#mans would be in a trance for a hot minute if he found himself in this position | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ugh-yoongi · 1 year

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threw a punch in a bar | knj

(or, nothing good happens when a man you’d accidentally knocked out in a bar fight tells you to run.)

→ pairing: namjoon x f. reader → genre: zombie!au | crack, smut → rating: explicit. minors dni. → warnings: swearing, alcohol, a guy gets pushy in a bar, this results in a bar fight (mentioned broken bones, but nothing is described in explicit detail), vague american setting in order to drag the us healthcare system, side vmin, taehyung has klepto tendencies but he steals from wal-mart so it’s fine, really mid smut including: kissing, very slight dom!joon, grinding/thigh riding, implied oral (f. receiving), fingering, reader drops a bryce harper quote during sex, namjoon’s dick is big but we knew that, this is cancelled out by his horrible dirty talk, unprotected sex, vmin’s dumpling fight but make it settlers of catan. this is technically a zombie fic, but the circumstances are 99% in the background. there is nothing gory here, just sort of found family vibes centered around an apocalypse. also when i said the smut is mid i meant it. everyone has himbo tendencies except yoonjin. → wordcount: 11k → a/n: started this forever ago after doing one of those twt pause games on who i’d be stuck with in the zombie apocalypse. my result was vmin & namjoon, which birthed the idea of vmin spending the entire apocalypse subtly trying to convince you to sacrifice yourself for them. i was going to publish the draft of this on halloween but decided to finish it, went into a trance, and added 9k words, so please accept my late and humble offering. → thank yous: lauren, bee, and jess as always for all of their help: beta’ing, general feedback, constructive criticism, telling me when my shit doesn’t make sense. @effortandmore / @hot-soop / @the-boy-meets-evil

Any bartender worth their salt knows you don’t mix tequila and brandy.

Jimin, apparently, is only worth enough salt to rim a margarita glass.

All because he’s chaos incarnate: an absolute hellion of a person who causes problems just because. The type of person who calls a drink something innocuous like Tipsy Meow because it sounds sweet and he knows it’ll get people to order it. Sometimes he even serves them in glasses with cats painted on them, which is really cute and endearing and gets people to order that drink in the cute cat glass despite the fact that that drink in the cute cat glass is tequila and brandy.

In any other bar, that drink would be called something appropriate and applicable, like a Knockout.

Because that’s what it does—starts bar fights.

Which Jimin knows, because he’s actually a very competent bartender, but he likes to cause problems on purpose, especially on Tuesday nights when there’s not much else going on.

“Why did you do that?” Yoongi asks, watching some poor, unsuspecting woman practically skip back to her table with two Tipsy Meows in hand.

Jimin just smiles and shrugs. “Because,” he answers, eyes twinkling with something underhanded, “that tall guy at the high-top? He’s been eyeing her all night. She wouldn’t go for it on a good day, but after one of those?” A low whistle under his breath.

Yoongi just stares. He’s known Jimin a long time, going on six years now, so he’s never truly surprised at how duplicitous he can be, but sometimes he pretends for appearance’s sake. “Evil.”

“Not evil,” Jimin retorts, eyes rolled, “just bored.”

Snorting, Yoongi whips the towel off his shoulder and starts wiping down the bar. “Then do a fucking crossword puzzle.”

Jimin waves him away. “I’m not good at them. I’m good at this.”

“Getting people to fight in our bar?” Yoongi clarifies. Jimin nods. They stare at each other for a minute before Yoongi shrugs and finds some menial task to busy himself with. “Whatever. You’re on clean-up duty, though. The last time you pulled this shit, I was sweeping up glass for three fuckin’ days.”

Because he’s chaos incarnate, Jimin’s response is a sarcastic salute, two fingers pressed to his forehead as Yoongi flips him off in return.

Something is wrong.

You’ve been to this bar countless times, have always ordered the same thing. Always made sure to stick to your limits, because college had been both an exercise in adulting and maintaining a functioning liver.

Maybe it’s because the mint-haired guy didn’t make your drinks this time. Truthfully, you’ve been wary of him for a while, convinced he’s been watering them down just to get you to buy more. Not that you’re complaining. In all the years you’ve been coming here, you’ve never made a fool of yourself.

Now, though?

Now you’re very rapidly approaching find the nearest trashcan ASAP territory. I’m going to regret this in the morning territory. This hasn’t happened since that frat party sophomore year territory.

Yeah, that party. You’d drank something god-awful that night, too. Got roped into a game of strip poker in a seedy basement and walked away with $2,000, three nickels, and a half-used KFC gift card, only down a sock. Some douchebag frat bro hadn’t liked that very much, accused you of cheating and gave you a real hard time about it. Long story short, you’d been fueled by too many of the suspicious drinks and knocked him out.

This feels a lot like that.

Because you’re drunk, yes, but there’s something else lurking beneath the surface. Something that’s itching for a fight. Something that’s been dormant for a long time.

(This is a startling realization, because you’re not a violent person, despite all evidence to the contrary. You’ve only ever thrown one punch in your life. It’s really not your fault that it wound up being the punch heard ‘round the world.)

Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it. Your sixth grade history teacher had that quote hung on the wall and you haven’t thought about it until now. Because there’s a guy approaching your table—probably six-foot, wearing an expensive watch and polished shoes—and he’s been eyeing your friend all night. Had made a few crude comments to his buddies that you’d regretfully overheard, and you’re all out of sorts because the mint-haired bartender hadn’t made your drinks, so he’s nearly got his elbows on the table when you say—

“Fuck off, asshole.”

Both your friend and the guy look equally shocked. “Excuse me?” he says, looking back to the idiots at his table in disbelief.

You roll your eyes, blood beginning to boil. “I said fuck off. She’s not interested.”

“And she can’t speak for herself?” he retorts, all faux-chivalry now that everyone’s attention is on him, even though the bar is practically deserted at nine o’clock on a Tuesday. “Your friend’s a little uptight, huh?” he says, shifting his attention fully away from you.

God, you always do this—befriend the most wholesome people in the room. The ones who always assume the best in others; the ones who can’t say no; the ones who feel guilty speaking up. This friend is no different. Looks at you like a deer about to get rearranged by a car, all wide, panicked eyes and a tight-lipped smile, only polite out of obligation.

What happens next is shocking to everyone except Jimin and Yoongi. Safe behind the bar, the two of them watch as you tell the man to fuck off one more time. He refuses, his attention still laser-focused on your friend, reaching for her. Someone appears to his left—another stranger, this one taller and wider in all the right places and exuding far less scumbag energy—and places a large hand on his shoulder. Leans down to say something to him that you don’t catch. Whatever it is, you’re assuming it’s said in that brand of tense politeness men use with other men before they threaten to knock them out.

Regardless of what’s said, the original douchebag just snorts derisively, jutting his shoulder backwards to get the stranger’s hand off of him. This really bothers you, for all the obvious reasons. Why can’t this idiot take no for an answer? What’s his fucking deal?

Apparently you voice the latter out loud, and the bastard is laughing again, lips turned upwards in an ugly little sneer. Far too quickly, you go from bothered but mostly in control to seeing red and cocking back. All because the mint-haired bartender hadn’t mixed your drinks. Now you’re punching some pushy asshole in the jaw and are probably going to get arrested.

“Oh shit,” you hear, but it sounds like you’re underwater. It’s certainly not a voice you recognize, but you only know one person in this bar and you just punched someone to make sure she didn’t get harassed by some asshole who couldn’t take a fucking hint.

Pain erupts in your hand. There’s probably something broken, maybe multiple somethings, but you don’t have much time to dwell on it before someone’s grabbing you by the elbow and dragging you out of the bar.

A shame, you think; you’d really like to see how much of a pissbaby that guy turns into when he catches sight of his own blood.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself.”

You groan. Whatever room you’re in is far too bright and far too loud, which means you’re probably at home already being lectured by Hoseok. You crack an eye open, and—yep, that’s Hoseok, usual human embodiment of sunshine who is now staring at you like a grumpy little rain cloud. “What’re you talking about?” you grumble, fingers flying to your temples to ease some of the throbbing pain.

Hoseok must be pretty pissed, because he just watches you clutch at your aching head and doesn’t say a word. Usually you can guilt trip him into making you coffee and buttered toast. Grabbing you some pain killers, at the very least, but he’s not budging. You swallow hard.

“Do you remember anything from last night?”

“Not really,” you answer. You’ve been awake for approximately three seconds and your two brain cells haven’t connected to form a rational thought yet, let alone conjure up whatever shenanigans you got into the night before. “I think I went out for drinks with the new hire from work, but that’s it.”

“Mehmehmeh but that’s it,” Hoseok mimics under his breath, voice pitched far too high to ever pass as yours, looking more and more incensed by the second. Everyone told you he’d be too neurotic to live with. You should’ve listened. “Do you remember drinking too much and punching a guy?”

Ah, that would explain why your hand is fifty shades of purple, you think. “Ah, that would explain why my hand is fifty shades of purple,” you say.

Hoseok looks like he’s ready to explode. “Can you fucking take this seriously,” he seethes. “You’re too old to be getting wasted and starting bar fights! What in the actual fuck is wrong with you? You broke a man’s nose, you fucking maniac! What if he calls the cops? God, what if he sues you? Do you have lawsuit money? Because I sure as fuck don’t, not that I would bail you out of jail for this, anyway, because you don’t deserve it—”

“I broke someone’s nose?” Far too late, you realize you should’ve kept that proud wonder out of your voice.

Hoseok’s up and screeching before you can plug your ears. “You are un-fucking-believable! I have to leave. I can’t sit here another second and listen to this.” He’s fussing over his clothes and hair as soon as he’s on his feet, distress seeping out of every pore. “There’s fresh coffee in the pot and I made sure to save you two slices of bread,” he grits out, as if it’s causing him immense pain to be nice to you right now, before adding, “and there’s also aspirin and water on your nightstand. I would not recommend taking it on an empty stomach.”

And then he’s gone.

You microwave the mug of coffee and choke down the toast that’s grown suspiciously hard. You swallow two aspirin with coffee even though you know better and should be drinking the water, but the water has been sitting out for god knows how long and probably has dust particles and other gross things in it. You take a long shower to wash away the bar grime and hangover remnants and nearly crumble to the floor in pain when you try to wash your hair.

Right, your hand.

It’d been easy enough to ignore when you were focusing on not vomiting and taking your painkillers, but not so much anymore. Even if Hoseok hadn’t told you you’d punched someone, you could’ve pieced that much together—the bruising is severe and the swelling even more so. Trying to bend your fingers feels like a fate worse than death, so you salvage your shower as best you can before getting dressed one-handed and ordering an Uber to the nearest urgent care.

Which, much to your horror, is packed.

Every seat is taken except for one next to a man with a baseball cap pulled low and a thawed-out ice pack in his hand. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you sit next to him, and you’re almost offended until you spot the AirPods in his ears. God, he must’ve been here forever if he’s brave enough to plug his ears in a place that unashamedly sends you to the back of the line if you don’t answer when your name is called.

You need to know what you’re getting into, so you tap him on the shoulder and ask, “Hey, how long have you been here?”

The man seems flustered. He reaches for his phone and sends it plummeting to the floor, and when he retrieves it you notice the screen is cracked to hell so this must be a common occurrence. “Oh, uh. I’m not sure,” he says, voice all nasally like he’s got a bad cold. “Maybe two hours or so?”

You groan. “Two hours? Are you for real?” He just nods, still not meeting your eye. You pull out your phone, too, then, and put in the web address for the hospital. “D’you think the wait times are less shitty at the ER?”

“Maybe.”

“You didn’t look? No offense, but you sound pretty awful. I figured you’d want to get whatever it is taken care of sooner rather than later.”

The man snorts. Sounds painful. “Yeah, well. I work at a shitty nonprofit and the only insurance tier I could afford had a two-thousand-dollar deductible, so I’ll take my chances here.”

You hum in sympathy. “Do you believe in karma and reincarnation and all that? Because I do, and I think I must’ve been pretty fucking terrible in a past life to be born in a country without free healthcare in this lifetime.” The man beside you grunts in agreement. “Like, shit. What if I was Norwegian in a past life? Or, like, Canadian?”

“Only worth being Canadian if you’re not Indigenous.”

“Hm, yeah, that’s true. What human rights violations have the Norwegians committed?”

“No clue.”

“I’m gonna Google it,” you decide. Then, a second later, “Not great being Indigenous in Norway, either.”

“Is everyone shitty?” the man asks, pressing the warm ice pack back to his face. You wince on his behalf.

“Yeah.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him pause his music. An album cover you don’t recognize, because this guy definitely strikes you as the underground type: paid Spotify account with immaculate playlists full of artists no one else has heard of, either. Probably imports half of his own shit, too, so his playlists only work on his own phone and everyone yells at him when they try to play his playlists and get nothing but silence.

“What about you?” he asks, and it’s a question that should sound greasy but just sounds really sad with his clogged nose. “Are you shitty?”

“Yep,” you answer instantly, holding up your hand. You’d managed to wrangle an elastic bandage around it, but the bruising is obvious and not easily hidden.

The man whistles. “Damn, how’d you do that?”

“Punched a guy in a bar fight, apparently.”

In hindsight, it should be obvious, the cruel joke the universe is playing on you: you, with your mottled, probably-broken hand; the man next to you, with a black eye and an ice pack pressed to his nose. Right church, wrong pew, your mother always used to say about you, and you’d taken it then as a nod to your creativity and ingenuity, but now you’re thinking you might just be fucking stupid.

Because the atmosphere immediately shifts. The man goes stiff, pauses, tenses his shoulders. Then he asks, “Yeah? What bar? I might’ve heard about it.”

And you might be fucking stupid but you’re not dumb, so you just shrug. “Oh, I don’t know,” you reply, doing your best impression of a person with nothing between their ears. “My coworker dragged me out, and I like her fine, y’know, but if I’m being honest, I don’t know how long she’s gonna last. I think she’s too nice. Well, I thought she was too nice, but then she invited me out for drinks and invited me to this crazy bar with horrible, violent people—”

“And you punched someone,” the man finishes for you, cutting short your tirade.

“Supposedly punched someone,” you correct. “I have no recollection of it, but that’s what my roommate said. He was shrieking and used his Serious Mom Voice so I’m inclined to believe him, though.” You try to wiggle your fingers and have to suppress a scream. “Plus I can’t move my hand, so there’s that.”

This is the part where you get yelled at. You can feel it. The man beside you is about to blow up, demand your name and phone number so he can report you for assault, probably also demand some money because he’d just talked about his god-awful insurance and you’re the entire reason he’s here, but the universe may be cruel but it’s also fair, because—

“Nam…joon?” a bored medical assistant calls out. The man startles, curses under his breath that no one even attempts to pronounce his name correctly, drops his phone again, and if you weren’t glued to your chair in fear you might’ve picked it up for him.

Namjoon stands—he’s fucking massive, and if this is the guy you actually punched, you’ll spare a second later to marvel at yourself—and looks down at you. Sends you the meanest, most murderous glare he can muster, clenched jaw and all, and then he’s disappearing behind a door.

You… feel bad.

It’s not like you’d meant to punch him. You hadn’t wanted to punch anyone! And that has to count for something, so when he comes back out you’ll plead your case and offer to buy him a late lunch, because if he’d been waiting hours you’ll be waiting longer, and maybe he’ll find you just endearing enough to forget that you’d broken his nose and the two of you will become friends. You’ll do the Best Person speech at his wedding and laugh about the time you’d punched him, or maybe you’d be marrying him and—

Pump the brakes.

You love a good enemies-to-lovers, but maybe not so much in real life.

The wait is torturous.

An hour ticks by. You text Hoseok, tell him about the man you’d met and ask if he thinks it’s The Guy, and Hoseok writes back with a very pointed, I fucking hope it is. You’re not sure what that means. Does he hope Namjoon is the guy so you can apologize? So you can make sure he’s okay? Surely he wouldn’t be hoping for Namjoon to even the score and break your nose, too, but he was really mad this morning so you wouldn’t put it past him.

Another half hour. If you’d been paying attention, you would’ve realized how eerily quiet the waiting room has grown. No idle chatter, no coughing, no pained groans. People seem to be going in but not coming out, and you’ve been paying attention to that much, at least, so you can catch Namjoon.

And then the door slams open.

Namjoon stands there, nose stuffed with a cartoonish amount of gauze and a large splint across the bridge. He’s breathing hard. Looks like he’d just ran a marathon, which doesn’t make sense because how large can the backend of an urgent care really be, but then his eyes found you and—

“Run,” is all he says.

Nothing good happens when a man you’d accidentally knocked out in a bar fight tells you to run. Fucking stupid but not dumb, though, so you’re up and out of your seat before he can repeat himself.

Although you’re not sure where you’re supposed to go. You’d taken an Uber, and you can’t really order an emergency one of those. Besides, all Namjoon had said was run but not why, so you’re also not sure if it even is an emergency.

So here you are, standing in the middle of the parking lot like a bozo while Namjoon fumbles with the keys to a pickup truck. “Hey!” you call out, stomping towards him. “Are you gonna tell me what the fuck’s going on?”

Namjoon looks up only long enough to catch your eye. “You need to get out of here,” is all he says. Which is supremely and deservedly unhelpful.

“Why? I ca—I took an Uber here, I don’t have a car. I don’t know where I’m supposed to go or why I had to run out of there or if this is DEFCON 5 or DEFCON 1—”

“One,” Namjoon answers. “It’s definitely DEFCON 1.” Door unlocked, Namjoon meets your gaze again, deadly serious. “I’m not fucking around. You need to get out of here. Right now.”

This has to be a joke. He’s mad you’d broken his nose and now he’s getting his revenge. Still, you’re not all that keen to pay hundreds of dollars in medical bills for them to tell you something you already know, so you’ll play along. “Fine. Can I get a ride, then?”

“No.”

“So it’s an emergency but you won’t give me a ride.”

Namjoon glares at you. “You broke my fucking nose!”

“But I also broke my own hand, so we’re even.” It’s absolutely not a fair trade, but Namjoon seems to chew it over nonetheless. “Hey, c’mon, you wouldn’t leave me here! You’d feel too guilty.”

“How would you know?”

“Because you work at a nonprofit and care about human rights violations, and I am a human with rights, and it’d definitely be a violation to leave me here in a DEFCON 1-level emergency when I don’t even know what’s going on—”

Namjoon slaps a hand over your mouth. A large hand. A very, very large hand that easily covers half of your face. You’ll blame your pathetic whimper on fear. “I saw some shit in there, okay?”

“What kind of shit, though. Urgent cares are weird. Ominous little vortexes where reality is altered. You ever been in one at night? Like 28 Days Later vibes—”

“Yes!” Namjoon snaps his fingers. “Yes, that! Exactly like that!”

Your relief is palpable. You sag a little. “Oh! So it was just weird in there? What, did you get a creepy doctor or something?”

“No.” He groans. Runs his hands down his face. “Not the vibes part, the—”

“The zombie part?” you whisper.

Just then, the entrance slams open, people pouring into the parking lot. Most are screaming, which prompts you to scream in response, so Namjoon screams too and drops his keys. You’re picking them up before you can think twice, pulling the door open and pushing him inside of the truck. There’s something to be said about the way you manhandle him, how ripped his back feels through the thin fabric of his t-shirt and the view of his ass as he climbs over the center and into the passenger seat, but whatever weird shit is going on takes precedence.

You climb in behind him. Shut the door and lock it, and then you’re rolling down the window to adjust the side mirrors while Namjoon just shoots you an exasperated look. “We don’t have time for this!”

“Do you want us to crash and die? I’ve seen movies like this, okay, and someone always dies some stupid, avoidable death because they forget something obvious.”

“Yeah, it’s usually don’t read the weird Latin incantation in that book or don’t go outside to investigate weird noises, not checking your mirrors!” He pauses. “Hey, wait! They’re not even your mirrors! You’re fucking up all my shit!”

You roll your eyes. “Shut up. I’m getting us out of here.”

During Namjoon’s stunned silence, you turn the ignition and peel out of the parking lot as best you can with one good hand, tailspinning onto the main road, tires squealing. “That was… kind of hot.”

“What, me telling you to shut up or my driving?”

“...Both?”

“I—yeah, that’s fair. You’re big, but you seem like the type to enjoy getting pushed around.” Namjoon stays quiet, and when you dare a glance over at him, his cheeks are red. “Did you get a boner when I punched you?”

That actually gets a laugh out of him. “Don’t go there.” You shrug.

The two of you drive for a while. There’s nothing in the rearview mirror. No one behind you. Really, the world around you seems normal, quiet, still. It almost has you second-guessing everything you’d seen, all the things Namjoon had said. And you don’t know him beyond breaking his nose, but everything in you is screaming to trust him.

So you do.

“Hey, do you mind if we swing by my place? It’s, like, two minutes away, and I should probably grab some stuff.”

Namjoon just shrugs.

Surprisingly, there’s very little time to panic. Namjoon sets about grabbing whatever he can from the kitchen and the bathroom while you shove clothes into a large duffel. You grab your laptop and chargers and Namjoon’s scoff is loud when you ask if you should bring your vibrator, too, but he doesn’t say no, so into the bag it goes.

Hoseok comes home in the midst of your ransacking. You meet him in the living room and, aside from the small look of confusion, he seems much happier to see you than he’d been this morning. “Hi,” he says. Sounds normal, too. Doesn’t sound like he’d seen some weird apocalypse shit outside. “Where is there a tall man in our kitchen shoving all our food into bags?”

“Ah, right, that.” You suck in a breath. “Hobi, go pack up whatever you care about and meet us back here in five minutes. There’s some Train to Busan shit going on and we’ve gotta get moving.”

“Yo, what the fuck!” Namjoon yells from the kitchen. “Are you just saying that because I’m Korean?”

Hoseok had looked dubious before, but seems to fall into blind trust upon hearing the strange, tall man in his kitchen is also Korean. “Hey, me too!” When Namjoon comes skittering into the living room, they shoot matching finger guns at one another and do a weird bro-dap. “Oh!” Hoseok says, recognition blooming. “Are you the guy? The nose guy?”

Namjoon just glares at you.

“That’s him,” you answer instead. “Go pack, please. I’m serious.”

Hoseok is scared of everything: spiders, his shadow, carousel animals, your neighbor’s dog because it’s fifteen years old and blind and lost half its fur. He once had nightmares for a week after you’d made him watch the first Goosebumps movie and insisted on sleeping in your room. Had nightmares again after he saw a particularly sinister Squishmallow at Wal-Mart. So, yeah. It’s imperative you convince him to come with you because he stands no chance on his own.

You don’t expect him to shrug and go off to pack.

“Hey, did one of you grab any ibuprofen?”

“Yeah, got it,” Namjoon replies.

“What about allergy medicine? I get really bad sinus headaches so I’ll be miserable without it, but if it’s too much I guess I could—”

“Pack it,” you shout back.

There’s a loud crash from his room. Another smaller one seconds later. “I’m fine!” he calls out. “Hey, cool! I found a bag of Twizzlers!”

“Hoseok—”

“Bring the Twizzlers, please!” Namjoon says, cheeks warming again. “What? I like them.”

It’s your turn to glare. “If I get eaten over some goddamn Twizzlers.”

“At least you’d be strawberry flavored?” Namjoon offers, as unhelpful as ever. Then, before you can respond, “Hey, man, are you almost ready? I texted my roommate and he’s good to go but I still need to pack up all my shit, too.”

“One sec!”

Approximately fifteen seconds later, Hoseok reappears in your living room with a bookbag, a duffel bag, and an oversized rolling suitcase.

“This isn’t a vacation, Hobi,” you deadpan.

He looks at you like you’re a moron. Fucking stupid but not dumb, you remind yourself. “Okay, but I’m not leaving all my nice clothes here to get eaten by zombie moths or whatever. There’s Off-White in here.”

Namjoon nods in understanding. “Valid.”

It’s not worth the argument. The three of you pile back into Namjoon’s truck, you stuck in the middle of the bench seat this time while Namjoon drives. Hoseok babbles the entire way, seemingly unfazed by this bizarre situation in which you’ve found yourselves. He tells you about the cafe he’d met a friend at, the latte he ordered and didn’t like. You can only tell he’s starting to get nervous because he devolves into more and more unhinged chatter. One second he’s telling you about a dog he saw wearing a little sweater and the next he’s rattling off the digits to his social security number.

