#I hate the one eye being outlined in an obnoxious blue

[cephalonheadquarters]

can’t take it anymore I need to hate

#I keep seeing that fucking tvhead from hazbin and he makes me so angry I hate his design So. Much. Oh my god #I hate the one eye being outlined in an obnoxious blue #I hate that he has two similar shades of blue #I hate that he isn’t a robot nor does he match whatever time period he died in #1950s. Okay. Nvm he swapped his head but it’s so much worse now #HIS FACE ISNT EVEN AN ACTUAL SCREEN LIKE THERES DEPTHW ITH HIS MOUTH OR WHATEVER #I hate his color scheme too like. The bright blues and reds just don’t work for me #Maybe if they weren’t directly next to each other it’d be better but ough. #The blue eye outline on the red eye is the worst part #The black stripes on the red vest thing don’t look good either #I’d explain more but I’d have to draw it out and I am Not doing that #He’s so ugly. I hate him #😭

[neverendingparable]

"Boss, if you would just listen-"

"I thought I made myself very clear. The experiments are on hold."

"But we've already gotten a new shipment and they're not going to last forever-"

EJ turns and his cold blue eyes sweep over the group of Mariellas pleading with him. They shrink back at his expression.

"I said. The experiments. Are. Halted." He repeats in a dangerous tone. He waits for a protest, just one more, to unleash his infamous rage on his unhappy servants.

None of them do, despite their obvious opposition.

He doesnt care about their opinions, however. They are meant to follow his orders - instantly - without question. This is one of the reasons why he has managed to run his operation for so long.

Jon contemplates returning to his personal room, but knows that he is too distracted to read over his notes and sleep is far from his grasp. He dreads the nightmares that will come when he eventually does pass out.

Perhaps he should focus his efforts on keeping his dreams at bay for now. Crafting around will give him something to do while he figures out how to get himself out of his current...predicament.

There is not a moment that goes by where he doesnt think about what happened a week ago. The feeling of Maelle's blade entering his body, as if he was made out of nothing but soft pliable sand, is still fresh as ever. The stab didn’t hurt his abdomen, but he would take the feeling of being ripped apart over this any day.

He thought he knew what torture was. After all, one could argue his experiments were based on it, picking apart his subjects minds and bodies, seeing what reactions were satisfactory and how far he could push until they succumbed to one thing or another.

But this— this is worse than anything he ever experienced in his life. Worse even than being pitied.

His soul feels like it is being cooked alive, stewing in emotions that both anger and scare him.

He has never felt guilt before. It sits inside his rib cage like glowing hot coal, uncomfortable at best and painful when there is a lull in his distractions. No matter how he turns or twists, it refuses to dislodge itself. 

It’s just as much violating as it is suffocating and so far, he hasn’t found a way to escape the discomfort.

As he enters his laboratory to clear the desk of his previous projects and start finding a hopefully permanent cure for dreams, he is distracted from his thoughts by a muffled gasp of surprise.

And when he glances over his shoulder, it is the last person Jon expects to see.

The ex-fusion Stanley, who had spent months escaping his facility, only to return nearly two years later with a new shadowy friend to steal some medical supplies for unknown reasons. Back then Jon had welcomed their presence (annoying shadows aside) as it had helped him capture a new object of interest, the being that called itself God.

The Masochist had spent every moment he was in Jon's presence letting him know just how much he hated it. But now he's back, once again standing before the exhausted Vichtel.

Jon wonders if his masochism has gone too far. Perhaps it is exciting for him, returning to the place of his most traumatic memories.

The Masochist looks around as if contemplating how to escape now that he's been caught, but Jon isnt interested today. He ignores him and returns to his desk, shoving the notes and books aside.

"If you are going to go, just go." He says after a moment of pause.

"So it is true," Maso replies. "You were stabbed by that guilt-y sword."

"I am not in the mood for a conversation."

Maso glances at the vent he came out of, but Jon can tell he is too curious to leave yet. Just his luck.

He doesnt call the Mariellas though, not wanting to deal with their silent judgement of their Boss's sudden change in character.

"Soooo, do you regret kidnapping Stanleys?" The Masochist steps to his desk and despite his wariness, he’s wearing a conceited smile. "Do you feel guilty for making me? I hope so. Not like it would change anything, but I want to imagine you sitting there suf-fer-ing~"

Jon eyes him up and down. "I do regret making you, but not because I sympathize with how much it must've hurt to be violated in every aspect of your nature." He says. Guilt or not, the Masochist is still annoying enough that Jon takes quiet satisfaction in watching that smile become strained with poorly hidden anger.

"I wanted to make a perfect fusion of two men in one, yet I just made a monstrosity of some sort. Useless, loud, obnoxious. I should've exterminated you instead of keeping you around like a screwed up trophy."

"Too bad, but I don’t care about your pity party." Maso puffs out his chest. "I became pretty cool, actually. I have many arms, an interesting body I can use for cheap party tricks to impress cuties aand I have the best of both world from Bradley's and Stellan's personalities."

"Your fake bravado doesnt impress me," Jon snaps. "And you aren't truly a fusion anymore. You are more Spencer than you are Sommers, you know this. You just want to make yourself more interesting than you are."

"Go back to feeling like shit, Jon."

Maso turns on his heels. Jon opens his notebook to a blank page, but then stops as a thought occurs to him.

"What if I can unfuse you?" He says suddenly.

He hears Maso pause.

"I still have the machine. I could return you back to normal."  If he could reverse his mistakes, starting with one of his biggest, perhaps that's enough to make the nagging guilt stop. Enough for him to stop thinking about it. 

He spares a glance at Maso, who is studying him with an unreadable expression. 

After a long moment of silence, he finally speaks up. "I'd refuse, Jon. I don’t want to return back to normal and forget this ever happened, because it has happened and no amount of body modification can change it. That's why I never let anyone ‘fix’ me."

He hesitates, then sighs.

"Not like I give a shit about your guilt. You can rot in here crying about how idiotic you were for all I care. But you don’t fix your mistakes by covering them up and pretending they never happened. You have to own up to them, otherwise you're just a coward. And then you can try and figure out how to proceed. My advice is stop pretending like you're something special and just go talk to some people who aren’t Mariellas."

Jon finds himself staring despite himself. He wants to ask what Maso means and exactly how he can talk to anyone if they either treat him like a god or the devil himself, but the words are stuck in his throat and suddenly the idea of embarrassing himself is worse than the guilt.

He lets himself form a familiar scowl instead.

"Get out of my Office before I pump the vents full of pesticide, you abhorrent thing." He snarls at the Masochist.

Maso just sticks his tongue out in the most childish way possible and swings himself back into the vents.

He considers going through with his threat but decides he doesnt want to find out what happens if he angers the shadows as well.

So he grabs the notebook again and starts scribbling down outlines of his new experiment until his eyes hurt too much to keep open. In his dedication to stay distracted, one thing slips his mind completely.

What was the Masochist doing in his lab in the first place?

#drabble #evil!jon #the masochist #yes he was stealing something again

[godsofmonster]

Bangtan MC ≽ VI.

Reader x Bangtan- Motorcycle Club

Word Count- 7.1k

Warnings- sexual content, death, murder, guns, drugs, violence, betrayal,  mentions of suicide, mentions of rape, etc.

For as long as I can remember back, I always wanted to be in a motorcycle club. Since I was six years old, the only thing on my mind was getting my hands on a Harley and a cut. I was a wolf, a wild cur, cut from the pack with bloodstained on my fur. Every wrong has marked a debt because a beaten dog never forgets.

The sun was gone, but its light reached for the last bit of sky it could find. The road was practically deserted, I passed a total of four cars on my ride to 18th street. 

My father's motorcycle felt foreign under my touch, and as much as I wanted to make it mine, I couldn't find its compassion. At any minute, I felt it would flip on me, shutdown, or crash. I was riding with no helmet and prayed no police would pull me over. As much as I wanted to race down the road, I took the ride with ease. I could not act relentless, the world was not in my favor as of late. 

Coming up on Charming street, I spotted an old Chevy Impala that was tinted dark. It wasn't black, but it appeared that way in the moonlight. The extravagant ride stood out like a sore thumb in a small town like this.

Once he spotted me, as well, he proceeded to turn on his engine. I parked on the opposite side of the road, and his headlights flashed on as mine went out. My eyes scouted the environment, peering over both shoulders, as I unmounted the bike. Even while knowing that this road would be vacant at night, my paranoia was louder than any voice of reason. 

My feet paced quickly for the passenger seat. I pulled on the handle and almost had a slight heart attack to find that it was locked, I pulled it again, yanking it out of temporary distress. Upon closer observation, I noted his car was a deep moss color before finally hearing the click of the lock open. 

"What the hell is this?" I questioned, while plopping into the seat, and swiftly shutting the door. 

"What?" Romero asked, clueless.

"This," I gestured to the vehicle that encased us. He glanced about as if he could not see what I was suggesting. "This car- it's obnoxious!"

The seats were a custom leather, a soft cream color. Personal articles decorated the car’s interior space, novelty items, and religious emblems. "What? Are you infiltrating the cartel?"

Agent Romero stared at me with puzzled eyes, shortly before a chortle erupted from his lungs. He raised his hand at me as if to ask for a minute, while he allowed his giggles to run their course. However, I was not laughing.

"That’s racist,” He pointed out in the midst of his laughter. He leaned forth, stretching his hand to tenderly stroke the skin of his dashboard. "Don't hate the car,"

One would think that I would be more understanding given my choice of lifestyle. Except, for the fact, that my brain was screaming with anxiety and frustration.  

"You couldn't pick something more... appropriate?" I said trying to push my emotions away. Romero shifted the gear into drive, and pulled out of the parking space.

"What? Like a police car?" He joked.

I don’t know if it was just by comparison, but Romero seemed to be in a rather good mood tonight. I, on the other hand, was a panicking mess in the seat beside him. There was little to no tolerance for joy on my side. Any trace of it registered into further panic and uncertainty. It was apparent in the way my leg bounced in place, and it was noticeable enough for it to catch his attention. 

"Try to remain calm," He said in a tone of encouragement. 

I was in no place to accept guidance. The last thing I wanted to hear was the cliche crap that everyone knew how to spill. We were here to do a job, one that risked my life in every possible way. I didn’t want his encouragement, I wanted his understanding. If he was going to use me to his advantage, he needs to know that I had the most to lose. My life was on the line, in more ways than one. 

"Can you at least tell me where we are going?”

As much as I wanted to sit in silence, I had to fill him in on everything that had happened since our meeting this morning. 

"Down Riverside road," I tried to reduce the coldness in my voice. 

I rolled my head against the headrest, squeezing my eyes shut, and attempting to dismiss all of the tension and panic from my consciousness. It was seemingly coming from nowhere and yet, everything stressed me more. 

My entire life, I only ever heard stories of things the club did. They always came from third, outside parties that were biased against them. I told myself a number of things to find reason in the terrible stories I heard. 

Bangtan wasn't full of doctors or lawyers, they were blue-collar guys. The way we saw it, they were out there risking everything to protect our way of life. Everyone knew they cut some corners, sold a few things on the side, and asked for their money in violent ways. It was all to get a few extra bucks and perks. When you lived in a community like that, everything seemed normal, even crime. There were never any outsiders with a different perspective, never.  It used to make me proud to have the kind of father I did. 

Though, now I was the outsider with a new perspective.

I was terrified of what I might see, the corrupt and brutal choices that they could make. I was afraid that Bangtan really had turned into the gang Romero mentioned. Comparing a group of individuals I always admired to some of the foulest scum I’ve learned about would be earth-shattering.

"Do you mind filling me in?" He asked after I failed to, myself. 

My eyes reopened, and found him focused on the road ahead. He held the steering wheel with a single arm at the twelve o'clock position. He was mostly a combination of darkness and a dim outline. The fake lights from inside the car did little to illuminate him.

"After our meeting, I ran into two of the club members," I began to explain, reliving the event like a movie in my mind. "We witnessed a deal go down, and they handled the situation as you would expect."

He wasn't looking in my direction but I could tell he was paying close attention to my words. Not only for information on the club but information on me. 

"What were you doing?" Romero was concerned about my behavior in the field. He had a right to be, but it still bothered me. 

"Babysitting some bimbo who was with us," I muttered annoyed at just the thought. I could have left it there but I knew I couldn't lie to him. "Until, I saw a PB member approaching them..."

He recognized the tone in my voice, and took his eyes off the road for a second to ask,

"What did you do?" He sounded like an angry parent, on the verge of lecturing.

"What was I supposed to do?” I attempted to remain calm. I thought he might see things from my point of view. “I had to interfere, or they could have been hurt." 

"You shot him?" He asked in disbelief and quick anger.

"Not dead!" I clarified, defensively. "I!- I just injured him."

I could see his demeanor change, that good mood I suspected earlier was gone. His fist tightened around the steering wheel, veins popping and outlined by the faint lighting.

"Are you insane?" His voice was rough, bossy, and cold. "You're an unauthorized federal agent and you fired rounds, on the street, in the middle of the day?"

I found myself, once again, being lectured about the same event. I was criticized for saving lives and doing my job. Neither of them were in a place to talk down on me.

"I did what I had to do!" I yelled. "If it wasn't for that- we would have no idea that the PB was cooking meth in Blackburn. We wouldn't have the exact address and time Bangtan was planning their retaliation."

I reminded him of the facts, what actually mattered at this moment. "If you wanted a traditional agent, then you should have gotten one!"

Romero didn't say anything in response. He didn't know what to expect from me. I was raised with a set of beliefs that were different than his own, but that was exactly why he needed me. 

I was here because of my connection and inside knowledge of the club. I knew how they thought and operated, I could speak their tongue. What I did today, established trust between me and them. One that I certainly needed,  after learning about Yoongi's suspicions. If he could doubt me, so could have the rest of them. Bangtan didn’t believe in coincidences and they left no loose ends. I could no longer raise any more suspicions.

"Take the next left," I sighed, after taking a moment to notice our surroundings. 

"Riverside road is still up ahead," He stated as if I didn't know.

"I know that," I said bitterly, wondering why he continued to question me. "This is another way there. If we go down that way, there is a chance we might run into the club."

That was the last thing we needed. The house was in a rural part of town, at the very edge of Blackburn by a lake. Not many people lived by that area, and with a car like this, we would be suspicious for sure.

-

The roads on this side of town were made of only dirt, they were bumpy and uneven. The night fell heavier, with the tension of the forest, it crept on a single side of the path. The lights beams were soft, we couldn't see more than three feet in front of us. Romero worried about the condition of his wheels and took the drive gently. 

"That's got to be it," I muttered, staring out the window. 

Romero drove the car slowly past a driveway that led to the house. It was small, red brick, and cabin-like. It was invisibly ordinary. 

To common folks, there was nothing about this residence that raised eyebrows. To the trained eye, however, a small detail stood out instantly. "Look at that- industrial filters,"

They were large black tanks that were attacked to the side of the home. By the looks of them, they were cooking deadly amounts of meth. 

"Any sign of life?" He asked as he was keeping his eye on the road in front of us. 

"The lights are on, but the blinds are shut," I informed him. There was only a blue pick-up truck beside the house. No other vehicles in sight. "The club will be in a black Nissan NV200." 

It wasn't long before some trees cut my line of sight from the property. I leaned back in my seat and looked at the surrounding area. "Turn into the field right here,"

The car bounced as we went off the trail. The left side of the house was blocked by a few oak trees and bushes. It wasn't dense enough to cover the house, but just enough to set the property boundaries. In the dark, it was the perfect place to hide behind. We were at least twenty yards from away. 

"Now, we wait," Romero muttered to himself with a sigh. 

He shut off the engine, the interior lights went dark, and we were hidden in the night. 

"Do you have the papers?" I said, turning to look at him. The only light source came from the nearly full moon in the sky. It was pale on his tan skin. 

"In the glove compartment," He instructed, keeping his eyes on the house.

I leaned over and popped open the chamber, where a stack of papers and a few CDs, was all I could feel with my hand. The contract was stapled together, but it was difficult to make out the small print in the dark.

"They agree with all your terms. None of the information you give us on the mc can be used against them in a court of law. However, any drug-related crime that may occur with the Camilo Cartel is still our jurisdiction."  

I planned to stop that before it could happen. If it got that far, then I have already failed them. 

"What are their conditions?" I asked, knowing very well that they would have a few. 

"That you don't withhold any information," His voice was skeptical of that happening. He turned my way but looked back forward before I could do the same. "You also can't take part in any illegal activity, or report yourself as a D.E.A agent." 

The D.E.A was very particular about their image, having someone like me on their team, had to be kept confidential. But I didn't care. I wasn't doing this for any kind of recognition on their part. 

"I'll also be administrating you a drug test every week for the remainder of the investigation," When considering my past, it was no wonder why Romero and the higher-ups were cautious. “If any of these rules are broken, the deal goes out the door.”

I was an agent who was never meant to see the light of day in this job. I was a gamble, and they desperately needed the odds to go in their favor. 

I was being observed on either side of this situation. My will had to be strong to voluntarily put myself in this position. Trusted by no one, and yet, needed by everyone- I was the help no one wanted to thank. 

I grabbed the pen that was sticking out of the cup holder between us. Turning to the very last page, where at the bottom, was a line waiting for my signature. 

When I scribbled my name onto that piece of paper, I felt as if I was sighing my own death certificate. 

"(Y/n)..."

His voice had shifted into a low pitch, steady and cautious. I turned to see what had triggered this behavior. I followed his gaze, out his window, to the dirt road we had just stirred out of. There was a black van stalking down the path, with its lights shut off in the middle of the darkness. 

"Oh shit," I whispered. Even from this far away, at night, I could make out Taehyung's familiar head through the passenger window. "What do we do?"

"Nothing." He was firm, eyes glued to the movement of the approaching vehicle. "Absolutely nothing,"

He looked back at me to ensure that what he spoke was understood thoroughly. "No matter what happens- we cannot interfere, (Y/n)."

That meant, even if someone got hurt. 

"Okay," I responded. 

Though, I worried that my emotions were still much out of my control. I wanted to do my job, but I was being asked to stand by and do nothing. 

"They're passing the house," Romero stated. 

It was getting more difficult to see through the thin patch of wilderness that protected us. The road, directly in front of the driveway was almost impossible to see. Especially, with such a dark vehicle and no headlights. 

"They aren't going to park in the driveway," I thought as I spoke. "The van would be right in the line of the crossfire." 

"But if they leave the driveway open, there is a chance for the PB to escape." He contradicted. 

They must have known that, so why would they do it anyway? Were they that confidante that they could take them out? 

Our eyes stared into the darkness of the driveway. The dirt leading up to the house was visible enough to see shapes and shadows the ground. We watched for any sudden movement on either part. I also tried to foresee the plan that Bangtan had in motion.

"Unless they want them to," I suggested.

"What are you talking about?" He wasn't very convinced. "This is supposed to be retaliation for the shooting at your house."

"But killing foot soldiers who run a small lab isn't much of a statement." I know the idea didn’t make any sense, and I didn't know what the right answer was but there was something we were missing. I was sure of it.

"A lab in Blackburn, (Y/n)." He sounded annoyed by my doubts. "That goes against their deal, of course, they are going to kill everyone in that building!"

Romero simply assumed that I was sugar-coating the events that were about to take place. That I didn't want to see Bangtan for the killers they were. But I knew that they were much more than that. 

Brains before bullets. 

That is what hung behind the table of their meeting room. They weren't some unorganized street gang. There was a reason they had made it so far in the arms dealing business. 

I wasn't known for holding my tongue during an argument, however, we both were quick to do so. 

There were four male figures quickly approaching the house. They were dressed from head to toe in black, shielding their face, and wearing ski masks. There was a large gap between where they stood and the red house. 

"Where are the other three?" Romero asked as we continued to watch. I wasn't sure, but I thought I could make out shadows in the bushes at the front of the driveway. 

Based solely on height and posture, I thought I could make out Jimin and Taehyung. The other two could have been Jungkook and Yoongi. Though, that didn't matter for long. The figure I deemed to be Taehyung, looked back to the bushes, where I had seen the shadows. He seemed to be making sure everything was set. 

Then he nodded to the others beside him.

All four figures brought a KG9 below their chests. Their aim was the building right in front of them, and the night seemed so calm before they pulled the trigger.

Fully automatic weapons ripped through the silence, the flashes coming from their muzzles were like the Fourth of July. 

Even this far, the sound surprised me. It illuminated the surrounding ground as if a lightning storm had formed on Earth's surface. The details of their black clothing were visible with every burst of light. I could make out each individual set of eyes glowing in the dark. 

The windows into the house were pierced and shattered by the ammunition. The boys began to step back, slowly, keeping their fingers tight around the trigger. It didn't take long to hear the response of those who were inside. 

The front door was kicked open, out came pouring about five or six PB members. All they had to buy them some time were a few FN-57s while they made a run for it. By that time, the four bodies were seeking cover behind a large stake severed tree trunks. The other three came out as their replacement, returning fire while the others reloaded. 

The PB made it into their truck, two in the front, and three in the exposed back. All of them continued shooting except for the one in the driver's seat; his shadow was frantically attempting to get the engine started. The wheels screeched dirt into the air, almost as loud are the gunshots.

The truck shot down the driveway, threatening to run over anything in its path. Though the blasts remained, I couldn't see any indication of injured bodies. 

"What the hell is this..." I heard Romero say as the scene unfolded right before our eyes. 

All of the seven boys gathered in front of the house. Three of them ran into the open residence, while the rest stayed on the lookout. 

"They aren't going after them," I stated. I felt relieved seeing that the dangerous part had passed. However, the question remained, what were they going to do now?

"This doesn't make any sense," Romero sounded irritated. 

My eyes remained on the outside figures, taking note of the tall man with long legs. The others seemed to be working around him. Namjoon was the only one who ever stood that way, with so much authority.

The other three members came out of the house shortly. It appeared to have exchanged some words as they walked down the porch. They didn't appear to be worried about any other unwanted company. They felt safe enough, that they removed their masks. 

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook were the three that searched the house. They gathered around the rest of the guys in conversation. 

"What the hell are they doing?" Romero asked me directly. He looked at me as if I had all the answers. 

"I don't know, " I assured him.

In between the group, stood Hoseok, with a black box in the grip of his hand. We watched carefully as he handed the mysterious case to Jimin. Jungkook stood at his side and encouragingly patted his shoulder.

The group disbanded. Everyone began to make their way back down the driveway, their feet racing to the shelter behind the bushes. 

Everyone, except for Jimin. 

He, instead, returned into the house with the case in his hand. I thought about anything and everything in that house that could be valuable. Something that would be worth risking their lives to obtain. The only thing in there, that could be worth anything, was the methamphetamine they were manufacturing. 

"They're taking the drugs," Romero reached the same conclusion I had. But why would they? Bangtan did not need it.

"They're going to sell it themselves," He told me. The tone of his voice was almost positive as if he was happy for me to see them in a bad light.

"No," I replied, even though it wasn't a question. "That can't be it,"

When I looked at Romero, he was watching me with aggravation, my constant denial of all his claims were frustrating him. 

"(Y/n), look at them!" He raised his tone. "They didn't break into a drug lab to leave empty-handed!"

His words fell on deaf ears, there was nothing he could say to change my mind. I knew, in my gut, that it wasn't the case, but I couldn't escape the dreadful feeling beside it. 

"If you can't start to see them for what they are- we're going to have some serious-"

"Wait-" Just then, the idea clicked in my head. My heart began to race, like a drum line marching in my chest. The dread in my stomach was replaced with pure terror. His racing figure was running out the front door. I gasped, 

"Jimin!" 

It was as if daylight had emitted from the house. It was as blinding as the sun and powerful as a volcano. The explosion trembled the atmosphere, the ground rumbled and shook the vehicle. Romero's arm reached over me, instinctively, shielding me from any threatening shock-waves.

The house was set ablaze. It was an empty shell of stone, consumed by smoke and fire. There was so much smoke that it was difficult to see any details on the ground. It was a sight straight from the underworld. 

After the initial fright, a new one consumed me entirely. 

"Oh my god, Jimin..." 

I re-assembled in my seat and directly lunged for the door. My hand wrapped around the handle and it clicked open.

"(Y/n)!" 

Romero surged forward, grasping for the base of the window, and slamming the door shut. "You can't."

"B-but he-" I stuttered with panic.

"He made it out of the house, (Y/n)." He tried to soothe me, spoke to me calmly and reassuringly. 

"What the fuck is he thinking?!" My head spun with a muddle of fright and anger. "Why wouldn't he use a remote detonator?! Is he insane?!"

I yelled as if Romero would care about their well-being. He watched me panic and fear for the safety of Jimin. I continued to search for movement through the cloud of dust and smoke.

"Maybe... there was no time?" He suggested, trying to figure it out for profiling purposes. "This was just decided today."

I understood that they felt the need to act fast, but that didn't mean they had to act recklessly. Putting Jimin's life in danger like that was idiotic. The worst part was that it was probably his idea in the first place. I could imagine him declare that he had it perfectly under control. 

"Look," Romero called.

A strong wind had come toward the property, blowing the smoke toward the back of the home, and leaving the front clear for sight. I made out Taehyung's form running toward the house, where, getting up from the floor was Jimin. 

I sighed a deep relief in my chest that was almost overwhelming. Taehyung ran up to Jimin, placing his hands on his shoulders and checking on him. Once Jimin reassured him that he was alright, Taehyung assisted in getting away from the burning building as fast as possible. 

"Goddamn idiot..." I cursed him for scaring me. I never wanted to so badly hurt, and embrace, someone in the same breath. 

-

After that, the events that followed were rather simple. Bangtan gathered themselves and left the property as soon as Jimin was on his feet. Even in that rush of violence, it was nothing compared to what they could have done. All they left behind was a single drop of the rage that fueled them. That was the warning they were leaving for the PB.

Agent Romero and I didn't speak much on our return to 18th and Charming street. There was tension inside of the vehicle that made the silence appear like the best selection. 

I assumed we were both left with a confusing haze in the back of our heads. Nothing of what we expected had happened tonight. His knowledge of a field agent didn't assist him in this investigation. Neither did my connection with the members of the club. We were left to re-think everything we thought we knew. 

"How did you know?" He asked out of the blue. We were merely two blocks away from my drop-off point. 

My gaze turned away from the deserted stores that drifted away, as we passed them by. His exterior appeared unbothered as if he had continued our streak of silence. 

"Know what?" His question was unclear. 

He remained expressionless and without any new movement. I almost questioned if he said anything at all, but he was only hesitating. 

"How did you know Bangtan wouldn't kill them?" He asked more specifically. He asked as if I had some kind of psychic vision into the future. 

"I- I don't know," I replied, honestly. I could have explained it as some kind of outlaw intuition. "It just didn't feel like they would..."

I knew that wasn't helpful, nor something he wanted to hear. His distrust in me came from the connection I held with the club. Especially now, I've been home after so long. But it was the truth, they weren't as thoughtless as outsiders thought. 

It was easy for Romero to group Bangtan with every other organization he's dealt with before. That would be his downfall, though. Bangtan was different. 

"Why would they wear masks- if they planned on killing everyone?" 

Romero turned his head at my rhetorical question. That detail was the only thing I took notice of. However, I wasn't sure when I precisely figured it out. 

"So, why didn't they kill them?" He asked, actually looking for my opinion this time. "Why would they let everyone go and just blow up the place?"

That was the question we needed to figure out. I understood that it wasn't the typical response for a gang. Especially for Bangtan, who were capable of doing much more damage. 

"If they covered their identities, then it means they don't want the PB to know it was them," I stated the obvious. Romero nodded his head and agreed. 

"Who else could they blame it on?" He continued the train of thought. 

"The Camilo Cartel is the only significant group that is fighting against the PB," I mentioned, as they were the only ones that mattered. Was Bangtan trying to put the blame on them?

"Blowing up a lab and letting people escape in the process, isn't part of the cartel’s MO," Romero pointed out. "They are more 'cut off your limbs' type of organization."

The visual idea gave me chills. "Do you think the club would know that?"

"I don't know, maybe it could have slipped their mind," I thought to myself, recalling back to their brilliant idea of manually detonating the bomb from the inside, instead of having an outside detonator. 

When time had passed after my words, I figured he didn't need any more convincing of my observation. We continued our silent drive.

The street was exactly as we had left it hours ago. No cars in sight and the only light came from the street lamps that lined the sidewalk. His car came to a gentle stop and lazily pulled into the curb. 

"I apologize about before," He said before I made a move to the door. I watched him sigh in the seat. "I just thought that you-"

"I know," He didn't have to explain himself. It was easy to see that his trust in me was delicate. "You aren't the first person to question everything I do." 

I didn't mean for my exit to sound so dramatic, but there was nothing else he could say. I knew how to function under the opposition of those around me, it wouldn't stop me from doing what I had to do. 

I let the passenger door shut behind me. A cool breeze ran up my arms as I stepped onto the empty road. My father's Dyna sat, waiting for me, exactly where I had left it. 

The streetlight above illuminated the bike, like a sentence from God, its metallic structure reflected the luminosity. I mounted the machine, its seat feeling cold under my weight. 

"Hey," Romero had rolled down his window. His face was almost canceled by the shadow that his roof cast. I met his black eyes. 

"Next time, I'll listen to your judgment," He spoke with a bit of shame in his voice. "You did good work today... thank you." 

I rode off feeling satisfied that night.

-

The night had gone by quickly once I returned to the House of Cards. I arrived at the crowded bar but was vacant of any comforting life. There wasn't much left for me to do than to sleep for the night, in hopes, of being a different person in the morning.  

It didn't take long for daybreak to come by the sheer curtains of the two windows. The light illuminated my face, making my body stir within the sea of bed-sheets. I had forgotten the benefits of getting a good night's rest. 

I also underestimated the blessings of a warm hot shower. All the past tension and worries of the past few days were stripped away with the heat. After the events of yesterday, I was expecting today to be more on the ordinary side. I was praying for it. 

It was early in the morning, and the bar wouldn't be open until noon. Which meant I had until then to be alone and collect my settling thoughts. There were so many blurred lines I could not see the edges to, where I stood in certain situations. My job, the club, my worries, the doubts; they all seemed to merge into one. An unhealthy mixture of morals that contradict one another, they fought for the steering wheel that was my life.

When I stepped out of the room, feeling rejuvenated, I thought I would walk into a peaceful, empty space. However, I was met with a quite disturbing sight, instead. 

"Mornin, sweetheart." 

Jaeeun was seated at the edge of the bar. She wore a pair of reading glasses, resting low on the bridge of her nose, and a stack of papers in her hands. Even the terms of endearment that came from her mouth seemed to be demeaning. 

What had I done to deserve such misfortune?

"Morning," I replied shortly after the shock, walking toward the back of the bar, where the coffee machine had become enticing. 

There was a freshly brewed pot already made, the black liquid was threatening hot, and a third of the way full. I found a few empty mugs right beside the machine and poured a cup tentatively. 

"There's some food there," She spoke directly behind me. 

I looked over my shoulder and spotted the plastic bag not far beside her on the bar. The bag held no identifying writing, simply a 'thank you' printed in red. I was wary of accepting food from Jaeeun. I could not see her missing out on a chance to poison me. My suspicious eye was no secret. "Namjoon brought it,"

She rolled her eyes at me as if she would actually bother, but I was sure she would. The possibility of her lying crossed my mind. However, my stomach was rumbling for anything, even if it was poison. I would die happily for whatever smelled that good. 

I took a seat two stools from her, using a napkin as a coaster, and digging into the bag. It was a standard breakfast platter, barely at that point between warm and room temperature. My mouth watered at the sight.

While I stuffed food down my throat, Jaeeun remained silent and inspected her documents, and my mind began to wonder. 

"Namjoon's here?" I tried to remain casual as if Namjoon wasn't one of the topics raging through my mind. Jaeeun saw right through me, of course.

"He was," Her eyes remained glued on the paper. "He mentioned I would find you here,"

The bitter tone in her voice was a clear indication that she was not pleased with my new living arrangement. Hell, if it were up to her, I wouldn't be living at all. 

"I'm not staying here for free," I felt the need to explain myself. 

"Believe me, I don't want to know how you'll be repaying him." She said suggestively. 

Heat rose to my face immediately, as I had trouble swallowing my food at her words. I imagined, in her head, I was doing all I could do to be close to Namjoon. Though it was not completely wrong, it was not for the reason she thought.

"It's not like that," I muttered, embarrassed that the words embarrassed me in the first place. "I'm going to be helping him with the bar."

The scoff from her lips seemed unconvinced by my statement. She simply thought I was lusting to ruin her life. Explaining that it was not all about her would be a mission impossible. Her narcissistic behavior would not allow her to believe anything else, even if it was the truth.

"What are you even still doing here?" She spat, finally blessing me with her piercing eyes. "Do you really have nothing to go back to?"

One would think I would have grown accustomed to Jaeeun’s spiteful words. But there was always something about her that just struck a nerve. It was a never-ending argument with her, and I had even lost my appetite.

"You know, you seem to be spending a lot of energy worrying about my life." I wished I was as composed as her, but my anger was rising to the surface, and she loved to see it. 

"I don't care about your life," Jaeeun smirked and removed her glasses, making sure nothing would distort the resentment emanating from her eyes. "Just the people you dare to touch." 

She settled her feet on the floor underneath, her leather heel boots clicking on the tile surface. Her body followed in walking toward me, wanting me to squirm in my seat, with each step. She granted herself the open seat beside me, giving our conversation the attention I didn't want.

"Namjoon has enough going on," She warned me. "He just lost a father for the second time." 

She pulled out a single cigarette from behind her ear, holding it between her fingers and looked at me like I was nothing. "He already inherited his responsibilities- he doesn't need his burden too." 

Sometimes I underestimated just how terrible she could be. Her lips painted dark stained the foot of the cigarette. A lighter flickered a heat source for her to enjoy her taunting with an extra kick. 

