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fasterthanmydemons · 9 months

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[ Speedster of the Galaxy - should have written this in the last submission but mun is forgetful oop- anyway it’s obvious when Pietro’s in this verse because he’s. In space lol. ]

Mantis blinked, frowning when Pietro said he thought she was prettier. She felt bad for the Terran speedster; it was his first time in space, with no preparation whatsoever, so naturally his biology would be a bit messy. Of course he would be confused and disoriented, speaking nonsense, and Mantis’ expression turned sympathetic, her hand gently patting Pietro’s shoulder. Feeling quite a bit surprised when he said being pretty wasn’t a competition. Mantis knew that. She didn’t think Gamora was pretty in a competitive kind of way, but in a ‘no wonder Quill forgot how to speak when he first saw her’ kind of way. The way Mantis saw it, Gamora was precisely the reason why beauty shouldn’t be a competition.

Then he started talking about Vision, and… Mantis could tell Pietro did not like him. He was unable to see anyone other than Ultron, who wanted to make things better. Oh, anyone who said they could make things 'better’ or 'nicer’ or 'perfect’ - especially that last one - was someone the Guardians couldn’t trust. Mantis knew it well. Life on Ego’s planet seemed so absolutely perfect. To say that perfection was a red flag would be an understatement. “He wanted to destroy all of your planet?” Mantis covered her mouth with a hand as Pietro described his near-death experience. Stars, how was he even alive? She could feel the panic growing in the air between the two of them, and she knew it wasn’t coming from her. When he lifted his right hand, Mantis gently took it, holding it between her hands as she tried not to let his agitated state worsen. “Please don’t yell, it’s–” A wince twisted her features as she felt a sharp pain in her own right hand. His anger and fear flooding through her like a riptide.

When he apologized and his eyes fell, Mantis just felt sad. How long had he been holding all of this in? “It’s okay…” She softly rubbed his palm and the back of his hand with her thumbs, ignoring the way her own hand hurt. “Have you ever told your sister about this?” Maybe Pietro refused to tell Wanda because he didn’t want to worry her, or because he knew she was in love with Vision. But clearly Pietro didn’t feel listened to, although Mantis didn’t think Wanda or the Avengers were to blame; perhaps Pietro struggled with communication. “You’re frustrated… You feel as though you try to understand the perspective of others yet no one ever tries to understand yours. But is that how things are or just how you feel?” Mantis drew little circles on his hand with her thumbs, tracing small imaginary planets. “I don’t think your sister started dating him in order to upset you. I’m sure she was terrified of losing you when you were so hurt. She probably was… conflicted when she realized she had feelings for him. But did Vision ever hurt you? Vision himself, I mean. I think you should judge his actions, not Ultron’s. In any case, you are far away from him now.”

She gave him a reassuring smile before letting go of his hand. She thought about using her powers to help him calm down, but she had already altered his mind a bit so he wouldn’t have nightmares the next time he tried to sleep. From the way he started recalling his painful memories and getting agitated, Mantis could confirm her belief about Pietro’s system being altered in space, distorting his idea of beauty along with everything else. When Pietro grinned as she offered him the soup, Mantis momentarily thought he was doing it because it was so unhelpful compared to his problems it was funny. But when he thanked her, she felt her shoulders relax and fall back into place. She gave him space to eat, looking out the window and wondering why he had grinned like that. Maybe it was the idea of eating, given how hungry he said he was all the time.

“We will have to make sure we get extra food for you, then. The good thing about space is that it’s never too early or too late to eat. You can eat anytime.” Her antennae twitched with excitement when she spotted a faraway comet, her eyes widening. “Look!” Pointing with her finger, Mantis stepped closer to the window; the light reflected in her pitch black eyes, and she just beamed at the small celestial body. “One time, Peter tried to pilot and watch comets at the same time, because there were so many of them. But he was able to focus when he had to maneuver the ship to dodge them all. The way we all screamed… You wouldn’t believe it. Groot and Drax loved it. I loved it, too. I thought it was a fun ride.”

__________

{ LOL, it’s perfectly okay, my tag system is a mess anyway. I create all these very nice tags in a nice organized system... and then proceed to forget to actually put them on posts. XD Also omg Mantissss... Oh he thinks I’m pretty, the poor guy’s biology is messed up. OMG, tiny bug girl please love yourself, lol. I get where she’s coming from though, and it’s super sad that she can’t see herself for the adorable bean that she is. }

Mantis... really seemed to not like compliments, or eve positive references to herself. That was throwing Pietro for a loop. It was part of how he functioned socially that he should very often try to raise others up out of whatever might be bothering them. There had been a lot of downtrodden people in Sokovia. The war had taken its toll and people were hungry, tired, sick, frustrated, sad, angry, you name it. It made Pietro feel good to offer kind words, encouraging ones, or simple compliments and watch people’s faces light up with just a little bit of hope or positivity. But with Mantis... it seemed to have the opposite effect. He made a mental note to try and stop doing that around her, since he didn’t want to upset her, but that was hard do when she was so adorable and helpful to him.

Pietro tried to shake off how uncomfortable talking about Ultron had made him. In his therapy sessions while with the Avengers, he’d always refused to talk about Ultron. He hadn’t wanted those sessions at all, but they were required. Required was another word for forced. “Not the planet itself, but just all the people on it. The humans. For some reason he thought a world full of robots would be better? I don’t know, it was such a stupid idea. He said that when the dust settled, the only thing living in the world would be metal.” It was ingrained on his brain, not only the bot’s words but the sound of his voice.

“Sorry! I’m... I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to yell. Please do not be scared...” he said when he saw her wincing. What kind of a jerk was he, yelling like an idiot in front of this poor person? “Sorry, I won’t... talk about that anymore...” he said, embarrassed and ashamed. He fell silent when she told him it was okay and started rubbing his hand. It... felt nice, having someone touch his hand kindly like that. He usually didn’t let anyone touch it, and it wasn’t like Mantis had asked first, but somehow he was perfectly okay with it. He let her read him however she wanted, admitting to himself that she was spot on with her accuracy. Was that the way of things, or was he maybe getting to emotional about it? When she asked if he’d told Wanda about his hand, his eyes widened and he shook his head. “No, no, I never have. I never will. Is very... Is kindof... The reason why is bad like this... It was not her fault, but she would think it was. So I can’t tell her because I don’t want her to blame herself.”

And out it came, the story of his right hand and arm. He never felt free to tell it to anyone before, but since Mantis had asked if he’d told Wanda, he felt like he should explain why he’d keep something like this from his own twin. “When our parents were killed, we hid under a bed while our apartment building collapsed around us. We were ten, so we were pretty small, but over time the bed kindof got crushed, so it was very tiny space for us both. And Wanda, she was sick as a baby, so she has trouble with her lungs sometimes. Well, she did when we were little, not so much anymore. I guess she grew out of it. Anyway, there was lot of dust in the air from the building getting crushed all around us, so I held onto Wanda to make sure she had enough space to breathe and I let her breathe through my shirt so she wouldn’t be breathing all that nasty dust. But... we weren’t found for two days, and holding Wanda in that tiny space... she was kindof leaning on my arm and it lost feeling for a long time. When we were found, my arm was all purple and it felt funny for a long while afterward. That’s when it first started hurting and everything and sometimes it would shake by itself.”

“So then we were in an orphanage and then foster homes and none of that worked out, so we ran away and were living on the street for a while. We needed to eat, so I would steal things for us and for Wanda especially because she was small and scared and not as fast as me. One time I didn’t do such a great job and I got caught by a guy who stuck a pocket knife through my hand, pinning it to the table to try and keep me there for the police, but I ran away with the knife still in my hand.” He chuckled, as if it were funny and not the terrible hardship that it was. “We didn’t have money for the doctor, so Wanda did what she could for my hand, but it got infected and I almost lost these fingers. They swelled up and turns all funny colors.” He pointed to his thumb and index finger.

“And then when Hydra experimented on us, they thought it was a great idea to stick the I.V. port in this same hand, like... really? You see is bad, why would you put it there? But they did, and I got another infection. They had to cut part of my skin and whatever else out so it could heal. By then the shaking and the numbness was pretty bad, but I hid it from Wanda still. Then I told you Ultron shot through this same hand. Is really bad now, sometimes I can’t grip things with it because it just seizes up on me.” He sighed. “Anyway... Wanda would blame herself for all of it. For leaning on my arm when we were ten, for me getting stabbed while stealing food for her when we were fourteen, for what Hydra did because it was her decision for us to join their experiments, and then for Ultron because she kept saying that was her fault too. I just... don’t want to lay all of that on her. She has enough problems. Is my own thing to deal with, so I deal. Is just part of life for me,” he said, shrugging again like it was something easy and trivial when it was anything but.

“No, Vision has never hurt me...” Pietro admitted. “And I don’t think he would, as he is now. But I worry that there is something in his mind that will someday just click like a flipped switch and suddenly he will be Ultron. I don’t really understand robotics or digital things or brain things, so I don’t know how any of that works, but like I said, I saw Ultron uploading his mind into Vision’s through some kindof neural link. So... it’s in there somewhere, right? Ultron’s mind? What scares me is... when will it come out and what will it make Vision do when it does?” To Pietro, it was a very real thing that not only might happen, but definitely would someday.

The soup was actually really good, and Pietro was grateful for it. He sat down nearby to indulge himself in it. “Then I think I am going to like space very much if it lets me eat whenever I want,” he said with a little smirk. When she pointed out a comet, Pietro set the bowl of soup temporarily aside and jumped up excitedly to see it, peering out the window. “Oh, wow! That’s so cool!” he exclaimed, a big, boyish grin on his face. Listening to her story about Quill’s piloting, Pietro chuckled. “Hey, is part of life, you know? Even when things go wrong, you have to laugh and roll with it. Find the good and the fun where you can, yeah? It sounds like that was a lot of fun,” he agreed with her.

#{ speedster of the galaxy }#tw: medical procedures

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smol-dargon · 1 year

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Seeing Is Believing

(Tw assault mention, alcohol mention)

It was probably one of the seediest bars he'd ever been in. And that was an accomplishment; bars Underground had a reputation for efficiently separating customers from their hard-earned gold. He'd learned the hard way to never get more than slightly buzzed in these places. Of course, now that they were topside, he allowed himself a little more freedom. It was a rough city, with rough people. But it was nothing compared to being Underground.

And so, he drank.

He'd had a hard day. Sans had come home in a bad mood after therapy, and he himself had been through the wringer. He'd underestimated how hard it was to keep from becoming invested in the cases he saw. Of course, as the bailiff, that was easier. He couldn't imagine being the lawyers involved. Still, he'd had to physically restrain a couple of people today, and it wore on him. He was tired of being the strong one. He wanted more than anything to relax. To let his guard down and not have to worry so much about being stabbed in the back.

Perhaps that was why the human sharing the bar with him had caught his attention so quickly. Or maybe it was her fiery red hair and freckled face. Or her striking green eyes. He couldn't be sure. She was certainly very attractive. More importantly, she was vibrant, full of life. She sang along with every shanty the patrons started, and even started a few herself. She seemed so open. He'd been trying to work up the courage to speak with her, and now, on his fourth rum and coke, he figured this was as good a time as any.

"HUMAN."

Brilliant, Edge.

She turned to face him with a questioning expression. He swallowed his embarrassment, hoping she either hadn't noticed or would forgive him.

"MAY I BUY YOU A DRINK?"

"I'm not working tonight.", she replied, a bit coldly.

Confused, he pressed a little.

"WELL, YES, I CAN SEE THAT. ISN'T THAT WHY YOU'RE HERE?"

She seemed taken aback for a moment before a look of realization came over her face.

"Oh, you meant this casually? Just... for fun? No money or work involved?"

"NONE, ASIDE FROM WHAT I'LL SPEND ON YOUR DRINK. I WAS SIMPLY HOPING TO MAKE YOUR ACQUAINTANCE."

She relaxed slightly.

"Oh. Well, if that's all... sure. I'm just having beer tonight, nothing fancy."

He nodded. That would suit him fine. He flagged the bartender down and ordered a couple of stouts for them. She seemed pleased with his choice.

"I don't think you've been here before. Never noticed you here, anyway, and I'm here all the time."

He nodded quietly, noting her odd phrasing.

"THAT IS CORRECT, THIS IS MY FIRST TIME HERE. I WAS INTRIGUED BY THE IDEA OF WHATEVER AN 'AUTHENTIC NAUTICAL TAVERN' WAS."

She chuckled.

"You step through those doors and, aside from the modern wear and cell phones, it's like stepping back into a portside den of ill-repute from the 1700s. Thing of beauty. We even sing shanties, although you probably already heard some of those."

"I WAS WONDERING ABOUT THAT... IT'S A COMMON OCCURRENCE, THEN?"

"Oh, yes, really helps create the atmosphere. We typically stick to shanties from the golden age of pirating, but every once in a while, you can get the guys to at least cheer you on with others."

"OTHERS?"

She grinned, downing the rest of her beer and turning to face the rest of the patrons. She began a shanty in a strange language. Some of the others knew it, but most of them just cheered along. He was thoroughly impressed. Anyone who could command the attention of a crowd like she could was alright by him. Her singing voice was beautiful, a smooth, high soprano he didn't hear very often Underground. Most monsters had adopted deeper or rougher voices to seem more intimidating. It was refreshing to hear something lighter.

She shrugged off their admiration, turning her attention back to Edge.

"So, what is it you do?"

He drew himself up proudly.

"I'M THE BAILIFF FOR THE LOCAL COURT, ACTUALLY."

Her demeanor changed immediately. She looked nervous. Perhaps she was a little more shady than he'd originally expected.

"RELAX, I'M NOT A COP. I DON'T REALLY CARE ABOUT THE LAW ITSELF, ONLY THAT ORDER IS MAINTAINED IN A COURTROOM."

She seemed unconvinced.

"What I do isn't your concern."

He nodded. He supposed he should have expected that response.

"WELL… I'M GOING TO HAVE ANOTHER DRINK, WOULD YOU LIKE ONE ALSO?"

She eyed him suspiciously before waving the bartender down herself. Once he set her beer on the counter, she retrieved it. Or rather she tried to. She didn't break eye contact, her hand blindly searching for the glass. Once she found it, she pulled it close, keeping her hand over the top of the glass. It seemed she was unwilling to trust him to behave. While he was hurt by the sentiment, he couldn't say he blamed her. In a large city like this, especially in these downtown bars, shady business happened all the time. The only thing worse than a cop was a crooked cop. Despite the metaphorical wall between them, he did try to maintain the conversation. Her answers were a bit stilted at first, but she did eventually begin to relax again.

"Hey, Connie!", slurred an extremely drunk patron, throwing his arm around her shoulder.

She pulled away, but he was stronger than she was, and took her by the chin.

"You remember we got cut short the last time you were performing. This seems as good a time as any to pick it up again."

She pushed back against him when he tried to kiss her. That was more than enough to warrant Edge stepping in. He grabbed the man's wrists firmly, wrenching him off the woman and simultaneously putting himself between the two.

"I BEG TO DIFFER. YOUR TIMING COULDN'T BE WORSE."

The man swung angrily, but in his drunken state, he ended up toppling himself over.

"HMPH. WELL THIS NIGHT'S SHOT IN THE ASS. WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO WALK YOU HOME?"

She cast a concerned look to the drunk grumbling in the floor, weighing her options.

"That would be nice, mister…?"

"MY FRIENDS CALL ME EDGE."

She hummed, reaching for his arm. If she noticed his slight flinch, she didn't say. Wordlessly, he offered her his elbow. She didn't continue to reach for it, so he instead leaned closer, her hand fumbling for a moment when she found his arm. She held him loosely but securely as they made their way out of the bar and onto the street. He must have underestimated how much she'd been drinking; she leaned slightly on him as they walked, letting him guide her. It occurred to him that he didn't really know where she needed to go.

"SO… WHICH WAY IS HOME?"

She thought for a moment.

"This way. Three blocks down and hang a right."

The location, if he was thinking correctly, was rather odd. There weren't any residences there. Only a park and a seedy motel. He couldn't help but wonder if he was being set up. With a watchful eye out for trouble, he walked her in the direction she indicated. She pointed out the motel.

"ARE YOU FROM OUT OF TOWN, THEN?"

She thought for a moment.

"No. I live here."

That… didn't sit well with him. All the same, he walked her to her room. The inside was even more dismal-looking than the outside. The only personal effects of hers he could see were a toiletry bag in the bathroom and a small duffel bag on the floor, shoved under the small bar that served as a closet. There were items hung there, but they were covered with garment bags. His companion kicked off her shoes at the door, finally letting go of his arm.

"YOU… LIVE HERE?"

She nodded quietly.

"It's not much, but it's home. Has been for a long time now."

His soul ached. He remembered this situation. Living in a pitiful excuse for an inn, rent increased for stupid reasons, barely any amenities to speak of… He still remembered how often he had felt the hunger pangs. Sans had always been so weak, and Papyrus had frequently gone without for his brother's benefit. It had been a major adjustment, becoming a guard and suddenly being able to feed them both, and again when they came topside and suddenly never wanted for anything. Their currency was extremely valuable to humans, making many monsters overnight millionaires. He and Sans had put their money into investments for the future, the first time they'd been able to do so in their lives. They were comfortable.

But seeing this woman's state of affairs truly tugged at his heartstrings.

"HAVE YOU EATEN TODAY?"

She gave him an odd look.

"That's really none of your concern."

"I KNOW… BUT I'VE BEEN HERE BEFORE. I DON'T REALLY LIKE THE IDEA THAT OTHERS MIGHT BE THERE NOW."

She started to say something, but stopped. Something in his tone must have clued her in that this was a real sore spot for him.

"You're a total stranger, why bother?"

"WELL… I WAS TAUGHT THAT HUMANS WERE EVIL. BUT AFTER ONE FREED US AND SHOWED US HOW ACCOMODATING THEY COULD BE… YOU'RE NOT ALL THAT DIFFERENT FROM MONSTERS. JUST STRONGER. MORE DETERMINED. I BET EVEN A POWERFUL HUMAN LIKE YOU GETS HUNGER PAINS OR LIGHT-HEADED SPELLS."

"So, I'm a charity case for you all of a sudden?"

"YOU STILL HAVEN'T TOLD ME WHAT YOU DO FOR A LIVING. I'D WORRY LESS IF I KNEW YOU COULD MAKE ENDS MEET."

He could only imagine how his past self would have reacted to the whole scenario. He had grown soft over time on the surface. It was no longer necessary to project an air of "look at me wrong and I'll dust you". He had seen many a soul-wrenching court case involving minors, victims of domestic violence, murderers… He knew the world was a rough place. But perhaps he could make it a little better.

After a long, heavy silence, she sucked in a breath.

"I'm a stripper."

He nodded mildly.

"THAT'S NOT ILLEGAL."

"No, but you cops are always bothering us, accusing us of behind the scenes drug trafficking and prostitution.", she growled bitterly.

"I TOLD YOU, I'M NOT A COP."

She shifted from foot to foot anxiously.

"LOOK… LET ME JUST GIVE YOU MY NUMBER, AND YOU CAN CALL ME IF YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND."

He pulled out a pen and began looking around for a piece of paper. She sighed quietly, pulling her phone from her back pocket and holding it out to him. Surprised, he took it, programming his name and number in. That done, she seemed anxious for him to leave.

"Thank you for walking me home."

He smiled, "IT WAS NO TROUBLE. I DON'T THINK YOU EVER TOLD ME YOUR NAME."

She hesitated.

"Constance."

"A LOVELY NAME. IT SUITS YOU."

She blushed slightly. Even someone who practically sold their body for a living could get flustered, it seemed.

"Good night, Edge."

He nodded, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him. He had a bit of a walk ahead to retrieve his car from public parking. He had some thinking to do in the meantime.

----------------

It only took a few days for Constance to reach out for help. The man from the bar had found her and become aggressive when she rebuffed his advances.

Apparently, he was much more dangerous when sober. Edge showed up at her motel room expecting police and EMTs. He was extremely surprised to discover no active crime scene. Instead, he discovered her alone in her room, her arms bruised and her left eye practically swollen shut. She had a wet washcloth on the side of her face, apparently to try and soothe the pain.

"LET ME SEE IT."

She sighed in defeat, removing the cloth from her face. The entire left side of her face was black and purple. Evidently, that man did not take kindly to being told "no".

"WE SHOULD TAKE PICTURES OF THIS SO WE HAVE EVIDENCE WHEN YOU PRESS CHARGES."

"I'm not doing that."

He looked down at her in surprise. It surprised him how strongly she distrusted the law.

"IF YOU ARE SURE… MAY I HEAL IT, AT LEAST?"

She cast a wary glance up at him, wincing at the pain in her eye as she tried to scrunch her brows. After a moment's hesitation, she nodded her assent. Edge took off his right glove, gently laying his bare hand against her face. He took great care not to scratch her with his claws. She grimaced; she was still very tender. He was quick to feed green magic into her, the bruise receding until it was a barely-noticeable shade of yellow. The swelling was gone, and she seemed much more comfortable.

"YOU SHOULD CONSIDER FINDING A NEW PLACE TO STAY. A DIFFERENT ROOM HERE, IF NOTHING ELSE."

She nodded, standing and gathering her things. It seemed she'd already considered that option.

"Will you walk me to the front desk, please?"

"OF COURSE."

He offered his elbow expectantly, Constance hefting her bags and gently taking his arm.

"Do you have any recommendations for where I could go?"

He thought for a moment, considering her occupation and probable income.

"WELL, DO YOU HAVE A CAR?"

She shook her head.

"Not really something I need since I live near everything I could need."

"HM. WELL, WHERE DO YOU WORK? PERHAPS WE CAN FIND SOMETHING CLOSE."

"The Black Lotus. Pretty much anywhere downtown is within walking distance."

He hummed thoughtfully, opening the door to the motel office for her and closing it behind them. While she settled her bill with the manager, he sifted through a list of local hotels and motels. He was hoping to find something a little nicer for her, but still reasonable in price.

"WHAT ABOUT THIS ONE?"

She counted out bills, handing a sizable few to the manager before bidding him farewell. She turned back to Edge with a questioning look on her face.

"THEY OFFER A KITCHENETTE AND HAVE WEEKLY AND MONTHLY RATES SIMILAR TO THIS PLACE. SEEMS MORE SECURE, TOO."

"Do they need paperwork, credit card, anything like that?"

He shook his head.

"NO. IT SEEMS MOST PEOPLE THERE ARE SEASONAL WORKERS OR CONTRACTORS. SHOULD BE SAFER FOR YOU THAN A MOTEL. IT'S ABOUT THE SAME DISTANCE FROM WORK, TOO, JUST IN THE OTHER DIRECTION."

"That seems reasonable. I'm all done here whenever you're ready."

She took his arm again and he led her out of the motel office. It was only a short walk to his car. She had seemed uneasy getting in, but he understood. He would be uncomfortable getting into a stranger's car, too. After a short drive in silence, he pulled into the parking lot of her new home. She hesitated to get out, a thoughtful look on her face.

"IS EVERYTHING ALRIGHT?"

After a moment, she responded in a small voice, "I'm tired, Edge."

He was silent, waiting for her to continue her thought.

"I've been… drifting for so many years. I've been on my own since I was fourteen. I've never had more than a temporary bed to sleep in. Never had more than a couple of outfits at a time, never more than a day or two of food. I've lived a life of scarcity, living hour to hour, day to day. I wish I could stop."

He nodded knowingly. It was a feeling he remembered well from his youth.

"DO YOU WANT HELP? I HAVE A SPARE ROOM. I COULD HELP YOU GET A CAR."

She shook her head.

"It's not that simple."

She got out of the car, once again shouldering her belongings. Edge followed, offering her his arm. She was silent, still lost in thought. After he walked her in, she spoke with the clerk to get the keys to her room. She prepaid cash for a week and the clerk handed her a swipe card to get into her room. It was already much safer than the simple lock and key the other motel had.

