#shout out to that time i was 15 and got shit faced on vodka and orange juice

[haldanare]

man i used to go to parties and,,, enjoy it

#shout out to that time i was 15 and got shit faced on vodka and orange juice #and barfed in a bush #i miss having fun at parties #lau posts #the nolo track tag #fun times with chronic illness #i almost forgot i went to quite a few parties when i was like #15? maybe 14 even? #before i got sick at 16

[edwardnortonwhore]

Dmitri 'enzo' antonov x gn!reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral, slight praise kink if you squint, swearing.

Summary: after you escape from Russia and get back to America, you an dmitri have some celebrating to do.

Key:

малышка = babygirl

еще немного, и вы можете прийти." = just a little longer and you can come

Abc= Russian

The plane landed harshly in the middle of the field on the outskirts of Hawkins. It sent a jolt through the metal of the vehicle and you jumped at the sudden movement.

You had no idea who was flying the things but apparently it was one of Murrays strange friends. You were sat opposite Joyce and hopper, leaning your head against dmitris shoulder.

Murray was at the back of the plane with a bottle of vodka that he nicked from a sleeping guard hanging out of his mouth.

You, dmitri and hopper were still wearing your prisoners outfits. When you had escaped you had injured your arm so you had used your shirt as a tourniquet, leaving you in only your trousers so dmitri had given you his jacket.

"Woohoo, America!" Murray shouted. "Never thought I'd miss it but here we are." He laughed as he ran for the exit of the plane.

He was closely followed by Joyce and hopper, then you and dmitri.

Obviously, dmitri had never been ti America before and it was just warm so he just looked at you and spoke, in Russian,

"It's fucking warm here."

You laughed at his comment as he put his arm around your shoulder.

"I know. Fucking crazy."

Joyce was greeted by here children who had been flown Iver from california and el had never run faster in her life when she saw hopper.

You looked around hopefully fir your younger brother and smiled when his gaze met yours.

He ran up to you and hugged you, so did lucas as he was also like a brother too you.

Everyone had gathered round to stare at dmitri for obvious reasons and he looked at you for help.

"Uh, yeah, um. This is dmitri and he saved us and yeah." You laughed, not really sure what to say considering you hadn't seen any of the kids in a year.

"He's screwing you isn't he?" Dustin said randomly.

"DUSTIN!"

"Yep, he's screwing you. Anyways, what happened to you guys?"

This was where hopper took Iver before it got out of hand so you just leaned back into dmitris shoulder and closed your eyes.

When he had finished you were all bombarded with questions.

"Did u kill the demogorgon?"

"How did Joyce get there?"

"Why was dmitri helping you guys?

"I wouldn't!"

"Why don't you have a shirt on?"

"Does your face always look that bad?"

"Oh shut up dustbin. I want food."

"Me too." Joyce said. Last thing I ate was a jar of peanut butter.

"Yuris peanut butter is good!" A very drunk Murray shouted from beside her.

"Well, I'm going home to get changed first though beacuse Russian prison uniforms suck. You coming d?"

"Yep."

"Cya later dustbin."

"Y/N!" He shouted in annoyance.

You just laughed as you walked away hand in hand with your new love. Luckily your house ewasnt far away, a five minute walk so you got there fairly quick.

Hopper was going back to his cabin to get changed and everyone else was going back to Joyce's place to get food sorted.

You opened the door and breathed in the comfort of the apartment you hadn't stepped foor in for a long time.

You both walked in slowly and you headed to the fridge. The note was still there, the one you'd left exactly 15 months ago telling Dustin not to eat everything while his friends were round. When you opened the fridge door you found it empty, not expecting him to of listened.

You smiled to yourself before heading towards your bedroom.

"I missed my bed so fucking much!" You said as you jumped on it, messing it up completely.

Dmitri smiled at you, a look in his eye. It was a look if pure happiness and contemptment.

You smiled at him rolled of the bed, landing harder than you expected.

"Shit!" You said as you hit the cold floor but you got back up okay. You stood and opened the door of your wardrobe, rummaging through the racks of clothes to Tey and find something that would fit dmitri and something that would make you look less like a Russian prison escapee.

You found a pair of large jeans and a shirt that would fit dmitri, holding then over your arm as you reached for some other stuff.

You found a pair of black jeans that were rolled up at the bottom along with a rolling stones t-shirt you bought 4 years ago.

You flung them over your arm and tuned around.

"These should fi-" you went to say but his lips were already on yours, moving in sync like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

He put his hand on your cheek, moving the other to your waist as you let out a quiet moan into his mouth.

Your tounges were exploring eachother and all of a sudden you felt like a teenager again. He moved to lay you back on the bed and begun to kiss down your neck, removing his jacket from your shoulders.

He discarded the item of clothing somewhere on the floor and held your hands to either side of your head. You moaned again, louder this time when he found the sweet spot just behind your ear and attacked it ferociously with kisses.

You fought to remove his shirt as fast as possible, throwing it away with one hand and moving the other to undo his belt.

He did the same with yours and soon the only thing separating you was you underwear.

You kissed him again, from his lips, trailing down his jaw and his neck until you reached his chest, littering it with kisses and hickey and then coming back up to face him once more.

"Do you want this?" He asked you, looking into your eyes deeply.

"More than anything."

You replied and he let out a groan at your use of russian towards him. He found it undeniably sexy and begun to remove your underwear, sliding it down your legs in a painfully slow motion before throwing them on the floor and kissing up your bare thighs.

"Mmh, you're so beautiful малышка." He spoke against your legs, moving further up, closer and closer to your core.

He ran his tounge up your fold gently and you let out a loud moan at the contact. He begun to attack your clit with kisses, sucking at it and eating you out like a starved man. Which he was when you think about it.

You thrust your head back, thighs shaking in pleasure. Them, unexpectedly, dmitri pushed two fingers into you, pumping them in and out of you at a fast pace, curling them forward.

"Shit! Shit baby." You moaned loudly as a pleasure ran through your body. You let out a loud moan and tensed every muscle in your body.

You felt so close when all of a sudden he moved away from you, licking his lips and suckung his fingers before moving up to kiss you once more.

"I want to be inside of you when you come малышка."

He said seductively, sending a shiver down your spine and lighting a flame in your core.

He remixed his underwear and you were amazed to see how big he was. You knew he was big but this was a surprise you and you but your lip, laying back into the bed as he hovered over you.

His tip grazed over your core and you whimpered quietly at the touch.

"So wet for me baby. So beautiful." He whispered in your ear, kissing it before he thrust inside of you.

You screamed in pleasure and tilted you head back, arching your back slightly into the mattress.

His thrusts were slow at first but they sped up quickly and soon he was pounding into you like lightning, hitting every spot inside of you and edging you closer and closer to release.

"Fuck! Fuck dmitri! Yes!" You moaned as you wrapped your legs around him, allowing him to reach deeper inside of you.

It was like a haze of euphoria. He fit inside you perfectly and you moved in rhythm with eachother.

He let out a grunt, digging his head into the crook of your neck.

"Shit. Shit I'm close baby mmh." You let out a strangled sentence.

"Shh, just a bit longer baby. еще немного, и вы можете прийти." He breathed put, thrusting into you even harder. "You're doing so well."

You could feel him twitch inside of you and you knew he was close. You could feel the knot inside you about to burst and he whispered to you one more time.

"Come for me малышка." And you did. The amazing feeling off your long-needed orgasm washed over you as you screamed in pure ecstasy.

At this moment in time you could care less if the whole aortment block could hear you. It was just you and dmitri. You and the man you loved.

He came inside you, spilling into you as you ride out both of your orgasms.

"So, so beautiful малышка." He aid before pulling out from inside you, leaving the hot mess to run down your thighs as he went to the bathroom to grab a cloth.

He cleaned you up and helped you stand, grabbing the clothes from the floor. You both dressed quickly, heading out to your car which was somehow still in the parking lot and driving over to Joyce's place.

"If its anything to you, that was the best sex I've ever had."

#dmitri antonov x reader #enzo antonov x reader #enzo stranger things #stranger things #stranger things 4 #smut #dmitri antonov smut

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Plastic Hearts

Chapter One: Plastic Hearts Are Bleeding

pairing: dieter bravo x actress!oc (violet apollo)

chapter rating: M (hangovers/symptoms that come with, fake relationships, age gap (15 years), alcohol consumption/weed use, talk of sexual desire)

word count: 3.2k

series masterlist | series playlist

“Would you like some water while you wait, sir?” The young man tasked with catering to the lucrative Hollywood agency’s talent’s needs stood in front of a very hungover Dieter Bravo, the actor rubbing at his collarbone underneath the linen of his mostly open button-down.

“Do you have gin?” Dieter asked with a grimace, his head aching at being forced to operate outside of it’s preferred hours.

“N-no, sir.”

“Whiskey?” He asked again, this time with more desperation. The young man shook his head. “Vodka? Beer? Fucking wine? Anything?”

“No, sir. Just water—sparkling or still.” Dieter could see that the young man was more than nervous, the remaining bits of sympathy in his heart making him feel sorry for the kid.

“It’s alright. I’m fine.”

The young man left the office in a hurry, his cheap cologne hitting Dieter’s nose on the way out causing his stomach to churn. He placed his hand over his mouth, trying to swallow his nausea down, but it was to no avail. Standing up, he rushed over to the small garbage can sat by his agent’s desk, throwing up the rest of the alcohol and greasy take-out from the night (or morning, more accurately) prior.

“Dieter,” his agent, Mr. McAddams, walked in as Dieter stood vomiting, a sigh leaving his lips at the sight. “Jesus Christ, it’s nine in the morning.”

“That’s when hangovers usually happen, don’t they?” Dieter wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt before sitting back down in the uncomfortable but stylish chair in front of Mr. McAddams desk.

“I suppose you’re right.” Mr. McAddams reopened his office door and shouted for his assistant to page janitorial services before walking back in. “Celebrating the new role, I assume?”

“Sure,” Dieter chided unenthusiastically, sliding his shades up the bridge of his nose.

“Andrea and Linda running late?” Mr. McAddams referred to Dieter’s manager and publicist, Dieter shrugging.

“It‘s their job to know where I’m at. Not the other way around.”

“I suppose you’re right about that, too.” The poised man chuckled and sat down at his desk.

“Sorry, traffic held us up,” Andrea, his manager, rushed into the room with his publicist, Linda in tow, both grimacing at the smell of vomit lingering in the room.

“Jesus,” Linda groaned, pinching her nose. “Did something die in here?”

“Just my spirit,” Dieter mumbled to himself, mostly kidding. Mostly.

“The janitor will be here soon. Shall we get started? We’ve got a lot to cover this morning and, I think it’s clear none of us want to be here longer than necessary.” Mr. McAddams was always straight to the point—no bullshit, just the way Dieter liked things.

His entire team, in fact, was hand selected over years and years of dealing with the most insufferable, two-faced, Hollywood clowns. Now that he was one of the best known names in the industry, he had the pick of the litter, and he chose people that he knew could not only handle his success, but also his failures.

Andrea Ramone was the best manager in America, hands down. She was a fucking human, not some robot trained to run on efficiency and productivity, though she didn’t lack on either of those qualities. She saw Dieter through more bullshit than anyone else in his life, and although the two had a brief fling a few years back that complicated their friendship for a while, she still was one of Dieter’s most trusted companions.

Linda Mendoza was an excellent publicist, especially for someone so drawn to making headlines like Dieter Bravo. She knew how to spin his shit into fucking gold and did it without anyone batting an eye. She was ruthless but empathetic, determined but forgiving, creative but rational. Dieter knew that as long as his career was in her hands, nothing would happen to his public image that she couldn’t save.

“Alright, Dieter,” Linda began with a sigh. “As you know, you’ve made a few headlines recently for your flings with a certain 20 year-old model—“

“21, I’m pretty sure,” Dieter interjected, slumped in his chair and looking out of the large floor to ceiling windows, appearing to be off in a daydream but he was very much paying attention.

“Fine—21.” Linda corrected herself before continuing. “Regardless, the public has never looked at you as more of a…how do I want to phrase this? Um…a douchebag.”

“Huh?” Dieter turned to her, his sunglasses slipping to the tip of his nose as he looked over the rim at her.

“Everyone looks at you like some 40 year-old megastar that has nothing better to do these days than chase around models half your age and star in shitty action flicks, Dieter.” Dieter looked to each person on his team, all nodding their heads at him. “You used to be known for your work, but now…you’re just another middle aged slut.”

“I can’t be both?” Dieter asked, none of them laughing along with his joke. “Fine. What do you suggest we do about this, Linda?”

“You’re not going to like it,” Andrea warned, Dieter quirking an eyebrow at her.

“I know you said you wouldn’t do a PR relationship again after the disaster that was you and Scarlet Johansson—“

“Fuck me,” he grumbled, sinking further into his chair. “What beautiful but prudish starlet are you trying to pair me up with now?”

“Violet Apollo.” Mr. McAddams spoke up, Dieter’s brows furrowing as he tried to place the actress in his head. “She’s the star of Spielberg’s newest project. Her team approached my firm asking if they had anyone that could potentially boost her status a bit to seal in her Oscar nom, and frankly, there’s a hundred better men than you but no one more famous or better at the job.”

“Violet Apollo,” Dieter mumbled to himself as he pulled out his phone and googled her, his eyebrows lifting at the sight of a very attractive young woman on his screen.

Her hair was dark, her skin golden brown as though she was permanently on vacation. Her eyes drew him in, deep brown and speckled with threads of gold that you could only see if you were focused on them. When he scrolled to some red carpet photos, he saw her at the Cannes Film Festival, her body curvier than he would’ve guessed from her headshots. She wasn’t bone-skinny like most of the women in this industry had been bullied into, though she was far from heavy-set—not that Dieter ever minded that. He loved all women of all sizes all the time. Her body curved in all the right places, and he could tell from the right dress in the photo that she carried the perfect amount of plushness in her belly and thighs—two things that always made him go wild.

“She’s very well liked on the internet. She’s in her mid-twenties, so she’s got the perfect audience for you to reach—an audience that you don’t have at all right now.” Dieter locked his phone and slipped it back into his pocket before looking up at Linda. “She’s a good girl, and she’s successful and talented. I think she could really do a lot for your image, and you need it now that you landed this Scorsese project.”

“Fine, sure.” Dieter shrugged. At the very least, he’d be seen with a beautiful woman and have his public image restored. Where was the loosing in that? “Set up a meeting or whatever and I’ll show up.”

“Fantastic,” Mr. McAddams clapped his hands together as though to end that topic entirely.

The rest of the meeting went by painfully slowly, Dieter’s list of upcoming appearances and press obligations being scheduled along with meetings with producers and directors for a few potential projects. He only paid as much attention as he had to, his mind a bit sidetracked at the thought of getting into another PR relationship.

The first one had been a nightmare—though, to be fair, that was ten years ago. Still, everything about the whole fake relationship shit remained the same. He’d have to attend pointless fucking events, show PDA, go on “intimate” date nights in public with planned paparazzi photo ops—basically having to give his entire freedom up in order to effectively fool the general public into thinking he was head over heels in love with a woman he hardly even knew.

But maybe it could be different this time. Maybe he could actually get to know his fake partner, and maybe the two would get along so swimmingly that their fake romance would blossom into something real and beautiful and lasting.

Yeah fucking right.

•••

“My life is over.”

Violet Apollo was drunk in her bathtub, a champagne flute in one hand and a joint in the other. Her assistant, Lucy, was sat on the closed toilet lid shaking a bottle of advil at her.

“Your life is not over, but it will be if you don’t hand me the alcohol and take these fucking pills,” she ordered with a snap of her finger, watching as her starlet friend sank down into the water dramatically. Lucy stood up and walked over, plucking the champagne from her hand before yanking her head out of the water so that she wouldn’t drown herself. “Get ahold of yourself, woman!”

“Oh, you try getting dumped via email and then you can tell me I’m overreacting!” She shouted in a drunken mumble, Lucy taking a few of the advil to alleviate the headache her employer was causing. “I just thought we really had something, you know?”

“You did have something. Chlamydia, remember? That STD he gave you?” Violet sunk down into the water again, Lucy sighing at the sight before feeling her phone buzz in her pocket. Sliding the green button, she accepted the call from Violet’s publicist. “Hey, Maria.”

“Tell Maria my life is over,” Violet grumbled as she surfaced again just to take a hit off her joint.

“Tonight? She’s a little…under the weather right now, but I suppose I can have her fixed up by eight? Alright, bye.” Lucy hung up the call and let out a yell into the bathroom, Violet halting her theatrics to stare at her. “I need you to get fucking sober and I need it to happen in the next three hours. Okay? Okay.”

“What’s happening?” Violet asked as Lucy manhandled her out of the bathtub and into her robe, walking her to her bed. She laid sprawled out on her duvet, watching her assistant as she buzzed between her closet and the bedroom gathering different outfit options. “Ugh, god. Am I going to have to leave the fucking house tonight?”

“Yes,” she groaned as she laid out three pairs of shoes for the actress to pick from. “You remember how they were trying to set you up with someone?”

“Yes, the fake relationship that I very much did not agree to—“

“Yeah, that.” Lucy opened a pack of makeup wipes and walked over to Violet, her makeup smeared all over her face. She wiped all the evidence of her shitty day off as she continued. “You’re having dinner with Dieter Bravo tonight.”

“Dieter Bravo?” She sprang back to life, sitting upright and glaring at her assistant. “Dieter fucking Bravo? Isn’t he a bit rough around the edges? How is that supposed to bring me good publicity?”

“I don’t think it is. I mean, you’re fine on that front. What you need is someone that’s going to make you seem interesting,” Violet narrowed her eyes at her friend. “No offense. You’re well liked and obviously talented, but…there’s nothing about you that makes you stand out. You don’t make headlines, you don’t have anything going on really besides work. And trust me, I know you’re an interesting trainwreck but the average person just sees you as a beautiful bore! Dieter is the perfect guy to fix that.”

“Isn’t he like…an asshole, though?” Violet accepted the advil and water that Lucy handed her, chugging down the entire glass.

“Maybe that’s just his public persona,” she shrugged, moving over to the clothing laid out on Violet’s bed, lifting up an olive green mini-dress. “Okay, what do we think?”

“Am I trying to get fingered under the fucking table tonight, Luce? I’m wearing pants.” Violet stood up and walked over to her speaker, connecting her phone to it and shuffling her pre-date pump up playlist, a Megan Thee Stallion song blasting into the room.

“Jesus,” Lucy winced at the loudness but carried on, pairing a lime green top with a pair of black leather trousers. “This better?”

Violet shook her head and grabbed the trousers. “I like this, but not the stupid fucking shirt. Hold on.”

Violet stumbled into her walk-in closet, pulling a vintage AC/DC t-shirt off the hanger and walking it back to the bed.

“There—that’s what I’m wearing to my fake date. Dieter Bravo can suck it if it’s not fancy enough. I’m in mourning,” she groaned the last word, her hand over her heart.

“Violet, you were dating a NBA player who hasn’t had a minute of game time in three seasons,” Lucy reasoned. “He doesn’t even sit on the bench, Vi. They kept him in the locker room.”

“Still.”

•••

Dieter was sat at a table in the very back of Craig’s—one of Los Angeles’ most popular restaurants amongst the rich and famous, a spot that they would surely be photographed together at. The food there was truthfully pretty meh, especially for how overpriced it all was, but he wasn’t here for pleasure or to enjoy himself—that was waiting for him when he was done at some seedy motel—no, he was here for business. To meet Violet Apollo.

He was dressed casually, the kind of casual only a celebrity could get away with in an establishment like this. He was wearing a pair of dark sunglasses, a worn out, one-size-too-big grey button down, it’s top four buttons undone exposing his chest, and a loose pair of black trousers.

Dieter was very content with himself in all his disheveled glory, having built up his confidence through years and years of dating the most beautiful women (and occasionally men). It wasn’t so much his appearance he was worried about tonight, it was his personality.

There was no one more self-aware of their crassness than Dieter Bravo. Everyone seemed to think he was oblivious to his diva tendencies, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. He knew exactly how much of a dick he was, but he just couldn’t control it. You’re such an Aquarius, one of his exes told him once—he googled it later on and agreed.

Dieter sat in his anxiety, bouncing his knee and fidgeting with the many rings on his fingers. He’d lost so many friends by being himself over the years, and if he was being honest, he could count the amount of friends he had left in his life on one hand and most of them were on his payroll. He was lonely, and while he knew this likely wasn’t going to end in a successful romance, it could end in friendship.

He wanted it to end in friendship.

“Hey,” his head turned at the sound of a soft voice, one that sounded like it came straight out of the silver screen. He sat up in his chair as he took her in, expecting some sort of dress or trendy outfit but pleased to see her in a band-tee with holes in it. At least she was down to earth.

“Hi,” he stood up and leant his sweaty hand out for her to shake, smiling at her with genuine interest. Her pictures hadn’t done her justice—she was stunning. Her face was round, jaw soft, lips plump, eyes so warm and deep that he felt like he was burning up on the inside just by looking into them. Good thing he called one of his usuals over right before dinner because otherwise he probably would’ve had at least a half-chub just by looking at her. “Violet, right?”

“Yep,” she chuckled and walked over to her seat with a stumble. Dieter’s brow quirked at her as he took off his sunglasses, now noticing her glassy and reddened eyes.

Either she’d been crying or she was fucking gone. No judgement either way.

“So,” she started, reaching for her glass of water. “We just sort of pretend to be together, then? Like a role.”

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, peeling his eyes from her and down to the menu in front of him. “Just gotta get method with it.”

“Have you done this before?” He lifted his eyes to hers again, only mildly ashamed by the twitch of his cock it caused.

“Once.” He felt intrigued by this so-called saint of a woman seemingly shit-faced in front of him, trying to make conversation as though she wasn’t. She was a good actress, though, because if he wasn’t looking directly at her, he probably never would have been able to tell. “So what are you fucked up on?”

“Huh? I’m not—“ She reached for her phone, opening the front camera and gasping at the sight of her eyes. “Oh, fuck.”

“Here.” Dieter handed her a bottle of eye drops, Violet giving him a thankful smile before squeezing a few drops in each eye, blinking away the wetness. “Looks better.”

“Thanks, uh, just weed—and champagne, I guess, but that was earlier. It’s been a long day.” Dieter chuckled as he grabbed the tiny bottle from her and stuck it back into his pants.

“What’s driven you to drink?” Dieter sat back in his chair, arms folded over his chest.

“You actually want to know?” She asked with a chuckle. Dieter was used to people being shocked when he took initiative to learn about them, but to be fair, it was a rare occurrence. He never liked to get involved with people’s shit unless he could benefit from it or if he trying to figure them out. It was the latter reason tonight.

“Yeah, I mean, if I’m going to be spending time with you I might as well get to know you.”

“Fair point. I, uh, I got dumped by a fucking benchwarmer,” Violet groaned, gesturing for the waiter and ordering a bottle of red wine seemingly just for herself. “Which is embarrassing, so let’s talk about something else. Like…how exactly do we do this thing?”

“Well, we really just go out on these dates where we both make it a point to be seen,” Dieter sat forward as the waiter came back, pouring both of you a glass of the wine before leaving. “And then, I guess as time goes on, we go to events together and shit, until we fake break-up. Essentially it’s how all relationships work in this fucking town.”

“Romantic,” she chided and she downed her glass in one gulp, Dieter’s smile growing as he watched her pour another. “And depressing.”

She’s definitely not the prude he thought she’d be.

“So are we allowed to still fuck people in our own private lives? Because there’s no way I’m going celibate this entire time.” Violet seemed to have zero interest in him, which made his ego ache. With a scorned raise of his eyebrows, he downed his own drink. “Not that I wouldn’t want to with you—not saying I do want to but really, I’ve done worse—I just…if this is going to be a professional thing then we probably shouldn’t mix the two up, you know?”

“Trust me, babe. I get a little too much action to give a fuck whether you’re attracted to me or not. Okay?” There he was—the asshole.

“Understood.” She nodded, turning her eyes down to her menu. Dieter immediately felt that sickly feeling in the pit of his stomach that came right after he’d said something too harsh, his eyes rolling at the thought of already having to apologize.

“But you’re right, no sex is a good idea. Maybe we can be friends that way, you know? So this whole thing isn’t fucking dreadful.” Violet lifted her eyes to his, searching them for a minute.

Dieter suddenly felt anxious again, fearing that somehow she’d see the same time of bad in them that he saw every time he looked in the mirror. But when he saw her lip curl into a half-smile, he didn’t feel so suffocated by his insecurity. Whatever she saw, she seemed to be okay with.

“I think this is going to be fun.” She concluded, eyes falling back to her menu. “Dieter fucking Bravo.”

“Violet fucking Apollo.”

•••

dieter taglist: @browneyes-issac @wildemaven @laureliciousdefinition @trinkets01 @paulalikestuff (please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist!)

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #dieter bravo smut #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x oc #dieter bravo fluff #dieter bravo angst #dieter bravo fic #dieter bravo series #the bubble

[atlafan]

Burning Love - Part Two

a/n: here’s part two! The dang gif I’ve been using didn’t feel like showing up, but the yoga one actually works for this part, enjoy! Feedback and reblogs are helpful! Support me here if you’re able! (not proofread)

Warnings: cocky!Harry flirting, a whole mess of angst, mentions of blood, fluff, and smut!

