#WELL the queue in front of the club was too damn long so we just went home again so that was great for me ahdjgj | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

smol-and-grumpy · 3 years

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What I Want Most - One

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean’s life has been all work and no play lately. When Gabe, his friend, coerced him into tagging along to a club, he couldn’t say no as Gabe has been pestering him for a while now. What Dean didn’t expect was that he’d meet his match in that club in the form of a stunning woman with underlying daddy issues.

Warnings: NSFW, mostly daddy kink, rough oral, praise kink, rough sex, one-night stand to enemies to lovers (is that a trope?)

Word Count: 6840 (whoops!)

A/N: Apparently, I can not write pwp anymore. This should have been a one shot but it ended up a mini series. Sorry.

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

“C’mon, man!” Gabe urges, his hand comes up to pat Dean’s padded shoulder.

He’s still in his suit, having gone into work because of that damn project. The deadline is on Monday, and that’s also the day that the execs want to talk to him. He still doesn’t know what’s it about, fears the worst. Maybe he has a reason to? Dean doesn’t know why they would fire him, though. Since he had the news that they wanted to talk to him on Monday, he’s been working harder, knelt himself deeper into the workload, was barely home and if he did, it was just to sleep, only to get up and go to work before dawn.

It’s crazy. It really is, because it’s not even his dream job but he still needs it. At least until Sam moves over here in a couple of weeks. So, the goal is to hold on to this job for as long as Dean can.

Gabe has picked him up from work, complaining that Dean hasn’t got any time for drinks anymore. Little does Gabe know that he’s been drinking himself to sleep every night lately. And Gabe’s fucking persistent. He was waiting outside the building until Dean had come out and now he coerced him into standing in line for a hip club that has the reputation for debauchery and illegality. It’s just a rumor. Dean’s never been here, but Gabe apparently had.

“This better be good, Gabe,” Dean grits his teeth. The wind is chilly tonight, but for most of the people in the queue, especially women, there's apparently no reason to wear more clothes.

“It will be, once we get in,” His friend says and rights his suit. It’s weird to see Gabe in a suit, a rare sight, but he wore it because suits always get you into things in the city, “There’s going to be so many girls, huh?” Gabe elbows him in the ribs, “Maybe you can find one to help you to unwind,”

They’re next in line and Dean moves up with Gabe, his hands in his pocket as he shrugs. Well, Gabe is not really wrong. It has been a while since he scored, even longer when he had something steady. It’s not that Dean didn’t want to. It’s more like he can’t find the time. His last relationship, or what felt like it, was over a year ago, and already then, she ghosted him because Dean ghosted her first. Not deliberately, though, he was just busy. And business is a constant lately.

Maybe Gabe is right, Dean wouldn’t mind finding someone tonight. It would be welcoming to take off the edge, forget the looming Monday for a couple of hours.

They are finally at the front of the queue, and the doorman ushers them through the open door. As soon as they enter the building, the bass of the music hits him. The bass vibrates through his body, traveling up his spine.

There are plenty of girls, scantily clad, dancing and laughing, waiting for someone to pick them up and buy them a drink. He wonders if he’ll find one he likes. He’s picky, doesn’t want to hook up for the sake of hooking up, if that makes sense. Dean kind of hopes he’d find one with a buried daddy issue, which is really not hard to find in the city, he just needs to be alert and read their body language.

He follows Gabe across the dance floor as the man shoulders his way through to the bar, finds a spot and plants himself there at the counter, making himself bigger than he really is. Dean joins him, smirks proudly at his friend as he orders them a drink. It’s him paying, like he always does with Gabe. Gabe is a good friend but Dean still earns more so that’s the least he can do for what Gabe’s doing for him, being there whenever Dean needs a friend.

While they wait for their drinks, Gabe looks around, eyes scanning the dance floor. Dean watches him at first, watches him smile at something, and turns his head to look at the source that produces the smile on Gabe’s face.

That little shit has already found his prey.

“Don’t wait up for me, I guess.” Gabe looks back to Dean and takes his drink, walks across the dance floor to dance with a girl who’s more than willing to share the drink with Gabe.

Dean turns back to the bar, his elbows braced on the counter as she shakes his head and chuckles.

Suddenly, there’s a voice beside him and it seems like it’s talking to him.

“Hey, big guy, can you move a little?”

He tilts his head to look at the woman, who appears to be alone. Dean’s interest is piqued.

“Sure, sweetheart,” He moves a couple of inches to the left, gives her room to press herself against the counter.

She smiles, leans herself over the top to talk to the tender, her tits squashed on the bar top. While the bartender prepares her drink, she’s still leaning over the counter but she turns to him with a smile. With the tilt of her head and body, he can see that her tits almost spill out. Dean can’t look away even if he wanted to.

“You come here often?” He asks with a crooked smile.

“Nah,” She smiles back, “I just moved here today, starting a new job on Monday. Just needed a break from unpacking so a friend brought me here. You?”

“First time,” Dean replies, “Where’s your friend?”

“She went to the back,” She says, “Apparently there are rooms?”

Dean shrugs, “I wouldn’t know.” With his next breath, he adds, “Names Dean, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Dean, I’m Y/N,”

When her drink arrives, a seat at the bar becomes available and Dean urges her to sit down. She does, albeit reluctantly. While she sits, her skirt rides up a little, exposing the tender flesh of her thighs. He’d like to touch, he really does, but Dean has to be clever about it.

They are talking while Dean orders more drinks.

“What about your parents?” He asks after a while of talking. He knows that she’s been living in another city, works in the same field as he does, came here for a job but when Dean asked where she’s working, she wouldn’t say and that’s a good girl because people can’t be trusted, not even him. She just finished talking about her one sibling whom she doesn’t talk to anymore. It’s different for him and Sammy.

“Just my mom, I never knew my dad,”

Yahtzee.

They keep on talking and Dean gets bolder, stands beside her at first with an arm around her waist. He rubs circles on her back with his thumb and she smiles at him, laughs at his stupid jokes too.

After one more drink, she’s scrambling out of her seat and stands back at the bar, and he should be wondering why but he isn’t. He just knows. She presses her body against the counter and Dean cages her in from behind, lowers his mouth to her ear, places a soft kiss there that makes her shudder noticeably. He chuckles low.

“You wanna come back to mine?” He whispers lower than he chuckled out before, noses behind her ear and moves lower, plants little kisses down her neck, making her arch her back, driving her sweet ass against his crotch. He’s semi-hard from thinking of what he’ll do to her, only getting harder with the rubbing.

“You want that?”

“Yeah,” Dean darts out his tongue, swirls it around her earlobe and there’s an actual moan.

His right hand travels down the front of her body, fingers span wide on her stomach and it dips lower. He watches her breath hitch in her throat, feels her shivering.

“What would you do to me, huh?”

Instead of answering right away, Dean’s hand goes further down, hitches the seam of her skirt up a little, teases the tip of his middle finger along her clothed pussy.

“Oh god,” She groans and throws her head back to rest on his chest while her back is still arched.

He chuckles, “Call me Dean,”

His hand goes further down, and she parts her legs a little. A fucking good girl, indeed. He rubs long her lace panties, feels the fabric damp. He gets bolder too, his fingers hook into the crotch of her panties, pulling it aside.

It’s skin on skin and Dean lets out an audible groan at the wetness he feels, bites into the junction of her shoulder where it meets her neck. It prompts her to drive her ass into him harder.

“You’re fucking soaked, baby, is that because of me, huh?”

He flicks at her clit with his thumb, dips just inside of her wet pussy with the tip of his middle finger.

“Uh-huh,”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,”

Dean chuckles as he pushes his finger in some more but not too much. It’s just a tease after all. He closes his eyes, groans again. He’s fucking hard by now and he presses closer to her ass, making her feel what’s going to await her.

“You’re so wet and warm,” He breathes out next to her ear, “Who’s making you so wet, huh?”

“Fuck,”

“Who, baby?” He goes further in, applies more pressure with his thumb.

“Y-you… you, daddy,”

Y/N doesn’t seem to have noticed the word she let slip out, or she’s too far gone to care if he’d be appalled by it.

He sucks in her earlobe with a chuckle, releases it before he nibbles at them. Not so much that it hurts, but enough to inflict a little pained pleasure, “Yeah? Did daddy make you all wet, huh? Jesus, you’re so tight and warm, making me want to fuck you so bad,”

“Do it,” She drives her ass back, wriggles with it deliberately, “Please? Daddy?”

Jesus fucking Christ.

She really is into this.

“Gonna take you home first, baby, you up for that? Huh?” His other hand massages up her throat and Dean paints along her mouth with two of his fingers. He can’t really see but he can feel.

Nodding her head, she opens her mouth, sucks his digits in, and swirls her tongue around them.

Fuck.

“Your mouth, baby,” He whispers, “Feels good around my fingers, would love to see them around daddy’s cock,”

“Mmmh,” A moan of approval accompanied by a shiver.

“Would you like that, huh? Like for daddy to use your mouth? Let you suck my cock like the good girl you are?” Her pussy clenches around the one digit and Dean grins, “Yeah you do. Gonna use your sweet mouth, can’t wait to feel those lips around my fat cock, baby girl,” He pushes his fingers deeper into her mouth, feeling her retching against him, “Yeah, gonna make you choke on daddy’s cock. That’s what you like, don’t you?”

She hums around his digit, and her pussy clenches some more.

Dean really hit the jackpot tonight. He should send Gabe a thank you card for bringing him out here.

“C’mon, let daddy take you home,”

Y/N didn’t realize the word that slipped out of her mouth, but she was glad Dean ran along with it. Using it even more afterward too. He got harder hearing it out of her mouth, an added bonus, really. There aren’t a lot of guys who are into it and god, that guy is hot and is fully on board with it? She fucking loves this city.

He doesn’t live too far, it was just a ten minute ride, where he moved close to her and let her drape a leg over his thighs. His fingers are in her pussy, fucking her with them while he fucks her mouth with his tongue to the same rhythm. Her hand is on his crotch, palming and rubbing him through his slacks.

Dean groans into her mouth, parts just for a minute to catch his breath, and whispers low, “Jesus, can’t wait to get my dick into that tight pussy, baby girl,”

Fuck. She can’t wait either. His filthy mouth turns her on so much.

The cab comes to a halt at a building which is in the nicer part of the city. She wished she had enough money to live here one day. Maybe she will one day with the new job she’s starting on Monday.

He lets go of her long enough to pay the driver and she tugs her skirt down as she gets out. Dean holds out a hand for her to take before he guides her into the building and into the elevator.

Pushing her against the wall, he presses his one thigh between her legs, the skirt riding up in the process. He kisses her again, his one hand braced on the elevator wall, his other hand around her throat, applying enough pressure for her to not feel like he’s restricting her. His mouth hovers around hers and he moves in, pecks her lips gently, “Come on, rub your sweet cunt on my thigh, baby. Get yourself warm and nice for me,”

She nods and he claims her mouth, kisses her hard, the scruff rubbing against her cheek, his tongue licking into it deep as she moves her hips and rubs her ruined panties over his clothed thigh.

God, the friction feels phenomenal.

The elevator pings, and Dean chuckles as he pushes himself from her, chuckles, because she’s still rutting against nothing.

“Fuck, you’re really something,” He whispers as he manhandles her out of the elevator only to drag her along the hallway.

It’s easy, she thinks, so easy for him to manhandle her around. He’s so broad and strong and just... fuck , she wants him so bad.

He comes to a halt in front of a door that says 823 , reaches into his pocket to pull out a set of keys and she stands behind him, reaching her arms around his body. Her one hand palms over a clothed, yet still so fucking hard cock, while her other hand tries to unto his belt buckle.

“Baby,” Dean chuckles, “Can’t open the door when you’re distracting me,”

“Just want you so bad,” She says, her forehead leans against his back and she feels his muscle shifting.

Y/N got the belt loose before Dean found the keyhole, her hand sneaking into his pants, traveling over the tuft of pubic hair until she wraps her fist around his dick.

He lets out a groan and closes his eyes for a moment before he goes on with trying to get into the apartment.

Dean shakes his head, “You really want that dick, huh?”

“Yeah,” She whispers against his back, her hand now jerking him off. She squeezes a little more at the head of his dick, and pads over his slit to smear the precum around his tip.

“Fuck, baby girl,” Dean mutters under his breath and she hears a click before he turns around, making her release her grip around his cock.

He crashes his mouth on hers, kisses her hard, his fingers fisting in the hair at the back of her head as he pulls her into the apartment with their lips still attached. He kicks the door closed with one foot.

After a while of intense kissing, Dean pushes her away, making her stagger back.

“Strip, baby,” He says in an absolutely dirty voice all deep and husky and she does because god, she would be damned if she didn’t want to be his good girl tonight.

Her shoes are off quick and she pushes her skirt down, her underwear comes right after before she pulls her top over her head.

Dean has released his cock, is fisting it while he watches her undress herself in front of him, groans when he sees her nakedness.

“Beautiful,” He lets out, smirking a little. It’s a boyish grin and that’s when he slips out of his role a little, she thinks. With his next breath, he catches himself again.

Normally she’s pretty self-conscious, but she has the feeling that the guy standing before her who’s ready to get his cock wet, doesn’t mind how she looks since they came this far already. Plus, the light’s still off, but the light from the moon and skyscrapers shines in, making her see enough to want him even more.

His dick is heavy and hard in his fist, as he massages it up and down. Her mouth waters at the sight.

“Get down on your knees,”

God, yes.

Finally.

Y/N kneels before him and Dean takes a step further in as he groans. Her mouth is already open and inviting, but he takes his time, rubs his heavy dick over her face.

“Looking so good for daddy, baby,” He huffs out.

The rubbing smears his precum on her face. She feels wet drops here and there and the scent of his arousal is intoxicating. God, it’s making her drool.

“You want my dick, huh?” He asks, tapping his dick lightly to her cheek, “Want to show me how good you suck cock?”

“God, yes,” She agrees with a frantic nod of her head.

“Call me daddy, baby,” Dean chuckles, “Open up your mouth wider, stick out your tongue,”

She does what she’s told.

“Good girl. That’s daddy’s good girl,” He says almost fondly and slaps his dick against her awaiting tongue, “Now suck,”

Well, she doesn’t need to be told twice. Sealing her lips around the head, she starts to suckle at it and Dean groans, throws his head back as she looks up.

“That’s right,” He whispers as soon as he catches himself, “Look up at me, I want to see how much you like sucking my cock, baby,”

She tries her best, she really does. His cock is thick, the taste of precum and a day’s worth of musk is heavy on her tongue, the scent penetrating her nose. It makes her suck him harder, makes her leak profoundly between her legs because she just wants him so fucking much.

“Spread your legs, touch yourself,” Dean mumbles, “I wanna see you touching yourself, baby. Wanna see you make yourself come while you suck my cock,”

Oh god, yes. She’s so close too. It’s no wonder, as she’s been balancing on that fucking edge since he fingered her in the club.

Spreading her leg but still on her knees, she pushes a hand in between, fingers herself, and rubs against her clit. The sound of her wetness is loud in the room. Dean groans when he hears it.

“So fucking good, baby girl,” He huffs out. His hand comes to push a strand of hair out of her face to see her better, “Sucking daddy’s cock so well,”

“Mmmh,” She hums in approval with his dick in her mouth and fuck, hearing him praise her just does things to her and she comes, quick, hard, humming and shrieking with his cock in her mouth. It makes him push his pelvis against her harder, making her choke when the tip of his dick hits her throat.

“Good girl,” Dean hums as he pulls his dick back but he leaves her to suckle at his tip, “Such a good girl for daddy, I’m so proud,” His hand finds the side of her face, applies pressure on his palms as he grips it, “I’m going go fuck your face, okay? Can you take that, huh? Take my dick?”

She looks up and hums, nodding her head.

He smiles down fondly, his teeth showing white and the crinkles around his eyes run deep. His grip around her face tightens a bit as he starts to fuck into her mouth, getting deeper inside with every thrust and she braces her hands on his thighs, fingers gripping at the fabric of his pants when she feels his dick choking her.

Dean presses his pelvis to her face, his pubic hair tickles her nose and he stays there for a while until she taps at his thigh because she feels like she’s going to pass out if he doesn’t let her come up for air.

And it’s weird. Really weird. She should be scared of doing this with a stranger, yet she trusts him. He has won her trust in such a short span of time. Some would call it naivety.

When he releases her face, she gulps for hair, trying to fill her lungs before he thrusts in again and he does. He gets faster too. The drool is running down her throat, her chest is wet.

“Fuck,” Dean whispers between thrusts, “Your mouth is fucking perfect, baby. You taking my cock so well,”

It makes her wetter hearing it and she’s sure that there’s a pool of her juice right below her.

“You want my come, baby? Want me to come in your mouth?”

Oh, god. More than anything right now.

She wants to feel him, to fucking taste him, so she nods her head as he stops his thrusts for a second.

Dean grins cockily. It’s really a good look on him, “Take it all, okay? But don’t swallow yet. Keep it in your mouth, baby,”

Another nod.

“Jesus,” He groans as he picks up his thrusting, “You’re perfect, baby girl, so good for daddy,”

His thrusts are faster before he comes and when he does, he lets out a deep growl as he pulls his cock out and fills her mouth with his cum.

Y/N does as she was told. She doesn’t swallow, instead, she opens her mouth, letting him pour in every drop he can milk out of that beautiful cock of his.

Dean’s spent dick is getting softer, but it still looks impressive, at least when it dangles so close to her face.

There’s a drop of cum on the corner of her mouth and he scoops it up with his thumb, pushing it into her mouth. His eyes are on her, a glow around him after his release. It makes him even more attractive and she wonders how fate is sometimes cruel to give her something she craves but takes it away again because it’s a one night stand. That’s all there is. He knows it as much as she does.

His other hand goes up below her eyes, brushes away the smeared mascara and with his thumb still in her mouth he tries to angle his stance to get her other eye as well.

Her mouth is full of cum and drool, almost spilling over but Dean takes his time, stands back to marvel at her.

“You look so pretty,” He says, again with a fond undertone, “Would take a picture if I could,” The cum’s floating over, and Dean pushes his thumb inside her mouth some more, “You may swallow now, baby,”

She does, closes her eyes to get the thickness of his cum down with his thumb still in her mouth. She sucks at the digit, signaling to him that it’s all gone.

“Open up,” He whispers, “Show me,”

Y/N smiles when she does, opens her mouth wide to show him that she’s swallowed it all.

He chuckles, “Good girl, you’re really a good fucking girl, baby,”

Taking his thumb out, he brushes it along her lips before he grabs at her arm and pulls her up. He kisses her then, letting out a languished groan when he tastes himself on her tongue.

“Down the hallway, the room to the left. I want you spread out on my bed, play with yourself okay?”

Dean kisses her on her nose and she nods before she makes her way to his bedroom. Climbing on his bed, she positions herself with her back against the headboard and spreads her legs. Her one hand plays with her pussy, fingers dipping in deep, before rubbing at her clit wetly. She closes her eyes, thinks about what just happened. Thinks about his voice that she’ll probably never forget. Thinks about his taste that she won’t be able to erase out of her mind.

It’s not long before Dean joins her, in one hand bottled water, in the other are her clothes and shoes. He’s really being considerate. Or he’s a neat freak. Either or. Not that it matters.

He drapes her clothes over a chair next to the bed, sets her shoes right below it before he unscrews the water and hands it over to her to drink. The coldness of it travels down her throat, making her shiver. Maybe she shivers of anticipation too, who knows.

Setting the water on the nightstand, Dean continues to undress, taking off his suit jacket and drapes it over another chair. While doing it, his eyes are on her.

She’s still rubbing herself, fondles her tits one-handed too, pinching her nipple, and arches her back.

“That’s it,” Dean croons, “Touch yourself, but don’t make yourself come, I wanna feel you come on daddy’s cock,”

Oh god.

She wants that too.

He watches her some more as his fingers slowly unbutton his shirt. Too slowly and it’s not fair because she just knows that he’s teasing her. When he takes his shirt off, she can see how broad he is, can see the muscles moving. He’s soft and firm and so fucking delicious. By the time Dean takes off his underwear, his dick is already more than semi hard. It’s impressive, really. She still can’t believe that she had that down her throat.

When he’s naked before her, he tugs at his cock, jerks it while his eyes are on her and he walks closer, climbing on the bed and walks closer to where she is on his knees.

“Jesus,” He growls, “You’re making me hard again, baby,”

There’s a smile tugging at her lips as a sense of pride washes over her.

“Will you fuck me now, daddy?” She says it in her best sultry voice.

“No,”

“No?” She frowns a little.

Dean chuckles, “No, I gotta taste you first,” He shoulders himself between her thighs, “Be a good girl, hold your legs up for daddy,”

Shamelessly, she hooks her arms around the back of her knee as she pulls them up and apart, almost folding herself in half. That’s how eager she is to spread for him.

His big hands are on the back of her thighs, helping push her back as he hovers above her wet pussy, “That’s my good girl,” He chuckles, warm air hitting her core, and she trembles.

He doesn’t stall, instead, he buries his face right in there, sucking and lapping around her sensitive nub like it’s the only thing that keeps him the fuck alive.

“Your cunt’s so sweet, baby,” He moans, as he spreads kisses all over her pussy, “Could eat you for days,”

Alternatively, he switches from sucking to lapping, and her hand finds his hair fingers, pulling at it, but Dean doesn’t seem to mind. He even starts to hum and that drives her fucking crazy.

It’s when he pushes in a thick finger that she almost loses it. Has to throw her head back and close her eyes when he curves the finger just right. He soon uses another finger, rubbing against her inner wall with it while he sucks at her clit and she just knows. She just fucking knows that she’s going to come again.

Her grip tightens in his hair, fingers digging into his scalp but Dean goes on, licking her and sucking her while he thrusts his fingers inside of her.

“Da- fuck- daddy,” She bites on her lip and the wave that hits her is strong, making her release her own legs, making her squeeze them around Dean’s head, “Fuck, oh my god,”

Dean chuckles as he spreads kitten licks on her clit. He pulls his fingers out and they pop out with a wet squelching sound, “You’re doing so good for me, baby, but please, call me daddy,”

The way he looks up from between her legs makes her heart race faster. Half of his face is drenched with her slick and there’s a glisten in his eyes while his lips are crooked into a smile that’s full of bravado.

He’s still fingering her lazily, circling his thumb soothingly around her clit, not applying too much pressure because he knows that she’s sensitive. Dean leans down and kisses her, swirls his tongue around her own. He parts with a bite on her lip, making her squeal and laugh.

“Can you fuck me now, daddy? Please?” She pouts a little for the effect but god, she’s so desperate for his cock. Desperate to feel him inside of her.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this and you can say no, okay?” He starts while he lays himself next to her, kissing the side of her face while he rubs between her legs. Dean dips down sucking a nipple into his mouth, bites on that too, chuckles when she moans.

“What?” She asks, fearing the worst. Fearing that he’ll say that it’s been a mistake and he only wanted to go this far and no further, fearing that maybe he’ll say that he’s too tired, or that he wants to put off fucking her for real for another day, or fuck, what does she know? There are so many possibilities that run through her mind right now.

Dean noses along her cheek, his nose is still damp, and she can smell her scent off him, “I was wondering if I could fuck you without condom, and before you say anything, I know it’s stupid but god, you feel so fucking good around my cock and you’re so fucking wet, I really want to feel it,”

Oh.

Y/N can’t believe what she’s going to say either. She’s never been so careless before but fuck, she’s really so far gone, and as she said before, she doesn’t know what it is but she fucking trusts Dean.

“I can’t believe that I’m saying it either, but please please, fuck me raw, daddy,”

“Jesus,” Dean groans as he quickly captures her mouth, tongue swiveling against her own. He sucks in her tongue before he releases it, “Come on, get on top of me,”

With one swift movement, he manages to manhandle her on top of him and she straddles his body, moving down inch by inch. He groans out again when she feels her leaving her wetness on his body on her way down.

Spreading herself over his hard cock, she grinds her pussy lips on it, slicks it up with her juice, teasing him in the process.

“Fuck, baby girl, don’t be a tease now,”

She chuckles but doesn’t stop and he lets her, probably enjoying the view and her playfulness. When she’s had enough and almost bursts herself, she grabs at his cock and points it upwards. Slowly, oh so slowly, she lets herself down.

Dean let out a groan, bites down on his bottom lip as she works her way further down his shaft. He helps a little, pushing his hips up, and down again when she manages to take all of him.

Her hands are braced on his chest and he rubs along her thighs. She needs a moment to get used to it, her walls fluttering around his girth.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean mutters under his breath, “You feel so fucking good, baby, like I thought you would. So wet and tight,”

Y/N’s plenty wet, Dean’s right about that and she gets even wetter as she starts to bounce on his shaft.

“So good, baby,” He coos, his hands on her hips, helping her guide herself up and down, “So pretty bouncing on daddy’s cock, fuck,” His one hand goes to her tit, squeezes it tight before he slaps down on her nipple, “That’s it, baby, fuck me,”

And that, she does. His words make her wetter, make her bounce on top of him harder. Up until she’s worn out and retorts to grinding.

Dean pulls her down by her arms, kisses her as he thrusts his hips up to not lose the rhythm, “Is my baby tired, huh?”

“Uh-huh,”

“Should daddy take over?”

“Yes, please,”

With a chuckle, Dean turns them both around until he’s on top, without slipping out of her. He gets up on his knees and pulls her closer by her legs so that her ass is on top of his thighs as he begins to fuck her deep and slow.

“Like that, baby?” He asks with one thumb circling her clit.

“Uh-huh,”

There’s really no coherent word that she could bring past her lips.

“Yeah?” He asks as he thrusts harder. He changes angles then, puts her down on her back and pushes her legs up so that he can thrust in even harder, “Like it hard?”

“Fuck, yeah,”

“That’s a good girl, baby,” Dean whispers, “Your cunt, that’s mine tonight, isn’t it?”

His thrust gets deeper, just the way she likes it, making her roll her eyes to the back every time he hits her cervix.

“Yours,” She manages to say, “Fuck,”

“Who am I, baby girl?”

“Shit,”

He starts to rub her clit while his slows his thrusting, but he still goes in deep, reaches her every corner where she wants him most, “Tell me, I want to hear you say it,”

“Daddy-, fuck, daddy, you’re my daddy,”

“That’s right, baby girl,” He coos, “I want you to remember that, okay? Remember who makes you feel good,”

He talks like she could ever forget him. It’s so fucking hard to and she doesn’t think she’d be able to even if she would try.

“Oh my-,” She bites on her tongue, knows that she should say his name, “Daddy, I’m fuck- you’re going to make me come,”

“That's okay, baby, come,” He pants, “I wanna feel you coming on my fat cock, can you do that for daddy, huh?” His one hand goes to her throat, claws around it and squeezes it just right. It gives her the much added trigger to explode.

Fuck , who taught him to fucking talk like this?

Dean chuckles, “I can already feel your cunt squeezing around me, baby, you’re close, so fucking close, ain’t you? Come now,”

It’s not like she needs permission, they didn’t work that out but fuck, if she’s not a good girl. So she comes, right around his cock. He releases his hand around her throat, brushing over it just lightly to smooth away the pain.

“Jesus, fuck,” Dean groans as her walls squeeze down on him. His movement starts to falter and she can feel that he’s holding himself together, “You feel so good coming on my cock, baby. You just got tighter too, fuck,”

It’s about only three hard thrusts later that he starts to tremble, “Where do you want me to come?”

She looks up at him, her hands curl around his biceps with every hard hit to her cervix, “I want, fuck, I want you to come inside, daddy, please? Wanna feel your cum running out for days,”

“Baby, you’re a fucking nasty girl, ain’t you? Fuck,”

Oh god. He’s right because that’s what she fucking is. She has no shame whatsoever.

“Gonna come so deep in your cunt, baby, mark it as mine,” He thrusts faster but not as deep anymore, “How does that sound?”

“Please,” She is basically begging him.

“That’s my good girl, taking my cock so well and now my girl wants my cum too, fuck, you’re so fucking perfect,” He growls low, and pushes in twice more, hitting her cervix before he stills and spills his cum deep inside of her.

Dean lets himself fall on top of her, braces his elbows on the side of her face so as to not crush her. He dips his head down, kisses her deep and tender while his dick still twitches inside of her with his release.

They took a shower together after that, cleaning themself off their filth and cum, and Dean’s worn out but he couldn’t help himself, made her come again in the shower on his dick alone with his thumb buried in her ass as he fucked her from behind. If he should fuck her again, he wants to try that back hole too, is almost sure that she’d let him because she went nuts when he stuck his thumb in there. Jesus, he hopes there’ll be a next time. It doesn't happen often that he wants to see a one night stand again, but with her, he’s ready to make an exception.

Now she’s really tired and almost falls asleep in his arms while he carries her over to his bed. Dean tucks her in and slides in next to her, pulling her into him and letting her rest her head on his shoulder. He kisses her gently, hand brushes away the hair from her face, knuckles grazing her cheeks.

He feels her smile into the kiss.

“Thank you,” She whispers and is already drifting off.

Dean chuckles, “You’re really something else, baby,”

He wakes in the morning, realizes that the bed next to him is empty. Tilting his head around, Dean looks at the chair, sees that her clothes are gone along with her shoes.

Heaving his aching body from the bed, he sits up and rubs his hands over his face, “Fuck,”

She’s gone. Dean doesn’t even have her number. He really doubts he’ll see her again and that’s a fucking shame.

Monday rolls around and Dean’s nervous.

He’s pissed too, because he called Gabe and persuaded his friend to go to the club again but of course she wasn’t there. He waited longer than he should have, turned down four girls because he wanted to meet the right one. He had been losing sleep because it had gotten late and the thought of having to be in the office in five hours doesn’t help.

So he sits in the meeting room, waiting for his bosses to arrive to maybe fire him, even though he fucking aced the presentation to the project this morning.

“Hello Winchester,” Mr. Turner says as he sits down and Mrs. Mills takes the chair next to Mr. Turner. They sit across from him.

“Mrs. Mills,” He nods, “Mr. Turner,”

“Have you been informed why we called you in today?”

“Not, really no.” Dean shakes his head as he rubs his sweaty hands on his slacks.

Mrs. Mills smiles, “We are thinking that you’re doing a great job,”

“I am?” He cocks an eyebrow, as if he can’t believe it.

“Yeah,” Mr. Turner chimes in, “The reason for this meeting is this. You know that Mr. Campbell is retiring in a couple of weeks, right?”

“Yeah,”

Dean knows. He’s been invited to the farewell party organized by Mr. Samuel Campbell himself.

“Right,” Mrs. Turner nods, “We are considering you for the position.”

“Really?” He can’t hide the grin, and even if it’s a job he absolutely doesn’t want, it feels great to be considered for it.

“There’s a catch, though,” Mrs. Miller says and of course there is. There’s always a catch in this company.

“We have a newcomer from an external company who also applied for the job. The person has a good reputation and great recommendation letters.”

Of course. Dean nods. They always have.

“We want to watch the two of you for about a week, two tops, see how much you’re willing to give of yourself, how driven you both are. We’re going to make a decision and please don’t take it personally if it’s not you. I’m sure the next position that opens up will be glad to have you.”

“Is this a competition?”

