#his quiet rapping on the table to show approval

[stevenbasic]

GITJ Post 257: First Date, p3

Manifest: I am the dominant. I am the alpha.

“I’m going to the ladies’ room,” she said, suddenly standing. The waitress had come back with her credit card and boxes for the desserts, she’d signed the bill. “Box those desserts up and be here when I get back,” she told him, “we’re going to go have some fun.”

She blew him a kiss; she knew she needed a mirror. 

Manifest: I am irresistible to him. I radiate beauty. I am compelling. I am captivating. I am too attractive and tempting to be resisted. Anything I want falls at my feet.

Yes, Missy.

I am irresistible to him. I radiate beauty and self-confidence. I am compelling. I am captivating. I am too attractive and tempting to be resisted. Anything I want falls at my feet.

Yessss…

I am irresistible to him. I radiate beauty and self-confidence and power. I am compelling. I am captivating. I am too attractive and tempting to be resisted. Anything I want falls at my feet.

Goddamnit fuck YEssSssss…

She had finished her affirmations, staring deeply into her own eyes over the restaurant’s restroom sink, and had settled herself once again.

I need to relax..! she laughed to herself, knowing how she could get. This is fun, you’re having fun.

And you don’t want to molest the poor man before you get to the car haha.

Expectantly, he was waiting for her, just like she asked, at the table when she returned. He looked up at her like a little boy waiting for his mother. 

Nngh!

The young girls at the next table had been chatting with him, it appeared. He seemed nervous, they seemed intrigued, though they’d all went quiet when she appeared. She grabbed him by the hand. “Let’s go, honey,” she giggled, pulling him maybe a little roughly to his feet, “you know how you get when we stay out too late..!” Caught up in her exuberance, he laughed too, albeit more nervously. 

She pulled him outside, past diners waiting to be seated, amid his thanks for paying for dinner. There hung a little more mist in the air than earlier, and above the lights along the pier the sky was dark dark dark. If you tried carefully, you could smell thunder on the horizon, electricity in the air. Energy was building in the ether. Unable to help herself, free on her feet, Melissa dropped his hand and ran out ahead, spinning, arms out, so happy - a dramatic moment, watched by both he and others around. Women standing nearly seven feet tall in their heels tend to do that, draw stares.

He was laughing, blushing for her, and when she looked back at him she was beaming.

“Oh good you have the desserts!” she extolled, and he nodded, held up the paper takeaway bag for her approval. “Haha good thing you remembered!!,” she lauded, ”I am such a ditz! I’d forget my own butt if it wasn’t so big!” At that, she turned from him, and with a dramatic sway to her prodigious behind, began to strut away, away from the restaurant and all the wide eyes. A woman with two children swatted her husband for his staring. 

“Uhh…” Dr. J managed, eyes drawn like a magnet to her swinging hips. Bong bong bong it was like the liberty bell! He was rap-

“Haha made you look!” she crowed and then delighted in how, looking over her shoulder, she saw his face flush even more as she swung her butt. She knew how big, how big big big it looked in her tight, tight blue jeans and the poor boy made a show of looking shocked. HAHA he was so fun!

Some other guy whistled, making her laugh anew. 

“C’mon, hold my hand!” she laughed, waiting for him to catch up with outstretched arm. He tried to keep up but she was trying to beat the oncoming rain and her legs were so long! They walked along the pier - “hurry, hurry!” - past shops and other restaurants and other strollers who would sometimes turn and watch the two…he was so short, and she was so tall. Normally the stares would have bothered him, but it was like he was caught in a spell. Her? She was used to it; they always stared.

“Sorry for my hips!” she apologized, the third time she’d bumped him. Neither he nor she were used to their width, how much room they took up, walking together - but they were finding their rhythm, as a couple. She had put her hand, or the four fingers that she could fit, in his back pocket - and pinched his butt once! “Also sorry for all the talking about me so much at dinner,” she further apologized, in a moment of frankness, “thank you for being so patient with me…”

“Oh, no worries,” he said, “You're an employee, your health is important to me...”

”So I'm important to you...as an employee?” she asked, looking down at him with a wry little smile as they walked

”n-no that’s not what I meant. You’re…m-more than an employee”

“I guess that's good enough for now,” she giggled, “c’mon, the parking lot’s right down here…” They were nearly to the car, and she couldn’t wait to show him just how much more than an employee she could be.

They spotted her beemer, a white 2-series coupe. She’d parked in a quiet lot, quite a ways away from other cars, or the set of overhead lights that now lit up the droplets in the air. They jogged the last little stretch, her pulling him along. He couldn’t help but gape at the seismic motion of her chest right about at his eyeline. They hadn’t spoke about what they’d be doing from here, any plans after dinner, but if he had any more chances just to gape at that he could die a happy man tonight.

At the car, after the >beepbeep< that signaled the doors had unlocked, he hurried a step ahead of her to open the driver’s side for the lady - such a gentleman, she marveled, but- 

She grabbed him by the shoulder, opened up the back door herself, and commanded: “No, backseat, now.”

The interior lights of the car beckoned. She pushed him in.

“H-h-hey..!” he laughed, even as she lowered her large rear into the car behind him, causing him to scoot across the bench seat towards the far corner. Nice leather, black. He’d tossed the takeaway bag of desserts on the floor along with a small gym bag she’d left on the back seat

She got in, and immediately her eyes were locked on his. She closed the door behind her and the interior lights faded off. She sidled in closer, turned fully towards him, and her smile grew and grew, her eyes flashing in the mid-dark as he backed away as much as he could.

He was shaking a bit, he could feel it. Were they going to make out? Right here? In the parking lot?

She looked at him, stared into his eyes, her own heart thumping so loudly she was sure he must be able to hear it. She watched his face quiver, biting her lower lip in anticipation, in excitement, seeing the effect she was having on him already: he was shivering.  “Are you chilly?” she asked…or am I doing this to you? The temperature outside had dropped with the weather, it was true. 

“A…l-little…” he stammered, watching as already she was stretching herself away, forward into the front seats, reaching to push the start button, so she could turn on the heat. She could feel his eyes roam her voluptuous backside as the console lights came to life, sense him admiring the curves of her hips and torso. Her top was too small on her big body, and bared her at her trim waist. She let him look for another few moments as she adjusted the controls until, satisfied, she began to sit back. A rock song from another era came on through the stereo speakers. 

“It’ll take a little while to heat up,” she said, pushing her hair over her ear and setting her eyes on his again. She inched in closer, and felt something electrify her as she appreciated just how much bigger she was than he, how much more of the backseat she was taking up. “But, here…let’s keep each other warm.” 

“o-okay,” he stammered, turning towards her a bit and reaching behind her, awkwardly trying to set up an embrace, pull her - what? Onto his lap? He felt like an blundering teenager, not knowing what to do. Was that the last time he’d been in a backseat with a girl, in fact?

She giggled. 

“Why don’t you sit on my lap..?” she proposed, already stopping him, sliding hands onto his waist, “there’s not a lot of room back here, and I think I’m too…”

Sitting dead center on the rear bench seat, she lifted him, turned herself to face forward, and placed him on her lap, facing her. 

“…tall.”

He was in her lap, their faces close. Her big, long legs stretched between the two front bucket seats, so long they nearly reached the console. She kicked off her heels and they fell, forgotten, below the steering column and aside the control pedals. He sat high atop her big thighs, his scrawny legs wrapped in a “V” around them as she held them together, one hand on either side of his outer legs. Her thighs made a big firm seat for his smaller body, and she felt - oh god, that is what it is, isn’t it?? - his erection, already swollen through his pant leg, down his right thigh. She struggled to keep from moaning aloud, both from the thought of it and the sensation of taking control of his little frame, feeling this much bigger than him. 

“There you go,” she managed, settling him nicely in her lap and trying not to bely her excitement, “That’s better than my big fat butt crushing you.”

Though that can come later, she thought, if that’s what you want haha. 

”y-youre definitely not fat,” he said, stammering out anything he could so’s not to appear as fucking flabbergasted as he now felt. She just p-picked me up like a doll, like I was nothing, he marveled, and put me on her lap. He, too, was now struck with the realization of just how much bigger she was than he. Even seated on her lap as he was, his eyes were not above hers. Her head was bigger than his, her shoulders broader, her hips far wider. And that’s to say nothing of her mighty chest, which between them seemed to dwarf everything else. 

She watched his eyes go up and down their bodies, knowing the comparisons he was making as she began gathering her mane of dark, thick hair up behind herself, making a quick, loose bun. She saw him admiring the muscles in arms, which with her efforts flexed through the taut white material of her long-sleeved top, and she fought back a proud smile.    

“Y-you go to the gym a lot, don’t you?” he asked, maybe still trying to keep up the charade of being concerned for her health, her weight. The admiration in his voice, though, was unmistakable. 

”I…I do,” she answered, as she finished up with her hair, “I discovered lifting during a tough time in my life, and I figured ‘strong on the outside, strong on the inside’.  I really grew to love lifting and the focus it gave me.” 

“m-maybe some of the weight you put on is, like, muscle?” he offered, admiring now how the cords in her neck pulsed, stood out strongly in the shadows. She was, among everything else, incredibly fit. 

”Maybe,” she agreed, “I do have to be careful not to bulk up too much. I put muscle on real easy.” She’d noticed already how interested he seemed, talking about her putting on size. At dinner, and now here. “Too many muscles for you?” she asked, flexing her arms now more demonstrably, biceps swelling, showing him now unquestionably just how fit she actually was. Without a doubt her arms were twice as thick as his. 

”n-no, I've always liked…sporty girls,” he replied, the awe in his voice all-too evident as he admired her in the semi-darkness of the car cabin. 

“‘Sporty’, huh?” she commented. She cocked her head and smiled, considering him and the little streaks of submissiveness she knew ran through him and lots of guys when she began to really express her superior physicality. It was funny, how quiet and docile she could make them. She knew his type. “I think you like them extra sporty, don’t you?”  she continued, and then - tan shoulders bare in her white, off-the-shoulder top - she flexed her traps, the twin mountains of muscle on either side of her long neck, which normally sloped down into her deltoids elegantly but now swelled upwards in an outrageous, undisguised display of strength that she knew that made her look huge. Beast mode, she growled inwardly, feeling her lip curl into a little snarl. hahaha..!

”oh…my god,” he peeped, obviously more than just impressed…he was shocked. Cowed. Even a little scared. Too startled to even gasp. Jesus she’s huge!!! he gaped, a new respect for her incredible body and plainly awesome strength that made him feel smaller still, like he was shrinking right then and there on her lap. 

She laughed, lightly. Again, she knew his type. She softened, allowed her shoulders to relax. He blinked, recovering, and she knew she shouldn’t do anything else in the moment to frighten him. The male ego was a funny thing, could be played with but only pushed so far before snapping in its own silly little ways.  She didn’t want that here, now. She wanted a boyfriend haha. 

“I tell you…I’m a freaking hormone monstress these days,” she began, knowing she’d have to explain at least a little. Still, though, the stiffening of his erection against her left outer thigh was near driving her mad. “They’re doing crazy things to me - the boobs, the butt and hips and thighs. And yeah, you’re right. Some of my new pounds are probably muscle.”

“o-obviously…” he stammered, still a bit in shock. 

Oh jesus I’m too much for him, she thought, half in lamentation but half in a realization that just fueled her ever-growing arousal. I’m too much for him, she said again, silently to herself, but this time smiling inwardly, feeling herself swelling. It was like a manifestation in itself, one she wanted, now, to sow. I’m too, too much for him. 

Her hands had left his legs, had rested on his hips, and now began to explore his lower back. She still held him, in place, sitting on her thighs. “I find it interesting how weight can be distributed…” she finally said, inflating herself now with a big, deep breath. Despite his obvious infatuation with her muscles, she knew he was a breast-man, and this should do the trick. “…do you?”

He couldn’t help himself. His gaze dropped, unabashedly, to her tits. Even in the darkness their massiveness was apparent, undeniable. Perfectly huge and high on her chest, swelled up now in a remarkable display of her womanly size. 

“oh god Melissa you’re incredible,” was all he could muster, bringing an almost shy smile to the woman in front of him. He knew she could feel his embarrassingly huge boner against her outer leg, and he didn’t care. It was like a tribute, at this point. She was irresistible to him, radiating beauty and self-confidence and power. She was compelling, captivating, too attractive and tempting to be resisted. He was ready to put anything she wanted at her feet. Strange that he thought that, to himself.

She bit her lower lip, and fought against a surging horde of raging emotions. Just the littlest compliment, from him, set fires in her that she’d never felt before. “Would you just do me a favor and tell me I look pretty?” she said, her voice now soft and vulnerable, “I’m sorry, I’m so full of hormones…I’m a girl. I need attention…” She swelled up her breasts even more, causing him to groan. She realized she wasn’t even giving the poor boy the chance to speak, haha, but asked again: ”Do you think I'm pretty, Dr. J?"

Though in their focused preoccupation on one another, neither heard the patter of it on the roof, or saw the droplets of it on the windshield, the rain had begun.

“y-you can call me by my first name, Melissa…” he said, pulling his eyes up to once again look her in the face. Her eyes glimmered green-gold in the gloaming, her lips glittered glossy. He was earnest, feeling walls he’d had up for so long crumbling. And though his emotions felt clumsy, stiff, like prisoners let out from shackles for the first time in years, he felt free, freer than he had in a long time, 

She spent more than a moment in thought. “Hmmm,” she began her reply, finally, with a dimpled smile both wry and honestly touched, “I think I’ll stick with “Dr J” for now…but, it was a simple question. Do you think I’m pretty?”

Simple question, and for sure a simple answer. "Yeah, of course," he said, considering this the understatement of the century. 

She appreciated his certitude, and felt her belly flutter. "Mmm okay…” she purred, now hearing another layer of arousal seasoning her voice. She regarded him again, and was fighting even harder the urge to just pull him into her. “Do you think I'm…sexy?" she asked, with a new mischief in her eye, her tongue quickly wetting her already glossy lips. 

"Uhhh…yeah. I g-guess," he said, hearing himself attempting to hide the obviousness of his intense attraction to her. What was he doing? Why not jus-

She pulled him in, a fraction, closer to her. "What part of me do you think is sexy?" she whispered, her breath washing over him.

His eyes fluttered. 

"I dunno..?" he replied, suddenly embarrassed, shrinking under the weight of his own fetishes, fixations. He couldn’t tell her, he couldn’t, about the attractions he had towards her. Would it change the way she saw him, if she knew? He felt he needed…he needed to change the subject.

"You should just tell me," she continued in a whisper, forehead coming to rest against his, looking deep into his eyes from scant inches away, "I'm gonna find out anyway..."

“Oh my god, Melissa…” he breathed, knowing it himself, but still too-

“Can we talk about what happened at the park?” she asked, her voice still a whisper, her tone gentle. 

Oh god oh jeez no, he moaned, to himself, remembering how last weekend at their impromptu picnic - despite the occasion, despite the fact that he’d been there to sign his divorce papers - he’d been caught with an embarrassing boner, and nearly came in his pants right in front of her. 

“Oh my god I’m so, so s-sorry,” he began, sputtering in apology and pulling back from her just a bit, “for Saturday, with the nice picnic you’d made, losing control like that. It’s so embarrassing. And insensitive. You must be sick of it. And…” Figuring now she must have heard, must know, remembering himself being jerked off by Vida - or was it Abby? - under the table at the party while drunkenly staring at Melissa, ”…I’m sorry for what happened under the table on Friday night.”

“Yeah what were you looking at?” she giggled, obviously a bit embarrassed herself but with a laugh laced with a silver tinkle of pride. Guys jerked off to her tits, she knew that. But rarely did they do it right in front of her with a plate of pasta between them haha. 

“right??” he lamented, “I’m so, SO sorry…I’m such a jerk, letting that happen. I don’t know what comes over me, sometimes…” It was true…

“Shhh, shh…its okay. It's okay,” she assured him, her voice unbelievably patient, unbelievably tolerant. “You were drunk then, I know. It does happen, all the time, guys paying a lot of attention to my body, making them act funny. But I don’t mind….when it’s you. So…it’s okay.”

”oh…god, Melissa…” The ignominy was crippling. 

“Oh my gosh you’re so cute when you’re blushing!” she giggled, one hand coming up to caress his cheek, feel its new warmth, brush fingers gently down his face. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk about.” She smiled mildly. “I wanted to talk about…our kiss.”

Oh. Oh okay. Oh yeah…

“y-y-yeah..?” he stammered, heart threatening to beat itself out of his chest, her perfume caressing his amygdala as tenderly as her hand did his cheek, “What about?”

“I…I liked it, a lot,” she spoke, fighting back the urge to grin a grin that would light up the car, the lot, the entire night with her happiness. Is this what falling in love feels like?  “Wanna do it again?” she asked.

Before he knew it her fingers were twined into his hair, and she had pulled him back to her. It was not just their foreheads that kissed but now their eager mouths, which had been breathlessly patient here, this whole pregnant night and long week, for so long. But now their breaths each came in twin gasps as the shock of pleasure struck them both. Was that lightning, outside? Or the fireworks like they’d seen before, at their last kiss, behind closed eyes?

Their lips slid together, into one another immediately and they were suddenly sharing the same breath. Tongues touched, teeth nipped. Both partners moaned and writhed, grabbed by a pleasure preprogrammed to make them exactly what they were now: helpless to do anything but enjoy one another. Unlike their last kiss, which was aborted nearly before it began by his spastic loss of control, this one held promise to last forever. They were alone, it was dark, they had all night. She drank deep of him, he of her, each desperate to slake a thirst they never realized they had.

After an indeterminate time, kissing kissing kissing and by some unspoken agreement, they each drew back to regard one another afresh through the intimate inches that separated one from the other. Each heart was beating wings inside a ribcage, his fluttering like a bird, hers mighty and threatening to break free and soar. 

“Something incredible is happening,” she breathed, looking him in the eyes, desperate to kiss him again. Something magical, something chemical. There was a connection - they both felt it! - between the two of them that went beyond two people falling for one another, two people hot for one another. It was like two heavens colliding, it was like electricity pouring from each of their bodies, into the other. They felt it, and it made them each gasp again as their lips locked once more. They felt it themselves through their skin, in their own bones…and it was felt elsewhere as well, miles away. 

…across the city, in their homes, out with their own lovers

                             “...holy shit it’s happening…”

“Oh, god, daddy…”

                    growls and hisses and purrrrrrrrs….

This pleasure was not just hers, she knew. She was sharing it, it was multiplied far beyond the backseat of her BMW 2-series, and though the immediate thought of it inflamed her further, this moment was hers, just hers and his. She was focused entirely on him, and dove into their kiss anew. Her tongue swam into his mouth, shoving his this way and that and making him quiver with her display of strength. He loved it, she could tell, how she took charge of him in this most intimate playing field, their shared mouths. She was having her way, her tongue in total command and he whimpered in the most delicious way. He was now outright trembling in her lap, and she broke their kiss again, to let him catch his breath. 

“Here, sweetie,” she cooed, sliding her hands down his thin arms to take his hands and bring them to her big tits. 

“oh god…” he moaned, as they both looked down, seeing how small they seemed resting tentatively on her huge breasts. He almost needed to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming; he’d fantasized about this moment so many times, being able to feel her, but his hands were now frozen. She felt warm, soft…huge, and his hands were exactly where they were meant to be. No way was he going to pinch himself, now. 

Her hands came back to rest easily on his thighs, her big palms and long fingers nearly wrapping around them. "Mmmm...you're a great kisser," she purred, sliding her hands up and down his legs, sending an electric jolt through his body even as he still sat speechless, staring at his hands resting in the big white swells of her voluptuous chest. She could feel his cock, so hard in his khakis, pressed into her own solid outer thigh. It was making her painfully horny, but she kept her left hand far enough away. She had been celibate for so long and - though the weight of that time now threatened to burst forth and overwhelm the poor man with its sheer power - she could wait a short while longer. 

"Oh….so are you...” he moaned, finally answering her, obviously enraptured, “…a-and, your body…my god..!"

Melissa laughed indulgently, her big breasts shaking his hands as they rested on them. She brought her hands up to cover his, as a sudden embarrassment made him start taking his hands away. "No, I love them there," she purred, holding his palms to her chest, "they feel so good."

"Oh, jesus, yesss…" he exclaimed, now giving her breasts a speculative squeeze through her shirt and bra, his hands nearly disappearing into her full chest. She laughed again.

"Are you going to want to watch me take my top off?" she asked, in her lowest, sexiest voice. She was discovering, now, exactly how to push his buttons, and loved how her breasts really turned him on. She reveled in making him so hot for her that he was going to burst, maybe right there against her leg. In her own way, it was her way of establishing dominance over him. She was so wet with the thought that now that her panties were practically flooded, and her scent filled the small cabin of the car.

"god, yes…" he said in a whisper, like he was afraid to speak up lest he lose the chance.

Though they’d been deaf to the patter of the rain, so far, they both heard the first rumble of thunder in the distance.

Her eyes saw something in his face that made her speak again. “Let’s go to your place,” she said…

=======================================

inspired both loosely and strongly by a scene in an old story by Pac

up to post 275 on my Patreon

#growing into the job

[be-netz]

— NOW PLAYING: NEXT GEN EPISODE 2

the day of the evaluation… captions overlay the scene of six judges finding their way to their seats in a relatively plain set, a small stage before them obviously prepared for the contestants they’re here to judge today. YOON JIHUN is the first to enter with SEO RAN close behind, idly chatting with YOOJUNG who enters with her as they find their seats at the judges’ table. J-YOON is next to enter, greeting his ceo and the other judges before quietly taking his seat. is he the loner of the group…? the captions assume, though the thought is quickly discarded when YUNA and BOM enter together, arms interlocked as they whisper something between them before taking their seats as well.

“so,” jihun is the first to address the group as a whole, placing his attention in particular on the three judges who also helped train the idol wannabes during the last several days. “what should i be looking most forward to today? any surprises?” he clasps his hands together and leans forward against the table as if in anticipation.

a soft smile crosses yoojung’s face. “there’s a lot of talented dancers in this group. and a lot who are not, but made huge improvements in a very short time. i think some of them will manage to surprise you.” 

bom, on the other hand, simply scowls. she says nothing and instead, the editors add in a few clips of a similar glare on her face when working with the contestants during their lessons.

“there wasn’t a big rap part in this song,” j-yoon admits with a shrug. “i think it’s something anyone with a basic understanding of music could pull off. but i’m interested to see what yoojung and bom made of the dancers and vocalists too.”

“shall we see our first contestant, then?” RHEE JIAN appears on stage, ready to introduce the contestants one by one to the judges. “they’re all waiting so nervously backstage. after working so hard these last several days, let’s call them in right away.” though her words are surely part of a script, the judges all nod their heads as if giving approval for judgment day to begin.

“those who ranked low during their auditions have the most potential for growth, so today we’ll go in order from who ranked last to first place. which means the first performance of the day will be… LEE NOEL,”

a short clip of noel entering the stage and bowing to the judges is shown before being replaced by scenes of a practice room and noel rehearsing with other contestants. it’s group dance practice and the editing makes it seem as if noel is making mistake after mistake and the doom and gloom of the editing is punctuated by tense sound effects and music. “i placed last,” noel’s voice cuts over the sounds before the scene of him in the interview room takes over the compilation of his mistakes. “while it doesn’t bother me, i do want to prove that i deserve more than last place.” clips of noel practicing with other participants show then; practicing vocals with hyejin and dohyun, and dance with seojun.

the scene changes again, now back to the stage in front of the judges, and noel performs my turn in front of the group. no comment is made by either the judges or the captions and silence follows the conclusion of his performance, the only sound heard the breathing of the contestant who just performed.

“lee noel,” it’s jihun who picks up his microphone first to give his evaluation of the performance after the tense quiet, “do you really want to be here?” his words are harsh and his expression not much kinder. the camera zooms in on noel’s face for his reaction to the criticism.

“your performance isn’t memorable at all. aren’t you nervous? don’t you want to do well? your attitude doesn’t seem to reflect that. we invited you to participate in this show despite hundreds— no, thousands of auditions. do you even care?”

“he’s angry,” the microphones catch ran whispering to yuna.

yoojung picks up his microphone next, his expression rather serious though softer than the last speaker’s. “noel, you auditioned with dance and you definitely improved with practice over these last several days. it’s good to know that you can learn and make adjustments when we give you critique. but there’s a lot of good dancers in this competition. i don’t know if you can surpass them if you want to rise above your current rank.”

“you should understand that your place on this show is in danger,” bom, as usual, does not mince her words as she speaks directly to the young man.

“as a not very good dancer and far from a good singer, it felt like i had to learn two things at once,” noel’s interview comes back to the screen, sad music playing as if to garner sympathy for the young man. “i guess that was the most difficult thing, everything at once.”

it’s jian’s face that takes up the screen next, smiling to the camera despite the harsh critique from the last performance. “our next contestant is HWANG BADA,” she announces as the camera zooms in on the girl entering the stage, looking a bit nervous as she does so. ran tries to send her an encouraging smile from the judges’ table.

“the cameras are a bit nerve-wracking, don’t you think?” bada’s voice plays over the scene of her very intentionally meeting the eyes of the judges. “before this, i just worked at my family’s store.” the scene shifts to bada in the practice rooms, rehearsing with hyejin, stevie, haein, and in the group lessons. “i’m going to give it my all. my performance may not be the best, but it’s definitely my best.”

unfortunately, no sooner does the music start does bada make a mistake. she misses the first beat and the camera focuses in on yoojung wincing at the error. the mistake is played again, though this time it shows she recovers and pushes through. she’s out of breath, her voice cracks, but she still continues on. the camera focuses on bom, whose expression is hard to read.

“bada,” it’s ran who speaks first this time her voice gentle and words mostly kind, “you know, right? it wasn’t a perfect performance. but what we’re looking for more than perfection is your potential. how much did you improve from the last time we saw you? were you able to take critique, to ask for help when you needed it? this is a program to discover talent we want to sign to our companies and continue to nurture. no one is expecting you to be ready to debut tomorrow.”

“your voice was better in practice,” it’s bom who speaks next, the editing of the scene alluding to tension as if bom will rip the girl’s performance to shreds. “but that’s to be expected. you have a lot to learn still. what i liked about your performance is that despite your mistakes, you did not give up. tenacity is an important trait to have as a trainee and an idol.”

“did you just say something nice to someone?” yuna picks up her microphone to tease bom, who just smiles and laughs a bit in return. “you worked hard bada,” yuna congratulates the girl despite the flaws in her performance. “like the others said, there’s still a lot to learn. but you seem eager to learn it, and that’s all we can ask for. great job.”

warm music plays as bada takes her leave from the stage before showing a short compilation of her last several days of training. most notably, a clip of her in tears contrasts a clip of a smiling, laughing face. keep working hard, bada! the captions cheer her on.

“up next, a mysterious man who tends to keep to himself, GEUN WONJAE,” rian announces. the scene changes to a series clips of wonjae sitting by himself during breaks in practice and rehearsing alone. 

“he looks tired,” j-yoon murmurs to no one in particular as wonjae takes the stage.

“was he up all night practicing?” yoojung wonders aloud, the other idols among the judges frowning seemingly in sympathy as they watch the young man ready himself for his performance.

wonjae makes the same mistake bada did, missing the first beat. his whole performance seems slightly off, as if his body is too tired and sluggish to respond the way he wants it to. he’s clearly frustrated by the end of his performance, the cameras catching the way his hands ball into tight fists by his sides.

“before we talk about your performance,” ran’s brow knits together as she speaks, seemingly genuinely concerned for the young man, “did you get any sleep at all last night? we know that everyone is working hard for this show but it’s important to get your rest when you can. when you’re tired, you can make a mistake and injure yourself.”

“i don’t think we can say much about this performance, to be honest,” jihun speaks next. “wonjae, we know that you did not show us your best side today. it’s not really fair to judge you based on this. i don’t think we can give you a very high score for this but i hope that you take better care of yourself going forward. we want to see the performer we recognized from your audition, not this.”

wonjae is dismissed from the stage and bom lets out a large sigh. “i wish we hadn’t started from the bottom ranks, actually. i think i’m wasting my time hoping for a big surprise.”

“next we’d like to welcome to the stage… SEO JUNHO!” jian is shown giving a small round of applause as the next contestant takes the stage. the cameras show him settling into position briefly before changing the scene, now showing his time preparing for this moment. he glares at himself in the mirror while he tries to perfect the routine. shots of the camera crews packing up and leaving while junho continues to practice late into the night are played with the caption he worked so hard for this moment… is displayed on the screen. a shot of his notes and annotations of the lyrics is shared with the audience. it’s clear that seo junho is one contestant who is taking this show very seriously. maybe bom will finally get the surprise that she’s hoping for.

junho’s performance begins without any long preamble. it’s immediately clear that his hard work has paid off; compared to the last contestants, his moves are much sharper, his voice much more stable. it’s not a perfect performance, but the editors show off his best moves multiple times, cut with the subtle impressed eyebrow raise from jihun himself. 

“i want to be the first to speak,” j-yoon hardly lets the music fade away before he’s picking up his microphone, “i feel like i need to apologize. i might have been to harsh on your during the last episode. you’ve absolutely made me eat my words since then,” j-yoon looks absolutely delighted to be proven wrong by the contestant, a smile lighting up his features despite his apology.

“i have to agree,” yuna speaks next. “i think your performance is the largest improvement we’ve seen in a contestant so far. it’s amazing, to be honest. you shone brighter here, with one chance to get it right, than you did in your audition tape with however many takes you put into that. great job, junho. we can’t wait to see what you do next.”

“LEE SEOJUN,” it’s not rian who calls his name but rather an unnamed staff member. the cameras are sure to pick up the way he jumps to attention, ready to take the stage in front of the judges. jian’s formal announcement is seen next, and after one more quick moment of seojun looking anticipatory for his turn on stage, finally he’s seen walking out in front of the judges.