Words: 5K

Pairing: Harry x OC (kindergarten teacher Danielle Robinson)

Masterpost

After his date with Danielle, Harry went out to grab a couple of drinks with his friends. This resulted in him going home with one of his usual hookups. He never claimed to be a saint. Shauna was a lovely woman, and usually down to fuck when Harry wanted it. She just happened to be at the same bar as him, and he wanted to make sure she got home alright.

He didn’t kiss her, though, at least not on the lips. He didn’t want to taint the nice kiss he had with Danielle. Harry was just looking to get off, and he didn’t feel like using his own hand tonight. Shauna was going to town, bouncing up and down on his dick, letting out sweet moans. Usually Harry would put a little more effort in, but he was almost disappointed. He’d rather be fucking Danielle. Well, he’d rather be having a nice conversation to her that would perhaps lead to some hot love making because he felt like that’s what she deserved, but still…Shauna just wasn’t doing it for him.

“Is it good for you?” She pants.

“Hm, yeah, keep going, I’m almost there.” He thrusts up into her and her head rolls back. She reaches to rub her own clit, and he spills into the condom. Once they’re both cleaned up, he gets dressed and sighs heavily. “Hey, uh, I don’t wanna be an ass or anything, but I think this is the last time I can do this with you.”

“Oh…um…can I ask why? Did I do something you didn’t like?”

“No, no, you were great.” He gives her hand a squeeze. “It’s just…I met someone, and I’d like to see where things go with her. I wouldn’t feel right if we kept doing this.”

“I get it.” Shauna swallows. “Well, thanks for letting me know.” She sighs.

“Thanks for understanding.” He pecks her cheek. “I’ll see you around.”

As Harry was driving home, he actually couldn’t believe that he fucked someone after going out on a perfectly lovely date with Danielle. He felt like scum, and he was glad he broke things off with Shauna. Harry could be classified as a kind playboy. He fucked, but he wasn’t in the business of breaking hearts. And maybe when he first met Danielle, he would have liked to just take her into her classroom closet and fuck her, but the more he saw of her over the week, he felt a fondness for her start to grow. He’s never really been a one-woman kind of guy, but there was something special about Danielle that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. If he were to ever settle down with someone, he would want to do it with a woman like her. So, he knew he needed to cut the shit, and cut off anyone else he didn’t want to potentially get serious with.

//

On Monday, between her groups, Danielle was just about to dive into her tuna pita pocket when she heard a knock on her door. She sighs and stands up, wondering who it could possibly be. When she opens the door her mouth falls open when she sees Harry.

“H-Harry, hi.”

“Hi.” He smiles. “Thought I’d pop in since I know this is when you’re usually having lunch. Is that alright?”

“Yeah, come in.” She steps aside and closes the door once he makes his way in. “Did you have a nice rest of your weekend?”

“I did, thanks.” He nods and then smirks when he sees her lunch on her desk. “I interrupted your lunch.”

“I was just about to eat, so you weren’t really interrupting anything.” She walks over to him. “This is a nice surprise.”

“Good, I’m glad you think so.” He wraps his arms around her and pulls her close to him, eliciting a surprised gasp from her.

She presses her hands to his chest as he kisses her. She lets him nibble and suck on her bottom lip again. She opens up a bit to get some air, and he takes this as an opportunity to lick into her mouth. He swirls his tongue around hers, and then goes back to biting her bottom lip before letting her go. She looks at him absolutely stunning.

“Um.” She takes a piece of gum out of her mouth. “I wasn’t chewing this before.”

“S’mine, sorry.” He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, and she places the gum back onto it. “Thanks.” He smiles. “Well, I’ll see you later.” He starts to walk away, but she grabs his wrist.

“Wait, is that all you came here for?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” She furrows her brows at that. “Was thinking about how nice it was kissing you the other night, and I really wanted to kiss you again, so I came here.” He reaches to tuck some hair behind her ear. “Is that okay?”

“Well…you could have texted me first. What if I had already started to eat my tuna? I would have been mortified.”

“Then I would have just let you keep my gum in your mouth.” He shrugs. “No big deal, love. Oh, I was also wondering how you’d feel if I came to one of your yoga classes on Friday.”

“You’d…really wanna do that?”

“Sure! I do yoga at home all the time. I meditate too, helps me unwind. I’d love to come to one of your classes, you know, help support. Then we could grab a drink or something afterwards…if you wanted.”

“Yeah! Sure, that sounds great. Um, let me give you one of my cards so you know where the studio is.” She rushes over to her purse and pulls out a card for him. “Here.”

“Thanks, so I’ll see you Friday?”

“Yeah.” She smiles. “I’m glad you came to visit.”

“Me too.” He pecks her lips and then heads out. Just once she’d like to not feel so flustered by him.  

//

On Friday, Harry came to Danielle’s second class, which was at 5:15. He sets up in the back as to not make her nervous, but he still gives her a small wave. She waves back and a few of her friends give her a surprised look. Danielle notices that he’s wearing a long a sleeve tee. What in the actual fuck was so bad about a naked mermaid?

“Good evening everyone, we’re going to get started. Are there any particular areas you’re hoping to focus on?”

“Lower back!” Someone shouts.

“Arms!” Another person shouts.

Danielle gets her playlist ready, and begins the warm up. She has everyone reach above their heads, and then bend at the waist, breathing in and out slowly. The lights in the studio were dim, and the entire environment just felt extremely calm. Harry was enjoying it already. Danielle may have said she liked listening to Harry, but Harry liked listening to her just the same. Some of the yoga moves got more intricate as time went on, but no one minded. It made the cool down all the more rewarding.

“Now, I’d like you all to lay flat on your backs, close your eyes, and just focus on your breathing.” She says calmly and watches to make sure everyone does so. She sits down cross legged on her mat and closes her own eyes. “Let everything else drift away, nothing matters right now in this space.”

After about five minutes of meditation, the class ends, and everyone starts to pack up. Two of Danielle’s friends come up to her, and they share hushed giggles about the ‘cute guy in the back’.

“Shh, he’s coming over here.” She says to them. “Hi, Harry…these are my friends, Jen and Christine.”

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you both. “Sorry if I’m stealing Danielle from your girl’s night.”

“Oh, please, steal Dani all you want.” Jen laughs. “We can survive a Friday night without her.”

“Yeah, you two kids have fun.” Christine winks at Danielle and they both scoot out.

“Dani, huh?” Harry smirks.

“Sorry, you’re not privy to that nickname yet.” She smirks back at him.

He laughs and then leans in to speak closer to her ear.

“Challenge accepted.” He whispers and then steps back, grabbing both of their gym bags. “Do you need to go home first or anything?”

“No, I don’t usually break a sweat doing this.” She chuckles. “What bar did you want to go to? I can just follow you there.”

“You pick, it’s only fair since I picked the last spot.”

“Oh, well, have you ever been to Casey’s? That’s usually one of my go to’s.”

“Yeah, that place sounds familiar. Works for me.” He smiles and they both walk out to the parking lot.

Harry follows Danielle there, and then they both head inside, grabbing a high top to sit at.

“What’s your drink tonight?” He asks her.

“I’d love a vodka-tonic with lime, if you don’t mind.”

“Coming right up.” He says, kissing her cheek before heading up to the bar.

He had left his phone on the table, facing upwards. It wasn’t Danielle’s fault that when it lit up it caught her eyes. It also wasn’t really her fault that Harry didn’t have his texted on private, so she could clearly see what it said.

Shauna: H! Hey, I know you said you were sort of seeing someone, but I miss your cock, baby. I’m not gonna beg, but please consider stopping by tonight…I’ll let you put it in my ass, know how much you like that 😉

Danielle was shocked, to say the least. Although, Harry never explicitly said he was single. And the text from this Shauna person makes it seem like he wasn’t looking to see her anymore. Was Danielle the person he was seeing? It had only been a couple of weeks, he could be seeing a few different women. He liked to do anal…Danielle wasn’t sure if she was comfortable with that. She gets the sudden urge to stand up and leave, run out the door, block Harry’s number and pretend like they never met. But before she can do that, he’s back at the table with their drinks.

“Here you are.” He smiles as he places it down on the table.

“Thanks.” She says flatly. She notices that Harry just pockets his phone without even checking the text, and she scoffs slightly to herself as she takes a sip of her drink. “Your phone lit up while you were at the bar.”

“Oh? I’ll check it later, I don’t really like being on my phone when I’m on a date.” He grins.

“That’s very nice of you, but I really think you should check your phone.” Harry furrows his brows, but takes his phone out. His eyes widen when he looks at the text from Shauna, his mouth falls open, but Danielle speaks before he can. “I just happened to see it, I wasn’t prying. However, I feel really stupid. Here I was, thinking that I met this really sweet guy who’s a little flirty, but really wants to get to know me! You really had me fooled, Harry.” She laughs and takes another sip of her drink.

“Danielle, I’m so sorry you saw that text…Shauna’s just someone I was sort of hooking up with, but the last time I saw her I basically told her I didn’t want to see her anymore because I had met someone…you.”

“That would mean you saw her after our date last weekend, right? Surely you wouldn’t have said something after our first encounter.”

“I’m not gonna lie to you, I did see her after our date, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I didn’t even enjoy it. I…I just wanted you, Danielle.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Less stupid?” She shakes her head. “Thanks for the drink, but I’m heading home.”

“Wait, please don’t go. You can’t get upset with me over this. If you hadn’t seen the text you wouldn’t have even known about Shauna.”

“Exactly! How many other women are you seeing? Are there other kindergarten teachers you’re trying to fuck? It’s not like my school is the only elementary school in town.”

“No, there’s no one else I’m currently seeing. I really like you, and I’d like to see where this goes.”

“Let me ask you something. If I had been the one to go to the bar, and you saw a text on my phone from some guy that said I could fuck him in the ass if I came over tonight, you’re telling me you wouldn’t be put off or upset?”

“I already told you, I don’t like playing the what if game.” Her face stays cold and stoic. “I don’t know, I’d be more surprised than anything that you were into pegging.”

“God, you can’t take anything seriously!”

“Oi, I resent that. My entire job is serious. I put my life at risk every day that I put my uniform on. I think you’re making a way bigger deal out of this than you need to. You should be happy that I told her to bugger off because I want to be with you.”

“Oh, I should?” Her eyebrows raise. She hops off the stool and grabs her purse. “I don’t like guys who don’t give a fuck about juggling multiple women, or what effects that has on those women. Shauna must still be hung up on you, or she wouldn’t have texted you, Harry. I don’t need to deal with your baggage.” She huffs.

“You’re seriously going to leave?”

“I don’t want to spend another second with you.” She spits. “You’re not who I thought you were, or who I hoped you’d be, and I’m incredibly disappointed.” She starts to walk out of the bar, and he gets up to follow her.

“Would you just hold on a second?!” He shouts over the loud music, but she doesn’t turn around to look at him. He follows her out to the parking lot, and she grabs her pepper spray. He stops shirt and puts his hands up.

“I’m not afraid to use this, alright?”

“Can you just explain to me why you’re so upset about this? I could understand if we had been seeing each other for a while, but we haven’t. Am I not allowed a bit of a buffer to tie up some loose ends?”

“Loose ends?” She makes a disgusted face. “Harry, I’m sorry, I can’t be with a womanizer.”

“I’m not! I’m very upfront with my intentions when it comes to women. I’ve never led a single one of them on. Shauna was a woman I was hooking up with a bit more regularly, sure, but when I spoke with her she said she understood. I was just as shocked as you were to see that text. I’m so sorry you saw it.”

“You haven’t been upfront with me.” She says lowly.

“What?”

“You just said that you’re upfront with the women you see.” She swallows, and lowers her pepper spray back into her purse. “You haven’t exactly spelled out your intentions with me, Harry. I mean, it’s clear you want to fuck me, but what else do you want from me, huh?” Her bottom lip starts to quiver. “I’ve been hurt badly in the past, and I’m not going to let it happen again.” A few tears trickle down her cheeks, and Harry completely deflates.

“Danielle…I…I’m so sorry.” He steps a little closer to her. “I’m really taken with you. I want to keep getting to know you, and date you, and see where it goes. I don’t want to do anything that’s going to hurt you. That’s why I cut things off with Shauna, I swear. I’m really interested in you. When we kissed for the first time in my car, I couldn’t stop thinking about it, and I couldn’t stop thinking about when I’d get to do it again.” He was pleading with her now. He had never been so desperate to keep a woman around in his life.

Danielle sighs heavily. Maybe she was blowing things out of proportion, but that text really put a bad taste in her mouth. However, it’s not like Harry knew he was going to receive that text. If he had, he wouldn’t have just left his phone out like that. He would have been guarding it. He trusted her, and that was the light bulb she needed to go off.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He says.

“I’ll give you a pass. I suppose it’s not your fault. I just hope you let her down as nicely as you’re saying.”

“I did, I swear I did.”

“Alright.” She nods.

“Would you come back inside?”

“No, I wanna go home.” She takes her keys out. “You can follow me there.”

“Really?”

“Yes…I owe you a second chance. I overreacted.”

“Hey, uh, if that set you off, like, your feelings are valid.” He assures her.

“I can explain more at my place, come on.”

//

Once they’re both at Danielle’s apartment, she gets them both set up with a cup of decaf before they both sit on the sofa.

“A few years ago…I found out my college sweetheart was cheating on me…because I happened upon a text on his phone. It was usually glued to him, but I had come over while he was in the shower, and…it was awful. I guess I was a little triggered before, even though I didn’t have the right to be.”

“Christ, that’s terrible. I’m so sorry.” He puts his hand over hers and gives it a squeeze. “How could anyone cheat on you, you’re so sweet and bubbly…and nice.”

“That was the problem. I was too nice. He didn’t think he’d ever get caught, and he told me that he didn’t think I’d actually leave him if he did.”

“Sounds like he was taking you for granted.” His eyebrows knit together. “That can really fuck a person up.”

“I haven’t really been involved with someone seriously since.”

“So…you haven’t-“

“I’ve had a few, brief hookups…a few date nights here and there, but I haven’t…I haven’t really wanted to let anyone in.” Her lip starts to quiver again. “And then I met you, and…it just felt so good to feel wanted and I freaked out when I saw that text because I thought this was going to end before it started.” She sniffles. “I’ve spent a lot of time putting myself back together, and it’s so fucking annoying that something so stupid could make me feel so lousy. I know you’re not my ex, but it’s hard not to think that…that-“

“Hey.” He caresses her cheek. “When I choose to focus on one person, I don’t go out looking for anyone else. I know I’ve only known you a couple of weeks, but I can’t imagine how someone could think they needed anyone else when they were lucky enough to have you.”

All of her features soften, and her suddenly frozen heart thaws for him once again. She tugs on the collar of her his shirt and crashes her mouth to his. For once, she’s the one to bite his bottom lip, and he hums appreciatively. Both of his hands cup her cheeks as the kiss deepens, their tongues molding together. She whimpers and moans into his mouth, he was such a good kisser.

“M’sick of being in these yoga clothes.” She breathes as he starts to kiss on her neck. She grips his hair and cranes her neck so he has access to more. “Do you wanna take a shower with me?”

“Are you serious?” He says as he pulls away to look at her.

“Yeah.” She nods and kisses him again. He quickly scoops her up, and throws her over his shoulder. “Harry!” She squeals.

“Which way to your bathroom?”

“Down the hall, through my bedroom.”

Harry finds his way through her apartment, and gets them both into the bathroom. He sets her down so she can start the water. In the meantime, he peels off his shirt, and lets it drop to the floor. Her eyes don’t know where to focus on first. He had so many tattoos.

“God, you’re so beautiful.” She says, and wraps her arms around his neck.  His hands travel down to pull at the hem of her shirt, and he lifts it off, revealing her sports bra.

“So are you. Can I take this off?” He tugs at the straps of the bra.

“I’m certainly not planning on showering in it.”

He helps her take it off and his hands immediately move to cup her breasts. They sat a little lower on her frame, and were even larger than he anticipated, but they were hers so he liked them, a lot. He kisses down the column of her throat and down to her chest.

“The water’s probably warm enough now.” She grunts. “Need to get the rest of these clothes off.”

“Couldn’t agree with you more.”

They step back from each other so they can both take their pants off. Both of their eyes drift down for a split second before their bodies collide once more. They nearly trip as they get into the shower and under the warm water. Harry presses her against the wall as his tongue drags along her jaw and to her neck. Her head rolls back as her mouth falls open. He sucks a bruise into the crook of her neck and the gasp she makes fuels him to suck harder.

“Fuck.” She groans.

Harry licks his way down her chest, cupping her breasts so her can suck on one of her nipples. Her hands rake through his hair. He blindly reaches for her shower head and snatches it as he stands up straight.

“Wh-what are you doing?” She breathes as she watches him lower the showerhead, adjusting the setting on it so it sprays a specific way. He doesn’t say anything, he just presses the shower head to her pelvis and slides it over her clit. “Oh…oh!” She clutches at the tile on the wall as best she can. Her legs part just enough so he can maneuver the shower head easier.

He slots his mouth over hers and sucks on her tongue. She felt like she couldn’t breathe in the best possible way. The hand that wasn’t working the showerhead between her legs was planted on the wall next to her head. She couldn’t help but notice the veins in his arm and hand.

“H-Harry.” She licks her lips after he worked his mouth to her collar bone.

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes!” She mewls. Her hands move to his back, her nails clawing at his skin. “N-need more.” She wasn’t exactly sure what she needed more of, she just knew she needed it.

Before she knows it, he’s dropping to his knees, so he can see better, and thrusting two fingers up inside her. He focuses the showerhead on her clit, and her hands find their way to his hair. She tugs harshly, eliciting a moan from him and he looks up at her, pleading with her to do it again. His fingers curl up inside her and it has her panting.

“Oh, fuck! Just like that, oh my god!” She cries out as she comes to her release.  He slowly stands back up and her eyes widen as he sucks his fingers into his mouth. He puts the showerhead back as well. She eyes flicker down to his hard, twitching cock. “I think we should get out.” She reaches to turn the water off. “You may be fine with getting on your knees in here,” she says as she grabs them both a towel, “but I much prefer the comfort of my bed.”

Once they’re both dried off, they drop their towels and get onto her bed. He lays back as she shifts between her legs. She rubs her hands up and down his thick thighs, tracing over his tiger tattoo.

“Do you ever, um, think I could see you in your uniform.” She says as she starts to pump him slowly.

“Got a little fantasy, do you?” He smirks.

“I wouldn’t mind watching you slide down that pole.” She smirks back, and then kisses his tip.

“Fuck, just, come up here.” He pats the tops of his thighs. “I need to fuck you before I explode.”

“Oh, yeah?” She licks up and down his shaft. “Wanna feel how tight and wet I am around you?” She bats her lashes up at him and he groans.

“Please.”

“Lay flat on your back.”

“You don’t want me to sit up?”

“No.” She shakes her head as she reaches into her side table for a condom. She rips open the foil packet and slides it onto him. She scoots up his body, that was now flat on the bed, takes his wrists and pins them above his head. She rocks herself back and forth on his cock until he slips inside her. They both moan out.

“Fuck, you like being in control, baby?” He says as he watches her get a rhythm going.

“Sometimes.” She comes almost all the way off of him and then slams back down. “I’m an educator, so I thought I’d teach you who’s boss here.” She leans down and kisses him before sitting all the way back up.

“A lesson I won’t soon forget, eh?”

“You have no idea.” She smirks. “Don’t thrust up into me.” She says as she lets his wrists go. “And keep your hands above your head.

“You’re not gonna let me touch you?”

“I let you get pretty handsy in the shower, count yourself lucky for that.”

She lets her hands fall behind her, planting on his thighs as she starts to bounce up and down on him. Once she feels like she won’t topple over, she lets her hands drag over her breasts, groping herself in front of him. He grunts and grits his teeth as he watches her.

“Like using my cock to get yourself off?”

“Yeah, how’s it feel?”

“You feel incredible, just wish I could-“

“I said don’t.” She warns him just as he was raising his hands, but he sets them back down on the pillows.

She plants both of her hands on his shoulders as she hovers over him. She rocks back and forth on his cock, rubbing her clit against him perfectly. She swivels her hips around on him in circles and she starts moaning.

“Danielle, please, you’re killing me.” Harry groans, sweat was starting to form at his hairline.

“Pretty sure you’re not supposed to address your teacher by their first name.” She says, ghosting her lips over his before kissing him. She moans into his mouth as she comes around him. She grinds against him a few more times, riding out her orgasm. “I know you can ask nicer than that.” She says, nibbling on his earlobe.

Harry was so fucking turned on. He never would have guessed that Danielle was a little kinky, but he was incredibly excited about it, so he plays along.

“Miss Robinson?”

“Yes?”

“May I please fuck you from behind and rearrange your guts?” He smiles at her sweetly.

“You may, but only because you asked so nicely.” She pecks his lips and gets off of him carefully. She gets on all four as he shuffles behind her. He gives her bum a little smack and she giggles.

Harry slides back inside her, a sigh of relief leaving him at the feeling of her warmth around him again. He grips the back of her neck to get a steady pace going. She drops her front half so her cheek is smushes against her pillows. She licks her finger tips and starts rubbing her clit.

“Harder.” She grunts, and he complies.

He gives her hard, deep, and fast thrusts which result in him hitting her g-spot over and over. It feels like an electric shock going through her body, and suddenly she’s seeing stars, coming around him once again. He spills into the condom shortly after due to the way she was squeezing him. She was still moaning even after he pulled out.

“Yeh liked that, huh?” He gives her bum a soothing pat before getting off the bed.

“It was so good.” She mewls as she rolls onto her back.

As Harry goes into the light of the bathroom, he furrows his brows as he takes the condom off. He notices a slight shade of pink on the rubber. He didn’t want to embarrass her, but he wonders if she started her period without realizing it. He picks up his boxers off the bathroom floor and wiggles them up his legs.

“Hey…Danielle?” She hums her response. He thought she looked like an angel, laying peacefully with her eyes closed. He sits on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on her thigh. “Babe, I don’t wanna embarrass you or anything, but I think you started your period?”

“What?” Her eyes open and she sits up. “That’s impossible, I had it last week. What makes you think I started it?”

“The condom was a little pink.”

Her face goes pale, and she licks her lips in thought.

“Excuse me.” She gets up, wrapping one of her blankets around herself as she goes into the bathroom. She sits on the toilet to pee. It doesn’t sting or hurt, but when she checks the toilet paper, she rolls her eyes when she sees the light pink color. It wasn’t period blood. She sighs and flushes the toilet, washing her hands before returning to the bedroom, and sitting next to Harry on the bed. “It, um, it’s not period blood. I…I think I tore a little. You fucked me pretty hard.”

“Why didn’t you tell me I was hurting you?! I would have slowed down or stopped; I feel terrible.”

“Don’t!” She shakes her head. “It didn’t hurt, it doesn’t even hurt now. It’s just been a little while for me, and you’re, um, bigger than I’m used to, and you fucked me hard. I wanted it that way, I’m not upset. It felt really, really good.” She gives him a soft smile. “Sorry if you’re grossed out…”

“I’m not, I just wanna make sure you’re alright.”

“I am…I’m really glad we did that.”

“Me too.” He leans in and kisses her tenderly. “Kinda wanna spend the night with you, would that be okay?”

“How are you at making breakfast?” She raises an eyebrow at him.

“M’aces at making pancakes.” He says with a bright smile. “Do you like pancakes, love?”

She nods her head yes, wrapping her arms around him and giving him quick kisses on his cheek. Did she have sex with him a little faster than she intended? Yes, but it was worth it. She felt incredibly close with him, and she couldn’t wait to see where things were going to go with Chief Styles.

#burning love #harry styles #harry styles au #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles series #firefighter!Harry #firefighterry

[zhongli-simp-blog]

Pictures and Alcohol

Pairings: Jaehyun xMale Reader

Word Count: 900

Requested: Yes

Warnings: Alcohol usage

A?n: ik it’s short I wrote it while at work, multitasking was a little hard lol

It wasn’t rare for your boyfriend to go out and party with his group members, so when you got the text from Jaehyun that he was going to be home late, you decided to curl up in a blanket and play little video games until he came home or you fell asleep. You had a feeling this time Jaehyun was going to be drinking more than usual. Since he had time off do to back to back comebacks, you got your favorite gaming snacks and drinks and booted up your favorite game.

“Yo! Jaehyun! Let’s do some shots,” Johnny shouts, bringing over a server with a tray full of shot glasses. “How did you manage to get that much?” Jaehyun asks while downing two shots he assumed were vodka, only to be hit with tequila instead. “Holy shit, man, a little warning next time,” Jaehyun chokes out after feeling the burn of the alcohol, “you just started drinking and never asked what it was,” Johnny shrugged, sitting down and taking a shot.

Soon Taeyong came over and sat with the two, “where is Y/N?” he asked, “he is staying home. I don’t want to risk anyone seeing us together yet.” You and Jaehyun weren’t officially out to the public, only to family and all of NCT, “shame I need someone who can handle alcohol like me,” Johnny and Jaehyun looked at each other and started laughing. “You mean like a lightweight?” They both start laughing even harder at Taeyong’s pout, “I am not a lightweight. I just digest alcohol faster.” This only makes it worse as the two starts downing more shots of tequila.

