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russadler · 3 years

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Work Hard, Play Harder - Prologue

Russell Adler x Female OC

The mission sounds simple enough, but the devil was definitely in the details.

A/N: This is something completely new and separate from ‘A Little Death’ and NOT a Russell Adler x Bell. After coming to terms with the issues with that pairing, it was difficult to continue that fic even though I loved it as much as I did. It was devastating to do so, but I’m hoping to create something completely new and fun. I guess this is sort of similar to ‘A Little Death’ in a way but completely different at the same time. This is just the prologue, setting the scene for the fic, but let me know what you guys think <3

June 7, 1982

Langley, Virginia

She’s not entirely sure what she expected, but it wasn’t this.

Her day starts out simple enough. Write memos, respond to emails, read and scribble in the growing stack of files on her desk. Then her department lead tells her Jason Hudson needs to see her and from then on things get very interesting, very fast.

The brunette makes her way to the briefing room with haste, lithe legs carrying her at the fastest pace considered appropriate in Langley’s corridors. Everyone knew Jason Hudson to be a notorious hardass, but he was a decorated one. A long list of achievements had ensured he sat at the echelon of the clandestine operations unit.

Now he wanted her. Getting called on by Mr. Shades himself was the lifelong dream of the many that worked at Langley, but now that it’s happening the woman can’t deny the sense of apprehension at the prospect. She had worked minor roles under the direction of other handlers in a few of the smaller ops he’s overseen over the years, but felt she had done nothing then to warrant his attention whatsoever.

There’s little time to ponder, and before long the briefing room door she’d been directed to enters her field of vision. Shoulders squared and breathing deeply through her nose, knuckles meet the worn wood in delicate but firm raps. A deep voice beckons her forth, and she enters.

Hudson stands at the far end of the table, one hand in his pocket and the other sifting through a stack of papers currently occupying the surface in front of him.

“Agent Fletcher.” He greets flatly, not even sparing her a glance as he focuses his gaze on the aforementioned sheets of paper.

“Sir.” She returns, thankful that she’s managed to keep the nervous tremble from her voice and replace it with something pleasant and airy instead. Taking a seat, her delicate hands flatten her pressed slacks as she moves. Her selected chair is close, but maintains a respectable enough distance from her superior.

“Are you familiar with the name Anthony Lipovetsky, agent?” Hudson cuts to the chase, starting as soon as she’s settled. His cold stare shifts to acknowledge her presence, and a chill comes over her as she stares into those signature reflective shades.

They both knew the answer to his question. Aria Fletcher worked mainly in the drug and contraband trafficking sector of the CIA.

Of course she knew who he was.

Anthony Lipovetsky had steadily become a pain in the DEA’s ass recently, according to what she had been hearing. Though he wasn’t anyone particularly prolific that warranted the CIA’s attention like some others had. Out of the many individuals Hudson could have pulled her here to ask about, the Russian - American was the least expected.

“Drug trafficker making some big moves along the east coast, but he’s not the biggest fish in the pond.” Aria answers, sounding matter of fact as she stares back at the other. It’s more of a question of a statement. Why him?

“You’re right. He isn’t, but it’s recently come to our attention that he’s been dabbling into arms smuggling.” Hudson counters, but it still isn’t the answer she’s looking for.

“Unsurprising. He’s not the first and certainly won’t be the last.” The younger states, but there’s more to this and she knows it. She takes a gamble and makes an educated guess. “Would I be correct in guessing we’re here right now because of his choice in clientele?”

The female agent can only hope Hudson doesn’t think she’s trying to be a smartass, but all she can do is speculate. It’s the only reasonable assumption that comes to mind seeing as the The CIA doesn’t like it very much when people sell guns to the bad guys, and they especially don’t like it if they’re the type of bad guys who like terrorism.

“Precisely.” Hudson answers, and the agent has to fight the urge to smile. Right on the ball.

“We have solid intel that he’s been in contact with a soviet agent named Perseus.” The elder continues even seriously, voice grim as he makes the acknowledgment.

Oh. Oh.

The name Perseus wasn’t one she was familiar with, but the words Soviet Agent had stood out. This was bigger than the domestic drug trade, this was the Soviet Union making way into their backyard.

This is bad. Very, very bad.

“So, what’s the plan?” The young woman queries, a touch hesitant at what role she has to play in something that now seems entirely out of her league.

Hudson’s mouth parts, but a knock at the door interrupts. Her head snaps towards the door as Hudson grants entrance, and in walks Russell Adler.

Langley legend, ‘America’s Monster’ The man’s in a different league even when compared to a heavyweight like Hudson. He’s pretty much a myth. She’s heard the stories about him, both personal and professional. His portfolio of work is way above her pay grade, and his presence immediately makes the entire thing immensely more interesting.

She rode an elevator with him once, almost a year back. The encounter was barely a minute long, but she never forgot how devastatingly attractive the man was, with looks that easily could have landed him in Hollywood. Not to mention the way the man carried himself, assertive and with an undeniable dominance.

Adler doesn’t introduce himself, and doesn’t even spare her a glance nor a word as he takes the seat adjacent to Hudson. His shaded eyes are focused straight ahead as he pulls a cigarette from the pack he seemingly carried in, perching the stick between his lips and igniting it with a zippo lighter that had appeared from God knows where.

Aria hadn’t realized she had been staring until Hudson tosses something at her from his place at the table, the sound jolting her back to attention. A manila folder glides quietly across the stained wood to land neatly in front of her, only two words on the front.

Operation Ocelot.

“Let’s get started.” Hudson announces. She opens the file, and things begin to unravel.

——————————————————————

As it turns out, Operation Ocelot consists of a covert insertion of two agents into Anthony Lipovetsky’s Miami home. That part sounds simple enough, but the devil is definitely in the details.

For the time being, it was prudent Lipovetsky’s connection to Perseus remained intact. They needed a paper trail to follow, and one they could follow without arousing Lipovetsky’s suspicion. There was no real point in spying on someone if they knew they were being spied on.

“The target is well guarded, the man has a price on his head and he’s well aware. Armed security teams around the clock, cameras around the house, the whole package.” Hudson states, slides on the projector screen behind him changing to show a floorplan of the house.

“Is this where I come in?” Aria questions, it’s easy to assume that’s the only reason why she’s here.

It seems they’ve selected her to be the honeypot, an unfortunate consequence of being at the very least a mildly attractive woman in the CIA. Sexuality had proven to be man’s greatest weakness time and time again, and it become just a part of the job. She knew if it was something she didn’t want to do, she could easily say no. But then again, she had killed many people in her time as an agent, and one had quickly learned how to detach emotions from entire aspects of life as necessary.

It’s a blink and you’ll miss it moment, but she swears she sees Hudson and Adler share a look before the former answers her. “It’s where you and Adler come in.”

Adler in the meanwhile, hasn’t spoken throughout the entire thing. He hadn’t even looked at her yet, his sightline having been maintained firmly on the projector screen ahead as Hudson led the briefing. The end of his cigarette had burned red in the darkness as he took steady pulls from it throughout, the only sign of life in an otherwise detached and glacial man.

And now, Russell Adler is looking at her. Dark aviators like twin blackholes that threaten to swallow her whole.

At this point the young agent is visibly confused, as demonstrated by Hudson moving to clarify the statement. “Through our surveillance program we’ve been able to observe the targets' routines and behaviours, and it has been noted that Lipovetsky has a particular…habit.”

“He wants a threesome?” Aria blurts, now fiddling with the gold chain on her neck.

This whole thing just got really fucking weird.

Hudson’s mouth parts, likely looking for a way to word the whole thing professionally, but to her utter surprise Adler is the one who decides to cut to the chase.

“He likes taking home married couples.” He states bluntly, nonchalant as he focuses on crushing the charred stub of his cigarette in the ashtray in front of him.

It’s the first time she’s ever heard Adler speak, his voice low and warm. Though it’s not the sort of warmth one would typically associate with kindness, but rather it brings to mind the heat of a fire and danger. There’s a roughness there too, likely from his smoking, but oh how well does it suit him.

“Oh. Well, that’s…interesting.” Aria huffs with a laugh, feeling honestly a bit relieved. There were definitely weirder things in the world that people were into that she feared. Instead, her body tingles with interest. Married couple.

“Why me then? This isn’t necessarily my normal line of work.” The woman questions. They could have chosen anyone, but they had chosen her. Hundreds of beautiful women worked here everyday but they somehow settled on her?

“You both make an…attractive pair. You fit the bill in terms of the target’s preferences, as well the vacation demographic in the city.” Hudson says, arms crossed at his chest. “Apart from that, you’ve so far had an impressive field career, your performance is consistent and high quality.”

The female agent can’t help the pride that burns in her chest at the praise from such a distinguished and highly respected man like Jason Hudson. Everything suddenly felt like a dream.

“There’s a lot to lose here, we need more than a pretty face. You’ve got what we need.” Hudson emphasizes, the importance of this mission heavily ingrained to the back of her mind.

“So…I’m going to play Adler’s pretty little trophy wife and then we’re going to collectively seduce our way into his house?” Aria wonders aloud, Adler and Hudson not moving to interrupt and permitting her speculation to continue. “And then what? Are we expected to fuck the information out of him?”

Hudson sighs, pinching at his brow in exasperation. Adler jumps in once more, saving Hudson from further embarrassment. “We’re gonna slip him a sedative before things get to that. Special cocktail that’ll make him think he just drank a little too much.”

“Oh, thank god.” The youngest utters under her breath, relieved. Things were definitely easier that way.

“Once he’s out, we’ll mess with the camera system, do recon, collect intel, then get the fuck out.” Adler finishes, intense stare levelled right at her once more. She couldn’t help but squirm, he was almost too much to handle just by existing.

And God, she could listen to that voice all day. She was going to listen to it all day in a short matter of time.

She really loved her job sometimes.

“Sounds simple enough.” Aria resigns, casual as she accepted that her life was just really going to be this outlandish for the next little while.

“You and Adler will set out the day before and go through the motions and leave a paper trail of your own. The target might try and track you both down just to check his bases.” Hudson adds, arms crossed as he switches his gaze back and forth between her and Adler.

“If we leave evidence that we’re just a normal couple doing normal things, it’ll reassure the target there wasn’t any outside involvement and we weren’t up to no good.” Aria finishes, one arm perched on the armrest of her chair and the other fiddling with her pen as she returns Hudson’s gaze.

“Precisely.” Hudson agrees, voice carrying the smallest hint of sympathy.

It’s almost like he feels bad for her.

Hudson dismisses them soon after, handing them directives on the particulars of their individual roles and aliases. Adler storms ahead of her to the exit, moving out without so much as acknowledging her once again.

He was an asshole, but a ridiculously good looking one. She would learn to play his game soon enough, and oh, she would press his buttons.

Hudson is quick to catch her disgruntled reaction at Adler’s behaviour. “Adler’s not the most personable, but he’s a damn good agent. He’ll have your back.” The elder reassures, perhaps seeking to soothe the burn of the other’s abrasive nature.

The woman sighs, turning to flash Hudson a tight lipped smile. “I’ll figure him out, I’m not worried.”

She finishes packing away her items and gets ready to leave, eager to get started on the work ahead. Hudson calls her again as she reaches the door, making her pause in her tracks.

“Remember agent, don’t let me down.”

Nodding with silent determination, she leaves.

#russell adler #russell adler x oc #black ops cold war #bocw #bocw fanfic #black ops cold war fanfic #call of duty fanfic #call of duty #russell adler fanfic #work hard play harder #mine #my fic #my writing

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eveningstar1516 · 3 years

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Rise of the Demon King ~ Chapter 8

Rise of the Demon King

Fic: Multi Chapter Paring: MC x Everyone (Mostly Lucifer) Type: Angst with a Happy Ending Total Word Count: 26,758 TW: Major Character Death, Reader gets stabbed with a sword through their chest so..., Abusive Parents, Past Child Abuse, Demon Hunters, Loss of Control Summary: You’ve done it. You’ve finally done it. You’ve managed to anger the demon king. Now you hold your head high as he hands down your sentence. AO3 Portal: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27065362

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Previously:

His brothers would always know whenever he went to see her as he’d always come back with a content smile on his face. Deep down, he wished that Y/N could’ve met Cynthia. They would have made great friends as they were the only 2 people who could make him smile like this. Mammon may not have been able to save Y/N, but he swore that he would protect Cynthia, no matter the cost.

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

CHAPTER 8 - The Great Pancake Debate (2261 words)

It’s been almost 6 months since you arrived in the Celestial Realm. Needless to say, you are quite certain that these last 6 months have been the craziest and stressful months of your life! When you told Simeon and Luke about you staying here, to say they were ecstatic would be an understatement. Luke jumped for joy and wouldn’t stop rambling about all the fun you were going to have. When you told them about God appointing them to help teach you about the Realm, Luke practically did a double take and it took an hour to calm him. Now you have Simeon teaching you about politics and Luke about how to use your wings and powers. On your second day there, Michael woke you up, or well came to get you as you didn’t get any sleep. Turns out, while the Devildom is constant at night, the Celestial realm is constant day and thanks to the floor to ceiling windows, there was no way for you to stop sunlight from coming in. You were introduced to the council at breakfast. Note to self, the brothers breakfasts are QUIET AND PEACEFUL compared to Archangels off duty. The first thing you saw were 2 angels passionately arguing over which pancake topping was the best, strawberries or blueberries. At some point a third angel cut in claiming chocolate chips were the best and all heaven (would you replace hell with heaven here? idk) broke loose. As for me, I just started chuckling in disbelief while making my way over to pick up a pancake of my own when the angel arguing on behalf of the strawberries saw you.

“Hey kid, what topping do you prefer, strawberries, blueberries, or chocolate chips? It’s strawberries right?”

“Actually, I prefer them plain with maple syrup. Although if Satan was the one making it, I’d go for the one with poison berries. Contrary to their name, they’re not actually poisonous and quite sweet.” All the angels present looked at me with a mix of shock and disbelief, save for Michael who just sat there eating his breakfast hoping to leave soon and get to work.

“Kid, did you say Satan?” The angel arguing on behalf of blueberries asked. “Yeah… Blond hair, teal eyes, Avatar of Wrath, Luci’s son? Ring a bell?” Turning to Michael, blueberry angel asked,

“Micheal, who are they and why are they wearing Lucifer’s old get up?” “This is Y/N. They will be staying here and taking Samael’s spot on the council until their agreement with Father ends and they return to the Devildom. Father has asked us to teach them about how our Realm operates and how to successfully fulfill Samael’s former position flawlessly, unless they want to return now and leave heaven early?” Michael turned towards you with a smirk on his face as he asked the last part.

“Very funny Mike. You and I both know I won’t do that no matter how bad you want me to.”

“What did I say about calling me that?!” Micheal’s smirk turned into something short of a snarl.

“Well, if you won’t take me seriously, neither will I. You want me to call you by your name, earn it and stop being an butt… I meant an butt… Why can’t I swear?!”

“This is the Celestial Realm Y/N. Angels don’t swear.” Michael said smugly over the rim of his cup of coffee.

“God Dang it! Argh! Fudge!. Dang it! Ya know what, forget it, my entire mood is ruined. Thanks Michael!”

“Anytime.”

Shooting Michael one last glare, I sighed and turned to the rest of the baffled angels in the room.

“Yes, what Michael said is true. Stuff happened in the Devildom which I will not get in too-”

“The demon king made Samael kill them.”

“Ok, Mike, first off, he didn’t, I ordered him too, second, I thought I said I didn’t want to talk about it. What gives you the right to tell them huh?”

“I felt like it.”

“You son of a beach.” I turned back to the rest of the angels. “Not a word about it. Anyway, due to some personal issues, I made a deal with Father to stay here on the condition that I take over Lucifer’s spot on the council until he either kicks me out or until our agreement has ended.”

“If I may, when will this agreement of yours be over?” The blueberry angel asked.

“I will be returning to the Devildom once Lord Diavolo has been crowned king and his father is 100% out of the picture. Now if you don’t mind me asking, could you introduce yourselves?” “Oh how rude of us, I’m sorry, I am Gabriel.” Gabriel had chestnut brown medium length hair, reaching shoulders. His eyes were a dull green. He wore a white turtleneck and had a light green shawl with golden tassels. He pointed to the strawberry angel. “This is Raphael and he’s Uriel.” He pointed to the chocolate chip angel. Raphael had long reddish-orange hair put up in a high ponytail. His eyes were a stormy gray. He wore a simple light gray half sleeve with an off the shoulder white cape and little decor. Uriel had short gray hair and golden eyes that almost seemed to sparkle. He wore something that reminded you of an off white scholar's robe with gray accents. “These are Saraqael, and Raguel.” He pointed to 2 of the quieter angels who didn’t participate in “the great pancake debate”. “We make up the Archangel council and we’re happy to have you Y/N.” Gabriel finished off with a smile. You were just barely able to make out a little “Not all of us” from Michael. You decided to ignore it, and then, like all the decisions you’ve ever made, it was the wrong one. Sitting back down you asked,

“So, quick question. What started The Great Pancake Topping debate?”

Breakfast ended 2 hours later with upset angels, and pancakes, everywhere…

In the Devildom. After they lost Y/N

Levi went straight to his room as soon as they got home. As soon as he closed and locked the door he went straight to Henry’s fishbowl, picked it up and sat in his bathtub, hugging the bowl as he cried. ‘Why do I feel like this?! I only like 2D characters and Ruri-chan, not 3D people. How do I miss them?... Why did they leave me? They were my player 2.’ “Well it makes sense, no one would want to stay with a worthless shut in of an otaku like me” he said to the empty room. Henry 2.0 glubbed a bubble in response. “You wouldn’t leave me, would you Henry?” *Glub* “No you wouldn’t… I miss them.” Levi stayed in his tub hugging Henry 2.0 until he fell asleep.

Present

It was another late night, Levi was bingeing a new anime ‘I fell in love with a 3D girl but I’m afraid she’ll leave me after finding out that I’m an otaku who rarely leaves their room’ . He was halfway through the 9th episode when he got a notification from Mononoke Island. One of his raid mates was stuck and needed some help. He paused his marathon to help his fellow mate and stayed up until the early hours of the morning switching between playing Mononoke and watching his anime. Stumbling into the dining room for breakfast the next morning, he was met with complete silence. Lucifer had left early, Belphie was asleep, Beel was too absorbed in eating, Satan in his book and Asmo on his phone to even notice him enter the room. Mammon was busy in the human world helping out sone witches. Levi sat down in his normal spot, taking whatever was left as he mentally prepared himself for the day. As soon as the bell rang, signaling the end of the day at RAD, still dressed in his uniform, Levi left as quickly as he could. There was an anime expo happening in the human realm right now and there was some ultra-rare limited edition Ruri-chan merch being sold there. He had gotten Lucifer’s permission to attend the expo so long as he was back by 11. Existing the portal and making his way to the expo, Levi thought about the last expo he attended with Y/N. They cosplayed as Erin and Levi from Attack on Titan and spent the entire day surrounded by fellow anime nerds. They had also booked a room at a nearby hotel. It was 3 days of bonding time for them. Entering the expo, Levi decided he would get something for them as decor for their headstone put in memory of them in the backyard of the House of Lamentation. Nearing the line for Ruri-chan merch, Levi noticed someone staring intensely at him. He decided to ignore them but keep a loose eye on them, just in case. He got to the front of the line and purchased 4 of the Ruri-chan collection kits. One for use, one for display, one to keep and sell in the future, and one for Y/N. He decided to wander around a little more to see if anything else would catch his eye while he was here. He spotted a Black Butler station and remembered the jokes he and Y/N would crack about Barbatos and Sebastian. He passed a Fate/Stay Night stand and remembered their conversations on which heroic class they would belong to. Levi would have been the perfect Lancer. He passed countless other stalls, each of them holding a memory he made with Y/N. Distracted by his trip down memory lane, Levi forgot all about the person stalking him. He went and purchased some dinner from one of the stalls before sitting down and pulling out his DDD and looked at some pictures of Y/N and him at their last expo. He didn’t look up from his phone until he felt someone sit opposite of him. Levi looked up to see some middle aged man just sitting there on his phone. He didn’t have any food, merch, or even look like someone interested in an anime expo. Feeling an uncomfortable aura emitting from this man, Levi got up and left. He took a quick look over his shoulder and saw that the man wasn’t following him. He left the expo and went down an alleyway to open up a portal back to the Devildom when he accidentally bumped into someone dropping his purchases.

“S-sorry”

“That’s quite alright.” The stranger extended a hand out to let him up. “Say, I’d love to know where you got your uniform from. No schools around here have uniforms like that one.”

Looking up, Levi saw the same man that was watching him with a twisted smile. Masking his fear, he mumbled an excuse about being in a rush and tried to dash around him. Before he could get 2 steps down the alley, the man grabbed him and pushed him further into the alleyway. Levi’s head struck the wall hard leaving him dazed for a moment.

“I didn’t think my intel about finding a RAD attendee at the expo would be true but whaddya know? Seems I caught myself a demon.”