#the hoard #this was written shortly after i learned that people on disability cannot own more than an insultingly low amount of assets #of course that probably doesnt explain very much based on what little material is here #there are two big things about Constance that i will keep to myself in case i decide to come back to this #some of you might have already figured it out but i like to feel mysterious

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that-was-anticlimactic · 3 years

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reki with tourette’s headcanons

[ID: it’s reki from sk8 the infinity wearing a yellow sweatshirt with his hands on his hips. he’s wearing a red bracelet on his right wrist and he’s smiling. behind him is a touette’s syndrome awareness flag. end ID.]

so. @zukkaclawthorne got me hooked on reki with ts and now imma post headcanons i wrote oops

okay so first—that little skateboard he plays with??? stim toy, actually.

he likes the sound the wheels make—that whirrrrrr sound. it makes his arms flappy :)

he also finds the rolling motion soothing and relaxing and it always calms him down—it takes his mind to a happy place

he rocks back and forth and shakes his legs a lot. that also contributed to why he was terrible at skateboarding the first few times he tried—because his body would be like “time to rock back and forth!” and it would mess him up

neck twitches for days :)

no but for real—neck twitching is one of his worst tics because sometimes—if he’s in a bad mood or if he’s sad or anxious—it gets harsh and violent and really strains his neck.

so, langa gives him neck / upper back neck massages to help with the pain

he went through this phase for a couple of months where whenever his neck would twitch, he would snap his fingers two times.

he has a lot of hand tics which can be stressful when he makes skateboards because sometimes he’ll be in the groove and then suddenly he’ll mess something up

speaking of messing things up, he has a tendency to dig the bottom of his palm into his forehead whenever he feels like he does something stupid—he doesn’t even realize it until someone points it out.

he feels like even more of a failure of a skater because of his tics because they can hold him back and make the course more dangerous.

if his blinking tic resurfaces, sometimes the blinking gets so intense that he literally cannot see for anywhere between five seconds and a minute depending on how bad it is. that is how he got some of his worst scars.

or sometimes he’ll make a really aggressive hand motion and it throws him off balance on the skateboard due to the intensity

anyways back to hand tics: he points a lot and does symbols like the “rock on” sign or certain numbers (for some reason, the most common number for reki to throw up is four—though sometimes he throws up whatever number he hears) he also grunts a lot as a tic so he sounds angry even when he is’t.

sometimes, his hand tics really hurt and his hands become shaky and his fingers start to feel the way his heart feels when he’s anxious. langa helps in different ways—he holds reki’s hand, he gives him something to fidget with to try to distract him (sometimes it’s his own fingers—he’ll just set them in reki’s palm and be like “let me carry some of the pain”—no, reki didn’t totally cry when he said that what)

sometimes, reki sticks pencils in his ears. his teachers have been trying to stop it since he was young, but he always did it anyways—he couldn’t help it.

his hair is also long enough for him to chew on. yes, he chews on the tips of his hair because i say so. sometimes, to stop him from doing that (and from swallowing his own hair), langa will try to make him laugh so it falls out of his mouth and then he’ll scoot close and tuck the hair behind reki’s ears… once they start dating, he kisses him too. but also that’s one reason why he wears the headband—to try to keep his hair out of his face so he doesn’t chew on it.

reki’s favorite form of stimming (other than his skateboard toy, that is) is stress balls. he’s got a couple of stress balls in his room or backpack—even one with string attached so he can carry it around his wrist. he just really likes the texture of them.

after his second race against adam, cherry and joe were so proud of him and also impressed and worried dads that they bought reki a big stress ball, like, the size of a stuffed animal. it was a blue cat. he uses it all the time.

speaking of fricking adam, we all know he would so use reki’s tics against him during a race. like, when he grabbed his wrist and “danced” with him, he would mock reki’s tics or say creepy things about how his verbal tics are music and his motor tics are him dancing along and it makes him so uncomfortable and like even more shaken

oh and adam purposely does things to trigger his tics, like when i mentioned that number tic??? yeah, adam will purposefully say numbers to make reki do the hand gestures

one time, reki wanted to tell langa that he loved him but got nervous so he signed it in sign language instead. but, since reki’s tics are occasionally hand gestures, langa thought that it was just a tic and mentally was like “i wish that was for me…” and reki is like “i wish he knew it was real…” and joe, cherry, shadow, and miya are all facepalming and groaning at their obliviousness

reki prefers taking hand written notes to electronic notes because he draws / doodles to stim and he can’t really doodle well on a laptop. so, he’ll doodle in class all of the time

sometimes, his pictures / notes turn out pretty bad / illegible depending on how bad his tics are, but that doesn’t phase reki. it used to when he was younger, but it doesn’t bother him at all anymore. in fact, he thinks it adds personality

during class, he’ll draw pictures for langa and slid them on his desk. they’re usually really random things like the teacher or the back of someone’s head or squiggly lines or whatever he sees outside. more often than not, it’s abstract art. langa loves these drawings and he keeps them all on his desk in his room.

reki also started drawing pictures for the rest of the sk8 crew and gives it to them during races. when he gave everyone their first doodle, he was like “i’m not the best artist ever and sometimes my tics mess up the doodle, but i thought of you while i drew it so i want you to have it”

(shadow didn’t shed a couple of unwilling dad tears when he got home that night what)

anyways, they all keep them. every single one. miya puts them in their school binder so they don’t feel as alone / isolated at school.

although shadow and miya give reki a lot of crap / teasing about not being as good as everyone else, the second they hear anyone comment about “the weird red head that makes noises” and comments on his ts in a negative way, oh, they will stop you.

sometimes, reki whispers words he hears under his breath as a tic (echolalia, baby~) and when he overhears people saying stuff about “that redhead that always follows snow around” or about him not being good enough or how he’s an idiot to face adam, he ends up muttering that too. and it’s not a one and done kind of thing—like. he does it for days. it makes him so upset (and i already hc him, with depression so it just makes it worse)

having tics while having injuries is not a good combination—especially if it’s with a broken arm. the crew made sure to keep an eye of reki’s comfort / pain level after adam broke his arm and literally tried to kill him in their final race. joe let reki squeeze his hand whenever he felt the urge to tic and cherry would ask him how much pain he was in after he ticced and depending on how bad it would be, would make joe or shadow fetch a heating pad or an icepack for reki.

joe also taught reki about the magical thing called physical therapy tape and helped him put it on his shoulders, neck, and back one time. it was his idea to use the tape on reki’s fingers when he was injured to make him feel better (because it literally makes my fingers feel better)

also langa kisses each of reki’s fingers and knuckles, slowly and tenderly, soft so he doesn’t hurt him or trigger a tic. a way of showing that he loves him not despite his tics, but even with his tics and that he loves him and his tics.

cherry isn’t always the best at showing he cares, so he’ll wear a ts ribbon sometimes in a way to show support (and it makes reki beam)

shadow once gave reki a flower shaped stress ball because there were “extra at work” (not true—he went looking for one)

miya didn’t really know much about ts at first and asked why reki made those noises and made weird movements all the time and langa explained so then that night when miya got home, they did research on ts so they could understand it better. later, they told reki that whenever they called him a slime, they meant it purely about skateboarding and it had nothing to do with his tics—even that his tics didn’t make him less of a skater

all his life, reki had been the different one: the one no one wanted on the team because sometimes his tics messed him up, the one who was asked to leave classes during tests because his tics were too distracting and made him take the test in the hall, when sometimes he’d get too overwhelmed by how close people were in the halls or at races and would have panic attacks, how he rocked in his chair and adjusted his position seventeen times an hour and sat on his feet while the other kids didn’t, how he shook his legs more aggressively than others, how he couldn’t skate as well as everyone else because of his tics and because he wasn’t good enough

which is probably part of the depression that weighs on his shoulders

the first time reki had a panic attack during a race due to closeness and overstimulating noises (and this is the first one after the sk8 crew happened) langa was racing and wasn’t there to help, so shadow kind of panicked and like picked him up under the armpits and carried him away from the crowd since reki could barely process anything other than panic and the sound and feeling of static and they sat in shadow’s car for the rest of the race and once he felt better, he gave shadow a huge hug and shadow returned it.

one time it happened and cherry was nearby and he saw the signs before it got bad (remembered from the previous time / his own experiences) and helped talk reki down before it got bad (he has a soothing voice)

usually, though, when / if it happens (because reki usually feels safe there), langa is the one who helps

but it got so much worse after skating against adam the first time because he no longer felt safe and suddenly everyone cheering adam’s name even after witnessing what he did to reki was too much but langa was racing adam so langa wasn’t there and this time it was joe who kneeled in front of him and started talking just loud enough for reki to hear and he was like “you’re safe—we won’t let anyone hurt you. we won’t let him hurt langa. you’re safe. i’m here and so is cherry and shadow and miya and langa will be waiting for you at the end of the race…”

it happens again at the next race he goes to—and this time it’s miya who notices and they tug on langa’s sleeve and is like “i think you need to take reki somewhere else” and langa does :)

okay i’ll end on a positive ts note or two—langa asks reki to add the ts ribbon to the design on his skateboard

shadow finds chewelry at the store one day when he’s shopping and buys it for reki (and gets a matching one for langa!)

once reki came back after his mental health break, the first thing joe said to him was, and this is nonnegotiable “reki! i missed you and your tics!”

miya once overheard reki muttering to himself about his annoying tics were, so they intervened and was like “your tics aren’t annoying. they’re you and anyone who think s they’re annoying is an idiot”

and for the first time in his life, reki doesn’t feel alone and isolated and so different from everyone (at least, he’s working on that last one) and he’s finally found a group of people who want him on their team and a boyfriend who always supports him and makes him feel less isolated, tics and all <3

i uhh I have a lot of feelings,,,

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 3 years

Text

Dream SMP Recap (May 3/2021) - Like Father Like Son

Wilbur hasn’t been seen since the day he returned, and Phil goes looking for him. When Fundy arrives, it’s Phil’s turn to break the news.

---

VOD LINKS:

Ponk

Foolish

Philza

Fundy

---

- Ponk works on building the massive supreme fridge in the desert

- Ponk explains to Fundy that a supreme fridge is medium-sized, too small to be a big fridge but too large to be a mini fridge. It is a Smeg fridge.

- They chat for a bit as Ponk continues to build.

- Phil knows a place where Wilbur would probably be. He walks to the ruins of L’manburg. The place he blew up.

“Like father like son.”

- Fundy logs on in front of his bed. He turns around to reveal a bunch of TNT rigged around the inside of his tower.

- He’s been sleepless for too long. There’s nothing else he can do about this. He’s tried replacing the bed, he’s tried everything.

- Today, Fundy dreamed about some strange event where he was lured to a red event with Badboyhalo. He saw Ghostbur, but he was different.

- Fundy set up a cart outside and plans to move somewhere else.

- Phil sees that Fundy is online and asks him to come meet him at L’manhole.

- When Phil first arrived to the server, he didn’t know all the details of what was going on. He’d just stopped receiving all the letters.

- Phil sees the “PROJECT NEVADAS” book left for Wilbur at the shrine.

- From the letters, Wilbur sounded like he was having so much fun. Phil didn’t expect him to blow up L’manburg.

- As Fundy makes his way to L’manburg, he takes off his armor for tradition.

Fundy: “What has happened to this place? What happened to anything, why -- why must everything have gone the way that it had?! ...It used to be beautiful! I used to not have nightmares about this place, I used to have dreams! I had hopes! I was following in their footsteps, trying to be the best I could...what is going on?”

- Fundy meets with Phil and explains that for the past week, he’s been unable to get sleep, he sees people, has been talking to people he doesn’t know, experiencing something strange.

- Phil asks what voices Fundy was hearing. Fundy remembers being in a wasteland, seeing the Camarvan. Wilbur was in the van and then the last time Fundy saw it, Wilbur wasn’t there.

- Phil tells Fundy that Wilbur’s back, that Dream memorized the revive book and brought Wilbur back to life.

Tommy went to visit Dream to kill him and get rid of the revive book for good and everything went wrong. Ghostbur was killed and now Wilbur is alive again.

- Fundy is horrified. Phil tells him that he’s come here to try and find Wilbur to ask him more questions.

Phil: “Initially I was happy, but then instantly -- ‘cause he’s my son, Fundy, I can’t--”

Fundy: “HE IS MY FATHER!”

- While Wilbur was gone, time moved differently in the afterlife, and Wilbur was gone for thirteen years in Limbo. Ranboo was the one who told Phil.

Fundy: “What if he’s not, you know, not the same...dad that used to care about me? The same person that raised me on the grounds of L’manburg when it still stood mighty and glorious?”

- If he was the same, that would be the best case scenario. Fundy doesn’t want to see him but he does. He wants Wilbur to be there for him again.

- Phil tells Fundy that in the letters Wilbur sent him, they mentioned a place that was like this place. The letters said Wilbur left to go start a new nation called Pogtopia, and everything sort of stopped.

- He said he was having fun with his friends in a new place. As they reach Pogtopia, Fundy says it doesn’t look too different from how it looked back then.

- Phil looks at the remains of Tommy’s piston bedroom and says that that was the last thing Wilbur wrote to him about.

- They reminisce about old times. Phil asks if they ever thought about putting up some railings.

- They find the Pit. Phil doesn’t know what it was. As they go up the entrance of the tunnel, Fundy remarks that the van used to be there, where there’s now nothing but a giant crater.

Phil: “Can’t say I’m proud of this one, but it did definitely get the point across...”

- They look at the flag. Phil says Wilbur drew it for him. Fundy remembers that the crosses were representing Amsterdam.

- The letters said that Wilbur was having fun founding a nation, gaining independence, then he won the election and left to do it all again, passing the first country over to someone he trusted.

- Fundy says that’s not true. He asks Phil how Tubbo got his power. Phil says Wilbur told him he gave Tubbo the presidency. Fundy asks if Wilbur wrote anything about Schlatt.

Phil: “Who?”

- Phil knows him as just some guy who died in a van. Fundy tells him that Schlatt was the person that won the election, not Wilbur.

Wilbur started everything, he held an election, Fundy took part in it with Niki.

- Wilbur said to Phil that he started Pogtopia just because he liked the thrill of starting a new country.

- Phil is confused. What did Schlatt do?

- Fundy was working for Schlatt together with Quackity. He built a stadium, they held a giant Festival, and on that day --

Phil says that’s when he showed up.

- Fundy tells Phil that Wilbur was lying. Wilbur was leaving out huge parts of history. Fundy changed the flag to order. Niki burnt the flag, there was a Festival, Techno showed up and Tubbo got executed in a Tubbox.

- Phil is shocked. He didn’t know Tubbo died.

- The letters are far away now. They’re not even in the server.

- Fundy asks about the revival again. Phil says Dream might need something from Wilbur.

- Ranboo, Tubbo and Tommy are the only ones who have spoken to Wilbur so far. They’re sure that who they talked to was actually Wilbur.

- Standing outside Bee ‘n’ Boo, Phil tells Fundy to get ready. Not just physically, but mentally, so that when Wilbur shows up, he’s prepared.

- Fundy tells Phil he’s scared. Phil is scared too. It seems like Wilbur changed long before the event itself. Phil says the letters may as well be garbage now, as he doesn’t know what’s true.

- They say some parting words and go their separate ways at the Community House.

- Phil goes back to the Arctic, where he finds the book that Ranboo wrote for him telling him about Wilbur calling Dream his hero.

- Fundy walks back. There’s one more thing to do.

- Fundy is terrified of his dreams, and every single time he’s seen Wilbur. And now Wilbur’s back.

- Fundy aims his bow at the TNT rigged in his tower.

Fundy: “At the start of the day, I wanted to say let’s start a new chapter, but...I don’t think this one has ended.”

- He shoots the arrow, and the tower goes up in the explosion.

---

Upcoming events remain the same.

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts

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sergeantsporks · 3 years

Text

Do You Want the Knife You Left In My Back, or Can I Keep It?

Rating: Teen and up, Gen

An injured Hunter wanders into Hexside. What was Luz supposed to do, just let him bleed out on the floor?

Ch1/?: Backstabber

Ao3

“The human must be truly formidable if the Emperor sent both of us to capture her.”

Hunter glanced back at Kikimora. “Nah, he was probably just worried that you’d mess it up, so he sent me to make sure it went smoothly.”

Kikimora studied her claws. “I know it was you that attacked me when I tried to bring the palisman to the Emperor. You and the human.”

Hunter whipped around. “Oh, do you want to talk about that now? Because I know that you knocked my airship out of the sky and tried to have me killed. So you have nothing on me. You tell the Emperor what I did, I tell him what you did.”

“The human really must be formidable if she managed to get the palisman from you.”

Hunter rolled his eyes behind his mask. “She’s really not. I was a little bit busy fighting you to worry about her.”

“Truly a strong foe,” Kikimora continued, “So strong she was able to overcome you.”

“What are you talking ab—”

A blast of magic hit him, and magical bonds snaked around his hands and feet, yanking on him and sending him to his knees. Hunter struggled and tugged against the ties, but they held firm. “HEY! Kikimora, what—”

Something sharp touched his back, right between his shoulder blades, and he froze. “She attacked us from behind,” Kikimora hissed in his ear, “She went for you, first.” Something slammed into his back, like she’d punched him. “She was brutal. Merciless.”

Kikimora twisted her hand, and Hunter felt a tingling shock, and then—

His world exploded. Heat flooded out from the wound, and Hunter heard a guttural, choking scream.

Oh, wait.

That was him.

Kikimora pushed him facedown to the ground, knife still in his back. “I killed her, of course. It was a tough fight, but to avenge a fellow coven member? Of course I didn’t give up until I succeeded.”

Hunter coughed, blood coating the inside of his mouth. “Kiiii…”

“That’s what happens,” Kikimora hissed, “when people try to replace me.”

She walked off, and Hunter just lay there on the ground, his mind fuzzy with pain.

He had to…

Ugh—

Hunter pulled out his staff, and inch by agonizing inch, used it to pull himself up, shaking. He twisted, reaching for the knife, but the movement just tore more, and the world blacked out for a second. He gripped his staff tightly, his knuckles white.

Kikimora could easily kill him in this state, if the wound itself didn’t kill him.

That meant the only thing standing between her and total control over the coven and Uncle Belos’ complete trust was… Luz.

Kikimora would probably go to the owl house first.

That gave Hunter the advantage.

Xxx

“Thorn vault!” Luz called, slamming her hand down on her glyph. The plant erupted outward, pushing her over Skara’s head to the goal. Skara jumped, but missed her by inches. “Ah! Not again!”

Luz touched down. “You’ll get it someday.”

“Unlikely!” Gus called from the bleachers, “I predict never!”

“Zip it, twerp!” Skara yelled back, “Just wave your flags!” She dusted herself off. “One more try?”

“One more try,” Luz agreed, “Amity, you ready?”

“Always!”

Gus screeched, pointing. “Luz!”

Luz whipped around in the direction he was pointing to see an awfully familiar staff moving slowly towards her.

And the person clutching it like a lifeline.

Amity raced towards Luz, skidding in front of her, an abomination already rising out of the dirt. “Stay back!” she warned Hunter, “I beat you once, I can do it again!”

Luz put a hand on her arm. “Wait! There’s something wrong!” She moved cautiously towards Hunter—he looked awful. Residue magic swirled around his wrists and ankles, and…

“Is that blood?!” Luz rushed forward to him, taking his arm. She stifled a scream at the jagged blade sticking out of his back, blood staining his white cape red. “Ohmygosh, what happened to you?!”

His chest heaved with ragged breaths. “Kikimora—never thought—this open—” He slumped against her. “After… you…”

“Find Viney!” Luz yelled to Skara, “Amity—”

“I’m not leaving you alone with him!”

“Okay, fine, Gus, get Eda!”

Luz lowered Hunter to the ground, holding him up so that the knife wouldn’t go further in. “Don’t die!”

Amity hovered over them. “What did you mean, ‘after you?’ Were you coming to hurt Luz?!”

Hunter coughed, blood flecking his lips. “I…”

“Amity, he’s in really bad shape! You can’t interrogate him right now!”

Hunter pawed weakly at her hand. “Kikimora… want… to kill… you… exposed…”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Big bad coven leader wants me dead. Now shhhhhh, stop moving around, you’re going to make it worse!”

Puddles landed next to her, Viney sliding off of his back. “Whoa! You must have been having the most intense grudgeby match of all time!” She knelt next to them, gently turning Hunter onto his stomach. “Oooo, that’s bad. You should have gotten the healing teacher, I don’t know if—”

Luz grabbed her arm. “No! No teachers! Please.”

Viney hissed, examining the knife. “This isn’t just a regular knife—there are some kinds of objects that are enchanted to be resilient to healing magic—in case you really, really want to make sure your enemy bites it.” She drew a circle with her finger, and the knife glowed golden. “This one isn’t too powerful—I can stop the bleeding and put a patch on all of the internal problems, but I can’t seal it up. He’ll have to heal on his own. Where did you even get this knife?!”

Hunter whimpered, and Luz grabbed Viney’s hand. “It doesn’t matter! Just do it, before he dies!”

“Okay.” Viney snapped her fingers, and Puddles shooed Luz to the side, offering Hunter a cloth to bite down on and gently holding him still with his talons. Viney took a deep breath, and the knife glowed again, floating out of Hunter’s back, the cloak floating away, too. Hunter let out a muffled scream into the cloth, and tensed, which just made the blood spurt harder out of the wound. Viney drew a circle over his back, and the bleeding abruptly stopped. Puddles coughed up bandages, and a needle and thread, and Viney nodded to Luz and Amity. “This isn’t going to be pretty. You might want to look away.”

Amity pulled Luz away. “Luz, what exactly are you planning to do now? Just dump him on the doorstep of the conformatorium and run away?”

“No way! What if Kikimora finds him first? We can’t just send him back, she is literally trying to kill him!”

“And he’s trying to catch you!”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to let him die!” Luz took Amity’s hands. “Amity, you fought him too. You didn’t feel even a little bit bad for him?”

Amity looked away. “Maybe a little bit,” she admitted, “But… if you’re not going to leave him with his coven, what is your plan?”

Luz bit her lip, staring at the ground. “Iwasthinkingmaybehecouldstayattheowlhouse,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“I was thinking he could stay with me,” she said louder, “At the owl house.”

“What?! No way! Luz, are you crazy?!”

“Ooo, hehe, jury’s still out on that one, Amity, you know that.”

“I’m serious, Luz, you can’t let him into the owl house!”

“Look at him, Amity, does he look dangerous to you?”

Amity looked back to where he was lying limp on the grudgeby field, Puddles nuzzling his face. “… I guess not… but still, he doesn’t have to attack you, all he has to do is put a trap, or let someone else into the owl house to bump you off!”

“The only people out for me right now are him and Kikimora. And Kikimora is also trying to kill him. Sooooooo I’m not overly worried about it.” Luz gave Amity’s hands a squeeze. “C’mon. I think I can handle one stabbed guy in a fight, give me that much credit at least.”

“… Fine. But good luck convincing Eda, she doesn’t exactly have the most… friendly of feelings towards him.”

Speak of the devil, Eda flew over the fence on her staff, Gus hanging onto the end. “I heard a kid got stabbed! Luz, you didn’t tell me it was knife day at school, I would have come to watch!”

“Kni—okay, sure, that’s a thing. It’s not knife day, Eda. None of the students got stabbed.”

“What? So what happened?”

Luz pointed across the field. “Uhhhhhhhm, soooooooo?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Eeeeedaaaaaa, I haven’t even asked anything yet!”

“Okay, let me set parameters for your next few sentences, then. If you are about to ask me if we can, in any way, shape, or form, take care of the Golden Guard and his lovely new piercing, the answer is no.”

“But Eda—”

“No. Nada. Nein. You speak Spanish, right? No. Any other ways I can say it?”

“Eda, he needs help!”

“Dump him on his coven’s doorstep, ring the doorbell, and run away. We’re not taking care of him.”

“Eda, listen—”

“No, you listen, Luz. That kid is trouble—and not the fun kind. You try to be nice to him, and he’ll stab you in the back. He’s been Belos-ified through and through.”

“I thought the same thing about Lilith!”

“Yeah? Well, I didn’t. My sister’s too much of a nerdy dork to ever be really horrible. This kid’s a nerd, sure, but he’s not Lili. He’s dangerous, he’s desperate, and unlike Lilith, he’s working completely for Belos, not himself.”

“Eda, Kikimora’s trying to kill him!”

“Well, I hope they succeed at murdering each other, and maybe take Belos down with them while they’re at it.”

“It would be murder to leave him at the coven!”

“Guess I’m going to be a murderer, then. Add it to the list of crimes.”

“Wouldn’t you want him to help me if I was in his place? If you were stuck in the owl beast form, and King was trying to kill me, wouldn’t you want him to help me?”

“I sincerely doubt King’s murdering skills, and NO, I think I wouldn’t want you anywhere close to Belos.”

Luz gave Eda big puppy-dog eyes, and her mentor sighed.

“Buuuuut I guess I see your point. Gah. Fiiiiiiiineee. You can take him home.” Eda leveled a finger at Luz. “But you have to feed him, and water him, and clean up after his messes, and keep him entertained, understood?”

“He’s not a pet, Eda.”

“I said, understood?”

“Understood.” Luz hugged Eda. “Thank you!”

“Oh, and if he tries to hurt you, if he tries to sell us out to Belos? I will do Kookymora a solid and finish the job.”

#toh #the owl house #edalyn the owl lady #toh hunter #luz noceda #amity blight #toh fanfiction #my writing

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hes-writer · 4 years

Text

To You (4)

Summary: harry dates y/n to get closer to her best friend

Warnings: mild angst (what else lol), not a lot of dialogue for this one, and a bit of fluff

Word Count: 2775 words

A/N: I've had the worst writer's block for this series but then inspiration struck me at 2 am and I had the chance to write a lil sumthin sumthin for the next part :D

Read the full series in my masterlist (bio)

As I mentioned before, this story kind of goes backwards.

____

As self-deprecating as it is, Y/N couldn’t help but feel her guard lower with each fleeting glance at her phone. She didn’t mean to, really. It wasn’t as if she was bored out of her mind because she was the opposite of that.

Going on her phone and tapping on Instagram was more of a distraction from studying if anything. She was hounded by piles of homework and pages of readings to do by the end of next week. It seemed that her brain was working in constant overdrive to try to remember the endless concepts and theories that were catapulted at her with no signs of stopping. Her eyes were straining from the constant stimulation from her laptop screen, and from trying to read the small letters plastered on the computer.

Y/N was studying on her designated studying days, as usual. She was quite proud of sticking to the schedule, except for the few weeks that she opted to coddle herself in the confines of her warm blanket because that was around the time that she found out her boyfriend, Harry, was only using her to get close to her best friend, Louise.

——

In retrospect, Y/N should have seen all the signs blaring right in front of her face all along. She gave herself facepalms more than she could count by the way she was—quite literally—blinded by love to realize that Harry’s feelings were nothing but a façade. That Y/N was nothing but a pawn in his game; a character to manipulate, disposable in order for him to get the woman he actually wanted. And Y/N had no doubts that her ex-boyfriend was treating Louise like a queen.

Y/N wore red-tinted glasses while she was with Harry and she didn’t see the red flags rising every time he shaped their evening around Louise’s schedule. She thought that Harry was making such a good effort in getting to know the people close to Y/N’s life that he insisted on having Louise around whenever they hung out with her friends.

Harry asked endless questions about Louise; from where she worked to what she was interested in—to which Y/N had foolishly answered, believing that she had found the perfect man to share her life with. But she should have known when he didn’t do the same for her other friends. Hell, he didn’t even do the same to her!

___

When Harry and Y/N were just friends, he didn’t bother getting to know her as thoroughly and comprehensively as he did with Louise. In fact, it could be argued that Harry hated Y/N when they were first introduced by—and this was ironic—Louise!

Louise spoked highly and excitedly of ‘my friend, Y/N’ and with Harry being the loved-up simp that he was—wanted to please Louise by appearing interested in her friend. He guessed that he was probably too good of an actor (not to toot his own horn) because that meet up turned into a set-up.

Louise had planned a date for her friends, Y/N was indifferent to it; she was even a little excited because she thought that Harry was sort of nice. Despite the fact that he was indirectly rude to her in their first meeting, Y/N didn’t hold grudges on people for their first impressions. She believed that anybody could have a bad day and that might just be the time when Harry was dragged by the arm to be introduced to her.

Y/N understood if that was the case. She was not too keen on acting nice and friendly after a stressful day at work, or a hard study session at the library. So even if Harry was practically snarling at every word she said from his seat around the rounded booth table of the bar—she agreed to go on a first date with him.

——

Harry was in shambles.

He got himself into quite an intricate mess trying to attain the woman of his dreams. He was such a pleaser that he was now contemplating inside his car, outside of Y/N’s address. Was this all worth it? Of course, it was. As much as Harry would like to say that this was part of his plan to make Louise his girlfriend, it really wasn’t.

But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t use it to his advantage.

It was a good thing that he was early—about twenty minutes or so. That was only because he was huffing the whole time Harry was buttoning the clutches of his dress shirt, shaking his head at the bathroom mirror and reprimanding himself for letting his lovesickness to get him deeper than he would like. But hey, the sooner Harry got to Y/N’s place, the sooner this ‘date’ would be over.

So here he was, hidden in the shadows of the night sky and shielded by the heavy tint of his Range Rover. Palms were pressed on the lush leather steering wheel as Harry formulated how he could turn this around in his favour. He was already in Louise’s good books for even agreeing to this in the first place—why not make Y/N his own personal wingman?