“Woah, guys, save some for us,” Doyoung and Yuta say as they are bringing more trays of shots, “how much did you guys order?” Taeyong looks at the now huge amount of alcohol at their table. “Don’t be so worked up about it hh-Hyung,” Jaehyun slurs out already feeling the alcohol, “Who’s the lightweight now?” Taeyong pokes Jaehyun making him slump over to Johnny, “Woah there buddy, you can’t be drunk, yet you only had 15 shots. I know you can take more,” Johnny says, sitting Jaehyun back up. “Who said I was drunk? I-I-I’m o-o-only t-t-t-tipsy,” he slurs out, making the others laugh.

Soon the members switch from tequila to vodka, Jaehyun was already stumbling in his seat, as his head started swaying between Johnny and Taeyong, “he usually can drink more, maybe the lack of alcohol made him a lightweight again,” Yuta jokes. “He is turning into Taeyong,” Doyoung comments receiving a smack from Taeyong “not a lightweight!”

Jaehyun started scrolling through Twitter, noticing his name was trending and was saying he was dating another female idol. He only chuckled at the rumors but also irritated. He started twitting random things, and since he was drunk, none of it was making sense. After closing Twitter, he opened Instagram and started posting random pictures from his camera roll, not really paying attention to the pictures that he was selected, one happened to be a picture of you, and Jaehyun kissing, paying no mind to what he did Jaehyun puts his phone away and continues drinking.

After closing Twitter, he opened Instagram and started posting random pictures from his camera roll, not really paying attention to the pictures that he was selected, one happened to be a picture of you, and Jaehyun kissing, paying no mind to what he did Jaehyun puts his phone away and continues drinking.

“Jaggiyyaaaa,” Jaehyun slurs as he walks through the door, almost stumbling over, laughing at your mess of a boyfriend, you went over and helped him get his jacket off, “have I ever told you that you are the m-m-most s-s-sexiest man ever?” You try not to drop him from laughing at his drunken state, “yes, you have, now let’s get you to bed,” Jaehyun starts to whine and struggle a bit. “But I don’t wanna go to bed. I want to cuddle with my hubby,” making a frown face, which instantly made you cave in. “Alright, I will cuddle you to sleep then,” which made Jaehyun perk up and made his way to the couch.

Jaehyun woke up with his head still pressed against your chest and your arms wrapped around him, keeping him secure so he wouldn’t fall off the bed, not wanting you wake you up, he slowly turned his body around so his back was facing you as he grabbed his phone. As he opened Instagram he shot up from his spot making you awake up, “Y/N, I fucked up,” he says as you situp and trying to see what he was talking about. You look at his phone and see a picture of you and him kissing with over a million likes and comments, Jaehyun quickly texted his manager. 

“Well, I guess the secret is out now,” you comment making Jaehyun let out a soft laugh, “yeah I guess that is one way to come out.” You both lay back down still wrapped in each other’s arms, “no matter what happens, I won’t lose your Y/N, I love you.” You smile giving him a kiss, “I don’t want to lose you either, as you said last night, I am your hubby for life.” Jaehyun blushes as you bring up what he said while drunk.

His phone starts ringing,

“Hello?”

“At least give me a heads up before doing something like that, we support you 100%, but we at the company want to meet this mystery man, so please come by the office sometime today,” The manager lady says on the phone, you and Jaehyun smile sinking into each other’s arms.

“You will never get rid of me Y/N, now give me those lips so can I kiss you forever.”

#jung jaehyun #kpop x male reader #jaehyun x male reader #Jung jaehyun x male reader #nct x male reader #kpop scenarios #nct #nct jaehyun #nct127 #nct127 jaehyun #nct127 x male reader

[lost-in-the-80s]

I’ve Never Seen You Here

Pairing: Axl Rose x Reader

Words: 2,889k

Summary: It's no secret that you and Axl desire each other, but what would happen if you met at a club? (smut)

A/N: This is my first smut, so sorry if it's shitty. 

Warnings: Mature content, swearing, and unprotected sex. (Use a condom, guys!) 

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car​ @ladieswttda​ add yourself to my tag list

It was a little past four on a Tuesday afternoon, you were behind the counter, with your back against it, fanning yourself with one of the menus, trying to get some relief from the hot summer weather in Los Angeles.

Your friend, Braeden stood in front of you, drying some glasses that had just been washed by you. 

The bell on the entry door ranged, announcing new customers at the cafe. 

You didn't mind looking who it was, you weren't really in the mood to deal with people now. You were just about to ask Braeden to take their orders when she spoke up.

"Your ginger is here" a smirk appearing on her lips. 

You turned around just in time to see him passing through the door. He nodded in your direction in a greeting way. It was your turn to smirk.

Forgetting completely about your previous annoyance, you stretched your pink 60s inspired dress and picked your small notepad, walking towards his table. 

He was there with his friends, all of them talking loudly about something that had happened on their way to the cafe. 

He looked so cool with his leather jacket and bandana. Smoking hot, you would dare to say. 

"Welcome to Flar's Cafe, what can I get you?" 

You started writing down their orders as the skinny brunette started telling you, but you couldn't not see the way the ginger looked you up and down. 

"Alright, I'll be right back."

Turning around, you walked back to the counter, feeling his gaze burn your back. 

Once you got their food you went back to the table, placing everything on it. 

"Anything else you might want?" You asked with a smile.

"That's all for today, sweetheart." The ginger answered with a grin. 

It was always like this. They started coming to the cafe a few months ago, every time the ginger would call you a nickname or smirk at you. You would smirk back, or ask what they wanted, looking right into his eyes, just for the pleasure to see the lust that spackled on them. 

The sexual tension between the two of you was so thick you could almost cut it with a knife. 

Sometimes you wanted to bluntly ask for his number, or write yours and hand it to him, but you never got the guts, since all his friends were around. 

You moved back to work, attending other tables, making coffee, cleaning the counter, but at every chance you got, you would look in his direction and sure enough, he would be looking at you. 

"You're gonna keep this mouse and cat game 'till when?" Braeden spoke up, making you jump startled. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Why don't you just ask him for his number?" 

"Because first: I'm working, that's not professional at all. Second: his friends are there, what if he says no and all of them start laughing at me?" 

"You're just overthinking it!" She said rolling her eyes. "If work is the problem, why don't you meet him somewhere else?" 

"As if it was easy to find him in the middle of L.A."

"I actually might know where he's gonna be on Friday…." She said with a smirk, leaning against the counter and raising her brows.

"Where!!??" You almost yelled with excitement, making some customers look in your direction. "Where?" You repeated in a much lower tone now.

"I-"

Before she could tell you, his friend with black fuzzy hair appeared behind the counter and interrupted her.

"25, right?" He asked, handing you their order form. 

You got the paper from between his fingers and looked at the numbers fastly, making the count. 

"Yes, 25." You said, putting the order form on the pile of the finished orders.

He handed you 30 bucks, telling you to keep the change. 

You thanked him and watched as they walked away.

"Where, Braeden?"

She laughed a little. "When I passed near their table before, they were talking about going to this club on Friday." 

"A club." You said thinking. "Do you think I should go?"

"Of course!" 

"Come with me!" 

"Hm, I don't know. I had plans for Friday." She looked at her nails.

You knew she was just waiting for you to beg her, she had nothing to do on Friday.

"Pleasee!! I'll let you choose my outfit!" You said hugging her from the side and making puppy eyes.

"Ok then." She said with a proud smile.

----

The week passed by quickly, it was Friday now, you were at Braeden's place getting ready for the club. 

She convinced you to curl your hair while she teased hers. You applied some natural makeup, while Braeden chose a red lipstick with a sparkling eyeshadow.  It wasn't a surprise though, Braeden has always been the "Go big or go home" type of girl. 

You two sang some Aerosmith song that played in the background, while you put on the final touches on your makeup. 

"Hold on, I'm gonna get the dresses." She said before running to her bedroom. 

She reappeared a few seconds later, holding a tight lime green dress and a tight black dress with some tule details. 

"This one is yours!" She said, handing you the black one. 

You matched your dress with some black high heels you had brought and she matched hers with a nude pair.

You two took a second to look at each other through the mirror. "We look fucking hot!" You said grinning.

"Hell yeah!" She said, high fiving you.

You two exited the apartment and walked for a good 15 minutes before you could hear the blasting music coming from the club, a huge line of people in front of it.

"Shit! Look at that line!" Braeden said, pointing with exasperation.

"Calm down, I'm gonna put us in."

Walking on the sidewalk, you stopped in front of a bald man at the door, with a clipboard in hands.

"Hi! Y/N Y/L/N" You said with a smile, trying to make your voice come out as smoothly as possible. 

He looked at the papers and then looked back "Sorry, not on the list." 

"What do you mean not on the list?" You said raising your voice. "I can't believe Matt forgot to put me on the list!" 

You looked back at Braeden "Do you believe it? Two years together and he fucking forgets to put me on the list!"

You moved on, complaining about how Matt had forgotten to put you on the list, even though there was no Matt at all.

The man at the door started to look worried about the attention you were calling. He got the clipboard fastly and then looked up. "Matthew Anderson, right?  I found him, you can come in!" He said, relief filling his voice. 

"Yeah! That's him! Thank you, dude!" You said touching slightly his shoulder, in a way to thank him, before walking inside the club.

Red neon lights filled the room, and a Motlëy Crüe song got to your ears. 

"Remind me to never go to a club without you." Braeden said laughing a little about your scene.

You laughed along and pointed to the bar. "Let's get something to drink." You shouted so that she could hear.

You both squeezed yourselves among the people dancing until you got to the bar, asking for two tequila shots. 

The barman put the drinks on the counter and you drank before putting the glasses down with a loud sound.

"Woah! I know you two!" You heard a man saying from beside Braeden. It was the tall blonde, one of the ginger's friends.

"Hi!" Braeden said smiling. 

"Are you girls having fun?" He asked with enthusiasm. 

"We just got here!" She shouted. 

"Wanna sit with us? We got a table." He shouted back. 

You two exchanged looks before nodding in his direction. 

He got five beers from the counter before telling you to follow him.

"Look who I found at the bar!" He said, catching the attention from the other men,  putting the beers on the table. "Girls, I'm Duff, these are Axl, Steven, Izzy and Slash." He said pointing to each one of them. 

So his name is Axl huh? You thought to yourself. 

Axl and Slash sat at the edges of the booth, while the other two took the back part. 

"I'm Braeden and this is Y/N!"

They greeted you two loudly and then asked you girls to take a seat. Watching as Axl and Slash opened up some space for you to sit. You sat beside Axl while Braeden and Duff sat beside Slash. 

Duff started some conversation with Braeden, which she gladly got involved with. You were paying attention to them when you heard someone whispering in your ear.

"I've never seen you here." It was Axl.

"It's my first time here, to be honest." 

He nodded. "It's nice seeing you without that pink dress." He said looking you up and down. 

You smirked in his direction, taking his beer bottle for a sip when he offered you. 

After a good 20 minutes, Duff came back with vodka shots, which made you all engage in conversation easier, talking about music and other stuff. 

After a while, Axl put his arm around your shoulder, looking at you, to see if you would ask him not to do it. But after seeing your smile, he knew it was okay. 

Another 30 minutes passed by, and another three shots of vodka with it. Def Leppard started playing and you and Braeden decided to go dance. 

You moved your body with the beat, swaying your hips and singing out loud. Your body started to get hot, and you looked at the table seeing Axl's predator gaze in your direction, making your core start heating too. 

Another song started playing, and that's when you saw the guys approaching you. You all started dancing together as good friends, but after a few minutes, you found yourself dancing suggestively around Axl, loving the way his eyes watched your hips. 

You decided to make a move and turned around, pressing yourself on him while still dancing, rubbing yourself against his body. His hands found your hips as you two swayed to the song together. 

After some minutes you started to feel a bulge forming in his pants, making a smirk crept your lips. That's when his hands moved to your waist and he turned you around, making you face him.

Your hands found the back of his neck and his hands went down to grab your butt. He leaned down and kissed you hungrily, making you moan slightly during the kiss. 

When you parted ways to catch your breath, you bit his bottom lip, seeing his eyes get dark with desire. 

He leaned down, near your ear and whispered. "You better stop doing this, doll, or you're gonna end up taking it to a new level." 

His voice was husky with desire, making you even wetter. 

"What if I want to take it to the new level?" You raised one of your brows. 

He smirked at you, kissing you again. 

"Bathroom?" He asked, still smirking. 

"Bathroom!" You confirmed. 

He grabbed your hand and started to lead you towards the bathroom, opening the door for you to enter first, before attacking your lips again. 

You two moved towards one of the bathroom booths while still kissing, closing the door and looking for the lock on it, in between hair tugs and muffled moans. 

Once the door was locked he pushed you against it, allowing you a few seconds of breath before his lips found yours again. 

His hands went to the back part of your thighs, telling you to jump, which you gladly did, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hands found your butt again, this time to support you. 

His mouth traveled from your lips to your jaw, before finally stopping at your neck. He started giving you sloppy kisses there, while he played with one of your boobs through your dress fabric. 

His fingers found your nipple, squeezing it slightly, making a quiet moan escape your lips. 

The sound made his member pulse inside his pants, making him bite your neck with voracity. You were sure there would be a mark there tomorrow. 

You moved one of your hands to his bulge, palming him through his pants, making a muffled moan escape his lips. 

You saw that as an incentive to slide your hand inside his leather pants. You palmed him gently, moving your hand up and down his length slowly. 

He groaned before kissing your lips again. One of his hands finding your waist and tugging at it with force.

You pulled apart to breathe and his hand found your core, his fingers touched you through your panties and he smirked, feeling your wetness.

He put your panties to the side, and his index finger traveled between your folds, getting wet with your liquids before entering you slowly. 

You moaned again, giving him the approval he needed to slide another finger inside of you. 

"So wet already, baby." The nickname made you moan one more time, as you closed your eyes and enjoyed the feeling.

You got so caught in the moment, that you had to take your hand out of his pants to put it on his shoulder for support, not sure if you could trust your legs anymore. 

He removed his fingers from you, making you whine at the loss of sensation. His fingers traveled up to his lips, where he sucked them looking at your eyes. 

His green eyes were almost brown now, and his pupils were dilated with lust. He kissed you one more time, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He pushed your dress up to your waist and unbolted his pants, moving his hands up and down his length a few times.

"Are you sure?" He asked, gaze burning your eyes.

"Yes!" You said kissing him again.

That's when you felt his member collecting some of your juices before sliding slowly inside of you, making you moan slightly. 

He waited for a while, for you to get adjusted, before he started to thrust at a slow pace in and out of you. 

You both moaned and your hands found his hair, pulling it. He used one of his hands to support you and the other he put on the door behind you, to help him get some stability to thrust harder inside of you.

And that's exactly what he did, his once calm thrusts became fast and hard and you were sure anyone in the bathroom would be able to hear your bodies colliding against each other.

He straightened up a little, which gave him a whole new angle that hit your sweet spot instantly, making you let go of a loud moan. 

"Yes! Right there" you said between moans, as he promptly obeyed. Hitting your core ever harder. 

After a few minutes you both were moaning loud enough to fill the whole bathroom, your bodies were sweating and his thrusts were becoming sloppier.

The constant hit against your sweet spot made your walls start to clench around him, making him groan huskily. 

"Oh my god! I'm gonna cum!" You announced, feeling the pleasure take control of your body. Your eyes closed and your head fell back, hitting the door, while a series of moans and incoherent words left your mouth. 

"Yes, baby, cum for me!" Axl said, using his thumb to circle your clit, making you moan even louder. "Come on, doll, cum for me!"

His thrusts became faster and you felt a wave of pure pleasure take over your body as you hit your climax, moaning his name. 

He thrust inside of you a couple more times before he came too, biting on your shoulder to muffle his loud groan. Shots of his cum filling you, while you moaned with the sensibility of your core after your orgasm. 

He held you for a few more seconds before he placed you gently on the floor, your hands still on his shoulders, to make sure you weren't gonna fall. 

"Fuck" you said, adjusting your hair. 

"Yeah, fuck!" He said, laughing a little, while he adjusted his pants again. 

You two opened the door, glad to see that there wasn't anyone else in the bathroom. 

You moved towards the sink, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was a mess, your makeup all smudged, your neck full of red marks that you were sure would become bruises soon. You quickly fixed your dress and your hair, trying to fix your makeup in the best way you could, while he fixed his hair too. 

"So…" He cleared his throat. "Will I see you again?... Out of the cafe, I mean." 

You smiled at him a little, before looking for a pen in your purse. "Maybe…" you smiled suggestively now. "Why don't you call me someday and we find out?" 

You grabbed his hand, writing down your number on it. 

"You can be sure I'll call you, princess." He said, smirking.

"Are you ready?" 

You nodded and so the two of you left the bathroom and went back to your previous table, laughing at the shouts and whistling coming from your friends. 

#harley writes #axl rose #axl rose fanfic #axl rose imagine #axl rose fic #axl rose x reader #axl rose smut #guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses fic

[bxthharmon]

Through the Ages || JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader

Words: 1870

Warnings: Super toxic relationship, underage drinking, smoking, weed

Summary: The development of your relationship with JJ, from when your first met aged eight to adult life, MAJOR ANGST

A/N: okay i know i havent written anything in WEEKS but im watching obx and im obsessed... i really wasn’t expecting this to take such a dark turn?? contact me if you wanna request anything or make friends :)

masterlist

8 years

You’re eight and when you meet John in front of the school to walk home, he has a friend. You know your brother’s friends - most of them, at least - but this boy is new. He is tanned and blonde and tall for his age, and a girl in your class had told you about how he’s always getting into small playground scraps. You eye each other warily on the way home, your brother between you, oblivious to the hostility. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him - how could you dislike someone you knew nothing about? - it was that John had promised to stop bringing his friends on the way home, because he would end up ignoring you, and now there was a friend walking with them. 

When the boy finally leaves, John looks at you as if he forgot you were there. You watch as the boy goes through the front door, catching a glimpse of a dark, cluttered house. You wonder where his parents are. 

John coaxes you into a race - who can get home first - and he wins. He always wins. A year older, stronger, faster. Your dad greets you, asking about your days, and laughing as you complain about how John ignored you on the way home.

The next week, the boy walks with you again. His name is JJ, and he’s funny. He gives you a twinkie as a peace offering, saying that he wants to walk with you and John from now on. You shrugged, and took the twinkie, telling him it was for the food, and only the food.

11 years

You’re eleven, in your first year of middle school, and you and John ride home from school everyday on your bikes. On the days when you’re not surfing or hanging out with friends, you cycle home with John, JJ and a new member of the gang, Pope. You and JJ, while still at a twinkie-incited truce, are growing more competitive and show-offish around each other. You race your bikes to his, and if you stop at the corner store on the way home, you see who can chug their cola faster. John fights with you when you get home because they’re “his friends, not yours!”

You have your own friends, and sometimes you cross with your brother’s friends in town, sass thrown between the groups like a tennis rally, the twinkie-truce fading into the past. You can’t stand the tall blonde surfer, but you can’t wait to argue with him on your way home from school.

14 years

You’re fourteen, and after a year long break from your brother’s friends, you’re, once again, at the same school. You’ve changed, filled out more over the last year, puberty having hit you like a tonne of bricks since you last hung out. The three pogues now have one female friend, Kiara, and you become fast friends. You can tell your brother has a thing for her, and you wonder if he’ll ever bring her home to meet your dad. 

JJ sees you differently now. You seem less like the eight year old he met six years ago, but you’re still very much yourself. He pulls your ponytail as you pass him in the hallways at school, and you flip him off in return. You sometimes go to the same parties, and your drinking races have switched from cola to beer. John hates you being at parties, claiming your too young to drink or party, as if he wasn’t the year before. John can see how JJ looks at you, and he hates it. He hates seeing how guys look at you now, how they flirt, hit on and catcall his baby sister. He also hates how in your efforts to compete with JJ, you get into fights and run your mouth. He hates how JJ shows off around you, and vice versa. 

Despite his frustrations with JJ, he’s also the only guy who’ll stand up for you when you or John can’t do it yourselves. He hopes you don’t grow up too quickly, and he knows that his friends will always have your back, so he’s not worried. 

15 years

You’re fifteen, and you go to a kegger for the first time. You get drunk quickly, flirting with too many guys and giggling at every little thing. You share a blunt with JJ, and the pair of you practically piss yourselves with laughter when John tries to reprimand you. The night is fun, and you can’t wait for the next one. 

The next one is much worse. You’re one or two drinks in when you see JJ flirting with a touron. In retrospect, that’s probably when you first noticed your feelings, but at the time you have no idea why you’re so angry about it. By the end of the night, you’ve had half a bottle of vodka and two spliffs, and you’re way far gone. You might even have blacked out - but all you remember is the pure rage, and how you spent ten minutes throwing up by the front porch when you got home. 

You saw JJ the next day, and you’re both hungover. He checks on you, and neither of you really understand why you’re so cold towards him, but he leaves pretty quickly.

You cry that night.

16 years

You’re sixteen, and your dad is missing. You lost all your friends when you fell into a depression after it. Nine months later, and you feel happy again. You’re the final member of pogue crew, and you spend the summer surfing and swimming and settle into the routine of summer. You surf first thing in the morning, as dawn breaks, often with JJ, competing over who’s a better surfer (he is). You spend your afternoons on the HMS Pogue, competing with JJ over who’s the better swimmer (you are). The group of you drink and smoke and live your best lives. On the days where you’re not on the boat, you work. 

You know you love JJ, and you flirt constantly. He kisses you at a kegger, barely twenty minutes before he pulls the gun on Topper. You have your first serious argument that night, and it ends with him kissing you.

You wear your heart on your sleeve, and assure him you love him. He doesn’t say it back, but he shows it. You learn about his Dad and his work and how he learnt to surf. You sneak around, and, miraculously, don’t get caught. 

16 ½ years

You’re sixteen and a half when John and Sarah go missing. Kie and Pope try to help, but you don’t pay them any attention. You and JJ struggle, with yourselves, each other, and your relationship. You’re on the rocks, you’re up against the wall. You don’t think you’ll last, and you fight constantly.

Your relationship is toxic, taking your own angers out on each other, fighting and screaming in each others faces only to make up for a honeymoon period that lasts a week, max, and the cycle repeats. You’re both miserable. 

17 years

You’re seventeen, and he breaks up with you. You were too alike - both too impulsive, angry, broken for it to ever work. You apply to out-of state colleges, hoping to escape the islands you used to love.

You wait for an acceptance letter, and watch as the people you call family try to rebuild their lives.

18 years

You’re eighteen, and you get the letter. UCLA, on the other side of the country. You say your goodbyes to Kie and Pope, and eventually, JJ.

He looks broken, when you tell him. He asks you what you’d do if John came back and you weren’t around, but you had resigned yourself to John’s death long ago. You fight one last time. You fuck one last time. You love one last time.

You wonder if you’ll ever return.

22 years

You’re twenty two, and you’ve got a degree. You fly home the day after graduation, and everything has changed.

Kie runs the Wreck now, and she gives you a free meal and you talk for hours when you first arrive. She invited you to her and Pope’s place. 

They have a nice place. Not on Figure Eight, but on that side of the island - Pope’s got a high earning job in marine biology research. They’re happy.

You smoke a blunt with Pope, for old time’s sake. He tells you to see JJ, and gives you a slip of paper with the address. You don’t know if you want to throw it into the ocean or treasure it forever. You do neither.

It takes you a week to psych yourself up to it, and then you knock on his door.

His house is small, but not tiny, not like his childhood home. He welcomes you in, a light in his eyes you hadn’t seen in years. He sits you down at the dinner table, and you take in the pictures on the mantel shelf, and the mementos stuck to the fridge. 

You see the ring on his finger.

You enter a state of stasis. You were sure he was it for you, but the circumstances were wrong and you were too immature. Right person, wrong time, or something along those lines. No, apparently not. He moved on, he built a life without you, a happier, healthier life.

His wife is lovely, everything you’re not. She’s patient and kind and soft-spoken, the opposite to him, bringing balance. She stabilises him, and gives him what he needs.

You think of how you would argue with him, the screaming, shouting, throwing plates and vases. Your love was so naive, but so passionate. Everything that happened while you were together, everything that went wrong, happened because your tempers and stubborn natures and impulsivity was destructive.

You fly back to California a week later. 

You sit on the plane and reminisce. The night you and JJ broke up, the house got wrecked. You had been standing inches apart, but screaming at the top of your lungs. You had lost your temper and overturned a table, smashing all the crockery left on it. He had thrown a vase at the wall, and you had fought until your voices broke and you were too tired and sore to keep throwing shit at walls and each other. You had sat next to each other, leaning on the wall by the front door, an uncharacteristic calm washing over you. 

You had looked at him, heart aching, and told him that you needed to split up. He had nodded, and eventually, the pair of you had drifted off to sleep, dreaming of a world where you could be together without all the hate in the way.

When you woke up in the morning, he was gone, but the mess had stayed. You had had to tiptoe over thousands of shards of broken crockery and glass to get to your room, a reminder of how you were destined to self-destruct. 

You watched out the window as the plane landed, and vowed never to return again. 

Outer Banks was no longer your home.

#outer banks #obx #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fanfic #obx fanfiction #obx fanfic #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x routledge!reader #jj x reader #jj x you #jj x y/n #jj x routledge!reader #jj obx #jj maybank obx #john b #john b x sister!reader #john b routledge #john b routledge x sister!reader #pope outer banks #pope obx #kiara #obx kiara

[spartanguard]

even death won’t part us now (3/?)