“so many people have made this a lot of fun to be a part of,” seojun’s voice plays over clips of him practicing with wonjae, stevie, noel. it shifts to show several scenes with one person in particular, haneul. “my best friend, haneul, helped, since we practiced together as much as possible.” a soft filter and equally soft music plays as one last clip of the best friends practicing together is shown. a clip of seojun smiling softly in the interview room finishes off the segment.

with the week’s recap completed, it’s time to see the young man’s performance. it’s clear that he’s a confident performer on stage, his movements sharp and voice clear despite the choreography. even bom is seen nodding her head as she jots notes down about the performance. “i think we’re finally just getting to the better contestants,” she murmurs to her neighbor.

seojun’s performance comes to a close and a short round of applause is held for him. jihun picks up his microphone first. “to be honest, i think that this is the most complete performance that we’ve seen so far. you’re a strong dancer and while your vocals could use some work, they didn’t suffer terribly despite the dance. you did a good job.”

“i agree,” yuna nods along with jihun before chiming in, “there were a couple little pitch and support issues but nothing that some practice couldn’t fix. i think we judged you too harshly in the auditions. you definitely shine on stage, lee seojun. great job.” more happy music plays as seojun takes his leave from the stage and the judges look pleased with what they’ve been seeing so far.

the show must move along and jian is already announcing the next contestant to the stage: MOON CAMERON. he smiles as he greets the judges again and the camera focuses in on ran, who can’t help but smile back. “you think he’s cute, don’t you?” jihun teases her despite her pushing him away playfully and denying all accusations. “it’s interesting to have siblings on the show, that’s all,” ran insists.

scenes of a practice room where both siblings rehearse is shown before cameron’s performance can start. “i can’t let myself be too shown up by my little sister,” he says as the screen shows him playfully scolding his sister. “why did i find out you auditioned by seeing you on actual television?”

“seeing her throw her all into this has really pushed me to do the same,” a shot of cameron in the interview room is shown next, camera zooming in on that soft, brotherly smile he has on his face whenever he talks about his little sister.

cameron’s performance begins next, displaying excellent command over the stage that clearly comes from a place of experience. most notably, he sends a wink in the direction of the judges. yuna, ran, and yoojung all exclaim out loud at the gesture. “that was cute!” ran gushes and jihun only nudges her again to tease her lightly. the performance wraps up and all of the judges seem to have enjoyed it thoroughly despite it being the fifth time they’ve heard the same song. 

“you have much more experience than most of the other contestants in this show,” j-yoon speaks first, struggling to be serious despite the lingering smile from enjoying the performance so much. “to be honest, i think we’re holding you to a higher standard than the others. i’m not sure if that’s fair but we do want to see your max potential. you still have room to grow.”

“i think i speak for everyone when i say that we thoroughly enjoyed your performance,” yuna speaks next. “it’s fun to watch a performer who looks so at home on stage. there’s some issues with your singing that i’m sure bom will want to address,” the camera shows bom nodding briefly before returning to yuna, “but overall, a good show.”

as cameron is dismissed, the judges check their cue cards for who comes next despite jian’s announcements. “YEOM SARANG,” the emcee announces and the judges begin murmuring among themselves.

“i think he’s the best looking of the male contestants,” yuna comments.

“yes, but a pretty face does not an idol make,” bom’s stern manner never takes a break.

that said, it’s clear that sarang is popular among his fellow contestants. clips of him practicing with others rather closely are played and the captions and editing seem to be jokingly implying that even his fellow male participants have a crush on him. they show him winking at matthew, working closely with jinyoung. “i really enjoyed learning not only from the coaches, but from the friends i’ve made here as well,” sarang’s voice carries over the compilation of clips.

more important than friendship is his turn to perform, however. he captivates the judges, even jihun neglecting to write too many notes as he watches and listens to the young man give his all into his performance of my name. “i’m confident in what i showed,” sarang’s voice can he heard again as he holds the finishing pose.

“let me be the first to speak,” yoojung is the first to pipe up once the spell has worn off. “sarang, you clearly have a lot of untapped potential and i think this particular song was a great opportunity for you. it suits you well. however,” the camera zooms in on sarang’s face for a reaction, the sound effects tense as if yoojung is about to drop a bomb on the situation. “you dance style did not suit the choreography at all. if you’re going to debut in a group someday, you need to be able to mold yourself to the concept. i didn’t always feel that i suited all of a.maze’s concepts, but they needed me to, so i did. you need to learn the same,”

“while i agree with yoojung,” yuna adds to the conversation, “i do want to make sure we commend you for your stage presence and performance overall. a great job, truly.”

if sarang was popular, then PARK STEVEN is basically a celebrity among the trainees. jian’s voice can be heard announcing his turn to perform as the camera shows him going around and greeting all of his friends backstage still waiting for their turns. next gen’s social butterfly, reads the captions. various scenes of steven working with other trainees, comforting them, crying with them can be seen.

“i’ll give it everything i got. no regrets from me!” stevie’s voice plays as he takes his place on stage. he begins his performance when prompted, the camera occasionally cutting to yoojung who nods, j-yoon who scribbles something down, and yuna who seems fixated on the performance with rapt attention. he finishes with a large smile and ran can be seen smiling back.

someone who is not smiling, however, is bom. “steven,” she speaks first among the judges, “i said it before and i’ll say it again. you need to take this competition more seriously.” she fixes him with a rather stern look and doesn’t stop there, “this is not daycare. we’re not here for you to have a playdate with your friends. when we scold you, it’s because we know you can do better. you should be doing better than this.”

a clip plays of stevie in the practice room, trying to lift his leg behind his head when he should’ve been rehearsing. suddenly his social butterfly tendencies don’t seem to be as much of an asset as they are a distraction.

“i have to agree with bom. you’re a good dancer. if you want to be a backup dancer and support our idols on stage, that’s fine. but that’s not what this competition is for. i hope to see more improvement from you moving forward,” yuna explains to the young contestant.

after so many male contestants, finally another female contestant is ready for her turn in front of the judges. “up next,” jian announces, “we’ll see RYU EUNKYUNG,” a shot of the girl raising her fist and mouthing a silent cheer is shown as she takes the stage. 

“over and over we’ve worked on this and you’re still getting it wrong,” the scene changes to eunkyung getting scolded by one of the coaches. in the next series of clips, it’s shown how many times she’s forgotten the lyrics or made a major mistake. “somehow it all goes out of my brain when i start to dance,” eunkyung’s own voice is heard as she makes yet another mistake on screen. will she be able to pull it off? the captions question her abilities, drawing tension as once again she’s shown on stage in front of the judges.

her performance begins. it seems that the whole world is watching with their breath held as they wait to see if she’ll make a mistake again or not. what she does instead is make little modifications to the choreography. she cups her hands against her face to send a heart instead of the “v” pose and a shot of ran cooing at the modification is shown before returning to eunkyung’s performance. the line she struggled the most with is coming, though. j-yoon leans forward in his seat, eyes narrowed as he waits. not only does she not flub it, she nails it. a sigh of relief seems to fall and j-yoon sits back, nodding his approval.

“you had me worried, eunkyung,” he speaks after her performance is finished, smiling now that it’s all over. “i’m glad you were able to work out your issues with the lyrics. overcoming obstacles is an important part of breaking into this industry. you’re going to have much more difficult challenges than this going forward.”

“to be honest, i think you’re center material,” ran speaks up, “i know, i haven’t said that to anyone else yet. you’re confident and while your skills could use some work, you’re doing an excellent job all things considered. keep up the good work.”

“so many cameras,” the translation of SATO KOU’s statement is shown in subtitles on the screen. the scene changes this time to kou in the interview room, where he once again says the same thing: “this is a lot of cameras.” is he camera shy? the captions question.

“we’re looking forward to kou’s performance,” jian announces. earlier that week… the captions interrupt the performance with a scene of the boy in a practice room, clearly frustrated even before he exclaims “i can’t do it!” clips of kou’s mistakes in dance practice play one after the other, highlighting all of his many errors. “i just wasn’t born with the ability to dance, you see. see? my arms just won’t listen to my head.”

“i’ve been practicing like crazy,” kou’s voice is heard while the camera returns to the scene in front of the judges. “i think i’ve improved a lot. at least i won’t look like an idiot on stage… i hope.”

the boy’s face lights up as he begins his performance and the judgest watch, paying careful attention to him. yoojung in particular seems anxious, having seen the boy in practice not all that long ago. “please don’t mess up,” he murmurs, barely loud enough that the microphones can pick it up. thankfully, kou doesn’t make a mistake and completes the performance without any major catastrophe.

“you had me so worried,” yoojung laughs the tension away as he addresses the contestant. “i’m glad that you were able to pull it off in the end and i hope that this is the end of your dancing woes. it’s a skill that you absolutely need if you want to be an idol. please, keep practicing.”

“i would’ve liked to see more improvement from you, though,” jihun remarks, a slight frown on his face. “you’re a decent singer, kou. but i feel like you just got lucky with your dancing here, based on what yoojung was telling us earlier. i hope that you can prove me wrong and show that it truly was skill.”

a scary contestant is next, the captions, in cold, shivery effect, appear on screen. “if i’m making you cry, you should quit now,” LEE NAYOUNG’s voice can be heard. “have you been practicing outside of lessons at all? do you even have your sheet of the lyrics? what are you doing here?” clips of nayoung confronting various contestants are played on screen. she’s scarier than bom, the captions claim, showing a side-by-side shot of bom’s glare compared to nayoung’s.

“please welcome lee nayoung to the stage,” jian announces the contestant dutifully. unlike the scary clips from earlier, nayoung is all smiles to the judges as she greets everyone politely. it turns out that she has a reason to scold the other trainees, her performance goes off not quite flawlessly but clearly more skilled than many of the contestants before her.

“did you know that people are saying you’re scarier than i am?” bom addresses the girl with the slightest hint of a smile on her face. “i was worried that you would be all bark and no bite. i’m pleased that you have the skill to back your words up. you could practice your stability more. but overall, good job.”

“i would caution you to try to get along better with the other contestants,” ran frowns into her microphone, “we understand this is a competition. but if you’re going to join one of our companies, we need to know that you’ll be a good fit with our current trainees. if you can’t get along with anyone, we’ll have reason to be concerned.”

LEE JINAE’s performance is next. it seems to breeze by with no context at all. “it was entirely unmemorable,” jihun points out to his fellow judges, who seem to agree. no one can even remember what she practiced all week.

completely on the opposite side of the spectrum is MIN HYEJIN. as jian announces her name, clips of her practicing with several different contestants play across the screen. matthew, noel, haein, bada, nayoung, saea, kou, and of course stevie are all seen practicing with the girl at different times. if stevie was the social butterfly of the boys, hyejin takes the title for the girls. “there were so many helpful participants and so many i made sure to lend a helping hand to as well,” her voice is heard over the clips.

her performance starts. there’s hiccups, like every contestant so far, but the cameras seem to focus on them much more than the others. the judges faces don’t look as excited about hyejin’s performance as they had about others.

“hyejin,” yuna sighs before continuing, “i understand that you worked with a lot of different people and spent a lot of time helping them. that’s great, and we love to see that sort of teamwork, but i think your performance suffered for it. you should have spent a little more time on yourself.”

“i want to remind you to mind your expressions too,” j-yoon adds. “you had moments where you were really good. but then you’d lose that and it was such a shame. i agree with yuna, i think you overextended yourself helping others. you should be more mindful of your time in the future.”

the scene cuts away from hyejin, indicating her segment is over, and instead focuses on jian again as she announces the next performance. “our next contestant ready to show you his skills is CHO HANEUL,” the young man is seen taking the stage and giving a polite bow to the judges. jihun smiles and nods approvingly; it seems he cares very much about the manners and attitude of all of the participants.

“if i’m really honest, i almost didn’t audition,” haneul’s voice is heard as he waits for the music to start. “i keep thinking if i should have done this or not,” clips of his practice sessions, including a sweet hug with stevie, play across the screen, highlighting all of the highs and lows of the last several days. “but might as well do my best while i’m here, right?”

the music starts and haneul’s performance begins. he’s an adept performer, singing and dancing solidly until the short rap part of the song comes up. when his pronunciation is slightly off on one word, the cameras zoom in on j-yoon scribbling something down in his notes.

“haneul,” j-yoon is the first to give his critique once the music ends and the contestant relaxes from his ending pose, “first of all, i want to praise you for trying something outside of your comfort zone. it’s clear you know how to sing and dance but rap was something new for you. that said, to be completely honest, i don’t think it’s something you should do anymore.”

ran’s eyebrows raise at the unexpected harsh critique from j-yoon, who ignores the looks he’s getting and continues. “let me be clear. you’re a good singer and dancer. i don’t think you need to rap. i understand it was part of this evaluation but i think going forward it would be better for you to focus on the things you’re already good at.”

“i get what j-yoon means,” jihun nods along as he speaks, “instead of wasting your time and energy trying to perfect something that honestly doesn’t really matter, focus on your other skills instead. i think that will take you farther in this competition. good job, haneul.”

the young man bows politely as he’s dismissed. “i like him,” jihun says aloud.

“don’t go picking favorites this early,” yuna warns playfully, “i might like him too.”

a shot of the waiting room takes over the scene. after a slow pan of the remaining contestants waiting for their turn, the camera zooms in on the next one up: PARK DOHYUN. he seems to be staring off into space. is he awake? the captions question as a sped-up shot of his fellow contestants and staff zipping around the waiting room plays while dohyun himself simply sits still. “learning the lyrics and dance… it was kinda like a bootcamp,” dohyun’s voice speaks over the scene. the editing makes it seem as if he’s a bit dazed and confused, as if the hard work of the past week has completely robbed him of any remaining branpower. 

in the next moment, jian is welcoming him to the stage in front of the judges. as the music starts, it seems that he hasn’t fully snapped out of his trance and misses his cue. he’s flushed in the face when he does get back on track. “is he alright?” ran whispers to yuna, who frowns in concern at dohyun’s performance.

when he finally reaches the end of his performance, he’s out of breath. a few silent moments pass before yoojung speaks. “dohyun, you’ve learned a lot in a short time,” he praises the contestant first, smiling encouragingly, “but to be honest, i’m concerned about you. are you feeling alright? are you ill?”

the camera zooms in on dohyun’s face as if looking for any ailment.

“this is a competition but you can’t be reckless with your body. i understand desperation to be signed and to debut. but certain injuries can’t quite be recovered from. you’re just starting to learn dance. don’t make it harder for yourself by getting hurt.”

“yoojung is right,” yuna speaks next. “we see your improvement, dohyun. i can’t say you’re a good dancer yet, to be honest. but if you can stay healthy, i think you can become one.”

with dohyun’s performance complete, the scene goes back to the waiting room. the crowd is getting smaller and smaller as more and more contestants take their turn in front of the judges. finally, it focuses in on the next performer: MOON JINYOUNG. he looks nervous or at the very least restless as he gets to his feet to pace, to practice the song and dance one more time, humming the melody as he runs through the movements.

he’s seen walking on stage as jian announces his name. “i’m fine. it just hit me, you know? this is real.” his voice is heard as he looks at the judges with his chin held high, masking any fear that he might have had going into this. jinyoung tests his voice once, twice, before assuming the starting position and waiting for the music to start. unlike the last performer, he doesn’t miss his start. but the problems start when he sings. the camera cuts to bom who can barely disguise a rather repulsed expression as she scribbles notes down in font of her.

jinyoung is red in the face much like dohyun had been by the time his performance comes to an end. 

“i heard that you’re a big fan of yoojung,” it’s ran who speaks first, not yet critiquing jinyoung’s performance but holding a conversation instead. a clip plays of jinyoung and sarang in a practice room together. “i want to be yoojung when i grow up,” jinyoung had said then. the scene returns to ran, who’s smiling at her fellow judge as she speaks to jinyoung. “it’s clear that you’re a talented dancer. maybe the best we’ve seen today. but dancing alone isn’t enough to be like your idol. yoojung is a talented singer too. to be honest, you have a long way to go in that area.”

“i’m disappointed, to be honest,” bom speaks up, barely looking up from her notes at the young man she’s addressing. “you did better in practice. there’s no excuse for what you showed us on stage today. if you want to continue in this competition, you need to be much better.”

the humiliated contestant bows as he says his farewell to the judges, bright red in the face. even he doesn’t look satisfied with his performance.

“up next,” jian is the center of the screen again, smiling as she reads the name off her cue card, “MOON SAEA, our little sister.” the scene changes to saea in the practice room, first bickering with her actual brother cameron, then hanging out with stevie, calling hyejin ‘unnie’, and even pouting in the interview room rather cutely. children’s music plays in the background, painting the girl with a cute, childish image.

however, that childish image changes abruptly when she’s shown standing in front of the judges, seemingly more cool and collected than the playful girl they had already shown in practice. as soon as the music starts, the performer takes over. yoojung can be seen nodding approvingly at her performance and even jihun seems to be impressed, brows raised as he scribbles a note down in front of him.

“first of all, i want to say that you put on an excellent performance,” jihun’s praise has been increasingly rare for the duration of this show, so the other judges are shown with rather surprised expressions as he compliments saea. “i think you already know and bom will likely say more than me on it but your singing still needs work. still, you held your own. learning these things in such a short time is difficult but you proved today it’s far from impossible.”

“you’re doing well at rap,” j-yoon adds as well. “is this your first time practicing and performing it? i think with practice and training, you might have a future in it. i’m excited to see what you’re capable of in the future.”

“we’re getting closer to last week’s number one,” jian takes over again as the show transitions to the next contestant. “next to perform for our judges is MATTHEW LUONG.”

“i’m very grateful for being ranked in the top ten, let alone the top five,” matthew’s voice is played over a scene of him in the waiting room, anxiously anticipating his turn. “i just was worried that i was going to let people down.” a shot of him approaching the stage is cut off by a practice room scene, matthew attempting to sing the song perhaps for the first time. it’s clear that he’s not yet a vocalist, making many mistakes during his attempt. “i don’t know if i want to go for the first place spot,” his voice is heard again, “i’m so nervous that i’m just going to disappoint everyone.”

the scene cuts back to matthew on stage, the judges staring at him expectantly. as the music begins, so does his performance. while his voice doesn’t compare to some of the stronger vocalists in the competition, he’s not all that bad and his top five spot isn’t undeserved. he seems to lose a bit of strength as the performance wraps up, and yoojung’s sharp eye is sure to catch that. the camera focuses on the judge after the music ends.

“how long have you been practicing singing?” yuna is the first to speak up despite the initial focus on yoojung. “was this your first time performing it seriously? you did a good job,” she smiles as she praises the contestant. “it was fun to watch you. it looked like you were genuinely enjoying your time on stage and as an audience member, that makes such a difference. i hope you continue to love performing. that will take you farther in this industry than anything.”

“your voice needs work,” bom can never seem to just give a compliment. “but you improved a lot in a short time. you need to work on your control and pitch. keep this in mind.” her words are short but at least they don’t seem as harsh as she’s been on others.

matthew is dismissed and the next contestant is called to the stage, announced by jian with another glowing smile. ZHOU AREN RENYI is looking rather pale in the face as he stands before the judges. “i know that people expect a lot because i was ranked so high. but truthfully, i don’t know why i’m ranked so high,” ren’s voice is played over a zoomed-in clip of his trembling hands.

“are you nervous, renyi?” jihun speaks before the performance begins. the camera just zooms in on the boy’s nervous face as an answer.

renyi’s performance begins. there’s obvious mistakes, he stops singing at one point entirely, and bom is seen scowling and writing notes down. ran leans forward in her seat, brows creased in concern. the judges all saw potential in this contestant; they just hope that he can live up to it. and in parts, he does. his expressions are good despite the obvious nerves, even biting down on his lip as the camera catches his face just right. but perhaps most surprising is when he stops dancing entirely near the end, instead singing the high note with full strength. bom’s brows raise in a way that’s hard to tell if it’s a good or bad thing. he continues the dance for the last bit and all the judges scribble something in front of them.

“you made an… interesting choice,” ran puts it more nicely than some of the other judges might have as they begin their verbal evaluation of renyi. “i understand that you’re not very experienced as a performer yet. but halting your dance so you could sing… it’s something that we incorporate into choreography for main vocalists at times, though it wasn’t part of this routine.”

“others were able to sing and dance during that part just fine,” bom’s harsh critique doesn’t soften for the clearly nervous boy, though perhaps she’s not as mean as she could be. “if you want to keep up in this competition, you should try to mimic the good parts of your peers and be better than their flaws. i’m not sure we saw a top three performance from you today.”

when renyi bows, he lurches forward, falling to a knee as he loses strength. immediately, all six of the judges spring to their feet. “are you alright?” yuna calls out to the boy as yoojung tries to escape the judges’ table to help the contestant to his feet. however, ren excuses himself and skitters away before anyone can reach him. “can someone go check on him?” yuna asks the staff. someone follows renyi out to make sure that he’s unhurt.

the judges still look somewhat unnerved by the nearly collapsed contestant when jian is announcing the next one up to perform, JUNG JOOMI. “his skillset is similar to renyi’s,” jihun points out, a small frown still on his face. unspoken worry seems to mingle through the group of judges.

it seems that the boys also have similarities in temperament as well and the scene changes to a practice room, captions explaining that this is the first day of practice for the mission. joomi is crying, stevie comforting him as best as he can. “i honestly… i didn’t know i could sing before coming on here,” his voice is played over the shot before it transitions to him in the interview room looking at anything but the eye of the camera. “i’m not confident but i’m glad i made it through.”

joomi’s performance is… well, it’s hard to say it’s anything close to good. his dance is a mess, his voice falters for the energy put into dancing, and overall it’s rather a disappointing performance from the second place winner. there’s a long silence between when the music ends and the judges start to verbalize their evaluation of the contestant.

finally, bom is the first to speak. and despite her harsh reputation, her words seem to be a bit softer. “i feel like we should apologize to you, joomi,” she holds the microphone with both hands as she looks directly at the contestant. “you’re a very talented singer but second place put a lot of pressure on you. i don’t think you were ready for that pressure. and we didn’t see the singer we all fell in love with today. i’m sorry for that, too.”

ran’s lips press tightly together as if she’s struggling to find the words as she raises her microphone as well. “today’s performance wasn’t good. but i’m sure you already know,” she has to be honest with him though it seems that the judges are treating him more gently than they’ve treated others. some contestants require tough love, some require gentle encouragement. “i hope you feel proud of what you’ve learned in the meantime. i think you have a lot to learn and a long way to go but i think you can get there eventually. we’re cheering for you, joomi!” she raises her fist in a silent fighting! and yoojung, j-yoon, yuna, and even jihun do the same to encourage the boy in front of them.

as joomi leaves the stage, jihun sighs. “that was a shame,” he sinks in his seat a bit. “i think you hit the nail on the head, bom. we put too much pressure on him before he was ready. part of developing talent is knowing when and where to apply the right amount of pressure.”

“our final contestant is our number one place,” jian takes over the screen and transforms the dull mood into something more anticipatory, more exciting. “please welcome to the stage our defending first-place, OH HAEIN!”

the girl’s smiling face is seen bright and cheery as she takes her place on the stage. jihun straightens up again and the rest of the judges shake off their dreary moods to watch with rapt attention. this is the defending champion, the most anticipated performance of the episode. next gen’s ace, the captions claim as clips of haein helping other contestants learn and perform their skills play across the screen. she seems adept in everything she does. the editing really hypes up her upcoming performance.

without making the audience wait too much longer, haein is shown again in front of the judges, the music starting. unlike some of the last contestants who didn’t live up to their placement, haein does. she smiles through her performance, she seems to shine on stage. the judges are thoroughly engrossed in the performance, watching closely and even forgetting to write down any notes as they simply enjoy the song and dance despite seeing it over twenty times already.

as the music comes to a close, the six judges give the contestant a small round of applause.

“as expected of our first-place,” yuna smiles into her microphone like a proud mother. “haein, you’re a very talented performer. any critique we have is relatively minor, which is a huge compliment to you and your abilities. i would just say to mind your expressions a little better. you were smiling but i’m not sure you were engaged the entire time. don’t forget the audience in front of you. they’re the ones you’re performing for.”

“we had a lot of talented performers today,” jihun cautions, “i’m not sure if you can maintain your number one position and be our female center but you’ve certainly made it a difficult decision for us. great work today. we’ll be excited to see your next performance.”

with that, the last contestant is dismissed and the judges are tasked with ranking all of the performers from first to last yet again. their discussion starts, clips of them moving photos around and commenting on various performances playing while tense music plays in the background.

finally, all of the contestants are called to the stage to reveal the rankings and centers for the mcountdown performance. “first, we want to congratulate all of you on completing the mission successfully and safely,” jian addresses all of the participants with a smile. “as much as we’d like to award all of you for a job well done, the judges do have to rank you accordingly and pick our centers. please turn your attention to the screen.”

on a large television screen at the back of the stage, the rankings are revealed one by one, starting by counting down from the top fifteen until they get to number five. then, ranks sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, and twenty are revealed. six contestants remain, five of them at the top, and the remaining in dead last. one by one, five, four, three, and two are revealed until just first and last place are left. both ranks are revealed at the same time.

“congratulations to SAEA and JUNHO, our official centers!” jian announces the rankings. time is given for the contestants to react to the news and congratulate the winners before the show continues. the contestants are told that the entire group will be performing on mcountdown next thursday, march 9th, and that some of their practice this week will be devoted to running the routine as a group and nailing down the blocking for the various parts. all contestants will record the male or female parts in full and the final song will be released for digital download on the same day as their performance.

“and of course, we have to introduce your next mission as well,” jian smiles at the contestants while the screen on stage changes from their rankings to a title card that reads teamwork evaluation. “you’ve shown us the talents you’re most confident in already but so far, all of our missions have been independent. we want to test how you work together in a team. our judges have split you into six groups based on what they feel your strongest skill is. this evaluation will be our first elimination round with two teams of the same skill going head to head. the winning team will be safe from elimination while the losing team will risk sending some of their members home.”

each team is announced and the songs they’re expected to perform introduced to them. jian explains that they’ll continue to have lessons with the coaches and that bom, j-yoon, and yoojung will be staying on the program as skill coaches for the remainder of the season.

“good luck to all of our contestants! remember, we’re looking at you to be the next generation of kpop. show us that you can shine!” the main theme of the show begins playing again as the episode ends.

#BE:NGS1 #BE:NGS1P2

[rubysharkruby]

Edward Little + manners

#edward little #the terror #the terror amc #theterroredit #terror gifs #my gifs #tv #it would be funny if this set #was just little politely removing a different item of clothing #for different situations #but alas it was not to be #also! #his quiet rapping on the table to show approval #without drawing undue attention to yourself #is something i've seen from older (english and scottish) male relatives #but google tells me it's primarily a german tradition #and mostly used in an academic context? #and matthew mcnulty lived in germany #until he was (i think?) thirteen #so i'm wondering if that's where he picked it up from #and exactly how widespread this gesture is #since i don't have any german ancestry #i find it interesting anyway! #edward little = a very polite and kind man #who did his best #even after others had stopped trying #and i love him

[renaerys]

Prompt 50. But Berserk & Boomer😔👉👈💕

50. “I thought you left.”

We’re calling this one Unfortunately, She Impressed Him. This is a pair of characters I love with all my heart in any flavor of relationship and can’t wait to write more of in my ongoing multi-chapter fic Trinity House over on AO3.

This fic is part of a prompt challenge that is now closed to new requests, but you can read all the completed submissions here. Reminder that the challenge is to make everything SFW, so we’re getting creative here.

xxx

Boomer was halfway across the deserted lobby of Faust Keating Rogers, LLP when he realized he’d forgotten his keys at his desk. He groaned aloud because it was 8 p.m. and no one was around to hear him because they had all gone home to their families hours ago like normal people. Boomer didn’t have two to three kids and a house in the suburbs, though, and neither did his boss. The three hour lull reserved for dinner, baths, and bedtimes before the evening work-from-home grind offered him no alternative but to power through. He fully planned to grab take out on his way home and enjoy an episode of whatever was on HBOMax before getting back to the tedious work of reviewing the draft prospectus statement his boss had sent him to proof by tomorrow morning.

Except, his keys were forty floors up and he now had to risk running into her again when he’d managed to slip away so neatly. He’d even removed his tie on the elevator ride down, and now he rubbed his exposed neck, flushed with anxiety over what might happen if she saw him and asked him to stick around to finish the work here.

“Nice going, dumbass,” he lamented as he stepped onto the elevator and hit the button for the fortieth floor.

It wasn’t that Boomer disliked his job. In fact, he didn’t mind it at all. It was better than slinging drinks or waiting tables. He had health insurance, a steady paycheck, and a resumé that could proudly display the name of one of the most elite accounting firms in the country. He could pivot his career if he wanted to, as Brick would say. Boomer wasn’t thinking about his next job right now, though. Right now, he was thinking about this one and how his boss was a hard-ass and a workaholic even if she was brilliant, and how there was a one hundred percent chance she would detect him coming back to his desk (which was annoyingly set up right in front of her office so that he could answer her calls, manage her meetings, and deal with whoever passed close enough to her event horizon to get suckered into the latest heinous audit in need of staffing).

There were his traitorous keys sitting on the desk next to the framed picture of his brothers. He glared at them, as if they were a forgotten household item that had developed a supernatural grudge like in those old Japanese folktales he liked to read online. He half expected them to jingle and alert his boss to his presence, just to spite him.

They didn’t, and he slipped them into his pocket as quietly as could be. He released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and took a beat. It was quiet. Most of the offices were dark, save for a few poor souls in the large conference room stuck on the ongoing year-end audit for one of the firm’s most important clients: Unicorn, Inc. His boss’s office was also lit up behind her closed door, but she hadn’t called out to him like she would during the day when he got back from his lunch break hoping for a few minutes to catch up on emails in peace before she dumped more work on him.

