#hope you're having a blast today and that you're surrounded by all your loved ones <333

[i2sunric]

LOVE IS (NOT) EASY (l.hs)

summary: there was nothing you hated more than the smell of cigarettes and smokers. always acting as if they were above anything else. but just like persephone learnt how to love hades, then why couldn’t you learn how to love heeseung?

warnings: fingering, rough sex, chocking, gagging, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), blowjob, squirting, heeseung is toxic, heeseung smokes, reader hates cigarettes, situationship with benefits?, doggy, missionary, dirty talk, pet names (babe, baby, slut), lmk if more. (strangely) proofread.

published: 9th May 2024

wc: 3.5k

taglist: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @heelvsted @jwnghyuns (one shot) @slut4hee @ineedsomezzz @deobitifull @smisworld @mitmit01 @the-poetic-side-of-me @cha0thicpisces @heeseungsbitvh

Blasting music, almost at a deafening volume, blinding lights and the mixed smell of sweat and alcohol. That was how your birthday party was going on, all your friends and friends of friends filling the room, making the air heavy.

You kept smiling and greeting people you hadn’t even invited, accepting kind birthday wishes. You were in desperate need of fresh air but you were also trying to find Lee Heeseung.

Your relationship was rather complicated, if you had to be honest. You weren’t a couple, because Heeseung made it clear from the first day you met that he couldn’t afford love. But you also weren’t just nothing.

Whatever it was, he was supposed to show up at your birthday party— well, he actually did, he greeted you with the most false smile you could’ve ever see and then disappeared in thin air.

You knew he hated social gatherings, especially if it was with people outside his corrupted and not so safe group of friends, but you thought he’d at least celebrate with you.

You stumbled on your heels, making your way through the crowd until you finally reached the entrance of the room you rented and went outside.

The cold air hit your barely covered skin, the thin and tight dress you chose as an outfit doing nothing to cover you from the chilly weather.

It was when you focused on your surroundings that you noticed a pair of familiar broad shoulders covered in utterly familiar leather jacket.

You walked beside him and frowned when you noticed he was yet again smoking a cigarette, the bitter smell of it tickling your nostrils “Seriously?”

Heeseung rolled his eyes and took another long drag from his cigarette, "You look good tonight, babe."

You let out a small sigh, looking at him with a sharp stare. Heeseung wasn’t one to do things out of kindness, he was selfish and only did what he could to take advantage himself. You just hoped he’d listen to you once— But again, hope was not on your side. when it came to him.

“You promised you wouldn’t smoke today.” You stated, reminding him of your previous conversation.

He let out a groan, "You're impossible to make happy." He put out the cigarette and threw it on the ground, stepping on it, "There. You happy now?" He raised an eyebrow.

It wasn’t very nice to just throw the cigarette on the ground and leave it there, but you weren’t going to complain since his lungs would have less smoke in them.

“Come on, Hee.” You stepped in front of him, your height difference was clear that way “It’s my birthday, you said it was my gift.”

Heeseung let out another groan, "Don't pull that card on me. it doesn't work anymore." He mumbled and pulled you closer by the waist, "I didn't want to be here in the first place. We could have celebrated it alone and had a lot more fun together."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your figures melting together “But I wanted to celebrate it with my friends too.”

"Well, I am better than them—“ He raised a brow, “They can’t satisfy you the way I do.”

Heeseung leaned down to kiss you, his tongue licking your bottom lip. He pulled away, "Don't forget it" He whispered on your lips but it came off as threatening.

“Oh, so now you’re better than them?” You asked, teasing him as you pulled your face away from his.

He pulled you back, his hand gripping onto your chin tightly, "I’ve always been. Who else would put up with your attitude?" He said with a cocky smirk.

You sighed, shaking your head “What attitude?” You mumbled, slightly offended.

Heeseung pulled harder on your chin so you looked up at him, "Look at you right now, always trying to make me mad." His voice was husky, sending shivers down your spine.

“But you like it?” You asked, your quiet voice going straight to his cock— however he couldn’t just steal you away from your party, could he?

Heeseung had a thing for toying with you, confusing you, leaving you just to claim you all over again. Cause no matter how much you acted like you hated him, you knew there was no going back from his game.

His fingers trailed down from your chin to your neck, squeezing the sides slightly, "You don’t know a damn thing abou what I like." He mumbled and leaned down to kiss you again.

He pulled away before you had the chance to respond, "Go inside. I’ll join you in a minute" He demanded.

You pointed a finger at his chest, wanting to sound threatening “No more cigs.”

Heeseung grabbed your hand and kissed it, "You know I can't make promises I don't intend to keep" He squeezed your hand.

"I'll see you inside" he smirked and walked away before you could give him another response.

“Heeseung!” You shouted, watching as he walked away. He didn’t even turn around, he just waved one of his hands and disappeared in the middle of the night; just like he always did.

You groaned, frustrated with him, but most of all with yourself, for always letting him lead you on. You just went back to your birthday party, now feeling ever worse than you were before.

You took a deep breath before entering the room, the smell of alcohol replacing the bitter one of cigarettes and Heeseung’s wood cologne.

You tried to enjoy your night but you couldn’t really, your mind always drifting to the bane of your existence who wore an under-washed leather jacket and always had a cigarette between his lips.

⟡

So called devil had the audacity to show his face again when you were already at home, after fixing all the mess your guests had made— which was huge and took you the whole night. Birds chirped outside, signalling it was already early morning and you couldn’t wait to just fall asleep in your bed.

You heard the overly familiar sound of your bedroom window opening and closing right away, signalling the presence of a new person inside your apartment.

You had just removed your heels and stood in the middle of the room, in front of Heeseung’s tall figure. His demeanour was a little more dishevelled and messy than it had been a few hours before; but you could still smell the odour of cigarettes on him. He saw the unamused look on your face and smirked before walking closer to you.

Heeseung grabbed your waist and kissed you, "Stop sulking." He mumbled against your lips.

You pushed his chest, obviously not doing any damage to him “Let go.” You said sternly.

He pushed you slightly against the wall, trapping you and leaning closer, "Stop acting like this. You're mad at me all the time. I’m sick and tired of coming home to a pissed off Y/N." He said and kissed you again, more roughly.

You kissed him back with the same passion, your lips crashing together, tongues intertwining.

“Stop making me mad, then.” You mumbled, your fingers grasping his dark hair.

"Everything I do makes you mad." Heeseung murmured and kissed all over your neck, biting down occasionally to leave marks, claiming you, “You’re never satisfied.”

You blindly removed his jacket and let it fall on the ground with a small thud. You clumsily tried to undo the buttons of his shirt, “Cause you never listen.”

Heeseung pushed off his shirt, letting it fall to the floor, "Stop picking fights with me, then." He mumbled, his lips trailing down from your neck to your chest as your palms wandered around his bare torso.

You let out head fall back on the wall, the rough touch of his lips on your skin sending butterflies in your stomach “Can’t.” You answered.

He gripped onto your thighs and lifted you up, making you straddle him. He moved your face to look at him, "Look at me."

You wrapped your arms around his neck to keep yourself from falling and looked into his eyes as he demanded.

His pupils were dilated from the tobacco and probably some other things you were too afraid to ask; still, they were beautiful.

Heeseung leaned forward to kiss you again, biting down on your bottom lip, both of you moaning when you tasted blood "Say my name." He mumbled against your lips.

“Heeseung,” You breathed out, moving your hips on the evident bulge you felt underneath your clothed core.

Heeseung carried you to the bed, laying you down underneath him, his lips still on yours, "Tell who you belong to.” His voice became almost commanding.

His figure hovered on yours, like a shadow covering all the light from your life— you were almost hypnotised by his deadly beauty “You, Hee.”

Heeseung lifted up your dress over your hips and looked up at you with a smirk, "That’s what I thought." He mumbled and left kisses along the lace of your underwear.

You let out a soft hum as his plump lips trailed kisses on your sensitive and burning skin. Your hand went against to grasp the back of his head, “I’m still m-mad at you.”

Your voice intended to sound threatening but it only came out as shaky and weak.

Heeseung pulled off your underwear and tossed it to the side, going back to leaving bite marks on your inner thighs, "Show me how mad you are, baby.” He mumbled against your skin, sending vibrations through your whole body.

He left a few bites in the same spots, marking them as his before he reached up and held your jaw, "Don’t pull me away." He said and leaned down to kiss you once again.

As easy as said if it wasn’t for his fingers that snuck to inside of you without you even realising until he started curling them to brush against your sensitive spot.

You gasped for air, but when you did he stopped moving his fingers. You knew he wanted to tease, drive you insane and make you beg— But who were you to disobey?

Heeseung held your chin in his grasp “Don’t fucking pull away.” He demanded again and pulled you into a make out session.

His fingers brushed against your gummy walls, at full speed without even leaving you time to adjust to the new intrusion.

Your mouth fell agape at the funny sensation building inside you and Heeseung took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, moaning lowly when it met yours.

He reached down to unzip his jeans, "Can’t wait to make you forget all of the things I did." He mumbled against your lips.

Heeseung was quick to discard his jeans on the floor, somewhere unknown.

He leaned back, sitting on his knees. He grabbed your waist and positioned you in front of him, "You look so pretty like this, Y/N" He mumbled, staring down at you in only your bra and dress on top of your thighs.

You glanced back at him, your eyes hooded and full of lust. He removed his fingers from inside of you and he smirked at the sight of your face,

"You can't hide how bad you want me…” His hand trailing up your thighs and over your hips before reaching up to undo your bra.

He wrapped your underwear around your mouth, forcing you to keep silent and allowing him to use you the way he wanted.

Heeseung leaned down and looked at you, "Be quiet and pretty like you were made for.”

You let out a hum that felt more like a whimper, your slick pooling your thighs. Heeseung smirked satisfactorily and put two fingers back inside of you, rubbing your g-spot that he knew so well, making you muffle moan.

You tried to grip his arm when you felt the same funny sensation building inside your stomach but Heeseung never haltered his movements until you squirted all over the sheets and his abdomen.

Your body shook with overstimulation when his fingers kept thrusting inside your pussy, Heeseung cooed “Already? We haven’t even started.”

You shook your head, your eyes squeezing, whimpers leaving your mouths as if to beg him to stop.

Heeseung took your chin in his hands, his fingers digging inside your cheeks. He raised a brow and removed your bra from your mouth, throwing it to the side “Need that warm mouth around my cock, mh?”

With you still laying underneath him, he crawled until his clothed bulge was hovering on your face. You quickly complied and lowered his boxers, palming his hard tip, already leaking precum.

Heeseung wasted no time and fisted your hair, taking control of your head “Open your mouth.” He demanded and again, you gave him what he wanted.

As soon as you opened your mouth he bucked his hips, making you gag on his thick length.

Your gags only made him want to hear more, so he kept thrusting his hips, hitting the back of your throat “Fuck, feels so good.”

The warmth of your mouth hugging his cock and the drool dripping down your chin almost made him cum right away, so he had to slow down, making slow but deep thrusts.

You held his hips and started bobbing your head, hooling your cheeks, Heeseung chuckled at your devotion “Such a good girl for me, trained you to please me so well.”

You hummed, his cock vibrating in your mouth, making his head fall back.

He let go of your hair and thrusted a few more times, just enough to make you gag again before pulling out. You let out a deep breath, your whole chin and chest coated with drool.

He glanced down at you, looking just like the erotic dreams he had when he was a teenager, all messed up by him.

Heeseung bent down to kiss you, pulling you into a quick make out session. He then quickly discarded his boxers as well and moved back between your legs, spreading your thighs apart.

The cold air hitting your pussy made you clench around nothing “Oh baby, I’ll ruin you so bad.” He mumbled, licking a long strip from your wet pussy.

“Heeseung,” You gasped out, “Please.”

He shook his head “What did we say about words? You need to use them, come on, be a good girl and say what you want.”

“Please Hee…” You whined when his fingers brushed against your clit “Fuck me, Fuck me hard.”

Heeseung bit down his bottom lip and let out a mocking scowl “This slut can’t think without a cock to stretch her out?” He caressed your cheek, ever so tenderly before grasping your face, “You remember the safe word?”

Even in your hazy state you managed to nod, Heeseung’s eyes were dead serious. Despite his twisted desires, he would never accidentally hurt you during sex, or worse.

“Good, because I won’t hold back.” And with that, he wetted his shaft with your juices, pumping it a few times before entering you with a deep thrust.

You swallowed him whole as he bottomed out already, grasping the sheets underneath you at the sudden stretch, so good yet so painful.

You let out a small whimper, “Shh,” He cooed, fisting your hair to raise your head, making you look at where your bodies connected “Watch me stretch this pussy out.”

His thick length moved back and forth, appearing just to disappear back into you, the shadow of his bulge showing on your stomach, making both of you moan.

“Fuck baby, you feel so good around me.” Heeseung breathed out, letting go of your hair to cup your breasts, squeezing them.

His fingers played with your nipples, making you clench around him, your walls squeezing back around his cock.

“So sensitive?” He scowled, bending down to lick your tits as his thrusts reached a delicious rhythm, not too slow but not also too hard.

His scent mixing with sweat and your own sheets’ one was enough to drive you insane, your thoughts getting cloudy and you dropped your head back on the mattress.

Heeseung raised himself up and looked at your body, laid down so pretty underneath him. His gaze went to the dress still around your hips, “Wearing that dress at a party, you knew you’d make me mad, right?”

You shook your head, not even having the slightest energy to speak with the way his cock kept hitting your cervix, his movements becoming even more intense “All those men at the party were eye fucking you,” He groaned at his own statement, his eyes so dark, “Wanted to claim you, take you right there on the fucking gift table,” He slapped your breast “Showing them who you belong to.”

Your eyes were half lidded as you tried to open them “Only w-want you.” You replied, another moan escaping you with one particular deep thrust.

“You better,” His fingers trailed your jawline, his touch tender unlike what you were doing “Only I can fuck you like you want, treat you right, mh?”

You nodded again at his words, your hands grasping his shoulders to keep yourself steady “And you don’t want to know what’d happen if you ever let another man look in your direction.”

He tilted his head back gritting his teeth with a hiss. Your gaze was now on him as he stared back down at you with lustful satisfaction “You’re mine.”

The same sweet feeling built inside your stomach, making your eyes squeeze “Heeseung,” You breathed out.

“Want to cum?” He tsked, one hand going down to your clit to rub it as the other held your leg on his shoulder, “Cum, yes.” You managed to mumble.

Heeseung’s thrusts got deeper, faster, almost maniacally as you fell apart under him, your cum coating his dick.

You’d think he would at least slow his movements, helping you ride out of your orgasm but it was Heeseung you were talking about, and he kept rutting inside you, gripping your hips to help himself.

You tried to make him stop, weakly pushing his chest away. He took your wrists, yanking them away from his chest and holding them on the mattress, pinning you down “Fucking take what I give you.”

You were a whimpering mess, overstimulation making your body quiver underneath him, if it wasn’t for his strong grip you’d be all around the bed “Hee…” You managed to breathe out.

“Sh,” Heseeung ordered, letting go of your wrists to wrap one hand around your neck, squeezing it. The loss of oxygen made your eyes roll back, laying there for him to use, to own.

After a while, he got bored of missionary so he let go of your neck and turned you around, your ass up.

He spanked it, making you moan out at the pain. He inserted himself inside you again and gripped your hips, rutting his cock.

“T-too much.” You cried out, biting down the sheets, the pleasure being too much for your body.

“It’s not.” Heeseung said back, spanking your ass again before reaching for your head, holding it down on the mattress. The position was uncomfortable and you’d surely wake up with a sore neck the next day, but the thought of Heeseung using you for his own pleasure, fucking you like a flesh light.

“Take my fucking dick, baby.” You knew he was close when his breath got heavier, sweat dripping down from his neck to your back “You’re squeezing it so tight.”

He let go of your head and held you up, supporting your body weight so that your back was pressed against his chest, one hand grasping your tit as the other circled your sensitive bud.

You were a moaning mess, tears staining your cheeks and ruining the mascara you had put on.

Heeseung gave one final deep thrust before cumming inside you, his length twitching, load filling you up and at the same time the knot in your stomach snapped, making you cum for the second time of the night.

Heeseung kept pounding, slowly and deeply, fucking his cum back into you, kissing the neck he had marked before.

Both your breaths were heavy, and as he pulled out, you fell on the mattress right away, all your forces leaving your body.

You turned around, laying on your back. You felt the mix of your cum dripping down on your thighs and mattress but you didn’t even care— not at that moment.

Your eyes were so heavy, both from the lack of sleep and the draining sensation coming after sex.

Heeseung placed one pillow under your head and caressed your cheek with his thumb.

You thought you heard a faint “Happy birthday, love.” With a featherlight kiss on your forehead, but you weren’t sure if it was a dream or reality. What you were sure, though, was that when you opened your eyes again the only thing left of Heeseung was the smell of cigarettes and wood.

#enhypen #enhypen fics #enhypen smut #enhypen au #heeseung fics #heeseung smut #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung enhypen #enha #enha x reader #enhypen x reader #enha imagines #enhypen imagines #lee heeseung smut #heeseung enhypen smut #lee heeseung enhypen #lee heeseung hard hours #lee heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung hard thoughts #heeseung hard hours #lee heeseung oneshot #heeseung scenarios #lee heeseung scenarios #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x reader

[muddyorbsblr]

man of the month part 11: december

Series Masterlist @mochie85's Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Summary: Loki's shoot. That is all.

Pairing: Loki x Reader (FINALLY!!!)

Word Count: 9k [y'all better have chilled some wine or prepped some snacks. strap in]

Warnings: 18+ | language (not even pretending to be sorry, Rogers); slight angst hours in the beginning; smut (minors & pearl clutchers exit stage left i haven't the time for you); p in v; fingering; stripping Loki; near-threesome play [if i missed anything let me know!]

Things to be aware of: Scopes being a bit of an idiot in the first half

To say that you felt disoriented when you woke up was an understatement. To start with, you distinctly remembered falling asleep on the floor of your studio, surrounded by pages of the mockup calendar and readying the lettering for 'December' for the shoot, regardless of who it would turn out to be.

Next, you were tucked in to bed, which was something that hadn't happened since you were a kid. Someone, most likely one of your friends, had actually put in the effort to bring you up here from your studio and tuck the sheets under you.

You only hoped that you didn't make any of your friends uncomfortable because you could have sworn that throughout the night you were having some shamelessly filthy dreams about Loki. Any other time you wouldn't have felt the apprehension that you did, but knowing that you were most likely moaning and whining in someone else's presence made you want to find them and apologize to them immediately.

Before you had any more time to think about how exactly you got here from your studio, or lose yourself in that particularly vivid dream from last night that involved the god you were hopelessly in love with whispering promises of sharing his bed in your ear and pressing heated kisses to your skin, your bedroom door flew open with a blast of red. Both Wanda and Nat were at your door, smiles on their faces as they practically skipped toward you.

"Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty, today's the day you get your prince," Nat announced as she plopped down to your bed, making the mattress bounce. Wanda walked over to your closet and began to peruse through your clothes.

"Precious babies," you groaned. "There will be no getting of princes today, for fuck's sake you two need to tone down on Princess Days with Morgan. You know what, after tomorrow I'll have more free days, so lemme get some of those off your plates—"

"You mean after today, Babes?" Wanda quipped, her mouth upturned in a teasing smirk. "After today you won't have any free time for the next few weeks. We'll be lucky to even see you, you know, considering that you'll be spending all your free time with a certain god…clothing optional…"

"Wanda I say this with all the love I have in my cold and blackened heart. You're losing your goddamn mind if you think that there's even gonna be a shoot today, let alone a shoot with a happy ending." The sorceress rolled her eyes at you and resumed to go through your closet, immediately disregarding the shirts and hoodies and going straight for the small collection of dresses that hung there.

"Those are pretty," Nat commented, pointing her chin towards the small table by the window. "Either Strange decided he's not going to go down without a fight, or maybe Steve finally took his brain out of his ass and this is his attempt at a proper apology."

You turned your gaze to see what she was talking about, your jaw dropping as you caught sight of the little gold boxed bouquet sitting prettily on the little side table you kept by your window. You quickly hopped off your bed and walked over to the new addition to your room, inspecting the box as well as the table itself for anything to clue you in on its sender.

"So who's it from?" you heard Wanda's question slightly muffled by how deep into your closet she was. "And if it's from Rogers, I vote we toss it in the kitchen. You know I heard that he didn't even bother consoling his best friend when Bucky walked in to the training room and said that it wasn't him. He was just a smug little shit about it."

"I mean I told you all before I didn't buy his whole Boy Scout 'How do you do' attitude," you grumbled, your brows knitting together as you read the unsigned card tucked into the side of the box. "Okay that's weird. It's not signed but there is a card…"

Nat walked over to you and took the card from your fingers. "Cute."

"What's it say?"

"It just says 'To my love. Have a good morning.' Well, at least we know it's not from Steve," Nat hollered toward your closet.

"That's cute! Maybe it's from—Ooh, I found something!! Y/N, are you emotionally attached to any of the dresses in here? I want to make some alterations but only if you're cool with it."

"Go nuts, Wan."

She emerged from your wardrobe brandishing a deep green button down sundress that fell to your knees. "Tada!" You looked at her pointedly, shaking your head with a fond smile on your face as she grinned brilliantly in your and Nat's direction. "And that's not all, I found some flats for you to wear, too!" she announced as she revealed a pair of gold ballet flats in her other hand.

"Puny god's colors. Great job, Wanda," Nat said as she looked at you with a smirk. "Go get dressed. We can go get breakfast before your date--I mean your shoot."

You knew better than to argue with them, so you went along with what Wanda picked out, silently thankful that at least you didn't have to spend a good half hour in there today -- possibly even longer -- wracking your brain on what you would wear as you waited for nothing.

"Ah there she is! Pick your poison, Tweety, 'cause Vision here's making breakfast." You looked down from the stairs as Shaun looked up at you from the kitchen island, a wide smile stretched across his face. "You ready for today? Final shoot of the calendar." He shifted his eyes from side to side, the gesture moving you to look around him to see that all eleven previous models were seated and waiting. You could vaguely feel Wanda's magic emanating from her as she grumbled next to you, no doubt from seeing that Steve was among the men in the common area.

The absence of Loki among the waiting crowd caused a pit to form in your stomach. He probably already figured out that it's him and ran on out. Of this realm, you thought bitterly. Well shit. At least rip the bandaid with the rest of them.

"So I'm pretty sure that by now, Strange has told you all that it's not him. Doesn't take half a brain cell to fill in the blanks, and since you're all here now I figure I'll just tell you. It's--" The words caught in your mouth in an ugly choking sound. As if you couldn't even bring yourself to say the words. "It's Loki."

A resounding clap echoed around the floor, followed by Steve's smug voice. "I KNEW IT!"

"Shut up, Rogers,"  Bucky and Strange both said in near unison. When you looked their way they both gave you a look teeming with melancholia, a small contrived smile on both their faces as they both gave you a single nod.

"Thanks." You looked toward the rest of the team. "Shaun's known, Scott's known, Thor's known. Ever since each of their shoots. Apparently Sam's known since forever--"

"Damn straight," Wilson commented, raising his coffee mug up in a semblance of a salute. "Cute of you to think I wouldn't notice, Tweety. I knew you two would get with each other the second you met."

"Anyways…" You looked at Sam pointedly. "Now the rest of you know, too." You shifted your eyes to look at Tony, addressing him now. "So I'm gonna get to kick your ass tonight. Name a place, and I absolutely insist on using whatever Mark you've got that's ready for production."

"Bold of you to think--"

"No take backs, Stark," you cut him off, raising your hand to point a finger in his direction. "You told me when the shoots started that if this doesn't turn out the way that you thought it would, that if the man I have feelings for doesn't return the sentiment, that I have full permission to put on one of your suits and beat the shit out of you. So I will see you tonight."

Once you'd finished your near outburst, you were face to face with the genius billionaire, glaring at him as your pointed finger poked at his chest.

All he did in response was chuckle and push your hand away. "I wasn't about to take it back, Tweety. I was just about to say that you were bold to think that this wasn't going to end well. There's still one shoot left. I could still be right."

You scoffed at his words, walking past him and towards Vision who was currently toiling away at the stove. "Chocolate chip pancakes? With a side of bacon?" He simply gave you a small smile and a nod to acknowledge he'd heard your request. "Oh, and be sure you're free tomorrow morning for your shoot. 'Kay?"

"I will be available if I am needed, Agent Y/L/N. Though I do believe that my assistance in this project of Mister Stark's will not be required. My observations all point to the conclusion that Mister Laufeyson will show up today."

"Is that--optimism, Vision?" You did your best to sound teasing, trying your damnedest to keep your mood light and even joking, despite wanting to scream at everyone for getting your hopes up over the last few weeks. For their words of encouragement making you think that the remote possibility of Loki returning your feelings was even a semblance of a blip on the radar of reality.

"I am simply stating an educated guess based on observations," he answered you. "But since I do believe that this would be a positive outcome, then I suppose you could classify this as 'optimism', if you wish."

"Lady Y/N, why would you need Vision to have an appointment with you tomorrow?" Thor's voice boomed across the kitchen, the hesitation in his words as he voiced his concern. "You already have your twelve."

You sighed, the weight on your heart heavy as you began to explain. "Thunder, has Jane ever told you what a Baker's Dozen is?" He shook his head at you, his brows furrowed as you only gave him a sad smile. "It's a concept…of always having an extra of anything on hand in case your plan doesn't go the way you want."

"Scopes--"

"So let's say that I'm a baker and I need twelve loaves of bread. Because I'm running under the assumption that one of my twelve will turn out ruined, I make thirteen." The only word that came to mind when you saw the look in Thor's eyes was pity. "Vision here's number 13."

"My si--my friend," he wavered. "My brother will be there. Please, he told me himself that he will be here by 4. If I am mistaken then you may add my name to the list of people you will pummel in one of Stark's suits of armor. I will not even bother with defending myself."

