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aquagustd · 3 years ago

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hell is empty - JJK, KTH

03. BABY CAME HOME ༄moodboard

life has a tendency to throw things your way when you least expect it, when you’re content, and the ominous presence knows exactly how to steer your existence back into the darkness.

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pairing — drug lord!jungkook x reader, hotel owner!taehyung x reader

genre/rating — R | angst, fluff, smut, love triangle au

word count — 6.8K

play — baby came home 2/valentines by the neighbourhood

warnings/tags — single parent!reader, dad!jk, CEO!taehyung, ex-bf!jungkook, strong language, parental conflict, bickering, mentions of sobriety, mentions of stalking, lots of crying, mean jungkook, possessive tae 🔓, a new *important* character is introduced, explicit smut — hickeys, dirty talk, biting/scratching, fingering, clit pinching, body worship, praise kink, spanking, protected sex, fucking in front of a mirror, choking, overstimulation, exhibitionism sorta?

a/n — finally !!! you can read the flashback drabble for more background info before you read this !! see y/n’s aesthetic ✨

Despite how you keep your fists rooted into your coat pockets, you still sway in your seat with ruthless trembles.

God. They’re identical.

Junho sits in his father’s lap, spooning at his ice-cream while Jungkook watches with a fond smile. It seems like you might have missed a few episodes because this man had become a stranger to both you and the product of your shared ignorance. But here he sits, as if he hadn’t been absent for a day in your son’s life. Junho whispers in Jungkook’s ear, a brief smile appears before his gaze returns to you and Taehyung sitting across them at the table.

Taehyung.

He’s sitting next to you, just as motionless. You know that by now, he must’ve gathered that’s your infamous ex-boyfriend, smiling down at his little twin.

Perhaps it was a bad idea, to have him come along while you take Junho out for ice-cream, knowing that there’s so much you need to ask Jungkook, if you’d just find your voice. There’s a boulder lodged in your throat, sinking down to the pit of your stomach then climbing back up as you watch the two interact. And repeat.

But you needed his support, you assume, a comforting hand curled over your knuckles under the table. Your own ice-cream cone now melted in your free hand.

Clearing your throat, you set down the soggy cone on a tissue, halting when Jungkook’s head lifts and his eyes meet with yours. No matter how many piercings or tattoos he has gotten over the years, nothing could conceal the familiar look in his eyes, but despite that, they’re blank. Not a single emotion on his face.

“W-What are you doing here?”

You know you should be angry, there’s so many reasons why your voice should be filled with venom rather than fear, but it still comes out soft, as if you’re talking to your son and not his useless father.

“Dad said that if I win he’ll take me for ice-cream!”

The corner of your mouth quirks up, “mhm?”

You want to reach over to wipe the corner of his mouth, but Jungkook beats you to it, tattooed hand a lot gentler than the crease between his brows as he dabs the mess away. You ignore the small flip in your stomach.

“I wanted to visit for a long time,” he begins, taking his time with his words. But you can’t tell whether he’s being cautious with what he says, or if he doesn’t care enough to give you an explanation. “I only got the chance now.”

“Visit?” You question with a frown, but you’re confused as to why you’re asking him that.

“Yeah,” he shrugs, bouncing his knee lightly as if he’s trying to keep Junho entertained.

No apologies? No proper explanation? No reason as to why he’s showing up out of the blue for a visit? Does he not know that by just visiting, he’s going to disappoint Junho when he must leave again? He’s just a kid, children his age get attached easily. How can he assume that you’ll be okay with it? When you told him, years ago, that he’s unwelcome in your son’s life?

Your heart is racing, mind working equally as fast, and before you know it, anger bubbles over.

“What makes you think that you can just show up like this? And I’m assuming that you’re the guy who has been visiting, no,” you correct, pulling your fingers out of Taehyung’s hold to have them track your words, “taking Junho out during recess? Did you know that because of you I have to find a new school for him? Or do you just not care?”

Even as you take deep mouthfuls of air, your lungs still burn, tears sitting on your lower lash line. Taehyung smooths a hand up and down your back, his eyes burning into the side of your face while Jungkook keeps his gaze on Junho, engrossed in his ice-cream.

“Can I have more?!”

“No!” You say, a little harsher than you expected. Junho visibly shrinks, looking between you and his father.

Jungkook turns around, signalling for the waitress, “of course you can have more.”

“No, he cannot.”

“Yes, he can,” Jungkook counters, dark eyes frigid, “he can have whatever he wants. He’s my son.”

You chuckle bitterly, “so now he’s your son?”

“He’s always been my son.”

“You’re such a fuckin—”

“Mamma said a bad word!”

“Watch your language around him.”

You rise from your chair, an accusing finger pointed at him.

“You need to watch what you say around him.”

Taehyung grabs your shoulders, ready to steer you out of the store with low hushes.

“Yeah,” Jungkook chuckles, raking a hand through Junho’s hair, “that’s what you’re good for. Running away from your problems.”

That sets you off. Storming back in his direction to tower over his seated figure.

“You should be the last one talking.”

“Hey, hey,” Taehyung shushes, clearly aware of the onlookers seated around you, “let’s talk about this somewhere else, yeah?”

Jungkook sets Junho down on the chair next to him, standing a foot away from you with his chin lifted, blazing eyes fixed on Taehyung.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook laughs mirthlessly, the sound sends a shiver down your spine, “who the fuck are you?”

The words come barrelling out, “my boyfriend.”

Taehyung plays off his mild confusion by thrusting a hand in Jungkook’s direction, “y-yeah. I’m her boyfriend. You must be Junho’s dad?”

Jungkook stares at his awaiting palm for a second then turns around to look at Junho, hands slotted in his pockets, “let’s go for a swim?”

“Yay!”

Taehyung is about to drop his hand, but you take it instead, intertwining your fingers before shooting him a pained look. He seems unfazed, amused even.

“I think not.”

You grab Junho’s wrist, a warning glare sent in Jungkook’s direction.

Junho’s smile falls before he yanks his wrist out of your hold and returns to his father’s side instead, taking your heart with him when he looks at you with all the anger a five-year-old can manage.

“I wanna go swimming with dad,” he whispers, swinging their hands back and forth.

Jungkook sports a shit-eating grin, one that makes your blood boil to the point where you can feel your ears turn hot. Now he’s trying to turn your own son against you. Knowing how fickle children can be.

“Smiley,” you try again, crouching in front of him, “you can’t go swimming again. Remember what I said? You need to go home and bath and have a good rest. I know you’re tired.”

His eyes droop at the corners, still swinging their connected hands. Jungkook has always been competitive, so you wouldn’t put it past him to try and outdo your affections for your son.

“He can rest at my place after we’re done, right Junho?”

“Yeah!” He bounces off the floor, small hand turning your face in his direction, “you should see dad’s house! It’s huge! It has a big pool and a pool inside the house and a water slide and a skittles machine!”

You jolt up straight, “he’s been to your house? You know what—“ you grab Junho’s shoulder, pulling him behind you “—you do all this behind my back. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Junho whines, sniffles getting louder and louder and once you break out of Jungkook’s indifferent stare, you spin around to see tears streaming down his plump cheeks. Taehyung is quick to comfort him, a tentative hand cupping the back of his head.

“Hey smiley, don’t cry.”

“Mamma doesn’t wan’ me to go with dad,” he sobs, his quivering voice piercing straight through your heart.

“She’s just worried,” Taehyung soothes, his gentle, baritone voice turning your insides to mush, “she loves you a lot.”

“No,” he hiccups, wiping his eyes with the back of his hands.

Your head snaps in Jungkook’s direction, sharp nails nearly digging out his eye, “you caused this.”

“Hey,” Taehyung grins, still patting Junho’s head, “why don’t we all go to my house? I have a pool too. And remember you wanted to see the rest of my cars?”

Junho’s cries stop, his face lifting ever-so-slightly with interest.

“Can dad come too? He also likes cars.”

“Of course, he can,” Taehyung says without hesitation, missing Jungkook’s overdramatic scoff behind you.

Junho fiddles with the hem of his hoodie, staring at the tiles in contemplation.

“I thought you were just visiting,” you enquire, tracking Jungkook’s movement as he walks around you, “but you got a house here?”

He stops by Junho’s head, ruffling his hair a bit, “I have to go now. But if you want to come with me, you can. Last chance.”

“I want to!”

“It’s not safe for you to be with him alone,” you grit, braving a few steps in Jungkook’s direction.

He spins around, dipping his head to look into your eyes as if searching for something.

“How long have you been sober?”

The question catches you off guard, heart stalling in your chest. You don’t miss the way Taehyung looks at you for a brief moment, then redirects his attention to Junho. Jungkook refuses to back away until you give him an answer, piercings glinting in the harsh light.

“Hm? If you wanna talk about what’s safe and what’s not for our son,” he says nonchalantly, head cocked with disdain.

“Our son?”

He nods, looking at you as if you’re the dirt under his shoe. It makes your throat constrict a bit.

“Just after Yoongi’s wedding.”

“That wasn’t too long ago,” he dismisses, an arrogant wave of his hand whooshing past your face before he’s backing away, “plus, I know for a fact that Yoongi must be giving you something. Working in a place like that.”

“That was four fucking years ago, you asshole. When you grew a pair and decided to take accountability. When it was too late.”

There’s a slight tick in his jaw, nostrils flaring menacingly before he dashes past you and makes his way through the double doors. Junho begins to howl, waddling after him with loud cries.

“Don’t go! Please, don’t leave me again.”

Your heart crumples in your chest, tears dripping from your chin as you watch Junho crouch down by his father’s foot, tugging on his pants.

“Smiley,” you call with a brittle voice, reaching for Taehyung’s hand that rests on your shoulder, “come here.”

Jungkook’s back faces you, fading sunlight illuminating his figure as he reaches down to pick Junho up off the floor, cuddling him to his chest. He speaks lowly into his ear, walking the short space back to you. You wipe your tears away hurriedly, not wanting him to know that you’re affected by his presence.

“I’m taking him home,” he says, voice ringing and orotund, “he’ll be back by 7 tonight.”

Before you can mumble a small ‘okay,’ having given up, he’s marching toward the end of the parking lot, strapping Junho in the front seat of a black Mercedes before he makes his way around to the driver’s side, pausing for a moment, then jumping in to speed off.

Leaving you to deal with a foray of emotions prickling at your heart with his arrival. Emotions you’re not willing to name just yet.

Taehyung had insisted that you go out for dinner with him tonight while Junho is with his father. You agreed, and you’re hoping that you can enjoy your evening out with him because your thoughts refuse to give you a single second of peace. With the knowledge that Junho is with his father, the idea still foreign to you, you don’t think you’d be at ease until he’s back home in your arms. Safe and sound.

Perhaps you shouldn’t have given in. You don’t know what kind of a man Jungkook is anymore and from what you knew, leaving a child under his care would be a terrible idea. A mix of regret and guilt stabs at your chest, heart refusing to slow down.

But if Jungkook had been seeing Junho often, to the point where Junho would prefer his company over yours, then you have nothing to worry about, right?

Now you’re just jumping to conclusions. Junho doesn’t prefer his father over you, he barely knows the man. Met him a few weeks ago. Talked to him at least seven, eight times? Probably.

Yet there he was, begging and pleading at his father’s feet, crying because he didn’t want him to leave.

The memory alone has tears springing to your eyes, frustration projected on your stupid earring that wouldn’t fit.

“Fuck!”

You sigh, hands on either side of the bathroom sink as your head hangs between your shoulders, scrunching your eyes shut to keep the tears at bay.

What are you doing?

“Hey,” Taehyung pokes his head through the small crack you left, “you okay?”

You chuckle, holding up the single pearl, “this earring.”

He smiles, closing the short space between you to reach for the piece of jewellery, “let me help.”

You watch your reflection, he stands behind you with his tongue sticking out, concentration screwing up his features. He meets your eyes for a second in the mirror, gold pin nudging at the small hole in your ear before he pushes it in. Your eyes scrunch shut in mild pain before you lean forward, admiring them for a second.

“Thank you,” you whisper, tidying up the place when you notice he’s still standing behind you, hands fitted in his dark blue slacks.

For a minute, you want to ask him what’s wrong, why is he looking at you like that, then the events from earlier today come rushing back. A few things nagging at the back of your head doesn’t allow you to look at him again, busying yourself with fitting on your rings.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, “I didn’t know wha—”

“It’s alright,” he responds, hands coming up to rest on your hips, “we’re working on it, yeah?”

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips, finding him already grinning at you cheekily, “yeah.”

“Although,” he breathes, mouth lowering to latch on the junction between your neck and shoulder, “we have some things to discuss over dinner.”

Reflexively, your head tilts when his kisses travel up the side of your neck, soft, glossy lips sliding up your skin to have you hum blissfully, hips jerking back against his crotch. His fingers press into the silk of your dress, bringing you further back to feel his bulge. You can’t bring yourself to close your eyes, drinking in the sight of his bent frame caging you into his embrace, his own eyes shut as he begins to suckle into your flushed skin, teeth drawing a small bloom just below your ear.

He nips on your earlobe, ensuing a soft moan from your parted lips, “okay?”

“Hmm,” you sigh, unable to stop yourself from grinding into his growing erection, “okay.”

With a wanton moan, you slide your fingers into his hair and bring his mouth in line with yours, snatching his parted lips in a sloppy, slow kiss. His tongue clashes with yours just as a groan tumbles out of his lips, guiding your hips to roll faster.

The pressure between your thighs becomes incessant, wetness leaking into your panties and you spread you legs a bit, wanting to feel more of him.

His nails drag up your thighs when he scrunches up your dress in his hand, pulling it up and over the globes of your ass. Your eyes fly open, wanting to see his reaction when he’s met with the sight of your lacy thong, breaths strained.

He doesn’t disappoint, a low ‘fuck’ muttered under his breath before his fingers are splaying across your lower back and you’re being pushed into the cold granite, but you can’t bring yourself to care with the way his fingers caress your ass, ringed fingers creeping closer and closer to your dripping center.

“Our reservation is at six,” he says breathlessly, the sound of his zipper dragging down excites you, “we’re gonna have to be quick.”

Despite his words, his fingers tease at your entrance, thumbs spreading your folds apart when he pushes the flimsy material to the side, a needy whimper falling from your lips when he starts to spread your wetness around, glazing the globes of your ass before his hand comes down on your cheek, causing you to jolt forward with surprise.

“So fucking sexy,” he growls, the familiar sound of him fucking into his wet fist reaches your ears as he finally presses down on your clit.

Your back arches when he sinks in two fingers at once, finding your sweet spot easily and you wait for his particular rhythm, the one that has your thighs quivering in under a minute.

“Yes,” you sigh, grinding into his hand, “wore this just for you.”

“Yeah?” He grunts, curling his fingers just right to have you vibrating in pure desire, wanting to feel his cock against you but also jerking forward to feel more of his long, skilled fingers drag down your walls. “Got it nice and messy for me.”

Your head lolls back, puckering your lips for him to catch in a searing kiss, fingers splitting you open. He pants into your mouth, drawing his fingers out of your cunt to part your swollen folds. A whine tumbles from your lips when he pinches your clit, flicking the swollen bud as more of your slick drips down his hand.

“Gonna fuck this pussy good, I wanna hear you baby,” his voice drips with lust, pants down to his ankles as he rolls on the condom. You keen when he props your left knee onto the counter, splitting your cunt wide open for him as he lines the tip with your honeyed hole. “Wanna hear your pretty moans when I fuck your pussy.”

Clenching with anticipation.