This, of course, was odd. The small legion of assistants who had come before Boomer were notorious for their short-term employment working this specific desk. The work was demanding and so was the boss, but there was something else that set her apart from other senior associates in the International Tax Services division, something that seemed to intimidate away any support the higher ups sent her way. Denise a couple desks down had warned Boomer not to bring too many personal effects to the office; chances were he wasn’t going to last long. Boomer had smiled thinly and thanked Denise for her advice, and brought the picture of his brothers in the next morning because he had his pride and Brick told him it was healthy to indulge that once in a while. Brick would certainly know.

So here he was, uncertain. Anxiety over having to sit here for another two hours finishing work and having tepid Doordash delivered pulled him toward the elevator and escape, while that annoying, rare pride demanded he check on his boss and make sure she knew he was here to support her, lest she get the idea that he needed to be fired.

The longer he stood there, indecisive, the greater his curiosity grew. What was she doing in there? It was quiet, even when he strained his Super hearing. He could hear Dean Matheson pouring whiskey a few offices down (that guy had a drinking problem and everyone knew they only kept him around because he had the Unicorn, Inc. account), Adebayo Hansou on a conference call with Dubai that was escalating to profanity, Shelly Kim with her head down and typing away at an Excel spreadsheet like a pro. Their assistants were long gone for the night, but here was Boomer, loitering and indecisive and what is she doing in there not yelling at me when she definitely knows I’m here?

He couldn’t take it anymore. He knocked on the closed door—rap, rap, rap—and called out softly, “Berserk?”

A beat, then: “Come in.”

Finding his boss in upward facing dog while still in her pencil skirt was not a sight Boomer was prepared for. Berserk had her eyes closed as she stretched at a near ninety degree angle and listened to music on her Airpods. Boomer had never seen her with her heels off and her mane of red hair thrown together in a messy bun; it was so casual that it was almost obscene.

“You’re staring.”

Fuck, he was staring and now she was looking right at him down her nose, even though she was the one on the floor. He stood up straighter, unable to help himself when she took that tone that reminded him so much of Brick’s when he was about to criticize, but he didn’t avert his gaze. “Sorry.”

She breathed in deeply through her nose and hoisted herself up into downward dog position. “Why are you here?”

Forgot my keys seemed like a really lame excuse that she’d probably laugh at him for, but he also was not in the habit of making shit up on the spot if he hoped to make people believe him. “I forgot my keys.” He took them from his pocket to show her, as if she might not know what keys are, as a concept.

“Smart locks.” Berserk exhaled and slowly walked her hands back on the yoga mat until she reached her feet and began to swing slowly left and right.

Huh? he almost said like an idiot, until he caught himself. “Don’t think my landlord would approve of me installing that.” Also, those things were like $200 a pop, which was not worth the occasional inconvenience and shame of forgetting his keys and then catching his boss doing yoga in her office after hours.

Berserk made some noncommittal sound like whatever, peasant and slowly uncurled upward one vertebra at a time. Boomer realized he was back to staring again, literally lingering in her door watching her and trying to equate this subdued, casual version of Berserk with the terse, no-nonsense businesswoman he was used to dealing with on a daily basis.

When she finally achieved her full height, she popped her neck. The hair that was too short for her bun fell in around her narrow face in a stylish, athleisure sort of way. The top buttons on her blouse were undone. She wore a small, golden necklace he’d never noticed before because he wasn’t in the habit of checking out his boss. “I thought you left.”

The accusatory nature of her words were totally at odds with her flat tone, only the barest hint of curiosity dangling there at the end, like she expected him to respond.

Oh, she expected him to respond.

Boomer took another step into her office because he was full of poor judgment today. “I forgot my keys.”

At which point he showed her his keys again and also had a mild stroke, because what the fuck are you doing, mate?

Berserk smiled. “Yeah, I got that part.”

Was she laughing at him? He had never heard her laugh before, unless it was at Dean Matheson, that comb-over in denial who, in addition to being a high functioning alcoholic, also had a reputation for throwing associates under the bus when a client wasn’t happy.

Boomer smiled back, because that was what he did when people smiled at him, and ‘people’ now included Berserk, apparently.

“Well, since you’re here,” she said as she padded around to her desk.

Crap, there was the work he was afraid of soliciting from her by remaining in the building. He debated an excuse to give her: picking up dry cleaning? Plausible, but transparent. Meeting up with his brothers? No, she’d probably make him stay all night for the chance to ruin Brick’s plans.

“Thai or Mexican?”

Boomer stared dumbly. He was becoming quite good at that (10,000 hours and you can become an expert at anything, they say). “Huh?”

The yoga must have put Berserk in an exceedingly gracious mood, because she actually repeated her question without getting that look on her face like she was picturing him getting trampled by stampeding monsters. “Thai or Mexican? I don’t have a preference.”

Oh.

Oh.

Boomer’s stomach picked that time to snarl at him—8 p.m. and still no dinner, the fiend.

Berserk snorted in laughter and fanned herself with her phone. “Jesus. Mexican it is.”

Which was how Boomer found himself on the small sofa tucked in the corner of Berserk’s office, shoes off and belt loosened, with enough tacos, tamales, and rice and beans to feed a small family. He even had a beer from the mini fridge Berserk kept under her desk.

She hadn’t stayed late to work. Well, she had, but only because she didn’t have a reason to go home.

“I just hate getting home to a dark apartment sometimes,” she said in between bites of food. She had her legs tucked up under her on the sofa close enough to brush Boomer’s thigh if he reached to grab the salsa.

“I thought you lived with your sister?”

“Brute got her own place a few months ago. The arrangement was only temporary while she was in between jobs.”

It was weird knowing so little about a person whose whole family had been in Boomer’s inner orbit since childhood. As far as he knew, Berserk wasn’t close to any of her cousins, not even Blossom. Boomer himself had never been more eager to leave a room than when Brat walked into it. Only Butch, Brute, and Buttercup had ever found common ground among each other once the sworn rivalries and blood feuds of their youth gave way to teenage rebellion against their respective overlord fathers and then the slog of adulthood that was inescapable even for a bunch of Supers flying high on Chemical X.

The fact that Boomer had gotten this job surprised him more than anyone. After drifting from restaurant jobs to office temp placements over the last six years, he’d never thought he would dust off his economics degree and land a temp-to-permanent position that seemed way above his qualifications. And he never thought it would be working for a woman he’d most definitely electrocuted in battle at least a dozen times before puberty.

“What?”

Boomer blinked. He’d been staring again, Jesus Christ. “Sorry, I was just thinking… I didn't know that. I’ve been working here for five months and I don’t actually know much about you at all.”

“Hm.”

Her magenta eyes were wine-dark against the murky sky beyond the window forty stories up. Boomer did avert his gaze this time to reach for the salsa, but he didn’t use it.

“I don’t even know why you invited me to stay for dinner in the office if we’re not going to do any work.”

“Why did you stay?”

“For the free food.”

Berserk grinned—the third time she had smiled at him tonight (or ever). He needed to stop counting; he’d be disappointed when it stopped happening tomorrow.

“Don’t get used to it. Much as I appreciate the company now and again, there’s no need for both of us to be stuck here while Matheson’s breathing down the associates’ necks. Can’t have him poaching you out from under me.”

“Well, I don’t work for him; I work for you.”

“It’s sweet how you don’t understand office politics.” She ate a lone slice of avocado with a fork. “He landed Unicorn back when they were early stage, and back when he was still putting in the work to earn his reputation. But since they IPO’d three years ago and make up twenty percent of our revenue now, he’s just another big name coasting by on associate work. You know he regularly schedules client calls and just doesn’t bother to show up? He forgets half the time, and the other half he’s busy playing golf or buying a yacht or whatever the fuck rich, white Boomers do.”

“Well, as a Boomer myself, I can say I’ve spent exactly zero hours buying yachts.”

She chuckled. Fourth time. “Oh, really.”

“Never even thought of yachts. As far as I’m concerned, they’re not even real.”

“Thanks for your expert opinion.”

“Any time.” Boomer turned his body to face her and draped his arm over the back of the sofa. With only the soft light from the floor lamp in the corner, he imagined himself adrift in the darkness, the sky scraper lights nearby stars. It was a lonely thought, one made romantic in the knowledge that she was here too, and he wasn’t actually alone.

“Matheson almost did poach you, you know.”

“What do you mean?” Boomer couldn’t recall exchanging more than a few words with the man.

“When we were filling support positions. Someone recognized you from the news a few years back, when the Cyclops Monster attacked the marina district and you and your brothers took it out. Matheson got it in his head that you’d be able to work at Super speed and help lower his billables.”

“Wow. Maybe you should’ve let him. What do you think the net savings would be in yacht units of measurement?”

Berserk rolled her eyes, but she was smiling again. “I claimed you before he could get the paperwork in.”

Boomer hyper-focused on that word: claimed. He also pointedly ignored it entirely, much in the same way he ignored the new count of five smiles tonight. “Showed him your bending powers, did you?”

Berserk’s Corona bottle turned frosty under her hand in a totally unnecessary, big dick energy display of said powers, and she took another sip. “No. Sharon from HR likes me. And I promised her I wouldn’t fire you after three months like your predecessors.”

Flattered was not how Boomer would describe the feeling of being claimed by Berserk and eluding Matheson’s vampiric clutches. But he was a bit tickled all the same. This was the woman Butch had once described as essentially Brick, if he were constipated all the time.

And then he realized what she was doing. “Hey, you’re sharing things about yourself.”

She clinked her bottle to his, and Boomer shivered at the frosty chill she transferred on contact. “Aw, you figured it out all by yourself.”

“Ha ha.”

She didn’t quite smile, but she did look kind of serene then, content even, as she lay back against the arm of the sofa and yawned. Her gold necklace—just a simple disk with an engraving Boomer could not make out—reflected the lamp light when she moved. It rested just beneath her collarbone, which had suddenly become the single-most interesting part of Berserk, and oh no, was he interested—

“You’re staring again.”

Son of a bitch.

“Sorry,” he said automatically. “I didn’t mean to.”

Hard no. He was not allowed to be any percent attracted to Berserk. First, she was his boss, and there was a cliché here that, while subverted on the gender role spectrum, was still very risky for both of them. Second, she was Berserk, a fellow Super, cousin to his best friend Bubbles and a shrewd, stiletto bitch in Brick’s estimation, which sounded bad. Not that she was bad, or even evil, unless you counted helping rich corporations accurately report their taxes while taking advantage of the many egregious loopholes in the Internal Revenue Code. Which, okay, point taken, but he also worked here and anyway, people should not be deemed good or evil so much as their choices ought to be—

“Are you thinking about fucking me?”

You shrewd, stiletto bitch!

She was smiling again, and Boomer pathetically logged that as the sixth time, although he wasn’t sure he should count it given the overt malice behind it.

Unfortunately, Boomer was, as had been previously established, very bad at making shit up on the fly. So he miserably said, “Yeah.”

“Hm.”

She sipped her beer slowly, and of course he watched. If it was out in the open, as fleeting a bout of insanity as it may have been, at least he could wallow in it without worrying about appearances.

It was the yoga. That fucking upward facing dog, Jesus Christ.

It was more than that too. Over the last few months, he had worked closely with her, watched her navigate the cutthroat halls full of piranhas like Matheson and other account managers, getting herself work on the best clients while managing her juniors with efficiency and professionalism. She was excellent and sharp, and she demanded excellency and sharpness in kind. After years of going it alone or temping for bosses who didn’t care enough even to learn his name, much less provide him with guidance and mentorship, it was an unspeakable relief to work under someone who knew how to rally the troops. Someone who knew how to lead, how to motivate, and how to reward loyalty with loyalty in return. It didn’t hurt that she looked amazing in her daily stilettos, either.

Unfortunately, she impressed him.

“I have some work to get done tonight.” Berserk stood up and smoothed her skirt.

Boomer scrambled to his feet. “Of course! Um.” He began closing food containers and repackaging them in the bags they’d come in, because he was panicking. “I’ll get rid of the trash. Do you want the leftovers in the fridge?”

“You take them. Otherwise my office will smell like a burrito for a week.”

“Okay.” Numbly, Boomer finished packing everything up, while Berserk made her way back to her desk and logged into her computer to check her emails.

Boomer lingered at the door. “I’ll have the prospectus back to you later tonight.”

“Thanks.”

Wow, way to go, stud.

He turned to leave, but her voice stopped him.

“Boomer?”

“Yeah?”

“Friday is good.”

He stared back at her in expert mode. “Huh?”

Berserk poked her head around the side of her large, external monitor. She was smiling again. Lucky number seven. “For fucking.”

“Okay,” Boomer said.

Okay?!

She pulled back behind her monitor. “I was going to get a cat, but you’ll do much better.”

Because she didn’t like going home to a dark, empty apartment alone. With no one to fuck.

“That was a joke.”

“Yeah, I got that,” he croaked.

Friday is for fucking, he thought, which was delightful alliteration and also completely insane and one hundred percent something he was getting more on board with by the nanosecond.

“See you tomorrow,” she said.

Boomer clutched the leftover Mexican food in his fist. “Okay. Goodnight.”

It took him the time to fly home and put the food away in his small fridge to realize that he had a sort-of date with Berserk lined up for two days from now.

He Y-posed at the window and whooped, “Hell yes!!”

Loud pounding in the floor followed by old Mrs. Cruikshank’s muffled Keep it down! couldn’t bring down his mood.

Boomer leaped onto his threadbare, living room sofa with his work laptop and took to the prospectus with alacrity. He’d send over superior work product and make Berserk’s job just that much easier tomorrow morning.

xxx

If you enjoy my writing, check out more of my fics on AO3, link in my profile. I’m currently updating Trinity House (which has a lot more Berserk and Boomer content, btw!) and The Alchemy of Us. Thanks for reading!

#powerpuff girls #powerpuff girls fanfic #bersoomer #ppg berserk #ppg boomer #september fic prompts #so this turned into a 3k one shot because i love these characters and i couldn't help myself #tfw considering a part 2

[kumeko]

A/N: For the @setlethzine Courage, My Love zine! I wanted to give the Seteth the rom-com he Flayn deserves.

…

…

…

…

In his many, many centuries of living, there were a few things that Seteth knew to be true: Flayn was adorable and needed to be protected, Rhea was far more secretive than she ought to be, and he definitely wasn’t developing feelings for the new teacher. Well, new might not be the right word to apply considering everything, but the point still stood. No matter how much Rhea teased and Flayn blushed, he didn’t have one of those so-called ‘crushes’.

The only reason he had even started watching her was because Rhea had been so adamantly quiet about why she was even here, and someone had to protect Rhea and Flayn. The world was dangerous. Their foes were hidden in every corner. Fortunately, his extensive research proved that Byleth wasn’t evil. Strange and mysterious, certainly, but not evil.

And if his eye was still drawn to her, it was only because he was used to watching her. His ears strained for her every word out of habit. He was so used to his role as investigator that he hadn’t adjusted to co-worker. That was all, honestly.

That was also the reason he was sitting right now in the courtyard, strumming his fingers impatiently on the metal table as he glanced around for Byleth. At this point, she was five minutes late for their meeting. Tardiness was a terrible attribute for a professor. Seteth brushed a finger against the teapot; the ceramic still felt warm. That was a relief. After acquiring one of Manuela’s finer teas and a spread of snacks from the kitchen, he would be rather put out if Byleth didn’t get to enjoy them. It took a lot of effort to ensure the meal complimented the tea.

A shadow fell on him and Seteth looked up as Byleth slid into her seat. Frowning, he crossed his arms. “You are late.”

“My students had questions,” Byleth explained simply, straight to the fact. It was one of the few traits he admired her for. When one worked with the long-winded Hanneman, the boisterous Alois, and the dramatic Manuela, he was grateful that Byleth was the exact opposite of that. Very few words escaped her mouth, each one carefully picked, and Seteth only hoped that she would be a good influence on the others.

“That is the mark of a good teacher. It is your duty to ensure your students get the best help possible. Do not apologize for it,” Seteth praised, giving her an appreciative smile. This was definitely better than certain teachers’ propensity to arrive late due to alcohol or obsessive experimenting. “Would you like some tea?”

Byleth shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” She shook her head once more and he felt a little disappointed at that, but it couldn’t be helped if she wasn’t interested. Still, tea wasn’t the only item he’d prepared. “Perhaps a biscuit or a cookie?”

Once more, Byleth shook her head. “What did you call me here for?”

“Well, that is…” Seteth trailed off. There wasn’t really any particular reason he called her here, he just wanted to get to know her better. He smiled reassuringly. “I was hoping to spend time with you.”

Somehow, she didn’t look the least bit reassured. If anything, her back straightened slightly and she was as tense as she was on the battlefield. Perched on the edge of her seat, she wore a determined expression and asked, “Have I done something wrong?”

“What?” Well, now he knew what her enemies must have seen before she defeated them. Perhaps he had said something erroneous. Clearing his throat, he clarified, “No, nothing of the sort. As I previously stated, I merely desire to spend time with you. You have had tea parties with the students; think of this as one of those.”

Byleth nodded slowly. She clasped her hands on her lap, looking at him expectantly. “Then I made a mistake with the tea party.”

“No, that is not what I intended…” Seteth trailed off, recalling the few times he had spotted (not spied) Byleth in the courtyard. Actually, now that he considered it, there had been a few things that had bothered him. This might be the chance to rectify all that. “Very well then, since you have mentioned it, your hosting etiquette does have a few flaws. We will go over the appropriate manners expected of a professor of your status.”

-x-

Seteth rubbed his brow as he climbed the stairs to Rhea’s chambers. How did everything he did turn into a lecture? That was supposed to be a casual, cheerful meeting. Instead, it had become a two-hour lesson on the art of tea parties. No wonder Manuela tensed up whenever he passed her. If anything, it was a miracle that he was even able to have normal conversations.

He would have to repent and correct his ways. Later, though, for now he stood in front of Rhea’s doors. Rapping firmly, he waited for Rhea to call him in before entering the massive chamber. The afternoon sunlight flooded through her ceiling to floor windows, casting a warm glow in the room. As expected, the archbishop was out on the terrace. She liked to tend to her flowers at this time, claiming it was a form of meditation.

“Seteth.” Crouched next to a flower, she gently lifted its bloom and admired it as she greeted him. “As punctual as ever. I do not know what I would do without you.”

“Many things, I imagine,” Seteth responded succinctly, coming to a stop next to her.

Without her headpiece on, she looked younger. It was only when they were alone, away from prying eyes, that he could see the woman he had met all those centuries ago and not the archbishop she’d become. Her eyes crinkled as she stood up and she laughed. “Seteth, are you still sore over Byleth?”

“There is nothing to be sore about.” He crossed his arms, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice. “While I still think you should have at least informed me first, if not consulted, I do not mind that anymore.”

“You do not mind?” Rhea’s lips quirked as she studied him. He wasn’t sure what she was looking for, only she had found it when she smiled teasingly, “I thought I noticed a change in your demeanor.”

He stopped cold at that. Giving her a bemused look, he asked, “What do you mean?”

“I heard about your date with the professor,” she replied easily, mirth colouring her tone. “You are moving faster than I expected.”

“A d-date?” Seteth sputtered, his neck burning at the very suggestion. “Preposterous! Of all the things to suggest—we were not on a date or anything of the sort.”

“Really?” A finely shaped brow rose and she pressed, “Even though you had tea together in the garden?”

“That was merely a formality to know her better!” Seteth tried to keep his cool and not hiss. This was clearly a mistake. After all, Rhea had lived a long time and most of it alone. Perhaps she had forgotten about courtship entirely. “After all this time spent distrusting her, I wanted to improve our relationship.”

“Is that so?” Rhea answered, in a tone that suggested she did not believe a word of it.

“It is,” he replied firmly.

Rhea squeezed his shoulder before heading back to her bedroom. “It is cute to see you smitten so. Now come, we have to get through those reports.”

It was childish to continue the argument. It was childish and that was the only reason he wasn’t retorting as he followed her in.

-x-

“That is a date!”

Of all the responses he expected his daughter to utter, those hadn’t been on the list. Seteth stared at Flayn, jaw slightly open as he struggled to understand just what was happening. How did both Rhea and Flayn get such a simple thing wrong? “It is not.”

Flayn wasn’t listening to him. Hands clasped, a faraway look in her eyes, and a dreamy tone in her voice, she continued to ramble as though he hadn’t spoken. “Oh, this is the most delightful of news! I did not think the professor had caught your eye.”

Well, he couldn’t entirely argue that. “That was only to ensure your safety.”

“Love blooming from adversity—it is like one of my favourite books.” Flayn turned to him, a gentle smile on her face. “If you are concerned about Mother, do not fret. I am sure she would approve of this too.”

“That wasn’t—I wasn’t…” Seteth trailed off, not sure how he had ended up in this mess. Flayn must have been reading too many romance books recently; it was eating away at her brain and casting everything in a similar light. “While that is reassuring, that is simply not the case here. I was only trying to create a sense of camaraderie between Byleth and myself.”

“The best romances are a slow burn.” Flayn nodded her agreement. He had a feeling she hadn’t heard a word he said. “For your next step, might I suggest a gift? It is always heartwarming to receive one.”

“Why would I—” Seteth paused. Actually, now that he thought about it, a gift was a great suggestion. A well-picked one could deepen their bond and show Byleth how he intended to change their relationship. It could even serve as an apology for all the mistrust he had shown her. “A gift is perfect. Thank you, Flayn.”

“No problem.” She smiled brightly at him. “I will root for you!”

It would be a headache to correct her, so he didn’t bother.

-x-

“A gift?” Standing near the docks, Byleth looked at the long, thin package in Seteth’s hands and then back at him. Her brow furrowed as she tried to understand. “For me?”

“Yes.” Seteth held the package uncertainly. It had been hard to pick something for Byleth. The more he had thought about it, the more he had realized that he knew very little about her despite his watchful gaze. Certainly, he knew her habits in the school—how hard she worked to teach her students, the skill she showed with a weapon, the soft way she would look at the students sometimes. Yet those were habits, nothing more, and one couldn’t buy a gift based on that. While he had finally figured out what to do, it was still mostly guesswork. He hated this level of ambiguity.

“What is it for?” She still didn’t take the gift. Instead, her frown deepened.

This really wasn’t going how he had planned. Seteth held out the package insistently. “There is no particular reason. I merely thought it would suit you. Now please, accept it.”

Byleth quietly studied his face for a long moment before nodding and taking it. “Thank you.” Without another word, she tore through his meticulously folded wrapping paper.

“You could unwrap it late—” Seteth sighed, giving up when she showed no signs of stopping. Well, this was embarrassing. His cheeks warmed and he clasped his hands behind his back.

It took her a total of two minutes to remove the wrapping paper. He hoped that eagerness meant she was warming up to him. Now holding a fishing rod in her hands, Byleth gave him a puzzled look. “A fishing rod?”

The very situation he had been dreading: explaining himself. Clearing his throat, he resisted the urge to mutter. “You won the fishing tournament, a feat of skill that indicated you spend a lot of time fishing. I had inspected your rod earlier and noticed it was a little worn. It would be terrible if a fish escaped due to your gear breaking at the wrong time.” He tried to smile again. “I thought you could use this. It is a good model. I have used its like before.”

Still looking bemused, she nodded. “Thank you.”

Well, it wasn’t the joyous response he had hoped for, but it wasn’t the scared reaction she had given at the tea party either. A step forward, at least. “If you need any help with it, just ask.”

She didn’t reply, her focus already on the rod. Byleth wasn’t quite smiling, but her lips turned up as she examined the hook keeper. That was a good sign, right? That had to mean she was pleased.

Maybe.

Hopefully she wasn’t laughing at him.

-x-

“A fishing rod?” Flayn glared at him, her hands balling into fists as she paced in his bedroom. “Fa—Brother, that is not a romantic gift at all! It does not tell your loved one that you are thinking of them!”

Seteth crossed his arms defensively. “We have gone through this already, Flayn. There is nothing between the professor and I.”

“A fishing rod is too practical for a courtship gift!” Once again, she wasn’t listening to him. Maybe he should block her access to the library for a while, or sneak in some proper books into her reading. At this rate, she was going to think his every interaction with another was a sign of love. “No wonder she looked confused!”

Byleth hadn’t only looked confused. He was certain he hadn’t imagined it, the curve of her lips, the amused look on her face. It was an expression entirely unlike her usual ones, and he would know, having watched her as he had. Even her students hadn’t provoked such a reaction. The thought sent a rush through him. Perhaps he was the only one so far who had seen it.

“There is only one way to correct this mistake.” Flayn was in his face now, an earnest expression in her face as she grabbed his hands. “You must give her an even bigger gift. I have heard that serenading a lover at dawn is the purest form of love.”

“Serenading?” It was an idea he ought to reject immediately and in its entirety. Yet Flayn’s last suggestion had given him the gift of Byleth’s almost-smile. Perhaps this one could generate another smile. What would she look like, radiant and glowing, unable to hide her happiness?

He didn’t hesitate before nodding.

-x-

Standing in front of Byleth’s door, a lute in hand, Seteth silently cursed himself. This was a terrible idea. An utterly terrible idea. Not only was a serenade a romantic thing, he was also disturbing someone in the middle of the night. Just because he often rose at dawn to attend to his duties didn’t that mean Byleth did.

What had he been thinking, agreeing to this? Seteth knew the answer to that. He hadn’t been thinking at all, distracted as he had been by Byleth’s expression. Instead of smiling now, the moment she laid eyes on him, she would glare. Their relationship would go back to what it had been. This was a mistake. The only good thing was that he had come to his senses before he started playing. There was still time to turn around and leave.

There was still time—the door in front of him slowly opened and Seteth froze.

A very drunk Manuela stepped out, her hair disheveled, her dress crumpled. She stared at him for a long minute, then at the lute in his hands. “My, I must be drunker than I thought,” she mumbled, shaking her head and stumbling back into her room. “That’s it, I am not drinking for a week.”

Not only had this been a mistake, but he had gotten the wrong room. Seteth walked (not ran; he was definitely not running) away in an undignified manner.

#setleth #byleth eisner #seteth #flayn #rhea #fe3h #fanfic

[world-of-aus]

Behind the Screen - (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count:3,602

Warnings: 18+, mentions of violence, blood, thigh riding, oral (male receiving)

Authors Note: So pleased with how this chapter came out, BUT i apologize if the smut is not up to par. There will be another update friday, and i am currently also working on a soulmate au! oneshot! i hope to have that one out thursday but if not latest will be sometime on the weekend, as always thank you for reading and if you would like to be added to my tag-list just send me a message!

Part 2 / SERIES MASTERLIST

Your heels clicked against the cracked  cemented floor, your feet carrying you from the corridors in the back of the seedy little strip joint. You stopped below the “employees only sign” your eyes scanning the smoke hazed room, your eyes landed on his form immediately, a shiver rolled up your spine finding his eyes already on yours. He was across the room in one of the ratty torn booths, his eyes trailed your lace clad body as your heels carried you towards him. You didn’t speak a word as you held a hand out to him, your body turning slightly to go back the way you came, “You coming sugar?” you questioned over you shoulder, eyes twinkling in desire.

He took your hand, his large muscular form trailing behind you, his eyes casted down as you walked past the various booths and tables occupied with gentleman callers. Just as you were about to pass the threshold your boss of a week stopped you his arm pushing into your breast roughly, god how badly you wanted to rip the arm right off the socket. He looked you up and down, “you take real good care of him, he paid us very generously for a session with you so don’t disappoint,” he spoke his hand coming up to slap at your cheek. It took all you had not to drop kick the asshole where he stood, but the heavy hand in yours reminded you why you were here, and that you needed to see this mission through to the very end.

“Steve you can’t be serious?!” you groaned looking over the file he had slid across the table.

And when your eyes did finally find his after having looked over the information of what you were being assigned too, you saw no sign of this being a joke of some sort, your body fell back against the cushioned chair, your hands coming up to rub at your temples, “There was no other way y/n,” he sighed, “this is the only way for us to take him down,”

You threw the file down, “so then send someone else in,” you grunted, “send in the newest agents you just approved.”

“y/n,” he sighed.

You knew there was no arguing, this was your job, this is what being avenger entitled you too, sometimes there was missions that you might not want to get involved in, or at least not in this way, but because there was innocent people on the line you couldn’t bring yourself to just walk away and flip Steve the bird.

“So, there’s really no one else to send in?” you questioned dread filling you as you already knew the answer.

He shook his head, “no one that we trust to get the job done in a timely manner, and to get it done with little to no casualties.”

“So I'm going in by myself, you’re giving me a week to get all the information, and how exactly are you going to get me out,” you pulled the file to look over again, “it doesn’t say here.”

“We’ll send someone in that will be able to blend, you’ll know when it’s time, the moment you see him, keep your guard up, and leave the rest to us.”

Though dread filled you, at the thought of this recon mission possibly going south, at least you would have something to write for your followers when you came back to the tower.

“I wouldn’t dream of it boss,” he patted your cheek once more, before giving your breast a squeeze.

You squeezed the hand of your gentleman caller tightly reigning in your anger, you moved around him only to be held back once more, your boss stopping the gentleman behind you, “she’ll treat you really good,” he said, “has a nice rack, and the greatest ass.” The hand holding yours tensed, you looked back over your shoulder, “come on sugar, your times ticking” you called over your shoulder, “we need to make the most out of it.”

You were finally moving forward again, “let me know how she is!” your boss yelled down the hall, you cringed internally, disgust washing over you.

You walked till you were at the end of the hall pushing open the last door on the left, you pulled him further into the room with you, choosing the chair where his back would be facing the camera. You pushed him down onto the worn-out velvet couch, or at least what was left of velvet on it. Music filtered into the room; you didn’t waste any time as you straddled his waist, your hips hovered over his, your lace covered breasts in direct eyesight. You twisted your hips pushing them into his as you leaned forward lips stopping at his ear, “how long till shit goes south?” you questioned.

