#from someone who worked on it. but hes just so fucking annoying also west end is CLEARLY BETTER so FUCK YOU!!!

[lipstickontheglass1985]

day 2 of being 21 years old: got so pissed off by ryan mccartans objectively wrong opinions on heather the musicals west end production i literally started crying

#checked out his yt channel out of curiosity and my god his youtube persona annoys me so fucking much. god bless #like first of all he got the fucking song changes wrong. like for fucks sake you know youre gonna talk abt heathers west end in a video #youre not being spontaneously asked on the street abt it YOU CAN PREPARE!! looking up the fucking songs is the least u can do!!! #and also he was clearly pissy that he didnt like get invited on the premiere or whatever #he was like oh i wish there was this continuity and that they got us involved in this #just say yr acting like a pissbaby cause you didnt get a special invitation for a special boy and go ! #sorry i just find him extremely annoying overall. i went into the video hoping to hear some cool insights abt the show #from someone who worked on it. but hes just so fucking annoying also west end is CLEARLY BETTER so FUCK YOU!!! #youre just upset cause youll never be jamie muscato arent you. #dearest apologies for doing 2014 tumblr simulator on yr dashes i just feel very strongly abt this. #thots

[certifiedl0verboy]

hurts just right

introducing mothbart who has quickly become my favorite monster. this was literally supposed to be a fuckin' microfic but tell me why it's over 3k. anyway, this is for @sixlane, who came up with this meetcute. thank u for spending time talking to me about mothbart. and thank u to @theapocryphaofantares for also entertaining this idea with me.

bartylily | mothman au | words: 3.5k

The first time that Barty saw her was when she hit him with her car.

It was the one night that he decided that maybe walking around would be better—he’d been flying around all day and he got lazy. Walking was less work than flying.

But see, Barty knew better than to just walk along the road or even near the road. He was a cryptid, for Christ’s sake, and the most well looked for, too. They even gave him a sick nickname—Mothman. Not the most original name, but humans love it and who was he to judge? People come to West Virginia all the time to try and spot him, but he was pretty good at keeping himself hidden. So imagine his surprise when he thought he could just cross the road to get to the other side of the forest without getting caught and then being slammed into by a car.

The impact made him roll over the hood, and Barty felt his soul leave his body. He truly thought at that moment that this was it, this was the end and he supposed he lived an alright life. He didn’t really get to do the things that he had hoped for—like maybe go around the country and explore a bit. Or maybe actually see if sasquatches were real.

Then he realized that he was fine, he was clearly being dramatic. It takes more than a fucking car to bring him down. But he was annoyed—because who the fuck drives without their lights on? Especially at night? And on a road with no streetlights? He wanted to give whoever a piece of his mind, maybe even try and traumatize them a little—teach them a lesson. As much as he wanted to, though, he knew he needed to get out of there before whoever this was saw more than they should’ve. Barty quickly got up from the wet pavement, groaning while standing up. He looked over his shoulder to make sure that his wings were fine, and when he extended them out a little, he let out a sigh of relief when there wasn’t any noticeable damage.

He felt his head, touching his antennas, and grumbled to himself when he felt that his left one was bent. He hated when that shit happened—not that he’s been hit by cars often. But his antennas were the most painful to try and put back into place when they’ve been bent. Inhaling a deep breath, he yanked his antenna and pulled it straight, flinching when there was a sharp pain that ran through his head.

He brought his attention over to the vehicle, and the hood of this ugly, old green piece of shit car was very much dented (served them right for being an absolute moron). He blinked a few times when the car lights suddenly turned on (a little too late for that), practically shining right into his eyes.

And when he was able to focus better, Barty could’ve sworn that his heart fell out of his chest when he laid eyes on her.

Sat there was a girl frozen in place with a horrified expression. Large, green eyes stared back at him, and he could tell that she was not only freaked out but also intrigued by what she saw. He watched as she slapped her hand over her mouth, clearly needing a moment to process what just happened before she was struggling to get her seatbelt off. He wanted to see more of her looks—get a real, nice close up of her and make sure that he’s not being fucked around with by some kind of deity. There was no way that someone as beautiful as her existed, but here he was, being proved wrong.

He had to get out of there before he decided to do something stupid—like casually introduce himself and maybe ask her to hit him again to see if he was hallucinating.

So he took off before she could get out of her car.

☾ ☾ ☾

Barty saw her the next morning.

After he bolted out of there, he perched himself on a tree a few miles away. He checked himself, making sure that there weren’t any major injuries other than a few scratches here and there. He was exhausted at this point, and who knew that getting hit by a car would take so much energy out of him. He made himself comfortable on the branch and allowed himself to fall asleep.

When he woke up, he figured he should at least go check out the area where he got hit. He’s not sure what compelled him to make him want to go back—it just felt like he was being pulled there, and it was a feeling that he hadn’t felt before. His wings weren’t sore anymore, so flying out there wasn’t too bad.

He landed on a tree that was closer to the road, where he had a clear view of everything. He could see that there was a car just parked in the middle of the road, and it wasn’t the one that hit him last night.

Two people were standing outside, looking around at the opposite side of the forest.

“—I swear to God, James, I know what I saw—”

“Lily, I’m sure it was a deer or something. It was late—”

“Deer can’t fly, James,” the girl snapped. When they both turned around, Barty recognized the girl right away.

And she looked fucking ethereal when she didn’t look scared out of her mind. The sun made her red hair glisten and it fell over her shoulders. Barty could see the scattered freckles covering her arms and face. She looked annoyed, and when Barty looked at the guy next to her, he could see why she was annoyed.

He looked like a douche canoe.

“Listen, it was dark outside, you forgot to turn on your lights while driving,” the guy—James—said. “I’m sorry that there’s damage to your car, I told you that you could borrow mine while you search for a new one.”

“I don’t care about my car,” the girl—Lily—said. “I just want to find what I hit.”

“I don’t think we’re going to find it,” James replied, sighing. He walked over to the driver's side of the car and opened the door. “Come on, Lily, let’s go.”

Barty watched as James shut the car door, and Lily just stood out there, staring into the woods as if Barty was going to come out and say hello.

He wanted to—you know—say hello, but he knew better and stayed put. Lily shook her head and turned around, making her way to the car and getting inside the passenger seat. The two of them drove away, and Barty rolled his eyes.

“You’re never going to see her again,” Barty told himself. “Get real.”

☾ ☾ ☾

Barty saw Lily a couple of days after the incident.

It was late at night, the stars were out and the frogs were croaking loudly. Barty had just finished scaring off some annoying teenagers away from the TNT bunkers, and he was hoping to have some peace and quiet but that clearly wasn’t the case.

Because in front of him was Lily.

Lily wearing a baby pink tank top and a pair of shorts.

Barty wanted to devour her.

She had a look of determination and irritation on her face, and he couldn’t detect a single ounce of fear radiating from her. It was kind of freaky because he’s never had someone just not be scared of him.

Her flashlight was right on him, shining on his fuzzy chest and he watched as Lily slowly brought the beam of light up to his face. Her gaze was intense, and Barty still could not understand how she wasn’t afraid of him. Instead, it was more becoming like he was afraid of her. He's confused, because she seemed afraid when she first saw him, but now looking back on it, it was probably more like she was scared that she hit something rather than what she hit. How could she not be terrified of him? Was it the antennas? The red eyes? The fucking wings? He knew they could be fucking goofy looking but come on.

Either way, this was a first.

“Uh,” Barty said, tilting his head, bringing his hand up to try and block the light. “Did you need something?”

Oh, God. Barty wanted to smack himself in the face. Out of all the things he said, that’s what he picked? He literally had a fucking goddess standing in front of him, and he already made himself look like an idiot. Not only that, but this was his first conversation with an actual human in years. He spent his time talking to himself or talking to a large toad that he named Evan. So, this? Talking to a beautiful girl like Lily? It was a curse and a blessing.

“I hit you with my car,” Lily stated.

“Yeah, you did—Sorry, are you not freaked out right now?”

“Am I supposed to be afraid of some weirdo dressed up like a moth?”

“Excuse me?” Barty asked, glaring. A pretty girl with a pretty feisty mouth on her. He can work with that. "You think I'm a what?"

"A weirdo?"

"Who the fuck are you calling a weirdo?"

“You can’t expect me to think that Mothman is real.”

“You hit me with your car and you’re insulting me?” Barty asked. “Where is my apology, huh?”

Lily walked up closer to him, the flashlight held in her right hand. She was tiny compared to him, the height difference was throwing him off. She shoved her left index finger on his lower chest.

“Prove it.”

“Prove what? That you fuckin’ hit me with your car?”

“No,” Lily replied, rolling her eyes. She put her hands on her hips, the flashlight pointing towards a tree. “Prove to me that you’re real.”

Oh, she’s bold.

“I don’t have to prove you shit,” Barty said. “You should know better than to be in the woods at night alone, princess.”

“My friends have my location, so if you’re thinking about kidnapping me or murdering me, I wouldn’t try it.”

“What? You’re the one who came after me,” Barty replied. “If anything, I should be the one worried since you’re the one stalking me.”

“I’m not stalking you,” Lily scoffed. “I just wanted to figure out what I hit, and now I know it’s some guy dressed up like Mothman. Are you wearing stilts under that suit?”

“I am Mothman,” Barty deadpanned.

“Yeah, okay,” Lily said, sarcasm dripping from her words. “Anyway, I’m heading back to my car now, so don’t even think about following me.”

“What car? You totaled it when you slammed into me.”

“It’s my friend’s car,” Lily replied. “Not that you need that information.”

“So then why did you give it?”

“You’re nosy,” Lily pointed out.

Barty snorted. “I’m nosy? You’re the one who is giving out information left and right.”

“Whatever, grow up, look for a new hobby, and stop dressing up like a fake creature,” Lily said. “And maybe look both ways before crossing the road or you’ll get hit again.”

“Maybe you should try driving with your headlights on.”

Lily ignored his comment and turned around. She started to walk away from Barty, and she waved behind her, saying goodbye.

And for some reason, that one gesture pissed him off. He’s never had anyone just wave him off like that, or even insult him like that in five minutes. He couldn’t help it though—his eyes wandered straight to her ass. He watched as she kept walking away until she was out of view, and the only thing that kept replaying in his head was:

Lily had a nice fucking ass.

He never took himself as that kind of cryptid—one that drooled over humans or fantasized himself with one. He couldn’t deny what was clearly a fact: Lily was hot.

And look, Barty was aware that he explicitly said that he wasn’t going to prove Lily anything, but after watching her just walk away like he meant nothing was a slap in the face. He knew exactly what he was going to do and how he was going to do it.

He waited a while before figuring that Lily was in the car and was already driving down the road—she wasn’t that deep in the woods. He started to flap his wings and when he got good momentum, he ascended into the air and looked around once he was above the trees.

And there she was—driving that stupid car that she was in earlier when she came there with James.

He glided over to her car, hovering over it and keeping up with the speed of the car. He decided that now was the best time to just go for it—do what he’s known best for. He obnoxiously landed hard on the roof of the car and let out a laugh due to the thrill of scaring someone off.

However, his laugh was cut off because what he wasn’t expecting was for Lily to slam on the breaks.

Barty, losing his balance, flew off the top of the car and hit the pavement, rolling multiple times before finally coming to a stop. He let out a loud groan and fluttered his eyes closed.

“—Oh my God, are you okay?” Lily asked, running out of the car. She crouched down next to Barty and frantically started hovering her hands over him. It was like she couldn’t figure out where to start looking for injuries, but also taking in that he was clearly not human. “You’re such an idiot!”

“How are you so fucking normal about this?” Barty asked, voice cracking. He looked up at her and the headlights shining on her made Barty think that Lily was an angel, but so far her actions had been pretty demonic, in his opinion. She was in a state of panic, her eyes searching Barty’s and he could tell when it finally clicked for her.

“Oh,” Lily gasped, shaking her head and moving away from him. “Oh, you’re actually—”

“I told you,” Barty said.

“You flew on top of my car!”

“It’s not your car.”

“Does that really matter right now?”

“It does, because you hit me with your actual car, and now your friend’s car is fucked up, too.”

“And who is to blame for that?” Lily muttered. She took a deep breath and scooted closer to Barty, and this time, she was taking him all in. Her eyes wandered from his face, to his wings, to his chest, to his legs. “Jesus, Mothman—”

“Barty,” he said, trying to sit up. Lily grabbed his arm and used all her weight to pull him up gently.

“What?”

“My name is Barty,” he told her.

“Okay, Barty,” Lily said calmly. “It looks like you have some cuts on your legs, and I can look at them and clean them up if you want.”

“Nah,” Barty said. “They’ll heal on their own.”

“Wait, really?”

“Perks of not being human, I guess.”

“God, I can’t believe I hit Mothman with my car.”

“Maybe don’t go telling people that.”

Lily snorts. “No one would even believe me if I said that.”

“How come you’re not afraid?” Barty asked, looking at her.

Lily shrugged, her tank top strap falling off her shoulder. “I don’t know. There’s something about you that makes me feel the opposite, like I trust you.”

She stood up and wiped off her bare legs from the bits of gravel that were stuck onto them. Barty followed suit, standing up. He extended his wings to see if there were any cuts on them too, and when he saw small ones, he frowned. His wings always took longer to heal, so if he wanted to go anywhere, he’d have to walk until the cuts went away.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lily asked. She carefully places her hand on Barty’s arm, and he almost melts into it because he’s never been touched by anyone like this before. Soft and gentle—feelings that Barty thought he’d never experience.

“Peachy,” Barty replied. “You should get home. It’s late.”

“I don’t want to just leave you—”

“It’s fine.”

“Will I see you again?”

“Why? So you can try and do another hit-and-run?” Barty asked, grinning. He couldn’t actually believe that Lily wanted to try and see him again, but it was almost too good to be true.

“No, I—I don’t know, I’m just curious about you. I can’t properly explain it.”

“There’s nothing curious about me.”

“You’re literally a monster—”

“I would prefer the term cryptid, sweetheart,” Barty said. “Monster is a bit rude, don’t you think?”

“My name is Lily,” she said. “Not ‘sweetheart.’”

“Lily, huh?” He said. He had to act like he didn’t already know her name, he didn’t want her to know that he’d seen her before and eavesdropped on her conversation with her friend from a couple of days prior. “Cute.”

Lily’s cheeks started to turn into a soft shade of pink, biting her lip as she turned her head away, refusing to make eye contact. “Oh, thanks, I guess. Your name is...nice.”

Barty smirked and brought two fingers up to her cheek, forcing her to look at him. She looked up and stared at him, and he had this whole witty comment that he was going to make, but he forgot all about it due to him getting lost in her. Seeing her up this close, seeing the freckles all over her face—he wanted to sit down and just count every single one of them if she’d let him. He wanted to tell her how he could get lost in her eyes which were suddenly now his favorite shade of green. He wanted to run his fingers through her hair and fuck, maybe he’d even try and learn how to braid hair or some shit if it meant being able to just touch her in any way that he could.

Lily was a light that Barty wanted to orbit around forever.

There was no other way to explain that Lily made him feel like he was meant to be here. Here, in front of her, as if being pulled away from her was going to destroy him.

Well, that was a bit dramatic.

However, he’d rather get hit by a thousand cars than have Lily leave.

But he knew that she had to.

“Thanks for the forced compliment, princess,” Barty said, dropping his hand. “But go home. We’ll find each other again one day, I’m sure.”

"And what if we don't?"

"Then we don't."

"I'm sorry, you know," Lily said, frowning. "For hitting you."

"See? Was that apology so hard?"

"God, you're so annoying," she murmured.

"And you think you're not?"

Lily smiled, and Barty wanted to see that every day.

Realistically, he knew that he couldn't. It wouldn't work. Anything Barty wanted never worked out for him, so why would this situation be any different?

"Come on, go home," Barty said.

Lily hesitantly nodded her head and walked over to the running car. Barty watched her get into the vehicle as he moved to the side of the road, not really wanting to get hit a second time.

If Lily looked back when she drove away, Barty wouldn’t know. He was too caught up in staring at the ground, already missing someone he hardly knew.

#bartylily #barty crouch jr #lily evans #barty x lily #the marauders #rarepair #the marauders era #lily x barty #mothman au #au #harry potter #mothbart #i'll never leave u mothbart #i'll think about u forever #can't wait to write more mothbart #india's writing #lane tag<3 #kolowv tag <3

[rreskk]

North Yankton Trevor smut. Reader meets Trevor at a strip-joint and he favours her and fucks her doggy style in the dark corner (still in view). Bonus if he's wearing a leather jacket.

Thank you!

NORTH YANKTON TREVOR>>>>> I also included this request down below (As I wanted to merge the two ideas).

Summary: Deep in the North-West, Trevor was growing a bit lonely after his best-friend had found a girl. But he met this lovely waitress and... Well, he got to know her pretty fast.

TW: -Smut

Word count: 4050

Pairings: Fem!reader/Trevor Philips

“Do we really have to see Amanda again?” Trevor muttered as he was dragged into the strip-joint by his best pal, his partner in crime; Michael Townley.

Ever since his friend had caught eyes on a woman (this stripper and prostitute), he grew bored and quite alone. Strip-clubs used to be fun when he had friends who joined him with all the private dances, etc… Now it was just him, and occasionally Brad, but he was unavailable tonight.

“What? You love this place.” Responded Michael. He was simply too smitten to notice Trevor’s distaste of his new girl.

“Yeah, used to.”

“Whatever, bro. I don’t know why you’re mad, I’m paying for your drinks and dances.”

“Oh, yeah. That makes everything much better, Mikey.”

“Don’t Mikey me you little shi – “ Townley was cut off when a feminine voice called his name. Amanda had emerged from the staff room door with a smile. He immediately left Trevor’s side and followed her into the office to presumably fuck (just in a more private manner).

“Fuckin’ Townley.” He’d mumble under his breath and just stroll around the strip-joint. He had zero interest in the women working here. He was merely under the weather, sad, annoyed.

There was a table tucked away in the corner. Luckily the cleaners hadn’t of found it yet so Trevor eased onto the seat and helped himself to the leftover beers and chicken wings. He rubbed the grease onto his leather jacket before gulping the rest of his drink and watched the surrounding strippers move their hips sensually on the stage. Normally he’d be so turned on by this, but he felt nothing.

Trevor frowned and glared down at his crotch. He tried to touch himself through his jean trousers, trying to at least feel something.

“C’mon, you sack of shit.” He huffed and unzipped his flies.

Pulling out his cock, it wasn’t even erected. It just lied softly in his palm. It was pathetic. It made him mad. He wanted to be horny, he wanted to have fun, but here he was… Drinking cheap, leftover beer and wishing he was somewhere else; someone else.

“Excuse me,” A voice interrupted him, “Are you alright?”

Trevor glanced up from his exposed dick and saw you. He squinted his eyes with irritation before ogling your body and figure. There was a random spurt of energy that triggered him. Trevor winced when he caught a reaction from his cock, seeing it levitate slightly.

Even the sight of you was fixing his satisfaction.

“Hey.” He’d respond with a cruel smirk. Many ideas troubled his mind, all revolving around the thought of using you.

“Would you like some drinks?” You’d ask, innocently standing there with some dirty plates and glasses.

Trevor hummed as he thought about it. He nibbled at his bottom lip with concentration before nodding.

“A good beer would be nice, sugar.”

You nodded and went to retreat his cold beverage when he spoke again.

“Are you working here all night?”

“Oh, uh, yes. My shift ends up 4am.” You smiled.

“Ahh… Good, good to know, dear,” He had tucked away his dick, dismissing you with a hand, “Better get to it, girl. The beer ain’t gonna serve by itself.”

You’d apologetically nod, clearly intimated by his brisk orders. It was your job to tend the customers but this guy made you nervous. Many years at this joint, many… Yet he had made your skin crawl.

“Your service is greatly appreciated, sweetheart.” Trevor announced after you returned with his beer. The glass hadn’t of reached the table in time as he snatched it from your hand and gulped.  

“That will be… Uh – “ You were going to pass him the check but he ignored it.

The background music was loud, as always, so you repeated yourself a bit louder. And when you did, he just glared at you.

“I heard you the first time, sweetie. I ain’t paying with cash.”

Bold, you assumed. Very bold.

“I’m sorry sir, but we don’t take credit – “

“I ain’t paying with credit, either.”

“What?” He had left you confused.

Trevor finished his pint and wiped the foam from his stache before grinning at you. He leaned forward, his leather jacket squeaking against the slippery table surface.

“My friends payin’ after he’s done with his girl. Would you mind waitin’ until then?” His tone was all soft, nothing like he was a second ago.

“Oh! Yes, of course. Sorry for the misunderstanding, sir.”

“Don’t sweat it… But before you run off and do your thing, I need to know your name...”

You stared at him with discomfort; too shy to say anything.

“For my friend to pay.” He grinned after making you look stupid.

“Ah… Aha…” It was lucky the place was dark considering you were beginning to sweat profoundly, “The name is [y/n], sir. Would you like me to write it down?”

“Nah. I’ll remember.”

“Well, I hope you enjoy the rest of your night.”

“Could I ask for another favour, [y/n]?” The way he said your name was so… Spiteful, mean, but compassionate and alluring. You nodded and he raised a hand, pointing to the backrooms where the dances were placed.

“The private dancers? Would you like me to find you a worke – “

“I don’t want no random worker, sweetheart,” He scowled when you made a quick assumption, “I’m wondering if you work alongside them.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.”

“Oh, I – Umm… I’m not working alongside them, sorry…”

“Really?” Trevor looked surprised, “Why not? You are gorgeous. I guess that means you don’t know a lady called Amanda? Ugly, fat, annoying face and voice?”

“No, no, I don’t, sir.”

“Shame… My guy is back there with her. He’s probably deep inside her pussy by now and he’s just left me all alone…”

You cleared your throat, “That’s not nice – “

“No, it ain’t. Friends don’t leave each other, and I consider you a friend, [y/n]. You wouldn’t leave your good old Trev, right?”

“Trev?”

“Oh!” He cackled, “That’s right, I didn’t introduce myself… Where’s my manners, ay?” It was like he was purposely wasting your time.

“Oh, what’s your name?”

“Trevor Philips, sugar. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand, an offer for a handshake.

You took it, hesitantly. The skin to skin contact was breathtaking. His skin was rough, scabby, smothered with wounds. You were careful not to directly touch a cut as it looked quite painful. Nonetheless, his grip was heavy. Trevor squeezed your hand until he sat back into his seat and ruffled up his mullet.

“You too…” You’d whisper and look down at the hand he just touched. You still felt his skin linger against yours.

“Well? Why don’t you sit?”

“Huh?”

Trevor looked at you through his eyebrows and pointed to the seat beside him. He said only one word that made you comply, and he said it in a meaty, low, grainy croak.

“Sit.”

When you did sit, he didn’t seem to like how stiff and uncomfortable you were.

“What’s wrong with you? I don’t bite, sugar.”

“Oh,” You avoided eye-contact, “I’m just supposed to be working.”

“And? Say you’re on break. You get a 30 minute break, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You already had a break today?”

“No, sir.”

He smirked and placed an arm around your shoulders, “Then you’re on break right now, ay? I need some company anyway.”

“I’d need to tell my manager firs – “

“No, you don’t. You don’t need to tell your manager shit, [y/n]. Just stay here, I can entertain your 30 minute break…”

“Sir, I really ought to tell him – “ Every time you had the opportunity to explain how your shift really works, he just throws it down.

“Call me Trevor, sweetie. I ain’t a customer anymore, I’m your friend. Get used to it. I might even make your 30 minutes freedom into a 45, if you’re lucky.” He’d wink.

“Right… Trevor, hah… Uh, there’s just a paper I have to sign when I’m starting my break. All I need to do is sign it.”

Trevor scoffed, “Fine. Sign it then. But don’t take long, I get angry when I’m lonely.”

You gulped and nodded before rushing away.

He watched you leave with a pout. However, his mood quickly changed when noticing his raging boner from his conversation with you. He smiled. He finally felt horny. He really feels it straining in his pants. Trevor subtly stroked his bulge and whimpered when it was sensitive and throbbing.

Now he just needed you to… Cure this occurring illness that’s affecting his well-being.  

“Townley better not finish before I’m done with her.” He grumbled and straighten his posture when he saw you returning. Your hips swayed naturally and your eyes drawn him in. Trevor inhaled and saved himself from being too direct.

“I hope I wasn’t long.” You sat down beside him and adjusted your skirt so it covered your ass when sitting.

“You know…” He studied your facial features, “If I were your manager, I’d put you on the stage. You’re beautiful.”

A small gush of red covered your cheeks. He was still analysing you. It felt pressuring and when you made eye-contact, you’ve come to identify small details about him as well… Like that eyebrow scowl, lip scar, the jaunting cheekbones and sharp jawline. He was handsome. You never took strong insights since he scared you from the start, yet he was oddly attractive despite the rugged state of his hair, clothes, and just overall behaviour. He was nothing but a lost cause.

“Like what you see?” Trevor purred.

Cat caught your tongue? Badly. You instantly looked down in shame, trying to make an excuse for your staring.

“Don’t be shy, [y/n]. It’s not in your job contract to be shy to customers.” He cruelly giggled.

“I thought you were a friend, not a customer.”

“Ohhhh… There she is, the star of the show. Mmm, God, love me a friend in need…”

“Huh?” You blinked.

“Oh, you heard me. I ain’t gonna waste my precious time beating around the bush when I can be buried in your bush in no time, ay?” Trevor smirked.

Your heart rapidly increased. He was still staring at you. He was watching you fluster and squirm in your seat. This guy, this fucking guy. The audacity! You wanted to kick him out, you wanted to kick him out personally, you wanted to kick him into your own bedroom –

“Wooaahh, hello? Earth to [y/n]!”

He shook your shoulder, sitting closer than you remembered.

“Whatcha thinkin’ of?”

“Nothing, nothing.” You tried to dismiss.

“Oh yeah? You got me curious, dear. C’mere, I gotta a bit of an… Issue and you’re the gal for it.” He murmured in your ear, eyes darting around the room like he was hoping the area could clear off.

“What’s the issue?”

Trevor cackled, “Ah, it’s a bit of a sticky situation, my [y/n]. I came here for some fun, as every guy does, and… I didn’t really find any of these lovely ladies interesting.”

You nodded at his words.

“But, oh man… When I saw you, I developed this crazy itch, almost like an ache. It’s a real shame you ain’t dancing for customers because that could honestly be the cure. It is your duty to provide good customer care, right? It’s only a little bit of extra work, maybe I can use my buddies money to throw cash your way.”

You weren’t naive, by all means, you understood what he meant, but… Can you even accept? He was a stranger, a scary one. He left you bombarded with possibilities and “what ifs”.

“It ain’t rocket science, [y/n]. I’m just asking a gal like yourself to help relieve me.” He caught onto your train of thoughts and urged you to accept.

So you sighed, “That is a… Big request, Trevor.”

“You’ll enjoy it as much as I will. It’s mutual effort, sugar.”

“No, I know what you mean. I don’t know… It would be inappropriate.”

“For what? For who? No one gotta watch, only me,” He frowned, “We can go out back or in that dark corner. I’ve noticed no one goes around there, only security and they are out front, right?”

You nodded.

“So what’s the deal? C’mon… You’re a fuckin’ beauty. You don’t understand how refreshing it is to feel so turned on, girl. It’s been fuckin’ days since I’ve had a good jack off or fuck.”

He mentioned giving you extra cash, well, his friend. The pay here was already bad enough and rent was due, so you looked at him in the eye and just nodded.

“Is that a yes?” Trevor smiled.

“I suppose so. Yes. What if your friend comes back? You said he was out back, customers don’t stay there for lon – “

“He ain’t a customer. He’s pining for that fat stripper I was talkin’ about, Amanda. They are together. He usually stays in there for some time, don’t worry, hotstuff. Besides… It’s only a quickie, unless you feel God-like and I have to include a round 2… That’s when your break turns into a 45 minute fuckfest, ay?” God, he was intense with his directness.

“Ohh…” You blushed and glanced down at your hands that were anxiously shaking.

He took them into his own and caressed your palm. He had shuffled a bit closer now, his thigh touching yours.

“What do you look like without a skirt on, anyway?” Trevor whispered in your ear and smirked when you shivered.

He placed your hand down before teasingly fondling your leg, slowly approaching your thigh where the hem of your skirt lied. He tickled your skin until you squirmed.

“Trevor – “ A flustered laugh escaped your red lips.

“I know, I know. I want it too, but first… Can you tease me, sweetheart? I like my women to… Torment me, my dick’s hard but it can be harder…”

“Of course, Trevor.”

“That’s right. I’m easy to please, so do whatever your sexy heart desires.” He leaned back and made sure no one was around, signalling you to begin.

Even though he was the only one watching, it felt like a whole audience. You’d gulp at the thought of so many options open. You wondered what sort of “major” turn on he had, so you thought hard. Reminiscing about your conversation with him, his eyes were constantly peeling on your chest and skirt. It was the most safest option, you couldn’t do something outrageous, especially for a guy like him.

As you decided, you’d give him a little boob tease. Trevor was hunched against his seat with a giddy grin. He went dead silent as you slowly dragged down your shirt collar until the sight of your bra was on display. You’d stroke the top, occasionally moving the bra so a nipple would make an appearance.

He whispered to himself, “Ohh, yeah…” And held a hand over his clothed crotch.

Surprisingly, his low groans were delightful to hear. It encouraged you to carry on earning these non-direct praises. Soon, you had taken off your shirt, your bra draped around your arms, breasts fully on display. Teasing your own nipple, spitting on your left boob, licking whatever you could reach. Every time you looked up, he was intensely focussed. Trevor was aroused beyond belief.

“Keep going…” He’d slur with lust.

That left one other thing to tease with. Your pussy.

It was like you could hear him scream at you. Your fingers tangled with the hem of your skirt, slowly pulling it up to reveal your panties. Trevor had to restrain himself from ruining this foreplay. He wanted you to have fun before it was his turn to play. Yet when he watches you carefully rub your thumb through your underwear, he was already leaking pre-cum with anticipation.

“Fuckin’ finger yourself.” Growled his monotonal, grouchy voice.

“Oh…” You breathed and kicked off your panties. The table, from beside the booth, covered whatever you were beginning to do, so if anyone were to approach, you were only seen shirtless (which was fairly normal in a strip club).

“God, you got such a hot cunt.”

The sight of your pussy fascinated Trevor. You pestered your clit with a finger and gasped out a quiet moan. Now your body was shaking. The clit was so sensitive, so easy to make you break. He studied how your legs jerked whenever you applied more pressure to your finger, aching the poor sector of your pussy.

“Good… Good, nice…” He’d praise.

“Mhm, it feels so nice,” You whimpered to him, “Oh, God…”

“I wanna see you squirt, [y/n], then I’ll see what I can do.”

You wanted more compliments. While you were fingering your clit, an itchy urge to clench onto your breasts were huge. You couldn’t help but slump against the leather sit that touched your bare back. It was so smooth, it reminded you of his jacket. You imagined lying against him, the leather seat being his jacket, pretending that your finger was his. Even though he was beside you, the fantasy had made you finger yourself faster.

“Ohhhh…” Your breath was shaky and threatening to break.

“I love the way you touch your tits, baby.” Trevor grunted, his hand grinding his clothed erection hard.  

“Trevor, ah… Oh, I’m gonna – “

“You better cum on your fingers and lick it. C’mon, show me, I want see.”

“M’kay, baby.” You whined and carried on tormenting your clit until your orgasm was approaching. Arching your back against the leather seat, you cried his name and squirted all over your fingers and hand.

Trevor whistled at your intense climax. His eyes were deadly peeled on the finger that was smothered in cum. His mouth twitched into a sly smirk when you began licking it. He wanted to how good you liked the taste, waiting for you to lick the other fingers.

“Mmmm,” Slurping noises echoed from your booth, “So tasty…”

“Oh, I bet. Your pussy still wet, darling?”

You nodded at him.

“Yeeahhh… That’s what I like to hear. Alright, sugar, I want you to stand up and bend over.”

“Just bend over?”

Trevor giggled and grabbed your jaw with just one hand. He forced you to stare at him as he ordered you more.

“Just bend over on the table, sexy. I’ll take it from there. You don’t have to do a damn thing… Yeah?”

It was weird having a guy not want you to do all these fetishes, dance moves, poses. You were used to seeing strippers cope hard when pleasuring a man. You had a feeling that maybe Trevor wasn’t as bad as you thought.

Your hips were handled and he helped you stand up. Despite being naked, he made you feel comfortable by taking off his leather jacket and draping it around your shoulders. The material set you off. It cuddled your naked skin, pleasuring you without the meaning of penetration. You wanted to thank him but he had already bent you over, the sound of his flies being unzipped.

“I’m gonna make sure Mikey pays you double since you’re being such a good girl for me, sugar.” He praised and kissed the back of your neck before pushing his penis into your vagina from the back. A small whimper escaped his mouth, a sense of relief washing over now that he has you intimately.

“Oh!” You gasped.

“God, your pussy is so wet and loose, you horny little thing, ay? I’m gonna love you…” Trevor thrusted in and out repeatedly.

“Trevor! Ah!”

“Moan a little louder for me, baby, I love your voice.”

“But… But… Oh, fuck!” You cried and dropped your head as he rammed in and out of your pussy, his hips crashing against your ass.

“Keep your head up!” A hand tugged on your hair, throwing it back with a painful cry. Trevor kept his hand there, not letting go. You were moaning profoundly, all these new sensations (that men previously has never given you).

“It’s so good, It’s so good…”

“Ain’t that right?”

“Trevor, fuck… Ah!”

“Who would’ve thought that 20 minutes ago, you were refusing to sit with me.” He giggled and thrusted rapidly. The table shook as you were constantly being rammed against it with great force and power.

His leather jacket – that he made you wear – caused you great heat. You didn’t want to take it off, you refuse. Whenever it was slipping down your arm and back, you’d clench onto it like it would kill you to drop it. It smelt like him as well. Pure cigarettes, weed, booze, and sex.

You were familiar with the scent since the strip-joint was always intoxicated with it.

“You’re so hot wearing my jacket, [y/n]. So fuckin’ hot… God, I’m one lucky guy! Oh, mmm! So good! I just slide right into your slutty cunt, babe. I love it easy and sore.”

“I’m gonna cum! – “

“Easy, princess, easy… I don’t want my waitress done yet, from what I remember… You… Ah… You still got 10 minutes of your break.” He’d pant throughout his words, sometimes pausing to moan.

“Shit, shit…” You gripped onto the table with full intensions of leaving red marks on your hands. Whenever you attempted to lean forward, he pulled your hair back again.

“Keep your fuckin’ head up, [y/n]. I wanna see you moan.”

“I’m tryi – fuck…”

“This is gonna be the best orgasm of my…” Trevor inhaled sharply, “Mmmm, gonna cum, sugar. I’m gonna fuckin’ cum… Shit…”

“Faster, please!” You whined.

You could feel him smirk at your suggestion. Trevor leaned closer, his chest hitting your back, his thrusts growing more heavier and quicker. He was grunting with every hit of your cunt.

“Trevor… Trevor…”

“I’m gonna cum on the jacket and you better keep it, [y/n]. Fuckin’ wear it whenever I next come back here – “ Was the last thing he tried to say before heaving out an exhausting moan, his cock twitching. He managed to pull out in time to squirt his semen all on the leather jacket you wore. Even though it was landing on material, you felt the sensation of something liquid being poured.

“YES, AAHAH!” He moaned as his dick kept on throwing cum at your back. He had heard you whimper and shudder seconds after his ejaculation.

Trevor grew curious and leaned down, checking your pussy and noticing actual cum drip like water droplets. He smirked and lowered his head further before licking away the fluids from your cunt with his wet tongue.

It made you gasp his name, your legs trembling.

“You were right, your cum is fuckin’ tasty.” He’d remark before ascending from under you.

“Ahh…”

“Mhm, you deserve at least $50 for your service tonight, honey.” Trevor groaned and rubbed your naked stomach, kissing down your neck.

“When… When are you gonna come back?”

“Whenever my fuckwit of a bud decides to see his lady during workhours again. Probably sooner than later, [y/n]. And remember – “

“Keep the jacket on.” You weakly said with a smile, proud to have understood his request.

“Atta girl. Don’t wash it either. Wait until that cum stain dries out.” He nibbled your jaw.

“Thanks for letting me keep it…” You cuddled yourself, feeling the leather from it’s sleeves.

“Anything for a beautiful woman, and perfect waitress.”

Doors opened from opposite room, both of you peering over your shoulders. A guy, buzz-cut, jersey jacket, a hand-full of cash. You thought it was a regular customer before Trevor moved away from you.

“There he is, Mikey.”

“That’s your friend?”

“Indeed it is,” He kept a hand on your shoulder, “Stay here. I’ll get the cash.”

You watched Trevor stroll over to his friend before “taking” the load of cash from his hands. That’s an understatement. You cringed when he ignorantly stole it, ignoring Mikey’s cries.

“Enjoy yourself, sweetheart.” Proposed Trevor, shoving the money into your hands until he walked off again, without a goodbye.

Being left leaning on this wooden table with a sore pussy, lack of clothes, cum-stained leather jacket? Hmm, you can’t wait to see his face again.

“Trevor Philips…” You murmured to no one in general, “Well, at least I won’t forget him.” And continued with your shift.

#grand theft auto 5 #trevor philips #gta v #grand theft 5 #grand theft auto #gta 5 #trevor gta #grand theft auto v #trevor philips/reader #trevor philips x reader #trevor philips fanfiction #trevor philips headcanons #trevor philips/you #trevorphilips #grandtheftauto5 #grandtheftauto #my fanfiction #my fanfic writing #requests #thank you!

[fantomefawn]

Okay… so everyone was very kind and like I’m honestly amazed anyone even saw my little post about the fic and not knowing what i want to do? Like holy cow even @shieldofiron was kind enough to acknowledge it which is wild to me since i basically stalk everything they post on my main account. Anyway that being said… I am going to go the snippet route, cause really its the fuck around and find out urge i get at least once a year to do something a little too impulsive. Like post the fic before my planned posting or like idk chopping off my hair (I never like the chop, its always a bad idea but that never stops the random urge that comes upon me)

I am truly hoping this gets it out of my system.

Anyway tiny snippet, but I am going to warn you, that like i wont be giving out the insane cast list for this fic, but I will say some of it is pure chaos but like workable chaos and not every couple that ends up together i even ship? But yes batshit insane. I am also a die hard obsessed Pride and prejudice fan and know waaaayyyy too much about it. I’ve seen every version that still exists minus the musical… because i know I can’t do it. But i mean I’ve even seen the fucking Mormon version. Which i obviously don’t recommend, the Bollywood version is cute tho. Either way, it was the second chapter book i ever owned and I’ve loved it forever sooo like my boys deserved a good straight up Pride and Prejudice Au. This is like a very little snip, chapter 1 is 9k and chapter 2 is over 11k and I am still working on chapter 3

Forgot to note that because of regency period like social and class systems being so freaking complicated iiii just made it ABO

BT chapter 1 Snippet:

““Angie, Dustin what have I told you about listening at the door?” Steve was incensed as the two kept up their quiet but undoubtedly giddy behavior.

Angela scoffed briefly at him and swatted back at his hand before cheerfully responding,

“Who cares about that Stevie? Someone, an Alpha, has finally rented Cherry Lane!”

Dustin who was barely older than Angela and more like her shadow immediately piped in,

“Ms. Cunningham from the West, she has 5,000 a year!” Steve let go of Angela’s skirt in shock.

“Really?” Steve couldn’t help himself as tried to look over the two of them to see his parents talking. The pair quietly squealing in unison that she was single made him give way back into an amused smirk.

“Who’s single?”

Steven grinned down at Robin who had come around the corner at his side before turning his face back toward his parents and whispering to her,

“A Ms. Cunningham apparently.” Steve was annoyed and amused in equal measure as Dustin shushed him and rolled his eyes at Robin who gave him a look of commiseration.

“Mr. Harrington, you must go and visit her. Welcome her into the neighborhood.”

The children all watched as their father seemed to move in near circles around his wife whilst asking her,

“How can it possibly affect them if I go and visit Ms. Cunningham?” They all heard rather than see their mother stamping her foot.

“How can you possibly be so tiresome and annoying? I’m hoping she might marry one of them. I sincerely doubt I could have been all that much clearer about it especially since this isn’t the first conversation, we are having about this.” Mr. Harrington didn’t even make direct eye contact with his wife, but he did arch his brow in her direction.”

#billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington #mine #my writing #my post #BT fic #pride and prejudice au #personal #steve x billy #billy x steve #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega dynamics

[erigold13261]

Are 1010 in your AU okay? Also what happened to BJ2 and DK West in your AU?

B2J were very injured and now live with West in a small apartment trying to save up money for medical expenses and possibly to move to a new city.

As for 1010? No. They are absolutely not okay.

White, like Rin, has some memory problems. So he ended up being demoted from leader in the 1010 code. The public technically sees him as the leader of 1010, but in private it is Blue that is calling the shots. This has made White bitter and hateful to Blue, which wasn't helped by Blue attacking people who messed with 1010 (Ex-Jay, West, and B2J all on separate occasions).

So White just became cynical and hostile to Blue and the rest of 1010, trying to force his way as leader through fear and pain against them. He also started to hate all the people around him, such as Tatiana, Eve, Mama, the fans that like the other 1010 over him. The only person he seems to care for anymore is himself and Neon, and even then there is a bitterness against Neon for demoting him (but he puts more blame onto Blue for that than Neon).

Blue is an overstimulated, emotionally stunted, stressed out mess. He was given the leader role against his will, forced to have constant monitoring and updates of Neon's life support, and had his glasses taken away to tone down his uniqueness (which messes with his eyes but he has to pretend he is not bothered by it for fear he will be seen as defective and scrapped).

All he wants to do is keep things the same, and protect Neon and 1010 but every time he does he fucks their group up and make the public scared, wary, or hateful towards them. And now he is the target of multiple people's hate, from the public, from NSR, and from 1010. Blue is alone and looking to reach out to someone, anyone, that could help.

Red is just scared all the time. He is clumsy and messes up a bunch. It got to the point that his "bad boy" reputation started to get questioned because he couldn't keep it up as well as he could. Especially not after seeing Purple get destroyed. Every action Red does is full of fear of messing up. He tends to stay right by Neon and Blue, never straying too far from either of them. When Neon needs someone to hold his cane, Red is always the one to hold it. Red holds it close to his chest protectively as a way to keep it safe but also be close to Neon (he hates seeing other people hold Neon's cane because he feels that is one of the few good things he knows how to do without messing up).