“See it as such, yeah. We talked about it in the boardroom and we really think it’s fair to give the other person a chance to get some more work experience in the company before we would consider them suitable for the job. With you, Mr. Winchester, we already know it, but that doesn’t mean that you have the job for sure.”

“Right,”

He’s never good at losing but that’s because Dean never loses. He’ll have an advantage over that dude. It’s probably going to be a piece of cake. He barely has to lift a finger, probably.

“Are you ready to meet your competition? There are projects you have to work on together, so it would be good if you get acquainted with each other.” Mrs. Mills asks.

“Sure,” Dean shrugs with a nod.

Mrs. Mills gets up from her chair to walk to the door. She opens it and keeps it open wide and then it feels like the air has been punched out of Dean’s lungs.

He’d recognize that face anywhere. He also remembers those long legs in heels.

“Mr. Winchester, meet your new colleague, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N,”

Chapter Two

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#what i want most #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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rosy-cheekx · 3 years

Note

for the kiss prompts... 16 with jonmartin?

Combined this New Years Kiss prompt with @ombreblossom‘s prompt for “a giggly kiss" and an anon prompt: “I wish you would write a fic where martin scoops Jon into his arms and Jon realizes how strong he is” damn if i dont deliver

Just a good vibes fic while I’m dying over the pre-finals stress. Check on your friendly neighborhood psychology students, especially juniors. They’re a-struggling.

Enjoy!!

Resolutions, 2.2k

CW: alcohol

“Happy New Year’s Eve!”

Jon wasn’t sure what he expected of Tim’s house. Maybe something haphazardly designed, with takeaway menus pinned to the fridge? Maybe the epitome of the bachelor pad?

He definitely hadn’t expected the open floorplan, spotlessly cleaned and well-organized, with furniture complementary to the walls and each other. Warm light spilled from every lamp, with purple and silver decorations inscribed with “2015” and “Happy New Years” dangling from almost every surface.

“You can close your mouth now, buddy,” Tim elbowed him lightly. “I keep my spaces clean, what can I say?”

Jon clamped his teeth back together and held out a bottle of white wine mechanically. “I brought this. Er, sorry I’m late.”

Tim shook his head jovially, taking Jon’s coat and scarf along with the wine, before handing the bottle back to him. “Party’s just getting started. We’ve been drinking a bit, playing some games.” He winked before nudging him toward the couches, where Sasha’s dark curls were just visible. “Go on, I’ll be right behind. They’ll be happy to see you!”

“Jon!” The man in question jumped and craned his neck to see Martin—or, more rightly, his hand—from over the edge of the couch cushions. “Good, you’re here! Sash and Tim are kicking my ass in Scrabble.”

Jon approached the living room, spying Martin, sitting on the floor in front of a coffee table, another bottle of white wine between him and Sasha, along with the aforementioned Scrabble board. “Scrabble isn’t a team sport?”

“Hey, Jon. Ooh, more wine, thank god, this one’s just gone.” Sasha scrunched her nose with her greeting, reaching for the bottle in his hands. “And no, it’s not,” she continued as she spun a corkscrew between her fingers. “But Tim is missing like half the tiles so we can’t play four.”

“Tim’n’Sash ganged up on me,” Martin mumbled, the edges of his words softened, Jon assumed, by wine. “I didn’t even—I’m new to research, issnot fair.”

Sasha pulled the cork from the wine as Tim leapt over the cushion of the suede couch, landing neatly next to her. “I told you, you would get Jon when he showed up, which evens it out anyways. Stop pouting.”

“Am not.”

Jon folded his legs beneath his hips as he sat, examining the board and taking a proffered glass from Sasha’s hands. “Don’t worry, Martin,” he offered, smiling gently at the man, taking in the flush of his face and the rolled sleeves of his dress shirt—maroon, he filed away. Looks good with his hair. “We’ve just got to last long enough before Tim gets drunk or bored and starts to throw letters at us. Did he tell you that’s why they’re missing?”

Martin laughed aloud and the noise caught Jon off guard. It was a low, warm sound, loud in a way that suited the man. Jon smiled to himself, proud.

“I do-I do not,” spluttered Tim, pointedly ignoring Sasha’s raised eyebrow. “…I stopped that when we were down to one W.”

Jon nudged Martin, gesturing for the block of letters in front of him. “You’ll see. Our turn?”

Eight rounds, three glasses of wine, and a dodge from the letter E later, Jon was feeling properly comfortable. They were all properly buzzed, if not a little tipsy, and the clock ticked steadily closer to midnight. Martin and Jon had continued to be partners for all the other games they played: Charades, Pictionary, and a silly game Sasha had made up where they had to describe concepts like colors or sounds, without using words directly related to them. Martin had carried their team for that game, explaining through an embarrassed blush that he liked to read a lot of poetry. Jon elected to ignore that statement, though he was grateful for the edge it gave them; his competitive streak was willing to ignore a multitude of sins.

At 11:15, Tim flipped through the television programs, searching for one doing a proper countdown. One of the BBC Music channels was playing a Countdown playlist, with an eclectic variety of music on the playlist if the presented queue was any indication. Remote in hand, Tim spun on his heel, lip-syncing voraciously to the song, some dreadfully cheesy rock ballad. In turn, he focused on Sasha, then Jon, then Martin, hand outstretched to each of them in a mockery of longing. When he turned his attention back to Sasha, the chorus swelled and she took his hand, swinging herself under his arm with a grin on her face. Jon settled into the couch cushions, a warmth running through his chest as he watched the two spin with each other in a pseudo-dance. Martin sipped his glass of water on the other end of the couch, seemingly as happy as Jon to just watch.

As the song ended, the rock ballad was replaced by a pop song, one Jon didn’t know but it was apparent everyone else did. Tim sang along in a horrendous shout-sing, and Sasha grabbed Martin’s hand, tugging on it lightly. Martin rolled his eyes, resisting briefly as Sasha wordlessly argued with him, but her will was stronger and he laughed softly as she pulled him to his feet and jumped around to the beat, air-guitaring in circles around him. Eventually, Martin closed his eyes and leant into the dance, reminding Jon vaguely of his club days with Georgie, the dozens of hot, sweaty young adults without a care in the world of who saw them dance. And, most importantly, dance badly. Martin was truly terrible, but Jon was unable to tear his gaze away. He wasn’t matching the tempo and he knew about half the words as he joined Tim in singing the chorus, but there was something about him that was absolutely intoxicating, more than the wine Jon had consumed.

The Beatles played next, and of course Jon knew them. They had been his grandmother’s favorite, and for good reason. He hadn’t even realized he was singing under his breath to Come Together until Tim’s TV remote was shoved under his lips unceremoniously. Without thinking, he accepted the faux-microphone and joined the trio, standing from the couch to the coffee table in socked feet. As he sang, voice growing in intensity, he swung his arms wide, the images of clubs and dancers and stages at the forefront of his mind.

When the song ended, Jon was breathless, and the smattered applause from his friends brought him out of his reverie. He blushed, suddenly acutely aware of the blood rushing through his body and the heart that was pumping it. he handed the remote to Tim and moved to step off the table, chewing on his lip as he did so. Before he could make the awkward step to the floor below, he yelped as he was suddenly swept off balance. The spinning of his mind, thanks to the alcohol, confused him briefly before he realized he hadn’t fallen and was actually being clutched in a pair of strong arms, bridal-style. Martin’s arms, to be precise. His brow was furrowed in concentration, though he held Jon like he weighed almost nothing.

“Ah, you said you didn’t want to fall.” Martin shrugged and bounced Jon in his arms slightly as if that explained everything.

He had? “Mmm-thank you Mar’n,” Jon murmured, eyes unsure where to land and deciding on a loose curl that hung over Martin’s forehead. He wanted to pull it, Jon realized, and he did so, gently, giving the coil a tug, and giggled to himself as it sprang back in place. Martin was a lot stronger than Jon gave him credit for, and warmer too, though that may have been the alcohol. It was nice, being held like that, and Jon felt himself nestle towards the heat of Martin’s barreled chest without thinking about it.

Tim and Sasha, to Jon’s relief, hadn’t seemed to notice, deep in conversation. Martin deposited Jon safely on the couch and slumped next to him, unbuttoning his collar a little more and turning his attention quite intently to his phone.

The music carried on, and Jon was pulled into a few more dances with Sasha and Tim but felt himself gravitating towards Martin as the hour pursued, making excuses to scoot closer on the couch. A few videos of kittens later, he was properly next to him, watching Tim and Sasha tango to Britney Spears and the clock that ticked steadily towards midnight.

As 11:50 hit, Tim lowered the volume and flopped next to Jon, sweat beading on his forehead. “Alright, mates, resolutions for 2015, go.” He popped a grape from the platter that rested on the chair nearby. “Mine’s to get outside more, I haven’t been able to get out of London much. Maybe go backpacking, see the world.”

Sasha shrugged and perched on the armrest of the couch, feet resting on the cushion next to Tim. “Patience, I think. Listening to people better.”

Jon surprised himself by speaking. “Work-life balance,” he mumbled, dragging his eyes from the coffee table to meet Tim’s curious expression. “It’s not like Elias cares much what the researchers do.”

“Hell yeah, mate!” Tim clapped him on the back. “Maybe you’ll finally come dancing with me. You’ve clearly got the skills.” He turned his attention to the final member of their party. “Marto? What about you?”

Martin shrugged, lips pursed in thought. “Mm, be more honest with people, I think.”

Tim nodded excitedly. “Oh yes, I would love to see Martin Blackwood, The Director’s Cut.”

The ginger shrugged. “I don’t think you’re missing much, honestly, just maybe a little more negativity, a little more feeling.”

“Regardless,” Tim waved the thought away. “Can’t wait to see it.” He cast his eyes to the ceiling and crossed his arms under his chest. “What do you think the illustrious Elias Bouchard does on holiday? I swear that man lives and breathes Magnus Institute.”

Sasha grinned. “Bet he wears nothing but a silk robe, with the Magnus owl embroidered on the chest, skulking around the house and drinking scotch, grumbling about budgets and paranormal stories.”

“Bet he has a cat he strokes menacingly while watching the stock market,” Martin added, sighing. “We can agree he’s a total Tory, right?”

“Oh, for sure,” came a chorus of affirmation.

The group sat in comfortable silence as an upbeat love song played on the television. Jon’s eyes were starting to feel heavy, like how they felt when he got them dilated at the optometrist. Midnight couldn’t come soon enough.

“Hey, guys?” The voice from his right was quiet, hesitant. Martin’s eyes were glassy, phone abandoned on his lap. “I’m really happy to be here, with you all.”

“Martin!” Sasha and Tim cooed happily, rushing to coat his words in affirmations and gentle kindness, sweet gifts with which to end the year. Jon opted for a quieter approach, not the verbally affectionate kind of man, placing a hand over Martin’s gently, squeezing his wrist once. He wasn’t even sure if Martin noticed it—he didn’t move his hand before Tim was shouting, hauling them up as 11:59 flashed on the screen and a countdown began to shout its way from 59 on the screen.

“Come on!” Tim crowed. “My mum always said you can’t stand still when midnight hits, or it’s bad luck. Something about starting the year moving.” Tim led them all in a sort of march, stomping forward and back, spinning in circles, and swinging each of his friends under his arms, though Martin had to duck rather considerably. All four of the research staff members were laughing through their words as they tried to add their discordant shouting to the last few numbers on the TV.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Tim grabbed Sasha around her waist and dipped her low as he kissed her, both grinning into the kiss. Jon chuckled and shook his head at the pair, before feeling the hand that was still on his tug gently.

“I-I said I wanted to be more honest,” Martin murmured, voice low in his throat. Jon nodded wordlessly, indicating for him to go on. His words seemed caught somehow.

“If I’m honest,” Martin continued, eyes flitting over Jon’s face before landing back on his eyes. “I really want to kiss you.”

Jon giggled, actually giggled at Martin’s words, the boldness of the wine piloting his voice for a moment. “What are you waiting for?”

So Martin did, one hand on Jon’s waist and one tangled in the hair behind his ears, pressing Jon close and up towards his lips. It was a warm kiss, soft and gentle, and Jon’s head was spinning, not from the buzz or the dancing but from the four points of contact he had with MartinMartinMartin Blackwood is kissing me and Martin’s hand is on my waist and my hand is on Martin’s cheek and his skin is so soft I think I could kiss him forever. Screw 2015; I’ll come back for 2016 and just kiss Martin for a year—

Martin pulled away, smiling down at Jon with a look of utter adoration. “Happy New Year,” he breathed. “Here’s to 2015.”

“H-Happy New Year,” Jon returned, ducking his head shyly at the gaze Martin was casting on him. “Let’s hope it’s a good one.”

#tma #tma fanfic #jmart #timsasha #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #sasha james #tim stoker #jonmartin #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfic #fanfic to a tea #cw alcohol #new years eve #new years eve party

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percyinpanties · 3 years

Note

hey I'm the pipeyna anon and that's ok!!! can u do pipeyna with piper pining after hot jock Reyna which hopefully ends happy (smutty)

just a quick warm-up, i say, i won’t spend too much time on this. i really had to resist just going on and on and on with this. i miss writing this ship, damn.

anyway - this fits really well with an enemy to lovers prompt i have for jercy, so thats what im hinting at too here.

Read on Ao3

for context : i always write college aus from a UK uni perspective bc that’s all i know and i don’t care to adapt to how it might or might not work in the u.s. (sorry)

rating: teen+ (no smut in this one, but let me tell you, this TEMPTED me)

words: 2.2k

___

“An actual goddess” Piper says wistfully from where she’s leaning against the wall next to Percy, taking back the cigarette she’d just bummed of him. Her eyes are glued on the field, and more precisely on Reyna, smile on her face and water bottle in her hand as she jogs over to Jason standing at the side of the field. They greet each other with a hug, even as Reyna wrinkles her face, seemingly complaining about her own sweatiness.

It’s coincidence that the end of Reyna’s soccer practice collides conveniently with Piper’s and Percy’s late seminar on Mondays. It isn’t coincidence that Percy and her have taken to sharing a cigarette on the side of the building that looks out toward the field during their break, however.

Percy makes a non-committal noise and his eyes follow Piper’s gaze while she takes a drag of the cigarette and wrinkles her nose. She needs to quit smoking for good, she thinks, and flicks the ash to the ground. There was a brief moment in first year when Piper thought that Percy might be interested in Reyna, or she in him, but luckily, nothing ever came of that.

“You think they’re dating?” Percy asks, arms crossed over his chest now, making no move to take the cigarette back again. He’s not even pretending not to be staring, his eyes intense where they flit between Reyna and Jason. Piper on the other hand has the common decency to at least cast her eyes away every now and again before she’s caught looking for a little too long.

At the edge of the field, Reyna and Jason are standing close together now, chatting about god knows what, smiling and laughing. They’re certainly comfortable with each other, but Piper can’t say that’s much of an indication given how she’s around Percy.

“I hope not.” Piper mutters and Percy laughs at that, even though she knows he agrees. Percy wouldn’t admit it in a million years, but Piper would bet real money that he has a thing for Jason, too, as much as he claims to hate the guy. She’d have to be deaf and blind not to notice the tension between them.

It would make sense, though, in a way. Jason is captain of the men’s rugby team, Reyna of the women’s soccer team. Some of their practices collide and the two clubs do most of their weekly socials together, and Piper’s seen the two of them hanging out aside from that plenty as well. Reyna and her haven’t talked much about Jason, maybe because Piper hasn’t actually exchanged more than five words with him and never had much of an urge to change that, but she knows that Reyna and Jason have known each other before university.

Around Jason, Reyna seems to let her guard down, something Piper has only managed to achieve a handful of times since they met during their first year.

Jason laughs at something Reyna says, eyes bright and head thrown back and Piper can’t deny that he’s handsome, at the very least. He’s fairly decent, too, as far as guys go, and really, Piper knows she shouldn’t be hoping that there is nothing between Reyna and him if that is what would make Reyna happy.

“Invite her to the party.” Percy suggests then, drawing Piper’s attention back from the tangent her brain was so insistent to start on. When Piper turns her face to look at him, he’s already looking back at her, one eyebrow arched. “I was going to, anyway, but it’s different coming from you yourself.”

He’s not teasing her, it’s an honest suggestion, and technically not even a bad one. It’s Percy’s birthday this weekend, and if nothing else, it would be a good excuse to hang out again. Percy knows a ton of people, but he usually doesn’t invite too many to his party, so with any luck, it won’t be too crowded to actually spend some time with Reyna.

More than that, though, it’s another opportunity for Piper to finally get a move on. Percy, Piper knows, thinks that Piper’s pining had reached a point where it’s almost comical halfway through last year, but even so, Piper has yet to manage to actually act on her feelings.

A party is casual enough that she can always play it off as nothing serious when it ends up blowing up in her face. Piper might finally get over herself and just ask Reyna out already – although she’s tried that a few times before only to find herself tongue tied and staring at Reyna like she hung the moon in the sky. She’s been head over heels for Reyna since maybe three weeks after they met in first year, and now that they’re starting their third and final year, Piper needs to get a move on or it’ll simply be too late. Granted, she’s scared shitless at the prospect of being turned down, but at this point, even that would be better than pining forever and never finding out if she’d even stand a chance.

“Yeah… maybe.” Piper says finally, and manages a small smile towards Percy who bumps his shoulder against hers playfully. They should be heading back inside, so Piper sneaks a last glance toward Reyna and this time, finds her looking back.

They don’t share any classes this year, and Piper doesn’t usually run into Reyna on campus, so on Wednesday morning, she ends up texting Reyna on her way to class. She fumbles with her phone, almost tripping over her own two feet trying to type the words out as fast as possible, and ends up having to sidestep off the path to actually send the texts.

Hey you.

we’re having a party on Saturday, it’s Percy’s birthday.

Piper wants to add more, but instead, she bites her lip and stuffs her phone back into the pocket of her jeans. It’s almost an open invitation like this already anyway, and Piper wants to gauge Reyna’s first reaction before deciding exactly how she’s going about asking. Technically, it would be so easy to just as Reyna to go with her, specifically, to the party, but the intention might be lost over text and anyway, wouldn’t it be simpler to just invite her generally?

Piper frets throughout the entirety of her first lecture, and most of the second one, for nothing. Reyna doesn’t answer, even though the messenger app shows Piper that she’s read both texts already, and Piper tries not to be disappointed about it. She doesn’t know what Reyna’s schedule is like today, the girl might just be busy and planned on replying later. It makes sense, much more than Piper’s second thought that Reyna is not answering because Piper is annoying and Reyna doesn’t actually want to spend any time with her. She knows that thought is stupid, knowing that however does nothing to ease the anxious knot in Piper’s stomach.

Piper finds herself checking her phone more often than not. It would be funny if it wasn’t so ridiculous, and if the lecturer wasn’t so clearly catching on that Piper isn’t paying as much attention to the class as she is to her phone. She texts Percy as well, but she knows he’s in that seminar he shares with Jason, so chances are that she won’t be getting a reply on that end anytime soon either. In the end, she has to force herself to put her phone away and actually focus on the lecture up front, even though by that point, she is already lost as to what they’re even talking about in the first place. It’s no good, and Piper can’t deny being relieved when the lecturer eventually dismisses the class.

She doesn’t allow herself to check her messages until she’s across campus in the coffee shop, queuing for some much needed caffeine and fishing out her phone so she doesn’t have to make small talk with anyone while she waits in line. Reyna still hasn’t replied, but at least Percy has messaged her after his seminar.

I’m gonna strangle him, Piper. You’ll have to bust me out of prison because they are going to arrest me for goddamn murder.

All she’d asked was if his classes were as boring as hers today, and while she had expected Percy to go off about Jason in reply, this isn’t exactly what she’d thought to be reading today. She smiles at her phone, types out a quick reply and moves up in the queue.

That bad? What’s he done now?

The way Percy talks about Jason makes Piper think of a Cartoon Network villain, always plotting, provoking and scheming. The few times she’s spoken to Jason, the guy wasn’t half bad, and if Piper is honest, she doesn’t quite get the vendetta these two have with each other. She suspects though that it has something to do with how ‘infuriatingly attractive, like fucking superman or something’ Percy described Jason after their first class together.

It’s like he thinks I’m stupid or something. Got a dumb fucking project to do together and he honestly told me that he ‘needs to pass this class so iif I’m not planning to put in the work, we might as well ask for new partners right away’

Like, excuse me, bitch? My grades are better than yours, for one thing

And for another, it’s not like good-old Dodds is gonna let us switch anyway

Piper huffs audibly while she reads the texts. It’s clear Percy’s actually upset by this, and she figures it will only get worse if they actually have to do the work together in the coming weeks. Before she can shoot Percy a reply though, she’s next in line.

Piper orders her coffee, steps aside to wait once she’s paid, and rereads Percy’s texts before she types her reply to Percy.

Sounds like a dick move.

Piper’s almost inclined to defend Jason for a moment, since Percy mostly doesn’t pay much attention in class, especially in Mrs. Dodds seminars – so how is Jason meant to know how much effort Percy puts in outside of it? On the other hand, though, Piper knows how Percy is, and how personally he’s clearly taken Jason’s comment already, so trying to convince him otherwise would simply be fruitless.

Once Piper’s coffee is done, she heads back outside, finding an empty bench to enjoy the break before her next class. If nothing else, at least Percy’s ranting is distracting her from Reyna, and the party, and asking the other girl out – and in between the rapid texts Percy and her are sending back and forth Piper almost forgets about it entirely. Until she has to head back to her last class, that is, and sees that Reyna has, so far, still left her on read.

Piper hesitates for a moment, clicking on the text field without typing anything just yet. Is she going to come off as desperate if she texts again, or should she just clarify now before it gets too late and Reyna already makes different plans for the weekend?

Piper types out a few words, deletes them again and pockets her phone only to get it back out a few seconds later to try again. She shouldn’t be walking and texting, especially given that she should be going faster to actually make it to her lecture in time, but Piper knows that if she doesn’t send this text now, she’ll spend another lecture agonising over what to say.

So yeah, I wanted to invite you too ofc :)

Piper cringes at her wording, but figuring it won’t get much better, she sends the text anyway and finally tucks her phone back into her pocket to actually hurry to class.

By the time Reyna replies, it’s late and Piper is sitting on the beat-up couch in her shared flat’s living room, watching something trashy on TV without really paying much attention at all. Percy is clanking around in the kitchen, making something that smells good enough to remind Piper that she should probably be getting herself some food, too. She’s about to get up and rummage through her fridge compartment in search of something edible when her lock screen lights up with a message from Reyna, and that derails any thoughts of food immediately. Piper isn’t subtle in the way she practically lunges for her phone, but luckily, Percy can’t see and judge her from his position in the kitchen.

Sorry, long day, reads the first text, following a few seconds later by another one.

Promised Jason to hang out but I’d love to :(

Piper bites her lip, knowing before typing out the words that Percy won’t like what she’s doing in the slightest.

You could bring him? Percy won’t mind.

Except that Percy most certainly will mind, Piper thinks, and grimaces. If she hadn’t come off as desperate before, she most certainly does now – texting back within less than a minute after having been left on read all day, only to offer that Reyna can bring her friend (boyfriend?) along as well if that means she’ll be there.

There’ll be other opportunities, Piper tells herself, and scrubs a hand over her face. She needs to chill, and maybe she needs to grab a cigarette and step outside and calm down before she embarrasses herself even further.

Piper stares at the screen. How on earth is she meant to interpret this? At this rate, she won’t make it until Saturday, dying of one crisis or another before then.

if you’re sure? I’ll ask him.

haven’t seen you in a while, would be nice to hang out again ;)

I’m sure.

#will i continue this? maybe #i do kinda wanna write the party part and have it ending ~spicy~#pipeyna #piper mclean #reyna ramirez avila arellano #my stuff #my fic #prompts #teen+#pjo #Anonymous #jercy #in the bg

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thelittlestcheshire · 3 years

Text

Self Para 008: I Don’t Pretend to Know the Challenges You’re Facing Word Count: 2024 words When: July 2020, in the early hours of July 19th during Ches’s birthday trip Note: I decided I’m going to queue up and post one of the old self paras I never posted, Feel free to skip it, since it’s a past event and stuff. TWs: Rape (mentioned / discussed), Anxiety Attacks, Alcoholism / Drinking, Hangovers, Vomitting, Death, suicide (not exactly but there’s a definite apathy towards the idea of death this as well so better safe than sorry), murder (her mother)

There was a loud thud as a purse landed on the suite’s floor as Ches stumbled through the front door. She knew she shouldn’t have gone to galaxy edge before closing for drinks, but she was desperate to feel good. Yet, no matter how much she drank today, she didn’t feel the happiness that tended to run through her veins. She felt worse and worse. Even the sight of the balloons in the living room from Emmett and his girlfriend didn’t bring any sort of joy.

It was her fault her mother died; she should have been here instead of Ches. And the more gifts she received, the more she thought back to why her mother was dead. If she hadn’t gone to get gifts for Jonah... it felt like the room was spinning as the thought came back. Wait, no, the room was definitely spinning.

“Hey Ches, sorry I needed to- fuck.” Zander had just come out from the living room, likely taking her up on his offer to hide, but his attempt to avoid people is forgotten by the time he reaches her. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.” There were two of him by the time he wraps an arm around her to support her. “It’s been a long night.” He starts to lead her to her bedroom, and it’s hard to keep her feet under her as they walk. But he saves her from crashing to the floor and manages to get her on the bed.

“It wasn’t a night.” She slurs at him as she rests her head against her pillow. “Sky and I, you know. Club 33.” She knew the look on his faces even through the intoxicated haze. She knew he wasn’t happy about this. “I’m okay.” She informs him, starting to sit up. The room begins to move again, and for a moment, she feels like she might just be sick. She moves quickly, barely making it to the toilet before she vomits. Zander quickly behind her to hold back her hair. “See, fine.” She gets out weakly as she flushes the toilet.

“Definitely not fine.” He disagrees as he smooths out her hair. “I’m staying with you tonight, at least until you feel better.” It’s obvious she had no say in the matter, and she doesn’t waste the energy to protest. She slowly gets up, nearly falling face-first as she attempts to reach the bathroom sink to brush her teeth. He’s there in an instant to keep her from tumbling. Perhaps he had a point. She accepts the assistance as she brushes her teeth and doesn’t fight him as he leads her back to the bed and messes with all her pillows to ensure she’s propped up on her side.

“I hate you.”

The words just slip off her tongue. Not how she genuinely felt in the slightest. Zander doesn’t seem to take offense. However, he just runs his fingers through her hair. “I know, I know. I’m the worst. Time for you to sleep.” He whispers back to her. She frowns, but she shuts her eyes, anyway. She’s not sure how long it takes: perhaps it’s minutes, maybe it was hours, but eventually she falls asleep.

—

Opening her eyes felt like literally crawling out of a grave when she finally does wake up, the only light shining was from a phone beside her. “Turn that damn thing off. It hurts,” Ches grumbles, the man beside her laying on top of her blankets complies. “What time is it anyway?”

“4 am, give or take.”

Zander’s answer only causes her to groan as she fixes her pillows the way she likes them. “Shit. No wonder I feel like I was run over by a freight train.” She continues to adjust her pillows, settling into a comfortable spot as she rolls over onto her back.

“No, I think that’s thanks to Club 33.” Zander gives her a pointed look. How did he even know she’d gone drinking there? That she had a membership at all for that matter. “I could pay for the entirety of my college tuition with how much you’ve spent on this trip. Couldn’t I?” There was something about his tone that feels off, that despite his words, it wasn’t the Disneyland trip he was frustrated with at the moment. “You’re spiraling again. The fancy trip, the mass text about Leo, the drinking. Fuck, everything that’s occurred since you came back to Luxor. Spring break, prom, open house. What’s going on?” Of course, he’d notice things weren’t right. Her luck couldn’t get any worse, could it?

“It’s the tenth anniversary of my mother’s death.” The excuse slides off her tongue quickly. But even in the dark, she could make out the look on his face. He knew she was lying, and yet she didn’t change her tune. She couldn’t. After what happened with Lucy, she wasn’t going to tell anyone about that ever again. “Zander, that’s all there is to everything. Drop it.”

He opens his mouth as if he had something to say, but he quickly shuts up. After a few seconds where it looks like he’s not going to push, she takes a breath. But her relief is short-lived when he finally speaks. “Has anyone ever mentioned you crinkle your nose when you lie?”

“I do not!” She protests immediately. Did she really have such an obvious tell? “I’m not lying. That’s really all there is to it. Please.” The word sounds like a plea, and as she hears it, she can’t help but dread him picking up on it. She didn’t need to give him more to question when he was already treading into territory she couldn’t stand to think about. How could she discuss it again? She barely got through it with Lucy.

“Okay, I just have one more question then. Why is your father spending so much money on you lately? Taking the entire school to Disneyland, a suite just for you to hide in, him showing up to graduation. Your Club 33 membership cost could be a household’s entire annual salary, There has to be a reason he’s tossing money at you so aggressively.”

The question causes her blood to run cold. What was she supposed to say? That his father suddenly saw the error of his ways became invested in her life. The lie didn’t even seem plausible, let alone believable. The entire truth hurt too much to think about; she didn’t want to get into the reasons. The best she could offer was the truth, without any details. “He feels guilty.”

“About your mom?” Zander’s voice is so soft, and as the slight hint of guilt starts to leak into it, she can feel her heart starting to break. He was too good to her, too safe, and he doesn’t even hesitate as she moves closer to him on the bed and tries to crawl into his arms. As she starts to sob, he just accepts that right now she needed someone to hold her. “I’m sorry, Chessie. I-”

“It’s not about maman, Zan. When I was home I had to attend his dinner parties, and his VP, he-” She can’t even finish getting the words out as she starts to sob, as the panic sets in and she clings tighter to him. The thought of that evening made her wish she could carve off her skin as if it’d erase the memories of that night from her mind. The more she remembers, the harder it feels to gasp for air, and the faster she breathes as her eyes rapidly search for the nearest escape route.

“Ches, hey. It’s okay, you’re okay.” His voice is gentle as he starts stroking her hair again. For a moment, she goes completely still as she tries to remind herself this was Zander. “You’re safe, I promise. Nobody’s going to hurt you here.” She focuses on the sound of his voice as he tries to comfort her, and slowly, but surely, oxygen is easier to catch. The fear was still lingering; the urge to flee and never look back was overwhelming. “You don’t have to say anything, okay.”

“Look where not saying anything got me, Zander.” She snaps at him, the words just coming out suddenly. “He fucking raped me, and I have to- no, I’m expected to just stay quiet and move past it. Sometimes I’m not sure if the money is because my dad is upset it happened or to keep my mouth shut. You know, he was the one who made me drop the charges.” She still could remember that talk with her father. She could shut her eyes and picture it as if it was five minutes ago still, her father pacing around the living room in their penthouse looking almost as disheveled as he had at her mother’s funeral, practically begging her to let him handle this behind closed doors because he didn’t think she’d survive a trial. “Said he thought I’d kill myself if we went to trials, he handled it behind the scenes.”

“It’s out of love, either way, I think,” Zander says gently as if he’s not sure he’s supposed to speak at all. Honestly, Ches isn’t sure she wants him to talk either. The last time she’d discussed it, she hadn’t felt any better. In ways, she felt worse - guilty for burdening Lucy with something so heavy she couldn’t explain to anyone else.