“Please,” you mewl, jerking into him as you brace your hands on the granite, taking a peek in the mirror for his gaze to latch onto yours.

Something flashes behind his eyes, tanned, large palm wrapping around your neck before he’s pushing into you, hot mouth pressed to your ear. Your head falls back onto his shoulder, a strained moan settling on your tongue once he’s buried to the hilt, giving you some time to adjust to his thick length.

His fingers fit on either side of your neck, thumb threatening to press down on the spot that’d cut off your air supply, heightening your pleasure.

“You’re so fucking pretty,” he sighs, hips pressed to your ass as you roll back, trembling when his cock grazes your sweet spot. You do it again and again, challenging him to press down on your throat. “Your pussy was made for my cock. My pussy.”

“Tae,” you whimper, begging him to move.

“Look at how pretty you are with my fat cock in your cunt, fuck, you’re so tight.”

Your jaw unhinges when he draws his hips back, the tip of his cock kept in your walls before he’s plunging back in. The sight of his hips snapping into you alone is enough to have you crying out his name, clenching uncontrollably when he reaches around you to rub at your clit. Fingers slick with your arousal, he brings them up to your parted lips, thumb skating across your lower lip.

His hips don’t stop for a single second, stealing the breath from your lungs when he doubles his efforts, nudging your thigh up so your other knee rests on the counter, stretching you open even further. With the new angle, your moans are high-pitched shrills of his name, thighs going numb yet still feeling each ridge and vein of his twitching cock. How the heat from his body mixes with yours, sweat beading across his forehead.

“Wish I could—” his thumb presses down on your tongue, voice laced with something carnal “—fuck this pretty mouth. Fuck your throat raw.”

Abdomen tightening, you moan around his digit, bobbing your head as you suck on it, showing him exactly how you would do it, drool slipping down his wrist.

“Such a good girl,” he husks, thumb sliding down to onto your chin, lips a breath away from yours, “but I can’t hear you scream my name with my cock down your throat.”

Obediently, you shake your head no, clit pulsing beneath his palm once it returns to your pussy, working you up with even harsher thrusts into your wet heat. Lewd squelches of his cock slipping into your pussy resounds in the bathroom, body locking up when he finally squeezes around your throat, thrusts growing animalistic.

“Let me hear you,” he grunts, bottom lip caught between his teeth, “let everyone know who’s fucking you this good. Who this cunt belongs to.”

He punctuates his words by rubbing your clit furiously, breath stolen from your lungs as you scream out his name, high rolling over your body in shockwaves. A drawn-out groan is heard before both his hands grip the backs of your thighs, keeping you splayed open for him as he chases his high with loud groans of your name.

“Taehyung,” you mutter, eyes screwed shut when it becomes too much, walls convulsing around him. He whines into your shoulder in response, blunt nails digging into the meat of your thighs as he spills into the condom with stuttered thrusts, pretty face contorted in pleasure.

You’re both coming down from your high when he reaches around to grab your face, kissing you languidly as he sets down your legs. The kiss is so sweet that the pain in your legs is hardly noticeable, twisting around to wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him down to your height, his heady, rich scent surrounding you just as his hold on your heart tightens.

“That was amazing,” he chuckles, lips stretching into a boxy grin, “but we’re probably going to be late.”

“Yeah,” you giggle, forehead pressed to his, “but I didn’t mind.”

His hands fly to your waist, and you’re being hoisted onto the counter, yelping when he stands between your legs.

“Let’s clean you up.”

“Tae,” you chide playfully, watching him wet the beige towel you keep at the sink, “I can do it myself.”

Ignoring your words, he bends down between your legs, staring at the apex of your thighs intently as he reaches between them. Just as he brushes your thigh, holding your panties to the side, you grab his wrist, a seductive eyebrow cocked.

His brows raise in question, damp towel in mid-air.

Wordlessly, you peel off your panties, holding eye contact as you let it fall into his lap. You lean back on your palms, gesturing for him to continue with a smirk.

His Adam’s apple bobs, towel pressing to your center before he shakes his head, knowing that you’re satisfied with his reaction. He tucks the flimsy material into his pocket with a lopsided smile. Once he’s done, he tosses the towel into the sink and comes up to attack your neck with his mouth, giggling and laughing with you when you try to push him away.

You yank him away with a hand in his hair, twisting at the brown strands as you meet his gaze, “you’re so—”

He smirks, hands on either side of your body, “I’m so…?”

“Nothing,” you smile, not wanting to get sappy right now, “we’re gonna be late, c’mon.”

You try to jump off, but he refuses to give you any space, pinning you in place with his big, brown eyes.

“Tae,” you snort, fists beating at his chest, “c’mon. Let’s go.”

He nails you with a ‘we’ll talk about it later’ look before he’s walking away, pants still around his ankles.

“I’ll clean up here,” he informs, waddling to the toilet.

As you’re making your way to the lounge, adjusting the straps of your dress. Your smile falls, the sight of a man with his ankle propped on his knee has your steps faltering, but the way he’s seated gives him away.

“What the fuck are you doing here? How did you get in?”

Jungkook’s head swivels in your direction, arms stretched over the backrest. The menacing glint in his eyes has your cheeks heating in embarrassment.

“H-how long have you been here?”

He yawns, arms reaching up over his head before he rises from the couch, taking in the small space of your lounge before he stands by the window, “long enough.”

Before you can respond, you hear Taehyung approach the end of the hall, a questioning look on his face before he follows your gaze to the ignorant man now making his way to the kitchen, hands tucked in his pockets.

“Nice little place you got here.”

Ready to spew curses at him, you tilt your head in Taehyung’s direction when you feel his hand wind around your waist, his calm demeanour tames your anger. Just a bit.

“Where’s Junho?”

“In his room,” he informs, lifting the jar of nuts and raisins you keep near the toaster, “packing a bag.”

“Packing a bag?”

He takes his time with unscrewing the lid on the jar, tossing his head back as he chews noisily, “yeah. He’s staying with me for the weekend.”

“Uh, I think the fuck—”

Taehyung’s hand squeezes around your waist, pointed gaze fixed on the way Jungkook flops back down on the couch as if he owns the place.

As if he owns the place.

You shut your eyes, taking a deep breath through your nose.

“He can’t stay with you.”

“Why not?” He enquires with that same, shit-eating grin, tongue nudging at his piercing, “you can come with if you like. Unless—” he looks between you and Taehyung, gaze zeroing in on your neck “—you’re busy.”

“We’re actually going out for dinner tonight.”

“That’s nice,” he sighs, tilting the jar in his direction. “We’ll miss you.”

Rolling your eyes, you sashay over to him, snatching the jar out of his hands before setting it on the coffee table, arms folded in front of you. He’s unbothered, gaze raking up and down your figure.

“You haven’t changed much.”

You shift on the spot, taking a few steps back.

“He’s five, how do you expect him to pack a bag for himself?”

He opens his mouth to answer, but you hold up a manicured finger, indicating that you’re not done just yet.

“He’s also never been without me overnight. How do you think he’ll manage?”

He shrugs, wiping his hands on his thighs, “I think he’ll manage just fine.”

Eyes narrowed in his direction, your fists clench at your sides, ready to provide a list of reasons as to why you won’t let Junho go when Taehyung’s phone rings, breaking your silent staring contest.

“Yeah?” He fixes his cufflinks, phone tucked between his ear and shoulder as he grabs his coat, “yeah. Yeah. Tell hyung to sort it out. No? Hmm.”

He ends the call, flashing you a dejected smile, “I have to go.”

You fix his collar, dismissing his apologies, “it’s alright.”

“Tomorrow night, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Standing on your tippy toes, you lean up to peck his cheek when he tugs you flush to his torso, hands just above the curve of your ass when he covers your mouth with his, all tongue and teeth. Clanking together lewdly before you pull away with a dreamy sigh. He stares down at you, a silent promise on his lips.

“I’ll miss you.”

You gulp, heart swelling in your chest, “I’ll miss you too.”

Knocking his forehead against yours lightly, he pulls away, pausing with his fingers on the door handle to throw an unreadable look at Jungkook, lips in a terse line.

“Cute,” Jungkook disrupts your daze, “can we leave now?”

“No.”

Turning on your heel, you strut through the hall to Junho’s room, seeing him struggle to close the zipper on his red backpack.

“Need some help?”

“Mamma! Yes please.”

You smile, a little relieved when he throws his short arms around you in a warm hug. Relieved? Because you thought that Jungkook stole your place.

How could you? When you know that nothing can come close to a mother’s love.

“Let’s see.” You take the bag from him, eyes bugging out at the number of toy cars stuffed in the tiny space.

He pinches his bottom lip, eyes wide with worry, “I can take some out. But I need my Hot Wheels.”

Turning to face him hesitantly, you take both his hands in your own, thumbs rubbing over his knuckles, “Smiley…you can’t stay with dad.”

He rips his hands out of your hold, chest heaving as he shouts, “why? But I want to! Why don’t you like dad?!”

“Listen, listen,” you hush, pulling him into your lap despite his protests, “dad hasn’t been around for a while, he doesn’t know you like mamma does.”

“Yes, he does,” he quips, chubby fingers out as he lists the things his dad knows about him.

You shake your head, trying to keep him still but he breaks out of your hold, voice wobbly and broken.

“Dad said he’s going away soon. I have to stay with him before that.”

Thinking carefully before you say your next words, you rise to your feet, bending down to place a kiss on the crown of his head.

“Let me talk to dad.”

“Yay!”

Wagging a finger in his direction, you gesture to his backpack, “you can use that bag for toys. I’ll need to pack another bag with clothes.”

His gaze skates around the room, “my spiderman bag?”

“We’ll see.”

When you return to the lounge, a little defeatedly, you catch Jungkook interfering with the TV. The sound of your dress sliding over your legs as you walk announces your presence. He smooths the mint tips of his hair back, adjusting the hem of his black turtleneck.

“So, you’re coming?”

Your eyebrows shoot up, stunned by his question.

“No,” you scoff, hands tucked into each other, “how did you get in?”

“Your son gave me the code,” he grins, “I got a smart kid.”

Too smart for his own good.

“And what makes you think I’ll let him go with you?”

“Nice TV, I need one of these. I just hope Junho isn’t deprived of anything.”

Forehead creasing at his question, you fold your arms, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know,” he reminds, gaze somewhere behind you, “seeing that I helped you get this place, and I pay the bills every month. Whatever little money you earn should be enough to afford whatever he needs.”

So your suspicions were correct.

Exhaling a bitter laugh, you level him with a disgusted glare, voice a lot firmer than you anticipated, “all the money you send every month is untouched. Whatever you’re seeing here, is what I bought with my hard-earned money.”

He kisses his teeth, “I don’t believe that. All that money?”

Chin raised, you nod, having all your answers prepared for this day.

“I don’t care if you believe it or not, I have a well-paying job and—”

He snaps his thumb, voice loud and boisterous, “and a sugar daddy! That explains everything.”

“You’re a real asshole, you know that,” you seethe, wanting nothing more than to have this detestable man out of your home and your son’s life.

“You know,” he continues, taking a few steps forward until he’s standing right in front of you, a new scent surging through your nostrils. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

He takes a lock of hair between his fingers and you freeze, eyes locked with his.

“And I know you’re doing a good job with our son, you know, leaving him with Yoongi hyung for the weekends while you’re out, strangers when you’re at work. I get it.”

“Jung—”

“Can you believe that?” He chuckles dryly, “you leave him for hours with your neighbour, a stranger, but won’t let him spend one night at his father’s house? Man, and I actually trusted you.”

Your hands are like sticks at your sides, throat working wildly when his hot palm rests on your bare shoulder, eyeing the bruises on your neck.

“I trusted you,” you whisper.

For a fleeting moment, you think you find a bit of the old Jungkook in those onyx eyes, but he’s snapping away from you, fixing his veneer.

“Sora and I will take good care of him.”

“Sora? Who’s that? Your—"

“Dad’s financi!”

Jungkook catches Junho as he charges in his direction, holding him up on his hip expertly.

“Fiancée,” Jungkook corrects with a smile, unhooking the straps of Junho’s backpack.

Why does it feel like a bit of your heart has just chipped away?

“Mamma, can I stay with dad tonight?”

Nodding weakly, you lift the other bag from the ground, inspecting its contents to check that he has everything he needs.

He squeals, kissing the side of his father’s face.

“Can I have one before you go?” You try with a solemn smile, emotions burning up your throat.

He reaches for you, still in his father’s arms when you prop your head on his small shoulder, Jungkook’s stolid stare on your face.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’m coming back tomorrow!” Junho giggles, “but I’ll still miss you.”

His lisp is a lot more noticeable now. You reach forward to pinch his cheek, biting back tears.

“I know.”

As they’re making their way downstairs, you call Jungkook’s name, uncaring if the neighbors should complain.

“He doesn’t like his Cheerios soggy, so put the milk after. Cold milk!”

“Got it!”

“And he doesn’t like to sleep with socks but sometimes he falls asleep with them on, so you have to take them out!”

“Okay!”

“And he—” The words die on your tongue, tears falling freely.

He can’t fall asleep without saying goodnight to that polaroid of you.

“Listen, I’ve only met the guy once, so I can’t say much. But from what Yoongi told me, I’m not sure if you made the right decision.”

You collapse on her lap, sobbing into her legs, “don’t say that.”

“What?” She shrieks, mouth stuffed with pretzels, “I’m just saying.”

“Yuri,” you whine, banging your fists on her legs.

She pulls away with a scowl, grabbing one of the throw cushions to shield herself from your attacks.

“I hate him, I fucking hate him so much.”

Reaching for her glass, she tips her head back to finish the last bit of wine, topping both of your glasses up after.

“Hey, I know. But he’s your dad’s son, wait,” she giggles, waving a hand over her flushed face, “he’s your son’s dad. You have to like him.”

“No, I don’t.”

She gives a one-shoulder shrug, lips in a theatrical frown, “you kind of do.”

“Ugh,” you groan, wanting to take another sip but deciding against it.

“Hey, have some more,” she coaxes, raising a suggestive brow, “you can stay over.”

“No, no,” you burp, wrenching your hand out of her hold, “remember what happened the last time we got drunk and I spent the night here.”

“So what?” She grins, brown eyes glazed over, “Yoongi said it was kind of hot.”

“Shut up!”

“I’m serious,” she waggles her brows, socked foot gliding up your thigh.

You massage her foot absent-mindedly, one man occupying the forefront of your mind.

“I’m just wondering,” you begin, squinting at nothing in particular, “why would he appear now of all times? Like, he could’ve showed up sooner.”

She hums, “Yoongi knows.”

“What?”

Sensing her mistake, she downs the rest of her wine, “let’s have more.”

“No,” you warn, clutching her wrists in your hand as you pin her to the couch, “Yuri, you have to tell me!”

She fights back weakly, flowy gown coming loose on her small frame, “I can’t.”

“You have to.”

“No,” she pushes you back lightly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ears, “Yoongi will tell you himself.”

“Well, where is he?”

She gives you an exasperated look, “you know he’s unavailable right now. Busy in his office.”

You spring up from the chair, ready to walk up the stairs and barge into his office but she pulls you back down, a little worked up.

“That’s a bad idea. Chill, okay? You can ask him at work on Monday.”

Dragging a hand down your face, you relent with a sigh. “I should probably get going, it’s late.”

“Yeah.”

Tucking the sides of her satin gown into each other, she waves you off, a mellow smile on her dainty features. You laugh to yourself as you drive through the gates, knowing that she’s going to give Yoongi a hard time tonight.