Summary: Two covens, both alike in dignity, / In fair New York, where we lay our scene, / From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, / Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes / A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life; / Whole misadventured piteous overthrows / Do with their death bury their sires’ strife. (Captain Swan + West Side Story + vampires. But not as sad. Probably.)

rated M | part 1 | part 2 | AO3 | 5.8k words

A/N: So I’m not entirely sure what my posting schedule will be like but it’s looking like every 8 days. This chapter is a ton of CS goodness that I hope you like! Thanks again to @optomisticgirl​​ for being an awesome beta; to @thesschesthair​​ for her amazing art (LOOK AT THIS NEW PIECE OMG); and to @kmomof4​​ and @cssns​​ for putting this event on and pushing me to continue this story!

sorrynotsorry for the Hamilton references; I couldn’t resist

I know they’re not actually singing but the movie is still awesome

part three—tonight, tonight; it all began tonight

Emma couldn’t help it; she was entranced. After so many years thinking she’d merely dreamed of their existence, to suddenly see those blue eyes—and the handsome face they belonged to—it kind of made the world seem to slow. The music, the moving bodies between them—it all seemed to hit some sort of decrescendo, and she found her feet moving toward him without her telling them to.

His gaze hadn’t left hers since they locked eyes, and it was almost as if the crowd was parting around them, leaving a clear path for her to finally meet the man who’d haunted her peripheral vision the last 15 years.

Then, suddenly, he was there in front of her. She breathed; she could smell him—something warm and spicy and vaguely like rum and leather—but there was no heat radiating from him like a human would have. Despite that, there was a solidness to him that proved he wasn’t a hallucination.

“You’re real,” she breathed.

“Aye,” he said in an accented voice. “You’re still here.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” she answered, slightly confused but more enamored than anything. 

“I’m glad,” he said, then reached for her hand. She continued to stare, entranced, as he brought it to his lips and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. If her stomach was still capable, it would have flipped. Part of her wondered if he’d walked straight out of a Jane Austen novel, but the odds of him being that old (or older) were significant.

“I apologize if I kept you waiting,” he continued.

“I’m patient.”

“So am I.”

Without further ado, he stepped into her space; normally, she would have moved the opposite direction, but not tonight. Whatever that feeling was she’d gotten earlier—a warning, a sign, an omen—this was what it was bracing her for; she knew it.

(Apparently, she could be a hopeless romantic when she really wanted to be. Suck on that, Snow.)

He wrapped his free arm around her and she felt hers slip up to his (firm) shoulder, like some long-lost muscle memory was taking over. Then he took a step, and she followed. Then another, and another, until they were dancing in their own little circle in the middle of everyone.

“What is this?” she asked, the haze of her shock finally clearing a bit.

“It’s called a waltz,” he answered matter-of-factly. “And the only rule is: pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

Innuendo was dripping off that statement, and Emma decided she wouldn’t mind figuring out what else he knew how to do—at some point, at least; not here, not with all these people around. 

“I feel like I’ve been seeing you out of the corner of my eyes for years,” she confessed as they continued to step and sway. 

“I wish I could say you have, but I’ve been abroad the past several; there’s no way I would let a woman as lovely as you pass me by without giving her my full and prompt attention.”

She smiled; god, how long had it been since someone genuinely flirted with her? Someone who wasn’t looking for just a one-night fling. (Her sense for these things had only gotten sharper over the years—he was genuinely interested in her, she could tell. And the feeling was mutual.)

“It was you, right?” she asked, moving in a bit closer. “From the night I turned?”

Before he could answer, though, a firm hand was on her shoulder, pulling her away and rudely tugging her back into reality—David.

“Dad, what the hell?” she complained as he moved in front of her, almost like he was shielding her.

“Get back, Emma; he’s not safe,” David commanded, not taking his eyes off of—shit, Emma didn’t even know his name yet. But he too was surrounded by a couple other vampires, and Graham quickly joined the fray.

“He’s with Aurum,” Snow whispered in her ear, suddenly appearing at her side. “And Regina is here with him.”

Oh, shit—Regina was the one who turned her parents. Which meant she could control them, if she was so inclined; just another reminder of how lucky Emma was that her sire was gone. 

“We need to go—now,” Snow hissed, grabbed Emma’s arm, and started to pull her from the crowd.

“Dad!” Emma shouted, because it looked like he was confronting one of the Aurum guys. She knew he could hear her, but he was locked in a tense conversation, albeit brief; she couldn’t hear their exchange over the thumping dance music, but it was obvious from their body language that the tone was tense. She and Snow were nearly out the back door before he and Graham caught up to them and Snow finally loosened her grip on Emma’s arm.

Emma shook off her mother and peered through the door before it mechanically shut behind them. She got one last look of those too-blue eyes, still staring at her from across the bar, before the door closed.

Just her luck: the first time a guy actually gets her attention in at least 25 years, he’s completely unavailable to her due to some stupid ancient rivalry.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Killian raged as he was unceremoniously pulled away from Emma and out of a fog of enchantment—by Robin, of all people. 

“Saving your skin,” Robin answered sharply. “She’s with Coroza.”

Fucking hell—he’d completely forgotten who he’d left her with. Bloody stupid ageless feud. But sure enough, when he looked back, he saw she was still with the Nolans. At the very least, his instincts there had been good. 

She was being dragged away by Snow, but David and another guy—Gary? no, Graham—hung back. “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” David barked angrily.

“I could ask the same of you,” Robin snarled back, showing his descended fangs and approaching David. “Should have known this club would be trash.”

“Then maybe you should get back to your side of the border and leave us be.”

“Or maybe you should find another feeding ground altogether; I’m sure the fare in New Jersey is cheap enough for your palate.”

“That’s enough. This ends tonight,” David spat. Killian was pretty sure David didn’t have the authority to proclaim that, but he didn’t know the hierarchy in Coroza (and certainly wasn’t up to date on it) well enough to call his bluff.

“Fine,” Robin snarled. “Meet me at Granny’s tonight, 3:00. We’ll set the terms there.”

“Fine.” David turned and left with no further comment; Graham was quick to follow, but leveled a withering glare at Killian first that, if he wasn’t mistaken, was tinged with jealousy.

Whatever. Killian looked past both of them, through the back door of the establishment—where he caught one last glimpse of green eyes and blonde hair before the door closed. He prayed that wasn’t a metaphor.

Robin was quick to usher them all out, and Killian followed, not wanting to make a scene. But he quickly wracked his brain for his old recollection of addresses, and just had to hope the Nolans had the same habit towards moving (or rather, not) that the majority of vampires held. 

That was not the last time he saw Emma—he was going to be sure of that.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Emma was mature enough to admit that by the time they got home, she was sulking; that teenager feeling she had earlier was definitely still relevant. Her dad and Graham were talking strategy, it sounded like, and her mom was trying to comfort her, it seemed—though over what, she wasn’t sure.

Finally, they reached the townhouse; the boys disappeared to the downstairs office while Emma and Snow headed to the little-used kitchen. At least there was a bottle of black-market blood vodka in the fridge; Emma needed something to take the edge off, her drinking plans being interrupted.

She poured a shot for both her and Snow and quickly downed it. Snow, though, looked at hers a bit pensively. 

“I’m sorry your night out got ruined.”

“It’s fine; it happens,” Emma shrugged off. “I’ve got plenty more to come.”

“I know, but...god, I hate it when they show up like that.”

Emma didn’t let her mom see her roll her eyes; again, she didn’t give two shits about the rivalry—it was the way it seemed to bring out the worst in people that she had issue with. That was what ruined the night; not the mere presence of someone she was supposed to hate.

(Someone whose name she still didn’t know and was most likely the reason she’d been reunited with her parents in the first place—but that wasn’t something she was going to bring up right now.)

“Well, did you at least have fun with Graham?” Snow asked, happy to change the subject. Emma was less receptive.

“I barely even talked to him,” she scoffed.

“I wish you would. He’s a great guy.”

Emma didn’t hide her exasperation this time. “Yeah, he is—as a friend. I just...don’t like him like that.”

“Emma,” her mom sighed, then stepped close enough to wrap her in a hug. “That wall around your heart...it may keep out pain, but it can also keep out love. I just don’t want that for you.”

Emma’s mind immediately jumped to blue eyes and the sense of being drawn in by some unseen force. “I know, Mom, but—you’ve gotta let me do it on my own,” she said, rubbing Snow’s arm.

“Yeah, I know,” she sighed.

Emma gave a loving pat on Snow’s bicep, but then pried herself out of her mom’s embrace. “I’m going back up to the roof; I’ll be down later.”

“Alright; be safe.”

Emma chuckled; she was far more dangerous than any other predator out there. But she promised she would and headed up the stairs.

The sounds and smells of the city enveloped her again as she exited on the roof, hints of stars twinkling past the light pollution. It was a balmy and clear enough night that she’d probably consider staying up here for the rest of it, but for now, she was content to sit on the ledge overlooking the alley behind the building. It wasn’t particularly picturesque, but every now and then, a person would stumble through and Emma would feel a bit less alone in the world. 

Despite the family she’d found, being a vampire—and only truly walking the world during the dark—was far more isolating than she’d ever imagined.

Movement in the alley caught her attention; something was sliding through the shadows. It was usually just a stray cat, but this figure was much larger; despite her enhanced vision, it was too far away to make out until it came into the small bit of light that came from the streetlamp a quarter of a block down.

And then she gasped: it was him. Even in the faint light, she could see the sharp blue of his eyes—and they were staring right at her. 

“But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?” he said softly, loud enough for her to hear clearly but not for the average human. “It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.”

If she could blush, she’d be blushing. 

“Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,” he continued, moving closer to the building and carefully stepping onto the fire escape’s ladder. “Who is already sick and pale with grief.”

“Don’t tell me you’re so old that you actually knew Shakespeare,” she teased; she’d heard rumors that there were a few around here who did, though (including someone in charge of Shakespeare in the Park).

“She speaks: O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art as glorious to this night, being o'er my head.” He carefully continued the recitation as he climbed gracefully and almost silently. 

“Wait—watch out for the—!” she whisper-yelled—but it was too late. He wasn’t looking where he was reaching and grabbed for the loose rung three from the top with his left—hook? She wasn’t sure how she hadn’t noticed the prosthesis in the bar, but steel met rusty iron, which immediately gave way, leaving him dangling from his right hand. She hopped off her perch, saying “Shit—let me help!”

He chuckled; a low rumble that went straight to her core. “I’m fine, love; I’ve got this.”

And in a move that had no business being either physically possible or as ridiculously hot as it was, he somehow vaulted himself onto the roof with only his right arm.

She just gaped and blinked, her jaw literally dropping, as he landed in front of her with bent knees and then rose to his full height. He smirked, revealing a dimple in his scruff that was far too adorable for the far-from-innocent expression.

“How are you even real?” she blurted out.

“Well, many years ago, I was born, and then—”

“No, no, no,” she cut off; of course he was a smartass. “I know you’re real—I can feel it, felt it—but like...it’s like you walked out of the pages of some fairy tale,” she stammered.

His smirk fell a bit. “If I did, it certainly wasn’t a happy one—perhaps the Grimms’ version?” he posited, stepping toward her.

“Our lives certainly are as graphic as one,” she agreed. 

“I’d say,” he added, then waved his hook for emphasis. Oh god—he’d definitely know better than she would, clearly. She was totally messing this up, wasn’t she? 

“Sorry; I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine,” he waved off. “I know you didn’t.” There was no resentment in his voice; he meant it. In a city full of pissed-off assholes, it was nice to find one who wasn’t easily offended. 

For a long moment then, silence fell over them (as much as anything could be silent in the city) but it wasn’t awkward; his eyes flitted over her as if he was studying her, so she tried to do the same, but had a hard time getting past the bit of chest hair revealed by the open buttons at the collar of his dress shirt. But then she could tell he was smirking again, which made her realize she was staring. 

She averted her gaze to a cracked concrete tile she’d been meaning to fix for...at least 10 years. “Um, sorry about earlier—in the bar, what happened; my dad, he can get—”

“It’s fine, love; my friends are the same,” he interrupted. “Frankly, I'd forgotten the rivalry was still a thing.”

“Oh shit—are you going to be in trouble for being here?”

“Not if I’m not caught,” he shrugged off. “'Tis but thy name that is my enemy.”

She smiled at how smooth he pulled that off. “Except I don’t even know your name,” she tossed back. 

“Oh, bloody—” he cursed to himself, running his hand through his dark hair, then straightened back up. “Killian Jones,” he said, adding in a slight bow, “at your service, ma’am.”

God, even his name sounded too fancy to be real. Although, there was probably something equally fantastical about hers. “Emma Swan,” she replied.

“I know.”

Her eyebrows raised. “You do?”

“To answer your question from earlier—if you’re referring to the night that Walsh Baum died after turning his last girlfriend, then yes, that was me who found you.” So she was right—she knew she was, deep in her gut, but to have confirmation was nice. “I’d been sent to follow you to make sure that didn’t happen. But obviously, I wasn’t successful there.”

She tilted her head, assessing the way he was decidedly not meeting her eyes on that last part. “That’s not the whole truth, is it?” Her ability to sense a lie, particularly in humans but also in other vampires, was a well-honed tool. 

“You’re quite perceptive, aren’t you?” he rebuffed, still focusing on his hook instead of her. 

“When I need to be.” She didn’t feel like she was in any danger; but her curiosity demanded to know. 

“I was supposed to kill you,” he said quietly. “But I couldn’t.”

Well. That was not what she expected.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Killian’s memory hadn’t failed him; the Nolans still lived in the same quaint little Hell’s Kitchen home. The view from the alley across the street was little changed in the last 15 years; just different cars parked on the street; different adverts glued to the utility poles.

He made his way to the alley alongside the building, clinging to the shadows to avoid being seen; he was very good at that. But then a golden spotlight drew his attention: Emma, perched on the edge of the roof, looking fully ethereal in the glow of the yellow streetlight.

And, well, his more theatrical side took over from there. (Yes, it was completely showing off by using only one arm to leap onto the roof, but he hadn’t gotten this far without knowing how to impress a lass.)

He was a little surprised at how well Emma was able to read him; but it was a firm reminder that despite his tracking her (and subsequent years of daydreaming), and despite their intense moment earlier, he really didn’t know her. 

Oh, but he wished to. 

“I was supposed to kill you,” he reluctantly revealed. “But I couldn’t.”

Her green gaze had already turned suspicious, and with that statement, he could almost see the physical walls going up behind them.

“So, what, you’re here to finish the job?” she accused.

“No,” he vehemently assured her. “I had no desire to kill you then, and even less now.” 

Her features softened, but only slighting. “Should I be worried about someone else coming after me?”

“As far as Aurum knows, you’re already dead. If they knew you weren’t, let's just say neither of us would be here to have this conversation.”

The tiniest sparkle of amusement ticked at the corner of her mouth. “I mean, technically I am dead,” she joked. “But...why didn’t you?”

That same familiar expression was in her face as he saw it 15 years ago. “You had that look in your eyes—the one you get when you’ve been left alone. And I...I know what that’s like, and I didn’t think you deserved to die like that.”

He hadn’t intended to make things so heavy, but he also knew he couldn’t withhold the truth. Although he was surprised at how easily he told her; it had taken nearly a decade to reveal anything of his past to Robin, and yet something told him he’d be spilling his full backstory to Emma over the course of the night. 

On her end, she seemed to be slightly overwhelmed by the statement; her eyes had gone wide and she was taking unnecessarily deep breaths (unnecessary in that she needn’t take any at all). “Thank you,” she said resolutely, and he could hear the weight in her simple words. 

Even after two and a half centuries, he still hadn’t learned to accept gratitude, so he just nodded and ducked his head a bit, trying to hide the blush that wasn’t there. “I can’t say it was entirely selfless,” he continued in an attempt to shrug it off. “There’s something to be said about finding a way to disobey the man who’s controlled you for the last 200-plus years.”

“Yeah, but sending me to the other side?”

He had to roll his eyes. “I hardly care about some petty, pointless rivalry that’s stretched through the centuries. While I may be under the thumb of Aurum, I don’t give two whits about sides.”

“Thank God someone else doesn’t,” she blurted out. “Like, I get why my parents do—Regina is the one that turned them, and not gonna lie, that is a bit of a sore spot for me—but that’s a personal issue. No reason to join a gang.”

He chuckled a bit at her simple but rational logic. “Aye; I’m likewise not much a fan of Cora—she killed my love, many years ago—but I only hold that against her; not the rest of her coven.” To this day, he still didn’t know if Cora had singled Milah out because of her connection with him, or her connection with Gold; either way, she had been murdered, and there was naught he could do.

“Eesh, that sucks.”

“Aye, it did.”

“It doesn’t anymore?”

“I was angry for a very long time, but the pain dissipated over the years—and I’ve had many of them. Plus,” he added, stepping towards her, “I found someone else has caught my attention recently.”

“Oh yeah?” she asked, even though she seemed to know the answer, and smiled. “Who?”

“Well, you see, there's been this fierce blonde running through my dreams the last 15 years or so, and now that I’ve properly met her, I must say—she fascinates me.”

“What a coincidence; you fascinate her, too.”

“Aye?”

“Yeah, and she’s been seeing your blue eyes out of the corner of hers for years now.”

She had moved into his space on that last statement, and the air between them was full of a static tension Killian had never felt before, as if it was drawing them together. This wasn’t the same as what had happened in the club—this was electric, begging for release, and—

—And suddenly his lips were on hers, or perhaps the other way around, but it didn’t really bloody matter because she was soft and warm under him, against him, pressed tight against his body and he knew—he didn’t know how, but he knew—he’d never kiss another pair of lips again.

O trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Holy shit—Killian could kiss. 

Emma wasn’t entirely sure who initiated it; just that she couldn’t resist it (him) anymore without touching him. It was like the opposite ends of a magnet being drawn together: inevitable and forceful. 

(Which, given the whole rival teams thing, was probably appropriate.)

Emotionally, her walls weren’t entirely down—they didn’t fall that easily, not anymore, if ever—but she could tell they weren’t going to last, and not just because of his make out skills. She’d known him all of ten minutes and already he understood her better than anyone ever had—more than Neal, more than Walsh, more than her parents even. 

That said: his scruff left a delicious burn on her lips and she could taste the blood rum he’d had earlier, sweet and spiced and so like him and she wanted to get drunk on it (especially since her shot at actual inebriation for the evening had gone out the window).

And the one nice thing about making out when you were technically undead: you didn’t have to come up for air. She tilted her head to deepen the kiss, ready to settle in for a while, pressing her entire body against his (and liking what she felt). A rush of arousal washed over her and—

—And her fangs dropped down of their own accord. What the fuck? That had never happened.

She pulled back when they did, instinctively not wanting to hurt him (though logically, she doubted she could). “Sorry,” she apologized breathlessly. “That’s never happened before.”

Killian let his forehead rest against hers. “I thought that was the guy’s line?”

She chuckled and lightly slapped his shoulder, then shifted her weight back a bit, trying to put some space between them—and the evidence of his own arousal, which was doing nothing to tamp hers down. 

Honestly, she was kind of embarrassed; she felt like some horny teenager losing her cool in the presence of an elder statesman. She’d had a few one-night stands since she turned, but nothing serious—and never felt anything as intense as what she felt right now, and they’d barely even touched. It was kind of overwhelming; not in a bad way, just not in a way she was ready to address just yet—at least, not seriously.

“You kiss pretty good for someone old enough to be my great-great-grandfather,” she teased, a smile playing at her lips while her hands, which had somehow ended up on his shoulders, pressed against the preternaturally firm muscles below them.

“There should probably be a few more greats in there,” he quipped back, his hand squeezing her hip and the brace of his prosthesis pressing against her other side.

“Oh really? Just when were you born?”

“The Ninth of April in the Year of Our Lord 1750,” he answered rather officially.

Emma whistled. “Damn. Good thing I like older men. How old were you when you were turned?”

“31.”

“Okay, still older.”

“It’s good to know that’s your entire criteria in seeking a partner.”

She snorted, but only to cover up the way she instinctively balked at his choice of words; she couldn’t deny that it was headed that way, though. Even if it had barely been an hour since their first exchange, it felt like forever ago—or maybe it was just because she’d been unconsciously chasing him for her entire afterlife.

Still—it felt like the world was starting to spin, and she needed it to slow down. She grabbed his hand and stepped away, but tugged him along with her. “Come here; I want to show you something.”

He followed without hesitation as she led him to her tent, but hesitated when she tried to drag him down onto the cushions. 

“What’s wrong?”

“I’d hate to intrude on what’s clearly something of a sanctuary,” he explained, nodding at her modest fortress. 

“You’re not; I’m inviting you in.” She hoped he understood the double meaning there. 

An adorably shy smile took over and he followed, falling gracefully to her left onto the mound of pillows. She reached to her other side and fiddled with some cords, and suddenly, light filled her makeshift tent as power flowed to the twinkle lights she’d rigged up along the crude wooden framing.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” Killian gushed—genuinely, not placatingly—as he stared around.

“It’s better if you lay down,” she told him, then let herself fall back against the cushions; he followed suit.

“I wasn’t talking about the tent but I do agree—I can think of any number of enjoyable activities that involve a woman on her back.”

“You’re just full of one-liners, aren’t you?”

“I’ve had quite some time to accrue them.” 

“Fair.”

A thick sheet of clear vinyl formed most of the top of the tent; if she spent time up here during the day, she’d have stuck with something opaque, but given that she never used it when the sun was most at risk of frying her, it was perfect for dark, wet nights. “I love to come out here when it’s raining,” she explained, “and watch and hear it coming down above me. I could almost fall asleep.” You know, if that was a thing she could still do.

She turned to look at him, but he was staring up, a wistful smile on his face. “Aye, I can only imagine; I used to love the sound of it falling on the deck when I was in lower quarters.”

“What, were you a pirate?”

“Eventually, yes; but prior to that, served in His Majesty’s Royal Navy.”

“Which ‘his majesty’ was that?” 

“King George the Third.”

“Wait, like, Hamilton King George?” 

“One and the same.”

“Shit, you are old.”

“Why would I make that up?”

“I dunno; street cred?”

He chuckled. “That’s the farthest thing from my mind.”

Now her curiosity was piqued. “So, did you fight in the Revolution?”

“Aye, though we didn’t exactly call it that on our side.”

“I suppose you wouldn’t have.”

“No, but I did find my sympathies changing sides while stationed here.”

“What, liked it so much you decided to stay?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘decided,’ exactly,” he countered, then turned his head to look at her. Even with the change in angle, it was easy to see that his previous cockiness had given way to trepidation. “Is this where we divulge our tragic backstories?”

She grabbed his hand. “It can be, if you want.”

“Okay.” 

It almost seemed like historical fiction, the tale he told her: born in a poor fishing village, losing his mother when he was young and his father leaving them later, joining the Navy with his brother to get out of a terrible situation, being sent to America to fight the ‘rebels’, falling in love with a woman he met in a tavern in Boston, losing his brother and his hand in battle, and then all hell breaking loose. 

“Milah was nursing me back to help when, lo and behold, her husband located us. Gold.”

“No,” Emma gasped. 

“Aye. He was...less than pleased, as you can imagine, but she managed to talk him down. But we were out on the town some weeks later when Cora cornered us and murdered her. At that point, I had little to live for, and despite my injury, volunteered for the next battle; how my officer accepted me, I’ll never understand.”

“What battle was that?”

“Yorktown.”

“1781,” she automatically finished; she and her mom really listened to the Hamilton soundtrack way too much.

Thankfully, he laughed. “Yeah, that was the year. That was also where I was turned.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry.”

“It’s alright. It’s still my favorite song.”

He went on to explain how he was a bit too close to cannon fire from a Continental Navy ship, delivering a fatal blow to his chest that sent him overboard. If the internal bleeding hadn’t gotten him, he’d have likely drowned—except Gold was waiting nearby. “He’s never told me why he was there—if it was the general chaos or me explicitly—but I suppose it doesn’t matter now.”

Killian was dragged through the brackish waters of Chesapeake Bay by Gold to the rough shore of a then-unpopulated island and turned; he wasn’t lucid enough to protest (to even notice who his would-be savior was) until it was too late. “My first meal was another soldier who’d washed ashore,” he admitted.

If she could still cry, she’d be wiping tears from her face. Holy shit—what a traumatic way to be turned—to even live. “God, I’m so sorry,” she told him, and squeezed his hand.

He shrugged. “It is what it is; ancient history now. I’m having a hard time complaining if that was what it took to bring me to you.”

Emma had to avert her gaze at that; he was not only telling the truth, he was wearing his damn heart on his sleeve, and it was intense. “Please, you hardly know if I’m worth that yet.”

“Emma,” he said softly, then gently turned her face back to him with his hook. “I’ve met thousands of people over the past two and a half centuries, and not one has made the impression you did in a fraction of the time. I feel...I feel like even if you were following me the last several years, I was chasing you my whole life.”

She needlessly swallowed; it was funny how physical reactions lingered even when they no longer served a purpose. But that was what she did when she was overwhelmed in life, and she was extra-whelmed now. 

Especially because, “I feel that way, too.” It was only a whisper but somehow the loudest thing she’d ever said.

Slowly, reverently, he pressed his lips against hers; she was still reeling emotionally, but his kiss was a welcome balm to her aching mind (or something vaguely poetic like that; she was too focused on how good it felt to come up with a good analogy). He deepened the kiss a bit and pulled her closer, but it wasn’t heated, just—she hated to say this so soon—loving.

It didn’t last long until he broke it, but he stayed close, his arms around her. “And you? I’d love to know more about your beginnings.”