The only exception would be when Yellow is leading him into trouble. Yellow would either harass Green or White for fun while making Red tag along. Green never fights back but White does, and instead of taking his anger out of Yellow who is bothering him, White takes his anger out on Red hoping Yellow will stop if he sees Red getting hurt or scared (it works sometimes which is why White continues to do it, he doesn't go directly after Yellow because then Yellow would tattle on him and get them all in trouble).

Yellow, as mentioned, is the main trouble maker of the group. He just annoys and harasses anyone of 1010 because he has no outlet anywhere else. He has a lot of energy and no where to vent it out, so he uses his energy to get the others in trouble. If Red is holding something delicate, he will hit it out of Red's hand. Or he will break one of Yinu's toys and blame it on Green. Even shattering one of Eve's statues or ripping up Remi's drawings when they aren't around and saying Blue did it. Anything to make the others seem worse than him, because in Yellow's mind, if everyone else is in trouble, he is safe.

And finally Green. Green learned quick that he doesn't matter. Even before Purple was destroyed, he was the least popular 1010 and the lowest rank out of the group. He has absolutely no power, no say, and no help. Green just lets whatever happens happen. He doesn't fight back anymore. He will usually be alone unless Yellow or White come to mess with him. The only time he is safe is when Neon is around because 1010 behave around him (and sometimes when Blue is around because that means Neon is close by or Blue will report the abuse to Neon).

Green is usually turned off or in sleep mode when not working because to him it is easier to deal with life in short moments than the constant drain. Though, sometimes he is not off by choice. His ring can be pulled out to forcibly turn him off against his will (like a kill switch) which gets used against him quite frequently actually. Whenever he points out something Yellow is doing is stupid, or tries to question White for why he is trying to order everyone around, his ring gets pulled out. Usually Red or Blue have to put it back in, but sometimes it is Neon. White and Yellow always try to make it look like Green pulled it out on his own, or got it pulled out accidentally so they don't get in trouble, and since Green never speaks up it always works.

Neon doesn't see any of this happening with 1010 though. He is usually out of the mansion working on things for NSR. When he is home he is either putting 1010 to work practicing for concerts, creating music, or drinking. He doesn't spend time with 1010 as a group, but he does individually spend time with them. He actually has special moments with each 1010 that they come to him for when things get really rough.

When making music, if Neon is playing an upright piano he will allow Green to lay his back against it and feel the vibrations of the music or the two will sit outside while Neon smokes and they will look at the plants in the yard.

When he cooks food Red will be there with him trying to help. Carrying his food to the table or even learning how to mix a drink for Neon (though Neon does not want Red touching his alcohol because he doesn't like the idea of Red trying to drink it even though 1010 can't eat or drink in this AU).

When working on designs and picking out color palettes, Yellow will almost always be by his side and just talking to him. Pointing out things and placing designs next to each other. It usually does more harm than good, messing with Neon's ability to make something coherent, but he lets Yellow play with what he is working on if there is no deadline approaching.

Blue is almost always by Neon's side. Usually he is sitting on the floor next to Neon's legs. Even when Neon is spending time with the other 1010, Blue will be there (sitting behind and hugging Neon's waste when he plays piano, sitting on the floor/under the table when Neon eats, standing close to the table full of designs/ideas when Neon is working). Blue is basically Neon's shadow, and because of this Neon teaches Blue how to work with machines in case one of 1010 get damaged and he can't get to work on them. So they spend quality time together creating new small machines or tech that would help 1010, or he would learn how to fix parts of Neon's cybernetics.

White is the only one who actively seeks out quality time with Neon. The other's just learned Neon's habits and figured out when is a good time to be with him. White on the other hand forces quality time. He will take an acoustic guitar and bring it to Neon and ask him to play music and sing for him (while glaring at Blue enough that Blue excuses himself from the scene). The Neon will play and sing, while White sings with him as a chorus/backup. It is one of the only things that brings White joy anymore, and it is always ruined by a 1010 coming in or an NSR member calling. Either way, once the music session gets interrupted, White takes the guitar back and leaves instead of just dealing with a small interruption.

#nsr #no straight roads #nsr au #failed revolution #asks #noart #eritalks #eriau #yeah #1010 are not okay #and yes #i do know those special times with neon #are not all that special #it's literally just neon going about his day #and 1010 are close to him #or even bothering him #but to 1010 it is special #it is something nice and calming to do #and it brings them joys #they need to treasure these small moments of joys #because they don't have much else to hold on to

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Finished the four David O’Doherty albums. It’s been a while since I’ve gone through all of someone’s stand-up recordings in chronological order, and I forgot how much I enjoy doing that. I enjoy watching someone’s style evolve over time – usually you can see where it’s going in the early ones, and see them get better and better at what they were always going for in later ones. Also I just find it kind of fun to listen to their personal stories change, from “I’m single and here’s why that’ll never change” to “Here’s why married life annoys me” to “Let me tell you about my kids”. Though DO’D doesn’t get that personal and I don’t think he’s married at all, so the primary change of that sort was going from “I recently turned 35 and I hate that that happened because it feels too old” to “I’m 44 and it feels weird to be that age and still playing plastic keyboards, but actually I don’t mind being mid-forties.”

The other thing that happens, when you go through someone’s work chronologically, is there’s often a sharp change in tone right around 2016. I’ve done this with enough people now to see a pattern. Comedians who were known for being light and purely fun in earlier years come out for their first recorded show post-Brexit and Trump, and they’re different. We were all different after that, not just from the direct consequences. As a Canadian I was lucky to not be subject to direct consequences of either (though indirect consequences, of Trump at least, definitely hit Canada, from tariffs to the rhetoric drifting up here to one of my friends had a friend die on the plane that blew up because of the tensions Trump escalated with Iran), but aside from any direct consequences, everyone had our eyes opened to how many people out there believe in shit like that. And after learning that, it’s hard to come back and do a straightforward observational set without at least a little acknowledgement of the darkness that it was easier to ignore before the US and UK both did actual surveys of all their people and the results said, “There’s a lot more darkness here than people thought.”

There are some exceptions to this, of course. You can see some changes as you watch all Frankie Boyle’s DVDs – he gets more specific and political as they go along – but it’s tough for him to get much bleaker or darker than the way he started. And some comedians have material so separate from politics or the world at large that they can keep it that way through anything. But a bunch of the ones I’ve seen have had at least a small change in tone.

But a lot of them change at least a bit, and DO’D was no exception. His albums skip straight from 2015 to 2020, so 2016 and COVID changed things since we last heard from him. He recorded his 2020 album on his phone, while sitting in a car in the middle of the night at the top of a hill on Achill Island, just off the West coast of Ireland, during a storm. Which is pretty fucking cool. The storm audibly picks up throughout the album – at the beginning he says you might hear the storm but I don’t notice it, and by the end I can clearly hear the wind and the rain outside. That’s a solid way to capture 2020. I mean, obviously the pandemic alone did not create that. The pandemic meant he had to record the album by himself instead of with an audience – it didn’t mean he had to drive to the top of a hill during a storm in the middle of the night and record it on his phone. DO’D just chose to do that because he’s more punk than the Sex Pistols, actually.

It's hard to pick a favourite, especially as I’ve just listened to them all within a couple of days and with things like this you only know your favourite once some time has passed and you see which one you go back to. But I think the third one was the best. By then, he’d gotten more confident in what he’d been doing more hesitantly in the first two. His use of music got more deliberate, I think. I mean obviously it was always deliberate, but on the third album it felt easier to see a way the keyboard added to the story every time he used it, while in his first album I think he sometimes used it just because he wasn’t sure the story would be funny enough otherwise, when in fact it would be fine on its own.

The fourth one is different – he has all the performance skills of the third album and more, but he’s also sitting in a car in the middle of the night. That one is good because of those circumstances. I like hearing the storm pick up, I like hearing him sound genuinely confused about the future as he tries to guess where this will go, I like the sense that most of this has not been tried much on audiences and it’s just what came into his head. But on a technical level the third is probably stronger - I guess there is in fact a reason why comedians usually try stuff out on audiences a lot before recording it.

Overall, I think my favourite track is a story about Lance Armstrong off the third album.

Anyway, I’m really glad I listened to all that. For some reason, I thought David O’Doherty lived in England. Possibly just because I know Dara O’Briain and Ed Byrne live in England, so I just assumed that’s what Irish comedians do when they’re famous. But it sounds like DO’D never left Ireland. So adding him to my Britcom list would be both a misnomer and a technically statement of support for the subjugation of Ireland, suggesting that albums by a guy who was born in Ireland and still lives in Ireland count as British comedy (as opposed to putting someone like Desiree Burch or Katherine Ryan on there, who have done much of their comedy work in Britain even if that’s not where they started). I mean, I’ve added it to the list anyway. I’m sorry, David. Does it help at all if I decide that the “Brit” in “Britcom” is short for “British Isles”? Probably not. What if I decide it’s “Brit-ish” like Just For Laughs did in their Britcom show that was hosted by Dara O’Briain? Actually that’s probably worse, the “-ish” suffix means “sort of” and I’m fairly sure Irish people don’t want to be called “sort of British”. What if I say it’s just because he performs in Britain a lot? By that logic I should put Alice Fraser on the list, which I haven’t done because she’s Australian, but maybe she should be there. These are the things I think far too much about, given that it’s a spreadsheet on my own computer and Google Drive account that does not do or affect anything.

I’ve also noticed that while I’ve seen other people call him “DOD” and I got in the habit of doing that because it’s faster and it’s a bit funny and I know people will understand what I mean, on his own website, he signs his posts “DO’D”. Probably because that’s just what he does and it has no real meaning, but possibly as a way to make a point in response to people who try to de-Irish-ize a name by taking out its punctuation (one of his albums does have a story about how he’s been asked to fill out his last name in an online form that won’t let him use characters that aren’t letters). I’m aware that anglicizing Irish names is something I do anyway on this blog, just because I don’t take the time to put in the Ó character every time I want to write a name that should actually be spelled as Dara Ó Briain. But I think I’ll start putting the apostrophe into DO’D at least, because whether or not he does it to make a serious point, I generally believe in referring to people the way they’ve indicated they want to be referred to.

That last bit was a tangent. The point is that they’re good albums. I really like his perspective. The way he looks at things and the way he approaches talking about things. The way he plays with tension, which I wrote about after his second album but he definitely keeps that up in the third and fourth. The way he’s so straightforward and... the term “raw” is generally not associated with the type of music he does, but I’ve already called him more punk than the Sex Pistols, so I think I can say that too. Everything sounds genuine and direct.

Also I know he had a whole album before all these so technically I should be talking about these as his second through fifth albums, but the first one is not on Bandcamp and I can’t find it elsewhere online. So what I mean are the first, second, third, and fourth albums on his Bandcamp page. Which can be found here, if anyone else wants them.

[waitingforeddyneddy]

Hollywood is literally blacklisting people who speak out about Israel being a genocidal state which is why many actors/musicians etc are staying silent.

Boycotting paramount won’t do shit. The only thing that will help Palestinians is pressuring the people who have political power to help save them. Y’all’s slacktivism is really insane and annoying.

As for JB traveling to Israel - people in the west, particularly the US and UK are not taught about Palestinians, Nakba, etc. From an early age they’re all taught that Israel is the one being oppressed. You’ll see many people who have traveled to Israel prior change their stance once they educate themselves.

I will take an actors silence over the over Zionism of other Hollywood stars. Bella Hadid is getting literal death threats for speaking out. And as someone who works in Hollywood, I know for a fact, as I said earlier, people are being blacklisted for even being pro “ceasefire” which is the bare minimum.

People are bringing up simone because you’re a stan of hers, which is fine, but she also hasn’t said shit about Palestine or Israel, as is her right, because people are being fired left and right for standing on the right side of history.

Hate JB all you want, I literally don’t care, I’m not even a huge fan of him at this point but people are calling out your hypocrisy and jumping to conclusions about who is a Zionist and who is not. JB went to Israel years ago, yes (I didn’t even see the pictures tbh that’s how far removed I am from celebrity socials), from all accounts was called out for it. Deleted the pictures and who is to say that he DIDN’T educate himself? He hasn’t posted any pro Israel shit since then and has smartly kept his mouth shut for now because he knows his project was produced by Zionists. I guarantee most of these people are terrified to say anything.

Major kudos to Nicola since she is the ONLY one in the bridgerton cast who has been unabashedly vocal about #freepalestine. Which is funny since most of you freaky kathony Stans HATE her. (And before you start I literally hate Penelope and Colin so don’t even try to paint me with a stan brush)

Your comments are irresponsible trying to paint JB as a Zionist when we have no fucking clue where his position lies. Much like we don’t know where simone’s, charithra’s, Rege’s, Luke’s, Luke’s, etc lies. Instead check out that list of actors who signed no hostage left behind - those are the real people you should take issue with.

Start protesting and calling your politicians. Boycotting paramount won’t do shit to help Palestinians. The US’s President is co-signing genocide right now and he is only gonna give a shit if he thinks he’s in danger of losing the next election. (Not saying you’re from the US - just giving this as an example).

I was about to respond to each of your points but then I saw you wrote “you freaky kanthony stans” and I honestly can’t take you seriously.

I also don’t believe you when you say you’re not a huge JB fan cause you sound pretty angry and out of breath. Your constant saying “boycotting Paramount won’t do shit” is ridiculous cause nobody here is saying it will end the conflict. It’s just a way to get back at them by not providing money for their subscription and going for 🏴‍☠️ if you really are interested in the story and if you just wanna watch your fave’s new project

Also LMAO at you for saying JB wasn’t educated about Israel, fucking stop saying a privileged white man who comes from money doesn’t know. Every fucking western country supports Israel in the media that doesn’t mean we are mindless robots. I live in southern Italy, I’ve been against Israel since the moment I started to develop critical thinking skills despite my humble upbringing and social status 🤡

It’s pathetic, stop with this bullshit

#fellow travelers #jonathan bailey #asks

[sluttywonwoo]

take it off || k.mg x reader

Pairing: mob!mingyu x fem reader

Summary: as much as you hate to admit it, jealousy looks good on your fiancé 

Warnings: swearing, light smut (18+)

Word Count: 1.8k

a/n: reworked this old blurb originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark )

Masterlist

“Mingyu, slow down,” you said with a sigh, trying not to roll your eyes.

“What was he thinking?” Mingyu spat, not acknowledging what you had just said. He gripped the steering wheel even harder.

You watched as his knuckles began to turn white and rubbed his arm soothingly. “Baby, take a deep breath. Relax.”

He just shrugged you off and cursed at the car in front of him.

“Don’t fucking tell me to relax.”

“It’s not a big deal, Gyu.”

He actually turned his head towards you and looked at you this time. “You’re joking.”

You shrugged sheepishly. “I’ve had worse.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

You winced, knowing you’d probably made it worse and that Mingyu was likely now picturing the grimy hands of ill-intentioned strangers all over your body.

“I should have him killed,” he snarled.

To most, that threat would sound completely ridiculous or utterly insane, but your fiancé was the head of the Seoul mob-the South West branch anyway- and he was no stranger to violence. Having someone killed would be as easy as snapping his fingers.

You scoffed to call his bluff.

“You think I won’t?” he challenged and you groaned.

“You promised you were done with that.”

It’s true, one of the conditions of your engagement had been that Mingyu agree to put the more sinister side of his business to rest, and although you trusted him, in all honesty, you weren’t sure how well he was upholding his end of the deal.

“I’d make an exception.”

“Well don’t. I don’t want some poor guy’s blood on my hands.”

At that, the car screeched to a stop right in the middle of the freeway. The cars behind you honked and flashed their lights at Mingyu as they maneuvered to avoid a collision.

You huffed in frustration, wanting to bang your head against the dashboard. This was exactly why you didn’t like for Mingyu to drive himself: he pulled dangerous shit all the time like this. Literally, all of his other men had drivers who took them places and you desperately wished Mingyu would hire someone, but he insisted that it was safest if he was the one driving (yet here you were in the middle of the highway).

“You could’ve fucking killed us!” you shouted, more annoyed than anything.

Mingyu took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. But y/n, he’s not just some poor guy.”

“He was trying to get a rise out of you, Gyu. He fucking hates you, of course, he’d go after me, and he was drunk.”

Mingyu narrowed his eyes at you, foot still pressed firmly on the brake. “That’s not a fucking excuse, you of all people should know that. Why are you trying to defend him?”

“I’m not trying to defend him, I’m just saying he doesn’t deserve to die. Can we please just get home?”

Mingyu relented and put the car back into motion making you breathe a sigh of relief.

Even though he didn’t say anything else you could tell his mind was still going a thousand miles a minute. You watched him chew at his lip in silence and wondered what was going on in that beautiful head of his. Nothing good, you could be sure of that.

Mingyu’s mind was darker than most. Occupational hazard. He carried so much pain that you hadn’t known about when you first met him. He’d let you in slowly, keeping you at arm’s length for months, until he almost lost you. And then he knew he couldn’t keep things from you anymore. It was still a challenge to understand his thought process sometimes, but you liked it that way. How could a ruthless, power-hungry mobster also be the most loving, family-oriented person you’d ever met in your life? How could someone who dropped a grand on a dinner like it was nothing secretly rather spend one more night picnicking with crappy Chinese food on the bedroom floor in your old apartment? You couldn’t think of an answer, and you didn’t want to.

The guy at the bar tonight had been some rival of Mingyu’s. You hadn’t seen him before, but you could tell because when Mingyu got up to get the two of you more drinks he swooped in and laid it on heavy. He looped one arm around your waist and placed his other hand on your knee and began attempting to seduce you. Sure, you were uncomfortable but more than anything you were angry. And tired. Tired of being used as bait, something to get to Mingyu.

You didn’t want to make a scene so you listened to the asshole talk about how much better he’d treat you than Mingyu until your fiancé eventually returned with your drinks in hand, face beet red, eyes dark with anger.

The man, you never caught his name, left the bar with a broken nose. Mingyu left with bruised knuckles. You’d thought it would end at that, but of course, once Mingyu got started it was hard for him to stop. It was a gift in the bedroom, but a curse in the rest of your life.

Then, so softly you almost didn’t hear it, Mingyu broke the silence in the car and said “I know what he said to you,” and it all clicked.

Normally, a hand on your shoulder, thigh, ass was enough to set Mingyu off, but combine that with the filthy words he’d undoubtedly overheard spilling from the man’s lips… no wonder all he could see was red.

“Mingyu, I-“

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to start something.”

“Start something? Is that true? Or do you think he’s right?”

“No, of course not.”

“Do you think he can satisfy you better than I can?”

“Mingyu!”

“Well do you?”

You shook your head and rubbed your thighs together, fighting a shiver. As irritating as Mingyu’s jealousy could be, the effect it had on you was even more infuriating. The man could already turn you on without doing anything and whenever he started acting a little jealous it was game over for you. It was pathetic, really.

“Why the fuck did he even think it was okay to look at you, let alone touch you?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged finally settling in to play the game. “These big dudes with huge muscles just think they can have whoever they want.”

Mingyu whipped his head back towards you. “What did you say?”

You ignored him. “I mean he definitely wouldn’t be as good as you, but he could do some damage.” Mingyu was full-on glaring at you now, and you wanted to tell him to keep his eyes on the road, but you couldn’t give up so fast. “I mean, just one of his hands could probably wrap around my whole neck. Like they were giant, and you know what they say about guys with big hands-“

“Do you think this is funny?”

Any sane person wouldn’t even think about taunting Mingyu like this, not with his reputation, but you couldn’t be sane to be with someone like Mingyu anyway, and besides, you knew he was a big softie at heart.

“A little,” you admitted. “You look really hot right now.”

He really did. His hair was tousled with silver highlights from the moonlight streaming in through the windshield, his tan skin was flushed with adrenaline, and his white button-up was unbuttoned just a few times to show off his collarbone. You bit your lip. You were so fucking weak.

“That’s not going to work.”

“No?” You quirked an eyebrow and leaned over the console to see that he was already more than half hard in his dress pants. “Because it looks like it’s working.” You reached over and began to palm him through his trousers, smirking when he cursed and rolled his neck at the contact.

“Y/n, if I have to pull over, you’re not going to be able to walk for the next week.”

Oh no, that’d be horrible you thought to yourself and rolled your eyes. He had to know that’s what you secretly wanted, right? Right? Why were men so stupid?

Either way, you took your hand back and moved it up under the hem of your dress to where you were feeling a little desperate for some friction. You sighed deeply when you rubbed yourself over your panties, not even surprised at how wet you were.

“Fuck,” you hissed out and hiked your legs up onto the seat so you could give Mingyu a better view.

“Stop that.”

He said it so forcefully that you froze, fingers hovering over your panties, about to pull them to the side. Then you smiled.

“No.” You went ahead and did it anyway, slipping two fingers inside of yourself easily.

You weren’t one to defy Mingyu often, especially when it came to what he asked of you in the bedroom, but you knew how crazy it drove him and just couldn’t resist.

Mingyu groaned, trying and failing to maintain an angry expression. His eyes betrayed an absolutely sinful lust that made you want to melt and you wished more than anything he’d just pull the fucking car over.

“Fuck, Gyu,” you gasped, “I wish these were your fingers, you’re so good with your fingers.”

“Yeah? You sure you wish they’re my fingers? Not someone else’s?”

You shook your head vigorously. “Never. You’re the only one who knows how to make me cum that hard.”

“Is that what you want? To cum hard?”

“God, yes,” you moaned, pumping your fingers in and out of you faster.

“Take off your dress.”

“What?” you weren’t sure if you’d heard him right, you were still driving down the highway after all.

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

Not wanting to push your luck any further you didn’t hesitate to listen this time and pulled the loose fabric up and over your head.

“Good girl,” he praised and you whined. You were still wearing your bra and underwear and as much as you’d love to flash oncoming traffic, you hoped Mingyu wouldn’t ask you to take them off.

“You can touch yourself,” he said and you complied, knowing it was more of an instruction than an allowance.

It felt good, really good, but you still wished it was him instead of you.

“Fuck, darling you look so beautiful like that, God, I can’t believe I get to marry you.”

“If, you stop, killing people,” you managed to get out through gritted teeth and Mingyu laughed.

“I’m not going to kill him, baby. I made a promise. You’re too important to risk losing, even if he is a fucking prick.”

You whimpered, the mixture of complete head-over-heels love you felt for Mingyu and pleasure making you crumble.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he said, reaching over and taking you by the wrist, stalling your movements just as you were about to fall over the edge. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll forget you ever met that asshole.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

forever tags: @haven-cove

shoot me an ask to be added/removed from my taglist

#take it off #mingyu smut #kim mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu x fem reader #mingyu x you #mingyu x y/n #mingyu x female reader #mingyu x fem reader #kim mingyu x female reader #seventeen smut #svt smut #seventeen x reader #svt x reader

[asterlark]

ok. samwell college of music au. i wrote all four years let's go babey

eric bittle is this lovely southern tenor (sounds kinda like mitch grassi or ben j pierce) who posts covers (& sometimes originals, but always with neutral or no pronouns because he can't post anything that says he or him ☹) on his youtube channel and has major stage fright but is very talented; he also plays ukulele

he got into samwell college of music on a voice scholarship and his dad doesn’t exactly approve but eric was never the 6′2″ masculine football player he wanted anyway so why not go for his dreams

he auditions for the very competitive samwell men’s contemporary chorus (there’s like 20 choirs; chamber choir, jazz choir, a cappella groups (lax bros do a cappella), combined choirs, etc- smcc does contemporary pop/rock music) and while he’s very very nervous and shaky as he auditions, directors hall & murray see a lot of potential in him (with major grumbling from student director jack)

(the rest of this ridiculously long au under the cut)

the group is small, for a chorus, because the point of the group is not a wall of sound but a focus on all of the very talented guys’ voices coming together in these gorgeous harmonies and basically they’re like one of the best choruses on campus and all the male singers want in

so there’s jack zimmermann, who of course eric knows because everyone knows who he is, he’s the son of bob and alicia zimmermann, both incredibly talented and famous musicians, and basically those genes were in his favor because he’s mega fucking talented

(jack was supposed to sign a recording contract to be in a band with his best friend kent parson when he was 17 but something happened between them and the pressure was too much and jack overdosed on something- there’s so many rumors no one knows what’s real- and kent signed solo in LA & went on to win grammys for his albums about a mysterious ex and jack disappeared for a few years to be a counselor at a music camp and reappears at samwell, knocking everyone’s socks off again like he’d never left, except with a renewed vigor and intenseness that freaks everyone out)

jack is a contemporary writing & production major, freaky talented and sings like a modern day frank sinatra, and he plays like 20 instruments and can read music like breathing air and writes songs like if he stopped he’d die; his music is folksy and mournful and he plays all the instruments on his tracks himself- guitar, piano, strings, drums- it sounds like a full band but nope. just jack. he’s intense

“we all get nicknames in this choir,” justin informs eric on his first day, “we’re those kinda guys.” so he’s bitty, which he finds vaguely offensive (bc he’s not that short!) but still cute, & the rest of the group is introduced to him:

“shitty” knight (voice like colyer) is a musical education major and an enigma of a singer with this awesome, earthy, raspy voice that’s really interesting to listen to and a very.... unique style & look; he writes cheesy but shockingly good raps about social justice topics and he will sing-lecture you if you’ve said something offensive (he also plays banjo)

justin “ransom” oluransi is a music business & management major with an angelic voice you can’t help but listen to; he’s sultry and has an incredible range and does runs like nobody’s business (with a voice like daniel caesar or leslie odom jr UGH)

adam “holster” birkholtz is a voice performance major, wants to be on broadway and it’s all he ever goddamn talks about basically, he’s a belter and has a lot of charisma and starpower and he’ll charm the pants off of you within one note; can also play piano and irritates everyone constantly because his regular volume is like a level 11 (voice like the frontman of my brothers and i combined w/ x ambassadors lead singer)

larissa “lardo” duan is at the local art institute because performing arts is not her jam and she’d much rather paint; she’s a barista at annie’s and supervises open mic nights and keeps the annoying choir dudes from driving away all her patrons

“i’m not even in your dumbass choir,” she says when the group gave her her nickname. holster just told her that she was an honorary member and then started sing-shouting a song at her about how good she is

bitty’s first year is hard because he’s talented and he works hard but he shies away when anyone asks him to sing outside the group and like, he can sing to a camera by himself but being on a stage with everyone looking at you and the sole responsibility of the song on your shoulders is terrifying and no thanks

jack does not. understand this. he’s been performing practically since he came out of the womb and he doesn’t really get performance nerves (what he gets is anxiety about how he did after he gets off stage that follows him home and makes it so he can’t sleep) - so he bothers bitty about it constantly like “you just need practice, you just have to sing by yourself a lot and then you’ll get over it” which like.... that’s true but it’s also hella scary and bitty’s like “no thanks!!!!”

but jack’s annoying and intense so he makes bitty do open mic with him every saturday night and it’s going okay and bitty loves his choir and loves his school and these new friends he’s making and he finally feels comfortable enough to come out to them during his second term

then during their spring choral showcase at the end of his freshman year bitty has a solo and he’s worked really hard on it and he’s feeling good- okay he’s completely freaked out but he’s trying to feel good- but when he gets up on stage there’s so many people and the stage lights are so hot on his face and he flips out a little and maybe he passes out from anxiety and stress right on stage and it’s terrible and he’s so embarrassed and ashamed that he ruined their set at the showcase

of course jack blames himself because “we shouldn’t have given you a solo before you were ready, i misjudged it, i’m sorry” - and they all feel kinda bad bc holy fuck they didn’t know his stage fright was that bad like they didn’t know someone could pass out just by being anxious to sing

he practices all the time over the summer and goes to his local open mic at jack’s insistence and it actually helps a lot because instead of a sea of strangers judging him it’s a bunch of people he knows and they’re all smiling at him and when he finishes his song they cheer for him and it boosts his self-confidence a lot

his sophomore year they have three new members- chris ”chowder” chow (voice like ieuan), an excitable music education major with impressive rapping skills, derek "nursey" nurse (frank ocean or leon bridges type), a songwriting major who can also play violin and guitar, and will ”dex” poindexter (like tom west), a production & engineering major who tried out with chowder bc he needed moral support and didn't expect to get in but impressed the directors with his voice

the year’s going pretty good, bitty’s still pretty scared of singing alone but more confident now and the open mic nights with jack haven’t stopped, so he’s getting better. and one night they’re hanging out at annie’s after closing waiting for lardo to be done so they can walk her home, and bitty suggests that jack sing with him one of these nights, and jack says he doesn’t know any of bitty’s songs and bitty says they can write one together half jokingly but then jack is like “yes.” with that Intense Look

SO they get together a couple days later in jack’s room at the house they all live in together (bitty moved in at the beginning of the year after previous smcc member john johnson called him- how’d he get his number?- and told him he could take his room if he wanted), jack with his guitar and bitty with his ukulele, and it’s a little awkward until bitty says jack should play him one of his songs

and, okay, he doesn’t really know what to expect because the only music jack ever released to the public was that one single he did with kent parson when they were 17 so bitty doesn’t even know if he has anything to play him, but he does- he starts playing these soft, sad notes on the guitar and opens his mouth and sings about being lonely and scared and unsure, about false starts and shaky ground and not knowing where you stand with someone, about expectations and lying awake at night and wishing so hard you were someone else, and bitty watches him sing and just kind of... realizes he’s head over heels for this boy and internally Freaks Out a little

he tries to put that aside and they start to write this song, at first it’s weird because jack’s like “all your songs are love songs i can’t really relate to happy love songs” and bitty’s like “listen... i’ve never even had a boyfriend i just write a bunch of sappy love stuff because it’s not about me it’s about whoever’s listening to it, they’re gonna project their own experiences on my music anyway so it doesn’t matter if it’s my real life or not” and jack’s like “alright while fake af that’s smart and i respect you” (what bitty doesn't say is that he writes about what he really wants which is to fall in love & be in a happy relationship)

they say they’re just gonna write this kinda vague sad song but they both secretly write lines about their actual lives so it ends up being really personal and real and raw for the both of them

they sing the song at open mic that saturday and the crowd at annie’s is never that big but they’ve never got a standing ovation here before, and some girl shouts “MAKE AN ALBUM” (it may or may not be lardo) and they both blush furiously and bitty’s like “... that was really nice, jack” and jack’s like “... yeah it was good good job you’re really getting some confidence out there nice work” (bitty: “THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT AAAAH”)

around this time jack’s really thinking about what he’s gonna do when he’s done at samwell, talking with his parents and his agent and looking into different record companies and deciding if he wants to sign with anyone or possibly start his own company- the head of a small company called falcon records in rhode island has been talking to him a lot, and jack talks to bitty about how he thinks it’d be nice to start small, and the record exec georgia and the producer marty had both been really nice and welcoming, and bitty’s so happy for him but also just... sad that he won’t be around jack every day after he graduates

THEN at a haus party celebrating their win of a local choral competition, who shows up but none other than pop star kent parson to Ruin The Fun

bitty sees the way jack pales when kent walks in, notices them disappear upstairs together and feels a little sick worrying about jack but chalks it up to the highly alcoholic concoction shitty and lardo had cooked up but nonetheless decides he’s sick of the party and goes up to his room and hears.... a little too much

and YIKES he’s standing right there and kent parson, pop star, two-time grammy winner, is looking a little rumpled and staring right at him and he puts his hat on and clears his throat and snaps at jack- “hey. well. call me if you reconsider. but good luck with rhode island. ...i’m sure that’ll make your parents proud.” and jack’s shaking, and bitty doesn’t know what to do but jack goes back into his room and bitty’s just kind of standing there like What The Fuck

so.... he kind of stews over winter break but tries not to think about it too much and he and jack text a bit and jack tells him to practice and bitty’s like “oh, you” and jack’s like “im serious” and bitty’s like “>:( it’s christmas”

spring semester starts and they're doing well in competitions and they go to semifinals and then finals for a prestigious collegiate choir competition and the pressure is mounting but they all are so optimistic and really feel like they're on the same page and bitty’s confidence is better than ever and then.... they don't win

jack especially takes it very hard, but then he also has signing to worry about, which everyone helps him with and he decides to sign with falcon records and start work on an album after graduation

speaking of graduation, shitty and jack graduate and it's hard for them but harder for bitty who feels like he's losing jack in a way, he knows how intense jack gets when he's making music and it doesn't feel like he'll have any time for bitty anymore so when they say goodbye bitty goes back to the haus and listens to his and jack's song and just cries

but, like in canon, dadbob has words of wisdom to impart and jack has an "oh" moment and races across campus to kiss bitty

they get together and the next few months are spent with jack working nonstop on his album (which tbh, he'd had many of the songs written already so it's mostly recording and producing) and texting bitty constantly and coming to visit him and playing him demos of all the songs

jack also asks bitty if they can record the song they wrote together & have it as a bonus track on his album & bitty says of course, so when jack visits they set up an impromptu studio and record vocals in the guest bedroom and this deeply personal song they wrote before they were ever together means so much more to them now

and bitty is so happy but so scared and sad too because jack is playing him these songs telling him "they're all for you bits, & a lot of them are about you" and he just doesn't know how he's going to keep all this love inside even though it feels like jack's career is at stake

he tries to shove it down and stay strong though, especially since he's now an upperclassman and they're taking on new members- connor "whiskey" whisk (voice like finneas or the male singer in valley), a music business/ management major who seems to hate bitty's guts and tony "tango" tangredi (like chaz cardigan), a jazz composition major who astounds everybody with his endless questions but also his ridiculously impressive composition skills & naturally perfect pitch (he can also play saxophone??)

i want ford in this au so fuck it she is a composition major with dreams to write scores for musicals and she stars training as a barista at annie's (aka training to corral the smcc)

the pressure of it all proves to be a lot and bitty and jack have their hi, honey moment where bitty's like i can't be this deep in the closet!!! and so they tell the smcc and also jack's label that they're together and that eases things a bit

jack's album comes out to much critical acclaim and shouting in the groupchat ("#1 ON ITUNES BRAHHHHH!!!!!!!!") and several months later, when smcc has already been eliminated from choral competition in an earlier round, jack is nominated for SEVERAL grammys including best album, song of the year, and best new artist

when the time comes he takes his parents and bitty on the red carpet which, everyone keeps being like "who are you here with jack?" and he's like "my family and my good friend :)" and yes it is awkward

jack wins... all three awards. it's the comeback everyone is stoked to see and when his third win is announced, he and bitty are so elated that they kiss before he goes to accept the award

his speech is basically just "um... wow. thank you. i just kissed my boyfriend on live tv. this is amazing and i'm so humbled. i'd like to thank my boyfriend and georgia and marty and my parents and my friends and my boyfriend"

obviously the press has a FIELD DAY with this but bitty & jack are honestly vibing and so happy that it doesn't matter untiiiillll bitty's mom calls and he has to tell her "mama i'm gay and i'm going on tour with jack this summer okloveyoubye"

the last few months of bitty's junior year pass quickly and he's voted student director which is a huge honor considering how much he struggled with stage fright and confidence & how he'll now be stepping into ransom & holster's shoes

r&h and lardo all graduate (the smcc basically crashes the art school graduation and all scream when lardo gets her diploma lmao), which is a bittersweet occasion and they all do a bit of tearing up

that summer bitty goes on tour across the u.s. & canada with jack and his touring band (snowy is a bassist, tater is a drummer and poots does backing guitar, he also brings nursey to play violin on a few songs) as well as georgia who's there to manage logistics

and tour is so fun & chaotic with many bi and rainbow flags in the audience that end up thrown on stage and draped around jack's neck and they spend so many nights in the bus drinking and laughing and fooling around on the guitars and bitty's uke and exploring new cities bitty has never been to before and it's the freest bitty has felt in a long time

summer ends though, and jack leaves for the uk/europe leg of the tour, and with the new school year brings a few new members- river "bully" bullard (voice like gregory alan isakov), a music therapy major who draws his own cover art for his songs, lukas "louis" landmann (like jr jr), an electronic production and design major with a penchant for EDM, and johnathan "hops" hopper (like keiynan lonsdale), a film scoring major who wants to write music for movies and video games

bitty meets and befriends some of the other student directors- shruti, sd of the women’s contemporary chorus; sharon, sd of the chamber choir; and edgar, sd of jazz ensemble (even chad l., sd of the all-male a cappella group)

senior year passes similarly to the comic; coach visits and sees one of bitty’s competitions, jack comes to madison for christmas, smcc does well in competition and goes to regionals etc

however… bitty keeps putting off and putting off gathering the songs for his senior recital

he has a hard time doing that because he’s so focused on the group and making sure they’re performing well and as they advance in competition, everything else starts to fall away

eventually the rest of the smcc has to lock away his uke and change his youtube password and FORCE him to choose songs for it and start preparing because he cannot graduate without doing this recital and doing well on it

he chooses (of course) a beyonce song, a few of his own songs, an ellie goulding song, and an adele song

with all that his breath hitches and his hands shake before he goes on stage, he does really well and his voice instructor prof atley tears up a little in the audience as does his mom

meanwhile smcc goes to semifinals, then finals, of the national collegiate choral competition they participate in

and i imagine bitty faces somewhat less homophobia in this au because i mean, he’s in the performing arts, but i think it’s still there and he also faces a good amount of classism from richer students and performers who think they’re better because they had the resources and money to be performing professionally from a very young age, and he has been practicing via filming himself on a shitty camcorder and posting it to youtube

but they still get there! and the national finals are fucking HUGE and a big deal and a little overwhelming

bitty’s stage fright is Present because this is the biggest stage and the biggest stakes he's ever had and he has a big solo in one of their songs so if he fucks up, he fucks up a national championship for his whole group and school

luckily though, when he steps on the stage with his best friends and sees his boyfriend and family and smcc alums in the audience and they perform their first song, a high-energy pop medley that always gets the crowd going, everything seems to melt away and it's just him living in this moment and singing his heart out

when it gets to the next song and his solo, he forgets to be nervous and belts it out, getting screams of approval from the audience when he finishes

(dex and nursey do have a duet together that they had to practice for many long nights in the practice rooms alone but that's neither here nor there)

their time on stage seems to last both hours and no time at all and then they're done, the crowd gives them a standing ovation and it's at least 30% r&h & shitty's hooting and hollering and jack's enthusiastic clapping that makes bitty & the others beam with pride

then it's just waiting, giddy and nervous beyond belief in their green room, for the judging to be over

after what feels like forever they're back on stage, arms linked together waiting and hoping for their name to be called and it is, they win and it feels like years have built up to this moment, and bitty tears up because years ago when he was fainting from anxiety at having to perform in front of people he never could've imagined that he'd do this, that he'd be the student director that led them to a championship

they get the trophy and a ridiculous amount of flowers from their loved ones and they all are just in giddy disbelief that this is happening, they're national champs!!! they are the best choir boys in the nation!!

they come home and the rest of the school year passes by so quickly that it's very suddenly graduation and bitty can't believe his college career at samwell is over 😢

(he and ollie and wicky take pictures together, o&w talk about how excited they are to devote full time attention to their band & wedding planning and bitty's just like wait you're gay??)

bitty got plenty of offers from record companies but he likes his freedom of creativity and he has a built in fanbase from doing youtube all these years so he decides to make an album independently (jack helps him produce & master it 🥰)

when bitty's album comes out about a year later, full of bops about being gay and in love and having struggled but come out the other side more confident than ever, it doesn't get any grammy nominations- and he didn't expect or need that.

what it does do is it resonates. it makes the rounds in youtube and queer internet circles; people his age reach out to him saying this is the music they wish they had as a kid and kids reach out to him saying he's a role model and they're so glad to have his music to listen to. his album is written about as an underrated gem that shines with queer brilliance and is sure to start a party when it comes on.

his parents may not fully understand the road he's chosen for himself but they're still so proud and promote the album as hard as any of his loyal fans (especially the one country-inspired song on the album that he wrote and dedicated to them).

and jack, jack who saw this album from its infancy to its release date, who took the film photo that ended up being the album cover, who worked with bitty to make sure his vision was realized exactly how he wanted it to be, is proud beyond words.

jack starts using his semi-abandoned twitter again to tweet "stream [album name]" every day and bitty retweets them sometimes, with just a "this boy. ❤"

and they're happy. they're good. they have come so far and they are reaping the rewards of all the hard work they put in to make the music that they truly love.

the end :)

#check please #omgcp #samwell college of music au #mine #my writing #eric bittle #jack zimmermann #omgcp fic #check please fic #zimbits #uhh idk what else to tag #this fucking thing is like 4.1k words i'm- #i hope you enjoy it (and reblog it!) bc i've been working on this for literal years #i know i'll never actually write it as a longform fic so here's a bullet pt fic instead #pls let me know your thoughts i have so many things to say about this au

[neovisioned]

♡ꜜ cupid victorious﹫jaehyun jung

pairing : jaehyun x reader (f) ft. doyoung, jungwoo, yukhei, mark, taeyong and sicheng as the six other cupids, quick mention of seventeen’s jeonghan as jaehyun’s old tutor and red velvet’s joy as the reader’s close friend.

genre : angst, fluff, another smut with too much plot, cupid!jaehyun, soulmate!au, strangers to friends to lovers.

warnings : slow burn, one protected sex scenes, two unprotected sex scenes (as always, stay safe in real life) : heavy making out, dirty talk, body worship, praising, nipple play, penetration, marking, cock warming, morning sex, shower sex, manhandling, degradation, oral (make receiving), face fucking, creampie, fingering, overstimulation, heavy making out in an elevator, they can’t keep their hands off of each other at some point, mentions of sexting (again, in real life know the precautions to take before sending anything risqué) and non descriptive masturbation scene, car sex, semi-public sex, grinding, oral (female receiving), tongue fucking, edging, hair pulling, slight ass play, mention of spanking, slight impreg kink and cum play. 

word count : +26,5k

synopsis: where Jung Jaehyun is one of the seven cupids, one for each continent, and he truly, deeply loves what he does for the small people on planet earth. there isn’t any competition between him and his six other brothers, but most would agree that he’s the best cupid among them. and yet, he’s been stuck on a case for a bit too long now. down on the pretty blue planet, is you. equally as pretty, Jaehyun has to say, yet it seems his arrows aren’t working on you. being a hard-working and pretty stubborn cupid, he decides to take a trip downtown to get to know you better and why exactly, are his arrows not working like they’re supposed to. things don’t go as planned, especially when you take interest in him. 

a/n: please read this i just, this lowkey means a lot to me, this isn’t proofread and, peep my weak attempt at giving jaehyun pink eyes, this takes place in seoul. taglist : @coffeeofmine​, @mailuvsnct​, @junguws​, @suhweo​, @suhfluffy​, @animegirl366​, @ceruleanskies​, @the-universe-in-you-jjh

Jaehyun loves what he does. He wouldn’t even dare call it a job, rather, a vocation, a strong feeling that he was meant for this. The young men had been trained to become one of the seven Cupids when the old ones retired for other adventures. The legend says the old Cupids are eventually reborn on Earth for a more ordinary life after their service on Olympus. He also remembers being taught by the previous Cupid of the continent he was assigned to, a young-looking men with graceful and delicate features, long greyish hair that matched his silver bow. 