I swallowed my temper and dared to remind her,

"I'm not the one looking for him." 

 She continued to hold her poker face as if she already knew. Her porcelain cheeks hollowed in with a smooth drag, nicotine was like oxygen for her lungs.

"His head is twisted, he doesn't know what he wants." She justified him, smoke escaping passed her lips, unworried. 

"And you do?" I asked her to see the absurdity that I did. "You can't dictate his life forever, Jaeeun."

I was gravely mistaken. Jaeeun believed, wholeheartedly, that she could. Namjoon might not have known but his mother's influence was always there. In her eyes that was not about to change. My very doubt meant challenging her. 

"I’m his mother, and until I am dead and cold, I'm going to do anything I have to do to protect him." Her voice went from taunting to threatening. The words practically hissed out of her mouth, then I remembered what Jimin told me.

"I must really scare you, huh?"

I found a smile sneaking onto my lips at the thought. Jaeeun was much less frightening when she let her emotions seep through, it reminded me that she was human as well. 

"You're a greedy whore," Her black eyes leaned in, her poisonous tongue whispered like an empty threat. "And bad shit happens to greedy whores."

Her aggressiveness only confirmed my suspicions. 

She flicked her young cigarette into my mug of coffee, tainting the drink with its ash, before rising from her spot. While watching her walk back to her stack of papers, I realized I was not left with the same drained feeling that our conversations had in the past.

In the stillness of our talk, I began to see us for what we truly were, just two little girls fighting for the attention of a man. Even with her age, it never stopped being that, and I was going down the same path. 

In a normal relationship, two people entrust each other to respect the love that they share. That meant listening, understanding, and being faithful. That, however, was not the deal when it came to an mc like Bangtan. Women were objects to share, possessions to show off, comfort to lean on when times got hard. If you were able to marry one of them, you got the title of old lady, which just meant you belonged to one specific member. But even as with an old lady, their picking of women did not stop, if anything, it increased. Groupies that hung around the club wanted nothing more than to get that title. The security that a relationship was supposed to give you was nonexistent.

Jaeeun had been the president's old lady, that came with a lot of respect and constant threats. It was a fight for your place, or someone might take it, which is why she was so defensive. I don't think she was ready to give that up just yet.

"How did you handle it?" I was curious about how someone could live like this for so many years. If I had never left, I probably wouldn't have noticed. "This life is intoxicating- it kills you from the inside out while giving you the best high of your life."

Jaeeun didn't respond aggressively to the question. In fact, it appeared to cause a deep stage of nostalgia, taking her back to the struggles that this life brought her. True wisdom conceived by the most painful teacher- experience.

"There are only two ways an old lady makes it in this life," She answered quietly. When her eyes locked with mine, I found a different kind of hate within them. "You tell her nothing or you tell her everything."

I imagined neither option was comfortable to live with. But I knew that if you loved the man, then you learned to love the life. Then there was no truth you couldn't handle. 

"You have no idea what it takes- what it will cost you to be his old lady."

Jaeeun looked at me with pity, with actual pity from a place of true understanding. 

"Old ladies can make or break a club, (Y/n)." She shook her head. When she spoke, it was no longer an attempt to scare me away. For the first time, I felt that she was being sincere, even if it isn't what I wanted to hear. "You'll ruin him."

"You don't know that," But neither did I. 

I had always been so disinterested in love. This way of life dissolved any chance for trust. The choices seemed to be, live as a fool or be doomed to die alone. Jaeeun had made her choice a long time ago.

"I know that you need someone to tell you the truth," She once again approached me. This time, as if she wanted to comfort me from her own words. "Namjoon and you, together, are a recipe for disaster." 

The silence that followed had never been so tormenting, the notion of not even knowing why was alarming. Why? Why when I wasn't even supposed to care? Namjoon represented everything I hated about this life; the secrets, the lies, the sexism, the violence. He was forbidden, just like my rightful place in the club. 

Why did I only want what I could not have?

Then, like the sick joke that was my life, the doors to the bar opened, and his presence came into the room. I didn’t have to even turn around to know, for certain, that it was him. I only ever felt this way when he was around.

"You should get out while you have the chance, sweetheart." Jaeeun whispered as she walked past me.

In a tunnel-like hearing, I could make out Namjoon and her greeting each other. She informed him that she was on her way out. The words they spoke faded in and out as I realized Jaeeun was giving me no time to contemplate. She would be leaving us alone, forcing me to make a decision right here, right now.

The doors closed, and I could feel it was just the two of us now.

Masterlist ≽

#Bangtan MC #bts x reader #got7 #bts #bts fanfic #bangtan scenarios #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #kim taehyung #park jimin #jeon jungkook #Jung HoSeok #min yoongi #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

Scars That Heal || Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader Series

• Ch. 2: Thriller •

A/n: I apologize for the possible spelling errors from the Torah scene. They didn't have it in the subtitles so I borrowed from the original script for authenticity, so I apologize for any incorrect information or spelling. Reader's scene is inspired by a scene from the conjuring cause I am unoriginal af and I am a fool for making myself do this since I hated that movie and how it stressed and scared it made me but hey it was writing inspiration so yeah. Anyways, spooky chapter ahead :( Eddie + reader content coming soon!

     "He thrusts his fists against the p-posts,"

     Anyone who knew Bill well knew of his pride in his bike, Silver. Countless times had he been found barreling down the streets on his pride and joy at impossible speeds, crying out in joy.

     "Hi-yo Silver, away!"

     Now was not one of those times. Currently, Bill was descending Jackson St. wheeling Silver alongside him as he practiced the tongue twister his mother taught him, as an exercise for his stuttering. He was never quite able to make it all the way through, but that never stopped him from trying.

     "The thrusts his fist against the p-po-" He shook his head angrily, licking his lips. "Shit!"

     At that moment, he had reached the familiar scene of his driveway. One of the garage doors, he noticed, was open. His dad must be woodworking, he presumed. Sure enough, when he parked his bike in the usual spot, his dad was waiting for him. He took his eye goggles off and turned around, facing away from his current woodworking project.

     "Need some help?" He offered, walking into the garage. "I-I-"

     "I thought we agreed." His father sighed.

     Bill's stomach dropped. He looked to his makeshift model of the sewer system he had created. It was made from borrowed parts of his hamster's tunnels, with two accompanying bins representing different areas of the town.

     "Before you say anything-"

     "Bill,"

     "Just let me show you something first." He insisted, walking towards the model. 

     He eagerly picked up the little green toy soldier, dropping it into the tube labeled Witcham. He grabbed the hose that was still in place from his last attempt and stuck it in the tube, turning it on. The little army man clinked and thunked down the tubes, finally popping out into the other end and into the bin labeled THE BARRENS.

     His father watched unimpressed.

     "The Barrens," Bill urged. "I-I-It's the only place th-that Georgie could have ended up."

     "He's gone, Bill."

     "But if the storm swept Ge-Georgie in, we should have gone--"

     His father snapped, standing to his feet suddenly and his voice grew in volume.

     "He's gone! He's dead!"

     Bill swallowed the lump forming in his throat, and failed to meet his father's eye as he was scolded.

     "He's dead! There is nothing we can do! Nothing!"

     Bill was feeling his hope and happiness being torn down all over again, and his father's voice lowered into a spiteful venom.

     "Now take this down before your mother sees it," He walks over to the blueprints of Derry tacked to the wall, and angrily takes it down. "Next time you want to take something from my office..."

     He fitfully folds the poster, refusing to look his son in the eye, and storms out of the garage.

     "ask."

     Bill looked sadly at his hamster, who was climbing the walls of the cage.

     "Guess you get your t-tunnels back,"

×××

     Mike Hanlon speeds down the road on his bike and into the edge of town. He was making his usual delivery to the butcher, one of his many jobs on his grandparents' farm. It was a warm evening, which made for a nice trip into town. He sped along the main streets, making his way through the familiar turns to the butcher.

     He reached the butcher's and he dismounted his bike, ready to unload the packages of meat for his delivery. That was until he heard the hoots and hollers of the familiar Bowers gang cruising down the street.

     His nerves spiked and Mike sprang into action, quickly grabbing his bike and running him and the bike into the safety of the alley. Bowers always had a knack for finding Mike on his trips through town, and every time he would terrorize the poor boy, spitting racial slurs at him, or worse. Sometimes he would have to come home to his grandparents with injuries he would have to explain. Bowers was as bad as they come and his grandfather was right about people like him.

     As he hid himself and his bike behind a junk pile in the alley, watching the car cruise by slowly on the street, he was brought back to the conversation he and his grandfather had had.

     "There are two places you can be in this world," He said. "You can be out here like us, or you can be in there, like them,"

     He was pointing to the pen stocked with sheep, and Mike felt queasy from the fate of the animals, but knowing truth rang in his grandfather's words.

     "You waste time hemming and hawing, and someone else is gonna make that choice for you. Except you won't know it until you feel that bolt between your eyes."

     Mike saw the blue Trans Am pass the outer street and he exhales in relief.

     "Oh, Jesus."

     Still panting heavily, trying to calm his racing heart, he walks his bike to the end of the alley. He leans his bike against a nearby dumpster, back facing the door of the butcher's, and begins unloading packages of meat.

     He hears a soft growl accompanied the rattling of chains behind him. Quickly, he turns to face the door, curious. He sees the old dirty - or was it singed? - door attempting to swing open. It only opens a crack, the chains on the handle preventing it from opening. And did Mike smell smoke?

     Nevertheless, his eyes never left the door, and his breathing never slowed. He was appalled and horrified to suddenly hear the voice of his mother, or at least who he thought sounded like his mother.

     "Mike!" She screamed.

     Mike flinched, his heart pounding horribly fast. It ached to see the familiar scene before him, just as vivid as he had remembered. Charred hands slipped out from behind the door, clawing at the pavement desperately.

     "Hurry, son!" His father.

     "Help! It burns!"

     Still frozen in terror, Mike steps forward hesitantly, ready to reach the door. Hands are still clawing at the brick wall, scratching the charred door.

     Smoke unfurled from the cracks of the door, the hands retreated. Mike took a step back and the door swung open suddenly. He could hear the rattling of chains once more, and the boy frowned at what he saw. Behind the door was a dark room, the only source of light came from behind the freezer strips to the meat cooler. He could see the outlines of the meat hangers and the many figures of the deceased animals.

     Mike heard the bleating of sheep and metal clanging. Suddenly, a figure hanging in the freezer moved, looking up at him. It was a long lanky figure, everything but it's head limp. It was a distorted figure of a man. He could have sworn it looked almost like a clown.

     The figure twirled around on the chains it hung from. It was now facing Mike, who watched frozen in fear, shaking violently. It stared at Mike, two glowing yellow lights emitted from where its eyes should be. It waved its long slender arm, it's movements stiff and forced, like a marionette puppet.

     The loud and sudden revving of an engine brought Mike out of his daze. Mike jumped frantically, barely missing the Trans Am by inches. Unable to catch his footing, he landed on a pile of cardboard near the dumpster. The car came to a sudden stop, rock music blaring from the radio. In the front seat was Belch Huggins, and a livid Henry Bowers stood on the passenger's seat and popping out of the open sunroof.

     "Stay the fuck outta my town!" He roared, veins bulging from his forehead neck, spit flying.

     He flicked his cigarette at Mike who flinched, and the car roared to life and sped away. Mike stayed on the ground, still panting heavily from the intense encounters. 

     "Mike?"

     He looked up to the open door, the familiar face of the butcher stepping through the side of the building where the clown once was. He was cleaning his knife, blood stained his apron. He looked at Mike in concern.

     "Are you okay?"

×××

     Inside the Derry Synagogue, Stan Uris reads from the Torah, rehearsing. His father, the rabbi, is pacing above him, waiting for a screw up.

     "Baruk atah Adonai, eloheynu meleek,"

     "Melehk. Start again"

     "Baruk atah Adonai, eloheynu malehk... malehk... "

     "Ha'olam..."

     "Ha'olam, Asher bahkar Mikal..."

     "Banu Mikal! You're not studying Stanley. How's it gonna look? The rabbi's son can't finish his own Torah reading. Take the book to my office. Obviously, you're not using it" he spits.

     Stanley closed the book, sighing. He timidly made his way to his father's office and opened the door. With the book clutched to his side, he brought his other hand up to the side of his face, blinding himself from the painting that always made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

     And yet Stan was still able to see the crooked frame on the wall, just as crooked as the woman in the painting itself. Everything about the woman in the painting made him uneasy. Her unnatural elongated neck, and her claw-like fingers that wrapped around the flute. Her eyes were uneven and they were a blank milky white.

     It's silly, Stan told himself, it's just a painting. Just a stupid painting. He stepped forward, trying to calm his racing heart. He exhaled, placing the book under his arm and straightened the painting. See? Nothing bad happened.

     He gladly walked away to the bookshelf at the end of the room, though he couldn't shake the adrenaline that had accumulated in his system. He placed the book on the shelf, and-

     SMACK!

     Stan could hear his blood pumping in his ears and he slowly turned around. The painting face down on the floor. The lights flickered with an obnoxious buzz, matching the rapid beat of his heart. Stan gulped, picking up the large frame and hung it carefully back in place on the wall. He stared at the painting, his heart in his throat and his stomach churned.

     He took a few frightened steps back, panting heavily as he tried to comprehend the now blank painting before him. The woman was gone.

     His breathing picked up, he couldn't believe his eyes. Stan whirled around when he heard the office door creak open. But it had stopped moving. Suddenly, Stan felt as if he was being watched.

     Stan felt chills run down his spine and his skin pricked. It's too quiet, he thought. Right on cue, something dropped to the ground suddenly, and a dark looming figure unknowingly behind him. A figure with a long unnatural elongated neck, and long talon-like fingers. His lungs constricted, he gasped for breath that struggled to enter his lungs, he shakily turned around.

     Out of the shadows came the woman, towering over him, smiling an unnaturally large smile, showing rows of several sharp teeth. A shaky scream erupted from Stan's throat and he fled, slamming the door to the office and never looked back.

×××

     Night had fallen and Beverly and Y/n lay passed out next to one another in front of the Y/n's television set. They were both snuggled up under a shared blanket in the middle of Y/n's living room. The room was silent, apart from the soft and muffled voices coming from the TV. The alternating hues and shades casting from the TV and onto the sleeping form of the girls was the only source of light.

     Laughter from the on-screen audiences echoed in the otherwise silent living room, and Y/n stirred awake. She didn't have to open her eyes to know the TV screen was bright. Soft hues were peeking through her eyelids and she sighed quietly, knowing she had to get up from her spot and turn it off. She sat up slowly, cautious not to move too much and wake Beverly.

     She gently pulled the blanket off her form and it wasn't until her legs were exposed had she realized how hot she had become. Her apartment didn't have the best air conditioning, and summer nights like these made getting comfortable no easy feat. She tiptoed across the room and bent down to switch off the TV. The room was now eerily silent, and she could hear a slight ringing in her ears. She froze when she heard a soft rustling come from Beverly, who stirred in her sleep.

     A brief moment passed as Y/n prayed silently that she hadn't woken Bev up. When nothing happened, she visibly relaxed. Her eyes were still very much heavy from sleep, she trudged back to her spot on the floor, and laid down underneath the blankets.

     She breathed contently at the feeling of her chilled pillow as it met her heated cheeks. Her feet wiggled their way out from under the blanket subconsciously for air, the thin blanket clinging to her sweaty legs. She mentally thanked her past self for opting for her shorts over her long pajama pants. She nuzzled her head gently into the plump cushion and felt sleep blanket her conscious.

     Y/n was eased in and out of sleep like the tide wading up the sand before slinking back out. She was unaware of how much time had passed, but at one point she became aware of Beverly kicking her leg. She frowned, ignoring it, figuring she had done it accidentally.

     She felt the groggy fog of sleep wash over her brain once more. Until she felt a tug on her exposed foot. She frowned, moving her leg away, growing cranky.

     Y/n groaned in protest, a pouty look contorting her face, her eyes still glued shut.

     Another tug.

     "Knock it off, Bev," she whined into her pillow.

     Another tug.

     "Jesus, Bev, I mean it! I'm trying to sleep" she groaned louder.

     No reply. That's when Y/n realized there hadn't been any reply from Beverly the first two times. Not even a breathy chuckle or any sign that Bev had acknowledged her. Or even heard her. She opened her eyes slowly. Soft white slats of light that were creeping through the window was the only source of light.

     Beverly was right next to her, under the blanket, her back to Y/n. And snoring. She was fast asleep. She couldn't have done it. She frowned and propped herself up slightly to get a better look at Bev and she stared in confusion. She looked around the room, but she saw nothing unusual. Her eyes landed on Beverly again, her racking her brain for any possible solution.

     The next thing she knew, she was flung back as she was pulled violently forward across the carpet. Her head smacked into the floor rather harshly, and she temporarily lost her senses. She felt her stomach plummet and she gasped when she made herself peer up. Standing there, towering over her was an impossibly tall, slender figure with disheveled tufts of red hair poking out on all sides and a ghostly white face. Its large bulbous head was cracked and dry, like chipped paint and it was smiling down at her hungrily. It was a clown.

     She would have screamed but nothing came, she had no voice. She trembled violently in terror and she felt hot tears stream down her cheeks, she was begging her limbs to move but they all failed her. His arms were impossibly long, and they were twig thin. No thicker than a paper towel roll and they stretched down all the way to her leg, and he hardly had to bend down to reach. Her left ankle was captured in his thin gloved hand.

     The clown smiled, forming an anatomically impossible U shape, showing rows upon rows of teeth. Its eyes were completely black, save for two glowing yellow irises in the center. Y/n felt her leg grow damp and she realized he-it- whatever the hell this thing was, was now drooling on her, it's fingers still coiled around her leg.

     Y/n hadn't realized she was in pain until she heard herself whimper. Long sharp claws that ripped through his white gloves were now hooked into her ankle tearing her skin to shreds as he pulled. She realized she was slowly being pulled towards the clown inch by terrifying inch. Y/n flinched when she heard a scream until she realized it had been her own. 

     Beverly jumped awake in a frightened panic, looked everywhere around the room, but she found nothing but her traumatized friend.

     She saw her friend sitting up straight, slightly farther down from her pillow, shaking violently. Her mouth was open, and her eyes were wide and bloodshot, silent sobs shook her body and her gaze was focused a million miles away.

     "Jesus Y/n, what happened?" She brought herself forward and wrapped her arms around the girl.

     "C-Clo-" But she was never able to finish her sentence.

     She collapsed into sobs, still shaking with fear. Beverly's heart broke as she cradled her. She gently swayed her, rubbing her hand up and down Y/n's arms soothingly.

     Beverly felt her shoulder grow damp from Y/n's tears but she didn't care. She just continued to try and soothe her best friend. Y/n flinched at just about every move Bev made, and her heart broke more, understanding more than anyone, and Bev tried not to move too much.

     Beverly sat comforting her friend for the better half of an hour. Finally, her sobs had died down, but her eyes were still wide, still very much alert form the horrifying encounter. She sniffled, nuzzled into her friend's arms, and occasionally Bev's long red hair tickled her nose and she'd sniffle.

     Beverly finally spoke up in a gentle whisper. "Do you want to talk about it?"

     She felt Y/n shake her head no, and she felt her shoulder grow damp once more.

     Finally, Y/n spoke, her voice came out in a harsh whisper, it cracked ever so slightly. Either her screaming or lack of words or some combination of the two had taken a toll on her voice.

     "Y-you wouldn't believe me,"

     "Of course I would, Y/n." She assured.

     It was quiet again, and tears silently streamed down her cheeks.

     "I can't..."

Bev sighed, hugging her Y/n tighter if that was even possible.

     "It's okay. I'm not gonna force you. Here," she gently pulled herself away to look her friend in the eye. "Why don't we turn on the lights and grab some midnight snacks from the kitchen and just talk, okay? I have a feeling you're not going to want to go back to sleep. Am I wrong?"

     Y/n shook her head no, and Bev smiled. "Okay, sounds like a plan."

     Bev rose to her feet and walked over beside the couch to the lamp on the side table and switched it on. Soft yellow light lit up the room. Both girls squinted from the bright light, both of them having gotten used to the dark. And Beverly tiptoed to the cent of the room.

     "Must have been some nightmare, huh?"

     Y/n went pale, her eyes fixed on something. She had tried to tell herself that everything she just saw was a figment of her imagination. She would have loved nothing more than that horror show to be just a twisted nightmare. And as Beverly had soothed her, calmed her and comforted her, she had almost begun to believe it. That was until she shifted her foot slightly and felt pain flare up on her ankle.

      Beverly was unaware of her friend's rising panic. Her back to her friend as she rose slightly on her tiptoes to reach the dangling metal chain for the fanlight on the ceiling.

     "Now, let's get some comfort food in you. I myself am craving some..." she trailed off, her eyes bulging out when she saw Y/n.

In the dark, neither of them had seen it. And Y/n had still been in such a state of shock, she forgot all about the pain.

     Y/n's sad and panicked eyes were fixed on her ankle. Another defeated whimper escaped her throat as she stared at the three long and deep gashes that trailed down her left leg, blood staining her [s/c] and the carpet beneath her.

+++

@seasidecrowbar @bevxmarsh @supernovawriting @readyforitbitch @classiprincess @edsloveshisrichie @sivords @ravenclawsprincess @pigwidgexn @kricketwritesstories @sweetpeasserpentprincess23 @plum-duels @edmunds-torch @eddiegaykaspbrak @rosi3e @welcome-to-derry @beepbeep-pennywise @candycorntroll @bibliophilesquared @ongaku-ato-kakikomi @cocastyle @peachysinnermon @mochibarnes @captainshazamerica @kaitlynjones12 @songbird-writes @traceylader

#it #it rewrite #it chapter 2 rewrite #eddie spaghetti #eddie 2019 #eddie kaspbrak x reader #eddie kaspbrak #eddie 2017 #reader insert #it reader insert #series #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #bill denbrough #stan uris #• chapter 2 • #pennywise #filler chapter #kinda?

[jeonggukingdom]

dick on the go (m)

❖ Pairing:  Taehyung x Reader 

❖ Genre: Smut, Fluff, Crack 

❖ Summary:  It was all shits and giggles when you and Taehyung were desperate seniors in High School, having no idea what to do with your lives, wondering if you’d ever find a decent job or even graduate in the first place. It is not so funny anymore when you come home from the big city to enjoy your vacation time and you find his sex-shop right in front of the house you grew up in when you were a kid. “If nothing works out I’m just gonna open a sex shop and call it something obnoxious like ‘Dick on the Go’ or something with a stupid zucchini logo flashing on top of the building.” He had said one time. Shit, you had no idea he actually meant it. ❖ Word Count: 20.752 words

❖ WARNINGS: graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, cuss words, masturbation, oral (giving/receiving), rough sex, daddy kink, use of several toys, hair pulling, a drop of orgasm denial, unprotected sex, very subtle degradation.

You take a deep breath, your gaze fixed on the familiar scenery outside the train’s window, and it almost feels like your insides are unclenching and relishing in the feeling of being free after so many months lived squished together.

You have made this journey back and forth hundred times in the past five years or so and you know every inch of the road by memory but it doesn’t hinder its healing effects on both your body and mind.

The ride is a couple of hours long but you do enjoy every last bit of it, at least when it’s bringing you back home.

Your home is more than just a place with four walls and a roof on top, no, home is your roots an, ultimately, that inner part of you, the true self you are forced to hide under fake masks to survive in the city.

Big cities can be beautiful, definitely entertaining and fun to go to because they offer so many possibilities but they also require for you to have a shield around your heart, a persona to protect your inner and most delicate self for there is no space for peculiarity among thousands and thousands of similar-looking people. You are simply a part of the mass that nobody would recognize or even care to.

There was a time when you felt like a big fish in a very small pond but after living in the city for such a long time you came to realize you are nothing but a very tiny drop into the endless sea. Insignificant, quickly replaceable and definitely not that unique.

In your hometown, there are many that envy your work, your reputation and there are many more that strive to arrive where you did, to leave the countryside and become a person of the city.

It’s not that you hate the city per-say, you wouldn’t live there if that were to be the case, but in your far smaller hometown it feels like you can breathe again as if you were holding your breath for a long time without even realizing it.

Every mile the train eats with its speed is one step closer to freedom and Lord knows how much you have missed this feeling.

The day is coming to an end when you finally arrive at the train station, sky tinted in bright hues of orange and pink, and you breathe in loudly, closing your eyes in the process. The countryside’s air beats the city’s one hands down.

You drag your suitcase behind your back, instantly regretting putting so much stuff in there when you’re going to stay for only a week but, in your defense, it is something you have picked up in the big city. Always be prepared for every occasion, they taught you and, some habits, honestly, are hard to vanquish.

A taxi is not something hard to find outside the train station and you feel an exhilarating excitement when you realize you won’t have to launch yourself inside a cab and you also won’t have to argue with somebody else to take their seat or keep yours and, honestly, it’s a mother-fucking-dream.

The little city tour on the cab is a classic when you come back and it’s not like you don’t have people that would come to pick you up if you asked.

But on a cab, you can ask a stranger to take the longer route and they wouldn’t care too much about it, especially when they can get more money out of it. It is stupid, there is no doubt about it, but you miss the neighborhoods you used to walk by every day, you miss your favorite shops and even the outline of your High School in the middle of the city.

The street that leads to your house is quiet and it’s a stark contrast with the crowd and loudness you are used to experiencing in front of your apartment building down to the big city and, even that desolation is something you have utterly missed. Some well deserved peace, at last.

The driver leaves you a few houses down your own, complying with your request, and you stretch your arms widely, a smile plastered on your lips.

Despite the heavy bag behind your back, you walk serenely on the sidewalk, enjoying the warm air that caresses your face and relish in the familiar sight of the houses you have known for all your life.

You have walked these steps thousands of times, hell, you have run on this street hundreds of times to sneak out of your room at night or even to sneak back in before you were caught.

So many good memories. Yes, all of them. You have found out later in life that even those embarrassing moments, even the ones you wanted to forget with all your might when you were younger they have all turned into memories you cherish deeply within your heart because, whether they were bad or really good, they still shaped you in who you are today and they all belong to a time of your life that was far more simple than your adult one.

You are almost out of breath when you reach your front yard, your suitcase lying at your side in all its heaviness and you take a moment to breathe back in and look around and familiarize back with the houses you have frequented a ton of times as a kid.

Your gaze crosses the street and a smile stretches on your lips as it stills on the house of your best friend since middle school.

Oh, what a short-lived smile yours is when you finally register the change at the other side of the road.

Right across from your eyes there is a house but it is not the one you have known your whole life, oh no. This building is new and that would be almost interesting if it weren’t for the neon logo shining above its white walls.

 Finals were close, almost too close actually, and you were cramming like crazy, sprawled on the floor of your bedroom with the hope that the discomfort your body was in would keep you awake and focused enough for you to keep on studying.

Your best friend, Taehyung, was lying much more comfortably on your bed, loudly playing video-games on his phone.

“You should study too, you know?” You reprimanded, cringing at the way you sounded just like your mother, and he whined like a little kid would have, slightly pouting in your general direction.

“I don’t wanna.”

“Well, you gotta! What if we fail all of our exams and we don’t get to graduate? And what if we do graduate but not a single University wants us? And what if we can’t get a decent job or even a job to being with?”

You felt your lungs constrict at all the bad scenarios playing in your head like a bad omen.

“God, you’re stressing me out,” he groaned out, not even bothering to look at you, eyes still pretty glued over his phone screen.

“That’s because you should? Like everyone else? How are you so freaking calm?!”

You closed your book a little bit to forcefully and literally flung yourself on your bed, right next to him to take a peek at the game he was playing.

“Well, I have a backup plan, that’s why.”

“What backup plan?”

You could swear to God it was your first time hearing the existence of a backup plan and it almost made you feel stupid for not having one as well.

“If nothing works out I’ll probably just mop floors at Starbucks for a couple of years, just enough for me to have some money and open up my own shop.”

“Your own shop?” Oh, how that stung your heart. Not because it was a dream of yours but because you hadn’t known he wanted one for himself? You genuinely thought you knew everything about Kim Taehyung. Well, maybe because he knew everything about you.

“Yeah, if nothing works out I’m just gonna open a sex shop and call it something obnoxious like ‘Dick on the Go’ or something with a stupid zucchini logo flashing on top of the building.” He put the phone down and raised his eyebrows at you, fighting hard not to laugh in your face.

“Oh my fucking God!” You threw your cushion on his nose, making him yelp in surprise before starting laughing at you and your rage while simultaneously trying to defend himself and pin you down on the mattress.

“Jokes on me for trying to have a serious conversation with bloody Kim Taehyung!”

You hissed, trapped under his far stronger hands but, truthfully, that was just the beginning of an endless afternoon spent doing anything but study.

Fighting with cushions and call each other silly names was the outcome of one of your last days together as seniors in High School and for a very long time, you considered that day to be one of the happiest of your life as a teenager.

 Your mouth is agape and you realize how silly you must look standing there, looking like you just saw a ghost or something far more horrifying, but you find yourself incapable of moving a single muscle while still in the process of realizing what you are looking at.

A green zucchini intermittently flashes before you, topped by a blue fixed writing that reads ‘Dick on the Go’ in a fancy calligraphy font.

All the stillness of your body washes out in an instant, subdued by utter rage.

“Fucking Kim Taehyung!” you shriek out loud, stomping your feet on the ground like a goddamn kid, and you find yourself crossing the street in an instant, your luggage is already forgotten. It is a mistake you would never make in the big city where thieves lurk in the dark every second of the day, waiting for a little distraction to steal anything they can from you, even your undergarments if they can reach far enough.

Oh, the beauty of a chill countryside, you’d think when finding your belongings still there later that day but, in the current moment, all thoughts that don’t contemplate murdering your best friend are inconsequential.

You stomp on the concrete floor with the grace of a bull in a china shop and only come to a halt when you are facing the closed door of the shop.

Of course, working hours have come to an end with the end of the day and you are about to give up and move on to plan B — which would include screaming your lungs out to him over the phone while you walk to reach his house and wrap your hands around his neck — when you notice a cardboard sheet hanging from the door.

It looks utterly obnoxious and made by a five-year-old with a passion for pink, purple and Barbies but the little penises designed around it turn it utterly disturbing.

‘Ring to the back entrance’ it reads and oh, you motherfucking will.

You walk around the house, your vision turned red by fury and anyone close enough to see the look on your face would realize you are out for blood.

You stop in front of a small door tinted in a bright fuchsia color and you impatiently ring the bell, feet stomping on the ground as you struggle to keep your rage at bay until the catalyst of it all shows up at the door.

He does, in fact, show up but all words are trapped in your throat the moment you realize he is dressed in nothing but a white bathrobe.

“Oh! ______, I didn’t know you were coming!” He says, smiling one of his dazzling smiles that would usually fool you but that now makes you even more baffled because he doesn’t seem at all fazed by his lack of proper clothing.

“What the hell is going on here? I thought you were still working at Starbucks?” You finally ask, though far more quietly than you first intended it to be.

“Oh, yeah, I didn’t tell you about this,” he gestures to the building with a glint of pride in both his mannerism and his voice, “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Oh, you most definitely succeeded,” you mutter to yourself as he ushers you inside the shop.

You are suddenly made aware of the loud music playing inside of it and as you follow him behind a curtain you realize the shop isn’t just a shop. It’s a bloody nightclub.

The floors are black and the lights are a pretty shade of pink, lighting up a stage where models stand in their flimsy underwear and you feel like gagging on your own breath because you weren’t ready at all for the spectacle before your very eyes.

“I’m very sorry I have to leave you like this but I have a show to host tonight!”

Taehyung half-shouts in your ears and you are about to retort something or, rather, you’re about to ask him a gazillions questions but he disappears before you can even stop him and oh-my-God-what-in-the-world-is-he-doing? Is your next thought as you watch him take off his robe to stand on the stage in nothing but a flimsy thong that conceals pretty much nothing at all and yes, Taehyung is handsome, he has always been, but he’s like a brother to you and now you want to pull your motherfucking eyes out of their sockets and forget you have ever seen any of this.

His voice booms through the small club, amplified by the microphone, and the small crowd cheers loudly for him.

You only then realize that many of these people, both men and women, you actually know and, Lord, why can’t the ground just swallow you whole right now so that you can pretend in the morning that this was all just a really weird dream?

The music gets louder in your ears and you start to fear it may turn you deaf at this rate but you have no time to indulge in the thought before Taehyung starts introducing the ‘items’, as he so lovely introduced them, exhibited on the stage.

What you thought to be a club turns out to be a place where he shows off the most recent acquires of his shop and, despite the line of work, you do have to admit that it is rather genius, especially when the product is hanging nicely on the body of hot models, not even you can resist from goggling at.

A pretty girl with skin white as ivory and hair dark as coal is elegantly walking on the stage in a black laced bust that has everything covered but what it’s supposed to cover. Her breasts look nice, granted, framed in lace and nips covered by two little dots of black but it makes you feel wildly conscious of the way your body would look in that tiny little thing and it’s a thought you’d rather avoid dwelling on to.

The next model is a tall man, all muscles and tan skin, and you try with all your might to look away from him but you find it impossible to do when he’s dressed in nothing but a few strings of leather, shaped to look like a harness, and his member is barely concealed by his own hand. He looks like a Greek statue and you find yourself almost drooling over the nice shape of his ass but that’s before your eyes land on his balls, so out in the open it makes your cheeks feel as warm as a thousand suns.

You watch almost the entirety of the show, unable to look away from any of it but you do draw the line once he presents the newest sex toy of the month: “the magic tongue.”

With dread you watch the spectators come closer to the stage to watch the little item with wild curiosity and a shiver runs down your spine not because sex toys are something you have never seen, or tried, but because you have no idea how you will be able to look any of these people in the eyes after tonight without thinking back to this very moment.