Levi, now more aware of his surroundings, realized he was cornered by a demon hunter. Despite being in an alleyway, there were too many people around for him to do anything rash. Without missing a beat, the hunter pulled out an enchanted dagger aiming straight for Leviathan’s heart. Levi rolled and dogged last minute before colliding into someone’s chest. That person in question wrapped his arms around Levi’s chest and put their own dagger to his throat.

“I know you’re there! Come on out and I might spare your friend's life!” The hunter holding Levi yelled. When no one stepped out, the dagger held by Levi’s neck began pushing on his skin. Levi felt a flare of pain and against his better judgement, transformed. His tail wrapped around hunter 2’s leg and flipped him over while the first hunter charged at him, only to be blown to the ground as a powerful gust of wind knocked him over.

“Jeez Levi, you’re lucky I was here. Seriously, why didn’t ya do somethin’ earlier? Maybe then I wouldn’t have ta save yo ass.” Mammon stepped out from the darkness with a bored look on his face.

“Come on, Lucifer’s waiting for ya back home. LOOK OUT!” Levi turned around just in time to see Hunter number 2 taking a swing at his neck and managed to duck just in time. Mammon then charged over punching the hunter square in the face, knocking him out cold.

“T-thanks M-mammon.”

“No problem. Come on, let’s get ya back home before any more of them show up.”

Stepping through the portal, a question plagued Levi’s mind.

“Mammon, how did you know I was in trouble?”

“Some witches summoned me. I overheard them talk about some hunter group getting a tip about a possible demon being at some expo. Then I realized that it was the same one you were going to, so I decided to go there myself to make sure ya weren’t followed. I’m glad I did too.”

“Th-thank you Mammon. Really.”

“Of course, what are big brothers for. Anyway, about my payment, maybe you can forget about the money I owe ya?”

Groaning, Levi started walking faster, leaving Mammon and his whining behind as he made his way back to the safety of his room.

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creativeashproductions · 4 years

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A Discovery of Ghosts // Luke Patterson

Summary: Avoiding the house, the eldest Molina sibling has been unaware of the new chapter in Julie’s life until one fateful night.

Warning: Swearing, angst, fluff and overprotective!reader

Words: 2.1k

Oh look! Another JATP fic. Weird how it appeared? Enjoy! I may have a part two for Lost Time. If you want it, let me know!

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The dirty bag dropped on the ground as you cracked your neck heading straight for the kitchen, for the last year you would find Julie in there. Before the loss of your mother Julie spent all her time in the studio whether it be doing homework or playing the piano. Now, with the grief still striking hot within the Molina family even a year later.

“Jules?” You called out pouring a large glass of water. Dropping the empty water bottle in the sink.

In all honesty you hadn’t been home longer than to grab a bite and sleep before heading straight back to the field. It was a way of keeping away from the sadness permeating the house and the absence of your mom. Along with avoiding the awkward conversations of selling the house when it was really only Julie that okay with it.

“Dad?” You called next grabbing the sticky note off the fridge

Girls,

Carlos had a last-minute practice. Money left in the jar for supper.

- Dad

You hummed heading for the stairs to take a shower taking a guess that Julie was either in her room or at Flynn’s place. Bag in hand along with the softball bat you started up the stairs leading to your room. The faint conversation from her room was odd to say the least, the door was closed, and it sounded like more than one person.

The door opened easily under your hand scaring Julie who was sitting on her bed with a disgruntled expression. Her look of terror and nerves was the most concerning. Dropping the bag, you gripped the softball bat tight as you pushed the door open the rest of the way.

“Jules?” You spoke scanning the room, “Why do you have three boys in your room?”

The room went stock still, each boy scanning your form and the bat in hand. Standing in uniform coated in red soil from the infield you were on the more intimidating side.

“You can see them?”

“Jules, are you okay?” You questioned ignoring her odd question with a look of concern, the bat dropped low.

The last year had been extremely more difficult on Julie than Carlos and you given that Julie was closer with Mom with music. Carlos and you hadn’t inherited the gift that Julie had been born with; yet she hadn’t found interest in sports.

“She looks like she could break us?”

You sent a confused look at the trio giving your attention back to your little sister, “I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately, but you shouldn’t be acting out like this.” Julie’s jaw dropped at your words, “I’m not acting out! Dad can’t see-“

“He can’t see this because it shouldn’t be happening Julie.” You sternly told the younger Molina, “Just let me shower and we’ll hang out. You can pick the movie and the snacks, but they have to go. If you want, we can even dig out the projector.”

You pointedly looked at the three boys before turning your heel to head out of her room to yours down the hall. The door was closed tight as it always was, it was your space so when the door was shut no one went in. Trust was important in your family and with Julie uncharacteristically sneaking boys in that could mean all trust on closed doors would break.

“They’re ghosts.” Julie called out from her open door. The concern for the girl growing at her words, “I know that sounds bad and makes it seem like I need to see Dr. Turner but I’m not lying.”

You sighed at the girl completely in disbelief at the length she would go to lie, “Maybe you should see Dr. Turner Jules. Seeing the doctor doesn’t make you weak.”

Julie was silent as you began to open your door before the blonde boy literally appeared out of thin air in front of you.

“Oh my god!” You screamed stumbling back from the tall male, “Oh God. Scratch that! WE both need Dr. Turner.”

Two more bursts of light happened as the other two boys appeared in front of you with sheepish expressions. You took in a deep breath finally taking into consideration of Julie’s admittance.

“I-“ You choked out, “Does this mean Benny was a ghost?”

Julie blushed at the mention of her childhood imaginary friend that she had had for a number of years. It was also a time that Tía Victoria was not welcome in your home when she went behind your parents to schedule an appointment with Dr. Turner.

“Benny? No, I’m Reggie.” The boy with slicked back black hair spoke shaking his head, “This is Alex and Luke.”

You mutely nodded clenching your fists together, “Good thing you’re a ghost or I would have punched you.”

Luke’s eyes widened at the threat, “Whoa.”

“Now move. I just got home from practice, I’m sweaty and dirty.” You announced side stepping the ghostly trio. You grimaced at the blush appearing on Reggie and Luke, “Dead but still think inappropriately.”

“We’re teenage ghosts.” Alex announced glancing at his best friends. His hands shoved deep in his pockets as you took in his words.

You glanced over your shoulder at your little sister, “Just stay out of Julie’s room. And don’t look under Carlos’ bed.”

With that you opened the bedroom door and slammed in in their dead faces. The room had drastically changed from the previous year mainly the pale pink was painted over by a new colour. It was no longer the little girl’s room your mother had decorated while preparing for your birth. It was a young woman’s room decorated to fit your personality.

Located on a wall was the rack of softball bats with a number of softballs settled in divots on the connected shelf. Your room also had the only other connected bathroom, being the oldest sibling had benefits.

“Ghosts.” You muttered jumping when a thud happened. Turning your heel, you saw that Alex had opened the door and tossed your ball bag in.

“You left this. Sorry for interrupting.” Alex apologized as he left the room again.

“Boundaries!” You called out heading into your bathroom. Alex smiled at how similar he thought you and Julie were to each other.

Half of you had anticipated Julie getting the living room ready instead of using the projector in the garage; it was a part of growing up. The first time you can remember seeing the projector was when you first got your period and it became a thing with your mom. For the length of time for you period you had movie nights in the garage and when Julie got her first period it came a ritual. It helped that as sisters your periods synched together.

“Julie.” You breathed finding that she had surprised you. She had waited in the living room for you, “You didn’t.”

Shyly the younger Molina girl nodded her head and led you to the studio outside where it decorated as if the past year hadn’t happened. The projected was brought out along with countless snacks, fuzzy blankets and soda. It was also barren of anyone else.

“I’m guessing from the amount of time you’re in here that the ghosts live here?” You deduced at the musical instruments placed in an area they wouldn’t get in the way.

“Yeah.” Julie nodded, “I’m not sure where they are.”

“Righ-“

“Reggie!” Alex hissed from the loft with an apologetic expression, “We’re finding something to do while you use the studio. We’re be gone in a moment.”

Reggie and Luke nodded in response while digging through the things that had collected up there since 1995. Your smile turned into a frown at the discontentment they each displayed.

“Jules. Do they have anywhere else to go?” You whispered feeling sad when Julie indicated that this was their only place, “Why don’t we change this?”

“Change what?”

“I know that this feels odd without Mom but maybe we can make this better. Alex, would you guys like to stay?”

The question was barely spoke before the three ghosts flashed down to the ground floor with beaming grins. Each boy nodded happily eyeing up places to sit, Luke having fallen on the couch beside you. Julie shuffled making more room on the couch draping a blanket over her lap.

“So, Julie…comedy, horror, or romance?” You questioned raising one eyebrow up waiting for the reply, “Or we can subject the boys to Twilight. Then again Alex might enjoy Mean Girls.”

After reading the short description of the film Mean Girls was vetoed out along with Horror but the issue came with the move genre. Luke wanted a film with music while Reggie was asking for romance and Alex was just wanting to watch something.

“Pitch Perfect.” Julie and you spoke together nodding frantically, it had a moderately nice balance between music and romance.

“Pitch Perfect.” Alex stated unamused at the title, “How is that romance?”

“You’ll find out.” You smirked at the male dead teenager who would more than likely adore watching films to catch up on everything he missed during his twenty-five years in a dark room.

Every once in a while, Luke would gaze longingly at the food gathered around the only two living people. It was sad given the love he had had with food when he was still alive, he would anything in sight to be honest.

“Oh my god! The Breakfast Club! That came out ten years ago! It’s popular now?” Reggie exclaimed twisting to look to Julie.

“Gentle reminder. It came out thirty-five years ago. It’s a classic John Hughes! Of course, it’s popular.” You chuckled shaking your head by leaning back. You felt the caress of Luke’s gaze on your cheek but when you glanced over, he was staring hard at the screen.

“You good?”

“Yeah.” Luke nodded with a smile painted on his lips getting further into the comedy he found somewhat interesting. It was the song choices that got to him.

The music from your Spotify playlist muted the outside world as you focused on the computer screen open to a document. Eyes shifting between the paper of notes on your desk to the half-written History essay due in a few days. The last week had been mostly adapting to being one of two people able to see the band.

“Y/N.” Luke spoke from the doorway he had poofed into. A frown pulling the corner of his lips down at the lack of attention. In an action of desperation he chucked a pencil on your back; you flinched turning to see him in your room.

“Luke?” You asked removing an earbud from your ear. The joys of 2020 came with Bluetooth earbuds.

“Oh. You were listening to music.” Luke nodded moving to grab the earbud from the desk curiously, “Where are the wires? So small! How do they work?”

Launching into a short history on the change of music technology Luke was enthralled by the passion you carried. What he didn’t know was you were researching the changes between 1995 and 2020 for his benefit. Going as far as to compile a playlist for all three boys to introduce them to modern music.

“This is insane.” Luke mumbled handing the earbud back, “Cell phones are what get me!”

“Hey, doesn’t matter if your seventeen or forty-something…you still don’t understand it.” You smirked flinching when Luke tossed a decorative pillow at you with practiced ease. The squeal fell from your lips as it happened.

“If I was forty-something this would be very wrong.” Luke cheekily retorted tapping a finger on his knee thinking back on everything that happened, “Had everything gone to plan you would have known me only by music.”

“I’m sorry you died but I’m really happy we met.” The nerves evident in your tone, something that you didn’t often show. Softball was important and possibly the only ticket to college if everything went right.

“Me too.” Luke smile at the girl across him eyes so soft he could see what Alex and Reggie were trying to tell him.

Luke had a crush. Luke had feelings for a girl living and unable to feel his touch.

“Hey! I made a playlist for you guys. Let me know when you want to hear them, and I’ll get it playing for you. I have to get back to my essay. Feel free to stay.”

Luke graciously took the earbud from your hand leaning back on the bed as you played the rock he had unfortunately missed out on. Both unaware that his fingers had grazed your hand during the handoff. Luke has a crush and he can touch her too.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h

#luke patterson imagines #julie and the phantoms imagines #jatp luke #luke patterson x reader #angst #caitsy and ash productions #jatp #jatp fanfic

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

Note

hi wolfie it is i, the ramen man, i was wondering if you could write a prompt based on a baking competition tv show ? maybe even christmas themed if you want ?? no stress if you can't/don't wanna write it, i love u 🥺

This got... long? So you can also find on AO3

__________

Jaskier wasn’t stressed. He’d made this recipe a thousand times. It was his speciality! No one made better chocolate brownies than he did but his presentation let him down. They were messy, gooey and delicious but this was a competition. They needed to look good too. He whined as he sat in front of his oven. Who made chocolate brownies for a cooking competition? Oh god he was an idiot.

He glanced around the room. Valdo Marx was busy finishing up his winter spiced cake and it smelled absolutely divine; the bastard. Plus he’d brought along some holly sprigs to make the whole thing look a bunch more christmassy. Jaskier had baked some orange slices to decorate his brownies. He also had some edible golden glitter for the top and a few spun sugar decoration for good luck. His secret ingredient though was Cointreau. The orange liqueur kept the brownies extra gooey in the centre without them being too rich.

He stared into the oven, chewing his bottom lip anxiously as he ran a hand through his hair. They were almost done. There was a shiny film over the top that would give the brownies a nice crunch. If he did well with these he would get into the next round; the final round. In that round they hand to create gingerbread houses, well more palaces. They had to absolute architectural masterpieces and he was shitting himself. Like his brownies, his gingerbread tasted amazing but it wasn’t always pretty. They were delicious and wonderful but not much to look at on the surface.

He’d only gotten so far because they tasted good.

“Come on, come on, come on!” He muttered and pressed his face against the glass.

He really needed to at least get to the final. There were smaller cash prizes for all finalists and the publicity from the competition would do wonders for his little bakery.

“How’s it going?” Triss Merigold, one of the presenters asked.

He shrugged. “Not much I can do until it’s finished baking. It always goes much faster when you’re watching this at home.”

Triss laughed. “Clever editing.”

“I just hope I’ve done enough,” he sighed. “Maybe I can charm the judges with my guitar skills instead…”

“Ah yes, they said you play. Is that a hobby?” Triss asked with forced politeness.

Jaskier scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah. Well, I wanted to play as a kid. I was going to be the next John Lennon but you know how it is. My gran taught me how to bake and I became addicted. I still write my own songs for my YouTube channel though.”

“Wow! That’s amazing!” Triss made it sound like the least amazing hobby on the planet.

Luckily the oven timer went off at that moment and Jaskier was able to crack on. He pricked the brownies to make sure they were cooked through before setting it aside to cool. Whilst they were cooling he grabbed his tray of sugar decorations and the orange slicer.

“Bakers! You have five minutes!” Triss called out.

“Oh bollocks!” He groaned. He wasn’t going to have enough time to let it cool before decorating. Luckily the brownies tasted better warm but they were also harder to get out of the tin in one piece. He whined pitifully but dug a knife around the edge of the tin before slicing the brownies into the neatest rectangles he could manage. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The camera man glared at him for swearing but he just stuck his tongue out. He was stressed, he was allowed to fucking swear! They were crumbling in his hands as he moved them to the plates. He cleaned up the crumbs as best as he could before showering them with edible glitter. He arranged the baked orange decorations as best he could so they looked slightly less terrible and then finally delicately placed the spun sugar on the top, only breaking two of the little shits in his hands.

“And stop!” Triss yelled and all the bakers stood back from their stations.

Valdo Marx was smiling smugly. His winter spiced cake looked fucking fantastic. On his other side stood Priscilla. She’d made cupcakes that were elegantly decorated to look like snowflakes, each one slightly different and beautiful. Next to Priscilla was Essi Daven. Her chocolate Yule Log looked amazing, Jaskier almost believed it was a real log.

Oh he was so going out.

He sighed and plastered a fake smile on his face as Yennefer Vengerberg re-entered the room.

“Time’s up bakers. You are apparently the best of the best but only three of you will make the final round. My expectations are high. I’m sure you’ll disappoint.” She smirked at them, violet eyes flashing dangerously. “Sadly, it is not only me that you must impress with these bakes.”

Jaskier felt his eyes widen. Shit, he’d forgotten that they brought in a second judge in this round. The bakers never knew who would be until they were introduced but it was always a famous chef and Jaskier suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Please welcome, my ex-husband… Geralt.”

Jaskier let out a pitiful whimper as Geralt fucking Rivia entered the room. The man was only his celebrity crush. He would be fine. It was going to be fine and holy shit he was even more gorgeous in real life.

Fuck.

“Now, as I am sure you are all away, Geralt and I have never once agreed on anything except our daughter. So this promises to be fun.” Yen drawled sarcastically.

Geralt chuckled and crossed his arms in front on his chest. He was wearing a tight black t-shirt and Jaskier’s entirely life was suddenly just Geralt’s arms.

They were so big.

“That is precisely why I was invited, Yen,” Geralt muttered with a fond smile. “Evens out the vote.”

“My vote is fine on its own.”

“Hmm. We’ll see.”

Jaskier zoned out the rest of the conversation as the other bakers made their way to the front to be judged. He was too entranced by the god stood before him. The long silver hair that was pulled up into a bun, revealing the oh so sexy undercut. Jaskier watched Geralt’s lips part as he tasted one of Priscilla’s cupcakes. He got some frosting stuck on the corner of his lips and Jaskier desperately wanted to help him lick it off, but instead Geralt’s tongue flicked out to catch it. Jaskier was weak.

He zoned back in long enough to notice with great satisfaction that Valdo’s cake was under-baked and a little bit shit, not even holly could save it. So Jaskier was still in with a chance, and then it was his turn. He was hoping the brownies would still be warm. If they’d cooled down too much then his presentation would probably fuck him over.

“Buttercup?” Yennefer raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “If you could stop drooling over my ex for two seconds, tell us about your… brownies?”

Jaskier’s fingers flexed and he tugged nervously at the edge of his shirt. “Ah yes. Umm. Hi,” He stammered and blushed as Geralt winked at him. “Brownies, orange. Chocolate orange brownies,” he swallowed and ran a hand through his hair. “I used dark chocolate mostly but there are chocolate orange chunks in there too, any orange flavoured chocolate is good. Orange zest, orange juice and umm.. oh ah, orange liqueur.”

“Aren’t you concerned the orange will overpower the chocolate?” Yen asked sharply.

Jaskier shrugged. “I make these every year. They sell well at the bakery.”

“Smells good,” Geralt noted.

“The presentation is shocking,” Yennefer countered.

“Yeah,” Jaskier admitted with a sheepish smile “but I can do better. If you give me a chance.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re running out of chances.”

“Yeah but I’m cute.” The words fell from his lips before he could stop them. He clapped his hand over his mouth and blush furiously. “I am so sorry!”

“Hmm.”

“Let’s just taste them shall we?” Yen suggested.

Jaskier nodded, still hiding behind his hands. “Please.” He felt a hand on his shoulder and he yelped.

“Relax, Jaskier,” Geralt murmured in a low voice.

Jaskier’s blush deepened and he smiled up at Geralt. Oh those eyes were like honey, so warm and inviting. There was still a small smudge of frosting on his lips that Jaskier hadn’t noticed before but now he couldn’t stop staring. He wondered if Geralt tasted as sweet as he looked. “Thanks, Geralt.”

“Geralt, stop flirting and taste the freaking brownie.”

“Yes, dear,” Geralt sighed.

Geralt took a bite of his brownie and fucking moaned. A quiet whimper escaped Jaskier’s lips. God he was going to melt on national television but he didn’t care. He’d had a chance to meet his favourite celebrity and Geralt had liked his baking! It was honestly life goals. The only thing he had left to tick off was his wedding to Geralt by the coast. That had always seemed like an unreachable fantasy that helped him sleep at night but now Geralt was right in front of him… it didn’t seem quite so far away.

“Fuck,” Geralt moaned. Jaskier chuckled, that would have to be beeped out in the final cut. “This is amazing!”

Yennefer looked surprised as she tried her own forkful of brownie. “Not bad, buttercup. Not bad at all. It melts in your mouth.”

“And the orange is actually subtler than I expected.” Geralt gave him a fond smile and Jaskier had to remind himself how to breathe.

“Ah, umm. Thanks, Thank you, Geralt.”

“It looks like dirt,” Yennefer said cooly “but it tastes heavenly. Presentation has always been your weakness, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened. Yennefer hadn’t called him ‘Jaskier’ since the first round when Triss had mentioned it was Polish for buttercup. “I know. I know!” He whined.

“If you get through to the final then you will fail miserably unless you can change that,” she added with a raised eyebrow.

“Taste won’t save you, no matter how cute you are,” Geralt smirked.

“I know. Wait hang on what?!” Jaskier stammered at Geralt’s words.

“You did good, buttercup. Well done.” Yennefer said firmly and rolled her eyes. “We’re done here.”

“Thank you, Yennefer, Geralt,” He nodded, definitely not still blushing as his gaze landed back on Geralt. “Thank you.”

____________

Jaskier screamed into the cushions as he threw himself down on the sofa. He’d fucking done it! He was in the final! He’d never imagined in a million years! Not to mention that Geralt Rivia thought he was cute. He wondered if he would be able to get Geralt’s autograph or whether that was just weird considering he was one of the judges.