His hands came to rest on your hips, “should have gone south the second that asshole touched you,” he grunted, “do you have the chip?”

You continued to work your hips into his, your hands leaning down to grab his trailing them up your body, resting them under the curve of your breast, you moved his hand, the thumb running over said device.

“Nice hiding spot,” he grinned, eyes twinkling in mischief.

“You know you were the last person I was expecting them to send in,” you muttered, running your hands up his chest.

“they weren’t going to,” he murmured quietly, “but the agent they had planned chickened out last minute.”

“well I’m glad it’s you and not some other person, don’t think I would feel comfortable them seeing me like this,” you muttered continuing to work your hips.

“I’ve seen you in less doll,” he grinned gripping your hips tighter.

You went to roll your eyes but a loud bang caught you off guard, screams coming from the hall.

Bucky looked up at you stalling your hips, “you ready to get out of here?”

You nodded your head frantically, god you wanted nothing more, Bucky lifted you off his hips, you couldn’t help but smirk at the obvious tent in his pants, “didn’t know you kept your gun there,” you teased.

He rolled his eyes, smirking at you, “it's loaded you know,” he winked.

You went to give him a smart remark but were cut off when the door to your room was blown off its hinges with a bang, Bucky’s body covered yours as debris flew into the room. Your boss from earlier appeared, face bloodied, anger boiling over his face.  

“You fucking bitch,” he seethed, pointing a gun at you and Bucky.  

He looked over at Bucky who was shielding your body slightly behind his, “hand her over pal, this doesn’t have to involve you,”

It took you a moment to realize he really didn’t realize who Bucky was in the red washed room. You squeezed Bucky’s bicep causing him to look over at you with concern in his eyes, you moved from behind him making your way towards your boss, his hand reached out to grab at you but you shook him off. You just needed time, you just needed to stall long enough to buy the two of you time.

You sat on the edge of your bed, your blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. Your eyes were glued to the floor, you had been in a trance since you got home. The mission had gone sideways quickly, though you still were able to get out with the evidence, there was no one to take in.

“you’re a fucking rat aren’t ya?” he snarled, his hands gripping at your face the second you got close enough.

You gave him the best grin you could with how mushed your face was from the hard grip, “about time you caught on,” you grunted.

“i would watch that smart mouth of yours sweetheart,” he grunted pulling your face closer to his, the gun he had drawing nearer to your skin. You shuddered as he trailed the tip of the gun across your skin, gliding down till it was pressed between your legs. You were frozen in the moment, you had never been in a situation like this, a situation where you had felt so exposed.

“got nothing to say sweetheart, man oh man do I wish I was the thing between your legs, instead of this here gun,” he grunted pressing it into your skin more, “actually since you’re the reason for this shit show maybe I should teach you a lesson,” he hissed pulling on your hair.  

You could see how tense Bucky had become, his hands were clenched to his side, jaw set.

Things took a turn for the worse when your body was sent flying towards the couch,  you scrambled to move away from the man, but he pointed his gun at you freezing you in place, “hey pal you might want to get the fuck out of here, unless you like watching.”

The asshole hovering above you let his guard down for just a second while he looked down at your body, a second enough for Bucky to send a fist flying, throwing him off guard as he reached for the gun. He went to grab you angrily for leverage, but Bucky was quicker as he put a bullet through his head. A gasp left your lips as his lifeless body toppled onto you, blood leaking onto your skin.

Quiet raps against your door pulled you from your head, you looked up a “come in” falling from your lips.

Your door opened slightly Bucky’s head peeking through a hint of a smile on his lips, “hey doll,” he murmured, “how you doing?” He questioned softly his body pushing through. You shrugged your shoulders, in all honesty you weren’t sure how you were feeling, you didn’t think you could feel anything right now, and you so desperately wanted to.

A sigh left Buckys lips as he shut the door behind him, making his way over to your bed. He took a seat next to you, his body leaning against your headboard. He extended a hand out to you, “c’mere doll”, you looked over at him, before caving and moving towards him. You straddled his lap, your head finding its spot in his neck. Bucky's hands wrapped around you his fingers finding their way beneath your shirt, rubbing the skin there.

“You know it’s okay to not be okay,” he murmured.

“There shouldn’t be a reason I'm not okay though, I signed up for this, I've done worse jobs,” you breathed into his neck.

He turned his head slightly to press a warm kiss to your head, “no one is expecting you to be strong after going through a mission you would have chosen to opt out of it had Steve not told you there was no one else.”

You pulled away from his neck, a frown on your lips as you looked at him, “how’d you know that?” you questioned.

“Before I left to go extract you Steve briefed me on your mission, he also told me you might be super uncomfortable and out of your zone on this one,”

You sighed looking down at your hands that rested on Bucky's chest, “had the last part of this entire mission not happened, I would have been fine,” your fingers picked at his shirt, “I felt so helpless Buck, like that minute of uncertainty washed over me, and I hate that I feel like that, like I didn’t know what to do next, and I hate the feeling that I had no control over the situation.”

He nodded his head, his eyes traced over your face, it was almost like he was studying you, trying to figure you out.

He adjusts himself further into the headboard, hands reaching up to tug at the blanket that's tucked up to your shoulders away. He brushes your hair back behind your shoulders, fingers trailing over your neck before their coming up to grip your chin.

“Tell me what you want, "he voiced eyes staring intently into yours.

You raised a brow, “what do you mean Buck?”

“just tell me what you want, what do you need me to do,” he said his thumb running over your cheek.

You knew what Bucky was asking you, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel the tiniest bit inadequate with him, especially with the events of today. Hoping to play off his request you decided to do what you knew best, “I think you’ve been spending a little too much time on Tumblr Buck,” you teased offering him a smirk.

“It’s been a long week doll, I had a lot of studying to do, a lot of work about me that needed to be beta’d”

A giggle slipped past your lips, “Bucky you’re not the beta reader if the work has already been published,”

A frown pulled at his lips, “well whatever,” he grumbled before his face was smoothing over again, “i still did a lot of work, and I came across a couple of posts that piqued my interest,”

You raised a brow in question allowing him to continue, “what are your thoughts on my thighs?”

You almost choked on your saliva, “excuse me what?”

“oh come on doll,” he teased thigh muscles flexing under you bottom.

“uh they’re nice?” you questioned, earning you a low chuckle.

“that’s not what I meant,” he murmured the fingers of his right hand trailing over the skin of your cheek descending down your neck where they danced around your collar dipping further till his fingers stopped at the tops of you breast. His left hand moved up your body tipping your head back slightly as he leaned forward nipping at the skin of your neck.

“Do you imagine riding them, feeling them tense underneath your warmth” he whispered his tongue running along your skin nipping at that sweet spot beneath your ear that had your back arching for him.

A small moan falls from your lips, Bucky moves his head away from your neck, your body moving with him. Your head falls forward, your hands trailing up his chest till they’re tangling in his hair your lips pushing into his roughly. You grind into him, his tongue finding yours when a gasp falls from your lips, you feel his muscles contracting under your own thighs, a shiver of want washes over you as you pull your lips away from his, your body moving to the side as you adjust yourself so your sitting on the top of his left thigh, his metal appendage gripping your hip to help steady you. You feel his muscle harden beneath you, you give a tentative swirl of your hips, a low gasp falling from your lips at the sensation of pleasure it brings to your clit. His right hand meets your hips, guiding you down harder this time.

“Keep going y/n,” he husks his head dipping down into the crevice of your neck. Your hips push forward and back the friction drawing breathy moans to fall from your lips. Your body shudders from the building pleasure, your arms wrapped around Bucky’s neck pulling him closer to you as you continue to ride it out bringing your closer. Your panties are wet with your slick, and they’re only growing damper as Bucky’s hands continue to guide you. Whimpers of pleasure fall from your lips, “fuck keep going sweetheart,” Bucky encourages. Your thighs start to ache as you try to keep your pace, hips rutting frantically to draw you closer.

His lips are kissing across your exposed skin, a broken “fuck” falls from your lips as you grind down faster, hips swiveling down harder, his thigh muscles flexing beneath your aching pussy. The pressure continues to build within your walls, the heat of your climax rising. Bucky nips at your neck pushing you over, pleasure washes over you, his name falling from your lips in a breathy moan. Your hips continue to jerk as you ride out your pleasure, your body falling into Bucky, quiet gasps falling from your lips as you come down from your high.

He smiles against your skin, “so I take it you think about them then?” he teases pressing a kiss to your dewy skin.

You murmur into his skin, a breathy laugh falling from your lips. You adjust in his lap feeling the hardness of his cock through his pants. Not letting yourself think twice about your next moves, you trail your hand down cupping his bulge. A low growl falls from his lips as you slip off of his thigh to kneel between his legs. Your fingers work over the button popping it open, as you work the zipper down. You look up at him through your lashes, your fingers tugging at the top of his jeans. Bucky looks down at you with lust ridden eyes, his hips lifting to help you pull them down further, his briefs coming down as well. His cock springs forward, as you slide down nestling between his open thighs. Your arms rest against his thighs as you take his cock into your hand, you can feel your wetness beneath your skin as you give his cock a few tentative strokes drawing low moans from him.

“Fuck doll,” he moans his head thrown back in pleasure as you run your tongue along the underside of his pulsing cock running it from base to tip. He groans as you take him into your mouth, your tongue swirling over the tip. A grunt falls from Buckys lips, his thighs flexing, stomach tightening in pleasure. You find a steady rhythm with your mouth that has Bucky’s thighs flexing underneath your arms, groans of pleasure falling from his sinful lips. You pull away with a wet pop, your tongue giving him one last lick that his feet pushing into the bed, “fucking hell sweetheart, didn’t realize I missed that mouth of yours,” he grinned gripping your chin, his thumb running over your swollen lips.

A lopsided grin pulls at your lips, “come up here,” he murmurs his hands reaching for you. Bucky doesn’t waste time as he presses his lips to yours, his hands sliding down your sides to remove your shorts. He grabs a hold of your ass squeezing, drawing a low moan from you as he pulls you up higher your legs on either side of his hips, his cock pressing against your wet heat.

He’s pressing along your jaw, his hands pulling at your hair, “what do you want y/n, tell me what you want,” he asks continuing to press open mouthed kisses to your heated skin,

Your pussy clenches as you feel his cock push up, teasing, “fuck,” you moan grinding back, “I want-”

“What do you want?”  

“I want you to fuck me,” you moan,  

His cock twitches against your ass, as he slides it down to your entrances, the tip pressing in, you push onto your arms the rest of him pushing in till he’s buried to the hilt. A moan falls from your lips as you feel him pulse within your walls.

“Take over doll, take what you want,” he groans.

Your body falls forward onto his, as you lift yourself off of him till only his tip is left inside before your hips are grinding back down. Your movements are slow, teasing as your grind, twist, and swirl your hips over his cock. Whiny moans are falling from your lips as you watch Bucky fall apart in pleasure. His hands are gripping your hips tightly, they’re guiding you, moving you on him till he’s hiding those pleasurable spots within you. Your thighs quiver in pleasure and pain, your arms giving out as you fall into Bucky’s chest “Bucky fuck me please,” you moan needing the release, needing to feel his warmth spill into you.

A growl falls from his lips as he grips your hips tighter,  he plants his feet to the bed as he slams into you building a quickening pace. He’s pounding into you rough and fast, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. Your mouth drops open in pleasure, your moans pressing into his skin to keep from being loud. His arms wrap around you holding you tightly as he fucks up into you, your mouth finds his as your orgasm washes over you, your moans mixing with his. Your body goes lax in his as he continues to fuck into you warm wet heat, you tighten around him, a groan falling from his lips and into yours as his warmth spills into you. His hands slide up your back gripping your face as he keeps your lips mingled with his, “fuck,” he groans against your lips.

Your both coming down from your post coital state when Bucky speaks up, you lift your head from his sweat slicked chest to get a good look at him, “you know your boss was right about one thing, you really are something special,” he whispers with a glint in his eye, “your rack and ass are just a plus,” he adds a smirk pulling at his lips.

Your laughter fills the room, your head finding its way back onto his chest, “I’m going to kick you out of my room Barnes,” you threatened.

“You wouldn’t,” he states “you’ve been gone a week, we have a lot to catch up on,”

“Catch up on?” You questioned looking up at him.

“Oh you’ll see,” he grins flipping the two of you over.

Part 4

Behind The Screen Tag-list: @ladifreakingda @georgialeighc13 @racewife2004 @multy-fandom-lover @otvlanga @sailorstupidsblog @nightshade7117 @wantingtobekorra @gazzan-a @clarinette07 @amanda-the-fangirl @im-sure-its-fine @sagechanoafterdark @heyywestman @runaway-escape @ilovesupersoldiers @unlistedpond @rayofdawnworld @badassbaker @spookyanairwin​ @fandom-basurero​ @krabby-tentacles​ 

for the tags with a line across i did all i could to tag you, i even searched as well how to tag the untaggable but i couldnt get it to work, im so sorry!

#behind the screen #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes slow burn #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes au series #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction

[heartbreakgrill]

ER: Room 6; Calum Hood/Michael Clifford (?) Pt. 1

description: in which you’re on the night shift, covering for a nurse in the ER, when a patient and his band is admitted into your room.

a/n: this is the intro to a new series! Should your love interest be Cal or Mike? Let me know!

The computer chair emitted annoyingly consistive squeaks, the gears grinding as you rocked back and forth. The squeaking was accompanied by the clicking of the mouse as you dragged cards across the computer screen. You gnawed on your bottom lip, pupils dilated from the bright light of the computer screen. It was a relatively quiet night in the ICU, only half a dozen or so of patients sleeping soundly across the third floor. You were wrapped up in a too-large zip-up jacket, the hospital-provided blue scrubs not-so flattering on your figure. A patient had vomited on you earlier, then you vomited on yourself while running for the bathroom. It had only been halfway through your 24-hour shift, and you couldn’t go all the way across the city for a new set of scrubs.

Oh, and, the only available size for the scrubs was a men’s large. The strings were tied as tight as possible, pant legs rolled up. With this outfit and the amount of fly-always surrounding your face, you looked like a hot mess. You were covering for a friend who was sick, and your 12 hour shift turned into this 24 hour one. It was hour 8, and you were becoming increasingly bored. You and two other nurses were working the night shift, along with 2 doctors who circulated between here and the ER. All had been calm, though.

You continued to play solitaire, occasionally sipping at your hot tea, chowing down a granola bar. But, with the ding of the elevator, your boss and chief resident of the hospital, Dr. Greene, stepped out into the dimly lit reception area. You quickly stood, shrugging the jacket up around your shoulders better. You looped the abandoned stethoscope around your neck, grabbed two charts, and stuck a pen behind your ear.

“Evening, Y/N,” he stopped at the counter, heels of hands holding him into it.

You acted surprised, pushing your loose hair from your face. “Oh, hey, Dr. Greene. I was just about to do rounds.“

“Are you busy then? Could you get Nina to do that?” He gestured to your companion who was snoozing away with her head in her hands on the other side of the round desk area.

“I could, but may I ask why?” You politely responded, all too hopeful that he didn’t need you in the ER, but-

“Nurse Hathaway went home sick. Throwing up everywhere.” The corner of his lip tugged down in a disgusted-like expression. “Could you come help out a little?”

“Uh, yeah, sure, let me just-“

I threw up and didn’t go home sick, you thought, shaking awake Nina, informing her of the change, and collecting your things from the desk. Dr. Greene didn’t wait for you, already loading himself into the elevator and riding down to the ER. You took that opportunity to slip from the moccasins youd had on your feet. You tugged on tennis shoes and quickly punched a finger into the elevator que.

Moments later, you were pushing through the chaos of patients and stepping into the break room. You greeted the soap opera on the tv, the empty Chinese food cartons on the coffee table, and the sleeping doctor face down on the couch. Quietly, you set your bag on the chair beside him and left the room. You approached the counter, kneading your hands together. The ER made you nervous, which is why you chose to work in the ICU, but you had interned down here for a year.

It was loud, machines beeping, sometimes people screaming or crying. Because it was one of the five hospitals in LA, it was often busy with junkies or gangsters. You’d been caught by a gun on the back of your hip once, threatened to be stabbed, but overall rescued by the security around every corner. It was horrible.

You rapped a knuckle on the counter, tucking more loose hair behind your ears and carefully spinning the rings in them as you said, “What’s up, Frankie? Got anything for me?”

“Oh, Nurse Y/L/N, what’re you doing here?” Frankie, the receptionist, spun around in her chair. She chewed loudly on some bubblegum, spinning a pen in her hand.

“I’m Hathaway’s replacement. Got anything?” You repeated.

“Yeah, you can take over rooms 5-8. They’re empty, but there’s some people out in the waiting area. Not too much, its pretty slow except for the two trauma rooms being busy.” Frankie pointed off in each direction as she spoke.

You nodded, pushing yourself off the counter. You picked up a clipboard, took the pen from behind your ear, and hit the door to the waiting area open with your hip. Your eyes took in the four people waiting to be admitted, all tagged along with by one person or, in the sickest looking man’s position, three. You noticed the worried looks on their faces, the pale and clammy skin of the hunched over one, and immediately stepped towards them.

“Hi, I’m Nurse Y/L/N. I’m gonna be taking care of you today. If you follow me I’m gonna get you a room, okay?” You crouched down to be at eye level with the sick boy, whose blond hair made him look even lighter. He weakly nodded and you stood at the same time the dark-haired one did. “Can he walk?”

The question was answered when he stood and nearly fell on top of you. His arms slung around your shoulders and you caught myself on your heels. The three others grabbed him, pulling him off of you.

“Let me grab a wheelchair,” you walked to the corner of the room where a rack of wheelchairs were. You popped one open and helped situate the boy into it. You gestured for the others to follow, the dark haired one falling in step with you.

He was flustered, hair shaggy with worried hands shoved into his hoodie pockets. “He’s been sick for a few days, but it got really bad last night. Said his chest was hurting and he was really short of breath. He doesnt have, like, heart or chest problems, so we got worried.”

You stopped outside of the room and he took it as his cue to open the door. He did, you thanked him, and stepped inside. Your lips cracked into a smile, “You should be worried even he did have chest and heart problems.”

The boy let out a shuddered laugh, skin sticky with sweat. “y-yeah.”

You shut the door and stepped up to the bed, “Can you help me get him up here?” They all did, hands shaky and faces weary. “Okay. Go ahead and take a seat. I have to do a physical evaluation before I get a doctor. I need to know what information to present a doctor with.”

“His names Michael, by the way,” the dark haired one added once they all nodded with approval to your plans. “I’m Calum. Hood, his last names Clifford.”

“You already did paperwork in the waiting area, right?” You carefully brushed Michaels hair from eyes, peeling them open to shine your flashlight in them. His eyes responded with dilation, a positive sign.

“No? No one really told us anything,” the tall blond responded.

You huffed, rolled your eyes, but tried not to look annoyed for your patient’s. “Okay, why dont one of you go to the front desk and ask for an information sheet. You’ll need to fill it out for him. i dont think he’s in any shape to hold a pen-“

You had been roaming your hands around his body, taking his blood pressure, peering at the back of his throat. Now, you were checking his pulse, and noticed that his fingernails were blue. You glanced back up at his lips, hearing the door open and close. The blond was gone, doing what you told him to. Michaels lips were blue.

You checked his blood pressure on the paper and frowned. It was normal, but you continued by taking his temperature. It was 104.2. You quickly unwrapped the stethoscope from your neck and lifted his shirt. He shuddered at your cold fingertips, causing a wave of shivers to wrack his body.

“Sorry, sh, its okay,” you cooed, hearing your voice drowned out by the quickness of his heartbeat. Keeping yourself cool, calm, and collected, you took the buds from your ears and tucked it around your neck. “Okay, I am going to get a doctor.“

You slipped from the room before they could question your flushed face. Quickly, you turned the corner from your assigned rooms and walked towards the desk, where a white coat was signing papers.

“Dr. Greene?” You stopped before him, “I have possible pneumonia in 6. He’s struggling to breath and I’m worried he’ll go into respiratory distress if we dont get him hooked up.”

Greene choked on his coffee and tore the clipboard from your hands. “Alright, lets get going.”

You took twice as many strides, shorter than the doctor who didn’t wait for you. The two of you calmed your exposures outside the room, not wanting to scare the boys inside. The blond was back with his own clipboard, scribbling and murmuring with the other two.

They nudged each other to pay attention when Dr. Greene arrived. You smiled politely at them, moving to stand across from Dr. Greene. “Michael Clifford, fingernails and lips are blue, coughing like crazy but no signs of blood. Chills, temperature of 104.5, blood pressure is 160 over 120, heartbeat is quick, but I didn’t have time to check because I came for you.”

Dr. Greene reached for the blood pressure equipment and took it again, eyes widening when he showed you the 100/120. “Okay, lets get him IVed, put a nasal cannula for oxygenation, order some blood tests, a chest x-ray, pulse oximetry, and a sputum test. Let me know what you happens and I will be back to help evaluate further instructions.”

“Okay, thank you,” you got to work, quickly wrapping a band around the left arm of your patient. This one was blank of tattoos, but still pretty thick with muscle. You couldn’t deny he was a handsome man, despite the blue lips, pale skin, and sweaty exterior.

You briefly heard Dr.Greene informing Michael’s friends of what was happening when the patient himself mumbled something. You quirked a brow, hummed, and leaned closer as you began to set up the nasal cannula. “What’s happening?”

“Hi, Michael,” you spoke gently, “my name is Nurse Y/N. Your friends brought you in because they were worried about you. Turns out, they were right to be. Your BP dropped to 100/120, your skin is blueing, your heartbeats rapid, inhale is clouded, and temperature is 104.5.”

“They actually care about me?” He weakly chortled, immediately coughing into his hands afterwards. You didn’t fault to notice the blood and carefully helped him settle back into the pillows.

“Hey, here,” you grabbed a cloth, wetted it under the sink, and carefully blotted at his hands, his lips.

He briefly smiled at you, eyes barely cracked open. “Youre really pretty.”

You blushed, scrunching up your nose as you set up fluids to run through his system. He was dehydrated, and you didn’t need a doctor to tell you that. “Thanks, Michael.”

You turned to leave, nodding at the boys as you passed. You found the telephone on the wall beside the room and dialed the memorized numbers. Soon, you were back in the room, pulling up the handles of Michael’s bed. You hooked his IV bag to the rod sticking up in the back, hung the clipboard by the front rung, and helped Calum push the bed through the door.

The two of you loaded the elevator, your eyes focused on the fluttering lashes on the sleep patient sleeping soundly below you. Calum was staring at the floor, eyes glassy with worry.

“Hes going to be okay, Calum. Worst case scenario, he ends up in the ICU for 4-6 days and Ill be watching him.” You giggled, smiling wider when Calum chortled.

“I thought you worked down here?” He twisted his hands on the handles, eyes fluttering around the elevator. Suddenly, it ringed and the doors opened.

You pushed along behind him, instructing him on which door to enter. “I was just covering for someone. I’m usually stationed in the ICU.”

“Oh,” Calum responded. You told him to take a seat in the waiting area and checked in with the x-ray administrators.

When Michael was wheeled into the room and transferred to the x-ray cot, you turned to join Calum. You sat in the chair beside him, arms crossed.

“How old are you?” He turned to ask.

“Why?” You shook your head, an amused expression on your face.

“Well, if he’s gonna be in the ICU for 4-6 days, I’m going to be there, too. Might as well get to know you before I’m up your ass for the next week.”

You liked this guy, and this unworried side of him. You could tell his humor would have you bent at the waist, head thrown back in laughter. You lifted a brow, smirked, and said, “Bold of you to assume I’m not going to be up your ass.”

“Try me.”

A beat of silence passed, both of your eyes turned away from one another, “I’m 23.”

Calum tilted his head towards you and smiled, “23. Youre young.”

“graduated early, top of my class,” you shrugged your shoulders with pride on your chest.”What about you? What do you do for a living?”

“Well, I’m surprised you weren’t fangirling when I introduced myself.” Amused with your twisted face, he continued, “I’m in a band. 5 Seconds of Summer. I play bass.”

You suddenly noticed his accent, which seemed to be faded from years in the US, “That makes, strangely, lots of sense. I can see you playing bass.”

He had huge dimples which deepened. “Maybe you can actually see me someday.”

“Woah, Hood, lets get through this x-ray first.”

#michael clifford x oc #michael clifford imagine #michael clifford x reader #michael clifford #michael clifford x you #calum hood imagine #calum hood x y/n #calum hood x you #calum hood #calm 5 seconds of summer #5sos imgaines #5sos x you #5sos fam #5sos fluff #5sos fanfic #5sos blurb #calum 5sos #5sos michael #5sos ashton

[captainamericasbeard]

Rescue 9/10

Pairing: Alpha!Bucky x Enhanced!Omega!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: none really

Summary: The Avengers are sent in to rescue a group of omegas from the hands of Hydra. There Bucky finds you, an enhanced omega. Can you ever be fully rescued from what Hydra has done to you?

A/N:  This chapter wrote itself. There’s friendship, hugs, bloody knuckles, and thigh holsters. I don’t think anyone on this hellsite can write about a thigh holster without paying tribute to @kentuckybarnes​ Agent 28. If you haven’t read it yet, you’re a fool.  IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED PLEASE SEND AN ASK.

Rescue 8 l Masterlist

You lay in your nest staring at the ceiling like you had been ever since Steve deposited you there three days ago. Sleep occasionally stole it’s way through your room as you lay listlessly in a tangle of sheets and Bucky’s clothes. You were desperate for his scent, craving it like a cigarette. You wanted your lungs full of him, but he was gone. Taken by Hydra off to god knows where and you were left here alone, with no way of getting him back.

You rolled over in your nest, tears slipping down your cheeks again when someone knocked on your door. Rap rap rap, the noise of it hurt you and you groaned, pulling a blanket up over your head.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there. Open the door!” Thor’s booming voice came from the other side of the door. You refused and buried yourself deeper in your nest.

“If you don’t open up I’m coming in,” he insisted, jiggling the door handle only to find it locked. You made no effort to move. Seconds later with a crash and a grunt Thor entered you room. An angry cry came from Tony down the hall. Thor gingerly propped the door back on its frame before turning to you apologetically.

“Sorry, but you’ve made us all desperate, locking yourself away in here,” Thor said. You blink at him. You have nothing to say. Thor sets himself down on the edge of your couch, arms resting on his knees and hands folded in front of him. The two of you stare at each other for a few moments before Thor speaks.

“I’m scared too, Y/N.” Your lip quivers and a few more tears escape at his words. “Everyone is scared actually,” Thor continues “but everyone is out there doing their part to try and find Bucky. Tony has all his tech running around the clock searching for Bucky’s face. Nat and Clint are running down every Hydra agent we’ve come across, looking for someone who knows something. Steve and Sam are vying with all the powers of the UN to bring him home. People are working, Y/N. What are you going to do?” Anger pricked at your heart at Thor’s words. Lightening flashed in your eyes as you stared him down. He stared right back. He wasn’t challenging you, he was honestly asking the question. What are you going to do to bring Bucky home? A few seconds of staring and all your resolve withered. The light died in your eyes again and you cried in earnest now.

“What can I do, Thor? What am I? I’m not a genius like Tony? I’m not a super spy like Clint and Nat or a superhero like Steve and Sam? I’m a freak that was rescued from a cave. Everything I am, Hydra made me. I’m only a functional person because of Bucky and he’s gone. And I can’t bring him back.” Your words came through gulps of air and shuddering sobs. Thor came and knelt at the side of your bed, careful not to touch your nest. He reached out a hand for yours and you had a flash of mad dancing and hysterical giggles. You took his hand timidly.

“You’re right, Y/N, you’re not Tony or Clint or Nat or any of us. You’re you. Not a freak made by Hydra. Not a shell of a person propped up by Bucky. You are you. You went to all those hard therapy sessions and talked through what happened so you could find out who you truly are. You trained harder than I’ve seen anyone train to become so much more than what they made you to be. And if you’ve relied on Bucky too much I know you have the strength to stand without him now. To train again, to go with us, and help us find him. I know out of all of us, you are the one that can bring Bucky home. Because you love him more than any of us and you hate Hydra just as much. You can bring him home.”

Thor’s words broke you. All the pain and fear you’d been cramming inside your chest broke out with an almighty wail. Your body heaved with sobs and Thor scooped you off the bed and into his lap on the floor. He held you in his arms and rubbed soothing circles on your back and let you cry it all out. Which is all you’ve wanted for three days anyways, to cry and be held. And as you cried you felt the poisonous fear leaving your body to be replaced with something else. An obsessive feeling of determination was digging its claws into your heart telling you to do whatever it takes to see Bucky again. As the feeling took root, your sobs slowed and your breathing steadied. You peered up at Thor and giggled slightly, embarrassed by the position you found yourself in. In spite of yourself, you threw your arms around his neck and gave him a huge hug, knocking him backwards into your table. He laughed and squeezed you back.

“Thank you Thor,” you whispered in his ear, “Thank you for being my friend.” You looked him in his eyes and found the shining love of friendship radiating back at you.

“That’s what I’m here for, Y/N.” Thor replied with a smile. Shakily you stood up, all the blood rushing to your head. You were trying to remember when the last time you’d eaten was when you swooned a little bit. Thor gently caught you by your elbow.

“Whoa there, dear friend. Let’s get you to the kitchen, shall we?” He hooked his elbow around yours and guided you through the broken door and down the hall. You entered the common area and everyone stopped what they were doing to look at you. Wanda approached you first and wrapped you in one of her mama bear hugs. You felt instantly calmer and more able to face the others. Tony strode over to you with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the floor. When he finally looked at you his usual cocky demeanor was gone.

“I’m sorry Y/N, we all are. We’re doing all we can to find him.” “I know you are Tony. Thank you.”