From what she said, you surmise that Yoongi knew. Yoongi knew that he was coming, and he didn’t tell you for some odd reason. But why would he do that? When he witnessed what happened the last time and because of your weak heart, you gave in to Jungkook again. But this time, it’s different. Junho is now fully aware of who his father is, and he wants to spend time with him. If you were to disagree, you’d turn out to be the bad guy and that’s the last thing you want.

Plus, after everything Jungkook said to you, you know that he’d love that idea. To have you be the villain in this story when he’s been seen in a bad light all these years. As he should be. But that still doesn’t stop your heart from aching at the way he looks at you, like you’re just this random woman who’s been taking care of his son and now that he’s willing to step up, now that he feels like being apart of Junho’s life after missing out on some of the most important years, you’re kicked to the curb.

You chew on the corner of your lip, blinking away tears as you speed down through the streets. How would you get any sleep tonight, knowing that your son isn’t safe with you in your home? Staying with Jungkook, and his fiancée. Banging a fist on the steering wheel, you decide to make a U-turn, ready to get your son back because it seems like you lack common sense.

The boulder returns, now lodged right in the centre of your throat. You don’t even know where he lives.

As you’re slowing down, your gaze flits to the rear-view mirror, the bone-chilling sight of the black SUV staring back at you. Through all this drama, you had forgotten, and there’s not one, but two this time, tailing you. Tightening your grip on the wheel, you decide to take a few turns around the block, heart hammering against your ribcage as they match your every move. And it isn’t long before you find yourself reaching for your phone out of fear.

The device slips out of your hand, clattering to the passenger side.

“Fuck.” Reaching over with trembling hands, you keep your eyes on the road while trying to locate your phone, jerking up straight when you spot a few unfamiliar turns and trees. Another frightening shiver runs down the length of your spine, every inch of your skin goosing at the realization that you’re lost.

Stepping on the brakes with a harsh foot, you’re forced to stay put in front of the black SUV, bright lights switching on to blind you momentarily before you spin around. You’re surrounded.

Chest undulating with heavy, laboured breaths, your blood runs cold as you finally find your phone, cursing when you enter the wrong password. Your relief is short-lived when you hear a knock on the passenger side window, body pressed to your seat. A man wearing a black leather jacket gestures for you to roll down the window.

Swallowing thickly, you shake your head, gasping when a second knock comes from your side, another man standing at your window. The bottom half of his face is illuminated, muffled voice asking you to roll down the window before two unnerving knocks come from the other side again.

All you can think about is Junho, fearing for his safety when yours is in jeopardy.

Pressing down the button, you let it roll down a crack, hearing the man laugh, low and grating.

“More.”

“Please don’t hurt me,” you hear yourself say, clutching the phone to your chest, “take whatever you want.”

This time, the two of them chuckle. He leans down to set his hands on your door, blond hair falling into his sharp eyes as he speaks with a flat, husky voice.

“We won’t hurt you,” he begins, tongue dragging over his plump lips, “step out of the car for us, please.”

You hit call.

a/n — please send in feedback, I would love to chat to you & hear what you think.

taglist ✩ masterlist

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infernalodie · 3 years ago

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𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 || 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝

“𝘓𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦, 𝘐 𝘨𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘐 𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘈𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯' 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘢 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘨𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳 𝘐 𝘵𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘶𝘱 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘺𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘸 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴, 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳“

Inspo: Drake - Losses

Pairing: Cassie Howard x Black!Male!reader

Summary: When you had nothing, you had Cassie. She’d been there since you two were just kids. But people grow apart and evolve, but you never thought Cassie would so willingly end things between you two.

(gif used is not mine)

Warnings: Angst

Words 1231

When you had nothing, you had Cassie Howard.

Everyone knew this as you were by her side since Pre-school. Accompanying her at each party she went to and verified if a guy was good enough for her. But most of the time, she just went behind your back to go fuck a few dudes. And when pictures and videos of her were leaked to every student in East Highland, you were at her house comforting her and promising to help bury them in the past.

And she was there for you when your parent's belligerence extended towards you. Their abusive behaviour’s shaping every step they took, which led to destruction. But Cassie was there. Putting up with the smallest of things like a household smelling like smoke and cigarette stains clinging to the decor, making it unsafe to touch anything in your house. When no one was there to understand your situation, Cassie was there to hold you and listen to what you had to say.

It’s always been hard for you to accept the fact that you only had one friend. With a kid who’s lived in poverty all his life, you expected to make some friends on your block. Stay out late on the street corner making money how everyone else in your neighbourhood has. But no matter how much you tried, you were only left with Cassie. And it wasn’t like you didn’t appreciate her because you did. She’s been there in your darkest times, and there has been a real bond created between the both of you. But people needed to reach out farther and go into situations they weren’t comfortable being.

That had been basketball as you quickly rose through the roster with skill. Making it to the starting lineup with pure ease. Perhaps balling with kids on your block toughened you up quite a bit. But you showed true potential, and you could see it. A real chance to make something of yourself and get the hell out of the hell hole you called your home. And Cassie was there to support you and help in any way you sought fit.

You got a sponsor after Cassie posted a viral video of you having a 63-point game. Highlights being posted on many verified accounts on Instagram and even having some of your highlights on ESPN. It was a dream that came true and a wave of popularity at Highland you didn’t wish to entertain. Sticking with the blonde that had been there for you since you were just 3-years-old.

Years went on, you found more friends, you continued playing basketball, you won East Highland a championship and you were getting offers from across the country. With the money you earned from your sponsor, you got yourself an apartment across Highland to get away from your parents. But something was missing and that was Cassie.

Things were strange nowadays. You didn’t see her as often as you used to. If anything, she was avoiding you and after years of knowing which classes you would be taking, she knew which hallways to go down to avoid you. It’d been since McKay’s New Year’s Eve party that this weird started forming in your stomach. Stirring each time you saw her and watched her avoid interacting with you. Something was changing and you weren’t sure what could be responsible.

After years of being by one another’s side, you expected her to maybe reach out. That was something you expected, but you hadn’t expected her to stay under your wing whilst hiding the fact that she had any correlation with you. Asking for money when she saw a nice Birkin bag, but never stated that it was you who bought it for her.

If you’d known any better, you may have kept your money to yourself. Kept the ones who seemed to genuinely care for who you were as a person a lot closer. Maybe you should’ve cut things off with Cassie ahead of time when you started to see the signs of something going on with her.

But the least you expected was to get a text from Lexi, pleading you to come over to her house as soon as possible. And you did, cutting off your workout early and driving across town to Howard’s house. You wish you could be more presentable with your purple durag, wife beater, and basketball shorts being all you could wear. But you arrived just in time to see Maddy rushing out of the house in tears with Kat on her tail.

You frowned, getting out of your car and walking up the path leading to the wide-open front door. As soon as you stepped inside, you sensed an odd form of tension in the air. Glancing around and hearing the faintest sound of crying.

“She’s been hooking up with Nate.” Lexi’s sudden presence and the statement had you flinching. Glancing over at her from the living room towards the stairs. You’ve had your troubles with Nate ever since grade school. Dealing with his not-so-subtle racist comments whenever you beat him in a sport. It got so bad that you made Cassie promise that she would never associate herself with him.

“How long?” You asked in a quiet voice.

Lexi pursed her lips. “Since New Year’s.”

All you could offer was a quiet hum before you started making your way up the stairs. Entering the shared bedroom belonging to Lexi and Cassie. Proceeding towards the bathroom where you could hear the quiet sobs on the other side of the door. With gentleness, leaned against the door, sitting on the floor with a sigh.

The lanyard of your car keys was taken between your fingers. Keys jingling together enabling Cassie to glance at the door, sniffle and wipe her face before she seated herself against the door. “Y/n?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “it’s me.”

With your presence being now known, Cassie felt herself relax, to an extent. Only because now, she had to face the fact that you now understood why she hadn’t been around much.

Clearing your throat, you rested your head against the door. “I think tonight we should just be honest with each other,” you announced. “I know aren’t happy anymore being around me and I can understand that.”

Cassie felt a new wave of tears as she covered her face, but you continued. “I lost you way back and I know I kept you from guys who may have wanted your heart,” you acknowledged. “But I kept you with me because I wanted you to have a bright future ahead of you. I mean, you have double the followers on your Instagram than everyone combined. But when I thought I brought you up with me, you were still at the bottom and that’s where you’ll stay.”

You stood to your feet, hand pressing to the door. “I just don’t know how you could even like being there and call it normal,” you said. “But if that’s where you feel like you belong, then so be it. But I’ll always love you, Cassie. And whenever you need me, you know where to find me.”

And Cassie was left speechless, listening to your muffled footsteps before the door clicked shut. Losses were natural to life, but losing someone who has never wanted anything else but for you to succeed hurts the most.

#poc reader #x black reader #x black!reader #euphoria x black!reader #cassie howard x black!male!reader #x black!male!reader #cassie howard x male!reader #cassie howard x black!reader #sydney sweeney #cassie howard x reader #euphoria #euphoria hbo #euphoria imagine #cassie howard euphoria #euphoria s2 #cassie howard fanfiction

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foxsoulcourt · 2 years ago

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15 questions

(or the time I almost pasted a comment intended for Hunting, @roseforthethorns + Only_1_Truth's recent spicy 🌶🌶🌶 JB/Q/AT werewolf au instead of the questions to answer 👀😂)

Ty @bishybarnaby + @macontheweb for asking me to play! 💜

1. Are you named after anyone? Kind of. My mama's best friend's name was Laurie + she like the sound of it so she came up w/something similar. (Grateful my dad ix-nayed the Two Grandmother's Name idea because Patience Josephine is a l o t for one small human to shoulder.)

2. When was the last time you cried? Two nights ago during a rewatch of Madam Secretary s05 e16 The New Normal about climate change-related migrations. Before that got weepy while listening to a friend explain the complicated surgery + recovery protocol she's navigating.

3. Do you have kids? Yep, two 24 y.o. born 5 minutes apart. Very different in almost every way, currently living in two different states. Each are DeLiGhTfuL humans which makes being family a lot of fun. ~ Interestingly, this almost wasn't my story. I'm deeply grateful neither of my parents pushed marriage or kids onto my ideas for the future. I grew up knowing neither choice is for everyone, nor an indicator of a rich, full life, and well into my twenties I was utterly convinced neither were for me. ~ As life unfolded I did a shit-ton of therapy, decided to stick around this place + then later on met my person. We're well-matched in many great ways, so when things shifted inside both of us, our two came into the world. We intentionally raised + launched them aligned with our quirky values + interests which turned out to be a trickier design challenge than I anticipated. Worthy though! But, ummm, I'm STILL kinda tired, so if you choose to do the kid thing, please get more sleep than I did while you do it. Your future self will be grateful. Plus if you have ovaries, menopause is a w a y easier journey if you've been getting enough sleep beforehand. #adrenal fatigue is real

4. Do you use sarcasm? Occasionally I hint at it, but no. It makes me emotionally + physically squirm.

5. What is the first thing you notice about people? Hmmmm, intuitively I pick up how emotionally safe they are, both within themselves + how they're likely to interact with others. Next I notice what draws their eyes. Then I get curious about what they choose to wear + why. Sometimes it's the exact opposite sequence.

6. What is your eye color? Green

7. Scary movies or happy endings? Ha! Happy endings!!! CanNOT watch anything remotely scary.

8. Any special talents? After years + years of wondering WTAF, I realised I'm the human equivalent of a portable sanctuary. Not always (that would be aNnOyiNg for all involved!), but often there's something about how I listen + interact w/people that makes them feel safe enough to share something about themselves, an insight, or chitchat about A Real Thing. It happens literally a n y w h e r e. Yesterday it was w/a guy in the grocery store check out line.

9. Where were you born? Within a mile of a small beach in a formerly sleepy southern Californian town, USA; moved to the PNW when I was 12. West coast gal all the way.

10. What are your hobbies? Chopping vegetables while listening to old school jazz, reading, dinking around in the garden, going for walks to look at other people's gardens, evolving as a human being, making Mr FSC laugh so his eyes crinkle. Vague itch to pick up some sort of fabric art activities in 2023.

11. Do you have any pets? After the heart-break of nursing first one + then a second older man cat to the other side (see below), I've become an avid backyard bird watcher. This includes staring out the window at LoTs of little brown birds + talking to the neighbourhood crows.

12. What sports do you play/have you played? All my life I've been physically active, almost always outside the bounds of defined sports. In high school I swam + played on the badminton team and both were a total gas, but that was because we were a team of weirdos doing something fun together. Swimming, bike riding, hiking, sailing, skiing, dancing, walking - all of it - is for the joy of feeling my body in motion. I am so f*%ing grateful to my parents for leading by example in this way which, thankfully, I seem to have passed onto both of our kids.

13. How tall are you? 5′6" / 167 cm

14. Favorite subject in school? All of them. Seriously. I loved learning about the natural world which opened up into all.of.the.sciences. Loved learning mathematics even when it was moderately hard; stopped when it got really hard. Adored reading + writing, and then writing about what I read. Liked art + cooking + sewing (which was still taught at the time). Took Spanish + then went to Latin America to speak it. Enjoyed learning how to speak persuasively, up in front of other people. Reading this over I started laughing because it makes sense of my Uni experience! Spent a few years on a journey through most of these topics before I narrowed it down to History of Science. Which still covers almost all of them PLUS included the study of people + institutions! Grad school was focused on leadership development + how to navigate organisational change, which meant picking up organisational psychology to add into the mix.

15. Dream job? Having had s e v e r a l already + being in the 3rd act of life w/the need to make a bit more money, this is a f a s c i n a t i n g, topical + tender question. I've loved what I've done: waited tables; collaboratively created a customer service + accounting dept within a successful dot com start up within a major retailer; lay minister with teens in a queer positive church; parent; organisational change consultant. B u T, I've also experienced mental + physical exhaustion 3x. The last episode has been particularly challenging to recover from, so the question at hand is how to be moderate. I hear it's possible + have seen others achieve this goal. Recently started back up w/therapy to figure why it's been challenging for me thus far. Dream of dreams? Consultant designing + facilitating important conversations w/in organisations navigating changes in leadership styles between The Old Way + what's evolving. I'm pretty skilled at inter-generational dynamics which is a deal these days. Goal is to get paid handsomely enough for doing it part time. Stretch goal? Flesh out some scribbled notes pinned on the bulletin board >> write a couple of small square books about organisational change + Generation Flux + sTuFf.

Who else wants to play? If you're interested, @fuzzballsheltiepants, @pomponiaia, @christinefromsherwood, @anyawen, @merceyca, @leahlisabeth, @youreyestheyglow. I'm guessing any one of you will do this in 50% fewer words. 😉 Carrying forward bishy's caveat: this one is long and also personal, so feel free to nope out if you'd rather not!

Here are sweet Oscar + Mr Bingley, may they continue to rest in peace while nourishing the garden.

#15 questions #get to know me #thanks for the tag!#mac thx for idea of including cat pic!#personal #it surprised me how moving it was to answer these questions #realised once again i'm grateful my parents did the best they could with what they had #and that we've been able to do the same for our two kids #kinda shocked to realise i DID like all my classes #didn't realise that until typing this out #did i mention sleep is important #so important

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planetary-runaway · 4 years ago

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Son

“W-will?” came a quiet, disbelieving voice, echoing from behind the newly revived ex-president, making him spin on his heel, already pasting a bright smile onto his face, as had become his custom interacting with anyone since he gained the white streak belying how truly old he was. “Oh! Fundy!” he positively beamed, though his eyes were too sharp, his teeth too white to have given anyone a sense of ease, especially as he held his arms out in front of him as if presenting the fox hybrid to his companion. “Look, Tommy! It’s Fundy.” He certainly wasn’t being genuine, all three of those present could hear the mocking remnants of a much friendlier ghost lingering in the higher pitches, and, judging by the snide curl of his lip as he continued, Will knew exactly what he was doing. “What can I do for you? Just a house call?”