“Not much to tell,” she shrugged. “Not as exciting as yours, at least.” She explained what happened with her parents and growing up in the foster system; her first love, her stint in jail, and the baby she gave up; and a brief summary of the years in between her release from jail and that night in Walsh’s apartment.

“Wait—so the Nolans are actually your parents? They birthed you?”

“Yup. I guess I should be thanking you for that, too.”

“No, love—that’s my pleasure. I mean, I had no idea, but I’m glad you were reunited. I had no idea their history with Regina.”

“It is what it is, but we��re making the best of it. Although I definitely feel like a teenager sometimes.”

“I can only imagine,” he chuckled. “And look at you now—hiding a boy from them and everything.”

She laughed, but it turned into a groan. “Ugh. I’m not looking forward to that conversation.”

“Don’t think of it, then. We have all the time in the world to figure that out.”

Just then, Killian’s phone started vibrated, making them both jump; a perfect reminder that things were not as simple as either of them would like.

“That’ll be Robin,” he muttered, then dug the device from his pocket and began replying to the message he’d received. “Shoot; I have to be at Granny’s in 10 minutes.”

“Can’t you do something to convince them to call this off?” she wondered. “We can’t be the only ones to think this is a petty feud.”

“I can certainly try; but we know how hot the tempers of our kind can run.” It was true; it sometimes felt like emotion had replaced bodily functions. Instead of her heart beating, she filled that void with pure emotion.

“I know, I know; but—try?”

“I will.”

They spent a few more minutes in the tent making out (and maybe a bit of dry humping, but Emma was cautious to not let it go too far lest her fangs make another unexpected appearance), and then stole any number of kisses as they made their way back across the roof to the fire escape.

“I hope it’s always this hard to say goodbye to you,” he murmured between a few last pecks.

“Then let’s not—how about ‘see you later’?” she proposed.

“When?”

“Granny’s, at dusk; I’m working tomorrow and I usually stop there to eat beforehand.”

“It’s a date.”

She grinned and gave him one final kiss, before he made a careful climb back down.

When he was firmly on the ground, he looked up and said quietly, “Not a moment will go by I don’t think of you.”

“Good,” was her simple reply, and he disappeared into the night.

(Something else was on the tip of her tongue, but she wasn’t ready to say it yet. However, it wouldn’t be much longer until she admitted it to both herself and him: she loved him.)

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading, friends! let me know if you want/don’t want a tag! @kat2609​​ @xpumpkindumplingx​​ @shipsxahoy​​ @amortentia-on-the-rocks​​ @mryddinwilt​​ @cocohook38​​ @annytecture​​ @shireness-says​​ @ohmightydevviepuu​​ @profdanglaisstuff​​ @wingedlioness​​ @word-bug​​ @distant-rose​​ @wellhellotragic​​ @welllpthisishappening​​ @let-it-raines​​ @pirateherokillian​​ @bleebug​​ @its-imperator-furiosa​​ @fergus80​​ @killianmesmalls​​ @sherlockianwhovian​​ @ineffablecolors​​ @laschatzi​​ @ive-always-been-a-pirate​​ @nfbagelperson​​ @stubblesandwich​​​ @lenfaz​​ @phiralovesloki​​ @athenascarlet​​ @ilovemesomekillianjones​​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​​ @snowbellewells​​ @idristardis​​ @scientificapricot​​ @searchingwardrobes​​ @donteattheappleshook​​ @lfh1226-linda​

#cs ff #cssns20 #cs vampire au #even death won't part us now #cssns 2020 #my ff

[rovewritesit]

Angel Of My Dreams (Chapter 1) John Deacon x Reader Series

I’ve read so many fan fics in the past four months and I thought it was high time to try my hand at it. I’ve created this side blog so that I can 1) Express my love for Queen and 2) Not annoy the randos from high school and college who still follow my main. This’ll be a slow burn folks, so hold on to your hats.

Series summary: After reluctantly joining a band with your childhood best friends, you are thrust into oncoming stardom with no sea legs and an overwhelming sense of anxiety. But you just might find your way, thanks to some seasoned pros by your side. And the interest of one particular bassist.

This series is a work of fiction, and is loosely inspired by real people and events. Absolutely no offense is meant to actual Queen or their families.

PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4

Pairing: John Deacon x Reader (eventually)

Chapter Warnings: Lots o’ curses

Chapter Summary: This is basically just some set up for the series. No Deacy yet, but a meet-cute to happen very soon! I got the band name with the help of some random band name generator so be kind. I’m hoping to introduce in some songs readers may not have heard - I was thinking of “Heart of the Night” by Juice Newton while writing this, hence the single name and album.

Song/Title Inspiration: Angel - Fleetwood Mac

- - - - - - -

Days of Our Lives Documentary Shoot - 2010

(Brian May and Roger Taylor Joint Interview)

“The early 80s were huge for us, for sure. I believe we were at our biggest then, internationally speaking.” Brian states, glancing over to Roger.

“Yes, Another One Bites the Dust really set things a-flame I think. The traveling and playing were constant. The crowds getting bigger by the venue. Parties, hotels, girls, more parties. We were meeting just so many people.” Roger adds.

“And one of those being a certain American female rock singer.” The interviewer adds quietly from off-camera.

Roger glances over to him with a questioning look, but Brian catches on quick, like always.

“Ah yes, that particular rock goddess. We did meet her around then, I believe, yes. Maybe a few years after.” Brian says knowingly, still playing along.

Roger stares into space with a confused look on his face until the realization hits him. “Are we talking about Y/N?” Roger mutters to Brian. “Yes” Brian chuckles, patting his friend on the shoulder.

“Oh, what a spit-fire she is! Not back then though. Fred really worked some magic with that one. Almost inseparable those two were.” Roger laughs out, a wave of nostalgia washing over his face.

Brian raises his large eyebrows, “Deacy would beg to differ I think.”

Roger smirks, “Oh, well that’s a whole different story.”

- - - - - - -

1982 - MTV Studios, New York City

You run your hands up and down your thighs, trying to will your left knee to stop repeatedly bouncing up and down. The satin of your pants does nothing for the layer of sweat on your clammy hands. You fold them together in your lap and gaze around the studio instead, taking in the bustling of crew members as they ready for the pre-taped interview. The god-like VJ, Alan Hunter, sits in a chair off to the side as someone artfully pieces his blonde locks into place. He grins over at you with a small wave. You limply lift your hand in a greeting, pasting on a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes.

You catch your pained expression as you glimpse a monitor off-camera. A friendly woman backstage had painted your face to the point of being almost unrecognizable. Gone was the evidence under your eyes of the restless sleep you’d fought the previous night. They were wide and doed, rather than their normal crescent shape. Your lips full and vibrant, your hair bounced and fanned out around your face. And your skin seemed to be glowing, masking the spots that had popped up overnight from stress. You looked every bit the rock goddess the label hoped to paint you as, and the exact opposite of the nerves currently threatening to overtake your body.

“Y/N, I can feel you vibrating from here. Take a deep breath. It’s gonna be fine.” Rich commented from beside you. His legs were splayed out, his arms bent behind his head. Looking as relaxed as can be, as if he were on his couch at home catching a movie marathon, about to doze off.

“How can you be so calm right now?” You rush out. “Who knows how many people are going to see this interview. Do you know how many times a day I accidentally let the F word fly out of my mouth?”

Rich lets out a snort. “I happen to know exactly how much you curse, thank you. Yesterday you said fuck 3 times in one sentence. It was charming, my mom loved it.” He moves his right arm to squeeze around your shoulders. Usually, it would be a comforting display of friendship, but you shake it off.

“And look at those three. Already so at home, I see.” You nod to the three other members of the band. Steve is exuding energy like yourself, but it’s excitement that bubbles from him. His eyes flit around the room quickly as he taps out some unknown rhythm on his bent legs. A wide grin permanently fixed on his boyish features.

At the far end of the couch, Eddie and Lawrence are wrapped up in a not-so-silent game of knuckles.

“Son of a-- Will you take off those damn rings? It’s my turn and I’m still getting bruised.” Lawrence huffs. Eddie wiggles his long, skilled, silver-clad fingers in front of his face and raises his eyebrows. “It’s all about the look, baby. Gotta play the part of the guitar god.”

“Will you both knock it off.” You call over to them. “We need both those sets of hands in playing shape for tomorrow night.”

Eddie turns, probably to counter with some playful comment about how you mother them too much, but Alan approaches.

“Alright, guys. And girl.” He flashes his perfectly white teeth your way again. “We’re about 5 minutes out from going up. Anybody need anything? Water, vodka, beer…” He turns his gaze to Steve, who is still tapping lightly on his legs. “A Xanax, perhaps?”

“Waters all around would be great, thanks.” You offer. Alan nods to a twitchy PA waiting to his side and they hurry off.

“Oh wait up, a Bud Light too, if you have any!” Eddie calls after them. The other three boys echo the same as well.

“You can take the boys out of Long Island…” you mutter to yourself. Rich teasingly pokes your side. “And something stiff for the lady!” He shouts out.

“In all manner of ways” Steve giggles. You feign a shocked expression and reach over to place a gentle slap to the side of his head. He looks over with big apologetic eyes and you stifle a laugh.

In record time, the lanky PA rushes back over with a myriad of drinks, all threatening to topple over on the tray they were precariously balanced on. Another PA trails behind, handing you all water, which you’re in desperate need of. They hand the drinks out one by one and stop before you. “Your water, Miss. And I didn’t know what you liked so I have a jack and coke, a whiskey sour, and a gin and tonic.”

“The gin and tonic is great, thanks.” They hurriedly hand you the drink and go to turn away. “Love your hair by the way.” You tell them. “I’m absolute shit at styling mine. Guess I’ll have to learn now.” They smile back at you and run a hand through their short locks before disappearing amongst the rest of the crew.

“Okay, we’re ready to rock n’ roll!” Alan exclaims, getting the band’s attention as he sits down in a chair next to your side of the couch. “We’re going to start off with a few basics on the band. Your lower thirds will have your instruments labeled but feel free to explain how you guys started out, your influences, your process. I’ll prompt you in between and then we'll talk about the album and promote your upcoming tour towards the end. Should take 15 minutes tops, so keep your answers brief. But I won’t say no to any rowdy stories you want to throw in.” He finishes with a wink.

The band nods along as you gulp down a breath, your palms becoming even slicker. The stage manager’s high voice rings out around the studio. “Playback ready! Live to tape in 5.. 4...” Rich places a hand over your knee and gives a squeeze. “Light em’ up, Bun” he mutters in your ear.

“3.. 2..” She holds up a finger and then points it at Alan, a wide smile already set on his face. The camera light flicks red as the MTV open plays from speakers around the room. Alan beings as the song fades out.

“We’re here in the studio and boy, am I excited to get to know this next band. Over at MTV we’ve been watching the steady rise of their single “Heart of the Night” on the charts. And as an added surprise, they’re here to introduce their very first music video. I’m very pleased to welcome to the studio, Lo & The Limbs!”

You try to relax your face as a camera pans across the band and settles on a two-shot of you and Alan. You know your eyes are gleaming with anxiety so you glance down the couch, silently praying for one of the boys to take the lead.

“Thanks for having us Alan, it’s such a trip to be here.” Eddie says with ease, resting his forearms on his knees.

“So, I have to ask. Who is Lo? Is it you Lawerence?” Alan questions the piano player.

“Oh god, no.” Lawrence chuckles. “Our high school was affectionately called Lo High, for Long Island HighSchool of the Arts. So we sort of tacked that on while playing during those years to let people know where we were from. That and well, as you can see we’re all above 6 foot except for Y/N, so a lot of limbs going on here.”

Alan gives a short laugh. “You released your debut album, Quiet Lies, earlier this year to growing success. Why don’t you tell me how you all started out.”

“Well, the boys and I have been together for a few years. We’ve been friends since grade school and we always just used to jam about. As we got older we started playing local bars back on Long Island to mostly middle-aged crowds, trying to break in, but it wasn’t working. Then Rich had the idea to invite Y/N to join up and it’s all kind of all taken off from there.” Eddie explains.

“We needed a pretty face to balance out all these ugly mugs” Steve pipes up.

“It took a while for her to finally concede though. She was off being too studious for the likes of us.” Rich adds on with a smile and nudge to your side. Your eyes grow wide as you feel a question directed at you coming on.

“Is that true, Y/N?”

“I- I guess, I was at NYU studying documentary filmmaking.” You choke out, but continue on. “Love this lighting set up, by the way, it really hides all sins.” That gets a light chuckle out of the crew surrounding you.

“And these sins you’re hiding are…” Alan grins but quickly bounces to the next topic. “Certainly a good call, Rich. Heart of the Night is the only song off the album that Y/N is singing lead on and look how well it’s doing. How did that happen?”

“Most of our songs were already written from before when we finally got the money to record. We wanted Y/N to feel a part of it, so she went on and wrote Heart of the Night and we were all very pleasantly surprised that it’s become such a hit.” Steve explains. “She also directed the music video we’ll be debuting today. I can’t believe she let us do all the things we did in that… well, you’ll just have to see for yourselves. We can be a bit of a handful.” The boys all chuckle.

“That and she plays the weirdest collection of instruments. Rhythm guitar, any type of strings, the saxophone… She's a boss on the harmonica.” Eddie turns to you as he speaks. “You just need to get over those pesky little nerves about your singing, Bun!” He points in your direction.

You feel the heat rise behind your perfectly painted cheeks at the slip of your nickname. You cast your gaze down at your lap. Not liking how the conversation has turned directly onto you.

Alan quirks an eyebrow at you. “Bun?” He teases.

You have yet to lift your eyes when Rich answers for you. “Bunny, an affectionate nickname. It’s stuck around since grade school when she wandered into Lawrence's backyard in search of a rabbit she was chasing.”

“A rockstar called Bunny. There’s a first for everything.” Alan quips, but quickly notices your displeasure in the current topic. Sensing your growing panic, he addresses the rest of the group. “This has been quite the debut album, with more hits sure to come from it. Any bands you’ve taken inspiration from while writing and producing?”

Rich jumps at the question. “Fleetwood Mac would be a big one. The way they layer their sounds is just unmatchable. You catch something new with every listen of an album of theirs.”

“I can’t be a pianist from Long Island and not mention the granddaddy, Billy Joel.” Lawrence adds. “His songs take you on such a ride. They’re full stories, each one of them.”

“And you, Y/N?” Alan directs the next question. “Who will you be drawing inspiration from when you write your next hit single?”

You smile to yourself. “It’s gotta be Queen for me. I’ve loved every one of their albums. I mean, the way they’ve changed their sound just in the past few years alone. They’re always transcending. Never afraid to try out something new or weave a different genre into one of their songs. But you always know it’s a Queen song. I saw them 2 years ago when they played the Garden, and fu--” You catch yourself as you get more animated. “And they were all just so on. Perfectly in sync. There’s something so distinct about their sound, so practiced. I’d love to get to their level, to be able to experiment like that. To give joy in the way they’ve given it to me.” You finish. Realizing you’ve rambled for a bit, you turn your eyes downwards yet again.

“I think that’s the most I’ve heard you talk since you came into the studio!” Alan laughs. “Well, you heard it here first folks, Y/N L/N is a Queen fan, just like the rest of us. I’m sure you’re just as excited about their new album as well.” You nod quickly as Rich hides a smile. Knowing full well you’ll be first in line to purchase their new album, Hot Space when it drops.

“But before you get off to writing more hits, I believe you have a tour coming up!” Alan states, signaling that the interview is wrapping up.

“Yeah, we have a small American tour starting in February. But until then we’ll be opening up for Hall and Oates during their tour of the NorthEast next month.” Steve says excitedly, bouncing slightly in his seat.

“And with that, I think we’ll roll into the long-anticipated music video and directorial debut for the lovely Y/N L/N. Thank you all so much for coming in today and I can’t wait to see what’s next on the horizon for you. Here’s Lo & The Limbs with Heart of the Night!” Alan keeps his painted smile till the red light vanishes from above the lens on the large pedestal camera in front of him.

You breathe out the breath you’d been choking on as Rich puts an arm around your shoulders. He leans in and whispers lightly, “And only one hint of a fuck, ladies and gentlemen. She might just make it in this business after all.”

- - - - - - -

One Month Later - Veterans Memorial Coliseum - New Haven, Connecticut

The Limbs bound off the stage in full force, glistening with sweat and excitement. It was the largest crowd they’d played for by far. 10,000 people cheered from the audience as roadies and crew moved around them to set up for the main act, Hall and Oates. Rich spreads his long arms and huddles the rest of the group into a family hug, your skin sticking to one another, the smell of sweat filling your noses.

“I just want us to all remember this moment.” He speaks to the group, foreheads touching. “Even if nothing happens past this album. That was insane.”

“Absolutely bonkers, dude!” Steve says and he bounces up and down beside you. You all take a deep collective breath and squeeze.

“Alright, get off of me you fucks.” You laugh, untangling yourself from their vast expanse of limbs. “We all stink and I have to get out of all... this” You gesture to the skin-tight bodysuit your best friend, Dawn, had insisted you wear. Eddie presses a light kiss to your temple as he lets you into the dressing room first to change out of their view.

You close the door and sigh, glancing at yourself in the mirrors that line one wall of the room. Your eyes are bright, your hair is two times the size of when you went out on stage an hour before, and your makeup looks like you’d been in a fight. Grinning to yourself, you start to unlatch the halter top of the bodysuit, excited for the air to cool your skin.

Just as you are about to shimmy out of the rest of the ensemble, the door bursts open.

“Shit! Lawrence, what the hell?!” Scrambling to cover your top half.

Lawrence trains his eyes to the ceiling as he speaks. “Bunny, you gotta… just cover up and get your ass out here. You just... You gotta see, c’mon.”

Flustered, you hurry to redress your sticky body. After making sure everything is properly covered, you step out into the hallway backstage, already glaring at the boys. They’re all tight-lipped, staring at one another. “Okay, someone want to tell me what the hell is going on?” You say loudly. “Shhhhh” Rich hisses as he gestures behind him with a shake of his head. You glance over his shoulder to see the backs of two men. John Hall and Daryl Oates.

“Yeah, okay... I don’t get it. We’ve hung out with them like 5 times. Why are we fangirling?”

Rich widens his eyes at you and you glance back at them again. This time they part and you can catch a glimpse of who they’ve been talking to.

The flash of a tight leather jacket, a mustache, and two front teeth shining while laughter erupts from behind them.

You gasp.

“Fucking, fuck. That’s Freddie fucking Mercury.” You say, a bit too loud.

The bold man in question locks eyes with you. Something mischievous dances behind them as he narrows his gaze. Daryl and John move to their roadies to get fixed up before heading out on stage and Freddie lets out a sharp burst of laughter as he makes his way over. Your stomach churns with embarrassment but you can’t tear your eyes from his.

“Quite the redundancy of expletives, my dear. All you had to do was say hello.” he grins at you, all teeth. You’re not one to get too clammy in front of other musicians, but your voice gets trapped in your throat. You pray to whatever gods are out there that your eyes don’t get any wider.

Eddie’s easy charm luckily saves you. “This beautiful songstress right here is Y/N L/N.” You barely lift your arms as Freddie pulls you in for a light hug and kiss on the cheek. “But you can call her Bunny.” Eddie grins. So much for easy charm you think as you stare daggers into the profile of his face.

“Ha! Bunny? Oh my, that is wonderful.” Freddie chuckles. “It sounds as if you’re a socialite... Or a stripper. I can’t tell.” He beams at you. You can’t help but beam right back.

“Come along. Let us watch the show and you can tell me which one it is.” He says with a wink. “And introduce me to these giants you call your band.” He grabs your arm and leads you off, the boys in tow. Bouncing with excitement for what’s to come.

#queen fic #queen fanfiction #queen fanfic #john deacon #john deacon fic #john deacon imagine #john deacon x reader #john deacon series #deaky fic #deacy fic #deaky x reader #deacy x reader #angelofmydreams

[mithranqueersmusings]

The Night Before II

Chapter: 2/15

Rating: E

Summary: Ringo hangs around after the club closes and meets a stranger.

Tags: Smut

Pairing: George Harrison/Ringo Starr

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Ringo hadn't been to this club for a while, without John by his side he couldn't help but feel a little nervous. There were only two types of people who dragged themselves to such a questionable establishment so late in the night: people so off their faces in need of a warm place to dance until they could hardly stand upright, and predatory figures looking for an easy target. Ringo and George didn't fit into either category, making Ringo question the distinction entirely, but he supposed a drink or two could get them well on their way. The two of them headed straight to the bar which was littered with a few figures who were struggling to hold their heads up.

"What can I get you?" George asked, getting his phone ready to pay immediately.

"Oh, um... A vodka-coke if you're offering." Ringo once again felt his nerves getting the better of him, part of him still couldn't believe someone like George was even interested in him.

"Gross, how do you drink that shite?" George curled his nose up in mock disgust but ordered one for Ringo all the same, buying himself a gin and lemonade.

With their drinks in hand they moved over to the sparsely populated dancefloor, the music seemed to be the same every time Ringo came here: 80s throwbacks and cringey one-hit-wonders from the 2000s. Not that Ringo was complaining, it was easy to dance to and he almost always knew the words, but it was far from his music of choice.

"You ever been here before?" Ringo asked, having to shout over the music.

"Never." George replied with a smile "Is it always this dingy?"

"Yes." Ringo answered instantly "But it's one of the only places open right now."

"Who says I'm complaining?" George laughed.

The two of them continued dancing through a variety of songs, both of them drunkenly singing along to 'Don't Stop Me Now' and failing to mask their excitement when 'Dancing Queen' came on. Several rounds of drinks passed their lips, each one decreasing the proximity between them as they danced. Ringo wasn't entirely sure who initiated it first, but before he knew it George's back was pressed up against his chest and they were attempting to move with one another without falling over. They were far from the only couple grinding shamelessly like this, but they were certainly the only male duo.

When another song finally ceased, Ringo found himself getting a little worked up from all the friction with George; his jeans were tight, his heart was racing and he was beginning to sweat. The only solution would be to get out to the smoking area for some "fresh air". Ringo moved his hands slowly off of George's body and leaned his face in closer so he could shout in George's ear. George evidently thought Ringo had other ideas, because he turned around quickly and crashed his lips clumsily down onto Ringo's.

Ringo froze for a moment, his hands thrown up in shock before he could register what was happening. It was far from the most romantic kiss Ringo had experienced, but the last thing he was going to do was complain. George was pulling at the fabric of Ringo's shirt to pull them closer together, his sharp teeth poking through occasionally. Ringo felt himself being dipped down by the sheer force of George and had to cling onto his neck just to stay upright.

The kiss didn't last very long, at least Ringo thought so but time was a difficult concept to grasp at this moment. George pulled away, pulling Ringo back up with him, a satisfied grin on his face and a dark look in his eyes.

"Been waiting to do that all night." George slurred, the satisfaction still clear on his face.

Ringo could feel himself blushing, luckily the club was dark enough to hide it "All night?"

George nodded "Was watching you with your mates for a while, couldn't find the courage to say hello."

"Why don't we, uh... Go for a smoke?" Ringo could hardly hear what George was saying over the music, and this was a conversation he certainly didn't want to miss.

"Sure thing." George followed Ringo as he maneuvered through the labyrinthine club until they finally got to the outside.

The wind felt far colder than before, no doubt it was because the club was so tightly packed and humid. A bouncer stood in the corner of the fenced off area with his arms crossed, eyeing George and Ringo as though they were about to cause any trouble. Someone else stood in the corner yelling down their phone, seemingly having an argument with whoever was on the other end. George and Ringo found some relatively dry seating and sat beside one another.

"How you feelin'?" Ringo asked, rather than sobering up the cold air was only making him feel drunker.

"Pretty good." George hummed happily, his eyes were barely open.

Now they'd gotten to be alone together, Ringo had no idea what to say. Looking into George's eyes he could hardly string a coherent thought together. At least Ringo could be certain that it wasn't just the alcohol clouding his mind, George really was something else. Even the way he dressed was attractive, a retro windbreaker with flared velvet trousers, the shirt underneath a mixture of colours and shapes.

"So... You were watching me in the club then?" Ringo asked cautiously.

George let out a hearty laugh "Shit, yeah... Me and my big mouth." He looked embarrassed for a moment or two "I was worried the guy you were with was your boyfriend, even after they left I was still a little too scared to come over."

Ringo chuckled at the thought, dating either Paul or John was amusing to him "What made you come over in the end, then?"

"Felt like I couldn't let you get away." George smiled "You looked so cool, I was certain you were gonna tell me to piss off."

"Me?" Ringo laughed "Not very likely. I'm a sweetheart really."

George leant in a little closer "Something tells me that's not the whole truth." The darkness had returned to his eyes, his lips curling up in a devilish smile.

"I'm afraid I haven't the faintest clue what you're on about." Ringo leaned in too, close enough to feel George's breath on his face.

A beat of silence passed between them.

"This place has got a toilet, right?" George's voice was almost a whisper.

Ringo paused "Yeah, of course. Why, do you feel sick or something?"

George let out a splutter of a laugh "Don't be daft." His voice grew quiet once more, making the hairs stand up on Ringo's skin "But I don't think that bouncer will like it very much if I start blowing you right here."

Breath escaped Ringo entirely, this was far from the first time that he'd been prepositioned in such a way but hearing it from George made his head cloud.

"Well?" George asked, cocking an eyebrow and widening his toothy grin.