Gradually the others surrounded you offering hugs and apologies. Sam was obviously just as shaken as you were to lose Bucky. Nat whispered that he blamed himself as Sam turned away. Steve still couldn’t bring himself to look at you. You knew he was shouldering more guilt than anyone. You walked over to him and lifted his chin till his eyes met yours.

“Steve, I need you to train me,” you say with a quiet certainty. Steve searches your eyes, confused.

“You’re not mad at me?” he asks.

“How could I be? If there was anyway for Bucky to be here right now, he would be. None of this is your fault. It’s Hydra’s. Let’s make them pay for it.” You said, your eyes hardening. Steve nodded.

_______________________________________________________________________

Six months of training sees you transformed. Your lithe body is now tense and toned, ready to lash out. Nat has taught you how to make every inch of your body a weapon, to not just rely on your powers but to be able to strike discreetly. Sam has you fully trained on weaponry, even Bucky would be impressed with your speed and skill. You stuck to guns- knives held too much association with Bucky and you couldn’t bear the thought of someone else teaching you how to use them. Steve oversaw it all, watching your determination with pride.

While you had been training the search had continued. You got regular updates from Tony. They nearly thought they had him back in an old haunt in Siberia but it was a false lead, another trap. Then again in sweltering South Africa, but the base was cleared out before they ever got there. Lead after lead, base after base, they searched in vain it seemed. Every base they attacked was either cleared out or filled with low level operatives with little to no intel.

Until they got to a cramped corner of Eastern Europe. Nat had been tailing who they believed to be a high ranking operative within the Hydra weapon’s division. The sort of man who would have been trained by the sort of men who made Hydra’s greatest weapon. The exact sort of man who would have wanted that weapon back. Nat tagged him and trailed him to an empty alleyway. He must have thought he had the upper hand, but Nat got the drop on him and dragged him in.

That was a week ago. SHIELD had sent in their best nutcrackers but no one could get him to talk. Tensions were running high and you could see even Tony was starting to sweat. Steve caught you crying into a punching bag. You had been in the deserted gym alternating punching a bag till you couldn’t breath and sobbing until you couldn’t see straight. Steve came in, took one look at you, and walked back out. He walked straight down to the detention wing. He came back thirty minutes later with his knuckles covered in blood and Bucky’s location.

“Jet leaves in 20,” Steve said, never taking his eyes off yours.

The compound broke into a flurry of activity. Tony rushed you to his lab to show you the suit he’d been working on for you. Skintight like Nat’s but with the ability to help you conduct electrical currents and a thigh holster to boot. You thanked Tony with a peck on the cheek and rushed off to change. You joined the team to a chorus of whoops and whistles.

“Wait’ll Barnes gets a look at this!” Sam quips, giving you a once over. Even Steve nods with approval. The team settles down and turns their attention back to the holoscreen in the middle of the desk with the little intel Steve had been able to “gather.”

“It’s a large base deep in Northern Canada that’s been off our radar until now. Intel says it’s similar in size to the one we rescued Y/N from. Scientists, agents, the whole bit. Should get a good bit of intel off them too, Nat that’s your job.” Nat gives a curt nod of agreement.

“And what if we find…Not Bucky. What if we find The Solider?” Sam asks the question no one wanted to ask. Eyes flicker to you and your eyes find Steve’s.

“Then we’ll handle it, won’t we, Y/N.” You clench your fists as fear tightens your heart.

“Yes, we will.”

Chapter 10

_____________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @fanfictionjunkie1112​ @kiki5283​ @humanexile​ @starkrobb​ @alyxkbrl​ @momc95​ @bullshitantichrist​ @the-omni-princess​ @animegirlgeeky​ @acf2510​ @fluffyirwinie​ @disasterwelshgirl​ @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety​ @veronawrites​ @guccicloudz​ @holyhumorliteraturelight​ @mrsalwayswrite​ @no-clue-whats-happenin​ @booktease21​ @mymomcallsmefury​ @fafulous​ @asgardlover75​ @susmita121​ @noseyrosey1597​ @jennmurawski13​ @buckybarnesscrunchie​ @learisa​ @kinkywitchy​ @mywinterwolf​ @dyanna-corona​ @procrastinating-angels​ @shellbeerocks​ @broco8​ @just-a-littlebit-of-everything​ @sweetybuzz25​ @cookies186​ @badassbaker​ @buchanan-lover​

[kd-holloman]

The Traveler’s Gift Deleted Scene

I haven’t posted any deleted content lately, so here’s a deleted chapter from D3 of TTG. This chapter--or something really similar--managed to make its way through three drafts before I decided to get rid of it. For some reason (one I can’t think of now that Draft 4 is done) I was reluctant to get rid of it. I’m glad I did, because the story just flows so much better without it. 

Warnings: Drug use, mentions of nsfw content, implied molestation, violence, language, and murder. 

Louis didn’t know what he was doing crammed in the back seat of the SUV, but he wasn’t sure he liked it.

Johnny was lounging in the front seat next to Mark, while Damien sat on Louis’s left. On his right, Slater unapologetically did his best to take up as much of the backseat as possible.

Louis was still hurt over what had happened to Rodney and he wasn’t about to forgive the brute in the passenger seat for the role he’d played in his murder. That was what he deserved for getting so attached. There was a reason that many of those who worked for the mob kept their home and work lives separate. If they didn’t, things got messy. 

Louis had distanced himself from his family to the best of his abilities without raising suspicion. His intimate relationships had a history of being nothing more than one-night stands or brief flings with no emotional attachments. He hadn’t kept up with his childhood friends after returning from the war. They’d had their own lives, families, and jobs to worry about. Once he’d been hired by Marcello, the only person he’d kept up with had been Javier, but only because they’d been partners. 

Look where that got you, he reminded himself bitterly. Javier is dead too.

“Oh, don’t be like that, blondie,” Johnny grumbled, his crooked nose pressed against the tinted glass to watch the city streets slide by. “It was just business.” The smirk was audible in his voice. 

Louis scowled and slouched against the supple leather of the seat, a quiet spark of fury igniting within him. He was in the car with two other gifted individuals reputations just as red as the blood on their hands. It would be wise to keep his trap shut. With that in mind, he swallowed his heated retort and settled for glaring past Damien, through the window, instead. “Where are we going?”

“Rick has given us an errand to run,” Mark explained. 

Slater spoke up for the first time since they’d left the apartment. “If I wanted to waste my time I’d spend it watching videos of dogs that can walk on their back legs. This is stupid.” 

“It’s not a waste of time. We’re just reminding Marco who he’s dealing with. If you run a drug ring from one of O’Shea’s buildings, you pay the rent.”

“They’re street trash. I don’t associate with street trash.” 

“You’re not associating with them. You’re associating with us.” 

“Why did you drag me along again? Johnny is here and he likes to crack skulls together. I’m sure he’s more than capable of getting the job done.” 

Mark tightened his grip on the steering wheel so much his knuckles cracked. “Yes, but he doesn’t have your reputation. Your face in a room is enough to make a grown man shit his pants. Don’t argue with me or I’ll put Rick on the phone.” 

“Please do. I can’t wait to tell him to go fuck himself.” 

“No! I’m not going to call him so you can piss him off. You’ll get all of us in trouble.” He pulled up to the curb in a shady, industrial, part of town. “Go in there, scare the shit out of a couple of drug rats, and we can all go home.”

“He does have a point,” Damien piped up. “If we have Slater, why do we need him and Johnny?” 

“I don’t know! I don’t make the fucking rules.” Mark twisted around so he could look at Slater. “You have to be on your best behavior tonight, O’Brien.”

Slater wore a liar’s smile. “I’ll be on my best fucking behavior.” 

“I’m too old to deal with this shit,” Mark grumbled before opening the door. “Dee, stay with the car. I don’t trust these bastards not to take a baseball bat to it.”

Damien obediently leaned against the bumper to wait.

There was nothing particularly special about the grimy building. It was a handful of blocks away from the main stretch of road, nestled in the shadows, and out of reach from any street lights. A few cars sat out front, dented, rusting, and paint fading. Their bumpers sat low to the ground, their windows too dark to see inside.

Louis unsnapped his holster, ready to draw his gun if necessary. It didn’t seem like it was going to come down to a shootout. Nobody else seemed concerned, even if the quiet stillness of the night seemed to whisper danger. 

Mark rapped on the door in a patterned series of knocks before it swung open. 

A haze of smoke hung in the air, curling in lazy wisps overhead. The smell of marijuana was so pungent that Louis felt like he was going to get gowed-up just from breathing. 

A man was sitting on a lopsided couch, a woman in his lap was being none-too discrete with her hand down his pants. He jolted upright fast enough to send her to the floor. He pulled the reefer from between his lips. “Who the hell are you?”

Another man had been weighing white powder on a scale sitting among a trash-littered coffee table. At the sound of the other man’s voice, he stopped what he was doing and picked a gun off of the table next to him. 

“None of that shit,” Johnny said. He waved his hand and the gun went skidding across the room. 

Mark gave an approving nod. He held up his hands to show that he wasn’t about to pull any weapons. “I’m not here to fuck up your shit. Are you Marco? Rick O’Shea sent me. He says your rent is due.” 

The man on the couch nodded. He had a tattoo on his face, an X, the blank ink was faded and looked slightly green against his skin. He slid a suspicious look from Mark to the rest of them. “Why did you come with such a big crew if you aren’t here to start trouble?” 

“You can never be too careful. I didn’t know if you were going to have twenty guys waiting to punch me full of holes.”

Marco nodded, seeming to decide that it was a fair precaution to take. “Get your ass up and get the hell out of here,” he snapped at the girl sitting at his feet with red eyes and black streaks of makeup down her face. “Don’t you have somewhere better to be. Go on, now.” He gave her a nudge with the toe of his boot. 

She was slow to get to her feet and slightly unsteady once she got there.

“If you see Drew or Kevin when you get out there, tell them to mind their own business outside until I tell them to come in. Got it?” 

She looked like she hadn’t even registered a word he’d said. She was too high to pay attention. 

“Bitch, did you hear me?” 

She jerked, the sudden boom of his voice startling her. “Uh, yeah … yeah. I’ll tell ‘em.” She shuffled to the door. It slammed shut behind her. 

“Jesus,” Mark said, “she’s fucked up. What is she on?”

The man sat back down on the couch and twitched his fingers toward his friend. Once he had fat stacks of cash he began to count it out. “Just herb, y’ know what I’m saying? Good dealers don’t use their own product.” He licked his finger and continued to count cash. “Your boss is asking for his cut a little early, isn’t he?”

“No,” Mark said. “He’s doing you a favor. He gave you an extension, remember? It’s time for you to pay up. I’m sure you discussed the terms and conditions of the late fee.” 

“I know my business,” Marco replied coolly. “I thought I had another week before I paid up.” 

“Take that up with him. What’s in the back room?” 

“That’s where I keep my supplies.” 

Mark looked from the doorway in the back corner of the room to Louis. “Mahoney, take a look back there and make sure we aren’t going to have any surprises.” 

Louis touched the brim of his cap in acknowledgement. He looked at the dark room, imagined himself standing next to it, and willed himself there. 

Once his shoulder was pressed up against the wall next to the door, ignoring the burning in his bones, he raised his gun and peered inside. 

There was nothing but a couple of locked gun safes against the back wall. There was another couch, even more stained and lopsided than the first, to his left. Trash littered the floor, the room smelled like mildew and marijuana. He checked each corner of the room before he gave Mark a thumbs up.

“Oh,” Marco laughed, amused, “you got yourself a bunch of freaks here. I almost forgot that O’Shea had a bunch of them on a leash.” He didn’t look up from counting the money when he asked, “What about you, red? Any tricks up those leather sleeves of yours?” 

Slater fixed the drug dealer with a ferocious sneer. “It will be a bad day for you, if you ever find out.” 

In the stillness of the night, a series of shrieks came from outside. It sounded like the woman from earlier hadn’t gotten very far and she was having an episode. 

“Don’t mind her,” Marco dismissed with a wave of his hand. He gestured for his friend to hand him more money. “She’s always carrying on about something. Back to you, Red, are you going to show off your moves for me?” 

“It’s a disappearing act,” Slater replied. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah and if you watch closely, you can see just how I do it.” With that, he turned tail and walked through the front door. 

Mark did his best to appear unconcerned, but Louis saw his jaw twitch from where he stood. No doubt, Slater was going to get an earful once they got back in the car. 

Marco finished counting out the cash. “There’s that and here’s the extra chunk I owe him for his generosity.” 

Johnny dropped a backpack on the coffee table in front of him. 

“Don’t forget that you’re just a phone call away from losing everything, Marco,” Mark reminded the dealer. He accepted the loaded backpack from Johnny. “Keep the boss happy and we won’t ever have to have this conversation again, understood?” 

The sharp glimmer in the other man’s eyes showed just how sour the threat sounded. “Of course, of course. I wouldn’t want him to send The Reaper after me. That’s his name, isn’t it? Or is that some sort sick joke your boss made up?” 

“I don’t know,” Mark replied with a shrug. “The Reaper just stepped outside. Why don’t you ask him yourself. Mahoney, go get him.”

Louis nodded and disappeared from the stuffy drug den and emerged in the sticky night air. He found Damien leaning against the SUV’s bumper. “Is Slater in the car?” 

He shook his head and pointed to the backside of the building. “He went that way, where that girl was screaming. Christ, you don’t think he killed her, do you?” 

That was a grim thought, but part of Louis was skeptical. “I don’t think so.” He jogged to the rear of the building, where Damien had indicated that Slater had gone. He only slowed when he heard the staccato smack of a closed fist hitting flesh. 

Louis’s heart beat faster as he rounded the corner. 

Slater’s red hair was unmistakable, even if the rest of him was hardly visible in the barely-there light. 

The woman sitting on the ground, slumped against the tire of a car the color of cigar ash. Her shirt was crooked and her skirt had been hiked up past her hips, revealing too much of a bright pink undergarment. Her head bobbled every once in a while, the way it did when someone was nodding off and trying to stay awake. She was alive. 

Louis turned his gaze from the woman and back to Slater. Why? He wondered. Why is he fighting with these strangers when he could kill them in their tracks? Why was he choosing to throw fists when he could end it in an instant? What’s the point? 

Judging from the way the redhead stood with his hands in the pockets of his , he wasn’t concerned about the two men circling him like sharks preparing to feed. 

“You think you can just come around here and stick your nose where it doesn’t belong?” The taller man asked, his voice raspy. There was an unthreatened melody to his tone, like the idea of a fight didn’t scare him. 

Slater’s face split into a grin. “Do you know who I am?” 

“From what I hear, you’re the guy that everybody’s afraid of. I can’t see why. You look like a pussy to me. What do you think, Drew?” 

The shorter of the men smirked, “He looks like a preppy motherfucker to me, Kev.” 

“Run along, Reaper. Let me fuck this bitch and get on with my night.”

Their jibes seemed to have little impact on Slater. He simply stood where he was, watching them from behind his sunglasses. “The only ones getting fucked tonight are the two of you.” 

The taller of the two men—Kevin—moved, a snake striking in the tall grass. It was sudden and the force of his punch was hard enough to snap Slater’s head to the side. The hiss of air slipping between his teeth was as sharp as a gunshot. 

Slater reached up and brushed his thumb across his upper lip. He inspected it for a moment before he laughed in delight. “Now, this is starting to get fun!” When the man swung again, he ducked out of the way before retaliating with a jab of his own. 

In an aggressive flash of fists, Drew joined the fight. It was unfair, two against one, and obvious that the two men wouldn’t stop until Slater was unconscious or dead. 

Louis contemplated intervention, but stayed put. He was interested in seeing how this deadly boxing match would end. Whatever the outcome was going to be, Slater didn’t appear concerned. 

In fact, with each blow struck him, it seemed to drive him faster, made him burn a little brighter. The smirk on his face continued to grow, even with the bruises already forming on his fair complexion. He showed now signs of slowing down. 

The door banged open and Mark scrambled around the side of the building with Johnny on his heels. He skidded to a halt when he saw Slater in the midst of a fight. Then, he pulled a device out of his pocket and lunged for Drew, it crackled and spat in a flash of blue light. 

Kevin stopped and looked at Mark, but his attention was jerked back to Slater when the redhead spoke. “If you touch them, I’ll kill you.” 

It must have been a credible threat, because Mark hesitated.

His pause was enough time for Johnny to extend his hand. 

Drew hardly had enough time to let out a startled yelp before he went flying backward. His body crashed into the brick wall behind him hard enough that Louis heard a crack. Then, he slumped onto a pile of garbage bags, eyes rolled into the back of his head. 

Slater’s eyes snapped to Johnny, the smile on his lips vanishing, his expression frigid. 

Kevin didn’t need an invitation to send another fist flying. This time, the punch was fueled by even more rage. It slammed into the side of Slater’s face with enough force that Louis’s own jaw ached in sympathy. It sent the two of them into another round of snarls hissed between clenched teeth and battered knuckles. 

Apparently, Slater’s arctic glare had been enough of a message to keep Johnny from intervening again. He didn’t make a second move to put an end to the fight. 

How much longer is this going to go on? Louis wondered. Are they going to keep going until they’re unconscious, dead, or until Marco comes out with his friend, guns blazing?

Enough was enough. 

Louis’s approach didn’t go unnoticed. Mark stepped in front of him to block his path. “Stay out of this, buddy. This isn’t your fight.” 

He flicked Mark an unimpressed look. Having something—doors, people, or walls—in his way had never stopped him before and it wasn’t going to work now. 

“Did you hear me? Are you deaf or are you stupid?” 

“Probably just stupid.” 

Mark made a move, the Taser in his fist crackled angrily. 

One moment Louis was there, the next he was standing between Slater and Kevin. 

Everything went still. The only sound was sound of the fighters and their ragged breathing, their attack thwarted by Louis’s sudden presence.

Louis had done what he could. He’d gotten their attention. Now, he had to keep it. 

“Move,” Slater ordered. 

He stayed put. At this point, if The Reaper wanted him dead, he had nothing to lose. 

“Get the fuck out of my way before I kill you.” 

Louis stared down at him, seeing his own reflection in the lenses of his shiny, bent, glasses. He thought about what Damien had said, that Slater had blown a man’s head clean off his shoulders with only his mind. Obviously, he’d been deemed The Reaper for a reason. If he truly wanted Louis dead, there was nothing stopping Slater from killing him. He didn’t look away. “If you were smart,” he warned Slater’s opponent, “you’d get the hell out of here.” 

He didn’t have to turn his head to hear the other man run off into the night. 

Slater was still glaring at him, four inches shorter than Louis. 

It reminded Louis of a game he and James had played when they were kids, one where they stared at each other before the other looked away.

Louis looked back for what felt like an eternity, every muscle drown rigid with anticipation. If felt an awful lot like staring down the wrong end of a loaded gun. Each second dragged as he waited to see if Slater would pull the trigger. 

“Johnny,” Mark said, “go tell Damien to start the car. Come on, O’Brien, you’re coming with us.” 

Slater kept his gaze on Louis for a few more deliberate moments before he followed Mark without a word. 

Louis exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. The tension resolved once those hidden eyes were no longer burning him to the core. He gave the girl, propped up against the wheel of the car, one last look before he followed the others. 

On the ride back, Johnny broke the uncomfortable silence by complaining. “Why do we even let O’Brien come with us? That asshole gets off on picking fights. I swear—”

Slater, now in the passenger seat, reached out with a bruising and bloody had to flick on the radio. He twisted the knob for the volume until nobody could hear Johnny bitching. 

Once the car was turned off, Johnny started again. He slammed the car door hard enough to make it rock. “You want to know what I don’t understand? I don’t get why Boss keeps you around, anyway. You’re a loose fucking cannon. I mean, just ask the new guy, I can kill people too. Big fucking deal! You aren’t spe—”

If Louis hadn’t been watching, he would have known what happened. One moment, Johnny had been going on and on, without a breath between words; and the next, he’d collapsed to the concrete of the parking garage floor, lifeless. 

There was a breath of stunned silence among them before Mark reacted. “O’Brien! What the fuck?!” 

Slater’s expression was smooth. There wasn’t the slightest hint of emotion on his face. He looked at the body with disinterest before he turned to the other man. His voice was just as blank as his face when he said, “I warned him to stay out of it. I warned all of you. He just didn’t listen.” 

“Oh shit!” Damien gasped from Louis’s elbow. “Oh, holy shit!”

Now Louis understood how Slater had earned his nickname. It hadn’t been a myth and Damien hadn’t been exaggerating his power. He had really killed Johnny just by looking at him. 

He studied the corpse with morbid fascination. Blood ran from Johnny’s mouth, nose, and ears, pooling beneath his head on the oil-streaked concrete. His eyes were wide open in a blank stare. 

Louis looked at Slater, palms sweating. Maybe he shouldn’t have stepped in to stop the fight. By doing so, he had probably signed his death certificate. 

Slater paused in front of Louis on his way out of the garage. He leaned in close, reeking of sweat and leather. There was a bruise blooming on one of his high cheekbones. His voice was a whisper, “Consider this your warning. Don’t get in my way again.” 

Louis swallowed the nerves that had formed into a ball in his throat and watched Slater disappear into the night.

Tag List: @tricksexual, @wildler, @ganseyboii, @surrealirist, @obsessionandstuff, @pertinax--loculos, @pe-ersona, @a-curator-of-nonsense, @angelolytle, @aslanwrites, @aurumni-writes, @andrewminyardd, @lordkingsmith, @gloriafrimpong

#the traveler's gift #slater michael o'brien #louis elijah mahoney

[fanfickittycat]

The Price

TITLE: The Price CHAPTER NUMBER/ONE SHOT: Chapter 10 AUTHOR: fanfickittycat CHARACTERS/PAIRING: Roman Godfrey x OC GENRE: Romance, Smut FIC SUMMARY: Ginger makes a deal with popular bad boy Roman, if he helps her up the social ladder by pretending to be her boyfriend then she’ll be his dog in return RATING: M AUTHORS NOTES/WARNINGS: Spitting in people’s mouths and Christmas

The news of my parents getting snowed in at a relative’s house came as a huge disappointment. I had waited for the annual tradition of decorating the house and tree to come around and the weather had postponed any chance of doing so.

“You can do it by yourself” my mother had suggested, and I had been appalled by the suggestion. 

“It’s a family tradition” I insisted “it needs to be done with the family.”

“Maybe invite some of your friends around instead” she sounded irked by my protests “or what about your gentleman caller?”

I groaned at the term and then proceeded to listen to my father in the background of the call object against Roman and I being home alone together. After a few minutes of listening to my parents (and then my aunt and uncle) debate if I was mature enough, or if Roman was to be trusted I hung up the phone and wandered around my depressingly empty house. The tree stood naked in the living room; only a smattering of pine needles embellished the floor and served as the sole Christmas adornment in the house. The whole scene only became more pathetic and dismal when I tried to play seasonal music. 

 So my fingers ended up twitching. My new friends who were much nicer had plans already, or the snow had meant that travelling all the way over to mine would have been too much. Only Roman was left to contact and he didn’t pick up when I called.

“I’m an adult” I reasoned, even though I was far from being grown up in any sense of the phrase. The reindeer sweater my grandma had made for me three years ago didn’t help, but dammit, I was not going to let it stop me from trying to retrieve the boxes of dusty decorations from the attic. Now, me tripping with the box almost stopped me, and the tears the threatened to fall after the accident made it almost possible for me to give up but I didn’t. Mostly because a rapping at the door meant that I couldn’t cry, lest I wanted to scare away the carollers, or children from the elementary school who always sold wrapping paper door to door this time of year.

 I looked through the peephole like I had been taught to do when someone knocked on the door and my parents weren’t home. It was Roman, with a light coat of snow decorating his hair.

“Wow,” he said when I opened the door “you go out in that thing and I’ll have to start fighting guys off left, right, and centre” he poked the knitted red nose on Rudolph, and I felt the cold of his glove on my abdomen. I shivered and quickly pulled him in to get him out of the cold.

“I like it. It makes me feel Christmassy.”

“How old are you again?” I swatted his arm playfully and he laughed, dodging my attacks easily “are your parents in? I didn’t see their car in the drive.”

“They’re stuck at my aunt’s,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest as we walked into the living room where the box who tried to kill me sat. 

“Home alone, huh?” He tried to sound nonchalant about it but I could practically hear the grin in his voice.

“I didn’t call for that,” I said, fiddling with my hair “I just… Look, nobody’s home and we were meant to decorate and now we can’t.” I tried to avoid Roman’s gaze “I guess I thought that maybe you’d like to help decorate.”

He was quiet for a moment which was surprising when you truly considered how much Roman loved making fun of me. I peered at him cautiously, confused by his silence as his eyes moved around the room.

“I don’t know how much help I can be,” he said, sounding remarkably earnest “I’ve never decorated at Christmas.”

“What?!”

He looked down at his slacks and brushed them with the palm of his hand “my mom always paid people to professionally decorate the house so…” he trailed off, only punctuating the sentence with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Well it’s not hard,” I said, trying to sound encouraging “you just have fun and try to make things look pretty. You should be good at that, you always look pretty.”

He finally cracked a smile “you better not tell Peter that otherwise, I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Can’t help it if you’re a pretty boy” I teased “Roman Godfrey: the prettiest boy in Hemlock Grove; no, in Pennsylvania; no wait, the prettiest boy in America.”

“I can always leave” he mock threatened, standing up again only to have me join his side and squeeze his hand.

“Please don’t.”

He pursed his lips and considered me thoughtfully “fine. Show me how Christmas decorations work, puppy.”

 Roman, it turned out, was terrible at arts and crafts. The paper snowmen that I had shown him how to make were meant to look whimsical, with a little bit of string tied to them so that they could be hung with ease. Roman’s looked like Frosty had been hung. The stringing of popcorn onto thread had ended with Roman licking pinpricks of blood off of his finger.

 “Are you a vampire?”

He smiled slyly “duh.”

 He ended up finally being useful by being tall enough to put the star on top of the tree, though he didn’t see it as a big deal. He was better at decorating the tree, and clearly had an eye for aesthetics. The way his forehead creased as he debated where to hang the ornaments was a sight to behold, and his cautious hand moved carefully around the tree to find the best place to put the stars and baubles. 

“It looks great” I clapped my hands in excitement, unable to contain my glee when Roman plugged the twinkling lights in.

“It’s… okay, I guess” he admitted, “but only because I‘m such a natural at this.”

I rolled my eyes, earning me a playful nudge in the side.

“Do you want anything to drink?” I asked, “I have a hot chocolate mix.”

“Only if we can add this” he pulled out a bottle of bourbon and I wrinkled my nose.

“My dad drinks this kind of stuff,” I said, giving it a cautious sniff. 

“Then your dad has good taste,” he said flippantly “come on, live a little puppy.”

I ended up letting him add a splash into the hot chocolate, and I had to admit that it paired well with the drink. The warm milk and added alcohol made my throat warm, and I leaned my head against Roman as we drank.

 “Does your mom really pay for people to decorate your house?”

“You’d be surprised where money can get you.” He stroked my hair absentmindedly, telling me about one year where a decorator had accidentally dropped one of the artisan glass baubles that had been flown in from Venice, and his mother had lost it. His impression of her was uncanny.

 “Yikes… I was really about to quit scooping ice cream to decorate your house” I teased, lapping up the last of the hot chocolate, and placing my mug next to Roman’s empty one on the coffee table.

“Hmmm,” he mused, letting his fingers trail down the side of my neck to play with a tendril of my hair “maybe you should quit your job and be my personal, full-time pet.”

“I’m already your pet” I mumbled, still feeling halfway between pleased and embarrassed to be saying the words.

He was contented by the words but continued “yes, but think how cute you’d be curled up at the end of my bed. You could bring me my slippers in the morning.” He curled a strand of my hair around his finger and then let it go before repeating the action.

I scoffed “Oh yeah? What else? Feed me scraps of ham when I give my paw?”

“See” he squeezed my cheek “now you’re getting the gist.” I rolled my eyes, attempting to shake his hand off of my chin but he didn’t let go. His fingers gripped lightly, and I watched with a dry throat as his eyes lingered on my lips.

 “You know what I’d do if I got to come home to you, my little pet?” He mused, and I bit the inside of my cheeks, waiting for him to tell me.

“Well, let’s see…” He started, letting his finger trace my collar bones “I would come home and you’d be waiting by the door like a good girl. I’d have to praise you, wouldn’t I? How could I ignore you when you’re being so sweet for me? I’d just have to let you sit on my lap.” His hand trailed down, landing on my hip and curling around. He tugged, gently at first and then more forcefully. I crawled onto his lap, straddling him as though it was second nature. My Christmas playlist had since finished, and the only sound was the crackling of the fire I had insisted we turn on. One of his hands remained curved around my waist, whilst the other snaked up my back, petting my hair. I relaxed against his touch though I trembled in anticipation.

 “Just like this” he ghosted his lips over the side of my neck, pleased when he heard me gasp. His tongue darted out, drawing a tantalisingly slow circle on my skin. He pulled back and admired the blush he had managed to draw out from me. 

 “Puppy” he crooned, silently commanding me to meet his gaze. His pupils were blown, and a wolfish smile on his face only further complicated my breathing. The navy turtleneck he wore that I had admired before now irritated me. I pawed at it. 

 “Take it off, Roman.”

 “You first,” he insisted, letting his hand slide under my jumper and rest on my side. He drummed his fingers lightly, taking pleasure in me clumsily trying to take off the garment. He watched, eagerly devouring my new found flesh with his eyes. He hummed in approval, caressing up along my back; feeling the sharp edges of my shoulder blades; revelling in the softness of my abdomen; pressing his lips to the area below my collar bones. My hips began to writhe crudely, enjoying the new sensation with no abandon. It was only when Roman began to fiddle with the clasp of my bra that I pulled back a little. He tossed the article of clothing to the side carelessly.