Granted, that she didn’t actually know Harry well enough but maybe this date could reach Louise’s ears about how much of a romantic, perfect, and chivalrous gentleman Harry could be. That would surely make Louise like him, right?

Wrong. Absolutely wrong.

It was safe to say that Harry was feeling guilty the moment he decided to use Y/N in order to get to her best friend, but that ship sailed long ago when anger and frustration took over. Why in the hell was he so perfect to Y/N’s eyes that she had gushed about him to her best friend minutes after he had dropped her off?

Why did Harry have to knock on her door with a single-stemmed rose clutched in his fingers, doing a little bow to add humour when she opened the door? And what in God’s name possessed him to say that she looked beautiful that night in her pretty, deep green dress that he thought was absolutely gorgeous on her—but his heart was with another woman—fully knowing that it would look better on Louise?

“Why. . . just why,” Harry asked himself as he sat at a table with Y/N, Louise and her boyfriend, Dylan.

That was what being romantic got him. That was where declaring Y/N as his unofficial wingman ended him upon. A double date with the woman he wanted with Y/N looking at him as if they’ve been together for years, when in fact, they had only known each other for a few weeks.

Harry’s pride was too big to admit that this time; he couldn’t get the girl. And so, his bruised ego declared that this date was just another unplanned situation that would benefit him—somehow, someway—in the future.

Wrong again.

Because a month later, Y/N was running off to her lecture with a bag strapped over her shoulder, leaving Harry a passionate kiss on the lips. He was quite ashamed to say that he enjoyed the affection, but not enough to ignore the throbbing of his heart

Harry wasn’t all in with his relationship with Y/N and he knew exactly why. For months, he had been pining for Louise and well, he ended up with her best friend, Y/N. Now that was just super unlucky for him. And he wasn’t usually a mean person, but Harry was very annoyed with fate (or destiny) for leaving with an ultimatum.

First, leaving Y/N risking her tattling to Louise about him breaking her heart was a no-no. Second, staying with Y/N until she realizes that both of them were no good together. The latter was a much more pleasant choice, except the fact that it could take months for Y/N to acknowledge that she and Harry were both too different for each other.

——

It was another four months later when Harry drew upon an epiphany very similar yet completely different from the ultimatum he had presided.

Y/N was sure of her feelings more than ever, even dropping the ‘L’ word during a drunken stupor of wine and bubbly champagne. Harry was sure that she hadn’t remembered her confession the next morning because she never brought it up. However, those words that escaped her lips were enough for Harry to overthink each night one or the other slept over.

Sometimes Y/N’s snores would serve as background noise to his serene imagination, wondering why the images of Louise and him doing couple-y stuff were now replaced with Y/N’s figure instead.

He also pondered if his memory was so impeccable that he could hear Y/N’s laugh fluttering in his ears while she was sound asleep beside him or was it just because she released a chuckle every time he made a horrible joke?

(It was true. Y/N never left Harry hanging in the air with a questionable punchline of a head-scratching joke. Both of them knew that her giggles were pity laughs. Harry was thankful for it and Y/N just couldn’t resist painting a genuine smile on Harry’s face, looking so proud that he had made her laugh.)

Harry was certain that his feelings for Y/N wouldn’t quite reach the threshold that he held her for now. But it seemed that he was getting a lot of his sworn predictions wrong lately. Sure, their first encounter (and the second, and the third. . .) were purely for satisfaction’s sake. A mere plot for Harry to build his boyfriend resumé for Louise.

Harry wasn’t sure when his feelings shifted from civil and friendly to an ever-evoking, lovesick puppy.

Maybe it was the way Y/N walked, straight into his heart and stole it, keeping it safe in her tender hands when she pressed a lingering kiss on his lip while she ran off to catch the bus. The way Harry would pout when Y/N forgot the routine she had set, resulting in him whining her name and sometimes chasing after her to get his much-needed kiss. He even started calling it his ‘good-luck charm’ because it seemed like without it; Harry came home more drained and tired than usual because nothing went right that day.

Or maybe it was the way she giggled while reading something on her phone, laptop, or a book—even if it was for school purposes. How absolutely pleased he was to hear her melody of giggles, straining his ear to listen more closely and wanting to do nothing more than to hear it again because it was music to Harry. It usually ends with Y/N’s heaving breaths, begging him to stop tickling her.

Was it because she was the most adorable little thing while she was asleep? No, it couldn’t be, Harry thought, even though the admiration in his eyes cannot be described as anything other than glazed over with love and affection with the way he stared at Y/N’s sleeping face.

But why can’t he stop thinking about her when she wasn’t around? Harry felt like he was missing a part of himself as soon as he shut the door to his house because Y/N had to go to her own place.

Why did a smile splinter his lips visualizing Y/N studying at her kitchen table with a topknot wobbling on her head and a pair of her thick-rimmed glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose? Harry still remembers the first time she asked him to redo the bun on her head, complaining that it was loosening and that she couldn’t focus when strands were haywire.

Harry made sure to be extra careful as to not accidentally pull on her scalp, stretching the hairband around his fingers.

Now, he only had a minute experience in hair styling, reminiscing to his long-haired days were he slipped his hair into a neat ball in a few seconds or less. But this was Y/N, his girlfriend, who had an adorable pout on her face. The finch between her brows deepening when she tried to understand the concepts written on the screen yet she would giggle when Harry would ask her, ‘Am I hurting you?’ and shake her head ‘no’.

——-

So it was a bit questionable when Harry jumped at the chance to kiss Louise when the time came.

She had just broken up with her boyfriend and called Y/N for comfort. However, Y/N was about to leave for an exam worth half of her grade and she couldn’t just not attend it. She may love her best friend with all of her heart, but not enough to waste thousands of dollars to redo a course because she missed the final exam.

Hence, why Harry was sent in place of Y/N instead. And that was also how his plump lips managed to lock itself with Louise’s’ glossy ones. He should’ve felt guilt stab him right away when he tasted wet, salty tears on his tongue when he battled for dominance with Louise.

Harry should have pulled away when his phone buzzed in his pocket; a message from girlfriend that she had just finished her exam and was ready to be picked up now so that she could give love and comfort to her best friend.

Harry’s subconscious must have reminded him that this was the woman whom he had spent months pining on; desperately trying to make her his yet failing. And now that he had the chance to, he couldn’t stop.

Instead of doing everything his conscience had practically yelled at him to do, Harry’s brain had buffered—his body numbed every nerve except the ones controlling his mouth because their persisting kiss was captured by a photographer hidden amongst barricades that Harry had failed to take notice of.

Harry was sure that his presence was hidden to the best of his abilities, but he guessed that Louise’s hands had pulled his hoodie off in the midst of their make-out session, revealing his side profile and the unruly curls on his head.

And that was how Y/N identified the image on her phone the time she felt her heart being ripped out and crushed into pieces. That, and the fact that Harry wore the same clothes she had seen him in before she left.

____

And now, as Y/N paused her thumb from scrolling away from the image on her screen, the same pain and heartbreak still throbbed in her chest.

She couldn’t seem to forget, as a lot of people say, what Harry did to her. Despite the fact that he was spotted outside her door, leaving boxed gifts of chocolate and flower bouquets a few minutes ago—Y/N simply didn’t have the capacity to sweep everything under the rug.

The wound was still fresh—feeling air was enough to have her hissing, aiming to cover the cut in fear that it would become too painful to even ignore. For weeks, Y/N had to wallow in agonizing self-pity to remind herself that Harry didn’t deserve her or her love for him and now she was somehow ready to run back into his arms?

She absolutely despised the way her hands twitched to send him a text. To leave him a voicemail or to simply tap his contact just to hear him speak to her again. Y/N was ashamed to admit that he thought about knocking on his front door just for another chance at seeing him again. An opportunity to ask him if he was happier with her (ex) best-friend—if Harry loved Louise more than he did with her. Or—and most of all—if Harry ever did love Y/N during their short relationship. Was everything just a game to him?

She was doing good so far; she was strong enough to withhold from the urges of communicating with an ex. However, Y/N knew it was only a matter of time before Harry took extreme measures to speak to her, unlocking her door with the spare key she had given him. One day she would be met with his figure in the hallway with a sad smile on his face and three long-stemmed sunflowers in his hand and Y/N wouldn’t be able to resist him.

Y/N hated herself for being so weak whenever Harry was involved. He was her Kryptonite; getting too close to him was what ripped her to shreds.

___

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____

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waithyuck · 3 years

Text

touch

pairing: ghost!zhong chenle x reader (f) *halloweenie special*

genre: supernatural au, fluff (with suggestive tones)

word count: like 2k cuz I suck

warnings: one lil mention of murder, themes of haunting, suggestive content (like kissin and some heavy petting, but nothing explicit y’all), non consensual touching (not in a sexual way, more like ‘omg I think a ghost touched me’ yk), explicit language, chenle is a lil lonely ghost boi, reader simps for him,,,,and forms a relationship,,,,with a ghost,,,,

a/n: FUCK IT ITS FINALLY DONE. FUCK. is this edited??? HAHAH. no

< previous

~12/17/2020~

~~~~

moving out on your own for the first time was hands down probably the scariest thing you’ve had to do in your short life. sure, finding a place that was relatively cheap had you excited at the possibility of having a sense of responsibility, and getting away from your parents was a definite plus, but the entire prospect of being alone was, well, terrifying.

you probably should have asked more questions when agreeing to move into said place; a one bedroom apartment that was big enough to fit you and you only. it was cute and clean, and it was all you needed with the minimal amount of things you had.

the cheap price didn’t raise any red flags in your admittedly stupid and naive brain, but it definitely should have. you cursed yourself looking back at not inquiring about exactly why it was affordable.

about two weeks in is when some weird shit started to go down.

you expected there to be the usual noises that occur in an apartment building, but the ones you heard in the early hours of the morning, every morning, seemed a little bit different.

it sounded like small sniffling, like crying, and sometimes the floorboards would creak softly outside your bedroom door, scaring you beyond belief. you even went as far to ask you neighbor if they had been crying every night, to which she looked at you like you had gone nuts.

the touches started not too long after that.

you felt like you were going insane, but you would swear on whatever god you needed to that there was something touching you at night.

light, feather like traces across the skin of your arms, light presses against your face and shoulders, and the occasional cold poke against your legs had you almost ready to give up on the apartment entirely.

you couldn’t leave though; if you were to break the contract you signed, you would lose an incredible amount of money just for vacating early.

you tried to convince yourself it was just your imagination; stupid childlike paranoia from watching horror movies as a kid.

however much you tried, nothing would be able to convince what was before you currently, was part of your imagination.

“woah, what the fuck?!” you screamed, your eyes widening at the sight of the extremely pale boy standing a few feet in front of you. “who the fuck are you?” you clutched what remained of the pile of laundry in your arms, the rest fallen onto the floor as your heart seemingly beat through your rib cage when he stared back at you in awe.

“wait, you can see me?” he asked quietly, his mouth agape as your face screwed up in confusion.

“what? of course I can see you, what the actual fuck?” you blurted back, subconsciously taking a small step backward, dropping the rest of the clothes as the boy seemed to float forward. his feet didn’t touch the ground and he seemed to slowly become more translucent the farther down his body you looked, shocking you even more.

“oh my god,” your breath was staggered as you became to realize what this boy actually was. “oh my god, are you dead?!”

“well that’s one way to put it, yeah.” he stayed out where he was, not moving forward any more into your space. “I’m a ghost.” he put both his hands up and gave a small sheepish smile. “ta-daaa…”

your brows furrowed in confusion, your idiotic human brain trying to process what was actually going on in your apartment right now.

“so wait a minute,” you started suddenly, bracing your hand on the wall beside you to keep yourself steady. “have you been the one touching me at night? what the hell, dude??” you weren’t sure how it was possible, but a blush rose to his ghostly cheeks.

“I didn’t mean anything creepy by it…” he softly spoke, looking down at his feet. “I just haven’t felt any human contact in a...very long time. I’m sorry.”

you wanted to be more angry at him, but then thoughts swirled into your mind of how lonely he must have been, and how long he could have possibly been here on his own.

you continued to converse with the ghost boy (crazy, you were aware) and came to find out that he was actually straight up murdered in this exact apartment about twenty years ago. the most surprising part was that the damn apartment building you were living in has been around that long, considering it’s shady history.

chenle was visibly upset talking about it, sparing the gory details but explaining enough for you to understand that he was killed in his sleep during a robbery turned hostile. it made your heart ache knowing that he died alone, and has been alone ever since.

sure, there were people living in this place before you, but no one stayed long, for obvious reasons. they either found out the history of the murder or were scared away by chenle who was just trying to fill the whole in his dead, ghostly heart.

“you’re gonna leave, aren’t you?” he finally asked, his voice somber.

you did consider it before, but now it felt wrong to do, especially after meeting and somewhat befriending the exact thing that was potentially going to drive you away.

“no,” you replied solidly, shocking him as his head shot up to look at you. “I’m not going anywhere, now that I know you’re not gonna like, try to kill me or anything.”

you tried to joke to make the atmosphere more lighthearted, and it seemed to work as a chuckle escaped him. you sat in silence for a few moments, before a realization hit you.

“wait, wait,” you put a hand out in front of you in emphasis, surprising the boy in front of you. “how are you able to touch things?” you paused for a moment, “and me?”

the boy, chenle, rolled his eyes at you before looking at you with a void expression. “jeez, everyone has the stereotypes so messed up. have you ever seen the movie ghost with patrick swayze? it came out in like 1990.”

you blinked at him a few times before nodding slowly, having an idea of where he was going with his point.

“yeah well, it’s like that,” he paused, coming closer to you and reaching his hand out tentatively, trying to gauge your reaction. “if we just practice enough,” He was close now, directly in front of you with his hand hovering over your arm. “we can touch whatever we want, whenever we want.” his hand wrapped around your wrist gently to prove his words to be true, and you softly gasped at the feeling, still trying to wrap your head around this crazy scenario you were living in.

“that’s nice,” you said, slightly nervous at your own reaction to him touching you. you couldn’t deny that it didn’t feel nice to have someone caress your skin so gently…

he stared at you silently, his face seemingly emotionless as he held you. it didn’t take a genius to decipher the look in his eyes, however. glistening with life and longing, looking at you like you were the only person in the world...and you supposed to him, you were.

“you’re so…” he started, his voice quiet as his other hand reached out to touch your face. hesitant at first, he drew his hand back a millimeter, before letting his fingers brush against your cheek as you sighed and found yourself leaning into him. “pretty. so pretty.”

it seemed crazy; this raw form of attraction at first sight that you were feeling. you had no doubt he was experiencing it too, just from his confession alone.

your lips parted to speak, but no words came forth as you brain short circuited, taking in his handsome features as you finally realized just how attractive he was.

the hand that was holding your wrist slowly slid up your arm, causing your skin to prickle at the sensation of his touch on your skin. it slid up over your shoulder and up your neck, to finally rest on your cheek like his other hand was now doing.

the moment was insanely soft and intimate, and even though his hands were slightly cold, the air around you both seemed to grow warmer and warmer with every passing second, almost suffocating you with each shaking breath you took.

without a second thought, you lunged forward into his space, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and kissing him softly, his hands dropping from your cheeks to rest on your waist as a surprised grunt came from within him.

‘this is so crazy’, you thought, leading him into your room as you kept your lips attached, ‘absolutely insane.’

you weren’t sure how this even came to happen; you’d never thought you’d be flat on your back against your mattress while a literal ghost boy ran his hands up and down your waist as he kissed you like a man starved. you were still slightly convinced that he was a figment of your imagination; he felt so real, nothing like what you assumed a ghost would feel like against your skin.

his hands weren’t as warm as a living humans would be, but you still relished in the feeling of his fingers gripping at the skin of your waist, holding you close to him as he kissed you without holding back.

you highly expected him to be shy and inexperienced; since he had died so young you figured he wouldn’t know what to do.

it was a stupid assumption, to say the least.

you gripped his hair gently and tried to sit up, only to have him keep you down as he sweetly moved his mouth against your own. his grip was becoming more needy and before it could go too far, you pulled back.

you relished in the sight of his red puffy lips, seemingly so alive and human, like blood was still coursing through his veins. his eyes showed wide, blown out pupils as he stared down at you, his eyes hooded slightly.

he licked his lips once before softly falling beside you, his shoulder brushing yours as you both laid in the middle of your mattress in a calming silence.

“well that was a strange turn of events.” you panted, curling your body beside him as you tried to catch your breath. who knew that a dead boy would be such a damn good kisser?

he smirked at you in response, not saying anything as he grabbed your hand in his.

“now you definitely can’t go anywhere. I’m attached.” he teased, looking at you longingly with a cheeky smile on his face. you rolled your eyes but still smiled nonetheless, knowing that you wouldn’t be going anywhere anyway, for a very long time.

you weren’t sure how this was all going to work out, but you’d figure it out as you went along, together.

#nct-writers #neowritingsnet #neothestars #nctcreations #chenle #zhong chenle #chenle fluff #chenle scenarios #nct fluff #nct #nct dream fluff #nct dream #nct scenarios #nct dream scenarios #how do I tag #halloweenie special #nct 2020 #nct u

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topsytervy · 3 years

Text

Rented ~ Rafe Cameron

Blurb: Rafe decides to pay your brother Barry to rent you as his date for midsummers and it turns into something a little more.

Word Count: 4,516

Warnings: mentions of drugs, mentions of drinking, swearing, canon Rafe in the beginning, age gap (16 and 19), probably spelling errors, kind of horribly written towards the end, i think that’s all.

I just want to say that it’s not okay to rent out your friends or family members without their consent or just in general so...don’t be Barry. Also, google told me age of consent in North Carolina is 16 but THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. I DO NOT CONDONE A RELATIONSHIP WHERE ONE (OR MORE) OF THE PEOPLE IN A RELATIONSHIP IS A MINOR AND THE OTHER (OR OTHERS) IS AN ADULT. I DO NOT CONDONE IT AND DO NOT RECOMMEND IT. THIS IS PURELY FICTION AND FOR THE STORY.

~~~~~

Being Barrys younger sister sucked ass.

He was your legal guardian until you were 18 and he couldn't care less about your well-being if you were being honest. It was well-known that Barry was your brother after all the times he dragged you home from somewhere or constantly called you, telling you to get home. If you opted for turning off your phone, he'd come looking for you or offer someone a gram at half-price if they brought you home.

There was the one time you were at the chateau late one night and he told you that if you weren’t home by 10, you'd be sleeping outside cause he wasn’t going to get up to unlock the door.

JJ dropped you off at 10:01 and, sure enough, a blanket and pillow were sitting on the porch for you. When JJ stopped by later to drop off your phone that you left behind on accident, he saw you sleeping on the ground and took a crowbar to your window.

JJ seemed to be the only one who liked you for you.

Most of the time when people approached you and became your friend, they did it because they thought that being your friend meant discounted coke.

It didn't. Frankly, Barry didn’t want you sticking your nose in his little empire. You minded your business and he minded his for the most part.

JJ was probably the first real friend you had. It was very simple of how the friendship formed, he saw someone push you, and he punched them. Why? You don’t know. That was just JJ Maybank for you.

You repaid the favor the next day when a girl poured her water on him and you broke her nose for him. He laughed as you passed him your sweatshirt so he could dry himself off before you were dragged to the office.

You had also tried convincing Barry to stop selling to Luke Maybank but Barry just said "money is money. I’m not turning away a paying customer just so your little boyfriend can be happy. My happiness comes first. How do you think I feed you?"

8th grade was a wild year.

The first time you ever met Rafe was when he was a senior in high school and you were a freshman.

There was a kegger on the beach and you were on keeping JJ under control duty like every other time. It was a well-known fact around that you could talk JJ down from a fight and keep him from pounding people’s faces in. After all, you liked to avoid conflict and would rather have problems talked out rather than fought out.

So it was no shock when Topper, Kelce, and Rafe showed up and stood in front of you guys for their beers, you had a hand on JJs shoulder and shooting him a glance.

Thankfully, you got through filling their cups without any words said and the party went smoothly for the most part until Topper and JJ got a bit too close to each other.

All you remember is coming back from the bathroom and being dragged to where JJ currently had Topped in a headlock.

"Yo, Y/N! Get your boy off of him!" Rafe had yelled at you.

You rolled your eyes and flipped him off before rushing over to the two boys.

You grabbed JJs bicep and leaned in close to him so he could hear you. "J, he's had enough. Let him go."

JJ hesitated before releasing Topper who immediately had Rafe and Kelce by his side.

Rafe glared at JJ before turning to you. "You better keep your bitch under control before he ends up like his dad."

Your grip tightened on JJ as you held him back from pouncing again. JJ spat some blood into the sand and you handed him to John B before walking over to the older boy.

"You better watch your mouth Rafe before it gets you in trouble." You said evenly.

"Oh really? What? You gonna call your coke dealer brother to come fuck me up?" He practically spat in your face.

You didn’t say anything, just drew back your fist and let it connect with his nose.

"No. I'll do it myself." You hissed, leaning down so only he would hear you as he held his nose.

And that was your first-ever direct interaction meeting with Rafe Cameron.

It sucked ass and you would’ve thought you two would’ve killed each other the next time you two met.

Except, you didn’t kill each other.

You were so adjusted to him coming in and out of the trailer for coke that you were unfazed when you walked out of your bedroom to see Rafe handing Barry money, a smirk present on his lips as he walked past you and out the door.

"Wow. Kooky cokehead seemed real happy this time. What? You give him a 25% off coupon for his next purchase." You joked, flopping down on the couch.

"No. He left empty-handed. And 200 bucks poorer." Barry grinned, counting out the money.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. Why on God's green earth would Rafe fork over 200 dollars only to leave empty-handed?

"Guess who's going to midsummer’s as Rafe Cameron’s date?" Barry looked at you with a smile.

Your eyes widened as you stood up. "You rented me to Rafe Cameron without my consent! I'm 16! He's 19!"

"Legal age of consent is 16 here. Besides, it’s not like he asked to fuck you. He just needed a date to midsummers and he wanted to take you." Barry explained, walking towards his room.

"Jokes on you! The only dress I have is from 5th grade!"

"Jokes on you cause country clubs gonna be taking care of your wardrobe for the night!"

You let out a yell of frustration before turning around and walking put the door, hopping onto your bike, and booking it to the beach.

You ditched your bike at the bike rack and ran down the beach searching for your friends. You let pit a breath when you saw Kie and Pope sitting on the sand.

"Hey Y/N/N. You look like you've seen a ghost. What’s up?" Pope asked once you were close enough.

"Where's JB and JJ?" You panted, slightly out of breath from running across the sand.

Kie nodded out towards the water and you watched as JJ surfed a wave with John B. You crossed your arms and watched your two friends make their way back to shore. JJ grinned as he approached you, surfboard under his arm, shaking his hair and causing water droplets to hit your exposed arm.

"Look who finally showed up." The blonde laughed, slinging his arm around you.

"Sorry, I was held up for a few extra minutes because Barry decided that he'd rent me out to Rafe Cameron for Midsummers!" You told him, voice getting louder and angrier with each word you spoke.

"Please tell me that’s a joke." John B looked at you.

"I wish it fucking was! Rafe stopped by, gave Barry 200 bucks to rent me for a night, and then walked out."

"That’s crazy," JJ said, surfboard long forgotten in the sand.

You opened your mouth to speak but were cut off by a familiar and unwelcomed voice.

"Hey, Y/N. Haven’t seen you in a bit."

You and your friends turned to face Rafe, feelings JJs arm tighten around your shoulders.

"You saw me an hour ago tops."

Rafe smirked, hands in his pockets. "I just wanted to let you know that I made an appointment for you to get your measurements taken for your dress. It’s over on the mainland at 11:00 tomorrow."

"What’s the name of the place and I'll take her to the appointment?" Kie crossed her arms over her chest as she spoke.

Rafe shot her a glance before looking back at you. "I’m picking you up at about 9:30 so be ready."

"Hey, jackass. Kie said she would take her. Just tell her the name of the joint." JJ took his arm from around you and took a step towards Rafe

"Y/N/N, your bitch needs to be put in check," Rafe told you calmly as he looked into your eyes.

You grabbed JJs wrist as he went to lunge and looked at Rafe. "One moment, please. I need to converse with my friends."

Rafe watched you lazily as you tugged your friends away from the older boy.

"This is really bad timing considering we're in the middle of finding 400 mill," JJ whispered.

"Kie, you gotta stay here and help Pope keep JJ and John B put of trouble and help him reason with them." You told her.

"And leave you alone with the Kook prince?" John B looked at you like you were crazy.

"I’ll be fine. I'll bring pepper spray." You reassured them.

They all looked at each other before sighing and nodding.

Before you could leave, JJ grabbed your wrist. "If things get weird, send me an SOS and I'll be there ASAP. Even if I have to paddle my way to the mainland."

You nodded and made your way towards Rafe. "Just don’t try to engage in a conversation with me right away. Unless it’s 10 AM or I've had caffeine, I don’t talk in the mornings." You informed the older boy.

"I'll see you then, angel." Rafe sent you a wink before turning to walk away.

You caught JJs arm, knowing your best friend was close to tackling the kook boy into the sand to pound his face in.

JJ turned to you, leaning in close to your ear to speak. "I’m serious. First red flag, you call or text me. I highly doubt consent is a word in Rafe Cameron’s dictionary."

****

You saw Rafe more in the 4 days leading up to midsummers than you had in a year and you’d be lying if you said you hated it.

The first day was the day you needed your measurements taken. The dress had already been picked out and you ignored the fact that the tailor said that it was about time you two came because he was ready to put it back on the rack after day 3 of holding it.

You stood there, completely out of your comfort zone as measurements were taken and jotted down onto a notepad.

"How quickly can you get the dress altered?" Rafe asked from the couch, watching the process.

"Depends Mr. Cameron. How quickly do you need it?" The tailor responded.

Rafe rubbed his face, groaning. "Let’s see. Four- four and a half days and that’s counting today. We're coming back to the island on the day of midsummers to pick everything else up, today is just a looking day. So, three days."

The tailor nodded. "We can do that. We'll make it a top priority."

Rafe nodded before his eyes met with yours.

The tailor exited the room for something and that’s when you spoke. "A looking day?"

"Yeah. Browse through the jewelry and heels and anything else necessary for midsummers." He glanced down to where you were fiddling with your fingers and immediately pulled out his phone. "And a manicure. Might as well throw in a pedicure."

"Rafe," you said. He didn’t look up from his phone, probably looking at nail salons nearby. "Rafe." You tried again and still nothing. You sighed before walking over to him. "Rafe!" You went to snatch his phone but he caught your wrist.

"I heard you the first time now what?" He hissed.

You wrenched your wrist away from him. "How could I know when you didn’t even pay me a glance? At least acknowledge me so I know you heard me and then I wouldn't keep saying your name and get on with what I need to say." You huffed.