Ringo stood up a little too eagerly, but he was past the point of caring by now. Grabbing George by his slim wrist he quickly guided them back into the dingy club and towards the questionable toilets. By this point in the night, one of the cubicles was already out of order and something somewhere had started to flood and pools of water formed around the sinks. It was a ghastly sight, but Ringo hardly noticed it as he pulled George into the furthest stall.

"Charming place." George remarked as he locked the door, luckily the floor was relatively clean.

It was cramped to say the least, Ringo put the seat down on the well-used toilet and sat himself rather excitedly down.

"It's dreadful, I know. But desperate times..." Ringo had no clue what to do with his hands, his head was swimming with anticipation.

"I hope that's not a dig at me." George replied as he wasted no time getting to his knees, it made Ringo sad to see his trousers dirtying with the muck on the floor but George hardly seemed to care.

George quickly got to work, his slender fingers pulling at the zip on Ringo's achingly tight jeans. Ringo let out a sigh of relief as the denim was pulled from his skin, pooling down at his ankles, he only hoped they didn't get too dirty but that was a risk he was willing to take. Next were the boxers, Ringo wished he'd worn a more presentable pair tonight but it wasn't long before they were being pulled down too.

Ringo hadn't realised how hard he'd become until he was staring right at his aching erection, a sight which drew George's attention too.

"Fuck..." George breathed, his hand tentatively gripping the shaft "For a short guy you've got a huge cock."

"I'll skip the insult and take that compliment, thanks." Ringo was struggling to keep his composure as George's slim lips wrapped around the head.

It wasn't the most debauched thing Ringo had ever done, he'd fucked a guy at the back of a club surrounded by overflowing dumpsters once, but it was certainly the most thrilling. George was acting like he was starved, as though all he needed in this moment was Ringo. With George's mouth working up and down Ringo's length, it was hard to believe they'd only met a few hours ago.

"Jesus." Ringo hissed when George lightly grazed his teeth, he swore he could feel George's sharp canines individually on his sensitive skin.

George hummed happily, taking more of Ringo into his throat. The world seemed to be spinning around him, Ringo had to push his hand against the cubicle wall to gain the slightest feeling of being grounded. Maybe it was his bias for George, but Ringo could swear this was the greatest blowjob he'd ever had. He wondered whether George did this a lot, the thought of that alone released a moan from deep inside him.

Ringo ran his hand through George's hair, it had started sticking together with sweat but he still managed to look good. George let out a quiet gasp at the contact, feeling the coolness of Ringo's jewellery was welcome.

George was quickening his pace now, each time being able to take more of Ringo into his mouth, his determination was certainly admirable, but he never managed to take him all the way. Each time he gagged around the thickness, Ringo couldn't stop the moans from pouring out of his mouth.

"Fucking hell, George..." Ringo panted, gripping tightly at his hair "Your mouth feels incredible, just wanna fuck up into it."

The sound that left George's mouth was purely criminal, groaning with his mouth filled with cock. He looked up into Ringo's eyes with a hungry twinkle, it was all the permission Ringo needed to start thrusting upwards. At first he was cautious, testing the waters as he felt George's throat relaxing around him but soon enough he grew sloppy and erratic.

Everything seemed to fade into the background, all that was left was the sensation of George's hot mouth and the wanton noises he was making. The sounds were obscene, wet slapping of skin on skin, George gagging and moaning.

"Shit, shit... I'm getting close." Ringo announced, he could hardly see straight.

George didn't wait for another word, he pinned Ringo's hips down to the seat forcefully and sank his lips all the way down to the base. Hollowing his cheeks and gagging loudly, Ringo came in an instant, shooting down deep into George's throat. It took Ringo a few moments to recover, still gripping at George's hair tightly.

Pulling off suddenly, George licked his lips and swallowed hard. It was purely pornographic, the way he smiled with specks of cum still visible. Ringo couldn't help himself from rubbing his thumb tenderly on George's smooth cheek, he worried it would be too intimate of a gesture but he didn't seem to mind, instead he pressed his face into the hand.

Reluctantly Ringo pulled the hand away, then passed what was left of a toilet roll over to George so he could clean himself up. George accepted it willingly, standing up and assessing the damage of his trousers which weren't as bad as either one had anticipated, although it was pretty clear what he'd been getting up to.

"Sorry about your trousers." Ringo said hoarsely, pulling up his own jeans and shuddering at the wet sensation against his skin.

"Don't worry about it." George's voice was even more wrecked "Worth it."

Ringo laughed nervously, even after all that he still couldn't help the effect George had on him. He could barely stand, his knees were far too shaky. George looked beyond satisfied, his hair a mess and his cheeks flushed.

"So... What say we head back to yours?" George asked with a grin, despite all the exertion he was still eager.

"I say the Uber can't get here fast enough." Ringo smirked, managing to get up to his feet to kiss George deeply.

He could taste his cum on George's tongue, mingled with alcohol and smoke. Perhaps it was just the heat of the moment, but he could've sworn it was the most delicious thing he'd ever tasted.

#Beatles #the beatles #beatles fanfic #beatles fanfiction #George Harrison/Ringo Starr #george harrisonxreader #george harrisonxringo starr #ringo starr/george harrison #starrison #starrison smut

[unloved-cadillac]

Leather Jackets and Glasses Two

Y/n L/n, the leader of the notorious gang called The Scouts. Placed in Rose high, Y/n is in her senior year but things take a turn when she starts getting interested in a certain boy named, Levi Ackerman. Follow the journey of heartbreak, betrayal and love between two people who were destined to be together.   

Chapter Two:

-What do you mean “you keyed the teacher’s car”!? Did you or did you not!?

My father yells at me. So yeah. He found out what I did.

-it’s not my fault, he was being an asshole. Dad, is 57 a bad score?

He looks at me curiously.

-Not really. I mean you passed. Why?

-When he gave me my paper, he freakin scoffed and rolled his eyes. He looked at me like some low life. So I taught him a lesson.

My dad chuckles. He leans down and cups my cheek.

-Honey, i know you did good. He is an asshole for doing that. Teachers are supposed to uplift your spirits and try and push you further because they believe in you. I can have a “chat” with him on Monday.

He finishes and kisses my forehead.

-Thanks, Dad. I wish I could say I was sorry.

-Don’t push it.

His stern voice caught me off guard.

-Sorry, sir. May I leave now?

He nods and I wake up and leave to my room. It seemed I wasn’t paying attention to where I was walking because I bumped into someone, making me fall to my ass.

-Oh Jeez Y/n. I didn’t even see you.

Mike says as he offers his hand to help me up.

-Yeah,you giant.

I wake up and dust my pants.

-I heard what you did to your teachers car. Not bad, kid. I did worse.

I raise my eyebrow to that. Mike always seemed so chill and not one to cause fights. But that was before I saw him and my dad interrogate one of our ex members. I can still hear his bones crack from Mike crushing that guy’s arm.

-What did you do?

-No no. I’m not giving you ideas. What did your dad say?

-Nothing.

He hums in response and starts to walk away.

-Hey Mike?

He turns to face me.

-You know what...never mind

I take off running to my room leaving Mike confused. I take out my phone as I enter. I dial a number and wait for them to pick up.

-hello?

-still on for tonight.

-aww HELL YEAH. Same time?

-yeah. I gotta sneak out though. So I might be a tad bit late.

-it’s fine. As long as you’re coming. Everyone is gonna be there.

I perk my ears up.

-everyone?

-yeah. From our grade. They wanted a pre-prom thing or something. Is it cool?

I smile.

-It’s perfect

~a couple of hours later

I put on my jacket and boots and head to my window. I jump out onto the roof and make my way to a ladder I left there earlier. I climbed down and make my way out of the years. So as you can see, I have been sneaking out for a while. It’s not like my dad cares, he never caught me and plus those guards are shit at their jobs. I hop over my gate and walk to the end of my neighborhood. I take a left and see Mikasa’s car, waiting. I hop into the passenger seat.

-Hey.

Mikasa says as she puts her cigarette out.

-Took you long enough.

-Yeah. Had some trouble with the ladder. Anyway, everyone is there?

-Yeah. Fucking sucks. All the nerds and jocks are there. Eren and Jean are there already too.

I smile. Nerds. Only one comes to my mind.

-Alright let’s go.

I tell Mikasa. She nods her head and puts the car into drive and we make our way to the party. This party was at the end of town. So it takes a good 15 minutes from my place. It’s at an abandoned scrapyard where not many people hang out. This place was perfect. It had these big old cars where you can chill in, some cool scrap metal. It was our little getaway.

-So...I see you have your eye on someone.

Mikasa tells me. I look at her confused. How the fuck...

-I don’t know what you’re talking about.

I say and look out the window.

-Yeah. Sure. I’ve seen you look at him. Eren may be stupid enough to believe you were looking at Reiner but I saw you look at Levi.

I widen my eyes, still not looking at her.

-Ok. Fine. But just so you know, he’s there too.

Mikasa smiles. I look at her and smirk.

-Stays between us.

-Don’t need to tell me twice.

The rest of the car ride was quiet apart from Mikasa’s radio playing. “Dead!” by My Chemical Romance was on. Perfect.

By the time we pulled up to the scrapyard it was half 8 at night so it was already dark out. Mikasa parks the car and we jump out.

-Yo look who’s finally here! Y/N!

Eren shouts from the fire. People looked at me and cheered. I look at the crowd looking for a certain someone.

-Finally. I thought you weren’t gonna come.

Eren says as he puts his arm around me.

-What are you drinking?

I take the blue cup from his hand and sniff.

-Vodka and Redbull.

-Jesus. As if you don’t need the extra energy.

I laugh. We go to the big fire that was burning in the middle of the yard. Only seniors were there so I knew everyone.

-Y/N!

I hear my name and turn to the source.

-oh fuck.

I whisper to myself. Reiner. That dipshit. He is such an asshole. Remember earlier when I told you that I was fairly popular, especially with the boys? He was one of the boys that just won’t give up.

-Reiner.

-Aw. No hi? I ran all the way across the yard for you.

-Well I didn’t ask you to.

I say as I sip my drink.

-So mean. Well, you won’t be mean on prom night. Because I’m gonna be your partner.

-Oh for fucks sake, Reiner. I told you. I don’t want to be your partner.

-Then who are you going with?

-Nobody. I’m not going.

I lie. In fact I was going. I wanted to trash the place. But when the time comes I’ll tell you about it.

-Aww come on,Y/n? Why won’t you give me a chance? I’ll treat you so good. I’ll do whatever you want. And when I say whatever, I mean whatever.

He finishes his sentence with a wink. Gross.

-Yo! REINER. COME THROW SOME BALL WITH US!

Someone calls out to him. He turns to them and yells out a “COMING!” He turns to look at me, smiles and runs off. I swear that guy tries so hard. As I take a sip of my drink,at the corner of my eye I see a couple of people coming to the yard. I recognize them immediately. Levi and Farlan.

-Levi Bro! You made it!

Isabel runs up to him and he ruffles her hair. Cute.

-And no “hey babe” for me?

Farlan asks Isabel. She laughs and kisses him. I’m not gonna lie they made a cute couple. Apparently, Isabel had no interest in Farlan at first. She never cared for finding a boyfriend. But one day, a bet was made that she couldn’t get his number in one day. She ended up telling him a shit joke and caught his interest. She had no intention of falling for him, but she did. She won the bet and his heart and I thought that was beautiful. It turns out I was daydreaming, again, because Eren is poking me.

-Yes, my hyperactive rodent?

I finally turn to him.

-I live for your weird names. Anyway, they starting a game. Come join.

-No Eren. I don’t do these games.

-Please,Y/n?

-No. I’ll watch though. Go.

He pouts but he leaves. I refill my drink and I make my way to an old car near to hear the game and sit on the bonnet. I look to my left and see someone sitting on the car next to me, but I ignore them and listen.

-Alright, seniors. It’s been an awesome night so far. So let’s play a game. Today’s game is Never Have I Ever. Everyone has to play. Even those sitting on the cars. Including you too, Levi.

I hear that name and look to my left. Holy shit, HE was sitting there. He scoffs and looks at Farlan who was sitting on the ground with Isabel on his lap. He turns and looks at me for a split second but does a double-take. I smile and wave a small wave. He widens his eyes and waves back.

-OK! First up, Sasha!

Connie points to her. She has her face stuffed with McDonald’s but speaks anyway.

-Nemver hamve I emver eaten Sushi.

I raised my eyebrow at that. That’s a weird one.

-Sasha, have you never eaten sushi?

Connie asks her. She shakes her head.

-it’s fucking disgusting. It’s the one food I won’t eat.

-Haha. Alright. Everyone if you didn’t eat sushi before, take a sip of your drink.

Yeah, everyone tried sushi so no one drank. I sneak a glance to my side and Levi also didn’t drink. Good to know.

-Ok. Never have I ever broken a bone.

Jean says. A few drink and I do too.

-ok whoever drank tell us what you broke.

Connie tells us.

-I fell down the stairs and broke my leg.

-I bumped into a door and broke my nose.

-I got knocked and broke a few.

A couple of people say. I laugh at some.

-Y/n?

I look up.

-You drank. Tell us.

Connie says. I smile.

-I got into a fight and broke my wrist and collarbone.

Many widen their eyes. Jean smiles. He smiles cause he remembers that fight.

-Hardcore, man. You aren’t labeled as dangerous for nothing, huh?

I shake my shoulders and chuckle. I sneak a peak to my left and see Levi staring. I smirk. He didn’t drink yet. Maybe he really was a good boy.

-Y/n. Your turn.

I put on a thinking face. Then I smile and say my line.

-Never have I ever had friends with benfits.

Many drank. Almost all. And few glances were sent. I look at Levi and he didn’t drink. Mmm.

-Now that was a good one, Y/n. Already getting dirty. Alright, Levi. Your turn.

I turn to look at him and see him look down. It’s quiet for a bit but then he speaks up.

-Never have I ever been arrested.

Jesus. That is unexpected. I would drink but surprisingly that never happened. But I did see Jean sip and Mikasa sip. The air got a bit tensed because Connie was gonna ask them about it. Until I caught his eye and slowly shook my head. He cleared his throat and smiled.

-Jeez Levi. Good one. Alright. Hange. You’re next.

Connie smoothly says. I look at Levi.

-That was good one. Why ask that?

I ask him. He looks at me. My God. This boy just got sexier to me.

-I don’t know. I felt like there needed to be a wilder one.

He says. I smile. I like his voice. I want him to speak again. But we get interrupted by Connie.

-Guys did you hear? Hange asked if you ever sent a nude.

I make a disgusted face and so does Levi.

-Jesus Christ no. What the fuck.

-Yeah Four-Eyes, what the fuck?

He turns to look at Hange. She was sitting between Erwin’s legs as he wraps his arms around her. Yes,they were dating and they also got together by chance. Erwin was her locker neighbor and he mistakenly tried to open hers instead of his. They laughed and a few days later got together.

Levi just swore. He just said “fuck”. I guess he wasn’t a good boy after all.

-Levi.

I say his name to catch his attention. He looks at me.

-Yes?

-Why did you give me your handkerchief the other day?

He blushes and looks down. He doesn’t say anything for a while.

-Your hand was bleeding and it looked like you didn’t have yours on you. Did you think I would just let you suffer like that?

He quietly says the end part. It was soft but I caught it. I smile.

-You’re sweet,Levi. Thank you. By the way you’re not getting it back.

-It’s ok. Keep it.

He says. I tilt my head. He really is strange. We weren’t even paying attention to the game anymore. So I just drank and looked at him. I guess he sensed I was staring so he looked at me.

-Y/n?

I snap out of my daydream.

-Oh sorry was I staring? I just can’t get enough of your cuteness.

I tell him. He widens his eyes and looks away, hiding a blush. I smile. He is so easy to fluster. The night progresses and people start to leave around 12. I stick around for a while with my gang. As we are chatting I see Levi and Farlan leave. He looks at me and I smile. He waves to me.

-I knew you liked him.

Someone says to me. I turn to that someone to see Mikasa light her cigarette.

-Shut up. I don’t like him.

-Tell that to your face. You can fool anyone with your stoicness but not me. I can clearly see that you’re blushing.

It was my turn to widen my eyes and look away. Fuck.

-Just take me home.

I say and Mikasa chuckles.

-Sure.

We leave and I see Levi and Farlan by their car. It looks like it’s not starting and the engine sounds like shit. Isabel tries starting it but the engine just give out.

-Dammit. I just got this fucker fixed last week.

I hear Farlan scream.

-I told you not listen to Kenny.

Levi responds. Kenny? That name seems familiar. But I brush it off and grab Mikasa’s arm.

-Hey. It looks like they are having car problems.

Mikasa smirks at me.

-Wanna help out?

I look at her and squint my eyes.

-..yes.

-Alright. Let’s go.

We walk up to them and Mikasa taps Farlan’s shoulder.

-Hey. You guys ok?

Farlan looks at us. He instantly recognized us.

-Oh. Oh yes. This damn car gave out.

Farlan tells us.

-Can I have a see?

I ask Farlan. He nods his head and make my way to the engine. I ask Isabel to try and start it. When she presses the accelerator there’s a weird sound coming from the back of it. I look inside and see something weird.

-Uhm Farlan? Do you have a pair of pliers?

He looks in his boot and pulls out a pair of pliers. He gives them to Levi and Levi comes and gives it to me.

-Oh. Oh, thank you.

I take it from Levi and smile. I stick the pliers in the back and pull out a wire.

-Ok, Isabel. Let’s try it one more time.

And when Isabel starts it, it successfully starts.

-WHOOHOO!

Isabel yells and Farlan moves to thank me.

-Thank you, Y/n. Thank you so much. How can I repay you?

I shake my head.

-Nothing. Just bring the car by Pixis’ Shop downtown. Tell him I sent you. He would do the car up for free.

-Whoa, what really?

-Yeah. Also, your engine is shit right now. Whoever did it before really did a number on it. It looks like they either didn’t know how to do it or they hated you guys.

Farlan laughs at that.

-That’s what Levi said. Our uncle recommended the shop. Levi said that they were gonna fuck up the car because they hated our uncle.

I look at Levi and he smirks.

-Yeah well, be careful on the road ok?

-Yeah. You too, Y/n. Thank you again.

-Thank you, Y/n!!!

Isabel shouts. I wave them off and walk to Mikasa’s car. She starts the car and we head off. Halfway through the drive Mikasa says something.

-He was staring the whole time.

I wake up from my light slumber.

-Huh?

-Levi. That whole time you were working on Farlan’s car. He didn’t take his eyes off of you.

I click my tongue.

-Nah. Perhaps it was the fact that I was working on his brothers car and also I’m a gangster and he was trying to make sure I didn’t fuck with them?

-Nope. This was a different look. I can’t put my foot on it but it was different.

-Hmm

I respond to her analysis. I roll my eyes. No. There’s no way he is interested in me.

===

*In Farlan’s car*

-Levi-bro! Y/n is so kind. Don’t you think? I  didn’t expect her to know about cars, if im being honest.

Isabel tells him. He hums in response.

-I saw you two talking to each other at the party. You seem close.

Farlan says to Levi.

-No. We only recently started talking.

-But she’s super pretty up close, huh? And I think she likes you.

Isabel tells Levi as she leans on Farlan’s seat.

-No. I don’t think so.

-Why not???

-She has so many other options. Why would she go for the nerd of all people? I think she’s interested in Farlan.

-Levi! No! I’m with Isabel and I’m 120% sure she knows that. You really need to put yourself out there and stop thinking low of yourself. Plus, Y/n doesn’t seem like a person to go for someone who’s taken.

Levi clicks his tongue and looks at the road.

No. There’s no way a girl like her would like a guy like me...

———————————————————————

<Chapter One Chapter Three>

Here is Chapter Two. Feel free to message if you want to be added to my taglist.

Tagged: @windex-princess-gia​

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #snk #aot fanfiction #Levi x gangster!reader #Captain Levi #modern au #high school au #rivai ackerman #Leather Jackets And Glasses #LJaG

[alecmagnuslwb]

The Great Marriage License Mystery

Read on AO3

Magnus groans, back feeling like hell. He lifts himself up and immediately falls off the couch landing directly on his back onto a stack of red solo cups.

“Fuck,” he shouts out as he rolls to the side to lift himself up, a party mask on a stick digging into his side.

“Stop being so loud,” a female voice he knows well grumbles from above. Magnus finally lifts himself up into a sitting position to see Isabelle lying face down surrounded by a nest of multi colored feather boas on the couch opposite the one he’d just fallen from.

Magnus finds the inner strength to stand looking around the room. It’s his apartment, not that he remembers coming home at all, and it’s a wreck. Cups, half empty bottles of liquor and an array of party favors from the evening’s festivities cover every surface. His paintings on the walls are crooked, the strip of photobooth pictures that he and Alec had taken on their trip to Tokyo for their one-month anniversary are sitting sadly in a puddle of something. He walks over squinting his eyes against the sunlight streaming in and pics up the photo strip shaking them out best he can.

He sniffs them confirming the liquid to be vodka and not something worse. He pins them back up on the corkboard where they belong smiling at the happy looks on their faces despite the fact his head feels like there’s a tiny gnome with a hatchet running around inside of it.  

Isabelle shifts on the couch lying on her back now.

“Did we die?” she asks eyes still closed.

“Unfortunately not,” Magnus says picking up a pink cowboy hat from the chair nearest to him and plopping down into it heavily.

“What time is it?” she asks pulling a few of the feather boas around her like a blanket.

Magnus looks down at his watch about to answer when his bedroom door suddenly slams open. A flash of long red hair streaks across the apartment headed straight for the bathroom.

Clary shuts the door behind her and an unfortunate heaving sound follows. Izzy sits up quickly eager to get to her fiancée, a decision she clearly immediately regrets if the way she woozily lies back down is anything to go by.

The bathroom door swings open a moment later, Alec steps out looking disheveled as hell wearing a Hunter’s moon t-shirt he definitely hadn’t been wearing when the night before had started.

“I don’t recommend sleeping in a bathtub when you’re 6”4,” he says voice gravelly from misuse. He squints his eyes grabbing a pair of sunglasses laying on the table as he walks past it and slips them on. “You might want to check on your fiancée, she’s throwing up half her body in there.”

Alec sits down heavily on the couch beside his sister patting her on the shoulder. She nods, takes a deep breath and centers herself standing up slowly. This time she makes it picking her way through the trash littering the floor her 8-inch heels somehow still secured to her feet.

“Your weddings in like four hours, just a reminder!” Magnus shouts and wishes he hadn’t. Judging from the way Alec plugs his ears and Izzy flips him off no one else does either. Hangovers all around it seems, a sign of a good bachelorette party.

Magnus listens for a few moments to Isabelle softly reassuring Clary, heels clicking on the tile of the bathroom floor. He looks over at his boyfriend once again heaving himself to stand and flop down beside him on the bed of boas.

“Good morning baby,” Alec grumbles lifting his arm and wrapping it around Magnus’ shoulders. Magnus hums reaching up and entangling his fingers with Alec’s. He shifts enough to toss his legs over Alec’s and looks down noticing a piece of white paper sticking out from his pocket.

He raises his eyebrows leaning back enough to pull the paper from his pocket. He unfolds it and practically jolts up from the couch. In looping script that looks like Isabelle’s is his name and what appears to be one half of a marriage license.

“Ummm Magnus!” Isabelle yells rushing out of the bathroom and directly to them on the couch. Alec shifts seemingly having fallen back asleep. She shakes a piece of paper in his face almost identical to his half. “This was in MY pocket.”

Magnus takes it from her lining it up with his. A piece of the full sheet is still missing only the last name Lightwood on Isabelle’s section the first name missing. She falls beside him seeing the almost full document.

“There’s no way,” he says laughing nervously. There’s no way.

Isabelle is just as alert as he in now, eyes in a panic. Alec sits up taking off his sunglasses. He looks from the papers to Magnus’s eyes, his eyes just as wide as his sisters.

“I also have this,” she says holding up her left hand revealing a diamond band on her thumb. “It’s stuck.”

“That’s one of mine,” Magnus says looking down at one of his empty fingers. “Oh, shit that’s one of mine.”

Alec falls back into the couch, no longer pressed into Magnus’ side.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god,” Isabelle says dropping her head into her hands.

Clary comes out of the bathroom, eye makeup resembling a raccoon with a huge bottle of mouth wash in her hands. Chairman Meow appears circling around her socked feet trying to trip her up, she takes it in stride and steps over him easily.  

“Just in case,” she says when she notices Alec judging the bottle. “So, I’m guessing from those repetitive oh my gods it’s not us that got married last night.”

“No,” Isabelle moans dramatically throwing herself on the ground, arms tossed over her eyes. “I married my brother’s boyfriend probably as a dumb joke or something the night before my wedding. Jace will never let me live this down.”

“We don’t know that. It just says Lightwood, it could be us!” Magnus argues looking at his boyfriend uncertainly. Alec looks a little bit like a deer in the headlights so Magnus scrambles. He’s not really sure what’s the better option: accidentally marrying your boyfriend of two months in a drunken stupor or marrying your boyfriend’s sister as a joke in a drunken stupor. At least he hopes it was a dumb joke if it’s the latter, the former well he’s not sure if he and Alec are ready to get into that no matter how quickly their relationship has progressed. “Or you know it’s fake, fake is an option.”

Clary steps over inspecting the paper.

“Paper’s too high quality for a fake,” she shrugs sitting down on the coffee table. Magnus gives her a pointed look, making it clear she’s not helping this situation.