“Forget you heard that,” you say to Namjoon.

He looks pained as he replies, “Unfortunately I have a god-tier echoic memory so I am physically incapable of doing that.” He feels your stare. “I’m really sorry, I can’t help it! Tell me something else so I forget it!”

“Okay: I think you’re about to run over that guy.”

Namjoon jerks his eyes back to the road and gasps, hitting the brakes so hard Hobi nearly goes flying into the dashboard. He’s moaning, bitching about his seatbelt probably breaking a few ribs, and the tiny man standing in the road in front of you hasn’t budged an inch. Stared death right in the eye and dared it to take him.

“Fucking Jimin,” Namjoon curses. At both your and Hoseok’s blank stares, he clarifies, “My roommate.”

“Is that seriously your roommate?” Hoseok asks, still pressing against his ribs to check for fractures.

Namjoon, huffing and puffing and finally at a complete stop, just nods. “Yeah.”

Hoseok is finally silent. Then, “That tiny, terrifying little man is your roommate and you managed to get knocked out in a bar fight? What, was he busy that night?”

There’s an obvious reply on the tip of Namjoon’s tongue, but before he can spit it out the tiny man is banging his fist against the window. “I’m gonna fucking kill you!” he screams. “Open the door so I can kill you! Did you not see me? I told you I’d be waiting by the mailbox! I even packed all your shit for you and this is how you repay me, by almost hitting me with your stupid truck? You’re fucking cra—wait, who are these people?”

Hoseok, obviously scared shitless, grimaces as he waves hesitantly. “Hi!” you say, though Namjoon’s roommate probably can’t hear you through the thick glass. “I’m the person who broke his nose!”

Then the roommate is smiling. “Oh, that was you? You look different than I remember.”

When you look to Namjoon for answers, you find him slumped against the steering wheel. “Jimin’s a bartender,” is the only explanation you get.

You look out the window again. Small, but no mint-colored hair. “Ah, I had my suspicions about him. …I think.”

Namjoon cranks down the window just enough to tell Jimin he’ll have to hop in the bed with all the luggage, and then the four of you are off again. There’s one more stop, to Jimin’s boyfriend’s place to pick up him and his roommate, and all you can do is hope one of them has a larger vehicle.

Just like before, this drive is suspiciously unremarkable. You’ve long since resigned yourself to believing Namjoon and what little he’d told you, but you can tell Hoseok’s skeptical. Along for the ride, of course, because there’s always the small chance you hadn’t been lying and then he would’ve been knee-deep in shit, but skeptical nonetheless.

“Can I just ask—are you sure about this?” He’s looking out the window. Looking at all the normal cars and houses and businesses. Nothing about the outside world screams looming zombie apocalypse at all. “It seems pretty quiet.”

Namjoon sighs. Grips the steering wheel a little tighter, knuckles flashing white, but he seems okay. Adrenaline, maybe. It’ll hit later. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“You saw something?” Hoseok prods.

“I—” He nudges you. “Did you notice how most of the people in the waiting room just seemed to have bad colds? Sneezing, coughing, all that?” You nod. “I didn’t really think anything of it since it’s still flu season, but once I got called back, everything just felt… off.”

He sucks in a breath. Keeps driving. Keeps talking. The nurse who’d taken his vitals seemed exhausted. Cracked some joke about being glad Namjoon was there for a broken nose and not whatever respiratory thing was going around. Told him a doctor would be in shortly to patch him up, and when she left his room she hadn’t shut the door all the way. Left enough of a crack for Namjoon to see what was going on: frazzled nurses and doctors and techs huddled around, panicking. Namjoon thinks someone called for an ambulance.

True to her word, a doctor did come in to pack and splint his nose. Then, in the middle of jotting down the name and phone number of his pharmacy, a scream.

“An old man came in. I saw him when they took me back. He was just sitting on a bed because it was so crowded, wasn’t in a room. I guess at some point he passed out. Didn’t have a pulse. I think he was who they called the ambulance for, but while I was waiting for the doctor I kept hearing this weird moaning.”

Hoseok shudders. “Yeah, I know where this is going.”

“Right. So the doctor comes in, fixes me up, and next thing I know, someone’s screaming. Guess that old dude wasn’t as dead as they thought he was.”

“Could they have been wrong?” you ask tentatively. It’s so quiet outside, maybe everyone had just—

“No,” Namjoon says, and he does it with so much conviction you don’t argue further. Jimin bangs on the back windshield, holding his phone up to it so you can see.

It’s all over Twitter. Not even Facebook, where you’d expect a zombie apocalypse conspiracy to begin. No, there are posts all over Twitter and Instagram and even the local news station’s website. Hoseok looks a little green.

“Okay, so it’s definitely real and this is definitely happening,” you mutter. “Does anyone have a plan?”

There’s no plan.

Not even in a hyperbolic, we say we have no plan, but somehow we’ve conveniently got a small arsenal of weapons, kind of way. There’s simply no plan.

Jimin’s boyfriend is named Taehyung. They have a needlessly tearful reunion, and you wait in Taehyung’s tiny kitchen for twenty minutes while he packs. He’s roommates with the mint-haired bartender that you like. His name is Yoongi. He has all his stuff packed and waiting by the front door, and you like him so much more for it.

“Should I pack condoms?” Taehyung yells from his bedroom.

“Are you fucking ser—” Yoongi starts, then seems to come to a realization. “Yeah. Yes, you absolutely should.”

“‘Kay! Be out in a sec!”

Namjoon appears then, in the midst of shoving his battered phone in his pocket. He looks around the room, taking stock, and his eyebrows knit in confusion. Fuck, he’s so hot and you’re taking the express train to hell for thinking it. “Hey, has anyone seen Jimin?”

Jimin and Taehyung are gone. There are weird noises coming from the direction of Taehyung’s room. Yoongi looks positively haunted. “Sorry!” Jimin calls out. “Be out in a sec!”

“Tae said that exact thing five minutes ago!”

“Are you calling him a liar?” Jimin yells back. Sounds genuinely angry and genuinely prepared to defend Taehyung’s honor. You’ve never met a tinier, scarier person.

“I’m calling you both zombie food!”

Hoseok sidles up next to you. “Is it just me or is that other tiny man really hot?”

“His name’s Yoongi,” you tell him.

Hoseok just sighs, like he’s carrying all of the world’s burdens on his thin shoulders. “I’m learning a lot about myself.”

You watch him mentally tabulate through all the stages of grief while Namjoon and Yoongi think up a plan. Namjoon’s large but clumsy and mostly useless, and Yoongi is small and deadly. You can hold your own, they decide, so Yoongi adopts Hoseok and Namjoon becomes your problem.

“Wait a second,” Hoseok almost wails. “Why can’t I stay with her? She’s my roommate!”

Yoongi looks offended. Probably is. “You don’t think I can defend you?”

Hoseok flushes crimson. “I-I didn’t say that…”

He’s halfway through a stuttered, awkward apology when Jimin and Taehyung appear, not at all looking like they’d just been getting off together. Sure, Jimin’s hair is a little mussed, but Taehyung—

Taehyung is only holding a box.

Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose. “Taehyung.”

“Please don’t use that tone of voice with me,” Taehyung whines. “You know this is my emotional support jigsaw puzzle.”

“All you’re bringing is a jigsaw puzzle?”

“And condoms!”

“You’re not bringing any clothes? Medicine? Food?” Namjoon asks, because he might not be the oldest but he has the most overworked single mother energy out of all of you. “Jimin, go help him pack a bag of clothes, at least. Yoongi, can you grab any extra house stuff and toiletries you have laying around? Laundry detergent, soap, shampoo.”

Taehyung scoffs, sound dissipating as he disappears back down the hallway. “We can just steal that stuff.”

Hoseok looks like he’s about to pass out. “I am not turning into a criminal!”

He does.

You all do.

The six of you pile into two separate vehicles—you and Hoseok with Namjoon again in his truck, and Jimin and Taehyung behind you in Yoongi’s beater car. The plan is to drive to Namjoon’s cousin’s house in the middle of nowhere and bunker down there for a while. It’s plenty big—“His parents are politicians, so he’s got money,” was Namjoon’s explanation—and far enough outside of the city that it should buy you enough time to come up with something better.

Step one, though: Wal-Mart.

“Don’t worry, I steal from here all the time,” Taehyung says, breezing to the front of the pack like he’s leading the rest of you into war. Yoongi throws his hands up. Jimin looks lovestruck.

Hoseok hangs back by the cars, still traumatized from the Squishmallow experience, and you stay with him. You’ve seen Zombieland, and you won’t be able to do much fighting with a broken hand. At best you’d be able to fire a gun or whack someone with a pipe, but you’re not trying to go kamikaze mode on some innocent bastard in a Wal-Mart who’s also just trying to survive.

You’ve known Hoseok for a long time—since your sophomore year of college, when he was failing the stats class you shared and you took pity on him and offered some tutoring—so you’ve seen him in various states of distress. You know all of his tells, and the way he’s gnawing at his cuticles is a glaring one.

“Hobi, hey,” you say, moving to gently pull his hand away from his mouth. “Try to relax, okay? Don’t make yourself bleed.”

“I feel like I’m gonna be sick,” he replies. Anguish is clear on his face. “Everything feels fucking overwhelming and scary.”

“I know. I know it does, but if we’re gonna get through this we’re gonna need you, all right?” He nods but he’s shaking, still looking tormented and green around the edges. You pull him into a hug that has him nearly sagging in defeat.

Slowly, your shoulder grows wet and warm. Hoseok’s crying, body shaking from the weight of all his fear, and all you can do is hold him. “You’re my best friend, Hoseok,” you whisper into his hair. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

You feel him nod. Then, in the smallest voice, “Yoongi too?”

Figures. Hoseok’s a horny little demon at the best of times—the thin walls of your apartment can attest to that—so it makes sense that impending doom would exacerbate it. “Sure, Hobi,” you assure him, scratching softly at his scalp.

You get him calmed down. Tucked into the backseat of Yoongi’s car so he can lay down. He’s asleep not long after, fatigue finally catching up, and you just stay. Park your ass at the edge of the seat, leave the door open, waiting. There’s a gentle, warm breeze, and you wish you could bottle it. Wish you could do more in this moment than just experience it, because it’s the last chance you’ll have at something resembling normalcy.

You might never be able to hug Hoseok in a parking lot again.

“We’re back!”

You look up, not at all surprised to see Taehyung skipping towards you, arms full of stolen goods. “I see that. What’d you get?”

“Oh, a lot of stuff,” he answers. Yoongi pops the trunk of his car and they set about shoving it all inside. “It was packed in there! Felt like Black Friday, except everyone was fighting over bread instead of ultra hi-def TVs.”

Wary, you look over your motley crew. “Are you all okay?”

“Yeah,” Yoongi answers, voice gruff. “It was mostly civilized. Don’t think people really realize what’s going on yet. Is Hoseok sleeping?”

You nod. “He, uh—had a moment? He got really upset, so he’s sleeping it off… if that’s okay?”

Yoongi just shrugs. “Yeah, whatever. Who’s riding with me?”

“Me,” Jimin says. “I’m not taking the bitch seat in the truck.” Taehyung immediately pouts, some unspoken bond clearly broken now, and Jimin scoffs. “Don’t pout at me. You know my ass requires a full seat.”

“But—”

Namjoon pointedly slams Yoongi’s trunk closed. Hoseok doesn’t stir an inch. “Jin’s expecting us so we need to get moving. Taehyung, shut up and get in the truck.” Then, to you: “Guess you’re with me again.”

Fine by you, especially since Namjoon ripped the sleeves off his shirt.

Not even Namjoon’s arms can salvage this drive.

Taehyung fiddles with the radio the whole time. Flips between radio stations that are all depressing carbon copies of one another. Complains that Namjoon’s truck is too old to have a CD player and that he doesn’t know how to work cassette tapes. Complains endlessly about Namjoon’s driving, too, although you can’t really blame him for that one.

“Hey,” he eventually says, elbowing you a little too hard in your side. “I don’t wanna be rude or anything, but—”

Namjoon tries to snort and immediately regrets it. “I don’t wanna be rude or anything, but I’m about to say something extremely rude.”

“I was not!” Taehyung defends, but when you quirk an eyebrow at him to continue, he says, “Are you willing to sacrifice yourself for me and Jimin in the unlikely event that the three of us are cornered by a zombie and are facing imminent death and only two will survive? Because I think you should be.”

You blink. “Um.”

“It just makes the most sense logically,” he continues, as if he hadn’t just volunteered you to be a zombie chew toy. “Jimin and I are soulmates. Platonic and romantic. And you’re—” He pauses. “Um. New. And Jimin might not look like it because he’s small, but he’s scrappy and can easily protect me, which means you’re redundant. Not to mention your hand is broken, so.”

You study him. “So, what are you bringing to the table?” you ask. Taehyung looks at you like you’re stupid. “I’m just saying, if Jimin and I can both defend ourselves, why wouldn’t we team up in the name of long-term survival and ditch the weakest link, which would be you?”

Namjoon laughs loudly beside you. His whole body shakes with it, a sound somewhere between a guffaw and a dog panting, and it’s a nice contrast to the death glare Taehyung’s sending you. “Jimin wouldn’t do that to me.”

“People are unpredictable when they’re staring death in the face.”

Taehyung’s silent the rest of the way.

It hurts to admit it, but you’re rethinking your all-politicians-are-evil, eat-the-rich stance, because it starts like—

(Seokjin’s parents’ place is truly in the middle of nowhere and safeguarded to the nth degree, harder to get close to than Area 51. The house itself is deceptively large and modern, clapped in black-stained red cedar. Single-level. Expansive windows you’d thought were an oversight until you got closer and realized they were made of armored glass.

“Shit, is all of this really necessary?” you ask, stepping inside. There’s definitely insider trading going on here. “Are these people on the goddamn Supreme Court?”

“That’s not funny,” Namjoon says.

“Are you sure? Because I’m pretty sure that”—you point to a nondescript door with an ominous symbol on it—”is some kind of rich people bomb shelter and the only politicians I know that would require this level of security are the I just voted to strip half the country of the ability to make their own reproductive decisions kind.”

Namjoon chokes.

“Gross,” a voice chimes from behind you. “Please don’t debase and sully my parents’ good name by even joking that they’re conservatives.”

Jesus, is everyone in this family stupidly attractive? The man before you is shorter than Namjoon but still tall, legs as long as his shoulders are wide. Hair styled neat but dyed blond. Kind eyes and plush lips, and there’s the Kim family resemblance.

“Hi, I’m Seokjin,” he says, offering you his hand. Definitely raised in a family of politicians. “I hear you’re the one who broke my cousin’s nose.”

“I, uh, might’ve done that, yeah.”

Seokjin smiles. “Cool. Welcome. Please make yourself at home and we’ll chat strategy later.”)

Which becomes—

(Later turns into days.

For the most part, life proceeds normally. Seokjin gets periodic updates from his parents who have left the country entirely—(“Damn, they just left you here?” someone asks, and that’s how you meet Jungkook)—about the government response, or lack thereof, along with whatever useless psychobabble the CDC is sending out. None of it bodes well for the future, so you spend most of your time trying to stay in the present. Right now, you’re okay. Right now, you’re with a group of people hellbent on staying alive. Right now, you have enough food and shelter in a house in the middle of nowhere with armored glass windows and a bomb shelter.

The eight of you eat meals together and play games and talk about your Before lives. You already knew Namjoon worked at a nonprofit and that Jimin and Yoongi owned a bar, but you learn Taehyung was in grad school for art therapy. Hoseok, of course, split his time between the dance studio and the streetwear boutique his sister owned. Seokjin was some bigwig corporate attorney.

Jungkook, of all things, played minor league baseball.

Needless to say there won’t be any scientific breakthroughs from any of you.

“I was supposed to go pro this year,” Jungkook huffs, forcefully grabbing the microphone for the karaoke machine. He’s been singing “I Will Survive” by Gloria Gaynor for four days.

All things considered, you somehow managed to fall into the best possible outcome, even if one of Taehyung or Jimin still tries to convince you to sacrifice yourself at least six times a day.)

Which culminates in the one possible downside—

“Yoongi wants Hoseok to move into my room,” Namjoon says, appearing in the doorway of your (now-solo, apparently) room. He takes up nearly the entire frame. It makes you feel a little lightheaded.

“Oh,” you reply stupidly. “Okay. Are you here for his stuff?”

“No, I’m here to ask if I can move in with you. I’m not really interested in spending the rest of the zombie apocalypse third-wheeling.”

Sarcasm seems like your best defense. “Wow, after all we’ve been through. We’ve got a real enemies to lovers vibe going on. I’m pretty into it.”

Namjoon flushes down to his toes. “Haaa, what? We’re—that’s not—we’re not even lovers yet.”

You give him a second, but he doesn’t seem to realize what he’s said, so you can’t help but smirk, to press on the bruise just to watch him squeal. “Yet?”

Now he turns full-on crimson. “That’s not what I meant.”

Somehow he’s still cute, even with the yellow-green bruising beneath his eyes and his sheepish, hunched posture. Namjoon is the kind of guy that makes you feel bold, makes you want to mess him up, but he’s also the kind of cute that has you relenting, easing off.

“Sure,” you finally say. “You can move your stuff in here.”

He smiles, dimples flashing, and he’s only gone a few minutes so you have no time to catch your breath before he’s back, dumping his clothes on the bed to put them in the dresser. He doesn’t mention sleeping arrangements because there’s no point: all of the bedrooms have single, queen-sized beds. Naturally, you and Hoseok had bunked together with little fuss, having fallen asleep in each other’s beds a million times after years spent living together. You assume it’d been the same for Namjoon and Yoongi and their decades of friendship.

You’d joked about being enemies to lovers; clearly you’d chosen the wrong trope.

“How’s your nose?” you ask, wordlessly moving to help sort and refold the t-shirts as best you can. They smell nice: something soft and clean and inherently Namjoon.

“Still sore,” he answers. Says a small thank you when you push a stack of black tees towards him. “Jungkook’s been helping me with the packing.”

“He’s had a lot of broken noses?”

“He’s had a lot of broken everything.”

It hits you, then, how much of an outsider you are. That the six of them are all connected, have history. And Namjoon must notice, because he grows serious. Gets shy all over again when he says, “Hey, we’re all glad you and Hoseok are here.”

You snort. “Yeah, as a sacrifice.”

Namjoon laughs a little, too. “Taehyung’s only so insistent because he’s useless. He accidentally stepped on a stink bug once and cried. He’s not really built for something like this.”

“Are any of us?”

“You are, I think,” he says immediately, no hesitation. “You’ve been really calm, haven’t panicked at all. It’s helped me a lot—all of us, really.”

Oh, you’re embarrassed. “I have to be, living with someone like Hobi.” Why are you embarrassed? “One time he saw the red light on the coffee machine and slept in my room for a week because he thought there was a demon in our apartment.”

Namjoon can’t help himself. “Was there?”

You sigh, over-dramatic and theatrical. “No, just me.”

He laughs, loud and unashamed, but it sounds a lot more like everything’s going to be fine.

Hoseok had been a cuddler.

You’d always wake up with him wound around you like a snake, limbs akimbo as he snored quietly. But, like all things Hoseok did and does, there was grace in it. He kept a normal body temperature. He didn’t hog too much of the bed or the duvet. He didn’t kick you or elbow you in the side of the head. Aside from the cuddling, which has never really been your thing, Hoseok was a perfect bed-sharing partner.

The same cannot be said for Namjoon.

His broken nose has him snoring at obscene levels. It doesn’t lessen when you shove a pillow over your head, either, which is not the way you fantasized about going lightheaded in bed with him. Not to mention his stupidly large body is stupidly large and requires a lot of space. What had started as a clean split down the middle has you grasping to the edge, trying desperately not to fall off. Every time you try to inch closer to the center, Namjoon unconsciously protests and sends elbows flying, and arms that size can do a lot of damage. He sleeps so hot you always wake up in a thin sheen of sweat just from the proximity.

You’re not sure you sleep at all for the first three days.

And then things start to shift. Like your roommate, Namjoon is a cuddler too, but in vastly different ways. Hoseok’s would be subconscious—he never dared to touch you when he was awake out of respect for boundaries and personal space, but Namjoon doesn’t have those hangups. He climbs into bed one night and immediately fits himself to your back before asking if it’s okay, and yeah, of course it is. You couldn’t have waterboarded Hoseok into touching you purposely the way Namjoon does casually, so unthinking, just does what he wants.

It makes you ache.

So you become sleepless for other, new reasons.

His snoring lessens, gives way to these breathy little sounds that border on soft moans. Still obscene. He stops forcing you to the edge of the mattress and instead presses you into it, the weight of his massive body leaving you with nowhere else to go. Every time he touches you, either knowingly or not, he leaves trails of heat in his wake.

Even in sleep, Namjoon is a tease.

Sometimes his hands will drift—too close, too far, both simultaneously—and you feel your breath hitch, wondering if he’s awake, if he’s doing it on purpose. Sometimes you wake up with him wrapped around you, hard cock pressing into your ass, the small of your back. Sometimes he’ll rut once, twice, and come to and disappear to the opposite side of the bed in shame and embarrassment, leaving you frustrated and pretending to be asleep.

Because you’re not… sure.

You know you’re attracted to Namjoon. You know he’s some degree of attracted to you in return. But the outside world is so volatile, the situation you’re in so unstable, that you’re afraid to push. Afraid the delicate house of cards will come tumbling down, that you two will fuck to get it out of your systems and make things horribly awkward, ruin the good thing you’ve got going.

But you can only take so much, is the thing. There’s a very large man with a very large cock at your back and you’ve had enough of this game.

“Namjoon,” you say, rolling in his arms so you’re face to face. You poke him in the stomach when he doesn’t stir. “Namjoon.”

He jolts awake, hands immediately moving to you—checking that you’re still there, that you’re safe. “Wha’?” he slurs, voice thick with sleep, deeper than you’ve ever heard it. “Wha’ happened?”

Now you feel awkward. He’s concerned with your safety in the midst of a fucking apocalypse and you’re just horny. Still, sometimes the only way out is through, so you blurt out, “Do you want to fuck me?”

That grabs his attention. He’s fully awake now, propped up on one elbow, gazing down at you like you’ve completely lost your mind. Fucking stupid but not dumb, like a mantra. “Uh.” He pauses. Swallows. Pushes sweaty hair off his forehead. “Did—did you, uh, get bit? Are you feeling okay?”

You glare, though it’s useless in the dark. “I’m fine. How’s your dick?” You dare a glance downward. Still hard is the answer.

Namjoon embarrasses easily in a way that is both horribly endearing and horribly inconvenient, because instead of feeding you some greasy line like want to find out? he’s reaching down to adjust himself in his sleep shorts, stumbling over apologies as he goes. “Shit, fuck, I’m so sorry, this is so awkward, I’m sorry—”

“Can you answer my question, please?”

Namjoon stills. Puts that giant brain to use. “Um. Which one? You asked me two.”

“Well, I can clearly see that your dick is still very hard, so let’s start with the first one.”

There’s a sound that you think is meant to sound like a laugh. A pained a-haaa that sounds more like Namjoon begging for divine intervention in the form of death. “The, uh, doIwanttofuckyou question?”

“That would be the one, yes.”

“Is… is there a wrong answer?”

“No.”

He nods, tongue darting out to wet his lips. It’s lewd, a cruel and unusual punishment for your fleeting moment of horny delirium. Gets even worse when he tugs the plush bottom one between his teeth, staring at you all the while. Sizing you up, it feels like. Deciding between what he wants to do and what he’s actually going to do.

Just like the last week of your life, everything goes from zero to one hundred in a split-second.

“Do you wanna talk about this first?” he asks. You’re just staring at one another and he already sounds fucked out. Obscene.

“What’s there to talk about?”

He reaches for you. Two fingers beneath your chin and a thumb on the hinge of your jaw to keep you where he wants you. “What you want.” Leans in, his lips so close to your ear. “What you don’t.”