Taehyung’s voice, the booming music and the faint chit-chat of people all mix together in a cacophony of sounds you are more than happy to tune out while focusing your eyes on the walls behind your back, finally noticing how big this place must be to not only be a shop in the front, but also some sort of club in the back.

A hand comes in touch with your shoulder and you jump on the spot, turning around with your fists turned up high because that’s another amazing lesson the city has taught you but, obviously, it is not a threat but just a very confused Taehyung that is facing you.

“Woah, calm down, what is it with the fists?”

“Sorry, it’s a habit,” you reply, blood rushing to your face and turning it feverish to the touch.

He decides not to comment on your words but he can’t hide the flick of concern inside his eyes and your heart warms up for it but, of course, it is not even remotely enough to quench your anger.

“We should probably go somewhere quieter so we can talk,” he says, instead, and you nod your head in agreement while trying to ignore the sounds of excitement coming from what you suppose you could call dance floor.

“Ok, wait for me in front of the shop’s door, I’ll be there in a second.”

“I swear to God Taehyung if you turn right n-” your words get stuck in your throat as he does precisely what you asked him not to do and your eyes inevitably gaze down to the exposed curve of his ass and, awfully, to his sack.

Your hands fly to your face to cover your eyes while you groan out loud, wishing you could pour acid in those eyeballs and remove the memory from your consciousness.

“Ah, so dramatic,” he says, chuckling, “It’s just an ass, plus, you know I have a fine one.”

You peek through your open fingers just in time to watch him loudly smack his own bottom cheeks and you struggle not to gag at the image forever printed inside your brain.

“I hope you realize you just scarred me for life!”

He laughs loudly at your words but does not stop walking down the corridor that has led you to the club but, this time, he’s following the opposite direction and you wonder why he just didn’t let you tag along up to the shop.

Either way, you do not question it too much and when you hear a woman shriek loudly in excitement inside the club you take it as your cue and leave the place with fast steps.

The air feels nice again on your hot skin and you take a few moments to breathe in loudly in the vain attempt to process all that has happened in the span of less than thirty minutes since your return.

Your steps feel heavy as you walk back to the front door, the number of questions swirling in your mind increasing with each passing second.

The door flies open the moment you arrive in front of it and it’s with utter relief that you notice your best friend is now dressed in a simple black tracksuit like any other normal person out there.

He welcomes you with one of his infamous rectangular smiles and you inevitably feel your heart soften for it, your anger dissipating slowly the more you look at it. It’s like looking at the sun after being stuck in the rain for months and you kind of hate him for it. Kim Taehyung is a bloody ray of sunshine and he has always had this power over you and your emotions and, rumors say nobody can really stay mad at him for a very long time. And you most definitely fit in the rumor.

You follow him inside the shop and it takes a lot of self-preservation to not glance around the many items on the shelves, right at the corners of your eyes.

It is not like you have never seen a sex toy, or try to use one for that matter, but there is something about being in a sexy shop with your best friend that unsettles you. You had never thought you’d grow up to be a prude, honestly, but evidently, you had been wrong because everything about this situation makes you uncomfortable to a whole new level.

“No more moping the floors, uh?” You say to break off the silence and he chuckles, gesturing at his shop with so much pride you almost feel compelled to compliment him on it.

“I told you I had a backup plan, didn’t I?” He asks and there is mirth in both his eyes and the curve of his lips and you feel the anger seep back in through your bones.

“Yeah, when we were two stupid kids about to graduate.”

Your voice tone comes out harsher than you intend it to be and it successfully wipes away the smile from Taehyung’s features and you feel a pang of guilt within your heart over it.

Kim Taehyung has always been the type to do whatever he wants despite what people think but he has also always been the type that can be easily hurt but people’s words and their expectations of him. It must be like a knife cutting through his skin for you to turn into just another person that does not understand him nor support him.

“Well, yeah, we were kids and probably very stupid but this idea, this... project is probably one of the best things I ever thought of,” his eyes narrow on you as you shake your head, finally taking a glance over the shop.

It is big and full of all the things you would want from a sexy shop. The floor and walls are painted black but the shelves are a nice neon pink that makes the toys pop out even more and you would never admit it out loud but it does look quite good.

“A sexy shop, Taehyung.” You say, your voice still cutting through his skin and you sadly watch him trouble his bottom lip whilst looking for the right words.

“So what? It’s still a business... a quite good one if I dare say so myself.”

“Oh, you mean with all the horny women in the back drooling over your models or, worse, your naked ass?”

There is something about your words that seems to flare him up, strike a hot spot and start the flames of a raging fire within his heart.

“Seriously, ______, when was the last time you didn’t have a stick up your ass?”

Your mouth opens to retort something witty and intelligent but the words seem to be stuck in your throat for a bit too long and you have to close it again, letting silence fall between you two.

“Why in front of my house, though? Like, it’s not even in the center of the city or around other shops?”

“Ah, I see, that’s what’s bothering you?” He tilts his head to the side and scoffs, incredulity written all over his face.

“Well, I have been moping floors for years now and yes, I did save up a nice amount of money but not enough for me to be picky so I’m sorry if my little shop here offends your...” he fixes his gaze over the tenseness of your body and the way you tap nervously on the floor, looking for the right word to describe you, “Prudery.”

“I’m not a prude Taehyung, it’s just weird to me, ok? I never thought you meant to actually open a sexy shop, especially not with that obnoxious name and you can’t get offended by that because it’s exactly how you defined it yourself back then,” you point a finger up to his chest and a small smile appears back on his features, “And I didn’t expect it to be right in front of the house I grew up in, we grew up in and I most definitely did not expect to see your balls out and about tonight, thank you very much for the horrific memory, by the way.”

By the time you end your speech, he is laughing and you can’t help but laugh with him too because it all still feels so surreal you could wake up any time now and realize it was all just a weird-ass dream.

“Well, when you put it like that,” he concedes but he smirks slightly and it makes you shiver because you know oh-too-well that glint in his eyes and you don’t like it in the least.

“When was the last time you had a good fuck, though?”

“Excuse me?” You try to ignore the way your cheeks seem to catch on fire as blood rushes all to your head because oh, that struck a nerve.

“You look so tense and on edge...” He continues, tilting his head to the side as to study you further, “In my experience, that’s a giving sign of sexual frustration.”

“Oh my fucking God I’m going to murder your sorry ass,” you growl and launch yourself at him just like you used to when you were both kids that relished in pissing off each other.

“Oh come on, ______, I’ve known you since you were like, five, you don’t need to be embarrassed!”

He is laughing as you try to strangle him, very unimpressed by your physical strength.

There had been a time when you had been stronger than him but those days are long over now that he is a grown man that also happened to discover the existence of a gym.

“Seriously, though, you should really loosen up a bit, you’re like in constant rage mode.”

You growl at him, almost wishing your nails were long and pointy like the ones you see every girl in the city sporting and a part of you now understands why. Oh, you’d definitely put them to good use right now.

“Ok, fine, fine! I won’t mention your sexual life or lack thereof anymore, I promise.”

You side-eye him but still let go of his shirt and he exhales loudly, taking a curious look around the room.

“But,” he starts and you scoff at him, ready to assault him anew if he decides to push your boundaries again, “I gifted something to all my friends so I don’t see why you should make an exception.”

There it is again, the little sting. His friends, the ones that knew about this, the ones that probably helped him and cheered him up. The ones that were there when he finally opened the shop and the ones that were there to congratulate him.

It makes you think a lot whether it was really because he wanted to surprise you or because he knew you’d react like this once you found out.

“You can pick anything you want from the shelves, it’s all on me.”

“What? You want me to pick a sex toy?” You ask, bewildered as he motions through the shelves, encouraging you to take a look.

“Well, that’s what I sell so I don’t see why not.”

You scoff and shake your head and this time it is not because of your so-called prudery but because you know for a fact those things have no effect on you.

“What?” He asks and you don’t like the hint of mockery you can hear in his voice, “Don’t tell me... you never used one before?”

“Oh my God, you are impossible!”

He laughs at you, pointing his finger now that he is wrongly and completely sure you have never seen, touched or used any of the things he sells.

“I have tried them if you really must know, but they are not that special.” You regret this confession the moment his features shift, turning from mirth to disbelief as the depth behind them gets clearer in his head.

“Wait, you mean you never... you know?”

His mouth is agape and it makes you want to punch him in the face because one, he looks like a poor meme of a fish and two because you can feel the moment he’ll start to ridicule you coming closer.

“What? I have never what?” You hiss, your face feeling as hot as the bloody sun due to the embarrassment.

“You never had an orgasm with any toy?” He inquires further, looking at you as if you are some rare creature he has never seen before and deeply wants to study now that he has discovered it.

All you want to do is disappear and forget this whole talk that just happened and you sure as hell do not want to answer his question but, somehow, your mouth opens and the words come out in a strangled whisper before you can usher them back in.

“I’m not even sure I ever had an orgasm at all...”

“Wait, are you serious right now or are you just shitting me?” He looks almost comical in his flabbergasted state and, honestly, if it wasn’t your sexual life being judged you would probably laugh at him but mirth is not something you manage to feel when your eyes are watering with frustration and shame.

“Taehyung!” You whine, your eyes fixing on your shoes because you seriously can’t look him in the eyes now, if ever again.

“Oh my God you are serious, wow, that is so sad.” You can feel your heart falling in your chest at his words and you don’t even know why you care about his opinion on this particular matter but the pity in his voice awakens something within you, something you ignored for a very long time.  

“What lousy fuckers have you met in the city, seriously.” He presses forward and you can hear a hint of laughter in his voice or maybe it truly is just your imagination but it is enough to drive you away from the scenery and probably never return again.

“Ok, this is where I draw the line, I’m leaving, good-fucking-bye.”

You turn on your heels, aiming for the door but you are kept in place by his firm hand around your wrist.

“Wait, wait, wait,” His voice sounds softer to your ears and you let that timbre fool you enough for you to turn around, ready to listen to his next words.

You turn in time to see him grab a toy from one of the top shelves right next to you and your blood starts to boil in your veins. You are one second away from being outraged and railed up enough to attempt murdering him again.

“Before you go, take this, I swear to God you will thank me in the morning.”

With a devilish smile, he puts a pink vibrator in your hands and you can’t help yourself but look at it and notice the shape of two rabbit ears at the end of the long shaft. It doesn’t look like anything you have ever used and it also looks mildly terrifying because you have no idea how to use the damn thing.

“Taehyung...” You hiss, glaring at him in a way you hope is going to be enough for him to drop the subject but you obtain quite the contrary effect.

He hits his forehead with the palm of his hand and turns around to grab a bottle you are far too familiar with. Lube.

“I almost forgot, you’ll probably need this as well.”

You hate the feigned innocence in his expression and oh, how badly you want to punch it off of him.

“Taehyung, I swear if you don’t cut the shit I’ll make you swallow the damn thing.”

“Hot.” He muses, chuckling.

“Taehyung!”

“Can you please indulge me for just one time?” His eyes turn a bit more serious and you unconsciously start to trouble your bottom lip, hating yourself because you are still considering his offer despite the terrible experiences you have had before.

“If you seriously hate it you can come here tomorrow morning and throw the bloody thing in my face and I won’t stop you. Deal?”

You don’t know if it’s the prospect of hitting him with a vibrator that convinces you or maybe that innate desire of always being on the winning side but before you can realize in what kind of situation you are throwing yourself in, you open your mouth and successfully put a gravestone on your tomb.

“Deal.”

The moon shines brightly in the sky as you leave Taehyung’s shop, walking as fast as your feet allow you to so that nobody will be able to spot the shop’s logo on the plastic bag you’re clutching to your chest like your life depends on it.

It is only when you arrive in front of your yard that you realize your luggage has been abandoned there for quite a long time and it’s with subsequent relief that you notice not a single thing appears to be missing nor out of place.

You sigh heavily and decidedly open up your suitcase to shove inside the vibrator your best friend has just gifted you because yes, you are an adult and your parents are not oblivious to your active sexual life — despite it being very flat and very close to non-existent — but you really do not wish to let them know any details of that portion of your life if you can help it.

You put a smile on your face and gingerly walk to your door, trying to gain back the feeling of easiness and happiness that usually comes with your arrival back home.

The doorbell rings through the house and its sound alone throws you back in time when you were a kid dying to hear that sound because it meant your friends — well, Taehyung, at least — had come to play and you could escape the confinements of your room and boredom to play with them.

Your mother opens the door and a smile stretches immediately on her features, so similar to your own you can’t help but mirror it and then throw your arms against her frame, hugging her close to your chest because you have missed her, her perfume, her meals and everything you wanted to get away from when you were younger and ready to take over the world.

Despite the ups and downs of your arrival, the evening passes quickly in the company of your lovely parents and it feels nice to talk about everyday stuff without filters and it also feels nice to just sit in silence in front of the tv, relishing in each others’ presence and warmth.

Your room looks just like you have left it when you went away for college and even after so many years you can’t find the will to change it yourself. You grew up, of course, many of the clothes in the wardrobe do not even fit you anymore and you certainly have changed your tastes in music over time. Overall, it almost looks like the bedroom of someone foreign but, you like it just the way it is because every detail inside of it is so personal and it was so carefully chosen back then that your heart warms with memories every time your eyes land on something you didn’t remember being there.

Your bedroom in the city looks nice, just like a picture out of a magazine but it doesn’t have personality nor something that screams your name to whoever may walk in it and that’s why you will never change this room right here, even when it clearly belongs to a seventeen-year-old senior girl about to graduate and leave for college.

You close the door behind your back and hop onto the bed, relishing in how soft it feels under your tired body and most importantly how freshly cleaned it smells like. You know your mother still cleans your room as if you live with them and it makes you feel guilty at times, especially when you are away, but when you are back it’s like a bloody dream. Everything is tidy and smells wonderful and even that is something very different from what you are used to in the city.

Your mother would probably scold you to no end if she could see the state you left your apartment in. But sometimes, when the workday gets too long and you are too tired, honestly, being tidy is not your number one priority and it clearly shows when you muster the courage to clean everything and return your place to a decent one.

You huff and sprawl on the bed, legs and arms wide on its surface as you stare at the ceiling, a pout on your mouth.

Ever since you walked through the door of your childhood house all you can think about is the secret held inside your suitcase and what you are going to do with it.

You rest on your side and lock your gaze on your luggage, rummaging through the many things that could go wrong if you happen to decide to try out the so-called gift Taehyung has given you.

You could lie, you think. You could tell him it didn’t work for you in the morning and just leave it at that.

It would be a good solution but there is this part of you that is curious and there’s also this tiny part of you that wants it to work. You have tried stuff, you have been with a decent amount of men and at some point in your life you decided to give it up because clearly, pleasure wasn’t something you could achieve sexually.

But what if it doesn’t have to be like this?

You bite your bottom lip, still unsure on what to do and after long minutes you get off your bed in frustration and almost rip open the luggage to get to the object of your desire.

Your heart is hammering in your chest even though you know your parents are sound asleep but still, the idea of them catching you trying to pleasure yourself in your childhood bedroom scares you to no end. And you would never admit it aloud, but it excites you too in some twisted way.

You dim the lights in your room to create some sort of atmosphere whilst feeling extremely stupid the whole time. You are incredibly awkward and if Taehyung could see you right now he’d probably laugh his ass off.

“This is so stupid,” you mutter to yourself as you get under the covers, trying to relax and stop thinking about what you want or not want to happen.

You wet your lips and take a deep breath and, lord, it almost feels like losing your virginity all over again because the knot inside your stomach is as tight as it was back then.

“It’s just a fucking sex toy, it’s not rocket science.” You hiss to yourself as you uncap the bottle of lube, quickly spreading it on the rabbit-looking toy within your hands.

You gulp down and turn it on, always the control freak that needs to know exactly what is going to happen and how it is going to happen all the bloody time.

You marvel at the little rabbit ears, vibrating alongside with the shaft and you finally realize their purpose and boy, is that excitement that you feel building between your legs?

You have felt desire before, you have felt need but it never culminated into an orgasm or even a hint of pleasure before and you don’t know if it’s because Taehyung was so shocked by your confession or what but, for the first time in a very long time, you want that to change. Tonight.

You quickly get out of your pajama pants and proceed to remove your underwear which, with mild surprise, you notice to be wet with your arousal.

You stroke your sex a few times to make the lube’s job easier and, breathing in, you start working the vibrator in.

The shaft is still as you carefully move it past your folds and you are almost surprised by how your walls stretch around it without much resistance and it makes you wonder: did really the prospect of changing things aroused you this much?

You shake your head, pushing all thoughts out of it to focus only on your pleasure and what feels good at this moment.

The vibrator is well sheathed inside of you when you finally decide to turn it on, the rabbit ears slightly pressed over your mound.

The vibrations take you by surprise because they come in not-synchronized waves so that your presumably pleasure spots are continuously stimulated and you have no time to concentrate too much on either of them.

You rest your body against the mattress and close your eyes, relaxing the muscles of your neck as you give in to the idea of finally unlocking something within you.

Your fingers blindly play with the settings of the toy and you let your body decide what feels best for it, for once letting everything but your mind do the work.

The slight curve of the vibrator hits a particularly sensitive spot within you and you find yourself sighing at the sensation. Your eyes open as you realize the sound that just came out of your mouth and your heart starts hammering in your chest.

You push the vibrator further within you, searching with its head that delightful spot again so you can experience that sensation again and give it a name and oh, when you do, a closed window seems to open within you, finally letting the sun in where once there was only darkness.

The rabbit-like ears vibrate and turn around your mound and even that sensation is suddenly a pleasurable one and not something that leaves you completely indifferent.

Your eyes close as you twist around the settings a little more, making the vibrations stronger and quicker and Lord, how good that feels.

Is this why people are so fixated with sex? Is this what other people had been experiencing all along? Because it is utter bliss and oh, you so do not want it to stop.

You find yourself emitting sounds you had no idea you could produce and you tilt your head to the side to bite down on your cushion and stifle them enough for your parents to remain asleep.

You can feel the pleasure building within you in foreign waves that you have no idea how to control or to handle and, for the first time in your life, you don’t even want to. It feels good to give in, to let something do its work and take control over you and, as you completely give in into this moment, that’s when the orgasm surprisingly arrives, tinting everything white and turning your body into a quivering mess.

You can feel your juices dripping down between your legs but you can’t find in yourself the will to care about it, your mind still hazed by the intense release you have been waiting for years.

You don’t remember after how long you finally get up, clean yourself and hide the toy inside your purse but in the morning, you can clearly recall all the events that led to your very first orgasm and most importantly, how amazing you felt right after.

The sun shines brightly high up in the sky as you briskly cross the street to knock on your best friend’s shop door, his little gift secretly tugged inside your purse, away from prying eyes.

You stop in front of the door, troubling your bottom lip as you take side glances to the street in nervousness. It takes you a few seconds and a lot of controlled breaths for you to push the door open and enter inside the obnoxious shop again.

It is with utter relief that you notice not a single client is there at this early hour and you quickly walk to Taehyung, sitting on the counter with the most heinous smirk you have had the misfortune to witness.

“Oh, look who has returned,” he says, assessing you with his attentive gaze and as his lips curve deeper you know he has already realized he has won the first round in this battle.

“Wipe off that awful smirk off of your face,” you hiss, putting the wrapped up toy on the counter with a little too much enthusiasm.

“I will if you admit I won.”

Oh, if you could erase that smug expression out of his face you would definitely do it. If there is something that everyone around you knows is that you’re a very sour loser and you hate being wrong. Of course, Taehyung knows this very well too and he never drops the chance to rub his win to your face whenever he can.

“It wasn’t a competition.” You hiss, your face feeling feverish hot with the blood that has rushed there from both the rage and the shame.

He cocks his eyebrow at you, tilting his head to the side with a knowing look in his eyes.

“Oh, but it would have been if you had won, or am I mistaken?” He calmly speaks those words but you can sense the mirth laced in them.

“Shut up and tell me how you did it.”

“How I did what?” This time there is no hilarity hidden in his words but true bewilderment.

“You know... made me...?” Your voice is barely above a whisper and the words you speak feel as tight in your throat as rocks would have.

You watch his eyebrows shoot up in realization and his mouth falling agape as he finally picks up all the pieces of the puzzle and puts them together.

“Wait, you really weren’t shitting me last night? You mean... I gave you your first orgasm?!”

You know there isn’t a single living soul inside the shop right about now but you still hiss at him, looking around just to make sure it is a secret known only by him and not the rest of the city.

Your heart hammers in your chest and your head sinks between your shoulders. You have no idea why it feels so shameful to admit that aloud but it does and you find yourself unable to hold his gaze now that the secret is out.

“Oh Lord, poor thing.”

You hate the pity in his voice and the way your body reacts to it: shrinking in itself a little bit more as if it was trying to disappear into itself and never be seen again.

Your eyes shoot up and your knuckles turn white around the counter as you try to gain back that menacing look you had on just yesterday when you first discovered this place.

“Taehyung for the love of God can you stop making fun on my sexual life?”

Your best friend sighs, nodding his head a little as he finally takes into account your feelings, hopefully moving aside the fact that, indeed, it was thanks to him that you finally discovered what pleasure feels like.

“I’m sorry it’s just that... how? I mean, I get lousy sex partners but not even your nice fingers could do the job?”

Oh, you were wrong. You thought he was going to drop the bloody subject and just make you pry to his secrets but no, more awkward questions are leaving his mouth and you honestly have not a single answer to give.

“I don’t know how! If I had known we wouldn’t be having this conversation now, would we?”

“True.”

Silence falls between you two and you start troubling your bottom lip until you can feel the awful taste of copper in your mouth and that seems to be the catalyst to your will to pose the question anew.

“So, how did you do it?”

Taehyung smiles as he unwraps the toy from the pink bag, looking at it as if it were a piece of art and you almost gag on air at the sight of him, so entranced by a bloody vibrator.

“Well, this little toy right here is one of the ladies’ favorite so, there’s that,” He says before putting it back down with a slight pout on his mouth, “But I can’t give you the answers you need, _____.”

Your brows knit and he shakes his head before sighing, finally looking somewhat serious.

“Pleasure comes in different ways for everyone. What feels good to you may feel awful or like nothing to me and vice versa. There is no rule or equation to solve in a matter like this.”

A few seconds pass as you ponder his words and you watch with dread a little smirk forming on his lips.

“But...”

“But?”

“I bet I can make you come again, multiple times.”

Your saliva seems to get stuck in your throat in a vain attempt to suffocate you and honestly, if survival instinct and all that shit didn’t exist, you’d gladly let it because this is not how you wanted this whole conversation to be like.

“Multiple times?” You snicker at him, your eyes glossy with the aftermath of your almost-suffocation.

“Yes.”

“Oh, please, Taehyung, don’t get ahead of yourself,” you promptly reply, trying to hide the way your body has tensed after his words because, lord, what would you do to know how that feels like when a single orgasm has turned your whole world upside down.

“Want to bet?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you. The little fucker knows all your weak points and oh, do you love to win bets but, this time there is something stopping you from quickly accepting the challenge.

“No?! What’s in it for me... no wait, what do you want?” Your eyes narrow at him and he chuckles slightly, suddenly assuming his most fake innocent look ever.

“Well, if you win, I will move my shop somewhere far from your childhood home so you don’t have to look at my hideous logo ever again.” A devilish smirk twists his features and a shiver runs down your spine as he opens his mouth again, his voice incredibly low and laced with something you can only address as desire, “But if I win I get to fuck you every night until you leave for the city again.”

“What?!” To say that you are shocked would be an understatement. Of all the things he could have asked for he asks for... sex? With you?

“These are my terms.” He simply states and you hate how calm he looks when your heart is beating like a fucking drum inside your chest.

“Deal.” You hiss because truly, you would do anything now to break his confidence and bend his ego.

“Really?” You relish in the surprised look on his face and you smirk because you may go down but oh, you will go down fighting.

“Yeah, there is no way you’re going to win this and I can’t wait to kick your sorry ass away from my neighbor.”

“OK, then. Meet me here tonight at nine. I’m going to give you the most toe-curling orgasm you will ever experience.”

You leave the shop with rage written all over your face but you can’t hide to yourself the way excitement has coiled in your insides in utter anticipation and you hate him for it because you don’t want to lose the bet but, at the same time, everything makes you wonder if it would really be a loss in the first place.

 You stand in front of the mirror feeling like the stupidest human being to ever walk the Earth because one, you have accepted a bet with your best friend that includes sex in it and two, because you are actually dressing up for it.

The black and dangerously slow dress fits your body to perfection: it is tight around your waist and wide on your hips, successfully helping in creating that perfect hourglass figure you always desired to possess; it nicely hugs your breasts, turning them into something inviting even to your own eyes and it leaves your collarbone and neck completely free and naked which is something you have learned boys love to see.

Boys. Not Taehyung. Not your best friend.

You stare at your red lips, matched with the cherries printed on your dress and you move to smear it away from your mouth and forget you ever put it there.

It feels stupid to dress up for him when you had never had any desire to be with him in the first place and it feels even more stupid because this is not a date, this is a silly little game you still have to decide whether you want to win or lose.

“What are you even doing...” You whisper to yourself, shaking your head. It had been a provocative bet for him but, had he stopped to ponder what it was going to imply in the future?

You are going to have sex with your best friend and you already know, acting like it never happened won’t be possible regardless of the final outcome.

If you win the bet it means you spent another night with a man incapable of giving you pleasure and if you lose, you will have to fuck said man for an entire week and then leave for the city as if nothing ever occurred between the two of you.

This is fucked up, you find yourself thinking and yet, you can’t find the will in you to stop it nor to remove the obnoxious red tint from your lips because, after all, if you have to go down you’ll make sure to bring him down with you.

You already know he’s going to tease you, to provoke you until you can’t take any more and making yourself as tempting as possible seems like the only solution to get back to him. Making him want you like a woman and not like some twisted up experiment of some sort.

Fiery determination sets back into your heart, subduing the doubts and fears until you are briskly walking across the street, your eyes set on the turned off lights of the shop and on what awaits you behind that closed door.

You have to take a few small breaths before you can knock on the door and you find yourself jumping in surprise when it immediately opens to reveal Taehyung standing there with a playful smile on his lips.

The moonlight shines on his golden skin and you really don’t know if some kind of magic is at work tonight but, you swear to God he looks so inviting with his tussled ash blonde hair and deep black eyes, standing in front of you with a simple pair of black pants and a white slightly unbuttoned shirt.

“Come in,” he simply says, pushing the door ajar to make space for you and you silently accept his invite, stepping into the shop with a trembling heart.

The lights that you thought to be turned off when looking at the shop from the outside reveal themselves to be pretty dim and a nice shade of pink and you find yourself liking the nice atmosphere they create.

“You look lovely,” he says, one of his hands behind your back to guide you forward and you stumble on your words, unsure whether or not you should accept the compliment or not.

“Wow, you are tense, ok,” he chuckles and you feel your face turning hot to the touch.

“Aren’t you?” You ask in a breath, turning towards him to study his face.

He tilts his head to the side and slightly shakes his head, pouting towards you as he does when he’s deep in thought.

“I mean, maybe I’m a little nervous, yeah, but definitely not as much as you are.” He playfully smiles at you and you roll your eyes to the ceiling, huffing in response.

“What? Afraid you’re going to lose?” He teases you further, winking at you and you feel your blood boil in your veins because you’d like a nice and intelligent retort but you have none to give when you’re not sure what you’re afraid of in the first place.

“Aaand, that’s my cue, good-fucking-bye,” you hiss, turning on your heels because, honestly, running away from this evident mistake seems like the only intelligent decision you’ve made in like the past two days or so.

“Wait, ______,” Taehyung trails behind you, his fingers slightly brushing against your arms to gather your attention, “I’m sorry, I was just trying to make you relax a little bit. I won’t tease you anymore.”

You turn around to closely watch his face and when you fail to pick up any hint of deception on his features you make the decision to stay for reasons you can’t comprehend yourself.

“Can I ask you something, though?” You say, troubling your bottom lip with your teeth, another question pending on your mouth the moment he proposed this bet to you.

“Of course you can.”

“Why do you want...?” Your voice trails off as he takes a step closer to you, surprising you with his sudden proximity. It is not like you have never been close before or even closer, if you have to be completely honest, but tonight everything feels different and out of place.

“What?” He asks, his voice low and deep as he takes another step closer, “Why do I want to fuck you?” He inquires further, taking another step and successfully forcing you to take a few steps back in return until you are squeezed between his body and the counter at your back.

“Y-yeah,” you whisper as his hands come in contact with your hips to lift you up and sit you on the cold table.

“You honestly have no idea why?” He says, his voice husky as he stands between your legs, his lips only a few inches away from your neck.

“N-no?” You reply, your eyebrows furrowing as his hot breath hits your skin, making you shiver at the sensation.

“I had the silliest crush on you when we were teenagers and you were like the prettiest girl in school,” he confesses, chuckling at the memory.

“I wasn’t...” You reply, trying to look into his eyes because honestly, you were never a popular girl or one many boys wanted to date.

“You were to me,” you find a hint of shyness in his voice and it makes you smile tenderly at him because all this time, you had no idea. Taehyung had never been a boy to your eyes, he had always been just Tae, your best and, quite frankly, only friend.

“And I watched you leave and become this beautiful woman and I don’t know, I guess a little part of me still wants to know what it would feel like to be with you.”

“Tae...” you whisper, your hands trailing on his face as he comes closer to your neck and all the nice words you want to say to him, all the other questions, they get all swept away by his mouth, kissing your soft skin until it coaxes a whimper out of your lips.

Your body seems to catch fire as a whole while he kisses you, hugging you closer with his arms firmly around your hips and you find it hard to talk and to think or even breathe for you had no idea your body could react like this to your best friend’s touch.

He kisses your jawline tenderly, moving on its expanse until your mouth is right there, ready to be kissed and oh, does he kiss you. His lips are warm and soft and taste like a summer fling on the beach and it’s so madly intoxicating you find yourself pulling him closer, not willing to let go.

Why is everything about Taehyung suddenly so captivating and sensual and just... beautiful? Why does everything seem so incredibly right for your body and heart but so utterly wrong for your mind?

“Your lips are as nice as I always thought they would feel like,” he confesses, his breath hitting your wet lips and you open your eyes, realizing only then that you had closed them.

Taehyung briefly kisses you again before moving onto your neck anew with newfound fervor and you find yourself tensing at his touch, still unable to decide if you want him to stop or to keep going.

“Shh,” he whispers atop your skin, sensing the way your body has stiffened under his touch, “Just relax, peach. Let me make you feel really good.”

His mouth is like poison on your skin, rendering it feverish to the touch and you find yourself caving in, allowing him to take control and, for once in your life, it is not something panic-inducing but rather liberating.

His hands move flat against your hips and travel upwards on your sides whilst his mouth trails downwards to meet the soft expanse of your breasts.

His hands push your chest forward and your back arches for him as he kisses the supple flesh your dress doesn’t reach to cover, allowing him good access to the prize he seeks to seize.

His mouth kisses your chest like he would kiss your lips and it is passionate and wet and it makes you quiver in both pleasure and anticipation for what is out to come. You feel utterly confused because it is not the first time a man has kissed your body or pulled you closer and yet, it never felt quite like this and the more the minutes tick by, the more you feel attracted to your best friend and, honestly, the more the attraction grows the less you wish to win this bet so that you can experience all of this every day for the next week.

His fingers tug at the hem of your dress, pulling it down to further reveal your chest, enclosed in a nice black bra that is evidently of his taste since he hums in contentment.

Your dress gathers around your hips and you shiver as his fingers start to roam around your naked skin, caressing every inch they can reach while moving blindly since his eyes are closed and his mouth is open to kiss and lick your breasts.

You sigh as he unclasps your bra and his warm hands come to cup your breasts passionately, bringing them together so that he can kiss both of them equally, leaving a trail of saliva on the feverish skin.

You find yourself whimpering for him and he relishes in the sound, encouraged to keep his ministrations going.

The sensation of his warm lips around your nipple is something heavenly and it makes you close your eyes and tilt your head backward. Your back arches for him and he sucks on the hardening nip whilst humming at the way your body reacts to his very touch.

“Every inch of you tastes so sweet,” he whispers hoarsely and you whine in response because nobody has ever made you feel so desired and cherished before and God, do your insides love everything about this.

His hands move around your hips and you lift your ass up, allowing him to finally remove your dress and take a look at what is hidden underneath.

Your underwear is matched to perfection with your bra and you know you’ve made a great choice when he steps back and hisses at the sight of your sex, barely covered by the transparent black piece of clothing.

You watch his lips twist into a smirk and you know it must be because of a wet spot, clearly showing through the fabric and even though you’d gladly remove that teasing smile off of his lips there is no hiding that he has a great effect over you.

You arch your back to push your chest forward and spread your legs wider whilst biting your bottom lip to provoke him and tease him just like he so loves to do with you.

“Fuck,” he hisses, running a hand through his locks while continuously wetting his lips.

“Am I living up to your teenage dreams?” You ask, voice coy despite the way your body sensually moves before him.

“Oh no, you are fucking better,” he growls, unable to shift his gaze from your sex up to your face.

“I am?” You ask, tilting your head to the side with a little smile on your lips, “Then what are you waiting for?”

Your words seem to be exactly the permission he was looking for and you can barely finish your sentence before he is on his knees, his face perfectly aligned with your partially clothed sex.

You lift your ass again as soon as his fingers tug at your underwear and you shiver at the sensation of the cold surface of the table on your now naked cheeks.

He marvels at your sex for a few seconds, just enough to make blood rush to your face in embarrassment, and then, without a single warning, he licks your folds with one big swift movement.

“T-tae,” you whimper at the foreign sensation and he lifts his gaze, eyes glinting with warmth and trepidation.

“Did that feel good?” He asks, caressing your thighs with his hands to help you relax again and give in more to his touch.

“Yes,” you whisper and he starts planting kisses on your inner thigh to build up the excitement coiling in your stomach.