"Maybe I like it when you say my name." He smirked.

You rolled your eyes as you felt your face heat up, praying that he either would mistake it for a sudden sunburn or would just ignore it.

"What did you want to say?" He asked, stretching out a bit.

"I’m not wearing heels. I can barely walk in my sneakers without breaking a bone. How the hell am I supposed to do heels?"

Rafe sat there for a few seconds, chewing on his lip before sighing. "What are your thoughts on little miss perfect?"

"Who?"

"My sister. Sarah. Little miss perfect." Rafe rolled his eyes.

You shrugged. You never really even talked to Sarah except for the whole 'get your friend of my boyfriend' fiasco at the boneyard that one night, but that was more towards Kie than you.

"Tomorrow, she’s teaching you how to walk in heels. Even if I have to hold a gun to her head." Rafe finished as the tailor walked back in.

You grimaced at his choice of words as the tailor reassured Rafe that he would get started right away on the dress and make sure it was perfect for the event.

Rafe smiled, thanked the man for his time, and then beckoned you to follow him out the door. You shot the tailor a smile and a thank you before following Rafe out the door.

"You hungry?" He asked once you both were out on the street.

You shrugged once again, shoving your hands into your pockets.

Rafe sighed. "You know, you're going to have to talk to me. Like civil, full sentences, classy conversation."

"I do know how to be civil Rafe. After all, I haven’t swung on quite yet but depending on how the rest of the day goes, maybe that will change." You answered him before looking at his face, "Is that enough sentences for you?"

You saw him hold back a smile before training his blue eyes on you. "Just answer the question. You hungry or not?"

You smiled. "I guess I could eat."

"Then let’s go eat then get your nails done."

The second day was nothing completely insane. All you did, was sit about until Rafe dropped by, which was the shortest amount of time you spent with him in those four days. Only being with him for an hour that day for literally no reason.

"Get dressed. We're going out." He told you when you answered the door.

You sighed, looking down at your pajamas. "But I’m comfy."

Rafe smiled, shaking his head. "Seriously, come on. Let’s get dinner at the Wreck and then eat it at the beach or something."

“Was this in the itinerary?”

“Not in the slightest but I’m bored and I’m sure you are too.”

You pursed your lips before nodding. "Alright."

"That didn’t take much convincing." He commented.

"Well, your offering dinner so I’m not gonna say no."

"You sure that’s all it is."

You looked back to see Rafe’s signature smirk on his face.

"Don’t let it go to your head, Cameron."

Rafe rolled his eyes before pushing you in the direction of your room. "Go get dressed. I don’t want anyone else seeing you in your pajamas."

You rolled your eyes with a small smile before walking into your room, leaving Rafe in the hallway.

The evening on the third day was Sarah teaching you how to successfully walk in heels without you ending up in the hospital.

"Why the hell are these so tall?" You asked, looking up at Sarah and Rafe who sat on the couch.

"Good question. Why are they so tall, Sarah? I said to teach her how to walk in heels, not break her ankles before midsummers." Rafe looked at his younger sister.

"You wanted her to learn how to walk in heels, those are heels. I don’t know what else you expected Rafe." Sarah shot at her brother.

"I don't know, something that still has her feet somewhat horizontal to the ground, not diagonal." Rafe glared at her.

"Then you should’ve bought heels for her to practice in."

"Oh, so it’s my fault?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it is."

Rafe didn’t respond, just stood up and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Sarah rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to you.

"Okay, I might have a pair that’s an inch shorter."

"Bring them out."

You ended up spending the night at the Camerons that night, much to the pogues displeasure.

You just got done brushing your teeth and were laying on Sarah’s bed in a pair of her pajamas when Sarah spoke up.

"So, John B…"

You shot your head up from the book you found in her room that looked somewhat interesting.

"What about John B?"

"What’s he like? You know, besides a surfer dude and a felon."

You raised an eyebrow. "What the hell are you on about?"

"He seems… I don’t know… not boring. Not bland. So much better than this life." Sarah sighed, flopping onto her back, arms stretched out.

"Barf in my mouth." You rolled your eyes.

"What? You've never looked at someone and felt a smile tug at your lips for no reason or they look at you and you feel like you are the most gorgeous person in the world. They give you a rush of adrenaline or… or make your head all cloudy."

"Oh my god. You barely even know John B. He's like every other teenage guy. Disgusting, horny, and hungry." You answered.

Sarah sat up. "That’s the thing. We hung out the entire day today. That’s why I told Rafe to have you come over in the evening. Because I was gone all day."

"So you asked me to spend the night to talk about one of my best friends so you can get in his pants. You've got Topper." You rolled your eyes, getting up from the bed.

"No." She grabbed my wrist. "I think I really like him. He takes me away from the bubble wrap. It’s exciting, the life you guys live. Topper doesn’t take me away from the bubble wrap. If anything, he adds more. When I kissed John B-"

You looked at her. "Wait. What? Listen I like Topper about as much as I like brussel sprouts but I don’t think he deserves his girlfriend kissing another dude before she gets the balls to break up with him."

"It just happened. And it felt...amazing. I felt breathless like I was on cloud 9." She smiled, ignoring the last bit.

"I'm sure you did. I’m gonna go get some water." You excused yourself.

"Wait." She called.

You turned to look at the blonde and she chucked a pair of heels at you. "Put those on and walk downstairs."

You rolled your eyes before slipping the shoes onto your feet and proceeding put of her room.

Rafe was in the kitchen, snacking on some chips while he was scrolling through his phone. His head shot up when he heard the sound of heels on the stairs.

He looked towards the entrance of the kitchen and smiled when he saw you enter.

"You look ridiculous wearing pajamas and heels." He commented.

You feigned offense, staring at the older boy. "You mean this isn't fashionable? I call it sleeping chic." You did a twirl and Rafe chuckled.

"You know what? It looks wonderful." Rafe placed his arms on the table and leaned forward, watching your every move.

"Your sister threw them at me before I came downstairs. I assume for me to practice but, not to toot my own horn, I think I’m getting the hang of walking in them."

"Go ahead and toot your horn cause if you waltzed up to me at a party the same way you did coming into the kitchen, I would've thought you've been wearing heels your entire life."

"Why thank you." You grinned, opening the fridge and grabbing a bottle of water.

You walked over to the island and slid into the seat next to Rafe, opening the bottle before taking a drink.

"You know something, Rafe?"

"Hmm."

"I haven’t hated spending these past few days with you. You're surprisingly not that annoying."

Rafe sent you a smile. "Yeah?"

You nodded, looking at him.

"I haven’t hated spending these days with you either." He nudged you with his shoulder.

You stood up as you grabbed your water before placing a hand on his shoulder. "See you tomorrow."

"Yep. Don’t forget we’re going to the mainland tomorrow to pick up everything." He cleared his throat.

You nodded and said goodnight before heading back upstairs and into Sarah’s room, shutting the door behind you.

The night of midsummer was hectic. You and Rafe quickly went to the mainland to pick up the dress, heels, and accessories before grabbing some lunch.

It wasn’t long before you asked Rafe to drop you off at Kie’s to get ready. You had a shower before Kie and her mom helped you get ready, her mom gushing about how Rafe will drop dead when he sees you.

You were blushing bright red at the thought as Kie rolled her eyes before you quickly excused yourself so you could change into your dress and pull on your heels that were picked up earlier that day. Rafe insisted on getting you a necklace but you declined once you saw the price tag, telling him you had a nice pair of earrings and a bracelet at home you could wear that you'd ask Kie to pick up.

After Kiara’s mom took pictures, you were at the event, completely out of your element as you tried to find Rafe which was weirdly difficult considering his height.

You heard a low whistle and whipped around, tensing slightly before relaxing. Rafe stood there in a baby blue suit, a small smile on his face as he looked at you.

"You look stunning, Y/N." He complimented.

You felt your cheeks heating up again as you spoke. "Thanks. You look rather dashing yourself."

His smile grew before he offered you his arm. "Shall we mingle?"

You linked your arm through his. "If we have to."

****

After half an hour of mingling and Rafe getting you both a drink, Rafe set down his empty glass.

"Let’s dance, angel."

You sighed, slightly flushing at the nickname this time around, before finishing off your drink and setting down the glass. You followed Rafe onto the dance floor and placed your hands on his shoulders as his own went to your waist.

You two swayed side to side, a silence hanging over the two of you for a bit before you broke it.

"Why me?"

"Hmm."

"Why did you pay Barry to rent me for a night when any kook girl here would’ve gone with you and it wouldn’t have cost you anything?" You asked quietly.

You saw Rafe swallow before answering. "I...I…don't really know.” He lied, feeling his breathing pick up slightly.

"Rafe. Breathe." You told him.

He did as you said before looking around, his eyes narrowing.

"I'll be right back." He muttered, removing his arms from your waist and starting to walk away.

"Rafe," You said, grabbing his wrist.

He turned to look at you before turning back to where his eyes were previously looking, chewing on his bottom lip in thought.

You followed his gaze to see JJ looking at you, concern written on your best friend’s face.

"Leave him alone, Rafe. He’s not doing anything. Just….lets keep dancing."

Rafe’s eyes went back to yours and he nodded slowly.

You mouthed a quick I’m fine to JJ before putting your hands back on Rafe’s shoulders.

"Can I tell you something? Well, a couple of things."

You nodded.

"Well, for starters, I've been trying to get off coke."

"That’s great, Rafe." You grinned, squeezing his shoulders with your hands.

"It’s hard. But I find it easier to not think about getting high when...um...you're with me." Rafe admitted, feeling his cheeks getting hot.

You felt your breathing pick up and tried your best to keep it under control. "Really?" You breathed out.

He nodded before taking his hands off your waist and reaching into his pocket. "I know you said no to me getting you that one necklace but here. I picked this up when you were at the nail salon that day we were getting your dress altered."

Rafe handed you a little box and you could practically feel the nervousness radiating off of him as you took it in your own shaking hands. Rafe, for the first time in ages, felt shy in front of a girl and scared of being rejected.

You opened the box to see a little necklace resting in the box, the word angel attached to it.

"How much was it?" You asked, not wanting him to spend any more money on you than he needed to for this event.

Too late though.

Rafe scratched the back of his neck as he looked down. "I’d rather not answer that question."

Your eyes widened and you smacked his chest. "Rafe Cameron!" You whispered harshly before putting it back in his hands. "I can't accept and keep that. I already planned on giving you the dress and heels back and paying you back for the manicure and pedicure. I can’t keep this in good conscience just because I agreed to be your date tonight. You don’t have to give me a present, you already paid Barry and bought this shit."

Rafe licked his lips as he looked around before looking back towards you. "I shouldn’t have paid Barry unless I was renting Barry, I should've paid you. I technically should've just asked you without paying but I was nervous and I was scared. I knew Barry would let me take you out for the right price and I took advantage of it. It’s just- I caught feelings for you somehow in the last month okay. Like actual feelings and I- I think you're-"

"An angel. Your angel." You finished for him.

Rafe nodded sheepishly before shoving the box back into his pocket. "I always turned to coke for comfort and I feel like when I’m with you, I don’t need to turn to coke for that comfort. I can turn to you. I’m sorry. It’s stupid, I'll just go."

Rafe turned around but you grabbed him yet again. "It’s not stupid." You whispered before pressing your lips to his.

Rafe was surprised for a second before he kissed back, his hands coming up to cup your face.

After you two pulled away, Rafe smiled. "Does this mean you'll take the necklace?"

You nodded before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the box.

"Can you?" You asked, gesturing towards the box.

"I would love to." He said, taking the necklace in his hands and placing it around your neck, doing the clasp in the back.

"Told you she would catch feelings in those four days," Pope stated as he looked at JJ.