“Jaskier?”

Jaskier rolled over so he could see Geralt, forgetting that the sofa wasn’t that wide and falling onto the floor. “Oh fuck!”

“Are you alright?” Geralt asked as he came over to help him stand up. Jaskier gripped Geralt’s forearm as he was pulled to his feet.

All other thoughts left his mind as he stared at the muscles in Geralt’s arms.

“Arms…” He blurted out. “I mean! Shit. Umm, oh god.”

Geralt just laughed and steadied him on his feet. “Look, I wanted to ask…. once the show is over and I’m no longer a judge. Did you want to get dinner?”

Jaskier gaped at Geralt. “I’m sorry what?”

“Unless I’ve completely misread the situation. Fuck. Sorry. Look you can say no, I won’t score you worse because of it,” Geralt paled and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “We’ll pretend this never happened.”

“No, Geralt wait!” Jaskier grabbed his arm. “Yes, ask me again after the final but yes. Dinner sounds great.”

Geralt smiled faintly and nodded. “Great.”

“Great,” Jaskier repeated. “It’s a date!”

Geralt nodded again. “I have to go. We shouldn’t be seen alone together until after the final.”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.”

“Good luck, Jaskier.”

Jaskier grinned dopily as he watched Geralt walk away. It looked like Christmas magic was a real thing after all. “Yeah, you too.”

Wait. You too? Oh fuck it. _____________ Tag list: @alwenarin @slythnerd @davidtennan-t @flippinfricks @innocentcinnamonpun @marvagon @elliestormfound @geraskier-trashh @panerato @moonysourenza @artistsfuneral @victorieschild @hailhailsatan @wherethewordsare @havenoffandoms @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @electricrituals @geralt-of-riviass @00qtee @kittynannygaming @stinastar @scribblesonmapleleaves @thecomfortofoldstorries @fontegagrilledcheese @anythinggoesfandoms @veritasrose @trickstermoose67 @nonegenderleftpain @ohheytheremiss @kueble @love-more-today-than-yesterday @kozkaboi

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier pankratz #triss merigold #modern au #christmas prompt #wolfie's witcher writing #ramenyul #winter prompts

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demialwrites · 3 years

Text

It Will Be Okay - Zhongli

I need more covid 19-related comfort. I don't even know how you guys who work are dealing. I'm struggling just at home!!

A novel disease swept through Liyue harbour. Everyone was on edge constantly, living in fear of being infected. Those who were, were bedridden for weeks. It brought productivity to a halt and some of those at the top of government squabbled over whether to let no shipments through or only a few. A couple--fools, you'd say--said let business run as usual. Those with the final say chose to slow business to a trickle. You happened to have one of the jobs that couldn't be abandoned. Even if you didn't, you would still be exhausted. You were tired from being afraid, tired from looking at other people being tired, and tired from the increased workload. Going to bed, your sleep was restless and stressful. Bad dreams came almost every night. Soon you were a zombie, going through the motions and taking what little joy you could from a favourite snack and your family. You couldn't see your friends and went straight home from work to avoid any crowds. Tonight, however, you found an empty spot up some of the stairs that had the red railings. The café had shut down but there was enough light to hang out nearby. The sun had set early and the soft light of the moon was calming. A few stars even twinkled. You barely registered that you were nodding off before you fell asleep.

You woke to see the moon, still. Except you weren't leaning on the red railing anymore. It was something warm and hard. Trying to move, you found you were stuck in place, even when pushing against whatever was around you. "Hmmm. You're awake," rumbled a deep, serene voice. You really should be panicking. Really! But the voice was soothing and even. Its qualities conveyed, Everything may not be okay but it will be. Not with words but you'd take it. The warm and hard holding you shifted and circled. It was too rough and pulled at your clothing, so you squirmed and protested. The movement halted. "I forgot my scales were rough. Allow me to fix that." The movement started up again but in different directions. You braced yourself on those scales the voice mentioned. You could see what surrounded you now. Gold glinted gently in the moonlight. You pushed on the surface and it gave under your fingers like the extra weight you put on recently. A dark brown snout, yellow eyes, followed by the rest of a head, came into view. You knew those branch-like horns! "Rex Lapis!" you blurted. "I am not Rex Lapis." The dragon spoke without moving its mouth. "My name is Zhongli. I saw you fall in the middle of the city. You were asleep so I didn't wake you." You stayed there, confused. If not Rex Lapis, then who? "I brought you to the cliff," he continued. "It's one of my favourite views. My body will shield you from the ocean wind. If you keep pressing on my stomach, it will tickle though." You jerked your hand away. "Don't worry. If you want to go home, I will let go of you. However," Zhongli hesitated, tilting his large head. "Being here reminded me of a great battle that took place..." His voice drifted at the end and hinted there was more if you wanted to hear it. He waited for a reply with an almond-shaped yellow eye fixed on your face. Maybe you should have said no and demanded he released you but you wanted an excuse to forget about the mess that Liyue was for now. Also, who would turn down a bedtime story from a dragon?! "...and then?" you asked. Zhongli snuffed through his reptilian nostrils. He seemed pleased. He launched into a story back when Rex Lapis battled a sea monster. You thought it was strange that this dragon knew a detailed story about the geo god after the denial. You listened, doing your best to imagine everything he told you. It was difficult. Not because he was a bad story-teller but because you were still tired and his voice was still soothing, forcing you slowly down into slumber. Even more so when he hit a stride with his words. He continued to slowly spin the ancient tale even when you closed your eyes and let your cheek fall to his soft belly. Zhongli eventually noticed your even, deep breathing. Keeping a close eye on your fragile body, he carefully arranged his long, snake-like body so that it hugged you on all sides and supported your head. He could feel your abdomen expand when you breathed. He dared squeeze a bit tighter and faintly felt your heartbeat. Relaxing again, he inwardly repeated the promise that he would do his best to protect the people of Liyue, even if he wasn't their god anymore. You woke up annoyed that you left the window open last night to let the bright sunlight in. Blinking away the sleepiness, you remembered where you actually were. But gone was the dragon and in his place was a dragon-like man. His features were the same colour scheme as the dragon so it was easy for you to make the connection. Plus, he held you as he did the night before, just with arms. Strangely, you felt as secure in these arms as you did when you had been wrapped in a dragon's long body. He was still bigger than you but decidedly more human-shaped. He gazed off into the distance, unaware that you were looking up at him with your mouth hanging open. It did give you time to look him over. The hard scales from last night apparently trailed up his body to his cheeks because they glinted in the morning sun as clouds passed by. He dipped his chin thoughtfully, bringing your attention to the branch-like horns still on his head, just smaller. Seeing a handsome blend of man and dragon was fascinating. It took a lot of effort not to reach up and rudely run your fingers along his scales. His grip tightened slightly and he looked down. Your eyes met and you discovered that his eyes were a unique blend of the yellow eyes he had last night and brown. He dipped his chin, staring at you more closely. You recoiled, like you had been caught doing something naughty. That caused him to smile gently. He helped you to your feet while you tried to feel that Zhongli's appearance was normal. That it was normal to have a snake-body trailing behind him. A quick transformation back to completely dragon and he set to work trying to convince you to let him carry you back to the city on his back. You glanced over the side of the nearby cliff, which was steep, and promptly agreed. You climbed on and hesitantly gripped his horns. He didn't protest and instead glided smoothly down the mountain towards the wooden docks of the harbour. After stepping awkwardly off Zhongli, you turned to glance around and see if anyone had noticed your arrival. You turned back to find a handsome, slickly-dressed man, patting his clothes down with brown gloves. The rest of his outfit matched, brown and gold. He definitely looked richer than you, and normal-sized. After fussing some, Zhongli looked up from his clothes at you. You looked away quickly, fearing he might think you were checking him out again. "The dockworkers are still asleep at this hour," he informed you. "Are you uncomfortable after I took you away from your bed last night? The least I can do is walk you home." He politely gestured for you to lead the way. As if the man wasn't clearly above your status! You weren't aching at all but you felt like if you said goodbye, he might vanish, never to be seen by you again. "O-okay." You led him in the direction of your apartment, purposefully slowly. Your tiny place probably cost less than his clothes. The mysterious dragon-man distracted you from your anxious thoughts by stopping to check a tea house for some tea leaves, saying that he should also treat you to some tea. After politely declining, he insisted. You didn't feel like you could say no, especially since he had some tidbits about each kind of tea that you were happy to absorb. He seemed to have a tab running with the shopkeeper because he purchased some tea without handing over any mora. Again, Zhongli stopped to get each of you a pastry to match the tea. He said, with a strange amount of authority in his voice, that the pastries he got matched the tea perfectly. He said nothing about your cheap apartment while inside. He then coaxed a tea that was so lacking in bitterness from your tiny kettle on your tiny stove that you swear it tasted sweet. You sat at your table, red-faced and embarrassed, that such a man was making you tea. He never said a thing about it. He only brought up anything slightly related when he picked up a cheap knickknack decorating your table. "I have never seen these before," he muttered to himself, then placed it back. He said that with such a lack of judgment that you finally started to feel at ease. You were first to sip the tea. Praise burst from you, causing him to smile gently as he was cradling his teacup to his lips. He seemed to be pleased that you enjoyed the tea as much as he did. The pastry was also a hit with you. It was as perfect as he said it would be. Teatime with Zhongli was relaxing and you didn't want it to end. You began to prod him with hesitant questions about things you thought he might know about. It was like poking a hole in a water balloon; information flowed out and didn't stop flowing the more you asked. He didn't deflate and run out of things to say but you did discover that you were late for work, judging by the angle of the sunlight out the window. Thankfully, the pastries had been eaten and the tea was cold by then. Zhongli insisted on talking to your boss about your being late. You didn't know what he could do but it couldn't hurt. Money talked in Liyue and his clothes screamed lots of it. To your astonishment, Zhongli was able to distract your boss from her scorn with his disarming confidence and good manners. She forgot all about your lateness. All she did was ask later where you got this new friend. And also, can we sell the funeral parlor he works for some of our goods? A funeral parlor? Who is this man? You thanked Zhongli for the tea and pastries. He thanked you for the good company, which made you blush. He told you to drop by his place of work when you next brewed that tea, as he had left the rest of it at your apartment. He promised to bring more pastries. You agreed immediately, forgetting to ask exactly who he was. You watched him leave, swearing you would find the courage somewhere to follow up on your agreement. You don't break agreements in Liyue. Months later, the city was still in semi-shutdown. You had taken to sleeping in. Your new boyfriend, Zhongli, was not happy with staying in but he was happy to be with you. In his hybrid state, he held you from behind his arms with his tail was wrapped around your leg. Warm and cozy. You both lay in his bed, because his sheets were tough enough to not be shredded by his scales and also...it was so much nicer than your bed. It made you smile just being here. "We could get takeout and dine at the peak of the mountain of your choice," he suggested. Not even opening your eyes, you replied, "Later. Lunch, maybe?" He hummed. A minute passed. He insisted, "I will tell you a secret if you accompany me for breakfast." You opened your eyes and rolled over onto your back. His tail uncoiled and settled loosely over your ankles. You knew him by now. If you agreed, it was a verbal contract that he would take seriously. "It had better be a good secret. A juicy one." "You agree to my terms?" A teasing lilt in his voice. "Yes." "...I used to be known as Rex Lapis." You flew up from the bed into a sitting position. "I knew it!" "Hmmm. Why didn't you tell me?" "I thought it would be rude. You're so polite." "Well, now you know and now we can have breakfast." He pulled himself to sit at the edge of the bed so that his tail hung off the side. It soon became legs. "Bring your wallet, Dear." He waved dismissively.

#zhongli x reader #gender neutral reader #comfort #fluff #my shit #long post #genshin #genshin impact

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danicarosaline · 4 years

Text

Until i met you

𝙹𝙹 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

The anon request: G’day gorgeous, was wondering if i could request jj x kook reader! Shes rlly great friends w/ rafe, topper, kelce but somehow ends up falling for a pogue(jj) and she keeps the lil crush a secret from her friends? fluff if you will🥰

Warnings: swear words, fluff & angst (theres a punch on)

A/N: reading my own fics makes me cringe for some reason lolol anyways, i hope y’all like this one!! 🌸✨

For the sake of the story, JJ works at a cafe called ‘The Milk Bar’ & he’s a barista there.

You perch yourself onto a dark blue beach towel, not quite sure if it was yours or Kelce’s since your towels were almost identical. It was high noon and the sun beat down with intense ferocity that caused sweat to trickle down your neck and back as a few strands of baby hair clung to your forehead. You felt like you were showering in your own sweat and even though this big old tree hovered above the four of you, sheltering y’all from the sun just a tad and a cold drink stowed in your left hand, it still wasn’t enough for the heat to be bearable.

Not to mention that the sand was far too hot to walk on. whose idea was it to flee to the beach on the hottest day of the summer? the sidewalk was hot enough to fry an egg for crying out loud.

“Whose idea was it to come here?” Kelce whined as if he read your mind. Topper clicks his tongue from where he stood, turning himself around to face Kelce with an annoyed expression. “I'm sorry man, I thought it would be a good idea okay? sorry for suggesting” he replies with a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

“Whatever dumbass”

“You know what Kelce, you’re a dick”

“What? how?”

“You’ve done nothing but complain the entire time we’ve been out and I’m-“

“Yeah, I don't care- how come your pool is malfunctioning itself when we need it the most? Explain yourself Top”

“I have literally explained it twice already! have you not been list-“

“Will you two shut up for a fucking second?” Rafe bellowed as he ran a hand through his soaked blond locks, fingers hovering just above the screen of his new Iphone.

You chuckled lightly at the three in front of you, bringing up the cold water bottle to your lips for the hundredth time that day. “It was a good idea at the time Toppy, but right now it’s just way too hot to walk around this sand” you factually state, smiling up at the pouty boy sweetly.

“Shall we leave then and go back to my place?” Kelce suggested and you nod enthusiastically. This heat was getting worse by the minute and you were sure that you would pass out at any moment. Rafe waves a hand in the air, not having a single care about the conversation and where the group ends up at, his attention still glued to his phone. Topper’s shoulders deflate a little. Seemingly annoyed at his friends for wanting to leave the beach so suddenly but an idea crosses his mind.

“Yo why don’t we head to the Milk Bar first? I heard that place sells the best ice cream on the island and it’s not even that far from here!”

A pretty hostess around her mid twenties welcomed you once the four of you arrived at the small cafe Topper had suggested and as you drink in the aroma of the place you couldn’t help but think that it wasn’t all that from what you heard from the other kooks, charitably speaking. But it was definitely very well decorated with it’s interior warm and cheery and colourful walls and it’s ridiculous amount of flower pots. It was simple, but nonetheless cute in it’s own way.

You were about to scold the boys for looking like a bunch of perverts ogling at the pretty hostess but before you could do so, a cute barista behind the marbled countertop caught your eye. His blond hair was unruly; tied up into a tiny cute bun at the top of his head and a loose black shirt covering his frame along with a brown apron.

Damn those arms. You tilt your head thoughtlessly to get a better angle of the way his arms flex through his tee, not at all realizing how you look to the others who stared at you with curious eyes.

“Oh fuck no”

You snapped out of your daze and angled your neck to look at Rafe who was sitting beside you, his brows furrowed, lips formed into a somewhat frown. You took one last glance at the blond barista and then back at the other blond next to you. Not quite understanding why Rafe all of the sudden became tense. You were the new kook on the island and have only been around for about three or four months, give or take? After all those months of being around the three, insanely attractive kooks, you never actually took notice on how protective these boys had become over you. ‘Never get yourself involved with a pogue. They are dirty, weak and all around devious’ was one of the rules you had to commit to. Ridiculous i know, but you loved the friends you came to know so you obeyed.

“That blondie over there? He’s a pogue and the worst one possible so don’t even think about going there” Rafe asserts protectively and you felt intimidated under his intense stare. Not knowing what to say, you just nodded in response and Rafe gave your nose a gentle boop, end of conversation.

“-whatever Kelce, anyways, who's paying?” Topper speaks with a mouthful of strawberries in his mouth, making you grimace at the sight before you. You reached over the table to close his mouth and hand him a few serviettes for the mess he made around himself.

“Not me”

“Yeah, not me either!”

“Nhut meh”

“Ew Toppy eat with your mouth closed for the love of god! And don’t worry you idiots, i'll pay” you offered with the roll of your eyes. For a bunch of rich kids they sure don’t wanna pay for themselves. ‘You’re richer than us combined’ Rafe would announce childishly whilst the other two agreed with certainty. What a bunch of dorks.

Upon making it at the front counter, you feel yourself freeze as you come face to face with the cute barista you had your eyes on. You couldn’t identify the colour of his eyes from the distance of where you sat but evidently, they were ethereally a deep ocean blue that was so full of life. He had smooth sun-kissed skin and if you lean in just a bit, you could see the small freckles sprinkled about like confetti. This boy was beautiful from head to toe it seems and there was no denying that.

“Hello, how was everything miss? Have our desserts reached up to your satisfactions?” He asked, the tonality of his voice sounded just as good as he looks. You reply back with an audible yes, biting down on your bottom lip slightly out of a nervous habit. After all, you were always the shy type. Especially around handsome strangers such as- you took a glimpse at the name tag pinned on the strap of his apron- JJ. Handsome strangers such as JJ.

“I especially loved the coffee chocolate um..” you trail off, having forgotten the name of the dessert you ordered but luckily JJ knew exactly what you were referring to. “Ah yes, the coffee chocolate ripple ice cream. That’s everyone's go-to around here” the blond chuckles and you nod. “I’m not surprised to be honest, coffee ice cream slaps! It’s the best out of all the other flavors i reckon”

He didn’t match your enthusiasm for the flavour, since chocolate was his favourite, but then your eyes lit up and the prettiest of grins decorated your undoubtedly stunning features, making him swoon at the pure sight. He claimed that it was his favourite ice cream, just so he could see that smile on your face again. He thought he’d seen you somewhere before. Definitely not a past hook up because how could he forget such a pretty face? His eyes flashed towards your table and then back at you. As if a lightbulb had been switched on in his mind, his eyes widen when his brain contemplated on who you were. He asked for your name and sure enough, you were the one he was thinking of. The new kook from Figure Eight. The chick who was glued to Rafe’s side at all times, Topper’s best friend and Kelce’s family friend. JJ hated those stuck up, pieces of shits and he wanted to despise you by simply being around them, but he felt drawn to you. The reasoning for that is unknown to him, so unusual and unfamiliar. Maybe it was because you looked angelic standing in front of him and the innocence radiating off of you got him believing that you were different from the rest.

☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎

“Is this even a top?”

You reached out toward your maroon curtains and drew it aside in one swift motion, spinning back around to rummage through the diverse of clothes sprawled across the bed. JJ held a white lace up, silk crop top in his hands, observing it attentively with arch brows. “Where’s the back of this shit?” He asked, pulling on the strings to untangle it from the soft material.

“Dude it’s supposed to be a backless top and stop pulling on the strings! You’ll ruin it!” Snatching the top out of his hands, you throw him the white tee he accidentally left at your house last week. That’s what led you both here actually, getting ready together for another boneyard party, with your clothes all out and about everywhere messily because JJ’s favourite top was missing from his own closet. He ran to you without a second thought, already knowing that if he somehow loses something of his, it will undoubtedly be at your house.

After your first encounter with the blond at the Milk Bar, (that seemed like it was just yesterday but in fact it was almost a year ago now) JJ had been nothing but an amazing friend to you since. Much to the dismay of your three boy-friends.

JJ kept in touch with you after the countless amount of times he ran into you at a boneyard party. Never had he met anyone who could drink him under the table up until you, hence, wanting to keep you as close as possible. You got along with his friends well, too well to be exact as if you were a pogue yourself, and it was only the way you dressed and styled your hair that made you look so out of place with them. They loved you nonetheless, more so than they could admit but you were still a kook that was slumming it with the kooks, with Rafe out of all people.

“Thanks cutie” JJ reaches over his head to undress, replacing his gray cut off tank with the shirt you handed him. After months on end of watching this guy undress in front of you, whether that would be at the beach or him wanting to have a shower in your bathroom, it still made your heart flutter and butterflies to erupt in your belly. “Liking the view babe? Why don’t you take a picture, it’ll last longer” he flirts, winking and blowing a kiss your way.

With a click of your tongue, you swat at the hands he raised to pinch your cheeks, puffing them out in frustration when JJ tugged on the strands of your hair like a toddler. “Piss off Jay” turning away from the touchy blond and headed to the bathroom. “Nah you love me!” He calls out and you scrunch up your nose, voicing out an audible gag. “Hey i heard that!”

“Yeah you were meant to”

☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎ ☁︎︎

The waves rolled in, churning across the sand on the shore as the sun began to set like it does naturally. Teenagers were laughing and swaying their hips to the music that was booming out of the big speakers you offered to pay not long ago, as a gift from you to the pogues. Your eyes wandered from person to person, trying to spot your kook friends from where you sat on the log and when you couldn’t find them anywhere in the crowd you slowly brought your eyes back on your favourite blond, who held his gaze at you expectantly. Like he was waiting on a response. Oh wait.