“Am I the first one to do that to you?” He inquires further and you bite down your lip, struggling between the need to lie to make yourself look more experienced in the realm of sex and the one to just be sincere.

In the end, you decide to tell the truth for, after all, your only fault is to suck at picking men willing to give pleasure to their companions instead of only seeking out their own.

“Yes.”

“Good,” he says, smiling at you with mirth in his eyes and you consider the idea of strangling him with your thighs right about now, “I want to be your first in many things,” he adds, licking his lips as he resumes his position between your legs.

“The first one to make you orgasm, the first one to taste your pussy and, maybe, the very first man able to make you come for him multiple times.”

At any other time, you would retort something witty to burst his bubble but his words do not anger you, in fact, they actually excite you further and it is truly a mystery how or why your body likes and reacts to everything he says or does.

Taehyung’s hot tongue is suddenly flat against your mound and all the thoughts in your mind are rendered inconsequential by the simple touch.

You can feel his plump lips encompassing your folds as he takes another tentative lick at your sex and you shiver at the sensation, sighing for him to encourage him in his movements.

His tongue turns suddenly relentless over your sex, bent on gathering all the juices you produce in return for its wild caresses and he hums on your mound every time you let out a sigh or a mewl, the low rumble of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

As his moves increase in boldness and pace you find yourself tugging on his hair, unable to understand whether you wish to push him away or pull him closer.

The minutes stretch as the shop fills with the lewd sounds of his tongue on your wet core and the way he sucks and pulls at the skin every now and then, just to elicit moans out of you.

“Taehyung,” you whimper as his tongue moves past your lips to lap at your inner walls, slightly shaking his head so that his nose can tease your untouched clitoris.

His hands cup your ass and he pushes you forward until you are barely balanced on the counter and completely at his disposal.

His tongue shoots upwards within you, tasting and stretching your inner walls with its ravenous movements and it doesn’t take long for your insides to start twitching, responding to his ministrations with such an ease someone would think you didn’t just experience your first orgasm the night before this very moment.

“Tae,” you whimper again and his gaze lifts up to meet your pleading one. His mouth suddenly detaches from your sex and you pout at the sudden loss of warmth and pleasure.

“Yes, peach?” There it is again, the little nickname he has decided to use on you tonight and even if you were never a fan of those, even when you prohibited every male you’ve been with of ever using one, on Taehyung’s mouth it sounds incredibly endearing.

“Would you like some dick on the go, perhaps?”

The illusion shatters with his next words and your legs close shut as you are suddenly reminded why Taehyung has always been nothing but a friend to you.

“Wow, ok, you ruined it.”

It is almost comical the way his eyes get big as saucers at your words and his mouth hangs open in a perfect impersonation of a fish.

“Come on, don’t tell me it wasn’t funny!” He says, his voice still retaining that rough and sexy tone that had made you cave in the first place.

“Do you honestly think now is the time for humor?!” You squeak, ready to get back on your feet and bloody leave.

“Why not? Sex can be fun!” he retorts, scratching his head with his eyebrows deeply furrowed.

You roll your eyes to the ceiling and click your tongue in your mouth, shaking your head in bewilderment for how can someone be both an ass with the brain of a child and a sensual man with the power of a God to bend you with.

“Ok,” he says, looking at your unimpressed expression, “No jokes, got it.”

His hands rest on your knees to push your legs open and you squeeze them even more shut, picking up the chance to tease him as much as he has been doing ever since you first came into the shop.

“Forget it, I’m not in the mood anymore.”

“Wait, are you for real?”

You watch him scramble back on his feet and you almost laugh in his face as he looks at you, utterly lost.

“What if I am?” You ask, your eyes turning into slits while you force your lips to remain in a tight line, “What would you do to make me change my mind?”

His eyes darken at your words and you think he’ll get back on his knees to resume his previous activities but, instead, he harshly kisses your mouth, his teeth latching at your bottom lip to drag it down until you hiss in both pain and pleasure.

“Open your legs,” he says and all the mirth shown before is gone in both his features and his voice and you think about resisting, about teasing him forward but his fingers wrap around your neck, slightly pressing over your carotid to cut off the oxygen income.

“Do you really want me to stop and go back home?” He asks and you find yourself opening your mouth to whimper out a miserable ‘no’.

“So, will you be a good girl and open up your legs for me now?”

“Y-yes,” you whisper as his gaze shifts from your face down at your closed-off mound.

His eyes are dark with desire and you marvel at the way he looks like a completely different Taehyung and, somehow, this side of him feels incredibly exciting.

“Yes, what?” He asks as you open up your legs for him, his gaze fixing back on your own. For a moment you stay in silence, utterly confused and then your insides twitch at the sudden illumination. It is surprising to know where his desires lay and it is even more baffling to realize they seem to mirror your very own fantasies.

“Yes, daddy.” You choke out, your eyes slightly closing as his grip around your neck fades, allowing the oxygen to kick back in your system.

“Good girl.”

His lips stretch into a smile and in an instant, the dominant look is swept away from his face and you stare at him, unable to comprehend how he manages to shift between both but even with that seraphic smile, he doesn’t allow much room for thoughts to happen for one of his hands immediately flies down between your legs, cupping your sex until you’re sighing for him, pleading for more of his touch.

His mouth is rough against your own, all teeth and tongue and you mewl as one of his fingers moves past your folds, resuming the stretching his tongue had worked on your walls.

This is not a foreign sensation. You’ve had your fingers playing down there countless of times and, sometimes, even your partners attempted it but it has never been particularly pleasurable.

Taehyung is quick to notice that, in fact, even his touch can’t spark up the sensations his tongue lightened up within you and with that knowledge, he lets go of your mouth and falls on his knees anew.

His hot breath hits your slick folds and you shiver, your eyes fixed on the way his eyes glint at the sight of your naked cunt, dripping for him.

With slowed down precision he penetrates you with another one of his fingers, curling them in sync to test the way your body would respond to his touch.

He pushes them in as far as they can reach and the pace within you is slow but pleasant nonetheless. Still, it doesn’t have that butterfly-awakening effect you are both seeking out of you and he hums, deep in thought as if he were studying some rare species of some sort.

His mouth opens and you wait for his voice to break the silence in the room but, instead, his lips press together around your clitoris, allowing him to suck around the sensitive bud.

You hiss at the sensation and fire erupts back within you, making your back arch and your head tilt back.

“Fuck,” you whimper out and you can feel him smile against your swelling flesh.

“That’s it, peach, give in to me.”

His voice is rough and guttural and it sends shivers down your spine, warmness coiling in your stomach as he presses his mouth around your mound again ready to lick, suck and tease.

His fingers pick up the pace within you, scissoring to blissfully stretch you and, united with his relentless mouth, you are quick to unfold before him.

“That-that feels so good,” you mewl, your eyes opening to fix onto his head, nicely enclosed by your thighs. It is a sight you would have never thought possible to be real and, most importantly, you would have never thought to desire keeping him there as much as you do now.

Your words work wonders on his mood and you can sense the shift before it actually happens but oh, when he picks up his pace within you and sucks hard on your clitoris leaving very little room for you to catch your breath, you are fast to crumble and succumb to pleasure.

The orgasm washes over you like an unexpected wave and your voice sounds almost foreign to your own ears as you moan out his name. It is the first time you are truly coming for a man, moving your mouth in the shape of his name.

Taehyung laps all your juices with his untiring tongue and you quiver with the feeling of being overly stimulated all over your swollen mound.

“You are already one step closer to losing our bet,” he says, voice hoarse as he tilts his head towards you and you whine at the sight of him, face flushed and chin dripping with your juices.

By now it is clear to both of you that you won’t actually win the bet and, quite honestly, you don’t even want to when it feels so good to have him working wonders between your legs.

It is, then, with the goal of losing yourself into pleasure that you speak the next words.

“Shut up and fuck me.”

Your words make him chuckle and you yelp in surprise as he slaps your sensitive mound with enough force for it to sting.

“Careful with your words, peach.” He says, getting up on his feet to be at eye level with you again, “Unless you want me to teach you a lesson.”

Your insides twitch at his words and it makes you wonder how have you lived your life all this time without knowing you had that big of a dominance kink. Of course, you have watched porn before and you have preferred certain types of kink but having little to zero experience in what you actually like, everything comes as a surprise tonight. You would never admit it out loud and especially not to him but, Taehyung is the man responsible for your discovery of your utmost inner desires.

His mouth seeks your own and you can taste your own flavor lodged between his lips, hanging from his tongue, and it is utterly inebriating.

His fingers trace your sex with the most delicate touch and he smirks on your mouth, his eyes opening to look into yours.

“Look who is wet for my dick,” he says, his tongue licking your bottom lip to add fuel to the fire already raging between your legs.

“How badly do you want me to fuck you?” He asks, his head tilted to the side so that he can kiss your jawline and further down your neck, your most sensitive spot.

“So much, daddy,” you whimper out, hugging him closer almost as if you are afraid he is going to leave before complying to his promise, “Please.”

“Stay here,” he whispers and you look at him confused, fighting the instinct to pull him back as he untangles from your embrace and takes a few steps back.

You do exactly as he says, though, remaining perfectly still on the counter and you can only imagine how you must look right now: red lipstick smeared on your lips, your body glistening with sweat and your sex slick with both your juices and arousal.

It is an image he seems to enjoy though and the way he looks at you, licking his lips as if anticipating what he’s about to do to you, makes your heart flutter in your chest.

Taehyung takes a few steps back unable to glue his eyes off of you until he absolutely has to and you watch him move past you and disappear behind a door.

The wait makes your heart burst in your chest with expectation and, of course, anxiousness because yes, it is liberating to let someone else take the lead for once but, after all, you were always a control freak and not knowing what is going to happen will always scare the living wits out of you.

Seconds tick by feeling as long as minutes and you are about to combust in flames or leave your position to follow him when he appears again, a little devilish smile on his lips and a white toy in his hands.

You are familiar with what he has brought back from behind that door but you have never used it before, you didn’t think it would work on you, just like everything else.

Taehyung walks slowly between your legs again and he stretches his arm behind your back, seeking for a plug for the magic wand.

The toy comes to life in his hands and you shiver in anticipation as he faces you again, eyes glinting with mischief.

“I’m going to send you to heaven,” he hoarsely declares and you find yourself spreading your legs wider for him, ready to take everything he has to give.

The first touch of the toy on your clitoris sends a jolt to course through your body and your knuckles turn white as you grip hard the counter’s edge, bracing yourself for the ride he has in store for you.

Taehyung is silent as he works the wand’s head on your little mound but the sound of the toy working its magic is enough to fill the room, nicely accompanied by your sighs of ecstasy.

His free hand comes in contact with one of yours and you let go of your tight hold on the counter, following his directions until you are the one balancing the wand on your sex.

“Keep it right there, yes, just like that.”

Your heart leaps in your chest at the praise and with entranced eyes, you watch him get back on his knees.

Your breath itches in your chest as two of his fingers move past your dripping lips, resuming their work as before you came all over them.

Taehyung works slowly and with utter precision and you can feel his digits slightly pressing over your most hidden pleasurable spot and you whimper out for him, letting him know how close he is to his target.

You expect him to rub into you faster, forcing another orgasm out of you but he actually retreats with a little smirk. He is up to tease you, you realize, and you can’t find in yourself the will to protest when it still feels so darn good.

Another one of his fingers moves past your folds and you quiver at the sensation of the deep stretching, relishing in the way they nicely curl within you.

You don’t know if it’s because the magic wand is working wonders on your clitoris but now, even the movements of his fingers feel like heaven and that, is a whole another level of accomplishments Taehyung has achieved in barely two days.

You can hear the squelching sounds of your sex as he fucks into you with his fingers, now relentlessly battering your insides with the evident goal of turning your world upside down again.

His free hand comes in contact with your own atop the sex toy and with utter precision he twists the settings upwards, increasing the speed of its vibrations.

Your eyes roll on the back of your head and your body starts to spasmodically contract. His fingers ravage into you faster, hitting that desired spot he had caressed before and you come, oh Lord you come in a cacophony of sounds and screams.

You almost drop the wand as you madly quiver on the counter and it’s only because his hand is keeping the toy in place that you do not do so.

The orgasm seems endless and it keeps coming and coming until you are breathless and your body feels as heavy as a boulder.

You can barely register the absence of both the toy and his fingers at first, too lost into the haze of pleasure to notice or to care. It is only when his arms are tightly engulfing you that you notice the change and you open your eyes, looking up to his pleased face.

“That was amazing,” you confess and you hate that it will burst his ego to exorbitant levels but lying doesn’t really come simply when you’re still trembling over a nice set of orgasms.

“You realize you just lost our bet, don’t you, peach?”

His breath feels hot and ticklish on your ear and you tilt your head backward away from his face so that you can look into his eyes.

“Do you honestly think I even care now?”

He smiles and places a soft kiss on your lips, hugging you closer in what feels like a very soft aftercare moment.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t. Because you have to stick up to your end of the bargain now.”

“Taehyung,” you softly say, releasing one of your arms from his hold to caress his face, “As long as you can make me feel as good as you did now I will be coming back every day.”

He smiles a pleased smile and you can tell he wants to retort something witty or teasing or quite possibly both but he doesn’t and you are glad for it. You wouldn’t want to ruin the moment, after all.

“We are not done, though,” you say after a while and he quirks his eyebrows upwards.

“Still thirsty, peach?”

Oh, how you love how quickly he switches back to his role and you tilt your head upwards, a soft smile on your lips.

“I didn’t get to feel daddy’s dick yet,” you say as your hand trails down from his cheek to his still clothed sex.

The erection twitches in your palm and the corners of your lips lift up as you notice how hard he feels pressed against your digits.

“Mh,” he hums slowly, closing his eyes as you finally turn your attention to his neglected cock, “Are you sure you’re ready for it?”

“Yes, please.”

Your response comes out in a quick breath and he licks your lips in response, kissing you right after to steal the air out of your lungs.

“I can make you feel real good, daddy,” you say, boldness laced in your words and he chuckles, releasing his hold on you to take a step back.

“Then show me what you got, peach.”

Taehyung doesn’t have to repeat his words twice before you are back on your own two feet — and admittedly you do need a few seconds to get your legs to work again — ready to undress him and make him crumble as hard as he did to you.

Your hands are quick to tug onto his shirt, forcing the button opens with one single swift movement. His mouth opens in protest as the sound of loose buttons falling on the ground reaches his ears but no words come out once it’s your lips that kiss his warm skin.

Your mouth seems to fill with the taste of honey and you can’t decide whether it is the actual taste of his body or, rather, if it is only a fruit of your own mind associating his golden skin to the sweet liquid’s flavour. Nevertheless, he tastes absolutely delicious and you cannot help but suck on the tender flesh, hard enough to bloom flowers atop his chest.

“What a nice mouth you have there, peach,” he murmurs and you smirk on his now covered-in-saliva torso.

“Oh, daddy, I haven’t shown you yet what my pretty mouth can do.”

Taehyung grunts at your evident suggestion and you fall on your knees instantly at the sound, fighting with the button of his pants, eager to finally please him.

You pause for a second recalling how seeing him half naked has almost made you gag yesterday and how now you seem to be unable to wait for him to be bare of any item of clothing. Oh what can change in a span of twenty-four hours, you think to yourself before pushing down his pants.

Taehyung stands in front of you in nothing but his underwear — a simple pair of boxer briefs that have nothing to do with the flimsy thong he flashed you with yesterday — and you open your mouth in awe at the evident bulge hardly concealed under it.

“Like what you see, peach?” He muses and you can hear the smile in his voice but find yourself incapable of looking away from his crotch.

“Very,” you hum in response before your fingers are latching onto the hem of his boxers, ready to reveal what is hidden behind them.

You have never been this eager to see a cock nor to suck it but oh, does Taehyung change everything.

When the fine cloth moves past his hips you inhale deeply, your eyes transfixed on the trail of pubic hair leading to his sex. The boxers fall to his ankles as you let them go, your mouth suddenly dry as you stare at his dick, hard and red and definitely ready to be touched.

You water your mouth a few times before tentatively touching the hot flesh, your fingers encompassing his length with the uncertainty that you feel within your heart.

You have given pleasure to a man before, eager to have some in return if you were good enough but this time, even this feels different for Taehyung has proven to be quite the experienced lover and a big part of you desires to impress him.

His breath hitches in his lungs and you finally lift your gaze to look at his face. His mouth is hanging open, his eyes boring into yours as you finally move your hand alongside his shaft, giving him what he has been desperately craving for all along.

Your mouth twists into a smile at his response and you turn your movements bolder, more confident and, you watch him tilt his head back, his eyes closing at the sensation your fingers provide.

Your thumb rubs against his head to gather his pre-cum and he hisses as you blow hot air onto its tip, teasing him enough to turn him eager.

“Fuck, be a good girl and let me feel your mouth now.”

His voice is rough and deep as he speaks those lewd words and you find yourself immediately obliging to his wishes, throwing your chance of retaliation in the form of teasing out of the window.

Your mouth opens for him and you fix your gaze up to his face again while looking as innocent and coy as you can muster.

You bat your eyelashes at him, your tongue protruding forward ready to welcome the weight of his cock on its rough surface.

Taehyung takes that as a cue to place his hand atop your head, his fingers tugging at your strands of hair to push you forward until you are breathing atop his sex, just an inch away from engulfing him all.

You are the one to take that step forward and as soon as your lips brush his length he releases his breath, his body almost relaxing now that he has been granted his utmost desire.

Your teeth graze his tender skin and you push yourself further, inch after inch until your nose is tickled by his pubic hair and he is panting in approval.

Your lips enclose his member and you inhale deeply, squeezing your cheeks until his fingers start pulling your hair in a vise that makes tears gather in your eyes.

He huffs as his abdomen contracts and you tentatively bob your head whilst releasing your grip around his twitching cock.

The sigh that escapes his mouth sounds like both relief and pleasure and you settle your pace for a pretty gentle one, designed to bring him up to his breaking point as slowly as possible.

“You’re doing so good, peach,” he encourages with voice sounding deep and rough with need and you hum around him to produce goosebumps on his skin.

Your mouth and tongue make lewd sounds as you suck him hard as if his member were an icicle during the very first days of summer and you wish to savor every last drop of the cooling treat.

You have never felt desire blooming between your legs while doing this to other men but tonight, you find yourself rubbing your thighs together every time he hums or sighs or grunts for you.

The need is like a burning fire and it forces you to rest a hand atop your sex to get some of the friction you seem desperate to feel there.

You are able to only press your digits on your clitoris a couple of times before he is made aware of what you are doing.

“Are you touching yourself right now?” He asks and you can’t tell by his tone if he’s more aroused by the act or mad that you did something without asking him first.

Your mouth opens around his cock just enough for you to hum in shame, your eyes fixing on his belly rather than on his eyes.

“What a dirty little girl have you turned into,” he muses and you find the courage to lift up your gaze. The smile that resides on his lips makes your insides twitch and your heart tremble for it promises all the right kinds of wickedness.

“Come here,” he instructs and you leave his member with a lewd pop to get up on your feet and follow him as he drags you further inside the shop.

There appears to be a small niche you hadn’t notice before, right beside the counter and he guides you through it until you are standing face to face with the most bizarre-looking toys you have ever seen.

Taehyung doesn’t address your amazed face in the slightest and silently walks you in front of a mirror, hastily pushing you down to your previous position.

You look up at him with confusion written all over your face and he caresses your left cheek delicately.

“We are going to have so much fun, now,” he says and you nod your head in anticipation, ready to follow his instructions impeccably.

“On your fours,” he says and you follow suit, pressing your hands to the tiled floor and sticking your butt out for good measure.

“Can you look behind your back, peach?” He softly speaks, light glinting in his eyes, and you follow his gaze to be met with a dildo attached to a mirror, perfectly aligned with your ass and, most importantly, your dripping core.

Taehyung moves out of your peripheral vision and you let out a shaky breath as you try to register all his movements with the help of your hearing.

He reappears in your view through the mirror, a pink bottle of lube in his hands you squeeze your legs together in anticipation, already foretasting the pleasure that is about to be sent your way.

Taehyung works as slowly as he possibly can with his fingers, coating the dildo for you at the best of his abilities and you know for a fact that he is doing it on purpose, trying to push you past your tolerance point and Lord, is he getting so damn close.

Just as you are about to snap he gets back on his own two feet, a pleased sound leaving his lips as his gaze focuses back on you.

“Now, be a good girl and fuck yourself with that dildo for daddy.”

His words make all the blood in your body coil down to your stomach, forcing your insides to twitch in excitement and you do not waste even a single second to align yourself to the object responsible for your imminent pleasure.

The dildo feels like any other phallic-looking toy you have used before and you sink onto it with rather ease, helped by the lube and your incredible arousal but the magic seems to happen the second Taehyung’s dick is well encompassed by your mouth again.

You resume your slow bobbing pace around him as if it was never interrupted in the first place but, this time, it is not your head that moves for him, it’s your entire body.

Taehyung stands at a distance that forces you to push your body forward and as you do that, you can feel the toy slipping in and out of you at the same time.

This, is foreign ground again and his little sighs spark you up anew, convincing you to leave behind your initial idea of being gentle and slow and teasing and opt for a rather quicker and rougher pace.

You can feel your own saliva trailing down your chin and pool on the ground but it seems to be only an incentive for you to go harder, relishing in the sounds of approval that leave his swollen mouth.

The faster you move around his shaft the faster the silicone toy batters your sex and you find yourself humming all around him, sending the vibrations up and down his spine, forcing him to moan out your name and tilt his head backward in utter pleasure.

You watch his abdomen contract almost painfully and the vision sparks a question to form in your head and, a few seconds after, on your lips.

Your hips come to a halt, allowing you to let go of his member just enough to voice out your thoughts.

“Would you like to come in my mouth, daddy?” You sugar-coat your words and bat your lashes for good measure and he grunts at the sight of you, so willing to do anything he’d want from you.

“Such a good dirty girl,” he hums, one of his hands releasing its grip from your hair to caress your cheek lovingly and you smile at the fond gesture before quickly engulfing his head into your lips and suck hard on the leaking red tip.

Taehyung groans at the sensation, his body shivering as pleasure spreads through it like a wave you can almost make out the outline of.

You buckle your hips into the toy to quench your own arousal and in a matter of seconds, you have him on the verge of his orgasm, panting and sighing and murmuring encouraging words.

You discard your own purchase on the ground to grasp his ass with your fingers, forcefully pushing his hips to meet your mouth while surely leaving marks on his cheeks that he’d definitely complain about later but, in the heat of the moment, every single one of your actions seems to stir up the fire further.

Your jaw is slack as he starts pounding into you, no more willing to let you decide the pace you are more comfortable in sustaining and it truly takes a lot of work to not gag around him or suffocate on your own spit.

Taehyung comes in hot bursts that take you by surprise but you’re still quick to gulp everything down, ignoring the burning sensation or the tears forming in your eyes because, truly, it is almost a struggle to breathe by now and yet, as he comes moaning out your name you find it impossible for you to care about anything else that isn’t him or his pleasure.

The taste of cum is not pleasant, it never was and it probably will never be but you find it is not quite as disgusting as it tasted before when you were performing your “duty” as a sexual partner. Pleasuring Taehyung is a pleasure in itself and you find yourself licking up your lips as you would do after a satisfying meal.

Taehyung’s hands are warm and turn soft again around your body as he easily lifts you up from the ground to welcome you into his arms.

Your head finds refuge in the crook of his neck and he kisses your temple as your breathing starts slowing down alongside with the hammering within your chest.

One of his hands moves to touch your cheek just like he has done a few moments ago but this time it is to make you look up into his eyes.

His irises as dark as the night sky are fixed upon your face but you can’t pinpoint what the light in his eyes could possibly mean. That is until his lips seek your own and you find yourself leaning into him to kiss him back.

Taehyung kisses you with the despair of a man that knows this is his last chance and with the sweetness of one that has won your heart and, Lord, does it turn your legs into jelly.

He makes you feel like that teenage girl dreaming about boyfriends and first kisses in the safety of her room, he makes you feel like that young girl who used to sneak out of her house in the night to go to a party with her best friend and dance all night until her feet hurt. He makes you feel like the girl you used to be before the city sucked you in and turned you into this sad and stiffer version of yourself. A pale reflection of what you used to be, of the things you used to dream.

When Taehyung leaves your mouth you are panting and you are quite certain your eyes must be glossy with unshed tears.

His thumb strokes your cheek and you tilt your head to the side to look at him better.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper as you start mimicking his sweet touches with your own hand.

He chuckles and shakes his head looking rather bewildered. ”Didn’t I do that already, tonight?” He asks and you smile back at him, shaking your head in return.

“I want you to truly fuck me,” you retort, voice barely above a whisper for you never thought you’d ever pronounce those words to him, of all people, “I want to feel you inside of me.”

You try to ignore the way your heart hammers in your chest or the way your insides contract in embarrassment and your ears turn flaming hot under his gaze.

There is a fraction of a second where you wish you could take it back and simply walk out the front door and forget any of this ever happened but then, something shifts inside Taehyung’s eyes and you instantly know, the words you have spoken are the ones he had been waiting for all night.

His hands turn from gentle to rough again against your supple flesh and you yelp in both surprise and pain as he yanks you up on his shoulder, dragging you back where it all started.

Your bottom cheeks hit the cooling surface of the counter again and you can barely utter a single word before Taehyung’s mouth is seeking your own, teeth and tongue working to pry your lips open and claim your taste until it almost seems to become the one he is embodied with.

“Tell me how badly you want my dick,” he whispers, voice hoarse as he instantly attacks the soft skin under your ear, sucking and pinching the flesh in a fine mixture of pleasure and ache — a combo your neck seems to be sharing with your sex.

“So, so bad, daddy, please.”

Taehyung hands force your legs open so that he can stand between them and you let him, arching your back a little to push your hips forward and meet the heat of his semi-hard cock.

His fingers are rough against your skin and they love to torment your thighs and hips and even the little curve of your bottom cheeks that he has access to.

His mouth is generous on your breasts and you mewl for him, pulling him in with your fervent touch and your wanton desire.

Your fingers find purchase on his hair and you tug on them until he growls and bites your skin in retaliation, making you chuckle at his child-like temper.

Your other hand, though, sneaks right past his control and before he can even register the movement, your fingers are laced around his member.

His mouth opens in a silent moan as you trace his length with your warm finger and a wicked smirk twists your lips.

You buckle your hips forward and hook your legs around his own, trapping him right in front of your sex and barely a few inches away from being exactly where you need him to be the most.

“I don’t remember saying you could touch me,” he grunts, trying to regain the control over the situation and assess his dominating role anew.

“Are you complaining?” You ask in a whisper as you guide his cock towards your sex whilst still coaxing it into erection with the slow movements of your fingers.

His sex meets your swollen and dripping lips and they engulf it nicely, coating it with your arousal as you stroke him with both your flushed flesh and your lavish fingers.

One of his hands flies to your face and grasps both of your cheeks, squeezing them until you lift your gaze up to him.

“Don’t forget who is in charge here, peach,” his voice is low and it makes you shiver for all the right reasons and damn, you have never desired to disobey someone’s orders as much as you do now. There is this part of you that relishes in the thought of Taehyung punishing you and it’s that emerging side of you that makes your hand move faster on his sex with a taunting smile on your lips.

“Are you?” You ask, lifting your chin up against his grasp, “Then show me.”

His hand leaves your face to slap away the one around his cock with a sound smack that stings your skin and makes your insides twitch.

“After I’m done with you, you will think again before defying me,” he promises with a growl before slapping your sex, rough and strong.

You yelp in surprise, pain and excitement all mixing into one and you can do nothing to hide the way your body quivers at his touch nor the way your breath has turned quick and shallow in anticipation for what is out to come.

His hand slaps your sex again and you moan loud for him, tilting your head backward as your eyes close, your mind unable to focus on neither the pain nor the pleasure.

When your eyelids flutter open again you are quick to notice the way his cock is fully erected now, finally awoken by the sounds of your mouth and the ones of your battered sex, aching for his touch.

“Lie on your back,” he instructs and this time you follow suit, shivering as the cooling surface of the counter is flushed against your feverish skin.

“You are not allowed to come until I tell you so, do you understand?”

A sound of frustration leaves your lips at the thought of having to hold back and, a part of you wonders if you are even capable of doing so.

“Do you understand?” He repeats, his voice sounding strict and rough, almost mad, and you wet your lips before nodding your head eyes. This time, you do not want to think about what his punishment would be like for, a part of you already knows you wouldn’t be able to endure it. Especially not now that you are already so desperate for release.

Taehyung’s cock intrudes your sex without any warning and your eyes close at the sensation whilst a grunt escapes your lips. You cannot conceal the way his girth stings inside of you when it happens so quickly and all at once, allowing you very little room to adjust.

Taehyung stays still inside of you, coaxing your sex with the movement of his fingers on your clit, urging your walls to relax around him.

A sigh erupts from your parted lips and you close your eyes, willing your body to relax and let his fingers do their work on you.

“Just like that, peach, take a big deep breath for daddy,” his face conceals perfectly well how hard he is struggling to keep himself still but his voice fails to do so, reaching your ears in a gruff and strained tone.

You want to see that wall he has put on crumble and show what’s really hiding behind it, you want to see his face morph into one of pleasure and you want to be the one responsible for it.

You move your hips upwards, ignoring the sting that comes with it just to make him flinch, lose his composure and simply fuck you like he so evidently desires to.

“Careful, peach, or you won’t be able to walk once I’m done with you,” he grunts, stilling the movements of your hips with his strong hands, his eyes burning with both desire and displeasure.

“Who said I want to?” You ask in a whisper and oh, do your words shoot right through his barrier, making it crumble like a castle’s tower under the force of a cannonball.

Taehyung rolls his hips into you and you whimper for him, a fine mixture of both pain and pleasure. Up until this moment, you had no idea you had a thing for pain and being used by someone but Taehyung sparks all of this within you and, soon enough, that subtle pain is subdued by arousal, need and, furthermore, pleasure at its finest.

His pace is slow, calculated, but the way his hips push into yours is not delicate nor sweet at all. It’s raw passion and it makes you sigh and whimper for him, it makes your body quiver and contract and it’s marvelous to discover what sex can feel like, what it should feel like and, for a brief moment, you find yourself hanging on the verge of tears.

Taehyung’s charcoal eyes stare into your own and a playful smirk tugs on his lips as he notices the way your eyes shine with unshed tears and the way you can’t help but voice out your pleasure for anyone nearby to hear.

“Does it feel good, peach?” He asks, voice slightly taunting but you can’t find it in yourself to think of a witty rebuttal, not when your thoughts are all hazy and rendered inconclusive by the pressure between your legs.

“Y-yes,” you whimper out and he attaches his swollen lips to the feverish skin of your neck, sucking on the supple flesh with such force you know you are going to bare the signs of this encounter in the morning.

Taehyung seems to be able to read your body to perfection: he grants you what you need before you can even ask for it, he kisses and touches every inch of skin that could add fuel to the burning fire building within you, he says lewd words that he knows are going to arouse you even more. So, it does not come as a surprise that he can tell when you are going to come as well.

“You’re not allowed to come just yet,” he says and you whimper in frustration, your voice pleading because after craving an orgasm for so long in your life, you simply do not want to postpone that heaven-like feeling any longer.

“Please,” you plea, your eyes searching for his and he halts his movements in response, drawing a strangled grunt out of you.

“Now, now, you spent all your life waiting for this, what’s a minute longer?” He teases, his index finger tracing the expanse of your chest and you swear to God, if your pending orgasm wasn’t on the line, you’d be biting that finger off of his hand right about now.

“Taehyung,” you whimper miserably and he seeks your eyes, tilting his head to the side as he notices a tear running down your left cheek, the orgasm denial hitting you far more than he must have anticipated for he frowns and then pouts, deep in thought.

His mouth opens, his lips shaping into the words he wants to say but something in your eyes seems to suggest him otherwise and, before you know it, his dick is firmly stroking your walls anew, the pace relentless as he seeks out the pleasure you begged him for.

Your breath hitches, your back arches for him and your eyes close as you lose yourself into the feeling of being owned anew. Tonight you discover it’s a feeling quite intoxicating and one you desire with all your being to experience more and more.

“Is it coming, peach?” He asks in a grunt, your walls contracting around him affecting him more than he would ever care to admit and you sigh out a ‘yes’ before your whole body starts to quiver, the orgasm almost taking you by surprise, washing over your entire body like an electric shock.

You do not realize the moans and whimpers that fill the silence of the room are your very own until your eyes are opening again, the over-stimulation between your legs drowning out the last remains of your climax.

���Fuck, that was hot,” Taehyung whispers mostly to himself, his pupils extremely dilated with excitement and all of it makes you feel greatly empowered because he is not immune to you at all, just as much as you are evidently not immune to him.

Your thoughts are scattered by his hands, suddenly grabbing your hips, and the instant loss of his dick within your sex. Your mouth opens to voice out a question but the words die in your mouth as soon as you understand where his intentions lay.

You follow the quick and rough guide of his hands and turn around for him, pushing your chest down to meet the cold surface of the counter, partly sleek with the results of your arousal.

You arch your back a little, pushing your butt out for him to have better access to your sex and that is all it takes from your part for him to intrude your core anew, battering your sensitive spot with grand precision whilst chasing his own release.

One of his hands grabs your hair roughly, pulling upwards until your neck is tilted backward and you can almost see his face and the way it morphs with pleasure.

You bite down your lip as you drink up all the sounds he makes and the ones that come from your squelching sex, fully welcoming him with a new coat of arousal. You had no idea people could come so many times in a single night but as he pounds in and out of you, you feel the golden sensation spreading through your limbs anew, making you whimper and contract for him.

“Listen to yourself,” he huffs, his voice almost trembling with the effort to keep his pace steady, “Mewling for my cock like a slut.”