Around you, the world narrows. Nothing exists outside of this bed. Not the weird house in the middle of the woods. Not the apocalypse. Not a goddamn thing except Namjoon and his big hands and the way he’s touching you. “Tell me what you want,” he says, words skimming along the column of your throat, “and I’ll do it.”

You wonder if he’s talking about big-picture shit or just sex. If he’s someone who needs something concrete to hold onto before he fucks or if it even matters anymore. Would he still want to sleep with you if you’d met under different circumstances that night at the bar, or is it just something to pass the time while you wait out the end of the world?

Although, you feel like the world might end if you don’t finally fuck this man, so maybe it doesn’t matter.

“I’m clean and I have an IUD I’ll have to figure out how to remove in three years if I live that long. I’m down for mostly anything as long as you ask first but I draw the line at most bodily fluids. Oh, also—don’t kiss me if your tongue goes anywhere near my ass. I think that’s it, though. What about you?”

Momentarily stunned, Namjoon’s hands stop moving. “I’ve never eaten ass before.”

“Oh. I mean, we totally can if you want to, but—really?”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Because your lips are pornographic,” you admit, completely void of shame. “Like, you have the kind of mouth that looks like it’s done a lot of dirty things.”

Namjoon laughs. “You also said I look like I like getting pushed around.”

You cock an eyebrow. “Do you?”

He’s growing bold. His response is a low chuckle, more vibration than anything, and he reaches for you again. Seems like he can’t keep his hands off of you, needs to be touching you always, even before when it was harmless, and this time he goes for your hips. Fits his large hands to your waist, the tops of your thighs, presses his thumbs into your hip bones. “Most people don’t try.”

“Yeah, that tracks,” you reply dazedly.

His lips move to your neck, trace the neckline of your sleep shirt, dip below to nip at your collarbone. “Where’s your hand, baby?” he speaks into your skin. Finds what he’s looking for and pins your arm above your head, gently like you’ll break. You think you might. “You can push me around when you’re healed. Can I kiss you?”

You must nod, because Namjoon drags his lips from your throat to your jaw to the corner of your mouth, and then he’s pressing them to your own. This is gentle too, Namjoon careful with his own injury, and it’s not lost on you that this is your fault. You’re not going to get the filthy, primal fucking you want because you’d thrown a punch in a bar, but this isn’t a bad consolation prize, you think.

Because Namjoon is good at this. He’s easy to rile up but rock-solid once he pushes past it. And, sure, he kisses you gently, but he means it. Whimpers into your mouth like you’re doing him a favor, and you think you might be able to do this, just this, forever.

Your free hand fists the thin cotton of his shirt as he licks into your mouth. It should be gross, because it’s the middle of the night and you no longer have the luxury of your favorite toothpaste, but you find it hard to care when he drops his weight, that massive body of his pressing into you, against you in all the right ways. This time it’s you who whines, and it’s a small sound but it seems to drive Namjoon a little crazy.

“Wanna hear you,” he says, pulling back, and you’re about to ask him what that means, if he just wants you to start moaning like some bad porn, but then he’s grabbing your leg to wrap it around his waist and pressing his hips to you harder.

“Oh fuck,” you sigh. Even through his sleep shorts you can tell he’s big—big and really fucking hard. Forget a zombie apocalypse, you’re not sure you’ll survive this right here.

What Namjoon wants, Namjoon gets. You’re unabashed as he grinds his cock against your core, careless about your volume. You’ve suffered through almost everyone in this house either fucking or jerking off, and you can take a little ribbing, so you’re going to enjoy this. What’s the point in modesty if you’re all going to die, anyway?

So you just keep babbling, words spilling out of your mouth before you can filter them, writhing and whining all the while. “I know, baby,” Namjoon says, hands all over, mouth not far behind. “Keep going,” he urges, hands to your hips to move you the way he wants.

“Thigh,” you say, barely able to get the word out of your mouth with the way he’s moving against you. “Wan-wanna ride your thigh.”

He keens. “Shit, yeah, okay.”

Namjoon fucks like it’s the end of the world.

You get off on his thigh but he deems it not enough. Strips you bare and situates himself between your legs. Puts that sinful mouth to use and gets you off again. Asks you when the last time you had sex was and laughs at your answer, all condescending heat, and he uses the slick from you and his mouth to stretch you on three of his fingers.

You’re going to ruin this man’s hair once you have two working hands. Maybe just ruin him in general.

The build-up is dizzying. One second he’s slow and sensual, content to take you apart, continuously bring you to the edge just to yank you back—and the next is all feral urgency. He can’t make you come, can’t kick his shorts off, can’t peel his briefs down those thick thighs fast enough.

“Will you ride me?” he asks, so intent on taking your one rule to heart. As long as you ask first. But some things don’t need to be questioned, like when Hobi asks if you want to take an edible and watch the Spice Girls movie and will you sit on Namjoon’s massive dick.

You huff, already halfway in his lap. “Clown question, bro.”

As you sink down onto him, you understand why he’d laughed when you said it’d been awhile, why he got a little cocky. Three fingers hadn’t been anywhere near enough, but the stretch, the overwhelming fullness, is delicious.

“I was go—ah, fuck—gonna suggest you don’t ca-call me bro, but I don’t think I care when you feel this fucking good.”

“Yeah?” you stupidly ask, and you’re usually better at dirty talk, but there’s not much you can do when all of your brainpower is going towards riding the best cock you’ve ever had in your life. “Tell me.”

Namjoon moans, grips your hips to move you again. Back and forth at a steady, torturous pace. “Baby,” he whines. “Feels like one of those wa-water wiggler toys—”

Okay, so clearly neither of you are at your best right now.

And that’s how it goes. You brace yourself on Namjoon’s chest, nails of your good hand digging into his pec, your broken one held in his. Time seems to drag on forever and stop all at once, and you’re oversensitive and admittedly a little in pain and a lot exhausted so you’re probably not going to come again, but you find yourself dangerously close watching Namjoon chase his own orgasm.

Head tilted back, neck on display, mouth dropped open. You want to shove your fingers inside, so you do.

He comes immediately.

Namjoon kisses you as the two of you come down, whispering more praise in between each one. Tells you how good you are, how beautiful, that he’s glad you broke his nose. Then he realizes the dumb thing that has come out of his mouth and pauses, looking confused and delicate. He’s so cute you kiss him first this time.

And then you pull back and realize he’s got blood all over his face, gushing from the nose he’s so glad you broke, and he’s out of the bed and into the bathroom before you can blink.

“You can’t do that, we’re soulmates!”

Jimin scoffs, placing the Robber on Taehyung’s hex tile anyway, ruthless as he watches his boyfriend miserably discard half his hand. “Your fault for building a city there. I’m coming for your ore tile next.”

You roll your lips to keep from laughing. You hadn’t expected the house’s sardonically-named Royal Couple to be on the brink of disaster twenty minutes into a game of Catan, but you’re safe for now in your small part of the world, surrounded by all of these people you’ve come to love, Namjoon especially, so you’ll take all the manufactured, external drama you can get.

“Told you he’d turn on you, Tae,” you chime. He gives you the finger. “You can’t trust Libra men.”

“What about virgins!” Jungkook calls from the kitchen, where Yoongi has convinced him to drink tequila and brandy to see if he can get him to punch Namjoon, too, and Seokjin laughs so hard he looks like he’s about to keel over and die.

Yeah, you think you’re going to be fine.

#bts imagines #bts fic #namjoon fic #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #namjoon imagine #btswritingcafe #thebtswritersclub #btshoneyhive #bts smut #bts scenarios

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thestarrynightslover · 7 months

Text

When You Know, You Know

Pairing: Stuart Scola x Reader

Word count: 1,525

Warnings: None, just fluff.

Summary: You and Stuart had been dating for quite a while when it was finally time to tie the knot. Marriage imagine.

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the FBI shows, or its characters, also not associated with it in any way or know anyone involved with it.

A/N: So, this is my first Stuart Scola fic and I can only hope that it isn’t too bad. Feel free to send feedback!

(y/n) = (your name) (y/l/n) = (your last name) (y/n/n) = (your nickname)

| masterlist |

As he took in your figure in that gorgeous wedding dress, your fiancé — soon-to-be-husband — couldn't help but drop his jaw.

Stuart Scola had faced a lot throughout his life. From getting to succeed in the Wall Street jungle, to facing his family's judgment for his career change — and losing all of his so-called friends —, to making it in the FBI, with all the mockery that followed him everywhere. Not to mention the job itself, deliberately putting himself in harm's way every day… But nothing had scared or got him as nervous as asking you out for the first time.

It wasn't that you were a scary person or anything because you weren't. He just looked at you like there was no one else from day one, and, because of that, you seemed too good, too much, to ever wanna go out with him of all people. And, somehow, he just knew that you were his only shot, because you'd ruined him for anyone else without even trying.

It was a hot, sunny day when the two of you met: Stuart was working on a case that had him chasing a perp through the streets of New York City, as usual. Everything was going by the same old way until he disastrously bumped into — more like fell on top of — someone, correcting his own thoughts, as he took a look at you beneath him, he began to think of you as the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen and, of course, that had to had happened while he was on the job and shamefully on top of, who hadn’t banged your head in the cement solely because the agent’s reflexes had kicked in and he’d quickly put his hand under it. Right as he’d started to lift himself, Scola had a jumpscare out of his admiration trance when his radio sounded, awfully loud: it was OA telling the other agents that he’d caught the criminal, so everybody could stop the chase and head back to HQ. A minute too long after the radio message came through and Stuart didn’t make another move to leave the awkward position the two of you were into, you decided it was time you’d reacted:

“So, um, you’re really not planning on going anywhere, officer?” You asked, mistaking his bulletproof vest for one regular cops would wear.

“Y- yeah, of course, ma’am, I’m so- sorry for the inconvenience,” he started, already the most nervous he’d ever been. “I’m actually an FBI agent but that’s a common mistake.” He said already standing up and helping you up before people stopped going around your lying figure to start going over you. “Are you okay, though?” He asked, truly worried as you hadn’t stated anything else.

“Yeah, I- I think so. My butt took most of our fall though!” You attempted at a joke, only then starting to realize how handsome the guy standing in front of you was. And you’d already found his nervousness cute. The actual thought in your head was: handsome, cute, employed, and polite in NYC? What a catch — okay, maybe your expectations were a tad low. Still, you’d never really had the opportunity to meet one of those in the city you’d moved into not long ago. But what really settled your delight for the man was how flustered he’d looked as he said:

“Maybe I can help with that, back at HQ!” A moment later, he added: “Not in that way! Of c- course, I don’t mean any disrespect of any kind! I just thought that maybe, maybe-”

“It’s okay, agent, um,” you started stopping to read the nametag on his vest, “Scola. I’ll be fine!”

“Oh, please, call me Stuart. If you’d like, of course…”

“Stuart it is, then! I’m (y/n) (y/l/n).” You answered, as a small smile started forming on your lips, mirroring his own smile. That was when he heard in his ear comm the gruff voice of Jubal shouting to his agent:

“Ask her out and get back here already, Scola!” In agreement with the boss, Stuart heard basically his entire FBI team shout:

“Ask her! Ask her!”

So he gulped down and said: “Listen, (y/n), I, uh, was wondering if you may consider going out with me any of these days?” He phrased it so politely that you were barely sure what he was asking but you, obviously, already knew your answer.

“Yes, Stuart, I’d very much like that.”

“Well- Well, I, uh, I’m very glad to hear that! But now I have to go back to work…” He said, starting to turn around but your voice stopped his movements:

“Okay but aren’t you gonna ask for my number?” You asked amused as hell by the man in front of you.

“Ah, yes! Yes, of course!” He said taking out his phone so you could put your number in it.

So, now — as you walked down the church's decorated aisle —, all he kept thinking was that, somehow, you managed to become more perfect every day, and, that he was damn lucky to get to love you. With those thoughts on repeat and with his mouth still open was how you met him at the altar.

"Stuart!" You hissed, "close your mouth or the photos will look awful!" He did as you told him, very slowly. You being that closer to him… Your smell along with all of that princess-like production… How could he possibly think?

"Sorry, darling…" He started to say, still looking very much taken aback. "It's just that… I still can't believe that I'm actually marrying you…" Hearing that, you gave him a bright knowing smile. Same old Stu…

"Huh… Well, then, maybe you'd like to confirm with the priest?" You asked him playfully, just to try and get him back to Earth.

"Uh? Priest, yeah. That sounds good!" But when he turned to the man in the robe, you realized he was actually doing it. “Excuse me, um, sir, but can you confirm that I really am marrying this gorgeous woman?” For God’s sake, you wanted to slap him. To look outraged. To pretend you didn’t know him. But all you could do was grin even more widely than you were already doing. Your stupid, romantic man…

“Yes, my son, I can confirm that. If it’s what you both desire, of course.” The priest answered with a kind smile.

“I can only hope that is what she desires cause there’s nothing I’d want more!” He shot back, giving you a wink.

“Okay, I think we can get on with the ceremony now that you’re no longer looking like a codfish.” You said, trying to sound annoyed while hiding your smile.

That seemed to convince the priest, who took the chance to salute the guests and the two of you, properly starting your wedding.

Now, you would be lying if you tried to say that most of his words made it to your ears. Just like your soon-to-be husband, you had completely zoned out. He was really going to be yours for the rest of your lives. Stuart Scola. That magnetic force of man was going to be your lover for the ages to come.

And, with that on your mind, you were somehow awakened from your trail of thoughts when the priest asked:

“Miss (y/n) (y/l/n), will you take mister Stuart Scola to be your husband?” To which you happily responded with a sonorous:

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” So it was time for your fiancé to answer his question.

“Mister Stuart Scola, will you take Miss (y/n) (y/l/n) to be your wife?”

“Of course I will, sir!”

“Then I pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!”

And, so, your husband did as he was told. Giving you your first kiss as a married woman. And what a kiss! It was a good thing he was holding you, otherwise, your legs might have succumbed.

Following that was the applause from all of your guests and the reception party. All of which seemed to go by in a blur, as much as you kept trying to make lasting memories, and, next thing you knew, it was just you and Stuart at the hotel where you were spending your honeymoon. As you reached the room, before you could barely think about anything, your husband surprised you by taking your feet off the ground, and carrying you bridal-style through the door. About which he just said:

“Traditions are traditions, honey!”

“Oh, Stu!” You squealed out, not caring that the other guests might hear you.

Then, he walked you both to the bed, where he gently laid you, only to start tickling you, who, obviously, burst out in laughter.

“Stu! Stuart, please stop! I can’t breathe!” Hearing that, he immediately stopped.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” He asked, his voice filled with concern. The moment he asked it though, you took the opportunity to start tickling him back, which only got you both into an established tickle fight intercaled with quick kisses here and there.

Yeah, it was gonna be a long night…

#stuart scola #stuart scola x reader #fbi tv show #fbi #fbi cbs #fbi fanfiction #one shot #imagines #fbi imagines #stuart scola imagine #fluff #marriage imagine #stuart scola x you #stuart scola x y/n #self insert #fbi self insert #stuart scola fanfiction #stuart scola one shot #stuart scola self insert

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jeonsjiddies · 2 years

Text

Toxic Masterlist.

One.

Taehyung never intended for things to go this far. He didn’t mean to get so caught up in you, but he had been captivated by you from the very first moment his eyes landed on your bright smile. You stood from your chair when his new manager introduced him to you, stating that you’d be working closely together from now on. Your eyes were so kind when you reached for his hand and shook it, your skin so soft. Taehyung could barely breathe in your shining presence, his eyes roaming over your features quickly, committing them to memory.

“Nice to meet you, Taehyung. I’m Y/N. I’m excited to work together.”

The way your lips moved when you spoke had Taehyung in a trance, wondering idly how they’d feel pressed against his own or wrapped around his cock… He shook the thoughts from his head and returned your enthusiasm, shaking your hand and sending you his most charming smile.

“I can’t wait,” he’d told you.

That night he’d searched you up on Instagram, scrolling through your profile in an attempt to learn more about you. Of course, you didn’t have it on private. You were so sweet, so naive, and trusting. Taehyung sighed to himself, you needed someone to watch over you, to protect you from those who might want to do you wrong. His gaze flickered over your third most recent picture before it narrowed.

The photo stared back at him, taunting him. A man stood next to you, giving the camera a half-smile, minimal effort, while your soft, supple lips were pressed against the man’s cheek. Taehyung felt sick to his stomach. How dare this man not treat you like a queen? He clearly didn’t care about you, not even enough to smile for a photograph. If that were him, he’d have pulled you closer, smiled the brightest smile, done a whole photoshoot for you. He would treat you better. That man didn’t deserve you.

He knew he needed to be subtle about this, moving too fast or coming on too strong would scare you away and ruin everything. Baby steps. Patience. Taehyung could be patient, for you. He could do anything for you, the girl with the contagious smile and the most beautiful voice, every word that left your lips his new favorite sound. He continued to scroll through your social media, writing down notes on the things you liked, the places you frequented. He noticed a quaint little coffee shop in several of your tagged photos, was it near your house?

He’d find out soon enough, but for now, he decided to print out his favorite photo from your Instagram and pin it to his board along with his notes. Some might find his methods strange, but Taehyung found that the board helped him to organize his thoughts, to plan better. His plan had to be flawless, he couldn’t afford to make a mistake and let you slip away. He wouldn’t let that happen. He was going to make you his.

❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀

The next morning you arrived to work 15 minutes late, hair disheveled, and un-caffeinated. Somehow, your alarm clock had been turned off and didn’t wake you on time, so you barely had time to throw your hair in a messy bun, change into work attire, and run out the door. You didn’t even have time to stop for coffee, your caffeine headache already starting to creep in. You put your head down on your desk, whimpering quietly. A shadow appeared, blocking the fluorescent lights from assaulting your vision and you glanced up to see Taehyng. You sat up straighter and fixed your wrinkled blouse, greeting him with a half-hearted smile.

“Good morning, Taehyung. How are you?”

“Better than you, it looks like,” he chuckled before setting down a cup of coffee in front of you - your favorite kind from your favorite cafe!

“Oh my god! My hero!”

You gushed, immediately taking the warm drink into your hands and inhaling the soothing scent before pressing the lid to your lips and taking a drink. The hot liquid slid down your throat and your soul immediately felt peace, a satisfied sigh escaping .

Taehyung smiled to himself, watching you with amusement, “rough morning?”

“The roughest,” you whined, “but you just made it all better. Thank you so much, Taehyung!”

“You can call me Tae,” he smiled encouragingly, “and it’s no problem. I figured if we’re going to be working together, it would be good to start off on the right foot.”

“You don’t know how much I appreciate you, I’ll pay you back for this,” you promised, reaching for your purse but Taehyung’s hand reached out to stop your movements.

“Don’t worry about it, really.”

“Well, thank you, Tae,” you smiled gratefully and hearing his nickname fall from your shiny lips had Taehyung’s heart whirring to life, the small droplet of coffee traveling down your chin to the valley of your breasts causing his dick to twitch as well. He shifted, trying to subtly hide his boner. He smiled at you and walked back over to his desk before his problem became noticeable, his heart beating erratically in his chest.

❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀

Later in the day, it had been slow for about an hour and you were losing your mind sitting silently at your desk trying to find something to do. You glanced over at Taehyung who sighed and blew a piece of hair out of his face before checking the time. You stood and walked over to him, plopping your bottom down on his desk and smiling down at him.

“Hey, Tae.”

“Y/N, hello. How are you?”

“Bored out of my mind. I hate it when I get stuck waiting for replies and have to wait to move forward,” you whined,

“So I thought I’d come keep you company in the meantime.”

“I’m honored to help ease your boredom,” he smirked playfully.

You giggled and peeked over the documents he was working on, scrunching your nose in distaste.

“They’ve got you on data entry? Rough.”

“It’s not that bad, I know a few hacks to make it easier.”

“Oh yeah? Show me?”

You hopped down off his desk and came around to stand next to him, your bodies mere inches apart and Taehyung could smell the intoxicating aroma of you. You smelled sweet, like fresh lavender. He idly wondered what brand of perfume you wore before he brought his focus back to the task at hand.

“So there’s this keyboard shortcut you can use…”

You’d both spent the next twenty minutes rattling off tips and tricks you knew to make your jobs easier, and you were blown away by how tech savvy Taehyung was. Taehyung was blown away by how beautiful your laugh sounded. He wished he could record it and listen to it all day long.

“Why aren’t you in IT? Wouldn’t you make more?”

“I didn’t get an IT degree, which is required,” he shrugged.

“But you’re so smart, Tae! Why don’t you go back to school?”

“I do not want to relive college,” he chuckled.

“Fair,” you agreed with a light laugh.

Taehyung was mesmerized by your smile, the way your eyes lit up when you were excited, how easily entertained and impressed you were. You were kind, giving, and made him feel special even from one conversation. You listened intently to what he said and complimented his every asset. Taehyung was basking in the glow of your praise and your presence.

“What’s your most embarrassing memory from college?”

❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀ ❀❀❀

Taehyung felt giddy walking into his apartment after work, reliving the long conversations he’d had with you at work that day. It seemed like you trusted even easier than he’d anticipated, one kind act was all it took for you to open up and come to him. You hadn’t come to him in the way he wanted, not yet. But you would. Taehyung was patient, for you. He would wait for you as long as it took. Though it seemed that you were coming around even faster than he had hoped you would. He smiled to himself as he settled in front of his computer.

He quickly reversed the code he’d used that morning to turn off your alarm, smiling to himself as he thought back to the grateful look on your face, how your eyes had lit up. For him. Because he saved the day. He took care of you like no one else could, and you would soon see that. Tomorrow, your alarm would be back to normal. Taehyung didn’t take out the code he’d used to hack your phone, though. He could see everything you saw. Your texts. Your internet searches. The disgusting penis someone had sent you on Snapchat. Taehyung smirked to himself, knowing he was far more endowed than the photograph you’d just received. Based on the username, it was the same guy in your pictures.

Taehyung felt his stomach turn, knowing the man was so disrespectful towards you. You deserved far better than the self-obsessed asshole with the tiny penis. Then, he got an idea. He smirked to himself, opening a new window of the program he was using, praying the idiot had his location tracker on. He did. After a little sleuthing and password guessing, Taehyung hacked into Sung-Ho’ s Snapchat. He scrolled through his recent conversations, and just as Taehyung had expected, he was having indecent conversations with multiple women. Taehyung screenshotted all of the conversations except yours, drew over the usernames to protect the women’s privacy, and logged into Sung-Ho’s Instagram account.

He posted every screenshot, each conversation in its own post, then changed the password and email on file (making sure the email had no connection with him) so Sung-Ho couldn’t take them down. He smiled to himself; he’d done a good deed. He’d exposed a cheater and saved several women the heartache of finding out later when they were already attached. He’d exposed Sung-Ho and showed you who he really was. He checked your screen to see if you’d seen the posts, and sure enough, you were hovering over one of the conversations, screenshotting it and texting it to Sung-Ho, demanding an explanation.

Once your screen had been dark for about ten minutes, Taehyung assumed you were asleep and decided to call it a night himself. He printed off the Snapchat screen and the conversations, pinning them together neatly on his board. He liked to keep track of his adventures, see the progress he’d made. He’d saved you from the douchebag with the tiny penis, kept you safe from the predator closing in on you. Taehyung would always keep you safe, always do what was best for you, and soon you would realize he was the one for you and fall for him. He would make sure of it.