The four of them sit there silently for a while. Alec is the first to speak up.

“Okay, what does everyone remember from last night? Let’s piece this together,” he says reasonably opening the floor to whoever wants to start.

It takes about twenty minutes but they get a vague timeline from memory and other evidence pulled from their pockets. They scour the apartment as they talk making hangover remedies while desperately searching for the missing piece of the license.

So far they’ve determined things started here, pre-gaming with cocktails and dinner then it was the Hunter’s Moon where Magnus absolutely demolished Alec in a series of pool games. That’s when Alec lost his shirt as well, a beer spilled on him by Jace who’d already had far too much to drink. Magnus had forgotten the detail, but Alec recalls it with annoyed clarity.

After the Hunter’s Moon, Jace had been sent home in a cab, Maia, Bat and the rest of their friends had come along with them to Pandemonium and that was where things got blurry. By 11:30 their friends had all called it a night, but the four of them had hit the dancefloor. Dancing then turned into competition when Izzy had challenged Magnus and Alec to a couple’s tequila shot off. Magnus assumes they won considering how Clary handles her liquor.

Then it all goes well and truly blank for them all. Clary’s phone is missing entirely, Alec’s is dead and seemingly has been since at least midnight. Izzy’s phone is just a series of back and forth drunken texts with Jace that are increasingly sarcastic and misspelled.

Magnus is the only one with a possible lead. There’s evidence of a Lyft being called that took them to the venue where Izzy and Clary are getting married in mere hours and a 15-minute call with Raphael somewhere around one in the morning.

Magnus dials his number immediately hoping for answers.

“You asked me to go through the whole ceremony,” Raphael says after five minutes of making fun of them all. Magnus’ childhood best friend never did finish the process of becoming a full-blown preacher, not finding it for him in the end, but he’s ordained for weddings and had happily offered to do the ceremony when Clary and Izzy still hadn’t found someone two weeks before.

“Why?” the four ask in frustrated unison.

“Dios, I don’t know. You were all trashed but you insisted, so to get you to leave me alone because some of us who are involved in this wedding wanted to get a good night’s rest, I went through the whole thing, start to finish,” he explains.

“Did vows get exchanged or anything?” Alec asks.

“Not really, but you did all say ‘I do’ at some point I couldn’t tell who though, I’m pretty sure you were all outside,” Raphael answers. “Which in theory I guess would mean someone got married, but not that it matters I mean ordained or not without a license it’s not legally binding.”

They all sigh.

“That’s the problem,” Magnus grumbles. They end the call after that saying goodbyes and see you soons.

“Alright,” Alec says sounding the level headed big brother and leader he always is. “Here’s the plan’ everyone needs to shower first. We’re short on time so that means couples, no funny business though. Raphael said we were outside, so that probably means we couldn’t get into the venue when we decided to go. Magnus and I can ask around while the two of you get ready since we have to be there anyways.”

Everyone nods their heads in agreement.

“And what do we do if it was us that got married?” Magnus asks gesturing between him and Izzy.

They’re all silent. Clary is the first to pipe up, taking this whole situation surprisingly well. Maybe throwing up half of one’s body weight brings clarity.

“I mean only the four of us saw it, it hasn’t been officially filed, just signed and if we give Raphael permission to mock us about it for the rest of our lives he won’t say anything,” she reasons.

She grabs Izzy’s hand pulling her to the shower leaving no room for argument.

Magnus blows out a long breath leaning against the kitchen counter where they’d all gathered. Alec joins him, crossing his arms.

“Are you mad I may have accidentally married your sister?” Magnus says quietly.

Alec snorts.

“No, we were all beyond drunk last night and knowing you and Izzy it was some competitive dare that went a step too far.”

Magnus chuckles, that does sound like them.

“And what if,” he pauses a little worried. “What if it was us that accidentally got married?”

Alec turns reaching up to pull a piece of confetti from Magnus’ hair. His hand slides down brushing Magnus’ cheek.

“Then we got married,” he shrugs.

Isabelle’s phone rings breaking the moment, on today of all days he’s fairly certain she’d appreciate them picking it up. It’s the caterer and the call takes long enough that he and Alec have barely five minutes for a shared shower before calling a cab to get to the venue. They don’t get to talk about Alec’s casual shrug about them being married like it wouldn’t be a big deal.

Once they’re at the venue people start filing in Maryse and Maia take charge of Isabelle while Clary is drifted away by Simon and Jace. They both lock eyes with Magnus and Alec trusting them to get answers or burn the pieces of marriage license before the days over.

Alec is the first to be fully ready so he heads around to ask the staff some questions. He eventually is led to the night security guard who simply shrugs saying he’d fallen asleep on the job. The only evidence that they were even there is in the form of Magnus’ Lyft history and a feather boa exactly like the ones in Magnus’ apartment tangled in a bush outside. Alec sends him a picture of it attached with the message, ‘I have a feeling we’re going to be finding these around New York for the rest of the year.’

Everything goes by in a rush after that. Magnus never gets the chance to bring up anything to Alec as they take their places as groomsmen.

The wedding is beautiful, Raphael does an excellent job so much so that Clary’s stepdad bursts into tears only two lines in. Clary and Izzy exchange vows that make everyone else cry and Izzy dips Clary as they kiss to everyone’s delight. They look the happiest they’ve ever been, clearly no longer thinking about the possible mistake marriage that was.

Magnus however can’t think of anything else. The sun has fallen and the cake has been cut by the time he gets a moment alone with Alec. He steps outside for some fresh air just beside the bushes where the feather boa still flaps in the wind and Alec slips out behind him. Two long arms wrap around his waist and Magnus leans back into a strong chest.

They stand there quietly, the muffled sound of music behind them.

“You know,” Magnus says eventually. “You were pretty casual about the concept of us being accidentally married this morning.”

Alec once again the picture of nonchalance just shrugs.

“I mean at first it was a lot, but once the worst of the hangover subsided I realized if it was us well, that’s not the worst thing. I love you; I have intentions to be with you for as long as you’ll have me so that works.”

Magnus shifts so that Alec is standing in front of him eyes a little glassy. Alec takes the tears to be a bad thing.

“I get it though if it’s way too soon to be thinking or saying anything like that, or,” Alec freezes as Magnus puts a finger in front of his lips.

“I feel the same way,” he smiles. “I mean it’s not ideal and like Clary said it’s not official till it’s filed, but I do feel the same way. I have no doubt in my mind we’re heading that way one day.”

Alec smiles kissing the tip of Magnus’ finger where it still rests against his lips. He pulls Magnus into a hug. Magnus rests his chin on Alec’s shoulder eyes still open and that’s when he spots it. The feather boa shifts in the wind and a small white piece of paper is revealed skewered on the prickly end of the bush.

He pulls back from Alec leaping down the two small steps to pick the piece of paper from the bush.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he says snatching up the sliver of paper and flipping it over. The missing piece of the license. Alec steps over, joining him.

“Is that?” he starts looking over Magnus’ shoulder.

Magnus nods holding it up for Alec to read. Alec smiles, pulling the Lightwood piece he’d been holding onto from his pocket as Magnus does the same with his part.

Alexander the missing piece reads in Isabelle’s looping script.

“Guess your stuck with me now,” Magnus says with a smirk.

Alec rolls his eyes fondly.

“Technically it hasn’t been filed, so not officially,” he jokes, pulling Magnus in by the waist. “Plus it’s in three pieces I don’t think the courthouse is going to accept it.”

“Pfft, just needs a little tape,” Magnus says gathering the three pieces of paper and folding them carefully before placing them in the inner pocket of his wine-red jacket a compliment to Alec’s black one and Isabelle’s deep red dress. “Plus, Clary’s stepdad is the Mayor, we can totally get some strings pulled.”

Alec laughs shifting to drape his arms over Magnus’ shoulders.

“You mean it?” he asks.

Magnus nods. “We have to have a party bigger than this one at some point though,” he says gesturing back to the reception hall. “I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Of course,” Alec says seriously.  “So we’re gonna be Mr. and Mr. Lightwood then?”

Magnus hums tapping a finger to his chin in thought.

“I was thinking Mr. and Mr. Bane actually.”

“I like the sound of that,” Alec says before pulling Magnus into a kiss.

They never do piece together the night exactly. Eventually Izzy gets the ring off her thumb and it fits Alec’s ring finger perfectly they discover, Magnus in turn realizes he has an exact double of it that he starts wearing himself. Why Isabelle filled out the license or if they kissed after they said I do or even actually said it is never truly answered.

Their actual marriage will be a mystery for the rest of their lives, but Magnus does get his party an acceptable six months after Clary and Izzy’s.

#my fic #malec #clizzy #shadowhunters #malec fic #clizzy fic #magnus bane #alec lightwood #clary fray #isabelle lightwood #raphael santiago

[sporadic-writer]

Welcome to the Neighborhood pt. 3

Harrison x American!reader (nothing hella specific other than mentioning the states, so try pretending if you aren’t American. If not.. sorry?)

Warnings: same as before, swearing, mentions of weed and alcohol (because I enjoy both safely and responsibly), and um I think that’s it.

Note: I made this a Harrison fic because I feel we need more of those in the world. Also, this fic doesn’t have like, an idk.. overarching story/theme yet? other than reader and Harrison stuff. Lastly, this fic is a result of bits of writing courage during a writer’s block mess. I have a better concept for the next chapter. So sorry this could count as a filler or fun simple read.

Part 1 here Part 2 here

°•●•°●°•●•°●°•●•°●°•●•°

"What about just a casual cookout?" This was the 3rd idea he has asked out loud.

Sam and Harry watched Harrison all but pace as he spit balled ideas to have their new neighbor over. The whole morning he was thinking through stuff to do that wasn't too much for quarentine. It was starting to end, but he didn't want to push anything.

The other men in his presence groaned. "Jesus just ask her to come hang out! No agenda, just invite her here to hang out and then you can get to know her!" Sam suggested in a shout back to his friend. "Stop fucking moping about here like a nervous puppy." That last statement was a quieter grumble.

Tuwaine nodded in agreement. "You're starting to get annoying Haz. We all like her, so having her here is fine. Then you buddy up to her in the process." This seemed to help the blonde settle.

"Harry! You talked to her a little more earlier today. Any info I can use to break the ice one on one?" Harrison looked to his friend hopefully.

The man in question rolled his eyes. "We barely talked. Her room and bathroom windows are right next to my room. We talked because she apologized thinking her music was loud and coming into mine. Then we made small talk a little before she went to the store."

An idea sparked in Harrison's head about conversation ideas next time he saw you. Music was always a great ice breaker. He remembered you wore a Green Day shirt one time, so that's something. Also, he has heard you singing to yourself on your deck; some Irish band his mother listened to sometimes. He mentally scanned his music selection in his room. Just then he heard a car door shut outside. He asked if it was you and Tom nodded yes after peaking out the window. He calmly dashed outside with Tuwaine and Sam following seeing what the commotion was. Plus, Sam left stuff in his car.

Walking towards your front door you heard your neighbor's open and noticed Harrison looking right at you. You looked over with wide at men rushing towards you, but smiled and greeted them once seeing their familliar faces.

"Hey guys!" You attempted a small wave with your things in your hands.

Sam and Tuwaine nodded and waved in repsonse. Harrison looked a little flustered. "Hey y/n. Um I had a question for you."

Your smile didn't help his nervousness. "Shoot." You replied while walking to your door, then working on unlocking it.

Upon no response, you looked at him to see him open and close him mouth once, and just had a slight 'umm' noise come out. It was sweet. There was a simplistic charm about people getting slightly nervous over being around othee people they were into. You were no fool, you had seem him peak glances at you through his yard and window upstairs. Now you watched him try to gain courage to simply ask you a question. You thought about doing it yourself, but you are a tad old school and see if the guy will get to it. Once impatient, you'll ask him. But now you watched him as his hair moved lightly in the breeze of the cool London air. Not to mention he looked handsome as ever in his sweater. Wonder if it is as soft as it looks...?

"Y/N! What are you doing tomorrow love?" Twuaine bit the bullet for Harrison since he couldn't get a full question out. You snapped out of your trance. Luckily the distance helped hide your embarrassment.

She checked the date on her phone lockscreen. "Umm I work tomorrow 7 to like 4. So after that a shower, maybe a nap, then nothing. Why?"

Rather than the one who asked reply, Harrison finally jumped in and spoke. "Want to come over tomorrow? We were going have dinner and watch the match and relax one more night for sure before things start up again for us." Tom just got final shooting schedules and he knew things would soon pick up for him most likely in following. As much as he loved being home, doing nothing, he did miss working. However, of course it happens after desiring more time with you.

"I would love to! What time?" The little bounce thing you did to balance your groceries and to open your door was precious to him.

"Um come by any time after you're home from work."

Sam piped in saying, "Match starts at 5 or 6 I think, around then is perfect."

"Awesome! Thanks for the invite guys. Also hey, do you guys know good pet stores around here? Sorry if that's random but I am running out of supplies and can't mooch off work.. new job and all."

"'Fraid not y/n. Sorry we don't know where Tom gets his dog stuff."

Harrison nodded in agreement. "Yeah and my dog is at home and my mum gets everything usually."

She shrugged. "No worries. Internet search it is. Well I gotta put these away. I'll see you guys tomorrow." They said their fairwells to her and did as she did, went inside. She didn't notice this time how her admirer watched her to see she got in alright.

After watching you get in your house, Sam shut the car door he opened earlier with his hat in hand, and Harrison sighed. He turned to his friends.

“I could have asked her over myself.” His tone suggested he knew he couldn’t. But that didn’t stop him from sulking back into his home. “I’m the one into her, I could have asked her over.”

“Mhmm sure Haz, an hour later after leaving your mouth open to catch flies. She’s coming over. Get over it and enjoy that your painful attempt was cut short.”

On that note he thanked his lucky stars and went into his home, not before hearing music come out of your open windows. He shazamed it and made a mental note to use it as a potential ice breaker tomorrow. Man he felt like a 15 year old.

*time skip*

It was around 4:30ish when Harrison saw your car pull into your driveway and you get out. Even with your hair up after a day of physical labor, uniform London Zoo shirt covered in dirt and a couple bleach stains, and basic khaki shorts; he still thought you looked pretty as ever. He was a little shocked you didn't look totally exhausted remembering you started work at 7am. That just impressed him more. Now he only had to wait an hour or so for you to be over and hanging out with him. Ground work would be set. He made sure his shirt, pants, and hair were in good sorts before relaxing on the couch with Sam. About an later, he heard the door open and a familiar voice greet everyone. However, not the voice he was expecting.

"Sis? What are you doing here?" He sat up as she rolled her eyes.

"Hello to you div."

He rolled his eyes right back. "Not what I meant. Just wasn't expecting you to drop in." He loves Charlotte, but didn't need her when a girl he's trying to get with is supposed to come by very soon.

"Harry has a camera for my friend to borrow for a class of hers. Why? You guys got plans or something? Look at me give a shit as I interrupt this rager." She moved about the house looking for the Holland she spoke of. He was about to blow her off and get her out but Tuwaine appeared out of nowhere to be a stellar friend.

"He does have plans actually. Tryin' to get with our fit American neighbor. Got all worked up and could barely ask her over tonight. He didn't actually, but not the point." His sister, who still hasn't left, smirks at him. “He’s into her and this is him ‘laying the groundwork’ or something.”

"Really?? Aw look he's blushing!" She poked his cheek. “Relax though, I’m just gonna find Harry or his cam, whichever comes first, and be out. Alright?”

Thanking his lucky stars he was about to tell her to just get on with it, but the doorbell rang. Harrison and his sister made eye contact, he pleaded with his to stay, hers glimmered with mischief, and they were off! Both siblings dashed for the door while Sam and Tuwaine enjoyed the show. The luck didn’t last, because Charlotte reached the door first. She kicked away the eager man and smiled as the she greeted who she assumed was the American girl her brother fancies.

Harrison saw you were turned around as you began to speak, looking at a car that honked for some reason, and as you entered your head was still looking down a tad. “Sorry I’m late, late-ish anyway. Rolled one after work, enjoyed it after the shower, then passed out for an unexpected nap - ah your new!” She locked eyes with his sister and if he could frame a mental image he would. Y/N looks like she wanted the ground to swallow her, and needed saving. She was clearly still a little buzzed, and a joint was sticking out of her beanie. “Well not new, but new to me I mean. Um ignore that first impression.. Hi! Y/F/N Y/L/N, their neighbor.” As she spoke, the hand holding a bottle of vodka tucked the joint discreetly further into the hat. Smooth, sorta..

“Charlotte, Harrison’s sister. Pleasure to meet you. That lot you speak of told me a touch about you. From the states ey? Very fun, caught Hazzy’s eye so watch out. I love him but he’s a bit dodgy on getting things done sooner than later.” She winked at her brother while the newest addition to the house just stood there taking it all in. “Now if you excuse me I shall find Harry’s camera.”

Harrison watched you follow his sister, who he will get back at later, out of the room. You still looked a tad surprised, but smiled through it anyway. Then you made eye contact with him and smiled brighter before saying, “I brought drinks!”

°•●•°●°•●•°●°•●•°●°•●•°

Taglist (crossed out means it didn't take yours): @jillanaholland @averyfosterthoughts @sarah-m-limelight-2007 @astridcommings

As always, like and reblog if you want. Hit me up if you want to be tagged or not, or if I forgot to tag you. Thanks for reading and enjoying! Lmk of there are any errors or stuff like that.

#harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield fluff #harrison osterfield fanfiction #harrison x reader #harrison x american!reader #harrison osterfield x fem!reader #harrison osterfield x american!reader #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland #peter parker blurb #peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker fanart #peter parker fanfiction

[the--sad--hatter]

Ice Cream and Grass Stains (Bucky x Reader)

Requested - #15 from My Avengers Prompt List 

Person A: This isn’t how I imagined saying this but… take all your clothes off. – With Bucky, for the two anons who requested it.

Warnings - Violence, Gore, Swearing and Really Bad Flirting...

Ice Cream and Grass Stains

When The Black Widow tracked you down and dragged your ass back to the Avengers compound, you’d really thought she was arresting you. She had jumped you in the middle of a heist after all, but she knew more than you thought she did. She’d known you were stealing classified files from a Hydra Agent and she presented those files and you to the team and recommended you join them. And the rest was history.

That had been three months ago.

Now, you were a fledgling hero on her first team mission. You had hoped for something easy, like taking down a base in the middle of nowhere. Not a knock down, free for all, fight to the death with aliens in the middle of Chicago.

 “Newbie, Falcon needs help getting civilians to safety, three block south of you.” Clint said in your ear, through the comm unit.

 “On it.” You said, running towards where you’d been instructed.

 You saw Sam pulling a group of people out of a café and pointing them towards the safety of the police blockade.

 “Little bird, big bird said you needed a hand?” You said as you jogged up to him.

 “Yeah, get these people to safety. I need to get back up there.” Sam told you, clasping you on the shoulder and making sure you were ok with it.

 “Fly away my friend, I’ve got it from here.” You assured.

 He gave you a toothy grin and took off.

 “Folks, if you’ll follow me?” You asked politely, trying not to show them how nervous you were.

 They dutifully followed you until you handed them off to the police officers who’d set up a perimeter around the battle.

 “Civvies are A-Ok, where to next, eye in the sky?” You asked Clint.

 “Barnes has been cornered in an office block not far from you. He says he’s fine but just tell him you got lost and needed his help to find your way back to the rest of the team.” Clint suggested.

 You bit back a snort of laughter at the fact Clint had Cheat Codes for dealing with The Winter Soldier and let him direct you to the office building.

 Bucky was on the fourth floor and he was decidedly NOT fine. He was fighting off twelve of the outer space bad guys with a pocket knife. Though to be fair to him, he was holding them back and looking unfairly hot whilst doing so. You sprung onto the backs of one of the aliens before they could even notice you were in the room and used your own knife to slice it across the throat, landing in a crouch when it fell dead.

 You spun around in the crouch, slicing through the calves of a second alien and angling your knife so it impaled its own skull on the blade as it fell. Out of the corner of your eyes you saw him take down three of them in rapid succession.

 “What are you doing here?” He snarled while he broke the neck of another with a sickeningly satisfying crunch.

 “Helping?” You offered, ducking under the swing of one of the extra-terrestrials coming at you.

 “Get out of here, go find the others.” He commanded.

 “But…”

 “Get out!” He shouted, kicking one of the ones coming after you in the ribs.

 You ignored him and tackled an alien round the middle of it’s long body, piledriving it to the ground and stabbing it through the eye socket. One of it’s friends grabbed your shoulder, fingernails piercing your skin. You hissed in pain as it bodily picked you up and flung you a good twelve feet across the room. You smashed into the wall, cracking the plaster and landing on the floor with a thump.

 You were seriously winded and it took you nearly a full minute to stand up. There was a horrific burning pain across your back and you saw the sharp jagged edge of a piece of metal on the wall. You must have caught your back on it, which explained why you felt so very dizzy and weak.

  Bucky saw your body sail past him and heard the impact it made with the wall and he snapped. Red clouded his vision and he tore through the remaining aliens viciously, destroying them before they could even think about going after you while you were vulnerable. When the last one died under his metal grip he whipped his head around to look at where you were landed and he felt relief flood his system when he saw you standing upright and looking sheepish.

 “Are you ok?” You called over to him tentatively.

 “Unlike you, I can take care of myself. Unlike you, I can heal on the off chance I actually do get hurt. I don’t need a pathetic, unskilled, wannabe hero to jump in and save me. You just ended up getting on the way and I had to save your ass.” He snarled.

 “Sorry.” You mumbled.

 “What, no snappy comeback? No witty one-liners?” He snapped.

 “Not today.” You said, hanging your head low.

 “Are… are you crying?” he asked derisively, noticing the sheen in your eyes.

 “You know what? I am. Because I’m bleeding to death over here and you STILL have to take the time to make me feel two inches tall.” You choked out.

 He rolled his eyes at you and stomped over, pulling the tact suit away from your injured shoulder.

 “It’s barely bleeding. You’re fine.” He told you, his eyes widening when he was the smear of blood on the wall and the puddle of the thick red liquid pooling at your feet.

 He cautiously leaned over to look at you back and let out a sharp intake of breath when he saw the large gash from your right shoulder to your left hip. It was deep and ragged, bleeding heavily.

 “Shit!” He swore, springing into action.

 “I need a med evac on the south side of the west building here.” He said into the comms, ripping his own jacket off and trying to use it to stem the bleeding.

 “Damnit. Ok kid, they’re coming but it’s going to be a while. I can’t move you, I’ll tear up your wounds worse.” He told you.

 You mumbled something in reply, swaying slightly.

 “Whoa, stay with me. I need you to watch my six while I’m cleaning up this mess.” He joked, gesturing to your back.

 “m’kay.” You muttered.

 “This isn’t how I imagined saying this but… take all your clothes off.” He instructed, getting up to search the room for anything that could be even remotely classed as medical supplies.

 He heard you fumble with the zipper of your tact suit as he tore through desk drawers, until he lucked out and found a first-aid kit with sterile wipes and a suturing kit. He also found a half-empty bottle of vodka. When he turned back to you, you were wincing in pain and trying to pull off the tact suit without moving.

 “I’ve got you.” He said softly, grabbing a hold of you.

 You were losing more blood than he had initially realised. He shoved stuff off of a desk and picked you up, gently laying you down on your front on the desk.

 “Sorry about this doll.” He apologised, using one of his many knives to cut the tact suit off your back.

 “How did you imagine it?” You asked him weakly.

 “Imagine what?” He replied, using someone’s discarded scarf to mop up as much of the blood as he could.

 “You said, you imagined it differently. Telling me to take my clothes off.” You told him and he briefly faltered in his actions.

 He hadn’t even realised he’d said that. He’d been distracted by your injuries, it must have slipped out.

 “Sorry.” He apologised, wiping his hands with a sterile wipe before gently probing at the edges of the gash.

 “Tell me…” You pushed.

  He sighed wearily and let out a self-deprecating laugh.

 “You’re not gonna let me live this down, are you?” He asked.

 “Well you’ll probably get lucky and I’ll die before I have the chance to tell anyone.” You laughed softly.

 “You’re not going to fucking die. That’s an order, do you understand me?” He commanded.

 “This isn’t how I imagined saying this but… Whatever you want, Sergeant.” You said cheekily.

 He laughed at your wit, even in the throes of agony.

 “I can stitch this up, there’s enough supplies but I need to clean it first and I’m sorry, but it’s going to hurt.” He apologised, holding the bottle of vodka.  

 “Gimme.” You demanded, gesturing to it and he sighed, but opened it and handed it to you.

 You managed to angle your head to the side and take several long gulps before handing it back to him. Before you could think about what he was going to do, he poured the alcohol directly over the gash.

 “MOTHERFUCKING FUCKER! FUCK YOU BARNES!” You screamed and he had to pin you down to stop you from thrashing.

 “Sorry.” He winced.

 “Don’t apologise you absolute wanker, I’m going to give you something to actually be sorry about. As soon as I can stand up.” You vowed.

 “I believe you sweetheart.”

 Oh so now I’m your sweetheart? Few minutes ago I was a thorn in your side.” You scoffed.

 He swallowed thickly, guilt seeping through his bones at the harsh words he’d spat in your face.

 “I was angry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.” He said, threading the needle and pinching the edges of the gaping wound together.

 “Well, fuck that hurts, I forgive you. Especially since now I know it was mostly just your pent up sexual frustration.” You said.  