Hackles raising as Wilbur stepped forward, Fundy stumbled back a little, and shoved a piece of paper into his pocket, eyeing Tommy warily, seeing as though he was hunched, staring at the grass of his lawn, with his hands in his pockets, just letting this happen. “N-No, it’s fine, I just... I was just going to ask Tommy something, but- but I'll come back later. Yeah, I'm sure it can wait.” he stammered out an excuse, trying to back off, back onto the prime path, where he could turn tail, but Wilbur merely waved it aside dismissively. “Don’t worry about it! I’m sure Toms would be happy to help.” he smiled, pinning the hybrid with a strangely, unfamiliar clear gaze, as he comfortably threw an arm around Tommy’s shoulders, pulling him into his side. He didn’t seem to notice as the teen stumbled numbly, not once looking up from the small purple flower blooming from his lawn, letting Will move him about as if he was naught but a ragdoll, though Fundy bristled at the comfortable, familial gesture, grinding his teeth.

“Yeah... sure.” Tommy spoke hollowly, the movement having made a militarily cropped piece of his hair catch the light, white as bone, standing out starkly against the spun gold of the rest of his rumpled hair. Even from the other end of the lawn, Fundy could see how weary he was, how the dark circles had multiplied as if branding themselves onto his skin permanently, like they were weighing his shoulders down. He looked so small next to the still-beaming Wilbur, so different from the larger-than-life character Fundy had known from his childhood. It was disconcerting, but still, he forced his feet to move forward, toward the duo, feeling as his too-big boots slid on the cropped grass, and set his jaw. Completely blanking the taller, Fundy quickly addressed Tommy, not wanting to spend any longer in Will’s presence than he had to, let alone within arm’s reach. “I- Do you have any spare iron? Niki needs to rebuild her beacon.”

It wasn’t the politest or most successful of conversations, but, as Tommy raised a cracked, bruised hand, and pointed back into the house, Fundy could have sworn he saw a flicker of surprise come over Wilbur’s face. A gentle head bow, and murmured thanks later, Fundy was passing through into the small dirt house- if it could even be called that- and rummaging through the assorted junk in Tommy’s chests, not organised in the slightest sense. They look like they had been ransacked recently, not a single piece of stone seeming to have lodged in a corner somewhere, forgotten. But, before he could think to question it, sure Tommy would have had at least some, Fundy’s hands brushed the smooth coolness of a few blocks of iron, sandwiched between two completely unrelated things, and his mind was sent on a completely different line of thought.

Yanking it out, he was surprised to see there was more than he thought, even if he did send a few dented buckets and an old, ragged leash flying in the movement. Still, he did have some level of decency, sure that if Tommy had this much iron, he must have had a need for it. So, as much as he wanted to take the whole stack, Fundy had some decency, slipping half into his pack for later, and carefully stowing the rest back into the chest in a much less dangerous pile, for... whatever the teen would need it for. It was a joke around the area that, often, very little in these chests was Tommy’s so, while he was sure somebody would currently be hunting, very confused, for their materials, there was also an unspoken knowledge between everyone that Tommy never took anything that would leave people really wanting, and, maybe...7 times out of 10, he would give it back after a while anyway.

Chuckling to himself as he latched the chest closed again, and prepared to stand back up from the cool, dirt floor, Fundy almost missed the tell-tale rumble of Wilbur starting to raise his voice from outside, where he had stayed with Tommy, basking in the sun as if it seemed to spotlight him alone. Gasping in a breath to hold, a faded memory coming back to him of long nights spent sleeplessly in the tall grass of a walled community, of hearing raised voices and incensed footsteps from inside his father’s office, Fundy forced himself to his feet, ignoring how his knees protested and wobbled, padding as silently as he was able over to the door to peek outside.

It wasn’t a fun sight to behold, either, Wilbur having taken Tommy by the shoulder as he spoke, a manic look in his eyes as he gestured wildly with his free arm, to the neighbourhood around them, to the sky, and the ground, and even to the house, though neither saw Fundy, him having ducked out of sight just in time. He wasn’t sure why he had done it, both of them knowing he was there, but, in the split second he had to react, it had felt like the right thing to do. He didn’t want to look back out there, so, instead, he leant his heaving back against the soft dirt wall, feeling the chill soak through his jacket and thin shirt, a small relief to his skin, and listened instead.

“Listen Tommy! This? This will be our legacy! If we can do this...” he broke off into laughter, so hauntingly familiar that it made Fundy’s heart ache to hear, almost being able to imagine a million different Wilburs, arms spread wide, face tilted to the sky. “When we do this, we’ll be saints! Nobody will be able to touch us again! We'll be gods, Tommy!” he spoke quickly, as if he was afraid that, if he didn’t get all his words out right that second, he would never get a chance to say them again, but like he didn’t care what it was that he said. “We will be... Tommy, we’ll be unstoppable!” It sounded more like a monologue to Fundy, who, straining his ears, only just heard Tommy’s mumbled reply, apathetic and weary as he sighed. “Yeah... gods.” He echoed, sounding decades older to the young fox, so used to the blonde spitfire throwing curses and rebuttals about like water, or at least swallowing back the more offensive things when warned. But right now, he just sounded defeated, like he had nothing left. And really, he didn’t, he didn’t even get to die in peace, so why should he be enthusiastic, knowing he would just be kept going indefinitely. It was a common source of outrage about the entire nation, that whatever had happened after Doomsday had broken their dear Tommy, though nobody knew much more than that he had lost a life, the news not having become popular, understandably.

“And you, Toms!” Will continued, as if he hadn’t heard anything, followed by a loud rustling and stumbling steps. “You will be my right-hand man, all over again! This time we will win, my boy and I!” The iron suddenly felt ten times heavier, in Fundy’s pack, and in his stomach, a sick, sinking feeling washing over him. He couldn’t have just said that, right? He didn’t mean it, surely. But still, no amount of lying to himself could stop as he spun, flinging the door open angrily. “And what am I, Wilbur?” he snapped, teeth bared as he stood, haloed with darkness from the dim house, in the doorway, regarding the pair with poorly veiled disdain. “What role do I play? Gunna leave me alone again? Leave me behind?” Jealousy was rising, hot and thick, in his throat as he spoke, raging like a monster and driving him to step forward, stalking toward Will, who had the audacity to still hold an arrogant smirk on his face. “Ah, Fundy. So nice to see you’re still here.” he spoke smoothly, clasping his hands before himself like a housewife as he saw the sharp claws starting to peek out from around the fingerless gloves the hybrid always wore.

“Answer the question. What am I to you, Wilbur.” he spoke lowly, almost a growl, slowly shifting into a fighting stance at the infuriatingly serene position Will held, faintly noticing he had shed his heavy coat at some point in his ravings, leaving him in just his achingly familiar linen shirt and pants. “Well... you’re Fundy.” One hand went out in a mockery of a placating gesture, nestling in Fundy’s hair and ruffling it up, before being quickly snatched back as Fundy snapped angrily at it, missing by less than a centimetre. “Well done, you know my name.” he snarled back, eyes lightening, blink by blink, from their usual dormant brown to a much angrier, more feral gold as he hunched fully into a fighting stance, the rage reaching a peak. “How about family? I’m your son.” the words lashed out like a whip, ripping his throat up as they spilled out, and stupidly making his voice crack. “I’m your son” he repeated, quieter this time, slashing out blindly as Wilbur’s hand came close again. “Don’t you dare touch me. You haven’t earnt the right.”

This time, he broke skin, he felt as the minor resistance buckled, and blood tickled the tips of his fingers, looking up to see a clear slash mark on the sleeve of the shirt, now being quickly dyed with the type of morbid crimson that only blood could be. Wilbur looked surprised, quickly pulling the entire sleeve off to bandage it, before holding his arm to himself, an action performed in entire, three-way silence. Fundy had watched, tight lipped, at the familiar sight of blood, not able to find it in himself to feel any kind of remorse for his actions, simply waiting for it to be over with.

“I see you found your spine. Your mother was always feisty too.” Wilbur commented slyly, seeing as Fundy’s heaving breath caught in his chest for a moment, not even flinching as a loud growl reverberated about the street afterward. “You have no right to talk about her like that. You made us soldiers, you made us fight your bloody wars in your name, and where were you when we needed you by our sides?” Fundy snarled, gesturing to the hunched figure of Tommy, right where he had been left when Will had stepped away, staring unseeingly at the floor, arms wrapped tight about his midsection. “You were off on your chaise longue, eating grapes and seducing Dream so you could blow us all up again, conveniently looking the other way when we called for you to be there.” he spat the words like they were acid, trying desperately to find at least one thing that scratched the perfect veneer Wilbur was putting up, even with his arm clamped to his chest like it was shattered. “But we were children. Will, I was a child.”

He couldn’t help the memories coming back, of chainmail that dragged on the floor when he walked, of the elusive smells of pastries being eclipsed by gunpowder, of babbling brooks turned into deathly still lakes by the craters left over, of playful laughter echoing through the air from around the foreboding office Fundy had barely seen the inside of, before they were all shushed and sheparded off to train for a war they shouldn’t have had to fight. “I was a kid that just wanted a dad. You were supposed to be there for me.” Tears started pricking at his eyes at this, and, determined not to give Wilbur the satisfaction of seeing it, he roughly shouldered past, clutching his pack and his jacket close. “You were supposed to be a father.” he couldn’t help but mumble as they diverged, Wilbur not bothering to put out an arm to stop him as he stepped from the cropped lawn back onto the smooth, familiar wood of the path.

“And you know what?” Fundy barked, turning back one last time, hating how the sun made a halo about Wilbur’s form, painting him as an angelic being, especially how it dappled through the folded wings just poking out from over his shoulders now he wasn’t wearing his heavy coat anymore. “I wish you stayed dead.” It didn’t even cause a quirked brow, Wilbur watching with some detached sort of amusement, as if it was naught but a show he was the sole audience for. Upending his pack, Fundy turned to Tommy, unsure if he was even able to hear him, but spoke again, quieter, softer. “Keep the iron, I'll find it somewhere else.” and, in time with the heavy clang of iron upon the path, a door, left open for far too long, finally locked in Fundy’s mind.

#dsmp #dream smp #fundy #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #daddy issues #vent fic #not agere #tw threats #tw blood #tw cut #tw death mention

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kumiwrites · 4 years ago

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always have, always will

Sero Hanta doesn’t know a life without you by his side. For as long as he can remember, you’ve always been there. You’ve always been his person—always have, always will.

Or so he thought.

Pairing: Sero Hanta x Reader Prompt: Relationship firsts Genre: Fluff, angst, friends-to-lovers Warning(s): None Word count: 2937 A/N: This is my fic for the first BNHA Hangout SFW collab! It was fun writing for Sero (though this fic ended up merging with a different Sero piece I was working on because at one point I was writing into the wrong doc and it just ended up meshing haha). I hope you enjoy, and check out the other fics in the collab here!

Sero Hanta was a straightforward kid.

He liked watching anime, terrorizing the neighbourhood with his school friends, and collecting hero action figures. He also liked spending time with his new neighbour: you.

When you moved in next door, Sero had gone over with his parents to say hello, and to bring by a basket of fresh oranges. The adults had chattered away, introducing themselves and talking about the nearby elementary school, but Sero was focused on the small girl standing behind her mother’s legs with her head peeking out.

“Hi, I’m Hanta,” he introduced himself, walking up to you and holding out a hand.

Almost immediately, you brightened up, grabbing his hand and shaking it. “I’m [Name]!”

“Let’s be friends!”

Sero had no idea what he was getting himself into.

He wasn’t expecting you to be as much of a handful as you ended up being, considering you were both only five. He could keep up with you, but just barely. You were like a wild child with zero fears, and you dove headfirst into anything and everything. Sero had to reel you in when you got too crazy (jumping off a bridge into the river is crazy, isn’t it?), but for the most part, he liked joining you on your adventures.

His mom laughed at him whenever he came home covered in scrapes and bruises, asking if he had a good day with you. Before you, he’d never come home this exhausted or beaten up, but ever since you showed up, Sero fell asleep as soon as he cleaned up, and would be out cold until his mom woke him up for dinner.

Whenever you came over for dinners, the two of you would run around the house like untameable animals, chasing one another in a game of tag until you fell asleep on the floor next to each other. Sometimes Sero wouldn’t even notice how blistering hot it was because he was too busy having fun.

Sero loved the summertime with you.

Starting school with you was something Sero was excited for.

What he didn’t realize would be an issue was how everyone wanted to be friends with the new girl that had a cool quirk, and that nobody was running to befriend the kid with big elbows. You were pulled in every direction but his.

“It’s like she doesn’t have time for me,” Sero huffed as he helped his mom take plates to the dinner table.

“You know, Hanta,” his mom chided, ruffling his hair, “it sounds like you’re jealous of [Name]-chan’s new friends.”

He puffed his cheeks out, crossing his arms as he set the plates on the table. There was still a bit of time left before dinner would be finished, so his mom sent him off to play a bit more.

The doorbell rang then, and he wondered who would be visiting at dinnertime.

“Ah, [Last Name]-san!” Sero’s mom exclaimed when she opened the door. “[Name]-chan!”

“Sorry to bother you, Sero-san,” your mom bowed, her hands on your shoulders. “There’s a work emergency at my agency, and [Name]’s dad has a night shift so he can’t watch her. Would we be able to leave her with you for the night?”

“Of course!” Sero’s mom responded, beaming down at you as your mom gives her another bow. “We’re about to have dinner, if you haven’t eaten yet.”

“Thank you so much, you’re an absolute lifesaver!” she turned to you, giving you a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Be good to Sero-san, [Name]. We’ll see you soon!”

You nodded, kissing your mom on the cheek and waving to her as she broke out into a sprint towards her hero agency. “Thank you for having me,” you said softly.

“Come in, [Name]-chan,” Sero’s mom ushered you inside, her hand on your head as Sero peeked his head out from the top of the staircase. “Hanta, can you show [Name]-chan to your room? We can put out a futon for her there.”

He waved to you, watching as you kicked off your shoes and ran up the stairs to him. He led you to his room, watching as you put your backpack down by the door.

“Do you want to play with my All Might figurines?” he asked, and you nodded, taking a seat on the floor in the middle of the room as he pulled two of the figures down from his shelf. He watched the tears well up in your eyes, and he paused, wondering why you were crying when he was about to share his best All Mights with you.

“Mommy didn’t want to leave me alone,” you pouted, cheeks puffed out. “I wish she and Daddy didn’t have to leave all the time, but they’re doing important hero things.”

Sero didn’t know what else to do other than sit down next to you and (hesitantly) hold out his favourite All Might action figure to you. “You can come play when they have to leave.”

You swiped at your eyes for a moment before taking the figure from him. “Okay.”

Sero realized he didn’t mind you making new friends, as long as he still got to play with you like this.

“Hanta,” you called after him, umbrella in hand. It started raining in the middle of the day, and you knew he didn’t bring one with him. “Let’s walk home together.”

“Thanks,” he grinned, taking the umbrella from you and holding it up between you. You bumped your head against his shoulder, returning his grin as the two of you set off for home.

“W-wait! [Last Name]-chan!”