You were defenseless against the towering god with his childlike eyes that were near tears as he practically pleaded for you to wait. He wanted so badly to be right, that much was obvious, making you let out a tired huff. "Fine, Thunder. For you. Because you're my friend. I'll wait for him until 5." You turned your gaze toward Tony again. "Then I'm gonna kick your ass at 6. Thor's, too. Gimme an hour to at least bawl my eyes out and fix my face, and then let's move forward with this sh—"

Your words were silenced by the shock of the blond Asgardian pulling you into a tight embrace. "Thank you, my friend. He will be here. I swear to you."

It was just after noon when the kids walked in to your studio, little Morgan Stark bounding over to you like a tightly wound up ball of energy. "Hi, Auntie Scopes!" she squealed as she ran into your arms where you were seated on the leather couch of the library set. She handed you a little jewelry box. "This is for you."

Peter walked in a few moments later, carrying a tray of food. "This is also for you, Miss Y/N." He lifted the dish cover to reveal a smoked salmon and cream cheese panini with a side of sour cream and onion chips. On the side was your Heckers & Salutations travel mug. "Iced americano. No sugar," he proclaimed with a proud grin. "Oh, and we were also told not to leave until you open the box."

You did as the teenager told and opened the small jewelry box to reveal a pair of emerald drop earrings with its hardware set in a brilliant gold. "Who--?"

"It's a secret!" Morgan stage whispered. She wrapped her little arms around your neck and pulled you close so she could kiss your cheek. "We have to go now, Auntie Y/N. Daddy said I can't be here because there could be naked men walking in any second."

Her words brought out a choked laugh from you. "That sounds like your father, alright. Bye, baby." She hugged you one last time before hopping off the couch and walking out of your studio. You looked toward the teenaged spiderling. "I don't suppose you could tell me who put the two of you up to this?"

"Sorry, Miss Y/N. Classified. All I'm allowed to tell you is that he also put the flowers in your bedroom. Well technically I did, but he told me to. And if I tell you more than that he'll cut my head off."

"Gotcha. Thanks, Parker. You're a good bean." He gave you a small smile as he walked out of the studio as well, catching up to Morgan and putting the little girl on his shoulders.

You ate lunch while working on finalizing all the previous pages of the calendar, testing the mocks you made to see how they'd look as a full on wall calendar as well as a desk calendar, ultimately making the design choice to turn this into a desk calendar, each sheet its own month, split into two panes evenly down the center. When that was over and truly the only thing left to do was to insert a picture into the halfway-done December page, all that was left to do was twiddle your thumbs, waiting for 5pm so you could walk on out of the studio and pick out one of Tony's suits.

The minutes ticked by all too slowly as you watched the second hand move on the digital clock on your computer. The time had read 3:30pm when you heard your studio door open, making  you slump even further, your chin practically resting on your desk.

"I don't think I'm gonna need any assistance today, Ten Rings. There's nothing to set up. Maybe tomorrow," you called out, not even bothering to check on who had walked in. Who else could it be, after all?

"Why would you need assistance tomorrow, darling?"

That voice. That voice had you immediately straightening your posture in your seat, leaning to your side to look at who had actually walked through your door. It took all your strength not to smile like a complete fool when you caught sight of Loki standing there in a navy suit, the crisp white shirt underneath already having a button undone. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was out for your sanity today.

Or your heart.

"You're here…" you croaked out. You felt like your heart had lodged itself in your throat as he looked right at you, his eyes shining with an expression you couldn't decipher to save your life, a wide smile stretching across his face, the kind that reached his eyes and tugged even harder at your heartstrings.

"I'm here." His words were spoken so softly, it felt as if they'd wrapped around you in a gentle embrace.

"A-Alright then." You took a steadying breath, willing your hands to remain steady as you took your camera from its dock and stood up to walk towards the library set, tinkering away at the settings to find the preset you'd configured for this particular set.

You practically froze when you felt his fingers lightly touch the inside of your elbow. "Why are you in this set up, Y/N?" He was standing so close to you that you could feel his body heat washing over you, his lips so close to your ear that you could feel his breath ruffling the baby hairs at the side of your head.

"I-I uhm…" You could feel your heart going a mile a minute as you felt his fingers lightly wrap around your elbow, his thumb lightly stroking the skin on the back of your arm. "W-With how you're dressed I f-figured you were gonna go for the library so--"

"I was thinking somewhere along the lines of the set in the back."

Your breath caught in your throat. "W-With the bed?" you wavered, goosebumps erupting at your arm as he continued stroking your skin. You felt more than heard his breathy Yes, the exhalation tickling the skin of your ear and sending shivers throughout your body. "A-Alright then. I'll just prep the camera, y-you can go position yourself however you like."

He gave your arm a light squeeze, his fingers ghosting across your skin as he stepped away from you and you heard him walking towards the bedroom set. You took the opportunity to let out a slow exhale to attempt alleviating the tightness in your chest, the tears threatening to prickle at the back of your eyes.

Why was he even here? You were sure that among the ones that hadn't known as of Strange's shoot, he would have been the first to figure out that he unwittingly held your heart in his absurdly sensual hands. He already held that knowledge now, as he readied himself for the shoot. You fully expected that he wasn't even going to bother showing up today, to at least release you from the mortification of him seeking to confirm who it had been all along. And you evading the question until that devilish smirk graced his impossibly perfect face.

Unless that was his intention all along today. He had no plans of granting you the mercy of his silent rejection. He would lure you in, tease you, make you believe he may even return a semblance of your feelings for him. And just when you were convinced that everything was about to go right, he'd pull the rug out from under your feet. Tell you that this was nothing more than a bit of fun for him, and now that he'd had you, everything was to be as it was. And it wouldn't be his problem if you'd be incapable of dealing with how he handled you afterward.

Loki was here to toy with you. Torture you. Crush you.

The sound of his voice calling your name brought you out of your spiraling thoughts. "Darling, are you alright?"

You turned to look at him, your pulse thumping loudly in your ears as you saw him perched on the little leather seat by the bed, shoes already discarded, looking poised to stand and walk over to you. "I'm fine," you choked out, raising the camera in front of you as if it were armor. Protecting yourself from his charm. From what ever scheme he concocted in his mind. As if you even had a hope of defending yourself against anything he had up his sleeve. "Let's start."

Once you'd made your way to the bedroom set, you positioned yourself about three feet away from where he sat, crouching slightly until the camera was level with his face. He'd leaned forward,  resting his elbow on one knee, and draping his forearm on his other leg, maintaining his posture as if he were to stand and make his way over to you at any second.

You snapped a handful of shots of him in that position, only stopping when a smile began to stretch across his face again, looking as if he was amused by something. "What?" you wondered aloud, your words still getting caught in the back of your throat, especially with how he'd been staring at you, into the camera, as if he could see right through you and into your soul.

"It's nothing, darling, just…" he trailed off, making you knit your brows together and silently willing him to finish the thought. "You're so beautiful," he whispered, the words causing your heart to pound against your chest and rendering you unable to do much of anything except swallow hard in an attempt to stamp down your nerves.

"Hmm?"

"It's criminal that you do not get told that enough, sweet Y/N," he spoke as he began to shrug off his suit jacket, nearly causing you to hyperventilate at the sight. "I shall make an effort to remedy that."

He proceeded to undo the buttons on his shirt, all the while keeping his gaze trained on you. "W-What're you doing?"

"You did state when this project started that we can be as naked as we are comfortable with, correct, darling?" You nodded, stunned to absolute dumb silence. "Well then, to answer your question…I am simply getting comfortable."

Fuck. Me. Sideways. "O-Okay I uhh…can look away until you're--"

"No, no, darling." The low timbre of his voice was doing ungodly things to you. If you didn't know any better, it was like he was on a mission to have you dripping and aching for him by the time this shoot was over. As if you weren't already. "Keep taking your pictures, truly, I do not mind." All you could give as an intelligible response was a mute nod once again. "Feel free to instruct me in any way you see fit."

Before the filter in your brain could kick in, you let out a chuckle and muttered, "Be careful I might just take advantage of that. It's not every day I have a god at my mercy." Your breath caught in your throat in a hideous sound once you realized what you said. "I-I mean--"

"Darling you need not explain," he cut you off with a low chuckle, the sound sending a thrill straight down your spine and settling at the apex of your thighs. "I quite enjoy the idea." Of being at my mercy? He finished unbuttoning his shirt, the garment falling open and hanging down the sides of his sculpted torso. He rested his forearm across the top of his abdomen, bringing his other hand up to his mouth as he tried to control his chuckles by biting on the tip of his thumb.

"Stop," you called out to him, surprised that your voice could even come out intelligibly despite the sight in front of you. "Look at me I-I mean--Look at the camera."

He muttered something under his breath before he looked straight into your eyes, making you nearly miss the shutter of your camera completely as you snapped another handful of shots with him like this. Once you took your finger off the shutter, his eyes visibly softened once again as he looked at you crouched in front of him. "May I keep going?"

Fucking hell, he wasn't done? You silently pleaded with whichever deity would be listening to you that you could keep your dignity intact by the time this shoot was over. You nodded once more, standing as he did, keeping in mind to snap pictures as he discarded his shirt, placing it on the bed next to his suit jacket. Your eyes flew to the ceiling once you saw his hands move toward his dress pants.

"Darling?"

"J-Just let me know when you're ready," you blurted out, keeping your eyes shut to refrain from giving in to the temptation of sneaking a peek.

"Look at me, Sweetheart." The gentle yet slightly domineering tone of his voice nearly had you abandoning all your self-respect and risking it all with him. And the urge to walk over to him and jump his bones grew even stronger when you did as he told, looking over to him and seeing him standing just a few strides away from you, his godly physique only clad in a pair of white boxers.

You quickly hid behind the viewfinder of your camera, clicking away at the shutter as he kept his gaze on you, his eyes smoldering with an intensity that you couldn't rationalize as anything other than just Loki in his natural state. With these last shots, you were almost completely sure that you had what you needed in order to finish December.

It was just a damn stray thought that was giving you pause.

"What is it, Y/N?"

"Hmm?"

"You have that furrow between your brows. Is everything alright?"

"Erm—it's just a thought. F-For a shot." He gave you a single nod, prompting you to continue. You lowered your camera from your face, fighting back the blush as you struggled to find the words to articulate your idea. "Feel free to fling me to the nearest wall if you think the idea out of hand but…" You flickered your eyes to the bed beside him, hoping he understood what you were trying to tell him.

"That isn't out of hand in the least, darling." He chuckled as you looked at him, your unease even more visible despite not even voicing the words. He stepped close to the edge of the bed. "How do you want me?"

That's a loaded question, you thought to yourself, biting the inside of your cheek as your mind began to conjure up a vivid image of how exactly you wanted him. With me. I want you with me. In your bed. My bed. Anywhere and everywhere you'd have me.

"Uhh…k-kind of like you're erm…calling your girlfriend to join you?"

The side of his mouth twitched in a playful smirk as he positioned himself on the bed, propped up on one elbow as he faced you, his legs splayed open in an unspoken invitation for one to place themself between them. A desirous trap set by the equally erotic god. "Like this?"

How your core was currently weeping and clenching around nothing at just the rasp of his voice as he said those words was embarrassing. "Yeah…" you breathed out, your trigger finger nearly trembling as it clicked on the shutter, snapping what you decided would be the final shots for this session. You had what you needed with this last batch, you were sure of it. "I think after this erm--we should be done."

"Are you certain?" You gave him a contrived smile as you nodded, finding yourself unable to form words, fearing that he'd bring up the big screaming elephant in the room. "Because we could keep going I truly don't mind--"

"No, no no no no…" you cut him off, the chuckles escaping you despite your efforts to maintain a formal tone to hopefully conclude the session and you could ready yourself for your appointment with Stark and Thor. "Believe me if we keep going the printing company might not put this into production." As you motioned toward him, your eyes flickered defiantly to his boxers, a lump forming in your throat as you undoubtedly agreed with those comments that you saw when you were canvassing the potential market of your teammates' fanbase. Damn bulge really did look like a mango.

"If you're sure, darling." The ache in your heart worsened at how tender his tone sounded, as if he was taking great care on how to handle you. As if he wanted you to believe that he really cared.

"I'm sure," you answered him, tight-lipped as you took great care yourself to build whatever defenses you could around your heart before he went on to shatter it. "Thanks, Loki."

You turned around to make your way back to your computer to plug in the memory card and have him take his pick from the shots when he called out to you again. "May I see them?"

"Sure," you answered, turning back to his direction and nearly tripping over yourself at the sight of him, once again looking as if he was poised to stride over to you looking exactly as he did right this moment. "Just lemme pull it up on the screen and--"

"No, darling." Your heart began to pound even harder in your chest as he relaxed his posture, stretching out one arm toward you and making a motion for you to come to him. Your legs took on a mind of their own as each step shortened the distance between you until you were standing beside him, leaning just enough that you could show him the screen of your camera while still maintaining as much distance as you could between your bodies.

He seemed to have other plans, though, placing his hands on either side of your waist and gently guiding you to take a few steps further until you stood between his legs and then proceeding to situate you on his defined, muscular thigh. You let out a shaky breath as he put a hand on your shoulder, coaxing you to relax until your back was resting against his chest, his free arm wrapping around your midsection and pulling you close.

Before you could pull up the first picture on your camera, it disappeared from your hands in a flash of green, reappearing atop your desk several meters away from where you and Loki were seated. "What--"

"I'm sorry, darling. I cannot keep feigning interest in these photographs. Not when I finally have you in my arms," he cooed into your ear as he swept your hair over your shoulder, baring your neck to him. Your mouth fell slack in a silent gasp as you felt him press his lips to your cheek. He whispered your name against your skin as he moved his lips from your cheek down to your neck, pressing a kiss to the juncture between your neck and shoulder that had you letting out a high-pitched moan and craning your neck to grant him more access.

Words couldn't form in your mind, let alone your lips, as you felt yourself relenting to the inevitability of where this would lead. You knew in your more rational brain that this could only end in tears for you, that he would have his fill of you and then leave you physically sated and emotionally aching. He would destroy you, ruin you for everyone in this and every other universe.

And still you leaned in to his touch, enough to give him the opportunity to maneuver you from sitting atop his thigh to laying with your back flat against the mattress, the god hovering over you with not a single trace of his signature smarm or mischief in his eyes as he looked at you laying helpless beneath him. "My beautiful darling girl," he breathed out. "I can finally deliver on my promise to you."

"What promise?" Your voice came out almost inaudibly, barely even a whisper, as you shuddered under his gaze.

He leaned down, bringing your faces closer together until his lips were ghosting over yours. "My promise to make you mine today." He pressed the lightest of kisses to your upper lip. "If you knew how desperately I ached to wake you last night--"

"That was you?" Your chest was heaving as you struggled to process what he was telling you.

"Yes, Sweetheart." He pressed another light kiss to your bottom lip this time. "Do you remember the rest?" He worked each of his knees between your legs until he now kneeled on the mattress between your splayed thighs, one arm moving underneath you to pull your hips flush against his, your drenched folds coming into contact with his erection through the flimsy layers of your clothing and his boxers, eliciting a sinful groan from him.

You'd found yourself unable to form sounds once again, rendered mute by the jolts of pleasure that were quickly spreading all throughout your body, causing you to arch into him as you shook your head in your best attempt to answer him. That you barely remembered anything other than the Loki from your dreams telling you about how he intended for you to share his bed.

"Tonight I intend to claim you, dear heart." He rolled his hips into yours, setting a pace that had you letting out fragments of moans that mingled with his own sounds from the constant teasing pressure against your clit. "I have no intentions to ever let you go once I finally know the ecstasy of having you." You felt yourself unable to move or breathe once you felt his tongue dart out and trace the line between your slightly parted lips before he rasped, "Mine."

Before you even had the chance to process his words, let alone come up with a response, he slanted his mouth over yours, your gasp from his actions giving him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue past your lips and glide against your own. It felt like you were drowning in him as you both moaned into each other's mouths, his lips molding against yours perfectly as he kissed you like it was the only thing that he lived for in that moment.

You could feel yourself giving in to the impending heartbreak, almost convincing yourself that it would be worth it. Part of you even desperately held on to the hope that maybe his words were sincere, that he wasn't doing this all just to utterly decimate you in the end. That was the part that had you reaching up and weaving your fingers through his hair, his groans sending a sinful vibration through your body that had you aching for more.

Maybe if the kiss doesn't stop, then the pain never comes, you stubbornly thought to yourself, pressing harder against him and meeting every movement with a borderline pathetic desperation that you were sure he was about to pull away and mock you any second now. Except that never came. Instead he had you pressing yourself even harder against him as his free hand roamed your body, a sharp moan erupting from your mouth when you felt his hand cup your breast over your dress, your nipples aching as they hardened and pressed against the cups of your bra.

You'd survive it. The heartbreak. You were nearly sure of it. For the fleeting bliss of being his, you would survive it.

If only you hadn't completely frozen over the second you felt his fingers pressing along your slit above your panties.

"Wait," you gasped out, trying to break away from the kiss, moving your hand to his shoulder and feebly pushing against him. "I can't. Please, stop--"

He pulled away once you said those words, pressing his forehead against yours as the concern was evident in his eyes. "My dear Y/N, what's wrong?"

"I can't," you said quietly, trying to hold back the sobs that were threatening to break out of you as you felt him softly press his lips along your temple and cheek, as if he was trying to comfort you. To calm you. The action only made your heart ache even worse than it already was. "I can't do this with you."

"Sweetheart tell me what's wrong, please. What can I do to help--"

"I can't do this with you because I know it would mean nothing to you," you blurted out, tears blurring your vision as he pulled away to look at you properly. "And if I do this I know that it won't mean nothing to me, so please Loki--"

He silenced you with a searing kiss, confusing you as you felt a desperation in him that nearly matched your own. "How could you think this would mean nothing to me? That finally having you in my arms, kissing you, knowing the feel of your precious form against mine, would be something insignificant to me?" He proceeded to softly kiss you along the side of your face, down to your neck and shoulder, before going back up and repeating the process, each kiss feeling more fevered as he went along. "Darling this would mean everything  to me."

His words took the wind right out of you, and coupled with the way he proceeded to move his kisses to the base of your throat and down your chest, lightly sucking on the skin above your heart, you were finding it near impossible to breathe. All you could really do was let out choked whimpers of his name as he continued on his onslaught of attention with his lips and his tongue.

"You hold my heart, my precious mortal," he spoke against your skin, pressing one final tender kiss before pulling away, his gaze once again meeting yours with soft eyes that shone with such a longing you couldn't comprehend. He took your hand in his, placing it on his chest so that you could feel the frantic, thundering pace of his heart. "I had such plans on how this day would play out. I'd intended to only tell you once we had made it to my chambers, and I would be holding you in my arms, sated and catching our breaths. And from the sheer euphoria of the moment I would tell you."

"Loki--"

"But I suppose not everything will go as I plan," he kept going. "I had been so caught up in my distress that my affections for you were unreturned that I was lost in the rapture of finally knowing that they were not. It never once occurred to me that perhaps you were of the same belief. That perhaps from where you stood you'd also believed that your sentiments were one-sided."

"What are you--"

"I love you," he breathed out, a brilliant smile stretching across his face as he did so. "I have kept those words to myself for so long." Your breath caught in your throat in a squeak as he pressed his lips to yours in a fleeting kiss. "To finally say it…that at long last you know how I feel for you…it's a liberation I cannot even begin to describe." He proceeded to press his lips along your face once more, whispering his declarations of love into your skin as he did so, feeling as if the words were etching themselves into your soul every time he said them.

He loved you, too.

The moans began to escape you again when you felt his hand working its way back between your legs. "It's your turn now, my love," he rasped into your ear, fingers lightly running along your folds over the soaked fabric of your panties, eliciting a sinful moan from the god.

"My t-turn?" you gasped, finally letting yourself surrender completely to the pleasure he was giving you.

"I will not go further until you say the words," he teased, bringing his fingers up to trace tight circles above your clit. "End this torturous side project. Tell me who owns your heart." He pressed harder against the bundle of nerves, making you arch into his touch, the only sound you were capable of producing a strangled moan of his name and broken pleas. The god only chuckled darkly by your ear, pressing open mouthed kisses to the skin below it, making your moans even louder as he flicked his tongue against the sensitive skin and lightly capturing your earlobe between his teeth.

"Please--"

"Oh my love, it is far too early for you to be begging. But just because I love you does not mean that I am above teasing you through the night until I hear you say the words." He began to move his fingers torturously slower, making you whine in response. "Say them, my darling."

"It's you," you cried out repeatedly. "It's you. I'm in love with you." He pulled away once more, his face hovering over yours as a soft smile began to grace his perfect features. And you broke through the hesitation you always had around him, the one that always had you holding back the smile that threatened to take over your face whenever your eyes met. "I love you, Loki."

Your heart began to race at the sight of his smile quickly turning into a devilish grin as he moved aside the rendered useless fabric of your underwear and slipped his fingers inside of you, twisting and scissoring, warming you up right as he leaned in to kiss you, his tongue gliding against yours at the same pace his fingers were moving. It felt as if you were drowning in his attentions, like he was on a mission to overwhelm you with his love.

When he brought his fingers back together and curled them upward, stroking the spot inside of you that had you completely beside yourself, you arched into his touch once more, hooking your arm over his shoulders as leverage so that your hips could match his movements. "Let go, darling," he mumbled against your lips, increasing his pace relentlessly as his thumb began to move against the nub above your entrance, and you finally felt your walls clenching and fluttering around his digits as he slowed his pace, letting you gradually come down from your high.

He withdrew his fingers from you as he rose from the bed, making you feel a sudden wave of arousal once again when you saw the bulge of his erection straining against his boxers coupled with the unabashed way he brought his fingers up to his mouth and groaning as he sucked his digits clean of your release, holding out his free hand toward you to take.

"Shall we take this to my chambers, my love?" He pulled you to your feet, giving you a few moments to straighten your clothes before wrapping his arm around you and lifting you effortlessly, prompting you to wrap your legs around him. All you could do was nod your answer before he captured your lips into a tender kiss as he began to walk to the door of your studio.

"Wait what're you doing?" you squealed, giggling into his kiss as he continued walking toward the exit. Surely he wasn't…?

"My appointment with you is over," he answered you simply. "As tradition based from majority of the previous sessions dictates, I must tell the others." He chuckled as he noted how your eyes widened at his words, placing a kiss on your cheek.

"Looking like this??"

"Seems a waste of time and effort to redress just for a short walk back to my chambers." You let out a playful scoff, refusing to believe the words you were hearing. That he really intended to make his reveal as brazen and dramatic as he possibly could. "Just one thing, my darling."

"What is it?"

He lowered your body slightly so that your hips were flush with his, making you bury your face in the crook of his neck as you let out a moan. "I may be shameless, precious mortal, but I am not vulgar. We need not give them a show that would belong to the place that Wilson refers to as The Hub."

His words had you breaking out into a fit of laughter that quickly turned into more obscene moans as the shaking of your body created a sinful friction from his crotch pressed against yours. "Just make it quick, please," you mumbled quietly as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, hiding as much of your face as you could manage as he took a few more strides and threw the door open with a quick wave of his hand.

"So do we finally have a winner??" you heard Sam holler from the kitchen.

You held on to Loki tighter as he stepped out of your studio, both of you greeted with the sound of applause and wolf whistles from your friends, along with the bellowing cheers of Thor and squeals from both Nat and Wanda. There was also a stray "I believe the term for this moment would be 'I told you so'" from Vision.

Once you'd made it to the stairs, you thought you could make it the rest of the way without having to look any of your teammates in the eye. If only Tony hadn't opened his damn mouth.

"So I'm gonna cancel that 6 o'clock ass whooping then, Tweety? Seeing as you're gonna be too busy getting Asgardian pipe?"

Yup. That did it. That took all the mortification of this moment right out of your system. Your head snapped up from the crook of Loki's neck as you found your voice again. "Oh my fucking god." You gave Tony a glare that could have brought lesser men to their knees.

"Yes, darling?" You shifted your gaze to the god that held you in his arms, the annoyance you had quickly fading into playfulness as you saw the smirk on his face. "What ever it is you're scheming in that brilliant mind of yours, I wholeheartedly support you, my love."

You broke out into a devious grin of your own, leaning in to give him a quick kiss before tilting your head upward. "FRIDAY?"

"Yes, Agent Y/L/N?"

"Do me a solid and revert commit hash ff0486. And then lock all incoming commits until my say so."

"Authorization?"

"Y/L/N."

"Denied. Authorization?"

You groaned. "Tweety!"

"Granted. Commit reverted."

"Y/N what did you do?!" Tony shouted from his seat in the kitchen, the panic in his tone betraying him. "I have meetings with top ranking military officials tomorrow, Tweety! They still think I'm a kinky shit that makes FRIDAY call me--"

"Yes, Daddy?" the AI responded.

The team erupted into a fit of laughter and you quickly looked to Loki again. "Get us out of here, Mischief." He quickly strode toward his apartment, closing the door with a wave of his hand, walking straight into his bedroom and positioning you both so that he was sitting on the bed with you straddling his hips.

He looked at you, his eyes shining with what you now recognized was love, one hand reaching up to weave his fingers through your hair and pull you close, the other lightly running down the side of your body before pulling your hips against his, guiding you to grind against each other in a slow, torturous pace.

Movement from the corner of your eye had you near freezing in place. You distinctly remembered walking into an empty room. But then a smile grew on your face once you saw that the new figure had been a duplicate of Loki, holding a camera in his hands.

"I thought it would be nice if we could have some pictures of our own."  You looked at the Loki that was holding you, the hesitation visible in his eyes as he said the words. "If you're alright with that, darling." His fingers hovered over the buttons of your dress as he waited for your answer. You could only nod your head as you smiled at him, leading him to press his lips to your collarbone as he proceeded to undo the buttons in front of your dress.

You lost yourself to the feel of him pressing his lips to every sliver of newly exposed skin, wanton moans escaping you whenever you realized that his attentions would definitely leave a mark. You were so caught up in the moment that you didn't even hear the shutter going off from the direction of Photographer Loki, let alone the sound of the camera being set down somewhere.