Quickly, he learned that Jeonghan - his tutor at the time - was somewhat a vicious Cupid. He knew how to make his job even more fun, taking young Jaehyun alongside him for adventures he could then brag about to the six other apprentices. The brunette remembers watching as his eldest shot arrows at two strangers, two best friends, two rivals, even. But never, never did he let Jaehyun touch one of his arrows, he was only allowed to watch from the high pedestal of a fluffy cloud, or draped in a soft sheet of invisibility. 

Out of the seven continents, Europe was given to Taeyong. One of the smallest, but prettiest, the Cupids all agreed. Taeyong was a cupid with sharp features, hair as red as his beloved bow. After travelling in every country and city, he, himself, fell in love with Paris without the need of any arrows. Taeyong eventually ended up making too many people fall in love in this very city after staying there a bit too much.

Mark, one of the youngest Cupids, was assigned to North America. What a huge continent for such a small frame, was what Jaehyun thought when they were first assigned. But, the brunette had to admit, Mark grew up a lot, Jaehyun didn’t have a single doubt that he had the shoulders for it now more than ever. The young men had a lot of fun with his blue bow, that’s for sure, and he made sure to tell every juicy story at the end of the day with the same contagious smile. 

South America was given to Yukhei. Another with sharp features who was more than happy to oblige. The Cupid was adventurous, loved going to secluded areas and learning more, loved a good sunbath after a day of work when he had the time. His green bow never had a chance to rest, though, it’s like he had a competition with Taeyong on who could shoot more arrows in a week.

Australia was Doyoung’s. The smallest continent, but that’s how the men liked it. He knew the entire country like the back of his hand, he even had his favorite spots, the black-haired could even walk in the streets like a normal citizen at times, without his invisibility spell. Doyoung was quite the careful Cupid with his silver bow, he liked to take his time with his decisions, a privilege few cupids had. 

Sicheng was in charge of Africa, oh how he loved how diverse the continent was. His favourite part was going to the small islands, he truly was living his best life, yellow bow shining under the burning sun. He too, has some interesting stories to tell, though he was extremely busy too.

Antarctica was Jungwoo’s. Needless to say, he didn’t really like it at first. At best 4,000 people during the summer, but Jungwoo finally found something good about it. He knew everyone, or almost. Sure, he didn’t use his black bow as much as everyone else, but he didn’t mind. He could even visit Yukhei every now and then, just to annoy him right before he had to shoot an arrow. 

And finally, Asia. This one was Jaehyun’s. What a huge responsibility for the young men. But, he accepted the biggest continent without a complaint. The brunette travelled the continent from north to south, east to west. His golden bow rarely caught some rest, Jaehyun was rather quick to shoot. 

And, when the time came for Jaehyun and his six friends, that he called his six brothers, to become the new generation of Cupids, he was nothing other than filled with joy. Joy and excitement, maybe a little bit of anxiety at the responsibility but, they all had been waiting for this moment.

It was five years ago, five years since he finally was able to take his bow in hand, pink irises shining with excitation as he accepted the great responsibility, fingers running over the sharp arrows. After years, months, weeks and days of learning how to match people together, become the perfect, invisible matchmaker. 

Strangely enough, it seemed humans managed to grasp the grand concept of their work pretty well. On his first day with Jeonghan, Jaehyun learned about Roman mythology’s Cupid and Greek mythology’s Eros, and how humans thought it was one immortal men handling the entire job, shooting a single arrow, making that person fall in love with the first individual they saw.  The brunette found this depiction rather funny, some differences were notable. Obviously, it wasn’t a one men job. Yes, the seven boys were pretty fast, but they wouldn’t ever be able to work with even one of them missing. They didn’t have one arrow, they actually had four different arrows : same heart-shaped at the end, different colors, different purposes. 

The first one was quite innocent, an open door for mistakes, it was the first many Cupids used. A bronze arrow meant for crushes.  The second one was what humans knew about. Silver, it was meant for love, be it for a serious relationship or not.  The third, was one every Cupid used often too, but with caution. The soulmate arrow was a golden arrow, eye-catching and almost dangerous looking. Cupids used this one when they knew two people were soulmates. Sometimes, they never used it on someone, and other times, they used it multiple times on an individual. 

The last one, every Cupid hated using at first. Dark, black, the “heartbreak” arrow. Jaehyun thought the name wasn’t so appropriate after all, it’s less radical than it sounds. It’s an arrow used to make people lose feelings. Because with time, Cupids learn that humans need a bit of a broken heart, need to fall out of love to move on to better things. 

Ask about the ceremony, the seven Cupids remember it like it happened yesterday. An entire night, from dusk until dawn, starting with the old cupids reciting the thousand years old speech they, themselves, heard when they became the new generation.  Every Cupid was called with their assigned continent, tutor handing them a bow, one by one, each a different color. Finally, when all the new seven Cupids were aligned, seven white arrows were shot in Olympus’ sky, leaving a pretty trail behind them, before eventually falling on earth. Yet another tradition, the legend says that whoever gets touched by this arrow will be one of the next Cupid. 

The night was attended by almost all the Gods and Goddesses, filled with songs, wine and nectar, gifts to get the Cupids’ good favors. Jaehyun remembers looking down on earth by the end of the night with a sense of pride and excitement.  That night was also the last time Jaehyun saw Jeonghan, the last time their tutors were seen on Olympus. As wine and nectar stopped flowing, two generations of Cupids went to sleep and only one remained, the oldest vanishing without a sound, without a trace. 

It was quite a sad sight, fourteen became seven, but Asia’s cupid knew he’d eventually come across his old tutor one day, living like a normal human, oblivious and amnesic to the adventures he had and loved to tell up in Olympus.  Jaehyun would recognize him in a second, and he swore he’d look over him like Jeonghan did. 

Jaehyun taps his fingers on his golden bow, itching to shoot an arrow again. It’s been a bit too long since he shot the last one, and he’s getting bored. On his pedestal, the Cupid looks down on earth with half-closed eyes, longing for something exciting to happen already.  No matter where his eyes land, what country, what city he decided to look over, it seems that his instincts aren’t kicking in, his instincts aren’t letting him know that his arrows could be useful. 

Minutes feel like hours for the brunette, but it seems the Gods and Goddesses heard his silent complains and bend to his needs, eyebrows raising as his pupils finally catch an interesting situation.

“Ah, finally.”, breathes Asia’s Cupid. Leaning in, his eyes take in the scene. In a gym, he doesn’t take long to find whoever sparked his interest. You. 

Hair attached in a ponytail, sweaty forehead, you’re in the middle of an intense workout session. By your side, it seems you have a coach, helping you with some gestures, shouting some encouraging words Jaehyun doesn’t really care to listen to.  Jaehyun has seen a lot of people, thousands a day, maybe more, who knows. But the Cupid himself has to say, you’re pretty. 

Though, the brunette is a professional Cupid. Or at least, he likes to think he is. This said, he doesn’t stay stuck looking at your figure, pink irises focused on the men next to you, going back and forth, detailing the situation.  As a Cupid, Jaehyun quickly understands that you need a little bit of love in your life, something to spice things up. Ask him to explain, he’ll tell you he can’t. Again, it’s pure instinct, with a bit of analyzing. Cupids usually feel when an arrow could be used on someone, and then, instinct and some thinking help them decide on the arrow to use. Usually, it doesn’t take more than a few seconds, Cupids just know when something is only meant to be a simple crush, when love is involved, or when things are simply meant to be. 

A pout forms on his lips, this wasn’t the most interesting case he had, but it could do. 

Now that the Cupid thinks about it, he had a thing for making strangers fall into each other’s arms, but he loved, absolutely loved, helping people cross the blurry line between hatred and love. Jaehyun has a few favorite stories, like the one time he made a prince and a trader fall in love, or the cliché college enemies finally giving in. But hélas, these stories didn’t happen every day, Jaehyun told himself as he grabbed his bow, arrow ready, string tense. 

A bronze arrow, one that will only make a crush bloom in your heart, that’s the one Jaehyun chose for you, your coach wasn’t the one for you, he could feel it. 

The Cupid did it hundreds of times a day, he didn’t have to think much about it. The brunette had the habit of closing an eye, making sure he had a good view and, without thinking too much, Jaehyun shot his arrow. 

And just like that, Jaehyun’s job for the day was done. 

A hot cup of black tea in your hand, you groan as Sooyoung swipes right on yet another picture you didn’t even get the chance to look at. Nice. Your friend had been asking, almost begging you to finally get on Tinder. And, after much convincing, you agreed, not knowing what you got yourself into. The red-haired didn’t waste a second to grab your phone, swiping left and right while barely letting you judge by yourself the people she was virtually matching you with. 

Pictures were moving left and right, left, left, right, faces blending into each other, not a single bio catching your attention. Crazy how many people like the same few hobbies, how bland description can make you dizzy overtime. You were too tired to focus on the handful of people Sooyoung was making you look at anyways. After an entire day of work, and a full session of workout, all you could do was hum more or less loudly, hoping your close friend could translate your vibrations into yes and no’s. 

“Fuck, you’re out.”, she interjects. It manages to catch your attention a bit more, lifting your eyes from the brownish liquid. Out ? Out of what.  “What if you payed for more swipes ?”, your friend taunts. Judging your reaction, her head rolls back, trying to get a good look at you with her head on your lap, finger dangerously hovering over the payment wall on the screen. 

“Oh no, no way I’m paying for that !”, you mumble with a tired voice, almost knocking your drink out of your hand as you grab your phone. No way you’d pay for something like that anytime soon. 

“Y/N, c’mon !”

You know Sooyoung so well you don’t need to see her face to picture her rolling her eyes at you. For the past month or so, your friend had been trying to get you on dates, without much success, unfortunately. See, if Sooyoung was quite with her time, not having a problem with finding dates after dates via dating apps, you on the other hand, didn’t feel the same. Maybe you were too romantic for your generation, but you still found it really hard to get with the entire meeting via social media thing.

“You know I’ll delete that as soon as you leave, right ?”, you tell her again, quickly closing the application before locking your phone, an audible sigh from your friend as the background noise. 

“Uh, alright, at least I tried.”, the red-headed tells herself, finally moving from your legs that were starting to get numb under her body. But, it doesn’t take long for her to lash onto yet another possibility the second after. “And what about your coach ?” 

A frown takes over your features, your mouth a thin line you hide behind your cup. The tea’s still hot, the sugary liquid burns down your throat and you take the opportunity to think a bit more about her words. 

Your coach, you never really thought about him in that way. You also never thought about him out of the gym setting, actually. But, now that you did, you had to admit that he was a good looking person. And, you did notice his new haircut today, undercut making his figure look cleaner.  Then again, you saw him often, but when he saw you, you were always sweaty and out of breath. You also realized that you associated his name and face to the not-so-pleasant body aches you had every time you left the gym. Strangely, your right arm was always a bit more sore-. 

“Nah.”, you finally respond, catching a drop of tea threatening to fall down your chin. And, by the looks of it, Sooyoung really thought something could spark with how long you took to respond. The young girl can only scoff, mumbling something under her breath, scrolling on her phone and you can only guess she’s trying to find one guy she met once in college five years ago that she can maybe present to you. 

And you guessed right, after a few minutes, she turns her phone towards you, the brightness a bit too much for your half-closed eyes. An Instagram picture on her phone shows you another guy with red, long hair. Half of it is tied in a bun, the other half falls in front of his sharp eyes in a curtain of bangs. From his caption, it seems he’s Japanese, or at least can speak it. 

“Nice hair.”, you simply tell her, hoping she’d drop the subject, but obviously, Sooyoung doesn’t. The young girl looks at the picture once again, a fake frown on her face as she gestured to her own hair. “I’m actually, CEO of the company.” 

“You’re one hard case, Y/N.”, your close friend finally concludes, after facing your silence for a few seconds. You can’t believe her, she starts scrolling again, determined look on her face. You really find it heartwarming, how she’s trying to help you find love even when you act the way you do. You didn’t even tell her why you disregarded the red-haired men, she already knew you were a stubborn, hopeless romantic, views tinted and distorted by years of romance novels and cheesy movies. 

“Sooyoung, you’re not the Cupid you think you are.” 

Yet another day in the somewhat mundane yet exciting world of Cupids. Jaehyun wouldn’t have it any other way, though, or at least, he thinks so. On his little pedestal, the cupid takes a sip of his nectar.  On the soft cloud, his foot kicks at the fluffy texture, watching as it dissolves in the wind. It’s right in the middle of the day for Asia’s Cupid, he already shot a lot of arrows, a few soulmate arrows and had just been the invisible witness of a forbidden love blooming, something he could tell the other cupids about tonight. 

Jaehyun finds himself looking over your city again, it’s something he does a lot. The young men doesn’t have a favorite city, he can’t put Tokyo, Seoul, Shanghai and other cities against each other, but he does like Korea’s capital quite a bit. Cherry trees full of fruits, people are going out more often, summer is making everything better. And then, the young Cupid gets that feeling. One him and the six other Cupids know oh, so well. Tips of his fingers tingling, pupils blown, his eyes quickly find his new subject.  And it’s...You again ? 

“You, again...?” Jaehyun can’t help but voice his thoughts out, no one can hear him anyways. But it’s weird, to see you again. Didn’t he shoot you yesterday ? Yes, Cupids see a lot of people, but Jaehyun has a good memory and won’t forget a face so quickly.  A human having a crush on someone and falling in love with someone else weeks, even days after isn’t impossible, but Jaehyun never had it happen so quickly. Maybe you fell in love with your coach, the brunette thinks, but as he gets a closer look, he notices that your coach, isn’t really here.  Uh, interesting, Jaehyun thinks. Maybe today won’t be so mundane, maybe you’re the one who’ll spice things up for him.  It’s weird, you’re not thinking about your coach. That, Jaehyun can tell. There isn’t a single trace of love interest for him in your soul, Asia’s Cupid wonders if he missed his shot yesterday. It happens rarely, maybe three times since he started this, but it can happen. It gets the young men even more intrigued. 

A small smile creeps on his lips as he sees you stopping in front of a cherry tree, admiring the red dots all over, taking a quick picture before walking straight ahead. It doesn’t look like you’re working today, Jaehyun knows it’s Saturday on Earth. Much like Doyoung, the brunette has a sort of obsession with the blue planet, he knows more than most of his brothers.   Another thing he knows, it looks like you’re meeting up with someone. The Cupid sees you stopping at a coffee shop, he decides not to look inside of you walk in. 

And Jaehyun is right to do so, several minutes after, you’re walking out with a hot cup of tea and a cheesecake. Good taste, the Cupid thinks. He loves cheesecake as well, Doyoung bought some the other day. Even better, the two ate it all by themselves, lets just say his five other brothers aren’t that interested in Earth’s culture. Finally, you take advantage of the Summer weather, taking a seat outside. You don’t look as sweaty as yesterday, obviously. Hair down, the soft wind makes the tips of your locks tingle your skin, locks you brush away quickly. Jeans and a light top, your everyday makeup is done. 

As you take your phone out, the young men takes a step back, trying to see if he can find the one you’re waiting for in the streets. It’s a fun luck-based game he plays from time to time. But it seems luck isn’t on his side today, when his pink irises find your silhouette again, he notices a man sitting right in front of you.  Oh, him. Something serious could happen with him, Jaehyun can tell by the way the tip of his fingers tingle. Yet, you can do better than that, Asia’s cupid thinks to himself. And suddenly, he stops himself. He shouldn’t think this, a Cupid shouldn’t have such judgments. Brushing the thought away, he takes a step forward, trying to understand who this guy is to you. 

“How long has it been ?”, the men asks, apparently it manages to make you laugh a bit as you answer. “A decade or so.” With this, it’s easy to understand you two haven’t seen each other in a long, very long time. So you two already somewhat know each other, it might help things, maybe you didn’t know your coach enough to feel things. The arrows’ law can alter and be a bit strange, sometimes. 

“You’ve grown up a lot since junior high, Y/N”, the unknown men says, a pool of heat creeping on your cheeks.  Pretty name, the Cupid thinks. Old friends reuniting after years, that’s a cute situation, he thinks to himself. He can see something mildly serious coming out of it, he isn’t a soulmate but, he could be in your life for a year or two, maybe three. 

He shrugs, taking his beloved bow in his right hand, silver arrow in the other. A routine, string tense, one eye closed, from this distance, Jaehyun knows he won’t miss, there isn’t a chance in the world he’d miss a shot like that, he’s close, the target isn’t moving. 

And so, he shoots. When the arrow lands, right in the middle of your chest as you’re taking a bite of your cheesecake, the young men sees you slightly choking on it, chuckling to himself. Something quickly sparks in your eyes when your old friend helps you whip your chin, there you go.  Jaehyun thinks he’s done with you. That night, he tells his six brothers about the girl that choked on cheesecake.

“Myungdae ? Ew, no.”, you whisper out, eyes travelling from the sculpture to your friend, almost choked at the proposition. The look on your face is enough to tell her exactly what you think about your old friend, to Jaehyun’s misbelief.

He cannot believe it, he can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. His lips part in pure shock, or maybe it’s awe, he doesn’t know quite yet. On his pedestal, the arrow and bow the young men was supposed to shoot a few moments prior stay inert at his side, glowing under the white neon light.  Ew, no. The two, simple words, simple sounds, ring again and again in his head. And it’s not like you’re lying too, the Cupid can feel it, or he actually, he doesn’t feel it. He doesn’t feel any love interest towards Myungdae, the guy you saw a few days ago, the guy he thought would be your future boyfriend. 

“What ?”, Asia’s Cupid almost screams out, it’s not like anyone will hear anyways, right ?

“What…?”, Sooyoung unknowingly mimics the young men’s words, but her tone is slightly different. “He’s cute !” The red haired speaks a bit too loudly for the setting, Jaehyun sees you shooting a death glare at who he found out is your good friend. She’s being too loud in the museum, the very museum Jaehyun felt pulled to, his instincts telling him to shoot the golden arrow at your best friend, one of the museum’s tour guide he quickly found out was a soulmate.

“He…He is…!”, you tell your friend, hoping it’ll make her calm down a little bit more. As Sooyoung sighs, eyes wondering around as she searches for the right words, her pupils land on a group’s guide. He’s a tall men with dark brown hair, beige shirt from the museum hugging his built figure. Fuck, Jaehyun thinks. There’s too much going on, he can not forget about Sooyoung.

“I just…Can’t help but see him as the kid that puked on the school trip for Busan.”, you tell your friend, but it’s clear her attention is taken by the men describing the sculpture to the small group of tourists. Little do you know, Jaehyun is listening closely to your words. Though, the men has to act quick. He’s been a Cupid for long enough that it takes him seconds to get everything ready. String tense, one eyes close, golden arrow aiming just right, the brunette shoots the arrow at the tour guide with ease. He looks a bit older than you and your friend. Finally, as the heart tip touches him right on the left side, his eyes meets Sooyoung’s, he smiles at her.  

“…But…But it went well, right ?”, Sooyoung is a good friend, trying her best to keep her attention on you but, it’s clear the men’s smile took her back. Jaehyun also decides he likes her a lot, voicing every question he isn’t able to ask you in person.

“It did…” You can’t really explain it. Yes, it went well, he seemed a bit interested, but you weren’t. It’s not what you were looking for, it’s like everything was right but, something was missing. A feeling something much greater was waiting for you out there, somewhere. Only, if only it’d present itself to you. A sigh leaves your lips as you’re literally ranting about your dead love life as your best friend seems to fall in love with you, what a cruel coincidence.

A worried look takes over Asia’s Cupid’s face.

The brunette never saw this, not in front of his very eyes. He doesn’t even remember hearing stories about anyone…Refusing love ? Not being affected by his arrows ? Eyebrows furrowed, Jaehyun’s heart picks up for the first time. It’s a weird feeling, he doesn’t know if he’s supposed to experience, it pumps faster, alters his breathe.

“Maybe I used all my shots at love already.”, you tell Sooyoung, shoulders going up, and down as you try to act nonchalant. It’s not hard to tell you’re faking it, at least, it isn’t for the Cupid.

No, Jaehyun wants to scream it out at you, you still have so much to see, so much to feel, he thinks. It’s funny, how the brunette didn’t even experience it and yet, he knows about all the things you deserve to see. Shit, something is clearly wrong, the Cupid can tell, he feels it twisting his guts, a cold sweat on your forehead. The subject is dropped quickly after your close friends reassures you the best she can, too quickly. The Cupid sighs from above, he wishes he was there. 

That night, Jaehyun decides he’s going to Earth for another one of his mission.

Such a simple phrase. “I’m going down.”, yet, it has the power to take back the six other Cupids, again. A decision like this shouldn’t really require such an announcement, they think at first. Doyoung goes to Australia whenever he wants and doesn’t feel the need to nervously let it out after tapping on his glass with his knife. But quickly, they all understand this isn’t about a small walk on Earth to visit, Jaehyun’s on a mission he’s decided he won’t give up on. Jaehyun had two trips to Earth, small ones for missions that required his presence and a little bit more knowledge on the person he was supposed to shoot. But never did it felt this, Jaehyun couldn’t really put his finger on it, but something told him this mission would be a lot more different than the two others.

“Aren’t you taking this a bit too much at heart ?”, asks Doyoung, after Asia’s Cupid finishes his explanations. He’s worried for the youngest, Cupids usually don’t go on Earth for anything other than a walk, Jaehyun already broke this stereotype twice and came back without a scratch, but the black-haired was scared something would eventually happen to him there, where they may not have as much of an authority. His back faces Jaehyun, slicing some red apples for Sicheng, who’s making dinner, but Asia’s Cupid still pouts at him like he’ll be able to see. “No…”, he starts, but his sentence quickly gets stopped by Taeyong’s low chuckle, who’s following the situation with a curious eye. “Alright, maybe a little. But that’s my job !”

“He’s right, that’s our job. Something isn’t right with her.”, Yukhei finally speaks, looking up from the book he was reading, body ungracefully laying on the bench. The brunette had a long, long day, and didn’t talk much that evening, but Jaehyun sure appreciated the small contribution to his cause.

“Thank you.”, Jaehyun slightly nods at his brother for the support, before looking over at Jungwoo, helping or rather, clinging onto Doyoung. “Jungwoo could look over Asia while I’m gone, I won’t take long anyways…!”

At that, Jungwoo drops what he’s doing, such a dramatic being. Pretty unfortunate for Doyoung’s hand, who has to dodge a sharp kitchen knife. “Jungwoo, what the-.”

“For real ?”, asks Antarctica’s Cupid, pink eyes as big as saucers. Don’t get him wrong, the young men grew to love his continent, but he’d kill to be Asia’s Cupid, even for a day. And he said it multiple times before. Jaehyun’s other two missions were so short he didn’t really need replacement, but this time, Asia’s Cupid was clear in making everyone understand that this, you, were a special case.

“Yeah…But only if it doesn’t add too much work…”, Jaehyun knows it isn’t an easy task, the biggest continent is a lot of work and a lot of arrows to shoot. He barely needs more arguments, though, the blonde laches onto Asia’s Cupid’s arms, to the five other’s misbelief. It’s a mechanism, the way Jaehyun’s arms wrap around Jungwoo’s frame with a small laugh.

“You won’t have a lot of time, thought.”, Taeyong says, to which the brunette has to agree with a nod, awaiting for his brothers’ final decision. Obviously, he wouldn’t do anything without everyone’s approval.

Time behaves differently, in Olympus. Weeks and days are not really a thing, after all, Gods, Goddesses and other creatures don’t really need to worry about a thing that won’t affect them. But, if they’d have to count, a year on Earth would feel like six months for the Gods, maybe even less.

“I know, I know. I won’t be long anyways…How much time do I have ?”

It’s a group decision, Jaehyun’s aware of this. If his brothers end up disagreeing to his proposition, he’d have to accept it, if they give him a small amount of time in unanimity, he’d have to bent to their decision and make it work.

“How about, around a month on Earth, maximum ? You can take care of Asia for that time being, right, Jungwoo ?”, Sicheng finally speaks up and proposes, it’s unnecessary to say that Antarctica’s Cupid agreed with a vigorous nod of the head, locks bouncing on his smiling face.

“It’s settled, then.”, it’s half of a question Doyoung asks Asia’s Cupid, a month is more than enough, he thinks.

“Good luck on Earth, then. And don’t do anything stupid, we’ll watch over ya.”, Mark concludes, slightly hitting his brother’s shoulder.

And that’s how, Jaehyun, Asia’s Cupid, ended up on Earth for the third time.

Unlike Doyoung, Jaehyun never really went on Earth for a simple walk but thankfully, he was so curious about Earth that the rules and codes of the planet weren’t new to him, at all. It was indeed, different from Olympus, but he liked it as much, maybe even more. No Gods or Goddesses to please, no curses and weird family treasons to keep up with. He didn’t have the same authority here but, he wasn’t helpless either, he was equal to everyone.

He knew about phones and, he was very happy to get his hands on one. He sometimes thought about how it’d be pretty funny to have these up on Olympus so he could send pictures to his brothers, same for televisions but he didn’t know if any deities would actually want to participate in such a thing. Even after these two trips, the difference between watching from his little Cupid cloud and being on Earth still struck him. Being painted as a normal human, at the same level with everyone, being noticed and looked at by people he does not know and won’t ever see again, not being invisible. It was different, but it felt right.

When his body finally materialized in the small apartment he was granted for his stay, the first thing he did was look outside. The place was in the city center, a modest apartment that didn’t have anything to compare with his Palace in Olympus, but he quite liked it. Pretty trees, grey streets, the sound of cars and people talking was something he wasn’t used to, nor was he used to the city lights enlightening his apartment at night, the pitch-black darkness of Olympus long gone. Inside, it was small, intimate, kitchen and living room connected, a small bathroom but one large bedroom he immediately took a liking for with it’s floor to ceiling windows. He’d get used to it pretty quickly, Jaehyun was sure of that, but one thing he probably wouldn’t get used to, even after a month here, was not being able to see his brothers. Jaehyun remembers thinking he’d be able to live here until he thought about them. It took him back, at first. Jaehyun wasn’t used to being alone at home, he was used to the somewhat harmonious chaos his brothers would create with and around him. He knew he’d be able to communicate with them if, and only if it was necessary, he knew they’d watch over him, but it still felt weird.

Loneliness isn’t a feeling Jaehyun is used to, he finds the feeling usually comes with a lot of questioning too. That’s something Jaehyun doesn’t like to do, questioning. Yet, his current status comes with a lot of blank spaces and questions that are maybe meant to stay unanswered. Asia’s Cupid would like to be able to push them aside, like his brothers seem to be able to do. But maybe they do think about these questions a lot too, after all, Jaehyun never dared to ask. It’s on his first night on Earth, stomach empty and apartment half decorated that he finally lets these question fill his mind again. Sitting on his new bed, gazing at this city that never seems to sleep, he wonders if he was one of them, before. There’s a club nearby, Jaehyun wonders if he used to be the type to party, if he was a student, if he was a boy or a girl, what he identified as, if he was in love, if he was loved. He never told anyone but, sometimes, he feels nostalgia looking down on humans, missing something he doesn’t even remember experiencing. A sense of déjà-vu, like he used to do these things, going out with friends, watching movies, having first kisses, making love, living oblivious to everything above. Jaehyun will never admit it, much less talk about it to his brother, but, a few times, he had blurry visions. Images forming in his head at random times, they were never long, a slip second leaving Jaehyun wondering, desperately trying to recreate it. Asia’s Cupid remembers seeing a tall man, brown hair, cat-like eyes, an old camera pointed at him. Him, he saw him two times, he also remembers seeing a brunette, petite girl with a dimple. Who were they to him, before ? He’d never know, family, friends, lovers, it’s his guess. He hates it, but what can he do about it ?

It’s one of the few downsides of being a Cupid. Knowing you have a past, maybe multiple past lives, and not remembering any of it, it’s cruel, in a way. Not knowing how you died, when you died, knowing the ones you now view as brothers weren’t in your life. Knowing one day, another generation of Cupids will take the lead and goodbyes are going to be crushing. It’s a double sided blade, being that aware of your faith.

The young men doesn’t like thinking about it much, busying his mind whenever his brain wonders with whatever he can find. And, that’s exactly what he’s doing.

Ah, how Gods and Goddesses are dramatic, Jaehyun thinks when his eyes finally land on the file, neatly tracked on the black table. Golden letters on the white hardcover, his name written on it, calling him. Finally, delicate digits peal the cover, flipping the first page over. Your name, age, date of birth, everything’s written on it. And, most importantly, your workplace.

 “Hey, Y/N.”, a voice you know too well calls you out, but do you care enough to look up ? No. Definitely not. Maybe it’s a bit…Mean. But you pray to any God above that he’ll leave you alone. Eyes scanning the same sentence over, and over again, you try your best to look busy. Extremely busy with your email and empty photoshop project open.

“Hey ! You busy ?”, the same voice again, a bit closer, fuck. You have to look up at Daeyong, standing right behind your computer, forcing a smile on your face. The men gives you the same smile, though you don’t doubt he’s a bit more sincere than you are. A half gloved hand pushes his bleached hair back - he works on a graphic tablet -, you wonder if the dry locks won’t fall right off. He, Daeyong, is one of your many colleagues in the publicity agency. He works in the cubicle a few meters away from yours, though you sometimes wish he was in an entirely different building.

“Hey, Daeyong. No, no, what’s up ?”, at this point, you can’t really tell him you’re busy. Knowing him, he’ll probably look over your computer to see any progress on the project you’re supposed to be working on. You bite the inside of your cheek when he giggles at your face, you can’t be the only one to feel the awkwardness, fuck. See, a few months ago, he asked you out on a date to a niche restaurant. At first, you accepted, he had cornered you in front of a few other people and you couldn’t really say no, you didn’t want to put him in such an embarrassing situation. But, after much thinking - a minute into your shower-, you decided you didn’t want to go. A text was sent and lets just say your doubts were now facts, Daeyong was the cliché of the Reddit Nice Guy.

You remember him blowing up on you, and of course, you didn’t let it slide. Heated texts were exchanged and after weeks of silence and tension - not the good one - between the two of you, he decided to apologize. Yet, you couldn’t let the situation go, he still made you feel uncomfortable. He tried to act overly nice, you’d prefer if he just…Apologized and stopped talking to you.

“There’s a newbie, he’s taking the spot next to you. Boss wants you to help him feel welcomed and all, y’know the drill, yeah ?”, you hate how he speaks to you like you’re still friends, like nothing happened. You just nod, getting more and more uncomfortable the longer he stays there. Right behind your computer, like you own him something. Daeyong opens his mouth a few times, trying to starts a sentence, tongue wetting his chapped lips.

As you’re about to excuse yourself for an early coffee break, he finally finds his words.

“Hey, I think we cou-.”, he starts. And you know, you know were this is going. We could try again, we could be good together. But, before he can finish his sentence and before you can even let out a syllable, it seems the universe finally helps you out.

“Hey, Y/N, right ?”, a deep, unknown voice comes from your side. You’re so tense it almost makes you jump. “Oh, sorry, am I interrupting something ?”, he continues. Your savior, and polite at that. The universe gave you an opportunity, you’re going to take it, with both hands and not let go. Quickly, you use your chair to spin around, back to Daeyong, facing whoever saved you from this embarrassing and quite annoying situation, maybe you’ll-

“Oh.”

Oh. You freeze for a good second, maybe a bit more, looking up at who you hope is your new cubicle neighbor. Slender, feline eyes that curl at the inner corner looking at you through short, cute, eyelashes. Deep, dark brown irises and it feels like…You’ve seen them before ? They hold something familiar, something inviting, you wonder if you met him before, a long, long time before. It’s when the bridge of his nose scrunch up with a smile that you snap out. Fuck, have you been glaring at him for long ? Did he notice ?

“N-No, no !”, you starts quickly, pearly teeth biting down on your painted bottom lip when he laughs a little. It’s airy, short and yet, the small sounds makes your heart pick up, pumping up blood to your cheeks.

“I mean yes, I’m Y/N. And no, you didn’t interrupt anything !”, you reassure him, finally collecting yourself. Oh god.

“Eh…He’s the newbie I was talking about.”, clearing his throat, Daeyong adds, visibly throw off, great. “I’ll get going then, take care of him.”, he finishes, before finally, oh finally, leaving for his own cubicle. You can’t help but sigh of relief, before the said newbie stretches a hand out.

“I’m Jaehyun.”, he says, and you don’t hesitate to take his hand in yours, intending to shake it slightly. But, when his skin touches yours, it might seem insane, maybe you’re going crazy, but the shiver that runs down your spine takes you back for a second.

Jaehyun feels it too, the lukewarm tips of his digits lingering on your skin. Something is different, different from the few other humans he met, face to face. Jaehyun isn’t supposed to be feel anxious around humans, isn’t he…A superior being after all ? He isn’t from this world, not…really. He has another understanding of the world and yet, he feels equal to you, equal to humans for the first time in this very moment, when his brown eyes bore into yours.

“Y/N.”, you introduce yourself anyways.

People say time behaves differently in certain places. Unfamiliar McDonald’s on a roadtrip, lakes in a suburban neighborhoods, you could name a few and maybe, just maybe, you can add your small cubicle in this very moment.

Jaehyun sits down in front of the desk next to you, his face disappearing behind the thin wall for a quick second. He lets his black bag down, before both his palms hit the white desk. You laugh a little, he might be a little overwhelmed by the graphic tablet, the two computer screens still asleep in front of his eyes. He looks young, you note, probably around your age, maybe he’s straight out of university and just started working.

“So, Jaehyun.”, you start again, Jaehyun’s body leaning against his chair. His ears are a bit red, rosy skin contrasting, cute, you think. “Where did you study ?”

“I, uhm…”, fuck, Jaehyun knew his made-up backstory by heart and yet, his throat went dry the minute you said his name. “Paris, Gobelins.”, he finally says with a smile. Relax, Jaehyun, relax. Before leaving, him and his brothers made an entire backstory. Family name, parents, siblings, hobbies, anecdotes, studies, exes. They went through everything and yet, he almost fucked it up a second in. Thankfully, you don’t seem to notice, your attention drawn to his words. Paris ? Les Gobelins ? Your lips part for a second, eyes wide for the second time today. “Paris ?”, you whine out, unconsciously leaning forward. Jaehyun hums, finger pressing on the computer’s button, thank the Gods, he knows how everything works, “How was it ?” Thankfully for Jaehyun, he doesn’t even have to set foot in Paris to know exactly how it is. “Pretty, it’s a really pretty city.” Taeyong brags about it every day, he thinks to himself. “Especially during the summer, the architecture is amazing. Lots of tourists and traffic, though.”, he notes, acting like he’s thinking to himself. You sigh at that, almost day dreaming when your new cubicle neighbor tells you about the Louvre and other highly known places. “I’ve always wanted to go.”, you mumble, graphic pen slightly hitting your desk. Jaehyun decides the pout on your lip might be the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

If Jaehyun was a bit more aware of himself, he would’ve known, he would’ve known he was fucked from the very beginning. The slight alteration in his heartbeat when his hand met yours, a Cupid is not supposed to feel such things. It’s a cruel rule, Cupids are not supposed to feel love, they are not supposed to fall in love. After all, if Cupids are able to comprehend such emotions, wouldn’t it make their job harder ? Love would come across their duty, what if they had a crush on someone on Earth and forgot to shoot, or even worst, refuse to shoot an arrow ? Cupids understood rather quickly that love might be beautiful, it could also be extremely dangerous. Especially when they travel across their continent all day long, meeting beautiful souls after beautiful souls.

If he was aware, the Cupid would’ve known. He would’ve known when your giggle at his confused look towards the two computer screen and multiple programs took a smile out of him. He would’ve known when you asked for his phone number on his third day and his throat went dry. He would’ve known when you walked out of the building with him on the fifth day and his heart skipped a beat when you waved goodbye, slight tired smile stretching your lips. Asia’s Cupid would’ve known when you bought him something to drink around his second week, he would’ve known if he wasn’t so stubborn, so blind.

It’s just because he’s taking the mission at heart, he thinks to himself after a little bit more than a week working in your small company. Jaehyun brushes it off, he keeps himself busy and would rather not think about you more than he already is. The young men does not want to think about his past lives and the half second long flashes he seems to get more frequently on the blue planet and so, he tries his hardest to distract himself. On his trip to Earth, Jaehyun finds he loves painting, it’s something he could not do on Olympus very often, he was too busy during the day, too tired during the night. And so, the Cupid buys himself some paint, some brushes and some canvas. Jaehyun finds he also really likes this deep brown bubbly soda, at least he has something else to drink than the sugary nectar he always has up there. The Cupid also gets interested in Earth’s cinema. It’s fun to watch, he finally has the time to binge watch every Spiderman ever made. But, when the movie ends and the inspiration runs out, Jaehyun can not run away from you. He doesn’t know it yet, the Cupid does not want to face it either but, you’re already carved in his heart. And, even when he thinks he’s distracting himself from you, he takes a step back from the painting he’s working on and… The pretty pale colors strangely look like you.

See, there’s another small issue with Asia’s Cupid’s plan. After two weeks on Earth and much observation, Jaehyun notices you aren’t interested in anyone. A rather big issue when he barely has half a month left to understand exactly what the fuck is going on with you and successfully accomplish his mission. You two share even more during coffee breaks and there isn’t a single spark. His sensations aren’t as sharp on Earth but, he doesn’t see any lingering look from your side, no discreet look over someone, nothing. It’s clear none of your co-workers had a chance with you, at least. Another thing the boy notices after a bit more time, you don’t need him, you don’t need help on your shoulder. When you finally seem interested by someone, Jaehyun feels the slight numbness in his fingertips and, for a second, he’s happy. So happy, it feels like his mission starts now. You don’t need his help to go out of your way and make a move. Small issue ? He’s the love interest.

From : You, 8:37 pm. : “About the company’s gathering, we should go together so I can introduce you to everyone you need to know.”

There’s a slight sigh coming from Jaehyun’s lips as he looks at the screen of his phone, he quickly got used to the object. This is just a friendly proposition, he thinks to himself. After all, you were supposed to help him get more comfortable in his new job, right ? The gathering is in three days, the third day of the third week of Jaehyun’s timeline. Now that he thinks about it, maybe he’ll find your perfect match at said gathering with other similar companies. The Cupid still blinds himself. If anyone was looking over him from above, they’d scoff at his attitude.

To : You, 8:40 pm. : “Yeah, sure !”

From : You, 8:42 pm. : “Nice, will pick you up at 9 ?”

To : You, 8:45 pm. : “Good for me !” Jaehyun hits send, his fingertips tingle.

Third day of his third week, the blindfold finally falls down or rather, it rips. Jaehyun can only numb himself for so long, a man can only pretend to not hear when someone’s screaming at them. Jaehyun might remember this very moment all his life. It had rained, this morning, the dark concrete floor dark by the summer water. At least, it took some degrees out of the current heat. Poor Cupid enters a phase the moment he sees you checking your lipstick in a small round mirror, in the back of a black, luxurious car. His heart doesn’t skip a beat, it pumps faster. The tallest had some fever dreams, dreams where the air is thick, dense, where it feels like he’s the only one aware of the altered universe his brain created and, it feels the same. Jaehyun feels like he has every God and Goddess watching him from above. Judging, detailing and yet, he also feels so alone, standing there right in front of the glossy car door. Palms sweaty, ears a deep shade of pink, there’s no denying it.

“Don’t get attached, you won’t see her again.”, Doyoung’s words before he left ring in his mind again, it seems he never stood a chance anyways. He’s fucked, oh so fucked. Jaehyun doesn’t want to say the word love, he does not. But he’s a Cupid, he knows how all of this work. The man almost has an out of body experience the moment you look up, bright smile stretching your lips and you lean to the side, opening the car door for him. The dress you’re wearing is a deep blue, much like the suit Jaehyun is wearing, what a coincidence. It hugs your body, softly decors the skin of your hips before falling under gravity’s law. By the way you’re seating, one leg over the other on your side of the car, Jaehyun can clearly see the deep thigh cut in your silk dress, his eyes almost flash their natural pink color for a second.

He might project out of his body at any second. At that moment, Jaehyun knows, if he was simply Asia’s Cupid looking over two people, two colleagues going to a fancy gathering, he’d shot the soulmate arrow without a doubt in mind. He knew it before, he just didn’t want to face it. Tonight, he knows and acknowledges it. You, on the other hand, don’t take too long to notice his skin turning white when he finally steps in and takes a seat. The nervous rub of his palms against the fabric of his pants, his lack of words when he’s usually talkative. How could you know ? At this very moment, when Jaehyun understands you’re his soulmate, his other half in this world, you think he’s simply nervous.

“Hi. You seem nervous.”, you voice is soft, comprehensive. You were the new employee too, at some point, and you remember being extremely intimidated for your first gathering as well.  

“Hey. Uh, yeah. I’m a bit…nervous.”, he mumbles, eyes straight ahead. At this very moment, he does not know what to do, he finds the driver’s bold head very, very interesting. The moment he attaches the security belt, the car starts moving. The Cupid looks away, eyes on the multiple neon lights lightening the dark streets, softly reflecting on the wet ground, he does not know what to do.

You, on the other hand, might be a bit too worried about the brunette. The car might be a pricy one, the space in the backseat isn’t so big but you use it at your advantage. Lightly pushing your colleague, now you’d like to say friend, with your shoulder, you get his attention back. There’s a soft smile stretching his lips, Jaehyun quickly understood he couldn’t resist you, he couldn’t stay unphased in front of your pouts.