The two of you turn to look at the boy from your class that called to you. Sero had been split up from you this year, having ended up in a different class, so he didn’t know who the guy was.

“Can… can we talk for a minute?”

You gave Sero an apologetic look. “I’ll be right back, yeah?”

He had an uneasy feeling as he nodded, watching as you ran towards the building and followed the classmate in. He scrolled through his phone as he waited patiently for you.

When you returned, your cheeks were pink and you were a little flustered. Your classmate was nowhere to be found, and you looped your arm through Sero’s as you tugged him forward.

“What happened?” he asked.

Your blush intensified. “He confessed to me.”

Sero felt his heart drop but forced a smile. What would he do if you started dating that guy? “Oh? What did you say, Ms. Popular?”

You jabbed a finger into his elbow, earning you a pained groan. “Shut up, Hanta. I turned him down.”

He didn’t press the issue, which you appreciated as you tried to keep your heart from snapping your ribcage apart with how hard it was still pounding. Takashi was a nice guy that you spoke to from time to time, but other than friendly interactions in class, you hadn’t really noticed him much. His confession came as a surprise, and you had gently turned him down.

“Are you dating Sero-san?” he had asked, hands fisted at his sides as you shook your head.

“Hanta is my best friend,” you said softly, cheeks pink as Takashi gave you a small smile.

“He doesn’t know how you feel, then?”

You had sputtered, completely flustered as Takashi laughed warmly.

“He’s a lucky guy.”

You didn’t get the chance to take the U.A. entrance exam with Sero, as students from the same middle school were placed in different testing areas. The goal was to immobilize the villains, which should’ve come easy to Sero with his Tape Quirk. Thankfully, you found it wasn’t too difficult for you either. The two of you had recounted your exams in great detail to one another, and you were both confident in the other’s performance.

When the letter came in the mail the week after, you hadn’t even opened it before running to Sero’s house, your body tingling with excitement.

“Did you—”

“No—”

“Let’s open it together—”

“Come—”

The two of you were complete messes as you sprinted to his room, plopping onto the floor in front of one another as you both took a deep breath and opened the envelope.

A small disk fell out of the envelope, and a projection came up of All Might.

Tears sprung to your eyes, and you threw yourself into Sero, arms wrapped around his neck as he fell onto his back. The same disk had come out of his own envelope, and the two All Mights were speaking over one another incoherently as you rubbed your cheek against Sero’s.

“We’re going to U.A.!”

“So are you and [Last Name] a thing, Sero?”

He nearly choked on his drink, sputtering as his eyes darted around the table for you. Luckily, you were still in line for soba with Todoroki.

“W-why would you ask me that?”

Ashido grinned, her chin propped up in her hand as she leaned across the table. “We see the way you look at her.”

“You’re not slick, dude,” Kaminari added, slurping his juice box. “When she walks by, you’re practically ogling her.”

“N-no—”

“I don’t blame you, Sero. Those legs,” Kaminari continued, letting out a low whistle.

Before Sero could smack Kaminari across the back of his head, Ashido kicked him from under the table. “Shut up, Kaminari.”

“Hey,” you interrupted, sliding your tray onto the table next to Sero as he scooted his chair over. “Sorry that took so long, Todoroki’s order took forever.”

Sero hummed. “No worries.”

You saw the way he eyed your food and grinned, waving it in front of him tauntingly. “Want some, Hanta?”

He grinned, his chopsticks scooping up a mouthful of noodles before you could really even react.

You knocked on Sero’s door, opening it when you heard a soft ‘come in’ from the other side.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, head hanging over the edge of his bed as he scrolled through his phone.

You shook your head, gently closing the door behind you as you took a seat on the floor next to his bed. You gently bumped your head against his, your cheek rubbing his as he laughed softly. His hand came to cup your other cheek, squishing it gently.

“Want to watch a movie?”

You hummed softly, nodding as he grinned. He blew a raspberry against your cheek, earning him a laugh from you as he flipped himself upright. You watched as he grabbed his laptop from the desk and plopped down next to you on the floor, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he typed in his password and pulled up a streaming site.

“Any requests?” he asked, nudging you. You shook your head, resting your chin on his shoulder as he scrolled through the list mindlessly. He laughed softly when you blew a huff of air into his hair, tickling his face—a signal for him to speed up his pick.

He settled for a romantic comedy, setting his laptop down on the floor. When he leaned back, you settled in next to him with your arm looped through his, your fingers tracing along his elbows as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“Hanta,” you whispered, lacing your fingers through his lazily as he turned his head to you. “I love you.”

His heart seized. “Love you too,” he murmured, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. Every so often, you’d say it to him out of the blue, catching him off-guard. But he’d always taken it as a platonic, ‘you’re my friend for life’ type of love.

“Not just as my best friend,” you murmured, lifting your head to stare him down. “Hanta, I love you.”

Huh?

“I’ve confessed to you like, twenty times in the last three years alone,” you whined, a pout on your lips as you watched him turn to face you. “And every time, you think I’m saying it as just friends.”

There was absolutely no way that Sero’s jaw wasn’t on the floor right then and there. He gaped at you, eyes wide and cheeks pink. It took you snapping your fingers in his face a few times to bring him back to his senses, and even then he was still a sputtering mess.

How many years had he fantasized about this? Dreamed of you? Wondered what it would feel like if you loved him too? It felt like all his years of pining, of yearning, were finally paying off, and he scrambles to compose himself enough to give you an answer.

“I love you too,” he whispered, fingers shaking a little as he reached for your hand. He laced his fingers through yours, like he’d done a million times before, and yet it felt as if it was infinitely different this time around. “Always have, always will.”

Everyone says that being with someone you love is like being on cloud nine. What they don’t tell you, is that sometimes it doesn’t work out the way you want it to, and sometimes it ends.

Somewhere along the way, the words became emptier, and the kisses you shared became dull. Your minds were both a million miles away half the time, focused so heavily on school and your internships, and the other half neither of you could find the words to fill the heavy silence that seemed to always hang over you.

What was once your beautiful, bright friendship slowly transformed into something else—something heavier and emptier than it was before.

“Hanta,” you began, coming to a stop next to him as the two of you leisurely made your way back to the dorms. You had met up at the end of your internships to get dinner together, which had passed uneventfully.

“What’s up, [Name]?”

He watched you take a deep breath, eyes closed for a moment before you opened them and looked straight at him. It sent a chill down his spine, and all of a sudden, he felt a little queasy.

“I think we should break up.”

There were those six words, the words that anyone in a seemingly happy relationship dreaded hearing out of the blue. But for you, it wasn’t out of the blue—everything that the two of you had loved doing together, everything that had taken on a new colour, a new meaning, when you first started dating had slowly become grey and dreary over the last year.

Sero couldn’t really pinpoint when or why it happened, but it did. And it made him sad to think that after all these years with you—after pining after you for so long—the two of you didn’t work as a couple.

“Alright then,” he replied softly, watching as you gave him a sad smile and tippy-toed to reach his face. Your hand was soft against his cheek when you pulled him down for one last kiss, and he couldn’t help the way he wrapped his arms around you as he kissed you back. When you pulled away, he couldn’t help the tears that clouded his vision, despite how desperately he tried to will them away. “I guess this is it, then.”

“I still want to be friends,” you said quietly, as if it were a consolation prize. “I still want to be your best friend.”

But unluckily for Sero, that wasn’t the way it went.

Watching the girl he’d loved his entire life fall in love with someone else was quite the experience.

It started slowly, with you hanging out with him less and less. You stopped answering your texts quickly, and eventually just forgot to respond altogether most days. Sero no longer studied with you, or ate lunch with you, or got to spend nights in your room watching dumb movies together, and it felt like losing a limb. He’d think that it was still there sometimes from how easily he could maneuver through his life, but then when something happened and he tried to turn to you, you were gone. A phantom limb.

One day, Kirishima let it slip that he had seen you out on a date with Todoroki Shouto, and Sero felt his heart snap in half. He wasn’t necessarily an insecure person, but hearing you’d moved onto the Prince of 2-A himself just… it took the cake, to be frank.

Sometimes, relationships just didn’t work out. Sero just never thought that he would be on the receiving end of that misfortune.

Sero still thought of you a lot.

He couldn’t help it; it was an instinct that formed over years of close friendship, and it was infinitely more difficult to get rid of. Whenever he saw something that reminded him of you, his first response was almost always pulling out his phone to snap a photo to send to you, until he pulled up your contact card and remembered that the two of you don’t talk much anymore.

It didn’t hurt as much anymore—it was like a dull ache, less pronounced than the sharp pain it once was. Sometimes Sero forgot about it completely, and other times it came crashing down on him like an intrusive thought—an unwelcomed guest that made its home in his heart—that refused to go away.

People say that the first heartbreak is the hardest. Sero now knew that it wasn’t necessarily the heartbreak itself that hurt the most, but rather everything that came after. He was always looking for you, even though he didn’t want to—even if he didn’t realize he was.

He always had, and always will.

#bnha #sero hanta #sero hanta x reader #boku no hero academia #bnha hangout #bnha hangout collab #mha #my hero academia #always have always will #kumi writes

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muwi-translates · 5 years ago

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Collar x MaliceドラマCD「美女と野獣たち」

Collar x Malice Tokuten Drama CD - Beauty and the Beasts

Spoiler free. Characters: Yanagi Aiji, Enomoto Mineo, Sasazuka Takeru

**Please don’t move this translation or claim it as your own.**

---

Yanagi: A long, long time ago, in a place far away, there were three princes who were turned into beasts. One was transformed into a ferocious wolf, another was transformed into a shivering, trembling Chihuahua, and the last one was transformed into a fur... furry cat.

Enomoto: Nobody aside from the first person was a ‘beast’- And why am I a Chihuahua?!

Sasazuka: And I’m a cat. Not the mixed ones, I hope. Am I a Chinchilla? A Persian or a Ragdoll? Norwegian Forest Cat?

Enomoto: ...Why do you know so many cat breeds?

Yanagi: It’s probably common knowledge.

Yanagi: There was only one way to break the curse. And that was to obtain the love of a human woman.

Enmoto: Wouldn’t that be pretty hard for Yanagi-senpai?

Sasazuka: It is easier for Chihuahuas and cats to get closer to women. They’re easier to get a hold of.

Yanagi: The princes were cursed because they had ignored the request of an old woman who had wished to seek refuge overnight. ‘Be kinder to other people, helping others will benefit yourself as well’.

Enomoto: I bet Takeru was the one who chased her off. Yanagi-senpai and I probably got implicated. I didn’t even know the old woman even stopped by!

Sasazuka: My game is starting to get good. If you’re not going to shut up, just go die.

Enomoto: Then pause it!

Yanagi: Will they be able to recover their human forms safely?

---

Yanagi: In short, let’s start working out our battle plan. [Howl]

Enomoto: If we just need to be loved by a human woman, then there’s a few ways to do that, right? Uh-- how are we gonna get women to like us with animal bodies? If you think about it, isn’t this a really bad situation? What kind of roleplay is this?! Where did these princes and beasts come from?! [Barks]

Sasazuka: Before that, I just want to confirm something.

Yanagi: What’s wrong, Sasazuka? [Barks]

Sasazuka: Ever since we started, what are these noises I keep hearing every time we talk, at the end of our sentences? [Meows]

Enomoto: Wow, Takeru… you’re so evil...

Sasazuka: I don’t want to hear that coming from you. That barking is so loud.

Yanagi: It looks like this is our setup.

Sasazuka: This is annoying. I hate this. Can’t even talk properly.

Yanagi: Then, starting from now let’s just change it so that the noises are gone.

Enomoto: We can change it?! You should have said so from the beginning!

Sasazuka: How idiotic. Anyway, Mineo.

Enomoto: What?

Sasazuka: Go find a woman in the neighbourhood and bring her here.

Enomoto: Uh, Takeru-kun? That line is uh, is going to cause a lot of misunderstandings.

Sasazuka: I can’t do it. I’m finally up to the boss fight. Even if I turned into a cat, I’m going to continue my game.

Yanagi: As expected of Sasazuka. How are you still able to control the joystick?

Enomoto: Yanagi-senpai, you shouldn’t worry about that…

Yanagi: Really? I think that’s a very powerful piece of technology.

Enomoto: Guh! Yanagi-senpai’s become more serious after turning into a wolf!

Sasazuka: Anything will do, just go!

Enomoto: But there’s a snowstorm outside, why would there be a woman just wandering around?

Sasazuka: Just plough through the snow then. Isn’t that better? There’s that song, “the dog is happy, running around the garden”.

Enomoto: “The cat is curled up under the kotatsu”-- Wait, if I go out there with the body of a Chihuahua, then I’m just gonna get blown away! [1]

Yanagi: Aah. It would be pretty sad if that body got blown away.

Enomoto: Y-Yanagi-senpai… doesn’t it matter if I was blown away?

[Knock knock]

Yanagi: Did you just hear something?

Enomoto: Maybe a guest? Oh, looks like they’re saying something.

Enomoto: “I can’t continue any further because of the snowstorm outside, can I stay here overnight?”

Sasazuka: We’re busy, later.

Yanagi: Sasazuka, did you even listen to what I said earlier?

Sasazuka: I did but I forgot about it already.

Enomoto: What a coincidence! It sounds like it’s a woman! Is this the will of the heavens?!

Enomoto: Welcome! Don’t be shy, come in! And then, love me! ...Hm? Are you not coming in?

Sasazuka: Idiot-- it’s cold! Shut the door.

Yanagi: Wait, first of all I think seeing talking animals surprised her too much. We should give her a rundown of what happened...

---

Yanagi: ...And that’s what happened.

Sasazuka: In other words, we’ll let you stay the night. In return, you’ll pay with your body.

Enomoto: W-W-W-W-What are you saying?!!

Sasazuka: What? Is there a problem?

Enomoto: I’m asking you to think more about the wording!!

Yanagi: You guys are always so… I’m sorry for being so sudden. You can stay here, but because of the situation, could you help us?

Sasazuka: Yanagi-san, she looks scared.

Yanagi: Well… I look like a wolf… on the outside.

Enomoto: Ah… he looks like this right now, but he’s actually not a scary person.

Yanagi: How do I say this… I’m just... surprised.

Sasazuka: That said, this obtaining love thing is too vague. What exactly are we supposed to do?

Enomoto: We just have to raise our favorability to her, right?

Yanagi: If that’s the case, should we start with deeper interactions with each other? Sasazuka, you have the most pleasing appearance, can you try?

Sasazuka: Roger, let’s get this over and done with.

---

Sasazuka: Well, it’s not like I can’t let you touch me. After all, I am a cat now. When it comes to human-to-cat communication, this is the first thing we should do.

Sasazuka: Not over there! More right--ooooh, that, right there... Meow~ guruguruguru… Hah! W-Wha--, what was that just then!? ...Don’t mind me, pet me again! Meow~ guruguruguru... meow~ Ugh! Hey, what is this, why can’t I resist animal habits? Even though it’ll be bad if my chin is touched, and my eyebrows, it’s too relaxing... --Hey! What are you doing? Don't touch there! Don't touch, don't touch! Why did you choose that--uh, goo...I. Said. Don’t. Touch.

Enomoto: Sasazuka… you just ruined the atmosphere...

Yanagi: Then, Enomoto, you go.

Enomoto: Got it!