“I know.”

The words are hard for her to get out, even if it’s the truth. She knew that her father loved her, even when it sometimes felt like he didn’t care nearly enough. Perhaps, in its own fucked up way, this was his way of showing he cared. Her father’s actions weren’t out of ill intent.

“I’m sorry that you’re going through this, you had a horrible year.” He wasn’t wrong about that, the more she thought about it, the more she realized seventeen had truly sucked. “But, you can’t destroy yourself in your attempts to cope. I can’t figure out how you got back without hurting yourself. That’s an issue.”

“It’s not a deal-breaker.” As Ches continues to calm down slowly, the realization she’s trembling begins to dawn on her. “I don’t care if I die, you know.”

“Well I do. Lucy and Avery do, and Elliot would be devastated, so that’s not an option, for starters. So this shit needs to stop.” Zander’s voice is firm, almost like when Logan had no other choice but to scold them. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but this isn’t the answer, Hailey.”

For a brief moment, she considers saying something about her first name, but she doesn’t. She was too drained to fight with him over it. The use could be tolerated for one night. “You can’t tell anyone, Zander. The only person who knows is Lucy.” She says instead as she pulls herself out of his arms to lay in bed again.

“And your therapist?”

“Doesn’t know anything either.” She shuts her eyes as she says the word. Of course, she didn’t go to her therapist about this; it felt too painful to revisit, too heavy to bring words to at times. “Just promise me, Zander.”

“I promise I won’t tell anyone.” She can feel him moving on the bed beside her to start to get up as he says the words, her arm quickly reaching out to stop him. “But, I think you need to talk to your therapist. And-”

“Okay.” She agrees. “But, can you stay? I don’t want- I can’t be alone right now. Please?” The boy stops trying to move at her confession, the admittance she needed someone there. “I think being alone is a bad idea, and I don’t think I can ask Elli to-”

“I’ll stay, as long you need me to.”

She doesn’t say anything as she moves her arm back to her side of the bed. For a moment, she wonders if he’ll question it, but soon the only noise is the sound of his phone unlocking as the two settle into a comfortable silence.

#you know i adore queue #all of my heroes died all alone ( musings )#a hundred thrown out speeches i almost said to you ( self paras )#events ( ches's birthday 2020 )#rape tw #vomiting tw #vomit tw #anxiety tw #anxiety attack tw #alcoholism tw #alcohol tw #drinking tw #all you cool people better leave now 'cause it's about to happen ( balo | zander )#death tw #suicide tw #murder tw

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noodlecupcakeswritings · 3 years

Text

Ownership - Chapter 23 (A Kylo RenxOC AU)

Cora Ardmore and Kylo Ren work for rival companies, but they don’t know that until after they spend the night together. Once their identities are revealed to each other it’s a question of who will cave first?

This fic is mostly porn, pure kinky porn.

Please leave comments, kudos and reblogs if you like it. If you would like to be tagged, let me know.

Warnings: I LOVE THIS CHAPTER, I AM PROUD OF WHAT I HAVE WRITTEN, BUCKLE THE FUCK UP BECAUSE A LOT HAPPENS, Sex/BDSM Club, Fetish wear, Collars/Leashes, Dominatrix Phasma, Dominatrix Cora, Alcohol, Slapping, Language, Beware of Armitage Hux (he may try and steal yo gurl), Riding Crops, Cock rings, Restraints, Humiliation kink, Pain kink, Overstimulation, Smut, Sex, Vaginal sex, Oral sex, Face sitting, Hair pulling, Dom/Sub themes

Chapter 23

Cora Ardmore

One Month Later

Kylo presented my outfit for tonight to me, waiting to see if I’d like it. On a hanger was a black latex bra. Beside it was another hanger that was holding a high-waisted black and red striped skirt. Definitely not as bad as what I thought he would have picked out for me. This I could see myself feeling quite comfortable in. It wasn’t too revealing, and all the important parts of my body would be covered. It was figure hugging, sure, but that didn’t bother me. “Is this custom?” I asked. “Yeah, I wanted to make sure it fit you perfectly.” “Do I wanna know how much that was?” “No.”

“Okay, what are you wearing?” Kylo led me into his walk-in wardrobe to show me something he’d already picked out for himself. On a set of hangers was a leather jacket and matching trousers. Simple, but he’d fit in. And look damn good in it. “What time do we need to be there?” I asked. “The club opens around nine. I was thinking we have dinner around seven. Then that gives you two hours to get ready before we leave. Ten is when things get more interesting. And we won’t have to worry about queuing either. They know who I am so we can go straight in.” The way he said it sounded like he wanted me to be impressed. But in reality, it just made me worry about how close him and Phasma were, that’s the only reason he got to jump the queue.

Whilst I was mostly excited for tonight, I was very nervous about meeting Phasma. I knew nothing about the woman other than she used to dom Kylo, and they were still friends. But was she competition? Was she prettier than me? Was she sexier than me? Was she better in bed than me? Probably. But I was the first sub that Kylo had taken to the club, which was a good and promising sign that I was special compared to the others. I suppose I had to be when we were working on the story together.

Later after dinner I changed into the outfit, noticing it didn’t come with panties nor did it look right with panties on, the outline showed. “No panties, huh? Were you going to tell me or try to be sneaky about it?” I asked Kylo. He smirked softly, “maybe I just want easy access to you tonight.” Heat pooled in my stomach at the thought. I continued to get ready, pulling my hair back in a sleek high ponytail and applying makeup. My lipstick matched the shade of red on my skirt. The heels provided were a little on the higher side, but it made me seem less short stood next to Kylo, so I’d be able to put up with the discomfort.

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We arrived at the club, Kylo and I being let straight inside. He took my coat for me, handing it to the cloakroom staff before leading me down the dimly lit corridor. Music could be heard from the main area, getting louder when the door was opened. Inside the main club area, or play area as it was referred to, there were people in all sorts of fetish wear. Some wearing a lot less than others. But I knew better than to stare. Before we could go any further, Kylo placed his hand on my shoulder to stop me. “Almost forgot. Just so that nobody thinks your up for grabs, you’ll need your collar,” he mentioned. Producing the black leather from his pocket, he fastened it around my neck before clipping a leash to it.

With the collar around my neck and the leash in his hand, I felt safer. People would know I was his, and that he was mine. Hopefully that meant Phasma too. Kylo led me straight to the bar where he ordered drinks. Sat on a barstool, clad in black leather with his hair gelled back, was Armitage Hux. My eyes widened at the sight and I nudged Kylo. Before we could slink off with our drinks, he spotted us and came over. On closer inspection Armitage was wearing a military styled outfit, complete with a leather great coat and riding crop on his belt. “I didn’t expect to see you here, especially with company,” Armitage mentioned, his eyes raking over my form. “Cora made it very clear to me that she was ready for this. So why not?” Kylo replied.

“We got off on the wrong foot. I’d like to apologize for my previous behaviour,” Armitage addressed me. Raising an eyebrow at him, I crossed my arms over my chest, which only seemed to accentuate my breasts. “So you’re not an insufferable asshole all the time?” I asked. Armitage laughed at that thankfully, “Ren would agree with you on that, but it’s just business, my dear. Nothing personal.” The club had a large stage in the centre, meaning the crowd could gather from every angle. The four corners had an array of different activities. A set of spanking benches in the far-right corner, another had people tied up and suspended. Hopefully Kylo didn’t expect me to do any of that tonight.

A staircase led upstairs to another area which had god knows what going on there. Likely the more extreme stuff, like piercings and medical play. I’d done my research before coming here so I hopefully I wouldn’t be too shocked by it all. The music took a sudden change, going from upbeat and fast pace to slow and seductive, a song that I didn’t recognise. But it gathered the attention of the whole room, most of them looking to the staircase. That could only mean that Phasma was about to make her grand entrance. Three figures appeared at the top of the stairs, the centre figure standing tall, very tall. The other two figures were on all fours and they led the way down the stairs.

As they crawled into the light, I noticed they were both on leashes, both only in the simplest of black underwear to cover their modesty. One was female, the other was male. It was like an owner taking their dogs for a walk…well, in a place like this I’m sure that was much more common. Finally, Phasma stepped into the light and I felt my stomach drop. She was breath-taking. She had to be at least over six foot and that was without the heels. Her stocking clad legs were long and muscular, with thighs that looked like they could crush a watermelon. It was obvious that she took good care of her body and worked out a lot. Phasma wore a black lingerie set that was very reminiscent of Bettie Page. Around her waist was a black PVC corset that was cinched so tightly it looked almost uncomfortable, but there were no signs of discomfort on her face.

She even wore a silver-lined cape that trailed behind her as she continued to descend the stairs. Her expression was one of pure confidence. She owned the room, and she knew it. Her short blonde hair was wavy but styled so that every strand was perfectly placed. When she reached the final step, the song finished. This entrance had been thoroughly rehearsed, and it paid off with the applause she got. Phasma smiled, and the room went back to what they had been doing before. Phasma made her way to the bar, standing on the opposite side. She ordered a drink, both her subs kneeling at her feet. Neither of them said a word or looked up from the spot on the floor. Phasma looked up and over at us, her lips curving up into an excited smile.

She unclipped the leashes to her subs and removed her cape, handing it to the female. They were both then dismissed before she sauntered over, ignoring Armitage and I. “Kylo, darling. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” she beamed at him. They embraced, and she kissed both his cheeks. My fists clenched at my sides. Was I suddenly invisible? Did the leash in his hand attached to my collar mean nothing to her? “You look beautiful as always,” Kylo complimented her. My shoulders slumped at his words. He could take the time to pay her compliments, but he hadn’t said a word once he saw me in the outfit he picked for me.

Finally, her gaze turned to me, looking me over and sizing me up. The smirk that worked its way across her face was not one I liked. “And who is this?” She asked. “Cora. She’s been my submissive for a year and a half now.” “You’ve never brought a sub here before.” Phasma took my hand in hers, placing a gentle kiss to the knuckles. Normally I would have been flattered by such a gesture, not this time. Not with how she’d practically thrown herself at Kylo in front of me. “He’s lucky to have someone as beautiful as you by his side. He’d be wise to not let you out of sight,” Phasma mentioned.

I forced a smile. Her compliments wouldn’t work on me, “maybe I should be the one not letting him out of my sight.” Phasma laughed, taking the slight bitcheness in my tone well, “Your right about that. Kylo’s always gotten a lot of attention here.” I bet he fucking did. And now he’d likely get more that I was here. “I’ll leave you both to it. Enjoy your evening,” Phasma excused herself. Phasma retreated back to the other end of the bar, sipping her cocktail. Kylo turned to me and unclipped the leash from my collar. “I’ll be back in about half an hour. You can take a look around if you want. Just avoid the upstairs area, it’s the more hardcore stuff,” Kylo explained. He couldn’t be serious? Before I had a chance to protest, he had stalked off after Phasma.

Angrily, I took a seat at the end of the bar and ordered another drink for myself. My first time in a fucking BDSM club and Kylo just abandons me for his ex dominatrix. He was sure as hell gonna get a piece of my mind later. Armitage was still lingering, strangely quiet. “I’m going to the smoking area if you wanted to come with me, I’ll only be five minutes if you don’t want too,” he spoke, a kindness to his tone as if he pitied me. “I don’t need a fucking babysitter, Armitage!” Armitage nodded and headed for one of the exits. The bartender placed my drink in front of me before going to take someone else’s order. My discomfort grew the longer I was alone.

Glancing over at them, I noticed Phasma was laughing at something Kylo had said and he looked just as amused. They were probably laughing about me; how stupid I was to let him dress me up and drag me here only to abandon me. Well, I wouldn’t make this mistake ever again. Half an hour quickly passed, but Kylo made no move to come back over, still in deep conversation with Phasma. I ordered another two drinks for myself this time. The thought to leave kept playing over my mind. It was obvious he didn’t give a shit about me, so why should I care enough to stay? An hour passed, then an hour and a half. Still, neither of them had left the bar.

“How long has it been now?” Armitage asked, taking the free bar stool next to me. “If you here to gloat, I’m not in the mood.” Armitage faked offense, “me, gloat? Never,” he glanced over his shoulder at them, “so how long has it been since he told you to stay put?” Glancing up at the clock behind the bar, it was getting close to midnight. “Almost two hours now,” I answered. “I didn’t think you’d be into humiliation, or is this more for his benefit?” Armitage asked. “You really are an insufferable asshole.” “Would an insufferable asshole buy you a drink? And keep you company from your two-timing dom? No. I understand your frustration, Cora, but keep your anger directed at him rather than those who want to help.”

Rolling my eyes and huffing, I gave in, ordering my fifth drink of the evening. Armitage put in his own order before paying with card. By now I had a good buzz going, my body a lot more relaxed, but the anger at Kylo was still brewing. “So, I assume the story is going well?” Armitage asked, interested. “Mostly. We have enough evidence to put Tarkin away, but we still need something concrete on Krennic and Snoke.” “Well, one out of three isn’t so bad.” Glancing at Armitage, I managed a small smile, “your trying to distract me, aren’t you?” “Is it working?” He asked, returning the smile.

“A little.” My smile quickly faded as I noticed Phasma’s hand on Kylo’s shoulder, both of them laughing about something he’d said. Not once had he even bothered to look in my direction or offer me a sliver of attention. Armitage shifted, now occupying my vision instead of them. “Why don’t we get out of here?” Armitage suggested. My eyebrows raised at him; unsure I’d heard him correctly. He couldn’t really be propositioning me. “What? You can’t be serious?” “I am.” Now I was suspicious, “why? What do you get out of it? Other than pissing Kylo off.”

“Wouldn’t that be a bonus for the both of us? He shouldn’t neglect you like this, consider it karma. If I didn’t proposition you, then I’m sure someone else would have. Besides, I still have ways to prove that I’m not an insufferable asshole, as you so eloquently put it.” Meeting Armitage’s gaze, there was a newfound tension between us. I really was considering it. His fingers ghosted down my bare arm before he took my hand in his. “No rules, no strings attached. Just say yes.” Armitage continued to convince me. The word was on the tip of my tongue when Kylo appeared by my side. Armitage let go of my hand quickly, his face falling. If Kylo had seen it, he didn’t show it. “You ready to go back to mine?” Kylo asked.

Not even bothering to look at Kylo, I have a short nod. Grabbing my drink, I finished what was left of it. “Thanks for keeping me company, Armitage,” I spoke. Armitage smiled softly and nodded. The look on his face told me he knew I had been about to say yes. Kylo led me out of the club and to the cloakroom to retrieve my coat. Neither of us said a word to each other. The ride home was silent, and tension filled. If he couldn’t tell I was pissed off, then he was stupider than I thought. Once inside his house I decided it would be best if I slept in one of the guest rooms. As much as I didn’t want to stay, I wasn’t in a fit state to drive. Kylo closed the front door behind him, sighing heavily.

“Are you going to talk to me? Or is it silent treatment from here on out?” He asked, impatiently. He had some fucking nerve. Whipping round to face him, I folded my arms across my chest. “Are you going to acknowledge my existence now that she isn’t around?” I snapped. “You think just because you’re my sub you have some kind of ownership over me?! No. That’s not how this works. I can talk to who I want and fuck who I want regardless of your stupid feelings!” The anger that had been simmering for most of the night now reached a boiling point as I slapped him hard. What I didn’t expect was the soft moan that left his lips as my palm collided with his cheek.

Both of us stood there in silence for a few moments, unsure of the others’ previous actions. “Hit me again,” Kylo softly requested. I remembered the conversation we’d had last year about how he liked pain and humiliation when he’d been a sub. The slap must have reawakened that part of him. And sub space was far out of reach for me currently. To appease him and make sure I could take this as far as I thought he wanted, I slapped his other cheek, both of them now tinged red. Stepping forward, I grabbed a fistful of his hair and pulled back hard. Kylo whined at the sting. The sound was strange coming from him, but it still brought a heat between my legs. “You have five minutes to get upstairs and get undressed. And you better be on your knees when I get there,” I ordered before releasing him.

Kylo kicked his shoes off at the door and almost ran up the stairs. Heading to the kitchen, I got myself some water, downing the glass. Glancing at the clock, I decided he’d likely waited long enough and headed upstairs to his bedroom. Entering the room, I found his clothes first, thrown on the floor carelessly. And then I found him, naked and on his knees at the foot of the bed. He kept his gaze to the ground. If it was this easy for him to go into subspace, we’d need to explore this side of him more. Instead of paying him any attention, I went straight through to his wardrobe to find some suitable toys. Looking through the assortment of cock rings, I eventually settled on the one that came with a small vibrator attached. Restraints were chosen and a riding crop.

When I emerged from the wardrobe Kylo was still in the same position. A part of me wondered how long I could get away with making him wait. He couldn’t deny he wasn’t liking this, not with how hard he was, his cock jutting up proudly against his belly. Stopping in front of him, I used the tip of the crop to tilt his chin up, so he’d look at me. “Your behaviour tonight has been unacceptable. And I will not tolerate it. Do you understand?” I asked. “Yes, ma’am.” “Get on the bed, hands above your head.” Kylo did as he was told, making himself comfortable amongst the pillows. Taking his wrists, I secured them individually to the headboard. Next, I secured the cock ring before standing between his legs and pondered my next move.

Kylo Ren was completely at my mercy. Something I never thought would have been possible in our relationship. Cruelly, I placed my heel over his balls, resting it there for now, but I’d press down if I needed to. “I still don’t think you understand how unacceptable your behaviour was,” I frowned. Gently I applied pressure with my foot, noticing how he stiffened. “I’m sorry,” he said, clearly panicked. “What was that?” I asked, wanting him to repeat it louder and like he meant it. Applying more pressure, Kylo winced at the pain. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, louder this time. “You will be once I’m done with you.”

Finally, I released his balls from under my shoe only to harshly swat his inner thigh with the crop. It was dangerously close to hitting his cock. Luckily for him, I had sobered up enough for good aim. Kylo cursed, his whole-body tensing at the pain. Yet there was already pre-cum beading at the tip of his cock. Swatting the other thigh had him gripping the restraints, his hips bucking up into nothing. “Please,” he whined. “Please what?” “Please touch me. Fuck me. I don’t care, just give me something, please.” “What makes you think you deserve my cunt?”

Another pathetic whine escaped his throat as he knew he couldn’t give me a good answer. Smirking, I crouched down and turned down the viberator attached to the cock ring. It wouldn’t be enough to make him cum, but it would be very good at teasing and working him up further. This control over him was something I could get used too, although it was likely I would never have such a chance again, so I need to make the most of it whilst I could. By now Kylo was a panting, whimpering, desperate mess. Climbing off the bed, I undressed myself, thankful to be rid of the skin-tight latex. “Its quite pathetic that a man like you secretly enjoys being slapped around by a woman,” I smirked.

He nodded in agreement, likely in the hopes of some form of contact. Instead, I delivered a series of swats to his chest and stomach. Kylo let out a shaky breath once I stopped my assault. I got onto all fours, hovering above him to make sure no part of my body came into direct contact with his, denying him that skin on skin feeling. Leaning down, I started to mark him up with my teeth, starting with his neck. Kylo groaned at the pain, tilting his head so I had better access to his neck. Next, I marked up his collar, moving down to his chest, then his stomach and finishing with his thighs. “Mine,” I spoke, looking over the purple marks across his skin. Kylo nodded once more, so desperate to please now. Grabbing his face and digging my nails into his cheeks, I made sure I had his full attention.

“Just because usually I’m the submissive of this relationship does not mean that you aren’t mine. Understood?” I asked. “Yes, I’m yours.” “You’ll be wise not to forget it.” Finally, I gave him some much craved contact as I kissed him. It was quick enough that he craned his neck for more as I pulled away. The more time passed, the more frustrated and needy he became. “Let’s put that mouth of yours to better use than whining,” I suggested. “Please let me taste you.” Shifting position, I gently lowered myself on to his face, his tongue lapping at my wetness eagerly.

Gripping the headboard, I moaned softly. Kylo groaned hungrily as he continued licking and sucking at my clit. “Keep this up and I might let you cum,” I teased. With the potential of him being allowed to cum, Kylo seemed to double his efforts of getting me off. An orgasm was building quickly from how desperate I’d been for attention and contact all evening, but I quickly climbed off, denying myself release and Kylo the satisfaction of my release. Kylo was breathless, cheeks flushed and his pretty plush lips shiny with spit and my juices. It was a good look for him. “Please fuck me. I don’t know how much more I can take,” Kylo pleaded. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Straddling him, I rolled my hips so that his cock would be covered in my juices. Kylo’s hips bucked as he was reaching his limit. Finally, I gave us what we were both craving, slowly sinking down onto his cock. Kylo’s fists clenched as he groaned loud. “T-thank you,” his voice wavered with pleasure. I rewarded his manners by riding him fast and hard. I’d dragged this out long enough. My hands rested on his chest to keep me steady as I fucked myself on his cock. Kylo hips bucked against mine before he tried to match my pace, but he was too needy for release that he couldn’t get the timing right. Not that it mattered too much. “Cum for me, Kylo,” I encouraged.

Within seconds Kylo cried out his release, his back arching off the bed in what was likely an intense orgasm. I worked him through every wave as I chased my own release, the added stimulation from the vibrator helping. Kylo shook as overstimulation set in. The sounds that left his throat were small and whinny. My walls clenched around his already spent cock as my orgasm washed over me. I moaned his name over and over as my nails raked down his chest hard enough that he’d have more marks in the morning. Tears lined Kylo’s eyes from overstimulation before I finally climbed off him. Before I laid next to him, I removed the cock ring and freed his wrists.

Luckily for him, most of the anger had been fucked out of me. Enough so that I let him rest his head on my chest and held him as he came down from his orgasm. Tenderly I stroked and ran my fingers through his hair and murmured words of praise. “When you can move again, we can take a shower,” I smirked. Gently he nodded, “I am sorry about tonight.” “I know.”

Taglist: @sweetfictionalworld, @sweetsec-93, @cltex84, @jana-banana-fana, @jynzandtonic, @neeharlow

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sambergscott · 4 years

Text

a peralta guarantee

“I promise I’ll come home safe, Ames. That’s a Peralta Guarantee.”

(missing scenes from 7x08 - amy worrying about jake)

hUge thanks to johanna for inspiring this fic and helping when i had a lil breakdown halfway through

When he approaches her desk mid-afternoon with a decaf coffee and the white chocolate chip cookies she’s been craving from the bakery across town, she knows he’s either a) broken something, b) wants something or c) has bad news. She narrows her eyes suspiciously, detecting an excited bounce in his step which can only mean it’s b and c; he wants something she’s not going to like.

“Hey, babe,” he tries to play it cool, clearing a butt-sized space on her desk on which to sit. “I come bearing gifts.”

“What do you want, Peralta?” She cuts to the chase.

“Damn it, you know me too well,” he mutters. “OK, so, here’s the thing: Doug Judy’s gettin’ married. He invited me to his Bachelor Party this weekend and I know he’s a criminal, Ames, but I really wanna go. Like, so bad. Would you be cool with that?”

She conjures up a mental pro and con list. On one hand, Doug Judy is The Pontiac Bandit, known felon, committer of God knows how many crimes, an overall bad dude. On the other, he’s Jake’s friend, singer of the smush songs CD in the glove box of their car that they always forget to take out, giver of the Le Creuset pot she adores. He’s always been nice to her and—.

“Sarge?” Gary interrupts her decision-making process with a quick question about a perp he just brought in, snapping her back to reality. She’s a Police Sergeant, her job is to serve and protect the city they call home and as much as she loves cooking her mom’s beef casserole recipe in Judy’s awesome wedding gift, she has a responsibility to bring him in.

“I’m sorry, babe. I just think it’s a bad idea.”

His face falls, his disappointment coming through loud and clear.

“What were you expecting me to say? Ignore the million arrest warrants out on this guy, many of them submitted by you, so you can drink beer and go to strip clubs?”

“You’re right,” he sighs. “You’re obviously right. Man, being good at your job sucks.”

She nods in agreement. “Remember last month when I had to shut that binder store down for running a secret drug dealing operation out back?”

“How could I forget? You cried for three days straight.”

“They had the best binder collection I’ve ever seen!”

(It was actually what was so fishy about it. In four trips to buy pregnancy binders, she hadn’t seen any of the founding members of the Brooklyn Binder Babes blog — Mary Sue, Catherine, Margaret or Jane — once. And there’s no way a stationery start-up would attract such long queues without their recommendation. It was a pretty easy solve from there).

“The point is, you can’t go to a criminal’s Bachelor Party.” She pats his hand. “You’ll just have to come maternity clothes shopping with me instead. None of my jeans fit me anymore.”

“As much as I would love to, you can take Kylie. I’m going to the party.”

“What?” She double-takes. “Jake, did you not listen to what I literally just said? We’re cops. We cannot be friends with criminals.”

“But we can be friends with informants who have helped us catch numerous, even bigger, more dangerous criminals,” he says with that look on his face, the one he gets when he finds a loophole that he can use to his advantage. She recognises it from home videos Karen has shown her where, instead of tidying his room like she asked him to, seven year old Jake shoves everything under his bed and carries on enacting a police chase with his race cars. “Captain Holt has given him immunity before, so technically I should be able to go party it up with him in Miami!”

“Wait... It’s in Miami? Miami... Florida?”

It’s a stupid question, she knows. Of course he means Miami, Florida. It’s just... they both promised on the flight home that they would never, ever go back there. After everything that happened with Figgis and not knowing if they’d ever see each other again, a statewide travel ban seemed a good way to put it all behind them, focus on all their future moments together, not on all the moments they missed.

“This isn’t like last time,” he reassures her. “It’s only for a weekend and then I’ll be coming straight home for snuggles with you and —,” he lowers his voice to a whisper because they haven’t told anyone she’s pregnant yet, “the baby.”

Her eyes fill with tears and she bites her lip so hard to stop them overflowing in front of all her uniformed officers. It’s pretty clear that he wants to go and she never wants to be one of them wives who control their husbands’ every move. All she wants is for him to be happy. And if going to Doug Judy’s Bachelor Party makes him happy, he should go, no matter how much she hates the entire state of Florida. She agrees, on one condition: “You have to text me hourly updates to let me know that you’re still alive.”

“Don’t I text you constantly anyway?”

“I guess so,” she sniffs.

He lifts her chin so she’s looking him in the eyes. “I promise I’ll come home safe, Ames. That’s a Peralta guarantee.”

“You better,” she warns, tears suddenly flowing down her face at the thought of him not coming home, not being there to watch Property Brothers with her, not raising their baby and proving to everyone what a great dad he will be.

Used to her extra strength pregnancy hormones shifting her emotions from 0 to 100 faster than John McClane can say “Yippie-Ki-Yay, motherfucker”, he pulls her into a tight hug, careful not to crush the precious cargo that is behind said mood swings.

He strokes her hair and whispers that he’ll be home before she knows it and that nothing, not even the worst state in the country, will tear him away from her.

When it’s time for him to leave, she follows him out to the street and, after a brief argument over the fact he packed his bag before he OK’ed the trip with her and another hormone-induced cry when his cab shows up, reluctantly waves goodbye.

True to his word, he texts her before the car is even out of sight. Miss you already 😘.

Her phone buzzes periodically throughout the rest of the day.

In a meeting with Holt and Terry: flying on mark cuban’s dope ass private plane!!!!! ✈️

Cooking dinner: florida is HOT (not as hot as u babe, dont worry)

Doing her crossword in bed: g’night ames, g’night baby, love u both SO MUCH

She smiles, tells him she loves him too and braces herself for the barrage of drunk texts and selfies coming her way.

Sleeping without him sucks. The bed is cold, her pregnancy pillow is not as good of a cuddle buddy and she tosses and turns all night worrying about him, where he is, what he’s doing, whether he’s safe.

Her eyes finally slip shut around 1 am when her phone buzzes. Again. And again. And again.

She tries to ignore him, bury her head under her pillow and go back to sleep, but the messages keep coming thick and fast. She groans, giving up and unlocking her phone.

There are 47 new messages from him.

Forty-seven.

Her initial annoyance at being woken up quickly disappears as she scrolls through the thread. He’s mostly sent her random, meaningless emojis and keysmashes, interspersed with the odd “I love you”, “you’re my best friend” and “I’m thinking about you” that warm her heart. He mentions something about their proposal, about crying with Doug Judy, which obviously makes her cry too.

(Dumb pregnancy hormones).

By the time she reaches the bottom, he’s sent her 10 more.

She decides for her sake — and the sake of all of her officers who would have to deal with a tired, emotional pregnant lady — to turn off her phone and reply to him in the morning.

She returns her phone to her nightstand, settles back into a comfortable position and closes her eyes.

She lies motionless for what feels like hours, unable to fall asleep. She tries the breathing technique her brother David brags about constantly, counting sheep like little Matthew, even reciting police codes like Teddy used to go to sleep after sex. Nothing works. She’s still awake.

She turns her phone back on to see what Jake’s up to now, only to see his messages ended abruptly with a caterpillar emoji over an hour ago.

She immediately panics, dialling 911 into her phone.

Her thumb hovers over the green call button.

She’s heard thousands of crazy operator call stories, frequently reminded the general population to only call in a genuine emergency and watched the YouTube compilations for fun. She deletes the number, positive that if she told an operator her husband was missing because she hadn’t heard from him while he’s at a Bachelor Party, she’s positive she would be added to those videos.

In an attempt to stop her spiral, she contemplates the possible scenarios in which his constant texts would cease.

Scenario 1: He’s living in the moment and has put his phone away (something she has been encouraging him to do lately to reduce his screen time)

Scenario 2: He’s very drunk and has completely forgotten about his promise

Scenario 3: He used up all his battery texting her and his phone has died

Scenario 4: He’s fallen asleep (although a quick check of Trudy Judy’s insta reveals the party is very much still in full flow)

Scenario 5: Judy’s criminal buddies have killed him and thrown his body into the ocean

Once the thought pops into her head, no amount of squeezing her eyes shut will make the image go away.

Holt giving an emotional eulogy about wearing ties and being an amazing detective/genius.

Some rookie taking over his desk.

The sympathetic looks when she tells all the other moms in baby group that her husband died.

Usually Jake is there to hold her when her nightmares get bad. She rolls over, expecting to see his kind eyes and soft smile, the untouched side of his bed only serving to make her cry harder.

She can’t lose him. Not yet. Not until they’re old and grey, and maybe not even then. She spent so long denying her feelings for her dorky partner, rueing every missed opportunity to be together, and when they finally, finally took the plunge, she had never been happier. She can’t lose him yet. They have so much more life left to live.

She can’t lose him because he promised her he would come home safe. He guaranteed it.

She clings onto the tiny grain of hope like one might cling onto a raft in the middle of the ocean.

He would never break a Peralta guarantee.

Her phone finally buzzes again an hour later.

From: Unknown

Ames, it’s me, Jake. Judy’s buddies found out I’m a cop + destroyed my phone. So sorry I couldn’t text before. Hope you didn’t worry too much, although I know you probably haven’t slept. You can stop worrying now. I’m safe. Love you + see you tomorrow.

Love you too, she responds, yawning as she places the phone back on the side table.

Relieved that he’s OK, and exhausted from all the worrying, she falls into the easiest sleep she’s ever had.