“Oh sorry JJ, what did you say?”

“I think she’s had enough to drink”

“We literally just got here like an hour ago Pope” JJ says comically, bringing the beer he held up to his lips. Blue eyes still fixated on your frame. “Yeah so, as i was saying Y/n/n, do you remember that time you had to tell your dad that i was gay because he caught me in your room once?”

you laughed aloud at the memory whilst the others around you did so as well. “I got in so much trouble dude, you have no idea.” From the corner of your eye you caught a familiar bright red button up shirt. Twisting your head and narrowing your eyes in that direction, you can clearly make out Rafe’s broad shoulders arrayed in the red button up, Topper’s fat head and Kelce’s dark skin. You’re sure they haven’t seen you yet because otherwise they would have been dragging your ass back to where they occupied themselves. Surrounded by bimbo, fake breasted tourons.

You tensed when you felt a presence beside you. JJ had his ring clad fingers at the nape of your neck, massaging the skin affectionately whenever he sensed the stress emitting out of you. Leaning into his touch, you casted your attention away from your three best friends and focused on the one who held your heart. “You good?” He asked worriedly, his voice was smooth and velvety. You felt those butterflies again knowing that he was only this soft around you. “The three musketeers are here” you murmured, counting the faint freckles on his cheeks and nose.

JJ sat a little straighter to peek over your head, spotting Alvin and his chipmunks almost immediately. “Rafe’s wearing the brightest red shirt i have seen” he cringed, causing a giggle to escape your lips at the disgusted look on JJ’s face. “I know, we all hate it but it’s his favourite, so”

“I’m surprised you actually let him go out like that? Aren’t you a fashion freak?” You boop his nose with your finger, drawing your bottom lip between your teeth when you became aware of the close proximity. JJ was so close that you would almost kiss him if he moved an inch. He so desperately wanted to claim those lips but what if it was a bad idea?.

It was definitely a bad idea. What if she reciprocated though? He thought. You didn’t move, nor did he. JJ was gazing at you like he was looking far beyond the makeup and for once, you didn’t feel insecure or nervous under his gaze. You felt loved and cared for. Nobody has looked at you the way JJ Maybank does.

Those ocean eyes fall onto your lips so quickly you almost missed it. Your hands start to sweat just as they shake. He’s leaning forward and your instinct was to swerve and avoid kissing a pogue before Rafe and the others see but you find yourself mirroring his actions. fluttering your eyes shut, his chapped lips brush yours lightly, before planting them on your delicate ones completely. Your heart hammered in your chest, not sure if you felt light headed because of the alcohol you consumed or from the way lips danced with yours perfectly.

You were hauled away from JJ as fast as the kiss had happened, and suddenly people came from every direction to surround the group of you. Topper had JJ in a headlock, with Rafe continuously ramming his fist to JJ’s stomach. “Rafe no! Stop!” Kelce’s grip was strong on your waist, keeping you solid in his embrace. You kicked and screamed for Rafe to stop. The stubborn bastard not hearing a single word you screeched.

“Rafe please, enough! Topper let him go!”

John B and Pope come into view, throwing themselves at the two kooks heedlessly whilst Sarah and Kie bellow for the fight to stop. You elbow Kelce in the stomach, causing his grip on you to loosen and seeing this as an opportunity, you shove at his chest forcefully. Kelce falls flat on his side and you keep a mental note to apologise to your friend later. Recklessly, you dash through the fight. Avoiding the swinging hands and massive bodies as Sarah cries out your name in a panic, worried that you’d end up getting trampled by the boys.

“J- JJ!” You fell on your knees and scooped up the blond’s head, inspecting his face for any new bruises besides the faint ones he already had. JJ only sported a bleeding lip and you were terrified to see what work Rafe’s done to his stomach. “Rafe what the hell is wrong with you?!” Your voice cracked when you shouted, which captured Rafe and Topper’s attention. “That dickhead harassed you!” Topper barked, like the drama queen he was. “No he didn’t you fucking idiot Top, i kissed him!”

“Why Y/n? Do you like this dirty pogue now? He’s nothing but a scum on this Island”

“No he’s not Rafe, I love him!!”

The world seemed to stop spinning. The words passing through your lips before you could stop them from slipping. JJ’s eyes widen, as do the multiple eyes around you. Your face conveyed an emotion Rafe simply did not understand, but the way you pulled JJ further into your chest, with your brows sloped downwards in a serious expression made his eyes glazed over. “You love him?” The kook leader asked melancholy. JJ lifts up a comforting hand to wipe away the tears that flowed down your warm cheeks. “Yes Rafe. I love him”

“You love him?!”

“Oh my god- yes Toppy, i said it already!!”

“Say it again” JJ pleads.

“Rafe i’m sorry.” You affirm, sniffling, and trying your best to blink calmly when you felt your eyes start to well up with tears again. You helped JJ to his feet, placing a firm hand on his chest when he clenched his fist and started to walk forward, probably to start the fight up again. JJ stared at Rafe menacingly, but Rafe couldn’t focus on anything but you. His blood boiled seeing you locked under the pogue’s arm. “No, I’m sorry” was the last thing he said before stalking away and dragging two of your best friend’s by the arm.

“W- wait Rafe!? Y/n/n!” Topper hollers, stressfully prying off the tight clutch Rafe had on his arm but to no avail. “I’ll call you later Top, I promise!” The whines from Topper trails off as the three of them disappear from your sight. You internally hoped that Kelce wouldn’t run his mouth to your parents about JJ and the fight that went down at the boneyard. You were in enough trouble as it is.

You cup your face in your hands, sighing heavily. The anxiousness creeped up your spine like a cobra and you wanted nothing more than to lie down in the soft mattress of your bed and maybe with JJ too? To be completely honest, you weren’t quite sure what kind of feelings the playboy harbors for you because of all the mixed signals that you had to endure through the long months of knowing him. You opened your mouth and prepared to belt out your frustrations when you were suddenly stopped by a pair of lips. JJ drew away quickly and caressed both your cheeks with his freezing hands, leaning in so his forehead rested on yours.

“No one has ever loved me before” he pecks your lips in a swift kiss. “Truth be told, I have never been in love, but that was until I met you and never did it cross my mind that a spoiled kook like yourself could keep me grounded” JJ chuckles at his own cheesiness, pulling you closer by the waist. Your ears perk up on the cheers and the clapping from everybody who witnessed the whole scene, including your pogue friends who cheered JJ on for getting the girl.

“Wanna do something cliche, and possibly cringy?” You asked the blond. JJ tilts his head amusingly and before he could answer, you were dragging him away towards the shore, skipping in your steps all the while JJ rolls his eyes playfully with the shake of his head at your silly antics.

Sarah watches you spurt away with JJ, the hint of sympathy tinges at her heart for her brother who she perceived was in love with you. Rafe can be an impulsive dick at times, hard headed and a weirdo but the thing he had most in common with Maybank was that Rafe also never loved anyone up until he met you.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj outer banks #jj maybank fanfic #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank imagine #jj x reader #jj x y/n #jj x you #fanfiction #fluff #outer banks jj maybank #cliche fanfics #outer banks imagines

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deecitys · 3 years

Text

blue, white, and a little bit of gold; z. chenle

pairing: chenle x fem!reader

genre/warnings: school au, friends to lovers, student!chenle, fluff, swearing, food

word count: 2.7k

a.n.: this is part of the nct secret santa collab hosted by @neoculturechristmas ! i’m writing for @candychanhee i hope u enjoy <33

masterlist

lowercase intended

MONDAY, DEC. 14

“you’re really going to leave me alone?” you frown. “here? with mrs. s? out of all the teachers?”

your best friend, jiwoo, places her hand on your shoulder empathetically. “she called you. i’m terrified of her. the discussion is over, y/n.”

she bows like a ballerina and proceeds to jump away from you down the hall. you roll your eyes and push the wooden door open, sighing. the empty home economics classroom smells like freshly baked muffins, except evil freshly baked muffins, just because this is mrs. s’s classroom.

you walk up to the one desk you could find, clear of fabric scraps and needles, and dump your heavy backpack on it. the noise echos; or maybe it’s just your hyperactive brain anticipating for a jumpscare. in mrs. s’s classroom, anything can happen…

but just as you were about to call for the terrifying teacher, the door rattles open behind you and you let out a yelp, scrunching down.

“hey y/n,” a slightly familiar voice calls. you slowly shift your gaze to find zhong chenle.

you’ve known chenle ever since middle school (you might’ve had a crush on him back then…), and he was in your friend group at one point, but you two have never crossed paths in particular especially after he was announced as mvp for the school basketball team and became mega popular. he was nice though, as far as you knew, and it was a sense of relief that you weren’t going to be the only one in mrs. s’s room.

“haha, um, hi chenle,” you force a smile and hold the desk to get up. something shifts in the storage room of the class, and when you two turn your attention to the noise, mrs. s enters the scene. her leather buckled shoes clack on the floor as she approaches you and chenle.

“hello, chenle,” mrs. s greets the smiling boy with ink-black hair, and proceeds to frown on you through her narrow glasses. “you should’ve told me you’re here.”

“sorry,” you utter, avoiding eye contact.

she mumbles something about kids these days. “i called you two here because i want to ask for a favor.”

while mrs. s shuffles through her desk, you glance at chenle with wide eyes, who shrugs back in question.

“i’m on duty for planning, and you two are the highest performing in my classes. a week left.” mrs. s hands a piece of paper, and chenle reaches out to grab it.

“december 18th, friday, gym, at 6 through 8:30 pm… the winter dance?” he reads. “we’re supposed to plan it?”

“plan it, manage it, whatever else it needs,” mrs. s explains while you panic trying to think of an excuse out. chenle just stands, dumbfounded. “10 percent raise of semester grade of whatever class if it goes successfully.”

10 percent? holy shit, this is your chance. your math grade!

“we’re doing it!” you blurt out loudly, inducing an emotion (slight surprise? indistinguishable.) out of mrs. s for the first time.

“we are?” chenle questions, to which you blink inanimately . “oh… oh yeah, we are. leave it to us! we’re really trustworthy, and we have teamwork. we’re, we’re practically best friends. you can count on us.”

mrs. s slowly nods in approval while you force a big grin, grabbing your backpack and pushing chenle towards the door. “we’ll start planning now, thank you, see you in class!”

you two rush out of the room. “dear god,” you sigh.

“you know what? i need that grade raise, my english grade is, uh, kinda questionable.” chenle sighs.

“so is my math grade, i’m literally about to be disowned. meet tomorrow after school at the gym?” you ask, and he nods, giving you a thumbs up. with a strained grin, you turn right around and speed walk to the end of the hall. jiwoo appears, peeking behind the corner.

“is that zhong chenle?”

TUESDAY, DEC. 15

“so…” you hold on to the ends of your puffy jacket to make sure they aren’t blown away by the freezing winter wind. “where do we start?”

“we could look at the gym and, i don’t know, envision the scene. i got the keys. and budgets tomorrow,” chenle enunciates, which you give a positive shrug to.

the door creaks open and you hurry in to turn on the lights. you’ve been in here plenty of times before, and you try to remember the setup last year, hoping you would be able to get some inspiration. it’s interrupted by a tingly feeling in your nose and a following sneeze.

“god, it’s freezing in here too,” you exclaim. “doesn’t it get even colder? we’ll need to have everything indoors.”

“do you think they’ll let us sell winter themed popsicles?” chenle asks. you frown at his contradicting question. he’s wearing a simple crewneck sweatshirt unlike you prepared for antarctica.

“...a hot chocolate stand?” he negotiates, noticing your glare.

“a hot chocolate stand it is,” you take your phone out to write a note, pausing halfway to point at the spot near the entrance. “we could have it right there, with the entry fee stand, so people can grab one as they come.”

“and this can be the dance floor?” chenle is now suddenly standing in the middle of the room. you nod, writing down another bullet point.

“so, how was it?” jiwoo asks on the phone.

“it wasn’t that awkward, he’s still chatty, actually,” you describe, twiddling the blanket you have over your head. “we got a week’s notice which is so shitty, but we got to everything we had to do and we’re on track. he comes up with the wildest, most unrealistic ideas, though. can you imagine popsicles in a winter dance? it’s fucking freezing, i’m going to work a bit on decorations after school so he doesn’t mess with it…”

WEDNESDAY, DEC. 16

“what are you wearing?” chenle lets out high-pitched laughs. it’s after school the next day, and this time, you’ve prepared for the climate.

“what?” you frown. “it’s cold in there. i need to survive.”

“you look like a penguin.”

“it’s only five layers.”

“whatever you say, best friend,” chenle does a fancy little bow to lead you into the gym. you huff but follow him anyway.

“today, we have to do all the budget stuff,” he takes a seat on the open bleacher to open his laptop, and you hesitantly take a seat a feet away. “i actually did some research and found all the places we need to contact, with all the costs and fees written and added一 here.” he turns the laptop your way and you lean towards the laptop (NOT HIM, THE LAPTOP!) slightly to take a look. a lot of work with numbers is done and you’re actually quite astonished by the organization and amount.

“practice got cancelled, and so like i had a lot of time lying around. i’ve contacted some places if we already made the decisions on the specifics so some are finalized, um, if that’s okay,” he explains. you continue to scan through the spreadsheet. the dj, catering, lights, they’re all done.

“wow, chenle,” that’s what you manage to say. “i’m glad i did something too.” you quickly dig up your sketchbook from your backpack and flip through it until you find the decoration sketches. you hand it over to him with fully stretched arms, keeping your distance. “they’re all at target, all the stuff i marked. so we can go get them whenever, if the budget, you know, allows it.” you hold down the strong urge to bite your nails through the long, dreadful silence. where did the chatty chenle go while you needed his chattiness the most?

“this is really cool,” he finally speaks. “and it fits our budget, so it’s perfect. i remember you being really good at art in middle school! guess you didn’t change.”

you flush (for no absolute reason!) and quickly take the drawing away, mumbling up a ‘thanks’.

“uh, anyways, today all we have to do is contact the rest of the people on the list, and then we’ll buy the stuff tomorrow, sell last minutes tickets on thursday, and theeeen we’ll decorate and see how the dance goes on friday, right? since the school’s been advertising since, what, last week?” you speak quickly to change the subject. he doesn’t seem to notice and instead nods.

“tomorrow, we’re driving to target to get all the decorations. hey, remember when i liked him in middle school?” you ask jiwoo. it’s after school and you’re at her house, doing homework. she looks up from her science assignment to give you a look.

“don’t tell me you’re starting to like him again,” she laughs.

“hey, what’s wrong with that?” you raise your voice slightly, then turn your attention back to your laptop, suddenly self-conscious. “i mean, not that i like him, anyway.”

“you know i can see right through you?” jiwoo doesn’t take her gaze off of you for the long period of silence that follows. you roll your eyes.

“fine, whatever, i may have the tiniest physical symptoms of liking him again or whatever,” you admit. jiwoo giggles, then scrunches closer to you.

“so, what do you like about him?” she asks enthusiastically.

“i mean… he has a nice smile, yeah, that,” you mumble.

“and?”

“i guess he’s funny, and nice, and actually kind of responsible, i don’t know, and his voice一”

your description is interrupted by jiwoo’s screech.

“shouldn't have brought it up…” you sigh.

THURSDAY, DEC. 17

what have you gotten yourself into?

out of all the cars, you’re sitting at the front seat of ZHONG CHENLE’s car. he’s driving. CHENLE IS DRIVING.

the familiar roads aren’t so familiar when you’re in such a peculiar situation. he drives nicely though. and there’s the radio on. and he’s humming. super nicely. that’s so attractive. there’s nothing particularly attractive about humming, but on chenle it is. SHUT UP Y/N!

“do you sing?” you unconsciously ask.

“yeah, actually,” he answers. “my dad doesn’t like it, though, actually, so i don’t tell a lot of people. he just wants me to focus on basketball, because i don’t sing in a deep tone like the opera people, and he thinks if i don’t do that, it’s not manly enough, or whatever.”

the mood… you brought up the wrong topic, you think. “sounds like what jake would say,” you reply in a lighter note. “remember him? the super old school kid from 7th grade?”

“oh my god, YES,” chenle laughs, moving on to talk about him and middle school memories until you reach target. you quickly find the party decoration section and pick out the things. you’re on your last item when chenle taps your shoulder. he’s holding packages of golden sparkly streamers.

“i know the colors are blue and white, but imagine a little bit of gold. a little bit of sparkle, but no annoying glitter shit! what do you say?” he anticipates.

“actually, pretty cool, yeah,” you say, and chenle pumps his arm before throwing the packages into the shopping basket.

“i was about to just say no without listening after that one time you suggested we get popsicles, but good suggestion. love the improvement!” you half-joke. he immediately mocks you, which you laugh at.

the car is loaded up and now you’re on your way back. you two chat about the most random things, from taste in food to tv shows to traumatic but funny experiences, and you keep yawning. it’s been a long day.

chenle drives out of route, but you’re too tired to realize; the most you can do is keep up with the conversation. a blink later and you’re at the drive-thru of starbucks. “pick a drink, miss,” he rolls the window down when the car stops front of the menu.

“me?” you ask in surprise.

“yes, you.” chenle laughs. “you look so dead right now, it’s only 5 pm. i think we both need a caffeine boost for homework.”

“ooh, so thoughtful of you,” you dramatize.

he rolls his eyes. “shut up, i’m paying.”

“caramel macchiato please, mr. zhong!”

you sit patiently while he orders and gets the drinks; a caramel macchiato for you and a café latte for himself. you sip the drink in now comfortable silence and bliss (who wouldn’t be happy with a free drink?) on the way back.

“why didn’t we ever talk before?” chenle asks, breaking the silence.

“dunno,” you say. “just we didn’t have any reasons to, i guess,”

“remember when i told mrs. s we were practically best friends? maybe that wasn’t a lie.”

for once, you love mrs. s so much right now.

FRIDAY, DEC. 18 (D-DAY!)

with the help of chenle’s friends, decorations are up on time and students show up to the dance. everything goes by plan and people are thriving, except… jiwoo had a change of plans last minute. and you were going to ask her to help ask chenle out.

“i’m telling you, it’s the perfect chance,” over the phone, jiwoo’s voice sounds passionate and a little distorted. it’s a little hard to tune into with the background noise, even outside of the dance room alone. “once this is over, nothing happens, and winter break starts, you guys will end up like before. distance friends with zero interactions and zero chances. take the risk while you can, y/n!”

“but you aren’t here to help me!” you whine. “i’ve never done this before! i wasn’t prepared for this! i’m not the kind of person to be doing this!”

“and you’ll never be prepared anyway, so what’s the point of waiting?” jiwoo argues. “don’t be a pussy and go for it. if he likes you back, that’s cool, and if he doesn’t, you have nothing to worry about because you guys won’t have a reason to talk anymore. now, i have an angry mother to deal with, so i’m hanging up, peace out and tell me how it goes. love you, bye!”

your urgent call of her name is interrupted by a long and loud beep. you sigh.

as much as you hate to admit, she’s right. there isn’t any other excuse to keep talking to him. you check the time, and it’s almost 8; half an hour until the dance ends.

“fuck it,” you say to yourself, pushing the heavy door open and meeting the warm and noisy atmosphere. it’s not long until you find chenle chatting with the dj. you take a deep breath feets away from his back and decide to approach him that way.

“chenle! chenle!” you whisper-yelled through the booming music. he turns around immediately, eyes wandering until he finds you.

“y/n! y/n!” he whisper-yells back.

“i need to tell you something important.” you take his arm and start to drag him towards the door out.

“you good? what’s up?” he asks. you shake your head, signaling it’s too loud in the gym, and point to the door, continuing to pull him. through your booming heartbeat you keep calm until you reach the cold outdoor air where you finally let go of chenle.

“so, um, hi,” you greet, to which chenle chuckles.

“hey.”

“the important thing is,” you take a deep breath in. “ithinkilikeyouandithinkweshouldgoout.”

it takes a second for him to process your fast words. maybe you shouldn’t have confessed, you think. you internally scream, and this is the longest second of your LIFE.

“uhh, this isn’t fair,” chenle argues, and you’re stand there, dumbfounded. ?_? “i was going to ask you out! life is so unfair.”

you gasp. “you’re KIDDING.”

“no, i’m not. uh, so, like, i think yes. what am i saying… i’m saying that yes, we should go out.” chenle looks nervous. CHENLE LOOKS NERVOUS!

“i was NOT expecting that,” you say.

“well, i wasn’t either, on my end,” chenle laughs.

“well,” you hold yourself back from screaming and jumping. “we should go back in, we’re the managers, y’know?” chenle nods, taking your hand to walk back into the gym. smooth.

“also, y/n, when i bought you starbucks, the intention was not to seduce you, just wanted to clarify. that was only like, four bucks. you’re worth more than four bucks, i swear.” chenle rants.

“glad to hear,” you roll your eyes but end up laughing anyway.

there couldn’t have been a better winter dance.