---

Enomoto: Even though I look like an adorable Chihuahua right now, listen, I am in fact, a dependable prince! Once I turn back into a human… I… give you a dress. You have such a cute face, but you dress so poorly that it’s a waste. It should be more… elegant, and dazzling… and look warm… oh! I’m not just saying this so you can lift the curse, I’m really saying it for your sake! Eh, what? What are you holding… [sound of something being thrown, barking, chasing said item and running back panting]

Enomoto: …! What did I just do? I couldn't help but fetch the ball! [ball is thrown]

Enomoto: My body’s just moving by itself! Geh-- stop! But I’m so happy! I’m so happy!!

Yanagi: Favourability has gone up, I’m sure of it.

Sasazuka: He’s completely being treated like a dog. Yanagi-san, it’s your turn next.

Yanagi: The difficulty is so high… I have no idea what to do.

---

Yanagi: Having said that, it’s only natural that you’d be afraid if you saw something like this in front of you. Don’t force yourself, you must be troubled if you’re suddenly asked to love someone. Rather, I’m sorry to involve you in such troublesome things. You don’t need to take responsibility, just relax. Hm? ‘Let me touch your fur’? I don’t mind but, I’m not a Chihuahua or a fluffy cat, so it’s best you don’t expect something soft. It’s warm? Is that so. I’m glad that I’m able to share some warmth with you. I’ve never realized that people’s hands can be so warm.

Yanagi: You’re not afraid? You’re a kind person. You’d treat someone like me like a person too? If I wasn’t like this, I’d be able to talk to you with how I originally was. Thank you. Because you can touch me without fear, it makes me feel that this look isn’t too bad.

Enomoto: … The atmosphere is kinda really good. Has the story finally turned into ‘Beauty and the Beast’?

Sasazuka: Go back to the game before I get kicked by a horse [2].

Enomoto: Uh-- huh…

---

Yanagi: In short, um… Everyone, it’s good to change back to our human selves safely.

Enomoto: Love or not, the last part was a bit confusing.

Sasazuka: Whatever.

Yanagi: That aside, what are you going to do next? We changed back, and it was all thanks to you. If it’s possible, I’d like to return the favour.

Enomoto: Eh? You don’t have anywhere to go? Are you all on your own?

Sasazuka: That’s why you’ve been travelling.

Yanagi: Then, just stay in this castle. It’s just a room, there's plenty more. There’s no issue.

Enomoto: As expected of Yanagi-senpai! Well said.

Yanagi: Hm? You don’t need a room? Then where do you plan on stay-- my room? You want to live with me? I… don’t mind, but is that okay?

Yanagi: I see. If you trust me then it’s fine. This time, let me touch you as a human.

Enomoto: Huh? Eh?! Waitwaitwait, what’s with this development? Yanagi-senpai’s the sole winner? That said, where’s everyone gone?!

Sasazuka: Who cares? I don’t. I’m going to go play games.

Enomoto: Ugh… this is ridiculous!

Translator’s notes: [1] Both lines are a reference to ‘Yuki’, a warabe uta (traditional Japanese songs like nursery rhymes). [2] People who are ‘kicked by a horse’ are those who disturb the romantic air of others.

#otome game #drama cd #otomate #collar x malice #cxm #mytranslations #chinese #drama cd translation #yanagi aiji #enomoto mineo #sasazuka takeru

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daredevile · 5 years ago

Text

A Second Here Another Gone

Summary: Blinded by the sweet raptures of a new relationship, Bucky lowers his guard around you - unaware of the real reason you found him.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of blood, bit of violence and one swear word

A/N: Hey! I know it’s been over two months since I posted something and I’m sorry! I was working on so many oneshots and never finished one until now. But, I promise I will try to update somewhat regularly from now on! Anyway, this one’s for Ayesha’s [ @browngirlmagic ] writing challenge and my prompt was ‘Echo’. Please reblog if you like it! :)

An angry crimson. A so-called scarlet elixir of the living trickles from its hearth beneath as if screaming a symbol of horror and impending doom. It surrenders with grace and elegance - a droplet of fresh blood tainting pristine white floors, smearing the Parthenon of life and death with an intensity of wrath and violence and -

"Hey." The sombre tone in his voice draws you into his weary stature. It looks worse than he'd assured over the phone. Raging clusters of purple and blue spread across his arms, broken lip, black eye, his jaw cast a scarlet tint. Not to mention the slight limp he'd tried masking from your stares.

"Thanks for coming so fast. Would've driven myself but..." He motions to the cast around his right arm, a light pink dusting over his cheeks. A nurse approaches him with a sympathetic expression, repeating a list of instructions and medication requirements for a quick recovery. Though you know Bucky's not following a word she's saying - she must've realised it too - giving you a moment for any questions before returning to her station.

The conversation in the car is non-existent, only a couple of instinctive glances towards the rear-view mirror to gauge each other's emotions. Soft tunes twirl in the background, Bucky lowers the volume with a grunt as his muscles sting with the movement. A sigh escapes from his lips, he angles himself towards your concentrated form but, you refuse to meet his gaze.

"Y'know it's not as bad as it looks. Should've seen the other guy." He says with a constrained laugh. An honest attempt to relieve the tensed wind and the crease between your eyebrows, alas, it fails its purpose. He sinks back into the cushioned seat, lingering his eyes over the neon streaks of passing vehicles.

The road seems never-ending, both sides merely converging at a distant imaginary point ahead. The traffic dissolves and scatters into several busy paths as Bucky directs you through far too many left and right turns before arriving at a rather calm and vacant neighbourhood.

Once the engines lull back into a soft purr, you open the passenger door and gently grasp his arms as he lifts himself from the seat. He releases a breath in relief, thankful your silence is replaced by concern. The two flights of stairs is another journey on its own, exchanging mumbles of apologies and groans, even the close proximity of him curves past your thoughts.

Bucky stumbles into his apartment, careful to avoid the loose floorboard right at the entrance - pushing a horrible reminder to the back of his mind - and you follow his footing. A chuckle from him pulls your attention, determined he's capable on his own, he leans away from your hold, mentioning something about taking a shower before retreating into the furthest room.

His house is spotless, every single object kept in a place for swift and efficient access. Somehow he'd made a rather confined area appear more spacious. You notice how foreign and hostile he maintained his home - a supposed personal bubble. His belongings danced around the hazy line between bare essentials and other items. Almost as if he was caught in the process of moving in or ready to move out within a matter of minutes.

A sharp buzz from your phone stops you from observing the rest of the apartment. Without sparing a glimpse at the caller, you swipe the green button. An instant thrust of shouting greets you, attacking your senses with great vigour. And it's patience, you've learned, an offensive strategy to appease the monster into a human you could better tolerate.

"I need time." It's not forceful, however, lacking a timbre of the usual intensity your words uphold. The shouting continues, each syllable seething with fury, demanding more answers while your fist clenches at the vulgar threats he hurls from the other end.

"I need more time."

There's dead silence on both ends. And for a second, you believe that he's accepted the command. As fast as it'd ignited, the little spark of surprise disintegrates when his deep laughter is all that's pounding in your ears.

"You're here!" Bucky says, grinning as he spots you in the balcony, "Thought you left me alone."

His sudden appearance turns your blood cold and you can feel the precise second your heart trips over a beat, shoving the phone back into your pocket. His smile drops, immediately regretting how he entered as soon as he saw the pained expression written all over your features. He sighs when your eyes witness the red wounds and scars - some more jarring than others - scattered across his body.

"Look, I know this isn't a good impression. I don't want you to see me like this, trust me, I wouldn't have called if I had - " A pause. Hesitant as he swallows back the words. "Anyone else."

"I'm sorry, Bucky. This is all just... difficult." He nods, fumbling with the loose bandage tied to his other arm. A smile tugs on your lips at his frustration, you grab the free end and wrap it securely around the wound.

"Could you maybe stay? I mean... if you want to." He struggles to suppress a grin when you look up at his eyes. It's hope that lingers behind them.

"Of course."

But the side where you slept is cold and empty when he wakes up.

---

O N E W E E K E A R L I E R

The restaurant was crowded, located right at the heart of the city, overlooking several busy streets that seemed to sink under all the hustle and bustle. The world appeared an innocent umber through the dark hue of your sunglasses, shielding yourself from unwanted enemies. Or so you thought.

Time. Time was precious and no amount of glancing at your watch appeared to have quickened the circular orbit of the dials. But this time, you were unsure - caught between the dichotomous chasm of want and need - a feeling that unsettled you to the core.

"Hope you don't mind, darling." A deep voice came from behind, the drinks spilt over the glasses as he slammed his hand on the table. The elderly couple sitting to your left flinched at his abrupt action. A fake smile was enough to have satisfied them, he returned to face your blank expression.

"So tell me, does it usually take this long or are you fucking him?" It was almost a growl that promptly simmered to a smirk when a waitress passed by, unaware of the evil she'd encountered.

"He'll figure it out, I'm being careful." You said, oblivious to the scorching hot liquid piercing your taste buds. Any shard of fun and pleasure that had emerged from his features earlier crumbled at that very second, he leaned closer and you saw the strain on his face when his jaw clenched. Rumlow was not one to adjust and compensate. You learned that the hard way.

"Listen l/n, I saved you from Volkov 'cause you'd be useful someday. And now you owe me. Gave you a week to do the job, it's been two and I still got nothing. And you know I don't like waiting. Get me the information and finish him or should I remind you what's at stake here."

His voice was dangerously low as if cautious of people overhearing but, you knew it would take mere seconds for the scene to resemble a massacre. Yet, he was right. Your past record highlighted the speed and efficiency of completing assignments - just one hit then delivered to the client and you walked away richer. No hesitation. Unfortunately, this time it was Bucky who had a price on his head and had obtained confidential information.

A folder was thrown at your direction, containing photographs of innocents at different viewpoints through what was unmistakably sniper scopes. Rumlow mimicked the sound of a gun cocking before standing up. He bent down to whisper in your ear, laughing while he pressed a brief kiss to your cheek and walked into the sea of people. His last words were all that you breathed.

Barnes or your family.

---

Bucky sidesteps the soldier-like stance of a grumpy looking man, clearing his throat to alleviate the embarrassment of breaking under his penetrating stare. He didn't know what the guy's problem was, Bucky ignores the annoyed tsk that's clearly targetted at him. On any other occasion, a meaningless interaction with strangers would've flown over his head. But, today he's confused. Scared, even.

Less than two weeks ago, he'd encountered and been drawn to an enigma. Strong yet intricately pieced together. Delicate yet resilient. He just couldn't figure it out. After all, he thought everything became normal once he'd spoken and apologised last night. Expecting to be woken up by sunshine and ruffled sheets from a good sleep and you sleeping soundly, but you were gone without a word - and he just doesn't understand.

And now, here he is, shuffling through busy routes to follow a briskly walking figure who's intrigued him for half an hour. They seem to have no destination, simply taking sharp turns and descending into valleys of crowds and streetside markets. In a hurry, Bucky thinks. He picks up his pace, there seem to be fewer people in this area. It's darker and easily hidden between the lanes of houses.

He turns the corner and realises there are no other paths. A dead-end. The figure spins around, eyes flitting around the narrow path. He panics and begins to retreat, but the all-too-familiar cock of the gun stills his movements. Nothing. No moment in his entire life scared him more than the person standing a few steps away -

It's you.

He freezes when your finger curls around the trigger and the innocence in your eyes dissolve. Every single instinct in his body is telling him to run. But he can't. He wants to know more, to know why. And he realises you're thinking the same when your hand begins to tremble.

"Whose orders?"

It's a tone he's never heard before. Cold and detached. A machine programmed to do one's bidding with no second thoughts. He raises both hands, swallowing the agonising feeling latching onto his throat as your grip tightens.

"Don't lie to me, Barnes. Who ordered you to kill me?"

There's no choice. His heart is clawing the insides of his chest, waiting to be free. A whisper is all it takes to conquer your feelings.

"Volkov."

Bucky knows the moment his name is released into the strangling air between you, the gun falters. He sees the rapid and minute shift of your eyes, composing all the information together until -

Your voice staggers, pleading almost. "They have my family, Bucky. He'll kill them if you don't tell me where Volkov is. Rumlow - "

Bucky stops listening. Rumlow, a name he'd left behind, buried within the depths of conscience along with Hydra. He understands your assignment, a simple extract and kill. What Volkov had promised in exchange for your life - Steve's whereabouts - seemed too good to be true, maybe a possible reality in a utopian world. But, this is his life and it's not paradise. He takes a few steps until his hands hover over your gun, angling it towards his heart.

"Then save them."

He whispers the location and you try to zone out, lose control so you don't hear his words. It's too late, two snipers emerge from buildings on command, both taking positions on either side of where you're standing. The chill that runs down Bucky's spine doesn't go unnoticed as he spots the red skull badge on their sleeves. Rumlow knew you wouldn't kill him.

Bucky nudges your chin with the tips of his fingers, reaching into his jacket, he slips his gun into your hands. No words are spoken but you know what has to be done.

Taking a much-needed breath, you pull the trigger at him, not witnessing the wine coloured liquid spreading across his chest instead, taking cover before shooting one of the snipers lurking near a thin pillar. The other one begins firing near the car you are ducking behind. You sprint into his blind spot and kill him with a shot to his head.

Without wasting another second, you spot Bucky clutching his chest in pain. It takes a frozen second for you to dial 911, shaking with dread before Rumlow sends any more of his men and the chances of Bucky surviving vanish. A concerned voice replies to your incohesive string of words, you're barely making sense, the nurse ends the call ensuring 'they're on the way'. Bucky grabs your hand amongst the turmoil, light-headed and pale from the blood seeping through his clothes.

"This isn't goodbye."

And you run.

---

E I G H T M O N T H S L A T E R

Even after weeks of desperately searching for him, he was nowhere to be found. You'd gone back to the hospital, the nurse gave you a distressed glance, saying he hadn't mentioned anywhere in particular. That he was gone once discharged.

You didn't give up though - he'd sacrificed himself for your family in a sheer heartbeat. Bucky was the wind to your storm - a second here another gone. He was mysterious beneath the layers of kindness and affection, tender yet deep like the lyrics of a love song - words you've yet to discover, only hoping you weren't wrong.

A few of your old confidantes were able to carry out under-the-ground operations in exchange for Bucky's location: Edinburgh.

Under the chilly winter winds, you walk along the snow-freckled pavement. Sitting at a dark wooden bench inspecting calming patterns of skate lines etched across the river's icy surface, puffs of crisp air revealing themselves as you sigh.

"I was right."

His voice beckons a long-awaited smile on your face. Sharp blue eyes gazing at a few younger skaters wobbling while they glide along. You begin to stammer out an apology, but he shakes his head, still not meeting your eyes.

"You had no choice."

"Did you find him?" You ask eagerly as he takes a seat next to you.

"Pulled a few strings with some old contacts." Bucky turns to face you, a genuine smile he hadn't felt in ages tugs his lips. He takes your gloved hand in his, entangling his fingers with yours with a dazed look washing over his features.

"He's here."

#ayesha1kwritingchallenge #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fic #bucky angst #bucky fluff #winter soldier #marvel #mcu

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all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney · 5 years ago

Text

The Couple Next Door IV (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)

Find Part III Here

A/N: Happy Early Valentine’s Day, Y’all! I wrote a lot for the next part of this series, so I decided to split them up in two chapters. I’m posting this one tonight, and the other will be up at some point tomorrow afternoon.

This chapter is in 3rd Person Omniscient for Rogie like the previous one, and the reader will not be in this chapter but the next one, so I apologize if it’s not that good.

Don’t forget to show your support and enjoyment for the fic by leaving likes, comments, and reblogging!

Summary: Roger has a chat with the band, and does some more thinking.

(Roger can be Ben Hardy!Rog or Real!Rog. Whatever stirs your soup.)