 “Roman…” I murmured, looking down at my exposed form. 

 “You’re so pretty” he mumbled, lowering his head as his tongue pressed itself against my nipple, coating it in wetness. I couldn’t help but gasp louder, surprised by how the feeling shot down to between my legs. He retreated a little and blew on the damp skin, enjoying the way I shivered. I clawed at his back again, prompting him to meet my gaze.

 “Roman you promised” I tried to pull up his roll neck again, only to be pinched suddenly by him.

 “Remember your place, dog,” he said, though not unkindly “you have to do something for me first.”

 I groaned “isn’t this enough?” I looked down at my half-naked body. He laughed and tutted.

 “Oh trust me it’s very much appreciated, but I wanted a little something more. Surely a good, little pet like you doesn’t mind? Don’t you want to do this one tiny thing for your owner?”

 “Yes,” I admitted quietly, biting my lip when he asked me to repeat it louder “yes, I want to.” He closed the gap between our mouths, kissing me in a way that had me curling my toes in mere moments. His lips moved so effortlessly with mine I lost myself easily. His mouth opened a little, persuading mine to do so too. 

 He pulled back again, earning a groan from me. “Open” he commanded, and I did so without thinking. He leaned in again and spat in my mouth. “Close” he directed and then said, “swallow”. I was so shocked I couldn’t help but follow his instructions. He watched, gauging my reaction to the act. I was caught between being turned on by the gesture and being disgusted at myself for enjoying something so lewd. 

 “Again,” I said, feeling more brazen than before, pressing my palms into his chest and leaning in desperately. He grinned in victory, stroking my hair in appreciation. He looked almost proud.

 “I thought you were trying to get under my shirt.”

 I whined, “why can’t I have both?” I was stopped when the garment was taken off and observed, entirely enthralled with the vision of Roman’s body. His skin was such a pale shade that if he was still enough he could easily be a statue. I smiled, biting my lip to hide my giggles.

 “What?”

 “Nothing. Just…” I shrugged “do you need to wear like, SPF 5000 or what?”

 “Bad dog,” he said, pinching my side again but he was smiling too.

 “No really, what’s it like to know that Jack Frost is your real dad?”

 “Stop. I’m warning you.”

 “Sorry, I know how much it hurts that they turned you down for the role of Edward Cullen.”

 “That’s it.” He turned us over so my back was against the floor and he was on top of me, pinning my wrists above my head. I yelped and laughed, struggling against his hold on me. I panted, aware of our state of undress, but not caring all the same. 

 “You’ve had your fun” he warned, smiling wickedly “but don’t forget who’s in charge, dog.” He reached over for a leftover piece of ribbon from decorating and tied my wrists with a practised hand. 

 “You’re no fun” I complained but stayed put. We both knew I could easily manoeuvre out of the flimsy bow but I was excited by the move and I knew he was too. He reached under my skirt and pressed the pad of his finger against the soaked material. I bucked against his touch, seeking something more but he refused.

 “See what happens when you disobey me,” he said, with a smug smile on his face. He lightly danced his fingers up and down the small pathway of cotton, and I exhaled sharply making puppy eyes at him in an attempt to convince him. He shook his head.

 “Please” I begged, looking at him up through my eyelashes.

 “Aw,” he said, his voice dripping with mock sympathy “you’re all wet, puppy. I bet you’d love it if someone was able to help you out with that, especially seeing as you’re all tied up.” He laughed darkly.

 “Roman, please.”

 “Please what?” He continued, moving his digits lethargically over my centre. I whined again and he blinked innocently, moving his face closer to mine as though inspecting for the cause.

 “Please touch me.”

 “I was under the impression that I was.”

 “You know what I mean.”

 “No… No, I don’t think I do.” I pouted and he sucked my bottom lip, even daring to bite once or twice. He pulled back, looking at my swollen lips and the frustrated tears in my eyes.

 “Alright,” he conceded “let me throw this dog a bone.” He hooked his fingers onto my panties, dragging them off before giving me the direct pressure of his finger against my clit like I so desperately wanted. He tried drawing different patterns; circles, lines, zig zags before he could judge which one would be best. The fire beside us was already hot but the blaze burning inside of me threatened to be brighter. Roman added one finger and then another, working up a rhythm that my body craved. I could feel the tightness in my stomach and the curling of my toes telling me that my orgasm was approaching, but it felt as though I had lost grasp of it and I wasn’t able to reach completion. I was annoyed but opened my eyes when I heard Roman shift to remove my skirt and his trousers. 

 “I want you to cum with me inside you,” he said in explanation to my bewildered face. A wave of affection flooded me. He drew up one of my knees letting it press against his abdomen. I could feel him, hard and hot against my opening. He looked to me and I swallowed, nodding my consent. He pushed in, and my head fell back giving way to a moan. He took a moment to let me adjust to him. My walls fluttered around him, making him mutter ‘fuck’ under his breath. Just as easily as before he found the right rhythm, and my knee untucked itself and wrapped around his back. He took the hint when my heel pressed into him and started to go harder than before. His name became the only word I could say, and even then I couldn’t always manage to say it in full. The feeling in my stomach returned.

 “Roman…” I warned, listening to the sound of his thrusts become more erratic as he reached his climax too. I couldn’t be sure if we came at the same time, but I remained dazed and dazzled as my orgasm crashed upon me. My mind was totally, perfectly blank. Roman’s hot breath on me and the pounding of my heart were the only things keeping me from floating away. 

 I watched, listlessly as he fumbled to remove my restraints. He kissed my cheeks and the tip of my nose, making me giggle.

 “You there, Ginger?” I butted my head against his chest, and he put his arm around me. He talked a little, making sure I was okay before retrieving us a glass of water and some Christmas cookies I had baked that morning. He let me lick the icing off of his fingers before I relaxed against him, savouring the bliss I felt. 

 “Hey,” he said softly, prompting me to look at him. The sweat had made his hair stick to his forehead and he looked uncharacteristically defenceless. He looked down and then back up at me, clearing his throat nervously as he did so. 

 “I…” 

 “Are you blushing?” I asked, watching in amusement as he flushed a pink that I knew wasn’t sex or fire-related.

 “Shut up dog, I need to say this.” He rubbed the back of his neck and then exhaled audibly before speaking “I love you.” He crinkled his nose “God, that’s cringey to say out loud. How do they do it in movies? I-”

 I cut him off with a kiss “I love you too Roman.” He opened his mouth and then closed it again, leaving his sarcastic comment to the side. I basked in the light of his love, feeling more than I could have ever hoped to. 

#the price #chapter 10 #fanfic #fanfiction #fanfickittycat #my fanfic #updates #hemlock grove #hemlock grove fanfic #hemlock grove fanfiction #Roman Godfrey #roman godfrey x oc #roman godfrey fanfic #Bill Skarsgård #bill skarsgard fanfiction

[nyxdelanuit]

A Dream In Red Ch18

A03

You had to admit, you felt a little guilty walking back to the dorms arm-in-arm with Kaminari. Especially when you saw your favorite redhead waiting nervously outside your building. You were lucky you had the foresight to tuck his present into some of the other bags you had gathered throughout the day.

Kirishima was a storm of emotions as you approached. The spicy tang of his jealousy and anger was only enriched by the subtle flavors of his relief. Kaminari unhooked your arms apprehensively, although he had enjoyed teasing his friend, he didn’t truly want to anger him. You took a step closer to Kirishima, Kaminari waiting behind you.

“So what, do you just not understand what bed rest means?” You flinched a bit at the anger that seeped into his words. “And you!” He pointed at Kaminari, “What were you thinking? What if something had happened while you were out? No one knew where she was!” You were torn between placating your friend and being angry that he didn’t seem to let you make your own decisions.

He opened his mouth to continue airing his grievances against Kaminari, but you just step closer. You placed a hand on his chest, not as warmly as you usually do.

“First of all, I’m the one who messaged Kaminari, so don’t be an ass. I probably would have wandered off even if he didn’t show up. Be glad I took someone with me. Secondly, am I just crazy or am I not an adult? I can make my own decisions, even if they end up being bad ones.” You didn’t have it in you to keep being upset. You were just feeling tired.

Kirishima cursed softly and took a step back. He ran a hand through his hair roughly, turning back to you. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” He didn’t look happy about it. You knew he felt compelled to protect you, but you refused to let your boundaries get disrespected as Inasa had done.

Seeing him relent, you softened your heart. Your hand ran over his shoulder, further calming him. He shot you a small smile, but you still saw the hardness in his eyes as he looked towards Kaminari. You shot the blond a wave, walking past the two men. Your bed was calling.

Morning brought you some relief. With a salve still shining on your skin, you were able to stretch without wincing at the dull pain in your ribs. You still had a day off of class, but that did not mean you wanted to lounge about another day. You dressed yourself in baggy clothes, trying to keep them from sticking to your skin as the salve absorbed into your sickly colored bruises. Everyone else had already left for their morning classes, and you took your time starting your day.

You left your bag in your dorm, only taking a wallet and keys with you. It wouldn’t do you any good to push yourself today and let everyone think you needed more time to heal. The walk to campus was quiet, the early summer birds and bugs providing a calming background. It would have been eerie if you hadn’t heard the murmuring of classes once you entered the buildings.

A quick rap on the door and you let yourself into Ms. Joke’s office. Even if you weren’t in class, you could still perform your student aide duties. The mint-haired pro greeted you warmly, passing you a schedule for today. As you scanned today’s appointments, you nearly groaned. It was definitely a busy first day back.

The two of you caught up shortly, waiting for the first counseling appointment for the day. All the students currently attending had signed off on your presence in their sessions, but it didn’t stop you from feeling as if you were intruding on something too intimate.

The first few sessions passed quickly, mostly follow-ups from previous appointments. You could tell Ms. Joke was passionate about the mental health of the pupils under her. It wasn’t unusual to see a familiar face from your class. Still, you weren’t expecting someone so familiar so soon.

Tetsutetsu meekly peeked around the door. He met your eyes, more bashful than you had grown accustomed to.

“Hey, Tetsu.” You gave him a soft smile, ushering him into the room. Ms. Joke sat on a plush armchair across from the couch you sat Tetsutetsu on. You picked another armchair next to the couch, not knowing if Tetsu wanted you to keep a professional air about this.

You were glad he took your advice to talk to Ms. Joke about the guilt he was feeling for your match earlier in the week. Both you and Joke had tried to reason against his guilt, to no avail.

“Tetsu, I’m proud of your quick thinking and even quicker action. I was trying to get in your head and you were able to keep me out and take me down. Granted, I still won, but if it had been only me…” He sighed and you tore yourself away from that tangent.

“When you’re fighting against villains, you can’t feel guilty about when you stop them. You also can’t drop everything when someone you care about gets hurt. That’s how people die.” Ms. Joke’s voice was soft but stern. It was a lesson all heroes had to take to heart, “You have to assess each situation. Make sure that all danger has been taken care of, you are our front line. We have support heroes for a reason. Once you can be sure that no danger will come to civilians and your fellow pro-heroes, then you can start assisting the support heroes. You can only let yourself fuss and worry after all that is over.” You could tell Tetsu understood what she was saying logically, but it didn’t assuage his guilt marring his face. He felt the couch dip next to him, and your hand soft upon his arm.

“May I?” You said quietly, glancing over to Ms. Joke for her approval as well. Tetsu gave you a soft nod, and Joke made no move to stop you. Tetsu followed your breathing, exhaling alongside you as he let you slip into his thoughts. You made no effort to make his abstract thoughts more concrete, instead, focusing on sharing yours. Your feelings of calmness, clarity, and no ill-will toward your friend. You touched your head to his, your breaths mingling as you tried to console his gnawing feelings, urging a wave of contentedness to flow between the two of you.

You heard a sniff from across the room, pulling you out of your headspace. You had known Joke long enough to realize when she could no longer stand being so serious. Tetsu opened his eyes, not knowing when they had fell shut, and quickly pushed you from his head.

“You’re just so sweet. I swear you’re going to give me cavities.” Ms. Joke cooed at you, distracting you from the red sheen on Tetsu’s face. “I’m so proud of my little girl.” Ms. Joke sprung up, wrapping you up in her arms.

“I’m not your daughter, Emi.” You whined, causing Joke to shush you.

“It’s Ms. Joke when there are students in the room, kiddo.” She giggled. Joke led the three of you through some breathing- and giggling- exercises to ease the tension that had grown in the room.

“Hey, so do you want to sit in on Fatgum’s class? That’s where I’m off to next.” Tetsu shouted over his shoulder, half-way out the door. Ms. Joke nudged you toward the door, as much of a dismissal as you would get. You nodded to the silvery boy, threading your fingers through his as you followed out the door.

Ms. Joke watched the door swing shut behind them, scoffing to herself. “Oh, Joke, I can read minds and know people’s feeelings.” She chuckled to herself. “She’s still so oblivious when it’s about her.” She smiled gently, running her fingers over a small frame with Aizawa’s picture. “Just like someone else I know.”

You sat to the side of the gym as people filed in for class. Fatgum was happy to see you, as always. He offered you a candy as you got comfortable, the small strawberry sweet spreading throughout your senses. It was so distracting that you almost missed the smoldering smokiness of Kirishima’s anger as he spotted you, chatting with Tetsu. You quickly snapped your eyes to him, making his step falter. You quickly excused yourself with a brush of your hand on Tetsu’s arm. Class hadn’t started yet, so you were easily able to pull Kirishima to the side without drawing attention.

You weren’t even sure what to say to him. He knew he shouldn’t be angry at his friend any longer, but feelings weren’t logical. How do you fight against something with no logic? Instead, your hand drifted to the faded bruise on Kirishima’s cheek, and your lips followed after. You felt him freeze up underneath your touch. It hurt to see his reaction to something toeing the line of friendliness, cementing your worry at your growing feelings. You swallowed the hurt for later, smiling up at your best friend.

“Kick some ass for me today, Kiri.” You gave him another small smile before escaping to Fatgum’s observation table. You sat behind the table, ready to watch with Fatgum. You watched in confusion as Fatgum wandered the gym, pairing people and sending them off. The group shrunk as pairs wandered to sectioned off areas, stretching and engaging in light sparring. Two people were left standing, motionless and refusing to meet each other's eyes.

“Alright, boys. Go at it.” Your eyes widened in surprise as Fatgum sunk into the seat next to you. Kirishima and Tetsutetsu seemed to share your surprise as they tensed on the other side of the table. Fatgum motioned in front of him with a hand, “Well, get started.” The boys wandered a bit further from the table, facing each other awkwardly.

You turned to Fatgum, about to protest, but a harsh sound drew your attention. You weren’t sure who struck out first, but Kirishima and Tetsutetsu were currently locked against each other. They struggled against each other before parting. There was barely a moment between their blows, their movement fueled by their raging emotions. It was quickly becoming a battle of attrition, neither giving the other the chance to land a solid blow. It almost hurt to watch them go so hard against each other, especially against the stark background of the other students sparring lazily.

Each hit and Kirishima seemed to grow sharper, his jabs hitting harder. Tetsutetsu seemed to have a harder time keeping his energy up. You were sure it was due to all the guilt he had been carrying that week. Anxiety had been building as you watched, keeping you on the edge of the seat. You wondered in passing why Fatgum hadn’t stopped this spar, it didn’t seem like this was helping either of the boys you had become so close to. Then he didn’t have to.

Tetsutetsu moved to fall back, but Kirishima followed, sending a jab straight to the metallic boy’s body. As Tetsutetsu recoiled from the unanticipated attack, Kirishima followed up with a hook straight into his face. The metal covering his face cracked, and Tetsutetsu fell back, raising his arms to yield.

To your surprise, Kirishima reached out an arm to help Tetsu to his feet, a smile on both boys’ faces. Fatgum stood and made his way over to them.

“Feel better?” He grunted. They nodded, almost in unison, and Fatgum gave both of them a soft knock on the head. “Good, next time leave your feelings outside of class.” He dismissed them and fell back into his chair.

“Wait, so that’s it? All that brooding and all they needed was to punch it out?” You cried out, incredulous. Fatgum chuckled with a nod.

“For how sensitive they are, they still work things out through actions. Not that you didn’t help too.” His eye slid to your face. “Don’t think I didn’t see you try to placate them both before class.” You flushed with embarrassment and shrugged. “You just keep being yourself, makin’ this world a little brighter.” You nodded, not quite meeting his eyes. He dismissed you for the day, reminding you to take it easy lest the boys become more overprotective.

You approached the boys as they spoke near the gym doors. As they saw you, their conversation became less boisterous and animated, but the looks on their faces softened to the grins you were used to seeing. That was how you found yourself being escorted back to the dorms, one boy on each arm. You basked in the glow of familiarity between the two men on either side of you as if the past two days had never occurred. They did, however, still fuss over you like a child.

“Come on, darling, just spend the rest of the day in the dorms, for us?” Kiri smiled down at you. You were upset at how well that worked against you. You didn’t answer, just jutted out your bottom lip in a childish pout. If they were going to treat you like a child, surely you had grounds to act like one.

“Yeah, don’t make us worry any more than we already have! All you gotta do is kick your feet up and chill for a few hours.” Tetsu chimed in. Now that they had reconciled, they focused their efforts on making sure you took your downtime seriously. You sighed in thanks as the dorm doors came within sight, slipping your hands from the arms that had caged them in. As you went to shelter yourself within the doors, away from prying eyes and pleading voices, a hand caught yours.

Kirishima turned you to face him, your joined hands falling between you. His free hand rose to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his eyes.

“Please, darling. A few hours cooped up here and then I’ll let you do whatever you want with me when I get back. I’ll even pick up some takeout on the way in.” You felt your face growing warm under his hand, and warmth pooled in your stomach. He could have stopped at the word darling and you would have agreed. You nodded softly, not trusting your voice.

This was not the closest you had been to him by far, why did this time seem to hold more weight? More emotion at the very least. You let your head wander instead of focusing on how close he was and how easy it would be to lean up and-

And his lips met your forehead, almost like an afterthought. “Thank you, Princess. We’ve gotta run now, I’ll see you tonight.” You watched, almost stunned as Kirishima and Tetsu ran off, almost certainly late for their next class. Softly touching your forehead, his words repeated in your head. Your face grew hotter, had he meant for his words to be so… suggestive?

Your legs worked on autopilot as you made your way into the dorms. You made a beeline for the common area, intent on collapsing on one of the couches for the time being. With a huff, you vaulted yourself over the back of a couch, instantly colliding with another body. You scrambled back into the arm of the couch, trying to give your unwilling cushion some space.

“Now, dove, I usually don’t mind being woken up with a warm body pressed against me, but that was a little rough for my liking.” A tired voice groaned out, sparking almost as much recognition as his soft lavender locks.

“I’m so sorry, Shinsou. If I knew you were crashing here, I never would have catapulted myself onto your back.” You helped him up into a more comfortable position as your fretted over him. He accepted your help before waving you off, clearly more irritated than injured.

“It’s fine, I probably shouldn’t make a habit out of taking naps in unfamiliar places, lest I end up like that old man.” He smiled, seemingly at a memory of his. With a shake of his head, he focused back on you.

You narrowed your eyes at him, realization dawning across your features, “What are you doing here, Shinsou? It’s the middle of the week.” He huffed a chuckle at you as your body leaned toward him, questioning. His finger pressed against your forehead, pushing you back into the couch.

“Ouch, Princess, first you jump me and then don’t even allow me to recuperate before interrogating me. I’m hurt.” He grinned at you, now invading your space as you had done to him. Warmth spread across your face, surely you were vibrant red. “Cat got your tongue, Princess?” He smirked before allowing some distance between your bodies. “My classes got canceled for the rest of the week. Seems like there was some sort of emergency that requested a large part of the hero staff. I checked in, but they said my quirk wouldn’t be beneficial to… whatever it is that’s going on.” He sunk into the couch with a sigh, “So I decided to come waste some time here. Our little Pikachu told me that you also had some free time on your hands. I thought maybe I could finally get some one-on-one time with the resident baby of the group.” He shot you a tired wink.

You huffed, “I think I’m older than some of you.” Even as you said it, you couldn’t help but think you did sound childish. He shook his head softly.

“Being baby is not about age. Anyways, I bet you’re feeling a little pent up after a few days down. Wanna play around with our quirks?” His smile turned sinister, and you couldn’t help but mirror it. You and Shinsou had met up quite a few times with the rest of the group, but you knew enough to keep your mouth closed after a declaration like that.

Knowing he would be prepared, you dove into his mind. You didn’t bother holding back, as this wasn’t true training and no one would be actively attacking you. You were unsure if it was due to his quirk, but his mental fortitude was unlike any you had seen before. He had let you in enough to communicate but his mind was built in an almost labyrinthine pattern. Most people had their one wall to either break or scale, but brute force would not work on Shinsou’s mind.

It was a back and forth between the two of you, your eyes hazy and unfocused as you meandered through his maze. It would be easy to traverse if it was anyone other than Shinsou, all you needed to get further was to get him to open up and talk.

The last time you had gathered as a group, Shinsou had brought up an interesting theory. He wondered if he could take control of your mind while communicating through his. You were unsure, but while you poked around in his head you couldn’t help wondering yourself. You were too competitive to let him win easily if it were true. So you gave as little as you could, still asking enough to get through the gaps in his defenses. You never truly responded.

“Come on, Kitten, give me something to work with.” You heard his voice echo in your head, the remnants of heat on your face rekindling at the unfamiliar pet name. Unlike you, Shinsou had the advantage of sight, watching the red bloom across your cheeks. “Oh, sweet thing, is that your weakness? I should have caught on earlier. Although…” You felt the spicy-sweet of mischievousness roll across your senses.

“It doesn’t quite hit the same from me, does it?” You knew the smirk Shinsou would have across his face. “No, you always show the cutest faces when Kirishima calls you sweet things.” You felt yourself shiver as Kirishima’s name rolled off Shinsou’s tongue in the most seductive voice you’ve ever heard from the boy.

It startled you as you heard Kirishima’s voice inside Shinsou's head, but you shouldn’t have been surprised. Shinsou had worked with his voice modifier enough that it was basically part of him. “What was it again? Princess, Buttercup, Dove, no…” The sick excitement you felt sent a chill through your veins.

“No, it was Darling. My darling princess, won’t you answer me?” You bit your lip to stop yourself from replying, but that didn’t stop your mind. It came from you unbidden, a simple muttering.

“Kiri…” The comfortable wave of being separated from your mind washed over you. It felt like floating, but you could still observe from outside of your body.

“Come here, Princess,” Shinsou ordered with a smirk. You watched as your body crawled across the couch and onto his lap, Shinsou adjusting you to straddle his lap. You felt a dazed embarrassment, you had been this close to Shinsou before, but usually after a few drinks. You watched as he pulled your head down near his, placing your head on his shoulder. His breath was warm on your ear, but it was a faint sensation to you. You could live blissfully under his mind control.

“I know your secret, Princess. You were trying to get into my mind, but I think I got into yours.” You felt his smile more than you saw it. “You’re in love, aren’t you. You keep trying to fight it, but you can’t hide it from me.” You would normally feel shocked or anxious at his words, but you couldn’t find the will to do more than numbly exist in the throes of his quirk.

You must have been wandering Shinsou’s mind for longer than you thought because the squad was starting to filter in through the door. Shinsou’s smile widened against your hair.

“Oh, hey… guys…” You heard Kirishima’s voice filter through the fog. You watched for a moment as he took in the sight of you sitting on Shinsou’s lap. Kaminari joined him shortly, his mouth stretched into a thin line.

“Hey, guys. We were just playing a little game between two mind people. Don’t mind us.” Shinsou gave you a tap on the thigh. “Princess, why don’t you go show Kirishima how much you missed him.” He grinned wildly at you as your body moved on its own. Your cloudy eyes passed over Kaminari, who looked more exasperated than upset, and move swiftly to Kirishima’s side. Your arms hung numbly around his neck as your face neared his. He wrapped you in his arms reflexively. At the last moment, Kirishima moved his head to glare at Shinsou, causing your hypnotized kiss to land just under his jaw.

Kirishima’s arms tightened around you, and you felt a deep rumble from his chest. His arms tightened to the point of pain on your bruised ribs and you swiftly broke from Shinsou’s control. With a squeak from you, Kirishima released you from your hold as you whipped around to Shinsou.

“That was a dirty trick!” You squealed, launching yourself onto his back.

“No tricks here, Kitten.” He laughed as you tried to drag him to the ground. “Plus, now we know that my theory is correct. Which means you have to be more careful in people’s heads.” His talk sobered you up a bit as you thought of the repercussions of this experiment. Before you could get too into your head thinking about it, the conflicting flavors of the emotions stewing around you pulled you to your friends.

“Well next time, maybe don’t make me sit all over you. I think someone got jealous.” You gave him a wicked smirk and pushed him into Kaminari. It was a sweet satisfaction as you saw both boys flush. Before he could retaliate, you grabbed onto Kirishima’s arm. “Now if you’ll excuse me, someone promised that we could do anything I wanted tonight. And takeout.” You quickly pulled Kirishima to the elevator and out of sight of the rest of the group.

#Kirishima Eijirou #kirishima x reader #bakusquad #mha #bnha #nyx writes #adir #bnha x reader #mha x reader

[fairyscribbles]

Like a Peach. (Lay, drabble)

Another drabble from the past darlings! Enjoy! 

-

You stared down at your hands in shock. Your whole forearms were covered in angry red dots circled by colors of purple, blue and even yellow in some places. If those weren’t your hands, you would be sure that the poor owner was probably a victim of some kind of physical attack or a severe drug user.

The thing was, you were only playing volleyball. Not only that, you were playing volleyball for 45 lousy minutes and it resulted in you having your arms so badly bruised, all your classmates treated you as if you were out of glass. But this wasn’t a case for arms only. Your legs and knees were also covered in multiple bruises with different levels of seriousness and size, the biggest one being roughly the size of your fist. Some people would ask you questions like if you had abusive parents. No, you had the best parents in the whole world who supported you when you were at your best and motivated you to go on at your lowest. No, those bruises weren’t from your parents.

After that, they would ask you if you were bullied at school. Yes, your guy friends might have been treating you at times in a way which could be considered as bullying, but they never went past the point of pain. The moment your face scrunched up in pain, playtime was over and it was time to calm down.

The last and final question, which people always seemed to ask with the most somber look, was: Did your boyfriend do this to you? That was one of the most ridiculous things you have been asked in your entire life. How could someone as perfect as Zhang Yixing hurt you? Your boyfriend of two months was perfect. It was that kind of connection that clicked immediately after you met each other and from there it went naturally. Because of your school and his tough schedules, you couldn’t see each other as often as you would’ve wanted, but it made the dates that more memorable.

Today was one of the days when you two had a movie date at his dorm and you ended up looking like a beaten orphan. You sighed, holding your bag strap tighter to you as you stared down at the pavement.

What would he say when he would see you like this? You knew Yixing hated to see you bruised and hurting, but you were never hurt this much.

Your musings stopped when you stood before the door to the dorm. You could faintly hear movement from the inside due to the thin walls and you couldn’t help but smile. You really couldn’t wait to see him again. Not wasting another minute, you lifted your hand and rapped on the door.

Within seconds, you were pulled into a tight embrace, getting pulled inside. You could already hear Yixing’s excited voice calling out your name and gushing about you finally being there. He swayed your bodies from side to side, his grip on you never wavering.

“I missed you so much.” He finally ended, leaning away to cup your face in his hands and you couldn’t help but to giggle a little when you noticed his stare. Like a chain reaction, you conjured a cute giggle from him as well, his dimple appearing. You reached out to poke it gently, unable to help yourself. He retaliated by pressing a quick peck to your lips, catching you off guard.

Even though you two were dating for two months and you decided not to rush things- which resulted in you being completely at ease with cuddling and holding hands. You shared kisses and at times, he would deepen them, but your heart would always beat so painfully hard against your chest, it made you immobile most of the time. When Yixing noticed your state, he would always pull away with a laugh and red cheeks.

Of course you loved your boyfriend’s kisses, but sometimes, he was so overwhelming you didn’t know what to do.

“Come on in, get comfy!” he said, taking your schoolbag from your arms and disappearing with it into the living room. After you took your shoes and coat off, you followed him inside the dorm to find it vacant.

“Where are the guys?” you called out to Yixing, who was currently in the kitchen doing something.

“They decided to give us some privacy since this is the first time I’ve seen you in weeks.” His muffled reply came, making you giggle. You went after him, helping him with bringing the popcorn and beverages into the living room. After settling the food on the small coffee table, Yixing moved to close the blinds over the windows, making the room dark. He then plopped down on the couch, his arm resting on the top of the cushions, inviting you into his embrace. You took it gladly, curling into his side and pulling your legs up to tuck them under your butt. Yixing’s arm closed around you, bringing you closer. His other hand reached out to grab the remote, pressing play and starting the movie.

You knew he noticed you were hurt. Every time you reached for your drink, you would wince as you put your weight on your bruised knees and once, you couldn’t help but to yelp quietly when your bruised hands throbbed with pain.

In the middle of the movie, Yixing paused with a sigh, turning on the small lamp behind the couch.

“Alright, show me your hands.”  He told you tonelessly and you shyly presented your bruised forearms to him. Upon seeing the hurt limbs, Yixing’s eyes widened to twice their size.

“Holy crap, ___!” he reached out for them, his fingers running softly over them.

“They’re burning hot! What were you doing?!” his eyes were still wide, as he looked up to stare at you incredulously.

“We were playing volleyball…” you muttered quietly, looking away from him.

“And got this?” he shook your arms gently and you shrugged.

“I just get bruises easily, okay?” he clicked his tongue, brining you closer.

‘You have to take better care of yourself, ___-ah. For my sake, at least.”  The room was quiet for a while as he just held you.

“Should I even ask what do you have on your knees?” his question made you laugh.

“You shouldn’t .” his sigh made you laugh more.