#kim taehyung #taehyung #bts #bts v #bts taehyung #bts kim taehyung #bts tae #yandere #tw yandere #smut #bts smut #bts v smut #bts taehyung smut #kim taehyung smut #taehyung smut

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dreamersparacosm · 2 years

Text

life as we know it - prologue

an austin butler x reader fanfiction.

warnings ; none <3

a/n ; i am SO excited to be starting this series!!! this chapter is just setting up the premise for austin and [y/n]’s relationship, leading up to the events of chapter one, so there’s a lot of time jumps. i might be publishing this on my wattpad as well but more details on that to come. for now its a tumblr exclusive ;) enjoy and lmk your thoughts!

official series masterlist linked here

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

you wanted to crawl into a hole.

maybe that was harsh, but for the circumstances you were given, it felt right. your heel tapped impatiently on your wooden floor. the clock idly ticked, its persistent sound humming in your brain as a way to say ‘look at me, check me.’ cozied in the nook of your leather couch, you inhaled another deep breath. if you checked your watch one more time, someone would have to diagnose you with a disorder. why did i agree to this? why..why...why? you could only scold yourself, for it had been you who had consented to your best friend’s idea to go on a blind date with her boyfriend’s friend. now, you did trust her. however, her track record in college included but was not limited to: barista with bad coffee breath, soccer player with heavy accent, and aspiring lawyer with daddy’s money. so, maybe it was your fault, because how could you not see the red flags?

you were starting to think you should’ve just ordered takeout and sunk into your mattress.

the sound of your apartment buzzer ringing jostled you from your hateful thoughts. about damn time, you shook your head in annoyance. you smoothed out your fitted black dress, planting a believable smile on your face before swinging open the door to reveal… what the actual fuck? behind your door, a tall man with blonde hair stood before you, disheveled, in a black t-shirt and a baseball cap. you didn’t even have to look at him for more than five seconds to know he put about 10 minutes into his appearance. you blinked twice, hoping that when you did, he would disappear from your door and a man in a dress shirt and pants would reappear. a girl can dream. he placed his hand out to shake yours, speaking, “austin. austin butler. you’re [y/n], right?”

“that would be me,” your hand reached out to meet his, and a lousy handshake followed. somehow, you had already begun counting down the seconds until the date was over. but, you were a pleasant person, so no harm in accepting the free meal that was an antidote to any first date. “nice to finally meet you.”

“am i late?” he spoke in one breath, running his hands through his curls. that seemed to do nothing for his appearance. did this man even shower?

“umm.. maybe an hour?” you shrugged your shoulders, praying that steam wasn’t coming out of your ears at that moment. he was, precisely, an hour and fifteen minutes late. if you knew any better, you would’ve put on your pajamas and let that damn doorbell ring until five in the morning. “but, you know, it took me a while to get ready, and i was warned by allison that this was kinda your thing, so…”

“oh, no way,” a chuckle exited his mouth, but it felt more condescending than anything. was it acceptable to slap someone on the first date? “that’s funny, because peter said you might say something about that.”

it absolutely was not funny, but you found yourself forcing a laugh. there was nothing else to do in the situation, because simply put, it could not get worse than this. “oh, alright, great, thanks peter,” the compulsory giggles were still flying from your lips, and as soon as they came, they went. a moment of silence fell between you two as you sized each other up. meanwhile, austin butler was having his own thoughts. allison’s friend is fucking hot, he thought to himself. score for me. i’m getting laid.

“well, should we head out?” you swung your purse onto your shoulders, hoping to peel his eyes off your body and possibly some of his sinful thoughts. he shook himself out of his trance, just before he was about to eye up your legs.

clearing his throat, he responded, “yeah, yeah, let’s go.”

“great. let’s get some dinner. i’m super hungry, it’s been like an hour,” you couldn’t help but let out a snide comment, but he seemed to either ignore it or play dumb as you two entered the elevator. it was a long, awkward ride down that seemed viciously torturous. you were already thinking of things you could ask allison to do to make this up to you, but you’re not sure anything could amount to this kind of torture.

“so, how long have you been here in the city?” he finally broke the silence as you two exited the elevator.

“since i graduated school,” you walked beside him, heel clacks echoing off the walls. “you?”

“just for the month,” he shrugged, shoving his hands into his pocket. “here for an acting gig.”

“oh, you’re an actor?” you furrowed your eyebrow. see, allison always left out the most important parts, such as ‘oh, he’s missing a tooth’ or ‘oh, he’s an actor!’ she was known for throwing you into the deep end, left to your own devices as if you needed any more of her tactics that were becoming more anxiety-inducing than anything else.

“struggling actor,” he corrected you.

even better. you decided to brush it off, since there was no need to dwell on the fact that this man possibly had no money or a real career. “how long have you known peter for?”

“high school.”

“oh, wow,” you nodded, waiting for him to ask you some sort of question. he opened the front entrance door of your building, barely holding it for you. at this point, you were all out of words to sputter out in anger. “i’ve known allison since college. we were in a sorority together.”

he didn’t even acknowledge your sentence as you stepped into the night air, the warm august breeze engulfing and comforting you the best it could considering the situation you were in. austin looked around the street, as if he were searching for something important. he whipped around to face you, a confused expression painted on his face. “…where’s your car?”

“uh, where’s your car?” you questioned accusingly.

“did you miss the part where i said struggling actor? here for the month, yada yada yada?” he crossed his arms over his chest, and it took all your energy to not reach out and slap him across the face. free meal, you repeated to yourself, one more hour and i can escape.

“no worries, we can just take my car,” you exhaled a deep breath, digging in your purse to pull out the keys to your new car. you hadn’t even really taken it for a spin yet, waiting until you were desperate enough to be seen driving around in a car in new york city. you finally found your key, unlocking it and crossing the street to open the driver’s seat. he continued to shock you by not even offering to drive the car — to which you would have said no — and he tucked himself cozily into your passenger seat.

“so, where should we go?” you turned to him, gripping the wheel so tightly your knuckles turned ghastly white. he couldn’t have messed up the dinner aspect of the date, right?

“uh, where did you make reservations?” he popped an altoid in his mouth.

your mouth gaped open in shock, neck jutting forward at his words, “you said you were gonna make them. you… didn’t make them?”

“i said that?” he scratched the top of his baseball cap quizzically. “i mean, bold of you to trust my advice but—“

“it’s fine,” you sighed, hoping the sadness didn’t reflect in your tone. “let’s just go anywhere. this city has stuff open all the time.”

“great,” he nodded. “so you pick.”

“you’re making me pick too?” you had to grip the wheel even tighter than before to stop yourself from slamming your forehead into it.

“i mean, is this my city? i’m a hollywood guy,” he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly.

“right, yeah,” you said as if it were the only thing you had ever known. “okay, well, how about scarpetta? you ever heard of it?”

“nah, sounds fancy, though. is that, like, italian or something—“

his inquiry was cut short by the sound of a ringtone chirping through the night air. ‘baby got back’ eerily played from austin’s phone, and your eyes narrowed as you watched him wiggle uncomfortably in his seat beside you. great, and this guy uses actual songs as ringtones, you mentally made a note to block this man after this interaction. “oops, my bad,” he fumbled with his back pocket, trying to shut off his phone without removing it from the confines of his pants. “just my phone.”

“you can answer if you—“

“no, no,” he waved his hand at you, his hand jamming deeper into his pocket. “it’s gonna go to voicemail.”

you wanted to speak over the song, but no words could echo over the sound of the singer talking about a girl’s voluptuous glute. “you know what? how about you just answer that?”

“you… want me to answer it?” he knew it was a trap, he was well aware, but he also knew that it could be another one of his new york city booty calls coming through, and god forbid he missed that.

“just go ahead, it’s fine,” a forced grin was plastered on your face.

“great, thanks,” he let out a breath of relief, removing his phone from his pocket. “hey, you,” his tone dripped with sexuality, and your jaw fully gaped open as you realized this man wasn’t just accepting any old call, but a literal booty call. in front of you. openly.

the girl’s voice behind the phone was incoherent to you as he carried along in a sweet voice, “you know me, always in the middle of something…yeah, yeah…eleven? oof, that won’t work…10:30 okay?”

you blinked rapidly, jaw still unhinged as austin wrapped up his conversation. “so sorry about that, just one of my sick friends.”

“you know, we really do not have to do this,” you began to unbuckle your seatbelt. at that point, no free meal was worth this kind of excruciating pain.

“really?” he perked up in his seat, his shoulders straightening as he sat up.

“oh my god, are you for real?” you stared at him, eyebrows stitched together.

he turned his body to face you, unbuckling his seatbelt as well, “listen, let’s be honest. the moment you saw me, you didn’t like me. and in all seriousness, we both know how these things go. we’ll exchange small talk over dinner, i’ll probably make you split the bill, but it’s okay because you would be wine drunk, so we would still hook up and then we would tell our friends it went well, even though we’ll never speak again.”

he was really being serious.

“what the fuck is wrong with you?” you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself, gripping your purse in your hands as if it were a concealed weapon.

“look, it’s the weekend. i’m just tryna have fun,” he put his hands up in defense. “i can hang out with my sick friend, and you can do whatever it is you do… which is?”

you stared at him blankly, unable to formulate words. “i do things,” you said finally, sneering at him.

“right! of course! you look like you read. go read a book!” he exclaimed as if it were a magical discovery he made. the dimwit thinks i fucking read on a weekend night, you said to yourself.

“okay, you know what?” you rolled your eyes, “if you wanted to ensure this wasn’t going to be a shitty night, here’s a tip. don’t make a booty call in front of me and don’t show up an hour late!”

he pressed a hand against his heart, faking his shock, “she’s very sick.”

“oh, of course. super sick,” you retorted sarcastically “were you planning on healing her with your magic penis?”

“hey, some ladies just need a little loosening up,” he winked at you suggestively, and that was just about the last straw for you. you opened your car door, hopping out as fast as your legs could take you.

you turned to him, leaning down so he could still be in earshot, “get out of my car. now.”

“no problem,” he opened up his door on the passenger side. “i don’t know what they were thinking.”

“yeah, me either,” you marched towards the entrance of your building, leaving austin stranded and to his own devices. regardless, he couldn’t care less. he had never been happier to escape from such an uptight woman. see, this is why he didn’t involve himself with corporate women. they were too strung out from their 9 to 5s.

as soon as you crossed the safe threshold of your front door, you whipped out your phone, dialing allison’s number swiftly. she picked up on the first ring, unable to get a single word out before you cut her off, “allison marie carter, the only way you can make this up to me…is if you promise i never have to see him again.”

apparently, your words carried as much weight in the universe as a feather.

as it would only happen, your best friend was absolutely head over heels, foolishly and disgustingly in love with her boyfriend. you had about 8 months of bliss, lost in ignorance that you would never have to see austin butler again. that was, until peter decided to propose to allison in paris. to make matters worse, allison and peter wanted you and austin to be their best man and maid of honor. to add even more salt to the wound than humanly possible, you were coerced into spending every second of every godforsaken day with the man who’s ringtone still haunted you in your dreams. lucky you. you cursed yourself for picking a best friend that would be lucky enough to marry a man who was mature and wise beyond his years, but his best friend was the human version of a penis.

if you weren’t so annoyed at the world and its sneaky ways, you might’ve possibly enjoyed her wedding. however, it became clear that was not going to be the case.

despite your eagerness to act miserable, you couldn’t hide the excitement that had buried itself deep down within you. you had talked with allison for years on what it would be like to meet the man you were going to wed, and to spend eternity with that person. at the time, it had grossed you out just enough to fear men forever, but alas, you were still stuck at a wedding ceremony, holding that damn bouquet of flowers and avoiding all eye contact with austin butler.

if allison had caught on to your ongoing feud with austin at her wedding, she made no point in mentioning it. if you weren’t four drinks in already too, you possibly would’ve dropped the vendetta you planned against him. needless to say, those drinks were getting the job done. during the wedding photos, austin managed to sneak a slap to your ass, causing you to chase him around with your bouquet frantically as the photographer got some ‘candid shots.’

god, i need more shots, you thought to yourself, exhaling the deepest of breaths as you looked around the crowded ballroom. you had done the phony introductions to allison and peter’s families, but no amount of alcohol was going to get you through the pit in your stomach that sat heavily, screaming at you. in some way, it felt as though you were losing a part of yourself with allison getting married. she was always your counterpart — not that much would change, peter knew the rules of your friendship — but it felt like you were back in kindergarten, learning that sharing was caring.

you made your way to the bar, pushing aside hordes of people to make direct eye contact with the bartender. at this point, you were sure he was beginning to know you by name, and tallying how many drinks you had left before he cut you off. ‘always be my baby’ by mariah carey echoed over the speakers, almost making you queasy.

“drinking all alone, princess?”

nope, never mind, you thought to yourself, now i’m queasy.

you slowly turned around, meeting austin's shit-eating grin and automatically getting the urge to slap it off his face. you were starting to wonder how they let barbarians into a wedding. of course, he knew the answer to his own question, but his common theme in your life had been ruining your peace. you blinked twice, already fed up with his antics. “trying to, butler.”

“aw, that’s not fun,” he teased, sliding in next to you and pulling out one of the barstools to perch himself against. you’re already counting down the seconds until he graces you with some peace.

“trust me, it is fun,” you scoffed, avoiding his eye contact.

“whatcha getting to drink?” for a moment, you thought he might actually be interested in your answer, until he literally confirms to you that he is definitely not, and is just looking for an opportunity to bully you again. “you strike me as one of those vodka cran girls. or, or someone who gets a martini just so they can feel classier about blacking out.”

you son of a bitch.

you smirked to yourself as the bartender slid the drink over you ordered a few minutes prior, “ma’am, here’s the jack and coke you ordered.”

you relished in the fact that you didn’t even have to turn to meet his eyes to know he was thoroughly impressed. “wow, jack daniels? i wouldn’t have guessed that one.”

“what can i say?” you took a sip, chugging as much as you possibly could to feel some sort of buzz. “i’m a woman full of surprises.”

“i like to be surprised.” now, if you weren’t tipsy, and he wasn’t also floating in a bit of liquid courage, you would say that the conversation you two were having was friendly banter (or the closest thing to it). but, through a drunken girl’s perspective, you almost took his sentence as an outward flirt. nevertheless, that wasn’t who you two were. you two constantly argued and teased each other, even after allison and peter forced you two to make up after the set-up debacle. plus, your brain couldn’t afford to be having sexual thoughts about anyone, especially not someone as demonic as austin butler, the communal whore.

so, you settled for the friendly version of your story. “shouldn’t you be balls deep in some girl right now?” you played with the straw in your drink, looking around in hopes of finding any other contenders to speak to.

he chuckled, a real one, which thoroughly weirded you out. “not before the speech. gotta wait ‘til after, they’ll come flocking after i make a few jokes.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, resisting the urge to roll your orbs into the back of your head. “you really believe you’re that funny?”

“maybe not, but somehow the girls still love me,” he smirked at you, squeezing your shoulder teasingly before ridding you of his presence and walking off to join peter on the dance floor. you found your eyes deceiving you and following him, watching as he did some ridiculous handshake with his best friend and chugging his beer. you shuddered at the thought that girls could even be attracted to him, especially with a body count as high as his and ego even higher.

the speeches came and went, and you cried a few times during your delivery. it was to be expected; there were too many stories to tell about allison being your platonic soulmate, and how buzzed you were that she had found her romantic soulmate. out of the corner of your eye, you saw austin gag himself a few times, but you knew the only one who would be sick was you after hearing his speech. knowing him, it was probably the raunchiest, filthiest speech known to man. with enough confidence to make you vomit, he walked up to the podium after you ended your speech, tapping the microphone a few times. you settled back into your chair, rolling your eyes at allison as she slapped your shoulder to calm you down. “hello everyone, my name is austin. i’m peter’s best man, and also his worst influence,” that earned a chuckle from the audience.

“i am so happy he asked me to be his best man. i was ecstatic when i found out he was going to be marrying allison, who is a better person than me, and that’s saying a lot. she consistently pushes him to work hard, and they’re always having fun together. they let me tag along on all their adventures, which also means i’m their pet. now, i could go into the crazy experiences peter and i have had, but those stories aren’t even rated pg-13 and i know half the people in here would rather die than hear those,” you found yourself cracking a smile at his jokes, but you rushed to wipe that off your face immediately as he turned to look at you. “now, i’m so excited to be part of this little family they created for me. allison and peter, i love you both dearly, and i’m grateful that you let me follow you around. peter, you’re my best friend and my brother, and i know that you’ll make allison the happiest girl alive. and, hey, if that doesn’t work out, i'm always down to get married, bro. congratulations you guys!”

your jaw was unhinged, eyes blinking sporadically to make sure you weren’t dreaming. did he…just make a heartfelt speech? to your surprise (and allison’s), you found yourself clapping along with the rest of the crowd. his eyes found yours, winking at you as to reveal an ulterior motive. damn it, he was going to get laid before you, probably with some poor, unsuspecting girl.

the night dragged on, drinks being poured and liquor being consumed. your drunken state wasn’t overbearing your ability to think properly, but you definitely were looser than you usually were. you had flirted with multiple men throughout the reception, however, you found yourself migrating to the happy couple. at that point, you must’ve been on your seventh jack and coke, because it didn’t even bother you when austin came up behind you and joined the little dance circle you three had created. in fact, you even interlocked hands with him during the ‘cha-cha slide.’ everything was blurry — too blurry — and you were beginning to wonder if the bartender was making your drinks extra strong on purpose.

allison and peter were so beyond hammered that they didn’t even bother to take note of anything you and austin were doing, since they were too caught up in their lovey-dovey romance bullshit. somehow, you’re okay with the dance circle, and you’re even okay when austin decides to slip his arm loosely around your waist. you’re not even thinking about doing anything with him in that way, you’re just content with the fact that you’re actually getting along on your best friend’s wedding day.

eighth jack and coke and one tequila shot courtesy of austin, and you’re officially too drunk to partake in any more wedding activities. your brain isn’t even working the way it normally would, because if it was, you wouldn’t be making your way down the hallway to a secluded room. you would not be going to said room with austin butler. you would not be laughing at the jokes he was making, and you most definitely would not be okay with the consistent hand-holding.

“god, who the fuck invented tequila?” he said quizzically, slurring his words just enough to send you back into a giggling fit.

“oh my god, we should go back and do the vodka one. i saw they have that new amsterdam shit,” you laughed, sipping your jack and coke as if it were water. he slid down the wall in the room that you two had magically found yourselves in, his legs failing him as his entire body buzzed with intoxication.

you sat down cross-legged next to him, still laughing to yourself like a lunatic. he finally stopped chuckling, taking the time to look over at you. it was the first time he had really looked at you since the blind date fiasco. he noticed your eyes glimmering in the soft light, the way your hair cascaded down your back. your fingers were wrapped loosely around your glass, freshly painted and slender. for once, he felt a different kind of insatiable hunger towards you. you soon realized he was gazing at you, and the giggles were cut short.

you two sat there in silence for just a few seconds. only mere seconds, before you said, “did you see what allison’s mother was wearing?”

and, sure enough, it was back to the laughing fit. he hit your arm playfully, wiping tears from his eyes at your joke. you didn’t even realize when he let his hand linger on your arm, moving down to place it on your thigh firmly. but, when you felt it grasp your body, his warmth radiating onto yours, you realized what kind of trouble you might have gotten yourself into. you slowly looked down at his hand, and when you peered back up at him, his ice-blue eyes met yours. for a moment in time, you two weren’t the sworn enemies you thought you were. you were just austin and [y/n], sitting on a cold, unwelcoming floor of a banquet hall at your respective best friend’s wedding. in another world, those two people would’ve figured out they should be together.

his tongue poked out, wetting his lips as he gulped down some of the saliva that had pooled in his mouth. you couldn’t even breathe; you were tied down by desire, and the need to feel his lips against yours. in your drunken state, you finally could see him as more than just that person you’re forced to spend time with.

but, not enough for you to actually go through with it. it is austin butler, after all.

so, when he inevitably began to lean in to kiss you, you yanked your head away immediately, pushing him away with your hand on his chest. “what are you doing?!”

“trying to kiss you..?”

“you thought i wanted to kiss you?” you uncrossed your legs, standing up and steadying yourself against the wall. it was like the alcohol was slapped out of you, possibly also your dignity.

“wait, we weren’t having a moment just now…?” he scratched his head, trying to push himself up for his two feet to land back on the ground, but somehow all the wind was knocked out of him from your rejection. why the fuck do i care? he thought to himself, already preparing himself to wake up with the worst anxiety the next day.

“no, we were not having a moment,” you rolled your eyes. “do you think every girl that talks to you and laughs is trying to get in your pants?”

“just to be clear, you’re not trying to get in my pants—“

“no!” you’re practically screaming at him, but you began to wonder if you were trying to convince him or yourself. either way, he still disgusted you enough to remind you that kissing him would be the nail in your coffin. “i wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole, butler.”

“i’m not that bad,” he finally found the strength to stand up, towering over you even with your added inches from your heels.

“you’re literally insufferable,” you mocked, taking the last sip of your drink. “trust me, i was just playing nice. glad to know you’re still the same person as always.”

in some part of austin’s brain, a deep part he repressed quite often, that statement hurt him. he didn’t normally get offended when people assumed he was some sort of man-whore — he was aware of his high body count — but when it came from your mouth, it felt demeaning. he couldn’t fathom why in the world he had any sort of inclination towards you in the first place. maybe he really was too drunk to be in attendance. “glad to know you’re still the uptight bitch i thought you were,” he pushed past you, leaving the room and the surrounding air colder than when you had first entered. you didn’t have the words to respond, but somehow, things were better left unsaid.

▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓▓

you’ve had more aneurysms than fingers at that point in your day. it began with the mommy and me karaoke that allison had coerced you into attending with her newborn, rosalie. you were all for mother-daughter bonding, but not when you were neither the mother nor the daughter. either way, you were feeling particularly nice considering rosalie turned 6 months that day, but you claimed that was the only reason why you joined the class.

six months ago, you still had a sense of normalcy rooted in your life, but it seemed as if all you did these days was tag along with the happy couple and their offspring. you didn’t mind it, however, one of the consequences of hanging out with allison and peter… was austin. he was everywhere you looked, every holiday party you attended. you saw him more than you saw your coworkers, which said a lot considering your diligent work in the public relations industry.

if you were perceptive, you would’ve taken that as a sign to stay as far away as possible from allison and peter. but, deep down, you knew that you craved the stability they had in their life. the white picket fence, the grandparents who visited them to drop off gifts for the baby, family dinners each night. it felt foolish, the way jealousy sometimes swept over you late at night when you were alone tossing and turning in your king-sized bed that felt empty.

“so… i started taking rosalie to this new family practice,” allison brought over a potato salad wrapped in saran as you vigorously worked on frosting the hastily decorated chocolate cake. from her tone of voice, you already knew exactly where this conversation was going. “there’s this doctor there. he is so cute. i actually may have replaced my crush on harry styles.”

“mhm,” you’re half tuned into the conversation, but also struggling to see the importance to anything she’s talking about.

“anyway…i noticed no ring,” she placed another bowl beside your cake, ignoring her urge to squint at the work you were doing. “….so, i asked his nurse what was up with him.”

“allison, you did not.”

“what?! [y/n], you’re single and —“

“i thought we agreed to a moratorium on the set ups!” you placed the knife down exasperatedly, pursing your lips and crossing your arms as you turned to face her.

“what if this is your soulmate?!” she clasped her hands together in a begging motion, and you couldn’t help but laugh at her need to induce fear in you with her set-ups.

“you literally have the worst set-up record of all time,” you pointed out, switching the cake to a spot by the window.

“like who?” she asked incredulously, and your mouth gaped open at her question, shocked by her audacity to act innocent in her role in your life.

“do i need to go over adult braces guy? the shoplifter?”

“you’re still holding them over me?” she threw her head back, laughing.

“i’m not even gonna get into the austin debacle.”

“okay, well, i’m still holding out hope for you two,” she raised her hands in defeat, ignoring the way your face contorted in disgust at his name.

“you’re sick in the head, alli,” you rolled your eyes, “please don’t judge me because i don’t have a ring on my finger yet.”

“i’m not!” she rushed to defend her stance, “i just want you to find someone great.”

“and, i will. i promise you’ll be the first to know about it,” you giggled to yourself, and she patted your shoulder reassuringly. although you built a fortress around your heart and desire to start a family one day, there was no need to let allison know anything in that regard, since it would only rile up her efforts more.

unbeknownst to you, peter and austin were outside in the backyard arguing with two teenage boys over their ability to set up a bouncy house. they were meant to act their age, but that didn’t come easy to the two of them, especially not austin, who had found himself in the middle of multiple love scandals in the past year. he was constantly breaking up with women, claiming they weren’t the ones he could see ‘marching towards imminent death with.’ his lack of real love in his life gave you a bit hope for your own story, which was still being written. it wasn’t that you weren’t looking for a boyfriend, it was just that you had been so caught up in the success of your career that you allowed yourself to have to settle for the excuse of it’s okay, i’m dating my job.

austin and peter strolled in through the back door, peter slamming it behind him as austin bounced rosalie up and down in the air. she seemed to love it; granted, she did seem to love her uncle austin more than you. that might’ve been because he had no boundaries or rules whatsoever. in some twisted way, you saw what she saw him in; his ability to dance across life with no timeline, with no cares or worries. you were sure that as a baby, she really stood by that method.