 “We’re back to that huh?” He sighed.

 “I wanna know how you imagined it.” You pushed.

 “It starts with me finally working up the nerve to ask you to let me take you out.” He admitted.

 “And if I said yes? How would it have gone?” You asked him.

 “I would have picked you up at your door and given you flowers, the one’s you always stop and look at through the window in the grounds. We would take my bike, you’d have to sit behind me and wrap your arms around me.” He chuckled.

 “And where we would we go?”

 “Somewhere quiet, where nobody else was. I would have said a picnic but I know you, I’d just take you to the fucking McDonalds drive through because you’re a cheap date.” He scoffed and you tried to hold yourself still while you laughed.

 “I’d get a McFlurry right?” You checked.

 “With an apple pie to smoosh into it.” He confirmed.

 “That sounds good right about now. So then what?” You asked, biting down on your lip when he got to the widest part of the wound.

 “I’d take you to the park, and I’d lay my jacket on the ground for you to sit on. You always look so fucking beautiful in the moonlight you know?”

 “I didn’t know actually.” You giggled.

 “Stars have got nothin on you sweetheart, surprised they don’t just stop shining altogether.” He said, his old Brooklyn accent coming through.

 You let out a low, impressed whistle.

 “You’ve got lines Barnes.” You teased him.

 “And I’d pull them all out on our date, I’d make an ass of myself trying to impress you.” He laughed.

 “I’d think it was cute.” You assured him.

 “Yeah, you would. Eventually you’d get tired of it though and you’d kiss me just to get me to shut up.” He revealed.

 “Devious plan, I like it.” You sniggered.

 “I’d kiss you till you couldn’t think straight doll, then I’d keep kissing you. I think once I started, I wouldn’t be able to stop.” He admitted.

 “And when I was all dumbed out from your kisses, then you’d tell me to take all my clothes off?” You whispered.

 “You know me too well.” He confirmed.

 “Bucky?”

 “Yeah, sweetheart?”

 “I can’t believe you wanna fuck me in a public park, I didn’t figure you for such a pervert.” You said and his shoulders shook with the force of his laughter.

 “Couldn’t even spring for a motel room huh?” You continued and he had to stop stitching for a second he was laughing so hard.

 “You want The Ritz doll? I’ll get us The Ritz.” He asked, continuing with his task of sewing your back together.

 “Nah, I want Ice cream and grass stains.” You told him sleepily.

 He chewed his bottom lip anxiously as he tried to figure out if you were humouring him, or if he might actually stand a chance. He would have never have admitted any of this if he hadn’t accidentally blurted it out and needed to distract you from the pain.

 “So Doc, I’m I gonna live? My Sergeant says I gotta and I hate to disobey an order.” You asked.

 “You’re going to be just fine. Banner and Cho can fix this in no time, you’ll be up and about in a couple of days.” He promised.

 “Good, good. I’ve got a date this weekend.” You sighed.

 His heart panged painfully in his chest. You had a date… So you were only humouring him. You probably thought he was joking around, trying to keep you amused while he stitched you up.

 “Anyone I know?” He asked with a false cheeriness.

 “Yeah actually. Sam finally got it together and asked me out.” You told him.

 “Sam? Sam Wilson? Sam Wilson the Falcon?” He stuttered.

 “That’s the one, not sure if he has anymore nicknames though. I’ll let you know once I’ve seen him naked if there’s anymore we can add to the list.” You joked as he pulled the final stitch through your skin.  

 He felt physically ill at the idea of you and Sam, never mind you and Sam naked. Of course someone else would have asked you out though, you were beautiful and funny and brave. Even if he had moved faster, you would have probably turned him down, he wasn’t

 “You do know I’m joking right?” You interrupted his internal takedown of himself.

 “Oh. So it’s not Sam?” He said, almost relieved.

 But if it wasn’t Sam, it was still someone else.

 “Bucky…”

 “Yeah?” He said softly.

 “Ask me out you fucking idiot.” You commanded.

 “What?” He said, choking on his own saliva and scooting back from the desk so he could see your face.

 “I told you, I want ice cream and grass stains.” You said, smiling at him softly with so much fondness in your eyes it literally took his breath away.

 “Me, you want to go on a date with me?” He checked.

 “Unless you didn’t mean it? Oh god, you didn’t mean it. Ugh, I’m such an idiot.” You groaned, burying your face in your arms.

 “I meant it!” He exclaimed loudly.

 You peered up at him with a mischievous, cocky grin and he huffed out a laugh as he realized you’d played him.

 “Sweetheart, will you let this idiot take you out?” He asked, grinning.

 “Hmm, I’ll have to check my diary… make sure Sam’s not free this weekend.” You joked.

 “Doll…” He groaned.

 “You can take me out Barnes. I’ll wear something easy to take off.” You said.

 A/N - All is ok in my world again so I’m coming back to writing :) 

#hattersmarvelverse #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #Bucky fic #Bucky Barnes #The Winter Soldier #Winter Soldier x reader #Bucky x You #Bucky x Y/N #Bucky x OC #Avengers x Reader #Black Widow x reader #Clint Barton x Reader #Falcon x reader #Falcon #Hawkeye x Reader #Natasha x Reader #Platonic Avengers #Sam Wilson #Sam Wilson x Reader #clint barton #clint x reader #hawkeye #natasha romanoff

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Mount Everest Ain't Got Shit On Us (Fezco X Fem!reader, Part 15.) - The Final Problem, Part 1.

Description: You were always told that your life will be as you wish it to be if you’ll study enough. That it will pay off if you work hard. And some people were given you like a scary example of what will happen when you don’t obey. But sometimes it feels good to disobey.

A/N: Inspired by the song I Mean It by G-Eazy and Remo.

Warnings: Really important character arc and development surrounding Fran.

Word count: 2 K

Read the rest here, babe:  PART 1  PART 2  PART 3  PART 4  PART 5  PART 6  PART 7  PART 8  PART 9  PART 10  PART 11  PART 12  PART 13  PART 14

Masterlist and declaration: H E R E

Tagging: @charmed-asylum, @jeyramarie, @pantherxrogers, @analia-analia-analia​

You know... I should tell you something. I feel like it's appropriate. It's time. I may have told you in the first place, but fuck me. I'm not perfect. Neither is anybody around me. Neither is you.

I'm you. I'm the part of your head which still believes in the better days. The one who keeps telling you to survive the end until the end, until the last ringing, until the last minute of your work time. I'm the part of you who tries to warn you about things that are coming and that will be bad for you.

But you know, baby. These things happen. I can't predict the future. Neither can you, neither can your sis or bro, neither can your mom. So when the rollercoaster goes downhill, I'm basically helpless and my hands are tied. We failed. And I can't save the situation. And trust me, it's the worst feeling on the planet, seeing you suffer.

But sometimes even I can't help you.

A knock on your window could be heard just five minutes after midnight. You weren't asleep at the time, only listening to some songs with a melancholic smile on your lips.

But that knock had wakened you up completely. It wasn't swift nor easy, so it wasn't Fezco or Rue. Instead of them, you found Fran there, not even able to stand on her own feet. You watched her and gulped, listening to the quiet house. She was drunk again. You closed her eyes and exhaled, opening the window slowly and helping her crawl into your room.

You listened to the house a bit in case you've wakened up your parents, but the house was totally quiet as Fran laid down on your bed. You watched her and prayed for her not to do any particular bullshit at that time. You loved her, you did, but you didn't like drunk Fran a bit.

She was like a random machine, she could do anything, she was feeling invincible like a Superman and you couldn't tell her otherwise.

You lived through many of her phases, either drunk or sober, drugged or almost clinically dead. You knew what your older sister was capable of when she was drunk as fuck. Maybe even high. Maybe both. You watched her in silence with a furrow on your face.

"Come 'ere, shithead." - She opened up her arms and invited you to cuddle with her. You did, but you could feel her intense stench. She smelled like vodka and cigarettes combined with some weed. - "Ugh, I love to cuddle yo, yo so soft." - Fran hummed into your hair and smiled. Parents never saw her shitfaced like that.

You were keeping her drunk ass out of trouble, keeping her low and quiet. That's what you needed to do that time as well.

"Fran, you're saying that because you're drunk." - You hugged her back and cuddled to her side.

"Also I heard somethin' funny, yo wouldn't believe." - She raised on her elbow, playing with your hair. If only you could tell what shit train just arrived at the station.

"Okay. Surprise me. What's that?" - You rose your eyebrows and let her hand caress your hair.

"I heard dat... Oh, dis is funny, sis. I heard dat there's a youn' girl smugglin' for Fez. Would ya believe?" - Fran smiled silently. Your eyes shut open and your face froze when you watched in visible confusion. Slowly, you sat up, furrowing at her. How could she know? How could she hear that? - "I heard dat the girl is somethin' like his drug princess or what."

Yeah, you did that just to try it and to help your boyfriend in something similar to an existential crisis, but that was all. You tried some drugs with Fezco, that was true as well, but you weren't a junkie. What the fuck? How could she find out? Did somebody saw you and Rue? Bullshit.

But who told her then?

In one way or another, you hated her gaze. She was looking at you like she was the better one. Like she knew better. Fucking Fran.

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about, Fran. Lay down and sleep, you're drunk. I won't tell parents." - You stood up from the bed intending to throw up in your small bathroom. Your head felt dizzy as your pressure got higher. That was a fucking nightmare.

"I don't fuckin' care. You can tell 'em, but just take a look at yo own ass, sis." - She sat up and watched her down. You were gripping one of the cabinets so you could remain on your own feet. - "Fezco ain't any good news for yo, sis. Yo better get yo ass far away from him."

"Listen up. We've been here many times, Fran. It's just you and your godlike fucking complex again. Leave me the fuck out of it." - You pointed your finger at her. Yeah. Fran was talking you down on shit daily. She just did that.

She had the feeling that she has the upper moral hand over - since she fucked herself up, she tried you to be better than her. But you were sick of that. Fran just told you what you can do or can't do. And that was the moment when you just snapped.

Fran was a fucked-up person. And you knew that for a long time now. But you loved her even through that. At least you tried to love her.

Weed addiction? Her fault, not yours. Her alcohol addiction? Her fault, not yours. The feeling in her head that told you she needs to fuck her consciousness off the boundaries until she lies in her own vomit without even having an idea what's happening around her? Her need to take hardcore drugs? To be high on LSD or coke? Again, her fault - not hers.

Yeah, you weren't the saint either - you started to smoke weed with Fez from time to time, sometimes he brought you a little hallucinogenic surprise to take your fucking on a whole another level - but you didn't shove any of it into her fucking face or tried to tell her that she can't do it.

You would never do that. Those were your own little addictions, your own little failures which you learned from. Not hers.

Fran needed to learn where the boundaries laid. And you were just sick of her basically directing your life. You learned a lot of fucked-up through your relationship with Fez. You had a lot on your own mind. She didn't need to add up even more.

"I fucking have done that. I snuggled a package. And why the fuck should you care about any of that in the first place? It's been the worst thing I've ever done and I told Ash and Fez that I'm never ever doing that again." - You whisper-shouted at her, ready to scream at her at any given moment.

You didn't fucking care that you will wake your parents up. You didn't care that they'll see Fran in her current state and that they'll be extremely upset after her four months on rehab. Or that she would probably go there again. For a much longer time because she definitely had some drugs in her blood flow.

"Do you even know how much and how long I was arguing with Fez after that? We could barely talk to each other for three weeks after that." - You took your pillow and threw it on the ground. You needed to throw something around and you didn't want to make too much noise or worse, broke something.

"But guess fucking what. You're going to laugh now, okay?" - You came to her and looked her in the face. Fran sat there, her mouth open and she hadn't got any words for you. She just didn't know what the fuck should she tell you.

"I am not you, sis. I know where is the line between addiction and relaxation. I can stop myself after one try. I am not a fucking junkie like you are, Fran. I am not you." - Great. Now tears were streaming down your cheeks because Fran was crying too. Your words seriously hurt her like nothing else could. - "And because I'm not you, can you just stop pretending you understand everything way better than I can? Can you stop telling me what should I do and what shouldn't I? Because guess what, Fran. It's fucking annoying the living shit from me."

You didn't know what happened at all, your consciousness probably turned off when Fran pushes your body with all the strength she had and you fell down on the cabinet. With whining, you sat back up and felt as the hot blood streamed down from your temple. You started to cough as you sat up and it felt like you're really about to vomit.

Fran stood there with hands over her mouth, tears were streaming down her cheeks as she started to kneel down to nurse you. She was whispering apologies. She has done that. She fucking hurt her baby sister for telling her the truth she already knew.

But you pushed her off of you and then you both looked at the door. Your mom tried to come in, but your door was locked again - so she politely knocked on it. Fran froze down from fear and looked at you, begging you not to say anything. She knew what would happen after that - doctors, your parents being angry, four walls of the rehab center, therapeutics, group sessions, pills.

"Are you okay, honey? I heard a loud bang." - Your mom asked though the door as she yawned.

You should tell her what happened in that room that night. You should. But you loved Fran. And you didn't want her to be hurt so much.

"I'm... I'm fine. I just went to the bathroom and slipped on a t-shirt which I forgot to pick up. Sorry for waking you up, ma!" - You answered loudly and Fran started to cry even more, but still quietly, as you picked your ass up from the floor.

"I told you that you should clean up your room. Love you, goodnight." - She said with a smile in her voice and left your door as you started to put on your clothes. Some sweats and a sweatshirt should do, you told yourself.

"Love you, goodnight!" - You screamed back and put on the old Vans shoes from the time you thought that you're a big skateboard wizard and which you kept under the bed since you started to creep out from your window.

"Where the fuck are you goin'?" - Fran asked as she watched you opening the window leading into your garden. - “I tell ya that it’s freezin’ outside and it’s gonna get worse asshat.”

"I don't know yet. Maybe Rue's, maybe Jules's and maybe Fezco's. I'll see how I feel on the way." - You crawled into the window and let your feet hang from it. - "Stay in my bed until the morning. Then we'll talk. Shut up and they won't find you." - You gave her a piece of advice and left, taking your bike and riding into the downtown.

You already knew where you're going. You drove to that place without even thinking about the road in front of you. Your crying hasn't changed anything, you knew every hill, every bump and every tree alongside the road.

Of course, it was Fezco's place.

Only if you knew that there won’t be any morning in which you two could actually talk it through.

#rue bennett #euphoria #euphoria hbo #jules vaughn #jules euphoria #fezco x reader #fezco euphoria #fez euphoria #fezco hbo #fezco imagine #Mount Everest Ain't Got Shit On Us #The Final Problem part 1.

[chenles-moonpies]

Mission, failed

• An nct mafia au, chapter 1

• 2k words

-----

"You go to china, find the boy, bring him back. Plain and simple."

"Plain and simple my ass. Does he know how many people are here!?" Winwin cursed as he looked around the corner from a fight they were observing. Taeyong, leader of his gang NCT, had sent him and Yuta on a mission to track down someone that fancied his eye. Normally Winwin did an exceptional job at spy work, but being paired with Yuta lately has had it’s consequences. "Also why am I with you?” Winwin complained,  “You don't speak a lick of Chinese and always mess up important details." The two had been paired together recently after Yuta begged a reluctant Taeyong to do so for weeks without consulting Winwin. He agreed eventually, “Fine. but I'm not sending you in the private jet when you go to China. Just Business class.” He had told Yuta.

"I'm offended. You know the rules! No solo missions." Yuta reminded his friend, "Unless you're in-"

"What's going on over there?" Cheers, or rather yells, were piercing the air around them. Citizens flocked to the middle of the bustling shopping roads where a fight broke out. Winwin and Yuta looked at each other before racing over to see as well. 

"I think that's the one." Yuta whispered. The crowd was rather large so it was a bit difficult to see, however Taeyongs words echoed loosely in his mind. "Short hair, gets in fights, Winwin I think we're done!" Yuta smiled brightly at the taller male. His response was a bit delayed. Could it really be him? Wasn't he a bit… small? 

"You IDIOTS!" Taeyong yelled, hands banging down on his desk. "I told you exactly what he looks like and what do you do? Bring me someone not any bigger than a Dream member!?" 

The man scoffed, "I'm not that small-?"

"Look, you want us to do well? Stop sending me with him!" Winwin fought back, pointing back to his partner. Yuta's face grew rather disgusted, if not disappointed. "What do you mean?" He questioned. "You always mess around and distract me." Winwin huffed. 

"Then stop getting distracted. It's not hard!" Taeyong bellowed. The room grew quiet until the tied up boy spoke, “You guys seem tense. Maybe you should take a bath or something, some tea might help, maybe some Vodka-”

“Shut up!” Taeyong shouted, cutting him off. The four men stood in Taeyong’s office for a moment, unsure of what to do. “I’m sorry, sir. Should we bring him back to China?” Winwin spoke sheepishly, suddenly aware that he should probably just comply with his boss.

“Are you insane or did you break into the drug stash on floor 15? We can’t let him go now. Leave him with me,” Taeyong sat down onto his chair and spun to face his back to the other three men, “I’ll talk to him.” Winwin and Yuta promptly left while bickering quietly. The door shut quietly with a click. “Ok, let's get to it,” Taeyong pulled up a pen and paper, “Name, date of birth, nationality, family and blood type please.” The man shuffled out of the ties restricting him, 

“People call me Ten. I was born 27th of February 1996, I have a mother and father and sister and I don’t know my blood type.”

“Whatever, we’ll just get someone in to test you. You didn't tell me your nationality.”

“Well i’m not Chinese as you thought.” 

“I didn't ask where you aren’t from, I asked where you are fr-”

“Why do you need to know, huh?” 

Taeyong stared at Ten with sharp fury. But that was only the exterior he showed. Inside he was shocked. No one had ever interrupted him like that. 16 members prior to Ten and it hasn't happened once. And that wasn't even the ones he had to “dismiss”

“Just tell me where you're from, pretty boy.”

Ten looked around at the pointings that hung around Taeyong’s office, “Is this you? Who painted it? Their brush technique is very… unique.”

“I Think you’d better sit down and tell me where you’re from before we have a problem.” Taeyong spoke through gritted teeth

“Thailand.”

“Was that so hard?” Taeyong pulled some papers from his desk, “Sit down, Ten.”

“Fine,” he responded, “But I'm sitting because I want to. Not because you told me to.” 

Taeyong slid a thin pile of papers across his desk and into the other man’s lap. 

“I’m not reading all that.” Ten said, picking up the pile.

“Don’t worry, I'll give you the summary.” He sat back in his chair, “This is the NCT X Building. Its headquarters for the NCT gang. I prefer the term mafia but… to each their own.”

“Oh, shit ok.” Ten pulled out a pair of glasses from a pocket in his silk shirt.

“Long story short my father founded the mafia and I took over after the incident. I never liked the way he ran it so i changed a lot of things. So if you ever think I'm treating you unfairly i’ll remind you he was incomprehensibly worse.”

“So you’re recruiting me?” 

“Call it what you want, you’re lucky I didn't just kill you.”

“Fair enough.” 

“You’ll get to meet the other members soon but essentially there are two sections: 127 and Dream. 127 handles korean affairs, mainly based in Seoul. Dream…” Taeyong paused to laugh, “Honestly it's more of an experiment than anything and the only reason I'm maintaining it is because they’re good kids and you can't exactly leave this organisations unless you leave in a hearse.”

Hang on, did you say ‘kids’?” 

“Yes, they're all pretty young. The youngest is 17 though so don't worry they aren’t too young. Anyway Dream only really handles very minor affairs but they've been doing well.”

“Jesus, you’re not gonna put me with them, are you?” 

Taeyong laughed, “You should be so lucky. You’ll probably get put into 127 but for now you’re a trainee. Sign here.”

Taeyong presented ten with a black piece of paper with a light grey print and a white signature line. “That's some shady shit, man.” Ten said,

“Fine,” Taeyong took the paper away, “this is a gang, you don't actually have to sign it,” He said, signing the name ‘Ten’ in neat cursive on the white line, “It’s just so the less intelligent members get a sense of security from the legitimacy of a contract. But you seem smart, so you don’t need that.” Ten laughed quietly in response,

“Now,” Taeyong whispered, pressing a black button on his desk, triggering the large mahogany doors to open, “Would you like to meet the others?"

"You said there's sixteen others, right? Why so many?" Ten questioned, following his new leader out of the room. "I have my reasons. This way."

The hallways were long, some narrow, Ten noted. It wasn't dark like he imagined gang buildings to be either. Most rooms had a large glass window to show into it but a few were kept a secret behind locked doors. They peaked his interest for sure, so the male made a mental note to explore once he has a bit more freedom. 

"In here is the main break room on the floor. Usually you can find Johnny, Jaehyun, or maybe even Jeno in here." 

"So many J names." Ten laughed. Taeyong couldn't disagree there. "Come in." He nodded his head as he opened the door. 

"Johnny, Jaehyun, meet Ten." Taeyong said, introducing him. Johnny nodded while Jaehyun presented his hand. "You must be the new recruit!" Another voice spoke out. A head popped over the edge of the old, slightly tattered, orange couch in the corner of the room. "Who are you?" Ten asked.

"Mark Lee. I'm in all the units. Well, was."

"What do you mean, aren't there only two?"

"He was in dream but graduated. He doesn't have an official position yet."

"That's why I'm in all of them. In Hopes of finding out." Mark said, pointing his thumb and finger at Ten like he held a real gun. "Enough chat. Anyone know where Doyoung went?" Taeyong asked. Everyone shook their heads no. 

"Maybe in U-" 

"Right, later then. I'm sure someone is in the cafeteria." Taeyong blurted, interrupting Mark. The leader walked out, the heavy door slamming behind them. "Mark, you idiot. No one can know about U so soon!" Jaehyun scolded, smacking the younger boy on the shoulder.

"What's U? I don't understand." Ten asked, his mind buzzing to know what secrets Taeyong was keeping. He'll be damned if he gives up trying to find out. "Who knows Honestly. Kid is so overworked I don't think he would know where his head was if it weren't attached." 

Taeyong re-entered, brushing something off his shirt, and was immediately bombarded with Ten’s questioning "What positions were they all?" Ten asked. 

“Does this guy ever shut up? Why does he want to know everything so bad…?"  Taeyong thought. "Johnny is the muscle. I count on him to keep people in check, sometimes to do the dirty work. Jaehyun is 127s Charmer."

"Charmer?"

"Every talented mafia needs someone to swoon others to get desired information." 

"That desperate huh?"

"You won't understand. Not yet."

Ten took in his sudden surroundings as he noticed Taeyong had been leading him down a couple flights of stairs. "Elevators?" He asked. Taeyong shook his head. "Not to the floor we're going to. Doyoung likes his privacy." 

After walking for what seemed like hours, Taeyong and Ten finally got to their desired floor. “I get this dude wants his privacy but this is ridiculous.” Ten complained, pretending to be out of breath. Taeyong let out a small laugh, “You know, Ten, I hope your sense of humour helps you get around obstacles and doesn't cause you problems.” 

“Well,I'd be lying if I said they hadn’t before.” The two approached a tall, oak door with a silver “DY” on it next to an eye hole. “Kind of weird that you guys have peep holes on bedrooms.” Ten said as he got on his tiptoes to look through it, “It’s blacked out!”

“Mhm. Everyone but me is supposed to have an eyehole to make sure no one’s up to any funny business but Doyoung has a tendency to disagree with that rule.”

“Ah.” 

Taeyong knocked three times on the door before opening it, “Doyoung, you’ve got company!” He yelled. A tall, slender man with dark wet hair entered from around the corner, “Taeyong, you might be everyone’s boss but you can't just come in here unannounced. I’m your right hand man not your slave,” he looked up from tying a black robe around himself, “I don’t just do whatever you want me to like the others d-” He paused, “What does he want?” 

Taeyong laughed, “Doyoung, you’ve never been the best at making people feel welcome.”

“This looks like a Jaehyun thing.”

“Huh?” Ten looked at Doyoung, puzzled,

“Is this another ‘date in exchange for information’ thing because I'm not doing that again, that's why we have Jaehyun.” Doyoung walked back around the corner.

“No, it’s not.” Taeyong yelled over to him, “And if it was, you’re not supposed to say that to the person.”

Doyoung re-entered from around the corner now fully dressed in a white dress shirt, a silk tie, and tailored slacks. “I have to go out.”

“I don’t remember you telling me that.” Taeyong responded.

“I don’t remember me needing to.” Doyoung pushed passed the two men.

“My name’s Ten.” Ten shouted as Doyoung started up the stairs,

“Thats nice.”

“He’s going to be rooming with you for now.” Taeyong yelled.

“What?!” Doyoung came back down the stairs.

“It’s only temporary while we make up a room for him. Everyone has a roommate and they have smaller rooms. You’re alone and you have a room that could fit at least five people.”

Doyoung stared angrily at Ten, “Fine. But if this lasts more than a week, You and I,” Doyoung looked Ten up and down, “We’re gonna have a problem.”

“I’ll see you around, Doyoung.” Ten responded with a smile. Doyoung stormed off leaving a tapping sound on the marble floor echoing throughout the halls.

Taeyong and Ten looked to each other as Ten laughed, “I like him.”

#Nct #nct u #nct 127 #nct dream #wayv #ten #taeyong #johnny #jaehyun #mark #jeno #winwin #yuta #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct writing #nct fic #nct fanfic #nct mafia au #nct au #kpop fic #kpop fanfic #kpop mafia au #kpop au