You groan in response, closing your eyes as you push your hips back to meet his own, eager to make him come as vigorously as you did.

“Yes, like that peach, fuck my cock until I fill you whole... would you like that, uh? To feel my hot cum inside of you.”

“Y-yes,” you whimper out, forcing your hips to meet his relentless pace, smacking your butt onto his firm stomach.

“Look at you,” he presses forward, “Already turned into a cock-slut.”

The orgasm arrives with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs, his words ringing in your ears as you tremble under his body.

Even with your mind adrift in heaven, you can sense the way his hips start to stagger, losing their tempo as he meets his own release.

Taehyung’s moans are rough and deep and they quickly morph into the sound of your name. The warm feeling that spreads within your chest at the sound has nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with fondness. It is a dangerous feeling, you realize it immediately but, as soon as he’s hugging you close to his chest, struggling to balance his breathing and calm the quick pace of his heart, you let every rational thought hide back in the recess of your mind.

The minutes tick by in silence, only your mingling breaths filling up the room as you both gain back the control over your own limbs and it’s with the definite end of the blissful feelings that what happened tonight dawns to you. You had sex with your best friend over a bet. Hell, you lost the bet and this means this, right here, is only the beginning.

Panic surges quickly through your body and in the span of a few seconds you untangle yourself from him and dress back up at the best of your abilities.

“Why are you running away, ___?”

The sound of your name almost sounds foreign on his mouth when he has spent the entire night calling you everything but.

“I can’t exactly spend the night here, can I?” You ask, opening your arms to make him aware of the fact that this, despite your recent activities, is still a shop and very far from being a bedroom.

“Fair.” He says, leaning to the counter with one of his shoulders, smirking as he watches you get back into your shoes, ready to leave.

“You do realize you lost our bet, right?” He asks, a smirk firmly drawn on his lips, “You’ll have to keep your promise.”

“You motherfucking pig,” you hiss, picking up your purse ready to throw it at him, “I fucking hate you.”

He gingerly laughs, shaking his head with that annoying smirk still plastered all over his features, “You don’t hate all of me, though.”

His eyes take a quick lock to his cock and you roll your eyes, feigning to be gagging on thin air but you both know, you don’t even mean half of the resentment you are displaying to him.

As you turn on your heels and basically run to the door the only sound that accompanies you is his laugh and the embarrassment that it induces within you.

The sound of the door closing roughly behind your back is what ultimately cuts down that laugh and you sigh with relief, briskly walking away from Taehyung’s shop with your heart hammering in your chest for all the wrong reasons — will twenty hours be really this excruciatingly slow to pass?

Copyright © 2018 by jeonggukingdom. All rights reserved.

#btssmutclub #bangtanbookclub #taehyung smut #taehyung crack #taehyung x reader #bts smut #bts crack #bts x reader #bts imagine #bts scenario #taehyung imagine #taehyung scenario

[eussoros]

The Untamed/MDZS grad school reincarnation AU (hereafter abbreviated gsau) master post

@thefearofcod

wwx doesn’t come back, lwj dies of old age alone, THEY GET REINCARNATED AND MEET IN GRAD SCHOOL GETTING HISTORY DEGREES

Wei Ying is a massively studying Hanguang-Jun, who lived about a thousand years ago

And Lan Zhan is out here ending every paper with “And furthermore I believe Yiling Laozu was not a war criminal.”

Lwj is reading something about the Yiling Patriarch aloud and Wei Ying is like “Nah, he wouldn’t sound like that, you gotta ham it up, like this--”

Wwx: reads something Hanguang-Jun wrote

WWX: Wow that’s so romantic….. I want that

LWJ: (taking notes) mhmm

There are entire books of music Hanguang-Jun wrote for Yiling Laozu after the latter’s death. WWX knows them all. He hums them when he’s thinking.

LWJ: I wrote my thesis on Yiling Laozu

WWX, vibrating: i wanna talk to you about that an extremely normal amount

Zewu-Jun ended up writing an extensive treatise on the ethics of cultivation, at some point LWJ and WWX do a joint project on it.

WWX watches crappy period pieces, gets winedrunk, cries whenever Hanguang-Jun is onscreen

Everyone: We think cultivation is a metaphor maybe

WWX, on his fifth cup of coffee in the student lounge: WANNA FIGHT ABOUT IT

Yanli and Xichen are friends. They have tea and bitch about their idiots.

WWX gets LWJ drunk. LWJ goes off on this rant about how Yiling Laozu did no war crimes. WWX listens intently. Then he interrupts. “Wait-- There’s a gap in your argument. Have you not read the document which records the aftermath of the Sunshot Campaign?” 

LWJ is like “Whaaaaat?”

WWX: “Yeah, the Twin Jades and Yiling Patriarch were about the only people not committing war crimes.”

LWJ: “Marry me.”

LWJ: “No, better, WRITE A PAPER WITH ME.”

WWX: “Hey Lan Zhan, what if Yiling Laozu just got everyone high on, like, all of the drugs?”

LWJ: “...I’m divorcing you.”

WWX: “Noooo we’re not even married yet!”

Starbucks:

LWJ: none, makes his own coffee, has a portable espresso maker.

WWX: white girl coffee milkshakes with a terrifying number of espresso shots

LXC: matcha lattes

JC: regular coffee, hates it

Jiang Yanli: chai lattes, she and Xichen bond over being the only fucking adults in the room

Meng Yao is the barista. He makes eyes at Xichen and always does his order first. Xichen is like “I can’t ask him out, he’s at work.” Everyone else is like “Please ask him out he is going to poison us if you don’t.”

Xiao Xingchen orders flat whites. Song Lan orders black coffee.

Xue Yang orders the most obnoxious thing possible. Xue Yang orders fucking unicorn frappicchinos. He doesn’t even like them. He takes two sips and bins it. Looks MY right in the eyes. It’s probably for the best, really, given MY has been lacing his drinks with laxatives ever since XY bumped into Xichen a few weeks ago.

To draw: LXC flustered, completely failing to give a coherent drink order, while MY just smiles at him. In the background, WWX slurps his pumpkin spice something loudly.

They all have their period-correct hair length because yes.

Neither god nor anime can stop me putting WWX in a French braid.

LXC wears blue suits, usually with the jacket unbuttoned. MY saw him wearing a set of baby blue warmups once and about died. LXC is a business major or something. But he’s up on his history because he’s a huge nerd and also apparently Wangji babbles at him sometimes. And he’s nice. So the history majors adopted him. Even though he wears suits.

WWX has six different slightly ratty black hoodies. No one can tell them apart. Well, LWJ can, but he claims not to be able to because it drives WWX mad.

LWJ wears white slacks, buttondown, and a white waistcoat embroidered with outlines of clouds in ice blue. And white Oxfords. Both of the Lan bros wear matching silver necklaces.

Yanli is made of cardigans in soothing pastels.

NHS is getting a mfa and crushing it. He’s WWX’s roommate. His brother is Xichen’s business classmate.

NHS, drunk on WWX’s floor: “Dude… dude I’m gonna. I’m gonna draw Lan Zhan as Hanguang-Jun.”

WWX: “I Will Pay You To Do This.”

NHS: “Holy shit I can get paid for this?”

Xichen, there as Designated Thinker: “Statistically unlikely, but I believe in you and encourage you to chase your best life.”

LWJ: *is drunk and passed out on WWX’s bed*

NHS draws the Squad as historical figures.

NHS: “Obviously Wei Ying gets to be Yiling Laozu.”

WWX: “Wait what why?”

NHS: “Because Lan Zhan is obsessed with you and with Yiling Laozu. Hey Lan Zhan, don’t you think Wei Ying would make a cute Yiling Laozu?”

LWJ: Silently flustered, consumed with lust.

Xichen: “You were complaining the other day that most depictions ignore the fact that Yiling Laozu was described as a remarkably handsome young man…”

LWJ: *glares silently* “Yes…”

LWJ carries around his guqin in its case like a band kid.

WWX can and will assemble working flutes from dining hall straws.

When NHS is doing portraits of the Squad as historical figures, he gets around to doing the Lan bros as the Twin Jades of Lan, because yes. And LWJ is like “The headbands were sacred, it doesn’t feel right to steal that.” He is Distressed about this. Xichen is like “What if instead of the cloud emblem, NHS put our necklaces on the headbands instead?” Something something what’s more sacred than the brother you love.

WWX, drunk during finals: “Lan Zhan what is Lan Suzhui was like. Hanguang-Jun and Yiling Laozu’a son?”

LWJ, outlining an argument: “yeah”

Sometimes they end up in the same seminar. They fight each other for fun in class so they can each get the best argument. Everyone is like “Wow Wei Ying and Lan Zhan hate each other.” NHS is like “What are you talking about, they’ve been dating since freshman year.” Their arguments sometimes carry over into the dining hall and Xichen, Yanli, and NHS sit there munching popcorn and keeping score.

The Lan bros have an apartment. It is The Most Refined. The first time WWX visits he immediately faceplants his dusty self into the middle of the floor. “Lan Zhaaaaaaaan research is hard.”

LWJ is very uncomfortable drinking around people he doesn’t trust completely. People pressure him to do shots at parties. WWX saunters in and appoints himself Lan Zhan’s designated drinker. He still somehow drinks everyone else under the table.

WWX: I’m drinking for two

LWJ: That’s not how that works at all, but okay

LWJ drags a very cuddly WWX back to his dorm. WWX is crying about Hanguang-Jun all the way.

WWX, absolutely destroyed: Lan Zhan, do you think Hanguang-Jun gave good hugs?

LWJ: not as good as mine *hug*

Lan Bros apartment is best place for naps. WWX abuses the heck out of his visiting privileges for this. He’s just always asleep on the floor. And not just ‘cause Lan Zhan wakes him up by petting his hair.

Xichen is like “Wei Ying there’s a very comfortable couch right there.”

WWX is like “Yeah but you can’t roll off the floor.”

They think he’s joking until NHS confirms that WWX rolls out of his bed in the middle of the night at least once a week.

#au notes #eussoros writes a fic

[astralaffairs]

put a ring on it 02 | philip hamilton

title: put a ring on it 02

pairing: philip hamilton x reader

tags: @stargazelaurens @ivory-haired-queens @exoticxchicken8 @assbuttstyles777 @superbarriobrothers lmk if you want to be added to tags

words: 4.7k

warnings: philip’s abs, on multiple occasions; alex and y/n being nerds; uncomfortable pda; it took me literally 11 months to update OOPS

desc: You've never liked Philip Hamilton, and have always assumed the feeling has been mutual. But when you're roped into pretending to be his girlfriend for a family reunion, you feel all your truths beginning to melt away, and find them instead taking form in his smile.

Three McDonalds drive-thrus and two orders of Starbucks later, along with one stop for junk food at a gas station, you were driving down the road where Philip's house was, struggling to keep your eyes open despite the music he was blasting to counteract the late night. The combination of his obnoxiously loud singing and occasionally shoving your shoulder when he saw you beginning to space out was almost as endearing as it was annoying -- almost -- though you still wanted the ride to be over as soon as possible.

"Hamilton, you have got to turn that off," you groaned, taking a hand off the steering wheel to pinch the bridge of your nose. "You're giving me a migraine."

"Better angry than asleep." He grinned at you as you spared him an exasperated glance, and you immediately regretted it, turning back to the road with a scoff.

"How far away are we?"

He chuckled. "Just a few blocks down. This street turns into my street pretty soon."

"You better be right," you said, voice low, and he furrowed his brow.

"What was that?" he asked, his voice raised slightly over the blasting music. You pursed your lips, slamming your hand against the radio's power button while never taking your eyes off the road.

"I said, you're an asshole," you grumbled, raising your voice to match his.

"Aw, c'mon Y/N, you haven't been dating me for the past two years 'cause you hate me." You could hear the grin in his voice and resisted the urge to roll your eyes, knowing it would only enable him.

You rode the rest of the way in relative silence, save the tattoo of rain on your car roof and the steady squeak of your windshield wipers.

"What'd you say the address was?" you asked, slowing down as you approached where he grew up and furrowing your brow to look out at the houses surrounding you. He pressed his lips into a thin line.

"Don't think I mentioned it. It's this next one up here."

I couldn't help my eyes widening at the near-mansion in front of us. "The blue one? With all the lights?"

He nodded. "Mom must've left the lights on 'cause she knew we were getting here late."

You clucked your tongue as you began to pull into the long driveway, your eyes wide as you checked out the front of the house. "You really don't let on to how rich you are."

"At least I know you're not using me for my money." You didn't even bother to glance at what you knew was him grinning to your right.

"Shut up." You were somewhere between too tired and too awestruck to come up with a proper response as you reached the front door at the top of the curved driveway. You pulled your hood up over your head with a huff, though you knew it wouldn't stop you from being soaked in seconds in the downpour outside. You rested your hand on the door handle as you stared out the window uneasily, hesitant to leave the dry warmth of your car, and that was when Philip rested a hand on your arm.

You immediately turned with raised eyebrows to swat it off, but as you met his expression that didn't wear either a smirk or an obnoxious grin, but a soft (and strangely reassuring?) smile, you couldn't bring yourself to. Instead, you raised an eyebrow, and he spoke before you could.

"I'll get the bags. Just go to the porch and get out of the rain," he said, lifting his hand off you as he unbuckled his seatbelt, before reaching for the handle of the door next to him.

"No, Hamilton, it's fine; I can get my own bag," you said dismissively as you moved to leave the car, but Philip just pulled you back toward him in the driver's seat.

"Don't worry about it, baby; I've got them," he said with an exaggerated wink. He moved to kiss you on the cheek, but you leaned out of his range of motion with a look of disgust. He only leaned back to his side of the car with a laugh. "And remember love, it's Philip to you."

He shot you a wink as he pushed the car door open, ducking out into the downpour. You bit your lip. He was soaked to the skin in seconds, and the poor sap had worn nothing but a tan t-shirt. You slowly pushed open your door, it clicking as it undid the lock, and rain quickly began to blow into where you sat. You grimaced as you glanced back at Philip.

He dragged a hand through his curls to push it out of his face, spraying water behind him as he opened your trunk. His thin tee stuck to him like a second skin, and you subconsciously sucked your bottom lip in between your teeth as your eyes trailed down to an outline of defined abs, flexing and clenching with his movements, only just visible in the dark under the porch lights. It wasn't long before he noticed you peeking out of the driver's seat, and he creased his dripping brow at you.

"What are you doing? Get to the porch!" he yelled over the drum of rain. You swallowed hard as you averted your gaze to the ground and pulled yourself out of the car. You slammed the door shut behind you and darted toward the short entryway of Philip's childhood home.

The door had a short path leading up to it, beginning with pillars and covered by an arched ceiling. You squinted, furrowing your brow. The marble pillars seemed just a little bit much, but you couldn't bring yourself to mind particularly, all things considered, especially as you ducked under said cover and waited for Philip to bring your bags.

Your knees trembled and your teeth chattered as you folded your arms, trying to keep heat in despite the cold water seeping into your clothes. Philip walked up next to you moments later with your suitcase, and you pulled out your keys to lock your car.

"Thanks, Hamilton." He handed you the handle of the rolling bag with a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Philip."

"Thanks, Philip," you corrected yourself with a sigh, your tone softening slightly due to the sincerity of his expression.

"Don't mention it." He winked, pulling his bag to walk past you, but slowed as he came next to you, leaning down slightly. "Enjoying the view back there, though, hm?" he asked under his breath, and your head snapped up, eyes wide, to look at his smug smile and raised brow.

You suddenly felt as though the wind had been knocked out of you, stomach doing a somersault. He was close to you -- too close -- and a teasing, mischievous glint shone in his honey-brown eyes, as your head began to spin. You didn't like how close his mouth was to yours, especially as your gaze trailed down to his lips, pushed to the side in a lopsided smirk.

You immediately caught yourself, though, snapping your gaze back to his eyes. Fuck, you hoped he hadn't seen that. His raising his eyebrows even more (if even possible) told you that he absolutely had. He chuckled as you shivered, swallowed roughly, looking away, and the moment left as quickly as it came.

"Shut it, Philip," you grumbled, pulling your suitcase past him, and you could only imagine his grin as he followed you to the front door.

Though you beat him to the door, he was the one to press the doorbell, resting a hand on your waist as the two of you waited for an answer. You elbowed his arm off you with a frown, and he mocked your expression.

"What?" he asked defensively, and you scoffed.

"You know what; don't be an ass," you warned.

"You're here as my girlfriend; you should be fine with some affection, babe," he said teasingly, and when you glared up at him, added, "Come on, Y/N, lighten up."

"I'm starting to question whether this was worth missing the Campbell interview," you muttered. He chuckled, again wrapping an arm around your waist, and while you sighed, you didn't bother brushing it off as the door in front of you opened.

"Philip!" What appeared to have previously been an exhausted face lit up at the sight of the pair of you, immediately rushing to pull Philip into a tight hug. He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, and she pulled away with a wide smile. "Oh, it's been so long since you've been home! How long has it been?"

"'Bout two years now, huh?" he said, his smile matching hers, and she nodded happily.

"Oh, I've missed you," she sighed, and he pulled her into another hug, kissing her forehead.

"I missed you too, mom."

Finally, she pulled away, beaming, and turned to you.

"Oh, you must be Y/N!" She, in turn, pulled you into a bone-crushing hug which caught you entirely by surprise, "It's so great to meet you; we've heard so much about you!"

You, of course, entirely returned the hug, but looked over her shoulder to Philip with a raised eyebrow, and mouthed, 'She has?' His face tinged red at this, and he hardly met your gaze, despite you staring him down over his mother's shoulder.

"I'm thrilled to meet you, too, Mrs. Hamilton," you replied as you pulled away, your smile genuine at how sweet she was. She scoffed.

"Please, call me Eliza. Everyone's family once they're under this roof." She brushed the formality aside as she turned back to address both of you. "Well come on in, then! I don't want you standing out in the cold forever."

You shrugged and followed her in, thanking her quietly for holding the door, excruciatingly aware of Philip's hand resting at the small of your back, despite him carrying both his and your bags.

As he turned to pull the last bag in through the door, you let out a quiet gasp at the room that lay before you. Even from the front of the entryway, you could see the lavish, vintage-looking staircase that wound around the side of the room up to the second floor, the chandelier suspended from the high ceiling, crown molding where anything met the ceiling or the walls. To say the least, his house was gorgeous.

"Alex! Get in here! I told you it was Philip," she called into the doorway to the next few rooms over. When she was met with silence, she scowled. "Back in a minute," she said softly, not bothering to hide the annoyance in her voice. As she left the room, you turned to Philip, who chuckled lightly.

"So that was Mom."

"So I gathered," you chuckled, "I'm getting the feeling meeting your family might be an even wilder ride than pretending to be in love with you."

He grinned. "'Course it will; the second one doesn't need any effort." He shot you a cheeky wink, and you scowled.

"And immediately you remind me why I so desperately didn't want to come. I retract my previous statement," you huffed, and he laughed. Then, a thought struck you, though. "So your mom's heard, what was it, 'so, so much about me'?"

There was a skip. He opened his mouth to reply to you, eyes widening ever-so-slightly as he looked down at your expectant expression, your quirked brow, but he was saved by the bell. Or, really, by the overly-tired-looking father.

Despite the fact that he looked like he could be completely knocked out at any moment, his eyes lit up at the sight of the pair of you when he walked in with Eliza, both beaming. Holy shit; Philip's dad Alex was that Alexander Hamilton? "Philip! Y/N!"

Philip grinned back at him, moving to greet him. "Hey, Pop." He pulled him into a brief, but genuine, earnest hug.

"It's great to finally see you! I had no idea when you were coming home, if at all," his dad laughed indignantly as they pulled away, whacking his shoulder lightly. "First you move out of my house, next you stop sending me your writing; hell, I'm just now meeting the girl you've been dating for years."

"Pop," Philip groaned lightly, his smile not fading despite it, "I'm not just some kid anymore, alright?"

"Oh, please," he scoffed, "You're still my son; I reserve the right to be nosy."

"Pop."

"Anyway," his dad segued, clearly suppressing a laugh at Philip's annoyance as he turned to you. "So you're Y/N, hm?"

You smiled. "I am, in fact. It's good to meet you, Mr. Hamilton."

"Not as good as it is to meet you!" he exclaimed, pulling you into a hug as well. "And call me Alex. We were wondering if we'd ever actually get to meet you, or if Philip was just planning to hide the girl he's head over heels for from us forever." He scoffed, chuckling as he pulled away. "We were starting to think this was all just an elaborate ruse."

"If only," you sighed, shaking your head with a small smile, "I still can't figure out why, but I really have been dating for him for the past two years. I'll let you know when I regain my better judgment."

He laughed heartily at that, to your delight, resting his hands on his hips as he glanced back at Philip. "Don't worry. When you finally do, he'll be the one out of family dinners, not you." That elicited a laugh from you, just as his smile sharpened, his eyes narrowed. Uh-oh. That expression, if anything, meant business. "So the two of you work together, hm? What's that like?"

You sighed, maintaining a weary smile as you glanced at Philip, who only gave you an amused, expectant look. "It's... a lot. Stressful, at times. But ah... I love the job, the work. We love what we're doing. And besides, we make a pretty good team, so I suppose I can't complain."

"And you two met through work?"

"Yeah, 'bout five years ago," you chuckled, tucking a (still damp) hair behind your ear. "He started bringing me coffee every day, a few weeks in, and it took me more than a month to even realize he was just using it as an excuse to come talk to me." You glanced over at him, wearing a smug smile, and his jaw dropped slightly, expression mockingly indignant.

"Wait a minute, you never told me you figured that out," he huffed, and you grinned.

"C'mon, don't act like you weren't glaringly obvious."

"Five years, huh?" Alex interjected once again, "So why'd it take you kids three years to finally get together?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but that was when you realized he and you had (grudgingly, but luckily) fabricated answers beforehand to most things about your relationship, but had entirely forgotten to cover this seemingly obvious plothole. Noticing your slight surprise, Philip took the question, looping an arm around your waist with a grin. Your skin jumped under his touch, body tensing up.

"I think that one's on me," he chuckled, and you tried not to focus on the pads of his fingers pressing into your hip, forcing a smile, "Thought I was being pretty obvious, but not obvious enough, I guess. I spent too much time afraid to make the first move, figured she wasn't giving me anything back 'cause she just wasn't into me."

"To be fair, sitting on my desk and knowing my coffee order aren't exactly the most forward moves," you huffed, giving him an unintentionally tense smile.

"Sounds like you need to step up your game then, son." He grinned, and you heard Philip huff, could feel the warm breath fan across your shoulder. A chill ran down your back. "So you're a writer, then, Y/N?"

"Guilty," you chuckled, "I mostly edit work to be published, though. A lot of memoirs and longer thought pieces." As he pursed his lips, nodding, you remembered what you'd been sitting on, wanting to say since he walked in. "Speaking of memoirs and though pieces, though, I guess now's probably as good a time as any to mention that I'm a huge fan of your work. I don't think I made the connection from him," --you nodded to Philip, who raised an eyebrow-- "to you," --you nodded to Alex-- "until I finally met you, actually."

His eyes lit up at this; mentioning it was clearly the right decision. "Ah, really? What've you read of mine?" he asked excitedly, and you grinned.

"Just about everything," you admitted with a shrug, "I've gotta say, though, my favorites were your essay series about laissez-faire economics and where the extent of the federal government's powers actually need to fall to protect citizen's rights, and your recent book about federalist economic policy and how, to survive, it needs to adapt to the times."

"You've already read my recent book?" he asked, his grin widening, and you nodded. "What'd you think, specifically? Was it too long-winded? Is there anything I should've reconsidered?"

"Oh god, no," you sighed, "It was great. The length was necessary; there was nothing you could've mentioned without having gone as in-depth into it as you did, and it really left you with a clear understanding of even the little details of economic mechanics. I wish I'd had your book when I was taking econ in college, to be honest."

"You studied economics?" He raised an interested brow.

"Yeah, I--"

"You did?" This was when Philip finally interjected, his voice reminding you of the fact that his arm was still very much anchoring you to the side of his body. You glanced up at him, nodded.

"It was my minor during undergrad," you explained. "Shame I didn't end up doing more with it, but writing was really my passion. Then again, the understanding of economic policy it gave me was a lot of the reason I supported you so adamantly when you joined Washington's cabinet during his first term," you said, turning back to Alex with a smile, "So I don't know if I'm the most objective critic of your book, seeing as I agree with you on just about all of it."

"Can't blame you for being right," Alex shrugged, "Any chance you've read the works of Thomas Jefferson?" You groaned.

"Oh my god, have I. Don't get me started on--"

"Hey, love?" Philip intervened, looking down at you with a small, tight smile. You looked up at him, your expression frozen midsentence. "It's pretty late; I'm getting kinda tired. You mind if we head up to bed? Not to interrupt this chat, but uh..."

Alex got the message, immediately reacting. "That's my bad, got carried away with the politics talk," he chuckled. "It was great meeting you Y/N. Hope I can get to know you more this weekend."

That elicited a grin from you. "Nice meeting you, Alex. And you too, Eliza. I'm looking forward to getting to know you both more, but hopefully when the sun is up and I'm not still wearing clothes soaked in rain."

Eliza smiled sweetly, leaning forward to squeeze your arm. "You as well, dear. Now go, get some rest so you're both awake enough to interact with the rest of the family tomorrow." She shooed you off with her hands, and Philip laughed, lightly squeezing your side. You flinched.

"Alright, see you two in the morning," Alex said with a smile and a wave, and you raised a hand in farewell as you grabbed your bags, walking along with Philip when he jerked his head toward where you were staying, motioning for you to follow him.

"Your parents seem nice," you said softly as the two of you turned a corner. He chuckled lightly.

"Yeah, they are," he agreed, "But it does help that they like you by default 'cause we're dating." He shot you a wink, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes.

"'By default,' my ass," you scoffed. "Your dad was grilling me back there!"

He laughed. "Yeah, sorry about that. Pop's extra cautious with the girls I bring home. I've dated a few too many gold diggers for him not to be." He lead you up a flight of stairs toward the back of the house, and you raised an eyebrow.

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh, yeah." He sighed, carding a hand through his hair. "And I don't think me constantly avoiding bringing you to meet him was too helpful."

"I’m here now, aren’t I?" you said. He pursed his lips, eyeing you skeptically, and you shot him a sly grin.  "Don’t worry about it, I have a way with parents." At that, he let out an amused huff.

"You're tellin’ me.” Philip scoffed, shaking his head as he creased his brow at you. "I can tell Mom and Pop both already love you. Not sure what you did to deserve it, though, but they do."

"Everyone does.” You shrugged, not bothering to fight the smug grin that tugged at the corner of your mouth. You eyed him for a moment, before adding, “Honestly, though, I can’t pretend I’m not relieved.”

“Why? Did you think they didn’t like you?”

“Nah, I just...” You gave a small shrug at his inquisitory gaze, continuing down the hallway. “Was kinda worried they weren’t gonna. I dunno.”

"Really, now?" Philip asked, brows raised as you neared your room, a teasing grin playing at his lips. "What, were you worried about them comin' in the way of our relationship? ‘Cause I can promise you that you have nothing to worry about." He shot you a wink with that, and you could only roll your eyes. You seemed to be doing that quite a lot.

"Don't be an ass," you mumbled, and he only laughed. As you reached the room, he opened the door for you, and you thanked him quietly as you entered.

"'Course, princess," he said nonchalantly, following you in as you shot him a glare over your shoulder. "What?"

"Don't fucking call me that," you grumbled, and he groaned.

"I thought we'd already been through the whole pet names ordeal, love," he sighed, "Am I really gonna have to go through them again?" Your eyes widened and your face burned, remembering where him joking about pet names in the car had quickly gone.

"No," you said quickly, and he grinned.

"Remember how that went last time, huh?" he asked, "Offer's still out on the table if you wanna take it, just to let you know." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively with that, and you scrunched up your nose.

"Don't be gross," you scoffed, dropping your bags off to the side of the room. It appeared you were staying in Philips childhood room; the decorations were fairly sparse, polaroids and photo strips littered on tables and stands and frames. You immediately gravitated toward the bed, though, not hesitating to fall backward into the thick navy duvet.

You let out a deep hum of contentment as you sank into the thick duvet, your eyes dropping shut, and heard Philip chuckle as the bed dipped next to you.

"Your bed is nice," you murmured, cracking an eye open as you turned your head toward him. He was already looking at you, and only rolled his eyes with a snort.

"Yeah, and you're gonna get it all soggy if you don't change," he laughed, and you groaned.

"Let me enjoy things, Hamilton." He rolled his eyes as you reluctantly pushed yourself up with a heavy sigh.

"Sorry sweetheart, but I'm not exactly looking to sleep in a wet bed tonight," he huffed as you grabbed your bag, propping it on his desk chair as you began to root through it. You paused with a raised eyebrow as you looked over at him.

"You... Sleeping in..." you wondered out loud, confused. If he was sleeping there, where were you supposed to sleep?

The obvious answer hit you like a bag of rocks, and you scowled. You had gone home with him as his girlfriend of two years, so of course the two of you were sharing a bed, you thought as you dropped your head with a light groan.

Philip chuckled. "What, sweetheart? Didn't think we were sleeping in the same place?"

You frowned, unwilling to meet his laughing eyes. "No, I just..." you began to defend yourself. What had you thought, though? He clucked his tongue, shaking his head with a grin.

"Hm, sounds about right." He glanced over at you, a smug expression adorning his tired face as he shot you a wink. "Stuck with me all weekend, sweetheart, better get used to it."

All you could do was scowl as you withdrew dry clothes from your bag. "Yeah, I don't have to like it, though, Hamilton."

He creased his brow. You would have nearly been concerned at the severity of his heavy brow if not for the mischief shining in his eyes. "Who?"

You held his gaze for only a moment, looking back over your shoulder and deciding how misguided murder would be right now, and whether Patsy would be willing to help you hide the body when you arrived home. Instead, you opted to take a deep breath, refusing to enable him -- or, for that matter, to correct yourself. He seemed equally pleased at your reaction as you went to his attached bathroom to change, though, his satisfied chuckled unable to be mistaken as it carried over your shoulder.

"Anyway, even if you're not gonna budge on the name when it's just us, you've gotta get comfortable with the PDA." Your brows shot up from behind the bathroom door as you peeled off your wet clothing, your eyes widening.

"Hm?" It was too late by the time you realized your voice had high-tailed it up an entire octave, but if Philip noticed, he didn't mention it. He only scoffed audibly.

"C'mon, you know what I mean," he sighed, and you could hear him moving around the room behind you as you pulled on dry pajamas. "Flinching every time I touch you isn't quite how to sell a relationship."

You huffed as you finished pulling your shirt over your head, going to open the bathroom door. "Well, sorry I didn't exactly see it coming," you said bitterly as you walked back in, tying your damp hair up into a bun. "You caught me off guard."

When you finally glanced back over at Philip, he was watching you with slight skepticism evident in his expression, and a whole lot of abs evident on his stomach. Your breath caught in your throat; why the fuck didn't he have a shirt on?

"You're gonna have to get used to it," he said matter-of-factly, pulling a pajama shirt on. How dumbstruck you were must have been obvious, though, and you were having trouble focusing on what he was saying as he chuckled at you. "Y/N?"

Your gaze snapped immediately upward, and you realized you must have looked like a deer in headlights as you met his eyes. "What?" He grinned as you felt heat creep up the back of your neck.

"Said you're gonna have to get used to being caught off guard." He chuckled, standing up and brushing past you on his way to the bathroom, leaving you dumbstruck. "And considering where you're at, you might wanna start now."

Your face burned as he shot you a wink, but you just scoffed, rolled your eyes and played it off as best you could. "Whatever."

You ultimately ended up crashing in his bed while he finished brushing his teeth, turning over and pretending he wasn't little more than a foot behind you. Your heart hammered as you felt the mattress dip behind you, didn't dare open your eyes. He lowered himself into the bed with a sigh, pulled the other end of the sheets over himself.

"So," he finally said, his voice soft, surprising you. You turned over onto your back, craned your next toward him with a raised brow. He gave you a small smile, just the corners of his lips quirked up, and raised his eyebrows. "You much of a cuddler?"

You groaned, shoving his chest before you rolled back over.

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[claimingtheflame]

Lincoln Trail Mental Health Facility Part 1

Once again I want to reiterate that a lot of these posts are diaries I wrote never finished. Some of them jump around in my life. The story is about something that took place several years after D left

I remember the moment I turned in the paper. It was nothing. The last question asked my thoughts on the final death of Juliet. I sympathize. To this day I do. Many people probably do. She ended her life because she was in the grip of a mythic tragedy. Who could walk away from such a fate?

Except. Even though this is exactly how I felt, my teenage brain did not yet have the skills to articulate this. I ended up writing something like "I feel what juliet did was right. The world is ugly and filthy and who wants to live in it without someone you love." Because I was an edgy goth kid.

This would send me into the clutches of my own sort of tragedy. A brutal, destructive storm began churning that friday that would completely knock me out of my stupid unlaced combat boots on monday.

It happened like this. I walked into first period, Biology. I sat next to Adam, my closest friend. A knock came shortly after the period started and it turned out to be a senior girl who wanted me to be escorted to Mrs Mudds office. I did not know who that was. It turned out she was a counselor. She had coppery hair and a long, perky, somewhat simian face.

In this story, there is a long list of incompetant people who should not have had their jobs, and possibly should have been in prison. Mrs Mudd is not one of them. As much as I dislike her to this day. Maybe she did really mean well. Maybe she was just swept away by the drama of the whole situation. This is Elizabethtown KY after all.

We talked for a few hours. Looking back, I really don't think I said anything to her that should have been construed that I was depressed or suicidal. We talked about a secret place I visited in the woods behind my neighborhood. We talked about various religious beliefs and about music I listened to. Either way, my mom picked me up from school and I was somewhat excited for the break-in monotony.