“hey, pumpkin,” austin pulled up right behind you, and you shuddered in disgust at the feeling of his warm breath waning over the back of your neck.

“why do you always have to be so close to me?!” you elbowed him in the chest, and he faked agony as he stepped back from the impact of the blow. allison and peter shared a knowing look, while you just returned to your task of filling the candy bowls.

“aw, rosalie, look. look, that’s what bitter looks like,” that earned another sour look from you.

“hey, austin, why don’t you go take your hat off? we all know about the receding hairline,” you bit back, fighting the urge to slam his head against the cabinets.

“hey, it’s a widow’s peak! i do not have a receding hairline,” he frowned, propping rosalie up on his hip. he glanced over at peter, hoping for some form of agreement, who instead ignored his best friend’s silent pleas.

“okay, you two, play nice today,” allison leaned against the countertop. “all of our neighbors are coming over and i do not want to them to think we run a freak show.”

“well, then you shouldn’t have invited austin.”

“okay, that’s it, i’m not dealing with—“

“shut it!” allison threatened, “now come over here and let me get a nice little picture of rosalie with her godparents.” her tone was anything but soothing.

your eyes nearly rolled into your brain, silently cursing to yourself as you stood next to austin awkwardly. he forced a grin onto his face, arm loosely wrapping around your shoulder. even his touch angered you, his body radiating sarcasm and mockery. just as you thought all hope was lost, that god wouldn’t bless you with any more of your wishes, rosalie burped, opening her mouth and unloading white liquid, splattering onto austin’s white shirt. precisely at that moment, allison pressed down on the button on the camera, capturing your wide-eyed joy (and real smile) and austin gagging at the scent of rosalie’s vomit.

it was going to be a good day, indeed.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

#austin butler #austin butler fanfic #austin butler angst #austin butler fluff #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler elvis #austin butler smut

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celestialking · 2 years

Text

Burnt Toffee

● NSFW 18+ only ● Minors/Ageless blogs DNI ● You will be blocked ●

Pairing: Onlyfans!Foolish x Amab!reader

Warnings: videotaping, masturbation, amab, size (belly bulge), bit of cumplay, overstim (foolish receive), hand on throat ish

Okay so male reader walking in on foolish jerking himself off for a vid and he has foolish fuck him infront of the camera

An: literally just no plot and all smut lmaooooo, i was excited to scribble. it’s not exactly as you asked for, and i accidentally lost half of it while writing :(

You knew Foolish had an Onlyfans. To be quite honest you weren't surprised he had one. The conversation had been quite lengthy when you confronted him all starting by how you found him.

You had found him by accident. Casually jerking off aimlessly scrolling various websites you found a username that had to do with an aquatic animal. It briefly reminded you of Foolish's random Valorant accounts, but you shook that off more focused on the range of video titles and sinful video thumbnails staring back at you. You quickly went through the process of opening it up and getting yourself comfortable in the bed for your hopefully long joyride.

Whoever this was, was hot and he knew it.

Propped up against a familiar set of pillows and headboard he messily thrusted up into a fleshlight. There was no intro to the video just immediately into the action, just how you like it. Each time the tip of his cock poked through the toy a slick sticky noise echoed through your phone speaker, pre-cum dripped down the sides of the toy. A symphony of grunts and low moans filled your room. The sounds this man was creating alone had put you in a trance. The filthy noises twisted your stomach, setting ablaze your body, filling you with that trembling need to be touched by someone else.

You jerked yourself off along with him thrusting watching his quivering thighs. His stomach muscles tensed and relaxed as he panted hotly. He definitely worked out. The muscles were drool worthy. A light layer of sweat stuck to his abs and chest making it shimmer slightly in the light.

You had stopped touching yourself long ago now completely entranced by the man in the video. You couldn't take your eyes off him. His free hand fisted the sheets below him, continuing to slam the toy on his cock. A broken moan escaped his lips as he finally orgasmed, cum dribbling down the side of his toy and onto his hand.

To your surprise he didn't stop, however, instead thrusting up harder into the fleshlight. He sobbed and hiccuped but still begged for more. Harder. Faster. More. Cum spurted again, splattering across his skin.

"More please!" A high whine cut through the air. Your cock twitched with interest.

"Fuck! Faster!" His cries increased in volume. The desperate cries of an overstimulated man.

The video didn't end until he was cumming dry, the toy having milked him completely. Now overstimulated and exhausted the man scooped up some of the cum that had rained across his thighs, thumbing it over the tip of his cock. He hissed at the sensitive tip being touched, too afraid to remove the toy as well.

He slowly waved goodbye as the last second played. You hadn't realized it but you had cum completely untouched. The other worldly orgasm turning you into putty. You had struck gold. Sinful thoughts followed you post-orgasm, what you wouldn't give to be bouncing in his lap. The man's stamina had not been the only thing impressive about him, he was fairly big as well. Oh to be ruined by him.

You laid in bed a few more moments allowing the last of your haze to be lifted. Foolish would be home any minute with dinner so you should clean up. Foolish. Holy shit. Post orgasm clarity hit you hard and fast. This man looked and sounded like Foolish. Curiosity burned inside you, you just had to know.

Poor Foolish, he sure was shocked when you blurted out his user tag for onlyfans out during dinner later. He choked on his food, throwing down his fork. You both then blinked at each other. Of course, a lengthy conversation and explanation followed that but it turned out good for both of you.

Which lead you to now. You helped with his videos a lot, editing, planning, and cleaning up.

There was only one rule, a simple one at that. A rule so simple you had forgotten about it today. Don't enter his room when recording.

You hadn't meant to but now you couldn't leave, eyes glued to the raven-haired male thrusting into his hand. Foolish had a tight grip around his cock, the poor tip red and drooling precum. You knew which video this was, the most popular demand by far, edging.

He squirmed, panting into the air. Foolish's head was tipped back, eyes tightly shut. You watched his Adam's apple bounce as he gulped. He stroked faster and faster and then quickly removed his hand. He sobbed, cock twitching as his orgasm faded. Then he wrapped his hand around his cock once more. Slowly dragging out his pleasure for the camera.

His noises and the sight before you was really starting to affect you now. Your cock strained against your pants waiting to be free. Your legs quivered slightly making you hold onto the door frame for support. Unfortunately, your presence hadn't gone completely unnoticed.

"Come 'ere," Foolish grunted, removing his hand once more.

He pointed at your clothes and waved for you to remove them. You slowly started tugging off the layers covering your body. You and Foolish had briefly talked about perhaps fucking you for a video but you hadn't thought today would be that day. Luckily for you both, you had been having some fun earlier by yourself. Foolish pulled you over him, body facing the camera.

"You think that's fair hm? Watching me get all worked up and not help me?" Foolish questioned.

You shook your head.

Both of you were too desperate for many words, the chit-chat and dialogue would just have to wait for another more planned video. Right now you were more focused on him sending you to heaven at this very moment.

"Fuck me now," you demanded.

The tip of his cock pushed against your hole. You cried out as he slammed you down on his cock. His hands bruised your hips, dragging them up and down on his dick as if you were merely a toy. You held onto his forearms crying and moaning as Foolish manhandled you.

A wave of dizziness passed over you. Very faintly in the reflection of the camera, you could see the imprint from his dick whenever he slammed up into you. Foolish could quite literally rearrange your guts with his cock. And you'd still thank him. Your nails dug into his arms.

For a man who's been edging himself the past hour, he sure held on a lot longer than you had expected. Every thrust of his hips was angled straight for your prostate drawing sharp moans from you. You never wanted this to end.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," Foolish chanted burying his face into the back of your neck.

"Oh fuck, feel so good, feel so fucking tight around me. M gonna fill this cute little ass up, make you beg for more,"

Tears of pure pleasure streamed down your cheeks as Foolish continued his sinful speech. Unhinged murmurs of filthy promises, and things he was going to do later tonight. One of his hands slipped up to your throat, two of his fingers pushing into your mouth to twist and play with your tongue.

His hips gave a few hard pounds, burying himself deep into you before cumming. You moaned at the warmth filling your hole, hoping he'd do that many more times. Foolish grasped your dick stroking quickly. You attempted to fuck up into it making you bounce on his cock a few more times. His cum was fucked deeper into you, arching your back as you splattered cum on his hand.

"Good boy," he praised.

Both of you sat in the fuzz enjoying the warmth of each other for a few moments longer, a moment that would surely be edited out, before deciding to start cleaning up.

Slowly Foolish lifted you off his cock letting you lean back against him. Wordlessly he spread your legs to the camera that was still recording.

"Let's make this a regular thing," he mumbled quietly, far too soft for the microphone to pick up. You nodded as he fingered some of the cum that slipped out of you back in. Who knows? Maybe next time he'd be willing to be fucked by you.

Reminder: DNI = Do Not Interact

If you are a Minor/Ageless blog, Do not follow. Do not comment. Do not reblog. Do not like. DO NOT INTERACT.

Either add your age to your bio/pinned, message me in private, or DNI.

#celestial:scribbles #celestial:fooshg

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lemonlushff · 1 year

Text

“Come to Lotus Pier,” the last letter had said. “It’s beautiful in the summer - you can’t beat the views! And the water, Lan Zhan! It's so nice! I'd love to show you around! What do you think?” Lan Wangji thought he wanted to come. Had wanted to for years…So this time, he said yes. He tucked the letter into his robes, kept it near his heart, and smiled internally all the way to Lotus Pier.

Lan Wangji had been in love with Wei Wuxian for years now. If he could think properly, he would have been able to name the exact number of days, minutes, hours, seconds...But as it were, he was too captivated by a shimmering drop of water kissing the base of Wei Wuxian's nipple to think properly.

What he could (vaguely, mind you) remember were the countless letters they had exchanged over the years. How they had slowly become more flirtatious in nature - or so he hoped. How this hadn't been the first time Wei Wuxian had asked him to come. Wei Wuxian had begged countless times for Lan Wangji to visit until he finally, excitedly, said yes this time.

How every time he saw Wei Wuxian in person at a conference or briefly during a night hunt, his heart would yearn for just a few more minutes. Just a few more seconds with that radiant smile - that effervescent laughter. He was always struck by how Wei Wuxian looked even more beautiful than the last time Lan Wangji had seen him. How he had slowly changed from a thin wiry boy into the broad-shouldered, muscular man splayed out on the bridge before him.

He had known Wei Wuxian had changed over the years - of course he had. It was hard not to notice - it would be akin to ignoring the sun's shine...and in the moments he found himself alone, surrounded by the comforting blanket of darkness...Lan Wangji had allowed himself to imagine. He imagined all the ways Wei Wuxian had changed. What he would look like now, beneath the many layers of fabric and robes. He allowed himself to think of taught muscle rippling under tan skin. Heated whispers and breathless exclamations as he indulged himself and gave into his desires.

Lan Wangji frequently found himself returning to a favorite scenario where this time, his brother had sent HIM to the cold spring, only to find Wei Wuxian nude within. This was not much different, only it had been JC who had set Lan Wangji upon Wei Wuxian...And Lan Wangji was at a loss as to what to do. He had never dreamed of a real situation wherein he would be looking at Wei Wuxian like this. He had perhaps hoped that one day, maybe...Especially given the flirtatious tone their correspondence had taken over the last year...But this...This was perhaps more than Lan Wangji knew how to handle.

Wei Wuxian released a long, slow breath and moved the hand not pillowed under his wet hair to rest limply across his abdomen. Lan Wangji found himself following the movement with rapt attention...and noticed something that made his hot ears burn bright red.

Wei Wuxian was hard.

Beneath the thin, white pants he wore, Wei Wuxian was hard, and Lan Wangji couldn't look away. Everything was telling him to look away. To turn around and come back later. Their tour through the Yunmeng market could wait. They could have lunch together another time. He needed to...To—

—Wei Wuxian's hand moved further down, his fingertips brushing over his navel, inching towards the band of his pants. Lan Wangji had restraint like no other. He was a disciple of the Gusu Lan. He could recite their rules as easily as he could breathe.

As Wei Wuxian's hand dipped past the band of soaked fabric clinging to his skin, Lan Wangji forgot how to do both.

As if drawn forward by an invisible string, he took a step forward. The ability to speak - to say something - ANYTHING - was completely lost to him. He was utterly captivated "Lan Zhaaan..." Lan Wangji's world began to spin as he found himself falling sideways into the pond below.

The water was shocking and clarifying. It helped shake him out of the trance that had overcome him. He shouldn't be here. Wei Wuxian didn't know that he had been sent here, despite making plans the day prior. He had clearly forgotten. Become distracted. He could have snuck away before, but now...There was no way Wei Wuxian hadn't heard him. There was no way he didn't know he was no longer alone. Lan Wangji hoped he could grow gills. Perhaps become a jiāorén and swim far away from here. In this small, enclosed, inescapable pond.

A pond Wei Wuxian had now jumped into, and was pulling him up by the shoulders in.

Lan Wangji unthinkingly glanced down Wei Wuxian's body and coughed. Wei Wuxian's pants now hung perilously low thanks to the water and his movement - it was only by the will of some greater being that he remained clothed. If one could callthis clothed.

His pants were nearly transparent now, and while they had hid very little before, they hid practically nothing now.

Curse him.

Curse him and his lack of restraint where Wei Wuxian was concerned. He would be plagued by this for years. Both in his nightmares and his fantasies.

"Lan Zhan...Lan Zhan! Are you alright? Aiyo...Did you swallow a lot of water? Here, come sit on the bridge! Catch your breath!"

Didn't Wei Wuxian know that this was impossible with the way he looked? He wanted to push Wei Wuxian down against the bridge and—

"—There, that's better now, hm?" Wei Wuxian smiled brightly, sitting beside him, taking hold of the arm closest to him and rubbing Lan Wangji’s back. The heat of Wei Wuxian's body radiated through Lan Wangji's robes and scorched his skin. "Mm," Lan Wangji agreed, unable to bring himself to meet Wei Wuxian's eye.

"Are you alright, Lan Zhan?"

"Mm," he repeated.

"Ah! Good...I was worried, you know.." Wei Wuxian continued, an air of something unknown - something dangerous coming over him. It prickled at the back of Lan Wangji's neck. "It's very unlike the great Hanguang Jun to fall into the water for no reason...Perhaps," Wei Wuxian mused, "he saw something distracting?"

Lan Wangji felt panic well up in his chest.

Mercy...Would Wei Wuxian show him no mercy? After all they had been through together during their night hunts? The many clan co—

"—Perhaps," Wei Wuxian continued unrelentingly, "he saw something he liked?"

He knew. Wei Wuxianknew …but of course he did. How could he not? There would be no redemption. There would be nothing he could do to—

—Wei Wuxian reached out and cupped his face, turning it towards his own, forcing Lan Wangji to meet his eye. "Perhaps, he even saw something I wanted him to see? And heard something I wanted him to hear?"

Lan Wangji's lips parted, his eyes widening in shock as he looked for a trace of insincerity, but there was nothing there. All Lan Wangji found was open earnest hope.

"Wei Ying..." Lan Wangji breathed, the name shaky as he dared to hope himself.

"Ah Lan Zhan...Lan Zhan I thought you knew...I thought I had been clear in our letters," Wei Ying smiled, somehow still hopeful. "I've been waiting for you to make a move for so long...And then, when you accepted my invitation, I thought that maybe you liked me how I like you..."

It was here that Lan Wangji's world became fuzzy. He only understood short, clipped phrases from Wei Wuxian's rambling. Phrases like "tried to get you to see me" and "in love with you" and "hopped you felt the same" and "want you to be mine" and "last thing I could think to do".

All Lan Wangji could understand was that it had been premeditated. All of it. Wei Wuxian had served himself up on a platter like a feast for Lan Wangji's taking -intentionally - and Lan Wangji was a starving man. Wei Wuxian was saying yes. Please. I want you. And Lan Wangji wasn't going to say no.

Lan Wangji hurled himself forward, catching Wei Wuxian's mouth as Lan Wangji pushed him back onto the bridge. Wei Wuxian's body tensed at first from the surprise, then began to melt as his leg came up to wrap around Lan Wangji's waist, holding him in place.

Wei Wuxian sighed into the kiss, his fingers weaving through Lan Wangji's wet hair, and pulled him closer like he wanted Lan Wangji to melt into his body. Like he wanted to take Lan Wangji inside. Lan Wangji moaned into the kiss at the thought, trailing his lips along Wei Wuxian's jaw as he began to harden.

"Lan Zhaaaan," Wei Wuxian moaned as Lan Wangji scraped his teeth along the skin behind his ear. "Lan Zhan, please...Be gentle with your poor, fragile Wei Ying!" Your. He was rather fond of the sound of that.

Wei Wuxian was his...and he wanted everyone to know that. He took great pleasure in marking up the soft column of Wei Wuxian's neck - sinking his teeth into the tender skin of his throat, just above the knot. He enjoyed soothing the aggrieved skin with his tongue, only to do it again...

...And he especially delighted in the sounds Wei Wuxian made as he went. The little whining keens for more. The breathy gasps when Lan Wangji mouthed at his nipples, pulling one between his lips and toying with the other with his fingers.

The babbling pleads for him to be gentle with him when Lan Wangji pinched them, despite Wei Wuxian's hips thrusting upwards, seeking out some sort of friction to soothe the ache in his cock. Before, this could have been enough. It would have been sufficient.

Now, he wanted more. He wanted all of Wei Wuxian. He wanted his cock.

Unwrapping Wei Wuxian from his wet pants was like unwrapping a gift. He already could see...but it was somehow different. The water had hid little...but the view was still obstructed all the same. Baring Wei Wuxian completely was...

Better than anything he could have dreamed.

Lan Wangji didn't indulge in his wants often, but he did this time - allowing himself to pause and savor the reality of this moment. The lovely visage of Wei Wuxian, red chested and wet and panting as his equally red and wet cock eagerly jumped and twitched for attention.

There was only one word that came to mind when looking at Wei Wuxian like this:

Beautiful.

He wanted to remember this for the rest of his life...and the sounds that escaped Wei Wuxian as he took him into his mouth - slowly at first, to adjust to his large girth, then faster. Harder.

He hollowed his cheeks, and circled the head of Wei Wuxian's cock. Worked him until Wei Wuxian was pulling tightly at his hair.

"Lan Zhan...Ah...Lan Zhan...Close..."

That wouldn't do.

He wanted Wei Wuxian to come inside him.

Lan Wangji pulled off Wei Wuxian, ignoring his desperate cry and searching hands. Wei Wuxian wasn't going to get his way. Lan Wangji tugged off his ribbon and quickly tied Wei Wuxians hands above his head, delighting in the way his bruised and red mouth puckered into an outraged "O" before relaxing as Lan Wangji stripped.

His movements were slow and methodological as he delighted in the attention Wei Wuxian gave him - his eyes glued to every movement Lan Wangji's fingers made. Words of nonsensical encouragement tumbled from Wei Wuxian's lips, as the first layer fell wetly to the bridge.

Then the next.

Until he was completely bare. He enjoyed standing before Wei Wuxian, nude, watching his eyes widen as Wei Wuxian looked up and down his body - visibly swallowing when his gaze landed on his cock.

Lan Wangji internally smirked, pleased that he had been judged and found highly desirable.

Lan Wangji reached into the qiankun pouch he removed from his robes and plucked a bottle of oil from within. Holding Wei Wuxian's eye, he poured it over his fingers and sank to his knees above Wei Wuxian, bracketing his hips.

Then, still holding Wei Wuxian's gaze, he reached behind himself and circled his puckered hole.

It was a feeling Lan Wangji was familiar with by now, but despite this familiarity, Wei Wuxian's eyes on him made it feel new. Exciting. Slowly, he sunk one finger within - Wei Wuxian's moan making him shiver in delight. Then a second finger.

By the time he had reached a third finger, he was panting - his knees trembling. He likely needed more but…he couldn't take it anymore. Reaching behind himself, he slicked Wei Wuxian's cock before sinking down onto him. The sound Wei Wuxian released was positively animalistic. Lan Wangji loved it.

He loved the feeling of Wei Wuxian filling him. Stretching him to the fullest - nearly to the point of breaking. And then. He began to move.

He lost track of time as he rode him, allowing the pleasure of Wei Wuxian - the man he loved more than anything else in this world - filling him to inch him closer and closer to completion.

Wei Wuxian moved with him as best he could - firmly planting his feet to the rough, wooden bridge. He thrust up in time with Lan Wangji's movements, angling himself so he slid against a sensitive place within and soon he could feel the telltale tightening within his balls.

"Wei Ying..." he moaned, leaning forward to gain better leverage as he road Wei Wuxian's cock. "Close?" Wei Wuxian blinked up at him through bleary eyes - confusion was written across his face as if he were trying to see through the hot pleasure coursing through his veins. Lan Wangji could understand.

He felt like he was burning alive. He felt like every place Wei Wuxian touched him was a live wire. Like the bound hand on his hip was scorching his overly sensitive flesh as Wei Wuxian's nails bit into his skin.

"Close?" Lan Wangji repeated, his words coming out in a hot puff of air as he panted above Wei Wuxian. It was becoming too hard to think. Focus. He was so...

"Yes," Wei Wuxian moaned.

"Then come for me," Lan Wangji demanded, and he watched in fascination as Wei Wuxian did.

He watched Wei Wuxian’s face twist in pleasure. The tendons in his neck strain as he threw his head back. His whole body tensed as his cum flooded up into Lan Wangji...And Lan Wangji allowed himself to tip over the edge at the sensation.

His world whited out, and his ears began to ring. He stopped breathing as his body tensed up as he painted Wei Wuxian's abdomen white with thick ropes of his cum - some landing where that enviable, shimmering water drop had been before.

When the waves of pleasure subsided, he cracked his eyes open - unsure when they had closed - and found his head cushioned on the warm skin of Wei Wuxian's firm pectoral. He tilted his head up and took in the pleased, blissed-out expression on his face.

Wei Wuxian's fingers found their way through Lan Wangji's hair despite the binding, and Lan Wangji allowed himself to be held there, basking in the warmth of Wei Wuxian's attention.

"You know, I'm glad that worked," Wei Wuxian said after a moment, interrupting the pleasant peace that had washed over them.

"Mm?" Lan Wangji pressed, tilting his head up so his chin dug into Wei Wuxian's chest.

"Yeah. I wasn't really sure. I mean I'd hoped. But I didn't think it would work that well..."

"Wei Ying..." Lan Wangji smiled tenderly, pressing a kiss to his skin where he could reach.

"Only a fool would have said no. I have been called many things before, but a fool has not been one of them."

"...What about husband?"

Lan Wangji pushed himself off Wei Wuxian and took in the bright red flush of his cheeks as he also sat up, fingers tightly woven together and wrists still bound in his ribbon.

"Y-you don't have to say yes...It wasn't even really a good proposa—"

"—Yes." Lans do not interrupt. He felt it prudent to break this rule, just this once.

Wei Wuxian blinked owlishly at him.

"...Yes?"

"Mm. We should dress and inform people of our engagement. How do you feel about a summer wedding?"

"It's summer now! You want to wait a whole year?"

"No. I wish to wed now."

"I...Wha...We can't get married now!" Wei Wuxian sputtered.

"I don't see why not - why put off till tomorrow that which can be done today?"

An amused smile broke out across Wei Wuxian's face as he pulled Lan Wangji closer. "You really want to do this?"

"Mm," he nodded, delighting in Wei Wuxian's tender kiss. "I love Wei Ying. I do not wish to wait to call him my husband."

"Lan Zhaaaaaan..." Wei Wuxian whined, curling up into Lan Wangji's neck. "You're going to kill me with all of this talk. I'll perish before we can even wed!"