#nct fluff #kpopscape #neowritingsnet #neothestars #nct chenle #chenle fluff #nct christmas #nct collab #nct school au #nct drabbles #nct scenarios #nct #chenle soft hours #chenle fics #chenle oneshots #nct oneshot #nct dream fics #nct dream fluff

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curly-bangtan · 4 years

Text

Heatwave Drabble #5: for the birthday boy (M)

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles]

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: For Taehyung’s birthday, you’ve planned a special surprise-filled evening just for him as his best friend by day, fuck buddy by night. But especially after a few drinks, he finds it difficult keeping his hands off you, which isn’t a good thing in front of all your friends.

Genre: drabble, smut, fwb au, roommate au, f2l

Warnings: teacher/student roleplay (if you’re not into that, just skip to the next scene, it’s meant to be slightly sarcastic anyway), brief lap dance, oral (m&f), overstimulation (m&f), unprotected sex (your girl finally invested in the pill yay), cum dumpster, facial, cum play and consumption, squirting, basically filth, light BDSM like spanking, handcuffs, choking, the usual, daddy kink (you know HW!Tae)

Word count: 11.3k yikes

A/N: Happy early birthday to the best boy! Why do I call these drabbles when it’s basically a series at this point smh -_- Enjoy this filthy monster~

“Surprise! Happy Birthday!”

Taehyung jumps beside you as you switch on the lights to your flat, illuminating the room full of people leap out from their hiding place at his arrival. The last syllable of their celebratory chant hangs in the air for an awkward moment as he takes in everything you put together for his birthday surprise.

Shiny party streamers decorating the walls, black and gold balloons bobbing against the ceiling, printed photos of your best memories together hanging from shelf to shelf, all his and your closest friends gathered to greet him. And of course, the impeccable two-layered strawberry chocolate sponge cake sitting on a platter that you know would excite him the most.

A smile spreads his mouth wide and square as he turns to you, his cheeks bundling up like rising bread in sheer elation.

“No you didn’t, Y/N.”

Then you’re being suffocated in a bone-crushing hug, your ribs almost cracking under his snake-like squeeze. His chest rumbles in the most boyish giggle.

“Hap-pee-burf-day-” You manage to utter as you move your arms between two to create some space for you to breathe.

Seeing Taehyung this happy, especially knowing you’re the cause of it, is truly a feeling matched by no other. You don’t have a massive squadron of friends, you are more the type to carefully select those you actually like and get along with. To put it badly, you’re picky, judgy and quite a bitch when it comes to making friends. But the few you actually care about, you love ferociously and passionately, willing to cut off your own limb for them. And Taehyung is at the top of that list.

“You’re actually the best, I love you.” When he finally lets you go from his painful but appreciated embrace, his hands rest on your waist, lingering.

You had just treated him to a birthday dinner at his favourite steakhouse, roommate to roommate, in order to enable this surprise party. A few pints might have been downed for the occasion, which explains his excessive touching. Taehyung has never been able to hold his liquor, always a lightweight. The number of times you’ve had to half-carry half-drag him out of a club and stick your fingers down his throat in a dark alley is truly embarrassing for him.

“I am the best. You’re lucky I love you too, dork.” With his nostrils flaring from excitement, you can’t help but pinch his nose before turning to the guests and properly starting the party.

To be honest, you wouldn’t have been able to pull it off without the help of anyone else. His parents have come to town to visit him during the day, so off he went to show them around the food market, the park and his favourite vintage stores. Which gave you plenty of time to set up the house, prepare the refreshments, and buy the birthday cake. But keeping him from returning home was a feat that you had to enlist his parents’ aid in, and ever the obedient son, Taehyung of course did not argue when his folks disagreed with his suggestion to go back to the apartment. Then, it was a matter of taking him to dinner, deftly urging him to meet you there rather than going together from the flat so not to miss your reservation. The rounds of alcohol and your tiny bladder slyly masked the many bathroom runs you took in order to text Lotta to gather everyone to your place. And when everything was set, you headed back with the clueless Taehyung, giddy with a belly full of Michelin star food.

It was purely out of your headstrong resistance that you two didn’t stumble into the apartment making out, exposing your on-going debauchery to all your unaware friends. He had begun to feel you up on the way home, grabbing your ass one too many times for it to be merely playful. Honestly, it’s never easy rejecting his advances, not with your nymphomaniac track record anyway. But tonight was especially difficult, knowing what you have planned for him after the party…

From the corner of your eye you see Taehyung chattering away with friends from his class, and from the way he’s waving his hands around, you can tell it’s about the latest Christmas horror story of the two of you trying to stuff a turkey.

The memory of you yelling at each other to grab-this-grab-that warms your chest more than the white wine you’re sipping on. It’s always these stupid anecdotes that mean the most.

“Looks like he’s enjoying himself.”

Lotta’s voice startles you from your thoughts. Hands held behind her shyly, she smiles at the sight of the outburst of laughter from the guests at his story.

Aside from Taehyung, you would say she’s your best friend, having gone to the same highschool together and now the same university. You knew you would be close the moment she told you her star sign - there isn’t a more iconic duo than an Aries and a Leo. She puts up with a lot of your shit but also isn’t afraid to scream some sense into you whenever you pull something rogue, which you guess is very often.

“Yep. He should probably stop drinking though.” You say as you watch him tip the contents of his glass down his throat. “I swear to god if he throws up on the couch, I’ll chop his dick off.” Of course you wouldn’t, how could you ever bring yourself to hurt that godsent meatstick that fuck tears out of you? You both giggle nonetheless.

“You’re funny with him.” Lotta is wearing a smug expression that you distinctly dislike.

“What do you mean?”

“You act like he’s some annoying brother who you hate, but then you go and take him to this boujee-ass steakhouse, throw him a surprise party and splash out on his birthday gift. You beat him up when he uses your shampoo, kick him when he accidentally scrunches up your notes, and threaten to emasculate him if he spills alcohol on your favourite couch that you treat like your newborn child. But you secretly care so much about him that I know you’d give him your kidney if he needed one.”

You blink at her.

Not quite sure what to say.

“Well, yeah, of course I care about him. Like you said, he’s a brother to me.” Okay, but do you let someone who’s just a brother to you cum on your face? “You don’t live with him so you don’t know what a useless brat he is. He burns pasta, Lotta. Pasta. Seriously, he’s such a dipshit, but of course I care about him. What’s funny about that?” Lying straight through your teeth is a Y/N specialty. As long as you say it with enough confidence, you can sell any bullshit.

But maybe you’re sounding a little defensive.

Lotta is clever, it is why you’re friends. Where this observation of hers is headed, you’re unsure of. She could turn this into a lecture about your abrasive personality, or suspect that something else is going on between you and Taehyung other than sharing rent.

“Nothing, I just said it was funny. The way you are.” Her smile tells you that it’s probably the former of the two possibilities.

“What can I say, I’m a funny person.” Not entirely buying it though, you shrug and play along.

Another bout of laughter breaks out from Taehyung and his friends, catching both your attentions. He thrives in social situations like these, good at entertaining people with his odd humour. You watch the flash of his teeth, the crinkle of his amused eyes, tongue flicking out to wet his lips every other sentence.

“You know, he actually is really hot.” Now, that you didn’t expect at all. Your head whips to face your best friend, whose eyes fixes back on yours but not before you catch her checking him out.

“Um, what?”

“I’m just saying. You can’t deny that he’s gorgeous, charming too.” Brows raised, Lotta lifts both hands up in defense when she see the arrows your glare is shooting at her. “Definitely the best looking guy I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re drunk. Since when did you admit that Taehyung is ‘hot’?” In complete ridicule, you scoff at her. Though, her point is completely 100% valid and true.

“Do you see me with a drink? I’m sober tonight, got an early shift tomorrow.”

“Why are you suddenly saying this? Weren’t you the one who wouldn’t shut up when I went to Mykonos with him because you thought I was too blinded by his looks to even know if he’s a serial killer?” Never has Lotta expressed the slightest, most remote of interest in Taehyung, not once properly acknowledging his attractiveness.

“I’m just saying. It’s a shame that you can’t see him that way anymore after spending so much time together.” It’s her turn to shrug, again with the annoying cocky expression.

Yes, after spending so much time sleeping together, more like.

“Yeah, no. That’s gross. You won’t get it because you don’t have a guy best friend. But trust me, no way would I ever go there with him.” Go ahead and call you a pathological liar, you don’t care. You’d never hear the end of it if Lotta finds out you and your ‘guy best friend’ have been knocking boots for over half a year.

You catch Taehyung glancing over to you, eyes twinkling with amusement, signalling for you to come over and join his crowd. Telepathy is one of your secret talents nowadays, you just know each other so well that spoken words are not a necessity for communication.

Taehyung watches you manoeuvre past those chattering bodies from across the room, making your way towards him with Lotta trailing behind. He knows he is definitely drunk, so it might just be the alcohol getting to his head but something looks a little different about you tonight. By that, he doesn’t mean your curled hair, or that new red dress you’re wearing that introduces your cleavage to the entire world. You’re kind of… glowing. There is a permanent smile on your face, even while resting the corners of your lips are turned up. And when you’re in a good mood, you are so transparent about it that you basically radiate like a disco ball in the room.

His chest feels warm. Maybe it’s the wine.

“Fuck, she’s so fit.”

For a second, Taehyung is worried that he thought out loud, but then realised that the voice belonged to Seojoon. He turns to his friend to find him ogling at your figure.

He doesn’t know what to say. It’s weird if he agrees. But he also doesn’t trust his inebriated state to execute a flat out lie that convincingly.

“You don’t know how lucky you are to have Y/N as your roommate, man. If it were me, I would’ve tapped that on the first night.” Seojoon continues, taking a swig of his beer.

“As if you could.” Taehyung snorts, unable to help himself. “She’s out of your league, ass.”

“Fair point. I heard she is a freak in bed, too. Do you ever hear, like, sex noises?” A freak indeed.

“Sometimes…” It’s true, even now. Occasionally he will stumble home with a girl he picked up at the bar only to hear the bed creaking furiously or breathy moans sounding from your room. Walls are thin. Sometimes it turned him on, other times it pissed him off.

“Bet you wank to it, eh? Taehyungie?” Seojoon ruffles his hair just as you and Lotta come within earshot. Liquor-brazen, he is suddenly overcome with an urge to announce to the whole room: Y/N and I are fucking. Yeah, that’s right. She’s my fuck buddy, so you can stop trying to hit on her right now because I’m gonna be the one she’s riding tonight. Seojoon, fucking suck on that. I don’t need to wank to her sex noises when I’m the one coaxing them from her.

However, a small sober part of his conscience tells him that he really shouldn’t do that; if he does, he probably won’t get any riding tonight. So he clamps his mouth shut.

You arrive amidst them in that sinful dress that reduces Taehyung to a teenage boy, and you take your turn giving them brief hugs as formalities, your best friend beside you mirroring your action. When you reach Taehyung, he pulls you in roughly by the waist, wine sloshing in his hand. From his careless force and lazy grin, you can tell he is almost completely gone. Taehyung is a wine-killer, but wine is also a Taehyung-killer.

Highly conscious of the presence of all your mates while he clearly isn’t, you pretend to roll your eyes and pry his hand off the small of your back. It doesn’t budge. So, awkwardly, with your midriff locked in Taehyung’s arm, you lean over to hug his last friend Woosik who gives you a shy pat on your shoulder.

The conversation resumes, morphing into Lotta telling everyone the most embarrassing stories of you during high school - back when you had braces and had the biggest crush on the captain of the football team. You don’t even try to deny it, laughing along at your pathetic 14 year old self. Though, you’re only half paying attention, the other half is keenly aware of the way Taehyung’s thumb is rubbing gentle circles on your pelvic bone. When you peek up at him, you find him already staring at you with eyes you know too well.

The ‘I’m gonna eat you out until you squirt’ eyes.

Fuck.

Then you notice Lotta’s sharp eyes on Taehyung’s hand gripping your waist. The ‘hold up, what could be happening over here?’ eyes.

Double fuck.

Tipping your toes, you whisper into your roommate’s clueless ear. “Let go, people are watching.” You almost allow your lips to graze his skin because you know how much it turns him on, but you remember to behave. But this close, his warm familiar scent tingles your nose in a way that makes you want to hug him.

Taehyung pulls away to look at your face, clearly displeased, then regards everyone in the circle. When he notices Lotta’s focus on the two of you, he slowly withdraws his paw, but not without purposely brushing past your ass.

“Strawberry-flavoured lube?”

Taehyung audibly gasps in disbelief as he tears open his poorly wrapped present.

“Yeah, you like strawberries right?” Seojoon chuckles and claps his back so violently that he falls forwards. On the other side of him, you haul him back up onto the sofa.

Everyone is gathered around the pile of birthday gifts on the coffee table, but not before witnessing you scold Woosik for not leaving his drink on the kitchen island from which the couch is a safe distance to prevent any spillage. Lotta just laughed at your fixation.

So far, the array of presents Taehyung has received ranges from Amazon vouchers, to expensive whiskey, to a funky tie. Yours sit furthest away from him, which he practically leapt in excitement when he saw the size of, only to be forced to open it last because you insist it’s going to be the best one.

“You’re insufferable, Seojoon.” Taehyung rolls his eyes yet fails to suppress his grin. Oh, you’re definitely trying out the lube at some point.

After ripping into a couple more, he finally arrives at your present for him. It spans an entire arm’s length; you know every guest must be wondering to themselves what it could possibly be. Taehyung drops onto his knees before it and carefully peels away the tape this time, knowing it probably took you awhile to wrap it up this neatly. You watch his long cautious fingers reveal the gift you had spent weeks raking your head for.

“Stop…” His eyes light up at the polished cedar easel that he caresses over as gentle as he would your skin. But as he continues to unwrap the present, a box of oil paints, a wooden palette and a set of 16 expensive natural fibre brushes are unveiled. “Oh my god, there’s more?”

Ceasing in action, he looks up at you, jaw so slack you bet you can throw a pea into his mouth even with your bad aim. The surprise on his face, almost a replica of his expression when everyone jumped out at him and yelled ‘Happy Birthday’ an hour ago. Except this time there is something more tender about how his wide pupils bore into yours. It makes you squirm.

Then without warning, he dives onto you, crushing you in the most fatal of embraces; you swear something in your spine cracked as you fall back onto the cushions, suffocated. People let out a sound of amusement at your struggle, but with his warm breath fanning your neck, you don’t even hear them.

After allowing this sweet painful moment for a few seconds more, you shove Taehyung’s heavy body off you, harder than you need so he slumps onto Seojoon.

“You’re actually the best, I love you.” He squeals like a boy on Christmas day before examining the paintbrushes with the utmost careful touch, as if afraid he would bend the bristles the wrong way.

What is he so cute for?

You kind of really want to pat his head and kiss his cheek right now. But there’s an audience obstructing.

Looking up, you lock eyes with Lotta. She is smiling, endeared by the purity of his reaction as well. See, not even she is immune his stupid cuteness. How are you supposed to?

Taehyung’s heart is constricting as he strokes the fine wooden edge of the giant disassembled easel. Of course, you know him better than any of his other friends. He has recently expressed an interest in painting, though his love for art and sophistication has been harbouring for a while now. He has only ever made subtle comments about wanting to properly get into it but not having the proper equipment to and not knowing the best brand to purchase. Yet you had picked up on it nevertheless. Everything combined must have costed you a significant portion of your allowance. Even he would not have splashed out this much on himself.

He turns back to you again from where he kneels in front of the coffee table. You are observing him with a thing he wishes to be adoration, a glimmer in your smile that wears more beautiful than any dress on you. For a second, there’s a flutter in his stomach and it confuses him because it feels an awful lot like butterflies.

But then you kick his back with the heel of your foot to get him to stand and Taehyung remembers that you are best friends. He’s not supposed to be thinking like that.

After cutting the cake, with food being a major satisfaction factor of any party, everyone sort of just hovers, huddled in their little groups with their plate of dessert in one hand, while they resume their conversation. The music is turned up loud so they all have to half-yell; some don’t even bother talking as they dig in, you included.

Being a quiet eater that you are, you stand by the island counter, sipping your wine in between bites of that chocolate decadence. Taehyung approaches you with his already empty plate; you haven’t even made it through half your slice yet. Judging by the lethargy in his step and that icing-slathered grin he has worn the entire night, you can tell he was the one who finished the second bottle of wine you opened.

“Hey.” Your fingers do a weird little wave that is so completely uncharacteristic, but tipsy-Y/N is sort of that friendly and laid back.

“Hey, pretty.” His hand trails around the corner of the counter surface and traps you between it and his body as he comes up behind you. Immediately you stiffen, looking around to see if anyone, especially Lotta, is looking. But when you find everyone preoccupied either with each other or the cake, your shoulders relax.

“What’s up? You having a good time?” Twisting to face him, you edge back until the counter digs into your back. Taehyung’s face is a dangerous proximity to yours.

The anticipation for the night you have planned for him in your bedroom thrums in your core. Patience has never been one of your strengths, and right now it is testing your very limit. You could kick everyone out right now if you really wanted to. But you won’t. You’ll wait.

You wipe the chocolate off the corner of his mouth with a swipe, the gesture you can’t tell if motherly or romantic. And just because Taehyung is peering down at you so longingly, you flick your tongue out and suck the sweetness on your thumb.

His breath hitches.

“Uh- I…” For a second, all thought is scattered in his brain, and you almost laugh aloud at how susceptible he is to your attacks. “Yeah, of course. I’m having the best time.”

“Am I the best roommate ever or what?” You watch his eyes trained on your mouth. From his alcohol scent, you don’t trust him to have enough restraint not to kiss you right now so you turn your back to him and rest your elbows upon the island top, leaning over to finish your cake.

In your peripheral vision, you spy his hands crawling towards your sides to cinch around your waist, his front pressing into you as he holds you from behind. The warmth of his body seeps into your back, and you swear you can feel the beating of his chest against your shoulder blades. A tingle shoots straight down your spine when he plants a soft, brief kiss on the shell of your ear.

Good thing you turned around then, your intuition was right. Taehyung has never been able to suppress his overt affection after a few drinks, and certainly not after this many. And no matter how much you want to just turn around and pull him into your lips, you fight it.

“Babe...” He groans into your ear and though it was barely audible even to you, you quickly glance up to see if anyone has heard. Of course, no one heard, they are all stood far enough that even without the music, they’d have to strain their ears to hear his whisper. Paranoia is eating your head away.

“Don’t ‘babe’ me, Taehyung.” Your heart is racing, which is weird because you swear you used to be completely immune to his charms. “You’re being too obvious, babe.”

“You don’t ‘babe’ me. I can’t control myself when you call me that.” The warmth of his breath fans all over the back of your neck, sending a convulsion of shivers down your spine.

One of his hands stretches for your wine glass, but knowing him well enough to predict it, you draw it away from his reach. “Stop drinking, you’re literally about to pass out.”

“No, you’re about to pass out. On my-” hiccup, “dick.” You keep your eyes locked on the crowd, ready to shove Taehyung away if anyone looks your way. But still, you can’t help but lean back into him.

“That made no sense.” You chuckle, fingers brushing over the smooth thin skin of this hand.

“Just one sip.”

“Taehyung. Stop. Drinking.” You grab his hand that tries to make a run for the wine again.

“But, Y/N…” He whines and slumps onto you, knowing that whining has gotten him what he wanted before.

You turn around, grab his face and pull him towards you until your mouth is brushing his earlobe. “Be a good boy and stop drinking if you want the best birthday sex of your life after this party. You better not get whiskey dick because a have a lot planned for you.”

At that, Taehyung stops breathing, stops resisting. Against your shoulder, you feel his chest jump. “Oh. Um. Okay, yup, no more drinking. Got it, ma’am.”

He sighs, completely at your disposal, as your touch trails from the sensitive side of his neck down to his torso. “Good.” After looking around again to check that no one is looking, you press your alcohol-infused lips onto his hastily, savouring his softness for no longer than a few seconds before pulling away. God, is it difficult to pull away. You’re aching for him. “Go entertain the guests while you sober up.”

Satisfied grin from the kiss stretched across his face, he nods obediently and scampers over to his friends.

“Are you ready yet?” Taehyung calls, impatient and giddy, the music that you’ve put on playing softly in the background.

“Give me one more second.” You reply from the bathroom, doing up your last button and regarding yourself in the mirror. Hm, not bad. You’re pleased with how this turned out, if you do say so yourself. Taehyung is going to lose his mind.

Sheer black stockings stretched thin over your legs, you strut into his room where he is seated on a chair in nothing but his boxers, wrists shackled to the back. When his eyes land on you, a strangled noise emits from his throat.

“Holy. Fuck. Holy fuck. Holyfuckholyfuckholyfuck.” He chokes out.

The checkered material of your school skirt flies up at your every step teasingly, not high enough for him to peek your panties, but enough for your thighs to be flaunted.The clip of your stockings sit cool and beguiling on your quads. First two buttons of your white blouse undone, the matching red tartan tie hangs loosely around your neck between your exposed, pushed up cleavage. Your hair is tied into two school-girl braids, decorated in ribbons.

You’re Taehyung’s walking talking fantasy.

Innocent, chaste, ready for him to defile.