We have drove to Lincoln Trail Behavioral Health Center , and I really didn't know what was happening. I had friends who had gone, but I didn't really believe that's why we were there until I saw the look on my mom's face as we walked in. There was a serious feeling of betrayal then. Like God woman haven't you put me through enough. This was an unfair thought. My mother is the second person blameless in the story. I would find out later that basically everybody from my school was telling her I was planning on killing myself quite literally. Mrs. Mudd had apparently told them that the place in the woods was my planned spot to die. I had self-harmed in the past. It was all pleasure related though and I thought it had nothing to do with my mental health. Either way it had been months prior to this, but it added to the Snowball Effect.

I'll admit that I didn't really understand my own mental health at this age. I had just been released from D's clutches only a few precious years earlier. I had no clue what was going on. I was going through a suspended childhood in many ways. All that said, Lincoln Trail Behavioral Health System did not help or address any my mental health issues. Let me reiterate. Aside from some experimental self harm 6 months prior(I received counseling, was evauted, etc), at age 15 I was pretty well behaved. I rarely got in trouble. I certainly never acted disturbed. Lincoln helped nobody who actually went there. In fact I barely escaped with my life and sanity. This is not a dramatic statement. This was a terrible place, as you will learn.

I was obviously scared the moment I walked into this place, all the stories I heard. We were buzzed through a security door after a few accusatory last looks at my mother when I went in quietly. I heard if you resisted or yelled that they gave you a shot in your ass of some kind of sedative. I did not want to give anybody the satisfaction roughing up the goth kid and shooting them in the ass. This was a short-lived Triumph. I would learn quickly that this place was not for me and that there was some horrible mistake pretty early on . I was led to a room and told to take off my clothes down to my underwear. I was told to turn around in front of this guy, who nodded with approval after watching and told me to put back on my clothes. I was wearing really baggy SpongeBob boxers. I guess I could have gotten away with hiding something into the facility. That's the thing. I wasn't a f****** delinquent. Not yet or not anymore depending on how you look at the chronology of things I did as a teenager. Anyway I do remember a kind moment here. The guard escorted me down a hallway and a girl smiled at me brightly. "It's really not that bad here." She said. I smiled and shrugged. This was more of a kind gesture than I realized, I would find this out later.

I was then led to the office of the first real fuckup in this story. This would be my counselor. I don't remember her name. She was somewhat nice to begin with. I'll call her mrs. Wannabe because later she would read a bunch of poems about her Native American ancestry. This extremely blond, blue-eyed woman with a square German face and freckles. Me and Wannabe would talk for about 30 minutes and she would send me on to my actual psychiatrist. I do remember this man's name. I will never forget it. His name was dr. Kodali. We can call him King fuckup. Fuckup prime.

He was a small man, with a small mustache, and skin the color between a beet and a russet potato. He spoke in broken English. He asked me why I thought I was there. I told him about the paper I wrote. He smiled and said " yes we all say things we don't mean. " he asked me if I follow the rules at home. I said yes as long as they are within reason. He laughed at me and said " my own daughter thinks several of my rules are not within reason. Children come to learn to obey. " we did not talk about depression, and this statement would turn out to be significant in many ways. It would come to outline the failure of this institution to children who actually suffered depression. Which I will admit that back then I might have been suffering from. Certainly anxiety. But who doesnt, to some degree?

Let us frame our Shit Pit King with what I didnt know about him before I explain my own experiences. He received kickbacks for pushing certain medicines. This is an important detail. He had been accused on several occasions of over-prescribing meds. He was widely hated as a doctor, and I can't believe he still has a job.

During my first visit, he was mostly dismissive. Interrupted me and laughed at me often. He was mostly interested in my behavior. If I acted up. If I respected authority. Literally nothing about suicide was discussed. So why did this guy prescribe meds at the end of our conversation? He picked up the phone, called my mother, and gave her the dosage information. I narrowly escaped this medicine, whatever it was, due to a surprising hero figure in the story who we will discuss later.

He dismissed me and I was sent to "group" for the first time. This is nothing like "support groups" you see in Lifetime movies. It was a huge room, an obnoxious amount of desk chairs crammed in a circle. Boys on one side. Girls on the other.

I immediately dislike this. It feels tense, and I feel scrutinized. I try to ask a girl near me if I can use one of her pencils. She folds her arms and rolls her eyes. " I can't talk to him." She says to the ceiling. This gets the attention of the counselor of the group, who is actually just an early 20-somethings aide of some kind, there are a few of these. This one I call Nick neckbeard. He says " we are here to work on our problems, not to date. " I am immediately embarrassed. I definitely wasn't trying to date anybody. I let it go but it does set the tone.

Since I am the new kid, a round of introductions is done. Not a lot of these people are notable other than the fact that a lot of them are in here for drugs. Some are in here as an in-between stage between Juvenile Detention and Society. I get the distinct feeling that most of the boys are here for drugs and violent crime. I reflect bitterly that I am in here for writing a stupid paper.

There are several thug wannabe types, maybe two or three other white guys that aren't like that. One obvious skinhead as well. It's split in half racially. Five white Boys & 5 black. There was a round of introductions. Most were there for, as mentioned, substance abuse and violent behavior. The skinhead boasted of being in because he stuck foreign objects in his body. He stabbed himself with pens and various utensils. Another boy was in for desecrating graves. The girls were almost exclusively substance abuse. There was one Arab girl that was in there, and though she talked much I never quite understood why except that I knew she definitely needed to be in there. She either talked incessantly of sex or repeatedly told this story about a "bad doll" that lived in her house- all in broken english.

So this was the introduction to the place. Honestly yes, I would have problems with the other patients. That's really out of the scope of the story though. They are mental patients. What do you expect?

The true problem with Lincoln trail was its staff and overall structure. Such a problem was this structure that it would break me down to that kernel of a child you see on all the other stories on this blog. Such that Lincoln trail would reduce me again to that boy child whispering a question to the darkness: "Why am I being punished?" It would make me know, through recognition and reinforcement of abusive themes I was already familiar with, that I was not in a safe place.

The first night I felt this first blow through humiliation and guilt. It was a simple thing really. We were sent to bed. A corridor with a small basket on the outside of each door. A female counselor was pointing each of us down the hall to our rooms. When my time came, she pointed vaguely down the hall to the right side. I tried to ask for clarification and she shouted "Right there!" And my immediate reaction to being chastised like this was to go to one of the rooms with my belongings. She did not stop me.

I noticed one of the wooden bed frames(they were double rooms with single bathrooms) had no mattress. My roommate was a boy my age. He had close-buzzed haircut. He seemed politely surprised. I shrugged and got in the shower. When I turned the water off, I heard yelling on the other side of the door.

The boy was yelling angrily that he did not know who I was and that he had nothing to do with me. He was explaining that I came into his room unbidden and to no fault of his own. I dressed quickly and came out of the bathroom as soon as possible. A middle-aged blond woman grabs me by the arm and began leading me out of the room. When I asked her where we were going she did not say anything but tightened her grip and sat me down in a chair. This woman becomes important later. Five minutes later Dr kodali came into the office with my other counselor, both looking at me sternly.

I apologize for not knowing the exact words of the conversation. Basically the boy was supposed to have his room to his self. He was gay and had been known to have had sexual contact with other patients. They grilled me hard about whether or not I was gay and deciding whether I should be disciplined. Dr kodali somehow remembers that that my girlfriend had given testimony(positively) over my mental health and he seemed to leave it at that. The blonde lady didnt seem convinced.

When she led me back to my(actual) room, she took the liberty of going through my clothes and belongings. She confiscated basically all of my clothing, saying that it would distract patients(black jeans and tees...none of my flashier stuff). She confiscated my copy of Cannery Row, all my homework, and my shampoo. She really let off on me while doing this. Talking about how sneaky I was and if I was planning anything with Chester(the gay guy) that she would know.

This was Day 1. I would kneel beside the bed that night and pray(I just prayed to 'the goddess' back then), just to feel peace inside. I was so put-upon about the stupid clothes. They were my armor, in a way.

The next day would be a lot worse. I'd learn a lot.

[artificialqueens]

Bring It On Again pt 2 (Branjie) - Ashley

A/N: part 2 of Bring It On, time for Brooke to try out for the Amazons! Hope you like! Thanks for the lovely feedback make sure to keep it coming and any concrit you have. Just wanna apologise for a typo that slipped away from me in the first chapter I’ve been a lot more vigilant this time. This ones a bit sad, prepare for an ep7 untucked level bust up, but oh well. Enjoy! Love Ashley xoxo

One night was all she’d had to try and channel her precise years of ballerina training into the fast-paced flicks and fierceness of cheerleading. Although she was physically capable of doing all the moves she had been meticulously researching, Brooke was still far out of her comfort zone - yes she could flip but could she do it fast enough? Would she even look like a cheerleader? It took every inch of will not to return her feet back to third position after completing a move, now having to keep them shoulder-width apart and her arms raised in a high V instead. The moment had arrived and despite begging Jovan to come to watch her audition he was decidedly against the whole nature of cheerleading so she had come alone. Trying hard not to let the cheerleaders intimidate her, Brooke cast her mind back to Toronto where she had always floated above the rest of the school, she was ready. Like something out of a 2000s teen film, the squad sat at a long table of 5; two boys adjourning either end, Akeria and Silky sat next to each of them and of course Vanessa in the middle. They all had matching blue and white tracksuit jackets with the Amazon emblem embroidered at the left side of the chest. Vanessa’s differed from everyone else; with gold piping around the edge and “Vanjie” written under the logo, she separated herself from the rest of the group, outlining herself as the ruler of the group.  “You need to fill one of these out,” she looked at Brooke with slight disdain, holding up the application form. “Did it,” Brooke replied sharply, whipping the sheet from her pocket and walking towards the table to hand it to the girl. Her large eyes skimming the page quickly, Vanessa grinned: “Brooke Lynn, is it? Before we start I’m going to need to make sure you can do a standing back tuck. Standard procedure, you’ll understand.” “Just Brooke. Standing back handspring, back tuck okay?” she replied, not waiting for the girls response before throwing herself backwards into the move- grateful for the years of gymnastic seminars and flexibility training that accompanied her focus on ballet, Brooke knew she was still in too deep with the moves, but if there was one thing she’d learned about competition it was that they should never see you falter. “Nice job white girl,” Akeria smiled at Brooke, jotting something down in her notebook. “But can she yell? We’ll try an oldie” Vanessa looked Brooke up and down, clearly taking note of her quieter and more reserved nature compared to the Amazons. Moving her arms to the tune of her own chant, she began to perform from her seat and once again Brooke realised why everyone at the school was so obsessed with Vanessa and the Amazons, something about her was just so captivating, even when sitting down and cheering Brooke was still impressed: “We’re bad, we got the T, we can’t be had, we’re the best so score them points, you win the game we’ll rock this joint. Go Amazons!”  Brooke tried her hardest to mimic Vanessa’s cheer, even throwing an arabesque in at the end, but she knew her voice wasn’t as loud or commanding as it should have been. “I transferred from a Ballet Academy in Toronto, your school has no other type of dance and it’s a last resort. I haven’t cheered before but I can learn. I checked out your stuff online, it’s good but you need to be different to become number one, you could use me,” Brooke pleaded her case to the girl, trying not to let her emotions cloud over too much, she knew Vanessa would not allow a weak player onto the team. “Do it,” Silky nudged Vanessa to which the girl looked up in response. “Front handspring, step out, round off. Back handspring, step out, round off. Back handspring, full twisting layout,” Vanessa popped the “t” in layout with a devilish smile, raising her brow at Brooke.  Simultaneously angry and aroused towards the other girl, Brooke waltzed to the back of the gym, keeping her arms elegantly draped by her sides. The whole room was silent other than the light patter of Brooke’s footsteps. The tension knife worthy, she turned to face the panel and dived - hitting every single step perfectly. Landing eventually close to the table and facing the opposite way she turned around to see Vanessa’s mouth open with surprise. Despite the other girls hollering and cheering at her, Brooke found the most pride in the response from Vanessa, knowing it took a lot to impress the commander of the squad. She had broken through her hard exterior, only just. Despite that breakthrough simply being a small opening of the mouth, it still validated Brooke nonetheless, she was on her way to impressing the ice queen. One count at a time. “Brooke is bank!” One of the boys at the end of the table grinned towards Brooke. “Bankrupt,” Vanessa retaliated, giving the boy one of her infamous looks. “I’m captain and what I say goes. This is not a democracy. Sorry, Brooke Lynn, I don’t think you have what it takes. Maybe next time.” For years Brooke had learned how to take defeat. You smile, you thank for the opportunity, you say goodbye and exit with grace. In her old life, she’d done it hundreds of times with no issue, knowing that it was just another bend in the road. All of that was gone here. Fighting back tears she grabbed her bag from the floor and stormed out the gym - the antithesis of graceful and pristine. Vanessa’s words ringing in her ear, she hadn’t even noticed that Jovan was at the doorway until he grabbed her arm and pulled her to one side. “I told you so?” Brooke said to him with choked breath, wishing she’d stayed away from the cheerleaders as Jovan had warned. “We’ve all been there B, you ever wondered why I hate them so much? You’d think being double jointed in almost every way would get me on their squad but it didn’t. And here I am saying I want nothing to do with it yet unable to resist watching. Trust me though, you killed it. They’ll be regretting not having you when they’re still coming second at nationals. They’re just jealous Brooke. Stupid bitches,” he responded, Brooke, surprised at the nice words towards her coming out of his usual cynical tirades.  Used to bottling her feelings, Brooke let the tears fall down her cheeks as she hugged her new friend, grateful to have someone there for her. “What do you say we go to mine, watch sad movies and get pissed again? My parents are out of town” he asked her.  “Your sister..” Brooke looked at him in response. “In case you haven’t already noticed, I don’t give a fuck what she thinks.” Jovan laughed, “I promise we’ll stay well clear of her.” “Only if I pick the film,” Brooke propositioned, “I’m not watching any of the weird shit you have on DVD.” “Deal,” Jovan raised his hand for Brooke to shake whilst laughing.  Fuck Vanessa, she thought, maybe her night wouldn’t be so bad after all.  *** “I’m sorry, girl. If I had known..” Jovan trailed off, the loud music being played downstairs filling what would have been an awkward silence in the room. “It’s fine,” Brooke said taking a heftier sip from her drink until it was all gone, “I had to face them at some point, better sooner than later I guess.” Having been drinking since they returned home from school that day, it was safe to say that the pair were slightly steamed.  “It’s my fault, I should have known that obnoxious popular teenagers and a free house meant a party. Would it make you feel better if we tried to steal some of their booze?” The tipsy and confident Brooke she had met at the start of the week returning, she smiled at Jovan in response, “Yes. Yes, it would.” Making their way downstairs, Brooke knew they’d be unable to avoid Vanessa. Despite being so horrible earlier, in her current state Brooke wanted to see her, to look her in the eyes and see how she reacted. Jovan was right, Brooke had killed it in her tryout and if Vanessa couldn’t see that then she was a stupid bitch. Walking into the kitchen where she’d encountered the girl the last time she was here, Brooke was determined to rise above whatever may be said as she made her way to the fridge. “Vanjie, who’s the babe with your step-brother?” Vanessa’s boyfriend asked non-subtly, despite having already met Brooke on the previous Monday. The couple sat on a red couch in the corner surrounded by the rest of the cheer squad and some other students Assumedly on a similar level to Jovan and Brooke with a drink in her hand, Vanessa looked at the pair and responded: “She’s nobody, just some transfer who thinks she’s hot shit.” Sticking with her mantra to rise above it, Brooke looked in Vanessa’s direction and was all set on ignoring the couple until Jovan turned around and rose his voice towards his sister, the alcohol in his system leaving him clearly incapable of holding back. “Hey Vanessa, has anyone ever told you that you’re jealous? You’re all about team spirit and being number one but you know fine and well that you’d rather lose every competition than have someone that slightly better than you on your squad. So what is it about Brooke? She’s prettier, she’s more polished, she’s stronger?” Despite being tipsy, Brooke could see the flinch of pain Vanessa had felt at her brother’s words before she reverted back to her usual sense and laughed at his comment, brushing it off as if it were nothing in front of all of her squad.  “It’s more to do with the fact she can’t cheer,” Vanessa retaliated harshly, Brooke seeing the pain behind her glossy eyes and gritted teeth as she did so. “Sorry guys, I guess it’s time for everyone to go, can’t seem to have any fun around here without people ruining it. I’ll see you lot for practice on Sunday.” *** “Jovan, you didn’t have to do that,” Brooke said to her friend as his sister escorted the rest of the guests out of the house. “Someone needs to put her in her place, Brooke. All I did was be honest,” he sighed as his sister entered the room again.  Gone was the calm exterior she had held previously in front of everyone, Vanessa was mad. “I thought I told everyone to leave,” she glared in Brooke’s direction, resulting in a scoff from her brother. Not wanting to cause any more trouble, Brooke grabbed her bag and went to get up before being stopped by Jovan. “You don’t own this house Vanessa; and anything you want to say to me you can say in front of Brooke. I’m sorry you have a problem with my honesty.” The tension radiating between them, Brooke was waiting for the storm - despite wanting to hide from the clash of two huge personalities, she found herself glued to the spot she stood in, unable to look away from the pair as though they were the wreckage of a car crash. “I don’t have an issue with your ‘honesty’, but if you have an issue with me you can pull me aside and tell me you don’t have to pop off at me in front of my whole team. I thought we were closer than that,” “I did not pop off at you, I told you the goddamn truth. You’re so defensive, and that’s the only reason I pushed any of your buttons in the first place” “You’re so full of shit Jovan. The other day there you were telling me how proud you were of me!” Vanessa was screaming at this point, her voice hoarse and tears pricking her eyes. Every face Jovan had pulled when Brooke mentioned the cheerleaders to him, every awkward encounter she had witnessed between the siblings had all amounted to this moment.  “Because I was fucking proud of you,” Jovan shouted back at his sister.  “It’s not my fault you never made it onto the squad Jovan, it’s been years just get over it. You knew at the time there was nothing I could do, I wasn’t gonna give up my chance to please you when all you do is shit like this,” “I don’t give a shit that I didn’t make it onto the squad with you 2 fucking years ago Vanessa, but you’ve turned into that person who did that to me and now you’re doing it to Brooke. Yes, I was fucking proud of you working hard to be a captain but not if you’re gonna let your jealousy take over.” Clearly striking a chord with Vanessa, she got closer into her brothers face. Coming from such a humble background and life in Toronto she didn’t know how to react to the current situation at all. Any fighting Brooke had witnessed in the ballet world had been behind the scenes and sneaky, the complete opposite at the screaming match the siblings were having in front of her, with years of anger and non-raised issues clearly seeping through the surface of their words. “Regardless of what you think, I would have never have spoken to you like that in front of people who are meant to respect you like you just did on the couch! I would have pulled you aside and said ‘Jovan you’re fucking jealous”” Vanessa shouted again, the argument between the two siblings being clearly deeper rooted than insecurity about her position of power on the Amazons. “Well, I think you’re a fucking terrible sister because I’m not here to hide around away from you and whisper shit in your direction. You can yell at me when I leave high school with a fucking good life because I didn’t spend my whole time there trying to impress people who won’t give a shit about me in a few years time,” Jovan started to walk away from Vanessa, knocking over a chair in the process. “I was trying to be cordial with you,” “I don’t need anyone to be cordial with me, I need you to be real. At least I’m getting the real you now, ey sis.” “I thought we were fucking cool Jovan,” Vanessa let her emotions pour out, Brooke shocked at the girl she’d barely seen move her face in a week losing any sense of her priorly cold exterior. Vanessa was a real human being and she was hurt. “If we’re cool, I’m not gonna lie to you like all your teammates do. I’m not gonna feed you with bullshit like those ‘sisters’ do, is that what makes you happy?” “I never told you to lie to me!” Vanessa gave one last final scream at her brother, her voice minutes from breaking, before running out of the room. Although she hadn’t known her for long, Brooke could see she was coming from a hurt place. The click of the front door shutting rang through the suddenly silent house.  “Fuck,” Jovan shouted to himself before kicking the chair that had been knocked on the floor, a lot of pent up anger from years of his relationship with his step-sister having just spilt out of him like a tap too tight to turn off.  Adjusting to the way in which the room had gone from 100 to 0 in less than a minute, Brooke was about to comfort her friend like he had done for her earlier when he stopped her, “It’s freezing outside,” he looked to the floor, not making eye contact with Brooke. “You should go find her,” Brooke suggested. “She won’t talk to me, and if I’m honest I don’t want to talk to her either, I just don’t want her to freeze,” Jovan laughed in a slightly hysterical way. The way you laughed when everything you felt had been torn out of you and your body couldn’t comprehend any other way in which to react. All that was left to do in the sick silence was to laugh. “I’ll go find her,” Brooke said, any prior anger she felt towards Vanessa melted away by the scene she just watched unfold. “Thanks,” he said, curling his knees up to his chest and rubbing his hands over his shaved head clearly trying to process what had just happened. *** Clad in one of Jovan’s fleecy coats with another one in hand for his sister, it didn’t take Brooke long to find the other girl. There she was curled up on a bench by the park close to her home, hands running through her hair. Despite the argument, they had had and the fact that they shared no blood, it was clear she and Jovan were related. “Hey,” Brooke sat next to her, unsure of what else to say. “I brought you a coat.” “I’m fine,” Vanessa spoke quietly and looked straight ahead, not making eye contact Brooke. “You’re stubborn aren’t you,” Brooke rested the coat on the other girls back. “You don’t know me,” she whispered again, Brooke seeing a different side to both the Vanessa she had watched at school for the past week and the one she’d watched not more than half an hour earlier in the kitchen. “I know you’re upset, and I know it’s freezing out here.”  Garnering no response from the girl, Brooke spoke again, “If you’re not gonna speak to me it’s fine but I’m not leaving you alone like this, I can ring your boyfriend if you want?” In a similar way to how Jovan had done so earlier in the calm after the storm, Vanessa began to laugh to herself as though her body had no other way of processing the events of the night. “It’s Friday so he’ll probably be at Ariel’s, or is it Kahanna’s on a Friday, I can never keep up.” “Well he clearly doesn’t deserve you but maybe that’s something for another time,” Brooke looked at the girl, not wanting to scare her away by prying too deep into her life. She had already seen such a vulnerable side to someone so guarded and didn’t want to intrude even further. “You don’t need to worry about me, I’m a big girl, I’ve got this,” she raised her eyebrows towards Brooke, looking at her for the first time since she had sat down. “Well I don’t really believe you so I’m just gonna stay here until you’re alright,” Brooke said. “You don’t have to babysit me for my brother, I’m fine.” Vanessa pleaded. “I’m not,” Brooke responded, which was true, although Jovan had asked her to find his sister she genuinely wanted to make sure the girl was okay after seeing her in such a vulnerable state. Pulling a bottle of water from her pocket, she offered some to the girl. “Don’t you think I’ve had enough for one night,” “It’s water,” Brooke laughed, causing Vanessa to crack up too. Within minutes they were both dying with laughter and even though Brooke knew objectively that it wasn’t really funny, something about the atmosphere in the air and the whole fucked up night they’d had just made the girls laugh more and more. Until of course Vanessa was no longer laughing, tears once again streaming down her face the way they had when she argued with her brother. Brooke put her arm around the girl and rubbed her back softly.  “It’s alright,” she whispered. “Why are you being so nice to me? I’ve been a bitch” Vanessa asked, turning to look at Brooke. She was a deer in headlights. A lost puppy looking for comfort. “As much as I’d love to give some sort of poetic answer like they do in the movies, I don’t have a fucking clue,” Brooke looked up at the night sky. She hadn’t known what to expect when picturing her new life in Florida but it certainly hadn’t been trying out for cheerleading, befriending a double jointed oddball and sitting on a bench at midnight comforting a girl who had treated her worse than muck. A girl may she add that she probably would have kissed were she not in such a vulnerable state.  “I don’t have a fucking clue, Vanessa.”

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #yvie oddly #branjie #bring it on #bring it on again #high school au #lesbian au #tw alcohol #angst #ashley #concrit welcome #submission #s11

[joshslater]

Libertine

This is a collaboration with idesofrevolution, reimagining one of his earlier stories, again allowing me to explore ideas I haven’t worked with before.

You were getting seriously pissed off. The drunk and high punk douchebag had been obnoxious from the start, but he had remained on his side of the van. Regrettably his sickly stink of stale weed and armpits had not. Your strategy of ignoring him had paid off so far, but now he was apparently bored of making rude noises and gestures from his seat, and was inching towards you, making faces and taunts. He was pulling his lips from side to side, sticking out his pierced tongue and generally trying to get a reaction mere inches from your face. The smokey timbre of his breath, and the sickly sweet stench of stale marijuana filled your nose. He could go to hell. But you don't want to rock the boat while in it, and this is the first solid lead you've had since your friend disappeared. You turn to the little shit and gently shove him back in his seat.

"Stop it."

The punk, in his inebriated stupor laughs, swivels his back against the side of the van and rests one of his feet in your lap. His filthy, reeking feet inside his ratty socks in his trashed Vans sneakers. Don't rock the boat, you think. You're just happy the driver manage to ignore the hijinks in the back.

"When am I gonna see Travis?" "You’ll see him... He wants to see you too."

He winks and wiggles his foot in the well-worn yellow and blue checkerboard slip on, the formerly white socks playing peekaboo in their many frayed holes. The odor was intoxicating, not unlike vinegar with a hint of cheese, marshland and rubber. He starts to rub his shoe against your groin. You don't know what you hate the most. The constant antics from this attention seeking moron, or that you start getting an erection.

But you have to focus. Travis is the priority. These fucks are probably the ones that took him, and you gotta bring him back. You owe him that. You turn your face away and look out the window at the trees and bayouland flying past. This little hideout was way outside of town. You press the button to lower the window and get some fresh air. Nothing happens.

You resign yourself to the situation, as he finally appears to have calmed down. Don't. Rock. The. Boat. As you are getting light headed from the smell, and getting your growing bulge massaged by a skate shoe, you stare out the window and zone out. The greenery becomes a blur. You are unsure how much time actually has gone by when he, clearly excited, shifts and sits straight in his seat.

"Awwwwww yess! We’re here!"

The van pulls up to a rusted old chain link fence, with overgrown vines covering the old barbed wire. An open gate welcomes the van onto the dirt road, past old construction equipment, now enveloped by the rising bayou. In the distance, the outline of an old warehouse gets clearer. The sunlight shines onto the old brick facade, windows shattered and the metal roof nearly caving in from decades of neglect. Around the perimeter of the grounds, marijuana plants flourish. As the van comes to a stop, the punk reaches over you to open the door, not passing up a final opportunity to get in your face with his stinking body.

The sweltering Louisiana heat hits you like a freight train as you exit the raggedy old van. Never before have you been so happy to fill your lungs with the smell of stale marsh water. While the driver backs out the van, your annoying guide, already ahead, beckons you to follow him.

"Heel! Come on, puppy!"

He can still go to hell. You hasten to walk up along side of him. As you get there he tosses his sweat-sticky arm around you.

"Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy?"

You reach the door, and he knocks in a strange pattern before the door opens and a familiar, yet off-sounding voice slithers out of the hazy interior.

"Sup muthafuckahs?"

It’s Travis. Or perhaps rather a strange caricature of Travis. The Travis you knew was your timid, boy-next-door best friend of ten years. He was there when your parents divorced. He was the shoulder to cry on when you broke up with your boyfriend. He was a quiet, good-natured kid who was always the sweetest guy. This… This delinquent was not Travis. His tattoos and gauged ears, buzzed faded haircut, silver chain, bulging muscles, and ripe, unwashed stink. Travis would never let himself look like this, or be seen like this. And yet, here he was, standing in front of you with some snide smirk and and soul-piercing gaze. You grab him by the shoulder, pulling him to the side, slapping a half-smoked joint from his veiny hands.

“Travis. What the fuck did they do to you? Did the drug you?”

He smirks, picks up the joint from the dirty floor, and brings it to his lips. He takes a slow, deep drag of the weed, never once breaking eye contact with you. He blows the smoke in your face defiantly, and brushes past you, making sure your shoulders connect.

“Sup Ash?”

Travis walks over to the punk who borderline kidnapped you, grabbing a handful of his perky ass before bringing him in for a sloppy, tongue-heavy makeout. You never knew Travis was gay, and a part of you was happy to see him finally embracing his sexuality, but it stings that he didn’t confide in you. But also, as he and Ash groped and bit and licked each other, you were certain that something was really wrong. You had never seen Travis this viscerally pleasured before, and you two learnt to masturbate together. And how had he managed to get all the tattoos and piercings, and get so ripped in less than 24 hours, or 30, or whatever the fuck the time was? What was going on? Travis pulled away from Ash, rubbing the moist front of his black jeans. “Fuck me later, babe. Why don’t you take my friend to see Sage?” Your best friend smacked his ass before walking over to you, blowing you a kiss as he walked past.

“C’mon babe, you’re going this way.” You should be terrified that Travis had gone behind you and locked the heavy metal door, but somehow you feel compelled to follow Ash into the haze of the dimly lit warehouse.

As the three of you walk toward the back door, you pass the various living spaces of the warehouse’s occupants. All tattooed. All pierced. All muscled. Most of them fucking. Moans and slapping sounds are coming from all around you. You find the origin of the heavy fog in several lounging guys passing bong after bong of different colored weed, the black liquid being distinctly different from typical bongwater.

Ash leads you up a flight of stairs, with Travis trailing behind. From the landing, your perspective sees the entire warehouse’s debauchery. Sweaty, nasty sex; dirty, rank clothes; questionable bongs; and old pizza boxes. These guys truly lived here, and clearly did little else. This vantage point quickly changes, as you turn to the opening of a cracked, frosted glass door. You feel a gentle shove on your shoulders from Travis as you stumble into the room. The door slams behind you.

The room was lit with red tint, and a few dim Edison bulbs likely original to the building. Whatever used to adorn the walls and ceilings had been stripped to the brick and mortar, exposing the pipes and beams above. The room was furnished much more heavily than the rest of the warehouse, with bookshelves, shiny leather sofas, a desk, and clothes strewn across the floor.

“I was wonderin’ if you’d show up here.”

From the corner of the room, the most stunningly sexy man you’ve ever seen saunter out of the haze. His plump lips and chiseled jawline immediately makes your heart skip a beat. He is tossing an old football into the air, catching it each time without breaking his sinister, yet wholly encompassing gaze.

You stutter for words in Sage’s presence, as he oozes a dominant air about him. It is clear from his demeanor that he is the boss. That's not the only thing he oozes, as you feel a strong, musky scent with tones reminiscent from the van drive here. You start getting an erection again. What's happening to you? Did they do something to you? How? You end up not saying anything, just standing with your mouth open.

“You know who we are? Who I am?” he asks as he toss the ball into a sofa. You're still tongue tied in his presence, but eventually blurt out what he was prodding to hear.

“You’re the Libertines. That cult-like gang that sells weed all across the city.” Sage smirks and leans against the bookshelf, crossing his arms and ankles. He gestures for you to spill more. “And you’re Sage Ravenswyck. You run the whole thing.” He bows, bastardizing the gentlemanly gesture to his ominous wit. Sage Ravenswyck, touted as the single most dangerous pot lord in the country. You don't say that part out loud.

“And you came to take Travis away from us, right?” You feel a chill down your spine. That's why you came here, but you can't say that. You don't even believe that to be true anymore. His silky, menacing, seductive tone prevents any speech from escaping your mouth. Sage steps forward, only a step away from you. “He’s not going anywhere, man. And neither are you.”

He pauses for a moment, his eyes seemingly piercing your soul, and studies you carefully. Then he grabs you by the jaw, pulling you into a slobbering, tongue-infested kiss, just like Ash and Travis shared. His mouth tastes like marijuana ash, cigarettes, and some indescribably savory flavor. You are not permitting the kiss under the threat of violence. The threat is there, for sure, but you are actively participating. You want nothing more than to stay connected to those plump, inviting lips. You are totally confused as to why.

He breaks the kiss, takes a step back and flatly states "I like you. Strip."

You want nothing more than to obey. As you begin to remove article after article of clothing, you see that Sage does the same, revealing more and more of his tattoos. Old voodoo signs and talismans permanently adhered to his sweaty skin. Motifs that seemingly come to life in the Edison light. You feel the heat radiating from the metal ceiling hitting your already sweaty skin, but it is the smell of his sweat that fills room. The same sour, salty musk that wafted from Ash and Travis, but stronger and more potent. You can still taste him in your mouth. Your jaw is lax and your are salivating as if you were about to vomit, but you don't feel nauseous.

You are both standing naked on a carpet of unwashed clothes, looking at each other. He's the most handsome man you've ever been naked with in a room. While you may feel sweaty, Sage is soaked. Gleaming in the light as if he'd been oiled up. His lithe body with defined, tight muscles accentuates it even more, as the light creates reflections and shadows on his pecs, abs and cock. He is flaccid, but you are sporting an almost painful erection. Five minutes ago you were rescuing Travis. How did you end up here?

"Time for initiation, cunt" Sage says, as he takes hold of your shoulders and pushes you to your knees. You’re eye level to his large, sweaty cock and balls, salivating more than ever in your life.

To your surprise he brings his sweaty, pungent right foot to your lips. Expecting to worship his enticing feet, you open your mouth, preparing to lick his soles. But as he brings it down into your gaping maw, you realize just how much you have misjudged your situation.

His entire rancid foot slips into your mouth, your tongue tasting every ounce of built up sweat and funk. He forces it down your throat, squeezing everything else within your neck, pushing your skin taut from the inside. It doesn't hurt nearly as much as it ought to and you have a flickering thought that this isn't possible, but his relentless pushing further and further down overpowers your with sensations. Sensations you have never felt before, mixed in with taste and smell of Sage and the most overpowering sense of lust you've ever felt.

