#(i feel not so socially anxious at the moment so like throw darts at the dart board! ramble about your muses to me)

[godzexperiment]

if anybody wants to plot/get threads going or chat ooc i'm around (might consider logging into, sharing my d.iscord even)

[mypoisonedvine]

𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙮 𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘝𝘐𝘐 - 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙚) || sub!bucky barnes x dominatrix!reader

(𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘐𝘐) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘐𝘝) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘝) (𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘝𝘐)

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 || the finale.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩 || 3.5k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 || fluff, angst, implied smut, domestic goodness, more EMOTIONS!!!

six months ago...

Bucky wrung his hands a few times before knocking on your door, feeling his heart beat a little faster when he could hear the sounds of your footsteps on the other side. He'd been dreaming of a day like this for so long— the day he finally acted on this secret obsession he had, the day he stopped fantasizing and started realizing— but all this time, part of him had never really thought he'd go through with it. I mean, there's a pretty big difference between jerking off to videos of dominant women and actually getting spanked, slapped, and choked by a dominatrix after paying her an insane amount of money per hour.

But frankly, Bucky needed a big difference from what he'd been doing. He'd been alone for a little too long, he needed someone else's touch before he lost his mind. And he knew that he needed something more substantial than a hook-up, someone who wouldn't expect him to be dominant at all. Even in a kink-less, vanilla hook-up, there’s still an onus of dominance, that’s what Bucky had realised. He’s still supposed to initiate, to guide, to be fully in control… and he hates how it feels to be in control. He’s not used to it, and it doesn’t feel right, and it just makes him sure he’ll do something wrong. So here he was, standing at your door, hoping you’d take away his freedom to do something wrong.

The latch turned and you opened it.

Fuck.

You looked great. Too great, almost overwhelming. Even better than the pictures on your website.

You looked so much softer than the women he saw whenever he searched up femdom porn (yes, that was pretty much the first thing he did once he figured out google— thankfully he had also figured out incognito mode), but your presence was twice as commanding. Your eyes scanned over him quickly and your face stayed annoyingly stoic.

You invited him in; And since then, you’d had him wrapped around your finger.

Even knowing to a certain extent what he was getting into, he could’ve never prepared for how quickly he’d fall for you. Not that he was exactly new to the feeling, but he thought guilt might eat him alive: because of course he felt awful for developing real feelings for you. You were just doing your job and he was falling into the same trap that probably every dumbass client fell into.

Or maybe they actually knew what they were doing and understood how to separate fantasy from reality. He couldn’t decide which one was worse.

He spent a few hours trying to decide while staring up at his ceiling— certainly a better way to spend the time than being social or taking care of unfinished business, right?

But leave it to you to change everything with just three words. Make me yours.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about those words— or about the way you said them— since the moment you spoke them. He hadn’t stopped changing his mind on if he could really believe you were his or not. He wanted to, more than anything; and in those brief moments he did, he felt a joy that he had no idea what to do with.

He frowned as he turned his back towards the mirror, looking over his shoulder to watch his finger run over the fading scars on his back. They’d be gone for good in less than a week, but he knew you had left plenty of permanent marks on him— just unfortunately not those that anyone else could see. He liked the way these scars looked under your fingertips much more than his; he liked everything about being in your arms.

Since you’d texted him to ask if you could have a serious talk with him soon, he worried he wouldn’t get to feel that again. In fact, nothing worried him more.

He was typically antsy as he waited for you to answer the door— he had been since that very first time so long ago— but this felt entirely different: not as jittery, but a thousand times more anxious.

At first he’d been wishing you’d answer it right away, but then he heard your bolt turn and panic landed on him like a dangling anvil dropping on a cartoon character. Suddenly the last thing he wanted was for you to open that door, to be standing there looking all perfect and shit, to smile at him and greet him and invite him in. He didn’t want it; he couldn’t take it.

But you did it all anyway, though it was obviously and immediately a new situation entirely, compared to every other time you’d done it.

You were dressed differently, still formal but definitely toned down. Nothing sexual, at least not objectively. And your smile, though it still made his heart skip a beat just like always, was noticeably softer and maybe a bit sadder.

He stepped in past you, and you surprised him by sitting next to him on the couch rather than across from him on your chair. “Do you want, like, water or anything?” you asked, breaking the silence for a moment.

“No, I’m fine,” he nodded.

Bucky had gotten pretty good at silence these past few years; it didn’t bother him, in fact he barely even noticed it. But this silence made him remember why everyone else hated silence so much: it was heavy and thick and made him overcome with the need to blurt something out. “Everyone calls me Bucky,” he finally admitted. You smiled.

“Do you want me to call you that?” you asked.

He considered your question, trying to imagine you saying it. “I… I used to think it would be better, but now I like the way you say ‘James’ too much.”

“If you thought it would be better, why did you ask me to call you James?” you pressed.

“Because I didn’t want you to know who I was.”

“I know who you are,” you informed him. “I always knew.”

He swallowed as the pit formed in his gut, glancing away to hide from your gaze. “You did a good job of… of pretending you didn’t. You never seemed scared of me.”

“Because I wasn’t. And I’m not.”