“Sir.” You address him, committing to your character, as you bow your head in courtesy.

Taehyung doesn’t appear capable of words, Adam’s apple wobbling in awe. So you continue your approach, making sure to regard him with large, demure eyes. As you sink down onto your knees between his widespread trembling legs, you notice a prominence already erecting in his boxers. You try not to smirk.

“What can I do for you, sir?” You put on your sweetest, most virgin of voices and bat your lashes once at him.

Chest rising quickly, Taehyung gulps as he realises that he’s most definitely going about to have the best sex of his life. “Um. Uh. Um.”

Smiling at his malfunctioning cognition, no thanks to you, you decide to help him out a little. “I’ve been sent to you for being a bad girl, sir.”

Do you find this slightly humiliating and degrading? Yes, you’re a woman of pride and a feminist. But does Taehyung’s birthday outweigh your morals? Yes, if only just for this night.

“What… What did you do, baby girl?” Voice dangerously deep, Taehyung watches you from his handcuffed posture, watches you twirl your braids in your fingers before they move sensual down your front, curving over your breasts and travelling to your core.

“It’s embarrassing to say but…” You look down in feign shame. “I touched myself.”

His whole frame tenses, arms straining to be freed from the cuffs so he can throw you onto the bed and fuck you mercilessly. His lips are parted, breath unsteady, cheeks still slightly stained from the alcohol but you made sure that he’s mostly sober by now. “Why did you touch yourself?”

“I was thinking about you, sir, and I just couldn’t help myself. Something started tickling down there and it felt so good to touch it.” Biting your lip, your fingers reach your clit over your skirt and start rubbing. The other hand traces swirls slowly up his thighs, higher and higher, until he’s buckling his hips.

“Wait, pause.” He says, your touch ceasing at his command. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m not going to last if you do this to me. I might even cum my pants.”

Usual smugness returning as you smirk up at him, your teeth digs deeper into your lower lip, refusing to break character. “Well, it’s a good thing we have all night then, sir. A water hose doesn’t just fire once does it?”

“Fuck.” Shutting his eyes, his head falls back to reveal his gulping jugular. Already so malleable? Yeah, he’s definitely not going to last. The first round. “Okay, okay. Resume.”

Your fingers reach the hem of his boxers, skimming through his tan, lustrous inner thighs. He jerks, his hard member jabbing out the soft cotton, begging to be freed. “So I was wondering if there is any way I could get out of this punishment, sir. My parents can’t find out that I’ve been a bad girl. I’ll do anything you want me to do, sir.”

“I see, Miss Y/L/N… How about, you warm up my lap for me first? I’m feeling slightly cold.” He wets his lips and bounces on his toes, his hard length jolting along with his legs.

“Oh, of course, sir.” When you stand up, you make sure to do it slowly, curving your body towards him to give him a good look at your breasts. He doesn’t miss the chance to devour them with his eyes.

Your hips begin to sway in the rhythm of the slow sensual music while you turn until your back faces him. You feel his glare immediate follow your ass, skirt sloshing side to side to reveal your plush cheeks. But rather than falling onto his lap as he wants, you stride over his leg, hand trailing across his chest as you begin to walk around him.

Massaging up his bicep, your hand arrives at his collar as you lick a thin strip up his neck. Taehyung shudders, struggling against his handcuffs again, cursing. “I can do anything you want me to, sir.” He shivers as you whisper into his ear, teeth grazing his skin. Your own heart is racing from excitement. Maybe you should do this more often. It’s selfish of you to do so since it’s meant to be his birthday sex after all, but you enjoy having him helt under you, seconds away from whimpering, gone be his natural preference for dominance.

As you walk around him, his head turns with you, not wishing for his sight to miss a second of this private show. Patience isn’t something he’s born with, he is a man who’s used to ceasing everything he wants. You know what must be going through his head right now, the anticipation, the hunger. So finally, when you’ve done a full circle around, hands not once missing the opportunity to feather his chest, you decide to ease him a little.

Deliberately unrushed, you sit inch by inch down onto his lap until his dick is burrowed between your warm cheeks underneath your skirt.

“Baby…” Taehyung immediately sits up, mouth arriving at the back of your neck, exhaling his hot fervour. The feeling of his skin pressed on the strip of yours between your skirt and cropped blouse has you craving for him to pound into you right now. Nothing can describe the flash of desire you get when you feel the touch of his naked body.

Then you begin to roll your hips, drawing loops of infinity with your ass to the beat of the song. The groan you elicit makes your cunt pulse. Taehyung’s stiff length jerks between your wiggling ass. His head falls onto your shoulder in a huff, metallic sound of his chains ringing as his arms clench.

“Sir, is that warm enough?” Your hips are merciless, rock back and forth, providing him with the friction he so craves. Hell, maybe you should start doing this for a living.

“Y… Yeah.” There is defeat in his voice, a croak that tells you that you’re the only woman to ever put him in his place like this. The only he’d ever submit to.

Slowly, you peel yourself off his lap, delighting in the small stained spot on his boxers, evidence of his drooling dick. You sink onto your knees before him again, fingers crawling playfully up his thighs. “You seem a little stiff, sir. Do you want me to ease some tension in your muscles for you?”

“Please be a dear.” The fervour in his eyes as he gazes down at you is pure, undiluted. It stirs something beastly inside you.

You’ve sucked Taehyung off a hundred times before, but something about the fact that he’s handcuffed to a chair on his birthday, almost cumming his pants, makes you especially eager this time.

A string of precum greets you as you take his lividly throbbing cock out of its restraints. You spare it a few pumps before you enclose the warm wet cave of your mouth around it. It’s perhaps evil of you, but you cut to the chase and go straight to deep-throating. He lets out a yelp of surprise when his tip slides smoothly through and hits the back of your throat. He’s going to cum soon, might as well give him your all, right?

Your mouth has gotten used to resisting the gag reflexes by now, engulfing him like a strawberry ice lolly during the summer heat. The occasional scrape of your teeth, just the way he loves, has him shiver beneath you. If he likes it rough, he should be able to take it rough. And when your tongue begins its inexorable attack at the pinch of skin where his tip ties to his shaft, Taehyung lets out a throaty cry. Not even a moan, a cry.

“Fuck, I’m losing my mind. Y/N, oh my god, keep going.” Through your curled lashes, you gaze up at him. His brows furrowed, guzzling up his favourite view in the world, maybe second to you riding him. Jaw unscrewed, he heaves at your large feign-innocent eyes, wrists dying to be freed so he could fuck your mouth.

Two throbs at the base of his cock, and he’s cumming right down your throat. It’s a larger load that either of you’d expected, telling of his obscene concupiscence. There’s so much cum that you can’t swallow, so you have no choice but to let it flow down his cock. With you still staring at him, he watches his white hot fluid dribble out your mouth and onto him, his features screwed tight in pleasure.

“Lick it off, baby.” Taehyung rasps, half his mind completely gone, dilapidated.

You hum as you spread his liquid around his tip and along his shaft, lips now glossy, before you slowly lap it all up. You know he is particularly sensitive after cumming, so you wallow in teasing his head a bit more, watching him writhe on his seat, whining your name. “Sir, how was that?”

Taehyung’s head is tossed back, eyes shut to recover from that post-orgasm intensity. He doesn’t speak at first, still trying to piece back together his mind. “I… That was… You deserve a worse punishment for doing that to me.”

Your core twists in excitement.

Briskly, you fish out the key to his handcuffs and unlock him, thrumming from the molten fury in his eyes. “What did I do wrong, sir?”

As soon as his wrists are free from their shackles, Taehyung stands and throws you over his shoulders. Smack. He hits your ass, your skirt doing little to soften the blow. You never knew yourself to be a masochist until it comes to Taehyung; his are the only hands you’d allow to spank you.

Then he tosses you onto the bed, your skirt flying up to reveal your peachy ass as you land on your front. “You just love it when I’m under your control, don’t you? Even this innocent school-girl roleplay is just a disguise to get me to beg for you, isn’t it?”

Twisting your head back, a smirk plays at your lips as you regard his frustrated yet immensely pleased expression. His fingers glide up your silky stockings enticingly, sending shivers coursing up your legs. “Sir, I have no idea what you mean.”

“Look at your fucking ass in this skirt, holy fuck.” He begins to knead the supple flesh of your behind, pushing up the skirt until it sit on your lower back.

Another smack.

He’s such an ass man through and through.

“Do you like my uniform, sir?” You moan between his smacks. Nothing really is compelling you to continue with this roleplay, but something tells you that Taehyung is bursting from it.

“I fucking love it, baby girl.” Smack. You can practically hear him grinning in satisfaction. His palm massages the redness he inflicted like smearing paint, touch growing closer and closer to your core.

Then with one push at your inner thighs, he spreads your legs wide open.

“Fucking hell. Crotchless? You’re really spoiling me tonight.” Like a little boy on Christmas Day, he marvels at your glistening slit, gaping at him in anticipation. Another small surprise for him.

“Of course- ahh!” You break into a moan when he runs two fingers down your folds, all the way to your bulging clit. “For the birthday boy.”

“Okay, now you definitely deserve the best head.” He lies on his front and grips onto your thighs to pull himself up to face level with your cunt.

You won’t tell him to prevent further ego inflation but every head he gives is the best head.

“Wait, Taehyung, it’s your birthday. Just let me-” You squirm in his clutch, trying to flip around, but he holds you still.

“Exactly. My birthday. I get to eat you out if I want to. It’s what my baby girl deserves.” For some reason, you blush. Who are you to resist head, especially from Taehyung?

Heat of his breath tickling your entrance, you plant your face onto the pillow and clamp down on your lip, preparing for that mind-twisting sensation that has a way of robbing you of sanity. His mouth finds your thighs first, kissing, sucking, blooming roses of his affection. You let him mark you - you are completely his tonight. Then his breath arrives at the sensitive crevice where your folds begin, a slow seduction towards your tingling bud. When he finally latches onto your clit, your eyes roll to the back of your empty head, a whimper ensuing.

His tongue is a predatory serpent, ceaselessly rolling your bud in his mouth. He’s rough, generous with the waves of pleasure he sends. You wish you aren’t lying on your front right now, just so you can look down at his concentrated face and pull on his wavy mop of hair.

With every flick of his tongue, you swim closer to your orgasm. His fingers are digging to your thighs, his breath quickening with his face buried in you. When he adds his long slender digits, you know your demise is round the corner.

“Fuck, daddy.” You yell into the pillow, that name coming so naturally to you that it requires zero brain processing to leave you.

Taehyung hums in response, those baritone vibrations shaking into your core until your leg involuntarily kicks back. Gripping onto the sheets, a string of profanities expel from you as that euphoric current comes crashing onto you, drowning your surroundings so that all you feel is his face, his tongue, his teeth, still mercilessly going despite your state.

“Fuck!” A tear slips from the violent stimulation at your clit continuing past your orgasm. You guess it’s payback.

Not one minute later, a second climax hits you, this time stronger than the last as it rides on the residual pleasure. The orgasm disperses into tension down your thighs, dying for more friction to relieve your cunt of the blissful ache. Warm tears stain the pillowcase your face is buried in, your cries muffled.

His pace gradually decelerates into soft kisses on your flower, fingers withdrawing to massage your folds. You are motionless, completely depleted after the dopaminergic release. Delicately, his lips travel up to your ass, where he sucks more colours as he awaits your recovery.

“How was that, baby girl?” Taehyung slowly turns you over onto your back, a lazy grin on his glistening mouth, your wetness slathered all over his nose. It views in your eyes as a display of your possession. You don’t miss the triumph in his gaze; you wonder if he likes making you cum more than cumming himself.

“Your mouth is fucking incredible.” You bask in the post-orgasm high, pulling him atop you, hand locking in his curls. You taste yourself as you kiss him, slowly and lethargically, your energy ebbing back to you.

“Yeah?” He smiles against your lips. “You know what’s incredible? You in this fucking uniform.” Pulling away, he scans your body top to bottom. And as you follow his gaze, you notice his hardened cock, once again ready for another round. You surprise yourself with how ready you are to take him, exhaustion not yet settled in from his overstimulation.

“You like it that much?” You press your lips together, and as used to Taehyung’s constant flattery as you should be, you still feel proud.

Taehyung nestles his face onto your neck. “If we went to high school together, I would 100% have been your bitch. Not a single doubt. Whipped.”

Your heart squeezes. Whipped.

You kiss his hair, resisting the urge to make a comment about what he said. “Haha. I would not have noticed you, I was obsessed with the captain of the football team.”

Taehyung lifts his head up, frowning at you with a playful annoyance. “Are you sure you want to mention another man in front of me right now?” For emphasis of his possessive mood, he grinds his member into your thigh. You can’t help but push back to feel him digging into you. Possessive Taehyung toys with your strings.

“Yeah, what are you going to do about it?” You taunt further, pulling on his locks. Taehyung’s competitiveness is an easy target for manipulation; everytime he starts to go soft and sappy on you, all you have to do is tug on his jealousy and the bull will come charging back full force.

Surely enough, he growls into your ear. “Don’t forget who you’re speaking to, miss. You wouldn’t want your parents knowing the naughty things you’ve been up to, would you?” So he does love the roleplay. His tone slightly sarcastic, but also not really. But before you can hiss a witty response, he silences you with his teeth on your neck. As he sucks on your tender skin, your nails rake across his back in pleasure. He’s growing bolder with his territory.

“More hickeys?” You purr, not exactly in the complaining tone you’d wished it would come out in.

“Yeah, what are you going to do about it?” He mocks, leaving a wet purple trail across your throat.

You allow it for the sole reason that it’s his birthday. Otherwise, you’d be kicking off.

You’ve never liked the idea of hickeys, the notion that someone feels entitled to mark your skin as theirs. You don’t belong to anyone. This is your own skin, and no one else’s. Yet - right now, as Taehyung nips at your neck, hand yanking on your uniform’s tie to pull you closer to him, you feel like you do belong…

You don’t finish that thought.

Reaching down, you begin stroking his patiently awaiting cock. “You’re brave for someone who’s dick is in my hands.”

Taehyung breaks away from your neck and reviews his work of art. The wolfish grin an indication of his pride. “You’re going to kill me tomorrow.” He says without the fear that should come with such statement.

Yes, you’re definitely going to.

“Then fuck me until I forgive you.” You challenge, unbuttoning the first button of your shirt while your stroking quickens.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Fingers scrambling to undo the rest of your shirt, his mouth finds yours again, sucking on your bottom lip until it’s sure to swell later. Your bra falls loose with a dexterous flick, a gesture he can do in his sleep. Yet, he makes no move to remove your checkered tie at all.

When you try to loosen it yourself, he grabs your hand and pins it against the pillow. “That stays on tonight, along with the skirt and the stockings.” Voice laced with carnality, there’s a feral glint in his glare.

“Yes, sir.” Smile unstifled, you fall back into obedience.

Taehyung dares to plant more bitemarks down your chest before taking your nipple in his mouth, tormenting the sensitive bud relentlessly. Patience wearing thin, you line his tip with your slit, dallying it around to coat it with your dampness.

“Wait, grab a condom.” He mutters.

“Don’t need one.”

He looks up, confused. “What? Why?”

“I started taking the pill. Surprise.”

The look of pure shock and delight that usurps his face, for the third? fourth? time tonight, sows a seed of joy in your core.

“Wait, seriously?” You swear you feel his cock twitch happily in your hand. That stupid boxy grin that makes him look like a kid again… You want to kiss him dizzy.

“Yes, seriously.” You would never admit that you started taking contraception solely for Taehyung, because that would be weird, you absolutely did not do it for Taehyung. You’d always wanted to start contraception anyway. This was your own decision, influenced by no one else.

Certainly. No one else. Of course.

“Holy fucking shit. Y/N, you’re amazing.” Taehyung cannot contain his glee despite its juxtaposition with his pulsating cock about to enter you any moment now. “All this for me?” He asks, still in disbelief, as if the answer isn’t already written in big bold black letters.

“For the birthday boy, and the birthday boy only.” Your nose grazes his. These are the very words you’d be embarrassed to be caught saying to any guy, yet you’re currently too fuelled by the desire to please him to berate yourself.

Without another second gone to waste, Taehyung pushes his girthy member into your heat. Though it glides in with ease, your walls are stretched so wide that your inside stir, a sore pressure squeezing around him with each thrust. You always seem to forget how well he fits into you, and so each time comes as an eye-rolling surprise - the way he fills you so completely and entirely with his hefty cock.

“Oh fuck, you feel so-” He doesn’t manage to finish his sentence, too caught up in the raw unobstructed sensation of your slick walls.

Lifting your leg over his shoulder, the cavernous angle allows him to jolt deeper into you, his tip violently punching through you. While one hand remains on your ankle, the other twists your tie around his wrist and pulls as if it were a leash. “Sir…” You choke out at the constriction around your throat.

“Are you going to bad girl again?” He grunts, sweat beading on his forehead while he continues to ram his hips.

“No, sir. I won’t touch myself again,” you moan under him, “unless you are watching.”

“Fuck, Y/N.” One eye shut, Taehyung sticks his thumb into your mouth to suckle on. Your tongue swirls around his finger, biting down every time you need to shriek in pleasure.

After a while, he flips your bodies over so that you are riding him, watching, mesmerised, as your breasts bounce freely each time you spring on his dick. Your body falls back at the rippling coil inside you, hands braced on the mattress to keep you upright.

Taehyung could watch you ride him for the rest of his life. Hell, if he has a heart attack and dies this very moment, he would die the happiest man.

Sometimes, while you’re fucking, Taehyung gets a sudden rush of jealousy. Jealous that he wasn’t the one to ruin your innocence. Jealous that someone else other than him got to, or still gets to, fuck you like this.

He pulls on your tie so that you fall over him, lips colliding to remind himself that he’s the one fucking you right now, the rest shouldn’t matter. The way you moan into him reassures that no one has ever, or can ever, fuck you the way he does.

Then a messy whimper leaves you like a symphony, and for the third time tonight, you come undone, unravelled.

“Fu-u-u-uckkk.” You cry, arms looping around Taehyung’s neck, holding on as if he’s your lifeline because you yourself are unsure how much of this you can take before you drown.

“Baby, you’re so good, cumming for me again.” He sings, knowing that words like these thrums something in your core. You lap up his praise, smiling against his teeth despite yourself. It’s honestly a miracle how your usual brusque controlling self is suddenly transformed into his docile little girl, especially after a round of orgasms. “I’m going to cum again too.”

“Daddy, fuck, please. Cum inside me.” You pant, hips bouncing as fast as your aching muscles allow. Truth be told, no one has ever finished inside you before. And you are dying to find out how it feels.

Taehyung seems to know this. He grabs onto your waist, holding you in place, and plunges unforgivingly into you, penetrating your walls so ardently that you are shoved near the brink of yet another orgasm.

A grumble rippling through the room, finally, you feel a hot jet shoot into you, squirt after squirt of his thick cum filling you up. He frowns, a hoarse cry from the immense pleasure arriving at his cock, taking over him. Fucking hell, this is hot.

And kind of really intimate.

However, you notice that his pace has yet to slacken.

“I’m not done with you yet.” His eyes open to reveal pupils glowing with vehemence. Your clit throbs.

Still inside you, he turns you over so that you are both on your sides spooning, one of your legs hoisted up by his rough grip. The slap of your skin rings crisp and clear as he continues to fuck you. You lean back into him, ignoring the sticky coat of sweat coalescing your skins. His cum lubricates each thrust as you feel some spill out of you. His fingers start to stimulate your clit to help you reach your ultimate climax, viciously rubbing your sensitive swollen bud so much that you begin to see stars.

For him to keep fucking you even after cumming despite his tremendous sensitivity… Taehyung is going wild tonight.

“Are you going to cum one last time for me, baby girl?” He pants heavily in your ear.

“Yes, daddy.” Your own cunt is leaking profusely its tears of joy; you don’t think you’ve ever been this wet before.

In a few more thrusts, Taehyung is cumming inside you again, this time naturally less than the last, yet from his loud coarse groan, you deduce is much more intense. He pounds slowly yet robustly, milking every last drop into you. Due to the sheer oversensitivity, he has no choice but to pull out of you immediately after, leaving a spurt of his cum surging out of you.

“Oh my god.” He moans into your neck, both your heads spinning from the vigour of your intercourse.

But he knows you’re still a minute away from your orgasm. And never one to disappoint, he quickly sits up and spreads your legs open.

“Holy fuck.” Taehyung freezes at the sight of his cum slowly trickling out of you. To him, it’s a sign of possession, ownership. Apart from his ex, he has never fucked without protection, certainly not those random one night stands. To him, it’s a sign of intimacy.

Catching his white liquid in two fingers, he inserts it into your already gaping mouth, smearing it all over your tongue. In your cute little braids, you swallow it willingly, and Taehyung swears that he could fuck you again right then and there.

“You like that?” He asks, sticky fingers entering your core, feeling how clenched you are due to the pent up pressure.

“Mhmm.” You nod, hips lifting off the bed so that he can reach deeper. His thumb massages your clit, long digits moving in a come hither motion, stretching your walls in cusps that his cock did not have the ductility to reach. “Ahh, shit.”