He holds your head, locking eyes with you, as your face is getting closer and closer to his groin. His foot is rearranging your insides like a spoon through grits, and you can feel the foot turning, pointing forward. Further and further down, until it slips into your cock, finding a resting place. All you can think of, is him and getting him deeper in of you.

He moves his hands to the front of your head, prying open your mouth even further to accommodate his second foot. It slides down faster than the first one, and further. You can feel it continue down your hip towards your knee. He wiggles free his first foot from within your cock and moves it down your other leg.

His cock and balls are now practically resting on your face. He smiles a wry smile, inserts his finger under the foreskin of his uncut cock and then smears a line across your forehead. Then he pries your mouth open even further and slips into you, like a pair of low riding compression trunks, with your tongue resting in his ass crack and your nose in his pubic hair. You take deep breaths through your nose, and the smell of well stewed cock and balls fills your brain. You desperately want to touch him, but your body doesn’t obey you anymore.

He slips further down, and starts to rotate around, to face the other direction. He grabs your mouth and starts climbing into you, pulling you over him, like someone stepping into a hooded overall. You feel your body moves to standing up, unable to control it yourself, and your feet and legs and toes being filled with his, stretching your skin. There is a tingling sensation, like when a limb has gone to sleep and wakes up, as he settles within you. He pulls the rest of the body up, his six-pack subtly rippling across the front of your body, until it settles where it should.  When he is almost neck deep into you he slips his arms into your arms as if you were a rubber suit, and into your hands as if there were rubber gloves. It feels like a warmth spreading out into your body and limbs.

Finally he stretches your mouth over his head, and snap into place like a condom. You are filled with him, completely engorged, and yet to all outside eyes, some transformed version of yourself. He adjusts his head inside of yours, stretching your face to cover his, like a Halloween mask. Then he carefully stretches and flexes every limb and muscle in your body. You hear pops and feel grittiness smoothing out. You can't hear his thoughts, but you are filled with a feeling of excitement, joy and lust. If these are shared feelings or just your own you don't know.

Suddenly you fall forward, face first into the floor, and only at the last moment does he break the fall by putting out his arms into a push up stance and starts doing push ups. Your body feels stronger than it ever have, but at the same time you have no control over it. It makes you scared and excited at the same time. The total loss of control makes you hornier than you’ve ever been in your life, but there is nothing you can do about it.

After a good 20 or so push ups he transitions into doing burpees. If you were sweaty before, this opens the faucet, soaking you in sweat. 50 burpees or so later he stops and just stands on top of the pile of your combined dirty cloths, panting heavily and dripping sweat. "Ok, let's get you up to dress code" he says with your voice. Your cock, hard as ever, is leaking pre-cum like bad plumbing. He takes some on his fingers and start rubbing your sweaty biceps, often going back for more. It stings. To your amazement color starts appearing on your arm, until a tattoo emerges. Then another one. Within minutes your have as many tattoos as Travis.

Sage then grips the shaft of your slippery cock and begins to stroke it. If you could, you would moan like a pornhub slut, but instead you are caged inside your own body, just following along for the ride. Despite being hornier than ever before in your life, Sage manages to keep you on edge longer than you thought possible. It's like he knows your body better than yourself. Stroking you in ways you have never felt before. Stroking both of you, together. Then he lifts your left arm and inhales deeply from the arm pit. It doesn't smell like you, nor like Sage, but something in between. Your body can't take it any more and you erupt with more cum than ever before. Then everything goes black.

You wake up on a pile of cardboard boxes, still naked, still sweaty. You reek of marshland, sex and skater socks. Two guys you don't know are 69:ing a few feet away. Was Sage really climbing inside you, or was that just an erotic acid trip? But how else could you explain what has happened to you? Sage is no longer inside of you, but he left plenty of himself. While your tattoos are different than his, your body resembles him. You can taste him in your mouth. You wonder if Sage would let you go, if you asked him. He probably would. But what is out there that is better than in here? You wish to be worn more. To be molded by him, like a well worn sneaker. Until then there is a threesome waiting to happen a few feet away.

[hu-man-ty-po]

RIP Mr.Whiskers... and Me

I’m a dead man, and I don’t mean that ironically. Jessica gave me one simple rule to follow: don’t touch the cat. That stupid damn cat. I hate that thing. I didn’t think a vampire could have allergies, but of course the one creature my girlfriend loves more than anything makes me all snotty and congested. That’s assuming I can still call Jessica my girlfriend after the incident.

I will take responsibility for my actions. It’s been a busy holiday season between stressing over what to get Jessica to meeting her parents for Christmas dinner, and having to act like I actually eat dinner. I’ll admit, I forgot how long it had been since my last feeding. I’m not one of those lame vamps that go around sucking the blood out of unsuspecting humans; I stick strictly to donated blood given of free will and kind hearts. Of course, the stars aligned and I had depleted my stash of blood bags here at the apartment.

I could feel the intense hunger setting in. I was restless, on the verge of downright distraught. It’s not like I’ve been a vampire for all that long anyways, so I don’t quite have the hang of it. I was born in 1980 in Chicago and this scrub jumped me on my way home one fateful night in the summer of ‘98. That was it. The end of my life... and somewhat beginning of another. I’ve definitely had my low moments, but this? This takes the cake.  

It was midday when I was reaching the end of my self control. Jessica wouldn’t be home from work for hours, and I didn’t think I could last that long. When a vamp goes long enough without blood nature starts to takeover. The only thing on my mind was feeding. I was literally seeing red and I could feel my fangs biting into my lip. That’s when I heard him.

Mr.Whiskers was an obnoxiously orange tabby that Jessica found in the alley behind our apartment a few months ago. She felt a lot of pity for the dumb thing because he was missing a large portion of his left ear. I assume it’s because even the wild cats of downtown Chicago hated him, but Jessica says it is a testament to the hard life he’s lived. She tells me it’s a reminder that I should be kind to him since he’s had such a rough time, major eye roll. He has this nasty habit of being a living nightmare all the time except when Jessica is in the room. Countless of my shirts have been ruined by his scratch marks, he has puked in my shoes on more than one occasion, and I swear he has peed in my favorite cereal even though Jessica insists in must have just gone bad. Lucky charms doesn’t just magically start smelling hella dank, it gets stale not stinky.

This scrub had no idea what he was walking into when he mosied into the den where I was curled up in a corner. It was like my primal instinct just took over! I was the apex predator and Mr.Whiskers was easy prey. My senses went into overdrive and, if I’m being honest, I blacked out for part of it. I remember lunging at him and some hissing, whether it was from me or him I don’t know… then I was covered in blood and poor Mr.Whiskers lifeless body was in my lap. I swear, I didn’t hate the cat enough to premeditate his murder, but accidents happen. I just really hope Jessica doesn’t dump me over this. I mean, couples hit bumps in their relationship sometimes… this is just our bump!

I hear a key slide into the lock on the front door and smell Jessica’s vanilla perfume. Here goes nothing. Maybe she won’t even notice he’s gone! She’ll just assume he ran away; his true nature calling him back to the wild. Not likely, since that cat adored Jessica. She walks into the kitchen and sets her purse on the counter.

“Dee, I’m home!” She calls and smiles at me. Like the first time I saw her, I’m dazzled by her beauty. Her pale blonde hair frames her face in choppy layers and, currently, she has it streaked with electric blue. Her grey eyes are outlined with dark kohl and her lips are their signature bubblegum pink. She’s wearing her favorite vintage Star Wars t-shirt which usually means she’s in a good mood. She walks up behind me, sitting on the couch, and wraps her arms around my neck. I grab her wrist and place a light kiss on her crescent moon tattoo.

“Hey Jess, how was work?” I ask. Jessica works writing code for a major gaming company here in Chicago.

“Oh yanno, same old same old. How was your day?” She returns the question, walking back into the kitchen and grabbing Mr.Whiskers cat food from the cabinet. It’s usually her routine to feed him dinner right when she gets home from work.

“Um… it wasn’t too exciting.” I watch her closely, trying to work up the courage to tell her how my day truly went. She pours the food into his bowl then calls out his name. Dinner is that cat's favorite time of the day, or I guess I should say was his favorite. She’s gonna know something is up when he doesn’t come running for food.

“Huh, that’s strange. Where is that cat? Mr.Whiskers! Dinner!” She calls out again and heads toward our bedroom to look for him there.

“Jessica, wait!” She turns toward me expectantly, “Baby, why don’t you come sit down.” She looks at me hesitantly, but comes and sits next to me on the couch anyway. I take her hands in mine and look deeply into her eyes.

“Jess, you know I love you more than anything right? You give my life purpose. You are the light in my darkness, the yin to my yang. You complete me-”

“Dorian, what did you do?” She questions and flawless raises one eyebrow. She’s on to me.

“Okay, please please please don’t hate me for this, but I realized today that I kind of ran out of blood bags and it’s been so long since I’ve fed yanno? With the holidays and meeting your parents and everything, our lives have been kinda hectic. The point is, I was starving. It was really bad and I couldn’t just go out and find some blood cuz it was daylight and all.” I’m blabbering and I can’t stop. I get this way when I’m nervous; I just start talking and don’t shut up! I can see the realization start dawning in her eyes on where this story is going, and I know I just have to rip off the bandaid, “I may have accidentally used Mr.Whiskers as a replacement blood bags…”

“You did WHAT?” She shrieks and stands up, yanking her hands from mine.

“Jess, please. I know it’s awful and I am an absolutely deplorable human being. Well, vampire I guess I can’t really call myself human anymore. I’m more of human non-being. A human been you might say?” I’m doing it again. I shake my head and lower it in shame.

“Dorian, I can’t believe you blood sucked my cat!” She states horrified.

“Please Jessica, please understand that it was an accident. My instincts just kind of took over and I blacked out. I am so so sorry.” I plead with her. She releases a heavy sigh and collapses back onto the couch. She dramatically rubs her temples and peeks at me through her fingers.

“I am so mad at you. I forgive you and I love you, but I am so mad.” She confesses and glares at me. Her eyes are stormy grey eyes alight with irritation, but I’m beyond relieved to hear her forgive me.

“Thank you so much Jess for understanding. I feel awful.”

“Well, you should feel awful. You killed my cat!” She huffs and crosses her arms, “Don’t think I’m going to just let you off the hook for this.”

“Jess, I will take whatever punishment you deem severe enough for the crimes I committed.” I say, looking into her eyes with complete sincerity. She lets out a tiny laugh and I know she’s starting to warm back up to me.

“We have to have a funeral. We can bury him at the park; I think he would’ve liked that.”

“Whatever you want babe. This cat will have the most extravagant funeral in the history of cat funerals!”

#vampire #cats #cat #kitty #mean cat #dead cat #funny #retro #comedy #comedic #relationship #boyfriend #girlfriend #badass chicks #strong female characters #vampire bf #vampire boy #80s #80s vampire #vamp #vampire fiction #vampire funny #vampire comedy #new vampire #chicago #cat funny #cat funeral #fight #cat food #scrub

[yuki7900archive]

Movie!Nya x Female Reader

This entire thing is like, almost 25,000 words long so I gotta separate this into so many parts just to post it all on this site smh. I think it’ll be 6 or 7 parts? We’ll find out as I post em I guess haha

You were not overly fond of the idea of having to leave everything behind. No child usually is now that I really think about it. Who wants to leave all they've ever known and go to an entirely new place that they'd never even heard of? No one. I speak from personal experience here readers. Moving house? Totally sucks. At least in the first few weeks. In the grand scheme of things, it's not the end of the world. Sometimes it's even for the better. I know that can be hard to believe, but trust me on this one.

You had moved to Ninjago because your mom had some important work-related stuff to do here. She said they were low on staff or whatever, and needed her over there. You didn't want to leave your home but you didn't really have a choice, still being in high school and not having a job. So with much reluctance, you left and came here. It hadn't been awful so far. You supposed you couldn't really complain after less than 24 hours. But the moment you headed to school you were filled with dread. Your previous school was filled with enough bullies as it was, what would this school be like? You hoped not that bad. But after seeing how silent the front yard went when a blonde haired teen in a green hoodie got off the bus, you had your doubts. It was just total silence as he walked up the path to the front door, apart from the occasional whisper. He was smiling and pretending everything was okay, but it wasn't. You knew it wasn't. You could tell by the look in his eyes.

Suddenly this kid on a skateboard came zooming past, pushing the blonde to the floor and causing him to scrape his knee. Everyone erupted into laughter as the boy pushed himself off the ground, obviously in pain but trying to mask it with a smile. You had scowled and ran over to the blonde, holding out your hand to him. He saw your hand and looked up at you, looking a little confused.

"Are you oka-" Before you could finish your sentence you heard a male voice call from behind you.

"I wouldn't do that." You had turned around to see a boy with chocolate brown hair that flopped over one side of his face strolling slowly down the steps, his arms crossed as he stared you dead in the eye. He was wearing a blue jacket with the schools initials sewn on in white, a golden outline surrounding the letters "N" and "H" to make them stand out better on the clothing. He was followed by two girls just behind him, both cheerleaders. One was a blonde, her hair tied in twin ponytails, whilst the other was a brunette with long wavy hair that went past her shoulders. They both wore the same cheerleader outfit, blue vest and white skirt to match the guy's jacket. You had to assume he was a cheerleader too (I mean, he was carrying Pom Pom's). His thin lips were smirking as he stopped before you, and it was then, in that very moment, that you'd decided this guy was an asshole.

"You're new here, so we'll all excuse your ignorance." The boy acted like he was doing you a favour, like he was being the kindest person on the earth. Wow. Truly an asshole, you were right. He seemed kind of like the Queen Bee, and yes he most certainly was a Queen. He had his hands on his hips as he looked down upon you with that high and mighty smirk of his. "But, you can't help him."

You had said nothing, giving him a blank stare before taking the blonde kid's hand and helping him up off the ground. After all, why say anything to him at all? He was a bully, and a total waste of your time. Why would you wanna make chit-chat with someone so rude and mean when you could be be-friending this seemingly harmful and sweet person stood next to you?

The brunette had laughed a little and sighed, running a hand through his flowing locks. The girls behind him giggled as they stared at you with furrowed brows and grins. You wanted to roll your eyes. Really? They were gonna be acting like this at their age? How long had they been going to high school for? Were they really still acting like children?

"Okay...allow to me to explain things for you." He spoke to you in a patronising tone, making you frown. Was he being serious? You really did roll your eyes this time. "He's Lloyd Garmadon. Son of Lord Garmadon." He finished speaking and looked at you smugly, as did the other two girls. Everyone else surrounding you both seemed to be pulling the same face too. Was that it? Was that all he had to say? He told you his name. Ooh, how spooky. You were shaking. Truly. You blinked and raised a brow at him, shrugging.

"Who?" Not a single student didn't gasp and lean back in surprise upon hearing you say that word. Even the blonde beside you was shocked. He looked at you, mouth agape and wide eyed. You were even more confused. Why were they all looking at you like you'd murdered someone? Was it that big of a deal you didn't know who they were talking about?

"You don't...know about Lord Garmadon?" The boy in front of you placed a hand on his chest dramatically. He waited for your answer as you glanced around at everybody. They were all staring at you in horror. You furrowed your eyebrows and blinked again.

"Should I know who Lord Garmadon is?" You continued to glace around at everyone before your eyes landed back on the teenage cheerleader. A smile spread across his face as he chuckled. His friends did the same, whispering something to each other and giggling. What was so funny?

"Oh, don't worry." He put his hands on his hips and grinned, glancing at Lloyd as he stood beside you. "You'll find out soon enough." His eyes narrowed at the boy as the blonde averted his gaze to the floor, clenching his fists. The brunette clicked his fingers and began walking away, his friends following after him like trained puppies. You never thought you could hate someone so much in the space of a minute. You were sure you were going to loathe him for your whole life.

"See you later, Garmadork!" He paused to turn around and look at you again. Ugh, what did he want now? "And new girl, when you finally find out who we are talking about, come and look for me. I'll be here for you when you realise the mistake you've made." With that he walked back inside the school, the entire front yard still staring at you and the blonde. Quiet resumed for about three seconds after that, you just standing and staring at the doors as they closed. What was his deal? So obnoxious.

"Wow." You sighed. What a weird start to the day. You turned to the boy beside you with a worried expression. "Are you okay? Your knee is bleeding. Do you wanna go to the nurse and get it checked out?"

"A-Ah," Lloyd looked down at his knee, the blood seeping through the cut in the fabric of his jeans. "It's okay, I know someone who can patch it up. The school nurse won't see me anyway, heh..."

You had crossed your arms in curiosity. "What? But that's her job!"

"Yeah well...son of Lord Garmadon." He gave you an awkward smile as he shrugged and gripped the straps of his bag, beginning to walk inside to school. You jogged up to him and walked alongside him, totally intrigued by this "Lord" everyone was speaking of. And why did they call him a Lord? You thought your mom had said this city had a mayor.

"I don't understand, why is that such a big deal?" He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. His gaze averted to the ground momentarily as he bit his lip. He shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets as you two walked up the stone slab stairs.

"Well, thing is—" Suddenly, Lloyd was cut off when another boy appeared out of nowhere, causing both you and the blonde to jump out of shock.

"Hello Lloyd, and fellow teenager." The boy nodded to you. You stared at the stranger who began strolling along with you two. He had the palest skin you'd ever seen, crystal blue eyes, hair as white as snow. He wore a light blue button-up shirt with a dark blue sleeveless sweater over the top of it. It looked kind of like a Christmas sweater, but the pattern on the front was so obscure you couldn't for the life of you make out what it was even supposed to be. But, why was he even wearing a sweater? A Christmas one too? For one thing, it wasn't Christmas, and it wasn't it kind of warm? His actions were very precise and calculated, not to mention the way he spoke was very odd. Maybe he's a robot, you chuckled to yourself. I know, crazy. Why would a robot even be at this school anyway?

"Hey Zane," Lloyd greeted him with that awkward smile of his. "(Y/N), this is Zane. Zane, this is (Y/N)." He introduced you to one another. Zane had looked at you with a poker face briefly as if analysing your features, before a smile spread on his face and he held his hand out to you. "It is very nice to meet you, (Y/N)."

You gave him a small laugh, finding him charming and rather adorable. You didn't know any teenager to shake hands upon meeting someone new. It was quite cute in some ways. So, you took a hold of his hand and shook it gently. "Nice to meet you too, Zane. I like your hair. It's very cool."

"Thank you!" He seemed happy with your compliment. You did like his hair a lot though, your (H/L), (H/C) seemed bland in comparison.

Lloyd pushed the front doors to the school open and immediately you were all met with a loud, echoing "bro" coming from down the corridor. You had looked to see where it came from and saw a brunette running towards you all so quick you didn't have time to be scared. Now his hair really was something, he looked like an anime protagonist with that hairstyle. It suited him well though. His attire was mostly red. Red jacket, red jeans, red shoes, but his shirt was white. Red must be his favourite colour, you thought with a hum as he got closer.

"Yo!" He skidded in front of you all, staring at you with a grin. He seemed rather energetic, raring to go. He seemed quite friendly too. He just had this certain aura about him that didn't make you feel awkward around him, even though you'd never met him in your life. It sort of felt like you'd always known him. "Who's this bro? Ya' didn't tell me ya got a girlfriend!"

"Kai- no!" Lloyd blushed and sighed as Kai laughed, seeing his best friend hide his face in embarrassment.

"I'm only messing! Don't worry," He nudged you playfully on the arm. "Seriously bro, nice to meet ya'! I'm Kai, Lloyd's best bro. And if you two are bro's, then you're my bro too, so bring it in bud, let's hug." Without hesitation he brought you in for a bone-crushing hug, lifting you off the ground. You giggled a little and hugged him back, unable to resist (you loved hugs) as you flailed your legs slightly. He was obviously a hugging kind of person.

"I-I'm (Y/N)!" You told him as he put you back down on the ground. "Nice to meet you, Kai." He nodded his head.

You all carried on your way down the corridor before stopping at a set of lockers, two other boys greeting you upon arrival. The first boy was leaning against the orange lockers, and you were sure if he stood up straight he would tower over you. He wore a navy blue vest, the letters "AC/DC" on the front. He was clearly an AC/DC fan. He was carrying a black boom box in one arm, the music was quietly coming from the speakers. He had slightly messy raven locks along with a smirk on his face that told you he had an attitude. An attitude of "I don't care," which you honestly wished you had. He was also rather muscular, which is probably why he opted to wear something without sleeves. Whether it was to show them off or because shirt's with sleeves didn't fit him you weren't entirely sure. The boy next to him contrasted his height as he was really small, easily the smallest out of all of you. He wore a vibrant orange scarf that almost hurt to look at and clashed with his bold blue jumper (one that was a little too big for him). He was fiddling with his fingers as you all approached, picking at his slightly dirty nails. With his brown locks that curled everywhere and that shy and tiny smile on his freckled face, you couldn't help but internally coo.

"Hey guys!" The small boy gave a timid wave to all of you. He had an accent too. You thought you were gonna die, he was adorable.

"Hey Jay, Cole. This is (Y/N)." Cole nodded his head and saluted, not saying a word. Dang, he was so cool. Jay had also nodded his head, smiling wider for you.

"Nice to meet you guys." You had grinned at them both.

"Hey, Lloyd," Cole spoke up, looking toward the blonde with a raised brow. "What happened to your leg?" It was then everyone stopped to look at the scrape on his knee. He gritted his teeth and scratched behind his ear, not looking any of his friends in the eye.

"A-Ah, I fell over outside. I'm fine."

"You only fell because someone pushed you over." You inputted, causing the others to furrow their brows.

"What? Who pushed him over?" Kai asked you but you could only shrug.

"Some kid on a skateboard. I went over to help Lloyd up and then this cheerleader dude came up to us and started acting like a total jerk." You explained the short story to them as all the boys looked at each other. The black haired teen had sighed and switched his boom box off with a small huff.

"Chen." All five of them said in unison. You took it that that meant it was a frequent occurrence for him to appear and act like that. Wow, you looked forward to seeing him again. And yes, that was sarcasm.

"I swear I'm gonna kill him one day-" The boy in red growled and balled his fists up in anger.

"Kai, please calm down." Lloyd pleaded and grabbed his wrist before he took off in search of the brunette. "He didn't do anything to me."

"That's true. He just stood there and talked down to me instead. He didn't even touch Lloyd." All of the boys continued to look at you. Zane was frowning, Jay was hiding in his scarf a little (so cute, god damn), Cole had crossed his arms after putting his boom box down on the floor, Kai had scowled and put his hands on his hips, whilst Lloyd just looked to the floor and bit his lip. Chen must have been giving Lloyd trouble for a long time. Poor kid.

"What did he say to you?" The spikey-haired boy opposite where you stood raised a brow. You crossed your arms and clicked your tongue.

"Nothing intelligent." You heard a snort come from Cole, him slightly amused by your response. "He just told me not to help Lloyd because he's the son of some Lord? Or whatever. Which, by the way, people still haven't explained to me why that's even significant?"

It went silent again and this time they all glanced at Lloyd. You couldn't believe it was happening again.

"Dude...she doesn't know?" His best friend had folded him arms across his chest and leaned toward Lloyd a little. You had scowled.

"Please, one of you explain to me why his dad is such a big deal." You pleaded and waited for an answer. None of them responded at first, not sure who should tell you. They all averted their gazes from each other briefly before Kai had spoken up again, deciding he'd be the one to explain.

"Alright..." He exhaled. "Well, thing is, Lloyd's dad is—"

Once again you were stopped from getting the answer you so desperately wanted, as you heard a motorbike rev it's engine from the end of the corridor. But...that couldn't be, right? Motorbikes weren't allowed in school—

"Watch out! Comin' through!" You heard a female voice call as she turned the corner, sure enough, on a motorbike. You were in awe as she drove down the hall and came to halt in front of all of you. Everyone walking past glared at her, but you just stared as you were unable to tear your gaze away. She grinned at your group as she shut off her motorbike engine. "Hey, 'sup bros." She rested her head in the palm of her hand.

"Hey, sis." The brunette had said with a grin. He looked at you again and blinked. "Ah, Nya, come and meet (Y/N). She just started today." The girl looked at you momentarily and waved, climbing off her bike and coming over to greet you properly.

"Nice to meet 'ya. I'm Nya, Kai's twin sis. It's nice to have another girl in the group." She joked. "Don't get me wrong, I love these guys but, ya' know what I mean, right?" You nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, I got ya. It's a girl thing." You couldn't seem to stop smiling as you spoke to her. She had such a contagious smile, much like her brother's. She had her pitch black locks tied back in a high ponytail with a silver band, some strands framing her face and a fringe covering her forehead. She had a beauty mark just diagonal from her right eye, you saw, and it really did add to her appearance. The girl wore a leather jacket atop her striped, black and white shirt, along with some ripped denim jeans a pair of black converse. She looked cool. Even cooler than Cole.

"Yeah, you get it." She crossed her arms and nodded her head with a grin.

"Yeah," The other ravenette had interjected. "And she's also already been face to face with Chen today. Literally the first thirty seconds after arriving on school grounds." The teenager had frowned and pursed her lips. She gave a small "ooh" sound.

"Damn. Did you piss him off that quickly?" She smirked and you shrugged.

"I helped Lloyd off the floor and he just got up in my face." The girl had hummed, gently punching your arm.

"Well good for you for standing your ground. That takes guts. Not many people would do that for Lloyd." She crossed her arms. "Don't worry about him though, we got each other's back. He gives our whole group trouble." Everyone nodded in agreement with her statement.

"Yup! We are known as the Dork Squad. So welcome to the Dork Squad." You heard Jay say from behind you.

"Glad to be a part of the Dork Squad." You had laughed a little as they all smiled at you. It was then you suddenly remembered what you had been wanting to know before you had been interrupted (for a second time). "So...Kai, you were telling me about Lloyd's dad?"

"Woah, hold up." Nya blinked. "You don't know?" You sighed and shook your head.

"I've been tryna find out for the past five minutes, but something always-" The bell for first class rang and you let your head flop down. "Interrupts."

Nya had patted your back. "It's alright bro, I can explain on the way to class."

#oof okay #here we go #ninjago #lego ninjago #lego ninjago movie #the lego ninjago movie #tlnm #cinemajago #nya smith #movie nya #lloyd garmadon #movie lloyd #kai smith #movie kai #jay walker #movie jay #cole brookstone #movie cole #zane julien #movie zane #abbyfanfics

[zaraegis]

Come At The King!au| Part 10| T

Fandom: Cuphead

Pairings: Ride or Die QPP Wheezy & Dice

TW: violent talk, child soldiers, you know the drill

Notes: Wheezy's keeping secrets, a flashback to some of the Devil and Dice's earliest interactions and Dice finally confronts his childhood friend.

AO3 link

Prev| First |Next 

Summary: Wheezy's keeping secrets, a flashback to some of the Devil and Dice's earliest interactions and Dice finally confronts his childhood friend.

tw: violent talk, child soldiers, you know the drill

/Fourth Hit

Wheezy was snoring on his own couch, nose lighting up with every inhale and sleeping heavily enough that he didn't even twitch as Dice threw himself onto the floor besides him. Damn the man, he looked tired enough that Dice couldn't bring himself to prod him awake and complain about the two little menaces that he'd set loose.

He'd been out of sight most of the week, and Dice hadn't missed the Tipsy Troupe's conspicuous absence either. That meant he was definitely up to something. Odds are it's something to do with him.

Loosing a sigh and finally allowing himself to unbend the rigid line of his spine into something less painfully upright, Dice slumps into the sofa cushion and the soft rise and fall of Wheezy's belly.

Sometimes...

Sometimes Dice still feels like a kid. Stumbling around and punching things instead of learning to properly interact with them. Talking to no one but the drunk who took him in hand and had the criminal patience to explain what should have been common sense.

Will he ever stop needing Wheezy to watch his back?

What does it speak to the person Dice is that he hopes he never does?

"Yer less tense today." Wheezy's gravelly rasp nearly has Dice jolting away, if not for the sleep warm and heavy hand that sets itself clumsily on his head. "Good."

"Those two menaces left scuff marks on the bar. And my slacks." Dice complains without missing a beat. "The next time I see them I'm gonna do something I won't regret Wheeze, mark my words."

A rusty chuckle morphs into a heavy exhale as Wheezy slips back down to sleep.

Dice stays long enough to hear him begin to snore again before he levers himself back up and makes his way back out. Passing the kitchen table he spies dozens of creased letters and Wheezy's unmistakable neat hand. A stack of written notes lays innocently besides the hallway phone now relocated to the table.

Dice is besides them before he notices but stops himself from reaching out to the top folded missive. He clenches his fist and slowly withdraws it, glancing at his snoring lump of a friend.

Information is crucial. Life or death is often decided by the quality of the intel you've gathered on your targets. Your enemies. Your friends.

'If only the Queen could see me now' Dice thinks wryly, not for the first time, 'She'd skin me alive.' Or worse.

He makes his way back to his own rooms, curious about what his friend is up to. But equally sure that he'd be told in time.

Wheezy would make sure of it.

/

A long while back, before he got used to the layout of the Casino but after everyone loosened up and stopped reaching for their weapons when he came around, the Devil once walked with him on a routine inspection before opening time.

They were still uneasy with each other, Dice recalls. The Devil never faltering in what later Dice would learn was a suave, mysterious act to keep people from wondering just how much power the Devil had over puny, frail mortals. Dice himself, stayed stubbornly serious and unresponsive to any jabs thrown his way by his new boss.

At least he'd stopped skewering anything that popped up inches from his face. If only to avert the obnoxious peals of laughter from the Devil every time he did it.

"Do y'know why I told you not to kill anyone in the casino yet?" He'd asked out of the blue. Dice didn't miss a beat in replying.

"Because I'm-"

"'-a manager not a mercenary of some kind' yeah yeah I get it wise-guy." It might have been disconcerting to hear his own voice being used to mock him but with the exaggerated face his boss was pulling, Dice had to bite his lip to prevent a snicker from escaping.

"Hmm?" Like some kind of bird of prey, the Devil didn't turn. He watched closely from the corner of his eye, seeing without drawing attention to what he was really focusing on. "Gotcha with that one didn't I? You got one screwy funny bone King."

Dice turned to him, mildly indignant. "I won't take that from someone who showed up to the senior bingo hall as a skeleton in a robe with a scythe boss."

Dice didn't know where he'd gotten the scythe from actually. Neither did Phear Lap, who was actually present for the aforementioned Bingo Hall Incident. No one was brave, or stupid enough, to ask Phear Lap's actual age but the only two who regularly enjoyed Bingo Nights was that old horse and their erstwhile boss.

Dot had scrunched her nose and declared them 'older than sin, both literally and figuratively'. Dice privately agreed.

His boss laughed, too loud and wicked like Dice hadn't heard before. The vaguely ominous aura dissipating instantly with the tinge of childish glee as the Devil bounced on the balls of his feet and proclaimed, "Those old codgers are tougher than that King. Trust me. No one more ruthless than that lot."

A faint disbelieving smile graced Dice's face at that, and he hummed with a carefully cultivated air of snobbish polite disbelief. Part of him hated how easy it came to him still. The other part knew it was worth it for the way his boss pulled the most offended look in response.

A beat or two passed in quiet before they both caught each other's eyes and gave it up to laugh hard enough to have them wiping their eyes and clutching stomachs.

"Ah, damn it." Another giggle broke loose before the Devil just gave it up and leaned against the banister overlooking the main floor. "What was I saying? I had a damned point to this King."

Knuckling way the wide grin, it always unsettled people, Dice dutifully reminded him. "No deaths in the Casino."

"Ah yeah, that. Well. You've obviously killed people before haven't you?"

A cold wash of icy trepidation was dumped down Dice's spine without a warning and whatever mirth he'd had was now well doused.

"I-"

"Don't bother. I can see it on you." His boss didn't straighten up, just turned his face so Dice could clearly see the pupil of one eye morph into an outline of a cube and then shrink into a skull and crossbones.

How...fascinating.

If it was literally anyone else, in any other situation, Dice would have unabashedly peered closer.

As it was, he flexed his hands, gloved and clean but no matter what he wore or how much he scrubbed, he could still feel the tackiness of old blood. Under his nails, in between his fingers, dried and flaking along his palm.

Yes, Dice has killed people. He's not really surprised someone with his boss' eyes could see that too.

"I don't care about mortal lives, even less about mortal crimes." The Devil pipes up, gone back to looking over to his gleaming empty casino. Pirouetta was conferring with Wheezy on something before the man went off to open the doors and welcome guests in. "The only thing worth my time is mortal souls. And who possesses them, you get me?"

"Yes, boss." Dice replied, numbly. His mouth was filled with a sour taste and he swears he could feel the sharp press of broken bones against his palms.

"Contrary to whatever cute ideas you all have about balancing your sins and virtues, it's not that clear cut." Dice blinked back a bit at that, interest caught.

"Really? How is it decided then?"

The Devil snorted, "It's nonsensical. My Goddamn bastard of a father could tell you."

Ah.

The Devil shot him a narrow look and Dice faintly wondered if there was something to Chimes' mutters of purported mind-reading.

"I hear the words 'daddy issues' pass through your lips Dice, and you'll be in Tartarus so fast your little head will spin, got it?"

"Boss," Dice put a hand over his heart and affected a hurt look, "I'm the very soul of obedience. I got it." As if. Wheezy was going to die laughing when he told him tonight.

Another moment to give him the hairy eyeball passed before his magnanimous and sometimes terrifying boss grunted and went back to watching the now bustling Casino floor with a discerning eye.

"What we want is quantity. Especially since all contracts come with an expiration date."

"Their death." Dice hummed, now beginning to get it. "Everyone's gotta make their deadline." A saying the now-deceased Archbishop used to mutter a lot. Usually before he sent Dice off to collect the heads of some poor bastard and their entire family line.

The mere memory of ending that man still makes him want to smile years later.