Before she knows it, it’s the next afternoon, Jake’s keys are turning in the lock, he’s dropping his holdall on the floor and rushing to her side to kiss her all over her face.

“I missed you too,” she laughs, kissing him properly.

“Sorry it took so long — Doug and Trudy made me fly commercial —.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re home now. That’s all that matters.”

“I’m never leaving you two again,” he swears.

“You’ll have to leave us eventually to go to the bathroom and stuff,” she points out, raking her fingers through the unruly curls that she so hopes their baby will inherit. “Just don’t go back there.”

A solemn understanding passes over his face and he nods. “Never again. Not even if our kid wants to go to Disney World. We’ll take them to the California one instead.”

“Smort,” she says, stealing his line and in an instant, that familiar grin is back.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

A dozen memories flood back, of oldies in short shorts and shuffleboard and Doug Judy getting away again. Of noice and smort and saying “I love you” for the very first time. Her eyes fill with tears — dumb pregnancy hormones strike again — as she buries her face in his shoulder.

“Let’s go to bed,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and lifting her bridal style to carry her to their room. He places her carefully onto the mattress and flops down next to her.

She snuggles into him, eyes closing once more. “Did we even get an invite to the wedding?”

“Not even close,” he sighs.

“Damn it. I would’ve loved to see that trainwreck.”

“You and me both, babe. You and me both.”

#b99 fic #jake x amy #my writing #it's taken me 2 full days to write this lemme know what you think

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silverlightqueen · 4 years

Text

Ruin My Life - Part 8

RML masterlist

(fratboy!Jimin - smutty smut !!! A N G ST & a lil bit of fluff ig)

Summary - y/n goes on another night out and runs into a familiar face... not one we expect either. Jimin is a dick, y/n gets her own back, Joon has a crisis and Tae... well ion wanna spoil anything👀

Word Count - 11.5k+

Warnings - oh god here goes um explicit sex, penetrative sex, ‘sir’, explicit dirty talk, sub!reader and dom!male (I don’t wanna give anything away lol), spanking, oral sex (male and female receiving), degradation, edging, multiple orgasms, pussy slapping, fingering, it is FILTH lol, with discussion of alcohol too

a/n: y’all I know it’s been a while but I hope this was worth the wait lmao um unedited as usual but I really hope y’all like it, lmk what you think and hmu if you wanna be on the taglist x

silverlightqueen masterlist

taglist💕: @keylowmonie @jennafromhome @btrombley13 @parkjammys @chubschimmine @flowingwiththewater @magicalpjm @sakurauchiha2018 @kyrie1707 @simonemothjensen @beach-bitch-bitch-beach @p-yoon

‘You ready yet, y/n?’ Chen calls from the living room, as I pull on my heels. ‘Yeah, just one second!’ I call back, tucking my phone into the pocket of my jeans, and tottering down the hall to the living room where Mija, Chen and Jackson. ‘It’s already 10.30. I’m always waiting on you, bitch. Why ain’t you ever waiting on me?’ Mija demands, and I laugh. ‘It just wouldn’t work the other way around,’ I reply, and she rolls her eyes. ‘You look good, though, I guess,’ she says, and I grin, doing a little twirl. I’m dressed in a pair of light-wash blue jeans, tighter than tight, with a sheer black bodysuit and a pretty black bralet beneath, lacy and all, black heels on my feet, a thick, black lace choker around my neck. ‘Damn, Chen, I might have to steal your date tonight,’ Jackson jokes, Mija slapping his arm gently. ‘Kidding, babe, kidding,’ he says, Mija rolling her eyes. ‘She looks better than me, anyway, so I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ I say, admiring Mija in the little black dress she has on, a pair of my black heels (because god knows I have endless pairs) on her feet. ‘And y/n’s not my date, Jackson, she’s got the wrong sexual reproductive organs,’ Chen says, making all three of us laugh as he takes my phone and lip-gloss from me, putting them into his jeans pocket instead because I don’t like carrying stuff around in mine. ‘I mean, if I was straight, I’d totally go for you, y/n, you’re hot as fuck, but, sadly, I am as gay as you are hot so…’ he trails off, and I shake my head at him with laughter, proud of how far he’s come in speaking about in his sexuality.

We’ve become a little group of four these past couple weeks; Mija, Jackson, Chen and I. Both boys are from KPN (which means that Mija and Jackson were getting it on in the frat house whilst I was crying on Chen), and it’s useful having them as friends, as they help us avoid the rest of their frat (and god knows I need to, Eunwoo furious at me leaving him with blue balls). Mija and Jackson aren’t exclusive, but they’re kinda dating, I guess. Since that night, we’ve been out to different bars and clubs with them, and each night has ended in them two fucking in Mija’s room whilst Chen and I watch various Disney films in my room. We’re nearly all the way through the Pixar films. I’m happy for Mija, having noticed how much Jackson makes her smile and laugh, but I can’t help but think about her and Tae together. I did really want them to work, but as long as she’s happy with Jackson, I’m happy too. I’m also really happy for Chen too; he came out to his brothers last week and they were nothing but supportive, not a single one of them cracking the ‘don’t fall in love with me, bro’ joke. It’s gotten around to the rest of the university too, but he hasn’t let the gossiping and rumours affect him at all, secure and happy within himself.

‘Right, let’s go,’ Chen says, all of us trooping out of the door and down to where the Uber is parked in front of our building. We all pile in, Jackson sat up front with the driver whilst Chen is forced to sit between Mija and I who sing along to the music obnoxiously loud, documenting the entire journey for our Snapchat private stories (we love wannabe vloggers). When we arrive, Chen and Jackson flash their VIP cards at the bouncer, who lets us in instantly with a smile, having seen us several times over the past few weeks, ignoring the protests and complaints from everyone waiting in the queue. We head over to our usual booth in the corner, always kept empty, and I don’t bother keeping an eye out for KPN, knowing that they’ve all gone out to another bar across town. However, what I don’t expect to see is the ASP boys dancing in a huddle in the middle of the dance floor. Jungkook spots me and subtly nods at me, a small smile on his face, obviously not wanting his hyung, who dances opposite him, to notice. I give a small wave back before ducking behind Chen, sliding into the booth hastily. ‘ASP?’ Mija asks, scanning the dance floor, and I nod just as she spots them, a dirty look appearing on her face. ‘Whatever, it’s fine, let’s just ignore them. They don’t matter anyway,’ I say, Mija nodding in agreement. ‘Well, he doesn’t matter; the rest of them do,’ Jackson says, earning eye-rolls from Mija and myself. ‘Shut up, Jackson,’ Chen says half-heartedly as he waves over a waiter who takes one look at us and nods, already knowing our drinks orders; a Mai Tai for me, a gin and tonic for Chen, a Jack and coke for Jackson, and a vodka and coke for Mija.

‘Right, what kind of night is it tonight, y/n? A looking-to-be-dicked-down night or a night-out-with-the-squad night?’ Jackson asks, rubbing his hands together. ‘Hmm, I’m not sure yet. If you guys can find me some good dick, then the former. If not, then the latter,’ I say. ‘So we’re second choice?’ Mija asks indignantly, and we all laugh. ‘What about that boy over there, by the bar? Tall, skinny, blond hair,’ Chen suggests, all of us looking over. ‘Hmm, too tall. I’d look like a midget next to him,’ I say, all of us searching the bar again. ‘What about him? The one in the booth, muscles, blonde hair. He doesn’t look too tall,’ Jackson suggests, and I shake my head. ‘He’s too muscly. I don’t like that many muscles,’ I say, and Jackson rolls his eyes. ‘That one? At the door?’ Chen says, and I shake my head again. ‘I like a toned guy. You know I’m not into dad-bod,’ I say, Chen shaking his head. ‘That one?’ Jackson says, motioning to a guy who dances near our booth. ‘Um, yeah, he seems alright. Cute, I guess,’ I say, and this time Chen shakes his head. ‘More my type than yours. He’s definitely gay,’ he says, Jackson sighing in annoyance. ‘That one over there?’ Chen suggests. ‘I’m more into light hair than dark,’ I say. ‘That one?’ Jackson asks. ‘Na, he looks too… serious. I like a guy with duality,’ I say, and Jackson lets out an annoyed noise. ‘You’re too fussy! How are we supposed to find you someone?’ he exclaims. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I guess I just have a refined taste,’ I say, and Chen and Jackson shake their heads, Mija silent. ‘Well, I guess none of these lot are gonna live up to your standards then,’ Chen says, and I shake my head definitively. ‘So that means it’s a night-out-with-the-squad night! We need shots!’ Mija exclaims, all of us cheering in agreement. ‘We’ll go get them,’ Chen says, grabbing Jackson’s arm and pulling him out of the booth.

‘Babe, you’re not gonna find a carbon copy of Jimin,’ Mija says the second they’re out of earshot. ‘What?’ I exclaim, taken aback. ‘You want a light-haired, toned-but-not-muscly, taller-than-you-but-not-too-tall guy with duality? You basically explained Jimin, babe, and as much as I know you’re still into him, you’re just not gonna find a guy like that,’ Mija says, and I sigh, resting my face on my hand. ‘I know, I know. I can’t help it. No one even compares to him,’ I breathe out, and Mija gives me a sad smile. ‘You’ll find the right one, y/n, and it’s just not him. Give it some time. But in the meantime, it’s not like you can’t sleep with a remotely attractive guy, even if you don’t fall in love with him at first sight. It’s been a while since you got dicked down, babe,’ she says, and I nod in agreement. ‘When the boys get back, we’ll do some shots, get super drunk, and then you can go dance and get yourself a man,’ Mija says, and I nod with a grin, liking the sound of her plan. The boys appear then, holding twelve shots between them, and we do three each before downing the drinks we already have, ordering more. Less than half an hour later, the four of us are sufficiently drunk, and so Jackson and I manage to convince Chen and Mija to get up and dance relatively easily.

We meld into the group of dancers in the middle of the room, Mija and Jackson grinding against each other as Chen and I dance modestly (in comparison, anyway) together. Every few minutes, I’ll feel hands on me, and I turn to see what it is the person looks like. Every time, I’m not too keen on what I see, and so shoot Chen a look, who then steps in claiming to be my boyfriend, scaring all the boys away. Chen is very intimidating, I’ll say that; tall, handsome and serious-looking, I wouldn’t mess with him if someone paid me for it. And then, one of the times, I’m surprised when I turn to see a girl. ‘Hey, sweetie,’ she says, body pressed up against me. We’re the same height, with the same body shape, probably able to pass for sisters if we had to. I turn to face her, her hands still on my waist, and smile at her. ‘I’m sorry but I’m straight,’ I say, and she sighs. ‘I’m sure I saw you earlier, sat in that booth, and you looked like you were into girls,’ she says, and I let out a laugh, the two of us still dancing together. It’s weird; I don’t feel at all uncomfortable or intimidated by her, just going to show that girls know how to accept it when they’re told no. ‘You’re probably getting me confused with my friend,’ I say, motioning over to Mija, ‘she’s bi.’ ‘Oh, yeah, it’s her,’ the girl says, before she spots Jackson. ‘Boyfriend?’ she asks, and I shake my head. ‘They’re not exclusive. If you’re into boys too, I’d go for it if I were you. I doubt they’d say no to a third… party,’ I say, and she laughs. ‘I might just do that. Thanks, girl,’ she says, giving me a quick hug before sidling over to Mija and Jackson who instantly let her move in between them, all three dancing together.

I laugh to myself, and before I can even say anything to Chen, Taehyung appears before me. ‘y/n! Babe!’ he exclaims, pulling me into a friendly hug. ‘Hey, Tae!’ I reply, my words probably muffled in his (solid) chest, my makeup most definitely transferring onto his top (thank god it’s black). ‘Can I just say that you with that girl nearly made me hard,’ he says with a mischievous grin. ‘Urgh, Tae, what the fuck?’ I exclaim, trying to hold back a laugh at his complete honesty. ‘Sorry. But come get a drink with me, it’s been a while,’ he offers, and I think it over. What have I got to lose? As much as he can be an idiot, he’s a good guy at heart, and he and Mija don’t have any hard feelings as far as I’m aware, so I don’t see why it’d cause any problems. And it’d definitely make Jimin jealous too. I check over my shoulder to see where Chen is, and he’s dancing with the guy Jackson pointed out earlier, the gay one, and I mentally cheer him on. ‘Yeah, sure,’ I say, letting Taehyung wrap a large hand around my wrist and lead me through the group of dancers up to the bar. He obviously doesn’t have a VIP card, but he manages to get through the crowd to the bar quickly, flirting his way through, shooting people smirks and winks. When we reach the bar, he orders us both a rum and coke along with a shot each, both of us downing the shots as soon as we get them. Honestly, if I continue hanging out with all these frat boys, my liver is going to be fucked before I’m thirty. We head over to the booth where I was sat earlier, still empty, and sit opposite one another. Tae’s eyes wander easily, shamelessly trawling all over me, repeatedly pausing on my chest before continuing. I don’t bother pulling him up on it, knowing there’s no real intention behind his actions. He’d never betray Jimin like that; we might not be a thing anymore, but you don’t sleep with your friend’s ex… or kind-of-ex either. It’s literally like a law… right?

‘You’re looking good, y/n. Really good,’ he says, and I smile, loving a bit of praise here and there. ‘Thanks, Tae. You don’t look too bad yourself,’ I reply with a grin, and he laughs, his adorable boxy smile appearing on his unfairly handsome face. He’s dressed in a black shirt that strains against his broad shoulders and chest, and plain black slim-fit jeans that accentuate his ass perfectly, a pair of black and gold Gucci dress shoes on his feet. ‘Don’t lie to yourself, you know I look better than ‘not too bad’, babe,’ he says confidently, and I roll my eyes. ‘You don’t need me inflating your head any more than it already is,’ I say, and he chuckles, leaning forward. ‘So you agree?’ he asks with a glint in his eyes. ‘You’re infuriating,’ I say, and he leans back, grinning. This is how our conversation for the next hour continues, going back and forth. Just when I think I’ve steered the conversation away from flirting, he throws a curveball and almost gives me whiplash from a flirty comment. And, horrifyingly, I feel myself starting to enjoy it. And then it all gets ruined.

‘Hey, Tae,’ Jimin says, both of us jumping at the sound of his voice. He stands at the side of the booth, hands in pockets, veins in his arms corded tight, and his voice sounds tense and strained. ‘Oh, hey, hyung,’ Tae says, completely at ease as he leans back in the booth and smiles easily up at the other boy. ‘Have you checked your phone? Kook’s been texting you,’ Jimin says, not even sparing a glance at me. I don’t mind, though; if we made eye contact, I’d most definitely shoot him a death stare. ‘Na, I haven’t. I’ve been distracted,’ Tae says with a grin at me, and I grin back before taking a sip from my drink. ‘Well, he was asking if you wanted to get in the Uber with us,’ Jimin says, ignoring Tae’s comment entirely. ‘Who’s us?’ ‘All of us. Me, Kook, Jin hyung, Yoongi hyung and Namjoon hyung,’ Jimin says impatiently, and I wonder why Hobi isn’t here. ‘How will we all fit?’ ‘For fuck’s sake, Tae, do you wanna come or not? We’ll get a seven-seater,’ Jimin says in a tone that indicates it’s obvious, and I can’t help but agree. Tae’s being purposely difficult to piss him off, and I’m not quite sure why. ‘Na, I’ll hang around a bit longer, and make my own way back. You guys go ahead,’ Tae says, and Jimin hesitates. ‘You sure?’ he asks, and Tae nods with a definitive, ‘I’m sure,’ and so Jimin goes to join his hyungs and Kook who stand waiting a little while away, all of them waving when they spot me looking. I wave back with a wide smile, genuinely happy to see them all after such a long time, and when I turn back to Tae, he’s on his phone.

‘D’you wanna get out of here yet, y/n? Or hang around a while?’ he asks, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Where would we go?’ I ask, and he chuckles. ‘y/n, don’t be cryptic, you know what I’m asking you,’ he says, and I can’t lie, I’m tempted. ‘But…’ I trail off, not wanting to say it. ‘Jimin?’ he asks, and I nod. ‘I don’t think it’s an issue. As much as you probably don’t want to talk about it, he said no to you. You two weren’t exclusive or committed to each other, and he turned down the opportunity to turn the relationship you had into something more. That was his choice. Now this is yours,’ he says seriously, and I really don’t know what to say. Because this isn’t just me deciding whether or not to go home with Tae, it’s me choosing to move on from Jimin or not. If I do this, I am admitting to myself that it is well and truly over with him, and I don’t know if I’m ready to do that yet. Tae instantly notices my hesitation, and sits back, looking at me thoughtfully. ‘You’re still not over him, are you?’ he asks, and I nod, knowing there’s no point in lying. ‘Well, this might not change your mind, but my room is right next to his, remember?’ he says with an impish grin, and I laugh before remembering something.

‘Mija,’ I say, and his face hardens. ‘What about her?’ he asks. ‘You two were kinda… you know?’ I say, and he lets out a false laugh. ‘She wasn’t… she wasn’t interested. And it was only like two days. And, I told you, didn’t I, that we didn’t sleep together that night? So there’s not like there’s really any history. But, I’m not going to lie to you, because you’ve told me the truth, I guess I kinda have had feelings for her for a little bit, but it’s obvious she’s not interested,’ he says, motioning over to Mija who dances with both Jackson and the other girl, the three of them in their own little world. ‘So this could be beneficial for me too. It’ll help us both get over each other’s best friends, and you can make Jimin jealous,’ he says with a grin, and I can’t help but laugh. ‘Okay, get an Uber,’ I say. ‘I already have,’ he smirks, and I swat at him, Tae laughing maniacally as he ducks from my hand. ‘Go tell your friends that you’re leaving, I don’t want them worrying about you and then murdering me when they find out I took you,’ he says, both of us getting up from the booth.

I head through the crowd of dancers and when I reach Mija, I tug on her arm gently, a smile breaking across her face when she sees me. ‘Tae’s just asked me to go home with him,’ I say, and her eyes widen. ‘Tae?’ she demands, and I nod. ‘If you don’t want me to, I won’t, but-’ ‘No, no, go for it! Go get that big, big dick, babe! Just text me and stuff, keep me updated,’ she says, and I feel my heart going out to Tae after hearing how she really doesn’t have any feelings for him at all. ‘You sure?’ I ask, and she nods. ‘Go get your shit wrecked!’ she says, pushing me gently towards the door, and I laugh as she re-joins Jackson and the other girl who sends me a wink and mouths, ‘have fun with your cute ass man’. I hold back a laugh at how similar she and Mija are and turn to find Chen. It doesn’t take long, easy to spot the two tall and handsome men dancing together and I push through the crowd. ‘Hey, y/n! This is Taeyong,’ he says, and I smile at drop-dead gorgeous man, who shoots me a smile in return, making my heart flutter with how handsome he is. And then, because I’m stupid, I say, ‘We both got Taes!’ Taeyong laughs and Chen quirks up a questioning eyebrow. ‘You’re going home with Taehyung?’ he asks, and I nod. ‘You sure that’s a good idea?’ he asks, and I shrug. ‘Life’s too short to worry about things like that,’ I say, Taeyong laughing again, and I decide I like him. If you laugh at my jokes, you’re guaranteed to be in my good books. ‘Okay, then. Keep me updated, and stay safe,’ Chen says, pulling me into a quick hug. I head towards the exit of the bar where Taehyung waits for me patiently, smiling when he spots me a few feet in front of him. ‘Uber’s here already, let’s go,’ he says, putting an arm around me and tucking a hand into my back pocket, hand curving to fit the curve of my ass. We head out, people still queueing outside to get in, and Tae opens the door of the Uber for me. I get a flashback to that night with Eunwoo, sat in the back of an Uber with another handsome man.

When we arrive back at the frat, Tae leads me up to the front door, holding it open for me. He clasps my hand and pulls me up the stairs, the two of us giggling the entire way up because of how tipsy we are, but the light atmosphere between us disappears as soon as his bedroom door shuts. I’ve never been in Tae’s room before, surprised to see that it’s quite clean and very lavish, the wardrobe open to reveal designer labels after designer labels. ‘Something else interesting you, y/n?’ he asks, now sat atop his silk bedsheets, leaning back on his hands and watching me amusedly. The youthful, light-hearted boy in him has disappeared now, leaving behind a formidable and intimidating man. I shake my head, and he chuckles. ‘I asked you a question, darling,’ he says as I put my phone down on his bedside table, beside his own phone. ‘No, Tae,’ I reply, and he stands up, holding out a hand which I place mine in. ‘It’s sir to you now, babe,’ he says, pulling me up against him, and pressing his lips gently to mine. The kiss coupled with the fact that he’s just told me to call him sir already has my pants dampening embarrassingly, and I let out a gentle whine into his mouth. ‘I would’ve said to call me daddy, but I don’t want Jimin barging in here all angry, ruining the mood,’ he grins, pressing his lips to mine again, our mouths moving in sync. He tastes delicious, like alcohol and something else, something unique that I can’t quite put my finger on, and my senses are flooded with the smell of him, his expensive Gucci perfume and something distinctly Tae, the deep and attractive smell I’ve smelt before.

He breaks away from me then, arms still around my waist, and asks, ‘I’ve heard Jimin talking about you and him like twice, but I don’t want to just assume, so I wanted to ask what your limits are.’ My heart melts at how sweet he is, but then I realise; I don’t know what to say. I’ve never had to explain it because Eunwoo was pretty vanilla anyway, and Jimin just always seemed to know. ‘Um, I’m open to most stuff, just nothing too extreme or painful. I don’t mind degradation, or light bondage, or, um, edging and denial,’ I say, hesitating with each word. ‘Anything else?’ he asks, and I think for a moment. ‘You just do your thing, and I’ll let you know if it’s too far. I’ll just say a safe word,’ I suggest, and he nods. ‘What word?’ he asks. ‘Um… how about… pickle?’ I say, thinking back to that dreadful night I threw up on top of a pickle, and he nods with an amused grin. ‘Namjoon hyung told me about that. Gross,’ he says, and I laugh. ‘Pickle it is, then. Now… I think you’re wearing too many clothes,’ he says, voice lowering, before he presses his lips back to mine again. He walks me back to the bed and gently pushes me, causing me to land amongst his silk sheets. I kick off my heels as his fingers come to the buttons of my jeans, eyes locking with mine for another confirmation that I’m okay with this. I nod with a smile, and he makes quick work of the buttons and the zip, pulling the tight jeans down my legs and throwing them across the room. He flicks open the clasp to my bodysuit lazily, fingers grazing my core, and my breath catches in my throat. A grin spreads across his handsome face as I sit up and he pulls the bodysuit over my head, throwing that to where my jeans sit too.

‘Fuck, you’re so fucking gorgeous, y/n,’ he mutters, eyes drinking in my body clad in just my pants, lacy bralet and choker. ‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ I whisper, and he laughs, coming down to briefly press his lips to mine. ‘God, you’re such an annoying bitch sometimes,’ he says jokingly, and I roll my eyes. ‘No, I’m not kidding. Always turning me down, like you don’t find me as attractive as I find you,’ he says, hands skimming over my sides before he stands at the edge of the bed, undoing his belt and pulling his jeans down just past the bulge in his boxers. ‘I’ve been dying to just shut you up,’ he says, pulling his boxers down so his hard (and huge) length springs up against his stomach. I take a deep breath at the sight, before my eyes flit up to his, an arrogant smirk on his face. ‘I’ve been dying to have you choking on my cock so you can’t lie about how you don’t fucking want me when I know you do,’ he says, his words coaxing a whimper from me. ‘Come on, babe,’ he says, pumping his length with a grin, ‘show me why Jimin’s had blue balls since you cut him off.’

I sit up, taking him into my hand and pumping him gently before I gently lick the tip, swirling the tip of my tongue around him a few times. He grabs my hair, pulling my head back so I our eyes meet, and his eyebrows are raised. ‘I didn’t tell you to tease me, babe. Don’t push your luck,’ he says, and I nod, before taking him as deep into my throat as I can. He lets out a low groan as I work up and down his length, bobbing up and down and taking more and more of him in each time. His hands wander up and down my shoulders and neck with a possessive grip, letting out low groans and grunts every now and then. I haven’t even managed to take him all the way in when he pulls out of my mouth, and I look up at him in confusion, wiping at my chin as he tucks himself back in and rebuckles his belt. ‘You’re good, babe – great, in fact – but I’ve changed my mind. I wanna make you feel good,’ he says, pushing me back against the bed. I crawl further up until I’m near the headboard, Tae climbing over me. ‘I wanna make you shout my name so loud he can’t even sleep next door,’ he whispers in my ear. I press my lips to his skin, pressing gentle kisses along his jaw and neck as his hand strays down to between my legs. He pushes my thighs apart, his hand disappearing into my pants and cupping my core, having me breathing raggedly against his skin. He swipes his fingers along my dripping wet slit, and I let out a whine, hearing him chuckle lowly. I bite and suck on the skin of his neck and collarbones as his fingers lightly dance around my folds, sending gentle waves of pleasure through me. ‘You want it, babe?’ he asks, and I hum against his skin as I leave marks, hoping he’ll get the message. ‘That wasn’t an answer,’ he growls, fingers stilling in my pants. ‘Yes,’ I breathe out, and his free hand comes to my throat, pressing gently. ‘Yes, what?’ he asks, dark lusting eyes locked with mine. ‘Yes, sir,’ I whisper, and he grins.

‘Tell me what you want, babe,’ he says, moving off me. ‘Your fingers, sir, please,’ I breathe out, earning a kiss from him. ‘Hands and knees,’ he says, and I swiftly turn over, hands and knees pressing into the soft silk. ‘Such a pretty ass, huh?’ he says, big hands caressing my ass. ‘I wonder how it looks all nice and bruised up. Shall we find out, babe?’ he asks, his hands pausing, waiting for an answer. ‘Yes, sir,’ I reply dutifully, and he chuckles lowly. ‘Belt marks or hand marks? Has Park ever used his belt on you?’ he asks, the smirk audible in his voice. ‘No, sir, never,’ I reply. ‘Do you wanna try it babe, or just hands?’ he asks softly, and I smile at his checking in with me first. ‘Hands, please, sir,’ I say, and he breathes out a laugh. ‘Okay. Just hands,’ he says, before his hand comes down and lands on my ass, the slap resounding around the room loudly. He lands a few more slaps, earning gasps and whimpers from me, and each of them gets harder and louder. ‘Mmm, all nice and red, just for me,’ he whispers, pressing kisses up my spine, and my knees become weak at the feeling.

He pulls my pants down to my knees, the cold air hitting my core instantly, and I shiver at the feeling. ‘God, you’re dripping, babe. Is this from sucking my dick, or being spanked?’ he asks, hands running over my ass and down my thighs, completely missing the area I need him most. ‘Both, sir,’ I reply, and he chuckles. ‘I always knew you were a slut deep down,’ he says lowly, sending a shiver through me. Without warning, he plunges two fingers into me, a moan of his name falling from my lips at the burning stretch. He lands a harsh spank on my ass, with a deep ‘it’s sir to you.’ He slowly pumps his fingers in and out of my core, gentle whines and moans falling from my mouth. ‘Good, babe? Does that feel good?’ he asks. ‘Yes, sir, god, yes,’ I reply breathlessly, arms shaking with the force of holding myself up. After a minute or so of mind-numbing pleasure, one of my arms gives way, nearly having me face-plant the silk pillow covers. ‘Oh, are poor baby’s arms getting tired?’ he asks teasingly, turning me over onto my back. ‘I can’t complain, I get to see this pretty face now,’ he says, and I smile shyly. He spreads my legs again, and settles between them, his position reminding me almost of a kid laid out on their stomach, watching the TV.

‘Such a pretty little pussy, sweetheart,’ he says, almost teasingly, as he eyes my glistening core. ‘I wanna taste you, babe, can I?’ he asks, voice deep, and I moan at his words. ‘Please,’ I breathe out, and he chuckles under his breath. ‘You’re such a pain in the ass. Please what?’ he demands, sounding exasperated. ‘Please, sir, your mouth,’ I whimper, and he laughs again, his breath warm against my core. ‘Louder. I want him to hear you,’ he whispers, and I laugh internally at his pettiness. ‘Please, sir, I need your mouth, please,’ I beg louder, and he lets out a satisfactory chuckle. ‘Better,’ he says before licking a bold stripe up my core. I let out a loud moan as he begins to lick at my slit like he hasn’t eaten in months. ‘You taste fucking amazing,’ he says between licks, loud whimpers and moans falling from my lips. I wind my fingers into wavy, soft brown locks, pulling him closer between my legs, and he slides my thighs up over his shoulders, giving him better access. ‘Sir, fuck, feels so good,’ I moan, and he laughs against my core. ‘Rub it in a bit more,’ he prompts, and I’m more than happy to oblige. ‘Sir, please! I…feels so good,’ I cry out, not holding back as he practically devours me. I try my best to stay still but I begin to squirm in his sheets, and he loses his patience. ‘y/n, stop fucking moving before I make you cum until you’re sobbing,’ he threatens and I stop myself from moving. ‘Actually… maybe I’ll do just that,’ he says with a devilish grin, going back to his ministrations, twice the speed and force. Broken moans, whimpers and whines fall from my mouth every few seconds as he brings me closer and closer to my climax, and when he adds two fingers alongside his mouth, I hit my orgasm with a loud moan, back arching up off the bed.

Once I’ve come down, I meet his eyes, the sight of his chin and mouth covered in my release making me wet once more. ‘You okay?’ he asks, standing up at the foot of the bed, and I nod, eyes flitting down the bulge in his jeans. ‘I’ve just made you cum, and you’re already eyeing my dick like a deprived little cockslut. Was that not enough for you?’ he asks, and I shake my head, biting my lip gently. ‘Fuck, come here,’ he says, and I crawl down the bed. ‘Help me out,’ he says, kicking his shoes and socks off, and I unbutton his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders and leaving his chest bare. His muscles are defined, not as much as Jimin’s, but still noticeable. His shoulders are broader, and strong, and his waist is small, an enticing v-line visible above the waist of his jeans. I unbutton his jeans and push them down his legs, the boy kicking them away. He unclasps my bra and I pull my pants off, leaving both of us completely naked. He picks me up and sweeps all the papers and stationery off his desk, putting me down onto the polished wood. He reaches into one of the drawers as I press kisses to and pull on the skin of his collarbones and neck, leaving marks in my wake. He pulls out a condom, slipping it on hastily, and I wrap my legs around his waist.