What made your eyes snap open was the moment a new set of hands began to help in taking off your bra, and your lips were captured in a tender kiss despite Loki's lips still pressing a kiss onto your bared stomach.

"I refuse to stand by and simply watch, my darling," Photographer Loki murmured against your lips. "Not when you look so exquisite being at my mercy." He cupped the side of your face once he'd discarded of your bra, his thumb stroking along your cheek with a tenderness that left you stunned silent. "I love you."

"I love you, t--" Before you could finish your sentiment, the Loki under you tucked his fingers under your chin, turning your head to face him so that he could capture your lips in a kiss you could only describe as possessive, his tongue easily invading your mouth as he moved his hand from your chin to your hair. You let out a lustful moan when you felt the other Loki's lips at the juncture between your neck and shoulder, along with another hand moving up to cup your breast, teasing your hardened nipple between deft fingers.

"Bid him farewell, darling," he murmured against your lips. "Tonight will be the first time I have you. I will not share you with anyone. Even myself."

You pulled away and reached your hand back to weave your fingers through Photographer Loki's hair, turning your head toward him and pressing your lips to his. "Perhaps another night in the future," he said softly before pressing his lips to your forehead and disappearing in a flash of green.

Before you could turn back to face Loki, he made quick work to move you off his lap and lay you flat on his bed, your back landing on the mattress with a soft thud. "You quite enjoyed that, didn't you, filthy wanton little mortal?" he teased, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee before proceeding to rid you of your panties. "The notion of being worshipped by two mouths."

He trailed his lips up until he captured the stiffened peak of your nipple between his lips, arching into him, silently begging for more. Right as you did, he hooked an arm under you, another obscene moan escaping your lips as you felt the tip of his cock lining up at your entrance.

"Two sets of hands to caress every delectable inch of your delicate, sinful form."

Your moans caught in the back of your throat in a squeak as he began to inch his way inside of you, your chest arching against his as he worked his lips toward your ear, pressing kisses along its shell.

You felt yourself growing impossibly wetter at his next words, unlocking a desire you didn't even realize you had in you. "Two cocks to pleasure you." He eased into you much quicker, both of you letting out a loud moan that echoed around his room as he bottomed out inside you. "Norns, you're perfection, min elskede."

All you could muster in response were incoherent screams. You couldn't even utter his name as he began to increase his pace, driving into you with staggering thrusts as he switched between utterances of Norwegian and English. All you could capture was stuttered mutterings of how tightly you were gripping him and Jeg elsker deg.

When you could feel the knot in your stomach begging to be let loose he began to drive into you harder, setting an unforgiving pace as he pushed you over the edge of your release, your entire body awash with a satedness that you'd never known. A smile finding its way to your face as he reached his climax within you,  his voice taking on a low, guttural tone as he grunted, "Mine."

You didn't know how long you slept that night; all you could register when you woke up were your sore limbs and the contradicting feeling of feeling completely content and rested.

A smile stretched across your face as Loki's arm tightened around you, pulling you closer to him when you tried to stretch and move away from the bed. "It's far too early, darling."

Fuck me, how is it even possible that his sleepy morning voice is even hotter than normal?

You held him closer to you, your arm tightening its hold around his abdomen, your leg hooked around his, and your face nuzzled into his chest. "I'm gonna work on finishing your page," you mumbled, your mind ready to work despite your arms and legs deliciously aching if you so much as breathed too deeply.

"No," he grumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "You will not rip me of this bliss for that date keeper." He wrapped his free arm around you, trapping you in his embrace. "Mine."

"It's just for a few hours," you giggled as his hand proceeded to stroke across your back. "I'll just finish your page, put the mock together, and send it to the printing company. And then I'm all yours." You tilted your head to look at his sleepy face, placing a lazy kiss on his chin, making him place his hand behind your head as his other arm hoisted you further up his body so he could kiss your lips. "For how ever long you want me."

"I have a better proposition, my love." He quickly licked into your mouth and slid his tongue against yours before flipping you over on your back. "You go back to sleep. Or…" He proceeded to suck a bruise into your neck, quickly rendering you into wanton moaning mess. "I tire you out until you do."

The side of your mouth twitched upward in a smirk as images of how exactly he would tire you out entered your mind. "Well I don't think I'll be able to fall back asleep yet so…" You clicked your tongue as you did a shrugging motion, looking up at him with the widest doe eyes you could muster. "I guess I'll have to go for Option 2."

A/N: And just like that, the story's over. Well actually…not yet. There's still an epilogue…and potentially a little outtake drabble of a moment between Loki & Scopes while cuddling in bed 🥹

Everything taglist: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @devilsadvocactus @lokiprompts @sititran @imherefortomhiddleston @ladyjames78 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @kats72 @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot @creationsbyme @coldnique

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #mcu fanfiction #loki laufeyson fanfic #muddyorbs writes #mochie85

[rowretro]

𝕾𝖙𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗

✧taglist✧: @nxzz-skz   @nshmrarki @wntersm

✧CHAPTER 4✧

Babe walked out of school silently. With the boys having to stay behind for basket ball practice, she had plenty of time to make it home before they ever catch sight of her. 

Home.

The one place she can finally find peace. Now she's moved out of the toxic household of her family, without the need to visit those judgemental relatives that don't even know her, she finally found herself at somewhat peace.

Once she arrived home, she made sure to lock her garage and lock the doors of her home, sighing in relief. However, she knew there's no way she'll be at peace even in the four safe walls of her own home... the paranoia was eating her insides.

Not even a nice cold shower or warm bath with a side of red or white wine could calm her nerves, though she was still feeling icky as she had just gone to school.

After weighing the odds of one of the boys appearing in the shower with a knife in hand to stab her, she finally decided it was safe to take a shower, with some loud music playing in the background. 

7 songs had passed as she finally stepped out of the long shower, drying herself as she wore some comfortable attire. She rushed downstairs, feeling that she's be more at peace there.

With her Spotify playlist blasting in the back, and a pencil at hand, she sat at a rather messy desk, dried acrylic paint strides decorating the surface as many other art pieces surrounded the room. 

Only that corner of  the room was such a mess, and she wouldn't even try to clean it up as it will be worthless if she starts painting again. For a second, she forgot those boys even existed. 

For a second.  

She received a text from an unknown number, as she clicked on it her blood ran cold...

Unknown number: 

Aw you didn't wait for us?

Babe.

Babe answer me right now.

For every minute I have to wait on your text, will be the amount of time you will experience hell...

Babe read the texts, wondering what to text, but it's not like she had all the time in the world to come up with a response... She had totally forgotten that she had given Sunghoon her number.

Babe: 

Sorry I kinda forgot

Uhm this is Sunghoon right?

Unknown:

Sunghoon??? you gave Sunghoon your number? 

Babe: 

Well yeah he did ask for it

if this isn't Sunghoon than who is this?

Unknown:

Riki. I copied your number

Your pin number is so basic babygirl

Anyways. you took 17 minutes to respond... but you can make it up to us if you get to our home on time. 

Riki sent her the address as Babe hastily slipped on her high heels, running over to the building, not wanting the boys to take note of any of her vehicles.

Taking a deep breath, she rang the doorbell. As if he was waiting there for her, Riki answered the door almost immediately.

His bare face handsome as ever, those pretty chocolate moles now visible, his dark eyes, held a spine-chilling psychotic look, while looking rather alluring, and those perfect plush lips. So perfect... so kissable...

He was so handsome, his hair wet, the white shirt fit him perfectly, and the way he towered over her...

But that was all overlooked... that psychotic look in his eyes, that deadly smirk plastered on his lips, the way he snaked his around her waist... one'd think he was a loving boyfriend up to some mischief.

"You're early... I was kinda hoping you'd arrive a little late.... you see im feeling bored darling" Riki added pulling her inside as he shut the door.

Babe sat on the couch, silently as she observed her surroundings. So elegant... the place looked rather classy. "It's just you and me tonight... the boys are busy working" Riki randomly said as he noticed how the girl nervously picked at the hem of her skirt.

"You're lucky I don't feel like cleaning up blood today... you're off the hook." Riki said as the girl looked up at him in shock. Only then did she notice how he was seemingly hot, the sound of his sniffles and coughs were heard as he gulped a spoonful of medicine, the disgust evident on his face.

The male simply dragged her up the stairs to his room, and pushed onto his bed, triggering her instantly, but she froze when he simply rested his head upon her belly, snuggling her as his arms wrapped around her figure.

His eyes were already closed as he babbled nonsense. Confused, Babe got up a little, balancing the weight of her upper body on her elbows. The psycho looked so peaceful, his body was really warm. Hesitant, she lied back down, running a hand through his slightly wet hair.

She reached for a towel, softly trying to dry his hair, trying not to wake him up. A few minutes passed as she heard the familiar voices  of the other boys, filling the building.

Sunoo froze by the doorway as he noticed Babe trapped in Riki's embrace "Jungwon Riki caught us a deer." Sunoo called out to Won as Heeseung frowned "But I'm right here-" Hee said as he walked over to Sunoo.

"Not you idiot- her-" Jungwon pointed at Babe who blinked. "Leave her for now... Riki's sick if you yank her away from him he might just leave another scar on your back." Jungwon as Sunoo rolled his eyes 

And the deer fell right into the deadly trap, now stuck underneath the demon himself...

✧𝕾𝖙𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗✧

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enha x reader #engene #enhypen niki #ni ki #nishimura niki #enhypen niki ff #enhypen ff #enhypen aesthetic #enhypen drabbles #enhypen behind #enhypen au #enhypen angst #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen heeseung #enhypen imagine #enhypen jay #enhypen jungwon #enhypen niki angst #enhypen nishimura riki #enhypen overprotective #enhypen reaction #enhypen reactions #enhypen riki #enhypen scenarios

[throughtrialbyfire]

WIP Wednesday lets goooooooo

man, i'm glad it's wednesday!! it's been a tough one on my end, but it's the best day of the week, and i've been having a blast reading through/looking at everyone's wips today!!

thank you to the phenomenally skilled and talented @mareenavee @skyrim-forever @dirty-bosmer @v1ctory-or-sovngarde @umbracirrus and @thequeenofthewinter for tagging me!! i love seeing what you're all up to this week, expect unhinged tags on your works soon!! <3333

i'm passing the beacon to @gilgamish @orfeoarte @caliblorn @aphocryphas @totally-not-deacon @wispstalk @your-talos-is-problematic and anyone who'd like to hop in!!

this is from chapter 25 of "Cycle of the Serpent" and fresh off the presses! this is shaping up to be the longest chapter since chapter 10 at 3,132 words as of right now, and this snippet contains most of it. of course it's going to go through the editing ringer before it gets posted, but i'm pretty satisfied with how it's turned out!

the dragonborn trio is tackling fort hraagstad in hopes of acquiring an imperial pardon, and things take a bit of a turn…

have fun. ;3

quick content warning for canon-typical violence

The first to fall. The first to bleed. Wyndrelis watched the arrow make its mark squarely in the jugular of the nearest bandit. Clean. Quick. A hunter's trained kill. He watched another fall, this time an arrow to the chest. This time, not so quick, and another did them in. Emeros slid forward in the snow and up the incline, finding the path and his footing along it. Wyndrelis followed, Athenath rushing behind, swinging their blade at the first bandit to get near enough to him to try an attack. One. Two. Three, now. Wyndrelis kept count. The sick crack of a skull against his summoned mace added four to the tally. Another cadaver. He slipped along the mud and felt Athenath wrench a fist into the back of his armor, the same armor they'd snagged off the bandits in Bleak Falls Barrow. Jarl Balgruuf's gift was very kind, the armor of Whiterun, but they were in Haafingar, and they were no guards. So, his gifted armor lay in a chest in the Winking Skeever, finally off their backs, along with any items they wished to spare the hell of battle. As soon as he was on his feet properly again, he felt the brunt of a shield crash into him. Wyndrelis barely had enough time to get his wits about him when he flopped over onto his back, the bandit above him about to crash one enormous boot into his chest when Emeros drew his dagger, the ivory handle stark white against the dull grey forts stone, driving it hard into the neck of their foe. He clasped Wyndrelis' hand and pulled him from the mud before he continued, firing arrows into the bandits scrambling along the high walls of the fort. Five. He hissed in pain and ran a Restoration spell through his shoulder, the muscles unclenching, the tension melting away, magicka running down his veins like High Rock chocolates under a hot sun, the kind he'd shared long ago with someone whose name he refused to speak aloud. He shut the memory off as quickly as he could, looking up, watching Athenath walk backwards along the higher pathway of Fort Hraagstad, a bandit inching closer and closer. "Come on, little elf," called the bandit, "you're good as gutted now." Athenath narrowed his gaze, stray curls forcing themselves into his vision. He did not reply, breaths coming out in shaky, harrowing gasps. Wyndrelis watched. His chest tightened. Something was deeply wrong.

Emeros noticed before he did, as the moment the Dunmer spun to communicate this, Emeros had flown halfway across the courtyard and up the walkway, curling his fist into the bandit's cheekbone. Athenath shoved himself forward and drove his sword deep into the armored stomach of the bandit, and once he could sense no life in them, he pulled it off, boot to their hipbone. "Gods," Athenath spat, Emeros' attention drawn to their surroundings. Six. Wyndrelis waited. He listened to the hiss and whistle of the winds, the waving of the pines in the breeze, the snow tufting off the surface of the stone and powdering his figure in the muddy courtyard. He didn't want to think of what the mud contained now. He dismissed his spectral mace. Holding up his hand, he cast Detect Life. Emeros and Athenath glowed. He looked around, scrutinizing every corner of the courtyard and hoping for no signs, and when none came, he breathed a shaking sigh of relief. "Come down, let me treat your wounds before we go further." "What further?" Athenath shot back, throat creaking slightly, "I thought we were done." Wyndrelis shook his head, gesturing with his thumb to the doorway that no doubt led further into the fort. "This way. Now, come down."

Wounds treated, the trio gave a long, hesitant look to the door leading down into the fort. Wyndrelis, reaching for his corporeal mace, furrowed his brow. It wasn't ideal, he couldn't funnel his magicka into it to make it stronger, to ensure it lasted, but it was better than using up his magicka in the event they ran into any more bandits. Which, of course, he was sure that they would. Athenath leaned against the door. "We ready?" He whispered. Wyndrelis looked to Emeros, who nocked another arrow. "Open the door slowly, I think we need to take some precautions." He watched as the Altmer shuffled to the side, kneeling down, and slowly pressing their hand to the door. Wyndrelis stood to the side of the stone, heart hammering in his chest. He'd never been a fighter. He was a mage, a scholar, moreso. This was in complete opposition to how he liked to handle his problems, but it was all in the name of being able to traverse Skyrim safely. So, he would fight. As soon as the door parted, Emeros spotted the figure of another bandit, and his arrow found purchase in the man's skull. He motioned for the others to follow him, which they did, creeping low to the ground and carefully in the stone dark. Another fell, up the stairs. And the moment a third bandit became alerted to the commotion, Emeros took them down, Wyndrelis clutching his mace. The dark encroached on them, summoning all the anxiety in the mage's body, nothing capable of shielding him from the emerging fears that boiled in his heart. He kept his form steady, his breath even, but the chill from the outside could not be eliminated by the burning hearth on the lower level. All it took for his fears to be validated was the door swinging open beneath them, and someone spotting the bodies. The call for more bandits, more of their kin, to come running and to search every crevice for the trio.

In an instant, chaos erupted, the three elves hopping from the lower level and sprinting out the door, deer in flight from a lion, the cold shattering against them as they flung themselves down the stairs of the other door, a prison of sorts, and through it's winding depths. The twisting, the turning, the thunder of feet against stairs, the shouts of people calling for their intruders to meet the end here, to fall into Aetherius here, here of all places- Wyndrelis sprinted behind his friends, Emeros looking back- for what? Keep running, Wyndrelis mentally hissed as he followed. The churning the rolling the dark shadows meant to cloak them doing nothing, nothing, gods damn it all, they had been cornered. Gods damn it all, he wanted to do something, anything, petrified, the stench of rot coming to him through the prison's iron bars, his spine now to one cell containing the half-rotten remains of some poor soul he was soon to join. Dead end. Dead end. It was a gods damned dead end. He felt his spine against cold metal through his armor. Athenath to one side. Emeros to another. Outnumbered, how could they take down this many and expect to survive? The steps, slow and readied, down the stairs echoed in the room. The bandits knew that they had their prey in their clutches. No need to rush things. What could three little elves do? What good were they in this fight? Wyndrelis inhaled deeply. He exhaled. His heart thundered in his chest and his eyes cast sharp, terrified glances around the room. He met Athenath's round, panicked eyes. Emeros' own, stone-cold, dread in his stomach as he tried to figure out just how much time they had until the group was either eliminated or would face one of their hardest battles yet. The courtyard had offered open space. Better odds. This offered nothing but a grave. A grave. Wyndrelis tightened a fist so hard his nails dug into his palm. If only he had that book, if only it hadn't been taken from him the moment he became a prisoner, but he didn't and he wasn't able to get it back yet, he didn't even know where it was, if he did he might be able to get them out of this mess, but no. No, no, he knew there were other options. And as much as he didn't like it, he knew what he had to do. He gave Athenath one last look. Emeros, too. Calm settled over the Dunmer's features. He pushed magicka into his palm. The fist glowered a purple, the scowl of a work that he'd too-long left dormant. The College of Whispers had given him much. His fondness for the group and their cynosures did not outweigh his experiences, but it had given him something that no one, not the law, not the gods, and not his terror could take from him.

#skyrim fic #tes v #tes v fic #tesblr #tes v ocs #skyrim ocs #fort hraagstad #fort hraggstad #writeblr #ficblr #skyrim fanfic #tes fanfic #cycle of the serpent #my writing #bishop.txt #oc ; wyndrelis #oc ; emeros #oc ; athenath

[toujokaname]

Matrix / Prologue

Author: Akira

Characters: Hiiro, Rinne, Niki

"Now please listen to it, Rinne Amagi's debut single...♪"

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[ Read on my site for a better viewing experience using Ois~su ♪ ]

Season: Winter

Location: Forest

A dream, or perhaps a reminiscence. Rinne Amagi's hometown, among the surrounding mountains.

Hiiro: Nii-saaan?

(...Hmm. I've followed the "marks" left behind to this point, but I don't see Nii-san anywhere.)

(Maybe I've been deceived by him after all.)

(Those marks might've been a trick to throw me off his trail, and Nii-san might have slipped away to some unknown place by now.)

(Somewhere called the city.)

(If so, it'll be difficult to track him down. I haven't been told where Nii-san leaves the village.)

(In the first place, how did Nii-san manage to leave this village, which should have no contact with the outside world, and go to the city—)

Rinne: Ta-da~☆

Hiiro: ...! Nii-san!

Thank goodness. I thought you had gone back to the city, but you're still here.

Everyone is looking for you. There's so much work to do, so many rituals to perform...

Rinne: I don't care about any of that!

Hiiro: You should care. If someone doesn't fulfill their responsibilities, they'll lose their position.

And you, the next monarch, should be no exception to this rule.

Rinne: Jeez, shut up already! Just listen! Onii-chan's gonna show you something fun, Hiiro!

Hiiro: Something fun?

Rinne: Yep! After digging through books and composing my own tunes, I finally came up with something decent!

I'm gonna show you something fun I discovered in the city!

An idol dance thingy! Heh heh~♪

Hiiro: I'm not interested. Nii-san always says whatever he wants to, but I wish you'd listen to me every now and then.

Rinne: I refuse! Just shut up and watch, Hiiro! I promise you won't regret it!

Give me a round of applause! Rookie idol Rinne Amagi's first performance is dedicated to—my one and only, most precious little brother in the world!

Now please listen to it, Rinne Amagi's debut single...♪

Hiiro: *Clap clap clap clap...?* (Clapping without really understanding)

About a decade later, right after Rinne Amagi debuted as an idol.

At Rinne's place of residence, Niki Shiina's apartment.

Rinne: Mnnyu... Keep watching, Hiiro~ Onii-chan's gonna have a blast from now on—

Niki: Rinne-onii-saaan?

Wakey, wakey. Rather, don't cuddle me while you're half asleep. You know I'm not that Hiiro person, right~?

Rinne: ......

...Yeah. Good morning, Niki.

Niki: Yup, morning~ You're still as sluggish as ever after waking up, Onii-san.

I get it... We're not really eating well, so it's hard for blood to move through our bodies...

Rinne: Don't worry. I'll earn enough as an idol to feed you plenty every day.

Niki: I sure hope so! I'm gonna start working after graduating middle school, but I might starve to death before that 'cause we don't have money for food!

Onii-san's the only one I can depend on. So pleeease do your best today to bring home the bacon~

Rinne: Yeah. I'm not planning to become an ungrateful freeloader, so I'll work hard.

Niki: Just enough's fine~ You work to eat, but if you overwork yourself to death and can't even enjoy the food, that's backwards.

Well, becoming an idol's like Rinne-onii-san's dream, right? Maybe you wanna push yourself too hard?

Is it really all that fun~? Y'know, that idol stuff?

Rinne: That I still don't know. There's so many differences between the fantasies I had as a kid and reality, leaving me depressed and disappointed.

Still, that must be what it means to be a slave of love, 'cause right now I can only see the "good parts" ♪

Niki: Gotcha. As long as you're happy.

Oh crap, the miso soup's about to boil over... Onii-san, you'll have breakfast, right?

Rinne: Yeah. Thanks for the food. My bad for always mooching off you, huh, Niki?

Niki: If you feel that way, then work harder and earn enough for me to add extra ingredients to the soup. Just with that, I'd be plenty satisfied.

Rinne: I'll definitely make you happy! Niki!

Niki: Hm? Yeah... As long as I can eat every day, I'm happy~?

Well, I don't really get it, but I'm glad to see you're motivated ♪

—Hehe. Knock 'em dead at work today too, Onii-san.

Rinne: You bet! Rinne-onii-chan's gonna give it his all in idol activities today too~!

[ ☆ ]

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#akira #event story #matrix #hiiro #rinne #niki

[v3nusxsky]

Hii, I love your writing and you're so very talented!!

Please, feel free to ignore this request if you don't feel comfortable writing it 😊

I was wondering if you could write a Lady Lesso x Never!Student platonic where the reader has depression. The reader has no motivation and everything seems like a chore - even eating. She would feel so terrible that she would phyically get sick and nauseous and tired all the time. The nights are the worst because her mind is plagued by dark thoughts, the nights seemed to never end, she's afraid she'll do something stupid so she rans down the hallway knocking on Lady Lesso's headquarters' doors.

She's afraid of Lady Lesso but she's afraid of herself even more.

I suffer from seasonal depression that lasts from like February to October and I'm tired already-

It gets to the point I even think things that aren't even true. Like... I'd mix reality and thoughs. For example - I'd be thinking my phone cracked and for some reason I'd believe it. I get so confused xD And I'd isolate myself from people not even caring. I wish I could feel bad because I stopped communicating with them but I just don't.

Hey lovely anon! <3 thank you so much for your support and kind words. I hope this is what you were looking for <3

Save me from myself

*Authors note| This seemed very fitting for my mood today so I absolutely have had a blast writing this.*

Trigger warnings~ food issues depression self harm the whole lot really

Prompt~see ask^^

Depression is a strange thing, especially when coupled with anxiety. It's like you have no energy to do anything but your brain is going a million miles a minute. Yet it makes perfect sense, your brain is whirling so many thoughts that it's draining all of your energy. Self care goes out the window, anything that really requires any physical emotional or mental energy goes too. Why does life have to be soo hard? It feels as though everything is getting on top of you and pushing you further and further back into this dark place.  The dark place being cold and lonely, two of the things you wished to not feel, yet they surround you all day every day.

Food isn't on your radar, even the thought of food makes you feel nauseous. All you want to do is sleep for the rest of eternity. Yet your mind refuses to allow that. You know that staying in doors, in bed, is not helping you. Yet getting up is much too difficult. Sleep seems to evade you. Taunting you as if it knows your desperation for it to claim you. The lack of food, sleep and your overwhelming feelings seem to control your everyday thought. You know it's wrong and that you should ask for help but the energy to do that is missing.

That's why you turned to an older coping mechanism. You didn't mean to. It was a moment of weakness and not one you had planned to do again. You felt guilt as sin. Yet when you did it god the numbness was something you craved. But you couldn't do that again, it was a dangerous path that was extremely hard for you to crawl your way back from. Scars littered your arms now and they served as a reminder, self harm was not and is not the way forward. So for days you focused so hard on not giving into the urge, it was draining you but at least it worked.

As a never it felt wrong to even consider reaching out for help, it was weakness. Never's aren't weak. Weakness got you in a vulnerable space, something you really can't afford. Yet for some reason you had bonded rather well with the one and only Dean of Evil. Your recent slip into your seasonal depression had you pulling away from Leonora, something she didn't take too well. At first she assumed you were unwell, after all no one can stay in perfect health all the time, but soon it became apparent something darker was lurking behind your dorm room door. Something perhaps you were trying to hide. She trusted in you to find her when you felt ready, she had told you day or night she would be there for you and had truly meant every word.

Tonight, you broke. Fighting this battle alone was terrifying, and you didn't trust yourself to not fall back into that bad habit, you knew what would happen if you stayed in the room alone. You knew where to find your collection of sharp objects and how your control would dwindle fast just by the sight of them. You could feel the sensations of them on your skin. This was dangerous territory and you knew it. So without thinking you fled. Seeing the outside of your dorm for the first time in days. The candle light seemed awfully too bright and overwhelming from what you remember, was it always this cold? Briefly, you considered going back to hibernate under your blankets and just wait this out, but the sensations on your arm reminding you just how much of a terrible idea it truly was. So you ran.

Your body mindlessly taking you to your safe place, your home. Before you even knew it you were up the hall standing outside of Lesso's chambers. A luxury only had been given, for this exact reason. Yet here you stood, willing yourself to stay put and knock. Yet your mind was telling you to go back to the room and give in. Give in to the demon that plagued you. You need it. But you don't want it. And that's what makes you knock. Small timid knocked in a carefully designed pattern alerted the older women of your presence. And when that door opened, you felt your heart shatter into a million pieces.