“Sorry, I’ll take better care of myself in the future.”

“Yes, you will.” He said, flicking your forehead, before resuming the movie.

It was all peaceful and nice, until you suddenly found yourself stretched out on the couch, your boyfriend hovering above you.

“Yixing?” you asked shockingly, your hands reaching up to bunch in his shirt, to push him away.

“What are yo-“ your question was cut off when he nudged your chin aside with his nose, getting better access to your neck. You were about to ask him something again, but at that moment he attached his lips to your neck, placing a wet kiss over your pale skin. He leaned away only to return once again, his lips sucking on the same place as before. Your hands clenched the material of his shirt in your fists and you unconsciously closed your eyes, turning your head to the side to give him more room. The hum in approval he gave vibrated off his lips onto your skin, making you shiver.

When you felt his teeth come in contact with your neck, you gasped out.

“Yixing, w-what are yo-“

“Taking advantage of your easy bruising.” He released your skin to cut you off again, before giving you one last, hard suck. Yixing sat up, his knees on either side of your hips and admired his work. His thumb brushed across the purplish mark blooming across your pale skin and he grinned at your flustered state. Leaning down, he pressed one last kiss to your lips, which you returned gladly, before pulling you up and back in the position you were in and as if nothing ever happened, you two returned to watch your movie. The only difference now was the mark on your neck, which you will have the hide for the upcoming two weeks from your parents, so you won’t be drastically murdered.

#lay #yixing #zhang yixing #lay zhang #story #exo #exo story #exo lay #exo lay story #exo lay scenario #exo scenario #lay scenario #lay story #yixing story #yixing scenario #exo yixing scenario #exo yixing story

[aumonstax]

#Kinkmas2018 Day 6 - Gag - Yuta

🍑Pairing: Yuta x Reader

🍑Warning: leather pants lol

a/n: Sorry this one’s out a little later, I’ve had a rough couple of days

After the incident the previous week, you had warned your boyfriend it was a one-off. Yuta had seemed so happy with himself after he’d finished you off, not leaving enough time to actually satisfy his own needs, the boys burst back into the room yelling about how much food they returned with. Luckily for the two of you, none of Yuta’s members had the faintest idea of what an ‘inside voice’ was, so you’d heard them coming from a mile away. It gave you enough time to fix your hair and adjust your clothing, while Yuta sucked his fingers clean. The sight sent a shiver down your spine, making you wish you had enough time to repay the favour.

Yuta had decided you meant just the studio, everything else was still on the table-and boy did he have something planned out.

So here you were, sitting in the dressing room backstage at NCT’s first solo concert, waiting patiently for your boyfriend to pop into the room at any moment. The group clambered through the door after finishing up the sound check, getting a quick touch up before heading back out to the stage.

Yuta trailed behind, purposefully walking slower than the rest of the group as everyone-including the stylist noonas-made their way over to the side of the stage. Once everyone else had left the room, he shut the door and ran back over to you. His signature grin settled across his face, hands crawling up your thighs as he took a seat next to you.

“Yuta, what are you doing?” You exclaimed, swatting his hands away with your eyes fixed on the door. “You need to go on stage any minute now, you don’t have time to mess around!”

A soft chuckle escaped the blonde as he climbed on top of you, pushing your shoulders down gently to lay you down across the black leather couch. With a shake of his head, Yuta looked at you with a playful smirk.

“We don’t actually go on for another 15 minutes, we have time.”

Knees nudging your thighs apart, Yuta made himself comfortable, he took in the image of your skirt bunching up around your hips. Your red lace panties on show for him, the sight eliciting a quiet groan from his lips.

You sighed softly in defeat. “Okay, fuck it.”

At your approval, Yuta felt excitement bubble up in his stomach-his mind racing with the thought of you not minding potentially being caught. He was always careful though, knowing no one would actually walk in, because of him casually warning Taeyong not to let any of the boys come looking for either of you. An embarrassed laugh was his only response, but Yuta knew Taeyong well enough to trust he would do as asked.

Hooking his fingers around the waistband of your skimpy panties, Yuta tugged them down your legs and removed them fully before balling the red fabric up in his palm and pushing the mass between your lips as a makeshift gag.

“Just in case you can’t stay quiet.” He explained, in response to your muffled words of protest, biting his lip.

Yuta’s large hands stroked up and down over your bare legs lightly in appreciation, your body felt so soft under the slightly calloused skin. Leaning down over you, Yuta’s lips hovered over your outstretched neck. He placed a gentle kiss against the flesh, just above your defined collarbone, and the muffled moan that escaped you encouraged him to lick a thick stripe up the column of your throat to the corner of your jaw. Yuta’s tongue flicking over your earlobe before taking it between his teeth and tugging lightly, your body arched up against him at the shiver that ran down your spine at the tease.

Chuckling softly, Yuta pulled back to look at you–noting the way your eyes pleaded for him to do something more.

Rocking his hips lightly against your bare core, Yuta watched for your reaction. Chuckling lowly as a muffled whimper escaped you, he gripped your hips and lifted them to match his rhythm. After a moment, he grew impatient. A soft growl left the blonde as he pulled back to see the mess you’d made on his pants, a visible wet patch over his hardened crotch from your arousal.

“Thank god these are leather.” He muttered, your body shook lightly from laughter.

Yuta unzipped the clothing in question and tugged them down to his knees, there wasn’t enough time for him to full strip either of you. Dropping his boxers around his knees as well, your boyfriend’s cock now visible, his length stood red and already leaking from the tip.

If you didn’t have your underwear forced into your mouth, you would have licked your lips at the sight. Nestled between your spread thighs, your boyfriend stroked his aching erection lazily. His other hand had made it’s way up your thighs to settle on the heat between them, the tip of his middle finger stroking up and down through your arousal to spread the slickness.

“You’re so wet for me, baby. Do you want Oppa’s cock inside you?” He tilted his head to the side, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Unable to do anything else, you simply nod.

That was more than enough for your boyfriend to halt his ministrations and push his finger into your heat with ease, he moaned at how easily the digit disappeared inside you. A second joined in momentarily before he decided that you were ready for him. Pulling both fingers out of you, Yuta licked the arousal from his soaked digits-he loved the way you tasted.

Giving himself a couple of light strokes, Yuta pushed inside you. His thick length stretched your walls deliciously, forcing a stifled moan from your lips while your fingers gripped his arms tightly to brace yourself. Taking a moment to let you adjust, he rocked his hips lightly to test the waters. After a small nod from you, Yuta pulled out almost fully-only the head of his cock still inside you. Snapping his hips harshly he was once again fully sheathed inside you. The sudden sensation sending a wave of pleasure coursing through you, back arching off the couch, your nails digging into his lean forearms.

Yuta’s forehead dropped to your shoulder, panting lightly, while his hips continued to snap into you harshly. His hands slid down from your hips to grip your legs, throwing them over his shoulders, the new angle had you seeing stars. The head of his cock ramming into your g-spot repeatedly, the sensation making the coil in your stomach tighten. The delicious moans leaving your boyfriend's lips enhancing your pleasure, knowing you had such an effect on him intensified your own pleasure. Yuta felt you tighten around him. Knowing you were getting close, his right hand releasing its grip on your thigh to wrap around your throat, his thumb pressing lightly against the vein on the side of your neck exactly how he knew you liked it.

The lack of oxygen only heightened your pleasure, eyes rolling back, it had you seeing stars. Your hips bucked up as much as they could from the position you were in, riding out your orgasm as it washed over you. Your cry of ecstasy drowned out by the panties stuffed in your mouth.

Yuta bit his lip at the feeling of you tightening around him, his thrusts now sloppy as he chased his own high, turning to your leg over his shoulder and biting the skin of your thigh to hold back his own moans of pleasure. You felt him release inside you, the warmth spread through your body.

Hips halting their movement, he stilled inside you, all that could be heard was both of your heavy panting.

Yuta dropped your legs from his shoulders, leaning forward over you he pulled the panties from your mouth, a soft chuckle escaping him at the trail of saliva that followed.

“Guess you can’t put these back on now. What a shame.” He smirked, thumbs rubbing light circles on your inner thighs.

You smacked his chest lightly as you sat up, combing your fingers through your hair in an attempt to fix the bird’s nest it must have looked like. A dull ache started to pulse along the backs of your thighs from the position he had you in, a pout settling on your face as you rubbed them.

“If I can’t walk, you’re carrying me you know?” You raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend, who was adjusting himself back into his tight leather pants.

With a nod, he looked up at you. “Yeah, I figured you’d be sore after that. Next time we’ll stretch first.”

You snorted at his sense of humour, cut short by the light rapping on the door that was followed by Taeyong’s concerned voice.

“Is it safe to come in now?”

#yuta #nakamoto yuta #nct yuta #yuta nakamoto #nct #nct scenario #nct u #nct 2018 #nct 127 #nct dream #kpop scenario #nct 127 scenario #nct u scenario #nct dream scenario #nct smut

[irelise]

the yew tree - end of pt 1

Erik has worked with Sebastian Shaw, mutant revolutionary, ever since Shaw rescued him from human experimentation when he was a boy. He is reluctantly enlisted to assist in Shaw’s newest scheme: seducing the wealthy and enigmatic Lord Xavier and claiming his vast fortune. With Shaw posing as Xavier’s doctor, Erik goes undercover as Xavier’s personal manservant to convince him to fall in love with Shaw.

But Xavier has secrets of his own, and it isn’t long before Erik starts having second thoughts about the whole thing…

(the handmaiden inspired au - no canon knowledge required

start reading here!)

Warnings for this part: Mild violence Rating: E - mind the rating change! Word count: 3875 Notes: And this marks the end of part 1! I’ll edit it over the next few days and throw it up on ao3 after, along with a very short epilogue that I’m excited for \o/

Sebastian must be in a good mood today to be so indulgent; he breathes in the fragrant scent of bergamot and stares fixedly into the distance.

“Soon,” Sebastian remarks. “With Marko out of the way, we’ll have a clear shot at carrying out our plan, and then you’ll be free of this whole tiresome thing. Looking forward to your freedom?”

“Of course.”

Sebastian prowls to stand beside him, circling like a predator. He holds himself carefully still as Sebastian sets a hand on his shoulder. “Really? No second thoughts?”

He smiles thinly. “Whatever for?”

***

It’s been hours. It’s been six fucking hours and Shaw is still in Charles’ room. Erik can’t take it anymore. He raps sharply on the door. “Everything fine in there?”

There’s no response – not in words, at least, but Erik hears plenty. A muffled noise of surprise. The creak of the bed. A rapid rustling, maybe someone’s clothes, maybe the bedsheets and the blankets.

It doesn’t matter. He’s heard enough. Erik throws the door wide open, his power latching furiously onto the metal knobs and bolts.

He had expected it, but the scene in front of him still knocks the breath out of his lungs: Shaw and Charles, in bed together, Shaw looming over Charles, bracketing Charles’ smaller body with his own, a predator crouched vicious and triumphant on top of its prey. They’re both clothed, but Charles is still in his nightgown, the collar askew. He’s flushed and rumpled, staring rapt at Shaw with those red lips of his parted expectantly. Erik can’t help it; his gaze drops lower, to Shaw’s groin and the tell-tale bulge there, rubbing against Charles’ thigh.

Erik sees red. “Get off him,” he’s shouting, the next moment blurring past in a flurry of grasping hands and thrashing bodies. Somehow, he hauls Shaw up and tosses him bodily into the hallway outside, slamming the door shut behind them.

The moment they’re hidden from Charles’ sight, Shaw slams him against the wall. His mutant strength pulses hot, and Erik wheezes in agony as Shaw shakes him like a disobedient dog, knocking his skull into the unforgiving wall again and again.

“Get off me, fuck, get off me–” His power scrabbles frantically at the metal on Shaw’s cufflinks, his belt; Shaw doesn’t blink an eye. He smiles, poisonously calm.

“Little Erik,” he croons, and Erik shudders at the way he reverts to German, a reminder of their shared past. “Breaking your promise already? Going soft for the first pretty human to look your way, I’m disappointed in you.”

Erik bares his teeth, replying in English. “You know I’m dedicated to the cause. If anything, I–”

Shaw continues as if Erik hadn’t spoken a word: “If you wanted him after I’m done with him, you only had to ask. A reward, let’s say? You’ve always been so faithful to the cause; it’s why I chose you for this job.”

Snarling, Erik shoves at Shaw’s chest. Surprisingly, Shaw lets him go, and he drops heavily to the ground, only just managing to land on his feet.

“I know my own dedication,” Erik seethes. “It’s yours I’m questioning. Wasting months here, playing house with Charles, you–”

“Oh, Erik.” Shaw tuts, still in German, and he sounds so much like the man he had been when he first rescued Erik. He had been Erik’s mentor, then. A paternal figure. Shaw claps Erik on the shoulder the same way he had when Erik was young, every time Erik had done something particularly impressive with his powers. “We’ve been through this already, haven’t we?”

Erik forcibly shoves away his memories. “I didn’t buy it then and I don’t buy it now. I’m only here for Marko.”

“Good! So it shouldn’t bother you what I do with young Lord Xavier.” Erik opens his mouth, but Shaw talks right over him. “Just a few more days, Erik. You can hold on for that long. And, like I said, if you want him after I’m done, you only have to ask.”

Shaw leans in, conspiratorial. “There’s nothing wrong with needing a bit of entertainment. Just don’t let him distract you from the cause any more than he already has, hmm?”

“Get out.”

Shaw smiles thinly. “I’ll be in touch,” he says, in English this time. Erik tracks him with his eyes and his metal-sense until he’s sure Shaw is gone. Only then does he return to Charles’ room.

Charles is sitting quietly at the reading table by the window. There’s a book in his hands, but he’s staring out at the grounds instead, pale-faced. Without waiting for an invitation, Erik slides into the seat next to him. “Hey,” he says softly. “How are you feeling? Is your migraine still…” Erik taps the side of his head.

Charles blinks, then smiles apologetically. “I’m sorry, I was miles away – welcome back, Erik, and I’m feeling much better, thank you. Yourself?”

“Fine. Been better. But fine.”

He can feel Charles hesitate, but eventually Charles says: “You were quite…upset, earlier.”

“I was,” Erik allows, still not sure how much he wants to reveal, but he’s feeling reckless – Charles already knows so much about him, what’s a little bit more? Damn Shaw for putting him into this position. Charles isn’t a toy to be passed around.

“Was it about Dr. Schmidt?”

Erik nods stiffly.

Charles turns the full force of his blue eyes on Erik. “You don’t approve? He’s clever, well-educated, with a respectable occupation…”

“He’s your doctor.” Erik snaps. “He’s taking advantage.”

Charles’ tongue swipes against his bottom lip as he thinks.  “You’ve worked with him for a long time, haven’t you? Has he done this with his other patients before?”

“…No. Just you.”

“Is it really such a stretch to think he might be genuinely interested in me?”

Oh, Shaw is interested in Charles all right, just for all the wrong reasons. “You don’t know anything about him,” Erik growls. “It’s…complicated, all right? Don’t be so quick to trust him. He’s a complicated man.”

“And so are you,” Charles murmurs.

Anger flares. “I’m nothing like him.”

“I think the two of you are more alike than you’d care to admit, my friend.” Charles’ eyes are very cool. Before Erik can think of a reply, Charles pushes himself to his feet and stalks into the study.

For the first time that Erik can remember, Charles shuts the door behind him.

***

Banished from the study, Erik finds himself at loose ends as the day ticks towards the evening. He takes dinner with the other servants, and after a bit of scowling and snapping, he bullies the cooks into making a hearty meal for Charles. Should have done it a long time ago, he thinks grimly as he brings the tray to Charles’ bedroom, letting himself in.

The door to the study is open again, and Charles appears at the doorway the instant Erik enters the room. “Erik, I–”

“Come here.” Erik sets down the tray on the reading table. “Sit down and eat.”

Charles blinks at the spread of food in front of him. “Did my uncle approve of this?”

“Forget your uncle. Eat.”

Charles hesitates for a moment, then smiles. It’s not quite a happy expression; if Erik had to describe it, he’d say Charles looks resolved.

Well, good. Anything that gets Charles out from under Kurt Marko’s thumb is progress. Erik grins fiercely as he watches Charles sit and tuck in with vigour, eyes closing with obvious enjoyment. “This is excellent, Erik. Would you like some?”

“I had dinner already.”

“Mm. Try some anyway.”

They eat together quietly. Erik is burning with questions about Charles’ earlier odd mood, but something about Charles discourages him from asking, and Erik is reluctant to disturb the reflective peace that had fallen over the two of them. He can’t shake the feeling that they won’t get very many more of these moments. So he eats and drinks, watching the silver flash of cutlery between Charles’ fingers, knowing Charles is watching him in return.

After dinner they move into the study. Charles reads for them as he always does, Erik absorbing his words as easy as breathing, surrounded by the rich cadence of Charles’ voice.

But there’s something different about Charles. Normally, he interrupts his own reading with little bursts of animation, calling Erik’s attention to interesting bits of scientific theory as he goes, asking his opinion on this and that. None of that happens tonight. Charles only reads, reads like he’s trying to lose himself in the words.

The first time Charles loses track of where he’s up to, Erik raises an eyebrow. That’s new.

The second time it happens, Erik leaves his seat and strides over to Charles, easily snagging the book from Charles and ignoring his startled little noise of protest. “You’re miles away tonight. What’s on your mind?”

Charles makes a half-hearted (and very futile) swipe for his book. Erik holds it out of his reach, mouth quirking into a small grin.

“God’s sake,” Charles huffs, but he’s smiling as well, just a little.

Erik casually flicks open the book, making a show of paging through it idly. “Well?”

Not for the first time that night, Charles’ gaze returns to the window, the levity fading from him. He’s silent, but Erik’s intuition tells him not to push. He’s rewarded a few moments later when Charles says, in that quiet, honest way of his: “I’m afraid. I’m very tired, my friend, and I’m afraid.”

Only Charles would expose his soft underbelly like this and trust Erik not to take advantage. The golden lamplight falls on the pale curve of his neck, bare and vulnerable.

“What are you afraid of?” Erik asks softly. “Tell me. We’ll fight it together.”

Charles stands in one fluid movement. He takes the book from Erik, shelving it back into its rightful place. His fingers stroke down the spine in a strangely tender gesture.

It feels like a goodbye.

“Let’s go to bed.” Charles brushes past him, heading back to the bedroom.

“We’re not d–”

Charles glances back at him. “Erik. I’ll tell you everything. I promise.”

Somehow, Erik believes him. He follows Charles into the bedroom, assisting him through his nightly routine. The monotony relaxes his mind. It’s easy to immerse himself in the moment, especially when it comes to stripping Charles out of all his tailored clothes, smoothing his hands along Charles’ arms and torso and legs as he helps him into his simple nightwear. Charles looks younger without the shield of all his formal wear, standing lonely and bare-footed in a room much too big for one person.

Duty done, Erik turns to leave, but a hand on his elbow stops him. He raises an eyebrow at Charles. It’s not often that Charles touches him. “Need something?”

“I did say to let’s go to bed.” Charles licks his lips, the way he does when he’s either nervous or focusing intently on something, but his gaze remains steady.

Erik frowns, turning those words over in his head. He can’t mean… “What, together?”

In lieu of a proper response, Charles steps closer. Erik goes rigid as Charles’ fingers trail along his arm. “May I?” Charles asks softly, and Erik has no answer for him.

Charles’ fingers go to the starched white collar of his servant’s shirt. Erik swallows, throat bobbing, as Charles undoes the first button, a small frown of concentration on his face. He should stop this. Things are complicated enough without…whatever this is.

He doesn’t move.

Charles bends, his slim form pale and graceful as the neck of a crane. Erik’s shirt falls away. He’s still in his undershirt, but Erik feels wholly naked, especially when Charles drops to one knee and hooks his thumbs against the waistband of Erik’s trousers.

Their eyes meet, Charles’ a flash of blue under his dark lashes, and his red mouth curves into a smile. Heat jolts up Erik’s spine.

“You–” Without thinking about it, his hand tangles into Charles’ curls. “What are you up to, Charles?”

Charles has the nerve to blink innocently. “Helping you get ready for bed, of course. The exact same thing as what you do for me every night, or have you forgotten already?”

“Not like this.”

“Like what?”

Erik groans, his grip tightening momentarily. He shouldn’t be doing this. He doesn’t even know why Charles is doing this. Charles wants Shaw, not him. Erik doesn’t fit into Charles’ neat existence.

He shouldn’t be doing this, but he’s weak, so weak, when it comes to Charles. Fuck it. One night of selfishness, is that really so bad? “You know what? Suit yourself.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” With a final grin, Charles tugs down Erik’s trousers, slow and smooth. He stands again once he’s done, taking Erik by the hand and leading him to the bed, leaving Erik’s clothes a messy heap on the floor.

“Charles. You’re sure about this?”

Charles settles himself into the bed, tugging Erik down with him. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“All right.” Erik turns to blow out the gas lamp, darkness settling over the room like a velvet shroud. The moon is high and bright in the sky, almost full, and in the silver shadows of the room, Erik remembers the night he had first met Charles. The room had looked much like this, then. Charles had looked the same too, pale and haunted from his nightmare.

But Erik hadn’t wanted to comfort him then. Strange how quickly things can change. Erik gently pulls the blanket over the two of them – how long has it been since he’s shared someone else’s bed? – and for a moment, he feels clumsy and awkward, his body taking up too much space.

Ridiculous. Charles had invited him here. Indeed, Charles is nestling closer, almost touching but not quite. He could wrap his arms around Charles if he wanted to. They lie there, face-to-face, quietly studying each other.

“Earlier,” Erik says, reluctant to disturb the peace, but he has to know, “you said you were afraid. Of what?”

Charles’ calm flickers. “I’ve told you my uncle is leaving on a business trip.”

It feels like a stone had dropped into Erik’s stomach. “What about it?”

“He’ll be away for a few days. It’s rare that he leaves the house like this – leaves me unsupervised, that is.” The blanket shifts around them, Charles restlessly plucking at the fabric. “Dr. Schmidt thought it would be a good opportunity.”

To do what? Erik wants to ask, but he’s never been one to play dumb. “He proposed,” he says flatly.

“Yes.”

“Are you going to accept?” Do you love him?

“I don’t know.” Charles bites his lip. “Likely yes.”

No. Erik’s hands dart out, gripping Charles’ shoulders. “Charles–”

“I know you don’t want me to. I won’t ask why, I know there are some things you can’t explain to me.” Charles shifts closer. If he angles his head just a bit and leans forward, then… “I just want you to know that I trust you, Erik. I trust you more than I trust him.”

“And you’re still marrying him.”

Charles’ smile is wistful. “You have your secrets, I have mine.”

“Is this what this is? Payback?”

“No, my friend, no.” Charles’ eyes are very wide, just a hint of blue visible in the dark. “No, of course not. It’s only…”

He closes the last little bit of distance between them. Charles’ lips are so soft, wonderfully soft, plush and giving against Erik’s. He must be nervous – Erik himself feels his heart thundering wild and fast – but Charles never hesitates. He pulls back just for a second, long enough to give Erik a fleeting smile, then he’s kissing Erik again, cupping his cheek and making a quiet little noise as he parts his lips.

And Erik – he’s never claimed to be virtuous. How many times has he thought about Charles’ mouth? Dreamt of it? The second his surprise fades, Erik kisses him back with the same controlled ferocity that characterises everything he does. For the second time that night, his fingers tangle into Charles’ dark curls, cradling the back of his skull and holding him close. Charles must be new to this, he knows, so Erik takes the initiative, deepening the kiss and licking into the wet heat of Charles’ mouth. Charles jumps under his hands, letting out a startled noise as their tongues slide against each other, and Erik grins, savagely pleased. He’s the first person to show Charles this. This belongs to him, to them, no one else.

Charles is the first to pull back. The darkness hides much of the detail, but Erik sees enough to send possessive fire streaking through him: Charles, bright-eyed and tousled, already breathing hard. “Erik,” he says urgently, almost a moan.

There’s only one thing Erik can do in response to that. He kisses Charles again, and again, and again, pulling him close and slotting their bodies together. Nobody has ever made him feel like this before. Mine, his thoughts rumble. Shaw can’t have him. He’s mine. Mine to protect. Rolling the two of them over, he pins Charles to the bed as they sink deeper into heady, senseless bliss, pleasure jolting through him as Charles’ tongue thrusts against his and their bodies move together, slow at first, then with increasing confidence.

Eventually Charles has to pull back for breath, and Erik takes great satisfaction in the way he gasps and squirms, pupils blown wide: “I don’t kno– I haven’t ever–”

“Shh.” Erik kisses him again, fond but heated. He can barely remember his earlier misgivings. “Come on, take this off, I want to see you.” He rucks up Charles’ nightshirt; Charles all but yanks it over his head. Then his hands slide under Erik’s undershirt, rubbing, and Erik groans lowly.

“Good, isn’t it?” There’s a gleam in Charles’ eyes as he leans forward for another peck on the lips, their noses bumping together.

“I’ll make you feel even better,” Erik promises. He pulls off his undershirt impatiently, and then they’re kissing again, only it’s even better this time as their bare chests press together. Erik can’t take his hands off Charles, who keeps making indecent little noises – after spending every day wrapped up in all those stifling layers of his, locked away in his lonely cage, he must be absolutely overwhelmed by all this contact.

No more. He’ll rip down all these walls that imprison Charles. He’ll set him free.

Charles kisses him with sudden ferocity, hands wrapping around Erik’s shoulders and all but dragging him down. “Yes,” he pants. “Yes, Erik.”

“Come here,” he says throatily, sliding a hand between them to palm at Charles’ groin. Charles gasps, jerking, and Erik squeezes. The thin fabric of Charles’ nightwear hides nothing: he’s incredibly hot and hard under Erik’s hand, and he can feel a damp spot on the fabric, Charles leaking precome already.

“Erik,” Charles’ breath hitches. “Touch me properly.”

Erik grins at that hint of demand, grins at the way Charles’ true self shines through his reserve. “Whatever you want, sir.”

“Don’t teas– nngh!” Charles arches with a cry as Erik slides a hand down his pants, taking hold of his cock properly. Oh fuck, why didn’t he do this earlier? Its weight feels perfect in his hands, blood-hot, the foreskin smooth. He pulls languidly, from base to tip, unable to take his eyes off the needy twist of Charles’ expression.

Not that Charles will lie still for long. “Let me, ah, let me touch you too.” And then it’s Erik’s turn to groan as Charles’ clever fingers close around his cock, stroking down the thick shaft. Growling, he pulls Charles’ pants off completely (Charles helpfully wiggling and kicking), but before he can kiss and suck his way down Charles’ torso the way he wants to, Charles’ hands are on him.

Ever the quick learner, Charles divests Erik of the last of his undergarments in short order, leaving the two of them completely bared to each other. Charles’ eyes rake up and down his body with obvious desire; Erik is sure the look on his own face is no less hungry.

Again they kiss, although Erik can’t be sure who initiates this time. For a few moments they merely rub against each other, Erik loving the feel of Charles’ smaller body under his own, Charles’ thighs and cock pressing against his without the barrier of cloth in the way. “You feel amazing, you know that? You’re–”

“Touch me,” Charles demands, half a plea. Erik is only too happy to oblige. Slicking his hand with spit, he presses their cocks together and strokes, Charles moaning as he thrusts against Erik’s cock and hand. Erik starts as Charles brings his hand down as well, clasping his.

But it feels right. Together, their fingers interlaced, they kiss and thrust messily against each other, the velvet darkness of the room filling with quiet panting and the slick noises of their pleasure. Erik shows Charles how best to twist his hand, how to squeeze and pull.

Charles comes first, with a soft, startled cry, spilling messily over their joined hands. The sight of Charles’ body clenching up, then the tension leaving him in a rush, his face open and vulnerable – that’s enough to drive Erik to the edge. The jerk of their hands reaches a frenzied pace and suddenly he’s coming too, the room reverberating with the force of his ragged cry. It’s a release in more ways than one, as he finally gives voice to all the suppressed conflict and fury and overwhelming need that had plagued him these last few months.

He can’t do anything but lie there afterwards. Charles shifts gently so that they rest side by side, holding Erik close as he trails sleepy kisses against his cheek and jaw, to the corner of his lips.

“I should clean us up,” Erik says half-heartedly.

“No. Stay.” For someone who had just come, Charles sounds remarkably firm. “I want you with me.”

Those words could almost be an aphrodisiac all by themselves. To be seen, to be wanted, to be accepted unequivocally – Charles has a way of striking right to the heart of Erik’s desires.

It’s too good to be true, and that’s what allows reality to slowly creep back in again. Erik withdraws, physically putting a bit of space between them again, mentally trying to detangle himself from the haze of affection he feels. “Charles. You know this can’t last.”

“We’ll find a way.” Charles looks at him, so solemn and so confident that Erik aches. “I’m serious, Erik. Whatever may come, I want you by my side.”

“You don’t know me. Not really.”

“I do.” Charles closes the gap between them again, pressing their foreheads together. “There’s so much anger and darkness within you, my friend, but that’s not all you are. You, you’re so passionate and brilliant, Erik. You care so deeply. There’s so much light in you.”

“No,” Erik says harshly. He can’t do this anymore. He can’t. “You’re wrong. You don’t know the truth.”

“Then tell me.”

Erik takes a deep breath, the world clicking into place as he makes his decision.