“Don’t be, everyone’s nice ! You’ll see.”, you start, a hand readjusting your dress. “It might be more of a fancy gathering but, it’s just for show.” Without thinking twice, your hand lands on his thigh, softly patting his clothed leg order to reassure him. Jaehyun understand the meaning of guilty pleasures at this very moment. He doesn’t chase your hand away, he lets your touch slowly fade away, he loves the tingle it lets behind, the way it has his eyes widening. But, somewhere not so deep in his mind, he’s screaming at himself. He barely has two weeks left here. He knows, he knows you may be one of his soulmates, if not the only. He knows he might not meat you in another life, he knows it isn’t fair the let you all alone after this. He doesn’t even need to wonder if you feel it too, he knows you do, he feels his fingertips tingle every now and then, a reassuring buzz whenever he’s right next to you. You feel it too, there’s no doubt. Especially when the car finally stops and Jaehyun doesn’t hesitate to step out of the vehicle, walking around to open your door. Your hand quickly finds his, you both act natural. He offers his arm, you easily let your hand rest in the crook of his elbow right after taking a better look at his outfit. You wonder if he got the suit especially made for him, it perfectly hugs his body. Not too tight, not too big. The deep blue shade compliments his light brown eyes and you wonder if he has some eyeshadow but can not really tell under the dim light.

The building privatized by your company is a cute one floor hall, small light hanging at the entrance and you notice they ditched the red carpet because of the rain. Some people are already there, most are from your company as the other as supposed to arrive a bit later. The decoration’s prettier than last year, you have to say and, you notice all the efforts made once you step in. Heels click on the ground, soft music plays as your colleagues speak together, you take Jaehyun by the arm to greet the boss he never met.

The gathering’s a blur for Jaehyun, his mind’s busy with much, much more important things. He knows he can contact his brothers whenever he feels the overwhelming need and ramble. But, it feels like he’ll have to go through this multiple hours long party with a polite smile on his face before even thinking about going home. The Cupid’s pushed and pulled from his thoughts, on and off. Jaehyun falls deep in his thoughts when he’s left alone but, gets abruptly brought back to the surface when you bring other colleagues he doesn’t know yet and people from other companies. It’s a shame, he knows he’d enjoy the gathering in another situation. It’s a bit like the parties up in Olympus, with a bit more choice when it comes to drinks and music and at least, here, he doesn’t have to worry about getting on a God or Goddess’s wrong side by pure accident. You seem to be enjoying yourself too, the brunette sees you joking a bit around with some people he already forgot the name of, enjoying the food and drink they’re serving you in plates. Jaehyun wouldn’t admit it, whenever he judges someone is being a bit too close to you, an unknown feeling sparks in his chest, one that wants everyone to know you’re his soulmate. Is it jealousy ? The brunette never knew he was capable of such a raw feeling. It’s a weird situation for the poor thing. He’s aware of your status and yet, he does not know what to do. He’s lost in this party full of people, this party where men and woman both don’t hesitate to look at him up and down, silently gushing at his features, it seems the Cupid forgot he wasn’t invisible here. At some point, the tune changes to something Jaehyun would recognize as classical music, though he isn’t an expert on human music yet. His company’s boss he met moments prior steps in the middle of the hall and a crowd forms around them and, that’s when the Cupid understands they’re about to dance. Yet another thing similar to Olympus’ parties, slower dances aren’t uncommon and he quickly understands the pattern of steps.

He has to say, the brunette’s quite enjoying the view, especially when more and more people decide to step in the circle. Though, the Cupid definitely does not expect it when you step right in front of him, small smile tugging at your lips. He notices your lipstick’s fading a little bit, surely because of the drinks you had but, he quickly looks away.

“Do you dance ?”, you ask, arching an eyebrow with a hand stretched out. It almost makes the brunette laugh, you definitely do not need his help to make a move. He also almost says he doesn’t but, his hand touches yours before he can even comprehend what he is doing. Biting down on your lower lip, you quickly pull the brunette towards one side of the circle, slowly dissolving as everyone finds a partner to dance with as well.

“I learned when I was a teen.”, the Cupid simply hums when you look up at him with semi-impressed eyes the second he perfectly follows the steps of the slow dance. Is there anything he can not do, you wonder for a moment. Maybe he has some issues picking up on hints. One hand in his, the other curling behind his back and resting on his shoulder, it feels right when his hand rests in the middle of your back, subtly arching your back. It is at this very moment that Jaehyun understands the light tingle in his fingertips’ addictive, he likes keeping you close a bit too much and, for a split second, wonders how your curves would feel under his hands.

“What can’t you do ?”, you ask, teasing him a bit. There’s the same butterflies blooming in your stomach the moment he giggles softly, eyes rolling up as he dramatically acts like he’s thinking really hard. “I can’t juggle.”, the brunette says after thinking for some long seconds, though he keeps swinging you softly at the same time.

“You can’t ?”, you fake shock, lips parted. “You shouldn’t tell that to anyone, ever. That’s a shame.”, you tell him and, he pouts. Fuck, how can he look so good and cute at the same time ? For a second, you think about kissing the pout away, eyes travelling down to his pink lips.

Isn’t it crazy ? How weeks before, you felt like you had used all your shots at love and now, this men comes into your life and crashes everything. Jaehyun does not know it, but you’re overthinking as much as he is. Finally, the song end and yet, the Cupid’s hand stays lingering on your back, a gesture that makes you softly smile.

“You’re having a lot of success, here.”, you tell him once he stops in front of the buffet again, it seems he has a good view on the entire hall here. There’s a flew glasses left and, you take one.

“Hm ? Success ?”, he asks, himself taking a drink. You laugh a bit at that, you wonder if Jaehyun’s really that clueless about his looks. Unbeknownst to him, the same feeling sparks in your chest when you notice a small group of ladies from another company looking over at where your friend was standing. Though, unlike the brunette, you know what this is, jealousy.

“Hm hm, saw a bunch of people looking at you.”, you tell him, shamelessly stepping next to him and leaning against the table, if some didn’t know you and him walked in this party together, you made sure they knew now. There’s a small laugh coming from Jaehyun, though you find it isn’t as bright as it usually is. Something seems off, but you don’t dare ask him right now, in the middle of the hall.

“Same for you.”, he says before bringing the glass to his mouth, a hum coming out of his lips when the liquid coats his taste buds. There’s a small sense of pride blooming in your chest, does this mean he looked at you ? Noticed other people were too ? Did he get jealous too, you wonder. “What is this ?”, he asks, eyeing the golden liquid, brushing the conversation.

“Champagne ?”, you inform him with a little giggle, an eyebrow arched. You were sure he already tasted champagne for someone who knew so much about wine. Lets just say you two sometimes slack a bit during working hours and talk about other…unrelated things. “You never had it ?”, you ask, a bit curious. You have to say, Jaehyun himself is a curious personage, a mysterious character. It might be one of the many things that struck you when you met him, along side his personality, his deep voice and dimples. He knows a lot, it seems like he saw and experienced a lot too. Sometimes, he sounds like a Disney character, like he has a lot to show you but, you might be able to show him a lot as well, like he might just be the one you’ve been waiting for.

“Nope, but I like it.”, he concludes, quickly finishing the liquid, he decides Olympus’ lacking when it comes to drinks too. He’s about to add something, continue the conversation so he doesn’t have to overthink again but, as he’s about to ask for the song playing in the hall, his mouth stays agape. It can’t be, it can not. Somewhere far, almost in the very middle of the hall, a men stands in his light grey suit. He did not see him before, he doesn’t know where he came from. Jaehyun wonders if his mind’s tricking him, if he’s hallucinating, he knows some stuff on Earth can have this affect but definitely not Champagne. Short brown hair parted in the middle, slender and tall body, the last time the Cupid saw him, he had locks falling to his shoulder. Jaehyun wished the world could stop right at this moment, just so he could walk up to the men and detail his features, Jeonghan’s. His old tutor’s. His heart tightens, another weird feeling the brunette isn’t used to. He pushes the thought aside but, the more he stays here, the more Jaehyun feels human. Could it be him ? It’s been five years, he thinks to himself, can a Cupid reincarnate with the same body ? Do Cupids magically spawn on Earth at the same age they left Olympus ? Ah, for someone who wanted to strop overthinking, Jaehyun thinks he might overwork his brain at this very moment. But as he said when Jeonghan left, he’d recognize him in seconds, even on the blue planet. The way he speaks with a hand illustrating each of his word, a foot always in front like he wants to punctuate his slim, long body. The way he carries himself, head high, smile knowing, the way his eyes spark with malice.

“Jaehyun ?”, you ask, worried. You wonder at this very moment if he can support alcohol or, if he has a problem with big crowds. Whatever the case, your hand wraps around his wrist and you consider calling a cab for the both of you.

“Yeah- Yes, sorry. I though I saw someone I knew.”, he breathes out, though his eyes never leave Jeonghan, or Jeonghan’s doppelganger. “Yeah, you look like you saw a ghost.”, you mumble out, though you’re relieved when the brunette accepts the glass of water you offer him and laughs a bit, the sound resonating in the plastic cup. Ghost don’t look like that, the Cupid thinks to himself.

“Do you know Mr. Yoon ?”, you ask and, if he says yes, you wouldn’t even be surprised. As said, Jaehyun is a mysterious man you’d like to know more. “Let’s see him !” Poor thing, you barely give him a second to answer and almost drag him towards Mr. Yoon with a wide smile.

“Mr. Yoon ! Hi, I didn’t even see you come in.”, you greet the older men with a warm smile, Jaehyun isn’t aware yet but, you and him have a tight history together and, you respect the men greatly. “This is Jung Jaehyun, the new employee I’ve been looking over.”, you inform him, proud. The brunette’s heart might stop at this very moment, he made an effort to close his mouth but he doesn’t know if his eyes are still as wide, especially when the so called Mr. Yoon stretches a hand out with a smile. He knows it so well and yet.

“Oh, I see the student became teacher.”, same voice. Mr. Yoon smiles at you and it’s at this very moment that Jaehyun understand. When Jeonghan was his tutor on Olympus, he – or his look alike -, became your art tutor on Earth ? Jaehyun thinks he might go crazy, he has so many questions colliding against each other in his mind. Nonetheless, he politely shakes the men’s hand.

“Yeah, but I’m sure I’m not as good as a tutor as you were.”, you laugh a bit. Mr. Yoon slides a hand in his pocket, head tilting to the side as he details Jaehyun’s face, who’s trying his best to look unphased and professional. The same sharp eyes that looked over him for so long, Jaehyun would go as far as saying he’s the only paternal figure he’s ever had.

“Do I know you from somewhere ?”

This city never sleeps, it’s a known fact. It’s around one, maybe one and a half in the morning when you and Jaehyun decide to leave the gathering after saying good bye to as much people as possible. You could’ve taken a car but, the brunette proposes to walk you home and there’s no way you’ll refuse. The summer night’s warm, fresh breeze moving some leaves every now and then. Clubs are at their picks, neon flashing in every streets, different music mixing together. The streets are packed with citizens and travelers, some a bottle in hand, you even see a few groups dancing to mainstream music. The walk is a quick one, moving through crowded main streets. The Cupid sometimes look like a curious puppy, he always saw these things from above. Finally, streets grow less full when you enter the more residential side, near your home. There, the wind gets fierce and, the brunette doesn’t hesitate a second and takes his jacket off, draping the thick fabric of his suit over your naked shoulders.

“Did you have fun ?”, you ask a bit before spotting the street to your building, head lolling forwards at you check the state of your shoes. Jaehyun hums at your side, hands in his pocket. “I did ! I didn’t expect to meet so many people, though.”, he tells you and you laugh a bit at that, you remember being even more intimated for your first gathering.

“There’s more people each year. The first time, I dropped a glass full of punch on my dress.”, you tell the brunette with a sigh. You know everyone remembers it but thankfully, no one brought it up expect for one person. “Mr. Yoon made fun of me for like, three months.”

Mr. Yoon, here’s another thing bothering Jaehyun tonight. The same appearance, same voice, same attitude. The Cupid wonders if your old tutor’s indeed his old teacher as well. He can not help ask himself, especially when he noticed the men’s knowing when he left with you. The Cupid wonders if he should bring it up to his brothers tonight but, his thoughts are quickly cut when you point a building with a digit, probably where you live.

Oblivious to his thoughts, you step up the few stairs to the class door of your building, fishing in your small bag for your keys. What a convenient little thing, cute and able to hold your phone and keys, you find them in seconds. “Mr. Yoon seems really nice.”, is the only thing Jaehyun seems to find but thankfully, you don’t pick up on his tone. Using one of the keys, you open the thick glass door and lean against the frame, you’re not really ready to say good bye. There’s an adoring smile stretching your lips, it’s clear you hold Mr. Yoon close to your heart. “He is, I’m sure the two of you would get along.”, you breathe out and, it seems your brain isn’t completely on the subject. As Jaehyun climbs the step of your building, your eyes wonder on his figure for the nth time tonight. The sent of his cologne cocoons around you, it’s floral and strong at the same time, the heat and comfort of his suit’s jacket doesn’t help your heart beat. His white button up perfectly hugs his body, it’s tight around his arms, belt around his small waist. There’s a smile that tugs his lips and that’s when you understand he just said something you completely missed. Nice.

“I’m sorry, what did you say ? I’m a bit tired.”, you fake a yawn and Jaehyun steps closer, shoulder leaning against the second closed door. Obviously, he is tired too. His eyes are half closed, arms closed and he unconsciously leans forward. “I said, you look really good in that dress.”, he whispers out, like he’s scared he’ll wake your neighbors up. A pool of heat creeps to your cheeks but, you don’t break the eye contact the men installed. You wonder if you’re going too fast at this very moment, if you shouldn’t wait a bit more but, something pulls you in. It feels like the brunette might slip away at any moment now and so, you take a step closer.

You think about answering him first but, words seem to disappear from your memory when he doesn’t budge nor take a step back. It’s a sign, isn’t it ? You wish the brunette was not so complicated. It’s something you do by pure pulsion, instinct, without thinking twice. Your heels help you reach his face, a hand anchors itself with his collar and you bring him closer. Jaehyun is not clueless, he knows what’s happening and yet, he does not step away. Rather, he comes closer, closer, closer until finally. Finally, your lip softly meet his. It’s like kissing petals, soft and fragile. The brunette kissed a few deities before, more or less important and yet, he’s now kissing you like you’re the highest of them all. His hand cups your cheek lovingly, a shiver runs down your spine and his. So this, this is what it feels like, to kiss your soulmate ? There’s something familiar about it to Jaehyun, he wonders for a second time if he found you in another life. On the other hand, you melt easily into the kiss, pecking his pink lips with a breathy, dumbfounded laugh. You know it, if something was missing with your coach, with Myungdae, you’re sure Jaehyun has it, if not more to offer. You’re slightly out of breath when he pulls out, and he smiles down at you. Right then and right there, in front of your apartment building, you’re convinced he feels the same way. No words are spoken expect for a soft “Good night.”, when your door bips annoyingly but you don’t even pay attention. That night, you walk up the stairs to your apartment with a giddy smile, one you won’t get rid off until you fall asleep. Jaehyun, him, has the same smile. The same butterflies in his stomach. It’s crazy how someone can take over your thoughts, he doesn’t even think about the consequences of his actions, he doesn’t even think about the future. Next, what’s next ? The brunette doesn’t even worry about that, until he steps into his own home and he spots it. The little gold note on his table, name written on it in black ink. He already knows what it is. A request to come back to Olympus.

Asia’s Cupid has a lump in his throat the moment he accepts the request and, the soft golden cloud wraps around him like a duvet. Eyes closed, it takes a second for his body to materialize on Olympus again.

It grows the moment he steps foot on the higher ground again, after more than three weeks. Nothing has changed on the cloud above, except for Taeyong’s expression when he finally sees his brother again.

The brunette knows Olympus like the back of his hand but this might be one of his favorite areas. Five years ago, it’s in this very place him and his six brothers shot the white arrows after their ceremony. At the very border of Olympus, tall pillars and half destroyed statues, benches and rocks from previous fights between creatures that happened long ago, it’s always calm here nowadays. If Jaehyun steps a bit closer towards the sharp edge, and looks down, he’d see right above the clouds and the blue planet he now adores more than anything.

Taeyong waits for him under one of the biggest weeping willows, arms stretching to embrace his brother when he’s just close enough.

Taeyong might be a more serious Cupid, his features always soften whenever he sees one of the six other Cupids after a long time. This time, he looks worried still. Red, bushy eyebrows frown in front of his piercing eyes, it almost has the power to take the brunette back. It’s weird, to see him all alone, waiting for Jaehyun in a secluded area. Jaehyun wonders for a moment if something happened while he wasn’t there, if one of them got into a fight with a major God, if Jungwoo didn’t manage to take Jaehyun’s place. His thoughts are gone in a second, this is about him. He wonders if he knows, if they know. The Cupid wonders if Taeyong happened to be looking over him, he promised he would, after all. Jaehyun knows, he knows kissing a human during a mission is not something he’s supposed to do, he knows the unspoken rules of Cupids.

Jaehyun hugs his brother silently, like the both know things won’t be the same after this very conversation. “That’s a change in style.”, Taeyong lets out with a breathy laugh, an attempt to make things less serious before he gestures towards a bench under the tree. Jaehyun laughs a bit at that, he sure looks like a human lots in Olympus. The brunette sits on the cold marble, fingertips running on the smooth surface. “I know why you called me.”, Asia's Cupid look down for a moment, shoes kicking the almost white sand.

He thinks Taeyong might grown, scowl him, scream even. He'd understand it, he would but, the red haired's next move is one the brunette did not even think about. Ring hugged digits carefully lay on his own. It's a reassuring gesture, one Jaehyun looks at with eyes slightly watering. Poor thing, there are emotions he suppressed, they rush and crash over him at once and his head lols backwards.

“We told you not to get too attached.”, Taeyong softly says, crossing his arms over his chest. There's a tone the brunette can't really pick up on, at least it isn't disappointment. He tried to, Asia's Cupid thinks to himself. He tried not to get attached but he couldn't resist. Even if he tried to act like the most arrogant, detached person, he couldn't build a wall strong enough for you.

“I tried to, I—. I really did.”, he starts. Words block in his throat, he looks to the side, desperately trying to get his brother's eyes. When the red haired easily finds his pupils, it's like words flow out of his mouth. “She's my soul mate.”

Finally, finally he says it out loud. It's at this very moment, in front of Europe's Cupid that he lets it out in the world. There's so many questions, questions he passes onto the red haired. Jaehyun does not even know, he didn't know it was possible for him to have a soulmate and meet them. Taeyong doesn't even freeze, he simply hums, thinking to himself as his eyes wonder towards the horizon.

“I've heard stories like that.”, he starts, and Taeyong laughs to himself for a second. “I knew something like that would happen to you, eventually.”

“Stories ?”, Jaehyun asks.

“Hm. Stories where Cupids fell in love with a human. I heard a story through the grapevines once, about a Cupid finding his soulmate on Earth.”, there's a spark of hope in Jaehyun's chest. So he isn't the only one, it happened before. The brunette scoots closer to his friend, though Taeyong's eyes stay on the horizon for a moment.

“Sometimes, love doesn't need an arrow.”, he continues. Jaehyun's heart pumps faster at that, he thinks he might cry at this very moment, he doesn't even know why. “Some loves are faster, stronger.” If a love greater than his arrows, the Cupid can barely wrap his mind around it and yet, it doesn't seem to bother the red haired. His tone changes slightly, he gets more serious, this time he makes sure to look his brother in the eye.

“The stories I've been told never end well.”, Jaehyun knows it, Taeyong's only worried for him and his well being but he can't help and wonder. Isn't a love greater than Cupids' arrows worth living ?

“What happened to them ?”, asks Jaehyun but his brother only shrugs, that he doesn't know. “I don't know what to do.”, his voice's strangled as he confesses. He really doesn't. He quickly fell in love with the blue planet and everything it holds, the feeling how having people you don't know, strangers looking at you is a weird one he's starting to like. There's so, so many things he has to learn down, the thought only gets Jaehyun excited, a feeling he hasn't felt for a while. And then, then there's you. Jaehyun thinks he couldn't ever forgive himself if he ever lets you go. The Cupid won't ever forgive himself if he leaves you all alone. On one side, he has the chance of knowing and being aware of your bound, what if in his next life, you don't meet ?

And then, there's Olympus. All these thoughts and Jaehyun doesn't even know if he is allowed to leave his duties so abruptly, maybe they won't even let him go. And then, Jaehyun has his brothers. Six boys he, a few weeks ago, never thought he'd leave and there he is, wondering if he could live without them.

“It's your call. I can not tell you what to do.”, Taeyong's tone is a comprehensive one. Thought he isn't in his brother's situation, he sure can try and put himself in his shoes.

Staying with his brothers or starting over on Earth. No matter the possibility and outcome, it tugs at the brunette's Earth.

“This isn't a decision to take in minutes, or hours, even.”, the red haired says softly. And he's right. Like he's able to read his brother's mind, Jaehyun's twisting his brain in every way he can to find a solution, something that won't end up in heartbreak. A hand sneaks on his brown locks, a gesture Taeyong has whenever one of his brother's feeling sick.

“Take a few days, hm ?”, and Jaehyun nods. A few days to think, a few days for himself.

Saturday, there’s a lump in your throat too. A ball that expends inside of you, it tightens around your neck and it creeps deeper, deeper into your heart. Poisonous roots pierce into your muscle and twist at your guts until you need to curl on yourself to feel better, you think you might puke and stop breathing at the same time. Poor thing, you wonder how can Jaehyun have so much power over you, how his lack of response physically affects you. The gathering happened days ago, the kiss happened three day prior and yet, you don’t have any news from Jaehyun. None, not a phone call, not even a text, nothing. He disappeared into the night the moment he left you in front of your building. You at first texted him after you took a shower, changed into your pyjamas and removed all your makeup, resting in the comfort of your bed. A simple one, thanking him for the night and telling him you hoped he had fun, only hinting the slightest bit at the kiss, a giddy smile at his name on your screen. He did not answer. He didn’t even open the message. You brushed it off and went to sleep but, the afternoon after, something felt off. The rose glass was still in front of your eyes. It didn’t take long to shatter and fall down. If you knew, if you were aware of Jaehyun being your soulmate, you’d understand your connection runs deeper, you’d understand why your body seems to suffer as much as your mind. His anxiety and doubts manage to linger on your mind like a bitter aftertaste in the morning. It’s weird. You’ve been ghosted and ghosted people yourself at times, when you did not feel like having a deeper conversation or having another date. But this, this felt different, like there was another reason behind it, something you did not know yet. And again, he couldn’t really ghost you when he was your neighbor in your workplace.

Or could he ? You did not text him the day after the gathering but, on Friday, when he didn’t show up to work, you couldn’t help but think you screwed up. Thoughts kept you away from working, you wondered if he was okay, if you went too far. It was weird, it really felt like he wanted it too ? He didn’t take a step back, he even moved closer. He didn’t push back, he kissed back. And, when he left, he smiled like everything was more than fine, like you could expect more from him. Maybe he had a few more drinks than you thought and regretted it after but, you have to say, you thought Jaehyun was the type of guy to make things clear rather than disappearing all at once. Some, - maybe disappointment – creeped up in your chest at some point, a mix of emotions you now couldn’t comprehend.

Something does not feel right when they tell you he called in sick. You debate sending him another text and, after your second coffee break, you convince yourself you’re just acting like a friend. You ask him if he’s okay, you wonder again if you did something wrong but don’t mention it, a bubble of anxiety growing in your stomach. And again, he does not answer, you wonder if he even receives it.

Confusion and a sort of sadness suddenly changes into anger the moment Sooyoung visits you. Needless to say, you kept her updated on everything and on the third day of pure silence, she couldn’t keep it together. God bless her, she cancelled her plans with her crush – and soon to be boyfriend – to be with you. The red-haired’s like your very own emotion compass, validating your feelings you bottled up for days on end.

“I don’t- I just don’t get it.”, you let out for the nth time this evening, bringing your cold bottle of coke in the air. For the first time in a while, your friend stays dumbfounded, body ungracefully sat on your coach. Your friend had bought some things to eat and drink, though you could only find the force to indulge liquid.

“And it’s not like he wasn’t interested either !”, ah, Sooyoung’s the little voice in your mind. You vigorously nod at that, it’s clear your friend turns her brain again and again to find a reason, much like you are. You’ve been at it for hours now, ranting on and off, forcing your throat dry, babbling and tripping over yours words. It feels good, though, to have someone to rant to.

“Right ! He- It’s clear he wanted it too !”, you whine out and harshly let your body fall right next to your friend. Anger bubbles in your chest and your body’s first reaction to that is simple : water collects at the corner of your eyes. It’s unfair, it really is. Finishing the soda, you blur out something you didn’t think you’d tell her.

“I thought he could be the one.”, you abruptly say, so quickly Sooyoung has to process the words at a lesser speed. Head low, you play with the cold bottle between your hands.

Soonyoung loves you dearly, she really does. Many times, she thought of you as a soulmate in a friend and, it obviously hurts for the red haired to see you in such a state. Her hand rests right behind your head, fingers lacing in your locks. It’s a reassuring gesture while she finds her words, guiding your head towards her shoulder.

“Maybe he needs time to think. I know ignoring isn’t the right thing to do but, maybe he has a lot of things going on ?”

Sooyoung couldn’t be more right. If Jaehyun heard what she told you, she would’ve become his second favorite red-haired person. Poor Cupid has so much going on, too much to deal with. For days, his mind tried and tried again to find a solution, something where everyone would be happy. Poor thing doesn’t want to hurt everyone but, Jaehyun soon finds out things aren’t that easy, they never are. The brunette even thinks about spending a week on Olympus and a week on Earth but, he knows it would only be unfair for everyone. He cannot act like his brothers aren’t already overworked, like it wouldn’t be unfair to you to see him on and off without ever knowing why. A permanent headache clouds his mind and eventually, on Sunday, all he can think about is you. You’re all he can think about, all his thoughts go back to, all it revolves around. What are you doing, how are you feeling ? Are you mad at him ? The Cupid feels bad for leaving you like this but, he’d rather be sure of himself before speaking to you again. Jaehyun spends sleepless nights gazing out his window, he wonders again what his past like was like, if you were in his. And again, the thought of not having you in the next snaps the string of his heart. One night, as he gazes over the calm street next to his building, he even catches a couple having what the brunette thinks is their first kiss. Soft summer breeze as they step out of the cinema, they both stand awkwardly in front of each other as a car stops in front of them. Sweet, innocent love. The Cupid envies them.

Eventually, finally, it’s in the early Monday morning that the brunette finally understands. It’s around five in the morning, sun slowly rising over the city that doesn’t sleep, orange hue coloring the pale blue sky. Jaehyun took the bad habit of sleeping too late, lost eyes wondering outside as his brain never stopped.

The brunette finally understands. Him and humans aren’t so different, much like them, he needs a little heartbreak to move on. Which one would he rather experience, between the heart ache of never seeing you or never seeing his brothers, the brunette thinks he might know the one he’ll chose if he has to.

One thing he knows for sure, as he understands he only has a week left on the blue planet, he wants to be with you, next to you, more than anything else. You might refuse to see him, scream at him, - hell -, even slap him, Jaehyun doesn’t really care. He really doesn’t, he doesn’t either when his hand curls into a fist right before knocking on your door. He has to thank one of your neighbor for letting the door open, without checking twice and, his good memory when he checks for your last name.

Even if he slept all day, the slight dark circles under his eyes are there? Brown locks wavy from the lack of care, he wishes he did something more to his appearance the moment you open your door and, he swears to all the Gods and Goddesses above. It’s clear you just came back from work, hair matching his, sleeves of your white button up rolled up.

The moment he sees you, his thinks his heart might drop. Your initial shock, lips parted and raised eyebrow swiftly twist into an angry stare. Eyebrows furrowed, fading lips a straight line, you take a second to speak up. “What are you doing here ?”, you ask harshly. You almost fear it’ll come out like a whisper but, you stand your grounds. The surprise, confusion and anger you expressed bubbles up in your chest, you can’t believe he’d show up like this, out of the blue. But again, isn’t it better than just texting you like nothing happened ? You turn your back anyways, walking towards your leaving room in a hurry. Nonetheless, you don’t close your door in the brunette’s face, letting the opportunity open for the Cupid to take. And take it, he does. His usually calm behavior suddenly disappears, he quickly steps into your apartment, doesn’t even have a second to look at your home before chasing you blindly.

“I can explain.”, is the first thing he lets out in a blur. A white lie, Jaehyun can not explain everything yet, he fears you’ll run away, he knows it will be too much anyways. But, don’t get him wrong, he wishes he could. To that, you abruptly turn around, and there it is again, the lump in your throat. Can he explain ? You wonder, there so many unsaid things. Does he know why you’re mad, is he aware of what you’re feeling ? You almost want to blow up on him at this very moment but, decide against him when you notice the dark circles under his pretty brown eyes.

“Why didn’t you answer ? D-Did I do something wrong ?”, the crack in your voice you desperately tried to hide comes out when you least expect it, Jaehyun takes a step closer though, it’s clear he’s conflicted. He wants to touch you, hold you, so, so bad but he fears you’ll push him away.

“No ? No ! You didn’t.”, the Cupid gives in, his right hand lands on your shoulder the moment he’s close enough and he hates the way you look to the side. So many questions, you think now is the time to ask them, you’ve been sleeping on and with them for days now. God knows you do not want to sound harsh but the bitterness is clear in your voice. “It feels like you’re running away.”, you finally let out. The lump in your throat seems to disappear the moment you find the confidence to speak out. “Like you’re running away from…Me, what happened after the gathering.”

Poor Cupid sure is taken aback, he thought about all the things he wanted to say and yet, at this very moment, he can only open his mouth and close it again like a fish. “I am not, I swear I’m not. It’s just-.”

Maybe you should let him say his words but, you can’t stop the flow of words when the ball in your neck disappear, you don’t want to let the confidence slip away. Taking a step back, you desperately try not to get affected by Jaehyun. The way he looks at you, sorry puppy eyes, the way his bottom lip looks red and bruised from how long he bite on it. You refuse to let his sent and the cologne he seems to be imprinted in cloud your mind, you don’t want to let your body falls into the heat of his own, the one you’ve been craving for days.

“You feel it too. I know you do. I don’t know what it is, but. There’s something, between us.”, you start and, you’re almost shocked at the audacity you have. Jaehyun takes a sharp breathe at that, though he lets you finish your thoughts. “Don’t lie to me. Tell me you feel it too.”, there’s a small plea in your voice, Jaehyun can sense it, you’re hurt and he hates it.

He hates the fact you doubted his feelings. A hand runs in his messy brown locks, Jaehyun thoughts about everything he could say but, what he says next isn’t something he planned on. “I do. I was scared.”, and he was. He tells the truth and doesn’t make up lies, twist the reality to cover himself. At the end of it all, Jaehyun is scared, he’s terrified. He does not know what’s next, what awaits him eventually, in what position he’s putting you in.

You, on the other hand, slightly gets taken back by his quick honesty. Jaehyun takes a step forward and, you don’t flinch. The brunette ditches every long explanation he had, slightly shaky hands cupping your cheeks. If he held you like you were made of glass last week, he holds you like a bubble threatening to disappear at any moment, like an image out of his imagination. The Cupid holds you so he can melt his eyes into yours, trapping you in the chocolate, comforting hue.

It’s crazy, how his touch managed to calm your nerve down. Your shoulders flop down and you, for a moment, let your eyelids close halfway to appreciate the warmth. There’s a breath coming out of your lips, half exhausted, half calmed by his presence. But, your eyes fully close when he comes closer again, carefully. Jaehyun makes sure he isn’t crossing any border, he makes sure you don’t shy away from his touch.

“You overwhelm me.”, The Cupid traces on your lips.

Oh, to be loved by a Cupid, to be loved by Jaehyun. You quickly understand how intense it is.

This time, Jaehyun kisses you first. He fears he’ll lose the chance, he fears he won’t have a second chance. Plump lips softly press against your own and, when you process his actions, you finally give in. There’s a weight lifted up from your heart, he feels it too, that’s all you wanted to hear at this very moment. You finally acknowledge the hunger for his touch, for him. Fingertips softly trace over his sharp jaw and, the brunette easily gets it. Tilting his head to the side, the kiss grows deeper, and deeper. There’s no fight for dominance, just a harmonious dance, Jaehyun matches you and you match him. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”, the Cupid continues and, it feels like he has a lot more to say, he wants to make sure you know his reality. Voice deeper, chest irregularly moving up and down, he barely moves away. “I feel it too.”, he confirms again. The brunette will say it again if he needs to, he feels it too, he understands you, he knows.

You don’t answer, you’d rather show him. You chase after his lips, linking your arms around his neck just to bring him closer. “Don’t do that again.”, you half warn him before crashing your lips against Jaehyun’s again. The brunette quietly and breathlessly laughs at that, promising he won’t ever disappear like this. You discover more about him, tongue meeting his own for the very first time. He tastes sweet, something fruity lingers, probably the gum he was nervous chewing on before going to your home.

The Cupid’s hands get more curious as well, finding their place in the small of your back. Pink lips traces down your neck before placing a greedy kiss where your neck and shoulder meet. Such a simple touch, something you’ve felt before but, it’s different when it comes from the brunette. It’s crazy, the power he has on your body. Pearly teeth carefully catch the skin there and, you can not longer deny the heat that washes over you. It happens at once, the heat in the room seems a bit too much and your underwear gets uncomfortable.

Your hands creep up his chest, feel his body for the first time, you almost moan. Under your fingertips, even under the tick fabric of his white shirt, you can feel his muscles. Borders are blurry and, when your hands grip his collar, you hope you don’t cross anything.

Jaehyun wants to share your space, breath your air and yet, even if you’re the one walking him to your bedroom, he needs your verbal affirmation. “Are you sure ?”, Asia’s Cupid asks when he steps into your dimly lit bedroom.

It almost makes you laugh, giggle at his doe eyes contrasting with his wondering hands. You don’t care enough to turn the light off or even turn it on, your hands grip the middle of his shirt and you make his fit body follow you as you softly fall down on your bed. Jaehyun’s weak, he doesn’t even resist. Knees plant itself next to your hips, towering over you.

“’m sure, wanna drown in you.”, you confess right next to his ear. The brunette shivers at this, he hisses between pearly teeth. And, before he can even answer something, you tug a little bit more at his shirt. The Cupid easily gets the hint, grabbing the back of his top to take it off.

“Fuck.”, the curse slips out of your mouth before you can even process it. It’s ironic, you think he might be crafted by the Gods. You felt it under your fingers tips under the fabric but, his abs look marbled under the dim light of your bedroom. Every single one of Jaehyun’s nerves are on fire at this very moment. Digits work on the buttons of your shirt and, when you give him the green light, he does not hesitate.

His lips find the skin of your neck again, he pecks at the column of your throat and lets his tongue dip right between your collarbones. Jaehyun’s a messy lover, his kisses are long, he worships every new parcel of skin he discovers.

“Wait, let me help you.”, you breath out with a small laugh when the Cupid’s shaky hand sneak right behind your back. Arching your spine, you quickly undo your bra as the men finds your lips again. It’s thrown somewhere next to your bed soundlessly, Jaehyun’s mouth automatically wraps around your left nipple. Your fingers quickly sneak between his locks, nails softly gazing at the Cupid’s scalp. His tongue feels amazing on you, he coats your hard bud with saliva and doesn’t hesitate to softly catch it between his pearly teeth, pulling back.

“Jaehyun.”, you breath out when he turns his attention towards your second neglected bud but, you don’t care enough at this very moment. “Hm ?”, he hums against the skin right between your breasts, “So fucking pretty.”

As much as you enjoy all his attention, you don not think you can wait any longer. Your underwear’s too uncomfortable and you don’t think you can wait another five minute before completely, entirely feeling him. Unbeknownst to you, the brunette is as desperate. And so, when you beg for him to have you, right now, right next to his ear, he doesn’t think further.

Arms wrap around your waist, the brunette guides you to the middle of your bed. Everything happens quickly, then. Jaehyun helps you out of your skirt, you help him out of his jeans and boxers. The brunette doesn’t let you completely look at him for very long, but you have to say, the length of his shaft and the deep pink, wet by pre-cum head makes you mouth water. He hovers over you again after finding a condom in your bedside table. Jaehyun holds himself on his arms, on each side of your head but the slight weight of his body is comforting.

“So fucking wet, you’re dripping.”, Jaehyun almost hums to himself when he left two digits dip between your legs.

No words are spoken, expect for your verbal consent the moment the Cupid lines himself right in front of your wet folds. The tallest thinks he never felt more alive, you take his breath away, even more when his head pushes between your lips.

“Shit, so tight.”, he breathes out, slowly, inch by inch thrusting into your core. Like you were made for me, he almost says, but his words get caught in this throat the moment his last inch gets wrapped around you. His head falls in the crook of your neck, left hand resting on your waist.

It’s a slow, sensual pace you easily get used to, but the stretch of his cock doesn’t fade away. It’s a slight pain added to the pleasure, an addicting mixture you quickly grow addicted. You, on the other hand, don’t know where to touch, where to claw. You’re sure you’re leaving some deep marks on his back the moment the brunette almost entirely pulls out, right before slamming back in. Your own back arches at that, right hand grabbing onto his bicep.

It’s clear the Cupid enjoys the jolts of pain, hissing quietly whenever your nails create small croissant shapes on his pale skin. “Please, mark me.”, you beg breathlessly. Jaehyun might come at this very moment. It’s a possessive, primal, proud feeling that blooms in his chest when he understands. Mark you, mark you as his for everyone to see. The brunette hopes you’ll parade proudly with the purple petals he now creates against your throat.

“Mine.”, he groans against the skin of your neck, the words slips without him even thinking about it twice but, when you keen under it, he doesn’t hesitate to say it again, again and again on your lips. Mine, mine, mine. When your walls continuously clench around him, it’s almost too much for Asia’s Cupid. His composure crumbles down, it breaks down and his hips falter. Long gone is the sweet, soft pace he created for you, he chases his own orgasm and your own in deep, fast thrusts.

Uncoherent words tumble from your lips, Jaehyun conceals his own moans against your skin again, nose dipping into your hair. And, after a few thrusts that reach the deepest, you reach your high in a silent moan, Jaehyun’s lips kissing your tense forehead until he, himself, lets himself go. The broken moan he lets out as his seed spills in the condom might be the prettiest thing you’ve ever heard, you think in your daze.

There’s a comfortable silence broken by irregular breaths, Jaehyun’s brown eyes bore into yours the moment he understands what just happen. It’s even more comfortable when his strong arms wrap around your waist, his body falls into yours right before pulling you to his side.

“Holy shit.”, you let out after some minutes, a hand carefully lacing into the brunette’s locks. It hits you at this very moment too, a soft smile stretches your lips when Jaehyun hides his face in your chest.

“Yeah.”, he hums, keeping your body close. It seems he doesn’t have the energy to move too, you don’t blame him. “Can we stay like this ?”, he mumbles and, for a moment, you wonder what he’s talking about. Colleagues…with benefits ? The thought crosses your mind before you understands what his talking about. You’re so fucked out you barely registered the fact he’s still, in fact, in you. You clearly don’t mind, it still amazes you as well how perfectly he fits, even with his cock softening between your walls. “Not knowing where you begin…Where I end.”, he breathes out, letting out any thoughts his blurry mind creates.

There’s a small giggle from you and clearly, you agree to the proposition. It feels right, it feels domestic, intimate. Your arms finally wrap around his shoulders, chest against chest. You notice his hair smells like green apples and mint, he has little freckles here and there and soon enough, he’s sleeping peacefully in your arms. What a mysterious men, you think again. Thought this time, you smile to yourself, it seems he doesn’t mind opening up to you.

That night, Jaehyun finds he sleeps best in your arms.

“Jaehyun.”, you softly call out, stretching your muscles as best as you can. You have little room as the brunette’s arms are still firmly locked around your figure. It’s around eight in the morning and, by the way your phone’s beeping more and more loudly, you should be getting ready at this very moment. Though, you have to say, you’d much rather stay in your bed.

“Hm ?”, he hums, eyes still closed and, you wonder for a moment if he still remembers about work. You know he took a few days off but, he’s supposed to be back in office today, if you believe your manager.

The brunette clearly does not remember, you note when his lips peck right under your jaw.

“We’re going to be late.”, you whine and yet, your head rolls back enough for him to let his lips travel down your throat again. He adores on the bruises he left there the night before, slowly waking up. You have to say, he looks ethereal. The morning sun shines on his skin, the light bruises you left there contrasts against his epidermis, thin lashes batting up and down. Two deep dimples crave themselves in his cheeks when he looks up at your figure, rosy lips stretching at in a soft smile. Though an arm gives you a bit more space, the second one right under your body doesn’t let go.

He seems to remember about the night before slowly, low chuckle moving his chest. In fact, his cock’s still inside you. Condom discarded somewhere in the bin of your bathroom, Jaehyun easily fell asleep a second time after.

“Fuck, I forgot about that. I’m too tired.”, he confirms your doubt in his deep morning voice, one you weren’t ready for. It’s an octave lower, if that’s even possible and, it unconsciously makes you clench around him.

“About yesterday.”, Asia’s Cupid starts, using his hold on you to flip you on under him. It’s clear the brunette already loves having you like this. The small sound that comes from your lips when he does so makes him laugh again, eye still half closed. His right hand cups your cheek lovingly, a gesture you naturally lean on.

“Wanted to take you on a date first.”, he hums with a small pout, though it’s clear he isn’t unhappy with the outcome of the night before. Neither are you.

“I’m free this Friday.”, you tell him teasingly. Unbeknownst to you, Friday’s one of the last days he has on Earth. But, the slight movement of his hips doesn’t go unnoticed. Your eyes narrowed, giving the young men a look, fakely annoyed. You can feel him getting harder by the second, from the moment he flipped you over.

“Then, I’ll pick you up on Friday, after work ?”, he hums and you nod, a hand grabbing onto his bicep again when his moves get bolder.

“Jae’. We barely have an hour to get ready.”, you tell him. It’s half hearted, you both know you’d much rather let him have you a second time than go to work again but, you have projects to finish today and-.

“That should be enough.”, Jaehyun answers almost too quickly.