JJ clenched his jaw before turning away. "I gotta go find Sarah."

~~~~~

149 notes · View notes

egcdeath · 3 years

Text

secret santa

pairing: ransom drysdale x f!reader

a/n: this is so self indulgent. SO SELF INDULGENT. more self indulgent than anyone will ever be able to comprehend. before u all read this, i want u to know it was originally supposed to be about training ransom at a job, but then i realized that i nothing about 1. working at a coffee shop and 2. training an employee. also, i am the worst at writing dialogue. so i didn’t write a lot of dialogue LMAO enjoy :)

also, half of this was written at 1 am. just a warning

warnings: coffee shop au, enemies (kinda) to lovers, a lil fluff, not really angst but bitter feelings, kinda slow burn and then all the sudden a fast burn i’m sorry 😭

word count: 2.6k

You woke up to the sound of your alarm rumbling your bedside table sometime around the asscrack of dawn, and rubbed your eyes with a groan. Sometimes, you really couldn’t stand your job, but bills didn’t really pay themselves, did they? You rolled out of bed, and began your dreaded morning routine before heading out to start your opening shift at your local café.

Somewhere between warming up the espresso machine and taking out last night’s trash (which you shouldn’t have had to do in the first place), an older, yet expensive looking car pulled up to the front of the parking lot. You were a bit confused, as you’d never seen this vehicle, and it was quite clear that you weren’t exactly open yet. You watched as a tall man hopped out of the car, wearing a large peacoat and very unnecessary sunglasses. He approached the door, gave it a knock, then waited for you to come open it for him. Reluctantly, you made your way over, and in order to keep yourself safe, began to speak through the glass.

“Can I help you?” You asked in an annoyed tone, then gestured towards the piece of paper that labeled your hours on the door. There was no reason for any customer to be here this early. You looked up at the mystery man and made a rather intense eye contact with him. If this was any indicator of your crowd today, work was going to be far from pleasant.

“Yeah, I was told that I’m starting today?” He had a wicked smirk on his face, like he knew he was getting under your skin already. You hated people like him, and couldn’t believe that he could possibly be your coworker. On the bright side, he probably wouldn’t last long in the first place.

“Well, are you sure you’re here on time? I can’t see any situation where Melissa would schedule to open for your very first shift.” You commented with a furrowed brow.

“Eh, I kinda just figured I’d come in whenever. The girl in my bed was an early riser, so I thought to myself ‘Why not just come in now?’” He said casually.

“Your name?” You inquired, trying to keep your annoyance to yourself, and put on a customer service smile.

“Hugh, or Ransom,” he responded. You turned around, allowed yourself a huff and eye roll, then walked through the kitchen, and into the break room to check if he truly was a new employee, or just some random creep. Sure enough, a bright pink post-it note in very neat handwriting confirmed this man’s existence. You made your way back to the door, unlocked it, and let him in.

“Since you’re here, you should… set down the chairs,” you told him, less than entertained by his presence. You could just tell he was bad news. This Ransom guy was like the textbook definition of a red flag. He talked your ear off while you tried to get through your opening routine, some casual remarks about his last hookup, complaints about how he only got this job because his mother was a regular and good friends with your manager, and how he was threatened to get cut out of his grandfather’s will if he didn’t get employed soon, and what better way to spite your family than to mess up their daily coffees.

Eventually, a few more of your coworkers, along with your manager, Melissa, made it to the café before the morning rush began. You were sitting down at your typical barstool spot, and sipping an iced Americano when Melissa broke the news to you that you would be training the new employee. Upon hearing the news, you audibly groaned, and rubbed your forehead. There was no way that you could handle this man.

-------

During his first week, Ransom not only managed to offer (and successfully give) six customers his phone number, break two mugs, mess up more orders than even Euclid could comprehend, and spill straws a multitude of times all over the floor, but he began to flirt with you relentlessly. You had no idea why you’d become his new target of choice, when it was clear that he could have literally anyone he wanted. Maybe he liked that you were playing hard to get.

If you were being honest, you had to accept that he was handsome. And rich. And the definition of a fuckboy. And since you were being frank with yourself, you had to acknowledge that you were attracted to that ‘toxic and will treat you like shit’ kind of guy. You had a roster of ex boyfriends to prove that for you.

---

It was a pretty slow Tuesday afternoon, which meant you were sitting on your phone until a customer placed an order. Eventually, the little bell above the door chimed, and an older man came through, ordering a dark and bitter drink, then standing by the counter to wait. You began to restock lids while Ransom took care of making the drink, and once it was ready, you passed it over to the man. The man in question took a rather large sip, then promptly spat it out.

“What the fuck is this!” He roared, barely giving you time to react before he proceeded to toss the drink at you, spilling most of the hot content on your apron.

You gasped, gawking down at your scorched and ruined clothing, then up at the customer, who’d turned around with a huff and left, leaving a stream of strong language on his way out. You bit back tears at the whole fiasco, and cringed as both the steamy drink, and your salty tears stung different parts of your body. You turned to look at the barista, who had passed you along the drink, and were met with no other than the white devil himself. It seemed that all the blood had drained from his already otherwise pale face.

“Oh my god, this is all my fault,” he began remorsefully. “Let me make it up to you somehow.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, running a hand through your hair, and shoving Ransom angrily while you more or less stomped into the staff bathroom.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and frowned before bringing up your bundled apron to your face and screaming into it. Stupid fucking customers. Stupid fucking job. Stupid fucking Ransom. It’s like he came to your job just to make it hell. You were tired of cleaning up all these messes for him, and honestly, you wish he’d just quit already. The longer you worked with him, the more tempted you were to pour sugar in his gas tank, then take a club and break all the windows in the Beemer.

------

For the next month, your brain was completely elsewhere at work. Your brain was constantly going back and forth with you between finding Ransom hot and horrendous. While the pair of you finished up closing one night, you heard your coworker begin to speak to you as you placed your hand on the keys in your pocket.

“I know you hate me, Y/N. I get it. What that guy did to you was awful, and yes it was my fault, but what else have I done to hurt you?” He asked, seemingly out of the blue. You weren’t even sure how to respond. Ignoring the man and demonizing him in your head had become almost a second nature. “I mean, I think we could’ve been good friends. Even though you seem to think I’m devil incarnate, I think you’re a pretty cool chick-“ he continued before being cut off by you.

“Why do you even care?” you burst out, “Ransom, you just don’t get it do you? You’re just.. a douchebag. I get it, you have your moments where you’re candid and open with people, but half of the time you’re talking, you’re objectifying someone. Or bragging about something you own. Don’t get me wrong, I could get past what you did to me on accident, but you seriously have to work on yourself,” the words just seemed to pour out without your control. “Goodnight, Ransom,” you said simply before leaving the café for the night.

——

Since that day, the tension between you and Ransom had evidently become more thick. Since he was finally finished training with you, you made sure to only speak to him if you absolutely needed to, and even then, you only communicated with him in brief and straightforward answers. Sure, it seemed like a small thing to be upset about, and sure, he’d apologized, but something told you that any excuse to stay away from Ransom was a good excuse.

Though he appeared to be an immoral and selfish man, he seemed genuinely sorry for all that he’d put you through. Occasionally, you’d be sitting in the break room and look up from your phone to see him watching you. When you’d make eye contact, he would look like he wanted to say something to you, but your petty ass would leave, or look back at your phone. He was bad news anyway.

Your boss quickly caught onto what was going on between the two of you, and usually, Melissa didn’t like to participate in petty drama, but your new sour mood was such a stark contrast from before, and it seemed to shift the whole mood of the café.

That afternoon, Melissa called for a team meeting a bit before closing, and suggested a family dinner along with a Secret Santa. She’d said something along the lines of ‘It’s been way too long since we’ve done a team bonding activity, and a gift exchange is perfectly fitting for the Holiday season.’ This did make you perk up, as Melissa had a great taste in restaurants, and you were always down for a good gift exchange.

Melissa then told everyone to write their names down, then put them in a decorative Santa hat. You and your coworkers obliged, then began to pass around the hat once again in order to draw a name. You really hoped to get Xavier. You had the perfect idea of something he’d love. As you drew a piece of paper from the hat, you imagined the matching pair of fluffy socks for a human and dog that you’d passed by during your last trip to Target. You began to unfold it, thinking of what color he might like the most, when you looked down and saw ‘Ransom’ drawn out in chicken scratch.

You tried your best to mask your annoyance at who you received, but on the inside, you were seething. You mentally cursed the universe out while you pulled on your coat, and grimaced to yourself once you got out to your car. How were you supposed to get this asshole a gift?

—-

The week leading up to the exchange went fairly well for you, although it was getting a bit exhausting to be so mad at Ransom all the time. You tried to be less harsh with him, considering you needed to learn more about him in order to get him a somewhat decent gift for your exchange.

He’d seem to have taken your conversation with him to heart, and began to talk less and less about other girls when he was working with you. He didn’t comment on how well your jeans fit you, and you noticed that he’d often overextend himself in order to help you with (pretty basic) daily aspects of the job. Ransom would ask you questions about yourself, and your family, and speak less about himself. If you were honest with yourself, he was becoming a better man. And the best part was, he seemed to be doing it just for you. The thought of which brought heat to your face.

—

On the night of the exchange, you threw on a hideous and scratchy Christmas sweater before picking up your neatly wrapped gift for Ransom. You truly hoped that he’d like it, even though it certainly wasn’t the most expensive item. You bid farewell to your cat, then went on your way to the restaurant. You had to admit, you were a bit late. So it should’ve been no surprise when you arrived, and found that the only seat left at the table was next to Ransom. You gave him a cordial smile before sitting down and ordering yourself a glass of Merlot.

Something about being so close to him was kind of riling you up. The strong timbre sent coming off of him was making your whole body feel slightly warmer than normal, and you tried to ignore this strange sensation while you talked and joked with your coworkers. At one point, Ransom leaned in nice and close to you, and began to speak to you.

“Jesus Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as hideous as Karmen’s sweatshirt,” he whispered right into the shell of your ear. Maybe it was the wine talking, but that simple action sent a whole chill through your body, and made you flush even harder than you’d flushed before. You let out a little giggle and nodded in agreement, looking across the table at her very ugly sweater.

“To be fair, the whole point of this was to wear something really ugly,” you turned your head back to where it was before, only to find that Ransom had somehow moved even closer to you.

“I just don’t know where you find something like that,” he commented, gazing much too deep into your eyes. You swore you felt the room shift after he began looking at you like that. There was about a 20% chance that you’d be able to keep your panties on after this kind of exchange. Luckily for you, a waitress broke the tension for you, setting down a few plates for everyone, then bidding them farewell. Damn.

The food was amazing, and didn’t last very long, meaning that it was time to pass gifts around sooner than later. You watched as Amy received a gift card from Sophie, Emily opened a plethora of chocolates gifted to her by Melissa, and Xander whiffed a candle given to him by Kennedy, then, it was your turn. You glanced around the table before you felt the arm next to you reach down, then hand you an oversized gift bag.

“I hope you like it,” Ransom said with a shy smile. You casually felt your cheeks on your way to pull out the very large item. You found it was a very large, and soft, hand knit blanket. It looked like it could’ve cost a small fortune, and you immediately found yourself embarrassed.

“Oh wow. This is perfect! Thank you so much,” you grinned over at your coworker, who seemed to be blushing himself. “Well, I guess I should probably give you this then,” you chuckled awkwardly before passing him your wrapped package. He tore it open barbarically, then began to laugh. Of all the gifts in the world, you two had gotten each other somewhat similar items. Sure, it wasn’t hand knit with the love of some grandma who ran a small business on Etsy, but it was the thought that counts.

“I love it, Y/N,” he exclaimed, looking deep into your eyes once again. He ran his fingers through the soft fabric, then set a hand on your arm. In that moment, it felt like time stopped. It was just you two, sitting in a quiet room, enjoying the presence of each other. You don’t even know what had gotten into you, but before you knew it, you felt a nose pressed up against yours, and a billion butterflies erupt out of your stomach. You heard a few grimaces from your coworkers at the sappy, Hallmark-like moment but what could you say.

Maybe Ransom was not that bad after all.

#ransom thrombey x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom drysdale x you #knives out fanfic #hey i wrote that lol

109 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Too Loose And You’ll Lose It

Chapter 6: Jesus Is My Homeboy Co-written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Summary: Jake and Stella spend an afternoon looking for suitably embarrassing photos of Pooch to use on his Stag Party and when they find some older shots of themselves they take a trip down memory lane. But the trip is cut short when Evan arrives.

Pairing: Jake Jensen x OFC Stella Stevenson

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

A/N: So this chapter was written for For @sweater-daddiesdumbdork and @sagechanoafterdark ‘s Winter/Holiday Challenge. Prompt- “That is the ugliest sweater I have ever seen.”

TLAYLI Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 5

They were running low on time. There were so many things to do before Pooch’s stag party in four weeks that The Losers had all agreed they should split their forces to get everything ready for the weekend in New York. As such, Stella and Jensen had ended up pooling their resources and were currently browsing through pictures on Jake's laptop while Pooch was on his lunch break. Unfortunately, Cougar had the day off so he wouldn't be able to stall Pooch at the small café down the street but that would pose no problem if they hurried and got what they needed fast. Mind you, Jolene had done her fair share of work and had sent them a bunch of shaming Pooch pictures they could use for their ‘mission’ and picking the most embarrassing ones should surely be easy as pie.

The problem was, however, that Jensen was finding it hard to concentrate and keep his eyes and mind focused on the screen. In fact, hard didn’t even come close to describing. He was leaning so close to Stella as they studied his computer screen that he could smell her shower gel. A scent of vanilla and pumpkin which he could easily identify anywhere with his eyes closed. Not that he needed to keep his eyes open to smell something but he knew what he meant…

"Oh my god, Jake! Look at his fucking hair!" Stella suddenly shrieked before starting to howl, startling him and pulling him out of his useless wandering thoughts.

"What?" he asked looking at her before glancing back at the screen again as Stella grabbed the mouse and clicked on a picture to magnify it and show a young Pooch sporting an afro hairdo which made Jensen blink.

"Didn’t know Pooch was part of the Jackson 5" he laughed before he inhaled and looked at her “Oh my God, Stel, they were really the Jackson 6. Pooch is the missing link. Poor Pooch, abandoned after birth, discarded youngest son of an already overcrowded family." He sighed and Stella howled again, this time banging her hand on the desk.

"Did Jolene send you these?"

Jensen grinned, smug he was making Stella laugh hard at his wisecracks. "Yup."

"He is gonna kill you." Stella snorted as she shook her head.

"Nah, he will be too drunk to care, as we will all be." Jensen offered as he saved the picture into another folder, missing Stella wrinkling her nose, but hearing her sigh before speaking.

"I dunno if I'm going yet."

"What? Why?" Jensen inquired hastily, turning to look at her. "You have to come, Stel!"

"Yeah, but I’m not so sure. I mean it was nice of Pooch to count me in but..."

"He counted you in because he wants you there. You're a Loser." Jensen cut her off before she could even doubt her place in the tight group they all formed.

"Yes I know that and I want to spend a good time with you guys but…" she trailed off and at that Jensen inhaled and shuffled on his chair to sit facing her. She hadn't spent any decent time with them for the last month. Every time they organised something she ended up backing out as Agent Shithead happened to have booked them something to do, on the exact same night, always a coincidence.

Bullshit if you asked Jensen.

He was just pondering how exactly he could point that out to her, without pissing her off, when she continued talking.

"Ev was on about us going away that weekend. He's busy for the week or so after with stuff at home, so I won’t get to see him."

There it is, Jensen thought, but did his best to stay calm, even though he wanted nothing more than to scream at Stella that the guy was a jerk and it was clear he was doing this to keep her away from him. But Jensen knew he couldn't do that, not without ratting his nosy ass out for listening into their argument the other month, so instead he decided to keep it cool and play the role of the concerned, interested best friend and confidant.

"Oh, what's he got on at home?" he spoke, pleased to hear his voice sounded interested as opposed to prying. "His Auntie is moving house and he's helping. Then there’s like decorating and stuff so we won't see each other." Stella explained and Jensen could clearly see her frown burrow as she repeated what he suspected were the exact same words Shithead had told her, but the look on her face made it seem as if she was doubting them almost, now she was the one that was uttering them. Jensen felt a flicker of hope and sighed as he looked at her, pondering what to say. Don't jinx it now, Jensen.

"Don't sigh at me like that Jake." she pleaded, somewhat guiltily. "I was just thinking…good luck explaining to Pooch you’re not coming to New York with us because your boyfriend is busy the week after." he explained himself, almost spitting the word boyfriend, which he regretted the moment he did as he could see Stella's expression change from a concern to anger as he glared at him. "Don't start, Jensen." "I’m not starting anything, Stevenson." He declared, using her surname as well, making it clear her calling him by his hadn't gone unnoticed. "Just trying to make you see you’re missing Pooch’s Batchelor Party, which will only happen once in his life, so as not to make your boyfriend angry." "It's not about not making him angry, for fucks sake" Stella almost growled, visibly annoyed at his insinuation. "You sure about that? What would his reaction be if you told him you were coming with us?" Jensen pressed, ignoring all the red flags her tone and expression carried, in a desperate attempt to make her see for herself what, to him, was crystal clear.

Fuck it Stel, why can't you see it? "I don't know.” Stella said, somewhat exasperatedly as she gave a shrug “He wouldn't be mad, probably disappointed but..."

However, as she spoke there was something in her voice and Jensen squinted his eyes at her. He could tell she understood that to be not entirely truthful, as he knew she was well aware Evan had a temper. Stella herself had kicked him out of her apartment the very same day he had confessed to her he didn’t want her near her ex, and from what he had heard since about a few other arguments they had, it always ended the same. Him raising his voice and guilt tripping her into thinking she was to blame.

So, all things considered, Jensen decided to change strategy and go down the guilt trip road. "Ok. Whatever you wanna do. But remember, disappointment goes both ways Stel." he stated as he shrugged and focused his attention back on the screen. "What's that supposed to mean?" Stella asked, frowning. "Just that by not disappointing your boyfriend, you’re gonna end up disappointing Pooch. But I guess its fine, he still got the rest of us. I just hope it doesn’t bit you on the ass one day.” He insisted on making his point while flicking through the rest of the pictures. His eyes didn't leave the screen but he heard her groan besides him.

"You know what? I can't be bothered listening to you bitch." She pinched the bridge of her nose.

"I’m not bitching Stel. Do whatever you think you should do. You already know my opinion, so that’s the last thing I’ll say on the topic." he said as he looked at her from the corner of his eye. "That'll be a first." Stella snorted, folding her arms over her chest. "Well if it has to be, so be it." Jensen shrugged again as if he couldn't care less, but he could feel her eyes on him and he fought to avoid turning his head to look at her.

"Just flip to the next photo JJ, before I smash your head through the desk."

Jensen was fuming now, but decided not to acknowledge that last comment, thinking instead when he finally unmasked Shithead, she’d be eating her words and apologising big time. Instead, he fought the anger down, took a deep breath and did as he had been told, flipping to the next picture which drew a smile to his face. It was a shot of all the Losers out at Christmas a few years back, five faces grinning into the camera while wearing tacky Christmas sweaters.

And, just as Jensen expected, Stella laughed heartily when her eyes spotted the one he had on and he grinned.

"You still have that sweater?" Stella chuckled, pointing at the item of clothing which depicted Jesus wearing a party hat whilst holding a balloon, with the words ‘BIRTHDAY BOY’ written underneath "Yup. Don’t know where though. Must be at my parents. That’s if Gracie hasn’t found it and decided it’s the coolest thing ever."

“No one would decide that’s the coolest thing ever.” Stella laughed again and then grabbed his arm. "Oooh! Do you still have the photo of the time we went out back home with them all on, the Christmas before we passed out of training?"

Jensen took his eyes off her hand that was still grabbing his arm and rubbed his beard while thinking about the system folder the picture may be in. "Yeah, I think it might be in one of these." he said as he clicked on one named ‘Good Times’. Stella could see a load of thumbnails as they popped up on the screen. They were mainly shots of his family, but there were also a few of her and him and a couple of him and Gracie. And she was just thinking about how he still had some of the pictures they had taken together all those years back, wondering to herself if that meant he still cared for her after everything that had happened between them or if he had simply forgotten they were there in the first place, when she heard him say "Yup. There it is."

"Oh my God, look at that Jakey!" she squealed, her gorgeous smile on her face again, as Jensen noticed she was back at Jakey. “We look so young.”

Jensen smiled broadly at her before turning to look at the picture again, taking every detail of it in. It was a picture of him, his dad, Rob and Stella all in horrific sweaters. Jake wore the aforementioned item bearing the large Jesus image, Rob’s was a Home Alone themed Sweater, featuring the infamous picture Kevin finds in his brother’s room along with the quote- ‘Buzz, your girlfriend…woof!’ John’s had a 3D elf attached to the bottom emblazoned with the slogan ‘When I think about you I touch my Elf’ and Stella’s was the classier of the four, a sparkly green Christmas tree effect, with baubles hanging all over it. The four of them were rosy cheeked from alcohol (well, mostly…) and smiling broadly, Stella stood next to Jake as his arm curled around her waist, John to her other side as his draped over her shoulder.

Happier, simpler times for them all.

"Remember that afternoon?" Jensen asked her, smiling softly at a grinning and younger Stel on the screen. "Yeah." Stella smiled at him. "It was the afternoon of our annual Secret Santa dinner night at your mom and dad’s." Jake then turned to look at her, grinning. "That’s not what I was asking, Stel." She chuckled and rolled her eyes. "You want me to say I remember our bunk up in the bathroom?" "Yup." he replied as he wriggled his eyebrows playfully at her. "My sweater was missing a few baubles when we made it back into the bar." "Yeah" he reminisced as he grinned wildly. "Birthday boy got his very own porn show.”

Stella snorted, slapping his arm. "We are so going to Hell for that."

"Well if that's what Hell is like baby, I don't wanna go to Heaven." he quipped cheekily, making Stella slap his arm again.

“Stop it, Jake!"

"Okay, okay, sorry..." he chuckled. But he wasn’t sorry in the slightest about bringing up that memory and as Stella turned her eyes back to the screen he found himself back in that bar, one Friday afternoon in December 2002. It was the day before Christmas Eve and he, his dad and Rob were out for drinks on what could have been deemed as a forced boys’ afternoon because his mom had kicked them out not long after lunch stating that she and Jane were doing dinner with Jules. Apparently they needed to get started like five fucking hours in advance for some reason and thus, all three men had found themselves at their local bar at four p.m. wearing their ugly Christmas sweaters as was the tradition on that day. What they hadn't counted on was having to go out in them, least of all to a bar where almost everyone knew them.

Stella was meeting her girlfriends for a shopping afternoon before they all met up for dinner and drinks and the annual "joke" Secret Santa. Only this year they were two down as Rey and Dick were in Florida visiting some of Dick's extended family, who knows who exactly, as Jake wasn't very fond of paying attention to details when Dick Fitzpatrick spoke. What he did know however, was that they would also be examining pretentious venues for their wedding the year after.

Fifteen minutes after their first round was served, Jensen was putting his empty beer down as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and John immediately nudged him. "Give it a rest son! You've been glued to that all afternoon."

"Yeah. What are you doing? Talking to someone?" Rob snorted, rolling his eyes. "I wonder who."

Jensen grinned. "Not my fault my girl can't stand not to message me for more than thirty minutes."

“Keep telling yourself that. It’s you who can’t stand not talking to her." Rob quipped as John chuckled and nodded in agreement.

"You saying I'm whipped Robert?" Jensen asked sternly, tilting his head to look at him before his face split into another huge grin. "Because you would be absolutely right and I'm not ashamed to admit it."

At that he waved at the bartender and ordered another round while John snorted and Rob shook his head.

"We’ve lost him, John." "We lost him a long time ago, Rob” John sniggered and Rob nodded seriously. "Yeah, so says Jane." He spoke as he leaned on the bar. "Shut up Robert, you're the one that drove two hundred miles home at like four a.m. because Jane was crying she had period cramps and you were away with work." Jensen jabbed at his brother in law.

"He got you there pal." John laughed loudly as Rob narrowed his eyes.

"How do you know that?"

Jensen just shrugged. "I’m her little brother, I know things."

Rule number two?... four?..., whatever, in military training; never reveal your sources or methods of information.

But Rob wasn't buying any of Jensen’s bullshit and narrowed his eyes again. "Jane told Stella, didn't she?"

"Maybe."

Maybe wasn't a yes, right?

Rob rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"You wanna make this a competition? Because Jake’s been like that for years now." John teased Rob.

“Oh, shut up dad." Jensen protested as he passed him one of the beers the bartender had just placed in front of them.

John laughed before raising his bottle "You already admitted you were whipped!" and Jensen groaned as his dad took a big gulp of his second beer. "You know, Son. I'm kinda offended you don't make me coffee and toast every morning."

"What?" Rob asked, spluttering beer all over the bar.

"Every time Stel stays over, he makes her coffee and toast in bed. Fuck the rest of us, like.."

Jensen grinned and cut his dad off straight away. "No. I don't fuck the rest of you, which is why I don’t make you breakfast."

At that some of the usual patrons turned to look at them as Rob started howling at John’s face. "He’s not wrong John."

"Guess I asked for that one." John mused before taking another sip of beer.

"You totally did, dad."

"Cheers to that." Rob quipped as he and Jensen clinked their bottles together.

"What is this, gang up on John day?"

"Come on old man. Don’t get angry and order another round for us." Jensen grinned, chugging his beer down and patting his dad's shoulder. So John did, and then when they finished that it was Rob’s turn to buy, and thus the cycle continued two hours later they were still perched at the same place at the bar, talking nonsense with alcohol running freely through their systems.

"Pity Rey and Dick are away this year because I had found the perfect shit Secret Santa gift for her." Rob whined and Jensen sniggered by his side. "A joke book?" "Nope. Her boyfriend is the joke." Rob quipped and both men started laughing until John corrected Rob.

"Ah ah ah, her fiancé." "Yup, right. Her fiancé." Rob repeated, raising his beer in a mock toast.

Jensen chuckled and leaned his head on his right arm where it was folded on the bar before speaking. "Fahk man. All she talks about is that fahkin’ wedding." "Well she's excited, son." John shrugged. "Too excited. She’s got Jane on the phone, all day." Rob complained and, at that, Jensen groaned raising his head again to look at Rob.

"And Stella, man. She’s dreading whatever bridesmaid dress Rey picks." Jensen paused, before grinning widely. "When me and Stel get married it's just gonna be one big party." John and Rob shared a glance. "Well, we’ll see if you stay true to your word when we come to it." John said simply, not knowing if it was drunken Jensen speaking or if his son was being serious about it. But Jensen's next comment left no room for doubt.

"We already talked about it. No fancy ass do just a simple set of I dos and a fuck load of fun." Jake stated seriously.

Rob shared another quick glance with John as he raised an eyebrow. "You two talked about it?"

"Yeah." Jensen nodded but then frowned, spotting the expression on his sister's boyfriend's face. "What's the issue?"

"What's the issue? For fucks sake, Jake. You're only twenty-one" Rob argued and Jensen was fast to cut him

"So what? When you know, you know Rob."

"And what can you possibly know at twenty-one?" Rob insisted.

Jake just shrugged, any possible concern on Rob's part falling on deaf ears, he just knew. "Never be another girl for me."

At that John decided to help his son out. "To be fair Rob, he's been in love with her for basically the last ten years. Was just too chicken to do anything about it until he was seventeen"

Rob snorted and shook his head as he raised his beer to Jake. "Cheers to that man. You're a goner." and then sipped from his bottle before continuing. "You wanna spend your life with Rey as a sister in law, be my guest."

Jake looked at him and then shrugged again. "Worth it."

"Well, I guess that speaks for itself." Rob finally conceded which put a big smile on Jensen's face before he made a confession.

"I'd ask her now but we got training to finish first, so..." and then Jake hiccuped before gulping down the rest of his beer.

When they all finished their drinks and another round was ordered the three men were in an inevitable semi-drunk state and, as was to be expected, started cracking jokes and, what was worse, singing out loud. After being told to quit their fourth rendition of ‘Oh, Christmas Tree!’ by the bar tender, they moved back to jokes, Rob and Jensen trying to out-do each other with the trusty old ‘Yo Momma jokes’.

Jensen nailed rob with the one about his momma being so stupid she stared at a cup of orange juice for twelve hours because it said concentrate, to which Rob responded that Jensen’s momma was so short you could see her feet on her driver’s license photo. They continued getting more and more insulting until Rob grinned and pointed his bottle at Jensen, smirking.

“Yo momma’s so ugly, she threw a boomerang and it refused to come back.”