This was absolutely terrifying, but you were more scared of your own mind right now. Your body reacting instantly by seeing the women, you threw yourself in her direction causing your body to slam into hers. Sobs tore through your body as she brought her arms around your quivering form. At this point you didn't know what was real and what was in your mind. Was she holding you? The words you hear, are the created by your mind? You didn't know, and truthfully you didn't care right now. You needed her and she was here, in person or in your mind , but that didn't matter. She was here when you needed her just as she had promised to be.

Soon enough you had settled on her sofa in front of the fire being cocooned by her strong arms and words of reassurance and encouragement being whispered into your hair as you let it all out. Tears and muffled apologises for pushing her away, hurting yourself and not being strong enough. Each and every fear she squashed and by the end of it you had snuggled closer and fallen into the first restful sleep you'd had in god knows how long.

Word count~ 1170

#fanfic #lady lesso #sfgae #leonora lesso #lady lesso x reader #lesso x reader #lady leonora lesso #leonora lesso x reader #dean of evil #send anons #anon request

[hermanunworthy]

Hi, there, Siren, hope you're doing well! If you're still taking dndads ship requests, how about maybe 35 for Cheerkicks/Oakli (not entirely sure on the name here, but. Link and Normal. You get it), please? Feeling in a silly rarepair mood today hehe 💚💚💚

Bullet Holes and Acne Scars (and Other Wounds to Heal)

35. kissing their bruises and scars

from the touch prompts list!

I WAITED A MONTH TO START ON THIS HELP 😭 trust me though ive been so excited about this one, oakicks makes me ill /pos (and also im glad i waited bc i got to use the latest episode as context for this scene!)

cw: violence (including gun violence), blood and injury

also on ao3!

Normal never would’ve taken Lincoln as a fighter, at first.

Ever since they were young, Lincoln has been timid, uptight, the type to go rigid if you get too close to him. Or maybe that’s just in Normal’s case. They’re working on it, though. He thinks. He hopes.

He never would've thought that the sweet kid he used to see kicking rocks in the corner or a soccer ball on a field would one day be kicking FBI agents and military soldiers on the battlefield. With the force of a beast.

Normal thinks he understands, now, why Lincoln’s dads tried to shelter their son so much.

But he also thinks he understands, as he’s too distracted looking at Lincoln to succeed at the spell he’s currently casting, the way he feels. He may not understand what it’s like to be unconditionally loved by his parents (something that arouses a deeply-rooted feeling of envy in him towards his friend, but that’s another thing he’s working on), but he understands what it’s like to feel pressured by his parents. And he thinks, in their own loving way, Lincoln’s dads have pressured him too much. And this is his release. His rebellion. Like a caged animal set free.

And Normal does believe he deserves this. However. It also concerns him greatly.

Because the paladin is moving so quickly, so aggressively, and the cleric is barely able to even keep an eye on him but it sounds like he's breathing heavily and at one point he thinks he catches a glimmer of something in his eye. And it all keeps distracting him from helping out in the battle himself.

Normal just narrowly avoids another incoming attack. Focus, Normal, fucking focus! He shakes his head, his heart pounding irregularly in his chest, trying to pay attention to anything other than Lincoln, Lincoln, is Lincoln okay—

“Norm!” Scary’s voice calls from a ways away, blasting a fireball directly into a man’s face. “Taylor could use your help!”

“No, I—!” Taylor immediately snaps back from where he stands off, holding a soldier back with their weapons clashed. “Uh, I mean… Yeah! Normie! We need you!”

Normal leaps straight into action, fueled by his friends’ words and ready to defend them, but realizes while he’s charging his spell just what’s going on. Something burns within him, something that has settled deep within his veins and has been repeatedly threatening to burst through these days. Do you really need my help, or do you just want to feel better about being such a dick to me lately?

His spell fizzles out in failure again, and he clutches his head and growls to himself. Lincoln, get out of my damn head!

“Norm— Augh!” Scary, in her distraction, takes a blunt melee attack to the head, knocking her down.

Taylor swivels around with a slash to his opponent to face Scary’s assailant. “What the hell?!” He jabs his sword toward the FBI agent. “Normal! What’s with the weaksauce spells?”

The blood is roaring in Normal’s ears so loudly that he can't even hear himself stuttering. He dizzily looks between Scary on the ground, Taylor standing off against the agent, and Lincoln, off in the distance, surrounded by soldiers. He's paralyzed. His lungs feel compressed tightly in his chest, and not even the strong emotion shooting through his blood is enough to awaken any magic.

Scary, thank the metaphorical heavens and not the godawful place they all visited earlier, manages to make it back onto her feet, but not without great effort. “You're—” She coughs. “You're good, Norm, you're good.”

The squeezing feeling in Normal’s chest somehow worsens. Stop it, don't say that. Why am I even here? I'm no help at all!

He stumbles backwards, and his back bumps into somebody. Before he can turn around to face them, a pair of burly arms are slung around his neck. Already short of breath, the cleric is easy to choke out, and his hands fly up to scratch at their sleeves. Panicking, he looks to Taylor, the closest nearby person, and cries out, “Help!”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Taylor drops what he’s doing and, like a true hero, blindly sprints over to slice the back of Normal’s attacker. The arms release him from the chokehold, and he falls to the ground, heaving for air.

But he isn't able to recover for long, because somebody is yanking him back up by his collar. He braces himself this time, but finds himself face-to-face with Taylor. His expression is twisted in anger, the way he looked at him the last time they argued.

“What the fuck was that, dude?! You can't even use a spell to help me, but you can use me to help you?” He shoves him, nearly toppling him back to the ground.

He… I used a Command on Taylor, didn't I? He didn't even realize. It was just instinct, of course he wouldn't just use his friend like that…

You only ever want to help yourself, a familiar voice scolds him in his head.

“Taylor, quit it, he’s already been…!” Scary is beginning to argue with him now, but Normal can't even pay attention to that anymore.

Lincoln is now fighting Agent Shmegan.

The man is trying to resist his attacks, shielding his body with his arms and trying to talk to him, but the paladin will not let up. “Kid, if you could just— You're making this harder than it needs to be, we just want—”

“I don't care what you want!” Lincoln roars, the first words Normal has heard him say during this entire fight. “I'm not going to listen to you anymore! I hate you adults! Fuck you!” He kicks him again, and again, and he's starting to lose his momentum with each swing but he refuses to give up. “Fuck you! Fuck you!”

Normal knows Lincoln has a history with this man, but he also can tell that this is not just about him and Taylor’s kidnapping.

“Li-Wilson— Please just get a hold of yourself and your friends—” Schmegan orders through grunts of pain. Normal knows Lincoln has been training hard to perfect his soccer kicks, so that can't feel good to take.

“Shut up! That’s Mr. Kicks to you!” The soccer player utilizes a swift kick to the crotch as emphasis.

While the FBI agent is finally doubled over in pain, unable to make any more demands, Lincoln’s body heaves with effort. He looks like he’s preparing another kick, but he’s cut short when a loud gunshot fires out, and he stumbles backwards.

“Link!” Normal shrieks, his body finally allowing him to move again, and he dives over to where his friend has fallen. As he gets close, it becomes apparent to him that Lincoln is crying, and he’s crying hard.

“Sir, let's get out of here.” Another agent, holding the gun used to shoot Lincoln, rushes over to Shmegan’s aid, helping him to lean on his shoulder and escort him back to their helicopter. “Freeman kept us from capturing the King, but we have him and his buddies as hostages for later. We need to retreat for now.”

Shmegan’s face contorts in pain and anger. “That better include Wilson. I have some words for that man about his son.”

The other agent chuckles wryly. “Oh, yes, sir. He’s been incapacitated since the fight began.” He looks down at where Lincoln sits, with no sense of remorse. “Seems we’re not the only ones disturbed by that kid’s violence.”

Normal is crouched by Lincoln’s side, trembling just as bad as he is. “Link, it’s Normal. Normal’s here.” God, that must be the least comforting thing he could hear right now. He must be the last person he wants to help him.

Normal’s hands are on Lincoln’s hands. Lincoln’s hands are on his knee. Lincoln’s blood is on his hands, on his knee, on his clothes, on the ground…

“Dad,” Lincoln sobs weakly. “Dad.”

All of Lincoln’s fight has left him. Now he’s just a scared, powerless little kid.

And so is Normal, now that he’s drained of magic. He can't cast any more spells. He used the last one to help himself. He can't heal his friend. And dear god, Lincoln’s still crying for his dad. But Grant has been captured. And so have the rest of their dads, it sounds.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck!

He presses down harder on the wound, but he can't tell if it’s even helping to stop the bleeding, or if it’s just him trying to squeeze Lincoln’s hands to help himself calm down. God fucking damn it, I'm so selfish, even as my friend is sitting here with an actual bullet wound… Can’t do shit for him…

He dares to look back up at Lincoln’s face, and finds it even worse to look at than all the blood. His eyes are scrunched up, leaking a river of tears down his face, his lips quivering with each shaking breath. It reminds him of when he got to see this boy as a baby, and how he promised him that it was going to be alright. He has to make this alright again, if it’s the last thing he does.

With one hand still pressing against his knee, Normal uses the other one to carefully lean forward and stroke his cheek again, wiping away some of his tears.

Lincoln opens his eyes, and when they meet Normal’s it’s clear that they are bloodshot and unfocused. “D-Dad…” he still whimpers. “Help…”

It hurts, knowing that he doesn't want Normal, but he tries to put himself in his shoes. What would I want from my dad, if I were him?

He knows Grant wouldn't know any healing spells. But he does know that he was very tender and affectionate with his son. He seems like he’s very gentle in how he cares for him, like he feels like his own dad has the potential to be.

He knows what he wanted his dad to do for him when he got hurt when he was younger. Grant seems like the type to care unconditionally, though. So, unlike his own dad, he ignores the disturbing and gross nature of this situation, and with all the love (and lack of magic) in his heart, he presses his lips lovingly against Lincoln’s knee as if it was simply the scraped knee of a child.

Lincoln gasps at the feeling, and Normal instantly regrets it, feeling like an utter idiot, He has an literal hole in his knee, I can't just kiss it better, this must be hurting him so bad—

“Normal,” Lincoln chokes at last. He grabs one of his friend’s hands and squeezes it with enough strength to break him. “Normal.”

The cleric lets out a squeak from the strong grip, but watches as a golden light begins to slowly, slowly glow from underneath the paladin’s other hand, which is still on his knee. He’s casting Lay on Hands on himself. Oh, Normal didn't even think about the fact that Lincoln hasn't been using any magic, so he probably could've…

But no, Lincoln wasn't able to help himself before, was he? It wasn't until Normal kissed him that that something in his eyes cleared, like a fog being lifted. Did Normal actually help? Or is he just being selfish, just taking credit for something that had nothing to do with—

“Thank you, Normal,” Lincoln breathes. The words he’s been wanting to hear all this time. Normal’s heart squeezes at the sound.

“Did you…” Normal’s own voice feels thick in his throat, and he realized just then that he has tears dripping down his face as well. “Did you even realize what you were doing? How hard you were fighting?”

More tears begin to roll down Lincoln’s cheeks. “It… There was no pain… At first… Only anger…”

He squeezes his friend’s hand back, but it’s not nearly as strong. Not as strong as Lincoln, never. “I was so worried, it felt like losing you…”

Lincoln’s face crumples again, and Normal can hardly bear to look at it. “Normal…”

His eyes wander over Lincoln’s body, realizing that there are other spots of blood not just from the gunshot. All sorts of cuts and bruises, all of which look very painful, but Lincoln hasn't acknowledged any of them. That “zone” that he seems to get into, that rush of adrenaline, that thrill of violence, must be a very, very dangerous place for him to be in. He never wants to lose his friend to that darkness again.

So he shows him the light. He leans in close to each wound, trailing the gentlest of kisses over the dark spots on his legs and the nasty gashes on his arms, never once shying away from the blood or the hair or the sweat or the filth because it's all normal to him, and even though he knows it's selfish to give Lincoln what he wants for himself, he wants to love Lincoln like he’s perfectly new.

“Normal,” is all Lincoln can say now, through his continued crying. “Normal, Normal…” The way he’s whimpering his name, like a prayer upon his lips, only fuels him further, the way it feels to have replenished magic surging through his veins.

It isn't until he gets tugged away by his hair that he realizes he should probably stop. But Lincoln's hand doesn’t move from the back of his head, and when he looks up at him, Lincoln just stares back, his pupils wide. “Normal,” he whispers again.

Lincoln’s gaze is roaming over his face, and especially over the blood drying on his mouth. Normal can taste it, he realizes self-consciously.

“How can you still be so nice to me?” His eyes shine with a horrible, heart-wrenching guilt, a guilt that Normal can feel himself as he fights the overwhelming need to kiss the one little cut that he missed, the one he’s been avoiding, because he knows it would be too selfish of him.

The one on his lip.

“I'm… so sorry.” Lincoln’s fingers loosen in his hair, but Normal still leans his head into his hand before he can decide to let go entirely. “For how I've… I've been so…”

“It's okay, Link,” Normal murmurs, even though he doesn't know if it's true. It’s just hard to focus on the long-term pain this boy has caused him when said boy is caressing the back of his neck so delicately that it makes him melt.

“No. You're my friend. You're my husband.” The certainty with which he says it brings Normal a shiver. “I need to make it up to you.”

This time, Lincoln is the one leaning forward. Normal freezes up, his face flushing red as his husband’s lips land on his cheek.

But Normal doesn't understand. He doesn't need healing, he doesn't have any scars. Not on the outside, anyway.

Is he… kissing my tears away?

Another kiss. And another. Each touch of his lips to his face leaves him with a feeling of warmth and light. Lincoln even reaches with his bloody hands to brush the sweaty hair sticking to Normal’s skin out of the way, and begins to leave kisses on his forehead as well.

Oh. He’s kissing his acne scars.

More tears run down where Lincoln has kissed. Nobody has ever… He's always been told that he's gross, that his acne is a problem, something to be ashamed of. He has spent countless hours staring at himself in the mirror, popping pimples and picking at scabs (despite his sister’s warnings), wondering why he has to look like this and if anyone could ever love him like this. His parents would never do something like this for him.

But Lincoln is. Lincoln, the one he’s been trying to win over for years. Lincoln, the kid he always wanted to play with but wasn't allowed to. Lincoln, the friend who always seemed to shut him down no matter how hard he tried to love him. That same guy is here, sitting on the ground in literal Hell, a bullet in his knee and blood on his clothes, his fingers curling in his greasy hair and his lips kissing his pockmarked face.

“I'm sorry,” Lincoln whispers tearfully against his skin. “Thank you for… for being my friend. For being you.”

As he pulls back, Normal pushes forward, resting his forehead against Lincoln’s. “I love you,” he sighs, selfishly but honestly. He hopes it brings Lincoln as much catharsis as it does him.

Lincoln glances up from where his eyes sat downcast at the blood on the ground, to stare into his husband’s eyes. His hand on Normal’s neck drifts to his jaw. Eyes still glittering sadly, he offers a smile, but the stretching of his lips opens his cut and makes him wince away in pain.

Normal reaches forward with a careful hand, and catches Lincoln’s chin. He really hopes this isn't going too far, too fast, too bold, like he always seems to be going without realizing it. “Let me…?” He can't even finish the question, can't bear another rejection.

But Lincoln beats him to it, kisses him first, kisses him better. Cradles him with such love and care that you’d think he’s the one being nursed back to health.

And it is undoubtedly healing. Something Normal has needed for a long time. Something that tastes like blood and grime and filth, something that tastes so normal and familiar that it feels like coming home. Feels like being blessed by an angel visiting Hell.

After all, Normal always thought Lincoln was more of a lover than a fighter.

#oakicks #cheerkicks #normal oak #lincoln li wilson #dndads #dndads fanfic #dndads fic #my fic #touch prompts

[thecandywrites]

Kinktober 2022 Day 3- Dirty Talk

So this is a fun twist on the prompt that I had a blast writing. Enjoy.

Again, many, many thanks to @starsandskies for her Kinktober prompts. Again, I'm still playing catch up. But! Hopefully you'll really like it.

Kinktober Day 3

Dirty Talk- Food Poisoning

You spotted your potential client and grinned and sauntered up to him and put your hand on one shoulder as you moved your hand from one shoulder to the other as you came around him. 

“So what brings you around here Handsome?” You cooed to him as you took the glass of wine that was in his hand and daringly took a sip of it as you held his gaze almost defiantly. 

“The usual reasons.” He answered back, as if he had been rehearsing that line at least a hundred times only moments before you asked your question.  

“The usual reasons?” You scoffed before you put his glass of pinot noir back into his hand as you sucked your teeth in disappointment.

“Too bad. I don’t waste my time with the usual.” You tossed back before you turned around to walk away to find another potential client that would be worth your time.

“Why?” He called after you which halted your escape as you turned to the side to appraise him and give him an unimpressed look.

“Usual reasons means you have usual problems. It means you’ll need usual solutions to said problems. And it also means that you have the usual pay to solve those usual problems. And I’m not that kind of problem solver and my price is way higher than "the usual pay". Because I'm a specialist. But there are plenty of others in this place that will fix that usual problem for you right up without a single issue, you're surrounded by all kinds of tools whose bread and butter is "the usual". And I'm frankly unimpressed and find 'the usual' boring and not worth my time.” You answered back as you gestured to all the others that were walking around the place, scoping out potentials there while others came and headed straight to their preferred "problem solver". While you could only hope and pray that your favorite "subcontractors" would be coming in today to give you worthy of your time and expertise, and with the bank roll to make it worth your while too.

The “problem fixers” were indicated by key items. If they were male, or preferred to present as male, they wore black suits with red ties, red pocket squares in thier suit jackets and red shoes with gold and ruby tiebars and cufflinks and earrings if they so desired. With the occasional black gold chain encrusted with rubies among them or regular yellow gold chains, encrusted with rubies, garnets or any other precious red stone if they so desired.

If they were female, or at least- preferred to present as female- they wore black dresses or pantsuits with either a red belt, or sash. But with your dress this evening, you forewent the belt and the sash since it would break up the sleek designs of the dress itself and would break up the look and aesthetic you were going for. Because you sure did love putting the femme into femmefatal. But it was required that the black outfit have red shoes and a red clutch and red lipstick to match. Along with gold and ruby jewelry. Whether that be yellow, white, rose or black gold was up to the discerning taste of the wearer. Since the shade of red could vary slightly to make sure it was a was a flattering shade of red for the wearer. And also afforded for the "problem fixers" to differentiate themselves from the others while more of the senior members had thier own signiture look that didn't take kindly to copy-cats.

And if the "problem fixer" was either nonbinary or gender neutral or simply refused the classic gender roles, they had the most freedom of how they could dress their bodies. Just as long as it went with the theme of black, gold and red and very fashionable.

But usually, the more jewelry, especially the quality of said jewelry, or bling, the higher end designer brands you wore- indicated- how much your cost would be if you got commissioned to "fix problems". Cheap costume jewelry? While flashy- indicated you were new, barely trained and untested and had yet to earn any "real" money taking jobs from bids from the subcontractors. If you wore something real, but smaller and simpler- it either indicated you had a few jobs under your belt, but yet to build up enough of a portfolio of work or pay for that matter- to invest in your appearance in this place. But the big rollers, the ones who had been in this game the longest and had the most amazing wet work in their portfolio and they still wanted to be hired and to stay sharp- could afford to go all out. And some of the male presenting "problem presenters" could afford to practically look like a pimp with jewel encrusted everything, thick heavy furs, even in the heat of summer. And oppulant extravagance and it was usually the subcontractors- depending on their need- willing to increase thier price for the job ten fold if not more- to have "the best" fix thier problem for them.

And while you weren't quite to that level. You had enough experience to ask and demand a higher wage for your work while your quality of work was on par with some of the greats. But the only thing they had on you- was experience and connections. Which is what you were looking to build in yourself now. And you were hoping this ruby and diamond jewelry set would be worth it's investment if it got you viewed as one of the more desireable- "specialists" in here.

And it was the red that distinguished the "problem fixers" from the rest of the staff. Who wore black and gold exclusively. For female presenting persons, usually gold pearls on an item to distinguish them or if they were male, or presented as male, pure solid yellow-preferrably 24 karat gold for their accessories with no gemstones on the off chance they would be mistaken as anything other than the wait staff. But even they could afford to invest in thier own attire so that thier own tips for thier service would make any other waiter or waitress willing to slit thier own family's throats just to get the paydays these guys did. Because- just like in Vegas- with gambling Whales. The clientelle in this place could afford the best in food and drink and afford to leave thousands, maybe even tens of thousands of dollars in tips depending on how much food or drink they needed.

Otherwise the very lavish and luxurious private club could be mistaken for an exclusive nightclub but it far away from the flashing lights of Vegas, but in a city just as bright and just as bustling as any other world reknowned city. But this particular establishment was open 24/7 to serve it's own exclusive clientelle who could come from any time zone on the planet and need "work" done at any time of the day or night.

And the design of the place was exclusively black and gold with diamond or crystal accents in the chandeliers, which was why the "dress code" for those that worked here and got the privledge to work from here was so strict. There were many codes that many lived by here. And if you were serious and took your work seriously- you needed to present yourself as such, but still play into the illusion that this was just some fancy, super exclusive club. And not the assassin's den it was.

But this client, from the looks of him, wasn't worth your time. So you simply gave him a little waive goodbye with a smirk over your shoulder before you continued to walk away from him to look for another potential client before he came walking after you. 

“Well what if I could offer you something unusual?” He offered, just a tad desperately too. Which was intriguing as you read him top to bottom and looked around to see if anyone else was watching your interaction with him to see if any other had overheard and was now on their way to try to claim this client right out from under your nose.

“Which is what? Vallina? Only distinguished by the fact that it’s from Madagascar as opposed to any other kind from any other source?” You returned as you paused again but turned all the way around to fully face him this time. 

“No, I’m talking about the kind that is as dangerous and deadly- like food poisoning.” He tried to convey, as he dropped his volume to say the term 'food poisoning' as his cheeks flushed harder while fear flashed in his eyes. Which made you blink in surprise, not thinking he would have the nerve to say something like that- especially out loud and out on the open floor for anyone nearby to hear. Because "food poisoning" could have many implications in this establishment. But was never something to be taken lightly or dismissed. Because "food poisoning" was like a mini SOS signal. And the way he said it- told you it was a serious case. And depending on the severity, could be dangerous to the establishment as a whole.

Ok, so 'the usual' was more than what he seemed at first glance as you closed the distance between him and yourself as you looked into his eyes, trying to read his soul beyond them as your grin grew. Because "food poisoning" was also the kind of threat that many "contractors" allowed thier "subcontractors" to offer. It usually paid at least double or triple to get rid of. And if anything, your curiosity was piqued and you decided to give him a second chance to make a bid for your time and attention.

“Now why didn’t you lead with that? I love it when subcontractors talk dirty to me.” You cooed as you slipped back into your courtesan facade.  

“Is there anywhere we could go privately to discuss the further details?” He asked hopefully before he pulled out a black envelope gilded in gold with the design that marked that what was inside was a job- open for bidding with a skull imprinted on the wax seal, which meant it was a kill order. Which only made the curve to your grin that much more dangerously wicked. 

“Of course, come with me.” You offered as he pocketed the envelope and you took his arm, and since you were on his arm, the guards at the bottom of the stairs allowed both of you to ascend them in the first place. Because the VIP section was actually a series of booths for negotiations on the orders, offers and jobs. You brought him up the black and gold glittering stairs to the VIP booths that lined both sides of the hallway, looking for an open one- which they were all numbered, but if the booth was in use- it had a cover over the number to signify it as being in use.

The booths themselves were distinguised by the black silk curtains between the black marble columns that had gold leaf pressed into the various reliefs carved into the pillars themselves that indicated where one booth started and ended. But between the pillars- hung all around, both inside and out with long, black silk curtains- with gold glittering jewels sewn into a cascading design down the length of them. You pulled his pocket square from his business jacket pocket and put it over the number over the number jutting out of the pillar to indicate you were putting it into use. Since each "subcontractor" always had to have a pocket square or something similar to get the privlidge to come up here and get a private booth to discuss the details and negotiate.

And once you did that, you pulled back the curtains to reveal a set of doors before you opened one of them and gestured for him to enter it first which he did before you closed the curtains and then shut the door. You pressed a button inlaid into the special table inside the booth- to close that set of noise canceling doors since the space was enclosed in bulletproof, and noise proof plexiglass, hidden by long curtains of silk to hide the safety and security measure, just in case "negotiations" went south and got messy.

“Now, the room is secure, what is this ‘deadly dangerous food poisoning’ problem that you might need an exquisite problem solving tool- like me to fix? Come on, talk dirty to me.” You invited, your tone as salacious as the pose you struck on the small half circle black velvet couch in this little private booth. 

“Uh, um, well, actually it’s all in here.” He rather nervously answered before he took the envelope back out of his inside jacket pocket and handed it over to you which made your eyebrow raise in critical if not surprised fashion as your smile shrunk down to a pout. While this wasn't "unusual". It had been a while since you had a new client that used this particular proper proceedure. Usually only those who were brand new to this used this exact "proper" proceedure and formality. But such protocols and formalities could usually be dismissed and unused once there was more familiarity. But he was honoring the proper proceedure and protocol so you followed it in turn.

He must have been new. Very new. Because usually the subcontractors only let you glance at orders like these as they read the details which were more like ‘demands’ off to you, using coded language that sounded like “dirty talk” but was in reality- instructions for “problems” that they wanted “tools” and "problem solvers" like you to fix.  

You took the envelope from him and took a moment to inspect it closely. Because this wasn’t your first encounter with a plant, or the bait for a trap, which this room was specifically built to save the tool, but kill the unlucky bastard who tried to play "subcontractor". But something about him didn’t lead you to believe that he wasn’t necessarily a plant- just a nervous first timer.