Determination worn on his face despite his tiring limbs, Taehyung fucks you with his finger as you thrash beneath him. Your clit is already exploding with sensitivity from the previous rounds, and on top of that, with his thick knuckles push into you again and again, you are clawing at him while your whole body convulses.

The coil within your finally snaps. The ecstatic sensation exploding within you, flooding your every fibre until tears spring out your eyes. A clear liquid shoots out of you to both your surprises, and sprays its droplets towards Taehyung. His eyes widen, marvelling at your beauty as you cum not only on his fingers but all over him.

“Jesus Christ!” Chuffed with himself evidently, he leans in to kiss you, deep and desperate, while his fingers slow their steady thrusts to let you ride out the remainder of your high. His mouth is warm, a familiar taste as you regain your sense of self and surrounding that you tend to lose during sex.

As your brain begins to function again, the first thought you register is how much you don’t want to stop kissing Taehyung, how much you don’t want to let go of him.

“Taehyung…” You whine, bottom lip in the possession of his teeth.

“Feeling good?” He lets go of his bite, but lips remain dearly magnetised to yours. Dragging out his fingers, the wet noises of your clenched walls ring. Taehyung sucks on his dripping digits as you push his sweat-dampened fringe out of his face to survey his eyes. Full of yearning. And the way he is sucking… appears almost as a last display of submission after completely ruining you. A last shred of I’m yours.

“So.” You peck him. “Fucking.” Another. “Good.” Peck. Your bodies naked, your skirt creased and skin claggy, you refuse to release each other from your embrace. “But Taehyung…”

“What it is, my baby?” From on top of you, he is looking down at you as if you’re some delicate little buttercup in a barren field, a ray of joy radiating from his smile.

You tense. My baby.

You two might be kind of screwed...

But you’ll think about that another time. Right now, you just want to be held and kissed and looked after.

“It’s not fair. This was meant for you, but you made it about me.” You don’t know what’s taken over you but you pout at him, the same way he would do to you when he wanted something. But why, of course, it’s just like Taehyung to make you come four times despite it being his birthday sex. You don’t even know what to expect for your own birthday.

His own hair dishevelled, he tucks your loose braids behind your ears, a gesture of affection. “Nothing gets me off more than making you feel good. This was about me. This was everything I wanted. Best sex I’ve ever had. But in what world would my best sex not include making you squirt?”

Your don’t know why but you feel incredibly vulnerable right now, your hard edges softening. It’s the after-sex glow that you’re seeing everything in. You feel warm, bubbly, tender.

And now your chest feels weird, like something itching to rupture out of your ribcage. You want it to stop, yet also don’t.

“Taehyung…” You whine his name again. “No fair… You can’t be like this.” Your brain offers no explanation as to why you’ve adopted his usual saccharine manner, other than the fact that he has fucked you completely senseless.

“Like what?” He asks, egging the rare words of sweetness out of you.

“Like… You know… So giving and nice and perf…” Your voice trails off when you notice his excited smirk. God, what the fuck are you saying? You flush in embarrassment.

“Perf…? His smug grin only grows at your shyness.

“Stop. You know what I mean.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Stop teasing me.” Taehyung chuckles at your frustration, taking the chance to kiss the tip of your nose before you try to squirm out of his arms like a cat.

“No, go on. You need to be better with your words. Tell me how you feel.”

Your entire face is heated.

“I… You’re just… You treat me so well. How am I supposed to sleep with anyone else anymore?” You immediately wish you didn’t say it out loud. Because your phrasing implies that you want monogamy, commitment. It’s not what you meant at all, you don’t think. You just meant… You don’t know what you just meant.

You search his eyes frantically, in fear that he’s thinking the same, only to find them calm, content. “I mean, I guess I’m pretty fucking awesome. Thanks.”

Rolling your eyes, you’re grateful for his childish humour obstructing any serious consideration of your words.

“Don’t make me take it back, moron.” You scoff, pinching his round cheek between your knuckles.

“Too bad, it’s my birthday, everything I say is the law.” Still hovering over you, he presses gentle kisses all over your face, delighting in the way you pretend to hate it even though you can’t suppress the smile. When he stops, his face is sincere, the playfulness gone. “Y/N.”

“What?”

“Thank you so much, honestly, from the bottom of my heart. This was… the best birthday I’ve ever had. Not just the sex, but the whole time with you, the dinner, the party, everything.” Your heartbeat quickens, unable to hold his gaze so you focus on the curve of his collarbone instead. “Even better than the pirate-themed birthday party my parents threw me when I turned eight.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Honoured. It was my pleasure.”

“Seriously, I lov-”

Taehyung catches himself before he could finish that sentence. Those unspoken words hang over your heads like a puppet.

Because for some reason, although you’ve said ‘I love you’ to each other a plethora of times in the past, this time feels like a different connotation is implicated. The line between platonic love and romantic love feels blurred. And neither of you know which love is meant.

Taehyung is a sentimental guy, you tell yourself. Of course he means he loves you as his best friend. And that’s surely what you mean too when your eyes are pleading him to keep kissing you.

There’s a moment of silence, for you both to gather your scattered thoughts, staring at each other, unsure what to say.

You clear your throat, dispelling the tension in the air.

“Lets go clean up.”

“Yeah.” Taehyung rolls off you, avoiding your eye as much as you are avoiding his.

The clean up is wordless, both pretending to be too preoccupied to spare the unspoken words any thought.

Except they’re all that’s playing at your mind.

Taehyung didn’t mean it like that. Taehyung doesn’t love you like that. You’re just overthinking. And he’s overthinking about you overthinking. You two are fine, you’re normal.

Examining the purple clouds he had imprinted on you, a stream down your neck, a cluster around your breasts, then the large ones between your thighs, you’re surprised to find not one drip of annoyance. A scary thought dawns on you. What if you like them? What if you like being marked by Taehyung?

What the fuck is happening?

You wait for him to crack a joke to ease up the awkwardness, glancing up at him in the mirror as you dry your hands on the towel by the sink. He doesn’t. Instead, he’s perched on the edge of the bath tube. Zoned out.

Have you finally taken it too far? Finally overstepped that hazy nebulous line that you perhaps should have set more clear?

“Hey, Taehyung.” His head snaps up at you, eyes large with uncertainty. “You okay?”

You want to reach out to touch him, brush his cheek, kiss his forehead. But you hold back. Not wanting to fuel the fire of confusion. But then he tugs you towards him by the hem of your skirt, corner of his lips turning up, imbuing you with a gust of relief.

“Just thinking.” His fingers crawl up your legs, holding onto your hips like his hands belong to nowhere else. “Come here.”

Chest pounding, you walk towards him, let him sit you down on his lap. Though you wish not to look at him with his face so close to yours, your eyes cannot pull away from his striking beauty. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, but Taehyung’s feel more like the front door to your home. When you look into them, no matter how you’re feeling, whether you’d been fighting or kissing, you just feel embraced in a cloud of clarity, security.

You don’t want to think about the complication between you two at the moment. You just want to be looking at him, touching him, holding him.

You watch him glance at your lips, hesitancy playing at his mind. You know he’s thinking the same.

“We’re okay, right?” Throat tight, you ask, rather pointlessly.

“Of course. We’re great, same old us.” His arm around your waist feels warm and safe, and when your mirror his growing smile, you almost believe him.

But when your lips gently press against his, you know it’s a lie.

You’re not the same old you.

Taehyung feels different. Skin smoother, tastes sweeter, mouth softer. The roughness of his usual kisses is gone, replaced by an inexplicable tenderness that makes you feel things in your gut. You swat those feelings away.

Something is changing. And as much as you don’t want to acknowledge it, you don’t think you can ignore its booming presence.

You don’t dare make a sound as he carries you back to his room. You don’t protest when he throws one of his t-shirts over your head. Nor when he holds you into his chest, lips tracing your forehead with a soft sleepy smile.

Noting that you’re being uncharacteristically quiet, he pokes the nub of your nose. “Who stole your tongue?”

Act normal. Just be your loud annoying self.

“Uh… You.” You murmur, unable to meet his eye even with strenuous effort

Well, fuck.

“Okay, let me give it back to you.” Before you can protest, he is kissing you again. And you want to push him away because you feel your heart lurching to your throat, and you don’t think it is healthy. But your feeble hand that was meant to shove him off lands weakly on his pec, and somehow with a mind of its own, snakes up to his neck and pulls him in. His tongue unfurls onto yours, gently sweeping away any logic.

When his lips finally leave yours, you’re out of breath.

You don’t know what’s happened to you. Since when did you react like this to Taehyung?

Forcing your usual smirk, you try to wear a convincing facade that you feel nothing out of the ordinary. “I’m expecting great things for my birthday, though to be honest this is going to be hard to beat.” The underlying dishonesty tastes sour. You’ve never had to put on a front with Taehyung, and doing so now feels… alien.

“I’ll start planning it tomorrow, don’t you worry, your highness.” Taehyung pretends to roll his eyes at your demand, though the circles he’s rubbing down your back is telling of his genuinity. He isn’t an classically romantic guy, not one for flowers and chocolate, but more a sentimental gift that leaves a deep meaning. You know you’ll love whatever he plans. It worries you that you’ll perhaps love it too much. “But seriously, thank you for everything. The easel? How much did that cost you? I’ve looked at that brand before and there’s no way it was cheap.”

“It doesn’t matter how much it costed.” Warmth is creeping up on your cheeks again. You try to excuse it as Taehyung’s radiant body heat. “Let’s just say I had to resort to prostitution to pay for it, okay?”

Bodies shuddering in laughter, some tension in the air is thankfully alleviated by your humour, filling you with hope that things should and will return to normal in no time. You just need to stop overthinking.

“Hey, can you sleep here tonight?”

You freeze at his request. Because despite your constant fucking around with each other, one clear boundary has been that you don’t physically sleep with each other after sex. If you do sleep over, it is always just a completely platonic gesture. No kissing or fondling. Something about falling asleep in each other’s naked bodies is too mushy and couple-like. The type of thing that make you puke.

“Why?” You frown defiantly at him. “It’s not even your birthday anymore, it’s past midnight. So technically, I don’t have to treat you like royalty anymore.”

“Why not?” Taehyung rebuts, that cocky expression making you want to nipple-cripple him. This difficult son of a bitch, does he not know that the line is going hazy between you two?

“It’s weird, we just had sex.”

“So? What do you have against sleeping together after sex? Scared that you’ll fall in love with me?”

Your chest sinks to your stomach. You swear to god, Kim Taehyung is going to be the fucking death of you, stupid shit. How could he even say something like that so casually?

“In your fucking dreams, prick. If anything, you’d be the one to fall in love with me first, I just made you cum three times.” Taehyung chuckles at the flash of fury in your eyes, amused by how easy it is to strike a nerve in you.

“Do you want me to fall in love with you?” Though his tone is playful, and the wiggle of his brows suggests his mockery, you don’t know if he is completely joking anymore. And suddenly, everywhere that you’re touching - your entangled legs, his hands on the small of your back, your chests pressed on each other - everywhere starts to burn.

“Shut up, I’ll fucking sleep here, okay?”

And so this night, for the first time in the seven months you’ve been on-and-off fornicating alongside your unwavering friendship, you rest in Taehyung’s bed, your frame tucked snugly in his, his arm reposed on your waist. And despite your fatigue, it takes too long for sleep to find you as you watch his shoulders rise and fall in the dark, lips slightly parted, beckoning you to kiss them.

26/12/19

@taexxxiiaa @shookpreme @taetaeobsessed @tangledsparkles @nonexistentfucks @evilkookie @nbiased95 @taehyungmakesmeoof @itscalledgayhoney @tahaing @deliciouslydisturbed365 @expensive-bangtan-girl @jwlmnbt @herakimkim @dnyad @kaepjjang365 @expensive-bangtan-girl@gingerpeachtae @spring2787 @askingtheimportantthingshere @casualminiaturetimemachine @xblackclover13x @vasysauce @deadinsidebitch2412 @emiyooa @i-dont-even-know-fck @chimycthulhu @gixanjos @hisunshiine @xtaeyi @softjellyjimin @bluemooncnblue @malfeitofeitto @bangtanfancamp @keopitae @out-of-jams

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mcatra · 4 years

Text

AU where Catra works at burger king

Catra works minimum wage at burger king, Adora comes in every day as the world’s worst customer.

AO3

‘I am being HARASSED.’ Catra groans, sprawling on her side of the register. ‘I’m begging you, just kill me.’

It was another slow afternoon at Burger King, or as she likes to call it the absolute shithole she only got minimum wage for. Catra could be out there living her life as a youthful teenager, instead she was serving chicken nuggets to her worst enemy- Adora. It didn’t help that said blonde was currently sitting in the corner, laughing obnoxiously with her friends she had replaced her with.

‘Aw I’m sure Adora isn’t here to harass you, she probably just likes our food! I do cook these to perfection you know.’ Scorpia says conversationally from her spot in the kitchen as she flame broils another patty.

Catra scoffs, her eyes trained on her most hated customer.

‘There has to be some sort of law against coming to one’s workplace every day! No one likes Burger King that much! NOBODY!’

Suddenly she sees Adora sit up from her chair, that makes a horrific screeching noise on their unmopped floor.

‘Oh god she’s coming.’ Catra whispers, trying to duck into the kitchen. ‘Scorpia! Hide me!’

Her friend shoves her back to the counter, as Adora approaches. ‘You’re the only one on this shift who is allowed to use the register-’

‘Do not make me serve her I swear to god-’

‘Hi Catra.’ Adora smiles, and Catra’s eyes narrow.

‘Whatchu want, princess?’ She sneers, avoiding her piercing blue eyes that reminded her of still lakes. Or swirling oceans. Or the fluffy white cloud bath bombs from Lush. Wait, no.

‘Mmm, can I get a strawberry sundae?’ Adora chirps, looking above her at the menu.

‘Can’t.’ Catra drawls, looking at her black painted nails. ‘The machine’s broken.’

Adora’s face falls in disappointment, and Catra cheers inwardly at her small victory until Scorpia’s voice cuts through their conversation.

‘That’s not true, the soft serve machine is fine.’ Her traitor friend says, pulling down on the lever and swirling a perfect sundae into the cup. She adds the syrup before handing it to Adora.

‘That’ll be $1.50.’

‘Thanks Scorpia.’ Adora smiles, rummaging through her purse to collect her coins.

Catra rolls her eyes.

‘What a cheap ass. Little rich girl can only afford a dollar-fifty ice cream? No wonder we’re running out of business.’

Adora frowns at this. ‘Did you want a tip or something?’

‘What? FUCK no. I don’t take charity.’ Catra scoffs, snatching the coins from her old childhood-friend-to-enemies palm. She swiftly jabs in the total and throws the coins into the drawer. They’re forced into silence as the receipt slowly prints, and she tries to ignore the way Adora is staring at her.

Suddenly Adora leans in close, and she can hear her murmur close to her ear.

‘I’ll see you at student council.’

Catra flushes at the proximity, every hair standing on end. Before she can stutter out an insult, Adora rips the receipt from the machine and is sauntering back to Bow and Glimmer.

The brown haired girl deflates, her nails scratching on the old countertop. All that mental damage, for $1.50? Life was not fair.

Adora always had the perfect grades, the perfect family and friends, the most cushy and royal upbringing. After their falling out involving a scholarship to a private school, they hadn’t spoken until the merger.

It filled Catra with sick pleasure that the private school had lost their prestige to embezzled money, and now had to be government funded. However in consequence of this, they had decided to merge the public and private school so they could sell off the land to build skyrises or something.

This meant Catra lost her position of School Captain to Adora after a fierce election, and had been demoted to Vice Captain. Not to mention no matter how hard Catra tried, she could never beat her in the school rankings. She couldn’t work to support herself and study 6 hours a day, like rich privileged Adora.

So now here she was, forced to interact with the one person she could’ve gone her whole life without seeing on a daily basis.

Ever since Adora had discovered Catra had been working at Burger King during a late night drive-thru run, her ex best friend had made it her life’s mission to make her life hell.

Of course she had done her best to make the experience awful to drive her away. Catra knew Adora hated pickles, so she would threaten Kyle to slice up an entire pickle’s worth in the blonde’s Whopper before giving it to her with a sweet smile. She is filled with glee watching Adora picking them out one by one in disgust.

This doesn’t stop Adora from coming though. Not even when they had made it into some sort of competition to see how many pickles could physically be crammed into a bun. Or even when she had put every single condiment including the salt and pepper into an unholy liquid concoction and served it in a cola cup. Not even when she gave Adora food poisoning when they got too carried away trying to stack as many patties as they could to recreate Sky Burger.

No matter what she did, the girl never went away. Even though she had so easily disappeared from her life when she had needed her the most. But she didn’t need Adora, she had gotten this job herself, she had gotten a roof over her head with her own power. She had worked so hard to become independent from Shadow Weaver, and no matter what, Adora will not jeopardize it.

‘I’m doing, what exactly?’

Catra stares dumbly at her manager, a sinking feeling dawning on her.

‘Adora ordered a birthday party at Burger King.’ Lonnie drawls, ignoring the look of complete horror on Catra’s face.

‘No, you can’t do this to me! Roster me for any other day. I cannot psychologically take this.’ She begs.

‘Sorry dude, the deposit has already been paid for. We’re short staffed, and it seems like Kyle has gotten fryer oil burns from your last burger experiment with Adora.’ Lonnie whaps Catra with the birthday catering pamphlet.

‘Stupid Kyle.’ Catra hisses, clenching it in her fist. Curse this damn place that can only afford to hire teenagers.

‘Anyway, just set up the tables and decorations after school on Thursday. Should be a good day for business, with Adora and her posse being rich kids and all.’

‘Can I at least get time and a half?’

‘Are you gonna be paying Kyle’s medical bill?’

Catra pouts. ‘Not my fault you guys don’t provide gloves. This place is an OSHA violation haven.’

WE do the PLANNING, YOU have the FUN! The bold font emblazoned over the small child’s smiling face mocks her from the pamphlet. Catra clenches it in her fist.

‘Also why the fuck did she book a kid’s birthday party package when she is like 17, and not 6 years old?!’

Lonnie rolls her eyes. ‘Do you still want a job or not? Just read the rest of the form, counting on you to organize it.’

Catra squints at the crumpled paper in her hand.

GOLD PARTY PACKAGE

-Themed birthday cards!

-Party bags!

-Birthday gift for the celebrant!

-Jumbo birthday cake!

-Pinata!

-Special birthday songs!

-Dedicated hostess!

Catra can feel her soul physically leave her body. This was gonna be a long week.

It was terrible.

Adora had handed these obnoxious Burger King birthday invitations to all her friends, so now she had all these RSVP’s to the worst birthday of all of human history. In between working shifts until midnight, dealing with Adora at student council and not eating, Catra was on edge.

‘No, you can not write ‘Die Adora Die’ on her cake.’ Scorpia chides, slapping Catra’s hands away to pipe the icing.

‘It’s what she deserves.’ Catra seethes. If she couldn’t eat it, she could at least ruin it, right?

‘They’ll be here soon, so try to take that dying grimace off your face.’ Scorpia replies, and Catra rolls her eyes before adding the finishing touches to the cake.

Suddenly the door opens, interrupting her decorating. The once quiet establishment was now full of loud chatter as their classmates piled in one by one. All of Adora’s old private school friends were here, all unironically celebrating their school captain’s children’s birthday party at the worst fast food restaurant in their state.

She plasters her fakest customer service smile she can muster. Dignity at the door.

‘Hi, you must be here for the Birthday Girl’s party.’ Catra says, approaching the group. Just treat it like you don’t know them.

‘Aw you don’t have to be so formal with us, Vice Captain.’ Glimmer teases, and Catra almost snaps from her facade. Almost.

‘Let me show you to your table.’ Catra grits out.

She had chosen the ugliest poop brown balloons she could find, and had deliberately made the HAPPY BIRTHDAY banner lopsided on the wall.

‘Thanks Catra!’ Adora grins, bouncing past her to admire the decorations.

Catra imagines Adora’s face on the pinata and smashing it into a million pieces. She forces herself to take a deep breath. It was just the one shift, and she really needed this job. Plus after the party was over, she could probably nab some leftovers for her trouble.

All of the girls (plus Bow and Seahawk) sit around the table, and Catra marches over with the laminated menus.

‘Ooh, we all get hats!’ Perfuma says, placing her Burger King cardboard crown on top of her head.

Frosta squints at the menu. ‘I’ve never eaten fast food before. Looks disgusting.’

‘I think it’s fine! Adora wanted to eat here.’ Glimmer says in a sugarly sweet tone that just came off as passive aggressive. ‘Even though I had suggested my penthouse by the ocean and we go here nearly every day.’

‘I much rather would be at the ocean beach house thank you very much.’ Mermista retorts, swatting Sea Hawk off her shoulder.

Yeah me too, Catra thinks bitterly. She stomps off with their orders, cursing them inwardly the entire way to the kitchen.

Adora’s friends start playing with the so-called ‘entertainment’ they had haphazardly set up.