"Then we better hurry, before my future husband passes," Lan Wangji decided, standing from the dock and throwing Wei Wuxian over his shoulder. Abandoning their clothes, Lan Wangji began quickly walking back from Wei Wuxian's private pond towards his rooms, delighting in Wei Wuxian's squeal.

Lan Wangji was very glad he had finally accepted Wei Wuxian's invitation to Lotus Pier.

He had been right.

The views were unbeatable.

***

Originally posted to twitter. Bookmarkable on AO3

#mdzs #wangxian #mdzs fanart #mdzs fanfiction #wei wuxain #wei ying

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your-absent-father · 10 months

Text

Okay so... I might have done a false gods drabble to just play around with the characters a bit and to find their footing. They turned toxic, petty and clearly horrible people. I love them. You can find the introduction to them here

Tw: alcohol, refrence to sex, problematic characters, usages of bitch as an insult, mention of a future crime, drinking

False Gods drabble:

before a consert

Baz looked at herself in the mirror she held up to her face, looking at every detail of her makeup, made to look like Stevie Nicks herself would have painted her, but for the more modern day. Baz looked at the mask in her lap and frowned. "I hate this stupid mask."

Nikita rolled her eyes. It wasn't the first time she heard those same complaints and she knew it wouldn't be the last. "I hate your stupid complaining. You are barely even hidden. A child could recognize you under that mask, unlike mine."

Baz rolled her eyes. "That was your choice. It isn't my fault that beauty like this shouldn't be hidden under marble." Baz winked her eye towards the other woman. Nikita just snarled at her group mate.

"Maybe I am the more sensible one. We are literally robbing a bank after this charity consert thing." Nikita crossed her arms and looked at her sister, begging moral support with her eyes.

"Maybe I want to be an outlaw who performs in front of tens of thousands, and disappears before the cops arrive." Baz said, and looked at Stevie for her moral support. Louis, the only one not forced into this conversation, tried to sink himself deeper into the seat of the limo.

"Not gonna lie, I would kill for a dramatic exit before the cops arrive." Stevie laughed and finished off the bottle he was drinking. It was only 8 pm before a show and a bank robbery. "They would make a kick ass historical movie out of it. Only problem is… I know they can't find anyone more handsome than me as a lead." Stevie raised his class to Baz who seemed to have forgotten any snarky comment towards her in the last few minutes. She scooted next to Stevie and took the last few sips of his beer.

"Okay, if you could choose, who would play you in the aurora four biography." Baz looked around the limo. Elize, who had just been focusing on her phone, raised her eyes when Baz sat down next to Stevie, which Baz clogged immediately. To tease their former manager, now assistant, more, she put both of her legs to Stevie's lap and started playing with the man's hair. Elize tried to look away but she was almost glued to the two best friends so close with each other. Baz found it hilarious.

"Ben Barnes, definitely. A hot guy who can look sexy in a band t-shirt. He also has that cool charisma as I do." Stevie winked his eye to Baz and looked at Louis. "What about you, our dear Jester?"

Louis felt like he had been in a trance that was now broken. He looked at his bandmate and stuttered. "I don't know. I guess Korea has a lot of actors active right now that could do it. I think-"

"I think thinking about these things is stupid. It's like we are wishing to be caught" Nikita snapped at Baz, who giggled like she was watching the most fun tv-show she had witnessed.

"Don't interrupt Louis, bitch", Baz said smiling, only to turn serious when insulting the other woman.

Before the whole limo could turn into chaos, the limo stopped. Nikita was the first one to put on the mask and leave. Louis was the next one. Stevie left the next, leaving Baz to put on her rose mask perfectly. She looked like a goddess, and felt like one. The dress she was wearing was form fitting, almost see through, if you didn't count the roses covering up the most parts people wouldn't find appropriate. Perfect to perfom in.

Before Baz walked up to the red carpet between the arena and the limo, Baz leaned closer to Elize's ear. "You know, he really likes it when you are desperate for his touch and not this dense. You're not in power anymore. Use more lipstick and bend those knees if you really want him that much." Baz didn't really care at all who Stevie dated with, or just fucked. There were probably a lot of people, women, men, non binary people, Stevie has hooked up with. None of them were interesting to Baz. What Baz liked was seeing Elize's face turn fully red while she walked towards the adoring fans screaming her alias.

Roseblood

She was in power. Not Elize Grant, not anyone else. She, Beatrix Jones, was the most powerful person in that red carpet in her mind.

#wip: fg #writeblr #writing #drabbles #wip

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underburningstars · 2 years

Note

Highschool starker au where tony is football player who has a crush on his art/physics teacher, peter

This turned into something entirely different from what I originally planned.

on ao3

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

Pairing : Tony Stark/Peter Parker

Tags : High School AU, teacher!Peter, student!Tony, mutual pining

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

Football practice in such a weather should be illegal. Technically, it shouldn't be so hot in April. But Global Warming is a bitch. And with the upcoming competition Culson was working them to the bones. Everyone looked tired. Even their Captain Steve and the ever so optimistic Thor.

Tony carried the exhaustion the next day too. He was so deadbeat he could barely tell left from right. So, when the homeroom teacher told them about having a new Physics teacher, Tony wasn't in the condition to pay too much attention.

He passed the day in a trance. Rhodey made a comment about him looking like a zombie during lunch but he was too tired to even respond.

Physics was their last period and Tony was feeling slightly better after lunch. So, he was more aware of his surroundings.

Tony was stretching his sore limbs when the most beautiful person in the world entered their class. He was wearing a dark blue washed jeans and a simple black shirt.

"Hello class. My name is Peter Parker and I'm your new Physics teacher." Mr. Parker introduced himself.

Mr. Parker had soft curly brown hair and honey brown eyes. He skin was pale and milky and his lips were plump and pink. Tony immediately wanted to get his hands on him.

Tony heard a few girls gasp and giggle in the background but he didn't pay them any attention. No, his eyes were fixed upon Mr. Parker.

"I'm not much older than you. But I hope that doesn't create any problems in our student-teacher relationship." The warning was clear on his words but in Tony's opinion it only made the older man hotter.

Tony soon noticed that not only Mr. Parker was hot, he was also really smart and a damn good teacher. By the end of the class he was practically drooling with how prefect the man was.

After school ended Tony ran to the car waiting for him outside, eager to go home.

"Happy, go go fast." He rushes the driver.

"Okay okay I'm going. What's with you today kid?" without waiting for an answer Happy started driving.

He sprinted to his room as soon as the car stopped outside the gate. Distantly, he heard his mom yell at him for running in the house. But her wrath is something he'll handle later. Now he had more important tasks to do.

He quickly turned on his computer and instantly J.A.R.V.I.S's voice exhorted around the room.

"Welcome home, Sir. How was your day?"

"Brilliant!" he exclaimed. "It was the best day of my life."

"It's really wonderful to hear you being so happy, Sir." J.A.R.V.I.S said in his perfect British accent. One day J.A.R.V.I.S would be much bigger than just a computer program. But that's a thought for another day.

"J, I need you to look into a Peter Parker. He's a teacher at my school."

"...Are you sure that you want to stalk a person, Sir?"

"It's not stalking." Tony immediately denied. "I'm just...looking into this person. That's it. Now stop questioning me and do it."

In less than a minute a report of Mr. Parker was on his computer screen. Tony found out that his full name was Peter Benjamin Parker, he was 25 year old Columbia graduate, he previously taught at Midtown High School.

His social media indicated that he's currently single, much to Tony's delight and had a boyfriend which meant he was totally into guys. Tony had never had a crush on someone that fast. But Mr. Parker was the prettiest person he'd ever seen. So, really. It was inevitable. And it's really a big issue that he plans.to act on it. It's not.

"It's such a big issue Tones. He's so much older than you." As always, Rhodey planed on being the wet blanket.

"Only seven years." He whined. "It's not too much."

"It's definitely too much." Natasha interjected.

"Oh, come'on. Not you too Tasha."

"And-" Harley said prying his mouth away from Bucky's with a wet and frankly gross sound (which made Bucky whine and Harley shushed him), "-it would take Mr. Parker two seconds before he reports you ass to the principal and your parents start making arrangements to send you to boarding school." Harley barely managed to finish the sentence before Bucky pulled him back and they started making out again.

"You guys are so disgusting." Sam commented pointlessly. They were suffering through Harley and Bucky's gross PDA since their first year of middle school when Harley first transferred from Tennessee and they all saw Bucky's brain visibly short circuit.

It was sweet at first. How into each other they were. But they could live without hearing and seeing things that made them want to bleach their eyes and ears.

"Leave them be. They're in love. And anyways, it's cute." Steve defended.

"Honestly Steve-O, how long are you gonna live in that delusion?" Tony asked because he's honestly curious.

"I share a house with Buck. I've seen and heard worse than this. Living in the delusion is how I still have my sanity intact. Relatively." hearing this they all burst out laughing, the topic of Tony's ridiculous and frankly embarrassing crush forgotten. At least the rest of them forgot.

Tony, on the other hand, had Physics as his last period and all through the class and the rest of the day he couldn't think of anything other than Mr. Parker's juicy ass.

Tony was positive he's dying. To be honest, everyone on the ground was probably thinking of the same thing. But that doesn't do anything to make him feel better. The championship was in a month and Culson was hellbent on killing them before they even got the chance to compete.

Tony had no idea why Culson was stressing so much. As long as Tony knew, Shield High had never lost a tournament. Especially, their team. They all had great bonding and could follow each other's game play without any difficulties.

But apparently Hydra High pissed Fury off and Fury's being a bitch to Culson and now their coach was taking it out on them. They're all sweating so much, Tony thought that the ground would soon turn into a pool. Tony was two steps away from throwing up or fainting or both. Most certainly both.

That was until he saw Mr. Parker walk into the field and sit down on the bleacher. All of Tony's fatigue washed away and he felt himself brightening up.

Mr. Parker was wearing a light blue t-shirt with beige slacks that fit on all the right places and Tony knew that he was going to have to go through some-um-hassle in the locker room.

When Mr. Parker noticed him looking (ogling), he gave Tony a bright smile and a little wave. Throughout the past two weeks, they've gotten closer. Not in the way Tony wantef but he's definitely Mr. Parker's favorite student in the school.

Tony had always been gifted towards physics. His quick answer and witty questions earned him Mr. Parker's favoritism quite quickly. Now, all Tony needed was to win his way to Mr. Parker's bedroom. And maybe they could go for some coffee too. Or movies. Or dinner.

He was rather rudely awaken from his daydream by Culson yelling at him to finish his laps. Pouting, he looked away from Mr. Parker and started running again.

If he hadn't looked away he would have noticed the fond look Mr. Parker subconsciously directed towards him.

"Rhodey..." Tony whined as he rolled around on Rhodey's bed, "I'm so fucked."

"What happened Tones?" Rhodey signed, not even looking up from his biology homework.

"Something's wrong with me."

"Something has been wrong with you for a long time Tones." He kicked Rhodey's shin and whined a until he got his best friend's attention.

"I'm serious! I'm-I've been having these-these weird thoughts. I don't know what to do. Help me platypus." He begged.

Rhodey rubbed his face and looked at Tony, already accepting the fact that as long as Tony was there, he wasn't getting any work done. "What kind of thoughts, Tones?"

"You know, those types. Where I want to go on dates with this person. And-and buy them stuff and do all the gross PDA. Um-oh oh and go to sleep with them? But not always in the sexy way. And then maybe wake up together too. I just, don't know okay? This is all so weird." Tony tried his best to explain. But he himself was confused.

For sometime Rhodey just kept silently looking at him. Which wasn't helping him at all and was only making him more nervous. "What? Say something."

"Tony." Rhodey started saying in a serious tone, "Are you in love with Mr. Parker?"

"What?! I-I, why would you-I never said Mr. Parker!" he yelled, earning a loud 'shut up' from mama Rhodes.

"Dude, who else do you have a embarrassing crush on?"

"I-I, oh shit."

Quitting his job at Midtown High and joining Shield High because if a nasty breakup was an impulsive decision on Peter's behalf. But only after a few days at the school, he can tell that it was a good decision.

The school was more advanced so the pay was high, the staff here were all friendly and always ready to help him.

But the thing Peter liked the most about this school was how brilliant each student was. He was already aware of the school's reputation for shaping all students equivalent to their talents.

But the real deal was something else. Peter found himself enjoying teaching in all his classes. Especially, the Grade 12 class.

If all the other students of this school were talented, then Tony Stark was a genius. He knew that the boy came from a family of all geniuses. But his intellect was something that exceeded even Peter's.

Soon Peter found himself becoming fond of the boy with an extraordinary brain and a bright smile.

Maybe a bit too fond.

Peter didn't notice when it started but one day he started paying special attention to Tony and then it never stopped.

Peter knew that the boy was popular. He was smart, handsome, rich and star football player. Boys and girls were always striving for his attention.

But Peter didn't understand why that annoyed him. Why he didn't like it when other people touched Tony a bit too much, when he got too many confessions, how the other students wore as revealing outfits as they could under school restrictions just for Tony to look at them.

The thing that irked him even more was that Tony never let go of an opportunity to flirt. He always returned their too friendly touches with a bit of his own, winked and smirked at the boys and girls when they cheered for him during football practices making them squeel with joy.

Tony was a teenager. He was allowed to have fun and relish under such attention. It's none of his business and it shouldn't trouble him like this.

Why is it troubling him like this?

"Because you're jealous."

"What?!" Peter had decided to tell his friends about all this. But instead of saying that whatever he felt was for a student, he used the alibi of a coworker. Maybe in hindsight he knew what he was feeling.

"No-no, I'm not jealous." He adamantly denied.

"Dude," Ned started to to explain. "You said he's a popular person and so many students flock around him to confess or get his attention right?" When Peter nodded he continued, "So why do you feel annoyed? Is it because you want that type of attention from your students too?"

"No, no I don't."

"No, you don't. All you want is that people don't jump him all the time. But why do you feel that?" Ned asked.

"I-I don't know."

"And you also don't like it when he indulges his fanclub" MJ quipped.

"Yeah..."

"So Peter," Ned crossed his arms and put on his most serious face, "All thses tell you that you're-"

"-That I'm jealous." Peter concluded. "Shit."

After his earth shattering realization, Peter decided to avoid Tony a bit. He was still Tony's teacher but the special kind of friendliness and affection that he reserved - completely subconsciously - only for was now more guarded.

Af first Tony liked confused due to his sudden distant attitude. But then his eyes blazed with strong resolve and determination and he doesn't leave any chance to trap Peter into spending more time with him.

Like today, when he dileberately didn't finish his assignment and was now sitting in front of Peter in detention finishing his assignment in the slowest handwriting possible.

And Peter couldn't even call him out on it because Tony wasn't breaking any rules.

"Mr. Parker," Tony started, "why don't you come watch the football practice anymore?" Tony's tone completely casual. He asked the question like he was simply curious. But Peter could see that the boy was carefully assessing him.

Sometimes Tony's observation skills scared him. But he understood that this is how kids who grow under the limelight are.

"Well, I've been a bit busy at home. So I have to go back early." Peter relished in the fact that it was not a total lie. He was renovating his place and he did have to go home early.

"Oh, but you'll come to watch the match right?" Tony looked up at him and asked.

"Um..." Peter had every intention to miss the match. He wanted to get over his unethical feelings about a teenager and watching him sweaty and ruthlessly defeating the other team wouldn't help him.

But then Tony enlarged his already big eyes even more - what the hell were they shining? - and held him hands together in front of his chest in a pleading motion, "Please Mr. Parker. It's very important to me."

And once again Peter was helpless in front of the boy, "Okay."

The smile Tony gave him would be reason of his death. He just knew it!

As expected Shield High win with a landslide of 5 to 0, the winning shot taken by none other than Tony Stark. Culson terated all the players and teachers dinner and then the students went out for a celebration of their own.

When he saw Tony on the field, giving his best for his team Peter had a very dangerous thought about how Tony wasn't that far from graduating. Then maybe he could approach the boy.

Then he also had a horrifying realization that the thought of approaching a boy seven years younger than him didn't bring him the shame it should have.

So he said his goodbyes to the rest of the teachers and went to a club. Maybe he just needed to get drunk and laid. It had been a long time since he indulged himself a bit.

Peter soon found out that the club was a mistake. Not only because the too loud music and too bright lights were giving him a headache, but also Tha fact that the football team was there too.

He knew that that he should be a good teacher and reprimand them for coming to the club but his need to avoid Tony became greater than his duties a a teacher.

He should have known that he'd never be able to avoid Tony's always aware of surroundings self. Because soon Tony Stark jumped up on the seat beside Peter and enthusiastically greeted him, "Hey Mr. Parker. Didn't expect to see you here."

"I'm pretty sure I should be the one to say that." Tony didn't even have the grace to look apologetic as he just threw his head back and laughed.

"Aww, come'on Mr. Parker you won't tell the principal right? We worked hard for so long. We deserve a bit of fun." Tony replied cheekily.

"Yeah, I guess you guys do." Peter chuckled, "So, you guys having fun?"

"Oh yeah, we are. Scott's totally hammered and Sam's trying to calm him down, Harley and Bucky disappeared long ago to have sex somewhere, Steve looks traumatized and Thor keeps on drinking. Yep, we're great." Tony said causing Peter to laugh loudly.

He looked at Tony and found the boy beaming at him. Peter's body warmed as he noticed the unabashed affection in Tony's eyes. Maybe he had too much drink already.

"Mr. Parker. Do you-do you step out for a while. It's a bit stuffy here and I-I kinda don't wanna go alone." Peter should've declined. He really should've but instead he said,

"Sure. Why not?" Peter's brain immediately started forming a whole list of 'why nots'. But Peter ignored them all in favor of Tony's hand tugging him outside.

Just as they came out, they were hit with sudden cold air, "Mmm, after coming out here I can realize just how hot it was in there." Tony said.

"Yeah, there were too many people inside." Peter agreed.

"Mr. Parker." Tony called him after standing there for a few moments, "Let's walk a bit instead of standing here like idiots."

"How dare you call your teacher an idiot?" Peter mick scolded him but followed Tony when he started to walk.

"It's not like that and you know it."

As they kept walking the environment around them quieted down. It was late, later than Peter realized. None of them were talking. They just kept on walking, not having an actual destination. Suddenly, their hands brushed and Peter looked up at Tony.

The sight that greeted him made his heart stutter. Tony was looking at the full moon with a small smile adorning his face. His whole body looked like it was glowing from the moonlight and his eyes looked like they housed a thousand galaxies with how they were sparkling.

As if sensing Peter's blatant staring, Tony looked down at him and his smile widened. Without realizing both of them stopped walking and kept staring at each other.

The atmosphere between them became heavy and was crackling with electricity. To stop himself from doing something stupid, like maybe kiss Tony and beg him to take him home Peter started talking, "Your-your parents didn't come to the game."

Tony blinked at the sudden comment but answered, "One of our relatives is sick. They went to visit her. Mom never misses my game. Dad yoo if he doesn't have work.

They were both very upset that they couldn't watch my last game. Mom threatened Rhodey into recording the whole thing." He laughed.

"That's a shame. Missing your last game."

"Yeah. But we still won. So it's all good."

"Where are you going? After graduation, I mean."

"MIT. I already got my acceptance letter." Tony grinned proudly.

"That's really good Tony."

They found each other's eyes and the conversation between them halted again. Peter saw Tony's eyes dart down to his lips. Tony licked his lips and Peter knew that his eyes were darkening. Suddenly a car went by them and the moment broke as they jumped away.

"I should," Peter cleared his throat, "I should go home."

"Yeah-yeah me too. Goodnight Mr. Parker."

"Goodnight Tony."

And they started walking in opposite directions.

After that walk with Mr. Parker, Tony felt like he jumped from zero to hundred in just one step. Since the finals were in just one month, they couldn't spend time with just mindless chatting, but nowadays he always seemed to catc Mr. Parker's eyes. Whenever he looked at their teacher he found him looking right back.

Mr. Parker's eyes were always a bit too dark, he bit hips lips a bit too much and breathed a bit too heavy whenever he was close to Tony.

Tony finished his test early and as he was waiting for the bell to ring he spread out his thighs a bit to sit more comfortably. He clearly saw Mr. Parker's eyes slid down from his shoulders to chest to thighs - like he couldn't help himself - and snapped back at his eyes.

They held eye contact for long until Tony tilted his head just a little to his left and let himself direct a small smirk towards his teacher. That made Mr. Parker flush a gorgeous red and look away.

When Mr. Parker came to collect his paper he brushed his finger against the back of Mr. Parker's hand lightly and relished in the view of his teacher's fluttering eyes.

All these were definite proofs that he had a chance of getting inside Mr. Parker's pants.

And then maybe convince him for a winter wedding too.

He understood Mr. Parker was probably swimming in an ethical dilemma. He really did. But all this hot and cold was becoming a bit hard for him. Mr. Parker would bat his eyes at him from a far but never came too close. Tony was sure he was going to die of blue balls.

His friends had certainly agreed with the sentiment.

Bu Tony couldn't bring himself to push Mr. Parker. He liked the heated looks they directed at each other, the 'accidental' brushing of hand when they walked past the hallway.

The private smiles, the little hearts his teacher drew on his copy after marking them. He liked all of this. And was afraid that if he pushed Mr. Parker too much, he'd loose it all.

If Mr. Parker really wanted to wait until he wasn't an high-schooler anymore then so he it. He wasn't going to give up on that man so easily.

As the final exams came closer everyone started paying less attention to studies and more attention to prom. Tony could see his friends being asked out and asking people out.

Three months ago he himself would be excited for it. But now even after receiving so many confessions he was bummed that he couldn't take the one he wanted so much to prom.

And the even bigger issue was that Mr. Parker was avoiding him. Again. Really, he thought that they were over the avoiding part and were currently going through the weird, totally made up just for them distant flirting stage. But nope, prom season comes and Mr. Parker once again is far far away from Tony.

It's so goddamn frustrating.

The only time he saw Mr. Parker was in the hallways.

That was why Tony was currently being asked out by a sophomore boy named Julian with Mr. Parker standing just a few feet away looking at them with a unreadable expression on his face.

It's not fair to the kid. Tony knew it's not. But he also had to go to the prom with someone. So why not Julian.

But that didn't mean he had to look right into his teacher's eyes when he said yes to the boy. He also didn't have to enjoy Mr. Parker's clenched jaw and barely concealed anger seeing Julian hug him so much.

But he did. He looked right at Mr. Parker when saying yes to Julian and kept looking at him while he was hugged. He liked that Mr. Parker was angry. At least now he knew that Mr. Parker still wanted him.

It was the last day of school before the finals. All the seniors were saying goodbyes to the teachers and roaming around the school as students one last time.

Tony too had said his farewells to most of the teacher. He approached Mr. Parker to do the same, "I-well, guess I'm graduating." He smiled at his teacher, rubbing the back of his neck a bit.

"Y-Yeah. You are." Tony saw his teacher swallow and bite his lip slightly, "I-I didn't teach you for long. But I hope you enjoyed the classes anyways." it sounded like something he told all the other students. Tony would be lying if he said that it didn't hurt.

"Goodbye, Mr. Parker." He said after an awkward pause.

"See you again, Tony." it wasn't fair. The way Mr. Parker said his name with such desperate longing but didn't even look at him. So, he didn't say anything more and turned around to leave.

During his final exams he didn't even had the time to breathe let alone indulge his sad little fantasies about Peter. He already had his acceptance letter but he still wanted to do good in the exam.

When he saw stuff like that in the movies it looked like bullshit. But now he understood that meeting the right guy really does change a person.

Sometimes he looked at the mirror and couldn't recognize himself. Three moths younger Tony would mock the shit out of him for being so pathetic after a teacher.

He slammed his head on his desk and went back to studying again.

After finals, it was now time for prom. Julian had told him to wear a red outfit and so he did. And hel can't say that it was a bad choice. Everyone kept looking at him at the prom. Not only was his suit extremely eye catching, but he knew he looked good. Otherwise, his mom would never let him go out.

He had fun on the prom. He danced with Julian, sent him home when he got too sick, danced with some other people, drank with his friends and now at four in the morning he was lying on his bed fiddling his phone contemplating of he should call Mr. Parker or not.

He was tipsy at most but of things go south he'd just say that he suddenly had really low tolerance and it was a drunken mistake.

