SAID NO WANDERING!” “right. no wondering about wandering.” “SANS!” “i’ll just have to wander on wondering.” Papyrus screeched in anguish, the relaxed Papyrus chuckling while the energetic Sans looked torn. Shannon stared blankly at the exchange. "...I didn't get enough sleep for this. Sans, you stay with me." She took his hand in hers and held on tight. "Is there anyone else I need to physically hold on to?" Sans looked at her holding his right hand. “something’s right.” Papyrus looked like he was fighting the urge to kill his brother. The other Sans looked pained at that one himself. The sweatshirt Papyrus slumped over to Shannon’s other side. “i don’t want to get left behind.” At first her cheeks flushed. Then the word play hit her and she tipped her head back and groaned, slipping a hand into Papyrus' anyway. "You two are terrible. Come on, let's go get some furniture." She dragged the group inside and asked where they wanted to begin. "What do we need to get first?" “BEDS FOR EVERYONE,” Papyrus stated. "So we need two beds, I'm assuming the beds you've already got at home are still in tact," Shannon nodded. "So we are going to 'bedroom', follow me." The group traveled through, the occasional customer and employee watching them curiously. Monsters were still an oddity with how rare they were.

“HOW ABOUT THIS ONE?” Sans suggested, pointing to a bed that looked really hard to assemble. “why don’t we test it,” Sans joked. "It looks nice. Let's see." Her hand left Sans' for exactly three seconds to test the bed's sturdiness, and there he went. She grabbed for him immediately. "Whoa, hey, no wandering off. You already have a bed, mister, don't make me pull a Girlfriend Move and have you keep your hands in my pockets," she threatened with a glare. Sans chuckled. “worth a try.” Sans examined the bed. “IT LOOKS STURDY.” Papyrus hummed resting his head on Shannon. “looks good.” "Why don't you test it out, Sans?" She looked to the skeleton in her grasp and squeezed slightly. "Not you. You stay here." “gonna leave me sans bed?” Sans face palmed. “THAT IS MY NAME AS WELL,” he complained. He sat on the bed and bounced slightly. “IT’S COMFY!” Shannon smiled towards the energetic Sans in need of a bed and let go just long enough to give a light smack to the back of the other Sans' head. "That's great! How about you, Papyrus, see anything you want to try?" Sans chuckled at the smack, only half heartedly even attempting to dodge. “I DO NOT NEED A BED! MY RACECAR BED IS VERY COOL AND SUITS ALL MY NEEDS!” Papyrus answered. “think she meant me,” the other Papyrus muttered awkwardly. He slouched down. "Yeah, I did mean this one," she clarified, jiggling Papyrus' hand in hers slightly with a hum. "This... Might get confusing if you boys are all going to stay together. Maybe we should come up with a naming system." Sans unfortunately lit up. “how about comic for me?” “WHAT? WHY?” Papyrus asked. “cause i’m comical.” Shannon bit back a laugh and looked at Papyrus and Sans' strained expressions. "Not that it isn't fitting, but let's choose something that won't give half the household an aneurysm, maybe." “I COULD BE GUARD!” Sans suggested brightly. “could just call me pal,” Papyrus suggested lazily. “PAPS! THAT’S NOT A PROPER NICKNAME!” "I mean, if you'd like that, little blue dude," she agreed before turning to address possibly the worst nickname she'd heard yet. "And that is just truly awful, orange, I'd mix you up with people in a heartbeat. No way." Sans blushed blue again, before quickly forcing his magic back. Why did he like the way that sounded? Papyrus chuckled looking down at his hoodie. “huh. orange works.”

“what about bill?” Sans suggested straight faced. Shannon took a look at 'Orange' and chuckled softly. "You know what, it's unique. It works." She eyed Sans suspiciously-- After that comic suggestion, there was no way this wasn't a trap. Somehow. "Bill sounds fine. If that's what you want."

“THAT’S VERY MATURE OF YOU,” Papyrus congratulated. Sans immediately started humming the Bill Nye theme song. Papyrus twitched. “NYEH!” It took every ounce of self control to snap her mouth shut and keep from chanting along. She twitched, before completely dissolving into giggles. Sans grinned widely, looking completely pleased with her response. Orange Papyrus snickered as well, while the other two looked simply exasperated by their lack of maturity. “HARD TO BELIEVE THEY’RE OLDER,” Sans commented. “Okay, so you’re officially forgiven for wandering off earlier,” Shannon gasped through her dying laughter. “Whew.” She shot a look at the skeletons still holding her hands and raised a brow. “Really? You two are older?” “yup.” Sans grinned at her. “YOU WOULD NEVER GUESS IT FROM HIS BEHAVIOR,” Papyrus pouted. Her eyes flitted between the sets of siblings curiously. “No, no, I see it. Me and my brother are the same way,” Shannon admitted with an amused sigh. “When I was in grade school I helped him with his high school homework.” Orange and Bill looked impressed, while Sans and Papyrus gasped in awe. They looked absolutely ecstatic. “WOWIE! YOU MUST BE BRILLIANT!” Papyrus cheered. “I BET YOU’RE GREAT AT PUZZLES!” Sans exclaimed. The praise made her want to sink into the mattress in front of them and never resurface, but puzzles? Shannon lit up. “I do like puzzles! Mysteries are my favorite, but I like all kinds!” she gushed excitedly, squeezing Bill and Orange’s hands. Orange happily squeezed her hand back. “IT’LL BE GREAT PUTTING THE BEDS TOGETHER,” Papyrus said happily. He and Sans walked over and picked up the huge boxes the beds came in. “I’m sure it will be,” she smiled before her entire expression froze at the sight. They were just picking up the beds, like they were nothing. “I... Wow, monsters sure are strong, huh. Do you— Do you two wanna set those down somewhere before we continue?” “WE CAN PUT IT IN OUR PHONES,” Papyrus answered. “BUT SHOULDN’T WE PAY FIRST?”