It was ridiculous, seeing grown teenagers lining up to try to smack the shit out of a glittery pinata. They squabble over who gets to hit it first, Catra feeling very much like a glorified babysitter to her most hated enemies.

After a while, she sees Scorpia emerge from the kitchen. ‘Happy Birthday to you,’ Scorpia sings with Adora’s birthday cake in her arms. ‘Happy Birthday to you~’

The others join in on the song, Catra only mouthing the words in silent rebellion. The cake is emblazoned with a crude doodle of Adora’s face with HAPPY BIRTHDAY written on her enormous forehead.

‘Oh my gosh, I love it!’ Adora’s sky blue eyes light up, and she’s practically sparkling. Catra huffs, she wasn’t supposed to like it. Didn’t she see the drawing was supposed to make fun of her five-head?

Adora catches Catra’s eye, beaming. ‘Did you draw this for me?’

‘She did!’ Scorpia tattles, and her enemy’s smile increased tenfold. Catra can feel her cheeks grow warm. Dammit.

‘Whatever.’ Catra bites out, unable to meet her gaze.

Luckily no one else seemed to be paying attention to the weird atmosphere between them, as they were split between eyeing the cake and pinata wrestling.

‘Get over here Sea Hawk, we can do the pinata later!’ Mermista chastises, watching Bow spin her blindfolded boyfriend.

‘Let me just get one good hit in, and I’ll join you!’ He crows, swinging the bat in random directions as Bow ducks the blows, laughing.

Just for anything to do, Catra takes it upon herself as hostess to snatch up the knife and start cutting. She cuts into the cake to start portioning out the slices, but as the knife touches the bottom Glimmer lets out a shriek.

‘What?’ Catra deadpans.

‘If you cut to the bottom of the cake, you have to kiss the person closest to you!’ Glimmer says, a demonic look in her eye. Adora elbows her, embarrassed.

‘Excuse me?’ Catra’s never heard of this tradition. Though to be fair, she had not been to many parties in her lifetime.

‘Oh, that’s right!’ Perfuma claps her hands together. ‘Adora’s closest right? Go ahead Catra!’

To her horror, Glimmer starts pushing Catra towards the blonde. She digs her heels into the linoleum, only to find that she was sliding from the newly mopped floors.

‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ The girls start chanting, like they were her friends and that she wasn’t their damn server.

‘What the hell- fuck no, let go of me!’ Catra finally snaps, wrenching herself from Glimmer’s grip.

The momentum sends her stumbling into Sea Hawk, who was still attempting to hit the pinata.

‘Ack!’ He squawks.

The bat goes flying straight out his hand and into their double doors. There’s a huge crash, and everybody winces at the noise.

The glass pane shatters, and so does Catra’s sanity. She was so fired.

Sea Hawk lifts the blindfold.

‘Did I get it?’

---

It was nearly closing time, and Catra was still sweeping up bits of glass from the floor. This had been one of the worst days of her life, and she had been beaten and homeless before. To make it worse, Adora was still grovelling when she should’ve gone hours ago like the rest of them.

‘I am so sorry Catra, I’ll pay for everything, I’ll take full responsibility so you don’t get fired-’

‘Stop it.’ She was too tired to even argue with Adora like she usually did, wishing Adora would just go away already so she could grovel over the phone to her regional manager without an audience. Catra always pretended to hate her job, but she couldn’t afford to lose it. She could barely make rent with her Burger King wage.

‘Please, let me help clean. It was my fault anyway.’

There was hardly any money left over to feed herself most days, that’s why she was skinny as a rake as opposed to the toned, buff, well fed Adora. She had only been functioning on a few nuggets that Scorpia snuck her yesterday. Did Catra still have those food coupons? How long until the bank charged overdraft fees?

‘Catra are you listening-’

‘I said stop it!’ Catra snaps.

Adora has the audacity to look stunned.

‘Why do you insist on harassing me at work everyday? Is it fun? Forcing me to play servant to you rich girls, to sing and dance for you? You already beat me in everything at school, you’re already School Captain, you have all the money and a loving family you need, so can you stop rubbing your privilege in my face just for one second so I can THINK?’

‘I...I just…I’m sorry.’ Adora starts and aborts a few sentences. Catra can’t even stand to look at her face.

‘This party at your work. It was the only way to get you to celebrate my birthday with me.’

‘.....’

‘Um, I-’

‘Whatever.’ Catra retorts, trying and failing to pick up the last shards with her too long fingernails. She hisses when the glass nicks her finger, cutting into skin. Drops of blood fall to the floor.

‘Are you okay?!’ Adora gasps, rushing to her side. Catra slaps her hand away, she needed to go find the cleaning supplies. Blood was a biohazard, there was some protocol for it but she was having trouble remembering.

She goes to stand up, but the fatigue rushes to her head and her legs give in underneath her. Instead of smacking her head against the floor, she feels herself land on something soft instead.

Adora hooks her around the waist, gently placing her into the booth. She grabs a napkin from the dispenser and wraps it around Catra’s hand. She can feel Adora’s warm hand squeezing her own.

‘I’m just applying pressure to the cut.’ Adora says quietly.

Catra just closes her eyes. It’s well past midnight and she should be locking up the store, but she can’t bring herself to move.

#she-ra #she ra #spop #catradora #catra #adora #burger king au

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lovelyirony · 4 years

Note

Fic title meme : pulvis et umbra sumus (We Are Dust And Shadows)

On every single document, including the ones that show what actually happened to Howard and Maria Stark, Tony Stark is listed as dead among them.

He is not.

But in not calling in the accident on the abandoned road, Tony managed to find someone else to take his place and escaped.

Tony Stark is dead. A whole family funeral and everything. Obadiah pretends to cry. Tony is at the funeral with shitty dye in his hair and sunglasses that he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing. Ha.

The funeral is closed casket. All their faces are rumored to be impossible to fix with make-up.

He makes new documents. Anthony Jarvis, from Boston. Airtight background. Likes puzzles. Scored damn high on the SAT, but not the perfect score.

(Killed him to answer some of those questions wrong, seriously.)

Anthony Jarvis goes to MIT and requests a single room. He gets one for one semester, and then the room next to his burns and destroys his as well. So he gets moved to Jim Rhodes’.

Jim becomes Rhodey, and he is the first friend of Anthony Jarvis, and nicknames him Tony.

He grins at that.

There are plenty of times that Tony wants to tell him. The thing about secrets is that they need to be shared. No one really wants a secret, nor do they want to keep it. But he keeps his mouth shut and asks if he wants to go for Thai food.

“This is the third time this week.”

“Not my fault it’s good! I’ll pay...”

“Sign me up.”

Tony and Rhodey gets Thai food. It’s good.

Rhodey lets him in on a secret that Tony had actually known about since his room assignment.

(You remember that guy’s room that caught on fire? Yeah, he swore that his microwave hadn’t been on, and nothing had been plugged in. He was right. But Tony needed an accident.)

In other circumstances, Rhodey would have ignored the offer that he had. He had had his heart set on Air Force. But there was something about the man who talked to him.

“It’s a place called Strategic-Homeland-something I can’t remember,” Rhodey says. “Point is, they’re a big deal and kind of shady, but not in the government shady kind of way. The only thing I can find out about them is that they’re an international company who need engineers, pilots, and basically anyone like you and me. I don’t know how I feel about it.”

Tony nods.

“You want me in on this?”

“I mean, you did tell me a couple of weeks ago that you weren’t sure what you wanted to do after graduation.”

(It was two weeks, three days, and fourteen hours ago. Not like he was counting.)

“...thanks. I’ll check it out with you.”

Anthony Jarvis shows up in a nice suit, stupid sunglasses, and impresses the higher-ups by diagnosing a problem with the engine that others had previously marked as “impossible.”

He’s hired on the spot, same as Rhodey.

Tony Jarvis gets his own keycard, finds an apartment in New York that’s within at least biking distance, and gets started on inventing some cute little toys for the spies in Research and Development.

He brings the laser-lipstick to life, poison-drop-earrings, spyglasses that actually work and have HD, and briefcases that use mirroring technology to change color.

“How did you do this?” Rhodey asks, eyes wide. “I swear this is unreal.”

“Aw,” Tony says. “You sap. I got some inspiration from some old comic book ads. I think I’m gonna try a ring decoder next, what do you think?”

“Almost makes me want to go on missions instead of flying them.”

Tony Jarvis is known for working odd yet long hours. He comes up with results. And he keeps his head down and minds his own business.

This is all to find out exactly who killed his parents. As much as his and Howard’s relationship was...interesting, he still wanted to know.

His desire to know the truth leads to somewhere he hadn’t thought was possible: Hydra.

His hands freeze as he looks at the paper file with thick, black lines all over. The information there was sparse. Howard, Maria, and Anthony Stark all died. It was ruled:

And there’s nothing there.

It wasn’t an accident. Sure he knew that, but there was something far more sinister at play. Why wasn’t it an accident?

He gets Alexander Pierce in his apartment with a man in the corner. His arm gleams in what little light from the lamps outside give off.

“Why are you searching for the Stark files?” He asks.

“Why didn’t you just schedule a meeting? I’m available tomorrow at three,” Tony jokes. “Who’s your friend here?”

“Someone you wouldn’t want to shake hands with,” Pierce answers. “You need to stop looking into this before you find yourself in a situation you don’t want to be in.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Accidents will happen,” Pierce says. He gets up from the table, to the counter. Gets out a glass. And makes himself water. He smiles as he looks to the man in the corner. “Do you want any water, Winter Soldier?”

Winter Soldier remains impassive.

Tony stills.

“So, the legends are true. And Hydra is still around.”

“And if you aren’t careful, you won’t be,” Pierce says. “Don’t bring any of this up. Or this won’t be the last time you see Winter Soldier. I know your moves, Jarvis. Don’t think you can surprise me.”

They exit the apartment. Tony realizes that Pierce took his glass.

And he laughs.

Because this? Not according to plan, but god he’s gonna have fun with it.

It starts with telling Rhodey who he actually is.

It does not go as planned.

“So let me get this straight. I’ve known you for years and you just. Never told me?” Rhodey asks. “Why not?”

“To be completely fair, no one knows besides a man in Wisconsin, and he’s from Wisconsin,” Tony says. “Also I was drunk. Drunk me is a terrible person who would sell me for a buffalo nickel.”

“I’m still mad, even if that’s funny,” Rhodey says, trying not to smile. “So. Why tell me now? I’m assuming you need something.”

“I would like your help,” Tony says. “It is not required but I am toppling a secret organization living in SHIELD and I think if I get your help, I will most likely not get fired by the end of this. Fury likes you, he hates me.”

“False, he mildly tolerates you. You’ll be fine. Probably. Who else should we get to help?”

Tony had originally planned for no one.

But then there was Pepper Potts.

She had been deemed by the media as “crazy” for accusing Obadiah Stane, longtime-CEO of Stark Industries, as ordering a hit out on the Stark family.

She had been booted from the company--anticipated--and then Hydra had ordered a hit on her.

Slightly unexpected.

Point is, Rhodey brings her into the apartment and tells Tony casually that the grocery store had run out of his usual hummus brand, was the generic okay?

“That’s like asking if I’m okay with blue pens,” Tony curses. “Also, is that Pepper Potts? Why is she here? Did you run into her at the grocery store?”

“No, as I was coming back. Did you know that she has a hit out on her? Fun times.”

“Oh my god, will someone explain to me what’s going on here?!” Pepper seethes. “I was just trying to get my yogurt without anyone taking a picture of me and some random fucking guy had a knife thrown at me and then this guy took me to your house!”

She then rants for ten minutes about the “questionable design choices going on in this establishment, who honestly thinks shot glasses are a decoration?!”

“Are you done?” Tony asks. “Because if you want to help with a conspiracy plot, you need to be done.”

She is.

Pepper does not get a job with SHIELD. In fact, she mainly just decides to take care of the redecoration in Tony’s apartment.

“You will be paying me for this.”

“Why would I do that? You’re using my money to buy everything. You’re living here rent free for now.”

“Because I’m helping you make better life choices. I also want new shoes.”

What Pepper does is provide very valuable access to Stark Industries: she knows the ins and outs, what employees do and don’t do, and also is very helpful in telling Tony what he needs to do when he takes the company over.

“Who said I was going to take it over?”

“Me,” Pepper says. “Also because I reviewed every single old document and the company was specified to go to next-of-kin. You are. And you’re not dead.”

“My death certificate is literally framed,” Tony says, pointing to his graduation photo that Rhodey took. He had swapped out his official diploma with it as a joke. No one had seen it. He thought it was hilarious.

“Yeah, but they can do DNA testing,” Pepper says. “This is like the twenty-first century Anastasia except this time they don’t find you with metal detectors!”

“I don’t like that you know that story as well as you do,” Rhodey says. “But I’ll leave you a credit card for furniture and groceries. If you get rid of my drinks in the fridge I’m literally never forgiving you.”

“Noted, and I don’t need forgiveness,” Pepper says. “But they’ll stay there.”

So begins the plot.

Pierce doesn’t know three things, which is a lot of things not to know:

1.) Tony Jarvis is not Tony Jarvis.

2.) Rhodey actually likes Tony and most of the time him saying that he would “kill Tony in a variety of ways, starting with sporks and moving forward...” is mostly (mostly) a joke.

3.) Pepper Potts resides in their apartment and is having fun telling Tony she bought new silverware.

“Why did you buy new silverware! It was fine!”

“I recognized all of these forks and knives from restaurants. Why did you steal them from restaurants?”

“They can replace them!”

“Don’t. Anyways now your spoons match and you don’t have the shitty ones from different places. Also I painted the bathroom.”

“My landlord is gonna kill me.”

“I made her cookies and discovered that she likes going to concerts. You’ll be fine.”

(Pepper is a goddess. You can’t convince them otherwise.)

Pierce doesn’t know any of this, but he still holds a key piece of blackmail: Tony Jarvis shouldn’t know about Hydra, and he’ll do anything to make sure that he doesn’t lose his job.

Tony has been recording their conversations for weeks.

(Pierce thinks he doesn’t design things to get around the available technology. Pathetic.)

He also has bugged Pierce as well as his house, and figures out that Winter Soldier is going to be on assignment within the DC area in an effort to kill some higher-up on the foodchain that was SHIELD.

Well.

Tony has always wanted to go and see the cherry blossoms a little more up close.

Pepper, of course, doesn’t like that they left his boots on.

“This couch is new and red,” she says. “Take off his boots!”

“He is unconscious and probably won’t be in the next fifteen minutes,” Rhodey says. “We are not touching him and possibly shortening that fifteen minutes.”

Winter Soldier wakes up to three faces staring at him.

“Mission failed?” he asks, voice robotic.

“Nope, you just got a new one,” says the man on the right. He is wearing a t-shirt. Winter Soldier thinks that in this situation, a t-shirt is not the best option.

(Of course, he’s not supposed to think. But they don’t have to know that.”

“Can you take your shoes off?” says the woman in the middle. “Please. You’re getting germs on the couch.”

He’s confused.

“Who am I killing?”

“No one, yet,” says the man on the left. “Do you know who you are?”

“Winter Soldier.”

“No, like a name? I’m assuming you’ve had a name at some point.”

“Someone has called me Mr. Freeze before.”

The man on the left snorts. Man on the right taps his arm lightly.

“Well, um, okay then. How do you feel about the name...aw shit. I can’t think of a name for you when your mask is on. Can you take the mask off?”

He takes it off. It’s nicer to breathe.

The man in the t-shirt pauses.

“Okay. So your name is Bucky Barnes. Do you know that name?”

Something clicked. But he doesn’t know what.

“Sounds...familiar.”

“Cool! So that’s your name now, do me a favor and don’t google it. I’m Tony, this is Rhodey, and this is Pepper. If you don’t take your shoes off, you’re going to be scared of her.”

Newly-named-Bucky highly doubts that he will be scared of Pepper because she is built like a twig and she is wearing high heels.

(He is wrong about ten minutes later when she forcibly throws a fork at him.)

“Why am I here?” he asks. “Should I be checking back in with Handler Pierce?”

“No,” comes the consensus from everyone else in the room.

“Technically, he thinks you went rogue and went back to Russia. He’s organizing a team to go get you. We hired an actor to play you. It’s been entertaining. He got some plums. Do you like plums?”

“Why is that relevant?”

“It’s vapid and not interesting at all, Tony loves questions like that,” Rhodey says. “Now come on. We need to get you actual shirts. Also some body wash.”

Bucky Barnes learns how to be a person. He stares at himself in the mirror for an hour and smiles slightly when Pepper calls him “vain” and pushes him aside to grab her hairbrush.

He then learns that Hydra is trying to overtake SHIELD and they have a slight window with Pierce out.

This involves two things:

1.) Tony Stark coming back from the dead.

2.) SHIELD panicking that they didn’t know this secret and taking another look at the paperwork, in which case Hydra will be found out.

These are both easier than anticipated. Tony can act like a showman better than anyone, and has been carefully growing a goatee that is eerily reminiscent of his late father’s. Of course he’s had to switch it up.

The media is going crazy. SHIELD as well. They’re scrambling to find paperwork that proves that it happened, and they find that the “accident” was no accident. That Howard hadn’t been working for the “enemy” at the time.

The enemy was in the building, and they had blended in seamlessly.

This all happens on a Wednesday, by the way. Pepper has it marked on the calendar and everything. Rhodey made his coffee.

Bucky is busy slamming people into drywall and listening for any word from Rhodey, who is also slamming people into drywall.

“You know, you’d think we’d get something like a suit of armor for this,” Rhodey pants out, slamming another guy out of his way.

Bucky nods.

“Best I can offer is a grenade.”

“Where in the fuck did you get a grenade?!”

“Supply closet. Second floor. What, you didn’t check?”

“No sorry must’ve missed it--of course I didn’t fucking check the second floor closet!” Rhodey yells.

Bucky says he’s stressed. He should calm himself.

Rhodey chucks a particularly nasty Hydra agent out a window.

(Bucky thinks Rhodey is probably the coolest person he’ll ever meet.)

Tony is fashionably late to the take-down of the century. He’s already foiled a lot of plans, and taken a key-card for Project Insight to work.

He waltzes in and nearly gets hit by a mug.

“So, how’s the party going?” he yells over to Pepper. Pepper is still in her heels. She looks like a goddess still, as usual. It is a Wednesday, after all.

“As fine as it can be,” Pepper says. “We’ve met some resistance. With Pierce gone there’s little infrastructure. You got his plane delayed, correct?”

“Even better. Got it sent to London. Motherfucker is gonna be there for a while,” Tony says. “Also may or may not have said that he was a threat. SHIELD branch there will investigate, find out some questionable things in his file that he will swear up and down were never there.”

“Good,” Pepper says. She launches a stapler at someone’s head. “Do you think we’ll have time to pick up takeout for dinner?”

“Depends on whether or not Deputy Director Hill is Hydra.”

They see Maria Hill pass by in a blur, yelling as she jumps onto a man and sends him crashing down over a railing.

“Lovely, she isn’t!” Pepper cheers. “By the way, I was thinking about redoing our kitchen.”

“‘Our’ kitchen?” Tony says, ducking a bullet and drawing out his personal lipstick-laser, firing it with expert precision. “I told you the living situation was temporary.”

“Oh please, you have an extra room.”

“Which was an office!” Tony tells her.

“Like you can’t have your office at Stark Industries,” Pepper says. “I expect to hear how the reveal went over dinner. Also, please hire me back. I don’t wanna be your interior decorator for forever.”

“Neither do I, you like modern art. Disgusting.”

And so the fighting resumes.

It is done by five-thirty-two, with an official surrender from Pierce.

“Thank god, I already ordered Chinese and they said it’d be here at six,” Rhodey says.

They all sit on the red couch.

Shoes on.

Tony tips four hundred percent.

“So what are we doing tomorrow?” Rhodey asks.

“I am not moving for six hours,” Bucky answers. “Also maybe getting a library card.”

“This is the first thing you want out of the icebox? A library card?” Tony asks, laughing.

Pepper laughs.

“I have errands to run. You can come with me and we’ll swing by.”

“What are the errands?”

“Getting a kitchen mixer and also making sure that my plates match my napkins.”

“A travesty if it doesn’t happen,” Rhodey deadpans. “Pass the lo mein, Tony. You’re hogging it.”

“I had to fight on a Wednesday and run,” Tony says. “Today isn’t cardio day.”

“Literally hate it when you speak,” Rhodey says. “Absolutely abhor your language.”

They go to bed, although it’s more of laying on the floor.

Sure, Tony will have to deal with retaking a business that he knows a bit less about and Pepper will have to be trained (again) and also fight against being made CEO (but she won’t fight much). Rhodey will get a new job with SI because it’s not like Tony will let him work at SHIELD (Rhodey tries, Tony will get him fired at some point). Bucky just...he needs to get a bit more than a library card.

But that’s for tomorrow.

#BUCKLE IN BOYS WE GOT A LONGGGGGG ONE #bucky barnes #tony stark #rhodey #pepper potts #yes this took all day yes i didn't proofread it #but i love this so much #lovelyirony writes

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