But this particular envelope was thicker than usual, which meant there were many "details" about this offer. The envelope was authentic though. And that’s all that mattered in that moment.

Because usually the fakes never got the tiny details about the envelope right. They either had the spacing off, or they didn’t have the gold embossing raised or quite the right pattern on the silken satined black paper. Or they got the paper it was printed on- wrong in thickness. It was a unique silk blend paper, with areas of matte or glossy pearl finish with real 24 karat gold leaf on the embossing. And gold foil lazer printed in other areas. You turned it around and noticed the second seal that under the first. The first seal simply held a special band around the envelope. The skull in gold wax- indicated it was a kill order.

But the second seal was to the actual envelope. That seal was what defined and dictated who the contractor was- that was offering the job. Each crime syndicate family had it’s own seal. And the seals themselves were also very hard to duplicate. You tapped your acrylic nail on the seal to make sure it was real wax and not that cheap plastic-y wax that the skull seal was always in because it was meant to glitter and glow like real gold but was essentially trash once it was broken and could be kept for your records as part of your portfolio. And the relief was also embossed with gold leaf too.

You recognized the seal. You had done many jobs for this particular syndicate before. And it was actually this syndicate you were hoping had a job lined up for you tonight since this syndicate never seemed to rest. Always working, always moving, always growing and expanding. It had started out as a big fish in a little pond and then when they made it to "the big time" they realized they were a small sardine in an ocean. But they were quickly gobbling up other fish and just kept on swimming and eating and were now quite the shark in comparison. Something to have a healthy fear of, high respect for, and graciousness and respect when dealing with. So you knew the seal was authentic. Which only led you to believe that the man next to you must be brand new to this. And probably wasn’t saying anything other than that one buzz word because he probably had no clue what to even say beyond that.

You broke the wax seal which for you- was another sign he must have been new- like newborn baby- still covered in afterbirth kind of new. Because the normal subcontractors broke the seals when they got the order and it was the order- made to look like a couture invitation- to even get through the doors and enter the establishment in the first place. The subcontractors had to- themselves have a dress code of thier own. Grays and either blues and greens, to contrast the black, gold and red.

But even at the door of the establishment, the invitation was scanned for "contrand". It was X-rayed, ultrasounded, wieghed, measured, and inspected to make sure it wasn't a fake as a security measure. But even the best fakes had gotten passed before, so each "problem solver" were always on thier toes so to speak because if a few had gotten through and past the doormen before, it could happen again, at any other moment.

But the regular subcontractors liked to open it and read it first and then “resealed it”. Which you could tell by how the red wax would have been partially remelted to restick to the paper. But this looked and felt like he was simply handed this by the contractor and sent in here, practically almost blind with the bare minimum of knowledge to not get himself killed on sight. Which meant he was either being protected, or- most likely- had not proven his trustworthiness and this was always the big test for "subcontractors" is if they could get into this place that was affectionately referred to as "the tool shed". Thus the construction terminology.

“You’re new.” You noted as you dropped the courtesan act and looked at him even more closely, keeping an eye out for every single detail possible to make sure he wasn't a plant. Because if he was, you had every right to kill him where he sat, because "food poisoning" was practically communicable in a place like this and posed just as big of a threat to the establishment as it could pose to it's respective syndicate.

New could be good though. Very good for the business, because the newest additions to the exclusive clientelle lists paid the most, while the oldest ones paid what they originally did when they first entered the agreement to have the right to even send someone in here with thier bids for jobs. It could also be good if he was new especially if this particular syndicate was growing.

But new could also be dangerous because new always came with the risk of it being a trap and "the new guy" or "new girl" being a plant from any of the agencies like the FBI- CIA or MI6 or whatever. Even though most "problem solvers" usually were ex military or had any kind of "formal" or "informal" training as an assassin to be "deemed good enough" to be "a tool" for any particular "tool box" in this "tool shed".

But so far- he was following protocol. So you didn’t feel the need to press the hidden panic button that was hidden in an unassuming gold tile in the other wise black marble with gold inlay on the floors- to get the room surrounded and to open up a trap door for you to fall through before the room would be blasted and kill anything and everything within the booth, thus- the bomb proof plexiglass.

Because you didn’t see how he could pose a serious threat to you. At least from his spot on that couch and especially since while this dress didn’t leave much to the imagination, it still held the fact that you were armed to the teeth and could kill him at least 16, if not 17 ways just from sitting here without breaking a sweat, or a nail.  

You opened the envelope and pulled out the distinct card. The correct perfect thickness of the sleek and silken pearlized pitch black but patterened paper. Complete with the embossed- gold gilded border. So far, so good. The gold foil type was even correct. It had a sequence number at the top and the correct date typed under the sequence number so that both the contractor, the tool and the tool shed could keep track of any and all work done.

The establishment sent out these "blank"- "invitations" to the syndicates with deliberate spaces in gold foiled lettering and lines in any language the syndicate liked to work in- so that the syndicate could fill in the blanks with gold ink as to what they needed. But each "invitation" had a cost unto itself to even get a single one of. But most syndicates could afford to buy them in bulk and by the dozen, if not by the hundreds for any given year. And any "unused" invitations from the previous years, could be exchanged and "rolled over" into the next year while others had standing orders and only the original members of this club could use invitations that didn't need to be numbered according to the year but still had to be serialized in number. So it was an authentic offer from an authentic syndicate.

Just a new subcontractor who didn't have a fucking clue what he was doing in the tool shed.

Great.

You needed to ask for more in your fee for them to send you the FNG and scaring you into thinking that the syndicate and the establishemnt were in danger from this "food poisoning". Which was very fatal in it's full understanding.

“Is it that obvious?” He asked as he flushed a bit sheepishly and fidgeted with his watch, which you could appreciate was probably standard issue for him in that particular syndicate because each syndicate did have thier own unique styling as well. But you could tell it was recording your interaction with him, probably more for his protection than yours to make sure that you both followed proceedure and protocol. Which was allowed, since syndicates needed to be a bit paranoid to make sure that the tool they were using was authentic too. Because it wasn't unusual for "plants" to hide as "new tools" in the tool shed either. And thankfully, the plants got picked out pretty quickly because they didn't follow the protocol or the full dresscode. Because otherwise, tools could be traded and moved to different tool boxes in different tool sheds because of the vetting process involved in becoming a tool. And communication between tool sheds was immaculate and nothing seemed to get passed them.

“The usual subcontractors- which is what you are for coming in here- have usually already broken the seal and read the offer and choose their desired tools according to the needs of the situation or "problem" that needs a "problem solver" or "tool" like me to fix. The fact that you didn’t, means either you are not that familiar with the catalog that lists all the tools in this "tool box" for this particular "tool shed". Or it could have meant that you already knew what was in here without having to open it, and that any tool would do. Or, possibly, that you're looking to pinch a few pennies and are hoping a cheaper tool that doesn’t get used that much- is eager to make it out of the tool box to be used and get resharpened before it’s considered no longer a viable or productive tool and no longer kept as a tool. Because no one keeps rusty tools in their tool boxes. Because rust- like food poisoning- can spread and be more of a liability rather than useful.” You waived off dismissively as you read it over before you grinned when you read it and were delighted by the "problem" that needed to be fixed.

The bid to solve and correct the rather dangerous and indeed deadly problem that definitely counted as "food poisoning" was, as you expected and hoped for- two and a half times the usual price for such a job, mostly because of who had caused it. Because this problem- risked this family’s exposure and could lead to multiple members of the contractor's immediate family as well as the key members of the syndicate being vulnerable and needing "medical assistance". Which usually meant a trip to a very special hospital that was a line of hospitals around the world that tools, subcontractors and contractors alike could use and access to get the "medical care" they needed. That could range from anything to plastic surgery to alter appearance, fake thier deaths and actual medical records, patch ups and recovery, you name it- they could provide it- to keep you alive, even if you had to use one of many "spare" lives you could afford and if at all possible- keep everyone healthy and happy and most important- functioning so that business wouldn't be interrupted, and neither would the flow of funds in all of it's glorious forms. Gone were the days of cold hard cash, but now that practically everything was digital, you really only needed to have a cache of hard currency, as more of a disaster preparedness kind of situation. Otherwise, because all tools in the tool shed, depending on what kind they were and what specialties they had- meant that with every successful job, not only did your fee increase, but so did the "budjet" from the establishment so that you- as a tool- had everything you needed to get the job done and done well. And this job had an offer that the syndicate would vouch for the tool to be 100% funded and backed. With even a special care package guaranteed. Which for you was icing on this surprisingly exciting and dangerous cake for taking out the deadly point of threat.

And right now, this syndicate was hoping to keep the "food poisoning" to as few in number of people as possible. It needed not just any tool with any particular skillset, quite the opposite. It needed to have a very special tool with a very special skill set to fix the problem. And clean up the mess, scrub the area, clean up any signs of any food poisoning. Which, depending on how many people could "contract" it. Could threaten the entire syndicate and potentially cross-contaminate the establishment. Which was why the establishment already put thier stamp of approval for full funding when they recieved the order for this particular job's bid invitation. The offer also requested that that the tool- tie up any and all loose ends and leave the scene spotless. And it was right in your wheelhouse.

But this was only the initial bid, with only the biggest and most important details listed. However, what was unique was that this offer came with a very quick timeline because "food poisoning" could be quite contageous quite quickly and it was very urgent and needed immediate action to rectify and cure, clean, decontaminate and immobolize, deactivate and sterlize the source of the food poisoning so that the threat was rendered inert and came with a shockingly short deadline, which would also explain the higher than usual fee. Because the point of threat was trying to use what they had gotten and use it as blackmail against the syndicate. Which was why it now counted as "food poisoning". And the job required you to retrieve the blackmail intact but of course, not see what said blackmail was so you yourself wouldn’t be seen as a potential threat either and be "exposed" to the "contamination". 

Food poisoning indeed.

“So what’s the take?” You asked him. 

“Excuse me?” He asked. 

“Wow, you are really brand-spankin' new. Do you need me to really spell all of this out for you?” You asked him with a frown. 

“Uh, no, I uh, just need to know if you’ll accept it or not.” He answered. 

“Any special conditions if I do?” You asked. 

“Only that you do so and finish the job before the deadline that’s on it.” He answered before you nodded and hummed in response.

So you pulled your special fountain pen out of your clutch- with ink that glowed under black light- so that to the onlooker under normal light- it never had anything written on it at all. The pen was specially made just for you, and your pen that distinguished you from the other “tools” in this toolbox. But the ink- was rather universal to be used by all the tools belonging to this particular tool shed becuase under blacklight- instead of glowing blue or even a slight purpleish blue- it glowed pink which was as close to red as they could get since the color of choice for this tool shed was red since all the toolsheds kept to the black and gold styling and decore, but the accent color to signify the "tools" was unique to the toolshed itself and the very lucky tools could go and work from any and all tool sheds around the world and had all the sets of "dress code" to match.

And the only other identification you could give was your handwriting style and signiture, that was also in the catalog too. You swiped your fountain pen's tip to get the special ink over your thumb before you pressed your thumb print into the paper with your signature, as another safety precaution and protocol to protect the subcontractor that they were working with a professional tool, and not a fake or a plant. The thumb print especially was used to distinguish each tool from the others and was also in the catalog that only the heads of the syndicate had access to such things and were kept under more locks and keys than any gold or jewels could be. Because a tool's thumb print was just tantamount to signing the contract- or in this case- your counter offer- in blood because of all the layers of anonymity to keep everyone safe and to keep the contractors themselves- clean and safe which in turn was a layer of protection for their immediate friends and family.

You wrote your own special conditions on the back in order for you to take the offer and be the "tool- used” to fix this problem on such short notice. But with the same quality of work as previously given on your previous work with them. You blew on the ink to make sure it dried into the special paper and didn't smudge. Then once the ink dried, you slipped the paper back into the envelope and used the heat from your cigarette lighter to reheat the wax on the bottom edge of the seal on the envelope before you sealed it again and handed it back to him, but kept the strip of special black paper with the gold wax seal showing a skull with you- as proof that you were in active negotiations with a client.

“I’ll be waiting right here for the answer. The guards at the bottom of the stairs will let you back up without me because your pocket square is still on the number because we are now negotiating terms.” But this envelope is your key in and out of the tool shed. Guard it with your life." You offered to him as you pressed the same button hidden in the inlay of the table that opened the doors so he could go and deliver your counter offer before a server came in just after he left and noticed your subcontractor left the booth- envelope in hand as he quickly walked down the long hallway and down the steps to go outside where he could give the counter offer to the contractor- who- should be nearby, but not so close so as to be caught up- just in case the establishment came under fire from an ambush.  

“Anything I can get for you while you wait Love?” The waiter asked with a tray tucked under his arm.

“I’ll take a Viper Venom and a Fluer slider- medium rare. I have a feeling I might have a while to wait and I’m hungry. Also, is there any way you can tell me what FNG subcontractor I just got a bid from? He practically still had afterbirth on him. He followed protocol but if he had not had an authentic bid on him, I would have thought he was a plant and would and could have killed him on sight and ordered that whoever's offer he had on him- got compromised.” You requested. 

“Yes Ma’am.” He answered before he left to get you what you requested as you sipped on the wine that the subcontractor had left in his glass on the table.

Besides, every time you came into the "tool shed" you got comped a meal for however many hours it took for you to secure a bid. Usually the negotiations for such jobs could take a whole hour in itself, if not two or three.

But the Fluer sandwhich was your favorite thing on the menu. It had an A5 Wagyu steak cooked perfectly to your preferred tastes- medium rare, with generous slices of truffles, aoli and arugula on some fancy brioche bun. Big enough to satisfy an appetite but not so large that one felt sleepy or sluggish after eating it. It was positively delectable. Along with your favorite drink that was a favorite among all the other “tools” here. It was sweet, fruity, and practically lethal in potency because the bartenders were very generous in thier pours at the bar. It was a common practice among the bartenders here to be very genous in thier pours because the more liquored up the subcontractors and tools were, the more likely they could amicably come to a solution to the problem presented to them. And the drink countered all the dry wines or other drinks the other subcontractors ordered.

The waiter came back a little later than usual, but your drink was still ice cold and the food hot and fresh from the kitchen as the folder barely had much of anything in it. 

“What in the everloving fucking hell?!” You frowned when you looked at the folder. 

“Is the food or drink not up to your standards Ma'am?” The waiter asked. 

“No, of course they are always excellent. But what is up with this file? Is this the cliff notes to the real thing or is he really so new that can barely fill a folder at all?” You asked rather rhetorically. 

"That's all I could get from management." The waitor shrugged which earned an irritated eyeroll.

"Well thanks anyway for pulling it. I appreciate it." You thanked him as you tipped him a crisp hundred dollar bill, because while your meal was free, the waitor deserved to be paid well for thier work and discretion. Because that wine tasted expensive, like at least a grand just for a glass expensive.

You picked up the pitifully thin file up and looked through it and just frowned deeper and deeper as you read through the scant details inside of it. The "subcontractor" which that title was a big streatch for what he was- his name wasn’t ringing any bells. His face didn’t have any of the “familiar” facial features from the well known “contractor” that sent “subcontractors” who were usually direct decendants or very close compatriots here as "subcontractors"- out to get “tools”.

He had to be either a son in law or a nephew or something. Someone close but not necessarily of blood relation. Because otherwise there was nothing in this folder that suggested he should qualify as even a subcontractor and should not even been allowed to set foot into this establishment.

'Newbie indeed.' You mentally griped as a low, dangerous growl left your throat before you picked up the sandwhich and took a big bite of it and chewed it rather aggressively and not at all in a "lady like manner". But this FNG was getting on your nerves, if the FNG was even worth the suit he was wearing. He would need to clean the afterbirth off of himself and learn to act his part and do so quickly if you were going to have to do deal with him in the future. God, if he really was so new, that he couldn't grasp more than "food poisoning". You'd have to talk shop and practically hold his hand and it'd be like teaching a kindergardener- trying to teach him the "right" lingo here. Because it very much was a language all it's own. With it's own rules and slang too. And if the counter offer included a demand that you'd have to hold the FNG's hand to walk him through this process, you were going to demand twice the already generous price. You lost your patience for dealing with FNG's and newbies years ago.

You finished your meal and your drink by the time he had made it back to the room just in time for the waitor to "refresh" his wine glass with more wine.

“Did you get lost?” You asked him rather dryly, if not sarcastically as you reached your hand out for the envelope that would either be a confirmation or would be a counter offer. 

“Uh, no just, um the contractor had more details for your consideration.” He answered as he handed it back to you as you opened the envelope, popping the seal with ease. You flipped a switch under the table so you could read what had been written back - under your bid for the job. Since all negotiations were always written in UV ink as it turned the purple lights on in the booth and got your own ink to glow pink and your contractor's ink to glow the usual ultraviolet color.

“Sit down.” You ordered him before he obeyed and immediately sat, very ridgidly on the couch and didn't even reach for the glass of wine as you could hear his heavy labored breathing as if he just got done running a marathon.

“Whose son in law or nephew are you? Because you're of no blood relation to the contractor and his familiy. Not unless you're the son of any number of the contractor's mistresses.” You asked him pointedly as you read over the counter offer and frowned even deeper as your coy smile was replaced with a hard, serious look instead. 

“Excuse me?” He asked as he balked at your very serious question and tone.

“First off, this? Is pathetic.” You began as you lifted up his file folder before you slid it to him across the table. 

“You would need ten times the experience and have way more modalities to even have you qualify as “subcontractor”. The fact that you are not just a newbie, you practically have your umbilical cord attached and afterbirth on you. So that means in order for this to be authentic- and legitimate." You held up the invitation that had been in the envelope for emphasis.

"For you to be this inexperienced but still be considered a subcontractor that is even allowed to enter the tool shed and into this particular tool box to select a tool- means you must have very considerable and serious connections. So to explain your newness- you have to be either the son of a contractor, the son in law of one or the nephew of one because other than your blood relation to the contractor, they're the only ones allowed in here without proving themselves to the establishment's management. So before I give you my answer to the counter offer, I need you to cut through all the cat and mouse bullshit and tell me who you really are and what’s really going on. Don’t start talking dirty to me now, because I sincerely doubt you know what any of it would really mean anyway.” You demanded firmly before you pulled your hold handled gun from it's holster on your hip and pointed it at him after you pushed the safety off since it was already chambered with a live round.

"You have to the count of three, one..." You began before he put his hands up in surrender.

"No! No! No! Don't shoot, you're right. I'm the son in law to the contractor!" He immediately confessed.

“Fuck, I'm not cut out for this. You're right. I have no business in here. I'm the newest of newbies. I didn't know until this afternoon I was even coming here. I have no idea what I'm doing and I'm in way over my head.” He practically blubbered as tears came to his eyes.  

“Yes. My father in law is Victor Von Marriongnois. He wants me in the family business. But I had no idea just what kind or how big or all encompassing said “family business” was. And yes, this is the first time I'm doing any of this. I know that you’re an assassin that likes to go by either "a problem fixer" or a "tool" for anonymity's sake, for your safety and for mine. And that if I tried to say the wrong thing you’d kill me on the spot because of how weary all of you have to be for your own survival. Look, I’m just an accountant from IT. I'm barely able to keep up with the others on the financial team since IT and finance are so integrated now- for my fahter in law. I used to just launder money for him and his family and their businesses and probably not even half of what’s in that folder is true. It's probably just filler to make me out to be more "experienced" as whatever I'm supposed to be in here. Once I realized I fucked up, Falicia took me in for a "family meeting" to explain what I did. And I tried to fix it. But I don't know if I made it worse or what." He began to confess as you could finally see the real fear and other emotions on his face and in his voice which got you to lower your gun but still kept the safety off, just in case.

"My father in law told me that since I fucked up- that I needed to clean it up. And do it right and finish what I started. That in order to that- I needed to come to the "tool shed" to get the right tool to do so for me because I apprently didn't clean it up right or whatever. But he said all I needed to do is come in here, that a “tool” would approach me and for me to say it was “usual business” and that that would get me into a room like this and to keep an eye on the kind of pen you had because each pen apprently is unique to the tool and to tell him what the pen was so he would know which tool I got. But to otherwise not say anything else, that all I needed to do was to hand the “bid” to the tool, and the tool would either accept or decline but I was not to leave this place without getting a tool to accept it and to fix it." He continued.

"And in the worst case scenerio- that if I said "food poisoning" it would convey whatever that term is meant to convey. But it would get a serious tool to consider me and the offer seriously. I have no idea what any of that means. I’m just doing as I’m told. Because Falicia needs me to, so I’m not a liability to her, any more than I already am since she's practically royalty and I'm just a geek from nowhere but just happened to have a thing for computers and for technology and numbers and for laundering money and moving it around so it all seems legitamate." He explained.

"Falicia is her father's head accountant so we worked really closely for a lot of things and just...closeness bred fondness that grew from there. We just got married, we just got back from our honeymoon for crying out loud! But because I fucked up while we were on said honeymoon- she's in trouble and this could get her whole family and everyone she loves in trouble.” He readily confessed before you ‘oh’ed’ in understanding and put the safety back into place on your gun and reholstered it.

“Ok, that explains things. Yeah, you totally would have completely fucked up if you tried to “talk dirty” to me and you would have gotten yourself killed for doing it wrong, because people have been killed in here over less. You poor thing. Show me Falicia.” You sympathized with him as you appreciated his wedding ring and just shook your head.

But Falicia was a friend. You had dealt with her personally many times since she was her father's daughter and had a gift for her family's business. So you gladly and happily signed off on accepting the counter offer and put both thumb prints on it from each hand- to show that it was a done deal. Then put the invitation back into the envelope and you re-sealed the wax seal again and put it back into his hands as he blew a sigh of relief. Especially once he brought up his wedding pictures with his bride Falicia Von Marriongnois-Chantemont on his phone to show you as you recognized Falicia and her obvious new husband in them, and you were now relieved that you didn't have to kill him, just because he was a newbie who just happened to know he was in way over his head. You got to learn that this subcontractor-Falicia’s husband- was indeed Thomas Chantemont and the two did look really happy, both for the wedding and all the other pictures he had of the both them on his phone as you could see how long the relationship had been going on since the man had pictures of the two of them going back for over a year. But Falicia never talked personal life and details in here. Always only business, which you appreciated.

“Well, it's a good thing you said "food poisoning". Because to the Von Marriongnois, that's something very, very serious. And I would hate for any member of that family to fall ill. Tell Falicia that Valincia is going to take care of it and that, as always, I have her back. I take it this is to cover up the fact that you and her got into a little too much trouble and got caught or at least photographed doing it?” You guessed as you nodded to the envelope.  

“Yeah. I had to do some “business” on our honeymoon and I- like the literally drunken idiot used the hotel’s wifi to do it. So my internet traffic practically had to use a public highway and of course it got spotted. Stupid, rookie mistake. Hindsight is 20/20 I guess.” He admitted as you sucked in a breath between your teeth as you grimaced.

“Yikes. Yeah. That counts as food poisoning. And Falicia is Victor's favorite daughter. I can't imagine the hoops you had to jump through to get her to be your bride. Well at least you’re sweet and honest, which is a very big rarity. Especially in this business. And is probably why she likes you and loves you enough to trust you to be a big boy about this and deal with this yourself. You manned up. I'm sure she's very proud of you, as is your father in law. Good for you. I’m happy for you both. So, as a favor to Falicia, I’m going to do you a favor and give you some pointers on how to clean that afterbirth off of you because of how much of a newbie you are to all of this. If you ever have to come into this place again, or any other “tool shed” again. Because many contractors use many tools in many toolboxes and may have multiple tool sheds- right?” You explained metaphorically as he slowly nodded in understanding. 

“Next time, heaven forbid, you have to come in here and do this again- first, ask your father in law for the opportunity to look at the catalog for the toolshed and toolbox of his choice. Because, he– as a “contractor”- is allowed to have one for every tool box in every toolshed available to him. And you- as one of his “subcontractors” as brand new to this as you are- are allowed to be familiar with it too- if you so choose to be, that is. If not, that’s ok, and I’m sure Falicia would be happier if her husband wasn’t “talking dirty” to another woman, or even another guy, even if it’s metaphorically speaking. Each tool in said catalog will list what each tool is best for what purpose and which tool specializes in what. You don’t send a scalpel to hammer in a nail, right? You follow?” You explained. 

“Yes Ma’am.” He nodded. 

“Good. Next, if you ever have to do this again, memorize the catalog to the point that you know who are the tried and true, who are the new tools, but most importantly- which ones are the untested tools. Because they haven’t been used so they’re cheaper but they’re a gamble if they’ll get the job done and not leave a bigger mess and more problems than you were trying to fix and clean up by using them in the first place. You still with me?” You asked. 

“Yes.” He confirmed.

“And the way you can tell that- is look at what they're wearing- simple jewels- newer tools that haven't had a whole lot of experience, the bigger the jewelry or the bigger the bling, especially if it's the real thing and not fucking cubic zirconia stained red to imitate a ruby- the more expensive the tool will cost to use. But usually the better quality of work they do. But this was not "usual business" this really was serious and potentially deadly. So you got lucky by catching my interest and I'm sure Falicia will be relieved to know that I will be handling this for her personally. I've taken bullets for her before in the past and I'll pass through hail, rain, sleet, snow, magma, whatever- for her and for her familiy. But in the future- If you need "a snake in the grass", you should also know to not send a black mamba when a garden snake will do. You still follow? The right tool for the right job. Each tool in here- to you and to the untrained eye- they may all look alike. But trust me, some of us have gained a little speck of rust here and there, some of us are very shiny, either because we polish ourselves to mirror finish or are shiny because we’ve never been used before, much less, just fresh out of the box and brand new to the tool box and the tool shed. And if you’re going to be a real subcontractor, and a regular one at that- you’ll need to learn the difference between us all. And usually, the more disastrous the problem, the more tools you’ll need to fix it and the more sophisticated those tools will need to be to fix it too because your problems may not be just a leak in a pipe causing mold. It may need tools from carpentry, drywall and plumbing in addition to hazmat for the mold. You still with me?” You furthered. 