Shannon looked around to find the direction of the checkout before she paused, whirling back around to Papyrus. “Wait, phones? Do you have a QR scanner or something?”

“A WHAT?” Papyrus asked. “a qr scanner. handheld device that scans an item to help people buy it,” Bill answered. “NO, WE DON’T HAVE THAT. WE JUST STORE ITEMS DIRECTLY,” Sans said.

“What the hell does— What do you mean, you store items directly?” she asked with a nervous laugh. “Do you have like hammerspace in your cell phones?”

“basically,” Orange admitted. “DO HUMANS NOT HAVE THAT?” Sans asked. “HUMANS LACK A LOT OF BASICS,” Papyrus explained. “WE ARE WORKING TO HELP WITH THAT BUT IT IS SLOW.” “their science has stuff we didn’t know,” Bill pointed out.

Shannon took a minute to just stare at the ground, slightly agape. Actual endless space inventory was a thing to monsters, and also basic. “I...really need to learn more about monster magic,” she sighed softly, straightening up.

“WE CAN TEACH YOU!” Papyrus immediately volunteered.

“You know? I’d like that,” Shannon smiled. “But primary mission first— Let’s take these up to checkout to put on hold.”

The group walked to the front. Every single human they walked past, employee and customer, stopped and stared at the floating boxes following the skeletons.

Shannon leaned across the service counter to scribble her name on a piece of paper. “We’re buying these, but we have some more looking around to do,” she explained with a smile. The employee took their ticket without a word and Shannon moved the group away, reclaiming Bill and Orange’s hands. “So what else, boys?”

The bed boxes were put down and they continued in. “still need mattresses and blankets,” Orange noted.

“CLOTHES TOO,” Sans added. “IT’S BEEN WAY TOO LONG SINCE YOUR HOODIE WAS WASHED.” Orange shrugged lazily.

"Okay, so back to the bedroom. And we'll stop by a clothing store on the way home, if you'd like," Shannon offered, leading the way back to the right section. "There's actually a mall in the center of town."

“sounds good to me,” Bill said lazily. The group tested a few mattresses, Orange letting go to flop face first into one while Sans yelled at him for being lazy.

She grinned at Orange's behavior and followed suit, hopping down on the bed beside him. How could she pass up the chance to test out a mattress? "Oh, this one's a good one. Gives just a little, firm support."

“SHANNON! DON’T ENCOURAGE HIM!” Sans scolded. Papyrus picked up Bill where he had somehow managed to fall asleep while standing.

"How else would you test the mattress, little blue dude?" she shot back, lifting her head just enough to grin up at him.

“THAT-IT-“ Sans spluttered a little. His cheeks tinted faintly blue. “THAT NICKNAME IS LONGER THAN MY ACTUAL NAME!” He finally got out.

Her grin turned into a softer, sweet smile upon seeing Sans' reaction. "Yes it is, but you do know I'm talking to you," Shannon hummed in amusement. "Would you prefer little blue?"

His blush increased further and Papyrus laughed softly. Orange grinned. “yeah little bro. that work?”

"Little Blue?" she sang playfully. "I'm waiting on an answer here, it's rude to make a lady wait."

“IT’S FINE!” Blue ducked down, really embarrassed now. The nickname was awfully sweet. Papyrus walked over with Bill under his arms. “SO THIS MATTRESS GOOD?” Orange lazily have a thumbs up.

Shannon laughed and let him be before the poor thing died of blue face. "Okay, then let's get it for you," she said to Orange, offering out a hand to coax him up from the mattress. "And get off it so we can bring it home."

“you can bring me with the mattress,” Orange suggested. “PA-ORANGE!” Blue scolded.

"Orange." Shannon paused and instead of prying him from the bed, used her previously offered hand to try and tickle him from the bed. Her fingers danced along where his rib cage would be.

Orange jolted and rolled off the mattress to escape the tickles, nyeh hehing quietly. Blue grinned happily and grabbed the mattress with his magic.