You find out saying no to Jaehyun is a hard thing. Correction, controlling yourself when Jaehyun looks like the purest incubus is hard. And so, when you bite down on your lower lip and look over at the time on your phone, the brunette already knows he won.

It’s easy when the Cupid already knows the route to your bathroom, when the two of you are already naked and riled up from the night before. Your legs lock on top of his hips and the cold water managed to wake you up at once. You slightly hit the brunette’s shoulder with a whine and his only answer’s to harshly push your back against the cold wall of your shower.

“I didn’t even brush my teeth.”, you whine out after Jaehyun plants the first hungry kiss of a few more, arms lazily resting on his shoulders. “I don’t care.”, the brunette groans out. And he clearly doesn’t, his hands firmly hold your thighs and his now hard shaft finds the same punishing rhythm he had the night before.

“Fuck, how are you already- Thought you were tired.”, you half mock, sentence cut short when he pushes into you deeper, harder.

“I’m not when it comes to fucking you.”, he confesses and, long gone are the street words he whispered out in your ear the night before. It’s like a switch being flipped, how last night’s slow thrusts turn into harsh, quick snaps. You don’t complain, though, not when he has you moaning in seconds. The water quickly turns hot, just the right temperature, droplets run down the brunette’s back, wetting his locks.

“God, you’re so good.”, you breathe out. Jaehyun’s intensely looking at you through his wet locks, agonizing smile stretching his lips. At this moment, the both of you know you’re already close. He brings you close, so close to your orgasm in minutes. Pride swells in the Cupid’s chest, he doesn’t let his pace falter and in fact, quickens.

“Fuck, keep clenching around me like that. You feel heavenly, baby.”, Jaehyun lets out, forehead resting against your shoulder. His lips find your skin again, pecking the droplets of water away as he feels you bending under his commands, clenching until he finds the right spot to hit again and again. You take minutes to come under his thrusts, head softly hitting the wall of your shoulder. Eyes closed, you see stars the moment he gives a particularly harsh snap of his hips and holds you there when he feels you coming around him, without any barrier.

The brunette’s breathless and, so are you. The background noise of the stream of water becomes white noise, senses hyper focusing on his small whines when you move your hips. He’s sensitive, so sensitive his groans turn into small whines.

Long gone’s the worry for your job and the time you have left when you let your feet touch the floor of you shower, slightly shaky, you drop to your knees in front of the men. The sight is enough for him to let out a sigh, looking up like he, himself, cannot believe he has someone like you in such a position. The brunette’s large hand easily find a purpose in your hair, gathering the locks until they’re out of your way. Finally, when you yesterday didn’t get a to detail Jaehyun’s cock, you can now have a better look. Hand wrapping around his shaft, the weight is pleasant, though you’re sure it’ll be even more on your tongue. Wet, he’s already leaking pre-cum, head a deep pink and you’re wondering how he can keep his composure when you let your tongue flat travel from the base to the tip.

“Fuck, Y/N. Thought we didn’t have much time ?”, he tease, twisting the narrative with a knowing smile. You look up at him with doe eyes, lips wrapping around his head and you suck lightly, enough to get a ripped moan from his pretty lips.

“You’re just impatient.”, you tell him, though you can’t help but take him in your mouth anyways. Indeed, the heavy weight and slight lingering taste of your juices makes you hum around him, vibrations that have him moaning lowly.

You manage to take most of his shaft in, hallowing your cheeks, using a hand to lazily stroke the rest but, after a few minutes, the men takes things in his hands. He definitely loves control. “Let me fuck your mouth.”, he mumbles out and, when you hungrily nod your head, his grip on your hair tightens. He keeps your mouth where he wants it and, slowly starts moving his hips.

It’s a harsh pace you silently indulge, his head hits the back of your throat a few times and it’s clear he’s close when he doesn’t even know how to form coherent words, hips harsher. His cock pulsates in your mouth and, when he takes it out without a warning, you almost whine and pout before understanding. His hand wraps around his base and you have to say, the sight is sinful. Body wet, face contouring with pleasure, he quickly pumps his dick in his head before he eventually comes in long strings. You, on the other hand, hungrily collect anything landing on your needy tongue.

Cleaning all you can, Jaehyun’s eyes stare for a while, he thinks he might get hard just because of that, when your fingers collect any remaining semen before popping them into your mouth.

“Fucking greedy slut.”, he groans out, almost in misbelief when his fingers hook under your jaw, forcing you up. You think he’ll clean the both of you there but, you surely don’t expect it when he abruptly turns you around, forcing your chest against the cold wall again.

“What are yo-.”, you start, but get abruptly cut by a moan you barely recognize. Jaehyun easily stuffs two fingers into your core. They definitely aren’t as big as his cock but, you’re sensitive, squirming around at his middle and fourth finger.

“Not letting you go until I make you come again.”, he mumbles again the skin of your shoulder and you stop moving around the moment his fingers scissor your around your walls and puts his free hand right next to your head.

“I c-can’t.”, you mumble out, and yet, your hips move back against his hips when he slows down.

“Take it.”, he commends, a tone in his voice you never heard and yet, you love it. It’s demanding and you let your forehead rest against the wet wall. His fingers are fast, lewd sounds drown in the water. There’s a low chuckle from the brunette when you threaten to come so quickly it would’ve been embarrassing with someone one. “Come on.”, he whispers out, a hand grabbing your head. He forces you to look at his, hungry lips crashing into your own. “You’re gonna get us late.”

The next days feel surreal for the brunette. He feels like a normal human, entirely, fully. Wednesday, dead of the night, Jaehyun might remember that night his entire life. He never had you in his bed and yet, it feels empty without your presence. The Cupid understands what not being with your soulmate feels like and, he doesn’t even want to know what it’d feel like to be in Olympus while you stay on the blue planet. He doesn’t, he can not even think about it. There, as Jaehyun mixes his overcooked noodles, all he can think about is having you on his coach waiting for him while he cooks. There, he takes his decision. Jaehyun wants everything you have to offer, he wants to share thoughts and secrets, share pointless and deep conversations, he wants to share comfortable silences and create new memories. He wants to create inside jokes he knows will make you laugh whenever he brings them up again.

There’s so much the Cupid wants to discover with you, from your favorite spots to your favorite food, the spots that make you weak and the ones that make you giggle. He wants to be here for your highs and lows, your big defeats and small victorious. He wants to be your favorite shoulder to cry on and the one you think about to celebrate. He wants you at your best just like he knows he can have you at your worst. Jaehyun wants you to love him just as much as he feels himself falling deep, deep for you.

Your texts make him smile and he doesn’t even hesitate to answer the minute he gets them. Your song, movie, show recommendations ? He notes them, listens and watches, gives a report whenever he can. He sends some back, he calls you when he cooks and can’t understand an instruction.

When he sleeps, Jaehyun dreams about you and all the things the two of you could have, you’re all he had think about and he does not complain, he’s infatuated, enamored, smitten, he learns a new word every day to express how captured he is.   And, on Wednesday night, as he falls asleep early for work, he has another flashback. Right between the lands of dream and reality, the border blurry. He sees the same girl with deep brown hair, setting unfamiliar. There’s a child he does not recognize and, when he wakes up, he realizes they both had your eyes.

It’s even better in real life. If the conversations used to flow naturally before, they hold something else now, a knowing flirt. Right between close friends and more, and dating. Firm glances are exchanged alongside some smiles here and there.

“Here !”, at this point, the brunette recognizes your voice by the second. He looks up at you with happy eyes in croissants. You have his favorite drink in your hand, peachy iced tea from a coffee shop down the street. “Ah, thank you so much.”, he pouts a little, the attention brings something that blooms on his chest.

“You’re welcome !”, you tell him, walking around to sit in your cubicle, next to him. Flopping on your seat, you quietly sip on your drink for a moment while scrolling and double checking your project, one you should be handing over tonight. “How’s your project going ?”, you ask him, leaning on the side. The small wall between the two of you is thin but, it does the job when it comes to blocking the view. Unfortunately.

“Almost, I should be done by the end of the week…Or next week.”, the brunette’s throat goes dry for a moment, when he mentions next week even if, even if he does not know if he’ll still be there by then. You obviously don’t notice it, humming at his computer screen. He told you he went to Paris for his art studies and you have to say, he sure has the level. Jaehyun is working on a more illustrative publicity campaign for some kids book and, for someone who just started, his propositions are great.  

“Oh, Jaehyun ! It looks great !”, you coo. “That’s really pretty.”, you tell him, catching your straw between your lips. Ice cubs hitting against each other, you shake your cup a little in order to get some blueberries at the very bottom.

“You’re pretty.”, the Cupid breathes a bit quietly, the two of you are still in your workplace and he doesn’t want to draw any unwanted attention from others by talking too loudly. Still sipping on your drink, you look up at the brunette with some surprised eyes before rolling them at him. “Smooth.”, you sarcasm, but smile at his attempt anyways.

“Right. Are you impressed ?”, Asia’s Cupid asks lowly and by now, you know this tone too well. Setting his pen aside, he leans aside too, meeting you halfway. If any of your colleagues looked over at this very moment, you’re sure they’d get the picture easily. His face’s too close to be anything friendly, his breath fans over your lips and you have to say, your eyes get lost in his. He holds eye contact and you don’t dare breaking it but, even in your slight daze, you’re still aware of the setting. You grudgingly pull back and let your back rest on your chair before heat burns your cheeks. There’s a chuckle from the brunette, one that rips a glare from Daeyong.

Do you enjoy it ? The slight anger flashing in front of his eyes and decomposition of his features when he understands ? Maybe, but you like Jaehyun’s smug smile when he gets it a lot more. If it looks like nothing more happens after, if it looks like Jaehyun works like a good employee after, you’d be very, very wrong. A hand stays firmly on your thigh, thumb stroking the covered skin of your leg. Jaehyun can not keep his hands to himself, he barely can. His eyes lower to your lips whenever he talks to you, whenever he catches you speaking with someone else. He stares for a bit too long at your figure and legs whenever you take a small break.

Can you blame him, though ? You’re almost as bad, drinking in the sight of his side profile whenever you doze off, detailing his hands when he adds the final touches to his project, unconsciously leaning closer.

Thank god, you and him manage to keep things calm until the end of the day. Until you gather all your files and documents, drop them in due time to your boss and finally, finally get a hold of your bag. Jaehyun waits for you like you usually did, walks you to the elevator and, when the brunette notices the emptiness of the elevator, he does not think twice. A finger quietly pushes at the “close doors” button and, when the grey metal doors slide in silence, he pushes you against the wall.

His free hand softly creeps up your neck, ring hugged digits wrap around your throat just enough for you to bend under his will and movements when he pushes you backwards. They’re cold against you skin, make goosebumps rise under them. “Jaehyun, wh-.”, the sound gets caught in your throat, knocked out of your lungs. The brunette does not even answers, he has a few floors for timing, he’d rather crash his lips against yours. He’s been thinking about it for hours, hitching to get closer to you. The kiss is bruising, his grip around your neck tightens until you whine at the gesture, hand flying to his brown locks. As you’ve found out, Jaehyun’s intense. He loves hard. Pearly teeth bite down on your lower lip, enough you know you’ll have a small bruise there and, his tongue softly smooths the abused spot before pushing the muscle between your awaiting lips.

It’s dangerous, how easily the Cupid puts you in a daze, a distorted reality where he’s the lighthouse in the fog. The taste of his peachy drink lingers on his muscle, on you teasingly suck on but, as he’s about to put his knee between your legs, a voice breaks the two of you apart.

“Floor zero !”

Jaehyun has lived next to and with Gods and Goddesses, has deities and other figures throwing themselves at him on Olympus. The brunette and his brothers have a halo of glamour and inaccessibility over them that has many gushing over them. He, at times, did fall under their charms, a pleasant experience for the both of them but never did the Cupid find it necessary to contact again, make it happen a second time. A one time thing he kept to himself, everyone knows how these things can turn into cruel revenges on the cloud up. But, Jaehyun always comes back to you. He has you tattooed under his skin, creeping and making a home for yourself in his heart, leaving an everlasting mark he’d proudly show off. With you, he has something else he did not have with other, a connection running deeper. He’s aware of it, he’s been for weeks. Simply said, Jaehyun understands quickly that physical contact with your soulmate is different. It feels different. After all, the brunette believes in the original soulmate myth, the very tale that depicts humans as one before they got separated. Reuniting as one is bound to be unlike any other thing he ever experienced. And so, Asia’s Cupid finds himself craving for you much more than he thought he would. It’s the thrill of the beginning, he thinks, but he finds himself sending a rather risqué text anyways. Thursday night, Jaehyun lays in his still made bed, typing and deleting. Should he ? Should he send this text ? It’s something the brunette never did before, it has the power to color his cheeks a soft pink.

What are you doing at this moment, in the dead of the night, he wonders. The Cupid never knew how vivid his mind was, he surprises himself when he easily pictures you in your bed, just like him. Fuck it, he thinks, and his thumb quickly presses the send button.

Ah, if Jaehyun has a vivid imagination, you have a good memory. Teasing words in a grey text bubble, it’s crazy how you manage to have his voice re-act it in your mind. What are you doing at this very moment ? Thinking about him but, you wouldn’t tell him right away. Two can play that game, he’s good at teasing and you are too.

The Cupid has to say, sexting is quiet fun. He finds himself typing things he would’ve said without an once of shame, he definitely did not expect his body to react so obediently to the words you say back. Soon enough, Jaehyun has his eyes glued to his screen, impatiently awaiting for your next words. Is it him or, is it getting too hot in his room ? Unbeknownst to Asia’s Cupid, he peels the fabric of his shirt off of his body just as you do so, getting rid of superficial clothes as texts get riskier, riskier. The brunette has your mouth parting at some of his crude words but, the gasp that leaves your mouth when Jaehyun sends a picture might wake your neighbors up.

Large hand wrapped around his veiny shaft, you stare at the picture for a bit too long. He’s hard, head a pink shade you don’t doubt is getting shades deeper by the moment. You can almost feel the weight on your tongue again but, when he starts typing again, you quickly snap a picture back.

Texts get sent hectically, not double checked, body kilometers away seems in sink, a single and common goal in mind. An orchestra in two different homes, your fingers don’t feel as good as his and, his around his cock doesn’t feel as good as your mouth. Dirty confessions are sent, he controls your pace from afar, telling you went to go faster and went to go slower.

In the middle of the night, you quietly come with each other in mind.

Tic, tac.

Friday. Times flies much quicker on the blue planet, Jaehyun knows it and yet, when he understands that he barely has three days left, he panics. He has much, so much to do. The brunette needs to get back to Olympus and he has too much to say, he pushed it away, wants to forget about it until the very last second. Tomorrow, I’ll do it tomorrow, he tells himself again and again. After the date, he tells himself.

The date, Jaehyun promised he’d come pick you up and, a few hours after work, he’s patiently waiting in front of your building. The car he was given at the beginning of his mission, he did not think he’d use but, here he is. It’s a pretty car, he has to say. A glossy black, a brand he read about once, his fingertips drum on the wheel. Poor thing is trying to push any thoughts of Olympus and his deadline aside and thankfully, he manages to the moment you step out of your building. You’re wearing something simple, but it isn’t your outfit Jaehyun is looking from afar. The sun shouldn’t set anytime soon but, the burning star’s less aggressive than it was earlier, leaving an orange hue on everything it touches.

It caresses your skin and makes it glow, soft breeze sending your locks aside like the second time he ever saw you. You give the brunette a small smile when you enter his car, you never knew he had such a nice vehicle and aren’t ashamed when you detail It with attention. Leather seats, tinted windows, it would’ve easily blended in during the other week’s gathering.

“Hi again.”, you tell him softly, slightly giddy at the thought of a date with the men.

“Hi.”, he answers, sweet smile tugging at his lips as he looks at you closely. At this moment, you finally notice he looks at you like you hold every star in your pupils, butterflies threatening to escape from your stomach.

The car ride is a calm one, but you sure appreciate the comfortable silence between the two of you. You sure are curious, Jaehyun never told you where he was taking you. The car passed by the building of your residential area, pretty buildings flash by until you get to the middle of the city, busier area alive as people get out of their house to eat with friends and family. The city’s lights aren’t on yet, but Seoul’s neon never die, they flash in the dim sunlight as Jaehyun’s car cuts through streets just to get away from it.

Tall buildings turn into small streets, less fancy buildings and, when you’re out of the city you look over at the brunette with a questioning look. “Where are we going ?”, you ask him as the playlist he made from songs you sent restarts. Cars get rare, grass grows abundantly at the sides of the road and you can barely see any building close enough to be a restaurant.

“You’ll see.”, he tells you with a knowing smile and, when he gestures ahead with his chin. And you see it. In the middle of an empty field, multicolor lights flash on and off. You see the big wheel just starting to slowly rotate and you can’t help the smile growing on your lips. Excitement bubbles in your chest, like a child going to Disneyland and you gasp softly when the car gets closer for you to detail the funfair even more.

You knew one was held a bit further from Seoul but, you thought you wouldn’t get the chance to go. You didn’t know when nor who drag with you, Sooyoung already had her almost boyfriend and all your friends were busy. “Are we ?”, you ask in misbelief, almost hopping on your seat.

“Yeah, I hope you didn’t go before-.”, he starts and you immediately cut him off. “No, no ! I wanted to go but didn’t have anyone to drag with me.”, you laugh out before pointing at all the rides you want to try.

“Good, I really wanted to take you here.”, he hums while parking his car nearby.

Jaehyun loves the idea of funfairs, he loves what he read about them and what he saw but this, being in the middle of the big metal structures and colorful light, he loves it. He buys a bunch of tickets and you, at some point, have to stop him. Poor thing doesn’t have the experience, he doesn’t know how many things he can do in one night. He’s a happy puppy in the middle of a lot of noise, he recognizes a few songs blasting on the speakers and he stays stuck in front of big cotton candies and candy apples. Everything smells sweet and Asia’s Cupid doesn’t know what he wants to taste first but decides against it when he remembers what else he prepared. Jaehyun uses all his tickets on you and lets you pick all the rides and games you want to play, he holds your hand when rides get too intense, locks sent away from the harsh breeze when the car rolls down a high hill. He laughs at you the moment you scream in the haunted house, he tells you ghost don’t look that friendly but he wraps an arm around you the moment he sees the pout on your lips. You might feel like a high school student the moment he tries to win you a random plush, you discover he’s pretty bad at throwing things or, the game is rigged. You feel even better when you end up winning a plush for Jaehyun.

“Do you want to do this one again ?”, Jaehyun hums, lips against your temple. He points at the first ride you went on. It was fun, went backwards at some point but you were too hungry to do anything else. Curling against his side, you move your head left to right. “I’m hungry. Do you want to eat ?”, you propose on buying him anything, knowing how he almost drooled in front of the stand.

“I already got us something.”, the Cupid informs, lips traveling to your cheek.

“Let me spoil you.”, you pout, looking up at the tallest. A small smile grows on his lips, eyes travelling to the stand where all the candies are displayed. Maybe he wants popcorns, but he already had them before. Cotton candy looks too sticky and sugary and, candy apples look way too good. Shiny coat on red apples, his choice is set. “Get me a candy apple, then.”

“What did you bring ?”, you ask curiously as the brunette brings you back to his car. By now, the sun started the set, your stomach rumbles and you wonder what exactly he has prepared when he opens the bot of his car. You have to say, you expected a generic date at a restaurant but this, this was much better. You’re sure Jaehyun would be able to make any date interesting but the way his eyes glittered with the lights and how he wasn’t scared to scream during rides truly made you understand how precious the men was.

“Picnic.”, he simply says, taking out a brown basket from his car. If your friends asked you, you think you’ll be able to pinpoint the very moment you truly fell in love with Jaehyun. He takes you by the hand and tells you he couldn’t find a hill high enough for the picnic, like a shy boy on a very first date. He swiftly pushes the back seat of his car down but takes his cute green picnic cloth nonetheless, placing it in his car.

“Ma’am.”, he says, voice sultry when he offers his hand. You fall in love the moment his digits slide between his, you use the support to climb onto his car.

You fall in love the moment he open his small basket and you see the sandwiches he prepared and how the only bought drinks you like and desserts he wanted to make you try. You fall in love the moment he takes out two pieces of the very cheesecake you love too much. His sandwiches have too much condiment and not enough salad, but you might let it slide when you catch the Cupid with some mayo at the corner of his mouth. Though, you have to say his chocolate cake is the nicest thing you’ve ever tasted.

You’re full and tasted everything Jaehyun bought for you when the night falls, bight lights of the fun fair still enlightening the field around. Conservation flows easily, as always and, you pick at a lose thread, half laying in his car.

“Do you believe in soulmates ?”, you at some point, ask. It visibly takes the Cupid back, he was sipping from the red plastic cup and stops at once. Tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth, he hums a little, or maybe he breathlessly laugh.

“I do.”, he simply says and, the both of you know nothing more needs to be said. Knowing smiles, hands brush against each other when the comfortable silence settles, and you help him clean everything.

“There, best for last.”, you tell him after Jaehyun puts anything empty in a nearby bin and everything else in his basket. You don’t know it yet but, this basket, this cloth, he bought them just for the occasion. Taking the candy apple from your bag, you unwrap it and hand it towards the brunette. And, instead of taking it into his own hand, Jaehyun softly leans closer to you, lowering his head before biting down on his apple. The hard, caramel coat cracks under his pearly teeth, humming when the mix taste of the sugar and the apple coast his tongue.

“Do you like it ?”, you ask, attention caught by the men’s lips, thin coat of sugar on the plum flesh. “Try it.”, he says after nodding, and you do so. Biting down on the apple, you laugh a little when you struggle to completely detach a piece of the fruit. “Hm, it’s good.”, you tell him, chewing on the small piece you stole. The brunette takes the stick into his own hands and happily eats the candy away.

“Thank you for today.”, you tell the Cupid after you’ve helped him push his backseat up again. Sat on the leather, Jaehyun leaning, body half outside as the door’s still open. Looking up at you after securing the seats, he smiles up at you proudly, he doesn’t tell you but he struggled to put everything together after all, he never went on one until now.

“I’m happy you liked it.”, he whispers out, laughs and screams from the funfair still hear from your spot. He leans a bit and, you take the chance in your hands to lean as well, quickly pecking his lips. He tastes just like the apple candy he ate a bit earlier, and the single peck you wanted turns into a second, a third. Jaehyun laughs a bit against your lips, breaking the exchange whenever he does. He definitely isn’t the only one who can not keep his hands to himself, he thinks when your hands wrap behind his neck.

“I loved it.”, you mouth against his plump lips. His body follows when you lean backwards, his knee planting itself in the leather seat of his car. The place’s small, his right hand grips into to top of the head rest so he doesn’t crush you but you still feel the light breeze.

“Close the door.”, you whine out and, when Jaehyun understands, his eyes morphs from a surprised look to a hungry, lustful one in seconds. As said, you’re like a switch in the brunette’s brain. You don’t have to tell him twice, the Cupid leans back to close his car’s door and swiftly gets back on top of you. The slight weight of his body’s familiar now, something you appreciate and sigh against his lips when he finds his place between your legs.

“Here ?”, he wants to make sure, though his full lips travel down your throat anyways. He knows the path by heart now, finding the spot right between your collarbones. “Don’t you want to go home first ?”

You’d almost laugh at how careful he is. A hand grip his hair hard enough that he sighs, bringing his face close to yours again. “Here. I don’t care.”, you reassure him and, Jaehyun does not need more.

“I can’t get enough of you.”, the brunette sighs against your skin, fingers quickly working on the buttons of your shirt. It’s quick, hectic, the place’s already close and it seems the need crashed over the both of you like trucks. Jaehyun lets your shirt fall open, hand cupping one of your breasts over your bra, lips leaving long, deep kisses from your collarbones to the line of your jeans. He looks at you then, doe eyes centimeters away from your core.

“Jae’.”, the nickname makes him sigh against the skin of your hip, digits working on his own shirt. “Fuck me, take me.”, you whisper out, almost desperately. If the brunette looked ethereal before, he looks utterly out of this world when his body hovers over yours. The car shelters you from the sounds of the fun fair but, the tinted windows do not block the colorful lights. Blue, red, violets, yellow, they dance on his milky skin, they contrast against the bruises you left on his epidermis and the healing scratches on his back.

If the light doesn’t manage to catch his face, they reflect on your features and has the Cupid staring for a bit too long, the way the blue light softly enlightens your cupid’s bow, the purple light adorns on your cheeks and the red color falls at the top of your eyebrow. They reflect in your irises, change at every blink.

“Shit, you’re breathtaking.”, he confesses against your mouth, pearly teeth biting down on your bottom lip before tugging softly at it. Hands work on the buttons of your jeans and, the heavy fabric gets lost in the small, closed place. It feels like just like the morning after, things are passionate and rushed, your own hands work on his pants but it’s clear the desperation is too high for more foreplay.

You’re thankful the car is set far enough you think no one will walk next to it, you’d be quiet ashamed if anyone hears you. There’s a high pitched gasp that tumbles from your lips when the Cupid presses his clothes hard on against your panties and uses an arm to help you sit up, on his lap. Your mouth finds his again, it’s all tongue and teeth, a string of saliva connects your tongues when you pull back and watch his expression change when you slowly grind against his shaft.

The blue light falls on his jaw, tightening the moment you roll your hips against his, head falling back against the head rest. His hand runs in his hand and stays at the top for a moment, enjoying you taking the control, green light accentuates the veins bulging around his digits. Soft sighs fall from his lips and you make a point when you don’t kiss him at this very moment, drinking in everyone of his sounds. You might need to thank the lack of light, you already know you’re leaving a wet spot on the men’s boxers. His hands help you find a pace, delicious friction against thin fabrics, you can make the outline of his cock but, you’d be even happier with his shaft buried in your walls.

It seems he has the same thought when the brunette swiftly moves in the small space again. Now behind you, he pushes your upper body against the seat, giving you a view of the funfair you two were in hours ago, where innocent kisses where exchanged. Your arms lay on top of the head rest and, you don’t hesitate to arch your back a little, pushing your bottom against the brunette’s crotch.

There’s an appreciative groan from him, Jaehyun’s hands are quick to help you out of your panties. You think he’ll do the same with his boxers but, when you feel his heavy breathe against your wet core, you understand he has other plans in head.

“Want to taste you so fucking bad.”, he mumbles against the skin of your thighs, lips leaving kisses everywhere but where you need it the most. You cry out desperately, unable to create words to express yourself. “Can’t hear you.”, he teases you, a single digit running between your wet folds.

“Please.”, your heart bumps so fast it resonates in your ears, your forehead falls against your arms and you speak up again. “Please, Jaehyun. Touch me, want your mouth.” And on cue, his tongue finally collects your juices on the pink muscle. He groans, it comes from his chest and sends vibrations against your core, mouthing against it. “God, you’re so sweet. Sweeter than candy apple.”, he sighs, tongue pushing deeper. The muscle easily pushes pass your lips and laps, switching between using his tongue and wrapping his lips around your clit.

You already the brunette was good with his mouth by the way he took your breath away at every kiss but, he has you moaning in seconds, his lips work wonders around you and you have to muffle your moans, mumbles and whines against your arm. Kitten licks and long stripes, he quickly brings you to the very edge. By now, Jaehyun knows the way your body works. He understands when your hips struggles between his grip, desperately trying to quickly chase your orgasm. You’re close, so close, the fear of staining his seats is long gone when you beg him to go faster but, when the bubble grows tighter and tighter, it suddenly bursts the moment he pulls away. It’s cruel, how your high fades away, it’s unsatisfying, almost makes tears pool at the corner of your eyes.

“Why did you-.”, you ask weakly, looking back at the brunette.

“I want you to come around me.”, he says, coming back at eye level. Light casts on his lips, shining from your essence.

“Fuck me, then.”, you taunt, and the devilish smile on his lips foreshadows what comes next. His boxer quickly gets thrown next to his pants. Heavy cock he slaps a few times against his palm, you hear the weight and almost salivate. But, you’ll have time for that after, you think. His free hand reaches for your bottom but, he underestimates his force and his palm slaps against your ass without a warning. The sound resonates in the car and quickly follows a ripped moan from your lips.

“Should’ve known.”, the brunette starts, fakely disappointed sigh coming from his lips. “Should’ve known you were into that.”, and he reiterates the act, palm harshly slapping against the skin. You whine at that, heat creeping into your cheeks. At each slap, he smooths the skin right after, softly rubbing at the flesh. It gets you even wetter and when you fear you’re going to drip all over his seats, Jaehyun brings his red head to your lips, collecting the translucid liquid.

Before you can even beg him again, he easily pushes the first inch between your walls, a sigh coming from the both of you. It still feels like the first time. Though, now he know exactly how you like it. A few inches in, the brunette doesn’t hesitate and rams in, in a swift motion. His hips pick up a punishing pace, it’s clear he chases both your orgasms. One hand rests on your hip while the other arches your back.

Skin slapping against skin, you try to muffle your moans against your arm but, Jaehyun doesn’t care. Deep groans, he doesn’t take your silence. His hand on your back creeps up, fingers lace in your hair and he abruptly yanks, pulling your back against his chest. No way to hide your moans, you whimper pathetically. His thrusts turn slow, deep, hard. Face next to your own, his second hand moves to your jaw, holding it tightly. You might have to wear concealer there, by the way his fingertips dig at your skin, lips mouthing against your cheek.

“Don’t hide from me. I want to hear you.”, he demands, and you bend under his wants. His name falls from your lips again and again, the fading orgasm he denied you moments prior comes running back and it isn’t long until your walls tighten around him.

He breathes, moans and whisper whatever comes into his mind into your ear, only for you to hear, it sends shivers down your spine and you know, you know it’ll stay forever engraved into your mind. How his low, deep, breathless voice muses at how good you feel around him, how slutty you are for him and only him. How you were made for each other and how he was fucking you like you deserved to be. Your moans turn silent, breathless and, Jaehyun understands you’re close before you do. He gives you the silent permission when one of his hands deep down, digits circling around your clit.

It takes seconds for you to fall apart, your walls tighten around him, grip him and you come in a ripped scream that might catch the attention, you don’t see. You don’t see because you have to close your eyes, tears threaten to fall and stars flicker in front of your eyelids, you’d fall forward if the brunette didn’t have such a tight grip on your body. He follows quickly behind, groans against your neck and spills in long, white strings. He fills you up and makes sure you feel it, slow movements of his hips. Breathing heavy, you hear him chuckle lowly at the pleasure. You whine out when he pulls out, suddenly empty but, your protest quickly gets cut when Jaehyun stuffs two of his fingers into your cunt. “Don’t waste anything.”, he hums, audibly tired. You gasp at the image when you look down, ring hugged digits coated in a layer of his and your own come, he slowly fucks it back in. It’s a thought he doesn’t voice, you tummy full of his come, the implications. He brushes it away, he’s thinking too quickly.

A single kiss is placed on your forehead as he helps you clean, “Let’s go home, love.”

Saturday, Jaehyun can not keep pushing. Second to last day, time flies quickly and the clock tics without a second to spare. His decision is made, it has been made for days now but, saying it out loud is much, much different. Short nails pick at the small piece of skin peeling at the corner, Jaehyun knows what he has to do. The television at his side plays some show he doesn’t, it’s white noise anyways while he walks back and forth in his small apartment. He started to love it, he got attached to it quickly. Needless to say, he got attached to you quickly, too.

It’s around four in the afternoon that he finally, finally uses his emergency card. Gold, small, it fits in his palm. Thin, it has Olympus written on it in cursive, white letters. He wondered if he should wear the clothes Cupids wear daily but, he decides against it, it’s symbolic, he’ll present himself with his new clothes.

There’s something twisting his guts, anxious and…Scared ? He knows, the brunette knows, he’s more human than he thinks. It’s when this exact thought crosses his mind that he opens the cards.

The same cloudy dust envelops his body, it blocks his view and, in seconds, he’s in Olympus. What happens next, will stay an unknown story for the mortals, a tale narrated from Cupid to Cupid, from a generation to the next. Sometimes romanticized but, always about that one Cupid who found his soulmate in a human and fought for her. Always about a Cupid fighting a God for the one he loved. It varies from person to person, some underline how the Cupid’s infatuation, his words and stories managed to convince Eros. Other highlight how Eros always had a soft spot for his Cupids, how good he always was with them. Who better to understand love than Eros himself. Eros, large white wings move softly, making the clouds around him dissolve at his feather’s touch, looks down at Jaehyun with a soft smile, one of his sons. His hand rests on top of his large bow, head leaning against it as he laughs a bit at the brunette’s expression. He’s dumbfounded at how easily the God agreed. But, Asia’s Cupid should’ve known, Eros is a sucker for love stories. He wouldn’t ever dare get between two lovers, not when one of them is Jaehyun.

“Child.”, Eros starts again, adoring look on his eyes. Jaehyun never had a father figure, not in his life at least but, when Jeonghan is the closest thing he had to it, Eros follow quickly behind. “You are free.” What can Jaehyun do other than bow down in front of the God, grateful isn’t a word strong enough. Though, the brunette has many questions and, Eros already knows them. Few Cupids had the same questions and, he’s prepared.

“What about…My memories ?”, Jaehyun asks, knot in his throat. Blonde, curly hair bounce to the side when Eros listens carefully to the question. On his pedestal, pretty throne in gold, he leans a bit forwards, the same pink eyes boring into Jaehyun’s now brown eyes. He noticed, he noticed how Jaehyun didn’t let his irises take their original color, how he didn’t dress like his brothers.

“You’ll keep them.”, visibly taken aback, the brunette doesn’t answer and so, Eros continues. “When Cupids leave, they’re free to pick. Return as newborns or, have a life on Earth as they are.”, simply says the God. “It’s harder, to be aware of everything, but it’s also a chance.”

“Like Jeonghan.”, he says before even thinking and, instead of answer, the blonde simply smiles.

“He’ll look over you. I’m counting on you to look over him.” The brunette’s mind might blow at this very moment, he knew. The posture, gestures, smile, the way he looked at him. So he was your tutor too.

“What about the others ?”, Jaehyun doesn’t dare say their names, his brothers, he will probably cry if he does. Will he ever see them again, he doubts, and that’s the heartbreak Jaehyun wanted to avoid. Suddenly, Eros’ features grow cold, worried, even.

“You can say good bye, but you’re not allowed to come back after that.”, he knew. But it still makes the brunette look at the ground, tears at the corner of his eyes. He won’t cry now, he tells himself.

He cries minutes after, when his brothers wait aligned in front of him. Jaehyun won’t ever talk about the good byes he had. Tearful, he made sure to look at his brothers face enough to make sure he wouldn’t ever forget them, even without pictures. He cries and begs for their forgiveness when they aren’t even mad. Jaehyun has a sweet word for everyone, he wishes he had prepared himself better and he gives something to each one of his brothers. He cries when they hug each, one by one.

They all promise they’ll look over him, they all promise they’ll find each other again, in their next life, whenever the next generation steps in. Jaehyun doesn’t even get to see the next Cupid at his spot, the one touched by his white arrow years ago.

Jaehyun looks back one last time, and before he can cry again, he falls from Olympus. Seconds that feel like minutes where Asia’s ex Cupid feels everything and nothing at the same time. When his feet touches the ground again, he doesn’t even register where he is. He thinks he’s in his apartment again and, when he opens his eyes. He’s in front of your door.

Eros, he thinks. He said he’d look over him too, seems he didn’t lie.

Red eyes, bloodshot, he doesn’t think twice and knocks on your door. The shock and worry in your eyes almost makes him laugh through his last tears, one his quickly dries off with his sleeves. You’re unaware of this, you don’t know yet but, he did all of this for you. Gods know your name, the love he has for you told to generations.

“I have something to tell you.”

Taeyong sighs heavily, a hand harshly pushing the pink haired’s hand away. Asia’s next Cupid is in formation while Jungwoo balances between his continent and his old friend’s. The new Cupid is a teenager, he looks a bit younger than Mark. Curious, he was happy to be assigned to Asia but Gods, was he the perfect annoying little brother. Death glare towards the smallest, Taeyong pushes his arrows away.

“No, Jaemin. You’re not allowed to.”, the red haired tells him again and, he pouts. “Let me at least look at my continent.”, the youngest says. It’s the end of the day and the oldest figures he’ll let him, now that he learned how to travel quickly and look over different cities.

“Oh no, I wanted To-.”, he youngest starts, trying to move to the wanted Japanese city.

“Wait !”, Taeyong’s loud voice rings in Jaemin’s poor ears, he frowns as he looks at the city he accidently landed on. Seoul. What’s Taeyong staring at, he wonders. A couple walks in the middle of a store, one Jaemin doesn’t recognize. Annoyed by the interruption, he looks over at this tutor.

“Are you going to shoot an arrow at him ?”, he asks.

“Oh no, they’re already blessed by the Gods. They don’t need arrows.”  

© NEOVISIONED l NO REPOSTING OR TRANSLATIONS ALLOWED.

#neowritingsnet #NCT-WRITERS #nct smut #nct 127 smut #jaehyun smut #jaehyun angst #jaehyun fluff #soulmate!au #cupid!au #strangers to friends to lovers #nct #nct 127 #smut #angst #fluff #taeyong #doyoung #jungwoo #yukhei #mark #sicheng #jaemin #jung jaehyun

[maidenvault]

For the unpopular opinions: Batman/DC in general

1) You can want a Batman movie that isn’t dark for once all you want, but you’re the one who has to look at yourself in the mirror at the end of the day and deal with that, lol. You’re gonna have to justify to yourself why, when he dresses up like a nocturnal animal and lives in a city called Gotham. Dude was inspired by the Shadow, a dark and mysterious pulp character. Arkham Asylum is named after the fictional New England city of Arkham that is the setting in several H.P. Lovecraft stories. Elements of horror, gothic fiction, and noir have always been part of the DNA of Batman’s world. It makes him very distinct from characters like Superman or the Flash and that’s a good thing. Obviously it’s fine for Batman to have more light-hearted and kid-friendly portrayals, but you’re always gonna be standing on weak-ass ground arguing that it makes sense as anything more than a nostalgic tribute to the silver age comics or the Adam West show.

Every once in a while you’ll see a gif or comic panels going around showing Bruce hugging a child or otherwise being compassionate with someone being like “See?? This is the real Batman, the one who cares about people!” Bitch, all superheroes care about people. They all have compassion. But even in the DCAU, which is made for kids, this guy barely ever laughs and doesn’t like celebrating Christmas and has a tendency to alienate people close to him because he’s so single-mindedly committed to catching criminals he can lose sight of being a human being. Sometimes it feels like what some fans want is a sunny Super Friends type of characterization where the Justice League are all almost indistinguishable from each other in personality and the tone of everything is the same.

(That said, people conflate “dark” with “realistic,” and I really don’t find The Batman to be as gritty and grounded as people are making it out to be. The Riddler is the one element that feels very grounded in reality. But this movie is not going for realism like Nolan’s films did. It has a heavily stylized and atmospheric world, the Penguin is a hilarious and ridiculous person, and there’s a scene where Catwoman frickin pours a big glass of milk and drinks it in front of Batman like she’s daring him to say anything about it and he’s like “Sooo….cats, huh?” It’s no Burton level of comic-booky but come on hahaha.)

2) What ships and characters I’m really into can vary a lot across different DC canons, and I honestly feel like people can get kind of annoying and myopic in their ways of approaching adaptations when they fixate on the same elements of the universe in everything despite so many Batman adaptations, for instance, being really different as interpretations. Fans that are going around calling Dano’s Riddler “Nygma” when his name canonically is Nashton are telling on themselves that they basically don’t care about the specifics of this portrayal. It just feels like a superficial sort of interest to have in the thing, sort of like the dread tendencies of migratory slash fandom. This is also why lots of fans are getting so ridiculously ahead of the material and already clamoring for a full-fledged batfamily in Reevesverse, even though such a thing would take a long game of careful set-up particularly in this version if it can work at all….*groan.* I mean, before Riddlebat started picking up steam in the 2022 fandom most of the fics I think were Penguin/Riddler, I guess because that’s a popular ship in the Gotham TV fandom and you guys can’t be normal.

But maybe I’m just weird like this. I’ve never been nearly as into batcat before as I'm into 2022 batcat. I’ve historically been mainly a superbat shipper and that’s a fun lens through which to look at anything they interact in, but I recognize that they have zero fucking chemistry in Synderverse and I just can’t do it, lol. These things don’t have continuity across different ‘verses for me.

3) That Swamp Thing series people were so sad to see cancelled was literally so bad. Started out with a pretty great pilot, then got bad.

4) Ezra Miller’s Flash is really annoying and should go away.

5) CW Iris/Barry are adorable and sweet and have great chemistry. This shouldn’t be an unpopular opinion. Poor Candice Patton, fuck that fandom.

#dc #the batman 2022 #the batman #swamp thing #superbat #batcat #asks #meta

[beskar-cowboy]

Stolen Goods

Part 1 of the Nowhere Girl Series 

Summary: The Mandalorian is sent to capture you, he finds the task more complicated than expected. Maybe you two can help each other out. (9.4k words) read on ao3 here

Pairing: The Mandalorian x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW, slightly dub-con for a moment but they both want it i promise, smut, canon typical violence, enemies to lovers, blood, hurt/comfort, a dislocated shoulder, PIV sex, rough sex, dirty talk OBVIOUSLY, major praise kink, fingering, age difference (not specified), me making a bunch of shit up, this takes place right before Episode 1 so no baby

A/N - this was supposed to be really rough hate fucking with Mando but it just turned into him endlessly praising you…. idk what happened but enjoy <3

The Mandalorian is pissed.

He’s worked with Karga for a while now, known him for years. He knows sometimes things get quiet, that there’s slim pickings for the more than eager bounty hunters who will pick up anything and anyone - just like him - for desperate credits.

But this? This was a new low. Even for Karga.

Up and coming Coruscant senator, Karga had informed the Mandalorian, she’s on the run from the Imps.

Mando had rolled his eyes underneath his helmet as he was filled in on details of the only puck Karga had for him. Ridiculous, sounded like a babysitting gig.

“Oh come on, don’t give me that look.” Karga huffed, rolling his own eyes at the emotionless beskar helmet.

The Mandalorian said nothing.

“Look, it’s a job, you want it or not?”

A waste of his fucking time was what it was.

Karga huffed again and removed the puck from the tabe but Mando was faster, his gloved hand slamming it back down and gripping it into his palm.