“Yes.” He nodded. 

"Next thing. Especially if you’re the person who fucked up and made a mess and are sent into this toolshed to find the right tools to fix it. But even if it’s not your problem, if the contractor trusts you enough to be their subcontractor to come into this tool shed and into this tool box to select a tool. Open up the bid or offer- whichever term you prefer- to read it yourself. Because sometimes some contractors will slip extra things into it- and either won’t tell you to protect you so you can claim that you had no idea what you were doing or what you were involved with if what we do in the shadows ever comes into the light." You advised him.

"But mostly, because you're Falicia's husband, you probably got a pass on this one because of how close and entrenched into the family you are and will continue to be. But I’ve also seen when subcontractors fuck up bad enough, that they are sent into a particular tool shed that’s really more of a slaughterhouse. And the bid is really to actually kill the messenger." You warned him, because for Falicia's sake, you felt he was owed that much at least.

"So that kind of blind faith and blind obedience can get you killed when it's not earning you faith and trust from your father in law or in this case- your contractor. It almost did tonight because even though you followed protocol, because you were so new, I almost thought you were a trap sent in here to try to snare either myself or any of the other tools and when i saw your father in law's seal, I worried that the whole familiy had already been compromised and completely poisoned by that food poisoning and I didn't want that to cross contaminate this place. This is our place of business, this is where we earn a living and every tool shed that has to shut down, the tools, when they're not caught in the crossfire, have to be shuffled and sent to other tool sheds to keep them as tools. Which is again, very dangerous and obviously deadly. But I'm telling you this because it has happened in the past and it can happen again. Which I'm sure Falicia and her father could tell you all kinds of stories about. So, again, if you ever have to do this again, know the job, so you select the right tool. Because there are some tools here that flock to amatures and take advantage of their inexperience to ask for more pay, more perks from the establishment, more everything just to get ahead and fatten up their own bottom lines at your expense. And Falicia is my friend and I would never dream of doing her or her family dirty just because you’re brand new baby level of new to this. Ok?” You emphasized. 

“Right, makes sense.” He nodded in understanding. 

“Also, if and when you learn how to first- talk shop- meaning you- plainly talk about the problem and plainly ask for solutions. There are some tools that don’t even like talking shop. They prefer to “talk dirty” in euphemism and metaphor, because talking plain shop can make people uneasy. Because usually plants will talk plain shop because when they can’t talk dirty and talk dirty right- their lives are on the line. And they are just in this tool box looking for a dirty tool. So when you have graduated from talking shop to “talking dirty”, make sure you can speak it fluently and make sure you completely and fully understand what each thing means. And don’t let your mouth make promises that you- as a subcontractor and not a full contractor yourself, have the authority to offer or say in the first place. I’ve seen too many subcontractors just trying to secure enough tools for “a build” or “a repair” or “a problem” that they weren’t authorized to say or offer. And it costed the contractor way too much than the subcontractor themselves were worth. which lead to those subcontractor's demise. Hopefully this is the one and only time we ever have to meet in person and face to face unless I'm pulled into to act as your shield to protect you and Falicia and any little kiddos you may have along the way. But if you do ever get to have the privilege to come in here again, look for me if I’m not otherwise occupied. Now that I know your face and your connection. We can build rapport with each other and learn to trust each other for a more fruitful working relationship." You offered your hand for him to shake. 

“Thank you. I’ll tell Falicia you said hi and tell her that you told all me this as a favor to her, which I'm sure she'll appreciate because my father in law only told me just enough to get me in here, and it was like plunging a kid into the deep end of the pool to see if I would sink or swim." He admitted as his blush started to fade and he reached for his wine and gulped it down.

"But, wait, if you’re such good friends, how come you didn’t come to the wedding?” He asked as an afterthought. 

“Did you have all of your computers and laptops lined up at the wedding or reception to show everyone there how you laundered all that money for them and exactly which computers you used to do it with?” You asked with a tilt of your head and a sympathetic grin. 

“Ah, I see. No. No I didn’t.” He shook his head no.  

“Same thing. Tools should be kept safe from the weather and elements in a toolbox and in a tool shed until they need to be used. It’s safer for everyone involved. Thus- why contractors have subcontractors- it gives everyone a sense of safe anonymity. Usually the only times the tools see the contractors themselves- is when there’s a problem big enough they need the whole toolbox and the whole tool shed to fix. Because remember, tool sheds can hold many, many tool boxes and each tool box is for usually reserved to fix various kinds of work- like how a plumber's tool box is specifically stocked with special plumbing tools. Just like there are carpentry tools, drywall tools, roofing tools, plumbing tools, same thing. And then there are just “general tools” that you can use for anything and everything. And it takes a lot for a tool to be counted trustworthy and universally applicable enough to make it to that utility tool belt if you catch my drift.” You explained. 

“I see, so, just out of curiosity, if I had needed to "talk dirty" to you about this, what would I have said?” He asked curiously.  

“You would have said "That we should get on a plane and go to a five star all inclusive resort and get room service with a view and ask for our room to be scrubbed extra clean because the last maid got sloppy with the room service and you have to watch out for food poisoning.” You answered. 

“Oohh.” He nodded. 

“Ok, that makes sense, I think.” He answered as he blinked a few times as he gave his brain a moment to process that. 

“Well, it was a pleasure to do business with you. As always please send my thanks and regards to your father in law and of course to your divinely gorgeous bride Falicia. And stay in the honeymoon phase as long as you can. And try not to make any more mistakes, especially of the "stupid" variety. Especially onces that could lead to the whole family getting food poisoning if you catch my drift.” You offered. Then you stood, which prompted him to stand with you and you firmly shook his hand and left the booth, while the busboy quickly cleaned the room and got it ready to be put back into use by another subcontractor.

You got his pocket square from the doorway's number and folded it in a peculiar way, because how it was folded and placed into the pocket also had meaning to the contractor.

“Don’t forget to grab a bite to eat and get another drink for the road before you go. If this place was a public restaurant, it would get a 3 Michilan star rating. Most subcontractors usually eat before they get down to business.” You offered to him as you gestured to the bar and the variety of tables below you that various other members were enjoying a meal at.

“Will do. Thanks again Valincia.” He offered as he shook your hand again which got you to giggle. Oh sweet innocent thing he was.

#kinktober #kinktober 2022 #starsandskieskinktober #starsandskies #Kinktober Day 3 #Kinktober Day 3 Dirty Talk

[kyunsies]

Hi Mädch 💖💖💖💖

I just quit my job last week and I'm so relieved 😭😭😭 I was really suffering at my workplace and now I'm feeling so much better already. It kinda sucks because the work itself was really enjoyable,but the environment and bosses were not so great.. but now I'm out of there!!

I visited my out-of-state sister for four days this week and was able to relax, and I spent my birthday (yesterday!) driving five hours home, which was honestly kinda nice!! I got to listen to all my fun kpop tunes and just enjoy the relaxing drive 🥰 and my parents took me out to dinner and bought me new shoes when I got home 🥰

I'm giving myself a month off until I start looking for a new job just to relax and recharge, etc etc. I feel super lucky that I'm able to do that at all! I'm living with my parents and they aren't making me pay rent or anything, so I'm very grateful.

HUGE MAJOR CONGRATULATIONS ARE IN ORDER!!!!

🥳🎉🎊 MÄDCH, RN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🎊🎉🥳

I'm so proud of you!! Even though I was only here for your last year of schooling I can really tell you are full of so much love and enthusiasm for your career and those you will be working with and you will be SUCH a great fantastic excellent nurse 😊💖💖 I'm so excited and thrilled for your future, I know you will be amazing 🤩

So that's my long update for this week 😅 Lots and lots of love!!! Minji 🌟

[ @dkbtho ] hello my dear !!! how are you doing today?

oh my gosh, you quit your job !!!! i'm so sorry you were so unhappy it's aways a bit of a hard pill to swallow going to work everyday and liking what you do but in the same light hating the ppl you are surrounded with ;____; it's not an easy thing to do but i'm really glad you advocated for yourself !!!! and i hope u spend this time relaxing a bit before you have to start looking for a job <3

oh yes i remember you mentioned you two had one more sister !!! i hope she is doing well <3 also OH MY GOSH HAPPY FREAKING LATE BIRTHDAY AHHHHHH i hope u were able to spend it well but it seems that you did !!!!!!!! i wish you nothing but lots of love and happiness for you too angel <3 also DLKFJFKLJ PLS you are sooo me, i love long drives for that reason, just listening to my kpop songs on full blast and doing a bit of mindless driving on a long stretch of road :) oooo what kind of dinner did you have? do you prefer a specific dish on your birthday? for me it's italian food LDKFJ but if i'm being honest i crave italian food all the time sdklfj <3 and WHAT KIND OF SHOES DID THEY BUY YOUUUU that's always so exciting !!! you are a sho person or not really? i know some ppl are really into collecting shoes but for me i literally have like 2 pairs of heels 2 pairs of tennis shoes and 1 pair of sandals LDSKJF i never feel i have enough for anything ;_____;

but that's good you're taking time for yourself before you start looking at jobs again !!! it's a good move esp since your previous job made you stressed with the whole environment :( and i was gonna say AREN'T YOU LIVING W YOUR SIS but then i was like omg wait she's a married woman now LDKFJ but it will all work out for you bub and your parents are being really generous for you <3

but ALSO SDLKFJSDFLKJ ANGEL !!!!! THANK U SO MUCH !!!!!!!!!! it's so weird to think i have an official title to my name now ,,,,,,,,,,,,, isn't that insane sldkjf gosh when i saw my results of my exam i started balling bc all of these years of hardships and tireless work has paid off and i feel so grateful for my whole experience, i feel grateful that iw as able to go to a university that was able to prepare me well and give me a great education and it makes me even MORE THANKFUL that i got to share it with all of you lovely friends on here who more or less got me through it all in one shape or form ;_______; so THANK YOU !!!!!! SO MUCH !!!!!!!! it really means the whole wide world for me truly angel !!!!!!

thank you for updating me on your life it's always nice to catch up w you and it means a lot that you consider stopping by <3 have a good weekend too love <3

#asks #dkbtho #minji 🌟

[kimtaegis]

in this universe, they’re happy ♡ for @marvelousbangtan

cr. namuspromised

#btsgif #dailybts #networkbangtan #bangtanarmynet #yoonkookclub #dailydaegu #purplearmynet #usersan #usersky #yoonkook #jungkookedit #yoongi #*gifs #*yg #*jk #crystal some more yoonkook for you!!! #hope you're having a blast today and that you're surrounded by all your loved ones <333 #love you lots happy birthday baby #four years between the forurth and fifth one and yoon's still wearing the same beanie :(

[weepinglevi]

patience is a virtue

summary: college!au. all aged up. eren and reader continue with their sexual escapades. find part one here! warnings: 18+ minors dni. dirty text messages, dirty talk. dom!eren and bratty reader (i suppose?). throat fucking and semi-public sex. (no p in v tho) word count: around 3.5k A/N: i have a love/hate relationship with this eren ahaha, he's been ruling my brainrot ever since the last part so i hope you enjoy! there will be a part three eventually, so be on the lookout for that! enjoy your read and feedback is greatly appreciated! xx

you awake to your phone vibrating somewhere next to you. the hope of it only being a one-time occurrence quickly proven to be false as it just wouldn't stop. brr-brr. a second of silence. brr-brr. pause. brr-brr.

taking a mental note to never go to sleep again without turning off your phone, you roll over to your other side and try to ignore it. you could simply answer the texts, but that meant you'd have to open your eyes. and that whoever was texting you would win this weird battle you've just come up with in your head.

"if you don't pick up your goddamn phone, i'll smack you over the head with it," sasha groans from the other side of your shared dorm, words coming slurry with her tiredness.

brr-brr.

"i could also stick it up your ass, your decision," a pillow comes flying to your head, serving as enough of a warning for you to sit up in your bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

"quit moaning, i'll turn it off now," you yawn, feeling around your bed for your phone, "you never hear me complaining about the shit you do in the middle of the night."

"that's because my shit is funny and not fucking annoying," she scoffs, followed by a muted thump as she is sinking back down into her pillows. sasha's way of ending the conversation.

you find your phone half-tucked underneath your pillow, the display already lighting up again. someone is desperate for attention, you think to yourself and unlock your phone with an annoyed sigh. the messages were coming from an unknown number.

thinking about your wet pussy. this is eren, btw. historia gave me your number. i told her you wouldn't mind you don't mind, do you?

in a matter of seconds, your heart is beating in your throat once more, just like this afternoon in that godforsaken computer lab. ears growing hot at his words, you could almost imagine the sound of him laughing at you again. with trembling fingers, you scroll down further.

anyway, let's do it again sometime i told you. i'll never let you forget about how you moaned my name i'm also not forgetting about how badly i want to fuck that pretty mouth of yours, so it's a win-win see ya, then

staring down at your phone, you don't know if you should answer him. and even if you would answer his texts, what the hell should you say? "fucking bastard," the words escaping your mouth before even realizing that you'd better keep quiet. the only thing that could make this situation any worse was if sasha were to wake up again.

scratch that, you think as you see eren's new messages.

how badly do you want to suck my cock? you looked really hot today, covered in my cum what, you're shy again?

there are two ways this could go: either you stand up, put on some clothes, and then go to eren's dorm to let hell rain upon him - or simply mute your phone and ignore him. deciding to go with the latter, you lie back down and save his number as "fuckhead", a small grin forming on your face. if he wants to be childish, then you can be, too.

the display still lighting up at a steady pace, you have to fight the urge to open his other messages. to physically prevent yourself from grabbing your phone again, you put your hands between your thighs and sigh. what the hell have i gotten myself into?

"so, who am i gonna have to teach some manners today?", sasha asks in the morning, "because there are only two valid reasons for sending that many texts in the middle of the night," she sits up in her bed and bends over to reach for her phone, "either someone's dead or there's a food sale."

cringing at the thought of having to read the countless other messages eren has sent throughout the night, you try to laugh at her comment, "of course, when there's food involved, you're all for it."

"girl's gotta eat," she claims, thankfully being too distracted by something on her phone to notice your strange behavior, "i'm gonna be back later than usual today, connie wants me to be his wingman again."

starting to go off on a tangent about how connie should just get a dating app already, sasha's words become more of background noise to you. you want to know what he wrote. what he has in store for you. at the same time, you curse yourself out. you're turning into a headless chicken and all of it because of eren fucking yeager?

you nod here and there, offering her a "yes" at what you believe to be fitting moments, desperately hoping she doesn't catch up on your restlessness. all the while the two of you are getting ready for the day. this goes on for a few more minutes and you have no clue what she's talking about now, so you decide to grab your phone and stand up.

"i'm gonna go for a run around campus, you want coffee?" you blurt out, interrupting her monologue. the device in your hand feels as if it's burning through your skin. slipping into your trainers, you're already halfway out the room, her perplexed "uh- yes, please," being muffled by the door closing behind you.

it's still warm outside - not as hot as yesterday, but warm enough for you to be glad to have forgotten your cardigan earlier. you let out a deep breath, trying to clear your mind. even though you told sasha you'd be out for a run, you walk at a slow pace.

some people are already wandering around campus, most of them on their way to a lecture. at this time in the morning, everyone has their heads full with their own worries so no one notices you slowly making your way off-campus.

arriving at a little park surrounded by trees, you sit down on the bench farest off. you notice your heart fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird when pulling the phone out of your back pocket. fuck him, you think once again while typing in your code. fuck him for making me feel this way.

12 unread messages.

didn't seem all too shy when i had my hand wrapped around your throat no need to play hard to get when i already had you if that makes sense? haven't fucked you yet doesn't mean i won't get to fuck you

all you want is to feel appalled by these messages. to screenshot them and send them to the dean. maybe even to his mother. sickened with yourself though, you already feel the familiar warmth creeping up your body, curling up in your abdomen.

i know you want it, too how fucking needy you were for me getting yourself off in public to the thought of me maybe you can tell me what exactly you were thinking of? gonna make sure to let your dreams come true, princess

pet names? you clench your fist at the thought of eren leaning over you, breathing the word princess into your ear. you have an inkling that he'd say it mockingly; spitting it out whilst gathering your hair in a ponytail, arching your back forcefully, and slamming his length into you without mercy.

no. you hate pet names. at least, you've always hated them.

i'm gonna find out if you're ignoring me right now remember, you're not the best actress. fucking suck at it, actually wouldn't want to be punished now, would we?

his last message echoed in your head. still coming to terms with the fact of what happened yesterday, now you have to deal with a whole new revelation: eren yeager being a cocky motherfucker pushing all the right buttons for you. even though you want to blast his ass for this, the mere thought of him being near you again is too sweet of an imagination.

you want to play this game, too. for whatever reason keep on riding this high, and you just know that no one could do it quite as well as eren can. somehow you can only imagine taking him on this ride with you, no one else.

so, in that manner you decide to ignore his messages. if he's desperate enough to keep on sending them in the middle of the night, you're sure it won't be long until he sends another text. and it would give him enough reason to try and punish you, whatever that might entail – you're excited to find out. fucking nervous, too. but then again, who wouldn't be?

you stand up and put your phone in your back pocket, a sense of excitement surrounding your steps as you turn left to make your way to the nearest coffee shop.

"something tells me you're ignoring me," of course, the moment eren's voice comes up behind you, you fucking flinch like a little bird that's been scared away, "mostly because i've seen you reading the messages, but what do i know?"

you turn to see him clutching his heart dramatically, "don't play with my feelings like this," he swoons, bringing one hand to his forehead. he's laughing again, all white teeth and bright smiles – you realize this is the kind of eren you rarely get to see. not the cocky bastard he normally portrays; right now, he seems to be a happy-go-lucky kind of guy, just enjoying himself. still, you want to show him that you can play just as well as he can.

crossing your arms in front of your chest, you slightly raise a brow, trying your hardest to not look as nervous as you feel. it's a lost cause though because you can already feel the tips of your ears glowing with heat again. can't things go my way for once? just once? you think and chew the inside of your cheek. you felt so sure of yourself just moments ago. how the hell can he have this sort of effect on you?

suddenly, his whole demeanor changes. before, he seemed laid-back, entertained by the game he played with you. now he leans forward, hands in the pockets of his jacket and an almost cruel smile forming on his lips, "don't try to challenge me in this. you'll lose."

you know that you should feel frightened. terrified, even. he's looking like a lion preparing to jump the antelope, a sense of alarming calmness around him that's causing the small hairs on your neck to stand up. but alas, the way he's looking at you seems to have the same effect on you his scent has.

"i told you not to ignore me," eren says and takes a few steps closer to you, "yet here you are, doing it again." the chuckle leaving his lips a stark contrast to his stern gaze, still trained on you. somehow, you feel awfully small again - still not frightened, though. you stare right back at him, tilting your head slightly as if you wanted to say "so what?"

"are you seriously that desperate to be punished?"

better now than never, you think and once again place a courtly smile on your lips, "seems like it."

for a split second, you see eren's smug look turn into a genuine smile. realizing that you're up for his game, he lets out a smooth whistle, "you do surprise me."

"if you wouldn't always be so full of yourself, i'm sure you'd have recognized this sooner," you can feel the confidence growing in yourself again. clinging on to it, you take a step toward him, "i'm full of surprises."

"oh, yeah? i bet you are," from the corner of your eye, you can see him lifting his hand. before thinking twice about it, you bat it away, "i'm not one for public displays of affection."

oh, it is on– eren's smirk turns into a full-fledged grin as he takes a grip of your wrist, "you sure about that?" lifting your hand to his face, for a short moment you think he's going to suck on your fingers again. but all he does is place a faint kiss on the back of your hand, "didn't seem like it yesterday."

"you weren't supposed to see."

"but i'm so glad i did," he leans forward, the two of you standing so close you can feel his breath on your face, "or else we wouldn't have this kind of fun right now."

still having a hold of your hand, he lifts his other to your jaw, gently tracing his thumb across your lower lip, "you looked so pretty in your skirt yesterday."

taking a leap of faith, you grab his hand, holding it in place and letting your tongue run across the tip of his thumb before biting down playfully. there's a hiss and then eren pulls away and grabs your arm, "come with me."

finally, you think and let him guide you to wherever he wants, let's have some fun, then.

on your way out of the park, you pass jean and marco. even though they stand to greet eren, he just raises his hand whilst not breaking his pace, "gotta go, have an assignment to work on."

"never seen you that determined, but go off," jean laughs.

before you know it, you're inside one of the countless maintenance sheds. pushing you against the wall, eren's movements seem to become more and more erratic by the second. pinning your arms over your head, he's looking down at you, breathing heavily. "you have no idea what you just got yourself into," licking his lips, he chuckles.

"oh, but i think i actually do," you smile innocently, fucking glad to have found your normal self again. admittedly, eren threw you off your game since yesterday – but it's just going to play into your hands now. he won't see it coming until it's hitting him straight in the face; that you're just as messed up as he seems to be.

"then prove it," he breathes against your ear, "tell me how badly you want it."

the stuffy air inside the dimly lit shed doesn't help with keeping eren's scent away from you. being so close to him, looking up into his shadowed face and right into his dilated eyes; you're like putty in his hands. you try to move forward, to touch him in some way because you just know that he'll feel so good under your skin.

"now now, princess," he moves even closer, wedging you between himself and the wall, "how about we learn some patience, first?"

you nod, but then grind up against his thigh, hissing through your teeth, "i worry i'll be a real handful." you know you could very well move your hands, too – eren seems to still be testing the waters as to how far he can go with you. but with him actually letting you grind on him; you decide to play into his hands.

your breaths grow quicker as you keep on, pace becoming erratic. all you want is to get rid of your track pants – come to think of it, what you actually want is eren under you whilst you continuously bounce on his cock. you want to hear him call you princess and immediately after call you his little whore because that's exactly what you are.

eren has a little smile on his lips and you know you should ask yourself why – because you're doing exactly what he has forbidden you to do – but you're too far gone. the heat growing, you feel your knees buckle but he's holding you up; one hand now resting on your waist for support. you're so close –

and then he pulls away from you, nearly causing you to topple over. chest heaving, you place your hands on your knees for balance, "what the fuck was – "

"patience is a virtue," interrupting you with a laugh, but his voice heavy with lust, "thought i might give you a lesson you're ought to remember."

you look up to see eren palming his erection through his pants, standing about an arm's length away from you, "but i have to admit, hearing you getting yourself off is fucking hot."

biting your teeth together, you straighten up and take a step toward him – only for him to click his tongue in disapproval, "you're gonna stay right there," tugging at his pants he raises his eyebrow, "i told you what i want, get on your knees for me."

"the fuck i will," you spit out and make a move again, grasping for his waistband. but eren is quick to take a hold of your hand and pushes you back to the wall, "come on, now, princess," he chuckles but his eyes are concentrated at you, "you want this, don't you?". he's asking for permission, the thought feeling very comforting to you. and also, very excited for what's about to come.

"of course, i do," you answer him earnestly, resting the back of your head against the wall, "or else i wouldn't be here."

"fantastic," he breathes, a little smile playing in the corners of his mouth, "then get down on your knees," placing his hands on your shoulders, weighing you down, "i won't ask again."

the change of tone in his voice has you nodding, slowly sinking onto your knees, you're bursting in anticipation. one hand finally pulling down his pants, he runs his other through your hair, then down your jaw until it comes to rest on your chin.

thumbing at your lower lip, he groans "do i have to be careful?"

you just shake your head no. then you break away from his gaze, fixing your eyes on the bobbing cock in front of you. it's tip leaking with precum already, you remember how badly you wanted to lick it away yesterday.

taking his cock at its base, you bend forward and slide your tongue around its head. the salty taste sending shudders down your spine, you make sure to lift your eyes again once you prepare to take it all down your throat. your other hand snakes up to his balls, slightly tugging them which earns you a moan from eren, and fuck, you're so wet at the sound alone, you let go of his cock and slide one hand down to your own center.

he gathers your hair in one hand, taking the base of his throbbing cock in the other, "bet this is what you thought of yesterday," he slowly but surely pulls your head in closer, "of how i fuck the words right out of you."

bucking your hips into your own hand, you can do nothing but whimper at his words. because yes, this is exactly what you imagined. he's only halfway in and you're already struggling to breathe, but not wanting him to stop you hold your breath and push down even further; trying desperately not to moan.

the tears in your eyes causing your vision to be blurry, you attempt to blink them away.

"shit – ", he's pumping into you now, rubbing the tears from your cheeks and then placing both his hands on your head, "you're doing so well – "

getting lost in his words, the fear of being caught is so far away; you finally moan around his cock. saliva soaking the hem of his shirt, you can't seem to take his whole length, no matter how hard you try. you're a fucking mess under him and the thought alone is nearly sending you over the edge.

he's trying to pull away now and you know he's close, so you snake your hand around his hip, hoping this is enough of a sign to him that if he dared to cum anywhere else than down your throat, you'd bite him.

"you really – " his voice is hoarse, "fuck – this is fucking perfect," he moans as he comes to the realization. leaning his arm against the wall behind you, he's fucking himself into your mouth, his panting and the sound of your choking filling the room.

you close your eyes to blink the tears away again, but eren pulls on your hair, "no – look at me."

with this the knot in your belly explodes, leaving you holding on to eren's hip as you ride the waves of electricity that are running through your body like lava.

"such a good little whore – " he's gone as well, holding your head in place as he's pumping his load down your throat, leaving you no other option than to swallow – which you eagerly do. you feel his legs shaking under your hands.

once again, eren hands you his shirt to clean your face. this time, you take it with a smile, noting that, "i still have your other one."

"don't worry, i'll come get it sometime when sasha's away," the two of you know exactly what this means – neither of you are planning on this to be over anytime soon.

"i'll let you know, then," you nod and stand up, hoping you don't look as well-fucked as you feel, and make your way to the door, "she's gone most of the time."

taglist: @jeageristbaby @icedkoffees @blondeboyfriend @peachysimp @levibasketcase @zimzalabim1110 @droolingoverfanfics

wanna be tagged in my next work? fill out this form.