‘Ready?’ he asks, and I nod, resting my hands on his biceps as he slowly pushes into me. We both let out moans at the feeling, and he gives me a little while to adjust. ‘Can I move?’ he asks. ‘Yes, sir, please,’ I reply, and he grins, beginning to slowly rock his hips back and forth, pulling nearly all of the way out before sliding all the way back in. ‘God, you’re so tight. He can’t have been fucking you that well,’ he says, voice deep and husky, and I want to point out that that’s not how the female body works, but I can’t get the words out, waves of pleasure washing over me. ‘Faster, sir, please,’ I whine, and he smirks, increasing his pace slightly. And that’s when I hear it. The desk starts to hit the wall, quietly at first, but Tae continues getting faster and the banging noise gets louder and louder as he does so. On the other side of the wall is Jimin, and the thought makes me moan out loud. ‘You like making him jealous, babe?’ Tae asks, and I whimper into his shoulder as his thrusts get faster and faster. ‘Moan for me, babe, get him mad,’ Tae prompts. ‘Sir, feels- oh! Feels so good, fuck!’ I moan, throwing my head back as his fingers begin rubbing at my clit, his other hand gripping my waist so hard I’m sure I’ll wake up with bruises in the morning. ‘Such a good little slut for me, aren’t you, y/n? Letting me fuck you next door to your ex,’ he growls against my ear, and I whimper at his words, already nearing my high. ‘I can feel you clenching, y/n, you gonna cum for me, baby?’ he says, the pet name making me clench even harder, and he moans out. ‘Sir, fuck, I’m gonna…’ I trail off, so close to my climax. And then he pulls out.

‘Tae,’ I whine, and he lands a slap to my core, not too hard, but hard enough that it catches me off-guard, making me let out a little whimper. ‘Don’t complain,’ he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me up from the desk. He leans down and presses his lips to mine, catching my mouth in a sloppy kiss as he pulls me away from the desk and towards the wall, pushing me up against it. ‘Jump,’ he says against my lips, and I do so, wrapping my legs around his waist once more, and he holds my body in place between his and the wall. Without warning, he pushes in and doesn’t start slowly, going at an almost painfully fast pace. My head falls back against the wall, making a noise, and I realise that Jimin will be able to hear that I’m being fucked against the wall because of how thin these walls are. ‘God, you’re fucking gushing,’ he says, the tops of his thighs practically soaked with my arousal. ‘All for you, sir,’ I moan out as he fucks into me, strained chuckles falling from his lips at that. ‘How would Park react to seeing you like this? Getting fucked by his best friend against the wall, moaning like a little bitch for me. Getting your pretty little pussy fucking pounded. He’d be a bit angry, I think. And hard,’ he breathes out, his words punctuated by moans from me, the image of Jimin’s angry face clear in my head.

‘Are you imagining I’m him, y/n? Imagining I’m your daddy?’ he asks, and I don’t answer, not wanting to admit that Jimin’s face has been in my mind since I walked into his bedroom. ‘I’m gonna take that as a yes. But it’s me, y/n, I’m the one making you feel this good. Look at me. Look at me while I fuck you,’ he says, grabbing my chin and turning my face so our eyes meet. His jaw is clenched, sweat dripping from his forehead, lips swollen and eyes dark and dilated. He moves one of my legs, so it’s bent between our bodies, and it allows him to thrust in even deeper, hitting the spot that makes me shout. ‘Fuck, sir, feels so good!’ I cry out, my eyes beginning to water as he fucks me relentlessly, filling me up completely as I tangle my fingers into his hair, gripping tightly. ‘Harder,’ I barely manage to breathe out and he laughs, doing as I wish, grunting from the effort. ‘Such a dirty fucking girl. Little bitch wants her pussy torn in half, huh? God, you’re so hot, y/n, so hot and fucking filthy. Hearing you and Jimin that night, fuck, I was so hard. I wanted to do what he was doing to you, wanted to make you scream like that,’ he admits, balls slapping against my ass as he thrusts into me ridiculously hard, knowing he’ll leave me sore tomorrow.

One of his hands rests at my neck, fingers pressing gently against my skin as his other hand begins to rub at my clit, bringing me ever closer to my climax. He begins to suck on my nipples sloppily, and I rest my head against the wall at all the different sensations. ‘You gonna cum, baby?’ he asks, and I nod. ‘Moan my name,’ he whispers in my ear, before pinching at my clit gently. It pushes me over the edge, and I reach my high with a scream of his name, Tae continuing to fuck me through my orgasm as I clench around him in a tight grip. ‘Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum,’ he groans, pulling out of me. ‘Can I cum in your mouth?’ he asks, furiously pumping his cock, and I nod, getting to my knees shakily. I rip the condom off his cock and put my mouth around it, revelling in the deep moan that falls from his lips. His eyes are locked on me as I suck him off harshly, bobbing my head as quickly as I can and taking him as deep as possible, and when I start playing with his balls, it’s game over. I feel his dick twitch as he throws back his head and moans out, ‘fuck, y/n, you’re so good. Shit!’ He pushes my head down onto his cock as he reaches his high, hot thick spurts of his cum hitting the back of my throat as my lips stay around the base of his cock, and he gently rocks his hips back and forth until he’s finished. He slowly pulls out, breathing deeply, and looks down at me with a smirk. ‘Show me, baby,’ he says, and I open my mouth. He groans at the sight of me before saying, loudly enough for Jimin to hear, ‘swallow it, baby. Every last drop.’ I do so, opening my mouth again to show him, and grins, pleased.

He helps me get up from the floor, pressing another gentle kiss to my lips. ‘I need to go for a wee,’ I say after a few seconds, heading into his en suite, quickly weeing, washing my hands, cleaning my makeup off and splashing myself with water, and when I come back out, he’s dressed in just a pair of loose checked pyjama bottoms, torso and feet bare, and hair a fluffy mess. ‘Here,’ he says, holding out a t-shirt of his. ‘I don’t have any underwear for you, though, unless you wanna wear boxers? Sorry,’ he says, and I smile. ‘It’s alright. Scientifically, it’s better if you go bare at night anyway,’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘That scientist deffo just made up fake research to get his wife to go bare in bed,’ he says, and I burst out laughing as I pull his t-shirt on, the material soft against my skin. He climbs into bed and I climb in beside him, the boy instantly pulling me into his arms. I reach for my phone, knowing Tae’s watching as send Mija a text to say I’m safe and going to sleep, before locking it and putting it back. ‘Goodnight, babe,’ he says, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. ‘Goodnight, Tae,’ I reply, falling asleep quicker than ever before.

I wake up to find myself wrapped up in his arms, head tucked beneath his chin, cosy and warm beneath his soft silk sheets (did I mention they’re silk? Sorry, but I’ve never slept in silk sheets before and I already know what my next online order is gonna be). Almost as though he feels me stirring, he wakes up too, pulling me closer to his chest as he yawns. ‘Morning, babe,’ he says sleepily, and I can feel the vibrations of his words against my back. ‘Morning, Tae,’ I reply, turning in his arms to face him, and he shoots me an adorable boxy smile. ‘Sleep well?’ he asks, and I nod, snuggling into his warm and cuddly body. ‘Up for round 2?’ he asks, smirking, and I sigh. ‘And that is my cue to get up and shower,’ I say, beginning to move out of the bed, but he pulls me back in, whining like a baby. ‘No, y/n, cuddle me. We’ll watch a film or something, and then you can shower,’ he says, and I’m tempted. So I agree.

I cuddle back into him and he chuckles under his breath, reaching for his laptop. We both sit up against the headboard, Tae pulling me between his legs so he can cuddle me whilst I find something for us to watch on Netflix, finally settling for The Duff. It’s not Tae’s type of film, but he doesn’t complain, content on playing with my hair and listening to me laugh in all the right places. It flies by, and it feels so comfortable to sit here with him, that I almost forget that it’s Tae. And not Jimin. ‘What are you thinking about?’ Tae asks, knocking me out of my thoughts. ‘Pardon?’ I ask, caught off guard. ‘The film ended a few minutes ago, and you haven’t turned off the next one so I’m assuming you were daydreaming,’ he says, and I laugh, feeling embarrassed. ‘Oh, no, I, um, yeah, I was daydreaming. I zoned out,’ I say, Tae chuckling. ‘Okay, y/n. Oh, before I forget, do you wanna be my date for this fancy end-of-year party that we’re doing? I know it sounds dumb, but it was Joon’s idea,’ he says, and I stifle a laugh. ‘I’ve already had two offers, but I’ll, um, I‘ll let you know,’ I say, and he snorts. ‘Who asked you already?’ he asks. ‘Namjoon and Jungkook,’ I say, and he laughs. ‘Well, whatever. You don’t have to say yes to me, as long as you say yes to one of us. It’d be nice to have you there,’ he says, and I smile. ‘Thanks, Tae,’ I say. ‘Do you wanna go have your shower now? I’ll get you some clean clothes of mine out for afterwards,’ he says, and I turn to face him, kissing him gently on the cheek. ‘Thank you, you’re the best,’ I say, heading into his en suite. I strip off Tae’s t-shirt, put my hair up in a bun so as to not get it wet, and climb into the shower, turning on the water. I realise a couple seconds later that the shower gel isn’t in the shower, but on a shelf on the other side of his en suite. With a sigh, I climb out of the shower, leaving the water running, and then I hear Tae’s bedroom door slam.

‘What the fuck, Taehyung?’ I hear a familiar voice say angrily, and my blood runs cold. ‘What?’ Tae asks nonchalantly, and I supress a laugh. ‘What do you mean, what? You know exactly what I’m talking about, you fucking bastard. How could you sleep with her?’ Jimin demands, and Tae laughs. ‘Is she your ex?’ Tae asks, and Jimin’s silent. ‘Is she your ex, Jimin?’ Tae repeats, and Jimin sighs. ‘No, but you know it’s different with us,’ Jimin says, and Tae laughs. ‘If you don’t consider her your ex, if you don’t even have the decency to claim her as your ex, then I don’t see the issue. She’s just someone you used to have sex with, and you have no right to be angry about me having sex with her. End of,’ Taehyung says, and Jimin huffs. ‘No, Tae, it’s not end of. You know it’s different with me and y/n,’ Jimin repeats, and Taehyung laughs. ‘No, Jimin, I don’t know that, because you don’t tell me. You haven’t told me what’s different about the two of you. You won’t tell anyone, so how are we supposed to respect something we don’t know? As far as I see it, she liked you and you didn’t like her back, so you rejected her. That’s it. So why would you be angry about us sleeping together? If you had feelings for her, I’d understand, but you didn’t, because you would be dating her if you did. So explain it to me,’ Taehyung says, the other boy silent.

‘Just… I just wanna know one thing,’ Jimin says quietly, making me strain to hear him. ‘I can’t guarantee I’ll give you an answer,’ Taehyung replies, and I have so much respect for him in that moment. ‘Does she… does she still wear my ring? On her left hand, ring finger, is my ring still there?’ he asks, and Taehyung lets out a gentle pitying laugh, sounding sorry for Jimin. ‘I don’t know, Jimin, I didn’t pay attention to the jewellery she was wearing,’ Taehyung says as I look down at my left hand, pulling his ring off my finger. I turn the water off, both of them falling silent, and feign obliviousness. ‘Tae!’ I call. ‘Yeah, babe?’ he calls back, and I stifle a laugh at hearing a loud thumping noise, knowing Jimin’s definitely just whacked Tae. ‘Can you pass me my phone? I need to text Mija about something,’ I say, opening the door very slightly and sticking my left hand out, making sure Jimin can clearly see that his ring is not on my finger. He presses my phone into my hand, and I reply with a thanks before shutting the door. After a few seconds, I put my phone down and put the shower back on. ‘There’s your answer. She doesn’t wear your ring. Now is that it, or do you want me to ask her to give it back to you?’ Taehyung says. ‘Whatever,’ Jimin says, sounding tired, and then I hear the door open and close, signalling his departure. I carefully get back into the shower, the water running down over my face, and burst into tears, sobbing as though my heart would break.

‘y/n, there are people at the door for you!’ Mija calls, and I jump up from my bed, walking past Mija in the corridor. ‘Who?’ I ask. ‘Go find out,’ she replies over her shoulder. I roll my eyes as I step into the living room, seeing Namjoon, Yoongi and Jungkook stood at the door. ‘Um… hey?’ I say, heading towards them. ‘Hey, y/n. I asked Mija if you were busy, and she said no, so I thought it’d be nice if we came and did that Netflix binge watch night we planned,’ Namjoon says, and I grin at the heartfelt gesture. And then I spot a laptop under Namjoon’s arm. ‘What’s that for?’ I ask, and he looks down at it, looking back up at me with an almost sheepish expression. ‘Oh, I just brought it with me,’ he lies, Yoongi and Jungkook both looking as though they’re trying not to laugh, various bags and packets of junk food in their arms. ‘Don’t lie, Kim, what’s your ulterior motive?’ I demand, narrowing my eyes at him. ‘I… y/n, I need your help,’ he says desperately, stepping past me into our apartment. I exchange an amused look with the other two boys, and Yoongi rolls his eyes as Jungkook shakes his head. ‘With what?’ I ask, letting the other two in.

‘This party. I bit off more than I can chew. The venue need a deposit in the next two days because someone else wants to book it for that night, but the boys aren’t paying for their tickets; if they did, we’d be able to cover the entire cost, deposit and the actual payment. We’re only charging £15 a ticket but they’re all just being cheap. The uni’s contributing £200 to the venue but we’re not getting that for another two weeks, and that doesn’t even cover the deposit. Everyone’s bugging me about the theme, and I didn’t even think about having a theme in the first place. The boys are all telling me to scrap the whole date thing, but then it’ll get crashed and we won’t get our deposit back and we’ll have to pay for the repairs at the venue. My DJ cancelled because he’s in court, so now I’ve gotta find a new, cheap DJ. The venue need an exact number for catering because they won’t cater for us if it’s too late notice, but I don’t have an exact number yet because no one will confirm. And that’s just the start of it,’ he says, and I blink, trying to digest what he’s just said. Right,’ I sigh, ‘get that laptop loaded up, you two get Netflix on, and let me sort out this mess.’

I set myself up on the middle of the sofa, my laptop on my lap, Namjoon’s on his and Mija’s on hers (she decided to join us), Yoongi and Jungkook sprawled out across the floor, eating and watching Scream Queens. ‘Right, first, we need to get this deposit. How much is it? And how much is the actual venue?’ I ask, and he winces. ‘It’s £300 for the deposit, and £500 for the venue itself,’ he says, and I take a deep breath. ‘Okay. Us five, the other four, that’s 9 of us. If we each put £15 towards it, that leaves us with £165 to make. So we have to get enough people to pay that, or we resort to some sort of fundraising,’ I say, and Namjoon sighs. ‘There are 40 of us. Minus us seven boys, if we can get them all to pay their tickets, then we’ll cover it easy; we’ll make the full 800 for the deposit and the venue, and the uni funding can go towards a DJ and decorations,’ he says, getting his phone out. ‘Will they each pay that though?’ I ask, and he shrugs. ‘I’ll put it on the group chat, and see what we get back. I’ll pay for whatever we don’t get,’ he says, and Mija puts a hand out to stop him. ‘No. Let y/n send a voice note,’ she says, all four of us looking at her confusedly. ‘If y/n and Namjoon asked you for £15, which one of them would you be more likely to give it to?’ Mija asks. ‘y/n,’ Yoongi replies instantly, Jungkook hesitating but then nodding in agreement after a few seconds. ‘Wow, thanks. I’m so honoured you guys care about me,’ Namjoon says sarcastically, none of us paying attention to him. ‘If you say that you’re helping Namjoon with party planning because… I don’t know. Think of a sexy reason for it,’ she says, and I laugh. ‘What do you mean, sexy reason?’ I say. ‘You don’t need a sexy reason, the frat is pretty much whipped for you anyway, y/n,’ Yoongi says, and I frown. ‘I don’t even know the others,’ I say, and he laughs. ‘Some of the first years were asking us why you haven’t been around recently. Trust me, the whole frat loves you. Except maybe Jimin hyung,’ Jungkook says, before his eyes widen, realising what he just said. ‘Sorry, noona, I didn’t mean it to come out like that,’ he says, and I wave him off, willing myself not to cry. ‘It’s fine, it’s fine. Just pass me your phone, Joon, let me send a voice note,’ I say, and he gets his phone out, getting up the ASP group chat and handing it to me.

I press down the button and begin talking; ‘Hey guys, it’s y/n here. Namjoon would have sent this voice note but he’s losing his voice so I’m not letting him speak. He’s over at mine and we’re just party planning and stuff, and the venue needs a deposit in the next two days. If we all pay for our tickets now, we’ll cover the deposit and the venue costs, and the uni funding comes through in two weeks so we can spend that on a DJ and decorations. It’d be really helpful if you and your dates can pay the £15 each for a ticket, otherwise this party won’t go ahead, and it’ll be a real shame if we can’t celebrate Namjoon’s last year as head of the frat. We’re gonna set up a new bank account or PayPal or something, and send the details in so you can transfer all the money into that one. Thanks, guys.’ I look up at the others after recording it. ‘How was that? Was it okay? Shall I send it?’ I say, and Namjoon nods. ‘It was perfect. Send it now, I’ll set up the PayPal,’ he says, beginning to tap away on his laptop. I send it, and await a response. Jungkook and Yoongi both reply saying they’ll pay the £30 for their tickets for themselves and their dates, to prompt the others to do so too. Tae replies next, saying he will too, followed shortly by Hoseok and Jin. Some of the other frat members start to reply as well, and I send the PayPal details in. We watch as the funds get bigger and bigger, and when we reach the deposit, we all (except for Yoongi) start jumping up and down in a circle, screaming in joy.

‘This probably isn’t the best time to ask, y/n, but I still don’t have a date to this thing, you interested in coming?’ Yoongi asks as we take our seats again. ‘Um, I’ve already been asked. By Namjoon. And Jungkook. And Taehyung,’ I say, all three boys raising their eyebrows. ‘Taehyung? Did he ask you in the club… or after the club?’ Namjoon asks interestedly, all three of them looking amused and interested. ‘Um, in the club,’ I lie, slightly embarrassedly. ‘Those clothes look familiar,’ Yoongi says, and I kick myself for not taking off Taehyung’s sweater earlier. ‘Anyway, I’ve been meaning to ask. Why don’t you ask Sana instead of me, Joon? I heard something was going on with you two,’ I ask, Namjoon instantly beginning to blush. ‘What? Who said that? Because it’s completely false. Anyway, we’ve got things to do,’ Namjoon stutters, and I stifle a laugh, Yoongi and Jungkook looking as though this is the first they’ve heard about Sana. Feeling for Namjoon, I change the subject, asking if anyone wants something to drink.

When I’ve come back with everyone’s drinks, I move on to my next task. I dial Chen’s number and wait ‘til he picks up. ‘Hey, y/n,’ he says. ‘Hey, bitch!’ I reply, and he laughs. ‘What’s up? You good? How was last night?’ he asks, and I try not to laugh. ‘I think I should be asking you that. But anyway, we’ll fill each other in another time, I’ve got an emergency,’ I say. ‘What’s happened? Shall I come ‘round? Are you and Mija okay? Shall I get Jackson?’ he asks, panicking. ‘Chen, no! We’re fine. Maybe emergency wasn’t the best word to use. But can you come ‘round actually? We could do with your help,’ I say. ‘What am I getting myself into?’ he asks, sighing. ‘Party planning!’ I exclaim. ‘I’m down. Ask Mija if she wants me to bring Jackson,’ he says, and I do so. ‘No, he’ll just wanna go have sex,’ she says, and I stifle a laugh at the boys’ faces, surprised at hearing of Mija and Jackson because no one knows that they’re kinda dating. ‘She said no, he’ll just want to have sex. Bring yourself and food, bitch,’ I say. ‘How about pizza? Or Chinese?’ he asks. ‘Oh, my God, how can I choose? Surprise me, you know what I like,’ I say. ‘Alright, I’ll be there in like half an hour,’ he says, the line cutting off after that.

‘Right, Chen’s coming. He’ll help us sort the DJ. What else do we need to do?’ I ask Namjoon. ‘A theme,’ he says, and I exchange a look with Mija. ‘Are you doing suits and evening dresses and shit?’ she asks Namjoon, who nods. ‘Masquerade,’ Mija and I say at the exact same time. ‘Masquerade?’ Joon asks. ‘Classy, sexy, mysterious and fun all in one,’ Mija says. ‘What kind of decorations would we have though?’ Namjoon asks, sounding sceptical. ‘We could just do a colour theme. Something classy like… rose gold and white! We could get a flower wall, a balloon arch, centrepieces. We could do a sweet bar, a chocolate fountain, a photobooth, a-’ ‘y/n! We only have £200 to spend on all this stuff. There’s no way we can afford all that. Stop getting so carried away,’ he says, and I grin. ‘Is that a challenge, Joon? Because I will make it my life’s mission to get all of those things. I’ll get them or I’ll die trying,’ I say, Namjoon raising an eyebrow. ‘That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?’ Yoongi asks. ‘No, I like the energy, noona! I’ll help,’ Jungkook says, mouth full of chocolates. ‘You’re all gonna help. We’re gonna make this party the best ever. What are the others doing right now? Jin, Hoseok and Taehyung?’ I ask, purposely leaving Jimin out, and none of them point it out. ‘Nothing, I don’t think. Why?’ Namjoon asks. ‘Get them here now,’ I say, exchanging an excited glance with Mija, ‘we’re about to throw a party-planning party. Mija, call Chen and ask him to get enough food for nine.’

‘What the fuck?’ Tae asks as he steps into our apartment. Jin and Chen are sat at our tiny dining table, both of them on the phone getting quotes from various decorations companies for balloons, centrepieces and flower walls. Namjoon is sprawled out on the floor, on the phone to the venue and discussing different menus. Yoongi’s sat in the armchair, Mija sat on the arm of it and leaning on him as they both look at Namjoon’s laptop, trying to write up a seating plan so we can order or make place holders/keepsakes, having planned for each table to have a different designed item. Jungkook is beside me on the sofa, phoning up the frat members one by one to confirm their attendance, ask who their date is or urging them to find one, and getting those of them that haven’t sent the money for the tickets to do so. I’m making various spreadsheets and charts, writing up the different menus Namjoon repeats out loud to me, the quotes that Chen and Jin are getting, the dates that the boys have, the ones that have paid and the ones that haven’t as Jungkook lets me know after each phone call, contributing to Mija and Yoongi’s seating plan by letting them know who doesn’t like who. ‘Yeah, it’s a bit hectic,’ I say as he shuts the door behind him. I turn back to my laptop and type up the numbers that Chen reads out to me, and a few seconds later, I feel Tae’s hands on my shoulders.

He didn’t tell me anything about his conversation with Jimin after I came out of the shower, just acting as though nothing had happened, the whole time I got changed and when he drove me back to mine and Mija’s accommodation too. Mija eyes us, an amused grin on her face; I told her about what I’d overheard, and she said that she appreciates Tae speaking to Jimin the way he did. I’d also told her about the details of mine and Tae’s night together, trying to spot any signs of jealousy, but there was nothing; she truly has no feelings for Taehyung. Which is totally fine, of course, because she doesn’t need a man, and she’s happy with Jackson anyway. ‘Hoseok hyung couldn’t make it, but what can I do to help?’ he asks, leaning down and burying his head into my neck, some of the others watching us interestedly. ‘Um, Chen knows a guy who does DJing, but can you set up a playlist for him to use please?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘Of course,’ he replies, sitting down on the other side of me and getting his laptop out of his bag.

Slowly but surely, we manage to tick things off one by one. Chen strikes gold and finds a decoration company that’s about to shut down and are selling all of their stock at a fraction of the original prices, and so he makes arrangements with the owners for us to go and pick up what we need in two weeks’ time, on a Sunday. The shop is a two hour drive away, but we decide it’s better to go there than spend five times the money at a closer shop. In total, the decorations we’re looking for come to £50, and I could kiss Chen for finding such a fantastic shop. Jungkook gets all of the boys to confirm and pay for their tickets, and all of them promise to find their dates asap. We collectively decide on the least posh menu and Namjoon promises the venue that he’ll get back to them on how many of each dish they’ll need to prepare. Yoongi and Mija sort out a sufficient seating plan, putting the seven boys and their dates on the same table, meaning if I go, I’ll be sat on a table with Jimin and his date, mostly Jeongyeon, a thought that makes me feel sick to my stomach. We all contribute to the playlist, Tae noting down the songs that we all shout out every couple minutes or so.

‘Right, and we’re done,’ I sigh, falling back against the sofa after a few hours of solid work. ‘What have we got left to do?’ Jin asks. ‘We’ve gotta find a company that sells or rents out chocolate fountains for cheap, either hire a sweet bar or do one ourselves, depending on which one is cheaper, pick up the decorations, write up some kind of online invitation with the date, time, venue, theme everything, and send it out to the boys and their dates with plenty of notice so they can get their outfits. I think that’s it,’ I list off, Namjoon making notes on his phone. ‘y/n, you’re a godsend. Thank you so much for your help, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you,’ Namjoon says, and I grin at him. ‘I gotchu, Joonie. Now, can you guys leave because I got an early lecture to go to in the morning?’ I say, the others laughing as they all begin rising up from their seats. I watch with interest as Jin and Chen exchange social medias, and Tae and Mija laugh about something together. The boys all bid me goodbye one by one, Jin and Tae hanging back. ‘y/n, I don’t have a date to this thing yet, are you planning on coming? Because I want you to be my date?’ Jin says, and I take a moment, looking up at the ceiling. ‘She’s already had four offers, buddy, you’re too late. Namjoon, JK, Tae and Yoongi all beat you to it,’ Mija says, and Jin’s mouth falls open. ‘Seriously? Fuck, I don’t know who I’m supposed to take,’ Jin sighs, and I laugh. ‘I’ll keep your offer in mind, Jin, thank you for asking,’ I say, and he nods. ‘It’s alright, y/n, just make sure you say yes to one of us,’ he says, and I nod, waving as he leaves, Tae still hanging around.

‘You okay, Tae?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘I, um… there’s something I need to tell you, y/n,’ he says, making me panic. ‘Um, okay,’ I say, not sure what else to say, and Mija disappears into the kitchen, obviously not wanting to intrude. ‘I don’t know much about what happened between you and Jimin, but what I do know is that you have a right to be aware on what’s going on in his life at the moment. So I thought I should tell you that Jeongyeon came over earlier, a little while after I dropped you off back here. I don’t know if he called her over hoping you’d see her, like as revenge, or because they’re together or something, but I thought you should know,’ Taehyung says, slowly and hesitantly, and I don’t feel shock or hurt. I’m just numb. ‘Thank you for telling me, Tae,’ I say. ‘Are you not, um… surprised?’ he asks, and I shake my head with a sad smile. ‘He slept with her Tae. That’s why I cut him off. He slept with her that night he took me out and that party happened out of nowhere. Whilst I was tidying and throwing up, he was upstairs in his room with her, knowing full well I could’ve walked in at any second. So, no, Tae, I’m not surprised,’ I say, and Tae’s mouth falls open. ‘Does… does he know you know?’ he asks, and I nod. ‘I found out the next morning. I slept in Joon’s room for the night, and saw her coming out of his room in his clothes when I was hiding in the bathroom. When I confronted him on the football pitch, he confessed, and I told him I already knew,’ I say, and Tae sits down beside me, taking my hands into his. ‘y/n, I’m so sorry. He’s scum,’ Tae says, and I don’t have the energy to partake in the Jimin slander. ‘Just promise me you won’t tell him you know. And please try to act normal with him. I don’t want to ruin anything,’ I say, and he shakes his head. ‘Of course, of course. I won’t breathe a word, and I’ll try my best not to throttle him next time I see him. I should head back actually, but I’ll see you later, y/n. I’ll text you soon, and we’ll go for coffee or something,’ Tae says, and I nod. We bid each other goodbye, and he leaves, Mija walking in seconds later. ‘God, I really hate Jimin sometimes,’ she says, sitting down beside me and pulling me into her arms, and I sigh, resting my head on her shoulder. ‘So do I, Mija,’ I reply tiredly, ‘so do I.’

#bts #bts series #bts fanfic #BTS jimin #jimin #park jimin #bts park jimin #park jimin smut #park jimin au #park jimin fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #bts angst #BTS au #bts smut #bts imagines #ficswithluv #smutcentralnet

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yoongsjingles · 4 years

Text

Yakult Soju

↣ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | jungkook x reader

↣ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 1,685

↣ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 | bestfriend au, childhood friends, exes, fwb - angst, fluff & chsmut

↣ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | a drunk Friday night with your best friend, who also happens to be your ex, leads to questionable decisions (series)

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"What episode are we on again?" You shouted towards the kitchen where Jungkook was supposedly making his specialty cocktail, a mixture of too much soju and too little Yakult. There are a bunch of things Jungkook is good at, but being a bartender is definitely not one.

With two large mugs in one hand and a bowl of heavenly caramel buttered popcorn in another, the doe eyed boy appeared from your kitchen with a cheeky grin that could easily be explained with the fact that he mixed way more soju than the usual, "10?"

Friday nights had always been a night with Jungkook, whether it was watching Pororo in front of the television with matching PJs because your mother thought it would be 'cute' or hanging out in the bedroom complaining about high school. Ever since the both of you got into college, Friday nights were usually spent dressing up and queueing outside clubs, waiting to get in. And now years later, despite graduating and getting jobs that ate into your own personal schedules, the tradition still continued, albeit most Friday nights were spent catching up over dinner at Sally's, a diner nearby, before calling it a night because the both of you were just so damn tired from the long week.

Tonight however, was different. Tonight, you had called him in the middle of your work day, frustrated and upset because your boss told you off for someone else's mistake. Tonight, he suggested having take-away at your house while watching movies. "Like old times," he convinced you over the phone call.

"Maybe we should change our usual Friday night plans," You suggested as you picked up a mug and took a sip from, which you were pretty sure was 90% soju and only 10% Yakult. The boy was definitely out to get you drunk, not that you were complaining, "Sally's is getting boring and Friday night movies aren't too bad, especially with alcohol."

He let a chuckle from his lips when he saw you wince from the contents of the mug, "Please, any Friday night with me is never bad."

His comment earned him a playfully hit to his shoulder, "Just because you said that, you are my leg-rester for the night."

Moving his legs in a way that was comfortable for you to rest on, you sprawled your own on Jungkook's lap, digging into his thigh slightly a few times, just for revenge.

The boy felt no pain at all, and even if he did, he showed no pain and instead snorted while throwing a popcorn in the direction of your face, "You always do that anyway. Now shut up, the episode already started."

As ridiculous as that statement was, you tried not to laugh. You were a talker during movies. Ever since you watched Mickey Mouse and saw Goofy walking on two years while Pluto walked on four, despite both of them being dogs, which confused the heck out of you (and still puzzles you now). Even then you were a talker during movies, which explains perfectly was why Jungkook never wants to go to the cinema with you, especially when it was a new Marvel movie that was showing.

It was two mugs later, or maybe even three, not that it made a difference because even if your life depended on it, you probably couldn't even count how many fingers you had right now. Somewhere between what was the sixth or seventh episode, you found your head on Jungkook's lap, the hem of his shirt rubbing between your fingers, a bad habit you picked up when the both of you were dating.

"Yerrr know," his voice was laced with alcohol, yet it was barely louder than a whisper. The television was still turned on, with its noise filling the background.

"It's kinnnda sad, yerr know, that we didn't work out. I always assumed it would," With a fuzzy gaze, he tried his best to look deep into your eyes, "because it's you and me."

It was a no touch subject.

Jungkook was your best friend who grew up next door. The both of you dated, albeit briefly, when you chose the same university he did, 202 miles away from Busan, in the bustling metropolis called Seoul.

Four months. That was how long it took for the relationship to end, for reasons that weren't understandable. He just showed up at your door one day, after a small fight and suggested for things to turn back to what it was before. For the immense love you had for the boy, something about the pain in his face when he showed up made you agree, no questions asked.