“This is all you have?” The Mandalorian pushed, voice weary through the vocoder.

Karga nodded solemnly. Mando tilted his helmet at the Guild leader, annoyed and unimpressed.

The man scoffed, he seemed amused, “Think she’ll be easy?”

“A kid who’s runaway from home… I’m not a babysitting service-”

“No one’s been able to track her down. I’ve got multiple pucks on her and no one’s come back for months. I’m running low on bounty hunters.” Karga nearly chuckled.

The Mandalorian felt his adrenaline spike. He needed a challenge, it wasn’t a hunt if it wasn’t a challenge.

“She’s no easy feat, Mando. She’s wanted for armed robbery, embezzelment and suspected murder. She’s a slippery one” He sighed, running a hand down his face in astonishment, a devilish smirk pulling at his lips, like he couldn’t help but be impressed.

Now that’s what piqued Mando’s interest.

You’re dangerous. It’s always more fun when they’re dangerous. It’s more of a challenge, it’s more rewarding.

The Mandalorian had been craving a challenge. Meaningless bounty after the other, cowards, pathetic con men, easy takedowns. All of it, it was becoming mind numbing.

He missed the tracking, the spying, the surveying, the chase.

The Mandalorian is pissed.

And that’s how he found himself here - fuming, chasing after some kid, the tracking fob lead him all the way to you.

You’re on Sriluur, one of the most grimy, crime infested planets in the system. Seems like a pretty obvious place to look, almost too obvious.

What would a wanted bounty be doing herer? Then again, nearly everyone on this forsaken planet is probably a wanted bounty somewhere, by someone. 

Maybe this is a very calculated move, hiding out amongst a never ending crowd of lowlifes and criminals, you just blend in, become faceless in a way.

But you, you couldn’t be more obvious even if you tried.

Mando finds you in a cantina: grimy, dingy, damp and dark. He’s confused, to say the least. You…. you don’t belong here.

There’s no way that you’re the one he’s chasing, the one he’s hunting, the one accused of robbery, embezzelment, suspected murder, on the run from the fucking Imps. The tracking fob went berserk when it landed on you, he had thought it was broken because there was no way it was you.

A runaway from Coruscant, an up and coming senator.

That all makes sense now that Mando’s looking at you. You fit the part, you’re clearly young, beautiful, fucking beautiful - Mando stays on that thought for a while, trying to make sense of it, make sense of you.

Why are you doing this? What do you have to gain, what are you running from?

You stand out from everyone here on this fucking planet, you’re a light amongst black holes, how do you not immediatetly make yourself a target?

He watches you for the most part of the afternoon from a dark corner of the cantina. He wonders what, or who, you’re waiting for. You’re armed - heavily armed for someone your size - like Karga said you’d be. Two blasters and some sort of rifle slung over one of your shoulders, three daggers and a vibroblade stashed in your jacket, all probably stolen, Mando decides.

Your eyes shine bright like suns, like jewels, glossy even in the low light of the cantina, they shine with something Mando knows too well: some sort of emptiness, bitterness, the need for something no one will give you, something you have to take yourself.

Two men step into the bar, they spot you before you spot them, Mando clocks. His heart rate picks up and he keeps his hand over his blaster, watching you, watching them. They sit themselves down at a table across the cantina from you.

The air shifts, it becomes too quiet and heavy with unsaid potential and Mando can’t be the one to move first, he’ll ruin whatever it is that’s building right now.

A blaster goes off.

One of the men falls face first onto the table he’s sat at - shot through the stomach, a singeing red, burning hole left on his lower half from underneath the table.

Things seem to move in slow motion: you rise from your corner, blaster outstretched towards the now lone man, him rushing towards the back entrance. Mando follows behind you as you chase after the man, shouting out at him, shouting out a name, one Mando doesn’t recognize and he feels so out of place.

He stays near the doorway, watching as you corral the man out in the alleyway, in plain daylight and hold him at gunpoint.

The good thing about being on a planet like Sriluur is that no one bats an eye at street violence, no one’s going to snitch on a good alley fight.

You cuff him almost too easily, knocking him to the ground with an easy kick of the leg. You’re good, clean and swift - Mando guesses you have to be since you’ve been on the run for so long.

It also doesn’t hurt that you’re stupidly pretty, he can’t help but think.

“Where’s the loading dock?” You interrogate the man, blaster pressed to the back of his head as your boot stomps him into the ground, hands cuffed behind his back.

Your voice goes straight to Mando’s belly igniting something akin to a volcanic eruption or a swarm of butterflies - which one, he’s not sure but fuck did you sound sweet. To sweet to be so fucking fierce.

“Y-You won’t reach it before the shipment.” The man groans, face grimaced in pain as you press into his back harder, jamming the nozzle of the blaster into his neck.

“Where is it?” You grit from behind clenched teeth, cocking the gun. The man quivers, lip trembling as he tries to wriggle out of your grip but you’ve got him right where you want him.

“Out- out west! Past the badlands, into the desert but you won’t make it on foot-”

Like an idiot, Mando’s tracking fob slips from his pocket and both the man and you snap your heads in his direction, like he interrupted some sort of performance.

Your eyes land on the tracking fob before Mando can say anything, your blaster goes off and the man’s head thuds against the ground, dark syrupy blood pouring out from the back of his skull.

You got what you needed, so you make a run for it.

The Mandalorian calls after you but you bolt quickly down the alleyway, making as many sharp turns as possible to throw him off. You run with no particular direction, no set route in mind. You’ll head west once you’re sure he’s gone but you have to lose him first.

A Mandalorian, you can’t believe they sent a fucking Mandalorian after you.

You whiz down the streets of the criminal planet, pushing past vendors, scammers and junkies alike, trying to lose yourself in the crowd. You’re quite good at it actually, making a run for it, losing a hunter, but he’s got a tracking fob. That’ll be a challenge.

Glancing behind you, you see no shiny helmet bouncing through the crowd, you don’t want to be so bold to assume you’ve already lost him so you keep running. You decide to run towards your speeder, if you can’t out run him you can definitely gain some distance between the two of you this way.

Looking around you, you situate yourself, trying to figure out which way to run in order to make it to your speeder as quickly as possible and out run the fucking Mandalorian.

It must be a few blocks down, you run further south into the downtown area, knowing you hid it in an alleyway near a picked over fruit stand.

You’re close, you’re so close to your bike, just a few more blocks.

You round another corner, searching your pockets for your keys and that’s when he smashes into you, knocking you to the ground.

Pain radiates through your body from the impact of unforgiving beskar, your ears ring and your eyes go blurry.

You reach for your vibroblade, managing to knock his helmet with your elbow in the process. The Mandalorian goes down and you roll yourself over, trying to disarm him only to find that he holds neither a blaster nor cuffs.

What?

Was he not after you? Was he not just hunting you down?

Your lapse of confusion breaks your concentration and he manages to pin you down, rolling you over and pinning your hands above your head as he sits himself on your chest. The wind is nearly knocked out of you as he crushes you into the dirt with his weight, stars fog your vision as a headache sets in, ears possibly bleeding. You feel like you’ve been hit with a gong.

“W-Who sent you?” You try to ask, voice fuzzy as your head pounds. You can barely focus on him, on the intimidating T shape of his visor as he pears down at you from above.

You should be terrified, you should be trying to push him off of you but you don’t feel threatened. He’s unarmed. You're still trying to figure out why.

Mando has a moment to take you in now, realizing that Karga was right; you really are young. Not that young just, younger than him and sparkling in the daylight where he can see all of you now.

Your face, your eyes, perfect eyebrows, a scar on your cheek that Mando finds himself wanting to touch. You’re pretty and... dirty. Gritty. Like you coated yourself in something in order to fit in better amongst the scum here.

“Doesn’t matter.” He grunts, easy up his hold on you once he realizes he’s practically smothering you.

You groan, eyes squinting, the sun suddenly seeming harsher now, hurting your eyes. Your vision slowly comes back, things aren't as blurry and you’re overwhelmed by how close he is.

“Why are you doing this?” The Mandalorian asks.

You don’t know what he means by ‘this’, so you grunt and push him off of you, he lets you, rolling off to the side. You’re dizzy as you stand up, trying to find your footing and shooting the Mandalorian and more than confused glare. What the fuck is he trying to pull right now?

You both know he’s here for you, he’s literally got your tracking fob beeping on his holster.

But he’s not cuffing you, he’s not threatening you. You’re both just… starring. At each other.

Maybe it’s a moment of recognition, acknowledging whatever it is that’s going on here. He’s after you, but he’s… not? You should be the one asking questions.

You let your hand slide up over your shoulder, reaching for your rifle but you’re stopped short by a flashing bright pain in your shoulder. You wince, hissing and bringing your arm back down to your side.

You give the Mandalorian a daggering glare before you turn to inspect your bike, checking to make sure nothing’s been stolen from your satchel which you stupidly left slung over the back while you were in the cantina.

Fuck, he really had slammed into you, hadn’t he? He came at you full speed, knocking you down to the ground with his entire body weight and then fucking sitting on you, like an idiot. He hadn’t necessarily meant to do that, he’s not quite sure why he feels so bad but, he does.

“Why are you running away from Coruscant?” He presses and you roll your eyes, even though your back is turned on him now, trying to ignore the late onset pain searing through your shoulder.

You stay silent, just focusing on making sure everything’s in your bag so that you can head out to the -

“What loading dock are you looking for?”

You whip around towards the Mandalorian, hand on your smaller blaster, prepared to pull it on him.

“What do you know about the loading dock?” You seethe.

The Mandalorian keeps a steady watch on your hand, twitching over your blaster. He raises his hands in surrender. Maker, you’re jumpy.

“Nothing more than you do.”

You fling your blaster from your holster, finger on the safety trigger and aim it at the heavily armoured Mandalorian.

You mentally curse yourself, how ironic would it be if your blaster fire ricocheted off of his arm and came back at you.

Better have good aim then. You flick it over that spot near his belly, where the armour separates. Maybe you should shoot him in the arm, get him back for what feels like a dislocated shoulder.

Even Mando can notice how your arm hangs heavy by your side, how you hold back from moving it too much, your balance nearly thrown off due to the now useless limb. That needs to be popped back into place.

“Who are you?” You seethe, trying to get him to focus, take you seriously.

“I just want to help.” He speaks softly, voice coming out low from his vocoder. Maybe it would sound nicer if you weren’t on the verge of shooting him.

You roll your eyes, switching off your safety and cocking your blaster. “Better think of something fast, shiny.”

“I can help you get there. I-I can help you reach the dock.”

That piques your interest. Fine, you’ll humor him.

“I’m fine with my speeder-”

“It’s broken.”

What?

You squint in the Mandalorian’s direction, not quite believing him and not wanting to take your eyes off of him to inspect your speeder.

“How do you know it's broken?”

The Mandalorian can’t help but grin underneath his helmet. You take his silence as your answer and you growl something incoherent, chucking your blaster onto the dirt and turning around to inspect your bike.

Mando had managed to track your speeder down before he found you in the cantina. He saw you pull up on it and followed your dark figure into the city before he even got a good look at you, just trusting the fob.

He took out your engine, destroyed it, you see pieces of it now scattered amongst the alley. You kick the now useless speeder, much like your useless arm. Was he trying to take you down slowly? Break you apart piece by piece like a slow and easy kill? He’s toying with you.

“I have a ship.” The Mandalorian speaks, breaking the tense silence.

You turn to face him again, he leans against the opposite side of the narrow alley. “What’s in it for you?”

The Mandalorian says nothing, he keeps his visor trained on you but he nervously fiddles with his own fingers.

“What do you gain from helping me? Aren’t I just a bount-”

“I have a feeling I’m after the wrong person.”

Oh?

“Bold of you to assume.” You scoff, nearly laughing at him but you don’t want to waste this opportunity. It’s not everyday you’re offered the services of a Mandalorian. You’re just not sure if you can trust him yet.

“Tell me what you’re after.” He presses again.

You’re reluctant to talk. Opening up isn’t your… speciality, so to say. Especially not with strangers. Especially not strangers who have a fucking tracking fob on you.

Fuck. You don’t see how you have any other options right now. A broken speeder and a useless arm, you realize it’s this guy or nothing.

You groan something frustrated and slightly pained. “Fine. I’ll fill you in on the way, shiny.”

//

You were born into it, as most people are on Coruscant.

Born to a cold, unforgiving family focused on politics and appearances. You were always going to become a senator or something of the sort, you had informed Mando.

None of the kids had a choice and no one cared to do anything about it, no one cared to change things, help the planets that were being robbed and forgotten about. So you had decided to do something about it.

You broke free a few years ago and have been robbing from the Imperials ever since. They have these fancy, luxurious, expensive getaway houses and cottages all across the galaxy and you follow them like bread crumbs on a trail.

The cottages usually indicate some sort of side business, the Imperials leaving their families to go on a ‘business vacation’ - which really means illegal government shit, obviously.

Planets which house their cottages also house their loading docks, outposts, trading posts, anything that helps them keep the wealth in this incognito backtrade, away from the official systems and taxes, just continuously fueling the 1%.

But you, you’d been stealing from them. You infiltrate the loading docks and outposts, you reroute the goods to the planets and communities that the corrupt government forgets about, like Sorgan, Kashyyyk and Endor to name a few. You make sure they get what they need, what the higher ups try to keep for themselves.

You steal it from them and redistribute it equally, fairly - leaving none for those in Coruscant.

He doesn’t feel sorry for you; you’ve had nothing but privilege your whole life, you chose to leave it, to fight for something. You took it upon yourself to stand up and fight the only life you’ve ever known.

He doesn’t feel sorry for you, but Maker are you good.

You have a purpose, something to fight for, something that drives you every single day. Something you care about. That’s not something a lot of people can say they have, definitely  not some criminal on Sriluur, or even a bounty hunter like him.

No wonder the Imps are after you. You’re killing men left and right with such ease it seems. You’re fucking good to have been on the run for this long, to be this successful.

Mando’s just thankful he didn’t turn you into them with what limited information Karga gave him. It’s a good thing you’re pretty.

“Not everyone can be a mindless cog in the machine, one piece breaks loose and the whole thing falls apart.” You explain while you and the Mandalorian trek through the cool, dark and seemingly never ending desert of Sriluur.

You had told him that you couldn’t fly too close to the loading dock. They’re armed, they have men on the lookout, radars searching for ships flying overhead. You had said they would see you coming from a mile away, way before you would even see them.

So Mando landed the ship quite a distance aways, just outside of the Badlands. You would have to walk the rest of the way, through the night so that you make it there in the early morning.

“I realized it was either going to be me or someone else who was going to have to make the first move, and I was tired of waiting for something to happen so I just… I just ran.” You shrug, as best as you can with your fucked up shoulder but you wince at the dull pain.

You’d been walking for hours now, and your arm was only hurting more and more. Mando would have to do something before you reached the dock, there was no way you’d be able to fight, or even shoot, in this condition.

“Let me look at yo-” The Mandalorian reaches out to you but you jerk away from him, grimacing again at the dull pain which radiates throughout the heavy limb.

“I’m fine.” You groan, supporting your arm with your other one, trying to hold up the dead weight.

“You’re not.”

You groan. He’s right, you know it. You know he is but you don’t want to go through with having a stranger pop your arm back into place.

Weighing your options, you come up on a dead desert tree and you quickly lean your weight on the dead and hollow bark, trying to calm yourself down and breathe through your nose.

“I can help.” He offers, hands twitching near his sides.

You glare at him, look him up and down as he slowly approaches you. You say nothing, he takes this as confirmation.

Gently, the Mandalorian takes your forearm into his gloved hands, taking some of the dead weight for you and you sigh a bit at the relief.

“You ever done this before?” You ask, trying to make small talk and distract from the way he’s touching you so preciously, how close he’s standing to you. Whatever, whatever, whatever, this is totally fine.

“Nope.” Great.

Mando can see the fear in your eyes, the fear of the sudden pain that’ll come with snapping your arm back into its socket, the fear that he might fuck it up. He knows you don’t trust him, he knows you’re letting your guard down for this, to let him help you. He thinks you’re brave for that.

So he takes off his gloves.

And you watch in a mix of amazement and shock at the tanned and calloused skin which is slowly revealed to you. “H-Hey isn’t that not allow-”

“Shut up.” The Mandalorian grunts, voice deep and gravely and regrettably making your stomach flutter. You swallow your protests and let him do what he needs to do.

He inspects your arm and you let him, somewhat losing yourself to the touch of another, skin on skin - his warm and weathered hands on your hot flesh. It feels good, a nice contrast to how he body slammed you earlier today.

The Mandalorian sighs. “Mando.”

“What?”

“My name, call me Mando.” He tells you, visor trained heavily on you, gauging your every reaction.

“O-Okay.” You gulp, unable to look away from the pitch black, intimidating T of his visor. You didn’t realize how close he was to you, you think you can hear him breathing under that helmet of his.

“Let me hear you say it.” His hands wrap around your bicep, testing the muscle it seems and your face burns at his tone, how deep his voice has gotten.  

“M-MandOH!” He jerks your arm upwards right as you say his name and he watches your face twist in pain. That fucker. He was trying to distract you and it worked.

“Okay, okay- is it in?” You ask as a sweat breaks out on your hairline from the pain, your body quickly overheating as you breathe heavily.

“No.” Mando answers. You’re about to go off on him when he continues, “Y-You’ll have to take your shirt off… I can’t see the muscles like this.”

“You’re kidding me.” You groan, eyes closing tight as you try to calm yourself down, your mind growing heavy.

You can’t believe this is fucking happening, this day is not going at all how you planned. Regardless, you use your still intact arm to reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your torso as much as you can before the pain from your other arm stops you with a pained moan.

“Here-”

Mando moves closer and nearly pins you to the tree, grabbing the hem of your shirt into his hand and gently pulling it the rest of the way, careful to remove it from your injured arm before he tosses it over his shoulder so it doesn’t get covered in sand.

Mando doesn’t look - he swears he doesn’t…. Until he does.

His burnt red breast plate is nearly grazing against your chest, barely covered by the thin material of your bra.

Your chest heaves with pain laced breaths, your body trying to regulate something to get anything under control again. The curves of your breasts shine with sweat, you glimmer in the moonlight and Mando finds himself wanting more and more to put you at ease, to lick you, taste you, clean you of your sweat with his own tongue - you pretty, young thing.

His head is getting foggy, he needs to focus on the task at hand but that isn’t so easy when the task is you.

Mando looks up to find your eyes growing heavy, your body growing tired with exertion and going numb to the pain.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay.” Mando reassures, the hand which isn’t supporting your arm coming up to hold your jaw, hold your head up, thumb caressing your cheek. You smile groggily.

“Y-You’re… you’re fault.”

Yeah, he knows that. He could have looked where he was going and not have rammed you into the ground and this whole ordeal could have been avoided.

“I know. I… I’m sorry. We’re almost done.” You take it he doesn’t apologize often and you giggle dopily.

Your eyes droop and Mando gets nervous. He taps your cheek a few times, your skin hot to the touch and it worries him.

“Okay eyes on me, pretty girl.” You hum something content, trying to wiggle your body closer to his but he holds you tight, keeps you pinned against the tree. That’s hot.

“You called me- called me pretty.”

“Yeah, yeah I did, now keep looking at me, okay” Mando flushes underneath his helmet but he returns his attention to your supple arm, grabbing the fleshy area near your shoulder tight. His touch is so wicked, it burns. You hate it.

“Okay, shiny.”

Mando grabs your shirt off of his shoulder and brings it to your mouth, ordering you to ‘bite’. He shoves it into your mouth, your saliva quickly soaking into the fabric and Mando has to look away from your pretty little mouth.

“It’s going to hurt.” He tells you and you grumble something back to him but it's muffled by the pretty fabric he tucked into your mouth.

Your eyes are nearly glazed over, shiny and heavy and he’s so fucked for thinking about how you’d look just like this if he fucked you until you were numb, rendered dumb and thoughtless at the end of his cock. All fucking shiny, wet and-

You scream as he whips your shoulder bone back into its socket.

Tears slip past your eyes and drool spills from between your lips and into your shirt. The skin of your arm is hot to the touch but it’s there, it's back in place. Mando did it.

He lets you cry, lets you fall forward into him and sob into his cowl. Mando holds you against him and gently rubs the muscle of your shoulder through your flesh, making sure everything is okay and in the right place. You twitch in his hold, trying to get away from his touch by retreating back further into him. It makes his cock twitch.

Mando shushes you, massaging up and down your arm as you shiver in his hold, overcome with adrenaline and exertion. You feel completely wiped out from the pain alone but your body jitters with energy.

“T-Thanks.” You tremble, voice exhausted but it seems like your senses are already coming back to you.  

You pull away from Mando and take your shirt into your hands again, carefully shrugging it back on and ignoring the giant wet spot from your own spit. That was fucking humiliating.

Mando doesn’t respond, he just nods and watches as you cover yourself back up again. He already misses the fleshy warmth of your body against his hard and cold one.

You breathe a bit heavily, still winded from everything that’s just happened: your arm being snapped back into place, how close Mando was to you, how he touched you, manipulated your body so easily.

He called you pretty.

You mentally scoff at yourself, so fucking what?

You try not to care, you try to move on from that, but you tuck it away first; the way his voice sounded as he tried to soothe you, calm you down. You tuck that away for later, for when you’re alone again after all of this is over.

You grunt as you sling your rifle back over your shoulder, “Let’s keep moving.”

//

You reach the loading dock as the sun threatens to touch the horizon, the sky only starting to become a lighter shade of blue, signaling the early morning.

The perimeter is easy to breach, you get inside with few casualties. They only seem to have a few men patrolling this early in the morning - their weak spot, so it seems.

Mando willingly helps you and you’re grateful for the second pair of hands, you’re not used to having backup. You usually go in and come out alone. But you welcome this, he makes it too easy, it was already easy enough on your own, save for a few close calls over the years but he makes it easy.

With the two of you, you take them down and make good time of it too. You should be out of here, with the shipment of goods rerouted in under an hour.

And you do.

Everything works: you get the shipment out and you run out of the loading dock without much trouble, escaping blaster fire as you run back off into the desert, towards Mando’s ship.

He covers you, shields you with his armed body as you make a run for it, avoiding the open fire which has begun to rain down upon you. Someone must have sent a distress signal. It doesn’t matter though, the money is off to a deserving planet and you’ve got a Mandalorian shielding you with his own body. You did it.

You’re practically vibrating as you run up the open hull to the ship, losing the Imps and their men through the Badlands. You’re safe, you made it.

Mando closes the ramp before you’re even up all the way and you fall into him. He gives you no time to recover, hauling you further into the ship, dropping you in the copilot seat, setting coordinates to who knows where as the Razor Crest lifts into the air, beaming into hyperspace.

You’re panting, you’re both painting and breathing heavily. You barely notice that he’s up from his seat, crouching below you as he feels you over, squeezing your arms, like he’s trying to make sure you’re okay and you want to push him away for it, push him off of you but you can’t. You can’t.

That was so good. You did it.

“H-How’s your arm?” Mando asks, visor staring through your very being.

You nod your head affirmatively, unable to produce any words right now, staring down at his vacant visor without a thought in your mind except that you did it. You both did it.

Mando’s hand comes up to your face, holding your cheek and the back of your neck gently and it surprises you.

“Come on, words pretty girl. Need to know you’re okay.”

“I’m good, I’m good- promise.” You smile shakily, still reeling with adrenaline, your limbs still shaking.

You’re shocked at his insistence on calling you that. You don’t want to admit it but... you like it. Sort of.

You think Mando chuckles underneath his helmet, the vocoder distorts it but you hear the exhale of breath he lets out, the way his shoulders bounce lightly. He lets his hand trail down to your knee - subtle.

You feel giddy. We did it, you giggle to yourself, unable to contain the burst of energy pulsing through your body.

“You did it.” Mando adds and fuck -  did you say that out loud?

“I- no. I mean, you were there, you helped-”

He stops you mid-sentence, voice low, hushed and squeezing your knee tight. “Don’t be so fucking modest.”

You feel hot suddenly. Not just your face, you feel hot all over, your whole body coursing with it - indignation.

Whatever, you scoff, rolling your eyes and shoving at his shoulders. “Shut up, Mando.”

He moves both of his hands, letting them come to grip both of your thighs now and you hate the way it makes your eyelids grow heavy, threatening to roll back into your head if he adds just a bit more pressure.

“You’re difficult, you know that?” He grits even though you know it's not frustration or annoyance coursing through his blood.

You try to move your legs, push him away from you but he’s got you in this vice grip, pawing at you through your clothes.

“Only when I want to be.” Mando chuckles again, he’s amused.

Fuck do his hands feel good, it’s been so long.

“I don’t believe that.” He purrs, voice low and bassey and it goes straight to your cunt, which he’s growing increasingly closer to.

“Y-You don’t know me.”

His hands trail up your thighs, feeling the warmth seep through your pants and through the worn leather of his gloves as he nears the zipper. The helmet tips upwards to meet your completely dazed stare.

Gone is your fierce and biting tongue. You’ve gone quiet, all because of him - this stranger, this Mandalorian, a bounty hunter who has your fucking fob.

“You’re right, I don’t. But I know you’re good.” Mando tells you, fingers dancing up to the seam of your pants. You just stare at him, eyes wide and shining bright with hyperspace in their reflection. Beautiful. “How are you so fucking good?”

You know he’s not really asking, you know it’s a rhetorical question but -

“I’m not good, M-Mando.” You quiver as he rips the zipper down. 

You’ve stopped trying to push him away but you’re not encouraging him either, completely frozen in place by the intimidating black visor of his helmet, like some dark angel tempting you with death.

Rushed and hurried, Mando’s shucking down your pants and chucking them somewhere onto the floor of the cockpit. He bites the tips of his gloves, pulling them off and throwing them away just as carelessly.

Mando growls something fierce and terrifying, taking both of your knees in each hand and pulling you down the chair till your ass nearly hangs off the edge, spreading you so wide its fucking embarrasing.

“But you are.” He presses, so certain of this ‘fact’.

Then he’s spreading you again and it’s so lewd and wet. You can feel yourself dripping, making a mess all over yourself and you go hot, embarrassed as you try and look away from the black of his visor that’s intently trained on you and your soaked panties.

“Don’t you wanna prove to me how good you are?”

You can’t help the pathetic whimper that’s released from your throat as you nod your head too eagerly and without thought. He’s got you right in his line of fire, right where he wants you. It’s been too long since you’ve had someone take care of you.

You can’t bear to look at him as he hooks his fingers into the crotch of your panties, pulling them to the side to reveal your glossy cunt to him.

Mando can’t remember the last time he fingered someone’s cunt open to get them ready for him, all of him. He feels dizzy, sees literal star whizzing past him as he parts your lips, watches how your dark hole flutters and seeps for him, all dark and flushed and swollen for him, for his touch. You’re perfect.

Maker, does he want to taste you, to feel you cum on his tongue, on his face, feel how fucking hot you are on his lips but he can’t, he knows he can’t. So he’ll do what he can with his fingers, for now.

Slowly, he takes his index and sinks it into, your walls fluttering to let him in, suffocating the single digit already. Mando curses underneath his breath - you’re so fucking tightt, he can hardly believe it.

You cry out at the sensation, having had nothing but your own fingers for the past few months, one of his felt so much better, thicker and rougher. Tears are already welling in your eyes from the sweet relief.

Mando adds a second, not wanting to waste anymore time and starts scissoring you open for him, curling his fingers against the ridged wall and beckoning you towards him. Your back curls against the copilot seat, your hands flying upwards to grab the headrest of the seat, pressing your tits up and outwards underneath your thin shirt.

Even through your thin bra, Mando can tell your nipples are hard. He thinks about twisting them, biting them, licking at them, at you. Fuck, you’re so sexy.

“Dangerous girl,” Mando praises, growling and unrelenting in his thrusts, “how many men do you think you took out back there? Ten?”

You whine, eyes still squeezed shut, unable to take in the fucking Mandalorian between your legs, fingering your weeping cunt open.

“C-counted fifteen actually.”

Mando chuckles darkly, “Of course you did, show off.”

You laugh too but it’s cut off by a whine as he curls his fingers again, digging them into you and you see stars everywhere.

“Don’t have to- to show off when you're good.” You smirk, trying to give him your best shit-eat grin, finally opening your eyes and looking down at him beneath you like this.

He glows with the light of hyperspace, all the beaming stars reflecting off of his helmet, it nearly takes your breath away. His fingers are shiny with your slick as he drags them in and out of you, you can hear the way you pussy squelches for him, begging for more while you wither wordlessly for him.

“Hmmmm that’s right you - you good fucking girl, you’re such a good girl.”

There’s nothing you could have possibly done to contain the absolute wanton moan that leaves your chest at his sickening praise.

You never did any of this for attention, for praise, to make you feel better about yourself. You just felt it was your duty, to fix inequalities where you see them like those stupid senators claim they do but don’t. You never did it to be congratulated, to be thanked.

But when Mando praises you like this, calls you a good girl - fuck does that feel good.

He picks up the pace, his fingers fucking you open and you could cum just like this if he doesn’t stop soon. He feels it, feels you squeezing his fingers tighter than anything he’s ever felt before and he momentarily worries that he won’t fit, that he won’t be able to ram his cock deep into you but he knows you can take it, knows you’ll suck him in all desperate and wet for it.

Mando wrenches his fingers from you and you nearly scream at him for the sudden emptiness, your body convulsing and panting against the chair. He hasn’t even fucked you yet and you’re already completely debauched. Eyes glassy and skin glistening, you’re beautiful.

He stands to his full height, towering over you and casting you in his shadow. You look up at him through your lashes, chest heaving and legs spread wide, your core wet, shiny and flushed dark with arousal. You’re eye level now with his more than prominent bulge, cock straining against his pants and your mouth drools for it.

“Up, turn around.” He orders deep and low through his vocoder and you can’t scramble fast enough. Mando would chuckle at your desperation, degrade you and slap you around if he wasn’t so fucking desperate for it himself.

You do as he says, facing the other way and clutching the headrest of the set again as you look over your shoulder at him, watching, drooling as he pulls his flushed and heavy cock from his pants. You nearly choke on your breath - he’s huge, red and angry and you’re worried it’ll shred you from the inside out, but you want it - you want it rough, mean, fucking primal and gross. You want him to ruin you a little bit.

You watch him as he knocks your knees further apart on the seat of the chair, opening you up for him. You stick your ass out, wiggling it at him in a desperate presentation and he grumbles something before he’s grabbing handfuls of your flesh into his hands, grabbing you hard and tight and it pinches - you wail something high pitched and pathetic, whining like a bitch for him.

Mando hooks your soaked underwear high on your hips, watching the fabric pull tight against your own skin. He plays with the band, making sure it’s still sufficiently pulled to the side, to let his cock just glide right into you.

Resting your chin on your shoulder, you look back at him from under your lashes as he lines himself up, notching the spongy head of his cock at your entrance and you could cry, you could actually fucking cry you want it so bad. But your tongue isn’t as easily tamed as your body.

“You ever- ever fuck a bounty before, Mando?”

He growls mean and gritty before he’s grabbing you by the hips and sheathing himself all the way to the hilt in your tight cunt, a moan is punched out of you from deep within. He reaches the end of you almost effortlessly - literally pushing the boundaries of your body. You feel him in your stomach, you feel him making room for himself.

“Maybe.” He grunts, blushing furiously underneath his helmet all the while thinking “no”. He’s never done this before. And it shows in how he nearly forgot that you were - still are - his bounty.

He forgets that he tracked you down, hunted you, dislocated your fucking shoulder while chasing you down on a gritty planet. Your pussy made him forget all of that and he’s embarrassed by it. Maker, you could kill him right now if you wanted to and there’s nothing he could do to stop it. He thinks he’d let you.

So he fucks you harder for it, pulls back out until just the tip of him is at your entrance before he’s spearing you in half, breaking you open on his thick cock and fucking you mean, like he’s angry with you.

You try and scoff at his feigned smugness but it comes out as a broken moan, your knuckles going white from how hard you're gripping the headrest trying to gain some stability from his punishing thrusts, the way he pulls you back onto his cock over and over again. “D-Doubt it.”

Mando’s vocoder distorts his voice, or maybe it really has dropped that low but he’s grumbling something animalistic and fucking feral, wrapping his forearm around your shoulders and hauling you back into him - until your back is flush with his rough and cold breastplate.

He holds you tight against him, hips snapping against your ass as you bounce in his hold, the velocity of his thrusts sending you reeling. You feel lost, thrown out into space without a lifeline - all you can do is hold onto his forearm for some semblance of stability as Mando fucks you into oblivion.

The cool metal of his helmet kisses your cheek and you hiss but let him press it against you anyways. You can feel his eyes on you from behind the visor, you know he’s watching every expression, hearing every pathetic little noise he’s pulling from you - a front row seat to your destruction.

“Why are you so- worried about it? Hmm?” He coddles, as if he were talking to a child. It’s condescending and you’re so fucked out of your mind already that you can’t even respond, can’t even bite back at him.

You’ve never been fucked like this before, never had someone reach so deep, spread you so wide, fuck you hard and open like a decimated fruit. It’s perfect - fuck, it’s so good.

“Am I not - shit - am I not fucking you hard enough, pretty girl?”

Mando’s hips grind up into you, shredding your insides and you cry; you feel legitimate tears spring from your eyes as you bend to his will, bend as he molds you to his cock. You let him.

Mando scoffs, or chuckles - you can’t tell. He leans in even closer, you swear you could feel his breath against your face if it weren’t for his stupid helmet digging into the side of your face.

“I know you like it when I call you that, g-get so fucking tight.”

You nod your head fervently, unable to produce any words as your pussy and stomach clench around him, that familiar fire burning so rampantly you feel like you could cum with one more word out of his mouth.

“Tell me.”

“I- I like it.” You barely manage to get out, voice gone and the wind fucked out of you. You have no energy or willpower to be able to speak properly - you’re on the edge of a mind-shattering orgasm.

Mando’s forearm flexes against where he holds your shoulders against his chest, his tanned hand moving to come and wrap around your throat, squeezing tight and angling your back like you would a bow. He fucks you deeper and harder and ruthless at this new angle, like a dagger to your insides - a warning.

“I-I like it when you - fuck! - when you call me p-pretty girl.” You wail, pussy squelching around his length embarrassingly loud as proof of your words, of his power against you. He hums, satisfied.

“Yeah? Yeah, you want it h-harder, pretty girl?” He asks and it's mean. It’s evil this time when he asks you, like he’s making fun of you as you tremble at the end of his cock, tired and wet and fucked out of your mind.

You nod your head pathetically, not caring anymore how desperate you are to cum, you just need him. You need Mando to keep fucking you.

“Yes! Yes, please just- just keep fucking me. D-Do whatever you want.”

Mando’s heart and cock flare at your words, igniting something deep inside him and he’s hauling you around, pulling his sopping cock from your cunt with a disgusting wet pop, your juices leaking all over him, the chair, the durasteel floor.

If he were being any meaner, if you were anyone else, he would have you lick it up, lick yoursef off the fucking floor but - Maker, he can’t think like that right now, he’ll get too light headed and pass out before he’s had a chance to cum.

He picks you up and lifts you onto the ground, laying you on your back less than gracefully before he’s shucking your top off of you along with your bra, leaving you in nothing but your soaked and drenched panties which still sit pulled to the side of your abused pussy.

Fucking look at you, eyes bleary and wet, fucked out of your mind like the rest of you. All shiny and wet with him, and your tits. You’re so pretty, naked on the floor of his ship like this.

Mando takes your nipples into both his hands and twists, pulling and groping at you like a brute and all you can do is arch your back, pressing yourself further into his touch like a mindless whore.

He lines himself up again, leveraging himself on your breasts and splitting you open again with too much ease this time, you’re so wet and dark and flushed like a pulverized fruit.

“P-Perfect pussy, you’re so fucking good.” He moans, sounding delirious.

His body is hard against your fleshy one, he revels in the way his armour makes you bounce and jiggle, how you take him so fucking well on the fucking floor. Shit, he won’t last long like this - you’re too good, you’re too good for him.

Mando paws at your tits, pulls at the flesh and gets lost in how soft and squishy they are as he pummels your poor pussy, squelching and spilling all over the both of you.

He swears he can smell you, even from underneath the helmet he swears he gets a whiff of your cunt, of your sweat, your skin. He wants to taste you so bad, lick every inch of you until there’s nothing left. Mando wants to devour you, he wants to keep you here, just for him to use like this. You’re too good, you’re too good at taking him, he can hardly believe it.

“Need you to cum.”

You nod your head, tears spilling into your hairline and Mando leans over you, gripping both your hands into his and holding them above your head, your legs wrapping high up around his waist.

Looking down, you watch him spear you over and over again without relent. Your world spins, it's thrown off kilter by the strength of his cock and you marvel at yourself for taking something that big inside of you. Mando’s thrusts are strong, deep and punishing, they’re fucking aggressive and you feel yourself tightening up at the mere sight of him - he’s huge, in every sense of the word.

It’s too much, he’s so much and your senses light up like a control board with nothing but him - nothing but Mando and before you know you’re crying out his name into the dead silence of hyperspace.

You pulse around him, suffocating his cock tighter than he thought possible and Mando’s head pounds in his helmet. He watches as you wither underneath him, fucking yourself on his cock as you work through your orgasm, moaning his name like it’ll bring you salvation - Mando, Mando, Mando, Mando.

For a split second he finds himself wishing it was his name, his real name that you were moaning, crying out like you’re wounded and you need him.

He imagines the way it would tumble off your lips, curl around your tongue and how it would taste to drink it from your mouth - Din, Din, Din.

Fuck - he’s cumming.

Mando doesn’t know why that did it for him, but he’s cumming. Feels his balls pull up tight and his cock twitches and pulses painfully hard and he’s drawing out of you and painting your tummy white with his seed.

You gasp when you feel his hot spend land on your heated skin, your eyes fly open and you lift your head to watch him jerk himself onto you.

He looks like a vision, a fucking pillar of silver, a monolith, towering over you. Except you’ve brought him to his knees, this fierce warrior, trembling as he finishes himself off, emptying himself onto your flesh instead of deep inside you. You can’t help but smile at him, drunk off of his cock as you watch him cum all over you.

“I have the implant.” You smirk, sitting up on your elbows now to admire his work.

“H-Huh?” He pants, chest heaving and cock still twitching. Fuck, he’s gorgeous.

“Could’ve cum inside me, Mando.” You tell him like you’re disappointed. You are.

Mando growls, lunging for you and groping your belly, smearing his seed into your flesh, painting you where he missed - your chest, breasts, collarbones, he rubs it as far as it’ll go.

He’ll offer you a shower once you’re both up, he tries not to think about what it would’ve felt like to cum deep inside your tight little pussy, how it would have seeped out around him, spilling out the sides and onto the floor along with the rest of your mess.

He would’ve fucked it deep, deep inside of you and watch you take it like the good girl you are.

Next time, he thinks. 

“Shut up.” He tells you.

//

Mando didn’t land in Nevarro like you thought he would.

Instead, you’re on another isolated, a far off one like you usually stick to - Kal’Shebbol.

You’re both quiet as you exit the Razor Crest, letting the noise of the planet fill in through your ears and Mando’s helmet as you walk towards the city.

The planet is nice enough, nicer than you’re used to actually. Tall and far off rolling hills and mountains which surround a modest city. It seems pretty modern from what you can tell as you approach it. Shining lights, even in the daytime, neon signs and loud bustle.

There’s crime here, you can tell, you can practically fucking smell it, you’ve become so familiar with its tang - you’ll do good here, that is… depending on what Mando’s got planned for you.

He doesn’t have you in cuffs, he’s not escorting you, you’re just simply… walking next to him and it’s confusing. You take a side glance at him and he just walks forward with a too-confident stride, seemingly not even worried about you.

So you let him walk with you, closer and closer to the border of the city before he slows down, ultimately coming to a halt. You keep walking however, testing him, wondering who will make the first move.

You make it about ten feet from him before he’s calling after you, your name never sounding so sweet. Stupid, you sound like a lovesick little girl. But you can’t help but smirk as you turn around to face him.

“I have to bring you in.” He calls out, yet there's no malice in his voice, no threat.

You smile at him, it feels genuine, you fucking devil. “Not if you can’t find me.”

Mando approaches you again with that saunter of his, like a true bounty hunter, a true threat. Fuck, why did he have to be so sexy?

Only you know that you had brought this Mandalorian down to his knees. You try to block the image of him on top of you, fucking you out of your mind only hours ago, making you cum harder than you ever had, painting you in his own spend.

Your soaked underwear sits wet and cold against your aching pussy, a painful and uncomfortable reminder of the mess you both made of each other.

When he’s gotten close enough to you, Mando tilts his helmet teasingly.

“You can’t outrun me, remember?” You know he’s smiling all smug underneath that helmet, you can hear it in his voice. It’s chilling and you shiver at the edge, the deep grit of his voice while your shoulder throbs at the memory.

“Well then I better get a head start.” You smile back, feeling hot underneath his gaze.

Grabbing his gloved hand into yours, you squeeze it tight, unable to say goodbye to him for some weird reason. You really don’t know him at all, you’ve only been with him for a day but you think you’ll miss his stoic quietness. Either way, you feel like this doesn’t merit a goodbye - he still has your puck.  

Mando stares in disbelief at your gesture, burning hotter and more embarrassed than ever, even though he was buried deep in your cunt only hours ago. He looks at your hand, engulfed in his and Maker, he doesn’t want to let go.

But he watches you drop his hand and walk away from him, lost to the crowd within seconds.

When he’s sure he can’t see you anymore, only then does Mando turn on his heel, heading back to his ship and back to Nevarro.

He tells Karga he had no luck finding you and manages to get another puck from him without much hassle. The new tracking fob takes him all the way out to Maldo Kreis to find some blue guy - as far away from you as possible.

Mando will take the long way getting back to you, hoping you stay out of trouble: from the Imps and the bounty hunters like him.