#cherik #xmfc #my writing

[danielxrk]

                ✞ YOU NEED ME *     I DON’T NEED YOU 

-- before --

life is a whirlwind. he foolishly spent the early days of april breathless and hoping for respite, thinking surely, god would take pity on him and make april a month of peace. maybe, finally, something that shook him to his very core wouldn’t happen month after month. maybe he could move past a drunken kiss with a boy on valentine’s day, and past that boy’s appearances on nova’s new survival show-- past a confession of love from a different boy the month after. maybe he could move past all of the extra time spent with joohyun, her delicate hands still wrapped around some piece of his heart, despite all of it-- despite that heart being torn in a hundred different directions more than ever. he’s always been flighty in love, always hesitant, always uncertain, but this is worse. maybe he’s spent two months with a certain sickness in his stomach that just keeps getting worse.

he doesn’t think much of the announcement of trc’s new auditions; in fact he’s almost certain he won’t go. there’s too much going on his life, both on an interpersonal level and with empty enigma, namely their new album in its final stages. if he didn’t want to be a trainee during the mgas, he certainly doesn’t want to be one now. and yet he can’t say no to joohyun, and a mutual pact that if he goes she’ll go. if that wasn’t enough, jinah encourages him to go, too. hehow does he always end up here? 

at first, he makes the same mistake as he made with the mgas too: thinks there’s no way he has what it takes to get signed, and vows to do his best. he practices his dancing with joohyun, and it brings back memories of similar on the mgas, and maybe he’s even worse now. she does her best, and he’s grateful for her, but as the days go on, fear takes root. he fears another audition-- a contract in his hands. he fears stealing opportunity from others where he doesn’t want it. he can’t settle on a performance anyway until he decides he’ll just stand on stage with his guitar. he’ll sing and rap, but if he doesn’t dance, surely he can’t win. surely he’ll get to stand on stage, then go home, and return to his life as he knows it. (what is life as he knows it now? he doesn’t know.)

joohyun probably suspects as much when he doesn’t ask for her help with his dancing anymore, and when he plays guitar for her instead. sure, he could do both, but he won’t. he doesn’t tell her, either.

-- april 14 --

sundays at his mother’s church of choice are always filled with a certain tension for daniel. whether it happens or not, daniel always feels some kind of torn apart by her, and her friends, and the church that preaches less love and more perfection. still, he suffers through it for his family’s sake, and knowing that because he does this, his mother lets him go to church with his grandmother the other three weeks of the month.

the drive home is uneventful, and daniel relaxes, glad the worst part is over with. (but the worst is yet to come.)

they eat lunch, dad drifts away to do work, mina goes upstairs to her room, and it’s daniel and his mother. they clean up the table together, collecting dishes and silverware, and it’s when his mother passes him, returning from the kitchen back to the table, that she stops. she grabs him by the bottom of his ear, and he tenses on instinct, despite not knowing what comes next.

“are your ears pierced?” she asks, and her voice is equally piercing.

“yes...?” he answers, because the evidence is there. there’s no point in lying about this.

“why?” she has that look on her face: the raised eyebrows, the tongue laced in criticism, the heavy, inevitable disappointment. “daniel, where have you been?”

what lie does he spin now, to join the others? i’m going to study, i’m going to work, i’m going to the library, i’m going to haknyeon’s, i have work, all to cover up empty enigma shows and rehearsals and album preparation and friends she wouldn’t approve of and the fact that he’s raising a dog with a girl that she does like, if he remembers right. when does it stop?

now, he decides, finally. he is carrying too much weight around. soon his chest will cave in, if he doesn’t get rid of something. this has to be it. “mom, i have...a lot to tell you.”

so he does. he tells her that he loves music, and that he’s in a metal band-- about empty enigma, and that they’re his best friends, some of the best people he’s ever met. he tells her it’s been a year and a half, that he hasn’t been going where he’s told her, that he’s been performing shows, and going to rehearsal, and working on an album, but that his grades are still good-- that he can handle it-- that it’s okay.

she looks at him in silence for long, deafening seconds. his ears ring, and he meets her gaze, not fearless, but anticipating. “okay,” she breathes at last, and he lets out a breath of air the tension kept in his lungs. “i’ve raised you how i thought i should. it’s your life, and you’re old enough to make your own choices, so you can do what you choose with it.” he’s so relieved. is that it? he gets his hopes up.

“but,” and it comes crashing down again. he hangs on every word. “if you want to do this, you won’t do it while under my roof.”

he expected it. no, he expected worse, really. in this there is a promise that their relationship will continue as it has so long as he moves out, and if he’s going to make choices without her approval, that he needs to take steps to be entirely independent. as the moments stretch on, he thinks it’s fair. he understands, and if she can’t accept this about him ( oh god, there’s so much worse she might need to accept) then he doesn’t want to live with her anyway.

“okay,” he agrees, but it still stings.

he doesn’t have an apartment, and he doesn’t know what to do, so he calls the first person he thinks of-- the first place he would want to go in a situation like this: ha sungwoon.

he doesn’t hesitate as long as he should. he calls, and when sungwoon picks up, he resists the word sorry on the tip of his tongue. “so, i told my mom about the band. she wants me out of the house today. do you guys...have space for me on your couch?”

-- after --

it’s not as bad as it could be. it’s not as bad as he expected, daniel, always expecting the worst. the empty enigma members are still his best friends, and they still assure him that it’s no trouble-- still welcome him with open arms, and he claims he isn’t upset. he doesn’t think he is, but he knows he needs them, anyway.

it’s not even as bad with sungwoon as it could be. maybe they’ve gotten their awkwardness out of their system, as much as they tried to play it off like nothing was wrong in front of the other guys to avoid questions. he doubts they succeeded, given the sheer amount of concern for sungwoon daniel has been unable to shake since his birthday, trying to tiptoe the line of taking advantage of his feelings and treating him the same as he did before. by the time he’s sleeping on his couch, though, things feel almost normal, or he can delude himself into thinking so.

kenta helps him with apartment hunting, and minhyun makes sure he’s eating well, and jihoon offers his own form of support, in his typical nonchalant jihoon way, or maybe daniel just finds the consistency he brings comforting in a time of such turbulent change. 

he still feels that weight on his chest, though unveiling his secrets to his mother provided some relief. maybe it’s spending so much time around sungwoon that makes it progressively harder to breathe, or the ever-present fear that he’s overstaying his welcome with his friends, or his sudden dissatisfaction with the song he’s practiced for the triple threat challenge, on top of everything else, but eventually he just needs to speak. minhyun becomes his unfortunate victim, and he tells him everything-- not naming names, of course, and the burden becomes easier to carry when it’s shared with someone else. he’s grateful.

still, he considers backing out of the triple threat challenge altogether. he just doesn’t know if he’s up for it, and yet there’s some tiny flame in his soul that craves the stage again, as daniel, away from empty enigma and his storm of feelings and fears surrounding them. so, he does what’s natural: overhauls his performance and starts preparing a new song five days before the performances.

he doesn’t have anything against empty enigma; he loves them with all of his heart, actually, but he’s introverted, and spending so much of his time around four other guys takes its toll, not even considering the one that’s in love with him whom he himself has undetermined feelings for (???). he wants to perform without them, and this seems like his best chance.

so he’ll do it, and he’ll do it with confidence, throwing caution to the wind.

-- after --

even with all of the performers preceding him, and their talent, he isn’t shaken. it’s different from the mgas; he doesn’t feel so out of his element here, though he’s far from a triple threat. he never claimed to be, and he won’t. instead, he feels oddly settled-- ready, even as he cheers for joohyun and tries to maintain his composure during her performance. he sees other familiar faces too, both among the performances and those who haven’t performed just yet.

they call him up to wait backstage, and he does, trusty guitar hung over his shoulder, fingers tapping on the body of it, without a pick-- just him, his guitar, and his voice. just daniel, though maybe he’ll bring a little bit of cameo too.

he’s up next, and he strides onto the stage, and grins when he looks out over the crowd. empty enigma’s venues are always smaller-- darker lit. this is more reminiscent of the mgas, and he feels at home instead of daunted (though maybe still a little daunted.)

“i’m kang daniel,” he greets. again. do you remember me? he wouldn’t be surprised if no one remembers, but he hopes they do. “this is an ed sheeran song.” he’ll leave the title as a mystery for now.

he starts strumming, a quiet sound, and launches into the rhythmic singing-rapping style:

cause with the lyrics i'll be aiming it right i won't stop until my name's in lights with stadium heights, with damien rice on red carpets, now i'm on arabian nights because i'm young i know my brothers gonna give me advice

you need me, i don’t need you is a song with more spunk than daniel originally thought he was cut out for. who is he, someone no company has need of, to stand on stage and claim ‘you need me, i don’t need you?’ no one, really. he doesn’t know if he means it, though he doesn’t think he does need a big company to love music and succeed with it. empty enigma may be far from a famous, fortune-producing band, but they have their fans, and they have their heart in it, and that’s what matters to him. that’s what he wants to pursue, more than anything, and the longer he practiced this song, the more he believed it, even with all of its references he didn’t always understand-- even with its rapid-fire english that sometimes still felt more comfortable to him than korean.

but still, there’s very little time to breathe.

long nighter, right height and i gone hyper never be anything but a singer-songwriter, yeah the game's over but now I'm on a new level watch how i step on the track without a loop pedal

he made small alterations to the lyrics during the preparation process to reflect him more, kang daniel, so it felt believable, because the song is nothing if not genuine. at it’s core, it’s about staying true to yourself, about not changing for others, and maybe he needed to perform this song instead of the one he practiced before it because it’s so relevant. it’s for his mom, and anyone that would look down on him for loving music, not just something cheeky to sing to tiger jk’s face, though that’s an added bonus. (maybe, once the familiar performance bravado fades, he’ll feel embarrassed. maybe the gall will disappear, and he’ll be left with that even more familiar, ever-present fear. for now, he doesn’t feel it.)

people think that i'm bound to blow up i've done around about a thousand shows but i haven't got a house plus i live on a couch so you believe the lyrics when i'm singing them out wow, from day one i've been prepared with V05 wax for my silver hair so now i'm back to the sofa giving a dose of what the future holds

again, the relevancy. it’s only fitting he sing-raps a song about living on a couch while literally doing so, and that he can sing this is evidence of his growth. he says silver hair, a reference to cameo, his still ultimately secret empty enigma stage persona, with ease, something that would’ve paralyzed him with fear around six months ago. for him, what the future holds is empty enigma’s album, and if this performance is at all impressive, they’re so much stronger together. 

i’ve still got a rucksack full of old clothes, i rap with the cold flows i’m back with the old jokes, in fact you don’t know ‘em tracks that throw blows and make my punchlines relevant if you can’t keep up you’re getting on my ??? my flow’s developing, skin lacks the melanin give me a shot of adrenaline and i get it in do it for the hell of it  ‘cause ever since i hit the mainstream with team c i seem to sell a bit

yes, do it for the hell of it, like he’s doing this, right now. he wrote in a reference to his first team on the mgas, too-- team c, perhaps the only team that didn’t come up with a special team name that first week, replacing ed sheeran’s original mention of his first single, the a-team. it seemed only fitting, if this song is about his journey now, too, and he wants it to be so.

i took my ??? back with the women then i package the image put in some content, then i sold it back as a gimmick the fact is this end up dating actresses wake up on dirty mattresses i think i need to practice this

this is the part of the song he can’t relate to as much, because as flirtatious as he is when cameo is on stage, and in the after-parties after, he does not wake up on dirty mattresses (except for that one time.) he didn’t rewrite it though, instead, keeping it in to keep the rhythm the same, and because it just seemed to suit the song. it wasn’t worth changing. 

the song is so fast, he doesn’t get a moment to rest from it, his mouth spitting line after line one after another. when he first started practicing, his tongue felt heavy in his mouth, like he was having an allergic reaction, and maybe he isn’t really a good enough rapper for this. maybe he didn’t give himself enough time to practice (though he already knew the song well before he even considered performing it, so that helped). in the end, it’s fun, and that’s what matters most.

the next part might be his favorite:

but i make shit happen, call me a laxative world’s on my shoulders, i don’t even know what atlas is hot bars sharp like the cactus is i’m back to rapping back to back ‘cause i’ve been practicing i’m baptizing this

if only because he gets to say shit in front of tiger jk, and he will bear the consequences, should they come. he’s already censoring the song further down the line, and if he’s going to be ballsy enough to sing this song in the first place, he’ll be ballsy enough to sing the word shit, damn it. the whole world was on his shoulders before he stepped on this stage, but he feels lighter now, suddenly, and he’s been practicing too. rapping wasn’t a skill he really knew he possessed until now, but one he found himself enjoying, and dare he say, with a natural knack for. maybe some of that empty enigma screaming transferred over, and he wouldn’t be daniel without some reference to christianity, would he?

finally, the chorus comes, and it’s the closest thing to a break he gets, returning to the more familiar comfort of all out singing.

cause you need me, man, i don’t need you you need me, man, i don’t need you you need me, man, i don’t need you at all you need me, man, i don’t need you you need me, man, i don’t need you you need me, man, i don’t need you you need me, man, i don’t need you, no

it’s the first time he sings the words, and what the guitar crescendoed to up until now, and he keeps a confident, borderline smug look on his face-- tries to look toward tiger jk and make eye contact. if he’s going to do it, he might as well sell it. he’s heard the ceo appreciates boldness. maybe he’ll entertain him, at the very least. or maybe the ceo will think it’s massively disrespectful. time will tell.

i'll keep my last name forever, keep this genre pretty basic gonna be breaking into other people's tunes when i chase it and replace it with the elephant in the room with a facelift slipping into another rapper shoes using new laces i'm selling CDs from my rucksack aiming for the papers selling CDs from my rucksack aiming for the majors nationwide tour with just jack, still had to get the bus back clean cut kid without a razor for the moustache

another opportunity for him to change the lyrics to something to better suit him, because he admittedly doesn’t know what just jack is. his guess is a band that ed sheeran toured with, but he couldn’t come up with something that suited both himself and the song, so he kept it. empty enigma hasn’t done a nationwide tour, anyway; they’re all just big dreams. they’ll still just be selling cds from a rucksack and aiming for the majors.

i hit back when the pen hurts me i'm still a choir boy in a thin church tee i'm still the same as a year ago but more people hear me though according to the naver and youtube videos

lyric changes this time: fenchurch to thin church, taking a brand name he didn’t understand to something that reflects his background, and how his first real introduction to music was in church-- how he first sang in a church choir and his mom only let him listen to christian music for the longest time. he changed myspace to naver, something more time-relevant and daniel relevant. a year ago was before he set foot on the mgas-- before he even knew he loved music, while he still wasn’t even sure if he loved empty enigma. he still thought it was all a phase, and something he’d escape from, eventually returning to a life of safety and monotony. even with the events of 2019, he’s still glad for that year of difference. he’s thankful.

the guitar all but cuts out, nothing but daniel’s voice and a few accents from strings for the next part:

i'm always doing shows if I'm not I'm in the studio truly broke, never growing up, call me rufio melody music maker, reading all the papers they say i’m up and coming like i'm effing in an elevator

ah yes, there it is: the elevator line, something he would not have the courage to sing by himself in the bathroom, let alone on stage in front of tiger jk and at least 100 people, were it not for the power of cameo. with this extra bravery, he sings it casually, as if it’s the same as the other hundred lines he’s spit. what’s more important: he’s been working his ass off for music, as the lyrics suggest, and he’ll find fulfillment in that, with or (preferably) without trc’s help, that much is certain.

in comes the final hit of the chorus, the figurative sigh of relief and sign of his two minutes up on stage, jam-packed with content, coming to a close. it’s the explanation point on the end of a performance he poured his heart into, both now and leading up to this.

'cause you need me, man, i don’t need you you need me, man, i don’t need you

#rkttc2 #joohyunrk #rknvna #rkxsungwoon #rkminhyun #rkkenta #jihoonrk #rkrxcky #indirectly #;ee #;solo #;youneedmeidon'tneedyou #( * what a monster of a solo #i just used it to cover all of daniel's development in the past couple months #probably didn't tag everyone mentioned i'm tired #his hair is blond ic and these gifs aren't That Relevant but he didn't dance so no performance gifs!! #also worth noting that he finishes this like the end of the vid ) #( * i had to transpose some of these lyrics myself too bc there were none for this version omg u can tell because of the ??? LMAO )

[dr-m-r-ma]

Beautiful

Part 2 / 2

Genre: fluff Rating: PG-13 (language) Group: Monsta-X

Summary: Lina and her friend Mel sit down at a cafe and catch up while listening to the songs the cafe plays. Little do they know, they sat down next to Monsta X.

Disclaimer: This is 100% fictional and my own story. It is unrelated to the actual events and real persons of Monsta X and Starship. Lina Kim is a completely made-up character that I created for this fanfic. Parts will be written in Korean with English translations. I did not major in English/Korean, nor was I ever strong in English/Korean grammar, so there will be grammatical mistakes. This fanfic is written in third person and past-tense for ease of writing.

Suddenly, Lina’s phone vibrated and a tune flowed out.

“Ay 난 너의 악당들을 모두 하나같이 뱅 뱅 뱅 뱅 하늘을 슝슝 그냥 막 하늘을 날아다녀 슈퍼맨”

Everyone froze when the lines were rapped in the most adorable high pitched voice. Lina slammed her hand on her phone and quickly picked up the phone while Mel couldn’t contain her laughter.

“I’M WHEEZING WHAT IS THAT RINGTONE”

“어 엄마” (Translation: “Yeah mom”) Lina felt the heat rise to her cheeks as she answered her mother. In the corner of her eyes, she noticed the group next to them whispering and shaking. ‘Great, they’re also wheezing at  my ringtone….’

On the other side, her mom asked, “뭐가 그렇게 시끄러워?? (Translation: What’s so loud there??) Also what time are you coming home?”

Lina waved Mel down to quiet down and replied, “It’s just Mel laughing -- I think we’re going to get dinner so maybe after 10?”

Her mom said, “Okay, let me know when you’re ready to leave and be careful driving!” They both hung up and Lina turned to Mel, who was still trying really hard to stifle her laughter.

“Wow that’s one wild ringtone, what is it even,” Mel gasped in between her giggles.

Lina sighed, “Umm… it’s one of the rappers from Monsta X rapping his line in a cute way on ASC. I thought it would be fun to use it as an alarm… but I forgot I also set it as my parents’ ringtones….”

“Oh my god AS AN ALARM hahaha you’re crazy!”

Mel continued to snicker without noticing the prickly glances now coming from the employees as well as the group next to them. Lina’s eyebrows crinkled as she dropped her head low to avoid the glances. She texted Mel:

“Stfu we’re being hardcore stared at by the employees AND the weird group next to us”

Mel glanced down curiously at her phone before reading it and looking around. She peeked at the employees, who were chuckling at them, then looked at the group next to them. Mel noticed they were trying to hide their faces but were struggling to keep their voices down. She caught sight of one of the group’s eyes, and started to say something as the next song played.

Lost In The Dream - Monsta X

“La la la la la La la la la la”

Mel looked at Lina and looked back down at her phone, which buzzed with a string of messages from Lina:

“???” “Another one???” “They never play the same artist three times in a row…?” “Wait I’m gonna get water -- one of the employees just motioned me over”

Lina got up and walked over to the water station, where an employee they met a few times stood next to. Mel watched them talk and curiously saw Lina’s face twist into what seemed like shock and embarrassment.

She shivered when she realized they were being watched by the group next to them, so Mel took the chance to stare back. With a frown on her face, she stared at two of the guys. The two guys didn’t turn away and simply stared amusingly, which made Mel even more confused. She glanced at the others in their table, and eventually each one of them showed more of their faces to Mel.

And then it clicked.

Lina walked back nervously, glanced at the group, then sat back down. As she typed into her phone to tell Mel what she had just heard, a foot flew deep into her shin under the table.

“WHAT THE F-- OW?!?!?” Lina whisper-yelled. She looked up at Mel and Mel pointed towards the group.

*Cough* *Cough*

“Uh.. Hello…” One of them lifted his hood and revealed himself.

Rubbing the spot she was kicked and feeling the pain, Lina thought, ‘wait… if I can really feel this pain… then… this guy who looks like Minhyuk with Minhyuk’s voice… IS MINHYUK???’ She blinked a few times and stared, shell-shocked by the situation. She noticed the other guys also lifting their hoods and hats to reveal their faces a little more. Her eyes widened. ‘Damn I thought the employee was pulling a prank on me….’ Lina snapped out of her stupor when her phone buzzed quietly. She glanced down quickly and noticed a text from Mel.

“dReAm CoMe TrU!!!!”

Lina’s gaze slowly rose up to look at Mel and she scowled when Mel cackled silently. Minhyuk tapped the girls’ table and asked, “아, 근데 한국사람이죠?” (Translation: “Ah, but you’re Korean right?”)

Startled, Lina flinched before answering, “ㅇ-어… 네….” (Translation: “U-uh… yes….”) She didn’t know what else to say, since the whole situation seemed absolutely crazy… and the fact that she had been fangirling about Monsta X right next to them was somewhat very embarrassing.

There was a moment of silence before Minhyuk spoke to her again. “근데… 그 벨소리… ㅎ 주헌이 목소리죠?” (Translation: “But… that ringtone… lol is Jooheon’s voice, right?”)

Feeling the heat rise up to her cheeks and even up to tips of her ears, Lina nodded and looked away. The members laughed quietly while Lina slowly slid her foot to tap against Mel’s feet. She hoped Mel would get the signal and make an excuses to escape the situation, but even as she continued to quietly tap, Mel made no moves. Lina peeked at Mel and frowned when she saw Mel smiling evilly while eating the leftover food. ‘Dammit Mel, pretending like you don’t know why I’m tapping your feet!!’

“그럼 우리 주헌이 애교 좋아하는거죠?” (Translation: “Then you must like Jooheon’s aegyo, right?”) Minhyuk then turned to Jooheon, who was peeking from the side between Minhyuk and Wonho. “애교 좀 보여드려~” (Translation: “Show her some aegyo~”)

Jooheon poked his head out further and smiled, revealing his deeply sunken dimples. Mel gasped, “oh my god, SO MUCH AEGYO.” Surprised by Mel’s reaction, Jooheon laughed nervously and whispered to Minhyuk, “잠깐만, 벌써 애교 좋다고 그러는데???” (Translation: “Wait she’s already saying she likes me aegyo though???”)

Minhyuk turned to Mel and explained, “Ah, no, that’s not right aegyo. He has… another aegyo. Real aegyo.” He motioned to Jooheon and Jooheon sighed, giving short glances towards Lina. Lina looked curiously and cheered him on with a smile, since he looked like a small nervous animal.

“꾸꾸까까?” (Translation: “Kku kku kka kka?”)

With a peace sign slapped against his face, the rapper’s face turned beet red. Lina stifled her laughter successfully and managed to croak out, “감사합니다…” (Translation: “Thank you…”)

Jooheon covered his face with his hands before replying in a muffled voice, “어우 아니에요 죄송...해요….” (Translation: “Oh no I’m… sorry….”)

Lina looked at Mel, who was visibly shaking and had her fingers scrunched up from the cringe. Thankfully, the other members of Monsta X cracked, laughing openly at Jooheon’s famous aegyo. Jooheon pursed his lips bashfully, revealing his dimples once again, and lightly punched Minhyuk. Lina heard him whisper to the older boy, “이렇게 하고 어떻게 물어봐!!” (Translation: “How can I ask after doing this!!”)

Lina raised her eyebrows and leaned forward to ask, “뭐… 물어볼거 있어요?” (Translation: “Do you… have something to ask?”)

Jooheon hid behind Minhyuk’s shoulders and peered out like a small dog, and answered, “아-아니에요….” (Translation: “I-it’s nothing….”)

Mel, who could understand most of what they were talking about, nudged Lina and joked, “Maybe he wants you to delete the ringtone and use this aegyo as your new ringtone haha.”

“Ohh… uhh….” Lina hesitantly looked at Jooheon, who didn’t understand Mel’s words and simply looked back at her confused. She still liked the cute rap more than Jooheon’s signature aegyo, so she didn’t want to delete it, but if he was asking for it… then…. However, at the last minute, I.M. reached out and quickly said, “Wait, no, that’s not… what he meant.”

“Then…?”

I.M. looked at Jooheon, who looked to Minhyuk, as if silently asking for help with his eyes. Minhyuk whispered something into Jooheon’s ear and Jooheon frowned, whispering something back, while I.M. looked on uneasily. Sensing the discomfort, Lina laughed, “제가 잘못 들었나봐요.” (Translation: “I must have heard wrong then.”) She lightly kicked Mel’s shoe and glanced towards the door, hoping Mel wouldn’t ignore the signal this time.

Thankfully, Mel stretched and got out of her seat while saying, “Aww it would be nice to stay longer… but we have to pick up my cat from my brother’s place, remember?”

With her best acting skills, Lina slid out of her seat and replied, “Ooh you’re right. Forgot about that.” Mel cleaned up the trays and headed to the back to put them away. As Lina started to pack her bag, she glanced at the boys. ‘Man, the mood’s kind of awkward… but it would be such a waste if I didn’t get a picture....’ Nervously, she walked over to Jooheon, and asked, “가기전에 사진… 하나… 찍어도 되요?” (Translation: “Before I go can I… take one… photo?”)

Jooheon’s eyes widened. He stammered, “ㅇㅏ ㄴ-네… 같이…?” (Translation: “Uh y-yes… together…?”)

Lina nodded, and he got out of his chair to stand next to her. She pressed the power button to turn on the camera, but failed to realize he would see her lock screen -- which was a fan taken photo of himself. She yelped, “앜!” (Translation: “Ack!”) and swiped quickly to turn on the camera. When she glanced at Jooheon, he smiled widely and wiped his forehead a bit before posing.

She tried to smile, but seeing his dimples react live on her phone next to her face gave her the jitters and she couldn’t stop her hand from shaking. Jooheon chuckled and took her phone. He softly whispered, “제가 잡을게요. 하나...둘...셋!” (Translation: “I’ll hold onto it. One… two… three!”)

*Click*

She pressed the photo gallery and gave her approval at the photo, even though she looked awkward and bright red. Mel came back and nudged Lina.

“Hey, we have to go.” She smiled at Monsta X and waved bye, and Lina followed. She politely bowed and said, “너무 시끄러워서 죄송했어요… 그리고 애교하고 사진 고마웠어요! 그럼.” (Translation: “Sorry for being too loud… and thank you for the aegyo and picture! Then.”) She bowed once more and headed out with Mel.

Mel got in the car first and as Lina opened the car door, Mel yelled, “Hurry up and turn on the car!! It’s so hot outside and your car is so stuffy!” Lina rolled her eyes and started to get in.

“잠깐만요!!” (Translation: “Wait!!”)

Lina looked to her side and gasped to see Jooheon running over to her. With one eyebrow raised, she looked at him with wide eyes and tilted her head in confusion. He looked around the area before asking, “어…. 카카오톡이든… 라인… 아니면 트위터… 있으세요?” (Translation: “Uh…. Do you have KakaoTalk… or Line… or Twitter??”)

Lina stared at him blankly for a hot second, before slamming the door shut when she heard Mel gasp. She looked at him, stunned by his question, but softened up when she noticed how shy he looked in the moment. He couldn’t meet her eyes, his foot was nervously tapping the ground and he gripped his phone tightly. She quietly asked, “아까 물어보고 싶었던게… 혹시…?” (Translation: “Was this perhaps what you… wanted to ask before…?”)

Jooheon blushed and nodded his head once. She internally squealed at the sight before composing her mental state. Lina replied, “카톡하고 트위터는 있는데 트위터를 거의 안 써요….” (Translation: “I have both KakaoTalk and Twitter but I rarely use Twitter….”)

“두-둘다 주세요.” (Translation: “P-please give me both.”) Hearing him trip over his words made Lina’s heart melt, and when he handed her his phone with a blank memo, she typed in her usernames for both apps. As she typed, she couldn’t believe what was happening. Even when Mel was yelling from inside the car, “IT’S TOO HOT IN HERE… LITERALLY” Lina could only pay attention to the information she input into Jooheon’s phone… into Jooheon’s phone!

When Lina handed back his phone, she knew she was burning up from blushing too hard, but noticed he was bright red as well. He looked down at his phone and smiled at her. She smiled back, and in that moment, it seemed like they were in their own worlds… until Mel reached over to the driver’s seat and slapped the window from inside. Lina snapped out and looked down, horrified to see Mel sweating buckets. Jooheon as well, seemed worried and said, “빨리 가야하네요.” (Translation: “I see you need to leave soon.”) He lightly touched her shoulder while saying goodbye, “그럼… 연락… 할게요.” (Translation: “Then… I’ll… contact you.”)

With that, he ran back inside. Lina opened the door and slowly turned on her car, turning on the AC for Mel. Mel screeched, “BITCH I WAS DYING INSIDE -- ALSO DID HE ASK FOR YOUR CONTACT INFO?!”

Lina’s head turned slowly to Mel, and silently, she nodded. Mel gaped, which made Lina gape as well. They both screamed at each other until Lina felt her phone vibrate.

“이주허니 has added you”

Mel yelped as Lina added him back right away.

“Wait, even if he talks to you, you shouldn’t respond right away. Pull when he pushes, you know… what’s the word… oh 밀당!! (Translation: pushing & pulling)” Mel took the phone out of Lina’s hands. Lina rolled her eyes and huffed as rolled out of the parking spot. However, her phone had vibrated again. She didn’t get very far and only managed to drive halfway towards the exit, only to park in another spot.

“아까부터… 계속 봤는데 되게…” (Translation: “I kept looking at you… since before and…”)

“귀엽다고 생각했어요…” (Translation: “I thought you were really cute…”)

“그래서 이렇게… 연락처를 물어봤어요…” (Translation: “So that’s why… I asked you your contact info like this…”)

“혹시 내일 시간있어요?” (Translation: “Do you perhaps have time tomorrow?”)

*** THE END ***

A/N: I struggled with the ending lol I started it without knowing how I was going to end it so... also bc I was fleshing out other fic ideas... but oh welllll

#mx fic #mx fanfic #monsta x fic #monsta x fanfic #monsta x #mx scenarios #monsta x scenarios #kpop fanfic #kpop fic #beautiful fic #jooheon fic #will i ever learn how to write shorter