"There we go, one upright skeleton," she said proudly, grinning. "I'm getting pretty good at wrangling you boys, you know? Might have to make it a full time job. Now, off to blankets!"

“THAT SOUNDS GREAT!” Papyrus exclaimed. “THEN YOU COULD BE WITH US ALL THE TIME!” Blue raced off to deposit the mattresses with the bed frames before coming back and picking out blankets. Blue picked out a blanket covered with racing comets and planets while Orange picked out a blanket with a spiral on it.

Shannon paused. It was definitely something for him to take it so literally. "I-- I'd really love to, big guy, but I have a job and bills to pay," she laughed, feeling her face redden. The blankets weren't what she would have expected for the brothers, though to be fair, they weren't very close yet. "I like them. Good choices, Blue, Orange. You two all set on bed stuff?"

Papyrus sagged. “OH. BUT WE CAN HANG OUT AFTER RIGHT?”

"We sure can," she promised with a reassuring pat on Papyrus' arm. “seems so,” Orange agreed. Blue looked around. “WHERE’S BILL?”

"Oh, shoot, I let go of him for one second--". Shannon looked around and retraced their steps for a good few minutes before sighing and taking in a deep breath. "Papyrus, forgive me for what I'm about to do. Ahem-- WHAT'S THE MATTER, BILL?"

His voice came from a bin full of pillows. “everything...everything is matter.” Papyrus stared at the bin as if it had betrayed him, his children, and everything he believed in. “except energy, of course.”

She grinned and marched over towards the stack of pillows to peer inside. "There's my little meme buddy. Come on, Bill, let's go. Sooner we get done with chores, the sooner you can take a real nap."

“pretty comfy here.” Contrary to his words he pushed himself up. Maybe working so long on the machine hadn’t been his best idea. He just really didn’t want to wake up to find things reset. There was a reason he mostly napped instead of sleeping through the night. Blue and Orange carried their blankets to add to their cargo. “just clothes now, right?” Orange asked.

A hand stretched out to help him from the bin. "Yeah, yeah, we'll make something just as comfy when I take you home," she promised. "And... Let's see, I think so? I'm just the valet here, boys." Blue and Papyrus carefully went over everything. “PILLOWS!” Papyrus exclaimed. “right here bro.” Bill slipped the pillows onto the pile and Papyrus grinned. “NOW WE’RE GOOD!” Blue announced. They paid, took out their phones-and somehow got it all in them.

"And there we go, all set!" Shannon just watched as the group made their purchases and the items literally disappeared into their phones-- It was hard not to stare. "Wow, you guys... Were not kidding. Okay, good to know."

“DO YOU WANT YOUR PHONE UPDATED?” Papyrus asked kindly as the group headed back to the car. This time Orange stole shotgun.

She unlocked the car with a little beep and slid into the driver's seat. "Thanks, Paps, but I don't think human technology is even capable of an upgrade that advanced," Shannon laughed softly. "You ready to be my first mate, Orange?" “aye aye captain,” Orange teased. Papyrus looked rather shocked. “DO YOU NEED A NEW PHONE THEN?” Blue asked in concern. "What? Oh, probably, but I hate the new phones. They're too big for my little baby hands," Shannon laughed, tossing back the AUX cord while she started up the engine. "Plus they're expensive, Blue, don't worry about it."

“YOU SURE?” Papyrus asked. “IT SEEMS RATHER REMISS TO LET YOU GO WITHOUT SUCH BASIC TECHNOLOGY.”

The car started off in the right direction at least, and Shannon smiled into her rearview mirror. "Don't worry about it, Papyrus, like I said-- It's very expensive. I don't really have the need or the money right now."

Orange carefully gave directions as they drove, far more precise than Bill had. “ALRIGHT.” Blue put on This is War by Thirty Seconds to Mars.

She was ever grateful for Orange's competent dictation. Driving to unfamiliar areas was a nightmare. "Interesting choice, Blue," Shannon hummed curiously, "Didn't peg you for this kinda guy." “IT’S GREAT!” Blue enthused. “THE PASSION! THE RHYTHM!”

"I'll have to introduce you to EDM some time," she smiled.

“SOUNDS GOOD,” Blue said happily. Bill accepted the aux cord and put on Saskatchewan Pirates. Shannon's eyebrows raised at the music choice, but she said nothing-- Some of her music choices were garbage. High quality garbage.

“MY TURN! NYEH!” Papyrus happily seized the aux cord. Can’t Stop the Feeling by Justin Timberlake played out, Papyrus and Blue dancing to it. "Oh, good one!" Her hands slapped at the wheel to the beat, head bobbing back and forth in lieu of actual dancing while driving. Shannon sang along to every word and grinned over at her first mate while paused at a stop light.

For just driving to get clothes it was fun.

#fanfiction #fanfic #undertale #underswap #sans #papyrus #skelebros #reverseharem #reverse harem

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