He remained your best friend, Jeon Jungkook, the boy who stood by you in everything. And the both of you pretended like the four months had never happen.

But here he was, slightly drunk, caressing your hair with a little pressure, just the way you like it, bringing up a topic you so badly want to avoid. While most days you were brave enough to walk around the world, boldly with nonchalance like you weren't President of the 'I don't know how I feel but I don't think I love Jeon Jungkook, not in that way at least' club, this time you couldn't.

You were probably quite drunk. Not as bad as the time Jungkook had you piggyback you home from the club because you passed out but you probably couldn't walk straight if you tried.

He smells really good, like laundry detergent and aftershave with subtle tones of cedarwood from his cologne and chamomile from his shampoo

You were aware of how close your hand was to his stomach. One careless brush away from his shirt and you would be able to feel well-defined abdomen he spent hours in the gym training for.

The confused face on his look from your lack of reply is gone because you've been too busy inside your head making a list.

He's closing his eyes, maybe his head feels a little woozy.

He's leaning in, face dangerously close that you feel his breath on your skin.

You feel his soft plump lips on yours. Delicious.

The thought hits you like the world's fastest high-speed train. You were kissing Jeon Jungkook. Any sense of intoxication you had a mere five seconds before has been washed out of your system, like gravel roads on a terribly rainy day.

You were kissing Jeon Jungkook. A part of your knows you should stop it. But the small annoying voice at the back of your head, the one that unfortunately makes the decisions when you're drunk, kisses him back, desperately, like it is the first time the soil is seeing rain after months of drought. You slipped a hand behind his neck and he hoists you up, your legs straddling his but lips never leaving.

You've kissed Jungkook before, so many times. First kisses, forehead kisses, goodnight kisses, make out kisses, but nothing compares to the way his lips feel right now. He tastes of soju and Yakult and of a boy you've known for years.

Desperately, you nibble on his bottom lip. A low groan emerges from his throat and that sound itself sends you into an overdrive of ache and longing for the boy in front of you. His mouth makes its way down your throat, alternating between leaving soft pecks and what you are pretty sure will be bruises when tomorrow morning comes.

In the four months that you've dated Jeon Jungkook, you've never had sex with him. He was your first boyfriend and every time things got too heated between the both of you, he had always pulled back, assuring you that he would wait until you were ready before excusing himself to 'fix' his problem in the toilet. But six years has passed since, and the girl in front of him right now is not the same inexperienced girl he broke up with.

As his lips found your collarbone, you took his earlobe between your lips and sucked on it for a little moment, before nibbling it like how you knew he liked it.

"Fuck, can I please?" He whined as his fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt. A brief nod from you was all he needed to pull your shirt off your body, hands roaming the expanse of your stomach and back.

Growing more greedy, you slipped your hand under his shirt, fingers ghosting over his lean abs several times. He was making you weak by the second. To fulfil your aching need, your hands found home on his waist, gripping it firmly before you began to slowly, teasingly grind against him.

"Please don't, Ja-gi…" He breathed, eyes shut close in pleasure from the friction you were giving him, "if you start, I don't think I have the will to stop."

"I want this," You cooed. That was all it took for his hand to move from your stomach down to your hip. He pushed you down harder against him as he began grinding his own hips up into yours, both your moans painting the walls in unison.

Your head was messier the morning after than it was last night because…

You couldn't remember much of last night after the both of you had decided move to the bedroom because it was more comfortable

But there was a certain soreness between your legs, so you can be quite sure there was sex involved

You turned your head to your right expecting to find Jungkook but there is no Jungkook to be found

You have a head splitting hangover because it hurts to turn your head

Why is Jungkook not here? Did he leave?

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queencarolinemikaelson · 4 years

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After a solid number of years: Chapter Nine of care-bear-forbes and the-lonely-hybrid. You can read chapters 1-8 HERE on ff.

Caroline woke from her fitful sleep only a few short hours after falling into bed.

She honestly couldn't believe the night she had.

Surreal.

It was the only word for it.

Caroline knew she would have to go in to work at some point, but in that moment, she decided on some self-care. She rose briefly to make some breakfast and a cup of tea, before snuggling back bed to process what she was feeling.

Firstly, there was the opening party of her very own club! It was happening! All those years of planning and dreaming, coming to spectacular fruition. The next goal to focus on was the official first official day of regular trade, which was just four nights away, and there was still plenty to do to make sure they were ready.

Secondly, she met Klaus Mikaelson. Klaus Mikaelson; of all the people to attend a party she threw. That was a thing all to itself! Add the completely insane revelation that Klaus was actually her old friend Nik made it all the wilder.

Nik.

Nik, who she had loved and hated in equal measures, who both saved and damned her. She could hardly wrap her mind around the fact that he had been standing as close as two feet from her, mere hours ago.

She never thought her life could share so many plot points with a romantic comedy, but here she was.

Also, how the hell had she not noticed the similarities between Klaus and Nik? Surely she wasn't that dull. She had been blogging him like a maniac for years? Was she just blind, or just stupid?

Though, if the feeling she was experiencing right now was anything to go by, it was just too bizarre to reconcile the two as the same person. She always kept them so specifically apart from each other in her mind, so the connection was never obvious. Add the physical changes one goes through during their 20s, and maybe she was neither blind, nor stupid.

She took a sip of her tea, and let her head fall back onto her bed's headboard.

What on earth could she do with all this new found information?

If she was deeply honest with herself, Caroline knew her instinct was to run. Run away from the big city, back to her country town life. Where she could live away from this dread,and all the emotion being trudged back into her life.

But even as she considered it, Caroline knew she would never be happy if she did – as tempting as it was. She spent too long coming to terms with Nik's disappearance to let to control her life again. She also spent far too long working toward her dream business to walk away, for that matter.

As Caroline took another sip of tea, she realised that was what she kept coming back to.

Her life, her dream; that's what was important now.

She spent too long sifting through grief, too many hours crying, too many days of numbness to just forgive and forget. No matter how long Klaus promised.

The prize of his love may have been sweet, but to be swept up in grand romance… That wasn't who she was anymore.

A deep understanding settled over her, and it was terrifying to finally know what she wanted. To relinquish something she held so tightly, for so long.

But it nestled into her heart resolutely.

xxx

Klaus woke with a splitting headache. His metabolism was good, but it wasn't that good.

He was wrapped in a blanket on a semi-comfortable couch, far from his hotel bed, and Klaus groaned as he remembered his somewhat-drunken, extremely early visit to his sister. He also remembered drinking a little bit more after Rebekah went back to bed, to try and wipe Caroline completely from his memory

Fat lot of good it did him, though. Not only was his hangover worse, but he could still remember every detail of every moment of their conversation.

"Morning!" the cheery voice of his sister sang. "You look like absolute death, Niklaus. What sweet comeuppance."

"Thank you sister," he grumbled, immediately regretting it, as a wave of nausea hit him. "I'm going back to sleep."

"Uh huh, you do that," she smirked, in uncanny resemblance to her brother. "I'll make you something greasy when you wake next time."

Klaus fell back asleep almost immediately.

Why he'd insisted on stirring in the first place, he didn't know.

A few more hours passed before Klaus regained consciousness again. While he felt a damn side better this time, he was still feeling pretty rotten.

"He lives!" Bekah said, who was sitting next to him on the couch watching some trashy show on the television. "How about bacon?"

Klaus just nodded as he sat up, but didn't say anything.

Though, again, why he bothered trying to be awake was beyond him, because now, instead of waves of nausea hitting him, it was waves of utter mortification.

He would never admit it to anyone, but Klaus had imagined a reunion with Caroline many times. But none of them had involved him being slovenly drunk at 3am. How had that happened?

And to tell her he loved her and still did? What was he thinking!

Klaus sat in his humiliation silently, hoping it would relent somehow, until Bekah placed a steaming pile of bacon and eggs in front of him, as well as a very strong black coffee and a glass of water.

"So," she started, and Klaus just knew he wasn't going to be able to dodge these questions. "You met the love of your life."

"I did," Klaus said, forfeiting all pretext. It was Rebekah after all.

"And you told her you loved her."

"Yes."

"And you that you wanted to be her last love."

"I did," he said again.

"Very smooth," Rebekah said sardonically, inspecting her nails for non-existent imperfections. "Though, given the state you were in when you got here, I guess there's more to it than instant happily ever after?"

"I suppose," Klaus said, taking a big bite of bacon to save him having to respond more substantively.

"Oh, Nik," Bekah sighed. "Who even is this woman?"

"She's someone I knew a long time ago," Klaus said carefully, thinking it would be safe to answer that, given that Klaus barely told anyone about Caroline back when he knew her.

"Do you mean that online friend of yours?" Rebekah asked.

"How did you…?"

Rebekah just shrugged, innocently.

"You told me once about her, then told me another time you had a crush on someone who could never know the real you. Plus, you spent so much time on that website when you were a teenager," she replied. "Two and two."

"That's some pretty thin reasoning, Bekah," Klaus said, a bit defensive.

"Perhaps," she replied, coolly. "But your reaction confirmed it."

"It could have been anyone. It could have been Tatia!"

"Oh pish," Rebekah said, dismissively. "Tatia was a witch, and we both know it. All the women you've ever dated are not last love material, Nik."

Klaus shrugged, she was right of course. His track record with woman was visually stellar, but none of them were an epic love.

"Do you actually love her?" Rebekah asked, blunt as ever.

Klaus' cautious silence answered her question better than he could with words. Because the truth was, of course, how could he know he loved her?

Marshalling his thoughts into something resembling coherent, Klaus knew the major takeaway was of course he'd jumped the gun on telling her he loved her. He hadn't spoken to her in a decade. That kind of lack of communication wasn't a basis for love.

But he knew he wanted to try. Needed to try. Needed to see if she was what he remembered, needed to discover if his selfishness had ruined them completely, needed to understand the part of him that really was convinced he was still in love.

"I need to find out I do," Klaus said, for once, incredibly vulnerable.

But, Klaus realised he was always vulnerable when it came to Caroline. She was perhaps the only person beyond his blood that he volunteered his vulnerability to.

Perhaps that was why he cut her out so completely, because his reinvented Klaus Mikaelson was never vulnerable. A weakness like Caroline wasn't something he wanted the luxury of back when. He wanted the luxury of power.

"I best be on my way, little sister," Klaus said, as he pulled himself up from the couch, unable to sit still any longer. "Things to do. I suppose I have to make my way to the airport at some point. Thank you for breakfast, and the place to stay."

"Any time, Nik," Rebekah said, softly. "Good luck with everything."

He pressed a quick kiss to his sister's forehead, and slipped out the door before deciding where to go.

xxx

Two weeks later

Caroline sat in her office, staring at her paperwork.

She had been staring at it for days, really, and the more time separating her from her first encounter with Nik, the less she was able to push him from her mind.

It was now two weeks after the opening party. And nearly two weeks since they begun official trade.

Opening night, much like the party, had been a wild success. They had been at capacity for a few hours, and even had a queue for a while there, on a Wednesday.

And the days since had been exceeding what she had hoped for her first couple of weeks open. While there were some obvious kinks and stumbling blocks, as there was with any new business, Caroline let herself consider the idea that maybe this wasn't the completely crazy, doomed-to-fail venture others thought it was.

They were due to open for in a few hours, and she was excited. It really was exhilarating, running her own business. But, despite the success and excitement, Caroline was really struggling to the find motivation to do the pencil pushing part of her chosen business.

Because all she could think about was him.

In the two weeks since their encounter, Caroline had felt a myriad of things.

While she started off with whole-hearted conviction in what she wanted to say to him, after a few days, and some more lonely nights, she let herself imagine, wonder on all the what-ifs of life with Klaus. The life they could explore and discover together, what being his last love would be like…

Then she got mad. Filled with fury at the gall of him, after a decade to blind sight her with wild declarations of love, and empty promises of forever.

Then she was back to swayed by the romance of it all.

The underlying link connecting all her conflicting emotions was that it took a miracle for her not be consumed by thoughts of him, with work as the only thing that seemed to take her mind away.

But, now with opening day behind her, and a couple of weeks under her belt, apparently even that wasn't enough.

And so, she was back to being frustrated and upset with him.

Who the hell goes around saying I intend to be your last love and then vanishes.

Who the hell has the audacity to show up, after ten years, confessing an unending love, then doesn't even have the decency to provide contact details.

His complete lack of contact since he showed up out of the blue, solidified in Caroline's mind, that she was right. That her resolution to be frank and honest with him was exactly what she needed to do, even as much as she wanted to fall into him and never look back.

So imagine the storm of emotions she felt as someone tapped on the shoulder – hours after giving up on pretending to do paperwork, while gazing upon the second night of her dream – and she looked straight into the eyes of a man who never seemed to be too far from her mind.

"Klaus."

This has been such a long time in the making. Review HERE if you feel inclined. I’d love the feedback O:) and I love you all. Watch this space for part ten, which is written! So will not be another three years from now. Woohoo!!

#klaroline #klaroline drabbles #cheesecake's chook scratchings #what a TIME to be alive lol #klaroline fanfiction #klaroline fanfic

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venactricisfics · 5 years

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Malibu Desert

Getting to know your neighbor is fun.

Mayans

Fluff, angst, more

Master List

Chapter Two

I pull to a stop in my SUV. Glancing from the GPS on the dash to the rusted gate of Romero Bros Scrap. This was it. Behind there was Bishop and his MC.

It had been a week since I had dinner at his place. And I'd been waiting on my day off to repay him. Which he assured me that I didn't have to do. I knew I didn't have to do it I wanted to. I really wanted a reason to see him again.

The inside of my car smelled of barbecue and I hoped he'd like it. It was from a deli nearby. I wanted to feed the man, not kill him with my cooking skills.

My nerves had settled a touch when the gate rattled open and I pulled through. I'm guided through stacks of what used to be cars and through a second gate that surrounded the clubhouse.

"I'm here to see Bishop, " I said as a tall Hispanic man comes to the window to see what I need. The name tag stitched on his yard shirt read Angel. That was not an understatement. Santo Padre didn't lack in good looking men.

"He expecting you?" He asks.

"Yeah, I brought him lunch, " I respond.

"Yo Prospect!" He shouts across the yard then turns back to me and gives me a once over as he opens my door, "you must be his Malibu Barbie." Another man, equally muscular, trots over before I could reply. "She's here for Bish. Carry her shit."

"Thanks, " I say as the second man swings open my passenger side door and grabs the box of food. “I could have carried it though.”

“Bishop would have me on yard duty for a month if I’d let you,” he responds as he shifts the box of food to his other arm and holds the clubhouse door open.

The clubhouse was relatively empty. It was the middle of the afternoon, aside from Bishop and a long-haired man with a vice president patch on his leather kutte. Bishop snuffs out his cigarette and stands when he sees me. Their conversation had stopped.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt anything,” the hem of my sundress flowed around my thighs as I walk almost mesmerizing the man. I pat myself on the back internally for my outfit choice.

He raises his dark eyes to meet my blue ones, “Not interrupting at all,” he replied, “This is my VP, Taza. This is Nova.”

“Nice to meet you,” I motion for the prospect to set the box down, “I wasn’t sure what you’d like so I got some of everything. Chicken, beef, pulled pork and some ribs. Corn, coleslaw, baked beans. I may have gotten a little too much.”

“Just enough to feed the entire MC,” Bishop chuckles, ”nationwide.”

“You’ll be well fed then,” I pull out the various containers of food and plates. I take a seat next to Bishop after I was satisfied that he and his men had filled their plates to capacity. I place a napkin in my lap and pray that I don’t spill any sauce on my face or the front of my dress when I ate. I listened to Bishop and Taza talk about club stuff. Or as much about club stuff as they would disclose in front of a nonmember. My delicate nature couldn’t handle the blood and death that seemed to follow the MC. I’d asked around. And knowing what little I knew, didn’t scare me. It intrigued me. Let me know that I had moved next door to a man that could keep me safe if I needed it.

The hours passed by and lunch turned into the entire afternoon of talking. The rumble of incoming bikes reminded both of us of the time and his commitments.

"Templo, " Taza says as the door swings open and several more men in leather kuttes file through.

"I guess that's my queue, " I slide my chair back and start to stand.

"Stay, " Bishop says, "shouldn't take but an hour. Things get interesting after Templo."

"What he means booze, fighting, and pussy, " Angel adds now wearing his own kutte. "It'll be a whole new experience for you, Malibu."

"How could I possibly say no to that? " I give him a smile.

Bishop arches a brow at the exchange as a smirk plays on his lips, "Damn, girl." He heads toward a door covered in stained glass images. "Prospect! Clean this shit up and keep her company."

I watch as Bishop walks past that door followed by Taza, Angel, and the rest of his Mayans before the door slides closed again.

"So is Prospect your given name?" I offer him a smile as I start picking up plates and cups to throw away.

"EZ, " he says as he sweeps. I give him a look, "Ezekiel."

"Very biblical, " I pluck a rag from behind the bar and wipe the tables. "Your friend doesn't seem to like me much."

"Angel?" He looks up at me and I nod. "He's my brother and had his heartbroken by a rich white girl a few years ago. Don't take it personally."

"Not much I can do about either of those things, " I give him a meaningful look, "though I'm not really rich."

"Living in Malibu, compared to how we grew up, " he uncaps a beer and hands it to me, "you are."

I nod. I didn't doubt I had things better at least financially than EZ and his brother. We all have our crosses to bear.

I feel of calloused hands on my hips, pulls me from darker thoughts. I smile leaning back against him. "How'd it go?"

"The way it should, " he responded. I knew enough not to ask him to elaborate and risk losing the warmth of his body pressed against me. "Come get a drink with me." I nodded, letting him lead me to the bar. EZ fills two glasses with Patron. I tremble a little as it burns it's way down my throat. He smiles pushing my copper locks from my face, motioning for more shots. And I match him shot for shot. Losing count and forgetting that I wasn't much of a drinker. It feels safe here to just let go.

"Hermosa, " I don't know if he said anything after that because my lips were pressed against his. He tasted of tequila and smoke. And I wanted to drown in the man. My hands rest on the warmth of his leather, he squeezed my hips pulling me closer. I step back catching my breath. He smirks, "I was just gonna ask you if you wanted to go outside and watch the fight. Angel and Creeper are boxing."

"Oh, " my cheeks flush. "Sorry."

"Not complaining, " he slides another shot in front of me and downs his. I lift the glass and toss it back. He drapes his arm around my shoulders and ushers me out the door.

I sit listening as fist collides with flesh, leaning into Bishop's side. The buzz ringing loud with the screams of the guys cheering their brothers on. If I were sober I'd wince at the sight but the tequila and the man beside me had my head spinning in different directions. My hand squeezes his thigh as Angel tossed Creeper against the fence.

"You ready for me to take you home, sweetheart?" He asks leaning in to whisper in my ear, "I can't have you grabbing my dick in front of my guys."

I look down realizing the leg I squeezed was actually his lap.

"Yeah, I think we should get out of here, " my lips find him again. "You should drive, " I giggle, "I think I'm a little drunk."

"Good idea, " he kisses my temple and helps me up. "Where are your keys?"

"Inside, my purse, " I lean against my SUV.

"Wait here, querida, " he makes sure I'm standing before walking off. EZ comes out holding my purse and I giggle again.

"I put it behind the bar before anyone got here, " he said. That was probably a good idea but at the moment I didn't exactly know why.

"Bishop is gonna take me home, " I stated louder than necessary.

"It was nice to meet you, Nova, " he smiled as I dig my keys out of the bottom.

"Tell Angel I'll sew his pretty face up tomorrow if he’s nice to me. He'll look like Frankenstein if I try tonight, " I hand Bishop my keys when he comes back out. "Take me home. I want to see you naked." My brain to mouth filter had completely shut down at this point.

"Come on, baby, " he helps me in the SUV before climbing behind the wheel. Moments later we've pulled into my driveway. He opens my door and I almost spill out. My arms wrapped around his neck pulling him to me. "Fuck, you are making being a gentleman hard as hell."

"Among other things, " I smirk then kiss him again moaning into his lips feeling his reaction pressing firmly against my stomach.

"Yes, among other things, " he scoops me up bridal style and carries me across the yard to his place. He fumbles with his keys and kicks open his door. He turns sideways to lead me down his narrow hallway. My lips and tongue tasting the salty-sweet skin on his neck. My feet touch the floor of his dark bedroom. Somewhere along the way, I'd lost my shoes. "Fuck, " he mutters as my hand finds the bulge in his jeans.

Goose flesh prickles over my skin when he pulls my dress over my head and my bra falls to the floor. He shrugs out of his kutte and shirt. And I fell backward to the bed pulling him with me. I let out a moan as he grinds into me, the roughness of his jeans pressed against the soft satin of my panties. The friction lighting a charge deep in the pit of my stomach.

*Condom, Bishop, " I moan needing to feel him inside me. He nods fumbling in his nightstand drawer.

"I will be right back, " he kisses me once more before he crosses the room to his bathroom. I close my eyes just for a minute while I wait for him. "Nova?" I groan turning over on my side, snuggling into the pillow. He pushes my hair from my face. And I hear a smile instead of frustration, "Sleep, Hermosa." I feel the bed sink beside me as he climbs in beside me and pulled the covers up over us.

_____________________________

I groan, hating the sun at that moment. Didn't it know that I was hungover? I open my eyes focusing on the unfamiliar surroundings. Flashes of the night before. His lips, his hands. Then blank. I'd like to think sex with Bishop would be so mindblowing I would remember it.

I throw back the covers prepared for the walk of shame. My panties are still on. I blink again seeing a glass of water, a bottle of Tylenol, and a T-shirt on the table by the bed.

I swallow a couple of pills chasing them with the water. He thought of everything. He even took into consideration that my passing out voided my consent.

I slip the shirt over my head and make my way into the bathroom and take care of that need. I wash my face and try to get myself somewhat presentable before I look for Bishop.

Satisfied that I no longer had mascara on my forehead and my hair wasn't sticking up I emerge. I follow the scent of freshly brewed coffee and frying bacon.

"Morning, " I inch slowly into the kitchen. Bracing myself for the anger from a man who got worked up but not satisfied. The anger I had grown accustomed to before.

"Morning, " Bishop's voice wasn't angry, it was soothing, "How are you feeling?" He motions to a barstool. I move timidly waiting for the other shoe to drop. He sets a cup of coffee in front of me.

"Better now, " I inhale the sweet aroma. And take a drink. He'd added just enough sugar and milk. I take a sip then raise my eyes to his. There's no anger on his face, just concern. "I'm sorry about last night."

"Why are you sorry?" He asked, "You had a good time right?" I nod, confused. "Then there's nothing to apologize for. Though next time you don't have to try to keep up with me. I'm used to drinking that much."

"Wait, you're not pissed I didn't fuck you last night?" I watch genuinely confused.

He lifts my face so my eyes are locked with his, "I'm not sure what kind of pendejos you're used to but I'm a grown man. I don't get pissed when my girl doesn't put out."

"No?" I relax a little and he takes a seat next to me.

"No, " he leans forward kissing my temple, "I got you in my bed. That's enough until you're ready for more."

I give him a smile, quirking a brow, "Your girl?"

"You know what I mean, " he places a plate with bacon and toast in front of me.

"I think so, " I give him a smile taking a bite of bacon, it was just crisp enough. I close my eyes and whisper, "perfect."

“It’s just breakfast,” he gives me a smile. “I gotta go on a run to Vegas tomorrow. Should be back in a few days.”

“OK,” I knew it must be club stuff. I wasn’t going to ask. He’d tell me if he could. I pick up my plate and his and carry them to the sink. He stands behind me as I rinse. So close I can feel the heat from his breath on my neck, his hands rest on my hips.

“I want to take you for a ride when I get back,” he states. My cheeks flush at the double meaning.

“A ride, huh?” I turn my eyes to meet his. My tongue glides over my lips.

"You keep that up neither of us will be leaving today, " his voice almost a growl.

"You're the boss aren't you?" I arch a brow. His hands massaging my hips, inching my shirt up higher.

"That doesn't mean what you think it means, querida, " he brushes my hair to the side and presses his lips to my cheek. "And don't you have work?"

I could stand there with his arms wrapped around me indefinitely and I would be perfectly happy. But I couldn't stay in the comfort of this bubble much longer. "Yeah, I should head home and get ready. Will I see you before you leave?"

"I'll do my best, " he responded.

#Mayan #Mayans Mc #Mayans #Bishop Losa #bishop losa x reader #Bishop losa x OC #Bishop losa smut #sons of anarchy #SOA

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lisinfleur · 5 years

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EBMK - Chapter 2: Each other’s backs

Author’s Notes | It took me some time this time because I was suffering a small block after so many works for Ivar in a row, but here it is! Second chapter coming along with the hurricane… Words | 3456 ⁑ Warnings: Lots of cursing, mentions to violence, blood, alcohol.

It was supposed to be a normal day - despite the fact that Mads was spending almost no time with Adrian since his buddy came back from prison. The guy was working the shit out of himself to sustain that chick Mads was already getting sick of seeing mistreating his pal. And he was sure he saw the chick rolling strands of her hair while talking with some other dude in her college. Mads swore an oath he would find a way to fuck that girl's life if he ever knew she was cheating on Adrian again.

"Welcome, Frederik. It's straight down to the right. Next..."

There he was, working the hell out. Adrian had sunk dark circles around his eyes and Mads knew it was from sleeping too few and sometimes out of his bed because of the girl's belly. Adrian told him sometimes the baby was too agitated and then Victoria would send him to the couch so she could roll alone with her whole bed to herself. Shit of a woman... Joy never did it to him...

But he couldn't say his life was any better than his friend's. Adrian was walking around like a zombie, but he wasn't that different, working like hell to cover the idiot that quit and CC's place, now that his "brother" was wearing the club colors he wanted so hard - before him.

Fucking shit of a life Mads was intending to forget getting some fight around or using his free time to get a beer with Adrian after his turn was over. He had chosen the second option, but it seems the fight would come anyway...

Mads had to hold back his fists when that drunken bastard crossed the line, breaking the queue and passing forward, but since the guys in front of him were laughing and it was Adrian's turn as the door security, Mads decided not to cause any troubles - he didn't want to make his friend's turn any more shitty than that guy was already doing by stumbling over him...

"Wild night, huh? You won't get in acting like that," Adrian warned, helping the man to find his balance with a slight push.

"I tripped, dude. Chill," the guy tried, and Mads sighed.

He wouldn't be ok for that job. For sure that man would be already with some teeth missing speaking to him like he was doing to Adrian.

"Show me some ID," Adrian insisted.

"Yeah, Sure." the guy answered and Mads sighed again, annoyed this time, sure he would have kicked that guy's face for trying to go in that way.

What the fuck! If there is a damn security guard, just show your fucking ID and shut up...

"Hey, HEY! What did I just say? ID, please," Adrian pulled the guy back, trying to deal with the situation and Mads observed, already feeling his fists clenching inside his pockets.

He was crazy to hit someone and that guy's mouth was begging for some punches...

"Yo, chill. I'm on my way."

Just one more "chill" and Mads would lose control...

"Don't touch me. I think you need to find a bed for this guy," Adrian said, pushing the drunken towards his laughing friends, worried about keeping them out of the club.

Too worried to notice the drunk guy preparing a punch that hit his face right on the corner of his mouth.

That was enough for Mads' wildness and he just pushed the guy's friends away, pulling the asshole from the club's door by his collar, preventing him to come in and starting to hit the guy before he could say anything.

"You like to fucking punch people? What does it feel like, uh, asshole?" he cursed, hitting the guy as many times as he could before his friends could come against him.

"There are punches for everyone," Mads thought, hitting whoever he could, trying to keep himself standing - which he couldn't do for too long.

Adrian called for backup as soon as he recovered from the punch's dizziness, kicking the face of the man that mounted over Mads and trying to keep them back with some punches before the other security guards came to shove them all away and close the club's door for the night.

The day was dawning and Adrian was still sitting near the lake with Mads by his side. Both of them holding beers and spitting blood sometimes from their injured mouths. Mads was bleeding more: his eyebrow was cut such as his lips. Adrian only had the big punch he got in his mouth that cost him a tooth Mads helped him to get rid of.

"You should take a look at this," Adrian said about Mads' eyebrow but he just giggled.

"It's fine, nothing I'm not used to. We have this fight nights at the club... Joy's kinda used to give me some stitches from time to time," Mads answered, taking some water from the lake to wash his face. "You will have to see a dentist, bro."

"Why?" Adrian asked, before spitting blood one more time. "That asshole already made me a huge favor: I won't have to pay for a canal in a while..." he tried to joke. "I was expecting this shit to stop bleeding, but I have to go..."

"The butchery job is still on?" Mads asked, curious.

"Yeah," Adrian answered, taking one more sip of his beer, noticing Mads' face frowned and he dropped the beer can. "What?"

"You're fucking late, man! Get up! I'll take you home so you can change, go, go!"

"Shit!" Adrian cursed, getting rid of the can and getting up to follow Mads.

Even with his friend riding like crazy through the streets of Copenhagen, with his fight with Victoria during the time he was exchanging clothes and trying to stop the bleeding in his mouth, Adrian ended up arriving too late for his work.

And the boss kicked him out.

"Fucking great!" he came out where Mads was still stopped with his bike, lighting a cigarette he intended to smoke before going home.

"What? Dude, what happened?" he asked, and Adrian came closer to him, angry.

"I'm out. He fucking kicked my ass out! Fuck!"

Mads sighed.

His friend's life was really going wrong.

"Look, go back home and..." Mads tried.

"Victoria will fuck up my mind if I go back now. I'll go to the club. The Monk must have something I can do to keep up the money income..."

Adrian was nervous, not thinking straight. And Mads knew that name very well - The Monk was one of the guys the Wolves were trying to swallow around. He wouldn't want his pal working full time for that guy. But he could understand his friend's needs.

"I have a chance to get more time on the club or some driver shit. Anything."

Mads gave his cigarette for Adrian to smoke and patted his shoulder.

"Dude, look... Take a breath, ok? Go talk to your guy and I'll talk to my troupe. With some luck, we'll get a full job for you with my guys and then you won't have to be worried. I talked to Tom about you, he got interested. Now that CC isn't working at the warehouse anymore and I'm alone, maybe he'll get you. I'll remember him today, ok? Chill, brother. You're not alone," Mads insisted and Adrian took a deep breath of his cigarette, sighing the smoke out.

"Fine. Fine... I have to go."

"I drop you at the club, come."

Mads took a longer route to give his friend some time to chill and Adrian noticed this when the bike started riding closer to the sea - Mads was kinda taking a whole round around the city fringe and at some point, Adrian just took off his helmet, feeling the sea breeze touching his face. Mads smiled losing one more entry to the city. Some more meters on the seafront and Adrian lifted his voice, yelling, causing Mads to laugh when his friend lifted both of his hands, smiling at him, enjoying the trip.

The two friends rode as if they had nothing to lose for a while, but they knew things should be done and Mads took the way into the town to drop Adrian near the club as they combined. Another friend of his was near the door and came to compliment when Adrian was giving the helmet back to Mads.

"Hey, Danny... What's up?" Adrian asked before shaking the boy's hand. "This is Mads," Adrian smiled. "My brother."