He sta up on the bed and called Mr. Parker. The phone ringed four times before he picked up,

"Hello?" Mr. Parker's sleepy voice came from the speaker and Tony was suddenly aware of how late it was.

"Mr. Parker. It's me, Tony." He said not feeling too guilty about waking his teacher up.

"Tony!" he could hear shuffling on the other side and grasped that Mr. Parker must've sat up. "Are you-is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes everything is fine. I just-it's just that we'd probably never have the chance to talk again. So-I, I'm sorry I shouldn't have called."

"No, no, hey it's fine. It's fine that you called. Really."

"I'm really gonna miss you."

"I'll-I'll miss you too. You were my...favorite student after all."

Hearing this Tony let out a harsh laugh, suddenly having the urge to cry, "Favorite student, huh? Is that what I was? Favorite student."

"Tony..." Mr. Parker started saying but he cut him off.

"No no, this is the problem. You say my name like that but then avoid me like I'm some disease. Do you have any idea how it feels? I love you!"

"Don't-"

"No. No, right now I don't give a damn about etiquette or respect or whatever. I'm talking and you'll listen to me." Tony had had enough of this hot and cold bullshit.

"Where was I? Right, I love you. Did you hear that? I love you. And you look at me like you actually want me. But then you suddenly avoid the hell out of me.

Why? If you wanna reject me then just do it! I'm so sick of this push and pull game you're playing with me." at the end Tony was barely stopping himself from sobbing because it hurt so goddamn much.

"We-we can't. You know we can't." Mr. Parker also sounded like he was half crying but it didn't make Tony feel better in the slightest, "And I'm so so sorry, for-for all the mixed signals. I didn't mean to hurt you. Please believe that. But we really, really can't."

"Why not?" he asked, "Why can't we? I'll graduate in a few days. You won't be my teacher then. So why can't we. If you also feel something about me, then why do you act like this. Make me understand." Tony begged, because now it was a thing he did too.

"You are...like the best person I've ever met. You're perfect. You'll graduate and got to MIT and be a bigger person than anyone can ever imagine. I knew that even before I fell in love with you." hearing that Tony's breath hitched.

"Yeah, yeah I love you too. But don't you see. Even though I love you I kept on hurting you. You-you deserve so much more than your seven years older former teacher. You can have so much better."

"I hope you know that the 'you deserve better' is a shitty reason." Tony couldn't believe what he was hearing. This was probably the worst rejection ever.

"Tony please-"

"Nope. Still not your time to talk. You think I'm perfect and you're sacrificing your happiness out of your great love for me. But that's not what's happening here. You're rejecting me because you're scared.

You're scared of what people will think and say when they see you date your seven years younger former student. That's the reason behind you're rejection. My happiness and what I deserve is my own choice. You don't get a say on that. All you can do is contribute if you want to."

"Tony, you're just a kid."

"So? What if I'm just a kid? Does this mean I have no sense of my own feelings? You adults like to think you're all so great. But you can't even acknowledge the fact that your reason for rejecting me is that you want to maintain a good image in front of others and not because 'I deserve better'." He wanted for Mr. Parker to say something but when he didn't Tony just scoffed. He knew his words were harsh but he really couldn't give a shit right now.

"Goodbye Mr. Parker. For real this time." And he hung up. After that when the room was filled nothing but with the sound of his harsh breathing, he couldn't stop himself from pressing a pillow to his face and sobbing into it.

Peter felt like an asshole. He was an asshole. So much that a teenager had to call him out on his shit.

After Tony hung up the call, Peter kept telling himself that Tony was wrong, that him rejecting Tony was because he actually believed that the boy deserved better. But no matter how much he lied to himself, it didn't become the truth.

Now all he could feels was misery and dread. Since summer vacation was going on he had nothing to do and all he ever did was curl on his bed and wallow in self pity.

He was so busy being pathetic that he didn't even hear his front door opening and MJ striding in his room. Ned hot on her heels.

"Okay I've had enough. What's wrong with you?" MJ asked irritatedly.

Peter looked up at her and blinked several times to clear his vision, "I'm fine." He said and curled into ball again.

"Don't give us that Peter. Nothing is fine with you these days. What happened? Did you rejected by that coworker of yours?" Ned asked in a more gentler way than MJ.

"No, I rejected him." he was too tired to even think of a lie, "And it wasn't a coworker. It was a student."

Both his friends were stunned to silence. Peter sighed and sat up on the bed. He patted his side, "Sit down."

"Peter, what do you mean? Why would you hide it from us?" Ned asked finally finding his voice.

"I-I was scared. Scared of how guys would react. Or how would react to the fact that I have feelings for a student. I was afraid of your judgment." saying it out loud made him feel even more miserable.

"Peter, we're your friends." MJ held his hand and squeezed, "The last place you'd receive any kind of judgement is from us."

"Tell us everything. First to last. No hiding this time." Ned said and so Peter did. He told them everything to them. From seeing Tony for the first time to the phone call.

By the time he finished he was both physically and emotionally exhausted.

"Peter."MJ started, "This is something you have to figure out on your own. For me I can just tell you to go for the guy if you like him enough. But after starting to date him if you're constantly caring about other's opinions then the whole thing won't go anywhere.

Do you want to try with him? Or will you just date a more socially appropriate person and avoid everyone's judgement? Think about it."

And Peter thought about it. He thought about it every single waking moment and sometimes dreamt about it too. Right on the verge of insanity, he decided that it was time to start consulting a psychiatrist.

Peter wasn't too fond of the chilly weather. But Boston was always chilly. And if was going to live here then he'd just have to suck it up. But his change of locations completely depended on the person he was about to meet in a few minutes.

Peter heard the door of the café open and saw Tony walk in.

It had been three years since they last saw each other. After their last phone call nome of them tried to contact the other.

Peter had worked on his tendency to fixate too much on outer opinion and from what he knew Tony dated around for a while.

Peter had been hit with a massive surge of jealousy seeing other people in Tony's arm. But he knew that whatever happened was his own fault and Tony doesn't owe him anything.

Tony had grown in the last three years. All the baby fat was gone and his muscles had built up even more than before. It was hard for Peter ot to droll just a little at the sight of him.

"Hey, Mr. Parker." Tony greeted him.

"You can call me Peter. I haven't been your teacher for a long time." Peter smiled at him. Tony was eyeing him cautiously like he was trying to figure out what he wanted from Tony.

"Yeah, I guess."

They both eyed one another for a while before Tony sighed, "What did you want to talk about, M-Peter?"

"On that phone call," he saw Tony's body tense up that the mention of no doubt a terrible memory but Peter continued, "You told me that I was rejecting you because I was scared of what people would say. You were right.

My therapist said that it was a trauma response due to being bullied in school. But yeah, you were right. And sometimes I still deny myself in fear of outer opinion but I'm working on it. I really am."

"What-where are you going with this, Peter?"

"Go on a date with me!" Peter blurted out and then shook his head, "No no, that came out wrong. Let me do it again." He took in a deep breath and exhaled, "Will you go on a date with me?" He asked and after a second of thought added, "Please."

Tony blinked owlishly a few times and then burst out laughing, "Yeah," he said between his laughter, "Yeah, I'd go on a date with you."

Peter was so happy that he didn't even take offense to Tony so obviously laughing at him.

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enquiringangel · 2 years

Note

8. sunbathing please for the micro story thingy?

Summer had come to Fire Country. It was not yet the unbearable, sticky heat that would arrive later in the season with the threat of monsoons and the drilling cries of cicadas. But it was still hot enough that when Madara had dressed for their sparring match he had chosen to forgo his usual high-collared and long-sleeved shirts in favour of one that was sleeveless and with an open neckline.

Hashirama had done one better, and was currently using the shirt he’d been wearing as a pillow, leaving his broad, tanned chest on display as he lay back against the grass. His eyes were closed and a half-smile tugged at his lips. “Ahh, that was a good workout.” He stretched with a quiet groan and folded his arms behind his head.

Madara hummed in absent-minded agreement, watching him with the same quiet intensity as one of his hawks when it sighted prey. He wanted to lean over and trace his tongue down the line running between Hashirama’s pecs. He wanted to sink his teeth into the ridges of his abs and see how he’d react.

Ridiculous. Out of the question.

“Madara~” Hashirama said in sing-song tones, not opening his eyes. “I can hear you thinking. Stop it this instant.”

Madara snapped out of his trance. “What?”

“We came out here to relax.” Hashirama cracked open one eye, squinting up at him blearily. “It’s not like we get the chance that often. So enjoy the moment while it lasts.” He reached out and patted the patch of grass next to him insistently.

“Layabout,” Madara accused him, but after a moment took the offered spot and ignored Hashirama’s sulky protest that he deserved to be lazy after all the hard work they did. It was nice, like this, with the pleasant warmth of the sun beaming down on him and Hashirama so close that Madara’s skin tingled with awareness when the other man breathed.

He closed his eyes, blocking out the musky smell of Hashirama’s sweat (he must have taken that last punch a bit too hard if he found that strangely attractive). The sun burning orange through his eyelids he let himself doze. Just for a while…

-x-

His face was as red as boiled lobster. All except for one paler triangle of skin over one eye and one cheek where his fringe had fallen over his face. He was supposed to be attending a meeting in ten minutes. He looked ridiculous.

“Hashirama! This is your fault - stop laughing!”

#hashimada #madara #hashirama #madahashi #my writing stuff #i ignored the 10 sentence thing entirely lol

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pastelavender88 · 2 years

Text

Glimmer In The Eye Of The Curious- Chapter 2

Series Masterlist

Summary:Eddie finds himself drawn to his personal assistant, a seductress of a woman. Eddie and Y/n are sent on a business trip by his boss, Bobby, What happens while they're down there?

I thought getting a promotion was exciting and fun. Until I saw the workload that came along with it. Jonah was seriously behind in his work, drugs and prostitutes will do that, and that meant that I had to get caught up on all of it. I probably would have lost my mind if it wasn’t for Y/n. She was a godsend. She made sure I had coffee, ate breakfast, ate lunch, and all my meetings were in order. She was perfect. I found myself drawn to her. I would make any excuse to have her near me whether it was to show me how to use a program (even though I’ve used it a thousand times), find a file for me, organize paperwork, whatever it was she was there. Her perfume clouded my mind, her eyes were in my dreams, her smile was all I could think about. I was in deep shit, and it just kept getting worse. Y/n walked into my office. “Hey, Eddie. Mr. Nash requested to see you in his office in five minutes.”

“Thanks, Y/n.”

“My pleasure.” As she walked away I couldn’t help but look at the way her hips swing as she walked.

“God damn. Somebody call the police because this woman has just stolen my heart.” Evan exclaimed from my office door.

“Mr. Buckley, how many times have I told you, you can’t just show up in his office? He’s really busy due to the new transition.”

“Y/n, it’s fine. I asked him to come here.” I piped up as I was broken from my trance.

“Yeah. I was summoned.”

“Oh well, my apologies.” She said to Evan. “Remember Mr.Nash’s office. four minutes.” She said as she pointed to her watch.

“Of course.” She walked out and shut the door.

“Jesus man. If you gave me five minutes alone with her…”

“Buck, please.”

“What? I’m just saying. Anyways, what did you call me here for?”

“It’s about…” I said as I nodded towards the desk in which Y/n sat.

“What? The hot piece of ass, what about her?”

“Buck, I don’t know.” I huffed and leaned back in my chair. “You know what, forget it.”

“No. Is Mr.Diaz thinking about taking a bite out of his secretary.” Evan asked.

“What, no!” Evan gave me a knowing look. “Okay maybe.”

“Yes! I knew it! Not even you can resist an ass like that.” He said a little too loud for my liking.

“Will you shut up?” I begged. I looked over to where Y/n was again, she looked up from her paperwork, like she felt my eyes land on her, and waved. I sent her a charming smile back. “Might I remind you we’re in our place of work and not a frat.”

“Oh come on Eddie. Listen I love Shannon, god knows I do…”

“You hate Shannon. On my wedding day, you literally tried to make me leave the chapel.”

“Okay that’s besides the point, you got married young, dude. What were you 21?”

“23.”

“Exactly man. You never got to explore the dating world or hookup culture.”

“Oh no I had my share of hookups. That’s what caused me to meet Shannon.”

“Yeah, and you knocked her up. Then you became trapped. I know you love Shannon or at least did, but dude, you have an opportunity of a lifetime. You got a sexy assistant that is just begging to be dicked down.”

“One, she’s not begging. Two, you’re supposed to talk me out of cheating on my wife. You’re here as a voice of reason.”

“I am? Did you mean to call Chimney because I can get him instead.”

“Whatever, it's fine. I’m not going to listen to you anyways. I love my life and I value being able to live with my son.”

“Did you notice how you said you loved your son and the life you built but not your actual wife?” Buck started to ramble on and on and I just let him.

Just then Y/n walked in. “Sir, you going to be late for your meeting with Mr. Nash.”

“Oh shit. I looked at the clock and saw how much time passed. “Thanks Y/n. Buck, I got to go.”

“Okay, I’ll be here when you get back. I’ll keep your lovely assistant company.”

“You surely will not. Mr. Diaz has some things to attend to when he gets back. Also, I have work, which you have too.” She followed behind me out of the office door. “Good luck.” She said as she patted my back for comfort. If it was anyone else, it would have been a kind gesture but a brush of her hands had me feeling like electricity was running through me.

“Thanks.” I said as I headed to Bobby’s office. I knocked on his door and heard him shout ‘come in’. “Hello Mr. Nash. You wanted to see me?”

“Ahh Diaz. Please come in. Shut the door behind yourself.” I came and sat down at the chairs in front of his desk. “As you can tell by now Jonah was seriously slaking on his work. It’s a miracle he lasted as long as he did. Well, anyways, a client that lives in New York has been trying to reach out to him for the last several months. They want to go over their contract and negotiate a few things. They want to meet immediately or they threaten to go elsewhere. I informed them that Jonah was let go and you have taken over for him. They still want to meet immediately.”

“Oh that’s fine. I’m sure Y/n can work it in my schedule. When should I expect them?”

“You shouldn’t. You and Y/n are going to New York tomorrow.”

“What? Now? We’ve just settled in and I still have a mountain of paperwork…”

“Which I’m sure Y/n has helped along the way.”

“She has, but…”

“Which is why she will be going with you. To help with the workload and other things. Notify her and your family. My assistant will send the information as soon as she can. This isn’t up for discussion.”

“Yes sir.” I stood up from my chair.

“I’m not finished.” I sat back down. “How are things going with Y/n?”

“They’re great. She’s been an amazing help.”

“Okay. That’s all.” I got up and left the office. I made my way back over to my office, in which Y/n was sitting looking over paperwork.

“So how did it go?”

“It was eventful. He told me that we have to leave for a business trip to New York right away. We leave tomorrow. I guess he’ll send you the details since you handle transportation and travel and all that stuff.”

“Wow. Okay, I have to find a dog sitter and get the rentals and things together. Would you like to meet at the airport or would you want to meet in a company car at your house?”

“Meeting at the airport is fine.”

“I’ll send a town car to get you and I’ll see you there.” Just then, what I presume to be her work phone, pinged. “These are the details now. I’ll likely send a car at 5, our flight departs at 6:30.”

“Isn’t leaving at 5 cutting it a little close?”

“You live 10 minutes away from the airport and I’ll be there before you. I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

“Sorry, I guess it’s just the dad in me.”

“Don’t apologize, it’s cute.” She said, flashing me a smile again. She turned to leave when I called her name.

“Y/n.” She turned towards me. “Thanks for all the help. I know it’s your job and all but it still means a lot.”

“Please, it’s nothing. It’s not working if you enjoy what you do right?”

“Right.” She smiled again and then she was off.

After finishing my workload for the day (or at least what Y/n would allow me to finish) I headed home. It was maybe 9:30. When I walked through the door both Shannon and Christopher were shocked. “You’re home reasonably early.”

“Yeah, my assistant makes sure I leave at a reasonable time. She claims work can wait another day. If only she knew about the case of carpal tunnel I was developing.”

“She?” Shannon questioned.

“Yeah she.” I said, trying to brush it off. I never got around to telling Shannon they hired a woman.

“Well, remind me to send her a nice gift. Finally you’re home on time.” She gave me a kiss on the check. “So how was work?”

“Interesting. Bobby just told me I have to leave for a meeting tomorrow. We’re going to New York.”

“We?”

“My assistant and I.”

“Why does she need to go?”

“Because she’s my personal assistant. It’s in the job description.”

“How long will you be gone?” Christopher asked from across the table.

“I don’t know. I didn’t get all the details. She just told me to be ready by 5.”

“Well take lots of pictures.”

“I’m gonna be down there for work so I doubt I’ll have time for sightseeing.”

“Just if you can.” We moved on from work and my business trip and began to talk about other things.

Finally the next morning came around. Like clockwork, the town car was there by 5 and when I arrived at the airport at 5:15, there was heavy traffic, Y/n was waiting for me with two coffee cups in hand. “Oh you didn’t have to do that.”

“It seems I never do.” she remarked. We made our way through the airport and through security. We didn’t talk much until we were seated on the plane. Y/n must have noticed me fidgeting in my seat. “Are you okay?” She asked.

“Yeah. Just a nervous flier.”

“Do you want a xanax or a percocet?” Did she just ask me if I wanted drugs? As I struggled with what to say, she started to chuckle. “Eddie, I’m joking. I left those in my other bag.” I laughed along with her this time. “My mom was a nervous flier, my dad would always tell her that more people died per year in cars than planes.”

“Oh yeah. Did that help her?”

“They’re divorced now and my mom never leaves our hometown anymore, so I’ll say no.” she said, flashing me a smile.

“My wife said the same thing when we went to Mexico to see my family. Though, I didn’t think that warranted a divorce at the time.”

“My mom would disagree.” She gently grabbed my hand. “What always helped her though was someone holding her hand. I’m here if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” I squeezed her hand playfully. “This is a five hour flight though, are you sure you won’t need your hands?”

“Oh I’m going to sleep during this flight. I would suggest you do the same.” She leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. I couldn’t help but stare as I saw her face falter. She was beautiful. “I can feel you staring.”

“Sorry, it’s the nerves.” She laughed.

“Sure.” She fell asleep shortly after.

After the 5 hour flight from LA to NY, it was finally time to enter the city. Like she was psychic, Y/n woke up 10 minutes before we landed. Even while being fatigued Y/n always looked flawless. We were in endless meetings all day and the douches that we came to see were either gawking at Y/n or wasting time. Y/n however was making the most of it by sending me funny texts and tearing these guys to shreds. It took everything in me not to laugh in their faces right then and there. After finally being released from the hell we called work, we went back to our hotel rooms. We were on the same floor with adjacent doors. Right when I opened my door I heard Y/n exclaim. “What’s wrong?”

“My stupid key card isn’t working.”

“Here let me try.” She handed the key card to me and after a few tries, I was able to open the door.

“My hero.” She flashed me that signature smile again.

“Maybe it’s one of those men-only doors.” She laughed loudly at that. I turned to enter my room but she stopped me again.

“Hey, I have a few friends from college that live down here. Since we’re not doing anything for the rest of the day, I was wondering if you wanted to come out with us tonight? We’re going to this bar.”

“I would love to but I’m gonna catch up on some work.”

“Would you like me to stay and help?”

“Oh no I got this. Enjoy yourself.”

“Alright. Have a good night, Eddie.”

“You too.”

Later on that day, around 1 am, I was still reviewing paperwork when my hotel phone rang. “Hello?” I answered.

“Hey, honey. It’s me.”

“Oh Shannon. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to call and check up on you. How’s the trip?’

“How did you get my hotel room phone number?”

“Your assistant sent it to me. I got a text, stating that you guys had just landed and she was sending me the hotel phone number, just in case of an emergency. Which you should have done.” She complained.

“Well honey, is there an emergency?”

“No but I wanted to speak to you. Is that a crime?”

I sighed. “Of course not. Sorry honey. I’m just tired.”

“It’s okay. I understand.”

“How’s Chris?”

“He’s okay. We just got done watching a movie so he went to bed not too long ago. How’s the trip so far?”

“It’s boring. I wish I was back home in my own bed.”

“Me too. Did you get to see anything interesting?”

“No, but my assistant is. She’s out on the town.”

“You didn’t go with her?”

“Naw. Who wants to be out with some 20 somethings, when I could be looking over paperwork.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or if you’re just plain boring, but the answer to that is everyone.”

I chuckled at her response. “Yeah. That’s true.” Just then I heard a knock on my door. “Uhm, I got to go honey. I’ll talk to you later.

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just got to go. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay, love you.”

“You too.” I quickly hung up the phone. I walked to the door and looked through the peephole and saw Y/n standing outside soaked. I opened the door and quickly began to speak. “Hey. Is everything okay?”

“Uhm.. yes and no. I’m locked out of my room. I don’t know what I did with the keycard and I got caught in the rain coming back from the bar. It was close enough to just walk back from the bar and then the rain came…”

“You walked here at night? In New York? Are you crazy? You could have got mugged or worse, killed.”

“I know, I just had to get the hell out of that bar. It was a bad idea going out with them. We stopped being friends after college for a reason.” She sighed in frustration and ran a hand over her face. “Anyways, is it okay if I stay here? No one’s at the front desk and I’m freezing.”

“Of course, come in.” She quickly walked past me.

“Can I borrow a change of clothes? If you have any of course.”

“Oh yeah here.” I went to my suitcase and grabbed an old T-shirt and some shorts. She took the clothes from me and started to undress. She was wearing a red bra and I noticed a tattoo under her ribcage. I quickly turned around to give her privacy. I heard a sound so I turned around and noticed her sitting on the bed.

“Thanks Eddie. Is it okay if I watch a movie?”

“Of course. Help yourself.” I gestured to the remote which was sitting on the bed. She must have thought I meant the bed itself because she climbed into the bed fully and got under the covers. She grabbed the remote and started flicking through the menu. “I’m gonna call the front desk to see if someone can come open the door for you.”

“I already tried the front but no one was out there. It’s pretty late but help yourself.” I dialed the front desk and sure enough there was no answer. I left a voicemail and sat on the couch in the room. “Are you not going to bed?”

“Oh no. It’s fine. I’m not tired.”

“That’s a lie because I know for a fact you’ve been working all day and you didn’t sleep on the plane. You must be exhausted.”

“Okay maybe just a bit jet-lagged but I’ll be fine.”

“No, I'll take the couch. Don’t make me ruin your sleep.”

“It’s fine. I insist.”

“I insist too, so it seems we have a dilemma.”

“It seems we do.”

“How about this, we both sit in the bed and watch a movie, then when you start to feel tired you can kick me out of the bed.”

“Won’t happen but fine.” It was a bad idea given my attraction towards her but I threw caution to the wind. We had settled on a romantic comedy. At the start of the movie there was a large gap between the two of us but as the movie continued we moved closer and closer until our shoulders were touching. During the movie it reached that point where the plot went stale and I looked over at Y/n. Surprisingly she was looking back at me. “What?” I asked. She closed the gap between the two of us and our lips connected. The kiss was chaste and sweet. When we parted, she looked at me, reading my expression. Then, she kissed me again. This time with so much lust and passion. Her lips were soft and tasted like whatever coconut lip gloss she had on. Our bodies pressed together heatedly as my hand traveled to wrap around her waist. We were breathing heavily as our lips pressed together. She straddled me and started to claw at my clothes. I came to my senses before things went too far. “Wait stop.”

“What’s wrong?” She said panting from our wild kiss.

“This is wrong. I’m married and I have a family that I love.”

“It’s okay. No one has to know.” She started to lean in for another kiss when the phone rang. “Are you going to get that?” She asked in a voice that seemed to almost imply the question as a dare. I quickly grabbed the phone and Y/n got off of me. It was someone from the front desk. They apologized for the inconvenience and said they were on their way to open the door. I told all of this to Y/n and she seemed annoyed.

“I’ll wait for them in the hall. Good night Eddie.” She quickly left and I sat there thinking. What had I just done? If the phone didn’t ring what would have happened?”

Chapter 2! Things are heating up. Do you think Y/n will take rejection or will Eddie regret his decision?