Your puck burns hot in his holster. It’s where he keeps you close, always on him until he tracks you down and finds you again.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #reader insert #smut #enemies to lovers #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #my writing

[fbfh]

I think you've horribly misread the situation [shitty roommate pt 2] - leo x reader

wc: 2.3k

genre: contemporary drama, you're definitly going to get second hand embarrassment, cozy fluff

pairing: leo x reader, attempted isabella x leo

reader: gender neutral, they/them

requested: hell yeah

warnings: mild swearing, roommate tries to steal your man once again, mentions of various mainstream vampire media (twilight, the vampire diaries etc.), brief mention of castlevania (even though i haven't seen it yet lol), breif mention of videogames and assassins creed, very mild delusion (roommate is secretly convinced leo is a vampire that's in love with her), attempted age gap relationship (she's 17 and leo's 19, he shuts that down real fast), very bad poetry

summary: You and Leo are both looking foward to spending a long weekend together, and Leo is determined not to let anything interrupt it, even if it means turning down your roommate's attempts to seduce him in the kitchen.

a/n: absolutley no hate or shade or judgement to anyone who has the same or similar traits as isabella!!!!!! at her core she's annoying because she's the antagonist, not bc of any isolated trait or traits

also she's shitty cause she keeps trying to steal your boyfriend?????

Edit: I forgot to mention before, but this is a college au where you're both still demigods, so you went to camp and on quests and stuff together

This weekend is going to be all about recharging. Recharging from the ridiculous back to back closing and opening shifts at work, recharging from having to redo that stupid project twice because your professor couldn’t decide on a clear way to define the criteria, and recharging from Isabella having her townie friend Regan over almost non stop to “completely shake up her look” as she put it.

Between the constant presence of someone you’d barely consider an acquaintance and Big Time Rush’s self titled album blasting on repeat out of her giant airpod shaped speaker, it’s been harder than usual to get in some effective self care. You have no idea how many more times you can hear the phrase “I’m going for Jade West meets Elena Gilbert, with just a little Buffy Summers” before you lose your fucking mind.

Thankfully, the hard part is almost over. There’s some minor holiday tomorrow on friday, so you and Leo both have a three day weekend ahead of you, which you intend to spend entirely together. You planned ahead, frontloading homework, chores, errands, and everything you could think of to remove anything that isn’t cuddling or playing video games and watching netflix together from your horizon.

This includes going straight from work to the grocery store to stock the fridge and get any snacks you and Leo want. You had texted him a while ago asking for anything he was craving, and head into the store with a concrete list. After a while, you circle around some aisles, avoiding the check out.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something,” you muse, knowing it’s untrue, but hoping to trigger a memory anyway. You can’t put it off any longer, finally checking out and heading back to your apartment. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t avoiding Isabella just a little.

You know bringing in all these groceries would be way easier with Isabella and possibly Regan’s help, but you just don’t have the social energy to talk to anyone, much less her, right now. By some miracle, you bring everything in yourself, and hope to get it put away before you see Isabella.

You turn to the freezer, putting away the ice cream. When you turn back around, you’re suddenly met face to face with Isabella, who has opened one of the boxes and is picking at a pastry.

“Hey girlie,” she says, elongating the hey.

“Hey,” you reply lethargically, putting the last of the groceries away. She looks at the pastry in her hand like she’s just noticing it.

“Sorry, I can’t help it, I’m italian.” She smiles, endeared by her own behavior. You have no idea what being italian has to do with asking before you open a box of your roommate’s food, but this really isn’t out of character for her. She brings up the fact that she’s half italian more than Lele Pons blames her behavior on being latina.

She’s wearing sweatpants that say chaser on the leg in red and gold varsity font, and a tight tee shirt that says “it’s okay to love them both” with silhouettes of the male love interests from one of the vampire shows she always watches. You collect the plastic bags to put in recycling, and see a piece of paper on the counter.

It reads as follows:

Drowning in my mind

No one hears me cry

Who was I before society

Before society put me in a pink dress

And handed me blonde hair dye

And told me to lose ten pounds or be labeled a freak?

The happiest people cry the most

Let the lyrics be your story

But I’m not like the other skinny blonde pretty girls

I’m

Different

-b.g. xox

You hold back a sigh.

“I think this is yours.” you say, handing it to her.

“Oh, it’s just some of my poetry I left lying around, that’s so embarrassing.”

I know, you think, you do that all the time.

“Did you read it?” She asks, hopefully.

“Nope.”

“Thank god, that would have been so embarrassing. My poetry is something really… deep, and personal to me.”

“Uh huh. Hey, I’m going to be doing a lot of self care this weekend, so-”

“Oh!” she interjects, eerily similar to Phoebe Buffay - you guess she’s been watching friends again - “I wanted to ask… is Leo coming over later?” Her voice is riddled with subtext, the expression on her face a little too invested in your answer.

“Uh, yeah. I told you the other day we’re spending the weekend together…”

She cuts you off again, a sudden, intense look on her face.

“When will he be here?”

You check your phone, scrolling through your recent texts.

“By 7 at the latest.” It’s around 6:40 now.

“Oh my god, I have to change,” she rushes back to her room, presumably digging through her recent additions to her closet.

You’re frozen for a minute after the interaction, left with a furrowed brow and the beginnings of a headache. You blink, then choose to reschedule processing why she feels the need to change for your boyfriend to a more convenient time. That’s enough of that for today. You don’t care what else happens, you’re not talking to anyone besides Leo for at least the rest of the day. You retreat to your room to finally shower and change into something comfy. As you pass by Isabella’s room, you hear her talking to Regan.

“...There’s something almost… supernatural about him.”

You bite back a laugh.

“Do you think he’s a…” Regan begins, ending the sentence with something too quiet to hear, but you’d bet almost any organ she said vampire.

So close. So, so close, and yet… here you are.

Not much later, Leo texts you to let you know he’s here. You read his text, and run out to hug him in the living room before even typing a reply. He picks you up, and spins you around. The embrace is warm and fulfilling and familiar, and you wish it would last forever.

“Hi, Sparky.” you murmur into his neck.

“Estrella…” he says, rocking you back and forth gently and pressing a kiss into your jawline, “I missed you so much.” He punctuates the sentence with another kiss, this one to your lips, and you smile more genuinely than you have all day. You’re about to agree when you remember the good news you’ve been saving to tell him in person.

“Guess what I got on sale for like, half off,” you start, excitedly, continuing at his invested expression, “the Assassin’s Creed bundle I showed you!”

“No way,” he starts, and you nod.

“I’ll go get everything set up, drinks are in the kitchen!” He watches you retreat into your room, disbelieving how he could possibly get someone as perfect as you to fall for him. He’s not going to question his luck. He grabs a couple caffeinated sparkling ices, and meets you in your room, setting down his bag and grabbing some comfy clothes to change into.

As you both get settled in, you fill each other in on all the ridiculous shit you’ve been through this week. You finally conclude the bizarre - yet somehow standard - Isabella escapades.

“So I will be avoiding all contact as much as possible,” you laugh.

“Yeah, no shit,” he agrees, “Consider me your human buffer.” You thank him, hugging him again and pressing a kiss to his lips.

The next couple hours are spent cuddling and finishing season 4 of Castlevania. Both reeling from the season finale, you agree this is a good place to take a break, get some food, and decide what game you should start with. It’s already 10pm, which most people would consider too late for dinner, but you have all weekend to fuck up your sleep schedules.

“Let’s review,” Isabella says, holding up two red lipsticks. She turns to Regan. “Which one?”

“That one,” Regan says, pointing to the one on the left, then turns to her list, and continues. “Here’s what we know; we’ve never seen him eat, and he never seems tired. He’s really smart-”

“Almost too smart,” Isabella adds, selecting black rose dangle earrings from her jewelry. Regan agrees, and continues.

“He’s almost hypnotically attractive, and his smile is a little too dazzling.”

“There’s something… supernatural about him. Like he’s not… all human.”

Regan writes this down.

“Plus he’s always wearing black and red, and those flowy button up shirts? It’s all adding up, Ree. That dream that someone was outside my window, the ring, everything…” She says, referencing the black and red cocktail ring she’d found with her stuff when she’d first moved, “I’m not saying it’s definite, just that… there’s a chance.”

“What about…” Regan says hesitantly, nodding toward your room.

“Please,” she scoffs, “he’s only with them to get close to me, like Damon and Caroline. Edward couldn’t have just approached Bella out of the blue, he had to infiltrate her friend group first, to seem less suspicious. Not to sound mean or anything, but they really don’t seem like the type someone… like him… would choose.” her voice gets dreamy when she mentions him.

In spite of having seen most mainstream vampire media almost as many times as Isabella, Regan still considers her the expert on these things, and decides not to point out that Edward didn’t infiltrate Bella’s friend group. Maybe it comes up in one of the retellings she hasn’t read yet.

“So, what now?”

Isabella sets down her lipstick, and turns to her friend.

“I tell him.”

Regan’s eyes widen.

“You’re going to tell him you know?”

“No… not yet. It’s too soon, we don’t have enough evidence. I’m going to tell him I know he’s in love with me, then once he’s secure in our relationship... we’ll see where it goes.”

She stands up, assessing herself in the mirror. She chose her outfit carefully; short red dress with black roses and black mesh collar, black rose bracelet to match her earrings, snug faux leather jacket, and black stiletto ankle booties with a very skinny heel, the zipper on the outside gold, not silver. She fluffs her wavy hair and turns towards the door. She looks back one more time, holding onto the doorway.

“Wish me luck.”

Leo enters the kitchen, seeing Isabella already there, leaning against the counter seductively. She’s wearing an outfit and jewelry this late at night that makes Leo wonder if she’s going to an emo tea party. He puts the takeout in the microwave. She’s still staring at him.

“Uh… hey.”

She lets out a dainty giggle, looking him up and down.

“... Hi.”

At a loss for words, and really wanting the awkward silence to be over, he continues, “Did you need something?”

“What I need,” she walks closer to him, tracing her finger over his collar, “is you.”

What the fuck?

His brain seems to stall for a moment, and she uses this opportunity to continue.

“I know why you’re here. I know that you’re only using them to get closer to me. I know-”

“Woah-”

“That you’re in love with me.”

Okay, double what the fuck.

She takes his stunned silence as shyness, and steps closer, putting her arms around his shoulders.

“You don’t need to play so coy, I-”

This time she’s the one that gets cut off. He grabs her arms and gently steps away, trying to make it abundantly clear that he’s not into this.

“Woah, okay, slow down. First of all, you’re 17 and I’m turning 20 in a couple months, so that’s a hard no. Second, I don’t know where you got this idea, but I am not dating them to get closer to you. We’ve known each other since we were like, 15, and have been through everything together. I’ve only known you for a couple months. I love them. Probably more than I’ve loved anything ever. I thought that was pretty obvious.”

He doesn’t want to be mean, he really doesn’t, but he can tell from the look on her face that she still thinks this is all part of some game.

“So why don’t I ever see you eat? Why are you so smart, and always up at night? I know what you are.”

He has to physically hold back a laugh. He takes a step back, and places his hands on the counter.

“Isabella, I have adhd. And I’m literally an engineering student. Why wouldn’t I be smart and have a shitty sleep schedule?”

She starts to protest, and he pulls out the reheated take out from the microwave.

“And for the record, I do eat.”

Exiting the kitchen quickly and retreating back to your room, he hands you your food.

“I got the game set up!” you say excitedly.

“Nice!”

You take one look at his face and can tell something happened. He sees this, and continues.

“I just had a very… interesting interaction with Isabella,” before he finishes the sentence, your head is already in your hands. You let out a groan.

“What did she do?” you mutter from behind your hands.

He pulls you into his lap, rubbing your back.

“I’m not totally sure,” you laugh, “but I think she thinks I’m secretly in love with her…” you’re both laughing before he can even finish the sentence.

“No…” you laugh, “no fucking way…”

“Believe me, I put an end to that as soon as it started.”

“Oh, I do.”

He runs his hand over your back, and you’re quiet for a moment.

“You know,” he continues, “I think getting our own place has definitely moved up the priority list.”

You couldn’t agree more.

#leo valdez x reader #leo x reader #leo valdez #leo valdez imagine #heroes of olympus #heroes of olympus x reader

[gildedmuse]

Hey, everyone.

So recently I've (predictably) very not well. Actually, whenever I don't post for long periods, just assume my body is trying to kill me. But I've gotten messages from three people asking if I. Okay, which is super sweet. I am actually trying to work on the next All Hearts, a really long ZoLaw post and two request fics, but mixing chronic kidney pain and capitalist society's mandate to work 40+ hours is not recommended.

But to prove I'm okay and still me, here is some Shanks antics with him being a total slut while Mihawk and Beckman just roll their eyes and go along with it. [Shout out to @jhaernyl who not only listens to me ramble about this stuff, but actively encourages it]. I also have many thoughts on the latest episodes and so many screenshots it's embarrassing. Hopefully, when I'm in less pain, I'll get around to actually posting those. Otherwise I just look like an insane person who literally takes by the second frame shots every time Zoro is on screen.

.... What is that? I look like that anyway? Fair.

Shanks Is A Bad Influence

It feels like Buggy and Shanks split up after Roger's death (the crew was told to, and they are the only ones who went to his execution) and I find it impossible to think Shanks didn't immediately set out and find a crew; like, pirating is the only thing this kid knows in life. This means two things:

He set out from East Blue. Also, he seemed at ease and familiar with the East so it's possible he spent like a year there getting everything together. Maybe he even played around in the other blues for a while before heading back to the Grand Line. I say this because his crew is from all over so either he found and recruited them in the Grand Line or visited various blues. Either way, I'm gonna say it took him about two years before getting a 'proper' start. In that case, he would have started out properly at the age of 17 and we know One Piece likes it's parallels.

That still puts Shanks at 17 to Benn Beckmen's 28. How the fuck did Shanks manage that? I'd call it grave robbing, but let's face it, the little tyke probably got up to some actual robbing of graves as well.

My point being everytime Shanks teases Mihawk about keeping this 19 year old kid on his personal island, mostly shirtless, Benn Beckmen just lifts an eyebrow.

Excuse me, captain, who had prefected the 'opps still don't have my sea legs' trip-and-fall into their first mates lap by the age of 17?

Shanks: Beckmen, you caught me! *Shamelessly nuzzles up* Thank goodness! I could be a devil's fruit user after all and - Ahh!

Benn: *Drops Shanks straight over the side of the ship into the water*

Shanks: *Sputtering* What what that!?

Benn: Checking to see if you had eaten a devil's fruit on us, Capatin.

Benn: You didn't.

Smart ass. But he can't resist Shanks forever. Shanks will wear him down eventually.

Next time Mihawk tracks him down for another match - because you know he gets bored way quicker than he'll ever admit and Shanks is at least amusing a challenge - Shanks makes a big deal out of how Mihawk follows him around, "accidentally" revealing they slept together, sighing about how it's so hard to resist him.

Benn Beckmen is just leaning against the side of the ship, sipping his booze.

Shanks: -and I can't stay for hours like last time!!

Mihawk: Are you quite done?

Shanks: *whispering* Does Benn look jealous?

Mihawk: He looks bored. Much like I am. Is this some strange attempt to get out of my challenge, Akagami?

Shanks: What? No, come on I told you I was game. But, hey, could you do me a favor? Maybe like try and kiss me or something? Like take a swing like your going to hit me but then stop shot and grab me by the waist instead.

Mihawk: .... Trickery is beneath you. Besides, you're absolute rubbish at it.

Shanks: Oh, come on, I would totally help you get laid if you asked!

Mihawk: .... *Sigh* I want a proper match afterwards.

Mihawk: *In a forced, monotone voice* After this I will take you to my lair and have my way with you, Akagami.

Mihawk: ... My lair? Really?

Shanks: *Holding up cue card with quickly scribbled line* What? That is how you talk.

Mihawk: I can't believe I wasted precious hours of light tracking you to this atrociously rural port.

Shanks: See? Now, read the next one.

Benn: Captain? If this is going to take all night, I am going to go join the rest of the men in the tavern.

Shanks: Huh? Wait! Benn! What if Miha really stabs me this time!?

Benn: *Salutes Shanks with his bottle* Sounds like that is his plan captain. Have a good 'challenge'.

Shanks: What? No... *Reaching out hand, like he might die if Benn leaves, looking completely devastated* Not even a little jealous...

Mihawk: You couldn't have thought that pantomime would actually work.

Shanks: Benny, don't leave me.... *Turns to Mihawk, immediately brightening* Oh, well, there's always tomorrow. Hey, Miha, guess whose free all night and horny as a pirate in the calm belt?

Mihawk: .... *Sigh* Very well.

Mihawk might as well get something for the trip he made. Although, he's reconsidering if the sex was actually worth the trouble after he ends up listening to Shanks worry half the night that Benn is shacking up with someone else (after a couple hours of rough and raw fucking, admittedly).

Is it the hat? He likes his captain's hat. Miha, you think his captain's hat is sexy, don't you?

Mihawk: It's utterly ridiculous.

Shanks: ....

Shanks: ....

Shanks: *Smile* Ahh, Miha, I knew you liked the hat!

Shanks: What do you old Northerns find sexy?

Mihawk: I am only four years older than you.

Mihawk: And silence.

Trying to convince Mihawk to go spy on Beckman for him. Shanks doesn't actually care if he does sleep with someone else, it's more that Beckman didn't immediately turn angry and jealous like Buggy would have that has him paranoid.

Mihawk is going to fuck this annoying red head again just to shut him up.

Mihawk: Maybe he doesn't like red haired boys who don't know when to be quiet?

The next morning Shanks is pacing among his poor crew that's gotten stuck listening to Shanks obsess about Beckman again. IS IT REALLY THE HAIR!?

It's not even a matter of Shanks's age (or obvious immaturity). I mean, Beckman got on board and stayed, didn't he? Beckman just enjoys watching Shanks try so hard to get his attention. Like Benn's attention isn't constantly on Shanks. He had to when his captain is always one step away from disaster.

He only left him with Mihawk because it was clear Dracule is not a real danger to Beckman's captain.

Except maybe insulting him to death. But Beckman is pretty sure Shanks can handle it. He's met Buggy. He's suspects Shanks LIKES it if anything.

It gets to the point where when they dock somewhere and see Mihawk waiting, or come back to the ship and spot his familiar silhouette, most of the crew goes off somewhere for another drink (sometimes the newer kids will stay to watch such an awesome fight, everyone else is like... Look, you'll have plenty of opportunities later. This is not a one off.)

Benn just takes a look around, nods to Mihawk (a silent signal for, "he's all yours, do with him as you please, if anything happens to him I will track you down and make sure your last few hours on this blue world are as painful as humanly possible") and heads off.

Oh, it's just the Hawk boy.

That's fine then.

Benn use to be a sailor on a trade ship between the North, East, West and Grand Line. He's seen it all.

They called him The Gun Slinger BEFORE he joined Shanks's crew and became a pirate.

So this young, broke ass kid from the streets of some near artic northern island trying to pass himself off as a Lower North rich type has a thing for his captain? Not really enough to keep Beckman up at night, no matter how good at swords he's supposed to be

Besides, he's pretty sure for the kid to keep tracking down Shanks, he must be bored out of his skull. He's not going to do anything to endanger their captain.

Not if Shanks is the only thing he can find to keep him entertained.

One day, Mihawk is going to be waiting on the dock when a bunch of Red Haired pirates are stumbling home, laughing and chattering amongst themselves (Shanks's crew always seems to be in a good mood). One of them will catch sight if Mihawk and walk by with a smile, patting him on the shoulder.

The captain's occupied. Seems likely he'll be 'occupied' for a good while, too.

Mihawk won't smile, but he will think "So you finally warmed him up to you, Akagami?" and snort lightly.

Poor Benn, though. Mihawk could never imagine being with someone so much younger than him. Shanks is only four years his junior and already it strains Mihawk to put up with his occasional moments of "youthful whimsy" (aka being an annoying, immature child)

"A young, cocky pirate with strangely colored bright hair"

Mihawk just putting that on his Not To Do List.

That lasted until Roronoa.

(Mihawk just looking at Zoro knowing this is bad news.)

Mihawk: *Takes list from Benn*

*Cross out, scribbles*

*Hands back to Benn*

Do Not Do:

- A young, cocky pirate with strangely colored bright hair a silly hat, who is overly dramatic and in any way, shape or form related to Gol D Rogers.

Ace: Hey what's up?

Mihawk: *Takes list from Benn*

Go ahead, Benn, laugh it up. Mihawk is aware he has a type. Young, pretty, and utterly insane.

After that night where Shanks was otherwise 'occupied', it's over six months before Mihawk sees his friend his rival again. He is, as expected, far too smug and proud looking.

Shanks: Oh, Miha, so sorry you came all this way, I'm-

Benn: Well, I'm off, captain.

Shanks: What!? But we, you, I... Benn, hessoeexyarentyouworriedforyourcaptain?

Benn: *patting Mihawk on the shoulder* Have fun with him. Don't forget to return him by noon tomorrow, we have a schedule. Oh, but if you can babysit him for at least four hours? That would be great.

Shanks: BABYSIT!?

Mihawk: I suppose I can be troubled to do so.

Shanks: TROUBLED!?

Benn: Thanks, Hawkeyes. I owe you.

Shanks: *Fake tears clinging to his lashes* You two are so mean!

No, don't feel bad for him. Shanks is just trying to guilt the two of them into bed at the same time, and they both know it.

Thanks no thanks, they're not into that. But Shanks can be pretty cute when he's trying so hard (Benn) and at least he's not as boring as everything else in this world (Mihawk) so they allow him to keep up the act

Shanks: *looking at Zoro's wanted poster over Mihawk's shoulder* But I feel like you'd gladly go to bed with him and his captain if he asked. That doesn't seem fair to me. You'd never go that far with me and Benn.

Mihawk: *Eyes Benn*

Mihawk: *DEAD. ONLY.*

Mihawk: I have my reasons.

They can and do agree on plenty of things, including reciprocally not being that attracted to each other.

Shanks: Sounds fake to me

Shanks: But guys!

Shanks: This isn't about you

He's gonna need you guys to drop the egos and focus on what HE wants. I.E., being in the middle of two sexy Northern men.

Honestly, so mean to poor Shanks!

#I LIVE #here have some #shanks x mihawk #shanks x beckman #shanks x buggy #mihawk x zoro #and you know there is some Law x Zoro goong on I just didn't cover it #I like my men like I like my civil war sides #Northern #idk but here you go #Shanks #akagami no shanks #dracule mihawk #benn beckman #DEAD ONLY #roronoa zoro #one piece #one piece fanfiction #but not really #just random fun #I jump between time periods like a game of hopscotch #what you gonna do about it #get lost probably

[songbirdstyles]

sparks

summary: you’re a music journalist assigned to covering one of harry styles’ gigs, and he’s absolutely smitten with you. (part one.)

warnings: slight fluff, excessive liberties taken about music journalism; smut in later chapters, angst in later chapters

word count: 8.2k

inspo.: almost famous - cameron crowe; sparks - the who; hello, i love you - the doors

You’d never truly gotten a big assignment before - sure, you’d gotten a few pieces here and there detailing local LA bands that you knew would never live to see more than 100,000 monthly listeners on Spotify, and they mostly ended up buried by your higher-ranking coworker’s higher end stories on the front covers - and, for the most part, you’d honestly been fine with it. You’re fresh out of college, the newest recruit to your company and your colleagues who are sent out to tour with big bands and artists have been here for years, some even decades, and you suppose they deserve the opportunities more than you, don’t they?

You work your way up, your boss had told you the first day you’d started working, following him around like an eager puppy as he showed you the office. Eventually - if I’m impressed with you - you’ll get something big.

It’s enough for you. Small bands playing in hole-in-the-wall clubs and restaurants may not be the exact thing you’d envisioned when you’d set your sights on being a music journalist but it’s worked out well for you so far, hasn’t it? You’ve made friends - even dated the lead singer of an underground rock band who cheated on you hardly two weeks into the relationship - and your portfolio is slowly building, stacked with exposés and detailed recounts of small gigs that you’d watched from backstage. Eventually, you’ll leave this company and move on to something bigger, like Rolling Stone, and your career will take off until you’re practically the face of music journalism.

And, really, those dreams have carried you through college and the first year of your career, putting your all into every article and every piece just so your boss can tug you into his office one day with a rarely-seen grin to finally tell you -

“I want you to write an article on Harry Styles.”

You furrow your eyebrows, shifting in the cushy office seat that your boss has for guests in his office. It’s a facade that you’ve learned to acknowledge, because, no matter how much he makes it look like he appreciates guests in his office, you know he regards you as nothing more than an interloper, even if he’d invited you there to begin with. “Harry Styles?”

“You’ve heard of him, haven’t you?” Mike asks, light shining off his bald head, and your mouth opens and closes a few times uselessly. 

“Of course I have!” You push yourself to sit up straighter in your seat, staring up at your boss with shock written in every feature of your face. You, writing about Harry Styles? God, you nearly want to pinch yourself to see if you’re dreaming. “Write an article about - about what?”

Mike scoffs in that pretentious way that makes you hate ever having to talk to him, and you resist the urge to roll your eyes at him. “He’s coming to do a few shows along the West Coast. You can go to one or two - talk to him a bit, talk to his band - you’ve done this before, haven’t you?”

“With small bands, sure - Tacocat and - and the Mystery Lights -” You swallow thickly, and Mike stares down at you in your seat like he’s unimpressed with your enthusiasm, or lack thereof. And it’s not that you aren’t executed - but, Christ. Going from bands performing in underground clubs to Harry Styles is like going straight from crawling to flying a fucking plane and you’re not sure if any of your experience with the musical locality in LA could prepare you for that. “I mean, that’s huge, Mike.”

“It is huge,” Mike confirms, crossing his thick arms over his chest, leaning against the desk before you as though he’s immune to sitting in his seat behind his desk like a normal boss. “Do you not want to do it? Because Melissa, you know - she’d love to, was going on and on about it last week -”

“No!” Your cheeks flush at the volume your voice raises to, and if you didn’t know better you could swear you see the ghost of a grin on Mike’s face. “I want to, Mike, I really want to - it’s just crazy.” There’s a pregnant pause between the two of you, your boss nodding smugly down at you as you struggle for words, before you ask the question burning the tip of your tongue with its desire to be heard. “But - why me? I’m sure you have people more qualified for it -”

“Easy,” Mike says, cutting you off and you’d be annoyed in any other instance but you’re too desperate to hear his answer. “Look, Harry’s a young guy. Younger than anyone else our people have interviewed - I think he’ll respond more to a young, pretty girl like yourself than someone older than him.”

Well, that makes sense, you suppose. The only coworker even close to you in age is Melissa, and she’s pushing 30 as it is. You’re 23 - graduated college just over a year ago, and by far the newest recruit this company has taken in years - but you had always imagined that was the main reason you wouldn’t get many big articles, and here it’s the main factor in you getting what will surely be the highlight of your portfolio once you apply to Rolling Stone. An interview with Harry Styles - God, they’ll probably foam at the mouth when they see it, and a grin spreads across your face as you think of it.

“Is that a yes?” Mike questions, blonde eyebrows raised high and nearly disappearing into his scalp. 

“Of course,” you respond without another moment of hesitation, and you push yourself to stand, office chair rolling behind you with the force, and it hits the wall behind you with a soft thump. “Yes - of course - of course.”

“Great.” And he crosses to the other side of his desk, pushing aside a few loose papers and folders on his desk, and you clutch your hands in front of your stomach as you watch him, practically bouncing up and down with uncontained joy and fear bubbling inside of you. The last time you’d felt like this was the first time you got a real assignment - more than just ranking songs and discussing new album releases - and you’d been sent to a strip club to cover a gig from an up-and-coming band. Back then, you’d never expected to ever feel more excited over anything in your life, and yet, here you are, eight months later, fighting back the urge to burst into joyful tears. “They come in a week - I’ll send you the address - if you need help with your questions -”

“I’ll ask Francine,” you finish the same advice he gives you every time you’re assigned an article, referring to your oldest coworker - a little old woman who’s been with the company since the 70s. She’s always been more than willing to help you with your assignments but this - you need to do this by yourself. “Thank you so much, Mike, this is - this is great.”

“Don’t let me down,” he says, pointing his finger at you, and you nod furiously. “I’m trusting you on this - it’s a big opportunity.”

“I won’t disappoint you,” you promise, holding up your crossed fingers just to show him how much you mean it, and you know it’s the truth - you’ll make this piece the best damn one this company has ever seen if it’s the last thing you ever do. 

 ~~

 The night begins a bit - rocky, to say the least.

For one, you couldn’t decide what to wear, even after spending nearly a half hour trying on every variation of clothes in your closet and tossing them onto the floor of your studio apartment when they didn’t satisfy your needs. In the past you’d worn to gigs what you’d wear if you were a simple concertgoer, albeit a bit more modestly, but you can’t decide what you would wear to a Harry Styles concert if you got the regular chance to - and you’d never even dreamt that it would happen in the first place -

Well, you peruse your closet intently and land on a pair of patterned flare pants and a long sleeve sweater. It only seems fitting for the chilly weather outside, and you fold a shirt into your bag in case you need to change if it gets hot backstage. You’re not dressed to impress, necessarily - you’re dressed to get a job done, as Mike would always say, but how could you be expected to not attempt to impress Harry Styles? It’s a preposterous idea. You’re sure anyone would understand.

Journalism pass - phone - keys - deodorant - when you’ve checked your bag over three times to ensure you have everything necessary you finally leave, locking your door shut behind you and ordering an Uber to take you to the concert.

You hadn’t anticipated Uber and Lyft being absolutely overloaded with patrons due to the concert just a half hour away and you need to be there by 6:30 at the very latest to ensure you get in and can at least talk to Harry before he goes on - a quarter of your questions are geared towards how he feels pre show and you can’t get pre show questions after the show - that’s barbaric. But the minutes inch closer to 5:30 and your Uber driver is still ten minutes away and your heart beats so fast against your chest you think you might vomit right into the street in front of your building -

You’re in the car by 5:45. It’s not ideal, and you know you’re cutting it close, but hopefully you’ll be there before the soundcheck ends. It’s always an ideal time to take photos, watching the band warm up and check mics, and with a piece like this, you need all the opportunities for pictures you can get.

And traffic is horrible - you suppose that’s also to be expected, and your Uber driver curses in a language you can’t recognize as cars cut him off on the highway and if you were a different person, you’d recommend a shortcut he takes, but he doesn’t look like he wants to hear a single word come from your mouth. He had given you a dirty look when you entered the car, and that’s enough to make you shut up and pray for the entire car ride that you make it on time.

6:27. Mike would piss himself if he knew how close you cut it, and you hop out of the car with a speed you didn’t even know you could muster, pushing past the buzzing crowd standing in front of the main entrance. The hoard of people seems to have a steady heartbeat, pulsing with excitement much like your own, and you can’t help but smile as you make your way around the group, goosebumps cropping up over your skin as your teeth chatter in the coldness. For a moment you fear that the directions to the backstage entrance that Mike had given you were total bullshit - but then you see the door, blocked by a burly security guard that glowers at you as you walk up to him like you’re something sticky beneath his shoe.

“Hi!” you call, breath exploding in a white cloud in front of you in the cool night air. The security guard smells so strongly of booze that you need to try harder than you’d care to admit not to scrunch your nose - you cough softly. “Let me - um - find my pass - I’m with Autoamerican, the magazine?”

Fingers grab onto your journalism pass, deep within your bag, and you tug it out, flashing it to the security guard with a slightly nervous grin. All of the gigs you’d been to before hadn’t even had backstage doors - to get backstage, you just had to climb onto the stage and walk behind the wings - but this is a fucking stadium, not just a measly club, and a big one, at that. In your youth you’re sure you could recall your dad watching a football game that occurred in this very stadium - funny how life turns out, sometimes.

“Autoamerican?” the security guard questions, bringing his face closer to your badge as the wafting smell of alcohol increases, and he raises his eyebrows with a scoff. “Never heard of it.”

“Oh.” you pause, feeling your teeth beginning to chatter in the cool February air. You’re not quite sure what to say - you’d assumed Mike had called to arrange the entire thing, hadn’t he? And this is the time you’re supposed to be here - “well, we’re not as big as Rolling Stone magazine, but - we’ve done interviews with The Cure, The Smiths - even Zeppelin, at one point -”

Your voice trails off into silence. He doesn’t care. He’s looking at you like you’re some innocent teenage girl, trying to bribe your way backstage so you can bombard the artist and not a fully grown woman here on business, goddammit. And you’re not sure what to say - he doesn’t believe you, clearly, and you hadn’t anticipated that even as you listed all the ways tonight could go wrong.

“Look, kid,” he begins, and that really has your blood boiling, eyes narrowing to glare at him. “We get this all the time. I’m a journalist - I’m with the crew - it’s a bunch of bullshit. Now go to the front with your general admission tickets like the rest of them -”

“I have a pass - I’m a journalist!”

“Sure -”

“I can call my boss if you want proof!”

And before you can reach into your bag to search relentlessly for your phone to follow through on the promise like you intend to, the door the man is guarding suddenly swings open, nearly hitting the guard in the ass as it opens out. You take a step back as dim light from inside floods the darkness, and a man steps out of the doorway, his eyes darting between you and the security guard.

“Are you with Autoamerican?” the man questions, raising his finger to point at you as though he could be speaking to anyone else. You nod furiously, and you hold up your journalism pass again just to prove it. “You can come inside, then - c’mon, Steve, she’s got a pass, for God’s sake -”

And you can’t resist flashing the guard a smug smile as he steps to the side to let you inside, rolling his eyes so far back into his head that all you can see is a strip of white.

The man lets you inside and the door shuts behind you, and you nearly knock straight into a second security guard standing by the door inside, as though trying to stop people from going out. And, well - you’ve been backstage at more concerts than you could count but this is certainly bigger, better, bustling with people carrying equipment and makeup artists and more people you couldn’t possibly identify. You’re half inclined to reach into your bag and grab your notebook to jot down exactly what you’re seeing so you can make sure to include it in the article, but you have a distinct feeling you’ll never forget it.

“I’m Jeff,” the man tells you, already setting off through the people, and you’re quick to follow, trying to maintain your pace beside him. After a second of walking in silence you realize he’s waiting for you to say yours - you clear your throat and introduce yourself, and he sends you a smile. “The band just finished their soundcheck, if you’d like to have a word with them before they go on - what’s the article about, anyway?”

Jeff shoulders the two of you through lingering groups of people until you emerge into a small hallway lined with doors, and you can hear bustling noise coming from the one closest to you - holy shit, is that Harry? 

“Um - just about the shows, the tour, how everything’s going. My boss basically told me to do what I want with it, so I’ll have a better idea once I speak to the band.” It’s the loosest instruction you’ve ever been given for a piece - you’d expected a clear cut outline - but perhaps with an artist this big, Mike trusts you to know what to write. “It likely won’t be anything too personal, but I’d love to get a chance to speak with Harry before and after.”

“Sounds great,” and you can tell he’s stressed - you wonder if he’s always anxious before his client’s shows, or if there’s something special about tonight that has him worried - and then he reaches past you, twisting the doorknob closest to you and holding the door open for you to enter before him, and you give him a gracious smile before walking in.

The room isn’t as crowded with people as you’d expected but they’re bustling with energy - a woman and a man, holding a guitar, lean against the wall with each other - two other women sip water bottles, laughing loudly amongst each other - another woman leans above someone, their body hidden from view except for their legs, covered in silk, floral printed pants -

Your breath catches in your throat as Jeff shuts the door behind you both, and the sound of the door clicking shut draws far more attention to yourself than you’d expected - it seems like every pair of eyes lands on you and Jeff, and you’d decided on being a music journalist to keep away from being the center of attention. You’ve always preferred being behind the scenes, a bit, at least until your career progresses until you’re a household name for music journalism, and now -

You feel very much in the scenes, eyes on you as Rhiannon plays in the background.

And then Jeff is tapping you on your shoulder, leading you around the room to the small groups of people lingering - you shake hands with Mitch and Sarah, the couple against the wall, and the rest of his band, and they’re so nice your smile feels like it’s going to break your face in half. You’ll need to interview them at some point - nothing too intense, and you may not even need to, if Harry’s answers are satisfactory enough - and you can already feel yourself building a strange sort of rapport with the band, their kindness rubbing off on you until you practically glide beside Jeff to the woman bent over Mr. Floral Pants, whose identity you’re fairly certain you’ve already deduced.

It doesn’t make it any more surprising when the woman steps aside where she’s carefully applying powder to the man’s face, and then Harry fucking Styles is staring up at her with a smile and an outstretched hand, suit jacket matching the floral pattern of his pants. His curls are carefully slicked back from his face, skin matte with the powder the woman resumes applying to the side of his face that isn’t turned to you, and you swallow your shock before reaching to shake his hand, Rhiannon turning into Hello, I Love You, playing from a source you can’t identify.

“Nice t’meet you,” Harry says when you’ve told him your name and the magazine you work for - Jeff had already mentioned it, but it is customary to repeat it to whomever you may have to interview. “Y’know, I love Autoamerican - told Jeff, s’the only magazine I’d let interview me backstage. Don’t usually allow it.”

“Really?” your stomach flips as Harry stops bouncing his arm, but it takes just another half second for him to untwine his hand from yours - you’re sure it’s because the makeup artist fretting above him is using her thumb to wipe off powder from his nose, but it still makes your heart thump faster against your chest. “I assumed most people haven’t heard of it - it’s nowhere near Rolling Stone.”

“I love it,” he insists, dropping your hand, and he looks so casual, as if this interaction isn’t blowing up your entire life, and you’re brought back to the many moments you’d spent as a teenager fawning over him in his One Direction days - God, this feels like a dream, and you’re half inclined to pinch yourself in case it is. Maybe you’ll wake up in Mike’s office to him giving you another shitty underground LA band to interview. “The interview with Sublime s’great - read it all the time.”

You swallow thickly, grin spreading wider across your face, and before you can open your mouth to tell him about Francine’s go-to story about how Eric Wilson had flirted with her while she interviewed them for the story, Jeff interjects - “Steve hadn’t even heard of it.”

“Steve’s an idiot,” Harry starts, and you giggle - his lips lilt upwards just a bit. “Hope he wasn’t hasslin’ you ‘bout it.”

“Just a little,” you say, hoisting your bag further up your shoulder just as the makeup artist drops the powder back into the apron slung around her waist, and her manicured nails tilt Harry’s head around for a moment before she seemingly deems his makeup satisfactory before leaving, sending you a tight lipped smile as she goes. “I’d love to ask you a few questions before the show - nothing too heavy - and then I’ll observe the concert and how everything goes, ask a few questions after.”

“Sounds great,” Harry responds, lifting his fist with his thumb up and you didn’t think your heartbeat could grow any faster or louder but you suppose today is just proving you wrong time and time again. “D’you need t’record m’answers? S’a bit loud in here.”

The truth is, you’re sure you’ll have this entire experience engraved in your brain for years to come - you’ll remember every word he utters for you until your dying days - but it is more practical to have a recording. You swing your bag off your arm and open it, digging through the jumbled mess of items inside until you find your phone, and you hold it up with a nod. “Yeah - there isn’t anywhere a bit quieter, is there?”

It takes a minute of bustling - Jeff tells you two instructions to go down the hall into another room where you may find more silence - and Harry promises, accent thick and eyes rolling, to be back in twenty minutes or less, if tha’s enough time for you, ma’am, and you try to trick yourself into thinking the burn flushing up your cheeks is due to the heat of the room.

Down the hall is another door that Harry opens for you, letting you walk in first. It’s a small room, clearly meant for storage, and he shuts the door behind the pair of you. There’s - luckily, or perhaps unluckily - just enough room for you two have at least a few feet between you, and he leans against the wall with an air of casual elegance you couldn’t hope to achieve as you scroll through your phone to search for the voice recorder app.

“Hope this s’good enough - is it?” Harry inquires, leaning his head closer to yours, and you nod. “Good - wish there was a nicer spot for you, but -”

“Don’t worry about it,” you interject, smiling up at him, and he grins back, and your stomach churns violently. You almost feel like you could vomit - when he goes on, you’ll go and have a bit to eat at the table set up with foods that Jeff had wheeled you past when you arrived. Eating seems to solve more of your nerves than you’d care to admit, and you feel like you’re nearly 95% nerves right now. Your fingers fiddle with the voice recorder app, adding a title to the recording while entirely too focused on the sounds of Harry’s breathing above you, and you can practically fear his eyes boring into your face before you press record. 

And, for the most part, it does go smoothly. Harry introduces himself with an ease that only comes with years of practice, so much time spent being interviewed that it must feel like as much of a second nature to him as interviewing is to you. He’s charming and charismatic - flirtatious, even - making jokes and adding lines that you make a mental note to be sure to include in your final piece - whatever direction you go - and you can’t say you’re bothered by the way he leans closer to the phone, and thus closer to you, in order for his voice to be heard more on the recording when occasional noise bustles in from outside.

You don’t need to look at the questions you’d spent weeks laboring over - every question you inquire derives directly from his answers like he’s practically feeding them to you, and then you’re interviewing him so naturally, you could nearly fool yourself into thinking it’s an organic conversation between friends. 

What’s his process to prepare for shows? Well, listening to Fleetwood Mac and eating finger foods, of course - he loves mozzarella sticks. Does Fleetwood Mac make you less nervous for shows? No, he doesn’t get too anxious before shows, now that he’s out of the band. He just loves Fleetwood Mac - he could listen to them at any time of the day. What do you think makes your solo career less anxiety-inducing than being in the band? Different fans let him be himself more. There’s less pressure to be someone he isn’t - do you think he could’ve worn a floral printed suit at a One Direction concert?

And, in the end, twenty minutes hardly feels like it, and by the time Harry tilts his head over the screen of your phone to check the time, you could nearly convince yourself that you’d merely spent a minute with the heartthrob, and it pains you to stop the recording.

“How’d I do?” he questions, cheeky smile indenting the dimple in his cheek, and you feel like you need to dip your face in ice once he goes on stage - your face hasn’t felt anything less than piping hot since the first moment he rested eyes on you, and his kind-bordering-on-flirtatious nature only makes your skin heat more under his gaze.

It isn’t as though you’d have it any other way, though.

“Perfect,” and you send him a smile. “I’ll watch the show - probably eat a bit, too, if I’m being honest - and maybe ask you a few questions. How many shows are you doing in LA?”

Harry reaches past you, grabbing the doorknob and opening the door for you once more, and you slip out with a small smile as he follows, face twisted in what’s clearly a show of being in deep thought. “Four. An’ a few more on the West Coast ‘fore we move out - reckon you’ll need t’come t’a few more?”