#eren yeager smut #eren x you #eren jaeger smut #eren x reader #aot smut #aot x you #snk smut #snk x you #aot fic #eren fic #college au #tw: semi public sex #nsfr #weepinglevi writes

[lieutenant-simp]

Protecting You Is All I know How To Do

Shield Powered Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Warning: Mentions of childhood trauma, beatings, injuries. Angst. Little fluff at end. 

Request: YES :))))

Summary: Protecting Wanda was all you knew, she was your rock and you were hers. 

Not my Gif

A/N: This is my first request, so this is a big deal! This was not proofread but I really enjoyed writing this. 

Words: 1,508

Your powers were the cause of all your problems, the damage to your health, to your head, the trauma they caused you never wanted to use them. When you first got to HYDRA, you were taken, no given. Your parents trusted some men in suits because they were too messed up to care about anyone but themselves. They wanted money, power and the men promised everything and more to them. You don't know what happened to them after you left, but you hope whatever it was, was worse than anything you'd been subjected to. 

Every day, like clockwork, you were taken to a small dark room, had serum after serum injected into you. Test after test to see what happened to you, nothing worked, until it did. You were upset, you were tired of them beating you, they blamed you for their serums not working, and you just put your hands out. They were blasted to the other side of the room, the force from your shield launching them back. Once again, they blamed you for not finding out your powers sooner. All your tests came back normal, and they didn't know which serum made you this way. The beatings only got worse from there. 

Now that you had powers, you were bound, you didn't want to cooperate. You became numb, numb from the pain. They beat you no matter what. No matter if you cooperated or not. All you could do than pass the time was to be in your head. It was your safe place. When you were subjected to their beatings, you went inside your head to distract yourself. You never felt alone there. You had imagined a new life, one with your parents, what might've happened if they weren't such deadbeats. You imagined love. You imagined anything and everything. Your head was the place that made you sane. 

"Hey, I hear your thoughts are you there?” You hear a voice in your head, you look around your room. The men had already left, where was it coming from. You laugh, you're finally going crazy from being alone. “I am your cellmate, I can hear you, you're not crazy”

“You can hear me? How?” You were definitely crazy now. There was no one here. 

“I have powers, I can read and communicate with others in my mind.” Ah, that makes sense, you were alone in the corridor, clearly, it was made for those with powers, and you were the first successful one and now they had found another. 

“How long have you been here?” You heard her sigh inside your mind, “I just got here, my parents, they uh, they passed away recently and well turns out twin orphans with powers travels around,” You sympathize with her, you want her to not feel alone anymore. She was the only one you had anymore. 

“You have a twin?” You hear her laugh, “Yeah, he’s like me, he has powers too, but he can’t read minds. Do you have powers?” You hesitate to open up to her, afraid of everyone but she seems comfortable, at least in your head, you are relaxed, you’re not afraid. 

Quickly you became friends, her name was Wanda, and she told you about her family. Her twin brother, you could talk to through Wanda, he was nice, witty, and he also became your friend. She would tell you often about her life before HYDRA. You both had created plans, plans to escape, plans for what you'd do after you got out, but you never followed through. Sometimes it was nice to wonder. Wanda was your age, young, and she was new. You once heard her cry about the same men that tortured you. To escape the beatings from them, you'd create a shield surrounding her. She told you when they came in, and you had shared the world inside your head with her to go to, it kept her distracted. When they saw the shield, it would distract them from her as they would march over to you and hurt you instead. You needed Wanda, she was your friend, your closest friend. After some time you would do the same with her brother.

You still despised using your powers, you could've easily used them to shield yourself instead, but you couldn't. You were scared of them, but Wanda and her brother needed you, they needed you to protect them. 

After Ultron, when Pietro died, you were crushed. Your job was to protect the twins. Thankfully Wanda was okay, You felt as if your purpose was to protect them, and you failed. Wanda leaned on you, and you leaned on her. His death wasn't easy on either of you. 

You join the Avengers the same time Wanda did, you didn't want to leave her side and she didn't want you to leave hers. You both still communicated inside your head, it was a comfort you both could only get from each other. When you went on missions you both were paired together, you protected her. You didn't give a damn about what happened to you, but the first time you were injured, changed your perspective. 

Wanda was in the waiting room, waiting for you to come out of surgery, the bullet was lodged in your stomach. Wanda needed you, as much as you need her. She loved you, she always had. She had a crush on you the moment she talked to you. You, on the other hand, had never really got to experience those emotions, you had pushed them down but you did love Wanda too. You were her rock, her protector. A tough egg to crack to everyone else, but to her, you were soft. You held her when she cried, and she would hold you. Your rooms were next to each other, but you usually ended up sleeping in the same room.

When you were ready to receive visitors, she was there in an instant. She held your hand and waited, prayed for you to wake up. And you did. You woke up to her hand in yours. You opened your eyes to see a scratch on her head. You reached over a brushed your hand against it. She looked at you softly, a small smile on her face, her eyes full of tears. You could tell by the look on her face, the injury took a toll on her, it caused her pain. The pain you tried every day to avoid, to help her with.

You realized, to protect her you had to protect yourself. How were you supposed to help her if you were dead or unconscious or just unable to. You didn't want to lose her, she's already lost so much. You knew she could probably hear you because squeezed your hand softly, before you hear her soft voice inside your head. 

"I need you moya lyubov, I need you here with me" You smile at her softly, your hand reaching up to hold her face, your thumb drawing lazy circles across her skin. Your actions say all the words you can’t say. "Can I ask you a question printsessa," you nod your head, "Why me?" You obviously look confused because she continues, "Every time on missions, I am the only one unharmed, the others, they have bruises and black eyes. We both know how many gunshot wounds have been had between all of them. I don't get that experience, you only use your powers to protect me." You think for a minute pondering, you didn't protect the others. They chalked it up to you both knowing each other longer. But you look at your interlocked hands, you thought of the way your heart raced with Wanda. You loved her, the realization hit you like a truck. 

"Because I love you Wands, I always have. I can't stand seeing you hurt if I could do something about it." You look up at her, no words had to be spoken as she leaned in and kissed you. Your hand stayed at her face as she pulled you closer. The kiss said a lot of words between you two, years of love that has been saved between you. 

-

Its been two years since that day, you and Wanda have decided to move in together a few months after that. But today is your anniversary. This day 2 years ago, you asked Wanda to be your girlfriend. You had asked Nat for help then, and you're asking Nat now. 

“Please Nat, you know her so well, do I get this ring,” You paused to show her a picture before showing her another one a moment later, “or this one?” You heard her sigh.

“Y/N, you have been dating for a couple years, and have known each other countless before that, you know her better than me!” You sigh, she's right but that didn't make your decision easier. 

“I just want this to be perfect Nat, it's not every day you ask the love of your life to marry you.”

#wanda maximov #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda marvel #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x y/n #marvel #wanda maximov x reader #wanda maximov x y/n #wanda maximov x you #maximoff #wanda fluff #wanda maximoff fluff

[blackkatmagic]

Hi Kat, thanks for doing prompts!

Agen takes the hit on Geonosis that was meant for Tan. Zabraks may be sturdier than humans but its looking bad. Tan does his best to protect his master but they only survive thanks to the intervention of the clones.

There are hundred of reasons why Tan should turn around and keep fighting right now but he can't bring himself to leave his Master.

“You're okay,” he says desperately, clutching familiar dark hands even though he knows the words are wrong, a lie. “You're going to be fine, Master, it’s okay, Master Allie will be here soon, okay?”

Agen's fingers close tight around his, even as he takes another bubbling breath, and Tan can't remember ever being so scared in his life. He leans over Agen, eyes burning from something other than the dust, the echo of Jedi dying that ripples through the Force. He should get up and go and help fight, because one more lightsaber and one more body might save someone, but—

The person Tan wants most to save is right in front of him.

Agen turns his head, fingers loosening just a little, and the flicker of emotion Tan gets from him is a warning, sharp and alert. Instantly, Tan throws himself to his feet, spins with his lightsaber already lit, and blocks a shot from the advancing ranks of droids. There are other Jedi behind them, Master Windu and Master Secura fighting back to back, but they're not close enough. All the Jedi are being pushed back, surrounded, and Tan managed to drag Agen out of the worst of the fighting but now that means they're alone.

Jango Fett is above them, on the balcony with Dooku's body, and he’s watching like this is fun. Tan’s never hated anyone before, but—he thinks this might be able to make him.

With a cry, he ducks a blaster bolt, lunges. Cuts through the first droid, then the second, but the third one almost hits him, and there’s one passing him. Agen could stop them, even with just a lightsaber, all on his own, but Tan has only been a padawan for two years, isn't nearly as good a swordsman. He only just deflects a flurry of shots, staggers at the impact, and his heel is right against Agen's side. There's nowhere to retreat to, and he can't—

A transport drops from the sky, right between the circle of the remaining Jedi and the droids advancing on Tan, and bodies in white and blue armor spill out. There's a cry, blaster-fire, and the droids turn to face the new enemy, abandoning Tan and Agen in a rush to regroup.

Tan staggers, feels the stinging in his arm where a bolt grazed him, but doesn’t pause. Throws himself down, grabbing for Agen again, but he’s still, he’s terrifyingly still, and Tan’s breath catches. He fumbles for Agen's wrist, searching desperately for a pulse, and for a horrifying moment he can't find one.

“Master,” he says, choked, not able to breathe. Agen took that bolt for him, and Tan knows how sturdy Zabraks are, knows that something that left Agen this hurt would have killed him outright, but if Agen dies for him, if Agen dies and he doesn’t—

“Sir!” a voice cries, unfamiliar, and a soldier, this one in blue and white with a white pack on his back and red medic symbols on his armor, throws himself against the last rank of droids, blasts one, drops low and slams his shoulder into another. Tan sees the droid behind him raising its blaster and throws a hand up, gets a hold of the droid and jerks, and it tears into pieces. The soldier doesn’t even glance back; he covers the remaining distance between them at a dead run, hits the ground on his knees with his pack already halfway off.

“Are you hurt?” he demands, even as he grabs for a hypo, for a dermal mender. Tan’s breath shudders out of him with relief, and he nods quickly, rising to his feet again and stepping forward to guard the medic. There's no need, though; the soldiers are pushing the droids back, overwhelming them, and the space around them has opened up. The Jedi are pushing forward, and the soldiers are advancing to meet them, and the constant, steady press of death in the Force is pausing as the Jedi stop dying.

“No,” he manages, and hates how it still shakes. Someday he’ll be as steady under pressure as Agen, but—not today. Not when his Master almost died for him. “Master Kolar took the shot because he was protecting me.”

The trooper raises his head for just an instant, then refocuses. “Can you help me?” he asks. “Over here, hold this.”

Tan hurries around to Agen's other side, takes the dermal mender that the man passes him. “Who are you?” he asks, because there are hundredsof soldiers landing, filling the arena.

The man reaches up, pulls off his helmet and sets it aside, and casts Tan a smile. It’s Jango Fett's face, but—different. Tan’s never seen him smile before, and this man has his hair clipped short, lightning bolts shaved into the sides. “We’re clones,” he says, and then leans forward, putting a hand on Agen's chest as he jerks. “Sorry, sir. I'm sorry. Just a minute, I’ve almost got your lung back in one piece.”

Agen's hand gropes, finds Tan’s knee, grips hard, and his dark eyes slide open. “Tan,” he manages, and the clone makes a soothing noise in his throat.

“I'm here, Master,” Tan says, though he doesn’t move. “And so is—”

“Kix,” the man finishes for him, after a brief hesitation.

“Kix,” Tan repeats, and leans forward a little, watching Agen's gaze flicker to him. He smiles as best he can, and says, “Kix is helping you, Master. You're really going to be okay.”

“You are,” Kix agrees, and there's something soft in his voice. After another minute, he sets his device aside, then takes the mender Tan is holding. “Can you get me some bacta patches? He’s going to need some time in a tank, but this should hold until he can get there.”

Tan hurries to get the patches, pulling out two of them. Jango, he notices, is gone from the balcony, though Dooku's body is still there.

“Thank you,” he says, and kneels down next to Kix, offering the patches. “I thought—”

Kix grips his shoulder for just a moment, then presses the patches down and seals them to Agen's skin. “There you are, sir,” he says, sitting back, and Agen raises a hand, touches the patches, then reaches out. Instantly, Tan grabs him, lets himself be pulled down, and all but collapses on Agen's chest, clutching at him desperately. Feels the relief, the regret, the love, and has to close his eyes so that he doesn’t cry.

“You're well, Tan,” Agen murmurs against his hair, a little rough, a little ragged, but there. “You're well. Thank you. You’ve been brave.”

“Don’t ever do that again,” Tan demands, though he already knows it won't matter. Nothing can change Agen's mind when he decides to do something, and Tan already knows just how much Agen loves him. Enough to die for him, if he thinks it’s necessary, and Tan hopes it never is again. He’ll make sure it never is again.

Agen huffs softly, then tips his head, offering Kix a nod. “Thank you as well,” he says, and reaches out.

Kix hesitates for a fraction of a second, then catches Agen's hand. His face looks a little flushed, but he smiles. “My pleasure, sir. You're—I'm glad I could help.”

Agen closes his eyes again, clearly exhausted, clearly still in pain, but he tips his head. “Find me,” he says, quiet. “Later. After. So I can thank you properly.”

Tan smiles, pressing his face into the pale, blood-stained cloth of Agen's robes. He’ll make sure Kix does. It seems like the least he can do.

[On AO3]

#my writing #kixagen #clone trooper kix #tan yuster #agen kolar #star wars

[ghost-of-you]

saw ur mom at the grocery store - ch

Paring: Calum Hood x Original Female Character.

Warnings: General angst and drinking

Word Count: 3k

Authors note: who am I writing a one shot that stays a one shot???? Anyway, this is based on the song saw ur mom at the grocery store by Abby Cates (youtube spotify). I listened to it and I couldn't get this concept out of my head. It's pretty much drunk dialing Calum (the ex) after running into his mom lol. Shout out to @villainorigincal for reading it over for me, ily Blanca 💜💜💜💜. Oh, Italics are flashback because I guess that's my brand in writing oaskdoaksoaks

My Masterlist

_______

Erin is too distracted by both the podcast blasting in her ears and the quest she has given herself of finding the correct ice cream flavor to be aware of her surroundings. So she doesn't notice the woman eyeing her nor her slowly approaching, gently touching her arm to get her attention until she's right there. She tries not to look too startled as she pulls her headphones down as she's suddenly faced with the last person she'd thought she'd run into in the stupid supermarket.

"Joy!" Erin greets, the need to be polite taking over, as she ignores the fact that she wants the ground to swallow her whole.

"Erin, sweetie, I thought it was you," Joy smiles kindly, probably completely unaware of how much seeing that smile hurt. She looks so much like Calum at that moment, same eyes, same smile. Maybe the correct thought would be that Calum looks so much like her. Erin hadn't allowed herself to think about him in months, not that it really matters, he's tangled in a mess of feelings that tugged her all around. Anger. Sadness. Hope. But right now, looking at the woman who has eyes the exact same shade of brown as his, it feels like she grabbed the love thread and yanked it to the forefront of her mind. "How have you been?"

"I'm great," Erin lies, "I've been really busy." That part is true. How else do you get over the love of your life walking away from you after two years if not by burying yourself into mountains of distractions so you don't have to think about it? It's definitely not healthy, but it was the only way she could cope. "How are you?"

"I'm great! I'm happy I finally got to visit again," she continues to smile and Erin can't help the smile on her face.

"I bet he's happy you're here," she says, almost without thinking. She used to tease Calum all the time about how much of a momma's boy he is but she loves that about him. Wait, turn around, she can't let herself think about him. Or talk about him. "How's-" she clears her throat, "how's Mali?"

"She's good, Calum too, really busy, so I'm just making sure he has everything he needs at home," she motions at the full cart she's pushing around. The smile in Erin's face gets harder to maintain when she hears his name, and she can't think of what to say, but Joy seems to completely miss that, "I'm gonna finish this and let you get back to your shopping. But it was great to see you, I've missed you, I wish we got to see you more," she adds, and Erin nods.

"Yeah, I missed you too, I'm happy I got to see you," she says, trying to ignore how her chest feels like it's about to split in half. They bid their goodbyes and Erin is left staring at the freezer beside her.

"Yeah, there's no way ice cream will be enough today," she mumbles to herself, grabbing the carton and moving blindly around the aisles. She contemplates a bottle of wine before shaking her head and reaching for the vodka on the shelf beside it.

She goes through checkout in a haze, trying not to think too hard about anything and it isn't until she closes the door to her car, left alone in the silence, that she lets her thoughts flow back to Calum.

Maybe let it's the wrong word. She can't get in the car without thinking of him, the empty space in the dashboard that used to hold her radio screaming at her about him just as much as the empty passenger seat. She remembers pulling at a stop and basically clawing the radio out of the car the first time one of his songs came on while she was driving after the breakup and she didn't have the heart to get a new one. Music is so tied to him, she can't listen to it anymore. It was nearly impossible to not let the memories drown her when any song was playing.

Erin's gaze kept moving from the road to Calum, the windows down, the road speeding by them, the wind blowing through her hair, and Calum's voice harmonizing with the radio making her sure there would never be somewhere where she would ever feel happier.

His hand was resting in her thigh, his fingers tapping to the beat and he was singing melody, harmonies, and instruments making her laugh while badly following, too distracted by him to put any effort into sounding good. When the song ended he leaned closer to her, whispering “I love you” and kissing her cheek. At that moment she couldn’t imagine loving anyone more.

She tries to ignore the empty space next to her, focusing on streets that blend together as the memories continue to try and take over as she fights the urge to start screaming. I don’t miss him. I don’t miss him. I don’t miss him. She chants to herself, halfheartedly hoping if she repeats it enough it will eventually stop being a lie.

Walking into her house is just as hard, the ghost of him standing by the front door, sleeping on the couch, walking through the halls, making the place feel haunted. She drops her bags by the counter, moving to get a mug and a spoon, before popping the ice cream open, scooping it to the mug before pouring a few shots on top of it, sitting down by the counter while mixing the mess in her hands.

There was flour everywhere. There was enough flour floating around that even the top of Calum’s hair had a thin white layer over it.

“Baby, you’re making a mess,” she laughed as she walked into the kitchen, leaning against the doorway to look at him.

“No, I’m making you breakfast,” he said, pointing at her with the whisk in his hand.

“Those statements are not mutually exclusive,” she teased, moving closer to him, wrapping her arms around his middle and leaning against his back, her head on his arm.

“It’s just a little flour,” he said, turning to kiss the top of her head, making her chuckle.

“A little?” She said, kissing his shoulder and moving to his side, rolling the sleeves of the hoodie, Calum’s hoodie, she was wearing, “how can I help?” She asked and he gave a grin.

“I’ve got it covered.”

“Yeah, in flour,” she laughed and he pouted, dipping his finger into the batter and splattering it across her nose.

She’s definitely in for a bad night, she thinks as she moves blindly around the house. She had tried meditation in the days when her mind was too loud to exist in but at the moment the silence was too deafening. Maybe that’s why she ends up sitting on the floor of her closet, after pushing boxes around until she finds the right one, the one with everything he left behind, the almost empty mug beside her as she stares at the framed picture in her hands.

“Can you just stop moving, please?” Erin pouted, turning to look up at Calum through her lashes, hoping he would just indulge her for once.

“Why?” He sounded annoyed, but he was looking fondly at her.

“I want pictures,” she complained and he chuckled.

“You have pictures.”

“I have pictures of you, I want pictures with you, so I don’t look like a crazy fan or whatever.”

“Fans get pictures with us too,” he shrugged and she groaned.

“I hate you.”

“You love me,” he teased, pulling her phone out of her hands, and her against his chest, kissing her cheek while taking a picture.

Looking at the photo she honestly can’t figure out how they got to where they are. How did they get there? How did they get to screaming in the middle of the night and him walking out the door without ever looking back? Also, how did she manage to go this long without reaching out to him? She can’t think of anything she wants more right now than to just hear his voice. She carefully puts the picture back in the box, the lid on top of it, and hides it again between her shoes, before standing up and pulling her phone out of her pocket.

The phone app is taunting her and so is the little bubble with Calum’s picture, while she moves around her room, her finger hovering over the call button.

She slides to the floor, her back against a wall and she just closes her eyes and hits call before she can lose the courage to do it.

“Hey, I can’t answer right now, but leave a message… or don’t, I can’t tell you what to do…” his voicemail greets her as she mutters “This is so stupid,” before the beep happens and she just sighs into the line.

“I saw your mum today," she starts, picking at a loose thread in her pants, "I don’t know if she told you, but yeah, I saw her and… I don’t know. She asked me how I was and I lied. I said I was great. Hell, I asked about your sister even though I was about to have a breakdown in the frozen section of the supermarket,” she pauses, chuckling to herself, “‘Cause, what else could I do? Tell her I have no idea how to exist in the world after you?” She runs her hand through her hair, still shorter than she was used to, “I cut my hair," she blurts out when her fingers reach her ends, and that just makes her want to list the things she's done in silly attempts to not think of him, "I don’t listen to music anymore, I… I got a new job, I tried meditation," she rolls her eyes, "and that’s funny ‘cause when that didn’t work I thought about asking Ash for some pointers before I remembered he’s also not talking to me. How long has it been now? Five? Six months? And I still have no idea who I am without you.”

The music was loud and Erin’s heels were not helping her navigate this place, the people and the mess making her sure she was going to fall at any minute. Which happened a few moments after and she would’ve felt the irony if someone didn’t catch her and if when she’d looked up to thank them all thoughts hadn’t been replaced by the stranger's face. He looked familiar but she knew if she’d ever met him before, she’d remember, the tan skin, beautiful brown eyes, bright smile. He was gorgeous and he was looking at her in a way that made her cheeks heat up, her heart speed up and her skin was tingling where he was still touching her.

“I don’t know why called… Actually, that’s a lie. I called because I miss you. I’m sorry about that, I’m sure you don’t wanna be thinking about me, but I didn’t have the strength to not call anymore.” She sighs, dropping her head to her free hand, “‘cause guess what? Apparently, I’m not over you and all it takes for me to break is your mum being nice to me,” she laughs to herself, feeling the irony of the situation, “she has your eyes, actually, I guess you have her eyes, but I bet you know what I mean,” she rubs her eyes, before looking up at the ceiling, her head hitting the wall with a soft thud.

The clock in the microwave was blinking 2:58 am and it was the only source of light in the room, along with the glare from the street light coming through the window. She doesn’t know how the night turned into a fight. But lately, fighting seemed to be all they did. Her boss was pushing her too hard and tour prep was draining him, making both of them tick-timing bombs, ready to go off at any minute.

“I can’t do this anymore!” Calum screamed, knocking the air out of her lungs.

“What do you mean?” She asked, her voice suddenly too small.

“I’m not doing this anymore,” his voice was calm and clear, “it’s over.”

His words sank in slowly, and she stood motionless in the kitchen while he gathered his stuff. Her feet seemed to start working again when he walked down the stairs, and she followed him, speechless, unable to ask him to stay as he disappeared out the door without a single glance back at her.

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I have no idea what to do. I guess I thought hearing your voice would change something. But nah… Still love you. Still miss you,” she finally admits, chewing on her bottom lip, but the weight in her chest is still there, “I’m gonna hang up now, you can ignore this if you want. I don’t even know if you’re going to listen to it, but, yeah," she clears her throat, "goodbye Calum.”

The phone slides from her hand down to the floor after she hangs up, and she hugs her knees to her chest, dropping her head and muffling her screams against her arm. What the hell did she just do? She shouldn’t be allowed to have a phone. Actually, maybe she shouldn’t be allowed to have alcohol.

She moves down to the kitchen, abandoning the mug in the sink, keeping the spoon in her hand as she takes the ice cream carton out of the freezer, abandoning the lid next to the bottle of vodka she decides to ignore, and moving to sit in the living room. Maybe she could distract herself enough so she would stop cringing to herself.

Calum was absentmindedly tracing patterns up and down Erin’s arm, their legs tangled together, her head resting on his arm, a movie she’s not paying any attention to playing on the tv while they cuddled on the couch. He kissed the top of her head and something clicked in her brain. She smiled to herself before turning so she could face him. He kissed the tip of her nose when she did and she giggled.

“Cal?” She whispered and he hummed a yes locking eyes with her. “I love you.”

The words were barely out of her lips before his lips collided with hers and he was kissing her with such intensity it was hard to breathe.

“I love you,” he said, smiling against her lips, before kissing her again.

The spoon is caught between her teeth, a blanket around her, the Netflix app on the tv while she tries to find something she wants to watch when she hears the doorbell ringing. She lets the spoon fall off her mouth, throwing the remote and the ice cream carton into the coffee table, tightening the blanket around her before moving to answer the door. She has no idea what to expect, it’s late and she doesn’t remember ordering anything, so when she opens the door she’s convinced she’s hallucinating.

“You called me,” Calum says, the second the door is out of the way, but Erin is too stunned by his presence to not stare at him. His hair is messy, he’s wearing sweatpants and an undershirt, his car keys in one hand, his phone, that he’s shaking as he speaks to get her to look at it, in the other, eyes staring intently at her.

“I’m aware,” she says, slowly, blinking at him as if she is waiting for him to disappear, “you wanna come in?” She asks, feeling weird standing by the door, moving back out of the way when he nods. She closes the door behind her, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders as she looks at him.

“Did you mean it?” He asks, anxious eyes, still holding his phone as if it would somehow vanish, and she frowns at him.

“I said a lot of stuff, I need you to be more specific,” she chuckles, awkwardly, and he steps closer to her, invading her space and stealing her breath away.

“Do you still love me?” He asks, studying her and she opens and closes her mouth a few times. What answer does he want? She considers lying, but his eyes on her make it hard for her to think of anything to say other than. “Yes,” she breathes, and his face softens in relief, his hands moving to cup her face.

“Thank God,” he whispers, before crashing his lips to hers. She kisses him back, the blanket falling off her shoulders as she grabs hold of his shirt. Her heartbeat is ringing in her ears, and she’s convinced she’s going to wake up at any minute. It feels like a dream, his heart pounding against her hand while his lips move on hers.