#eddie diaz x reader #eddie and christopher #eddie diaz x shannon #Eddie Diaz #911 fanfic #911 fic #911 on fox #911 fox #911

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casspurrjoybell-27 · 9 months

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Claimed by the Beast - Chapter 2c

*Warning Adult Content*

Kitten - Part 3

- Knox -

When the hot water comes on, only then does Knox look away, smiling to himself for no reason.

He pulls out his phone and sends a few texts while Everett washes his trauma away.

Fifteen minutes later, Everett asks Knox for the towel.

He hands it over without teasing, even allows Everett to get dressed with the bathroom door closed.

Not like there's anything inside he can use as a weapon.

Though it would be a comical sight to see him charge at Knox with a toothbrush in his hand.

"Come sit."

Knox is at the foot of his king-sized bed, patting the space next to him after Everett steps out of the bathroom in his skinny jeans and Knox's giant t-shirt.

Somehow he looks even more adorable than what he did before.

"I'd rather stand." Everett remains by the bathroom door with his skinny arms wrapped tight around his middle. "And before you grill me again, I really have nothing more to say. I told you everything that I know about Shaun. What more do you want from me?"

"Your side of the story," Knox answers. "From the moment you first met Shaun to now, I want to know everything. Where you went with him. What you talked about. What you did with him in private. Every little detail. And do not hold back on me."

Everett sighs, staring down at the ground.

"I met Shaun at the grocery store. He approached me and made small talk. I thought he was funny and hot, so I gave him a chance. Long story short, we exchanged numbers. After that, things were just... you know, super casual. We haven't even had sex yet."

Knox raises a brow.

"You a virgin?"

"What? No!" Everett shakes his head, turning red from embarrassment. "When I found out Shaun was a biker, I wanted to make him work for it. For... sex. I enjoyed hanging out with him, but I was afraid if I gave it up too soon, he'd ghost me."

"Go on."

"He took me out on a few dates around town. The majority of our conversations mainly revolved around me now that I think about it." Everett pauses, staring off into space. "Whenever I asked him stuff about being a biker, he'd always spin the conversation back around to focus on me. I... I don't even think I know what his last name is."

"He really told you nothing about himself?" Knox questions.

"Nothing that gave me any clue about what he did for a living with his club," Everett says. "Tonight, though, I overheard a phone call he was on. He was supposed to deliver a package to somebody, but he chose not to because we were together. I think he was speaking in code or something and the package that he was talking about is actually the USB."

"Makes sense," Knox says. "The fucking cure to cancer must be on that thing if he was desperate enough to give it to you, someone he's known for weeks, in order to keep it away from the cops."

The police, most of them crooked, prefer to make deals with criminals that are on El Chapo's level of wealth, not MCs who play in the minor leagues.

They remain one of the few that The Fallen Angels couldn't buy, meaning the club has no Get Out of Jail Free cards.

If tonight somehow gets pinned on Finn, the man is bound to get fucked hard by the system.

"I hate to say it but you've gotten yourself in a major shit storm by fucking with that Jackal," Knox continues. "As for your story, I believe you're telling me the truth. MCs are real private about their shit, as are the members, so I understand Shaun being reluctant about opening up to you."

Everett smiles at that.

He rushes over to Knox and kneels at his feet, hope shining brightly in his pretty brown eyes.

"Does this mean you'll let me go now?" Knox leans in close and gently grips Everett by the chin, staring deeply into his big, round eyes.

"Did you not hear what I told you earlier? You're mine for the night, Everett. Until I say so, you aren't going anywhere..."

A knock at the door snaps Everett out of the trance he'd fallen in.

He hurriedly scoots away from Knox, his cheeks beet red.

"Wait here." Knox answers the door with a frustrated grumble, finding Cole standing on the other side with the key to his bike.

He takes it and slips it into his pocket.

"Pres said he needs you at the meeting. Finn basically... well, you'll find out when you get there."

Cole glances past Knox and into the room, spotting Everett curled up in a ball on the floor near the dresser.

"Want me to watch him while you're gone?" "Yeah. If you touch him or let him escape, just know the next conversation we have will be between you and my fists."

Knox brushes past him and heads downstairs to the basement where all club meetings are held.

He's immediately hit with the strong smells of cigarettes and liquor upon entering the large room.

Men of various sizes sit at the long rectangular table, all of them wearing denim, leather and their cuts.

Knox greets his brothers with a head nod before taking his seat at the table, The Fallen Angels emblem carved deep into its center.

"You were right about the USB being encrypted. I have Mason working on it now," Gavin tells Knox.

"Great. What else did I miss?" Knox asks.

"Two brothers are still getting checked out by the Doc. One got grazed on the hip and the other took a bullet to the shoulder. They're going to be okay."

"And Rex?"

"His body just arrived at the funeral home. We'll hold a private service for him tomorrow afternoon."

West & Sons Funeral Home is one of the many businesses the club owns and uses to wash its illegal money.

The built-in crematorium allows for easy disposal of their enemy's bodies, along with their fallen brothers whose deaths require discreet handling so as to not draw any attention from the authorities.

It's been years since a member died, so tonight weighs heavily on everyone's shoulders.

"Last bit to get you caught up on," Gavin continues. "Thanks to your idiotic boy down there, we're officially going to war with The Jackals. It was bound to happen eventually. Still, I'll need every man available to help defend this town, our territory, so you'll need to get your hands bloody again. It's time to pull The Beast out of retirement."

A violent ripple of dread mixed with a hint of excitement courses through Knox's veins.

His hands ball into tight fists as he swiftly pushes back against the dark thoughts attempting to flood his mind.

"Hold the fuck on. What do you mean we're going to war?" Knox asks, sitting up straighter in his seat. "Was the Jackal Finn killed that important?"

"The Jackal Finn killed was the bastard son of Russell Baxter, the President of The Jackals," Gavin deadpans. "Once he finds out Shaun has been murderer and then by who, all hell will break loose."

Knox shakes his head, confused.

"I don't understand. I thought Jordan was the name of Russell's kid and he's supposed to be off at college or some shit. Where the fuck did Shaun come from?" "

Another state," Alvin, the VP, speaks. "A few months ago, I caught wind that Russell was paying special attention to a new prospect, buying him expensive cars and bikes and shit. I became curious and started digging. Long story short, I fucked the truth out of one of their patch whores."

Knox snorts, as do a few others in the room.

"Of course you did."

"Hey, I did for the club," Alvin adds, laughing and shrugging. "Anyway, I asked her about the new prospect and she told me about a conversation they had after doing some heavy drinking one night. Shaun has... er, had... some very loose lips, apparently."

"What did he tell her?" Knox asks.

"He let it slip that his mother had recently come clean about his father's death," Alvin says. "He's actually alive, and his name is Russell Baxter. She didn't want Shaun to get sucked into Russell's world of violence, so when she found out she was pregnant, she left him and ran. Created a whole new identity just to keep Russell from finding her."

"Shit. That's rough."

"Yeah, Shaun didn't take the news well. He flipped out and came here to do the one thing his mother tried to prevent, him building a relationship with his father. After a DNA test confirmed they're indeed father and son, Russell was quick to patch Shaun in and make him a Jackal since he failed at converting his other kid. Rumor has it he's looking to retire soon."

"Russell was clearly grooming Shaun to take over the club," Gavin adds. "I don't know what kind of code those men follow, but I suspect he was going to demote his current VP, Ghost, and give that title to Shaun since he's blood."

"But now he can't because Shaun is dead," Knox mutters, glaring at Finn. "Thanks to you."

"Right. Shaun has only been around for a few months. No one knows why Russell kept their true relationship a secret. I'm not sure if he ever plans on telling his men the truth or if he expects them to not ask questions and go to war over a guy they barely knew," Gavin says.

"Fact of the matter is that he lost a kid tonight. When he finds out we're responsible, and something tells me that he will because I had a guy circle back to the club and the security footage is nowhere to be found, he won't stop coming for us until we're all dead."

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nellavee · 2 years

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looks like twilight has met the thorn princess...

#ro.draws #ro.spyxfam #this came to me in a vision #i had to do it #twiyor #brought to you by That One Scene from princess mononoke #i will die on the hill that loid is his wife's biggest simp #again have you SEEN the way he's so amazed by yor's strength #mans would be in a trance for a hot minute if he found himself in this position #this is dedicated to user prologhe on twt andi and i are knee deep in sxf brainrot #spy x family #loid forger #yor forger #twilight spy x family #thorn princess #princess mononoke

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moved2usagiiboo · 3 years

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Daydreaming

Def; Daydreaming is the stream of consciousness that detaches from current, external tasks when attention drifts to a more personal and internal direction.

Synonyms; Trance, fantasy, Hallucination

Chifuyu x fem!reader

Minors DNI, thank you.

You were stunning, enticing, gorgeous. You were a angel sent down from heaven with the job of blessing young men's hearts. You shined bright like the rays on a sunny day.

You were his everything and yet you weren't his. As a matter of fact, he barely knew anything about you but you have him wrapped around your delicate finger. He was whipped.

Chifuyu met you one day, when he had been tasked with a mid-day coffee run for him and his co-worker. He walked into the café, the smell of coffee and pastries engulfed his noise, it was a small cat café not too far from where he worked. Nothing more than a five minute walk, Chifuyu heard cats meow and purred as they rubbed against his pants.

He bent down rubbing the head of the nearest cat to him, he lifted the cat up cradling it as he walked towards the menu.

"Hi! Welcome to Neko-Sama, what can I get for you today." You beamed at him from behind the counter with the softest smile. Your voice rung in his ears like a soft melody, your smile made heat rush to his face in an instant.

You had your hair in pigtails with pink and white cat ears, and a frilly maid costume draped over your body. You shuffled your body feeling Chifuyu's eyes look you up and down eyeing your attire.

You were adorable.

You stared at the man with cat like eyes, you catched your eyes with his before turning away and giving an awkward cough to clear the air.

"Wow, Tuba doesn't really like anybody..." You drifted off, "Much less let people hold her, you must be a great guy!"

"Tuba?" He questioned earning a small meow from the ginger cat that was in his arms nuzzling his head on his arm. "O-Oh! Well, I do work with animals, that's probably why." He chuckles softly petting the cat.

"That's amazing, I got this job here to work with animals. I adore cats, they're just so cute." You practically squealed, "Sorry! M'rambling" You looked down with a slight your ears slightly red from embarrassment.

The only thing that ran through Chifuyu's head was how adorable you were. Would it be weird if he asked for your number? You both just met, but he can't help but want to know more about you.

"N-No, no, not at all. Honestly, I thought it was cute..." He says the last part ever so softly, tightening his grip on the cat due to nervousness. The cat bites Chifuyu's hand in response jumping out of his arms, "Oh.. Guess I pissed him off." You both laughed at the cat as you watched him lick himself in spite.

For a split second you both lock eyes, you turn your head down to the iPad on the counter before beaming a smile at him.

"So! What can I get for you today?"

Ever since then Chifuyu has found reasons to make his way to the café. His co-worker caught onto him leaving work to bring back coffee and various snacks, one day he asked him about it.

"I like the coffee." He plainly replied, he would repeat this phrase over and over not only to those who asked about his constant ventures to the café but to convince himself that it wasn't because he wanted to hear your voice and see your face.

Totally not because he hopes that his constant visits would bring upon something. Something more than small talk as you prepared his drink, he convinced himself that he didn't want to be the reason you smile everyday.

You weren't running through his mind, he couldn't be in love with a girl be barely knows.

But the way you blush when he gives you small compliments, it's just too cute to ignore.

Over the course of a few months you and the man got closer, you learn his name and he yours. You were both around the same age, 23, you still being in college working towards your degree and him owning a animal shop.

One day, on a cold winter evening Chifuyu found himself at the café once again. So far he has been to Neko-Sama almost everyday. Naturally, being the animal person he is, he has created a bond with the cats there. Especially Tuna.

Tuna meows the loudest whenever Chifuyu is in the establishment, that's when you begin to prepare his drink. His order changes with the season, as any good barista does, you remember his orders for each season.

Being that it's winter you prepare his drink, a medium peppermint hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. You found it cute how a grown man would order such a cute drink.

"Good evening Chifuyu-san." You smiled placing his drink at his regular table. He takes off his coat setting it down on the seat next to him.

"I told you to drop the formalities, we're the same age Y/n." He sighs, softly thanking you for preparing his drink. He blows the steam away before taking a sip.

"I can't help it, you just seem so much older " You giggle before sitting next to him on the booth couch.

"Should I call you Fuyu' from now on?" You tapped your chin with a hum pretending to think.

"Do what you want, dummy Y/n." He mutters, hoping you're unaware of the burn on the tip of his ears.

Tuna jumped his way onto the seat laying on Chifuyu's coat, his purrs nothing more than a background sound as you and Chifuyu indulge in a conversation.

"And look at this, the new cat is so playful," Chifuyu chuckles pulling his phone out, "Look, she basically destroyed this toy we gave her." He shows you pictures of the cat along with the aftermath of her playtime. You giggle as he swiped through his phone.

This wasn't your fault. You could barely see the screen because of the glare from the lights, you shift your body closer to him. Chifuyu freezes as he feels your clothed breasts push up against him as you stare at his screen unaware of your actions.

"You okay?" You ask staring at his face, cupping it with your hands. His whole body locked up at your touch, his face was bright red with sweat heading down the side of his temple. "You're burning up!" You half screen putting the back of your hand on his forehead, "Are you sick?" You frantically ask while gripping the man's face.

"M'fine.. Just" He trails off, looking at your glistening lips, "Dizzy...."

"Fuyu, you idiot. You need to go home when you don't feel well..." You sighed, "Come on let me walk you home, my shift is over anyways."

Chifuyu waited outside feeling dizzy off of your touch, his head throbbed and his heart pounded. Maybe he was sick.

"Sorry it took so long, Tuna didn't want to go in his cage..." You sigh locking up, you looked at Chifuyu and worry spread across your face. Chifuyu's chest heaved up and down heavily, he looked out of breath as if he ran a marathon.

You quickly take off your scarf and wrapped it around his neck, he softly gasped at the sudden action.

"Let's get you home, yeah?" You lock arms with him and following him as he walked to his apartment. You missed the way his face got brighter as he smelt your scent on the scarf. You said your goodbyes telling him to take medicine and get a good night's rest.

He kicked off his shoes and stripped down on his way to the shower feeling lightheaded, after his shower he took his medicine like you told him to, he wasted no time getting into his bed not before grabbing your scarf and wrapping it around his neck. He ignored the cries of his cat as he tried to drift off to sleep trying to forget the throbbing pain in his head.

ミ❣️That night he couldn't sleep, maybe it was the throbbing pain in his head or the nauseous feeling he'd get everytime he would shift his body.

ミ❣️Or possible it was the fact that everytime he closed his eyes he saw you, your smile, heard your voice, felt your touch.

ミ❣️Your hands were soft, oh so plush.

ミ❣️And your lips, the way they glistened due to the lip gloss you would constantly put on for worry your lips would dry out.

ミ❣️He couldn't forget your whines and pouts when he would call you, "dummy y/n" a nickname you acquired after spraining your ankle slipping while trying to give Tuna a bath.

ミ❣️The way you would stick out your bottom lip, your eyes would shine as if you were about to cry when he had to leave early...

ミ❣️You were adorable, his perfect little angel.

ミ❣️He drifts off daydreaming about every aspect of you that he loves, its a innocent little crush.

ミ❣️He begins to drift off about the way you dress, those pink cat ears that jingle everytime you move. That slutty maid costume that barely covered your ass. Those adorable stripped thigh highs that covered your thighs, pushing up the fat to the uncovered part of your upper thighs.

ミ❣️He nuzzled his flushed face into the scarf engulfing his nose in your sweet scent. It smelt like the fragrance you would constantly wear...

ミ❣️What was it again?

ミ❣️Fuck, he can't think straight trying to remember the name of your perfume makes his head hurt.

ミ❣️But thinking about how you would bend down he would get a full view of your plush cheeks made his cock hurt.

ミ❣️The way you would shake and sway your hips with each step you took.

ミ❣️He isn't in the right headspace, his mind has drifted away from his body. He's long gone, he lost all control of his actions.

ミ❣️Chifuyu is needy, the thoughts go right to his cock. His length twitched with every memory of you.

ミ❣️When did he pull his pants down to his knees?

ミ❣️When did his breath become broken and eratic?

ミ❣️He doesn't know how he ended feeling his dick through his underwear, how he began to fist his dick, all curled up in a ball, trying to release.

ミ❣️His other hand pulling the scarf closer to his nose to take deep inhales.

ミ❣️Chifuyu's voice becomes audible as soft groans leave his mouth.

ミ❣️Nothing more than pre-cum dripped from the tip of his angry cock as he aggressively jerked his hand up and down the length of his shaft, gripping it harder trying to get friction.

ミ❣️He just needed to cum.

ミ❣️It wasn't working. He spat in his hand, rolling into his back. He pr sses his thumb onto his tip. He hissed in pain as a electric jolt shot through his body.

ミ❣️His proud cock standing tall as he moved his hand up and down while simultaneously slightly thrusting his hips upwards. He clicked his tongue in annoyance when it just.. wasn't working.

It wasnt you

ミ❣️Chifuyu pulled his pillow from his head, shifting his position once more, laying back on his side, putting his cock onto the surface of the pillow. He slowly humped his pillow, grinding his dick into the pillow.

ミ❣️He found himself wondering what you were doing right now, if at night you played with yourself.

ミ❣️No, no, not that. He wondered how well you would take him, if you'd scream his name, begging him to go faster, calling him all sorts of names,

ミ❣️Daddy

ミ❣️Master

ミ❣️ They would sound so pretty coming out of your mouth

ミ❣️As he claimed your pussy as his spraying your insides with his cum.

ミ❣️Nah, you were too innocent for that... You were the type of girl to blush when somebody accidentally touches your hand of gives you a compliment.

ミ❣️If anything you would fail to understand why your core was heating up, desperate to feel something inside you but not understanding the meaning.

ミ❣️That's it, you'd come to him crying asking for him to help you feel better.

ミ❣️He groaned at the thought of him placing his hand around your throat while tongue fucking your mouth. You would struggle to kiss back as he roughly explored your mouth with his tongue. Your knees would buckle from the pleasure. He would pick you up, holding the back of your knees, gently grinding his hard cock against your sex.

ミ❣️He would treat you like a princess.

ミ❣️Laying on your back as you hurried to take your soaking panties off, your slick juices leaving a single string that was attached to your panties, proof that you were wetting your undergarments like a dirty slut.

ミ❣️Your face would be red as you shamelessly tell him in the softest tone.

ミ❣️"Want you so bad Fuyu'"

ミ❣️Fuck, his thrusts became more erratic, his knuckles turning white from his tight grip on his pillow.

ミ❣️Yeah, you'd call him by his nickname as you begged him to claim you, ruin you.

ミ❣️He imagine him sinking his fingers, he'd start with one not wanting to hurt you. Your tight untouched cunt tightly squeezing his finger. You would already be a moaning mess, Fuyu was talking all your firsts.

ミ❣️Your slightly loosened sex would take in another finger. You would try your best to muffle your slutty moans as he fingers your soaking pussy. You'd cover your mouth with your hand as his finger curled inside of you hitting that spot that made your toes curl and eyes widen.

ミ❣️You'd moan his name, begging him to stop. It felt weird, felt too good, something was coming.

ミ❣️He'd give you your first orgasm with his fingers, you had drool dripping from the corner of your mouth, your face was red. You were already so fucked out on his fingers.

ミ❣️He felt his cock twitch with these thoughts. He mindlessly began to fuck his pillow into the mattress, his body now on top of the pillow as he grinded on top of the pillow.

ミ❣️He'd have you suck on his fingers tasting yourself as he began to eat you out. His tongue slipping in and out of your slit, naughty slurping sounds emitted from the room as he throat fucked you with his digits that were once in your pussy. His nose would occasionally hit your lip causing you to arch your back pushing his tongue deeper inside you.

ミ❣️You love being eaten out huh? Love it when daddy fucks you with his tongue. Such a dirty little thing.

ミ❣️All the dirty things he could think of seeps from his mouth, while eating you out. He'd bring you to another orgasm with ease.

ミ❣️"Y/n, fuck, m'gonna cum" Chifuyu grunted out in a out of breath voice, he felt his cock spurt out his cum into his pillow, yet he wasn't satisfied.

ミ❣️He leaned back onto his shins, his knees pressing into the bed as he lifted the pillow up, slipping his cock into the pillow cover.

ミ❣️He wasn't done yet, your pussy would be twitching, eager to take his cock. You eyes would be begging him to fuck you into the mattress.

ミ❣️"Gonna fuck my princess dumb." He muttered out to nobody as he thrusted upwards into the pillow. His thrusts were shameless and aggressive as he pounded his pillow like a dog in heat.

ミ❣️His moans were loud as he muttered filthy things about you.

ミ❣️He would slip his cock into you, kissing away the tears from your eyes.

ミ❣️His cock was just too big, his dumb baby couldn't take it. The stretch hurt. Daddy made it fit though. Daddy will make you feel so good. Pretty girl.

ミ❣️He'd let you adjust waiting for you to give him the okay, he would start of slow, giving you small thrusts to get you used to the size of him. Deep passionate thrusts that said how much he loved you.

ミ❣️You would have the most beautiful moans and whines, he could listen to them all day. He would kiss you and your body till it bruised.

ミ❣️You'd beg him to fuck you, he would do just that. Slamming his hips into yours causing you to scream out his nickname, one of his hands would be on your thigh squeezing it oh so tight getting a good grip for when he pulls his cock out and slams your bodies into each other, fucking you senseless. While the other kept your mouth busy, occasionally taking his fingers out of your mouth to kiss you deeply bruising your lips with his.

He'd watch your every expression.

ミ❣️"Your pussy was made for me, look how well you're taking it. Doing so good"

ミ❣️Your eyes would cross as your tongue rolled out, you'd pants and beg for him to slow down. You didn't really want that, no, not when he was making you feel this good. The way you would arch your back, grind your hips into his, wrap your arms around his neck and grip his hair as you moaned louder with each thrust told him everything he needed to know.

ミ❣️You wanted more, you're greedy aren't you?

ミ❣️"My pretty little cocksleeve"

ミ❣️Chifuyu felt himself getting closer to his high, but he wanted to cum with you.

ミ❣️No, you weren't here.

ミ❣️His hand would make it to your clit giving it a soft slap before his thumb rubbed it in circles. You'd start cursing because of how good it felt. Telling him you wanted more, how you were about to cum, how much you wanted him to cum in you.

ミ❣️You would adore it, he knows it. You'd be such a cum hungry slut for him, no matter when or where you'd want him to cum in your tight pussy.

ミ❣️"Fuck, fuck— so good, Y/n— yer' pussy so good" Chifuyu cursed out as he imagined you creaming his cock the same time as he slammed his dick in you once more before spraying your insides white with his cum. Your body would shake as you had your final orgasm feeling so full.

ミ❣️"Fuck... Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck!" Chifuyu cursed out realizing what he just did, he felt a wave of guilt as he felt his dick go limp after fucking his pillow to the thought of you like a madman.

ミ❣️He rushed into the shower, almost falling off his bed in a panic mode. He tried to wash it off, tried to wash off the sin of moaning your name while he fucked his pillow like some highschool horn dog.

ミ❣️He hoped you'd forgive him, he prayed you would.. You couldn't ever find out what he did, you'd label him as a pervert.

ミ❣️Maybe he was one.

ミ❣️He couldn't look himself in the mirror, too ashamed to face himself.

ミ❣️Chifuyu threw the pillow away before curling back in bed chanting soft apologies to nobody. He'd wrap his body in his blanket nuzzling his face back into your scarf as he drifting off final able to sleep.

ミ❣️The next morning you didn't understand why Chifuyu refused to make eye contact with you...

It was supposed to be a short drabble.... 500 works max 🤧🔫 anywaysssss

@baji-kuns hope you liked it 🙄 #Chifuyu'sAHoe

#chifuyu imagines #chifuyu smut #chifuyu best boy #chifuyu x y/n #chifuyu matsuno #chifuyu headcanons #chifuyu x reader #tokyo rev #tokyo rev x reader #Tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader

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