"Hey!" John protested, suddenly zoning into the conversation, making the two younger men howl with laughter. He clutched his glass as he glared at Rob. "You're my least favourite son in law now, Danby." "I’m your only son in law John." "Yeah, and you're shit." John stated, tipping his bottle towards Rob, spilling a little of the pilsner he was drinking onto the bar surface. "I’ll tell Jane you said that." "Tell her whatever you want. I’m her favourite father." John shrugged, taking a large gulp of his beer. "As opposed to that other one who shows up on her birthday, Thanksgiving and Christmas?" Jensen quipped, grinning at his father. "What?" John asked, not understanding what shit his son was talking but then he realised what he had just said and snorted. "Oh God, I think I’m drunk. Your mother is so gonna kill me." "Just blame John. She can't shout at him." Jensen offered, trying to keep a straight face at his father's frown. "John? Who’s John?" Rob and Jensen started pissing themselves laughing at John's dumbfounded face. "John Jensen, best disgusting person." Jake shrugged. John frowned and suddenly realised "Oh, you mean me? Hey! Why am I disgusting?"

"Because we have pretty much finished our drinks, your lagging behind and you haven’t ordered a new round yet.” Jensen fired his shot.

"I bought the last one." John reminded his son.

"No, you didn’t. Rob did." Jensen quipped as he winked at Rob.

"Yeah, he's right John. I did." Rob played along.

John was about to tell them both to piss off as he wasn't that drunk when he spotted Stella and her friends entering the bar and decided to play his son, with his one and only weakness. "Tell you what. Whoever cracks a smile first buys the next round. If you can go for two minutes I’ll buy the next ones. Think you can keep a straight face boys?” he baited them. "You mean you want us to be grumpy like you old man?” Jensen arched an eyebrow as he hiccupped. “But it’s Christmas, what’s there to be grumpy about.”

"You chicken, Son?” John teased him and Rob whistled as Jensen stopped dead, his almost empty beer bottle poised at his mouth.

"You just call me a chicken?” he slammed the bottle down on the surface, wrinkling his nose as he waved his hand in the air “Whatever man, start the damned timer."

John did as told and put his phone at the centre of the table, so they could clearly see it counting upwards. The three men started looking at one another, examining each other’s faces for a flick of a smile as they tried to keep their own as straight as possible. And just as the two minutes were about to expire John tapped Jensen on his shoulder and nodded behind him.

Jake turned and just as he did a huge grin broke on his face as he spotted Stella, Then he realised, turning hastily to his dad with a groan. "Damned it!! You stitched me up."

John was already cackling as Rob banged on the bar, both men unable to hold back the tears of laughter.

"You know what, I don’t care. Here.” Jensen said as he slapped twenty bucks on the bar. "Imma go say hi to my Stelly." "Yeah, go Son. Say hi to your Stelly." John mocked him as he wiped the tears in his eyes. But before Jensen left, Rob nodded to the twenty bucks and looked at John.

“Another twenty say he doesn’t come back in the next fifteen minutes."

"You think it'll take him that long?" John scoffed, earning a glare from Jensen who then looked at Rob.

"You suck.” Jake hiccuped. "Talking about sucking, fifteen minutes Jake." Rob teased him, tapping at his wrist. "II only need ten.” Jensen shrugged.

At that Rob looked at John who shook his head with a smirk as he set the timer again. They then saw Jensen leave, crossing the room over to his girl.

As he approached, Jensen saw Stella's cheeks were pink most likely from a combination of alcohol and cold. As she spotted him, those cheeks raised showing off her dimples and her cute little nose wrinkled as she grinned hugely which Jensen loved. "Hi Jakey!"

"Hi, gorgeous." he greeted her back before kissing her and then grinned at her friends. "Ladies?"

They all murmured hi and Stella looked at him. "You gonna buy me a drink?"

"I’m buying you all a drink but you’re gonna have to help me bring them to the table, baby." Jensen offered, getting his plan rolling.

The girls all cheered Jensen and ‘complimented’ his sweater in return for the free drinks. "Jesus is my homeboy." he stated, seriously puffing out his chest causing Stella’s friends to laugh. "You’re so full of shit." she snorted.

"Rude, Stel."he narrowed his eyes playfully. "True." she admitted as she stood up patted Jesus's head. "Come on then, let's get these drinks. Be back in a moment girls."

"Yeah, sure." One of them spoke as the rest all giggled. "Don't make it too long guys."

Jake chuckled as he grabbed Stella’s hand and started leading her through the room.

"Jake, the bar is that way.” She started to protest. "Need a pit stop." He replied simply. "Right well you go pee and I'll meet you at the bar. Gimme your wallet." Stella ordered as she stopped in her tracks behind Jensen.

"Nope. You coming with me." he ignored her request, pulling her hand to keep her walking.

"What?"

Jensen didn't answer her but yanked her towards the men’s restroom. "Shhh..."

"I'm not going in there Jake!" Stella protested.

"All right. Ladies it is” Jensen quickly spun to the door next to the gent’s and Stella scoffed.

"Jake! No!" She stopped again and yanked on his arm hard enough to make him jerk back, turn and bump into her slightly. “What's up?” his hands fell to her hips as he began to walk them backwards into the ladies bathroom. As he pushed the door open he checked around to make sure they were alone and began to pull her further into the room, ignoring her protests. He dropped his head to whisper in her ear, stopping just outside an open cubicle “You losing your sense of adventure, baby?” he softly nipped at her neck and she shuddered “God, you’re a damn bastard, Jakey.” She whispered.

“Yeah but I’m your damn bastard, Stelly.” “Oh, shut up!” she mumbled, grabbing the front of his sweater and pulling him towards her for a ferocious kiss before she pushed him into the cubicle, his lips curling into a smirk against her mouth. Once inside he backed her up against the door, reaching round to lock it, before his large hands cupped her face, the kiss growing deeper as his tongue slid against hers, grazing the roof of her mouth as she fisted her hands in his sweater.

“Don’t pull Jesus’ hair too much.” He quipped and she grinned, her hands sliding up into his own short locks, giving a shark yank tipping his head back, bearing his neck to her.

“I’ll just pull yours instead.”

A low growl rumbled in his throat as his hand slid up her sweater, his leg moving forward as he planted his thigh in between hers. She let out a moan as he pushed up sharply, the harsh denim of both their jeans grinding on her spot. She was soaked already, and when his fingers started to undo the buttons of her pants she was relieved that he wasn’t wasting any time. He pulled them downwards and pulled off the boot on her left foot, allowing her to step one leg out of her jeans, freeing her legs slightly as he gripped her left thigh, hooking it over his hip. Planting one hand by the side of her head, his other shifted her panties to one side, and he grinned again, his lips hovering over hers.

“You know, for all your protests, you feel pretty ready, Darlin’”

“Shut up and fuck me Jake.” She mumbled as his lips caught the pulse point on her neck, her head banging against the cubicle door causing it to rattle as his fingers slid into her folds, one circling her clit.

“This what you want?” he asked, his breath was low.

“God, yes!” she muttered as his fingers picked up the pace. He inserted one inside, then another, and her head fell forward onto his shoulder as he curled it forward his digits forward against her spot, thumb circling her clit. Moving his other hand he slid it up her jumper and pulled down the cups of her bra freeing her breasts, gently rolling one nipple in between his fingers, his other hand still fucking her gently and she let out a gasp.

“Jakey for God’s Sake just fuck me already!” she repeated her demand and Jake grinned.

“I love it when you beg.”

“Prick.” She mumbled, as her hands flew to the buckle on his belt, opening it with a clink of metal before she easily undid his jeans, her fingers pushing them and his boxers down, allowing his hard cock to spring loose. Jensen hooked his hands under her knees and lifted her so her legs were round his waist, back pressed to the locked cubicle door. Once more he claimed her mouth with a heated kiss, swallowing the dirty groan she gave as he pushed into her.

Her walls gripped him with their familiar warmth and tightness and with a sigh he began to move, slowly at first, gently, her hands grasping at his shoulders as she tilted her hips towards him, her clit grinding against his pubic bone and it was then that one of the baubles on her jumper pinged loose and dropped to the floor with a soft chink.

“Shit.” She mumbled, but her word cut off as Jensen rotated his hips, pushing against her harder and she gasped as his hips quickened their pace, his ruts becoming deeper and faster. Soon the bathroom was filled with the filthy sound of skin on skin, moans and groans, punctuated by the odd soft clink as bauble after bauble worked itself free from Stella’s sweater. Her hands were everywhere-in his hair, up his back, under his top, nails biting at the skin as she hung onto him for dear life. Jensen continued to slam into her again and again, lips kissing down her jawline, neck, nipping and biting softly as he went.

“God I love you, Jakey” Stella gasped, her hands now on his face, bringing his mouth round to kiss hers again, the pads of her fingers digging into his short stubble.

“Love you too, my Stelly” he moaned into her mouth, the noise of the door behind continuing to rattle loudly as his pace didn’t falter in the slightest.

“Fuck…” she moaned, her nails sliding up into his hair and Jensen gave a gasp as he felt her tighten around him Her heels, one still wearing a boot, dug into his ass, her nails digging into his scalp as she groaned, her eyes wide. “Jakey, I’m…”

“You gonna come for me?” He asked as his mouth hovered over hers, eyes locked on hers, watching, and she nodded, a whimper escaping her throat, as her head banged back against the door.

“Shit, Jake, oh, oh…” and then her words and little noises died off, her mouth dropping open into a silent scream as she clamped around him, hard as her release took her away. Her entire body shook and Jensen gave a strangled groan that bubbled from the depths of this chest, and he clutched her to him, tightly, hips stuttering as he shuddered with the utter intensity of it all, before he too came hard with as surge that curled his toes.

Their chests heaved together as Stella clung to him, Jake’s head pressed into the crook of her shoulder as they both waited for the world to stop spinning around them. After a moment or two, Stella began to chuckle and Jake moved, pressing his forehead to hers, their noses bumping as he kissed her softly.

“You good?” he asked and she nodded.

“I am but I think poor Jesus will be scarred for life.” She grinned and Jake laughed, before he pulled out of her with a gentle sigh, setting her back on her feet. “Can we get that drink now?” she asked.

Jake laughed before he remembered what Rob and his dad had said to him and he quickly grabbed his phone, smirking.

9 minutes…

The memory faded away as Stella’s voice hit his ears and he turned to her “Sorry, what?”

She rolled her eyes. “I knew you weren't listening!”

“Sorry, was just thinking about that afternoon.” He grinned “Dad and Rob were highly amused we did the dirty with Jesus watching.”

“And whose fault was that?” Stella arched an eyebrow at him.

“I didn't hear you complaining. Well, not until after when you realised half the baubles were missing off your sweater.”

Stella snorted “My mom asked me what happened to it when we got back to yours. And your dad said…”

“Divine intervention!” they both spoke at the same time, laughing, only to be interrupted as Pooch walked into the office.

“Amen! What are you two up to?”

Stella wiped the tears of laughter from her eyes and looked round at him. “We were just looking at some photos and reminiscing.”

“Some photos?” Pooch asked as he approached Jensen’s desk. Jake turned the laptop for him to see and Pooch bent closer before he shook his head.

“Jensen, what the fuck are you wearing man?”

“Question should be who the fuck was I wearing Pooch.”

“Or why?” Pooch shot back and Jensen shrugged.

“It’s a Jensen-Stevenson family tradition buddy.” He leaned back in his chair, scratching his chest over his uniform. “Every year we have a dinner and a Secret Santa. Well, we used to anyway before...” at that he sat forward and cleared his throat, noticing Stella look away as he did so. He quickly recovered himself and smiled up at Pooch “Rule was the worst sweater won an extra prize.”

“Well you nailed it Jensen because frankly that is the ugliest sweater I have ever seen."

“You’re going to hell for saying that.” Jensen pointed at him.

“Yeah and we'll see him there after what poor Jesus saw that afternoon.” Stella snorted. Jensen smirked asas Pooch looked between them slightly confused.

“What do you...” he trailed off, groaning as he suddenly understood and then scoffed as they both started laughing again. “You guys are...were...” he pulled a face, “oh that’s nasty.”

“What’s nasty?” another voice spoke and all three of them turned to see Evan in the doorway. Jake shut his laptop violently, in a display of petulance more than anything. He was damned if he was letting that fucker into their private joke. Evan arched his eyebrow slightly before his attention turned to Stella as she explained.

“Oh we just found some old photos of us in horrific Christmas sweaters.”

“Found? On his laptop? By chance?” Evan’s tone was slightly accusing and Stella shrugged, missing the glare he shot at Jake.

“We were looking for something else and got side tracked.” Stella waved her hand “Anyway, what are you doing here? I thought you were in briefings till late?”

“I was but we finished earlier than expected and thought I could pick you up and maybe grab dinner at mine? I’ll cook.”

“Erm, sure.” Stella smiled “Sounds good.”

Pooch and Jensen exchanged a glance and Jensen merely rolled his eyes. Here she was again, backing out of a pre-arrange Losers social. But Jensen knew better than to raise that fact, certainly not in front of Evan.

As it happened though, Pooch didn’t.

“You not coming to the poker game then?” he asked and Stella blinked before she gave a groan.

“Shit. I forgot, erm…” she looked at Evan. “Roque’s organised a game.”

“Oh, okay.” Evan shrugged “I just thought we could spend the evening together. You never said anything about a poker game, Pumpkin, I wouldn’t have asked if I’d have known.”

At that Jensen rolled his eyes. The smell of bullshit was overwhelming.

“I must have forgotten.” Stella shrugged.

“Arty, you ain't been out with us for weeks.” Pooch pressed “Every time we organise something you’re busy. We got stag do planning to do!”

At that Jensen really did grimace given their earlier conversation. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

“I thought you weren't going to New York?” Evan spoke, his voice calm but Jensen spotted the nerve twitching in his jaw.

“What?” Pooch tuned to Stella and she groaned.

“Sorry.” Evan looked from her to Pooch, an innocent expression on his face and Jensen gripped the side of the desk firmly to stop himself doing something stupid. Like punching the fucker in the face “Did I put my foot in it?”

“What do you mean you're not coming?” Pooch completely ignored Evan, his eyes fixed on Stella as he waited for her to answer. She floundered for a moment, and Jensen sighed. He was torn, he felt sorry for Stella but on the other hand he really wanted Pooch to call her out and perhaps finally see what he had been saying for weeks- that Evan was a manipulative little shit.

“I haven't decided.” Stella shrugged, her voice quiet “I don't know what I'm doing.”

“You haven’t decided? What’s there to decide?” Pooch continued “You said you were coming Arty, I was counting you in”

“I know. I'm sorry, I just-“

“This is my fault.” Evan jumped in. “I'm busy for the week after helping my Aunt move house and I suggested we do something that weekend as we won't see each other. I booked us a hotel in Boston.”

“You did?” Stella frowned and Evan nodded before he took a deep breath and shook his head.

“I didn't know the dates clashed.”

“Sure you didn’t.” Jake mumbled to himself, turning back to the monitor which now showed nothing but the screensaver which was a picture of him, Stella and Gracie at her soccer game they had attended back home last year. Still, he pretended to be busy as Pooch and Evan stared at one another before Pooch shrugged, taking a deep breath.

“Whatever man.”

“I’m sorry Pooch I…” Stella started again and Pooch cut her off.

“No Arty, I’m the one who’s sorry.” His usually jovial tone was cold and Jensen saw Stella’s shoulders slump in the corner of his eye and wanted nothing more than to give her a hug.

“I think I’m gonna skip poker tonight.” She spoke softly and Jensen’s head whipped round to face her full on.

“What?”

“I’ll let Roque know you’re dropping out.” Pooch cut in.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” Evan looked at her “I don't mind if you wanna go, we can do something tomorrow instead.”

This time Jake’s scoff was loud enough for all three of them to hear and Evan turned to glare at him. Jensen held his stare, his hands clenching into fists under the table. He was just about ready to explode.

“Yeah, I’m sure. It’s fine.” Stella stood up “I’ll see you both later.”

With that she grabbed her jacket and left the room, Evan behind her, his hand planted in the small of her back. Pooch and Jake exchanged a glance, watching her go before Pooch crossed the room and closed the door, turning to Jensen.

“Dude. She’s not coming on my bachelor party? What the fuck?”

“I told you the guy is a manipulative bastard.” Jensen grit through his teeth. “She told me earlier she didn’t know if she could make it as he wanted to spend the weekend with her. He’s doing it deliberately to keep her away from me, or us, whatever.” He sighed, “And I’d bet my last dollar that, despite what she says, she’s offhandedly mentioned something about poker tonight and he’s shown up here now, on purpose, to guilt trip her into not going.” His fingers traced his goatee. “I don’t know what to do, Pooch.

“I tell you what I do know.” Pooch looked at Jensen. “We need to get rid of him. He has got to go, man!”

Jensen blinked, and then a broad grin spread across his face as Pooch’s words registered. Finally, he had an accomplice, someone else who had seen Shithead for what he was.

A shithead.

“Welcome aboard, Pooch.” Jensen leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head “Welcome aboard.”

**** Chapter 7 Part 1

#too loose and you'll lose it #jake jensen x ofc #jake jensen x original female character #jake jensen #ssholidaychallenge #the losers

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misterewrites · 3 years

Text

Intro to.....????

Hello everyone! Been awhile. It's been busy and really hot for me so it's hard for me to sit down to write sometimes.

But it's here!

E here with the next chapter and the final intro character chapter! The intro chapters were supposed to introduce everyone to the main and important characters of the story, who will be driving the main plots and stories though sometimes i might use new characters or different background characters. So beyond this chapter will be more worldbuilding, story arcs and oneshots. just stories about this world and its characters. I might even use some of my friends ocs i accidentally convinced them to make for my world. It was so much fun!

Alright that's it for me! Stay safe, wash your hands, wear your masks, take care of your loved ones, get vaccinated if you can, push to release the vaccine worldwide and have a great week! Enjoy! feel free to leave likes, feedback *I love feedback and comments even if it's just a line you liked or a scene you found awesome or funny* reblogs and tell your friends! Promoting myself still feels weird haha. E is out! Byeeeeee

If you want an easier time to read the story and since I’ve been shadow banned from tumblr for like ever now, here’s the newest chapter on ao3 right over here!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/82583164

If you are interested in my work and want to read from the beginning check it right here https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

Interested in my full catalog? https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/works

Summary: Jackdaw is a powerful crime lord in the magical side of Newton Haven. He is feared more than respected and he doesn't care who he has to crush to accomplish his goals. So when his lucrative club is burned to the ground with his guards piled neatly outside, battered broken but alive, he takes it personally. Of course who is crazy enough to burn down a club of a notoriously dangerous crimeboss? A mercenary paid to do so.

Obviously.

----------

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

The sound of footsteps pacing back and forth thundered throughout the silent room.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

No one said anything. No one could say anything given the disastrous failure of the night. It hadn’t mattered if they were physically present at the site of offense or that they were scattered across town in one of many locations vital to the boss’s business: Someone hit them and the boss was itching to hit back.

Tap, tap, tap, tap.

“Alright” A voice spoke up, smooth yet cold.

The room was already quiet but now the air filled with a frighten tension.

The boss whirled around from the massive window he’d been staring out of, eyes narrowing on the defeated group of guards who averted their gaze from his.

The few still conscious were in varying states of dishevel and injured: Broke bones, nasty bruises, clothing ruffled and torn in places. Not a single one had gone unscratched from the assault on the club earlier that night.

Jackdaw was not pleased.

No one in the room knew much about their boss despite devoting their lives to his cause: He was in his mid 30’s, his nose uneven after being broken in a fight though no one could agree what he had been fighting. Long wavy raven black hair ran down his shoulders while his dark brown eyes glanced about, icy and piercing.

“I’m a little confused.” Jackdaw said with a menacing drawl as he approached the closest guard “Mind answering a few for me?”

The guard nodded shakily.

Jackdaw smiled, patting the guard’s cheek in a mocking manner “Good, good. Now let me paint the picture: My club is currently a smoky, charred corpse of its former self. Yes?”

The guard gave another timid nod.

Jackdaw puckered his lips thoughtfully “Okay, okay. How many guards on duty?”

“8.” The guard murmured fearfully.

“Okay. How many standing?”

The guard shot a nervous glance to the other three. They found the floor more interesting.

“F-four.”

Crack!

The guard’s limp body tumbled backwards and laid still on the ground.

Jackdaw flexed his fingers “Wrong! I count three. You!”

The next in line flinched but stared their boss in the face “Sir?”

“Since that one.” Jackdaw lazily motioned to the unconscious man “is sleeping on the job, you tell me what happened.”

“O-okay.” The next in line mumbled “Well the night started same as any other….”

----------

The Gray Waves nightclub brought in a decent crowd for a weekday: Dozen or so people lost in the dim shadows with only a disorienting array of ever changing lights for company. Drinks served and the booming, thundering sounds of music set the chaotic mood clubs thrived on.

Nice peaceful night.

Floyd, the current storyteller, had been watching from the second floor landing when he noticed the gathering of guards below. The eight guards on duty were often out and about performing their different duties ranging from gate keeping the door to making sure nothing disturbed the vibe of the club. The fact five of his coworkers were huddled together should’ve been the first red flag.

The group talked in hushed tones despite the deafening bass and techno music the DJ’s speakers blared out. Once or twice, someone glanced to the far end of the club. Floyd looked and found the source of meeting.

Someone in their forties was loudly drinking at the counter tucked in the shadowy part of the club: It was impossible to tell who they were from this distance but they clearly were enjoying themselves: Head tiled back with messy, wavy salt and pepper hair. They gestured to the bartender (A wonderful woman named Carolyn who unfortunately had school debt to pay off and mob work was the best paying.) excitedly as their drink spilled onto the floor. They wore a large, tattered dark green trench coat that had seen better decades with faded worn out blue jeans. Their black boots were caked with grime and dirt that dirtied the floor. The only thing remotely new was their black t-shirt with some words in white font.

Floyd understood what the problem was: Clubs thrived on their popularity and image. People wanted to feel like they were special, all access stars to the hottest place in the city. With such a reputation came a mighty need to uphold said rep. No offense to whoever was having fun over there but with that look, it might send the wrong message and no amount of cash would ever change that.

Evidently a plan was reached as the meeting broke up. Two guards remained behind, returning to watching the room as the pit boss made his way over to the hapless customer, flanked with back up.

It was oddly satisfying watching the pit boss work: He gracefully slid in and out of crowds, slipping through the lost dancers like a snake treading through water. He motioned to the others to wait then made his way to the person.

The person was singing something at the top of his lungs. Drink, clink or something like that. Maybe it was the song playing at the time but Floyd hadn’t been paying attention to that at the time.

Trench Coat slipped Carolyn something and she laid a bottle of alcohol on the counter beside them: Vermouth? Absente? Vodka? One of those probably.

She nodded gratefully and disappeared into the back.

Floyd frowned at the red flag number two he had just seen: Carolyn was a pretty woman and was told more or less to just do as the customer asked be it answering questions or a reasonable request that wasn’t too out of the ordinary. Of course this was with the strict rule of not to leave the counter unattended.

At the time Floyd thought it was weird, not yet realizing what was about to unfold.

The person poured the bottle directly into their mouth, shaking their body to the catchy beat poorly. Whoever they were could not dance to save their life.

The pit boss, Malcolm, closed the distance between himself and his prey. He snuck closer and closer, the unaware customer too lost in their antics to noticed. Malcolm reached out for their shoulder and…

The thud was loud enough to cut through the noisy club and got the attention of everyone present.

Before Malcolm could even tighten his grip, the person struck: They whirled around, grabbing Malcolm’s head and smashing it into the counter. As Malcolm sunk to the floor, limp and unmoving, the person turned to shoot a smug grin towards the guards.

“I’m on the floor, floor! I love to dance!” They sang, one hand outstretched to the sky, the other gripping the bottle upside and draining its contents onto the counter.

The back up drew their weapons, standard issue nightsticks, and made their way forward.

“So give me more, more, till I can’t stand.”

They emptied the bottle, their green eyes never leaving the approaching guards.

“Get on the floor, floor, like it’s your last chance.”

They chucked the empty bottle into the wall of drinks, broken glass and different alcoholic drinks spilling onto the floor and mixing together.

“If you want more, more, then here I am!”

They pulled a match from within their coat pocket and lit it with the backside of their boot. Without looking, they threw the match over their shoulder and smiled as a raging flame broke out behind them.

The club goers were slow to realize what was going on but the remaining guards, Floyd included, mobilized to action.

Before anyone could react, however, an unexpected shrill shrieked throughout the building: The fire alarm designed to be the most annoying and loudest thing you’ve ever heard.

Even though it had been a slow night and only a dozen or so people were here, the customers panicked with a surge of three times that number.

Screams and yells filled the air as bodies shuffled about in a mad dash. The guards were thrown about, tossed this way and that while the lights, alarm and music worked together to confuse everyone.

Luckily the club was deserted within moments, leaving only security and the troublemaker.

The person hadn’t moved an inch despite the increasingly raging blaze behind them.

The back up pair approached carefully, unsure what this person was capable of.

All of them really had no idea.

The person raised their hand to the sky, belting with full force “LET’S DO THIS ONE MORE TIME!”

Without warning, silence and darkness filled the club: The fire alarm and music died suddenly. The lights followed a moment later but the raging flames, growing hungrily, remained. Floyd’s eyes watered with a sharp pain, the stuffy air and sudden shift in lighting too much for him

Floyd paused his story, uneasy growing at the sight of Jackdaw’s tightened jaw. The poor lad could actually see the veins pulsing with barely contained rage on his boss’s forehead.

“And why did the power go out?” Jackdaw asked through clenched teeth “No one was watching the power? Or the fusebox? Not a single person was guarding what I pay them to guard?”

Floyd remained silent, unsure how to answer that. He was just one of the lower rank and file guards: He got told what to do and he did it.

“Well? I’m waiting Floyd my boy! Why did the power go out?”

Floyd felt the beads of sweat run down his neck.

“Umm sir?”

Floyd nearly collapsed as one of Jackdaw’s techies nervously stepped forward, a loaded video on a tablet in hand.

Jackdaw blew a loose strain of hair out of his face and took a moment to slick back his hair. The vain gesture was enough to allow him to regain some level of composure as he snatched the tablet from the techie. With a grunt, he pressed play.

The video was short: It was a camera feed set up to watch over the fusebox to prevent tampering. Two guards were gesturing to the box, idly chatting with somebody in a red jumpsuit with a clipboard in one hand and a toolbox in the other. The back of uniform had the words “Newton Haven City Maintenance” scrawled across it in some rather hard to read font. The guards laughed out loud, jokingly patting the stranger’s shoulder before leaving frame. The city worker opened the fusebox and began tinkering without anyone stopping him.

The tablet crunched nosily as Jackdaw’s grip sent a ripple of cracks across the screen.

He turned to the techie.

“It was a routine check up.” the techie sputtered out “Our guards called it in this afternoon. Said there was an official letter with stamps and signatures and everything!”

“Did you check with me?” Jackdaw snarled “Because I pay the city specifically so they don’t send anyone to the club. Because of my illegal business practices that I perform there.”

Floyd could see the techie’s shoulder slump, whispering quietly “You were in a meeting….”

Jackdaw growled furiously but returned his attention to the nearly broken tablet.

It hadn’t taken more than a few minutes for the mysterious city maintenance worker to finish. They slammed the fusebox closed, doing a little jig before checking the contents of their toolbox and went on their merry little way.

Jackdaw’s blood froze as the figure gave a cheeky wink to the camera, knowing exactly where it was despite the magical wards in place to keep it invisible.

“Savant.”

An eerie emptiness replaced the hostility in the room.

The fight disappeared out of Jackdaw, leaving only an intense sense of dread and paranoia.

All this was lost on Floyd, who saw the troublemaker’s face and couldn’t help but blurt out “That’s them! The one who beat up Malcolm and burned the club down!”

Jackdaw chuckled darkly “Oh. Oh this makes sense. No one wonder you all get your ass kicked six ways to Sunday. Someone sic’d Savant on me. Ya’ll never had a chance against them.”

Floyd shuddered, the memory of how brutal and efficient Savant had been against them: Grown men dragged kicking and screaming into the shadows, the crunchy noises of bones broken, bodies falling down and yells stopped mid-shout. He still remembered Savant standing over him, nightstick in hand, whistling cheerfully as they brought down the weapon and sent him into unconsciousness.

“Alright!” Jackdaw clapped his hands “Lock it down!”

Everyone glanced towards one another, unsure what exactly the boss meant.

“LOCK IT DOWN!” the snarl that escaped Jackdaw’s lips sent goosebumps down everybody’s spine “NOW! I WANT THIS PLACE SEALED UP NICE AND TIGHT!”

“But we’re 14 stories up...”

Techie flinched as Jackdaw whirled around, eyes blazing with unrestrained rage and impatience “You deaf? I said lock down the building or so help me I’m going to use you as a human shield when they start coming for me.”

Techie opened his mouth when an unexpected sound filled the silence: A muffled, cheeky yet tacky melody of a cellphone ringing.

Glances and gazes looked about trying to find the source of the disturbance. Floyd was baffled when he realized it was coming from inside his coat pocket. Nervously, he reached within and slowly pulled out a palm sized flip phone, the kind hadn’t been used in decades.

Jackdaw’s eyes widened with fear and alarm as he snatched the phone from the poor guard with inhuman speed.

“It’s them!” Jackdaw’s voice was manic “IT’S THEM!”

The mobster was torn about what to do next: Answering meant playing right into Savant’s hands and whatever the mercenary had plan. On the other hand, not answering would no doubt annoy them into far worse retaliation.

With a hard shallow, Jackdaw answered with an uncharacteristically shy “Hello?”

He could feel his heart screech to a stop when a bored, almost nonchalant voice replied “S’up.”

Jackdaw threw as much charm and cheer into his voice “Savant, buddy! Pal!”

“Don’t.” the voice sighed tiredly “It’s pathetic when the begging start. You’re a big, bad mob boss. Act like it you dumbass.”

“Fine” Jackdaw let go of any sense of civility “Good old threats: if you so much as show your face around…”

“Ugh too much in the wrong direction” Savant replied, seemingly uninterested in what the mob boss had to said “You people are all the same: False bravado and overcompensating. It’s embarrassing. Just say you’re scared of me and we can move on.”

Despite the severity of the situation, Jackdaw couldn’t help but feel irritated “Oh is that what you want? Get your jollys when powerful people admit they’re afraid of you? You think you can….you can…”

Jackdaw paused, unsure if his ears were working correctly.

“Are you eating?”