The Devil laughed, something almost surprised in it now. "You're a riot. And a sick, sick man." He turned around, now propping his elbows to lounge properly and face his manager.

"A dead mortal has a fifty-fifty chance of being mine. A live one, who wanders in here, racks up a debt and sells their soul? The soul contract ensures they're completely mine until a couple of years down the road; it even adds a little tarnish to the soul to tip the scales. If I make an effort and help you mortals figure out how to live longer sometimes I even get an extension."

Neatly sidestepping the horrifying insinuation of the Devil's impact on their history and medicinal advances, Dice nods.

"So, the fun is in watching them tie the noose around their own necks and take a dive off somewhere high?"

There was an unsettlingly wide grin shot his way at that. Wheezy would have laughed a bit and then felt so bad about it he'd frown for the rest of the day. There was a silver lining to this job already.

"Yess," The Devil hissed, pupils thin and dangerous, the flick of a split tongue curling in the air like a party favor. "Isn't free will grand King?"

"Sure is boss."

/

Free will, Dice mused, was sometimes an unfair luxury some couldn't afford.

Staring at what was once someone he'd die to protect, Dice could almost smell the gun polish, antiseptic, perfume scent of their shared room. Minnie the Minnow had been at his side for nigh on the first decade of their life.

And now she couldn't even stand to look at him.

A sense of loss was buried under a wave of sick glee. As if this, this, was the thing to finally break the tie binding Dice to his past. Leaving behind his guns, his habits, his ruthlessness wasn't enough. But maybe The Die gripped his heart with something more alive than mere memory. Someone.

Wildly, Dice wondered if killing Minnie would make him a normal, soft person. The Archbishop and the Minnow, was that to be his price? The most hated and the most beloved of his old life? One to set him free and the other to keep that freedom?

There were bad days, where he'd make an off-color joke that brought a strange cast to those around him. Where, out of nowhere, he'd remember the exact sensation of crushing tiny bones and how long someone needed to be held down before they stopped needing to breathe. Where wine tasted like blood and the expensive orchestra only left him shaking in a cold sweat when they hit a violincello crescendo.

Where he'd wake up quietly in the throes of a dream that had him ripping apart all these weaknesses he'd surrounded himself with, the Queen's music filling the air and Wheeze's lifeless flat gaze followed him no matter what.

On those days, Dice hated himself enough to think he'd pay it.

"You never use knives."

Dice breathed in the accusation and breathed out everything. Idly noting it was more painful to loosen his shaking fist than continue gouging his nails into his palm. Yes. There were bad days. And sometimes worse days.

But they were only days.

What were some measly hours against the months and years that had Dice winning without the taste of iron at the back of his teeth? Where he could stand to look at himself in the mirror, girlish softness and bloodied apathy left behind for someone with strong shoulders and soft emotions?

Where he could hug Wheezy without looking for bloody hand prints, show off his skills to an adoring crowd and have things in common with good and less good people rather than with murderers. Where he could look at someone who has seen the creation of the universe in the eye and know no matter what he's done, the Devil will still think him a rank amateur in comparison.

"You couldn't stop crying every time the life left their eyes." Min hissed, eyes intent and dark as pitch. "I don't think that's changed Duchess."

"N-"

A small ping of a common die nearly beaned Minnie in the eye. Dice stared dumbly at it before looking to his left, where Dot- who'd been lounging and filing her nails as she kept watch on their, for lack of a better term, prisoner- now sported a nasty smile.

"That's King to you, poppet."

Dice wanted to reprimand her but reasoned that Minnie wasn't exactly a guest. And it warmed him something fierce. Which he'd admit to no one.

"Was this why you left? To be a pretend King somewhere else? The Queen would have crowned you in her place you know." Minnie retorted, eyes growing shiny in her hurt.

The two prodigies Queen Fidd raised from the cradle. One who cried when they killed. The other who shed tears over betrayals.

What a mess they were.

"Minnie, c'mon." Dice prodded softly, unseeing of the odd look Dot wore at the strange soft voice coming from a man she'd seen face the Devil's worst tantrums with gleeful prodding.

"You can't leave, and I won't kill you."

"Weak." she shook her head, scales glimmering in the faint light behind the iron bars. Almost as soft she murmured, " I'd seen you grow dull and frail in that bar. With that man and yet I still can't believe it "

Dice went carefully still. They knew about the bar. About Wheezy. That was…very worrying.

"You," Dice stopped before his voice would crack, tried to swallow past the panic, "You sound just like her you know."

The hate and poison spat upon the ever present and vague men, who would take the Queen's precious proteges and chew them up, spit them out into vacant wide eyed waifs. Weak, complacent chattel until they died. Like they tried to do to Fidd. Like they would try to do with them, mi bambini, listen to your wise mother.

Dice could recite the entire spiel by heart now, having heard it so much. He could also just about picture the sheer rage and betrayal when they reported back to her about Dice wearing slacks and answering to different pronouns.

God, Dice wishes so badly to have figured out the whole man thing earlier. The sheer hatred would have fueled him for days.

Minnie probably saw this in his face because she scoffed and turned around, ignoring them as best she could in her prison. Dice made to step closer, to continue fishing for information, but the corridor door opened and Wheezy popped his head in.

"Got some guys for ya boss!" He just about beamed, seemingly uncaring of how Minnie whipped around to stare death at him. Dice relaxed his shoulders and refrained from massaging away the stiffness in them. Dot's snort of amusement clued him in before he laid eyes on two familiar nosy brothers.

"Oh good, there should be a pair of spare manacles around here somewhere I believe." Dice smiled at the suddenly wary look the two sent him.

"Oh barf, I don't want to know about your sex life." Cuphead, the brat, said, hopping back to stay in the brightly lit corridor as Dice strode out to the fresh air of the Casino proper. Wheezy stayed in even as he flourished and bowed out a tittering Dot.

"Go corral that man of your Dotty, he's with Hopus and you know how that tends to turn out." the assistant manager wryly tattled, uncaring of the immediate and near violent bickering that broke out between the manager and the two cups. "I'll watch over our little fish here."

Dot eyed him for a bit, before smiling and laughing out a "have fun" as she strutted down the opposite way.

After everyone cleared out, Wheezy closed the door with a soft click. Another softer click ensured the lock was engaged. Turning around, he was unsurprised to see the assassin almost pressed against the bars as if daring him to come within strangling distance.

"That didn't go so well I take it?" He asked, pulling the lone chair and twirling it around to sit. The silence that met him wasn't unexpected but it was informative.

So.

This was one of Dice's friends.

"You know I'm kinda jealous." Wheezy started off resting his cheek on an upturned palm and leaning forwards like one buddy to another, about to impart the juiciest gossip. Silence was the only response. That was fine, he didn't need information from her. He only needed an audience.

"I mean, I've known Dice for almost half his life, but you! You knew him basically from the cradle am I right?" If Dice had been there, he could have noticed the jovial tone and coolly assessing eyes forwarned Wheezy's terrible temper.

"All I could do was help with the nightmares, the fear, the baggage from all the shit he's gone through." The smile was wiped clean off his face. Laugh lines and creases of good humor settled into cool smoothness with a whiplash intensity that had Miss Minnow watching this posturing civilian with something approaching trepidation.

"I'm jealous because you had the opportunity to help my best friend avoid some of that hurt and you didn't."

Her mouth opened as if to defend herself, or exclaim some dime-store villain one-liner. Wheezy didn't care and steamrolled right over that to continue, "And I know you two were in the same boat. But Dice planned for months so you two had a clean ticket out of there and you sold him out, didn't you?"

Hurt children or not. Child soldier or not. Dice's sister in all but name or not.

That was unforgivable.

For years he'd been listening and piecing together the events and what was specifically not said. It was a shot in the dark, logically speaking, but Wheezy's gut instinct had him spitting it out anyway.

Minnie the Minnow flinched back.

This seasoned killer feared him, feared his truth and for a second Wheezy felt the exhiliration of a loose string tie itself up.

It lasted long enough to almost cover up the taste of disgust. At the betrayer in front of him, at the exact number of people Dice had to kill to win his freedom when they found out his plan, at himself for the brief fantasy of scorching those pretty scales in a form of twisted payback he knows Dice wouldn't thank him for.

For the one who saw two young babies and thought the best she could do was break them in order to line her pockets with money and blood.

"I'm sure Dice told you that you couldn't escape, and that he won't kill you?" He fished out a cigarette and lit up, hoping some of the nicotine could spare him the stress headache he can feel nipping at his heels. "Well he's right. In a way."

The outer edges of the stone floor shook and fell away into nothing. Ah good, he was right on time.

The assassin jumped and her clutching hands betrayed her fear where her placid demeanor did not.

"Funny thing really. Living mortals can't be killed in the depths of hell." He had to raise his voice over the sounds of crumbling rock and the distant roar of hellfire.

"So you won't die. And you'll be released. Eventually. After we're done with your Queen." There was only about a foot of space left.

His next words caught her attention better than the imminent long drop though.

"And your Prince. And your Princess. And your Duke. And, hmm-" Wheezy pretended to think "Who was- ah yes! Marquis Bates. Right, your boss? And after him, the Sals. Have I got all the big fish?"

Her eyes were pinpricks now, and her mouth was a rigid tense line even as she tried to keep her footing on the scant inches left. Impressive.

"How- how do you-?"

"The entire house of cards sweetheart." Wheezy stood and ambled towards the door once more. "We'll topple them all."

He could only hear the panicked gasp as the last bit of the floor gave way and took their newest guest to her accomodations before he clicked the door shut once more.

#cuphead #come at the king!au #king dice #the devil #mugman #mr wheezy #minnie the minnow #the ever favorite 'discussing things above mortal minds with lucifer himself' #the king dice pain train continues on strong #also #specially featuring wheezy being the badass manipulator and number one king dice stan #my fanfic tag #its a longer one #almost split it in half really #also ty for ur tags and likes and reblogs omg u guys im cr ey

[whimsicalwhimsicott]

Here's a fic for @amber474!

The prompt was more Dad!Hank taking care of his android son fics so here's another wholesome fic!

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

“Goddammit Connor how many times do I have to tell you not to lick random shit!” Connor was pulled up and away from the footboard of a bed. They had been assigned to another case, one involving a deviant and his human lover. At the moment, it seemed like the woman was at fault, blue blood – thirium – smeared wall to wall in intricate maze-like patterns. When they arrived on the scene, Connor took in the sight immediately. Although they worked homicide involving androids permanently now, it had been since before the deviant uprising that he saw this pattern. While examining the room, he walked to the middle of the room, where the end of the bed was, and kneeled down to take a sample of blood he saw at the bottom of the footboard. Barely noticeable to humans. He managed to get a good sample before he was pulled away.

“There was blood that had yet to be marked as evidence, Lieutenant,” Connor remarked, “I simply wished to see whose blood it was.”

“And? What did you get from it?”

Connor’s LED flashed yellow for a second before spinning calmly back to blue. “It’s the suspect's blood, mixed heavily with red ice. There is a high probability that she was high at the time of the crime.” Connor went to wipe the blood on his clothes. Before he got the chance, again unpredictably, Hank grabbed his wrist and used a handkerchief to wipe his fingers. Hank had gotten him a new work outfit, so that he didn’t have to wear ‘that obnoxious CyberLife suit’ anymore. He supposed it would be wrong of him to ruin it so soon after getting it. “The woman we arrested was injured too, I suggest giving her one more medical check and then questioning her.”

“No use doing that,” said Detective Reed. Hank and Connor both jumped at the sound of his voice, not expecting him to be there too. “We already questioned her, she won’t talk.”

“I mean no offense, Detective Reed, but you aren’t very good at your job,” commented Connor. Hank made a motion for him to shut up quickly, but Gavin was already pissed. He might as well continue. “You’ve missed three pieces of vital evidence at this crime scene alone. I won’t mention other scenes, but I also recall you haven’t been able to obtain a confession from anyone in questioning either.”

“Jesus Christ,” Hank murmured, putting his face in his hands and rubbing vigorously. Would there ever be a time when Connor didn’t antagonize anyone? Amazingly, Reed kept his composure, but Connor noticed the twitch in his face evidence to when he was about to reach his breaking point. “Come on, Connor, let’s head out,” Hank suggested, teeth gritting as Gavin left the room. But Connor rejected the offer.

“I want to look around the scene of the crime a bit more, Lieutenant. There might be more that was missed. And we have a suspect to question, remember?”

“Don’t get me wrong, Connor,” officers were starting to head out. Hank just wanted to be a part of it. “I understand there’s a lot more to this case but she’s not going anywhere.”

“The evidence might,” he insisted.

Hank and Connor stood there for a long time, staring each other down in a standoff that neither wanted to back down from. Hank weighed his options. He could risk leaving Connor to his own devices on how he long he stayed at the scene of the crime and how he got home. Or, on the other hand, he could stay and- Shit, where was Connor? He listened carefully, and he thought his hearing must be going, because he couldn’t hear Connor at all until the shit called out to him. “In here, Lieutenant.”

He, and he would never admit it to anyone, ran into the other room hoping to still see Connor in one piece. Ever since he found Connor on the floor of Stratford Tower, he had felt...genuinely upset for the first time since Cole's death. He didn’t want to leave the curious android on his own after that, and for good reason. He was very close to Connor now, even letting the android stay in his home, specifically Cole's room. Not a replacement…but another son.

And having another son meant protecting him. Hank wasn’t going to screw that up again. Never again.

“Connor, can you not run off like that? I’m getting sick of chasing after you.”

The android managed to smile, the right way this time. A lot like Cole used to. “Sorry, Lieutenant. You were taking a long time to decide.”

He should tell Connor. He already knew that Hank didn’t hate him anymore, but Hank was sure Connor thought he was just tolerated. But he didn’t want to interrupt… “Connor!” he warned, dragging out the name through gritted teeth. The kid was reaching down again to lick something off the floor. Connor stopped mid-reach and pulled back, standing straight. “Connor, come on, there’s nothing here. Let’s go home.”

The android seemed reluctant. “I just-“ he used a very human motion, biting his lip ass he thought of what to say. Hank realized he was anxious about something. He watched as Connor’s LED flashed yellow then turned red. “I want to finish up here at the crime scene,” He finally finished. So this is how he wanted it to be.

“Why are you avoiding going home? Something there you don’t like?”

“Its not that.”

“You’re not a good liar, Connor. Look at who you’re talking to.”

Connor turned to look at Hank, a sheen over his eyes and saline slowly slipping down synthetic cheeks. The detective hadn’t expected that. He approached Connor slowly, “What’s wrong?”

“I...feel like I'm a burden,” he murmured. “You let me stay with you, you opened Cole's room just so that I wouldn’t have to stay on the couch all night. But I can see how distressed you get every time I walk in there.”

Hank stood there quietly while Connor opened up. Even though it had been a while since he'd become deviant, the other hadn’t liked talking about what he was feeling until it was truly overwhelming. “I want to feel like I have a place here but I just really want you to like me and enjoy my company.”

Well he really was going to have to come out with it now, wasn’t he? Hank’s eyes softened as he pulled Connor into a hug. He couldn’t explain here, not at a crime scene, it just didn’t feel appropriate. He led Connor out of the building and into the car. It seemed there was no more fight in the kid anymore. Hank entered on the other side and drove slowly through the streets. He made sure to make it a long drive despite his eagerness to get home and take a nap. Connor was force drying his tears. “How long have you sat on that?”

“I haven’t been sitting on anything Lieutenant,” he replied.

“Oh Jesus, I meant how long have you wanted to tell me that?”

“I didn’t want to tell you that, Lieu-“

“Don’t give me that shit.”

Connor took the hint, “Since you gave me Cole's room.”

“That’s been half a year…” he murmured. He pulled into the driveway of the old rundown house he had made many memories with Connor. He just had to get them across. “Connor, listen,” he sighed as he got out of the car. “You, whether you believe it or not, belong right here in this house with me.”

Connor stepped out of the car and walked to the front door, silent. Hank continued on, already hearing Sumo's heavy breathing from the other side of the door as he jingles his keys. “And you’re not a burden, it’s not like you’re not pulling your weight. You keep me from drinking myself to death, walk Sumo, clean the house, and I bet you do things I don’t know about.”

The android opened his mouth to say something, but as the door swung open, Sumo charged out and tackled Connor to the ground. He could already hear Hank complaining about getting the new suit dirty, but it never came. Instead, the man walked in the house with purpose outlining his features. Sumo followed in hopes of food. Connor brushed himself off and regained composure for a few minutes before he did.

When he did, Hank was standing outside Cole's room. A somber look was on his face. What used to be full of toys and books now also included souvenirs and knick-knacks that Connor considered important. “I think Cole would have liked you, Connor.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I’m sure he would have seen you as his brother, you aren’t too much different.”

“The obvious being I’m an android and he was a human.”

“He wouldn’t have even seen you as that. I haven’t seen you as that in a long time. You…” Hank stopped for a minute. “You’re not a burden, I don’t think I could see my son as being a burden.”

“But Hank…I’m not your son.”

“You don’t have to be, you’re your own man, Connor. I’m just trying to say that I see you as young and innocent, I’ve worried about you ever since you died at Stratford and I wasn’t there to help you, and my only thought then was that I would never lose a son again.”

“I was wondering why you never told me what happened at Stratford. I knew I died but…” Connor tried to remember, but as it had been before, it was still corrupted. That wasn’t important. Hank had just admitted he saw Connor as his son. And not a replacement son. Did that make sense?

“I’m never going to make you leave, kid. You can stay here as long as you want.”

Connor felt overwhelmed, this time from…was this happiness? He was crying again. He ran a quick search, trying to make sense of what he was feeling. Hank answered even before he could get a result pulled up.

“Wow, didn’t think I could move you to tears. What happened to hardboiled Connor?”

Plastic arms were wrapped around his back in seconds. He couldn’t help but return it. “Thank you…”

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t keep all that emotion holed up, it’ll drive you to drink.”

“Androids don’t dr-“

“Connor.”

He got the hint.

#dbh #dbh connor #dbh hank #father son relationship #detroit become human #detroit become human spoilers #dbh spoilers #my writing #my fics

[familybusinesswritingbro]

Make Me A Rainbow

A/N: I don’t know where this came from, but the mood struck so I ran with it. And I hate myself for this one.

Warnings: Angst, Death

If I die young bury me in satin. Lay me down on a bed of roses Sink me in the river at dawn. Send me away with the words of a love song

Seventeen years old. That was the age most people were beginning to figure out what direction they wanted to take in life, living their dream and finding love on a perfect summer’s trip. At seventeen, the world was still a vast and marvelous place, full of adventure and hope.

For her, seventeen was the age at which she would take her last breath. The last time the Winchester’s would ever see her smile, or hear her huff in frustration over a lore book that wasn’t making sense.

Seventeen marked the age at which (Y/N) was ripped from this world well before Dean or Sam could have prepared themselves for it.

But then again, how could anyone ever really be fine with losing their reason for fighting?

The hole in Sam’s chest felt like it was big enough to swallow him entirely. Every fiber of his being ached. His very soul was in pain. There was no way to prepare for the loss of a child. And there was no way to measure how empty Sam felt. 

His entire world, gone in a blink.

The reveal had been made by Castiel, merely days before.

‘Sam I’m so sorry.’ 

Castiel had heard the quick and desperate prayer and had appeared on the scene of the accident seconds after it happened. Searching through the wreckage and mangled trees, he finally found her broken body. The car was hardly recognizable wrapped around the tree’s trunk. She had come to rest a few feet to the side.

Castiel rarely felt grief, or true heartache. But seeing (Y/N)’s lifeless form, her skin so pale. It made him feel a hopelessness he had never imagined possible.

As he stood in the library before the brothers, (Y/N)’s limp body held securely in his arms, he could feel the atmosphere shift - the way Sam faltered for a moment, as if his eyes were deceiving him, before he rushed forward to collect his daughter.

Castiel had tried. Truly he had. But he had been unable to bring her back. 

Instead, he searched for her soul, guiding her to her to her heaven. She had made him promise not to bring her back. Being raised in the hunter lifestyle, she knew the risks that would follow. Instead, she asked him to take care of her uncle Dean. And to keep her dad safe.

“Please don’t let them do anything stupid.” Her words came out in an airy whisper as she hugged tightly to him one last time. “And come visit me.” Giving him a sad sigh, she pulled back and gave a small wave before she turned her back and began to walk towards the trail that lead to her favorite river.

“I want roses, Cas. Lots of roses.” She said as she looked back to him, her tears slowly streaking down her cheeks.

Sam had been inconsolable. He refused to believe it.

Crash.... Ejected.... Didn’t make it.

The words ran on an endless loop in his mind as he sat by her bed, unable to take his eyes off of her.

His little girl. The one light in his life that kept him going. She was gone.

Crash.... Ejected.... Didn’t make it.

He had cried, and screamed, and cussed, and begged, and prayed. He had even went to the demons, demanding a deal be made to bring her back. But nothing could be changed. 

Sam sat by her bed, unmoving for the past 16 hours. It had been Dean that finally convinced him to do what needed to be done. To give her a proper burial. 

The thought of never seeing his niece again broke him as well. He had lost the little girl that gave him hope - his best friend, the only person other than Sam he had ever let drive Baby. His mind flashed through all of the time they had spent together - from the first time he held her in the hospital, to teaching her how to play cards, to showing her how to make a fake ID. 

He also thought about the day when Sam had told him he was going to be an uncle. 

Despite the problems they had faced, for the past seventeen years (Y/N) had been the rock that held their broken family together.

Now she was gone. And neither of them knew where to go, or what to say.

So put on your best boys and I'll wear my pearls. What I never did is done.

The funeral had been held a week later.

Jody had made sure she was dressed in her favorite outfit, her favorite pearl ring wrapped snug around her finger.

The service was held in a field near the bunker, with a slew of hunters that either knew or knew of the Winchesters gathered around.

Roses adorned the outline of the hole, each hunter having a single white rose in their grip as well. 

Dean had stood by the end of a casket, his eyes glued to the smooth top as he did his best to stay strong. 

Sam stood by his side, his hazel eyes a foggy mix of blues and gold as he let the tears flow freely. He had squeezed and twisted the rose in his hands until its thorns drew blood, a reminder that he was forced to say goodbye.

Sam’s shoulders shook with every breath he took, his eyes burning holes into the wood. He never shifted his focus, even as he spoke, as if maybe somehow he could will this to all be a nightmare, or one of the hallucinations he had long since stopped seeing. But, no matter what he did, nothing changed.

 Everyone had shared their condolences, stopping to hug the brothers and offer support before they one by one dropped their roses against the lid of the casket and filed off to their vehicles.

He watched as Dean’s shovel dropped dirt down to fill in the hole, the dull thud of the weight bouncing against the slick wood barely registered in his mind. His own shovel moved methodically, his body on auto pilot as he went with the motions. Never once looking away, even after the hole was almost completely filled.

When things were all said and done, Dean had left to go inside, finding his own way of coping in the bottom of a bottle of Jack Daniels, a picture of (Y/N) sitting on the hood of Baby when she was just a young child clutched tightly in his hand.

Sam collapsed against the cold ground,feeling the air escape his lungs as the reality of the day had set in.

She was seventeen and already her life was over. Not at the hands of some twisted person, or due to a hunt gone wrong. But instead, her life had been ended by the other driver. She had no say in any of the matter.

There would be no more movie nights, like she had promised just before she walked out of the bunker door. No more obnoxious singing just to annoy them when they were reading. No more smiles, or laughs, or texts saying she would see him when he got back from his hunt.

“Dad! You’re back!” (Y/N) wrapped her arms around Sam’s neck as he hugged her, setting her back down on her feet as he stood with a chuckle. 

“Well I’m glad to see you missed me.” He smirked and ruffled her hair, receiving an annoyed groan from the fifteen year old.

“I mean, there’s only so much lore I can read before my eyes fall out of my head.” She had laughed as she fixed her hair, her eyes shining with excitement.

“I already got our movies lined up! And there’s food on the table.” 

(Y/N) hadn’t noticed the exhaustion Sam felt, instead, she saw the eager look of her father at the idea of getting to hang out with her. Though thick as thieves, they rarely got to truly just relax and catch each other up on the little details of life.

“I would never miss a movie night, Sunshine. Let me go put this away and I’ll meet you there. There better be--”

“Life Savers! Already got them.”

With a grin she turned on her heel, heading off quickly to get their first movie.

Sam smiled as he watched her bound away.

Their movie nights had been a tradition since she was a baby, their own way of celebrating his return after a hunting trip. He wouldn’t trade time with his daughter for anything.

No. His little girl would never experience prom, or her graduation, or have her own family.

The weight of it all settled into his bones, like a cold and angry voice that demanded to be heard.

 As the day turned into evening, turned into night, Sam lost track of the hours he had spent lying against the dirt. Held close against his chest was the hoodie she always slept in - now covered in mud stains and tears, his bloodied hand still squeezing to the rose like a life line. His clothes had been stained, the mud smearing against the gray of his suit jacket, grass stains winding their way up his knees and along his shoes.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t be there for you.” Were the words to escape his lips as his eyes slipped shut, his body no longer able to fight the exhaustion.

“I’m so sorry.”

Tags: @ladywinchester1967 @acklesisasnackle

#supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural imagine #supernatural one shot #sam winchester #sam winchester one shot #sam winchester fic #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x reader #daddy!sam winchester #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fic #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester x reader

[matsbarzal]

What Jack Doesn’t Know (3) - Noah Hanifin

Notes: bet I would let Noah Hanifin get me pregnant any day... anywho here’s part 3!! also this ones got a little Noah action in it, but nothing spectacular :( next one I promise. ALSO, the end gets a kind of dramatic, and like, kind of bad? This is a trigger warning for a tiny mention of miscarriage towards the end, please don’t read if that is a trigger! 

Requested: kinda

Up next: undecided 

“Do you uh... do you um...”

“Do I know who the father is, mom?”

Shamefully nodding her head, your mom twisted her the hem of her sweater, a worried look on her face. “I do know who the father is. Before you ask, no, he doesn’t know about the baby.”

“Are you going to tell him?” 

Pursuing your lips, you shrugged your shoulders, “I don’t know... probably not? I told Jack I wasn’t going to but he thinks I should.”

“So Jack knows who it is?”

Nodding your head at your mom, you twirled the sonogram picture in your finger, eyeing the tiny speck that was slowly getting bigger and bigger. 

“Do you love him?”

Choking on the sip of water you took, you looked at her in shock. “Jesus mom, is this 20 questions? No I don't love him, we weren’t dating, obviously we forgot to use protection and now I've got a bit of an issue.”

“Noah Hanif-an, then?”

“Hanifin, mom, you’ve known him since we were 14. And possibly, yes.”

Ignoring your correction of Noah’s last name, she gestured for the sonogram in your hand. “At least my grandchild will be beautiful. He must have fantastic genetics. Have you seen him?”

Shaking your head in silent laughter at her words, you simply nodded your head, agreeing with her. 

A few moments of silence passed as the episode of Grey’s Anatomy played on the television screen.

‘Can you help me unravel my latest mistake? I don't love him, winter just wasn't my season.’

“God mom, what am I gonna do? I can’t... he can't know, this was such a mistake, I should’ve listened to Jack mom, fuck.” Tittering at the vulgar words leaving your mouth, your mom moved closer, wrapping her arm around you and pulling you towards her side as tears slipped from your eyes. 

“We’ll figure this out, baby. You’re not alone. You’ve got so many people around you, we’ll figure it out, we always have, haven't we?”

The offseason in Boston was filled with three things, parties, parties, and 4th of July parties. Or at least, thats what it usually was. The moment the beginning of June hit, and the party texts started flying in, you were able to avoid most of them, citing ‘chronic illness’, ‘babysitting’, ‘work’, and so forth as the reason why you couldn’t come.  

Those excuses became a little difficult when Jack showed up at your front door, unannounced, again. “I thought you were just avoiding Noah, not all of us. Even Auston’s worried about where the hell you’ve been, and Auston only cares about himself and his ripped jeans.” 

“I've been sick.”

“With Noahitis? You’re not even showing, the least you can do is show up at some parties and act like you don't hate everyone all of a sudden. Everyone’s blaming Noah anyways, they think he broke your heart or something. Only if they knew the truth.” 

Shoving Jack, you ignored his comment. “I don’t wanna be around a bunch of drunk hockey players and puck bunnies, Jack. It’s not healthy, what if I get shoved or something? Or if someone spikes my drink? I don’t want to fuck this thing up before it gets out of its pea-sized phase.”

Rolling his eyes, Jack plopped down on the couch beside you, pulling the duvet that was covering you over his legs. “One party, that’s all I’m asking for. I’m hosting a 4th of July party. It’ll be the only party this summer before everyone goes home and stuff, please come. A few of the girls wanna see you too.” 

The ginger pleaded with you, his attempt at puppy dog eyes just making you completely uncomfortable. “Ugh, fine. Stop making that face, it’s making you look uglier than you already are.” 

“Wow, add a bit of Noah’s genetics into your body and you’re suddenly a female him. Disgusting.”

“And you can’t see anything? It still looks completely flat?” Your mom nodded her head for the fourth time. The black and white shirt hung loose, with a small zipper at the top being the only tight part of it. Matched with a pair of black bottoms, you couldn’t deny that it outlined your curves and did not, whatsoever show your non-existent bump.

“You look the same that you looked last summer, now go, before Jack sends the mob looking for you.” 

Laughing, you grabbed your car keys from the table. Pulling the front door open, you made your way towards the car. Not being able to drink had its perks, you were able to drive yourself to and from parties, you didn’t have to worry about being an idiot, and you could leave whenever you wanted to. 

Your house was a quick ten minute drive from Jack’s, the proximity between your two houses being part of the reason why you grew up such good friends. 

Parking your car on the street outside Jack’s house, you walked towards the door, opening it, you were immediately hit with the loud voices and music pumping through the front of the house. 

“(Y/N)!” A chorus of your name went throughout the dining room, which had apparently been turned into the beer pong room, with the looks of it. Smiling and waving at a few of yours and Jack’s mutual friends, you felt yourself being tugged into the kitchen, an arm around your waist.

“My favourite girl is here! (Y/N)!” God, Jack was the most obnoxious drunk.

“You’re already off it Eichel?” 

“You’re not my mom, (Y/N), boss your own kid around.” 

Pinching his wrist, you encircled your own arm around his waist, a grin plastered across your face. You missed this. Hanging out with your drunk friends, seeing everyone so happy and enthusiastic and just living life. 

You felt a solo cup being thrust into your hand, which you tried to hand back, just for the person to reject it. A fake smile went across your lips in thanks at the other person as they yelled past you to whoever was apparently, “breaking the fucking vase, you crackhead.”

Looking towards the culprit, you made direct eye contact with Noah’s blue eyes, a large smirk overtaking his face as he caught your eye. 

“(Y/N)!” Yelling, Noah walked towards you, ignoring the person yelling about the vase he pulled you into his arms, his hands resting on your waist as he hugged you.

Awkwardly hugging him back, he pulled away and smiled down at you. “Hi, Noah.” 

“Man, I haven’t seen you in like... a month. Where’ve ya been?” 

Shrugging your shoulders at him, “Ya know... around and stuff.”

“Oh okay, whatcha drinking? Want a refill? Apparently Jack’s being a terrible host tonight.” Leading you towards the table stacked with alcohol, Noah gestured towards the multiple bottles. 

“Pick your poison, I’ll mix you a great drink. Those Swedes in Carolina have been teaching me how to make some mean Swedish drinks.”

“Oh uh... I’ll just grab a cup of sprite or coke or something.”

Looking at you weirdly, Noah shook his head. “Nah. C’mon, one drink. You always drink at these parties, you’re always the life of the party. Especially after.” 

Lowering his voice and his head for the last comment, Noah got closer to your ear. The hand that was still on your waist began gently rubbing circles against the exposed skin there. “Jack won’t know if we just... disappear, babe.”

A shudder ran through your body at the feeling of him so close, a tingle running right to your core at the images that ran through your brain. The coherent part of you shook your head, gently pulling yourself out of Noah’s arms. “We shouldn’t do that anymore, we promised Jack we wouldn’t.”

“When has that ever stopped us before, baby?” Moving closer to you again, you didn’t realize that he was cornering you into the wall until your back hit it, a soft gasp leaving your lips. 

“You should only be making that sound when you’re bouncing on me, you know that (Y/N).” 

“Noah I... I need to go to the bathroom.” Shoving past him, you ran towards the stairs, skipping each second step as you made your way upstairs and towards Jack’s ensuite bathroom. Locking the door after you entered, you turned the sink tap on cold, gently holding your sweaty hands underneath the cool water.

Your head felt like it was spinning. He always knew how to do this to you, make you want him until you were going crazy. This is exactly what got you in the predicament in the first place. Shaking it off, you moved towards the toilet, pulling your shorts down and then your panties, you didn’t notice the spot on the light blue until you were sat down. 

When you did a soft cry left your mouth. Red... everywhere. Wiping yourself revealed more of your nightmare, and more red. 

Pulling your panties and shorts back on, you rushed to wash your hands, pulling the bathroom door open to run, quite literally, into a hard chest.

“(Y/N)?” 

“Get out of my way, Noah. I need to go.” You didn’t realize the nervous tears were flowing down your cheeks until Noah swiped one off. 

“You shouldn’t drive like this kid, what’s wrong?” 

“Noah, I really need to go, please get out of the way.” Shaking his head, Noah gestured to the keys in his hand. 

“Let me take you home, you shouldn’t drive when you’re this upset. You can even tell me what’s wrong on the way there, I won’t make any snide remarks, please?”

“I’m not going home, Noah.” You tried to push past him against, just for him to gently grab your arm. “Let me drive you wherever you’re going then.”

“Jesus, Noah. I need to go to the hospital, can you please just let me go, for fuck sakes?” 

#noah hanifin #noah hanifin imagines #nhl imagines #hockey imagines #noah hanifin imagine #part 3 #what jack doesn't know