“Wait,” she pulls back, and he looks breathless at her while she pinches herself.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, anxiety coming back to his eyes, and she pinches herself again, “what are you doing?”

“I’m just making sure I’m not dreaming,” she laughs, and he tilts his head, eyes soft, “what are you doing?”

“I was kissing you,” he chuckles and she shakes her head, opening and closing her mouth.

“Why?” She asks, frowning at him.

“Because I love you,” he says, voice calm and clear, and she can feel her heart swell as she looks at him, a smile fighting its way onto her lips.

“You do?”

“I do,” he nods, and she nods back, pursing her lips.

“Does that mean you won’t walk out just because you’re frustrated again?” She asks, staring up at him.

“I’m sorry I did that,” he says, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry I picked a fight in the middle of the night,” she says, apologetically and he chuckles slightly.

“I’m sorry I let you, and then left.”

“Maybe in the next fight, we can just…”

“Talk?”

“Yeah,” she chuckles as he moves closer to her, hands on her waist pulling her in.

“Sounds like a plan," he agrees, grinning at her.

“Okay, you can kiss me again.”

________

taglist: @mytlrh

#5sos fics #5sos fic #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #i still don't know how to tag fics yeah #5 seconds of summer fic

[imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl]

The Perfect Bad Boy (Pt. 15 of 18)

Pairing: Billy Hargrove X Reader

Word count: 3 K

Summary: Working as a lifeguard in the Hawkins Community Pool, you try to fit in after moving from New York. Things were going pretty well when you notice you've been under someone's stare. Billy Hargrove, Hawkins' bad boy, has been staring at you since day one. You never intended to have anything to do with him, judging by the reputation he has. But Billy won't leave you alone, determined to show you his feelings are different this time...

As if your heart flooding you with confusing feelings wasn't enough, there are weird, strange animals lurking in the woods... But those have to be just part of the wild live of the woods surrounding Hawkins... Right?

<- Previous part (14)

Next part (16) ->

{Stranger Things Masterlist}

×

Missing

There are seven holes. Seven. But they aren't seven different nests, they're tunnels, with seven openings to the surface of the Earth. You only know that because Eleven spent the whole night focused on finding them, seated in the living room of Joyce's place, a piece of fabric covering her eyes. The map from before remained on the floor beside her, and she reached out to draw where the tunnels reach. You barely had any sleep, just the pair of hours you slept with your head on Billy's shoulder, seated on the couch, but someone's voice woke you up.

Relief fills your heart when the morning comes. During the night, you could only think about those things lurking around. After a quick shower, and using one of Eleven's shirt, you go to the kitchen and decide to have breakfast there, where you can be alone. Eating a bowl of cereal, you run a hand through your hair, trying to understand how are you going back to the pool today and act like none of this is happening.

“Hey, princess,” Billy says, coming into the kitchen. Hair is still wet and wearing only his jacket. “Are you ok?”

“I'm trying to be.” Pushing the bowl away, you watch as he makes himself the same meal you had. “Wondering how am I going to work today.”

“Wanna stay here? I can tell Anthony that you're sick. If he even shows up.”

“No. It'll be worse if I stay.” You're confused, not sure what's the best or what's worse. But at least in the pool you'll have something normal going on.

“Hey, you two,” Joyce says as she comes in. Her voice gets your attention, and when you look at her after exchanging a glance with Billy, you see that Hopper is right behind her, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed together. “How are you two doing?”

“Uhm... Good.” It sounds like a question. Joyce sits at the table, with Hopper standing behind her. He has the chief face on, and you have no idea why. “Everything alright? Are we in trouble or something?” Gesturing at you and Billy, and cross your legs, an eye on the clock because you'll still need to stop by home to get the swimsuit.

“No, of course not. It's just that the kids were talking about something and–”

“Are you two living together?" Hopper speaks up, swallowing Joyce's words. She gives him a hard stare, and there's some kind of conversation going on through facial expressions that you can't understand.

“Yes.” You answer, not sure why you're in this situation in the first place. You feel like you're having the talk with Diane all over again. Diane. You have to call her, just to make sure everything is alright. “Why?”

“There were some rumors running around that–”

“That Billy Hargrove got some chick pregnant.” Hopper again. But this time Joyce slaps his arm.

“We agreed you'd let me do this.” She whispers.

“Then just get to the damn point.” He snaps back.

With wide eyes, you look at Billy. He doesn't seem bothered by this, peacefully eating his cereal. There's a smile on his lips that he tries to hold back, but you know him far too well now. You can see it. He's having fun.

“Look, guys, Uhm... These rumors started after I fainted on the pool, but it was from heat exhaustion, so...” Deciding to just end whatever this is, you speak up, kicking Billy's leg and whispering to him. “Say something.”

“(Y/N), honey, do your parents know about that?”

This makes you laugh, but then you remember Joyce doesn't know about your relationship, or better saying, the lack of it. “No, and I don't plan on doing that. But my aunt Diane does.”

“And she allowed it?” Hopper takes his time pronouncing every word as if this is absurd. “You're lucky you're not my daughter.”

“Hopper, just...” Joyce mumbles, her voice fading. “We just wanted to make sure you guys are... You know... Going somewhere with this. Living together is something really big and important to do.”

“I'll only say two things.” Billy finally makes his presence known, getting up and throwing his bowl in the sink. “First of all, I'm planning on marrying (Y/N). Second, we better go now or we'll be late. Again.”

There's a weird buzz in your ears as Billy takes your hand and starts pulling you with him. Joyce and Hopper have wide eyes, mouth half-open, in shock. You're not that different, and all your body is able to do is keep following Billy outside and to his car. You're silently looking through the window as he drives, but you're doing that on purpose, just to get back at him for saying that out of the blue.

“Aren't you gonna say anything?” He asks parking in front of the house.

“Absolutely not.” Stepping out of the car, you don't wait for him, heading inside. “If you really wanna do what you said, I'll patiently wait until you propose, Hargrove.” Turning around just enough to wink at him, you bite back a smile.

You're quick to get ready and manage not to be late. The song is blasting when Billy pulls over on his parking spot, and the moment the song is gone, you hear the chattering, noticing three police cars.

Your heart skips a beat when you leave the car, taking a deep breath. “Hey,” Billy calls, taking your hand. “Let's check what happened before jumping to conclusions, ok?”

“Ok.” Holding his arm, you move to the entrance, where a small crowd gathers. Hopper is here, and by the messy way of his clothes, he had to run over here. He immediately notices you and Billy, a sad look on his face. And that's when you see Monica, running a hand through her hair, tears glistening on her cheeks.

“Mon?” Calling, you let go of Billy and runs to her. Monica breaks a little bit when she sees you, and you're quick to hug her. “Mon, what happened?”

“It's Jason. My cousin is missing, (Y/N).” She cries on your shoulder, and you close your eyes tight because the first thing that comes to your head is probably what got him. The Demodogs. “He went out yesterday to buy dinner a-and his mom called mine saying he was taking long and...” You pull away, holding her hands. “...that was early evening yesterday. And he's still missing. The family spent the whole night looking for him and–”

“Mon, I'm sure we'll find him.” It's hard to lie. It's even harder not to break down in front of her. “Maybe he felt bad and fainted or something like that. We'll find him.”

“I hope so.”

“I'll drive you home, ok? Billy can keep the pools safe for one day.”

When she nods, drying off some tears, you make your way over him, who's talking to Hopper. He probably already knows, but you try to keep a straight face.

“Come here, princess.” He opens his arms and you don't even hesitate, hugging him tightly. “I'm so sorry. But we'll find him. The party is already aware of everything.” Whispering on my ear, Billy places a kiss on the top of your hair.

“I...” Getting rid of the single tear that escaped your efforts to hold it back, you pull away. “I'll take her home, she's very shaken. Can you just keep an eye–”

“Keep an eye on the kids, of course.” He bends over to kiss you, and your arms, almost automatically, move to be around his neck. “I'll pick you up after work, ok? I love you.”

“I love you.” It still makes you blush to hear those words, but you absolutely love to say it back. After one last kiss, you part ways.

Monica talks as you drive to her place, sharing memories with her cousin. Some of them you already know, but you don't stop her, laughing and making silly comments, trying to keep her mind away from the fact that Jason is missing.

Your mind also starts remembering. Obviously, you didn't have all the time around Jason that Monica had, but he was one of the first people you met when you got here. He's always smiling, carrying his siblings around, always complaining, but always happy to be with them. Jason is funny, even when he's the only one who actually gets his jokes.

Jason is missing.

Demidogs need a lot of food. An almost 6 feet tall male human has a lot of meat.

Shaking your head lightly, you push these thoughts away. No breaking down now. Monica needs you strong, to keep her strong too. Her family is either at Jason's or still looking, so you're alone. Both of you stay seated on her bed, and you give her your shoulder when she starts crying again. He's gone for one night and she's already losing it... If anything bad happens...

Her parents return home a couple of hours later, thankful to you for taking her back home. You drag her into the living room, turning the TV on this random movie and trying to convince her to pay some attention. You can hear her parents in the kitchen, making lunch, but you also hear when her mother cries, the low, cracking voice as she talks to her husband. It's getting hard by the minute to stay here, pretending you don't know what probably happened, but if you cry, if you start doubting Jason is ok, Monica will break apart.

A knock on the door, an unusually loud and frenetic knock, gets your attention. Looking over your shoulder, you see as Monica's father goes to answer it.

“Hi. Is (Y/N) here?” You hear a feminine voice, and you soon recognize it's Nancy.

Excusing yourself, you get up. “Yes, she's–”

“Hey.” You go to the front door, seeing Nancy and two cars in the sidewalk, many eyes looking at you. “Something wrong?”

“Sorry, but we need you. Uhm... Maxine is sick. We need to have a doctor check on her.”

“What?” You exclaim, running a hand through your hair. “Mon.” Calling her, you quickly make your way back to the living room. “I'm so sorry, but Maxine is feeling ill, I have to go. But I promise I'll call you later, ok?”

“Sure. Go help.” She says, nodding and clearing her throat since her voice is all clouded by her crying.

“Stay calm, honey. Jason is alright, I'm sure.” Another lie. You shouldn't make promises you don't know if you can keep. Giving her a quick hug, you run outside, muttering a goodbye to Mon's father as Nancy does the same.

“We'll go looking for him.” She says in a low voice as you move toward the cars. “We don't stand still when shit happens.”

Her choice of words makes you raise your eyebrows. You never heard her saying anything like that. “Thanks.” Muttering, you seat shotgun in Steve's car as she goes to Jonathan's. There are four kids on the back seat, fighting for some more space. You're happy to see Max is alright. For a moment, you thought she was really sick.

You park in the woods, and there are already some people here. Everyone but Hopper, because he has to be in the official search party, and Billy. God, you wish Billy was here.

“Alright, let's do this,” Mike says, and he freely starts separating you in groups. “Eleven and Will with me. Lucas, Jonathan, and Robin. Uhm... Max, Steve, and (Y/N). Joyce–”

“Why are you messing up the groups, man. I wanna go with Max.” Lucas complains and Mike rolls his eyes. “Groups of four, as usual.”

“Since when?”

“Alright, just gather in groups, c'mon, guys,” Joyce says, eyeing both her kids until they go to stand by her side, alongside Nancy.

You move to stand with Max and Lucas, and after playing rock, paper, scissors with Robin, Steve comes to your group. You raise your eyebrows at him, trying to get why they had to use that method to choose a group. “Nobody wants to be with these two lovebirds.” He says when he's close enough.

“That's something I can understand.” There's no doubt Max and Lucas are into each other, but they're constantly fighting. It's funny to watch, actually.

“Let's get started then, guys. Be careful, pay attention to the radios, and let's find Jason.” Joyce announces, taking over Hopper's role in this.

And everyone starts moving, each group in a different direction. You're going to the holes first, just to check, and then you'll cover a specific area. Max and Lucas are once again responsible for the map and walk a couple of feet ahead.

“Hey. Take this.” Steve gets your attention, taking the bat from his backpack and handing it over to you. “I know Jason was a close friend of yours. Sorry this happened.”

“Yeah.” You lay the bat over your shoulder, careful not to entangle your hair in the nails. “I really thought it couldn't get any worse but life proved me wrong.”

“I remember when Will went missing. I was a total jerk back then so I didn't really care.” You glance over to Steve, and he has an apologetic look on his face. “They found the body and there was a funeral. But the body was fake and Will was fine in the end.”

“Someone should make a movie out of that story.” You mumble, taking a deep breath. “Do you think Jason could be in the... Upside Down?”

“No. According to Eleven, no portals were open. The Demodogs just made these woods into their new home and are doing what it takes to survive.” Through the corner of your eyes, you see when he almost slips, opening his arms slightly to regain balance. “Don't laugh.” He says, but you're already chuckling. “Anyway, wherever he is, he's here.”

“Why don't we tell Eleven to just use her powers and find him. Wouldn't it be easier?”

“These woods are huge. And we usually just do that when it's the last resource.” Lucas answers.

“We don't like pushing her. It always brings back sad memories.”

That's something you can understand perfectly. “We do it the old way then.” You've seen how complicated it is. Eleven's nose wouldn't stop bleeding while she was figuring out the tunnels, and after while blood came out of her ears too. As much as you want to find Jason, you'd never ask her or the party to do something just so you'd feel better. They're in it far longer than you, so you trust them to make the decisions and set the pace. “I just hope he's alright. He's Monica's cousin, and she's worried to death.”

“Yeah, I get that.” It doesn't go unnoticed how Steve doesn't make false promises as you did with Monica. He doesn't say he's ok, that you'll find him. Running a hand through your hair, you take a deep breath, confused between having hopes or just expecting the worse. “So, changing the subject.” He speaks again. “You and Hargrove. I never thought Billy would actually fall in love.”

A smile comes to your lips, and you're thankful for having something else to think about. “Yeah. It took a while for me to believe that but he... He worked hard.” Involuntary, your hand goes for the necklace, fingers playing with the earring.

“Joyce and Hopper were saying something about marriage...” It sounds like a question, and you give Steve a glance, giggling. “They were trying not to let anyone hear them but Hopper doesn't really know how to whisper.”

By the heat spreading through your cheeks, you know you're blushing. Could it be real? Would Billy marry you? Is he really considering such a thing? “We spoke about it, Uhm... Twice, I think. But not a real conversation, he just spilled it out.”

“Holy shit, he's going serious with you then.” He playfully elbows your arm. By what you've seen and by what Max told you, Steve usually grows protective of everyone since he joined the party, and you think it's cute. He's like everyone's babysitter. “Send me an invitation, would you?”

“I will.”

“You–”

Maxine's yell cuts him short, getting your attention as you notice you have fallen behind. Immediately, you and Steve start running towards then.

“Man, that's...” Lucas says as Max hugs him, eyes tightly shut.

You're about to ask them what the hell happened when you follow Lucas' scared stare.

It's a weird sensation when you're brain refuses to take in the information. When your eyes, focused on something, are blind. And your ears are deaf and the wind blowing doesn't touch your skin. It's like you're not there.

Jason's body is stuck between a big rock and a dead tree. His torso is opened up, and there's nothing inside.

As there's nothing inside Jason anymore. He's empty. Body and soul. There will be no laughter leaving his lips, no more jokes, no more arms to carry his baby siblings around. Nothing. Just flesh and bones, both ripped apart.

“(Y/N).” You're sure it's not the first time you hear someone calling your name, but you're not even sure where it comes from.

You only move when an arm pulls you, and you feel it around you. “We have to go. C'mon.” Steve says, and, far and distant, you hear static, and voices, coming from the radio. “(Y/N).”

“I need Billy.” It's the only thing that comes to your head, and you find a way to force the words out of your throat.

“Alright, let's go,” Steve says, and you're only set on motion because of his arm around your shoulders.

Everything is a blur. You notice people moving around, and some of them come to hug you as they start regrouping near the cars. Nodding and thanking their kind words, you remain silent, arms crossed, the image still burning in your brain.

Jason's rib cage broken open, the blood staining his clothes and the ground around him. His head twisted in an awkward way, neck probably disconnected from the body.

“Let's get moving. She wants to talk to Billy.”

“The pool will close in an hour. Take her home.”

“No, she's scaring me. We need to take her to Billy.” Max intervenes, and Steve pulls you to his car. You let Max seat shotgun, feeling better in the backseat where you can curl into a ball, knees pressed against your chest as the landscape passes by.

It reminds you the first time you saw that thing. You were trying to beat Billy, driving back to your place. Maybe, if you had gone to the police station the next day, let them know something was out there, you could've avoided this. But who would believe you? You didn't believe it either. What are you going to tell Monica? After saying things would be ok, that they would find Jason alive and well when you knew being out in the woods all night long probably meant he'd become Demodog's meal.

You knew it, yet you lied. Vain hope is the worst kind of hope, and that's what you gave her.

“(Y/N).” Steve gets your attention, touching your shoulder. “We're at the pool.”

Blinking a few times to wake up from the stupor, you bolt out of the car, making your way to the entrance. It's crowded today, but you don't see faces, you just see obstacles.

It finally starts kicking in.

You went to find Jason, and you did. But instead of the dear friend you so easily grew to love, you found a dead, empty corpse. The tears threat to overflow as you rudely bump into people, making your way through the pool. At a distance, you see the moment Billy finally notices the commotion, his eyes quick to find you. By the way his face changes, the way he takes off his sunglasses and jumps to the ground, shoving people out of his way, you must be looking terrible.

But you don't care. Billy is everything you need, the only thing you see and you know you can break down in his arms. You just need to reach him, and when you do, you collapse against his chest, not able to hold back the tears anymore, the sobs building up your throat as you hold onto him.

“I'm so sorry,” Billy mumbles in your ear. He knows. How could he not?

You suddenly feel him lifting you up, and you hide your teary face on the crook of his neck. Seconds later you're at the locker room, and Billy screams for the other girls to get out as he puts you down, seated on one of the benches.

“I'm so sorry, (Y/N).” He repeats, kneeled before you, thumbs coming to dry off some tears, just to make space for more.

“I saw him. H-he was all eaten, Billy. His body was-his body was wide open and everything was gone–”

“Stop, stop.” He begs, pulling you into a hug. “You don't have to tell me, not now.” Nodding, you take in his scent, feeling safe, secure, despite the terror creeping under your skin. “I'll take you home, ok?”

“No.” You mutter, pulling away just enough so you're foreheads are touching. You don't know what comes to you, but this has to be said. This feeling has to be let out. Not after, not tomorrow. Now. Maybe it's the fact that you saw death for the very first time. You just need to let him know “You're my home.”

×

@chloe-skywalker @dpaccione @dreamin-of-dacre @funeral-7 @uncookspaget @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @halloweenbitch2764 @redlovett @multific @shinydixon @nikkixostan @clockworkballerina @nope-thanks

#imagine billy hargrove #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove fanfiction #billy hargrove x y/n #billy hargrove imagine #imagine stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction

[lilallama]

hello! i reaaaaally really reaaalllllyyyy love your writing! I'd like to know how both clubs would react to their beloved texting them? it could be anything you want! I trust your creative mind:D i hope you're doing well~(´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`)

[Thank you so much, cinnamon bun ❤ that makes me really happy ^^. I'm doing very good, I hope you do too. Hobis picture didn't fit on here (TT), so I will post it by itself. 💕🍑]

Hoseok

The young boy layed on his silk sheets, on his four thousand dollar mahogany bed, while drowning in the sounds of his best friend. On his phone he kept repeatedly playing the recordings of their calls. Hearing their voice felt like heaven to him, if he could he'd make them talk forever just so he could dwell in the sound of their voice. Suddenly his euphoria was interrupted by a notification.

Y/n 💕

Have you got the homework for today?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

He sat up and put on his glasses. Yes, it really was Y/n. Although they consider him a best friend, Hoseok still cannot stop his heart from racing in his chest. He quickly typed an answer and jumped up to send them a picture of his finnished work.

Seokjin

With his soft black hair pulled back my a fluffy, pink headband and him wearing an evenly fluffy but white bathrobe, he sat in his private bathroom and applied his expensive skincare products. He hummed and sang a bit [I love you, Y/n~] before being interrupted by his phone notifying him that he got a message.

Prince/ss 👑

Have you got the homework for today?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

He immediately threw his fifty dollar "protection and hydration, for a longer lasting youthful look" cream away and hurried to type back. Why should his love have to do homework, when he'll have one of his butlers do it for them. Silly Y/n.

Yoongi

The newest Rap music blasting in his ears, Yoongi hugged a photo of Y/n, his gorgeous [not yet] lover, to his chest. He dispises most of the new music. It's all money, sex and parties, none of which has anything to do with him. He's an anti social virgin, who has to work two part time jobs to be able to provide for himself and his alcoholic mother. But in that moment he didn't care. The sobs escaping his mouth got interrupted by a notification, no one ever texts him.

Angel 🎶

Have you got the homework for today?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

His red, watery eyes widen. They actually wrote him. They noticed little, boring him. Without thinking he typed a response and made his way to give them what they asked for.

Namjoon

The sound of a pen scraping against paper, leavibg behing dark blue, inky lines that are formed into neat writings. As student council president, Namjoon made sure to set an example to everyone. Diligent, devoted, intelligent, responsible Namjoon. Just as the last sentence was brought to an end, a notification popped up on his phone. He was going to ignore the message, but then spotted the name of the sender.

Darling ❤

Have you got the homework for today?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

His pen rolled out of his hand and hit the polished floor of his room. His love just texted him. They asked for his help! Is he dreaming? He must be. Oh, how he longed for such a moment. He can finally be useful to his darling.

Jimin

The music came to a stop and so did Jimin. He pushed his pink hair out of his sweaty face, while whiping some of the sweat away with his already soaked shirt. The white fabric sticking uncomfortably to his body as he tried to catch his breath. After all there's no time for breaks, he has to impress his baby with his skills! But before he could start the music again, his phone buzzed in his backpack. He walked across the practice room with an annoyed look on his face.

Baby 🥰

Have you got the homework for today?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

Jimins vision went hazy for a second and he lost balance. Now on the floor, he still stared at the message. His face flushed even more than before while thinking about their cute face, distraught at having forgotten the homework. He smiled and took a picture of him winking, making sure to take it so they could see his sweaty shirt, stuck to his back in the mirror. He'll send you it once he gets home, until then how about you talk for a bit?

Taehyung

The artistic boy kept his eyes on the canvas before him. His apron had multiple dried up colour stains, while fresh paint coated his fingertips. Some of the paint got smushed on his face as he brushed his bangs aside, while sone of the paint also got stuck in his locks as he tied them into a small bun. He stepped back, the painted face of his love smiling back at him made him break out into a lovestruck boxy grin. But then his phone buzzed and his smile immediately disappeared.

God/dess 🌹

Have you got the homework for today?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

With his mouth slightly agape, his almond eyes stared at the slightly stained screen. Was he imagining things, was his god/goddess really giving him the chance to serve them. After a few seconds he snapped out of it and hurried to grab his homework.

Jeongguk

In the dark of the night, Jeongguk slouched through the streets. He just got in a fight, boxed the guy so hard that he broke his nose, arm and maybe a rib, just to leave that pathetic, shaking pile of shit whimpering on the ground. As the streetlights softly shone down on him, illuminating his face, he received a message.

Spouse 💍

Have you got the homework for today?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

He stopped in his tracks. A cold wind surrounded him, messing up his hair even more. A bright smile appeared on his face, revealing his bunny like teeth. After jumping around and twirling once or twice he stopped to reply. He couldn't repress the laugh that escaped his dry throat. Now he only has to hurry home!

Jennie

She was feasting with her parents at the gisnt dinner table, but they completely disregarded her existence, only having eyes for each other. She chuckled and cleared her throat, catching her parents attention who bashfully laughed along with her. Jennies parents are exactly how she wishes her future marriage to be. They started talking when her phone notified her of a message.

Y/nie 😘

Have you got the homework for today, girl?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

Before her mother could scold her on her lack of etiquette, she squealed in a high pitched note, that her Y/n just texted her. Of course, her parents knew about you as well as her feelings for you, they were the exact same when they were younger. They sighed lovingly and huddled together while their daughter excitedly texted her love.

Jisoo

Just a few minutes ago, she was busy going through all her Y/n pictures that have she took these past months [5732, not counting her digital copies]. She was just brushing her silky black hair when her phone let out that obnoxious tone. Jisoo snapped around to her phone on her bed, her 20th one this month [her phone keeps running out of storage room from all her photos, yet she refuses to delete any. So she just gets a new one once her current runs out if storage]. She looked at the screen.

My Muse

Have you got the homework for today, girl?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

As soon as she read these messages, her expression brightened. He brush was thrown into a corner of her big room, making a clack sound as it hit the tiles. In a matter of seconds she typed her answer and send you the homework, as you requested.

Chaeyoung

Soft, gentle fingers stoked the strings on a wooden guitar, filling the room with a sweet melody. An angelic voice joined the guitar play, creating a fairytale like song. As it slowly came to an end, the girl to whom that angelic voice belongs, leans over to her nightstand, grabbing her phone. With longing eyes she stared at the screen while muttering please under her breath. Just then, she received a text message.

My Lovely Y/n 😊

Have you got the homework for today, girl?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

She jumped up, placing the guitar on her bed while dancing around. Her eyes, filled with love and adoration, focused on the text. She took a screenshot and replied while singing out of happiness.

Lisa

After she had finished her last pirouette for the day, she scated off the ice to remove her scates. The young girl sat on the cold bench, letting her hair out of her bun, to flow over her shoulders in smooth waves. While removing her skates, she received a notification on her phone.

Sweetheart 🌸

Have you got the homework for today, girl?

If yes, could you please tell me, thanks.

Lisa smiled as she exchanged her ice skates for a pair of warm boots and placed them back to where they belong. While texting her love, she walked out with poise and flipped her hair back. Of course her love would rely on her. She is the most trustworthy person after all.

#yandere bts #cooking club #yandere blackpink #newspaper club