“Hmm??” the sound of smacking lips and chewing was the mercenary’s response for a few moments “Oh yeah. Get hungry when working. Normally I’d be all for the theatrics but it’s been a long night what with fucking with your fusebox, burning down your club, planting the phone on a guard. It’s like 3 in the morning dude.”

Jackdaw bit his lip angrily, a single drop of blood running down his chin “It is 3 in the morning and I’m very tired so I’d very much like to conclude our business. How much?”

“To hire me?” more lip smacking “An amount. You could probably afford it.”

Jackdaw let his shoulder’s sag with relief “So it’s agreed? I’ll hire you and we can all be on our merry way.”

“Sure!” Savant said cheerfully.

Bullet dodged.

“You can hire me after I finish this job. By the way did you like the gift I sent you?”

Gift?

Jackdaw was a powerful and feared member of the illicit side of the magical world. He climbed to his position through sheer force of will and power. He left countless of his enemies broken and defeated in his wake.

To see him reduced to a flailing, paranoid mess would be a story no one would believe.

“GIFT?!” Jackdaw screamed, unable to keep the high-pitch whine out of his voice “WHAT GIFT?! SOMEONE FUCKING ANSWER ME!”

The techie was the first to shake off their stupor “Well there was a box that came in today. It was empty and we detected no magic so…”

“Box?!” Jackdaw spat as he wildly searched the room before landing on the seemingly innocent box just sitting on his desk “You brought it the fuck here?”

Everyone backed away.

“I…”

“Wait” Jackdaw cut off the techie’s answer “Maybe they were hoping you’d take it somewhere or get rid of it. No, no this is good. We’re outwitting the fucker.”

“Sir, the box was empty. And you told use you personally wanted to inspect any and all….”

“You hear that asswipe!” Jackdaw grinned ear to ear “My people are the best! We’re ahead of you. Your game is over, you hear me?”

“My man.” Savant’s voice was infuriatingly calm “It’s just a regular old box for a boring ass mobster.”

“Stop lying!” Jackdaw roared angrily, instinctively bringing down his fist on the closet object in the room.

Which of course was the box.

The parcel collapsed under the mobster’s supernatural strength with little effort. As the box was smashed, the two inert glyph drawn in an invisible ink on both ends collided and activated each other.

The room erupted in an array of dazzling, blinding lights.

The light show hadn’t lasted long but no one knew that as they stumbled around, disoriented and lost, the display still burned in their retinas.

Jackdaw howled violently, swiping at the air blindly with long talon-like nails. Any calls for explanations or help were lost under the raging mobster unleashed.

Jackdaw didn’t hear the window break, the sound of glass shattering as it rained upon the floor. He didn’t see the muzzle flash that flared across the street, Savant’s sniping perch. He knew nothing but the sudden searing pain that filled his shoulder without warning.

Everything drained out of him, he slumped to the floor like a doll. He weakly clutched at his shoulder, steam wafting off the wound as the sliver bullet dug itself deep in its new home.

It didn’t matter what kind of werebeast you were: Wolf, bear, rat or even a raven like Jackdaw. All them were deathly weakened by sliver. The mere smell could cause nausea, touch burned worse than third degree burns and any injuries could take weeks, maybe even months to heal.

Jackdaw wheezed, the room spinning in a messy blur.

“Right.” the phone landed by his ear but Savant’s voice sounded far off like it was echoing down a long tunnel “Sorry I got the paper right here.”

Muted sounds of pockets being turned inside out: Scraping of metal on brick, shuffling papers, even rustling fast food wrappers.

“Got it!” Savant beamed “Quinn says stay the fuck off his turf. Mind your lane or the next time he sends me I won’t be aiming for your shoulder.”

“How did you know I was...I was… no one knew...?” Jackdaw murmured incoherently.

“Your heart.” Savant explained “It’ll be your heart. Okay well I gotta go so take these next few months to reflect on any sort of ill advised turf wars, domestic disputes and fighting with your rivals. If you’re still interested in hiring me for revenge or whatever, you call me at my business payphone. Bye little birdy!”

----------

Savant dropped the phone to the floor, crushing it under their boot while rubbing the tension out of their neck. Around them was the standard stakeout gear: high powered and totally illegal sniper rifle, a neatly piled trash heap and a sniping pillow (Sniping’s hard on the stomach and knees.).

They packed away the gun, kicked the trash heap to make it look more like natural rooftop garbage and went downstairs.

Savant yawned tiredly, not at all concerned with the guards that were pouring out of Jackdaw’s hidey hole. They glanced around, trying to get their bearings when they noticed a hot dog vendor across the street.

“I really shouldn’t” they pursed their lips “Especially after paying for someone to set up the pyrotechnics spells. But I am hungry. Stomach wins!”

Savant made their way over, patting their stomach lovingly “One hotdog please. Everything on it.”

“You got it!” The vendor nodded before eyeing the commotion “What’s with that?”

“I don’t talk business.”

“O-kay. Umm here’s your hotdog. That’ll be two bucks.

Savant reached into their pocket and shoved a hundred dollars into the waiting vendor’s hand. Without a second look, Savant gratefully took the hotdog and walked away.

“Hey buddy! BUDDY! You gave me way too much!”

“You too!” Savant replied, took caught up in the rapture that was their meal.

This was a really fucking good hotdog.

#my work #Original Work #original story #my stuff

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rjhpandapaws · 3 years

Note

Maybe some cottage/farm living between mutually nonverbal Nines and Gavin? (Meaning they're both nonverbal). Congrats on 160 followers! You totally deserve it! ^^

//Ooh! I love this! Also thank you <33 //Best read when listening to Marbles by the Amazing Devil

Life was easy like this, they lived quietly in a literal sense as much as the metaphorical; and looking back after all these years it was still a warm feeling for Gavin. It hadn’t always been that way of course. What they had was a combination of patience from Richard, and Gavin being too stubborn for his own good a majority of the time, paired of course with the years that had passed them by. When Gavin had moved to Lovelock he hadn’t been used to quiet, Detroit was always alive and loud. There was always something happening. Gavin resembled that well, he was raucous and persistent. Lovelock was the opposite, there was a McDonalds, Dairy Queen, Library, public school with a high school to match, a public pool, and a single stoplight. It was quiet, and so was his neighbor Richard. If you could consider someone who lived six miles away from you as your neighbor anyway. They didn’t get along at first. Which again, was mostly on Gavin. Richard was friendly and didn’t seem to want anything in return, which in Detroit meant trouble. So reasonably, in his own opinion, Gavin pushed back. He was harsher than was probably needed, and at times when so far as to actively ignore Richard’s advice. Which turned out was not a good idea when you knew fuck all about running a farm.

Richard didn’t talk to him. It was infuriating for a reason that Gavin couldn’t place. All this effort to be neighborly, but never a word, and Gavin talked a lot. There were a lot of things to talk about, Lovelock was wildly different from Detroit. Largely because usually the biggest thing going on at all was football season in the fall and going to church on Sundays. Nothing ever happened here and it was driving Gavin up a wall. Every time he had said this to Richard he would smile and roll his eyes. There were things of course that he liked about Lovelock, like how he could see the stars at night, that people minded their own business, and in the morning he was almost guaranteed a hand written note from Richard explaining how to fix something Gavin had complained about, or talking about something that had reminded him of Gavin. While Richard’s lack of conversation skills annoyed Gavin to no end, his constant presence was nice. Knowing that if he ever needed anything, there was someone down the road that could help him. He never would have thought that the tables would turn. That there would be a time when Richard needed him. The thing about quiet neighbors was there was no indicator of something being wrong, not that Gavin would have been able to tell from six miles away anyhow. It took three days for him to notice something was up, well wasn’t actually; for three days the red flag on his mailbox had been down. Richard hadn’t sent him anything in three days. The letters had been the one near constant thing since Gavin had moved to this town in the middle of who fucking knew where. So on day three he got in his car and made his way to Richard’s house to investigate.

His neighbor wasn’t outside, which was unusual. Richard was always working on something, it was the one thing that ever made noise. So like an absolute creep Gavin checked the windows of the farm house. It was empty for the most part until he got to the bedroom, there was a person shaped lump under the blankets. Under a lot of blankets, which was concerning considering as it was hot as all fuck out. He had his answer, Richard was sick, he could leave. Instead he walked back around to the front of the house. It was cliché, but while he was looking for the spare key he did look under the welcome mat. It wasn’t there, Richard had cleverly hidden it in a realistic looking beehive. Which Gavin only learned was the home of the key as well as fake by accidentally knocking it over. While he was waiting to get viscously mauled by bees he realized that the hive had jingled on its way down, beehives didn’t do that. So like the genius he was known to be, he picked up the hive and shook it just to be safe. It was plastic and there was definitely something in it. He reached inside and came away with a key. He set the beehive back where he had knocked it over from and made his way inside. The house was still and quiet in a way that he had come to associate with Richard. His Australian Shepard Micky left the room to investigate and her tail started wagging at the sight of Gavin. Normally she would have been outside running around, so Gavin let her outside before he continued on his way to Richard.

He made his way back to the room Micky had come out of assuming that if she had been in there than Richard probably was as well. Sure enough, his guess lead him to the person shaped lump on the bed. He peeked in from the doorway trying to gage if Richard was awake or asleep. He didn’t want to intrude if Richard was asleep, that was where he drew the line. Which was probably a few steps too far considering as he had more or less just broken into Richard’s house, well he used the spare key but still, it wasn’t exactly like he had permission to be there. “Richard?” He called into the room because apparently he felt like being all kinds of asshole today, “Are you okay?” He got either a groan or a hum in response and the lump on the bed moved. It took a long moment before blue eyes stared at him from the cocoon of blankets. He was awake at the very least so Gavin stepped into the room. “I haven’t heard from you in a while and I was getting worried.” He explained. Blue eyes narrowed and the cocoon shuffled around a bit more until Richards hands were visible and he started signing, ‘Only Sick. You Not Have Worry.’ “Do you need help around here? While you recover?” He pressed. Richard paused for a moment before he replied, ‘If It Not Trouble.’ “I wouldn’t be here if it was.” He said with a smile.

After that week things between them were different. With the knowledge that Gavin at the very least understood Sign Language Richard became more talkative. They became friends and when he told Tina she and Chris put money down on how long it would last. She didn’t believe Richard would keep him around for long, he was loud and different after all. The thing was he wasn’t as loud anymore, he was signing a lot more now. It allowed for easier conversations with Richard which was nice. Three years went by until Gavin gathered enough courage to be honest with himself, and another six months for him to be honest with Richard. They became an item after that, which wasn’t as much of an issue as he thought it would be in such a small town. It was two years before Gavin sold his property and moved in with Richard. Time rolled by after that, and somewhere in the years Gavin stopped talking all together. There was no need for it when everything that needed to be expressed could be said in a look or a gesture. It was easy, natural by now. Even when enough time had rolled by that the deep brown of Richard’s hair that Gavin had loved had gone white and neither of them could do the hard work they once had, Gavin found he loved Richard just as much still. Even now, when neither of them had much of a mind left and it was like meeting him all over again everyday. With everything still unspoken, by the end of the day they were in love all over again.

@rk-frog

(Prompt from this list)

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yourfaceislikeabluemoon · 4 years

Text

You’re Gonna Be the Death of Me, I Swear

Words: 9.7k

Warning: A decent amount of language throughout with the majority in the last scene, kissing (starts out fairly innocent but gets raunchier as the fic progresses), teacher/student roleplay if you squint, Changbin calls Hyunjin pup/puppy, grinding but barely, brief mentions of jacking off, just a hint of angst, crying and apologies, marking/love bites, praise (they both clearly have praise kinks but it’s never explicitly mentioned), brief nipple play/licking/biting, blowjob, frottage (Changbin jerks them off at the same time), lots of dirty talk, Hyunjin has a filthy mouth but is also a whiny baby, cum play/eating, spanking, ass eating, fingering, very brief degradation, barebacking (practice safe sex y’all), cumming inside, and brief innuendos.

A/N: hey, I’m back with another member x member fic! this one is a lot dirtier than the last one oops 🤭 Changjin has been living in my mind rent free this entire comeback so I just had to write something and ‘Kissing Practice’ is one of my favorite tropes and so this filth was born! so yeah, my brain has actually been coming up with ideas lately, which is basically a miracle considering the wasteland it was for 6+ months straight. as always, I hope you enjoy this and please let me know what you think! it really motivates me to write more and I appreciate every single one of you that takes time out of their day to read what I write, thank you so so much! oki enjoy hehe ❤

“Forget it. It’s stupid, I know. Forget I even asked.”

“No, wait!” Changbin called after Hyunjin, who had stood up from his spot on the couch to head off to his room. Hyunjin sighed tiredly and turned back around to face his older groupmate. “Why me?”

Eyebrows knit together, Hyunjin returned to his space next to Changbin. “Why not you?”

Bin let out a broken noise, trying to formulate his words properly, “No, I mean why not Chan or Minho? Why was I the hyung you came to?” When Hyunjin’s expression morphed into that of an abandoned puppy, Changbin held up his hands, “Not that I don’t want to help you! You know I’ll always help you when you ask-- and, and I’m not trying to get out of it or anything. Just, why me? Wouldn’t Chan be better at this sort of thing? I don’t know, seniority or something.”

Hyunjin chuckled at Bin’s babbling, shaking his head as he looked down at his own lap. “First of all, I’m scared of Minho.” Changbin couldn’t hold back his laughter and Hyunjin shrugged but laughed along with him. “Second, everyone but Felix knows Chan’s been pining after Felix for years and I don’t want to feel like a homewrecker even though feelings aren’t attached, you know?”

“Good point. Chan needs to grow a pair, honestly. Like what’s the worst that could happen? Felix giggles at him?” Bin let a rush of air out of his nose at the image that popped into his head before turning back to a grinning Hyunjin who was nodding in agreement.

“Yeah,” the younger continued, “So as you can see, that leaves me with one hyung. You.”

Changbin gave him an unamused look, “So I’m a last resort.”

Hyunjin shook his head again, a faint blush appearing on his cheeks. “No, you’re really not. You’re the one that likes my lips so much. I figured you’d be the one who wouldn’t feel completely tortured if you went along with my proposal. Maybe you wouldn’t mind it. I was probably wrong in assuming that. I’m sorry.”

“You aren’t wrong,” Bin denied adamantly. Realizing how eager he sounded, he quickly calmed himself down and cleared his throat. “Everyone thinks you have nice lips, not just me.”

Leaning a bit closer, Hyunjin lowered his voice, “I think you like them more than the others do, though.”

Changbin gulped but tried to look casual, “Maybe I do.”

“Then, what do you say?” Hyunjin tilted his head and stared at the elder with interest, wide-eyed and waiting.

Bin couldn’t make eye contact. He stared at an empty soda can sitting on the coffee table as thoughts whirled around in his head like a tornado. Should he say ‘yes’? Would he be risking everything he had worked so hard to conceal? Was this bound to end in disaster if he went along with it?

He bit the bullet.

“OK.”

The thing is, Hyunjin’s ‘proposal’ wasn’t exactly expected, to say the least. Essentially, Hyunjin had sought out Changbin in order to ask him to be the one to teach the younger how to kiss. He claimed that he had no experience and didn’t know how; he didn’t want to be a total fuck up when the time came around where he needed this particular skill. So, he decided to ask one of his hyungs for help, to teach him, and to help him practice.

Changbin was, quite honestly, flabbergasted. The prettiest human being he had ever had the privilege of observing was telling him that they had no experience and was asking him for lessons in the form of basically making out. There was a teeny tiny red flag that shot up in the back of Changbin’s mind as he processed Hyunjin’s ‘proposal’, but apparently it wasn’t enough of a deterrent to keep his emotions from controlling his decision-making because he agreed to it without much persuasion. Changbin was determined that, in the end, Hyunjin would not be a total fuck up when it came to kissing, even if that meant he had to put himself through hell trying to keep his feelings out of the equation.

Hyunjin admittedly felt a little guilty when he plopped down on Changbin’s bed a couple days later and asked, “So, is it time for my first lesson yet?”

He had been wanting to kiss Changbin pretty much since the moment they met. Lying about not having experience and needing help was the strategy he had finally brainstormed to get his way. He had the smallest hint of feeling like he would regret this idea but he blamed Changbin and his doll lips for ultimately giving into temptation.

The older swiveled around in his desk chair to face Hyunjin. “I suppose. But are you sure you want me to be your first kiss?”

Hyunjin coughed and tripped over his own words, “It-it’s just p-practice! It doesn’t really c-count as the-the-as the real thing!”

Changbin gently smiled at him but Hyunjin couldn’t tell if the flash in his eyes was of pain or pity. He decided to ignore it since neither would make him feel any better. Changbin was about to push himself out of his chair but Hyunjin stopped him, “Um, I’ll-I’ll come over there.”

The sudden raise of his eyebrows gave away the fact that Changbin was somewhat startled by Hyunjin’s statement but he nodded curtly as permission, “Whatever you’re comfortable with.” He relaxed back into his chair as Hyunjin shyly made his way over. The younger stopped about a foot away from Changbin’s knees and gulped, genuinely nervous as hell.

“So, should I just…” Hyunjin didn’t know if he was supposed to wait for instruction or if he was meant to just dive in. Changbin raised a brow, challenging this time, and waited to see if Hyunjin really would make the first move. Sure enough, he stepped slightly closer, let out a quick breath, and leaned forward, placing a hand on each armrest before quickly pecking Changbin’s lips. “There. How was that?”

Changbin’s brain took a moment to process the question, eventually coming to the conclusion that teasing would prompt the most favorable outcome a.k.a. Hyunjin pouting in frustration. “How was what?”

Bingo. Hyunjin huffed angrily, brows knitted together and lips pushed out in the anticipated pout. He balled his fists at his sides and slowly unclenched them. Leaning back in, he placed a slightly longer peck on Changbin’s lips but retreated just as fast as the first time. He gestured sharply, “That.”

“That?” Changbin asked, pointing at his own lips. Hyunjin inclined his head and his expression could only read ‘duh’. “That wasn’t a kiss.”

A fire lit behind Hyunjin’s eyes and he snarled, “Then what, Seonsaengnim, is?”

Changbin smirked daringly and patted his thigh, “Take a seat, haksaeng.”

Hyunjin matched the older’s smirk and, licking his lips seductively, he eased himself into Changbin’s lap, one thick thigh on either side. It was a little awkward in the desk chair but something about squeezing in so close together made it all the more thrilling. Changbin’s hands immediately found the younger’s hips, earning a shiver when he gripped at them roughly.

The elder was completely calm, steely gaze wandering Hyunjin’s features while Hyunjin felt just as inexperienced as he was pretending to be, panting already. Bin slid his hand up Hyunjin’s side to rest his pointer finger under his chin. The pad of his thumb pressed into the younger’s plush lower lip as he gently guided him forward. Hyunjin obediently let himself be pulled closer, eyes slipping closed at the delicate touch.

When Changbin slotted their lips together, he felt Hyunjin instantly melt into him and he resisted the urge to grin at his silent victory. He pulled back with a soft smacking noise before pressing his lips to Hyunjin’s again. After a few careful, sweet kisses to start off, the older drew back and looked at the boy in his lap who was chasing his lips with his eyes still closed. Changbin let out a quiet chuckle, “Eager puppy.”

Hyunjin whined and pouted again, eyes finally opening to look at Changbin. “Feels nice,” he mumbled under his breath as he glanced off to the side, somewhat embarrassed to make too much eye contact.

Bin hummed, “That’s nothing. Wanted to start you off easy though. Didn’t want to rush you at the very start.” He caressed the side of his face, thumb running over the soft skin of Hyunjin’s cheekbone before something in his brain alerted him that he was letting his feelings bleed in and he jerked his hand back suddenly.

Hyunjin tilted his head, expression rather confused, but Changbin covered up the awkwardness by forcing a smile. “Your turn.” The younger looked even more confused and Bin chuckled, “It’s pop quiz time. Show me what you’ve learned so far.”

“Already?” Hyunjin asked, dumbfounded. A light blush began to tint his cheeks. “Kinda lost focus,” he admitted. “I don’t really remember what to do.”

Bin smiled genuinely, “Just do your best, pup.”

Hyunjin’s blush deepened at the nickname and he took a deep breath before hesitantly reaching up to rest his fingertips against Changbin’s jawline and leaned in. He fit their lips together just like Bin had done earlier, dragging away and pressing in again and again.

When he withdrew, Changbin was a little flushed and Hyunjin felt a jolt of happiness rush through him because that was from him. He grinned, “How was that?”

Bin scoffed jokingly, “‘Don’t really remember’, my ass!”

The younger blushed again and his gaze fell to his hands in his lap where he was picking at loose skin around his fingernail.

“It was much better, Jinnie. You did well.” Hyunjin glanced up at Changbin’s praise and smiled gratefully. “But I think that’s enough learning for today.”

Hyujin shook his head adamantly and pouted again, “Just one more lesson. Please, Binnie hyung?”

Changbin’s laugh was bright and teasing, “You like kissing that much already?”

The younger bit at his lip and glanced away before looking back at Bin and nodded shyly. He really, really, really liked it, especially if it was with Changbin; he wasn’t going to admit that out loud.

Changbin sighed, feigning reluctance, but he couldn’t help but grin, “Alright. You know I can’t say no to those puppy dog eyes of yours.”

Hyunjin lit up and bounced slightly in Bin’s lap, wrapping his arms around his neck as he settled comfortably. Changbin’s hands were back on his hips and he nodded at the younger, “C’mere.”

Giggling, Hyunjin leaned in once again and voluntarily initiated the kiss, letting Bin take the lead after he had left a few sweet pecks on his lips. Changbin fluidly moved their lips together and, without noticing in order to stop himself, Hyunjin ‘caught on’ rather quickly. He lost himself in Changbin’s pretty doll lips, his warmth, the scent of his skin, in Changbin. Hyunjin’s fingers found the hair at Bin’s nape and he tangled them in the soft strands while the older’s arms wound around his waist, drawing him in even closer.

Changbin didn’t let the kiss get too dirty or passionate but he knew it felt right, Hyunjin in his lap holding onto him for dear life, tugging at his hair, squeezing in as close as possible. The older pulled away begrudgingly and Hyunjin chased his lips again, causing Bin to chuckle at him despite his own labored breathing. “That’s enough, pup.” Hyunjin pouted once more and slouched in disappointment. “You’re a fast learner, aren’t you, Jinnie?”

The younger hummed appreciatively, “I’m learning from the best.”

Bin rolled his eyes and let out a huff of air in his amusement. “How do you know I’m the best, Mr. I Have No Experience?”

“Shh,” Hyunjin hushed him with a long, slender finger faintly resting against Changbin’s rose tinted lips. “I just know.” A glint of mischief flashed in his eyes and he bit at his bottom lip before giggling again. He tried as gracefully as he could to stand up but his legs were admittedly a little wobbly. Hyunjin just laughed at himself and shrugged, “Well, I’ll let you get back to whatever you were doing before I bothered you.”

Changbin furrowed his brow. “You didn’t bother me, Hyunjin. I’m, uhh,” he cleared his throat, “I’m happy to help.”

Hyunjin smiled warmly and leaned down to press another kiss to his hyung’s lips. “Thank you, Binnie hyung,” he whispered against them before pulling away and leaving Changbin’s bedroom, softly shutting the door behind himself.

Bin sat staring after him for who knows how many minutes, lost in thought and missing the warmth of Hyunjin in his lap. He sighed deeply. He simply wanted what he just couldn’t have and he had to convince himself to bury those feelings. He was going to regret this, he could feel it in his bones.

The younger leaned his back against the door and stared off into space wondering why he even started this whole thing, why he didn’t just tell Changbin the truth and admit his feelings from the start. Guilt swam in his stomach like churning waves and he felt tears prick at his eyes. Hyunjin gulped and blinked them away, taking a deep breath before heading off to distract himself somehow.

“Is this ok?” Hyunjin asked tentatively as he eased down onto Changbin’s lap.

Bin chuckled, “This seems to be your favorite spot lately.” When the younger blushed and shied away, Changbin smiled warmly and rested his hands on Hyunjin’s hips, “As long as you're comfortable, I’m fine.”

Biting his lip, Hyunjin glanced at the couch cushion next to them and cleared his throat. “So what’s lesson three, or whatever number we’re on?”

The elder smirked, “I know you’ve been keeping track, pup. You can’t fool me.” Changbin swore he saw Hyunjin’s eye twitch and a flash of agony wash over his face and leave as quickly as it came, but he chose to ignore it and ghosted his hands up and down the sides of the boy in his lap. “Why don’t I just show you, hmm?”

“Should I expect a pop quiz after?” Hyunjin looked up through his lashes, teasing smile curving his pretty, plush lips.

Changbin scoffed jokingly, “It wouldn’t be a pop quiz if I warned you it was happening, Jinnie.”

The younger squinted suspiciously and shrugged his shoulders. “I thought I’d be able to read you. But I guess I’ll just have to pay really close attention and impress you if you do decide to test me.”

Nervousness peeked through Changbin’s calm facade and he gulped apprehensively before composing himself and grunting a noise of acknowledgement. He reached up to grab the back of Hyunjin’s neck and tugged him forward, slotting their lips together forcefully. Hyunjin’s breath hitched and the desire to ruin him clouded Changbin’s mind as he moved his lips against Hyunjin’s, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth before nipping at it aggressively. The younger let out a surprised but pleased sigh and Changbin felt him shiver in his hold.

He kissed back just as sharply, pulling back slightly with Changbin’s lower lip trapped in his teeth, tugging at the flesh before letting it bounce back. He opened his eyes to admire Bin’s features and when the olders eyes fluttered open, Hyunjin smirked at how dark and lustful his gaze had become. Without warning, Hyunjin dove back in and Changbin found himself panting into the others mouth, caught off guard and losing himself in the kiss.

Hyunjin kissed eagerly and feverishly, mouth moving forcibly against Changbin’s but somehow it wasn’t too much. In fact, Bin was craving more and he had to force himself not to take more than was acceptable at the time. He reluctantly withdrew, head falling back against the couch as he tried to catch his breath, eyes still closed.

“Fuck,” Changbin laughed airily, “I don’t think I have to test you after that.”

“Yeah?”

Bin let out another huff of air, “Yeah. It was almost too good.”

Hyunjin sucked his lips into his mouth and bit down, frowning skittishly and glad Changbin still had his eyes shut. “Sorry.”

“No!” Bin’s head shot up and he looked at the younger, perplexed. “Why are you apologizing, Jinnie?” He shook his head and chuckled gently, “I honestly didn’t want to stop.”

Lips shaped like a perfect ‘O’, Hyunjin gazed back at him, expression a little surprised as his cheeks reddened, “Oh.”

Changbin smiled at him fondly but embarrassment at his own admission started to creep up and he looked away shyly. “Don’t look at me like that! I can’t help it, I enjoyed it!”

Hyunjin giggled and leaned forward to whisper in Bin’s ear, “I liked it, too. Really, really liked it.” When he sat back, Changbin’s eyes had darkened again, pupils blown and faintly swollen lips parted.

“In that case,” the younger fidgeted in his lap as he took a deep, calming breath before continuing. “Move on to the next lesson?”

Eyes widening minutely, Hyunjin nodded slowly, glancing down at Changbin’s lips before flicking back up to hold his steady gaze. “Please,” he pleaded almost soundlessly.

“I think I’m gonna regret teaching you how to use tongue because you’ll pick it up really fast and you’re gonna be the death of me, I swear,” Changbin mumbled unintelligibly under his breath. Hyunjin managed to make out the last part of his sentence.

You’re gonna be the death of me, I swear.

Those words swam around in his foggy head as he stared into Changbin’s eyes, almost in a daze and Changbin thought he looked far too fucked out from just a kiss but he wasn’t complaining about the beauty sitting in his lap. The older lured Hyunjin again easily, moulding their lips together the second he was close enough. Hyunjin felt like he was floating and he was suddenly brought back to earth by a burning in the pit of his stomach when Changbin slid his tongue over his bottom lip. He gasped against the older’s mouth, granting him access and tightening his grip around his neck, chests pressed against each other.

Changbin cautiously licked around the outline of Hyunjin’s open mouth, urging a stunned moan to escape from the younger boy. Smiling into the kiss, Bin sucked at his lower lip before moving their lips together again. Hyunjin hesitantly poked his tongue out and Changbin took the opportunity to suck on it, earning a whimper as Hyunjin fisted the front of the elders shirt. Changbin kissed him deeply and, just as he expected, the younger caught on quickly, tongues gracefully dancing together amidst sloppy, open-mouthed kisses.

Pulling away for desperately needed oxygen, they rested their foreheads together as Changbin panted through a smile and Hyunjin stared at him, a hazy look in his eyes. Seconds later, Hyunjin pressed his lips to his hyung’s with new fervor, hands still tightly clutching at the material of Changbin’s shirt. He moaned wantonly when the elder squeezed at his waist.

Hyunjin felt the need to prove what he had learned despite not being asked this time around. He gave up trying to act like all this was new to him and just gave into kissing Changbin. Using his tongue like a hook, Hyunjin dragged Bin’s upper lip into his mouth and nipped at the flesh. The older groaned deeply and his hips canted upwards unintentionally. Pleased with himself, Hyunjin took to exploring Changbin’s mouth, earning moans and whimpers alike. When he finally pulled back, Changbin was the one dazed; kiss-bitten, swollen lips a deep, cherry red and eyes black and lecherous.

“Fuck,” he breathed, throwing his head back again. “Fuck! Why are you such a fast learner?”

The younger smirked, a sudden urge to kiss down Changbin’s exposed throat flashed in his mind but he quickly rid his brain of the thought, sure that that would be too far. At least for the moment.

Changbin laughed at the ceiling. It was almost lethargic. “I think the student has surpassed the teacher, fucking hell!”

Hyunjin couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled up in his chest and he covered his mouth, eyes forming crescent moons above his hand.

“You can’t just look all cute after you did...that,” Bin mumbled when he glanced at the laughing boy in his lap. Suddenly reminded of the whole ‘canting of his hips’ thing and the very evident bulge in his pants underneath Hyunjin’s ass, Changbin flushed, mortified. Hyunjin took that exact moment to squirm in the olders lap and Bin groaned sheepishly. “That’s probably completely unwarranted since we were just kissing but uhh...fuck it! It’s your fault for being too good at kissing so thanks for that!”

Joy mixed with pride bloomed in Hyunjin and he bit his lip, giggling even more, before leaning in to whisper in Changbin’s ear once more. “It was my pleasure,” he taunted, taking Bin’s earring between his teeth and tugged at it gently; the older shivered under him. Then he was out of Changbin’s lap in a flash. As he made his way out of the living room, he called over his shoulder, “I’ll leave you to take care of that.”