"I didn't know you had a brother," Danny said, smiling when shaking Mads' hand.

"Well, now he has," Mads smiled back at Adrian, "I have to go. Stay up with your phone, bro. I'll take a look at Joy and go to the warehouse. I can call you at any moment, ok?"

"Great, bro," Adrian answered.

They hit their hands and Mads took his way, leaving Adrian with a curious Danny.

"I think I know your brother, dude," Danny said. "I don't know... I think I already saw him somewhere."

"Maybe you did... Maybe not. Let's go. I have to speak to The Monk."

Danny still looked back at the street after Adrian came into the club, but Mads' bike was already gone down the road, so, he just followed his friend inside.

Adrian knew Danny was pissed off. He knew he stabbed his friend's back by telling The Monk Danny's license was taken. But he needed that job. He needed that money! Even with Mads' promise of getting him a full job with the Wolves, he knew his friend couldn't force his way in and also, Mads was promising this in a while and he couldn't wait for him to get it: Victoria's baby would come in some few months and he had to buy the stuff for the baby's room and prepare everything. Mads was a nice guy, but Adrian knew he couldn't simply rest on his brother's back. So, he did what was necessary and now Danny was frowning at him inside that car - The Monk got him an "office boy" position that was paying way less than he was used to earning as a driver, but was keeping the boy on the track to teach Adrian about the usual destinations and routes he had to learn for the job and Danny was already used to taking.

That day wouldn't be too harsh: carrying some stuff from here to there in some destinations and things would be ok. At least it was what Adrian thought until Danny jumped into the car.

"Now we're going to see Cuz," he said as if it was nothing.

As if Adrian didn't know who Cuz was... The boy felt his blood cold into his veins on spot.

He could get arrested again just for walking beside the house of that old jerk!

"Cuz Cuz?" Adrian asked, confirming his suspicions when Danny nodded effusively.

"Yeah, Cuz, Adrian. We're bringing him the folder."

"What's in it?" Adrian asked, feeling his hands starting to sweat on the wheel.

"Fresh meat," Danny answered, giggling at the obvious dry gulp his friend just got down through his throat. "Come on!"

Adrian turned the car on, but his phone started ringing and he turned it off again to answer.

"C'mon, Adrian! We'll be late, man," Danny complained and Adrian looked at him.

"You don't speak and drive, Danny. That's why I have a license and you don't, man. Now shut."

Danny grunted, annoyed, as Adrian answered to the call, hearing Mads' voice on the other side of the line.

"Adrian?"

"Hey bro, speak..."

Mads didn't even wait for his salutation.

"Drop whatever you're doing now and come to the warehouse, bro! I got you a chance, but you have to come right now! Full-time job, days on the fabric, nights at the warehouse, double what you're earning. Drop this shit and tell me where I pick you up, bro!" he said, fully happy.

Adrian's eyes became larger and he got silent for a second. A full-time job paying twice what he was earning? Man! "Mads just saved my life!"

"Bro? Did you hear me?" Mads called him back to reality and Adrian giggled out of nervousness.

"Mads... Dude, are you serious?"

"I wouldn't fucking play with something like this, bro! Come on! Where are you?" Mads asked and Adrian got out of the car, for Danny's annoyance that followed his friend out of the red van.

"You gonna get us in trouble, Adrian, turn off this fucking phone, habibi! You can talk to your little girlfriend another time," Danny tried.

But Adrian just waved his hand for Danny to shut up and kept talking to Mads, still impressed his life was really taking a turn, finally.

"I'm near the docks, ahn..." Adrian looked around, spotting the bakery from where Danny just had brought their lunch. "Near the bakery, the..."

"The one with those cookies you like? Gotcha! I pick you up in five minutes, bro!" Mads answered and Adrian could hear the sound of his motorcycle turning on before he dropped the call.

"What the fuck, Adrian!?" Danny came closer, fully pissed off. "The Monk will fuck our ass if we get late, man!"

"You go," Adrian said, giving the keys to a shocked Danny.

"What? Adrian, I can't drive, habibi. Did you forget you fucking opened your big mouth about my license? Did I buy you the alcoholic cookies?" Danny said, checking on the note from the bakery to ensure Adrian wasn't drunk.

"I'm not high, dude. Mads will pick me up, I... I have some stuff to solve."

Adrian's eyes were already on the corner of the road, spotting Mads' bike turning into the street.

"Are you fucking crazy, Adrian? You drop this way and The Monk will never get you back, dude! You gonna get yourself fucked!"

"That's fine... Then you can have your job back, right?" Adrian smiled when Mads stopped right beside him, giving him a helmet and not even taking his own off. "Tell The Monk I can't drive for him... Tell him... I... I quit!" he said, putting the helmet on and getting on the bike right before Mads could start driving towards the Wolves' warehouse, living Danny behind with a full shocked face.

"Fuck, bro! Twice what I was earning? That's fucking amazing, dude!" Adrian celebrated, punching Mads' ribs in a playful way, hearing his friend laughing into his own helmet through the interphone.

"Yeah... Tom just wants to know you," Mads said. "But the job is already yours. Now... Do you have guts, Adrian? I mean... Tom may ask you for some extra jobs if you're up to use your skills as a butcher. Ya know what I'm talking about, right?"

Adrian knew it could be a situation. The Monk had used his skills once and he knew he could get really fucked for doing those shit, but what choice did he have? And also, The Monk used his skills only once... Maybe Tom wouldn't want him to do that disgusting thing more than once or twice.

People weren't killing people all the time to need a butcher so many times like this...

"Yeah. I did it once... I think I can do it again if he needs," Adrian answered.

"Yeah. That's good, bro. That's good."

None of them was comfortable with that little detail about Adrian's new job, but well, both knew some sacrifices were necessary.

It was for his son. For his little Patrick, as Adrian told Mads he would call the boy Victoria was waiting for. Mads could understand. He would also do anything for his little Kyle. Joy and he had just decided the name and he was so happy things were adjusting well, finally.

They stopped by the club and the two of them were brought to Tom's office. Adrian had to say his balls just kinda found a way to shrink around themselves when that man looked him in the eyes.

"You're too skinny for a butcher," Tom said, coming closer, sticking Adrian's chest with the back of his pen. "Can you ride a bike, butcher boy?"

"Yeah," Adrian answered.

"So, I suggest you get one soon. Mads will teach you the job, now get the fuck outta my face. The warehouse won't watch itself, go," Tom said, waving his hand for them to leave.

Adrian went out confused as Mads was silly smiling by his side.

"What was that?"

"I told ya he just wanted to know you. The job is yours already, bro. Now come! Let's take a beer on the bar before we go," Mads answered, bringing Adrian with him to the bar, ignoring the surprise that was making his friend dizzy.

Adrian's eyes were looking all over the enormous place where Mads seemed to know so well how to walk. For a moment, he thought he could easily get lost into that place and never find a way out.

Some people passed around, some looking at Adrian, some just passing and ignoring the two of them. Adrian could understand why Tom thought he was skinny: half of the men inside that club would easily weight more than him and mads together! However, a man in specific caught Adrian's eyes and he frowned at the sight of that man walking around, drinking with some other Wolves. A bald bearded man, with lightly darkened skin... He could bet he saw that man before... Where?

"Here!" Mads pushed him the beer cutting his line of thought for a moment. "Cheers, brother!"

He was so happy! Finally, Adrian would be closer, they could share the nights in the warehouse - which would make his work utterly easier - and his friend wouldn't be so fucked as he was since he came back from prison.

However, Adrian's face wasn't this happy. In fact, he was surprised and kinda shocked. That bald man started walking towards them and with the proximity, Adrian was able to recognize him, causing the blood to run cold inside his veins once again: he could remember where he saw that guy now...

At the police station, inside one of the offices, speaking freely with one of the officers. He could remember her talking to him, giving stuff to him and taking his cellphone to read something on it... He remembers they sat him on a chair beside them and he could hear something about she wanting that man to avoid going too deep in his infiltration or she wouldn't be able to keep him safe when everything was blown up.

Adrian's head started making some bad math as that man came closer, but everything exploded into his head when Mads smiled towards that man.

"Hey, CC! Come here, man! Come meet my bro!"

Fuck.

Now everything was making sense! If that one was CC, then he was infiltrated there! At the club! At the Wolves!

And he used Mads to get into the gang...

"This is CC, Adrian. And this is Adrian, the guy I told you, CC. He'll be a father soon as well... Patrick, isn't it right?"

Mads was such a nice guy... Such an innocent guy. He had no idea of what that man smiling beside him was doing... He would get so fucked if everything ended up blowing up the way they were planning! By Adrian's knowledge of that world, he had just stepped into a time bomb and Mads would end up blown if he couldn't do anything.

However, he had just stepped into that place. It wasn't as if someone would believe the word of a total newbie against a man who won his colors in a pair of weeks, as Mads had told him.

"Hey... Earth to Adrian... Are you high, bro?" Mads clicked his fingers in front of Adrian's eyes, calling him back from his thoughts and Adrian giggled, shaking his head.

It wasn't the right time to burst the whole thing.

"Sorry... This place is so big, I'm... I'm impressed," he tried to disguise his affliction, smiling and shaking CC's hand. "Sorry, man. Nice jacket, by the way. You guys have a beautiful symbol."

"One day I'll dress it as well. It's closer than never!" Mads said and CC smiled at him, patting his back, causing Adrian to cringe inside seeing that snake so close to someone so dear for him.

"Yeah. Soon, brother. Soon."

"He's not your brother," Adrian wanted to say.

But he swallowed down the words and smiled.

At the right time, he would tell Mads everything and maybe save his brother's skin from the catastrophe that was about to come...

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scribeofmorpheus · 5 years

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Robin’s Girl [3/4]

Pairing: Robin x (OC) Clara | Steve Harrington x Reader

Sequel to: Meet Cute | Chapter List

Chapter Title: Bad Reputation | Words: 1.8k

Note: I know this chapter is short, sorry for that, I just lost my writing mojo these past few days and I’m hoping to get it back for a long and fluffy finale. And who knows, I may just do another Christmas Special for this series too, somewhere down the line.

If you enjoyed this story don’t be afraid to like, reblog or comment. I don’t bite. Taglist is open just send an ask.

Playlist by Ari ♥

Clara rubbed circles onto her best friends back while they sat in her empty bathtub, legs dangling out of the tub just like when they were kids.

A box of tissues placed between her folded legs so she could easily reach down and hand Y/N a new tissue when she needed it. The room was filled with sounds of soft hiccups and stuttering breaths between silent sobs.

Y/N had always been a silent crier, it panged at Clara's heart to see her so conflicted.

Robin had stayed with Steve to carry out her own respective best-friend duties that consisted of throwing things at Steve while asking him "Hey dingus, what the fuck did you do?" repeatedly. At least that's what Clara kept picturing after she left Steve's big, empty house with Y/N tucked under her arm.

"I- I… just, ugh! I hate this!" Y/N grumbled. "We've never fought like this before!"

"I don't get the big problem here," Clara handed her a tissue. "I thought you wanted to have the whole small town family, white picket fence and four-bedroom house aesthetic. Not to mention, raise the perfect two and a half ratio of kids with Mr Perfect Hair?"

Y/N laughed feebly, before sniffling. "Yeah, eventually. When I'm like thirty-five and have already started working on my crow’s feet after having spent my twenties doing dumb shit like getting a terrible tattoo and renting a shitty apartment with no heating!"

"I take it he isn't planning on leaving Hawkins anytime soon?"

Y/N shook her head, her hair bouncing about. A stray strand hit Clara in the eye, making her recoil and blink agitated tears away.

"And to think, if we'd been popular, we'd probably be in the same situation as him," Clara tried to cheer her up, but Y/N just kept her chin tucked under her neck.

"Don't joke, you're bad at it," She said flatly. "Besides, it’s not just about him being reluctant to send out college applications. There’s something else... He's got a secret, I can feel it. I was fine with it at first, I mean everyone is entitled to their secrets. I just always figured he'd tell me, you know... when he was ready, too. But..."

"But it's been a year and he still hasn't told you," Clara finished.

"Yeah..." Y/N sighed. "Whatever his secret is… It's part of the reason why he won't leave."

"Okay, that's it!" Clara sat up from the tub and yanked Y/N with her.

"Wha--"

"We aren't going to sit in here and mope about like those women in that shitty TV drama my mother lives and breathes by!” Clara’s face assured Y/N that she wasn’t having any of this mopey bullshit. “We're young and deserving of a good weekend! Now wipe those tears away, put on some tacky makeup and dust off the most questionable outfit in my wardrobe. We're long overdue for a girl’s night."

Clara marched Y/N into her bedroom and pried the untidy closet doors apart, clothes falling out in the process.

"Where are you going?" Y/N asked when Clara turned to leave.

"To hotwire my dad’s convertible!" She flashed her pearly whites mischievously.

"Can't you just look for the keys?"

“Don’t want to waste any time!”

***

Robin lifted her hands in hopeless prayer that Steve would see reason.

"Why won’t you just tell her why you're so afraid to leave?" She threw a pillow at Steve's head for the umpteenth time in a row.

Steve deflected the pillow easily, using it to lean his chin on instead.

"Yeah, because that would go just swimmingly," Steve rolled his eyes before rambling in a fake voice: "Oh, uh, hey Y/N I have to tell you something. The reason I don't want to leave is... well, believe it or not, Hawkins is smack-dab in the middle of some sort of hot spot for a creepy mind-flaying creature from a dark dimension known as the Upside Down and no matter how hard I try to move on from that act, every time I close my eyes I'm reminded of all the very real things that go bump in the night!"

Steve's hands shook subtly as he ran them through his hair, clearing away long stray hairs.

"Okay, but Steve, you do realise if most people knew what we knew they'd want to leave Hawkins because of the fact it was a hotspot for weird shit!" Robin tried to reason with him.

"And if everyone who knows about this shit leaves, what happens then? What happens if that thing returns and there's no one to stop it?"

Robin slammed her hands on the table, "You're one guy Steve. You're not Eleven or Hopper, you don't have superpowers or a badge and gun. What could you do all by yourself? Yeah, you managed to knock out one Russian, but that was once. What would you do if it was an army or... that creepy flesh monster? Throw a firework at it and hope for the best?"

"I've got my trusty bat!" Steve said defensively as he looked away from his best friend.

Robin groaned, "That bat isn't even yours, it's Nancy's!"

"Hey, don't shit talk the bat," Steve pointed at Robin.

"Whatever," she shook her head before plopping down next to him on the couch. "I just don't get why you'd risk letting this amazing girl slip away from you just for a hypothetical. You love her Steve! I know you do. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t have nearly crashed your car twice in one day when we went to pick her up from the bus station."

Steve rested his head on Robin's shoulder, eyes turning glassy, "It's just… what if something happens and he needs me and I'm not around to be there for him?"

Robin lowered her voice when she saw how conflicted Steve appeared, "You mean Dustin?"

"Yeah..."

A small smile crept onto her face, "You mean the kid who was able to build a super radio tower just so he could talk to his girlfriend from camp, that kid?”

“When you put it like that...”

”Trust me, if he needed you and you weren't around, you best be damn sure he'd find a way to get a hold of you."

Steve chuckled before he sat up, the phone's high pitched ringing disturbing their moment.

"I'll get it," Robin offered.

Steve tucked himself into the couch with a blanket as he stared blankly at the muted TV screen.

"Hello," Robin's voice barely a whisper from across the room. "Yeah? Oh- uh… I'll see how Steve feels about it first, he's kinda down. Yeah, sure. I'll call you back in a sec."

Robin set the phone down and stood in front of the TV screen to get Steve's full attention.

“Hey, can’t you see I’m pretending to watch that?”

"So… Clara called. Said she's got something planned and asked if I could make it. Just say the word and I’ll call her back and cancel."

Steve took a moment before he pulled the blanket closer to his chin, "Nah, go. I'll be fine. I think some time alone with my thoughts is just what I need."

Robin bent down to look him in the eye, "You sure?"

"Yeah, no point in both of us being miserable. Go, salvage what's left of the day."

“Fine,” Robin gave in. “But I’m going to call you a babysitter.”

“A babsitter?” Steve sounded confused.

“Right after I call Clara back.”

Robin ruffled his hair affectionately before making her way to the phone to dial Clara's number.

"Just make sure to write down the address of where you're going in case you guys need me for anything!" Steve shouted as he unmuted the TV.

***

Clara honked the horn of her dad's convertible, the top rolled down, night lights beaming brightly against the pitch-black road with no working street lights.

Her best friend was laying across the seats in the back, forearm draped over her eyes as she let out less than eager noises.

Robin rushed from Steve's house still in the clothes she borrowed from Clara earlier.

Robin motioned to open the passenger door but child lock was still on, Clara reached across her seat and opened the door from the passenger side.

"All set?" Clara asked with a large smile on her face.

"I think so," Robin shrugged.

Clara reached into the glove compartment, her hand grazing Robin's knee making them both exchange heated looks. After an awkward laugh, Clara grabbed a handful of cassette tapes and placed them on Robin's thighs.

"You're designated DJ! Y/N is in no state to operate the radio unless you want to listen to sad romance ballads by Heart!" Clara joked.

"Ugh, love is deeeaaaaad!" Y/N said bitterly.

Robin's eyes went wide, her lips pressed closed to keep a laugh from escaping. "What do we want to listen to?"

"Dealers choice," Clara winked before shifting gears and driving away from Hawkins for the night.

Robin read all the song titles written in different colour pen or marker and finally made a decision. She popped open the plastic case, took out the tape and jammed it into the radio. After rewinding the tape she pressed play on the clunky button and Bad Reputation by Joan Jett blared out of the cars static fizzling speakers.

***

The queue to get into the club was long. Clara, Robin and Y/N had been standing out in the cold in less than warm apparel for about twenty minutes.

"Ugh, Clara it's been forever! Let's just go back home so I can drown in a tub of chocolate chip ice-cream and watch re-runs of Baywatch!" Y/N groaned childishly, tugging on Clara's leather jacket.

Clara sighed, "Not a chance. Those two things are ingredients for disaster. Gimmie a sec."

Clara excused herself from Robin and Y/N and made her way to the bouncer at the door. After a few minutes of conversing and pointing to the back of the line, Clara wore the bouncer down -they seemed quite chummy with one another- before she flagged Robin and a moody looking Y/N over.

Robin ducked her head to try and block out the glaring looks from the people still stuck in the line while Y/N apologised to each person her eyes landed on.

Once through the heavy steel doors and down a corridor that was so tight it felt like the walls would cave around them, Clara opened her arms with a smug smile on her face and a slight nod to the beat of the loud music coming from the live band.

"Alas, ladies… Welcome to my mecca!" Clara said excitedly as she turned to look at the bewildered Robin and droopy faced Y/N. "Now, let’s get us some drinks!"

"Uhhh, finally, a good idea!" Y/N cheered as she led the charge to the cramped bar.

Clara bit back a laugh as she leaned in to whisper in Robin's ear, "Something tells me I’ll have my work cut out for me babysitting Mrs Perfect Hair!"

Robin chuckled, "Sometimes I think we are practically their guardian angels!"

Clara cocked her head to the side, a sneaky grin toying with her facial muscles, "Did you just call me an angel?"

Robin blushed, "Wha- No, no… I- I didn't mean it in that way."

Clara laughed as they tried not to get separated in the large crowd, "No, I think that's exactly what you meant."

Clara winked just as she heard her best friend shout without any reservation, "Give me whatever has the highest alcohol to sugar ratio! In fact, make that two!"

"That's my cue to make sure she doesn't give herself alcohol poisoning," Clara yelped with wide eyes as she raced passed the still blushing Robin.

***

Tags:@theconscientiouswriter @chims-kookies @electroma89 @thechickvic @mochminnie @timeladygallifrey

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eerythingisshaka · 5 years

Text

Wakanda Got Y’all Pt. 8

[Black Panther x Insecure Mashup]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Word Count: 4.6K

Issa can’t keep her composure if it was handed to her. “Lawrence, I didn’t know you were doing waiter work...food service...I mean I didn’t know you worked here!” Issa stammers, like occupation political correctness is most important right now.

Lawrence adjusts his black bowtie before, tapping his pen in his notepad. “Yeah, it’s kind of a side gig I got going right now until I get Woot Woot off the ground.”

“You’re still trying to make that happen? That’s what made you lose your job in the first place.”

Lawrence scoffs. “”No, the company not believing in something good before everyone else was doing it got me LAID OFF, not fired. But yeah, thanks for reminding me in front of your...date?”

T’Challa noisily slurps his water, bringing the glass down a little too hard on the table to bring Issa’s attention back to him.

Issa shakes her head in embarrassment. “Right, this is T’Challa. I’m working with him at We Got Y’all in an international collab kind of thing.”

Lawrence checks him out suspiciously. “Yeah I think I heard about it online on some gossip site. You’re from Africa, right?”

“Wakanda, yes. Small country that I’m the King of. It’s actually on BBC, CNN, many cable news networks almost everyday since I’ve been here.” T’Challa says matter of factly.

“And T’Challa, this is Lawrence, my...ex.” Issa adds hesitantly.

T’Challa offers a hand. “I’m sorry for your loss, Lawrence.”

Lawrence peers at T’Challa with a slight attitude. “Will I go to jail for doing something else with my hand besides shaking yours?”

“Well I doubt you could lose your job again, so....” Issa snipes.

T’Challa laughs genuinely. “It’s ok Lawrence, I understand. I come to you in good faith.”

“So is this a business meeting or…” Lawrence says, getting nosy.

*Issa’s inner conscience* ‘Nah nigga this is nunya meeting; as in NUNYA BUSINESS! Like how the bank teller bitch you fucked on my futon wasn’t my business. Or maybe like how your unemployed ass left a permanent dent in the couch next to Frank Ocean was none of my business! When you said you were focused on getting bread who knew it came with butter, bitch?! But what is my business is how I got a new nigga who’s rejuvenating my pussy one stroke at a time. Best be leave the royal penis STAYS clean, ya brokeness! I oughta Remember the Time your ass to a pile of dust, which ya dusty ass, Radio Shack ass, ‘may I refill your glass, sir?’ head ass-’

“Well right now we’re just trying to order food, so,” Issa looks intently at her menu. “If you wanna grab someone else to help us, that’s fine.”

“No, this is good. Got a King who’s paying the bill, might as well earn the tip.” Lawrence smile at Issa while nodding towards T’Challa.

“Well, did you jot down what I told you before?” T’Challa asks reviewing the menu once more.

“Yup, the shrimp dinner and the chicken marsala.”

“Good. Have you had experience as a waiter before?” T’Challa hands him the menu.

“Long time ago, but I’m really more into technology.” Lawrence says.

“Oh, so is that what Wot Woot was from? What is it exactly?’ T’Challa asks.

“We don’t have to get into it tonight, especially since I’m hungry and the order isn’t in yet.” Issa reminds them through her teeth.

Lawrence waves her off. “Don’t worry, this’ll be quick. So Woot Woot is an app that’s a social media app that keeps track of your friends locations. So when you’re near one, it goes-”

“Woot Woot?” T’Challa says.

Lawrence snaps excitedly. “That’s it man, or your highness! Sounds cool, right?”

T’Challa rocks back and forth. “It’s a bit out of date, is it not? So many things have location trackers, and to have an app solely based on that, is like having holo-air boards with an incandescent headlight and a bell.”

“A what now?” Issa asks.

Lawrence purses his mouth. “Yeah, it was in development for a couple years and corporate politics kept shelving it so…”

“I do have some family that are into tech. I would help myself but I’ve been busy…” T’Challa takes Issa’s hand for emphasis on the subject in his sentence! “But here’s a card with their info. Give them your pitch and maybe they can help tweak it for you.”

Lawrence takes it, thinking it over. “I...think I’m good, but thanks anyway. I’ll get your bread and drinks.”

As Lawrence walked away Issa spoke under at a whisper. “I’m sorry about that.”

T’Challa smiles sweetly. “It’s ok. I’m not surprised you have broken some hearts along the way. I just hope it doesn’t affect our dining experience.”

Issa sighs. “You don’t know the half. I wasn’t very...good to him. He didn’t try, but neither was I….I don’t wanna get into it.”

“You don’t have to, that’s not what tonight should be about. Whatever the case was, I have only known you as woman who does things with intention. You have a heart for the community that has made me even more excited for the start of the center here than I could’ve been before. And then I just so happen to work with someone who resembles the the core of a vibranium mineral being struck with pick axe.”

“What does that look like?”

“It’s beautiful, creates sparks that twinkle like a falling star….but explosive and volatile.” T’Challa pauses a moment. “Maybe that wasn’t as poetic as I thought it would be.”

Issa laughs. “No, it’s nice. Thank you.”

T’Challa kisses her hand as Issa looks back towards the kitchen area where Lawrence and a couple other waiters juggle orders.

“I’ll be right back.” Issa excuses herself making her way to Lawrence, who barely notices her standing by.

“Hey. How are you?” Issa asks awkwardly.

Lawrence looks at her with an unreadable expression. “We got the introductions out at the table, we good.”

Issa’s chin collapses in her neck. “I know you’re not mad, are you? You moved on, I did too.”

“So if you know we’re good, why are you over here now?: Lawrence chastises.

“Why are you being like this? “

“You come up in here with your new boyfriend, the King of Africa and shit and I’m supposed to just sit back and serve y’all? You know what that feels like?”

“I thought you were good! It’s not like that though.”

“It’s automatically like that. I felt low before but now you puttin me under your foot with this new nigga Issa, I’m not tryna be a witness to that.”

Issa scoffs. “Then don’t! Get your tip and we can part!”

“You think Imma lower myself to taking his tip? First he throws his resources in my face, downing Woot Woot, now I’m supposed to hand him a bill with a smile for 20%, you buggin!”

“Lawrence, this is the reason you aren’t getting nowhere. You think you can do all of this by yourself, but you can’t! You need help but you won’t ask for it! It doesn’t matter if it’s a stranger or who I’m dating, you can’t take criticism.”

“That’s why you went behind my back with ole boy instead of talking to me right?”

“I DID TALK TO YOU! I tried sooo many times, and yeah, I shoulda talked to you then to but we were so past that at that point-”

“And I’m past this Issa. I’m good.” Lawrence says.

T’Challa comes up behind Issa. “Are you ok? It sounded loud over here.”

“Yeah that’s the cooks man, they get noisy with orders and shit. Don’t worry bout it, yours coming out soon.”

“T’Challa, I think I’m ready to go, actually.” Issa says walking away.

Oh ok. Don’t worry bout it. Have a good night!” Lawrence yells after her. T’Challa and Lawrence stare at each other for a beat before Lawrence shrugs and goes back to his tickets for the night.

----

Molly checked her playlist on her phone to pick the perfect category curated for a twockin good time. Pressing play, Molly oohs at the beat dropping on Janet Jackson’s ‘Go Deep’ on her 90s queue. She twirls in her living space as the aroma of buffalo wings snakes around her nostrils tempting her to take another taste test just to make SURE sure that the meat was cooked to perfection. Before she could go for it, her phone rang: picking it up she sees Erik’s name light up. Luckily for her, fucking him on the first date didn’t wind up in a ghosting situation. They’ve been quietly inseparable for a minute now.

“Whatchu doin callin me boy? You know this Girls Night!” Molly asks in an accusatory manner, jokingly on her FaceTime

Erik laughs slow, looking like he just took a break from a smoke session. “I’m just tryna have a night with MY girl, you hear me?”

Molly smiles leaning on her counter. “Whatever man, you better not be interrupting shit. They should be here any minute.”

“That’s cool. I’m just tryna figure out the next time you wantin to hit the mile high club? I can get my hands on a jet that’ll take care of the work so you ain’t gotta wait for me to land and jump my bones like you crazy.”

“That was a one time thing, I do not trust you on any aircraft. Damn near killed me with your tricks!” Molly scolds him while turning off her oven.

“Shiiiit, you got your revenge on me there, in the car…”

Molly leans on the counter. “And it coulda been at your spot too if you wasn’t actin all tired.”

A knock on the door interrupted the list of their future indiscretions.

“I gotta go! I’ll talk to you later old man.”

“Pssh, aight. Big talk, Mol.”

Molly bounces over to the door, pausing before swinging the door open with a squeal.

“Ahh!! Oh! You’re early!” Molly says, excitement slightly diminishing as Tiffany puts a stank face on in her direction.

“Uhh, fix your energy. I lugged four bottles of Moet and some Fiji for me, up your long ass flight of steps, me and my baby will fight you for the blatant disrespect.”

Molly takes the bags out her hands. “I didn’t mean it like that, thanks Tiffany. Have a seat, you’re the first one here.”

Tiffany whips her blonde hair back with a quickness. “First? These heffas pulling a fashionably late move on us?”

Molly shrugs. “You already know what time it is.”

Tiffany goes to the kitchen to pick up a wing. “I do, and it’s past my bedtime! These wings are going to bring me closer to that!” Tiffany smacks loudly on a her morsel of chicken, enjoying the salty, spicy sauce off her fingers.

“There’s napkins in there too ma’am.” Molly calls from the couch, flipping through channels.

“Speaking of things that need to be wiped down, how’s you and Erik doing?” Tiffany asks, waddling over to join her.

Molly laughs a little too loudly. “Whatchu mean? We’re having fun, and it’s….really been fun too.”

Tiffany cocks her head to the side. “I can tell, you’ve loosened up a little bit more since meeting him, putting spring in your step.”

“And he keeps me hopping!” Molly chuckles. “I don’t know what it is, but he brought out a side of me I barely remember having anymore. With work and all these lame niggas, I forget what a real cool one is even like.”

Tiffany licks her fingers. “Well, ‘cool’ doesn’t last a lifetime, like the weather. And he sounds like a seasonal nigga to me.”

Molly rolls her eyes, pouring some wine for herself. “Good thing your opinion doesn’t run my life.”

A knock at the door brings a wave of relief over the both of them as Molly trots to open the door.

Molly brings out a big smile for it to drop just as quickly. “Oh, hey, are you….Issa’s co-worker?”

Nakia smiles politely. “I am, Nakia. Nice to meet you.”

Nakia holds out her hand for Molly to take while she gains her bearings.

“Yeah, of course! Nice to meet you! Wow, you’re gorgeous. Come on in! Not everyone is here just yet.” Molly closes the door behind Nakia. Tiffany waves from the couch.

“How are you! I’m Tiffany Dubois, one of Issa’s friends.”

Nakia offers waves back. “Yes, nice to meet you as well. This is a lovely place you have.”

Tiffany scoffs, twirling her honey blonde hair. “Oh no, this isn’t up to my code of residential requirements. This is Molly’s bachelorette pad.”

“Tiffany, you recommended me this place!” Molly exclaims.

“I brought some sweets I hope you all will like.” Nakia offers a container that was too fancy to be plain tupperware..

Tiffany perks up. “Ooh, where are they from?”

“I made them actually. I had some spare ingredients and a craving so I figured this was the perfect time to whip something up.”

Molly thanks her. “You can put it on the counter in the kitchen. Grab a glass of something to drink while you’re at it.”

“No! Grab a whole bottle! We have plenty!” Tiffany insists.

Nakia does so, setting her tray opposite the hot wings. “So, how long have you and Issa been friends?”

Molly starts. “For a loooong time. Almost half our lives now.”