WARNINGS: Swearing, s l o w b u r n, Mentions of sex (BuT nO sMuT [yet(?)]), no revision and editing bc I’m lazy, I think that’s it.

This one is leaning more towards an M rating than a T, so read at your own risk.

“Eh… no no no. Take it from the top. Roger?”

The blond looked through the window to Freddie, who just made it to the practice.

He was wearing some ridiculous flashy outfit as usual, a pair of massive white sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose while an equally distracting burgundy coat made its presence known on the singer’s shoulders. Whether he wore a shirt underneath is still a mystery.

In his right hand, Freddie held a steaming hot cup of tea, gripped tight by his long fingers, each nail painted black. From the waist down, although he couldn’t see, Roger wouldn’t be surprised if Freddie was wearing booty shorts.

"You okay, Love?“

He only responded with a simple thumbs up, and an unenthusiastic look on his face; and although Fred didn’t seem too convinced, the music started playing, and Roger tried his part again.

"Been out of the flow all morning,” Brian informed the frontman, biting his thumbnail and crossing his legs from the wall he leaned against. “He got here, and didn’t count us in the first few times we played. Figured he needed some time to play for himself.”

"Hm,“ Freddie acknowledged, taking a peek at some loose papers scattered around the control desk and taking a sip of his tea.

"And how long ago did you two decide this?“

"Forty five minutes ago,” John grumbled at his spot at the control desk, legs crossed, and head propped up with his hand in bore.

"We tried confronting him and he’s not speaking,“ Brian explained. “Gave you a call and no one answered the phone. We assumed you were on your way.”

Freddie looked around the room, and he pointed at the second, empty seat at the control desk. “Where’s–”

After another timing mistake, Roger flung his drumstick towards the window, shouting profanities when the stick just riccoched and hit him right back, and startling the other three men in the process.

"… Y/n,“ Freddie finished carefully, eyes wide and focused on Roger’s movements.

"We both assume she’s got somethin’ to do with it. He won’t say anything.” John mumbled with a shrug.

Freddie pursed his lips, and sighed, scanning the control desk for the PA system’s button.

"Rog, my Love. Just… put the drumsticks down.“

Roger, who was about to send his second drumstick against the wall to meet the fate his first one did, lowered his arm slowly to his side, eyeing his band’s frontman in the window, who was twiddling his fingers at him.

"Good. Now, come on in here. We’re all gonna sit down. Have a chat.“

Roger’s shoulders slumped, and he left the recording room so he could regroup with his three other bandmates. Roger just frowned. Just as he suspected, Freddie was sporting a pair of body shorts.

Freddie moved his eyes from Roger to the empty seat next to John.

The drummer dropped into the chair, letting it roll him a little bit away from the staring eyes of the others.

"The others here tell me you’ve been a little… upset, since you’ve been here this morning."

Roger scoffed, and tried to stand from his chair, but Freddie dropped a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"I know there’s something wrong,” Freddie quietly mumbled. “We just wanna help you. Tell us what’s wrong, and you’re helping us, too.”

Roger chewed the inside of his cheek, looking guiltily towards John and Brian. “… Hope you know I didn’t mean to shout earlier, yeah?"

"Kind of assumed so, yeah,” John offered a kind smile, to which Roger tried to return, but he just looked uncomfortable.

"It’s uh… it’s just, um…“

"Is… y'know… is y/n okay?”

Roger’s smile fell. “Wait, why? Why would she not be okay? Did you get a phone call from her?!” Roger stood up, “oh my God, is she okay?!”

"Hey, hey, hey, calm down, calm down!“ Brian intervened, hands up. "She’s fine. We’ve heard nothing from her. We were just asking you.”

Roger sat back down, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and sighing deeply. “Look, I’m sorry. Yes. Yeah, it is her. She’s… Driving me nuts right now.”

"Why now? You two were perfectly fine last week.“

"It’s been the interactions with the neighbours,” Roger complained. “do you know how hard it is not to start sweating every time we hold hands in public now?”

John frowned. “But… You hold other girls’ hands all the time. Why would y/n be different?”

"I don’t know! I don’t know and that’s why I’m like this!“

Freddie smirked, and Roger could sense the glint in his eyes despite them still being covered by his sunglasses.

"Seems to me,” Freddie popped his lips. “Roger’s in love with y/n.”

John smirked at the thought, and Brian had this wide grin on his face Roger really wanted to slap off.

"Fred, I really don’t think that’s the problem here–“

”‘Ts weird. I’ve always had a thing for y/n, maybe I’m in love with her.“

"Seeing a girl naked by accident doesn’t mean you’re in love with her, John.” Roger snapped back nearly immediately, to which Brian chimed in:

"Funny how you’re the one telling John that when I had to say the same thing to you in high school.“

Roger was mad, but he was even more embarrassed. His face was a deep scarlet, and Freddie wasn’t sure if the colour of Roger’s cheeks were because of his fury, or because he knew Brian was right.

"Come talk to me, Roger. Talk to the King of Love,” Freddie coaxed Roger with his index finger as he fell back dramatically on the sofa against the wall opposite the control table.

Roger simply rolled his eyes and relocated to the empty seat on the sofa by Freddie’s feet. The frontman kicked his bare legs out and crossed them over Roger’s lap while stretching this thin arms and placing them behind his head.

"When’d this all start happening, Rog? I mean the weird feelings.“

To this, the drummer simply shrugged. "Last week we had dinner at the neighbours’. The husband was talking about children, and marriage, and it was like…"

Brian and John raised their eyebrows expectantly.

"It was like I wasn’t acting anymore.”

Freddie gave a knowing smile, and hummed gently. “Did you feel comfortable? Being domestic and romantic with her?"

"Fred, I’ve lived with those two for three years, and they have zero personal space.” Brian’s eyes moved from his reflection in Freddie’s sunglasses to the stressful gaze in Roger’s. “… is it different?”

"Bri, I had women over all the time when we lived with you. I had no reason to have a girlfriend. I slept around, got the physical affection I needed, and she was just a friend…“

John pursed his lips. ”Was,“

Roger nodded a little, his eyes casting downward and burning holes into his already torn jeans. "Yeah. Was."

The blond suddenly looked up at his other bandmates. "We’re pretending to be a couple in a conservative, strict neighbourhood. It’s not like y/n would allow me to invite groupies home with us while catty neighbours spy on us from across the way. I’m not getting the physical attention I used to have, especially since sleeping around is impossible now."

The room then fell silent, and no one exactly made an immediate effort to say anything.

And then John gave a half-shrug.

"Why don’t you ask y/n?"

"Ask her what?”

"Ask her to give you that attention,“ Freddie finished John’s point in a matter-of-fact tone.

”No,“ Roger gasped. "No. No no no!"

"What? It’s a great idea,” Brian tried to reason.

"It’s bloody suicide! What would she think of me?! A sex-addict? A creep? A waste of time?“

”Roger,“ Brian stopped Roger’s listing. "She’s a single, gorgeous woman who loves you with all her heart, romantically-speaking, or not. You two already have this sort of secret commitment thing happening anyways but with housing rather than physical affection.”

"And your point is…?“

Freddie took over for Brian then with a sigh. "She has nothing to lose. You have nothing to lose. Why would adding onto your deal be a bad thing?"

To this, Roger didn’t respond. He didn’t have an answer. Freddie continued. "You sleep with women with no strings attached all the time. Living with your best friend while also bedding her doesn’t seem like a bad idea. What are you gonna do, catch feelings for her? You’re just horny.”

"… Do you really think that’s all that’s wrong?“

"That you’re stressed and just need a good lay?” John clarified.

"Absolutely.“

It was almost as if a weight had been lifted off Roger’s shoulders. All of his past issues were gone, out of his mind.

He had nothing to worry about.

"There’s that smile we all needed,” Freddie gushed at Roger, who lowered his head in mild embarrassment.

"C'mon Rog. Let’s get to work.“ Freddie jumped up to stand before the control table, and Brian took a seat next to John. Roger returned to his drum kit inside the recording room, and after a count-in, Roger started drumming.

Needless to say, practice was flawless for the rest of the day.

_______________________________

A/A/N: I hope y’all enjoyed! Remember, new chapter up tomorrow!

@culturefiendtrashqueen @luvborhap @amy-brooklyn99 @scarsout @kimmietea @ohtheseboysilove @demo-wise @suavishowell @bohemianahoy @pippin248

#bohemian rhapsody #roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #ben hardy #ben hardy x reader #john deacon #brian may #freddie mercury

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gotatext · 5 years ago

Text

hllo ! i’m nora ( she / her, 24, gmt ) crawling back to this rp once more like the dirty sewer slug i am !! i just can’t get enough, baybeyyy ! u may remember me frm such roles as alma putnam, rory bergstrom, bridget matusiak or greta o’driscoll 2 name jst a few.... sure there were more over these long years, bt the show must go on.... this is mimi, she’s dogmatic, tenacious n single-minded 2 the point of recklessness, she doesn’t like handouts n she’s funding her degree through her onlyfans account n moaning abt shit on tiktok. we love 2 see it !! slam that like button n i’ll creep into ur DMs like the slippery worm i am OR u can discord me at that bitch carole baskin#8664. a humble pinterest.

『ALEXA DEMIE ❙ CIS-FEMALE 』 ⟿ looks like MIMI MARTÍNEZ is here for HER SOPHOMORE year as an ARCHITECTURE AND SOCIAL ANTHROPOLOGY student. SHE is 22 years old & known to be STRONG-WILLED, GOAL-ORIENTED, ARROGANT & EASILY BORED. They’re living in MORIS, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ nora. 24. gmt. she/her.

this is p embarassing but i actually originally wrote mimi for a discord rp based around love island asgjag dont laugh at me but it was so chaotic n someone deleted it w-out telling any of us so i lost her bio.... all her threads....e verythin.... it was mad. but anyway we startin from scratch w this intro so bare with

mimi is a really extra character so when trying to flesh her out i thot of the most extra thing i could do n made a colour coded mindmap with watercolour paints detailing her values, aesthetics and early life. shoot me

background: she grew up in a trailer home in boulder city, abt half an hour from vegas. her mom had worked in a vegas casino for most of her 20s but relocated to boulder city for a slower pace of life / lower crime rate when she started having kids. mimi has 2 older brothers n she’s the youngest. has that invulnerable younger sibling complex n basically thinks nothing can touch her. very confident in her own intelligence and her ability to get shit done

has mexican ancestry on her mom’s side. doesn’t know her dad. was raised with spanish catholic principals n found it all very stained glass windows and extra n that’s why she was kinda drawn to the decadence of vegas and all these massively high key aesthetics, like dia de les muertos was her fave thing growin up just bcos the pure feel of the festival and painting a sugar skull on her face n being able to party on the streets in a flower crown where everyone was kinda anonymous but together in this celebration

in boulder city her mom worked as a carer as there’s a lot of retirees there. mimi really resented the slow pace of life, longed for some fucking energy n life. she was a cheerleader in school but outside of school there wsn’t much to do except practise stunts and go on bike rides. occasionally they’d get dressed up and catch a bus to henderson, the next biggest city for them to get tht sweet night life

her teenage years consisted mostly of hanging around the renovated motel blocks used as housing projects n tanning by the pool. very florida project if you’ve seen that. she reminds me a lot of the mum in that. also she started working as an avon rep going door-to-door when she was 16 bcos she wanted to have her own income. like as young as 14 she’d decided she was smart enough to go to college but she didn’t have the money n her family didn’t really see it as a worthwhile thing, her mom was very like the mom from matilda “you chose books.... i chose looks!” which i think is where a lot of mimi’s more shallow / appearance-driven traits come from

wasn’t really ‘cool’ until high school. before that she was a bit of a lisa simpson type. won a spelling bee when she was 9. was in the mathletes squad in middle school. when she went from middle school to high school she started cheer and tried to reinvent herself basically. always been very concerned with social mobility and keen to socially climb, like when she enters a new situation she’ll find out who the alphas are and quickly try n befriend them

when she turned 18 she moved out and went to vegas despite her mom hating the idea bcos it was everything she’d tried to get her kids away from. she worked in the clubs there for several years as a shot girl, a table dancer, n eventually she started workin behind the bar in a strip club. in the club it ws really hard to resist becoming a dancer bcos of the sheer amount they made in tips. no one really pressured her into it she just eventually decided tht it was way more logical to do it while she was young n fit and had the stamina and ppl were willing to pay to see her body so she started taking pole fitness lessons. she also started working as a cam girl around this time

working in vegas strip clubs is basically whats paid for uni. like she didn’t go at 18 like most of her friends did bcos she didn’t have the money and she didn’t want to feel indebted to a college like she had to compete for her place and not put a toe out of line bcos she was on a scholarship. she was determined to pay her own way and it took 4 years of working really hard and saving n even tho she was working in vegas she basically never went out bcos every penny she had needed to go on uni n thts how we get to radcliffe baybeeyy

part 2 - interior / values / personality

values: the aesthetic !! literally loves the aesthetic so much. everything she owns is super embellished, she’s a pop socket gal, her dell laptop is covered in glitzy stickers, she always has acrylics n probs makes nail art videos on tiktok. really tuned into tiny details like painting a little hello kitty above her eye which translates into her degree when she’s doing small-scale mockups of town plans n stuff... she jst puts so much detail into them. ppl often get surprised when she tells them she does architecture but it makes so much sense bcos she grew up in a trailer park n was always thinking about ways the space could be more efficiently used, like she loves re-conceptualising neighbourhoods, definitely spent hours on sims as a kid. she also grew up near hoover dam n so loads of school trips they just took them there n she was like.... this is tight but it could be cooler.... where’s the passion....

massively into photography, has such a neat instagram feed like everything just compliments the tones in the next post like mMMM. idk if any of u know any architecture students but this is literally the one constant i can find…. like they all have super good instagrams feeds. is that bitch that will take 40 fake candids of u in a row at different angles to get u the perfect profile picture cos she understands the importance of marketing urself and having an online #brand

has wire rimmed glasses that she doesn’t need to see BUT they r like a magnifying glass for when she’s working with really small materials to do a mock up of an urban plan, and also just sometimes wears them for the aesthetic bc she’s such a pinterest bitch

assassination nation is such a big mood. literally the aesthetics of that and lily colson’s whole brand of feminism and nudity not being inherently sexual but at the same time wanting to profit off that bcos why the fuck shouldnt she use a corrupt system to her advantage is incredibly mimi

literally a human personification of a bratz doll both in attitude and fashion sense

somehow simultaneously gansey in the raven cycle AND elle woods in legally blonde? the two genders

values cont bc i started rambling: her independence and freedom. being the best at any given task she sets her mind to accomplish because she is unable to accept failure. social mobility. sexual liberation. interested in the psychology of sub-cultures and how ppl form groups and interact w each other and cult identities which is why she minors in anthropology. pro-choice. pro-weed legalisation. pro-sex worker rights. very activist.

aesthetics tht remind me of her: von dutch. a strappy cami top that says ‘please do not do coke in the bathroom’. low-waisted jeans that show off her belly button piercing. acrylic nails tapping against a heavily embellished second-hand dell laptop. heart shaped sunglasses in every colour. translucent stripper heels with barbie doll heads and plastic spiders in the heel. spraying champagne you cant afford all over the walls. narcotics in a heart shaped locket. an amazon wishlist full of lingerie linked on your tinder profile. sex tapes recorded on VCR. a religious devotion to waxing clinics. necking shots like you were born to do it.

she’s an enfj type which makes her pretty charismatic and confidence, like she has a fierce kind of energy to her, but she’s also super unwilling to accept criticism, dogmatic and can only really see her own way of thinking, quite ruthless when it comes 2 other ppls emotions despite having a poor control of her own and being prone to turbulence / throwin a bitch fit in the craft lab. easily bored. competitive. self-assured to the point of arrogance. forceful. adaptable. usually more rational than emotional but occasionally loses the ability to make rational decisions when blinded by a need for perfectionism.

very goal-oriented. money motivates her. money and clothes. she wants to look bomb while earning big bucks. when she gets her mind set on a project it literally consumes her she will forget to eat and sleep? i don’t know her. like when a final design project is due for architecture she’ll be up all night doing adderall and speed to keep her awake working on the placement of a single tree for ages cos its gotta be perfect

loves chaos. will spill your secrets and pretend it was an accident. will always be that gif of kim kardashian sipping her tea while drama unfolds around her. lives for the drama like that gifset of bratz when she comes running and gets her phone out to record a fight.

im makin her sound like a really bad person but hopefully she’ll be somewhat likeable she can be very charismatic and endearing and she’s naturally quite funny. also now she’s finally in college and doesn’t have to worry so much about money she actually allows herself to party n bcos she denied herself of it for so long she kinda makes up for it by going p wild like will be the girl climbing on to stage to crowd surf at gigs or doing a summersault off the bar and being escorted out by bouncers, thats the energy were looking at, pure dionysian hedonistic impulse

really gd at talking her way out of shit like parking fines. so good at being an ‘im baby’ girl and often dumbs herself down to figures of authority to appear less like a threatening ball-breaker and more like a confused fiat 500 girl who didn’t know red meant stop she thought it meant slow down

listens almost exclusively to female artists. has fergalicious on repeat when she does squats infront of the mirror n just the biggest fergie stan. also lana del rey’s whole vibe is massive mimi energy

ok ya thats all i have for now..... hopefully this is somewhat coherent and not just garbage.