“Depends.” He looks at you curiously as the two of you make your way back to the room you’d been in before, and when you enter, it’s clearly in a more prominent state of preparation for the show - there’s more bustle and movement between every band member and Jeff, who looks entirely relieved to see you two come in as She’s a Rainbow thumps softly, volume clearly turned down on whatever produces the music. “If I feel like I’ve got enough material from this show, then that’ll be it - I usually just do reviews of specific gigs, and this is a lot broader - so I really don’t know.”

Harry nods, and you feel a flutter in your heart at how intently he seems to be listening to you, like he really cares, and you’re sure it’s a facade - he probably has a million other things on his mind as Jeff descends upon the both of you, whisking him away as he calls goodbye! to you - but still. When was the last time you’d felt listened to? By Mike, or by the security guard outside, or even from your own parents when you try to convince them over and over that you have a plan, that your degree wasn’t a waste of time when you could’ve been a doctor -

Well, Harry’s a gentleman, you decide, sliding your phone into the back pocket of your flares as you reach in your bag for your notepad. You can tell they’re preparing to go on soon and so you descend against the wall, grabbing your pen from deep inside the confines of your bag to scribble the essential notes of what you’ll need - it’ll make it easier when it’s time to write, rather than listening to the entire 20 minute interview again to try and find the important sections to include.

His responses to your question still burn fresh in your mind, and you began scribbling your bullet points on the small notepad in your hands. It’s decently easy to block out the chatter of the room you’re in along with its music, volume turned down further until it’s hardly audible, and it really is a skill you’ve mastered, though you suppose you’ve had to - trying to take notes for articles about gigs occurring in buildings so small that their noise reverberates off of every surface has made you a master in tuning out noise surrounding you.

You are aware, and acutely, at that, when the band starts exiting through the door beside you. They don’t look nervous, returning your encouraging smiles with ones of their own, and you watch them pour out the door with confidence practically radiating off of them. Well, that’s something to mention, isn’t it? Most of the bands you’d interviewed were practically vomiting with nerves -

Harry takes up the rear, fingers running through his slicked back hair, and you can’t tell if it’s a nervous habit or if he’s simply trying to let his curls fall in front of his eyes more. Jeff walks in front of him, giving you a smile as he leaves, and the singer stops beside you.

Your breath just about catches in your throat as you look up at him, and he’s staring down at you with a decidedly ambiguous look in his eyes, and you smile at him. “Good luck out there.”

“You’re gonna come and watch?”

You nod. “Eventually - I’m gonna eat something first, finish my notes. Maybe give myself a tour of the backstage in case I decide to include it.”

“Sounds good t’me,” Harry says, but he doesn’t make a motion to leave, and then his eyes roll down your body and is he fucking checking you out? Because - no - that’s crazy. That would cement into your brain the knowledge that this is a dream, and not reality, because there’s no fucking way Harry Styles is checking you out, eyes roaming from your eyes to your stomach to your - “I like your pants. Where’d you get ‘em?”

Ah. Of course. Fashion icon, he is, inquiring about the pants you’d chosen specifically because they looked like something he may like. “These?” You glance down as though you’d forgotten what pants you’d donned, as though you hadn’t spent hours in front of your closet envisioning what outfit you could wear to impress him. “I think they’re from Zara. Got them a couple years back.”

“They’re pretty.”

“Why, thank you -”

“Harry!”

Jeff’s voice calling from outside the room snaps you both out of your conversation, a slightly embarrassed grin spreading across Harry’s face that you’re sure is mirroring your own. His cheeks are tinged pink and he clears his throat.

“Sorry - gotta go - make sure y’try the mozzarella sticks, ‘kay? They’re good,” Harry tells you, and you grin, drumming the pen clutched between your fingers against the notepad in your hands.

“Will do,” you reply, and then you lift your hand and point to the door, raising your eyebrows with a smile. “Go break a leg - and then be ready to talk about it when you’re done!”

He doesn’t say anything else - just gives you a thumbs up and slips out the door, and you can hear his frenzied apologies to Jeff as their voices fade away, surely preparing to get on stage and sing his heart out and blow the fucking stadium away, but you can hardly focus on it. Because - God, you really don’t want to sound like a narcissist - but he was joking around with you, complimented your pants, and he did technically check you out, even if it was just to see your pants. 

Was he flirting with you?

Surely not. No, that would be absurd. He’s probably just bored - maybe entertaining random people backstage is his way of dealing with his nerves.

That makes a bit more sense.

When you glance back down at your notepad, the page half filled with scribbled bullet points of things you’d sworn to remember, and when you click your pen open to continue your list, you find that you can’t quite think of anything else to write. All you can think about is the mozzarella sticks waiting for you, and then standing in the wings to watch him sing his heart out to a crowd of adoring fans that you, at one point, would have killed to be apart of -

You shove your pen and pad back into your bag with a determined spin of your heels. Food first - contemplation second.

 ~~~

 The show is - needless to say - amazing.

You’d feasted on slightly-cold mozzarella sticks that were, even in their lowered temperatures, immensely good, and clearly garnered all the affection Harry had for them. The food table was nearly completely empty, crew members repeatedly coming up to fill plates with vegetables and snacks, and so you simply gathered the last three sticks of celery once you were done with your sticks before taking a leisurely stroll along the backstage area. Celery firm between your teeth, you pulled out your notepad and your pen once more and jotted notes of what you could possibly include in the article to jog your memory later -

It takes a while, admittedly. You don’t want to leave anything out, and eventually you have two pages filled with notes in your handwriting that would surely be illegible to anyone else who happened upon them - and, sure, your pages are small, but still. Two pages is a lot, and you’re sure most of it won’t even make it into the article but you don’t want to risk forgetting any important information.

A trip to the bathroom - perusing the food table again to pick up the last few carrot sticks - and the show is nearly halfway over, so you decide it may be time to slip into the wings and watch. Take notes, possibly, but mainly just listen and absorb the music and the atmosphere and exactly how the fans react to his every move. That’s what the people want to know, isn’t it? It’s what you would want to know - so you slip past the lingering groups of people into the wings of the stage, where you get a clear view of Harry and his band, singing his heart out to a tune you know to be Kiwi.

It’s ear splitting, truly, in a way that none of the other gigs you’d witnessed had been. But it sounds good - better than good - and he’s as charismatic on stage as he is off,  waggling his eyebrows during the more suggestive lines and undoing the button of his suit jacket, and the latter garners a deafening scream from the adoring fans in the crowd. 

No, you won’t need to take notes, at least not yet. You’ll remember this forever, won’t you? Watching him work the crowd like he was born to do it, like it’s a second nature and you’re sure it is, at this point. It’s all you can do to stand there, watching him, and you’re sure you look no different from the other fans in the crowd, your eyes wide and lips parted in absolute awe of him -

His head turns to the side, briefly, as if he can sense your eyes on him above anyone else’s. In reality you’re sure he’d simply turned his head to flick a sweaty curl out of his face but it’s never a bad thing to dream right? And your gaze locks for just a moment, his eyebrows raising when he sees your face, and heat burns at your cheeks before his tongue darts out to wet his lips, and his right eye shuts in a quick wink before he’s turning back to the crowd as if his attention had never left them.

Shit. You nearly drop your damn carrot. God, he’s a fucking tease, and you’re not even sure he knows it - that this experience will never leave your brain for as long as you walk this Earth, watching him wink as he stared into the depths of your fucking soul, clad in a gorgeous suit with his gorgeous hair and -

Harry truly is a sight to behold, and you’re more than content to watch him forever.

Forever ends up being another half hour or so before you’re made entirely too aware of the fact that you have to pee - not insanely bad, but enough to make you shift uncomfortably from side to side before sighing, turning and making your way further backstage in your search for the bathroom. In your determined tour of the backstage you’d forgotten to search for the restroom, and you wander about for nearly five whole minutes before getting to it -

You do your business. There’s not much more explanation needed.

It’s when your washing your hands, though, water freezing cold against your palms, that you become slightly aware of a myriad of noises occurring outside the restroom. At first you choose not to focus on it, shoving your hands beneath the air dryer to ease your soaking, cold hands, and the noise of violent air assaulting your palms drowns out the scuffling sounds from outside.

When the dryer turns off, and you reach down to wipe your damp hands on your pants, the noises haven’t stopped. And, sure, no one could expect it to be completely silent backstage, but whatever you’re hearing isn’t the normal laughter and chatter and muffled music that you’re used to hearing -

It sounds like someone is fighting, and your hand freezes in its place on the cool metal doorknob. You lean forward, scrunching your nose as you plainly try harder to hear what’s happening -

But, Hell. You have a job to do - you need to get back to the wings to watch the remaining few minutes of the set before Harry leaves and, subsequently, returns for the encore, and you’d intended to write with detail about his closing repetition of Kiwi. So you grab the doorknob, swing the door open and step out, and freeze nearly immediately once you’ve exited.

There is a fight - not as violent as you’d expected - as the security guard from inside scuffles with Steve, who looks positively wasted in a way you’ve come to know all too well, doing gigs in LA. His face shines with a sheen layer of sweat, skin glowing in the artificial light, and his fists move slowly to pummel into the other security guard’s back. It’s, truthfully, a bit pathetic to watch - he isn’t putting up much of a fight against the guard trying to hold him, and your mouth parts with poorly-concealed confusion at the display in front of you.

You’re not sure what to say - or do - or think - standing in the doorway of the bathroom as you watch the poor excuse of a fight, Steve nearly toppling to the ground as the other guard tries to contain him.

“Come on, Steve - don’t be like this -”

Then the other security guard looks up and sees you, and the expression on his face nearly makes you burst into laughter, but you contain it with a bit more difficulty than you’d like to admit. He looks annoyed, like he’s absolutely done with his coworker, and also slightly embarrassed. Clearly, he’d dragged Steve into the hallway containing the bathrooms with the hopes of nobody seeing either of them, and you’ve interrupted his bid for privacy desperately. “Sorry, ma’am,” the guard says, grabbing one of Steve’s flailing fists in his hands. “Don’t mind us - he’s drunk - just trying to contain him.”

You’re doing a damn good job, you want to say, but you bite back the retort with a small nod and a whisper of a smile on your face, walking with your back to the wall past their display in the hopes of Steve not seeing you. He hadn’t been particularly nice to you when you’d first seen him and you can tell he’s in a much more heightened state, now - he’d been drunk when you’d seen him before and you can tell it’s only gotten worse.

Maybe you should’ve told Jeff the guard was drunk?

Well, it’s counterproductive to dwell on the past.

You’re not so lucky, though - you’ve barely made it down five steps down the hallway before Steve lifts his head, pupils blown and skin even stickier looking than before, and he gives you the same disgusted look as though you’re something his dog had left on the grass. “Hey - hey - Jim - do you know who that is?”

And the other security guard - Jim - just rolls his eyes. “No, Steve, I don’t - stop making a fool out of yourself.”

“She works at - at - Eat to the Beat - Parallel Lines - what is it?”

Do you answer him? You don’t quite know. You just swallow thickly, forcing yourself not to don the smile that’s urging its way onto your lips as you hear roaring screams from the crowd that alerts you to the fact that, if Harry isn’t done with his set yet, he’s close, and you need to watch the end. “Autoamerican. Those are all good albums, though.”

“She’s snarky - get off of me, Jim -”

In Steve’s final bid for freedom his legs kick out, and his sneakered foot knocks into your ankle, and it’s certainly not hard by any stretch of the definition but it’s enough to catch you off balance, his toe hooking into the loose fabric around your ankles as he brings his foot back to kick again. One kick did it, though - you tumble to the ground, legs flying out from under you until you land on your ass on the hard floor, your bag slipping off your shoulder, and its contents scatter across the ground.

Fuck. That hurt, more than you’d care to admit, as you brace your elbows behind you to stop your head from knocking into the ground. Your ass hurts and you can see Steve’s leg bracing backwards for another kick, and you push yourself backwards so his foot merely pushes against the air.

You can already see Jim opening his mouth to desperately say sorry when a set of footsteps interrupts his apology - you don’t have to look to your side to see who it is, the smell of expensive cologne wafting before him like an introduction. You practically feel him before you see him.

Your name falls off Harry’s lips entirely too easily, like he’d been looking for you in the overtly small window of space he has before he has to go back on stage - his hair is messy and his skin is sweaty and he bends down next to you with such sentimentality in his eyes - you almost feel like a child again.

“Are y’okay?” Harry questions, and his hand rests on the small of your back and warmth seems to seep through your body from its spawning point, palm moving in circles against your sweater so gently you can tell he’s scared to go much harder. “Wha’ -?”

For his eyes had just landed on the sight in front of you - Jim managed to pull Steve up, the latter clearly coming to his senses at least a little bit, and his eyes narrow at the sight of you on the floor and subsequently widen as he sees Harry next to you.

“Wha’ happened?” And you can hear anger quivering under his voice like boiling water, ready to overflow, and you instinctively reach up to press your hand against his forearm - you do it to your niece all the time when you can tell she’s on the verge of a tantrum and it always works on her - but she is five, and Harry’s twenty years her senior, so, needless to say, the motion doesn’t do much to soothe him. “Fightin’ back here, kickin’ her - you’re s’posed t’be security guards!”

“It’s okay, Harry -”

“S’not okay -”

And then there’s another set of footsteps jogging over to you, and you look up to see Jeff -

“Har, you need to get back out -” but you can see the confusion set into his features as he stands over the scene, eyes flickering to you and Harry on the floor to Jim and Steve, the former having settled the latter into a fairly calm position. The scent of alcohol is strong and you can practically watch as Jeff smells it, his nose crinkling. “Is he drunk?”

“He is drunk, an’ got into a fight wit’ -”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupt, squeezing Harry’s arm again as you push yourself to stand, attempting not to wince at the pain in your ass as your muscles tense. He’s looking at you like you’ve just been hit by a car instead of having a mild scuffle with a security guard, eyes wide and concerned, and you shake your head at him. “Didn’t get into a fight, Harry - he accidentally kicked me. It’s really fine - you need to go back out, anyway.”

“She’s right,” Jeff insists, reaching down to tug Harry up as his eyes bore into the sight in front of you, Steve slowly calming himself down until he’s simply red in the face and reeking of booze. “Come on, Har - you need to get on.”

But Harry’s already bending down again, grabbing your pen and your notebook and your phone (you can see a crack in the screen that most certainly hadn’t been there just a mere ten minutes ago) and you could nearly laugh at the display he’s putting on, shoving your items back into your back, if Jeff’s demeanor wasn’t bordering on murderous as he drags Harry up again. You reach down and grab your bag, now fully stocked again with all of the items that had clattered out, and you give the tussling security guards one final fleeting look before following Jeff and Harry as they make their way down the hall.

“Y’sure you’re okay?” Harry questions, slowing his pace so you can jog beside him, much to Jeff’s lingering annoyance as he brings his fingers up to rub at the space between his eyes. “Y’should know - tha’ doesn’t usually happen -”

“I get it,” you tell him.

“No, really.” You’ve reached the wings of the stage, and Jeff leaves the pair of you alone to descend on to where the band stands, clearly waiting for the cue to go on. Harry runs a hand through his hair, and he looks oddly exasperated and you wish you could get it through his head that it really isn’t a big deal - “Someone will take care of the guards, okay?”

“Don’t fire them,” you insist, even though you’re sure he has no say in it. “Not Jim, at least.”

“Jim -?”

“The sober one.”

“Oh.” He pauses, dropping his hands to his sides. “I can’t make any promises.”

“Just try.”

“Will do.”

There’s another brief second of silence before you nod towards the stage where he’s needed - the few lowly minutes between the end of the show and the encore has come to an end, and you’re sure people are beginning to wonder if he’s not coming back. “Go on, Har. There’s people waiting for you.”

“M’going!” And he isn’t going, just staring at you with his brows furrowed, and you raise your own with a confused stare. “Are y’gonna come t’any more shows?”

You pause, nibbling on your bottom lip as you contemplate your answer. “Well - maybe. If I need more information.” “You should,” he tells you, and you tilt your head to the side. “Look, I don’t want your only impression of m’shows t’be that they’re violent an’ crazy.”

“I don’t think -”

“Jus’ one more? In two days. I’ll send you th’address. I really want you t’come -”

Before you can process the request Jeff has stepped forward, hooking his arm in Harry’s and practically dragging him towards the stage, and you watch him prance back in front of the audience like it’s his God given purpose and perhaps it is. You’ve never quite met anyone like him, you don’t think, and you’d certainly had a perception of what you’d imagined him to be like based on the insane amount of time you’d spent obsessing over his band when you were younger -

Your mouth feels suddenly dry as you watch him begin, and the music seems to reverberate beneath your skin, and suddenly - without having to think about it much at all, really - you know it won’t take much convincing on his part to get you back for a second night.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles series #harry styles drabble #harry styles one shot #im sure im going to regret starting this as a series and not trying to make it one long piece #but honestly?? #im working on another fic right now so i just want the beginnings of this to be out there #i hope u enjoy

[downondilaudid]

Anatomy Lesson

Reader has some sex trouble, out of all people to ask for help, she asks Spencer Reid. 

Requested: Nope

Prompts: Nada

Word Count: 5.2K

Warnings: It’s pretty much just straight smut

“Good sex is like good bridge. If you don’t have a good partner, you’d better have a good hand.” -- Mae West

Your head fell back against the plush pillow with an annoyed groan. You threw the vibrator to the side, watching it roll across the bed, once again you were unable to achieve an orgasm. It was almost always like this, even in past relationships you found yourself having to often fake orgasms. You definitely didn’t have a low libido, you considered your sex drive to be slightly above average, but an orgasm for you was hardly ever attainable, especially not solo. 

Maybe it was the fact you had always been a sucker for rough sex, it was easier for you to come while being totally dominated. All of your past relationships had been fairly vanilla, they either weren’t into it or still couldn’t get you off. 

You were desperate for an orgasm at this point, were you doing something wrong, was something wrong with you? You had to find out, you had exhausted all of your options. There was one thing left to try, you had to ask Spencer, I mean, he was your best friend, and a genius, he would know. He wouldn’t find it totally weird, right? 

You had decided Friday would be the perfect day to ask him, Friday, at the end of the day, where you could avoid him until Monday if the conversation headed South. 

“Hey, uh, Spence?” You questioned, luckily, by the grace of God, you were the last two packing up to head home after a long week. 

“Hm?” A sugar-crashed Spencer answered. 

“I have a question, it’s sort of-Oh God how do I word this?” There was no backing out now, you had to ask. 

Spencer stopped what he was doing, his brows furrowed in concern. He laid his files onto his desk, walking around it briskly towards you. “What is it? Did something happen?” 

“No-no-I just, I was just wondering” you took a deep breath, letting your words flow together as fast as possible “how unlikely is it for someone to be unable to achieve an orgasm during sex?”

Spencer’s face flushed slightly, automatically stuffing his hands into his pockets, a habit you had noticed he did when he was nervous or uncomfortable. “I-uh-well, I mean, statistically during- uhm, intercourse, only around 20% of women have an...o-orgasm, and around 5% of women never have orgasms during intercourse.” 

You nodded your head, keeping your eyes trained on your desk, straightening a set of files. Well, that was good to know, there definitely wasn’t something wrong with you then. Maybe you just needed a man's touch, and, yes, that is a horrible thing to say. Usually, you weren’t so dependent, especially dependent on a man alone, but you needed some form of relief, and if a male could give it to you, then you would take it.  

Spencer cleared his throat, “are you, uh, having t-trouble?” 

For some reason you didn’t want to answer the question, the topic was already embarrassing enough, and admitting aloud that you were having trouble orgasming doubled that embarrassment. “Y/N?” Spence’s tentative voice brought you out of your stupor. 

Huffing, you grabbed the files shoving them into your bag and throwing it over your shoulder. You turned, continuing to look everywhere except at Spencer, beginning your trek to your car.

You were halfway to the elevator when Spencer caught up to you, his hand coming to lay on your shoulder. “Y/N, It’s nothing to be ashamed of, in fact, it’s quite normal, especially for someone who isn’t in a relationship.” 

You pushed your shoulder back, moving away from his touch. “Let’s not talk about it, I shouldn’t have even asked, it was a stupid question.” You stepped into the elevator, Spencer hot on your trail. 

“It’s not a stupid question, Y/N, it’s perfectly normal. Out of curiosity, are you just-is it just-vaginal penetration?” The elevator doors shut, and you were regretting ever asking the question. 

“Nope, Spencer, it’s not.” You huffed. It shouldn’t be this uncomfortable to talk about your sex life, but this was Spencer we’re talking about. Spencer was practically asexual!

“Maybe you should try relaxing, your mind at least, sometimes if you’re distracted by other things it’ll become hard to achieve an orgasm. It’s actually the opposite for your body, a lot of women report feeling tension, especially in their abdomen and legs during or before an orgasm.” Spencer stated, watching as you walked out of the elevator, following after you.

Since when did Spencer get so open talking about sex? Sure he was a bit hesitant, but, to be honest, you didn’t even know if he was going to answer, let alone in this detail. “Thanks, Spence.” You said curtly, it was a little wrong for you to be so upset when you were the one who asked the question, but you were already stressed enough. 

Here you were, one warm bath later, laying on your bed, butt naked, once again.

Still, you couldn’t orgasm. Shamefully, you had even gone as far as choking yourself, playing out one of the dirtiest fantasies you could think of in your head. When that didn’t work you switched to visuals, which definitely brought you closer to the edge, but wasn’t enough to push you over into the sweet bliss 

Surprisingly Spencer didn’t say anything about your awkward encounter on Monday, or the rest of the week, until Friday. Once again, you and Spencer were the last two, Spencer had been going over the files from the most recent case, and you were filling out some paperwork, trying to get ahead of the load Hotch was going to give you next week.

“Spencer, it’s over. She’s safe, and that bastard is off to prison.” 

He sighed deeply in response, one of his long slender fingers pressed thoughtfully against his lips. “I just don’t understand how I didn’t see it sooner.”

You scoffed, “Spencer, you may be a genius, but no one expects you to know everything, you don’t have to know everything. Spence,  you’re going to kill yourself trying to figure out everything. You’re always so stressed, you just need to relax, let go, read a book, or listen to some music, do something that calms you.”

Spencer turned to you, his hazel eyes bearing into yours, “speaking of stressful, how’s your, uhm, problem?” His hands stuffed into his pockets comfortably. 

You let out a short chuckle, as uncomfortable as talking about your sex life with Spencer was, the sight of Spencer flustered and stuttering was definitely humorous. “Spencer, stop trying to distract me, you need to stop stressing over closed cases.”  

“So, you haven’t cum yet?” Spencer questioned, pulling his hands out of his pockets. 

You swear your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates, Spencer had never been that forward, especially not talking about sex, and especially not with you. Your mouth fell open, not completely sure how to respond.

“That was too forward, wasn’t it?” Spencer questioned, realization seeping through his voice. 

You nodded your head, mouth still hung open. 

“And you tried relaxing, but also simultaneously letting yourself be tense?” 

“Yes, Spence.” 

He went silent for a while, turning around and beginning to gather his things. 

And you thought the conversation had ended, and he had decided to drop it, and hopefully go home and relax, but alas, you were wrong. 

“You know, I could always, uhm, help you, i-if you want.” Spencer stuttered, his face flushing with an awkward smile. 

At first, you thought you were hearing things, that sentence had not come out of Spencer’s mouth. You didn’t even know how to respond, he obviously wasn’t joking. I mean, sure, Spencer was very attractive, but you had never really thought of him as anything more than a friend. 

“W-what do you mean?” You knew what he meant, at least you thought you did, but you didn’t want to risk being wrong. 

Spencer grabbed his satchel, placing it across his body, “I mean I could help you, you know, help you, uh, o-orgasm.” 

Holy Shit. You were right. 

“W-we don’t have to, obviously, I just-it sounds frustrating, and I just-I want to help.” Spencer’s hands wrapped around the strap of his satchel, watching you with wary eyes.

“No-no, I get it, that-that’s very sweet, Spence, I just-won’t that change our friendship?”

Spencer shrugged, “not necessarily, Y/N, you’re my best friend, I want to help you. Plus it’ll be good for me too like you said, I need some sort of stress relief.”

You smiled, how on earth did you get so lucky to have a best friend like him, “thanks, Spence, that means a lot.”

“Just think about it,” Spencer said with a smile.

You nodded your head, turning to begin packing up your things.

You ran your hand over your sweaty face, pushing aside some hair. Still, nothing. At this point, you were very much ready to accept Spencer’s offer. Even if it did change your relationship.

Your eyes glared at the screen of your phone, the 11:04 seemingly taunting you, would he even be awake? I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to try

Y/N: Are you up?

You hit send, laying your phone next to you, you didn’t really expect Spencer to answer, at least not immediately, he rarely ever used his phone. But, like a lot of things lately, you were wrong, because your phone buzzed beside you. 

Spencer: Unfortunately, I can’t seem to sleep. I’m assuming the same for you?

Sighing, you formulated a reply. 

Y/N: Unfortunately, you probably know why… 

His reply was almost immediate as if he was sitting there waiting for you to answer. 

Spencer: My offer still stands. 

You ran your hands over your face for what seems like the millionth time. Were you really going to do this, let Spencer come over and fuck you?   

Y/N: How fast can you be here?

Yes. Yes, you were. 

You paced back and forth in front of your door. You had brushed your teeth, and hair, luckily, you had already shaved today. Were you supposed to wear something, like lingerie? Was he even going to touch you, or just tell you what to do? What if he couldn’t make you cum? What if he wasn’t rough enough?

Knock, knock, knock. Three soft wraps on the other side of the door. Spencer. 

You sighed, no turning back now. You moved, unlocking the door, taking a deep breath before opening it. 

There Spencer stood, clad in some simple plaid pajama pants, and a grey T-shirt. It was unusual to see him so casually dressed.

“Hey” you greeted shyly.

“Hey,” Spencer said, stepping into your apartment. 

“S-So how does this work? How do you want to do this?” You questioned, gulping nervously.

Spencer chuckled surprisingly calm, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, Y/N. This is about you, helping you get some relief.”

You smiled, biting your lip slightly, you had zero clue where Spencer’s newfound confidence was coming from, but you were enjoying it. “Well, I don’t know, I’m pretty much okay with anything, I guess.”

“How do you usually like to have sex, rough, soft, both? What gets you off Y/N, what turns you on?” Spencer stepped closer to you, his voice dropping an octave. 

Your breath hitched in your throat, who knew Spencer had such a dirty mouth? “I-uh, well…” you trailed off.

Spencer moved forward once again, his large hand pushing a strand of hair out of your face, “something tells me you like it rough, you like to be dominated, totally fucked into oblivion.” 

The room seemed to spin, and your lip caught between your teeth, at this point, you weren’t even sure if this was Spencer? Had you just let a random man into your apartment? Did an alien infest Spencer’s body and now it was here to kill you?

Spencer tucked the strand of hair behind your ear, but his hand continued moving, playing with the hair at the back of your head. Then in one swift tug, your head was yanked back, neck exposed. You let out a yelp, digging your teeth deeper into your lip. “Am I right?” He questioned, his hazel eyes now a deep brown with lust. His other hand ran a finger up your neck, watching you shiver. 

You didn’t answer, you couldn’t, somehow, it almost felt foreign to move your mouth, if he didn’t have you convinced before, he definitely did now. Maybe Spencer could make you cum, and maybe multiple times. 

He tugged on your hair harshly once again, causing you to release a low groan. Spencer leaned in closer, placing his head next to your ear, whispering lowly “in case you can’t tell, I’m looking for an answer, sweetheart.” His finger trailed to the base of your neck, flattening his palm to run it up to your neck once again, his hand wrapping around the sides of your neck. 

You whimpered lightly, letting your hands grip his wrist for support. Without thinking you breathed out a response, “yes, yes sir, you’re right.” 

Spencer pulled his head back from your face, his dark eyes making contact with yours. “Mhm, good girl.” Spencer’s voice was low, and gravely, obviously, he seemed to enjoy this just as much as you did. His hand released your neck, shifting slightly so he could run his thumb over your bottom lip. 

Once again, almost out of instinct, you took his thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. If someone had asked what your plans were for tonight, never in your life would you think to respond “inviting Spencer Reid over to my house at 11 o'clock at night, then letting him fuck me.” 

Spencer groaned lightly, pulling his thumb out of your mouth, dragging it down your chin, wiping off the saliva. He brought his other hand up to cup your face gently, his eyes darting down to your lips. Taking the initiative, you stood on your tiptoes, bringing your lips up to his soft pink ones. Your mouths moved in sync as if this were an everyday occurrence. 

  You both pulled away, chests heaving for air. “Y-you’re sure about this?” Spencer questioned, concern filling his eyes.

You giggled, Spencer would never not be a gentleman, “I’m sure, Spence. I need this, and you need some stress relief, and if it’ll benefit us both, why not?”

Spencer chuckled lightly, “okay.”

Smiling, “okay” you responded. 

“Is there-you know, anything that I shouldn’t do, things you aren’t comfortable with?” 

You let yourself think for a moment, was there anything you weren’t comfortable with? You were very explorational with your sex life, and you trusted Spencer. “Not really, Spence. Just, do what you think will make me cum.” 

Once again, the predatory look clouded over Spencer’s eyes, his lips curling into a smirk. “That's not my name, sweetheart.” He growled.

Your eyes fluttered shut, your thighs rubbing together for some sort of friction. “Sorry...sir.” You were slightly hesitant, you had already called him sir, but you weren’t sure if it was the name he was looking for. 

A smack rang through the air and a stinging spread through your ass. Your body jerked forward pressing further into his, “shit! Sorry, daddy!” You cried, your eyes snapping open to watch his reaction. The daddy had slipped out, you didn’t know if Spencer would be weirded out, or into it, hopefully, the latter. 

Spencer’s eyes widened, apparently, that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. Before you could correct yourself, one of his hands gripped your hips, roughly pulling you into him, and the other pulled your head to him, smashing his lips against yours. You moaned into the kiss, your hands wrapping around his torso, trailing up his back and into his long hair, tugging at it. He groaned against your lips, his head falling back slightly, breaking the kiss. 

“Fuck, Y/N, not what I was looking for, but, I definitely enjoyed it.” Spencer groaned out, his hands traveling your sides. Yet, you longed for more, you longed to feel his skin against yours, the weight of his hips between your legs. 

You peppered kisses over his neck, relishing in the way his hands felt against your body. Spencer groaned lightly as you sucked at a spot at the base of his neck. His hands dug into your hips harshly, and you whimpered slightly at the pain. With a rough shove, Spencer pushed you away from him, both of you panting. 

“I want you on the bed, naked, don’t touch yourself, just wait for daddy,” Spencer said, his voice dripping with an authority he only ever used in the interrogation room, and God did you love it.

You nodded your head in understanding, turning to walk to the bedroom. Once inside, the nerves hit, you were really doing this, you were actually going to fuck Spencer, and hopefully cum. Your shirt hit the floor first, the cool air causing your nipples to harden since you had opted not to wear a bra. Your leggings came off next, with only a little struggle due to the slight sweat that came with being aroused. Lastly, your thin lace thong, which you made sure to drop a little closer to the doorway, just so Spencer would notice it first thing when he walked into the room. 

Spencer walked down the short hallway, the wooden floorboards creaking under his feet, alerting you of his approach. Quickly you sat on the bed, both legs and arms crossed in a means of covering yourself. As excited as you were to cum, that didn’t knock the anxiety of Spencer seeing your naked body. 

Spencer appeared in the doorway, his teeth immediately biting down on his lip at the sight of you. He took slow steps towards you, maintaining eye contact the whole way. He crouched in front of you so his face was level with yours. His hands ran over your arms, uncrossing them gently before doing the same with your legs. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

A blush covered your face, it was incredible how quickly he could switch from domineering to sweet. Spencer leaned in, peppering kisses over your neck. His arms were placed on either side of you, his mouth working sinfully. 

Your head leaned back with a breathy moan, giving him better access to your neck. Spencer's mouth worked over your collarbone, beginning to leave open-mouthed kisses in the valley of your breasts. “Such pretty tits,” he mumbled against your skin, letting one of his hands reach up and palm your breast. Your back arched into his touch, his warm skin against yours. 

You brought your head upright, watching as he took one of your perky nipples into his pretty pink lips. “Fuck, Spence” you moaned out, placing your hand on the back of his head to run through his hair. Spencer’s teeth lightly grabbed your nipple, pulling his head back, tugging sharply. “Shit! Daddy, I meant daddy.” You corrected breathily.  

Spencer’s mouth released your nipple, his head coming up to yours for a sloppy kiss. He pulled back, a trail of saliva connecting the two of you. He chuckled lightly, swiping his thumb across your bottom lip to break it. “You’re sure you’re okay with this?” 

You smiled, could this man get any more polite? “Yes, please just do something.” You begged. 

“Ask and you shall receive” Spencer answered, a hint of playfulness in his voice. He moved slightly, situating himself on his knees. You bit your lip softly, wishing this intimate moment could last forever. His large hands rested on your knees, spreading your legs. He chuckled, “Mhm, so wet for me and I haven’t even touched you.” 

Your head tilted back slightly, ecstasy running through your body at his words. One of his hands trailed up your leg, stopping to rub soft circles around your clit. You moaned lightly, one of your hands placed behind you to keep your body upright, the other on the back of Spencer’s head playing with his hair. His pace sped up slightly, and you bucked your hips forward, aching for more. “Please, please, I need more.” You whined.

“Patience, love” despite his words, his pace sped up again, and your head tilted further back with a loud moan. “There you go, sweetheart, enjoy it.” He removed his thumb, and before you could complain, it was quickly replaced by his tongue, kitten licking your clit slowly. 

You groaned lightly, the hand in his hair tightening its grip. “Yes, daddy, fuck.” 

Spencer’s tongue sped up, his eyes gazing up at you, watching you squirm with pleasure. Spencer’s hand on your knee trailed up your thigh, his fingertips running up and down your lips. 

You looked down at him, a whimper escaping your mouth at the sight. His hand parted your lips, pushing a finger into your pussy. “Fuck, yes, Spencer.” He didn’t correct you this time, instead, he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking lightly, while his finger began slow strokes in and out of your cunt. 

A loud moan escaped your lips, your hips rocking lightly against his face. The tip of his tongue ran lightly over your clit, and his finger picked up the pace. “Mhm, yes, daddy, just like that.” Your hand tugged harshly at his hair, and you were sure it had to hurt.

Spencer’s lips released your clit with a pop, “are you close, love?” He questioned, a lust-hungry look in his eyes.

You nodded your head vigorously, “yes, so, close, please-just-please.” You could feel it, the knot building rapidly in your stomach, the tension in your legs. Spencer slipped another finger into your pussy, crooking them slightly, his pace becoming ruthless, hitting a spot inside of you that you didn’t know existed. His lips wrapped around your clit again, this time sucking harshly, watching as your thighs shook around his head and your back arched, your hips thrusting into his face. 

You let out a loud cry, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you came. Your toes curled, breath hitched, and your thighs clamped down on Spencer’s head, whimpers and moans leaving your mouth. It was like pure bliss, and you had never been more thankful for Spencer in your life.

Spencer’s mouth and fingers worked you through your orgasm, only slowing down when your chest began to heave for the breath you lacked. His lips popped off your clit, and his drenched fingers slid out of your pussy. “You made a mess, baby.” 

You looked down at him, and never had you seen a more beautiful sight, his hair was tousled, and his chin was covered in your arousal. He brought his fingers to his lips, taking them in his mouth, cleaning off your arousal. You moaned at the sight alone, still slightly out of breath. Spencer pulled his fingers out of his mouth, placing his hands at your sides. He pushed himself back up onto his feet. “You want me to fuck you?” He asked, his voice low and strained, you could see why his erection was visible through his pants. 

Your mouth hung open, you had just come, but somehow, your body longed for more, to feel his cock inside you. You nodded your head, your eyes pleading with his. His hand trailed up your side, sliding over your breast and up to your neck, choking you lightly. “Use your words, sweetheart.” He teased.

“Yes, yes, please fuck me, daddy.” You squirmed in his grip, body aching for him.

The hand on your neck pushed you back so you were lying flat against the bed. Spencer released your neck, quickly beginning to shed his clothes. You watched with hooded eyes, your thighs rubbing together for some friction. Once he was fully unclothed, he was on you, his mouth catching yours in a feverish kiss. Your hands wrapped around his torso, nails clawing down his back. He groaned at the pain, “ready for me to fuck you?” 

“Yes! Yes, fuck me!” You groaned, reaching your hand in between the two of you to pump his cock. He moaned loudly in your ear, and you swear it was like you had died and gone to heaven. In one swift motion, he snapped his hips forward, burying his cock in you. You yelped, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your nails scratched down his back once again as he bottomed out, slamming back into you setting a brutal pace. 

“Fuck, you’re so tight for me, so perfect.” He groaned out. He stopped momentarily, his hands grabbed your thighs, throwing both of your legs over his shoulders. He pounded into you, this time balls deep. Your hands left his back, moving to grab your breasts, mouth falling open in a silent scream.

His hand shot up, wrapping around your neck lightly, causing your already dizzy head to spin more. Groans and curses left Spencer’s mouth, a thin sheen of sweat coating his tan skin. He looked like a God above you, and you had no idea how you got so lucky as to fuck him. 

“Harder” you groaned out. Your hips thrust up to meet his, both of you working aggressively towards your orgasms. Spencer complied, his head falling back with a groan as he rammed into you. You screamed, eyes crossing as his cock brushed over your g-spot, your cunt clamping down onto his cock. “Fuck! Right there, Spencer, God, yes!”

“Oh, God, Y/N, such a perfect little slut for me.” He growled, his breath coming out in short pants. Incomprehensible moans and cries of Spencer's name left your lips.

 Your hand on your breast crept up to Spencer’s hand around your neck, wrapping around his wrist. “I’m so close” you managed to groan out. 

“Fuck, me too.” Spencer moaned, his voice deep and gravely. Your skin slapped against his with each thrust, the sound filling your bedroom. “Rub your clit” Spencer commanded, his hand held your hip in a harsh grip, which would definitely leave bruises. 

You nodded, as best as you could with his large hand wrapped around your neck. You reached your hand down, using two fingers to rub harsh circles on your swollen clit. “I-I’m gonna cum.” 

Spencer moaned above you, his eyes shutting, and his teeth biting down on his perfect lips. “Fuck, cum, cum for me.” He leaned closer into you, his swollen mouth capturing yours in a kiss. You pressed your lips desperately against his, teeth clashing sloppily. 

You broke the kiss with a moan, your head falling back against the bed, and your back arching. The hand on his wrist squeezed harder, “tighter, tighter.” You cried, signaling for him to cut off more of your circulation. Without question, his hand tightened to the perfect pressure, and it was all you needed to send you over the edge into pure bliss. You came with a loud scream, that was sure to alert the neighbors, and your walls fluttered around Spencer’s cock, tears of pleasure flowing freely down your face. Everything in your body tensed, and your eyes rolled so far into the back of your head you’re surprised they didn’t get stuck there. 

Your orgasm sent Spencer into his own, his head falling back with a deep guttural groan, his hands on your body tightening their grip. His body stilled, his cock buried deep within you, twitching and releasing his cum. “Fuck, Y/N, you perfect slut, ugh.”

Spencer’s hand released your neck, falling onto your hip. You gulped down the air like a fish, your hand releasing his wrist and coming up to rub your sore neck. Spencer pushed your legs off his shoulders, and his body collapsed onto yours, both of you completely wrecked.

You felt his hot breath against your neck, both of you panting like dogs. You could feel the sweat running down your forehead, mixing with the tears on your face.  Your eyes were still closed, your body still coming down from it’s high. At that moment you couldn’t wait to go to sleep, not just because you were exhausted, but because you could wrap around Spencer like a sloth. You laughed lightly, running one of your hands through Spencer’s hair. “That was amazing” you breathed out.

Spencer chuckled into your neck, “I knew I could make you cum.” He pulled back, hovering on his forearms above you. 

You giggled at his words, your hands trailing down his back, to his tense shoulders, massaging them lightly. With one last peck to your lips, Spencer pulled away, turning around. You giggled again at the sight of his bare ass, “as much as I love the view, where are you going?”

He turned back to you with a light-hearted smile on his face “I need to clean you up, I don’t think you want to go to bed with cum dripping down your thighs.” 

You groaned, lazily reaching out for him, “but I’m tired.” 

“And whiny,” Spencer replied, his voice muffled as he walked away from you and into the bathroom. 

“I’m only whiny because I want to go to sleep, we can take a shower in the morning.” You attempted to sway him. 

He walked back into the bedroom, a wet rag in his hand. You smiled, you could already see the multitude of love bites you left on his neck. “Your neck looks pretty,” you stated lazily.

Spencer laughed at your words, crouching down to run the rag up your thighs. “Yours does too, you’re going to need a lot of makeup to cover that bruise.” He was right, a bruise in the shape of his hand was going to be on your neck for days.

You let out a hiss as he ran the rag up your folds, still extremely sensitive. You sat up slightly, attempting to retreat further onto the bed and away from Spencer. His arms slung over your waist, pulling you right back to the edge of the bed. “The quicker I do this the quicker we get to go to sleep, sweetheart.” He chided. 

You rolled your eyes, pouting like a child, “but it hurts.” 

Spencer hummed in understanding, continuing to clean you, “you know, I was going to make you cum another time, but, I didn’t think you could handle it.”

“Oh, please, I’d let you fuck me till I pass out if you made me cum like that again.” You laughed, watching as he threw the dirty rag onto the bedside table. He turned back to the bed, hovering over you once again. 

His lips found yours in a slow, passionate kiss. “I’m holding you to that.” 

You scoffed, pushing him off of you, “you better.” You turned onto your hands and knees, crawling to pull the comforter down. Spencer repeated your actions, crawling into bed next to you. You threw your leg over his, laying an arm across his chest. 

“Here,” he said, sitting up slightly to slide his arm under your head as a makeshift pillow. “Next time, I’ll have to teach you how to make yourself cum.”

You sighed dreamily, snuggling further into Spencer’s warm body. You looked up at him, “next time, huh?” 

Spencer’s eyes widened, his body shifting slightly away from you, “I-I mean, only if you want to-”

You laughed, using your hand on his chest to push him back down onto the bed, “ of course I want to.” You paused for a moment, “but, won’t that be a little...weird?”

Spencer laughed “Only if you make it, Y/N. Think of this all as an anatomy lesson” Spencer whispered breathily into your ear.

#criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminalminds #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencerreid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #matthew gray gubler