“You little shit!” Changbin shouted after him, prompting Hyunjin to wiggle his fingers in a wave before rounding a corner. Bin dropped his head back on the couch, fancying a good old, frustrated scream, but he stayed quiet. He finally got off the couch and headed off to take care of his problem.

And if he imagined Hyunjin taking him apart bit by bit while he simultaneously took Hyunjin apart when he wrapped his hand around his aching, positively dripping cock, that was no one’s business.

He did.

He also chanted Hyunjin’s name in a whisper as he spurted white all over himself and his hand.

But again, no one’s business.

And if Hyunjin got off to the sounds his hyung was making in the other room while he imagined how good Changbin would look covered in his cum, just to reiterate, that was no one’s business.

He did.

He was also overcome with an overwhelming wave of guilt moments after he came to the thought of Changbin.

No one’s business.

It became a normal thing, secret kisses and immediate guilt and burying of feelings. Hyunjin was sick to his stomach quite often, to the point that Chan got concerned with how often he was saying he was sick and going to lay down. Changbin worried that it was his fault. Maybe the younger was sick of him. Maybe he hated kissing Bin and just kept going along with it so as not to make him feel bad. If only he hadn’t said yes, if only they didn’t keep this up, if only, if, if. Changbin worried himself sick but he didn’t let Chan notice because Chan definitely didn’t need anything else to worry about.

“I’m going to go check on him,” Changbin volunteered a few minutes after Hyunjin mentioned he was feeling off and went to lay down for the nth time that week. Chan gave him an appreciative look and nodded approvingly.

Bin headed for the kitchen to make some ginger tea to soothe Hyunjin’s upset stomach. Once it was brewed, he took the steaming mug and knocked lightly on Hyunjin’s bedroom door before quietly opening it and peeking his head in. “Jinnie, it’s me. I brought you some ginger tea. It might help your stomach.”

Hyunjin grunted and laid still, facing the wall as Changbin padded in and set the mug down on the bedside table. The older hesitated before sitting on the bed in the curve Hyunjin’s legs formed and rested a gentle hand on his arm. “Jinnie,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

Changbin heard a sniffle and his heart immediately clenched in pain at the thought of Hyunjin crying. “Oh, Jinnie, baby. Don’t cry,” he pleaded selfishly, knowing just how much it hurt to see him cry.

Hyunjin let out a sob. “Why did you say you’re sorry? What for? I’m the one that’s sorry. I’m so sorry,” he babbled, voice cracking every other word. “I’m so sorry, hyung.”

“Jinnie,” Bin hesitated, on the brink of tears himself and he was sure they would spill when he saw the younger’s face but he asked anyway. “Can you look at me, please?” Hyunjin hiccuped and turned to face the older, unable to look him in the eye. “What are you apologizing for, baby? You have nothing to be sorry for!”

Throwing his hands up in the air, Hyunjin scoffed exasperatedly. “You couldn’t be more wrong, hyung!” He let his hands fall back to his sides and laughed sardonically through his tears.

Changbin couldn’t help the hurt expression that morphed his features. “I can’t know unless you tell me,” he tried, reaching for the younger’s hand to squeeze reassuringly. “You can tell me anything, Jinnie.” He could practically see the gears turning in Hyunjin’s head as he debated on whether or not to tell his hyung the truth. “I’m not sure if you think this or not, but I’m not mad at you. And I won’t be, no matter what you tell me. I just want to know what’s wrong because I’m worried sick about you and I want to fix whatever’s wrong if I can.”

Hyunjin’s bottom lip trembled as fresh tears spilled over his cheeks. He shot up and wrapped his arms around Changbin, weeping into his shoulder as the older took him into his arms and soothed a hand up and down his back. “Jinnie,” he whispered, burying his face in Hyunjin’s neck. But that’s all he said. He waited patiently for the younger to speak his mind.

“I lied to you,” Hyunjin mumbled into his t-shirt. “I lied about,” his body shook with the deep breath he took, “I lied about not having experience.” Hyunjin pulled away and sat hunched over, staring into his own lap and fiddled with a loose string on his pant leg. “I made it all up. All of it. The whole kissing practice thing was just an excuse. And I kept the lie going and I feel awful about it. I feel so sick over it because I never intended to hurt you or force you into it or anything like that. I feel sick over it because I’ve had feelings for you this whole time and I’ve been ignoring them so much when I’m with you that when I’m not with you, they all come crashing down on me and I feel like I’m going to throw up because I’m so overwhelmed with guilt. I can’t lie to you anymore, hyung. I never wanted to in the first place. But my stupid brain couldn’t figure out another way to make you see that I’m in love with you. So instead, I just hurt the both of us. Like an idiot. And I know I hurt you because you wouldn’t have apologized if I didn’t. You’re too sweet, saying you’re sorry for something that isn’t even remotely your fault and you know it. You’re too sweet and I love you for it. So much. And I’m so, so sorry.”

Changbin’s brain couldn’t process the entirety of the sudden influx of information that had just poured out of Hyunjin’s mouth. All he could process was three things, and he told Hyunjin so. “All I heard was ‘I lied’, ‘I’m sorry’, and ‘I’m in love with you’.” Hyunjin looked somewhat fearful, combined with embarrassment and regret. The older shook his head and took Hyunjin’s hands into his own. “And I’m telling you the exact same thing. I lied in the sense that I never told you I had feelings for you when I’ve had them since we first met. I’m sorry that I kept this thing going without telling you everything--I’m the hyung here, that’s on me. And I’m in love with you, too.”

“Y-you don’t hate me?” Hyunjin’s brows were scrunched together and he stared at the older in disbelief.

Reaching up to wipe away the new tears from the younger’s cheeks, Changbin shook his head adamantly. “Baby, no! I could never hate you! I mean, I can’t say I like the fact that you lied to me but I don’t blame you because I lied to you, too. We both didn’t know how to just come right out with our feelings. And besides, it got us this far, didn’t it?”

Hyunjin chuckled sadly, “I guess so. I’m still really sorry, hyung.”

“I know, Jinnie. Me too,” Changbin gently tugged him forward into another hug which Hyunjin gladly melted into. “I love you.”

Another sob slipped past Hyunjin’s lips and he laughed at himself, “Sorry, I didn’t know I would react like that hearing you say that for the first time.”

Changbin hummed and nuzzled into his neck, arms squeezing Hyunjin’s waist. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, hyung.”

“You said you don’t hate me but you’re spending awfully long amounts of time in your studio here lately.” Hyunjin’s teasing voice startled a very focused Changbin who was absorbed in whatever he was working on. He quickly spun around in his chair and his gaze found the younger standing in the doorway, his hip leant against the door frame and arms crossed over his chest, eyebrow raised, feigning suspicion.

Changbin whined, “You know I miss you like crazy. I’ve just had so much work to get done.”

Smirk curving his lips, Hyunjin sauntered into the room, closing the door behind him and turned the lock. “Why don’t you show me how much you miss me?” He taunted as he dropped onto the sofa in Changbin’s studio, clearly expecting the older to come to him.

Bin scoffed lightly before turning back around to fiddle with something while defeat and embarrassment crept up in Hyunjin; he genuinely thought Changbin was just ignoring him and finishing his work like the younger wasn’t even there. But soon, a sultry melody with heavy bass flooded through the speakers in the studio [Electric (R3hab Remix) (feat. Khalid) - Alina Baraz] and Changbin turned back around to face Hyunjin, smirking himself when he saw the expression on Hyunjin’s face. Pushing out of his chair, Bin stalked over to the couch, slipping his t-shirt over his head and tossed it behind himself carelessly as he watched Hyunjin rake his carnal gaze over the newly exposed skin, dark eyes hooded and full lips parted.

When he finally stood in front of the younger, he snickered wickedly and leaned in to ghost his lips over Hyunjin’s before gently guiding him to lay down on the sofa, body rolling fluidly as he climbed on top of him. “That was way too smooth,” Hyunjin whispered, impressed, causing Changbin’s smirk to widen if that was even possible.

“Kinda surprised myself there, honestly.” His smirk transformed into a genuine smile as he chuckled at himself and Hyunjin thought he looked positively beautiful in that moment. The feeling was mutual. Changbin stared at the boy below him -- long blond hair splayed out around his head, flush high on his cheeks, an enthralled fascination swirled deep in his inky eyes alongside pure admiration and want. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he rasped, mesmerized.

“Kiss me,” Hyunjin breathed. Changbin didn’t need to be told twice. He bent down and brushed their noses together ever so gently before capturing Hyunjin’s lips. Moving gracefully, Bin kissed him deeply, wanting to convey as much emotion as he possibly could, needing Hyunjin to know how much he loved him. He couldn’t help but say it, though.

“I love you, Jinnie.”

Hyunjin hummed against his mouth, “Mmm, love you, too, hyung. So much.” He threw his arms around Changbin, pulling him in even closer and arched into him when the older teased their tongues together.

“Want you,” Hyunjin gasped after moments of kissing the life out of each other. “Want you so bad.”

Changbin growled, kissing along Hyunjin’s jawline and down his neck as the younger boy bared his throat for him. Desperately wanting to leave marks, he knew he couldn’t leave anything in visible areas so he softly mouthed, kissed, and licked at the column of Hyunjin’s neck, earning constant whimpers and whines because of the sensitivity of the area. When Bin reached his clavicle, the urge won over and he sucked a deep plum-colored mark where he thought would be the perfect place. Sitting up to marvel at Hyunjin, Changbin let out a pleased hum at how divine the younger looked with his claim on him. The stylist noonas probably wouldn’t be too happy but Hyunjin looked plenty sexy when he was more covered up so Changbin didn’t think it would be too much of a problem. He didn’t care anyway. Hyunjin was his.

“Mine,” he murmured as he bent down again briefly to kiss at the pretty bruise. When he sat back up, he smiled in awe. “Always wanted to know what you’d look like underneath me like this.”

Hyunjin huffed out a chuckle, “And how do I look?”

“Impossibly perfect. Better than I ever dreamed,” Bin praised, eyes sparkling when he noticed Hyunjin’s cheeks redden. He shook his head and laughed breathily, “And I haven’t even ruined you yet!”

“Binnie hyung,” Hyunjin whined, pouting just how Changbin liked so much.

Bin smirked, “I know, baby,” he leaned down to kiss him again, “I’ve got you.” Hands trailing up Hyunjin’s sides and lifting his shirt in the process, Changbin sucked at his plush lips, fingertips delicately dancing over the other boy’s skin. Goosebumps rose under his touch and the younger arched into him again, moaning sweetly, so receptive and sensitive. “Off,” Changbin murmured against Hyunjin’s mouth.

Sitting up to lift his shirt over his head and toss it to the side, Hyunjin promptly fell back against the cushion, hair flooding out around him again. The dim, hazy light that filled the room lit up his blond strands and looked suspiciously like a halo to Changbin. But he knew better. This was no angel beneath him. This was a devil with a halo. Hyunjin had been shy and pliant but when he noticed how Changbin was staring at him, he couldn’t help but smirk as a wicked naughtiness shone behind his eyes and Changbin swore this boy would be the end of him.

Without warning, Bin leaned down to mouth at one of Hyunjin’s pert nipples and he grinned against his skin when the younger boy whimpered and canted his hips, the brief flash of power behind his eyes vanishing as quickly as it appeared. The older tugged gently with his teeth, earning a gasp and a roll of Hyunjin’s hips. Changbin hummed, “Bet I could make you cum from just your nipples, hmm? Would you like that, pup?”

Hyunjin shook his head fervently, “No! Want you, hyung!”

Chuckling, Changbin nodded as he pressed kisses over to Hyunjin’s other side. “Alright. Patience, baby. I told you I’d ruin you and I’m going to take my time. Understood?”

Sucking in a breath past his teeth, Hyunjin melted further into the sofa, “Yes, hyung.”

Changbin took his time toying with Hyunjin’s nipples before mouthing over the entirety of his chest, leaving burgundy flowers blooming in his wake, littering his skin with possessive marks. Whimpering and biting at his lips, Hyunjin craved more and Changbin could feel just how badly he needed him. He tugged at the waistband of the younger boy’s jeans, “I’m gonna take these off now. Is that ok?”

“Please,” Hyunjin begged simply. So Bin unfastened them slowly and slipped the material down his legs and threw it behind himself blindly before kneeling between his legs and bending down to mouth at his clothed cock. “Oh!” Hyunjin gasped, hands immediately flying to Changbin’s hair and tugging at the strands at the nape of his neck. The older smiled against him and hooked his fingers under the band, looking up for permission. When Hyunjin nodded, hooded eyes fluttering and lips bitten red, looking absolutely breathtaking, Bin removed them, wasting no time in mouthing at his leaking cock. The younger squirmed beneath him, mewling as he sucked at his balls. “Hyung, I-” A strangled moan cut off his words when Changbin wrapped his pretty doll lips around the head of his dick.

“Hmm?” Bin questioned wordlessly, suckling tenderly. But Hyunjin didn’t answer; he threw his head back and cursed under his breath when Changbin moved further down. Hollowing his cheeks, he bobbed his head, gradually taking more and more of Hyunjin. The younger writhed, wanton moans spilling from his lips.

Hyunjin had quite a bit of length but Changbin knew he could take it so he relaxed his throat and slid all the way down. “Hyung! Mouth- so good- I- Oh my god!” Hyunjin slurred, tightening his grasp on the hair in his fists. Bin’s chest warmed, proud of himself, knowing he was giving Hyunjin so much pleasure he could barely speak. The head of Hyunjin’s cock repeatedly hit the back of his throat before he stilled, swallowing around him, urging a weak scream from the boy under him.

Changbin loved how vocal Hyunjin was but in that moment, he was eternally grateful for the soundproof walls surrounding them. He lifted off Hyunjin’s cock, having decided it was sufficiently wet, and if not, the pre-cum would make the slide easier. Bin sat up on his knees and untucked himself, not even bothering to take off his sweats, just shoving them out of the way enough before leaning forward to hover over Hyunjin. Avoiding his hair, Changbin rested on his forearm against the cushion and slotted their hips together, hard, leaking cocks brushing each other as he watched the younger’s face morph in euphoria.

Spitting in his hand, just in case, Bin reached down between them and took both cocks in his hand, instantly dropping his head to Hyunjin’s neck and rolling his hips into his grasp. Hyunjin groaned and wrapped his arms around Changbin’s torso. “Yes,” he whispered in his ear, “You feel so good, hyung. Touch me just like that.”

Controlling nature fading in and out, Hyunjin vacilated between flustered, slurred words and heated, dirty talk like it was the easiest thing in the world and Changbin couldn’t help but be amused despite the tingle that shot up his spine at Hyunjin’s words. He smiled against Hyunjin’s fiery skin, placing small kisses on the junction where his neck met his shoulder.

Changbin continued to tug at their cocks until Hyunjin was whining in his ear and digging his nails into his back. “I’m so close, hyung. Please make me cum. Please,” he panted as he thrusted into Bin’s fist.

The older groaned in response, rhythm speeding up slightly and he stopped every once in a while to squeeze at the heads. “‘m close too, pup. Gonna make a mess of you. Gonna cum all over your pretty tummy. Bet you look gorgeous covered in my cum.”

Hyunjin suddenly stopped breathing, seizing up and arching into the older, chests pressing together as he spilled himself over Changbin’s hand and his own stomach. Bin leaned up just in time to see the ecstasy freeze up his beautiful features, hypnotized by the boy beneath him. “Wow,” he breathed, helping Hyunjin ride out his orgasm. Air returned to the younger boy’s lungs and he turned to lazily smile at Changbin.

He stopped stroking them together, letting Hyunjin’s cock fall into the mess on his stomach as he sat up and grasped his own length. Using the cum his hand was covered in to ease the slide even more, Bin fisted himself eagerly and seconds later, he streaked Hyunjin’s stomach with his own release. Changbin slouched as the energy evaporated from him.

Through heavy-lidded eyes, he watched Hyunjin trail his fingertips through the cum on his abdomen, swirling it around sloppily, mixing their releases before scooping up a decent amount. Changbin’s eyes widened and his dick twitched in renewed interest as Hyunjin brought his fingers to his mouth and wrapped his pillowy, kiss-bitten lips around them. Their eyes met as the younger boy cleaned his fingers of their cum, blown pupils swimming with desire and mischief.

“Fuck,” Changbin huffed, hovering over Hyunjin once more. “What a dirty baby!” Hyunjin smirked as he pulled his fingers from his mouth, a single strand of saliva connecting them. Bin broke it with the tip of his tongue before capturing the younger boy’s lips and dipping his tongue in to taste their cum on Hyunjin’s tongue.

He moaned at the older’s boldness and kissed him deeper. He teasingly mumbled against Changbin’s lips, “You’re dirty, too, hyung, aren’t you?” Bin just smiled and kissed him again.

After losing track of the time they spent kissing and giving himself enough of a refractory time period, Changbin pulled away and met Hyunjin’s eyes. “How about you flip over so I can taste you some more, hmm?” Hyunjin nodded quickly and reached for a t-shirt on the floor to rid his stomach of the rest of the mess. He was pretty sure it was his own shirt and in the back of his mind, he briefly hoped Bin had a spare or at least a hoodie so he wouldn’t have to return to the dorms suspiciously shirtless.

He cleaned himself off and turned over as requested and Changbin’s hands immediately gripped at his ass, kneading the flesh and spreading his cheeks. “Fuck, Jinnie! You’re too pretty, god!” Hyunjin looked over his shoulder at the older and scrunched his nose in a teasing manner while shaking his ass as best he could in Changbin’s grasp. Bin landed a slap against his right cheek, punishment for his playful taunting, and Hyunjin groaned deeply, dropping his head to the couch cushion and lifting his hips slightly, seemingly silently begging for more.

Changbin willingly obliged his unspoken request, his expression a nasty sneer as he smacked Hyunjin’s left cheek. “Wanna look in the mirror and see my handprints on your ass? My marks all over your pretty chest and thighs? Feel my lingering touch on your heated skin? Know you’re mine?” He demanded, spellbound by the way Hyunjin’s ass jiggled every time he laid a hard slap on the soft flesh.

Hyunjin wailed loudly at a particularly harsh spank and pushed his ass back towards Changbin. “Fuck, yes! More! Please, more! Make me yours, hyung!”

Bin growled unrestrainedly and ceased his attack on Hyunjin’s reddened skin, instead moving to lick a long stripe up his puckered hole. The younger boy let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a squeak and Changbin smiled against his skin at how oddly cute it was. He continued to lick and suck at his rim, urging the sweetest melodies to flow from his lover. When he poked his tongue inside, Hyunjin laughed deliriously, drunk with pleasure. Changbin thrusted his tongue in and out of Hyunjin’s pretty hole while the younger urged him on with frantic praise, “Oh, Binnie-hyung! Your filthy mouth feels so fucking good on me! You eat my ass so well! Fuck, just like that! Eat my ass just like that, yes! Yes!”

He pushed back again and Bin gripped at his ass and thighs, leaving prints and crescent-shaped indents as he massaged the flesh and buried his tongue in further, sucking at his rim. Adding a single finger, Changbin pushed the digit in alongside his tongue only to discover that it went in far too easily. He hummed suspiciously and sat up on his heels, sliding two fingers in place of one and Hyunjin whined at the feeling. “Tell me, pup,” he prompted, wiping the spit from his chin with the back of his hand and pumped his fingers slowly. “What have you been doing that’s got your slutty hole so loose, hmm?”

Hyunjin whimpered, burying his face further into his folded arms. Changbin slapped his ass again, “Answer me, pup.”

“F-fingered my-myself in the s-shower before I got here,” he admitted shamefully, stuttering as he dared to look back at the elder with his eyes wide and pleading. “Th-thought of you the wh-whole time, h-hyung.”

How the younger went from filthy, dirty talk to bashful stuttering in two seconds flat continued to bewilder Changbin but he was thoroughly enjoying the rollercoaster that was Hyunjin. He grunted in approval, “Good boy.”

Hyunjin’s eyes practically rolled to the back of his head and he couldn’t help but rut against the couch at the blatant praise. Changbin snickered at him, plunging his fingers in even further but still avoided his prostate. “You gonna cum from my fingers, baby?” He questioned, adding a third digit and urging a shaky groan from the boy beneath him.

“No!” Hyunjin shook his head adamantly as he rocked back onto Changbin’s fingers. “Wanna cum- I wanna cum on your cock. Please, hyung. Fuck me, please!”

Changbin hummed, “But, pup. I haven’t got any lube. Your hole may be loose from fingering yourself but I don’t want to hurt you stuffing my cock in your ass without lube. I don’t have a condom either.” His tone was disparaging, laced with overly-dramatic dissatisfaction even though he was genuinely dissapointed; he really did want to fuck Hyunjin but the last thing he wanted was to really hurt him.

Hyunjin shook his head again and gestured off towards another part of the room. “Back pocket,” he huffed. “Jeans back pocket. Brought lube.” He swallowed, still panting as Changbin spread his fingers wide inside him. “Don’t need a condom. Wanna feel you, hyung, please.”

Changbin stilled, “Are you sure, baby?”

“We’re clean. Don’t need it,” the younger boy mumbled, “Want you.”

Pressing kisses against the base of Hyunjin’s spine, Bin slowly pulled out his fingers, “Alright, baby. I’ll be right back.”

He rose from the couch to search for Hyunjin’s jeans that he had tossed god knows where, shucking off his own pants in the process -- why he hadn’t taken them off up until then, he had no clue, but he was glad to be rid of them. After coming up empty handed fishing through one pocket, he found a small bottle of lube tucked away in the opposite side and cheered internally before returning to the sofa where Hyunjin was rutting desperately against the cushion in his impatience. Bin was suddenly thankful that the material was easy to clean as he was sure Hyunjin was making a mess of it and they both would make even more of a mess not using a condom. He shrugged off his worries and resumed his place between Hyunjin’s thighs, uncapping the lube and squeezing a generous amount onto his fingers.

Warming it, Changbin hovered his hand over Hyunjin’s twitching hole, “I’m going to open you up a little more, OK, pup?”

“Hurry, please,” the younger boy begged, “Want you.”

Pressing in, Bin reminded him, “Patience, baby,” even though he was becoming desperate himself. He scissored his fingers around, searching for that spot that would make Hyunjin see stars and beg even more for Changbin’s cock.

He knew he found it when Hyunjin jolted forward and let out a choked, gurgled sounding moan and he couldn’t help but chuckle when the younger boy whipped his head over his shoulder and glared at him. Dropping the honorifics, it was Hyunjin’s turn to growl, “Now, Changbin! Fuck me now!”

Bin retracted his hand and lifted both up in surrender, still smiling, “As you wish.”

Lubing up his neglected cock, Changbin hissed in sensitivity as he gave himself a few good tugs. He lightly smacked Hyunjin’s hip, “Up.” The younger boy immediately lifted his hips, rising to his knees while still leaning his forearms and the side of his face into the sofa cushion. “Good boy,” Bin praised, lining himself up and teasing Hyunjin’s fluttering hole with the head of his cock. He carefully pressed in, Hyunjin’s breath hitching with the initial stretch, going slow so the younger had time to adjust. When he was about halfway in, Changbin rubbed a comforting hand over Hyunjin’s lower back, “You OK, baby?”

“Ngh, more, more, please more,” he wailed, pushing back against the elder.

Changbin chuckled fondly and slid in the rest of the way, hips pressed snugly against Hyunjin’s ass. “There,” he breathed, barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin gripped at the edge of the cushion, “Fuck, you’re big!” Usually, Changbin would absolutely preen at that kind of glorifying but for some reason, he just blushed and let out the tiniest of squeaks.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, dropping his head forward onto Hyunjin’s back, barely changing the angle but it was enough for the younger boy to feel it.

“Oh!” Hyunjin shivered, breathing heavy as he reached back with one hand to grip at Changbin. His hand landed somewhere between his thigh and ass; he couldn’t tell where but he wasn’t complaining and immediately squeezed a handful of his thick body. Bin grunted and the younger laughed breathily, “Don’t apologize! You’re perfect! Just let me- don’t move for a minute. I gotta-”

Changbin tenderly covered the boy with his own body and whispered in his ear to calm him, “Thank you, Jinnie. You’re perfect, too.” He pressed gentle kisses along Hyunjin’s shoulder, smiling into his skin as he spoke. “Just relax, baby. Take your time. You let me know if it’s too much, OK? We’ll stop!”

“No, I want this! I want you! I just- you’re so-” Hyunjin’s words trailed off into a moan as he rolled his own hips. “Big! Feels so good! You feel so good, hyung!”

The elder squeezed his eyes shut, willing the urge to just pound into him to go away, and took a shaky breath, “Does it hurt?”

Hyunjin shook his head. “Uh-uh,” he slurred, “‘s just a lot.” After another minute or two, the younger boy nodded, “‘s OK, hyung. You can move.”

Changbin kept his position, mouthing at Hyunjin’s neck and shoulder to distract him somewhat, but he started to roll his hips experimentally. Little grunts and whimpers passed Hyunjin’s plush lips and Bin pressed sweet kisses to the side of his face, whispering praises in his ear, “My baby. So good for me. Love you, Jinnie. You feel amazing. You’re so beautiful, my pretty baby.”

Tears streaked Hyunjin’s cheeks and Changbin kissed them away, “Love you, hyung.” He squeezed the flesh in his grip, “Harder, please.”

Bin drew back his hips a little further each time he thrusted, mild but still powerful. Hyunjin’s grasp on his side fell away and instead, he reached up behind himself to thread his fingers through Changbin’s hair, keeping him close as the elder peppered his skin with kisses. Changbin nuzzled into him, whispering ‘I love you’s.

Hyunjin loved the pure bliss that he felt in Changbin’s arms, being smothered in love and praises. But he wanted to cum again. And he wanted to get fucked. Hard. So he begged for it like a good boy. “Please, more. I need more. Please fuck me harder, hyung! I need it! Please, hyung!”

Changbin straightened up with a low growl, “Such a good boy for me, begging so sweetly. I’ll give you what you want, baby.” His hands found Hyunjin’s hips, his hold tight and sure to leave prints, and he drew back, leaving just the tip of his cock in the younger’s tight hole before plunging in.

Hyunjin let out a shaky groan, wiggling his ass against Changbin’s hips. The elder held him tighter and repeated his deep thrust, reveling in the wanton moan it punched out of the boy under him. “You’re still so tight, baby. Feel so good around me, sucking me back in every time I pull out. So good for me!” He was transfixed as he watched his cock slide past Hyunjin’s tight ring of muscles.

Wailing and grunting and meeting Changbin’s thrusts, Hyunjin pleaded again, “Please, hyung! Fuck me! Pound my tight ass! Fuck me harder, please!”

Growling again, Changbin quickened his pace before lifting one leg, changing the angle and abruptly causing the most beautiful sounds to pass Hyunjin’s pillowy lips. He reduced him to sobs and whines, mewling instead of forming complete words and clawing at the couch cushions. Bin smirked through his exertion, laughing lightly at how much he had succeeded in ruining the boy.

He was nearing his climax and breathed out one last question he hoped the younger could somehow form a coherent answer to. “I’m close, pup. Where do you want my cum?”

“Ngh, in me. In me, inside, please cum in me, hyung. I need your cum, need you to cum inside, please, need you to fill me up,” Hyunjin cried, plenty coherently, thighs trembling as he felt heat pool in his own belly.

Changbin leaned over Hyunjin once more, one hand steady on his hip while the other reached around to fist at his dripping cock. “Gonna cum, pup? Gonna cum for me like a good boy?” The elder mumbled in his ear, tone almost taunting, “Gonna make a filthy mess of yourself again?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Hyunjin sobbed, “Please can I cum, hyung?”

Burying his nose into the younger boy’s neck, he smirked against his skin and gave him permission. “Of course, baby! Go ahead, cum on my cock.”

Whispering ‘thank you’s over and over again, Hyunjin’s body began to shake from how close he was. Changbin straightened up once again, effortlessly lifting Hyunjin’s knees off the sofa and he tugged just right and thrusted against the perfect spot and Hyunjin was done. Legs spasming, still clawing at the cushion he could reach, Hyunjin cried out, “Changbin! God, fuck!”

Ribbons of white sprayed over the sofa cushion and the younger boy’s walls tightened around Bin, tipping him over the edge. He stroked Hyunjin through his orgasm while he pumped him full of his cum. Changbin collapsed back on his heels, Hyunjin awkwardly falling into his lap, still connected to each other.

Using the microscopic amount of energy he had left, Hyunjin leaned back into Changbin and turned to place a lazy kiss against his jawline, melting into him as he let his battery recharge enough to make it back to the dorms.

Speaking of making it back to the dorms, Hyunjin looked down at himself and the mess of the couch in front of him and groaned. “We gotta clean up.”

“Good thing this is a pleather couch or else that stain would be a real bitch to get out,” Changbin chuckled, glancing around the room at the strewn about clothes in search of something to wipe up the mess with. His eyes landed on the roll of paper towels he kept on his desk for the frequent times he ate in his studio and subsequently spilled multiple things.

Bin’s mind whirled with various things as he silently stared at the paper towels on the other side of the room -- Hyunjin needs a shirt of some kind since he wiped up cum with his. I should have a spare hoodie in that bag over there. Chan’s probably still up even if no one else is. How are we gonna get past him without looking incredibly suspicious? Oh god, I just came in Hyunjin’s ass! That’s gonna leak out before we can get in the shower at home! Fuck! “Really wish I had a butt plug right now.”

Hyunjin snorted and turned to look at him, “Excuse me?”

“What? I- oh. I said that out loud,” Changbin grinned sheepishly. “It’s just- OK I’m not saying this to be kinky or anything but a butt plug would be convenient right now since I just came in your ass and we have to somehow make it back to the dorms, you know?”

Throwing his head back, Hyunjin laughed warmly, “I think I’ve got that handled, thanks. I’ll be fine.” Changbin nodded, still trying to come up with solutions to his other dilemmas. “Do you have an extra shirt? Mine’s kinda…” Hyunjin trailed off, gesturing at it on the floor next to the couch.

It was Bin’s turn to laugh. “Yeah. Hoodie in the bag over there,” he pointed in its direction before inclining his head towards his desk. “We can use the paper towels to clean up what we can. I’m gonna go grab them so I have to pull out now, OK?”

Hyunjin braced himself and nodded, both boys wincing in oversensitivity as Changbin moved Hyunjin off his lap, soft dick falling to his hip. When Bin returned to the sofa with the paper towels, he couldn’t help but laugh at Hyunjin who was desperately trying not to kneel or put a hand in the mess. “Sorry, sorry!” He rushed to help when the younger boy glared at him.

Once the couch was no longer a disaster and the two were as clean as they could be given the circumstances, they pulled their clothes on and Changbin gathered up his stuff before they headed for the dorms.

“How much you wanna bet Chan ‘knows’ we did something?” Hyunjin joked as they were walking down a stairwell.

Changbin let out a playful, pained noise, “Let’s just hope he’s preoccupied since we both know he won’t be sleeping.” Hyunjin nodded in agreement. “And if he’s not, don’t act suspicious!”

“Easy for you to say!”

Bin spoke up again a few moments later. “Was,” he hesitated, “Was that OK? I mean, was it good for you? Umm…”

Hyunjin took one look at Changbin’s clearly stressed expression and burst out laughing, “Yes, hyung. 10/10 would fuck again.”

The elder tried to hold back his own laugh but ultimately failed, “Oh, uhh, yeah, same.” Hyunjin knocked his hip, still giggling as he hooked their arms together.

When they arrived back at the dorms, much to their chagrin, Chan was waiting in the living room like a dad that was pissed with his teenage children for coming home way past curfew. “I had a feeling you two were up to something,” he squinted at them skeptically. “What did you do?”

“Fuck!” Changbin breathed in annoyance but Hyunjin took it the wrong way.

“Hyung, I thought you said we weren’t going to tell him what we did!”

Changbin felt like he was dying inside.

Chan just stared at the floor, entirely unwilling to make eye contact with either boy.

Hyunjin just giggled, “Oops?”

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