#radintro #plot w me bitches #im fun n love quarantine sadness

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cb-143 · 5 years ago

Text

Love and a Piece of Cake - Felix x fem Reader

a/n: this was written for my good friend, which doesn’t mean that any character is based off her, but simply that I wanted her to read and enjoy some quality Felix fluff. w.c.: ~4k warnings: fluff, so nothing c: but this is somewhat a coffee-shop au hhh

The tablecloth in her hands was of a white, very soft cotton. She stared at it, at the flowery pattern which decorated its surface.

It was the first week of the new year. In just a few months, they'd be celebrating their fifth anniversary – and he had gotten her a tablecloth for Christmas.

Naturally, she pretended to like it. It was not a case of her not liking it. It was indeed quite pretty. However, after so many years, was a tablecloth really all that he could find?

He hadn't put much care into choosing this present, much less any thought.

These days, Omar only watched TV and barely lend her any of his attention.

Y/N's hands fell down to her lap. Her legs had begun to hurt from the stiff position of her kneeling on the ground, but she was so immersed in the realisation of her failing marriage and love, she simply failed to notice.

"I'll be going out for a bit." She announced, stretched after standing up straight. Like a little puppy, she shook the ache out of her legs.

"Bring me some crisps on your way. We're nearly out." Omar asked of her. Y/N put on her coat.

The cold air rushed to her cheeks the second she stepped outside. She greatly welcomed it. Though she hadn't felt much warmth recently, this paining, sudden rush of cold was different and much needed.

Y/N looked left and then right. Which way should she go? It had been quite some time since she'd last taken a walk. She took out her phone to check the time and put on some music. At quarter to four, she pressed play on a slow, indie song and began to move.

She walked by trees that had grown a lot and houses that looked different since she'd last paid any attention to them. Her good friend used to live only five minutes away. Perhaps she could visit them? When did they lose contact?

As she crossed the street at a random street corner, memories filled her of the songs she was listening to. Just a few years ago, before her wedding, before their child, she'd always listen to this song – together with her neighbourhood friend and the smile that she seemed to have lost.

Walking along, she traced the brown brick wall to her left, as she always did. It had always been an ugly, run down wall. Something that made the entire town she called a home ugly, small, unattractive.

However, right this moment, more so than ever, this wall felt familiar, its cracks all the more charming. Her little town appeared to flow in all its detailed memories she'd made there.

Right by the end of the wall, where there used to be path to go down and enter the park, there now lay a small, new little shop. Omar always drove along this road to get to work. He never once mentioned it. Perhaps out of his hatred for her home town.

YN went to check it out.

Upon entering the shop, YN found herself in a café – one taken straight from a feel good novel, or a cheesy romantic film. A bell rang above her head as she opened it. Along with that sound came a hug of warmth from inside the shop.

It wasn't too warm, though meant to keep the people inside cosy and comfortable.

The café was a fairly small one. There was a counter to look at the different cakes, muffins, other baked goods. Next to that, it connected with a small shelf and a cash register on top. Behind that was the 'bar' with a very big, black coffee maker, other equipment for tea, and multiple beverages in glass bottles.

On a second glance, YN noticed that there wasn't just that one table on the left by the window, looking out to the wall, but two more in the open of the room. As well as that, a flight of stairs to the right of her lead to a handful of more tables.

The café was not as modern as the white, well-kept outside let her to believe. There were old oriental looking rugs on the floor, vases on the shelf and the windowsill. The furniture, too, was made of the same dark wood you'd find in your grandparent's house.

YN walked up to the before mentioned counter. There were croissants, cookies, pretzels, all kinds of buns – and of course, the cake. All the cakes looked lovely. YN could see that they had each been made with care, attention to detail, and love.

There was one which YN was particularly drawn to, it looked chocolatey and sweet.

When she looked back up, she met the big, dark eyes of another woman. The woman was smiling; her hair was a wild, big ball of very pretty black curls. YN thought she looked very kind and instantaneously took a liking to the woman with the frizzy hair.

“Hey there,” the woman spoke with a bubbly, yet also gentle tone, “My name's Cherry Redgrave. Welcome to my little bakery.

“Hello, Cherry.” YN said, “This is such a lovely bakery.”

“Are you new here?” Cherry asked her, “I haven't seen you around before.” YN shook her head.

“I've lived here all my life. My name is YN. I suppose I just don't get to go out a lot.” She let out a nervous, shy chuckle. YN herself regretted that she lost so much of what her life used to be.

Cherry was about to answer when a boy came out up to the two of them – Y/N didn't notice him approach – and joined Cherry behind the counter.

“Can you make a parfait? Mrs Nicholson wants her usual.” As he spoke, Y/N had time to take a closer look at him. He looked a few good years younger than Cherry, his hair was dyed an orangey colour and there were freckles all across the space of his eyes. Just like Cherry, this boy had dark and very pretty eyes. However, his were rather almond shaped and, judging by his Australian accent, he wasn't originally from this region. “I'll take care of this customer.” he finished and Cherry disappeared behind doors which Y/N noticed only now. When Y/N looked back at the boy, he was already looking back at her.

“I'm Felix. I heard your name is Y/N? I really like it.” Felix smiled, a smile that nearly blinded Y/N.

“Th-thank you.” She answered quietly.

“So, Y/N, what can I get you? If I had to recommend anything I'd go with the chocolate cake – it's my favourite.”

“That's exactly what I was going to go for.” Y/N admitted. Her answer caused a sparkle in Felix's eyes. Y/N thought it came from her reply, though she wasn't sure. His eyes seemed to naturally carry a happy glow with them. It drew Y/N in – it made her want to look him in the eyes whenever he spoke to her.

“An excellent choice.” While Felix was preparing the cake (along with a generous amount of whipped cream), Y/N also asked for a coffee. Felix brought both to the empty table by the window and surprised Y/N by sitting down together with her. Only then did she see the second for in his hand.

“Forgive me for my intrusion, but,” Felix began as he pushed the coffee cup towards her. Next to the vase on the table stood the sugar and creamer, ready for her to make use of, “I'm curious. How does someone live here, for years, and go unnoticed, in a city as small as this?”

Y/N closed her hand around the sugar-cup. As she poured one, then two spoonfuls of sugar into her coffee-cup, she tried to formulate an answer.

“After I married, I didn't find the time to go out anymore.” She answered truthfully, though short. For some reason, she felt that she could trust Felix with the story of her life – something within his eyes told her that he was alright. “I gave up my job when we had a child – surprisingly, I had even less time for myself, then. I gave up everything for the household and the baby.” Felix's eyes were searching for hers, though by now she was staring deeply into her cup. She asked herself, now, when and why it all changed so drastically.

Felix listened to her well, he understood, and felt what she felt.

“And your husband,” he began, but was interrupted by Y/N.

“He doesn't seem to care. These days, I'm lucky if he does so much as look at me.” she scoffed.

“I'm very sorry to hear that, Y/N.” Felix said, “I'm sorry he doesn't appreciate you for everything you do.” He paused for a moment, his gaze drifting over the nicely decorated table. She gave up her life for her husband and this is how he treats her? “All I can say is that you're always very welcome here. Both Cherry and I, we love to interact with the town's citizens – get to know the new ones. This is a safe place, for them and for us.” Y/N looked around the room. She had noticed upon entering that this café was far from normal. Looking at the other customers there, an elderly lady bantering happily with Cherry, a mother and her two little children by another table. The atmosphere was friendly, everyone seemed to connect. Y/N felt out of place. Shuffling in her seat, she reached for her fork on the table.

“If you want to, we can chat more later, after you're done?” Felix offered. He sensed that Y/N felt overwhelmed, even slightly uncomfortable.

Y/N separated the first bite of cake with the side of her fork, but then she hesitated. She weighed out her options – would it make Felix uncomfortable to sit with her? Wouldn't she look out of place rejecting his kindness?

“I'm not sure I can eat all this cake alone..” Her voice sounded fragile, more unsure and even fake than she had anticipated. When did she become this weak?

“In that case, I'd love to stay and help you out.”

Felix and Y/N ate the – very chocolatey, as Felix had promised – piece of cake together. It was an experience filled with a comforting silence, little bits of conversation here and there, as they told each other about their lives.

It was an hour later; Y/N had waited for the end of Felix's shift. He had briefly exchanged 'hello's with the next worker. His name was Jisung and it appeared that Felix got along very well with him, as he did with everyone else. Y/N didn't talk much to Jisung, it was the time after work for most office workers, and so the café filled up quite quickly.

Felix and Y/N went outside then; Felix had offered to walk her home and after just a tad bit of discussion, she accepted his offer. It was mostly dark outside now, the street lamps already having been turned on. Y/N found the town to look absolutely wonderful at this time of the day. She reminisced about the times that she sneaked out with her friends as a teenager.

The big, charmingly ugly wall was now accented beautifully by the gentle,yellow glow of the street lamp. As they walked past, Y/N's gaze kept wandering to the wall and to the memories.

“Oh,” Felix stopped, his eyes were directed upon the sky, his plumb lips stretched into a smile that showed off his white teeth, “It's gonna snow.” Y/N followed where he was looking. The sky looked blue and slightly too bright for this time of the day, during winter, but she didn't see any snow. Felix must have sensed her doubts, as his next words were a cheeky, yet mysterious: “Trust me.”

They marched on.

“I haven't been here as long as you,” Felix spoke calmly, “but I've loved this little town ever since I came here. It's small, there's not a lot to do. No clubs, or theme parks, or anything. It's such a beautiful town though, even if it isn't obvious. The people I've met are all kind, we have local shops with honest and sincere people leading them.” Y/N looked at Felix very briefly – she had a habit to trip over nothing – but she wanted to look at him, listen to him intently.

“I know that not everyone thinks this way, more so people my age. I just find beauty in all sorts of things.” Felix continued. Y/N stayed silent to listen to him pouring out his thoughts. “It keeps me happy, it makes this world a better place... It's really not that I'm trying to make it nice. I just try to keep a positive mindset, and the pretty things come to me, just like that. They find me and I embrace them, just like you earlier.”

Y/N tried to swallow, but felt her throat closing up. His words moved her, she felt empathetic and understood how he felt.

She used to think similarly when she was his age... when, and how, did the negativity enter her life?

“However,” Felix spoke again and she realised that she had failed to give him an answer, “I know very well that not all things in life are great. I've seen bad things, I saw trouble and I know how hard some people have it.”

“Whether someone experiences hate, neglect, love – people aren't easy to understand, we influence each other even without knowing.” Felix explained himself. “Your words, even if said lightly, can affect and hurt another person a lot.” Y/N nodded.

“I wish I'd known that sooner...” He paused for a moment, in which Y/N grabbed his hand. She squeezed it. It was a reassuring gesture that came naturally to her. How odd, she thought, with Felix, everything seemed familiar, trustworthy, came natural.

“It might mean that it's not necessarily out of the person's own volition to hurt you. But it means, more so than that, that sometimes, you have to use your own words, too. Not to hurt them, but to let them know that you are hurt. Make yourself heard.” His words resonated within her. She failed to reply once more. His honesty, the way he cared and felt for her after only a few hours, the way they seemed to understand and read each other easily... Y/N felt stunned. It was the magic of this place, or no, the magic that Felix brought along with him. Felix brought back all the memories of the good times to her; he empowered her to get it back, to get her life back together.

“Often times, I wouldn't speak up. I was so scared of conflict, scared to ruin it all, you know? I thought if I just put up with it, maybe it'd get solved on its own. But it didn't... and now I regret it.” Felix stopped once more, at a moment they stood perfectly below a street lamp. His eyes were clearer, glowing. “Y/N,” his small, petite hand grabbed hers – the one that wasn't already intertwined with his. She noticed now, how soft they were, compared to her own ones. Hers were so rough from taking care of various chores and the acidic cleaning products she's had to use. “Please, speak up – stand up for yourself. You might not be ready for it yet – but now, you have me. I am your friend, I'll support you, always. Cherry, too. Y/N, everyone in this town would support you and acknowledge you.”

Her eyes burned, as if tiny papercuts were all over them as Felix's face became blurrier. Her heart felt heavy. Felix was right, she realised, she had to take action. It felt difficult, she wasn't sure how Omar would react. Yet when she searched in Felix's eyes, all she found was support and determination.

So starved of proper love and contact, Felix's closeness, his warmth, they felt sudden, yet so familiar. She was scared, but her knees felt weak, as she wanted to give into him.

The sob that was approaching was knocked out of her when Felix hugged her. Y/N blinked and the tears rolled down her cheeks. With her vision clear, she could see small, white stars fall from the sky.

Snow.

By the time they arrived at the front door of her house, the snow was falling more evenly and frequent. A small, thin layer covered the ground, all the way up to the “welcome” matt under her boots, which now felt anything but welcoming.

She took in the sight of Felix, the snowflakes in his dyed hair, the warm, friendly smile, and then, she understood how he was able to sense the snow. She stared at, and connected Felix's own little snowflakes that decorated his face and made him who he was.

“Thank you for today.” Y/N said. The keys in her hands, though icy, felt hot and way too heavy. She didn't want to go inside, to meet Omar. The child was probably sleeping by now and she feared to be alone. She didn't want to let go of Felix.

“You're always welcome to come by again.” Felix said. One last time, they hugged. This hug had less of an impact as the previous one did. However, it felt just as sincere and warm.

All of Felix did, she thought, as she watched him walk away from her. Y/N stood there, below the falling snow, until she could see him no more.

#stray kids #stray kids reactions #stray kids scenarios #kpop #kpop reactions #kpop scenarios #kim woojin #bang chan #cb97 #lee minho #leeknow #seo changbin #spear b #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #j.one #felix lee #kim Seungmin #yang jeongin

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