“I came around later, but I like to think I really elevated the class in us all.” Tiffany adds.

“Bitch, what?” Molly looks over at Tiffany, who doubles down.

“You all were eating 2 for $20 appetizers and $5 hurricane slushies and the Trops Bar for fun. But with me, we have tasteful dinner, sipping wine in art galleries, all kinds of high class activities.”

“You do remember partying at the Dunes with them gang bangers almost setting her place on fire and you got so high off their supply, you and your husband conceived that night, right? Also, I’m a lawyer in this expensive ass loft, don’t tell me I ain’t high class, that’s Kelli and Issa’s trapping asses.”

Just then some raps start banging on the door to the beat of Grinding by Clipse, extra loud making Nakia jump slightly.

Molly gets up. “Speak of the devils.” As she goes to open the door, Kelli is bent over twerking her ass in the air Issa keeps the beat on her door, smiling with her whole teeth.

“Get the hell off my door with this shit y’all, DAMN!” Molly scolds. Issa ends her concert, smacking Kelli’s ass to cut her ass performance short.

Kelli straightens up, walking on through the door. “Ain’t my fault, I stand for my national anthem and that means face down, ass up!”

Issa walks in behind her scanning the room. “Hey Tiffany and oh Nakia, I didn’t know you’d be so on time, I would’ve came earlier.”

“No you wouldn’t’ve. Cuz I asked you to help me cook these damn wings but all I heard was drool and snoring on your side of things.” Molly says, heading to the kitchen.

“You know I take nap before girl’s night cuz alcohol makes me crash fast…” Issa mutters. “Anyway I brought the hot Cheetos and ranch to snack on!”

“How many bags?” Molly asks.

Issa looks around her feet, behind her back, checking her pockets. “One, duh!”

“Is! How the fuck are we supposed to snack on one bag of Cheetos between five bitches?” Molly exclaims.

“Tiffany don’t eat them! Kelli been getting heartburn bad lately, so she don’t fuck with the spice, Nakia? You had these before?”

Nakia studies the bag. “ I haven’t, no.”

“It’s nothing but cayenne and cancer, it would be tragic to ruin that good immune system of yours with this American fuckery.” Molly quips.

“Why are you fighting over it then?” Nakia asks.

“Because they are delicious! I grew up with these, and I’m not dead yet so I’m good!”

Kelli pops her tongue from the Moet bottle tickling her tastebuds. “And bitch, don’t think I can’t still go in on some hot Cheetos. I just gotta pop a calcium tablet, don’t get it twisted.” She turns to Nakia. “So, are you the princess we have heard so much about?”

Nakia smiles humbly. “No, not at all. That would require a marriage to the King, which is not happening.”

Molly walks in with the wings on the coffee table, Issa has plates and napkins.

“And T’Challa is...a king right?” Tiffany asks slowly.

Nakia sips her drink and nods. “Yes, and that ship sailed a long time ago.”

Issa almost choked on a flat hanging out of her mouth. “It got that serious between you two?”

Nakia shrugs, shifting in her seat. “We’ve known each other all of our lives, so when things changed to a romantic relationship, it was always taken seriously. But I have my own life that I want to live that does not fit in the traditional queen setting.”

Kelli stutters. “Oh shit, you….you can do that? Just telling the King no?”

Nakia laughs. “It’s not a dictatorship! I can tell him no when I want to, I can come and go from the country as I please, plus he knows better than to try me on most things anyway.”

“Oh so you got a hold on him good?” Molly asks, her eyes whipping back to Issa for a cosign.

Nakia finishes her drink. “It’s not just me particularly. The women in our country are held in an equal and in most cases higher regard than the man. It hurts me to see these women in other lands I’ve visited being treated unfairly and violently because they are seen as second class. It was an eye opening experience. That’s why I know T’Challa enjoys Issa’s company so much. She is a strong personality, not a people please, and intelligent. Of course very beautiful.”

Molly pushes Issa a little with her shoulder as she tries to hold back a smile. “Oh stop. I don’t even do a lot. Plus my makeup routine been so nonexistent, I need to get back on it.”

“Ok bitch, this ain’t your birthday, so I won’t sit for all this overcomplimentary foolishness.” Tiffany says pouring a small glass of the Moet for herself.

“But at least that means this wine is kicking in, y’all feeling all extra happy and loving. Don’t go kissing each other now.” Kelli snorts as she polishes off a wing.

Issa rolls her eyes. “But Nakia, really thank you for that. I was feeling really insecure about T’Challa and you, that I thought I don’t stand a chance.”

Nakia reaches across to tap Issa on the knee. “You don’t have a chance. You have an open and unadulterated opportunity to get to know a great man. I would never stand in his way, nor would I stand in yours.”

Issa smiles at her genuinely, squeezing her hand and sharing a moment with Nakia. She couldn’t believe how supportive Nakia was being but maybe it helped that T’Challa and her are friends first. And T’Challa showed no inkling of being back and forth between them so maybe she was just being extra paranoid. He even took running into an ex of hers as better than she would. All this made the possibilities with T’Challa that much more difficult for her to imagine.

“Now that we all waited to exhale, let me get some dirt on m’boyfriend M’Baku! My mm-mm good to the last drop! He got any spare hoes running around the States?”

Nakia pauses to think. “No, but I know he’s had a harem of choices back home.”

Kelli gasps, looking horrified.

Tiffany touches her back. “Kelli? You ok?”

Molly joins in. “Yeah? Were you getting serious with him?”

Kelli swallows hard. “So...he’s got a gang of women over in Wakansas?”

“Wakanda, yes.” Nakia says curtly. “But he’s not a bad man either, it’s just his custom.”

“So...I got somebody that is able to maintain that level of sexual prowess. To keep multiple women and new ones on a regular happy with that shaft?” Kelli shouts, clapping her hands as the other women look around in confusion. “Bitch, bring them brownies in. We are celebrating today!”

The ladies share a laugh as Nakia goes to bring her container of delicious looking brownies.

“I hope you like them. They are custom for parties, especially meeting new people.”

She cuts some pieces, and serves them around the group as everyone specifies their preferred pieces: corner, center, edge. They are an instant hit as the girls whoop over the moist and rich density of the baked good. Their laughs bounce off of the walls as they open up to each other more and more about themselves. If anyone were to witness them, they would appear like long life friends with Nakia. After their dessert, the wings went even quicker.

“Damn, you know I wanted to fuck y’all up for bringing nothing but a bag of hot Cheetos to this dinner party with ya cheap asses, but this shit is hitting!” Molly says in a relaxed manner, leaning over her plate to take a healthy bite of her wing, chasing it down with a chip.

Kelli is leaned back with Tiffany drifting off on her shoulder. “That’s cuz...the hot Cheetos are the appetizer to every meal. Think about it. Cheetos. It starts with ‘cheat’. That means, it’s the cheat code to every meal. It unlocks the flavor….of whatever you bout to eat!”

Issa slowly turns from her lean on the arm of the couch. “Kelli that has to be the smartest shit I ever heard you say.”

Kelli nods emphatically in agreeance.

“So, Nakia….first of all, you the MVP for this dessert.” Molly starts. “But you gave the scoop on Issa and Kelli’s flames, what about mine? Wassup with Erik?”

Nakia sits back in thought, clearly the most lucid of the group. “Well, we have not known him as long. He’s long lost family of T’Challa’s, first cousin.”

Issa smacks Molly’s leg a little too hard making her wince. “Damn girl, the fuck was that for!”

“Shit, my bad. But we would like double date or something. Girl, our children would practically be siblings. That shit mad cute!”

“No they would not, but I appreciate the sentiment.” Molly says. “So not much to say other than that?”

Nakia picks up her wine glass. “I didn’t say that. There’s plenty to get into, just a shorter span of time he became acquainted.”

“Tell us!” Kellie bellows to the ceiling out of the blue.

“Him and T’Challa didn’t get along too great when they first met.”

“Oooh, cousins fighting! That’s some Black shit.” Issa says.

“And of course Erik wanted to kill T’Challa, so when he didn’t succeed, T’Challa almost killed Erik but gave him another chance and started trying to rehabilitate him since then. I think it’s going well since Molly seems taken by him.”

Molly stops to stare at Nakia. Issa squints, raising her hand like a child in class. “When you says Erik tried to kill T’Challa, you mean like kill you like fuck you up real bad or kill you like first degree, capital felony offense type shit?”

Nakia purses her mouth. “The latter.”

Molly begins to breathe in and out deeply and frequently.

Kelli’s head pops up, stirring Tiffany awake. “Molly fuckin a murder? Oh shit!”

“He didn’t murder him! He didn’t do it, T’Challa’s alive!”

“Nah bitch, he didn’t SUCCEED. Which means he meant to fully end Issa’s dudes life. Girl, did he choke you when y’all fucked, cuz that could be him testing the waters-”

“Molly, I’m sorry if this upsets you. I thought that this may have been brought up by now.”

“Well, we’ve only been on like a date and a half so it’s still fresh.” Molly says. “But they are good now? Even after all that?”

Nakia nods. “Yes. T’Challa has a kind heart, and respect for the son of his father’s brother, especially with all he has been through. Erik is Wakandan but never group up knowing this side of his family, so he understood Erik’s anger.”

Molly relaxes a little. “I guess, that’s a happy ending. I still gotta talk to him about this, no way I can let this go without his side of it.”

Issa nods. “That’s right, you doin great sweetie. Hear him out.”

Tiffany stretches and yawns. “I told you girl. Seasonal ass nigga.”

Nakia reasons with Molly.. “It would be noble of you to talk to him about it. I’m so surprised you didn’t know. What did he tell you the scars were for?’

“What scars?” Molly asks.

“The scars covering his torso. They represent….maybe I should let him explain it.” Nakia’s voice trails off.

“Are they scars from his fight with T’Challa?” Molly asks.

“Girl, how you not know he got scars on him? Y’all fucked right?” Kelli asks.

“Yeah, but it was quick and we didn’t even get our clothes off for real...Nakia, where are they from?”

Nakia looks down. “I should go. I can’t tell you without giving away his past. He should be the one to tell you.”

Nakia gathers the leftovers of her dessert and issues goodbye with the group. Tiffany and Kelli follow next.

“Hey girl. If you need pointers on a prison pen pal relationship. I won’t say I know about how to sneak shit in for him but…” Kelli makes motions with her head and winks so boldy she might as well have said what she meant.

Molly’s eyes widen impatiently. “I hear you. I won’t need your services tonight so thank you, buh bye!” Molly leads them out the door, leaving her with Issa.

“Hey, how are you?” Issa asks.

Molly puffs out her cheeks. “I don’t know girl. I haven’t dealt with this before!”

Issa nods. “Well I know you have your standards on guys so if he doesn’t fit, just make it a quick cut while you can.”

Molly makes a face. “What do you mean I have standards with guys? Like I’m nitpicking or judgy?

“No! But I mean, if you can’t make it work with a guy that made less money than you or experimented with a guy once years ago, but give your key to a married man, I think you should put your standards under review at least in this case.”

Molly walks away from Issa. She could never take blunt criticism outside of the law firm well, and from her best friend is even worse.

“So I guess I’m that big of a mess huh? Now I let a murder fuck and what, I’m gonna be his next notch in his belt?” Molly hisses with contempt.

Issa sighs exasperatedly. “He hasn’t hurt you now! Just meet him in a well lit, well populated area and ask him upfront what’s good.”

“You sure have all the answers. What about you? T’Challa is a part of this conversation too.”

Issa scratches her neck. “I mean, I wasn’t going too…”

“Huh?”

“I said….I wasn’t going to BUT, maybe I will.”

Molly nods. I think you should. If y’all go the distance, he could run into shit like this on a regular. Assassination attempts, missions that call for him to fight. You really tryna be the right hand of a man in all of that?”

Issa hadn’t thought of that. He is a King after all, and political figures are constantly in need of protection and close watch, but he is so active that’s hard for anyone to keep up with. And America really doesn’t give a shit, so if he died could she handle? Would she be tapped to lead? Would he ask her to live in Wakanda with him?

“Thank Molly, now I’m paranoid. How can I see him with all that on my brain?”

Molly scoffs. “Join the club girl.”

Masterlist

RagTag

@hbicprettyprincess @theunsweetenedtruth

@kimianostalgia @airis-paris14

@afraiddreamingandloving

@chaneajoyyy

@myfavemarvelfanfics

@nys30

@blkintrovert

@allhailnjadaka @cutewylie @bidibidibombaclaat@muse-of-mbaku @wakanda-inspired @klaine15689

#insecure fanfic #black panther fanfic #black panther x insecure #mashup fic #shakafic

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violetsmoak · 5 years

Text

maybe this is how it starts [2/?]

Cover & Disclaimer

Author’s Note: Sorry it took so long since the last update. I ended up deciding not to pants this thing and just do whatever with the chapters, but I went and found an honest-to-goodness plot. Go me! So, to further said plot, have some Jason and Roy Bromance. Because as far as I’m concerned, the best jaytim fics I’ve read always have Roy and Jason doing their girl-talk thing.

The Red Hood’s base of operations is in a bomb shelter beneath the One Police Plaza in Gotham. It’s chilly inside, which doesn’t bother Jason under normal circumstances, but then everything is pissing him off today.

There are a lot of things Jason has learned to endure over the years—torture, death, total mental and physical exhaustion, unending moral dilemmas…

All of them are just more of what life has to throw at him and what he responds to with a smirk and the middle finger. Physical limitations are something for lesser men—men who were never trained by Batman or the League of Assassins.

And yet…

If there’s anything that might drive him almost to the point of Lazarus-Pit-crazy, it’s itching.

“It’s decided. I’m going to kill Ivy,” he growls, slopping another handful of aloe vera over the expanse of his arm, leaning back so as not to drip the green gel onto his keyboard.

Whatever was in the venom from the vampire-plant hybrids, the rash has lingered for the whole week without a sign of improving. He has a peevish hope that Tim is having a worse time of it, since it’s his fault Jason is even in this situation to begin with.

Can’t even fucking go on patrol without wanting to tear my skin off every goddamn minute.

He’s been trying to fill the time doing the whole research schtick for a few of his ongoing cases but has barely even been able to focus on that. It’s irritating and leaves him alone with his thoughts much more than he’s comfortable with.

It’s been three months of pushing down any acknowledgement of what happened. That for the first time in his life, Dick Grayson is dead. Not somewhere being Nightwing or filling in as Batman, but dead. His predecessor-mentor-not-brother-but-yeah-sorta-brother got himself unmasked and killed.

Jason is not entirely sure how to deal with the new reality, and it’s possible he’s been more adrift than he would ever admit. But the cure to that is denial and distraction, which is why when the giant screen in front of him fills up with a picture of Roy making finger guns, he accepts the vid call.

“I swear to God, Roy, if you’re calling to tell me you’ve been evicted again and need money,” he trails off, feigning annoyance despite being glad for the interruption.

“Hello to you too, sweetheart,” his best friend replies dryly, fiddling with something metallic and sprouting wires. He squints at Jason. “Dude, what’s with your arm? That rash is fugly.”

“Compliments of a soon-to-be-dead Poison Ivy and an idiot in a cape.”

“Heh. Which idiot?”

“The one who’s supposed to be the smart one.”

Roy raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask for clarification, either because he knows who Jason is talking about or because he knows he won’t get an answer. “That’s more polite than you’d usually put it. You feelin’ okay?”

“No, I’m not feeling okay, I’ve spent the last week scratching my nuts off!”

“Man, come on! TMI!”

“You know what I mean.” Jason rubs his back against his chair, seeking relief from a spot he can’t reach to scratch. “Fuck Ivy…”

“I thought you liked Ivy.”

“Respect. I respect Ivy. I don’t like her.”

“How did you even end up running into her? I mean, greenspaces aren’t exactly your thing.”

“I told you already, I was saving the moron in the cape. Who’s damn lucky I did, because I wasn’t even going to take that route last night.”

All because he’d (not that he’d admit it) been thinking about Dick. Which he had been for months now, a fact which he’s pretty sure influenced him to help Bruce and the rest of them go on that suicide mission to get back Damian Wayne’s body. He’s still a little in shock that the whole thing ended in the kid’s resurrection and not a second explosive and painful death. But then, he’s living proof that it’s possible, so maybe he shouldn’t be.

Roy must sense the direction of his thoughts, because he changes the subject. “So, have you given anymore thought to that idea I had?”

Jason gives himself a mental shake.

“No. Because going after Kori reeks of desperation, and you’re better than that.”

“Am I? Am I really?” Jason exchanges looks with Roy, who then sighs. “Fine. So how long are you hanging around Gotham? Because, by my count, this is the longest consecutive amount of time you’ve spent there since before you died. Family hasn’t grounded you, have they?”

Jason scowls. “They’re not my family.”

“Right, okay, sure. That’s why whenever there’s a fart jammed out that way, you go running—shit!” One of the devices he’s working on emits a minor explosion.

“I go back because it’s my city and I have stuff to take care of.”

Rapists and human traffickers won’t break their own kneecaps.

“And because the Bats are your family.”

“I’m going to shoot you.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“That was an accident, and you know it. This time it would be on purpose,” Jason grunts, using the heel of his hand against his arm. He winces when the action brings on equal parts of relief and pain, since his skin’s already been clawed almost raw.

Roy snorts in disbelief.

Jason pauses for another moment, considering his best friend, and then decides what the hell, they aren’t the type to keep secrets from each other.

“Demon brat’s alive,” he says at last.

Roy startles, dropping his soldering iron. “Whoa. No shit?”

He was the one who showed up to drag Jason out of the bars he’d practically destroyed in the days directly following the kid’s death. He knows the exact depths to which Jason was or wasn’t affected.

“No shit. It was this whole…thing. Ninjas and boom tubes and a Chaos Shard.” He doesn’t mention the overly-sentimental team-up with the Bats, or the surreal “birthday” dinner afterward. Damian and Tim had been almost pleasant to each other, and Jason had caught Bruce watching him with such overwhelming gratitude in his eyes he’d had to duck out early.

It’s still weird to him when he sees anything other than judgement in the older man’s eyes.

Roy whistles. “Damn. He okay?”

“I didn’t really stick around for the group therapy session. I’d say so—the little shit got superpowers when he woke up. I figured I should make myself scarce before he took it into his head to throw me like a javelin.”

“Didn’t we do that once with Kori?”

“Kori’s end goal wouldn’t be for me to go splat.”

“Not unless you left the toilet seat up again.”

“That was you.”

“Can’t prove it.”

“Of the two of us, who was practically raised by a British butler that wields guilt and disapproval like the Lasso of Truth? You think I will ever in my life dare to leave a toilet seat up?”

Roy sniggers and Jason smirks, and the tension hanging in the wake of their conversation fades somewhat. Humor is how they have always dealt with this kind of stuff.

“Still, that’s pretty heavy,” Roy says after a beat, reaching for a pair of wire strippers and electric tape. “I get why you’ve been hanging around there. I mean, what is this, three out of four now? Four out of five?”

“Huh?”

“Dead Robins. You should start a club.”

“Who says we haven’t?” Jason grumbles. “I’m the goddamn president.”

“I’m just saying, I see why you’re staying. Going by the balance of probability, the moron in the cape is probably next. It’s, like, his turn or something. So I get it—you want to keep an eye out.”

Jason narrows his eyes. “Drake’s not going to die if I have anything to say about it. No one gets to kill my replacement except me. When I feel like it.”

If I feel like it.

He and Tim have sort of come to an understanding of sorts in the past few years, if only in a professional sort of way. Exchanging information or giving the heads-up on a rogue showing up in each other’s territory. Occasionally sharing a bite to eat.

And saving each other’s lives, apparently.

The idea that a grisly death awaits Tim just because he had the misfortune of being a Robin bothers Jason more than he likes.

“When you feel like it?” Roy prompts. “You’re just trying to sound tough to cover up the other thing.”

“What other thing?”

“The thing where you feel like you have to step into big brother’s shoes now,” Roy informs him. “With Dick gone, that’s you, man.”

Jason physically jerks away from the screen, staring at Roy. “Fuck no. That’s not my deal.”

“If you say so.”

And just…no.

He jokes about it, sure. Calls them ‘bro’ or makes pointed remarks related to family or siblings, but it’s always tongue-in-cheek and more mocking than serious. It’s just to get a rise out of them, to remind them how he really doesn’t fit in with Bruce’s messed up idea of a ‘family’.

Besides, he’s pretty sure even if he wanted it, he’d be a shit older brother—he doesn’t have any of Dick’s likeability or sense of responsibility or general concern for everyone’s welfare. And Bruce’s kids all have their own level of fucked-up that, coupled with his own many and varied list of issues, could very well land them all in Arkham.

No way he’s going back there.

“Sorry, you’re breaking up,” Jason says flatly, and terminates the call before Roy can get too smug or think he’s actually on to something. He glares at the blank screen for a few minutes, and then queues up all the overseas cases he’s been flagging the past week.

Time to get the hell out of dodge. Before I get called to babysit or something…

Tim is not keeping tabs on anyone.

At least, no more than usual.

The myriad of windows open on his workplace computer screen, showing several different sources of surveillance footage, is simply his method for remaining prepared for whatever crisis is inevitably coming.

(There’s always a crisis coming.)

And he’s definitely not watching out for Jason, even if his eyes keep drifting toward the grainy image of the Red Hood followed by traffic cams in Montreal, where he’s infiltrated a human-trafficking operation.

Tim justifies it as pre-emptive damage control, in case he needs to send someone to save Jason from himself.

(Never mind that Tim never did this before three months ago, never mind that Jason’s mellowed out a lot in the past two years and has developed something almost in the realm of good judgement, never mind that—)

As if to make the point to himself, Tim focusses his attention on the other windows. Damian at Wayne Manor, singlehandedly lifting the roof onto what appears to be a new pet enclosure while Alfred watches, bemused. The kid still has superpowers, which is another mark against the existence of a higher power—what kind of benevolent force would give the brat heat vision?

Bruce isn’t in Gotham; last Tim heard, he’s gone to the Hall of Justice, probably to figure out how to drain off Damian’s powers. There are no camera there (and if there were, Bruce would probably have disabled them by now), but the tracer Tim slipped into the cowl the last time they met is still going strong.

Tim pretends he doesn’t know that Bruce knows he put it there; he hates feeling like he’s being humored.

Steph is in class, Cass is out of the country, Barbara is at a information management conference in Metropolis.

They’re all fine.

And he’s not keeping tabs.

He just has to be ready. In case he needs to shut down the power for a city block or remotely cut camera feed, if it looks like someone is about to die or be unmasked.

Not again. Never again. Not like Dick, won’t let it happen—

The speaker on his office phone trills. “Mr. Wayne? Your eight o’clock is here.”

Tim shakes off his disjointed thoughts and reaches for the intercom button. “Send him in.”

Warrick Powers has a face Tim would very much like to punch.

Maybe if he was in uniform, he would find an excuse, but at the moment, he is fully immersed in his Timothy Drake-Wayne persona. Any attack on the CEO of Powers Technology would not only bring a few dozen lawyers down on him and Wayne Enterprises, but it would also wreak havoc on Tim’s image as a feeble, recovering cripple.

Which would be a waste, since he’s been cultivating that image for over two years.

His crutches are long gone, but he still carries a cane with him everywhere for ‘bad days’. It’s not even really a lie, since there are mornings after he hasn’t slept in thirty-six hours where he needs something to fidget with. Some kind of prop to offer a believable reason for his pauses. It’s better if people think he’s reliving the shooting that supposedly injured him, rather than pay attention to the obvious sleep deprivation or concealed injuries.

“Tim! Great to see you again,” Powers declares in a false voice that would do even Brucie Wayne proud. “Glad you could fit me in this morning.”

“It just so happened I needed to speak to you about something,” Tim replies with an insubstantial smile.

“Excellent, excellent,” Powers says vaguely, by-passing the usual polite handshake and sprawling in one of the chairs across from Tim. He hasn’t said so out loud, but it clearly bothers him having to do business with a teenager. “I just wanted to come by and tell you that our little project is right on schedule. Ahead of it, in fact…”

Out of the corner of his eye he watches the footage of Jason outside a restaurant in Chinatown and he suppresses the urge to swear.

The idiot had better not be messing with the Ghost Dragons, because I cannot deal with that right now.

Though, the older man is in civvies, so it’s entirely possible he’s just grabbing lunch.

And…nope. Wishful thinking. Damn it, Jason.

If his suspicions about what’s about to happen onscreen are correct, Tim’s going to have to put an end to this meeting faster than he expected.

Powers is still rambling.

“…we could move up the launch by a month or two without sacrificing quality. Maybe even release it as a limited-edition prototype. For a higher price, of course, but people have been waiting on this model for five years now, they’d pay for it.”

The older man chuckles; it doesn’t reach his eyes, which remain cold and calculating as a snake’s. The overall effect makes Tim’s skin crawl, in a different way from the lingering phantom itch of Ivy’s toxin.

(Stupid mistake. Shouldn’t have been anywhere near Robinson Park without backup, even if it was recon. Another stupid mistake—)

“Thank you for the progress report, Mr. Powers,” Tim says, cutting his thoughts off before they can become too rambling, “but that was not the reason I agreed to see you today.”

“Oh?” Powers looks politely interested.

“I received a tip two weeks ago from a concerned individual that Powers Tech has been dumping toxic waste,” Tim tells him, careful to keep his inflection mild. The term ‘concerned individual’ is loose, but it was Ivy that mentioned it to him and told him to fix it or she would. He doesn’t remember if that was before or after she let her plants have their fun, though. “We take that kind of accusation very seriously. The entire reason Wayne Enterprises agreed to collaborate with your company was because you’ve boasted about your eco-friendly containment practices.”

Powers expression doesn’t betray anything; in fact, the way his eyebrows raise, and his mouth turns downward in confusion, anyone else might consider him legitimately affronted.

“And you believed it? Come on, Tim, I’m sure WE gets half a dozen similar accusations a week. It’s just the granola movement trying to shut down our operations. They’d be happy if we still did things the Amish way.”

“Maybe. But those accusations don’t usually come with evidence to back them up.” Tim slides several folders across the desk. “Only a percentage of your industrial waste is being disposed of responsibly, I imagine for publicity’s sake; the rest, you’re burying in the sublevels of your main facility.”

Powers lips thin ever so slightly. “Hearsay.”

“We do our due diligence in these matters. Some of your employees were willing to confirm the report—anonymous now, but willing to come forward in the event of a formal investigation,” Tim says. “There was also an undercover investigation commissioned by…outside parties.”

No need to admit he was the outside party.

“The results indicate that not only are your containment measures insufficient, but the run-off from that waste is close to entering the groundwater, which could jeopardize Gotham’s entire water supply. Possibly even on a global scale if it gets to the ocean and reacts with the salt water.” He holds his hands in front of him. “I’ve held back on having this released to the public as a curtesy to you to get your affairs in order today.”

“What?” Powers growls and there’s not even an attempt to keep his charming mask on.

“I’ve asked you here so that we can finalize the dissolution of Wayne Enterprises partnership with Powers Tech,” Tim continues. “It’s a fairly cut and dried situation, so there was no need to call in the board.”

“That isn’t going to happen—”

“In exchange for an uncontested dissolution of our agreement and a clear plan to fix the problem, I continue to keep this information from going public—along with several other discrepancies I’ve discovered in your company, many of which are such blatant health-code violations that if they’re made public, you’ll be declaring bankruptcy by nine o’clock tonight. Personally, that isn’t the path I’d choose; your recent indiscretions aside, Powers Tech has the potential to do great things—if it’s being run by someone with half a conscience.”

Which you clearly don’t possess.

“You’d do well to watch your tone, boy,” Powers growls. “Does your father know the career suicide you’re committing right now?”

“He trusts my judgement or I wouldn’t be sitting at this desk,” Tim shrugs, unconcerned, and slides two more folders across. “These are to dissolve our partnership. Feel free to have your lawyers look it over, but I am serious about the nine o’clock deadline. If you intend to keep your company operating for the foreseeable future, you will sign it and send it over before then. You’ll also make an announcement that you intend to step down from your position as CEO, since you are taking full blame for your company’s blatant disrespect for environmental laws.”

“I will do no such thing! That’s tantamount to an admission of guilt—and I have no intention of going to jail over these…these fabricated accusations.”

“The choice is yours, of course. And you are pretty well-off, so even though this is an open-shut case, I’m sure you’ll land in a white-collar institution that’s nicer than most of Gotham’s criminals enjoy. But make no mistake—either you come forward on your own, which will be helpful in negotiating a lesser sentence, or you wait for the evening edition of the Gotham Gazette, which I know won’t paint you in a very favorable light.”

“This is blackmail.”

“Actually, it’s extortion,” Tim corrects him, reaching for his half-filled coffee cup. As Powers eyes gleam at him, a small smirk forming, Tim continues, “Oh, and just so you know, anything we’ve said in this meeting is completely confidential. I took the liberty of installing a scrambler in this office, which knocks out all mechanical devices. Your phone and the recorder in your pocket won’t have caught any of our conversation. To ensure neither of us chooses to play any unfortunate quotes out of context, of course.”

“Of course,” Power grunts tightly.

“I would go with the first option,” Tim says, switching back to the previous conversation with ease. “This way your company’s stocks won’t fall too badly. And this way your son has a chance of being a better man and better CEO than you. I look forward to discussing the changes with Derek at the Green Energy Expo in Hong Kong next week.”

Powers looks as if he’s about to jump across the table and throttle Tim, who casually reaches for his intercom, “Mr. Powers will be leaving early, please ensure someone can escort him down to the lobby.”

“I can find my own way,” Powers snaps, shoving his chair back and grabbing the folders Tim gave him. “And this isn’t over, you jumped-up little brat. You’re going to regret this.”

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that before,” Tim replies, adopting the cold, distant smile of Janet Drake. “Have a nice day, Mr. Powers.”

As soon as the older man has stormed from the office, Tim lets out a breath he hadn’t even noticed he was holding. It only occurs to him when the tight feeling in his chest dissipates. He leans back heavily in his chair, feeling like he’s run a marathon, which makes no sense. It’s not the first time he’s had to strongarm a partner or competitor.

He notices he has been bouncing his knee up and down under the desk, and scowls. Good thing Powers didn’t notice that, or he might have taken it as a weakness.

He’s hungry, but the effort involved in procuring food is too much. The stupid cane is not worth it, and despite his stomach complaining, he has no appetite. Not worth it.

On screen, Jason flips a table through the restaurant window.

Damage control, Tim decides, relegating his hunger to the back of his mind and preparing to scrub any footage of Jason’s activities. It’s not keeping tabs.

So, yeah, Tim’s in denial and Jason doesn’t do warm and fuzzy family feelings. And Roy is way more observant than he would like heehee.

Sorry there was a lack of direct jaytim interaction this chapter, but I’d kind of like this fic to be more than boy-broods-about-other-boy-every-chapter. I find it makes for a more authentic slow-build relationship if they also have other stuff going on in their lives. But next chapter, we shall have dialogue once more!

TBC

NEXT CHAPTER ( in progress)

#jaytim #jason todd #red hood #jaytim fanfic #roy harper #jaytim fic #fanfiction #batman fanfiction #bromance #witty repartee #snark #humor #banter #jason and roy are twisted sisters #slow build

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