He couldn’t imagine how; but then again, if there was any truly fearless woman, he figured it would be you. “I thought you’d beat me up better if you knew what I’d done,” he admitted, almost smiling but not exactly feeling very happy. “Thought you might want… revenge.”

“Surprised that didn’t make you want to tell me.”

He laughed a bit at that. “Yeah, fair enough.”

You asked him a very different question next, one that made his throat suddenly dry: "Have you ever had something that was all your own?" you spoke gently.

"Not for a long time…" he trailed off, letting his eyes unfocus as he stared down at your floor before finding the courage to look up at you again. “Is that what you wanna be?” he asked, already wishing he hadn’t said anything in case it was too presumptuous, but you just smiled back at him in a shy sort of way.

“Something like that,” you mitigated.

His eyes darted around your face— from your eyes glancing away, to your lips that you gnawed on for a moment, to the little crease between your brows— and he found himself leaning forward before he even realized it. “Can I kiss you?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t answer, you just kissed him first; he was so relieved that you did it, too, that you took control so easily and just let him melt into your kiss. As good as it felt to submit to you, he enjoyed the new freedom he had in this moment as well— the freedom to reach up and grab your waist, to brush his hand over your hair, to tilt his head and deepen the kiss further.

It was hard to define exactly where it went from innocent to sensual to sexual, but by the time you were straddling his lap and running your fingers through his hair, it was definitely sexual.

“I want you,” you breathed against his lips.

“Have me,” he offered immediately, “I’m yours. Always was.”

He breathed in sharply when you moved your hips just right to rub up against his swelling cock through his jeans, making him grip your waist a bit harder. “Good boy,” you whispered. “You’re so good, James.”

He believed you this time, finally.

For your first real date, he took you to Coney Island. Not the classiest affair, and he promised to take you somewhere really nice next, but you didn’t mind. It was jarring to see you in casual clothes for the first time, something summer-y and light which was everything opposite to how he was used to seeing you; but he liked it, and he liked knowing a secret about you as you walked through a crowd of carnival-goers that were none the wiser.

He walked you through the fair and explained how he remembered it, showed you the few things that hadn’t changed much. He bought you a hot dog and even won you a prize at one of the games; that one where you throw a baseball and it measures your pitch speed? Yeah, it’s rigged, but he pitched lefty and it seemed to even everything out. (It’s not cheating, okay? It’s beating them at their own game, literally.)

So with a massive teddy under one arm and his waist wrapped in your other, you two walked through the winding pier, under twinkling lights and over walkways towering over the ocean below. And then you fooled around a bit on the ferris wheel. It was the ideal Coney Island experience, for sure.

Bucky didn’t have a ton of friends, per se, but he was excited for you to meet them. Meeting friends was certainly a step, though; hopefully a step you were willing to take, but he didn’t want to ask you to do it without at least having a title to introduce you with.

“I want you to be my girlfriend,” he finally told you.

“I kinda thought I already was,” you laughed.

And so, with more pride than he might have ever had for anything before, Bucky finally got to take you to meet everyone (‘everyone’ being a mix of his friends and his coworkers, who may or may not be his friends because he couldn’t always tell) and say “I want you guys to meet my girlfriend.”

Of course you were amazing with all of them; you continued that tactful “I know who you are but I’m pretending I don’t to be nice” thing that you’d started with him, and everyone seemed to appreciate it. You cracked a couple jokes, everyone laughed.

You lied about how you and Bucky met, or at least answered very strategically. Everyone at least pretended to believe you.

Afterwards, they all said something about how great you were or about how lucky he was. The only thing he ever said back was “I know.”

Now that he could kiss you without breaking any rules, he never wanted to stop. He hardly ever did, actually. He kissed you basically whenever he could get the chance; you two didn’t even go out much anymore because he wasn’t very good at keeping his hands to himself, but you weren’t exactly complaining about staying in. You were too busy kissing him back, and teasing him mercilessly while you were at it, to do that.

You had already found the fastest way to get him needy and begging, not that any way took very long. If you kissed him while you straddled his lap, wrapping your arms around him and slowly grinding against him, he lost it in minutes. And you really seemed to get a kick out of watching him lose it, just as much as always.

It made him realize that the way you looked at him before, in sessions and scenes together, was a lot less of an act than he’d assumed at the time. He just thought you were a really good actress, or that he was really whipped; and maybe the first was true, and the second was absolutely true, but regardless it had become clear that you had it almost as bad as he did from the beginning. It gave him even more respect for how well you controlled yourself, he certainly hadn’t had much self-control at the time— after all the whole ordeal was about losing control, and occasionally about trying to gain it back.

He didn’t ask you to quit your job. He didn’t want or expect you to; but you did cut down your hours, which gave the two of you more time together.

To be totally honest, part of him got a bit titillated to imagine you with your other clients. He didn’t like the idea of other men touching you, but he smirked at the thought of them begging to touch you and being denied; he liked knowing that you didn’t do with them even half of the stuff you’d done with him when he was your client.

But he wasn’t your client anymore. He was your boyfriend, and he wanted the world to know it.

six months later...

He let you struggle to reach the top shelf for a moment, just because you looked cute on your tip-toes with the tip of your tongue sticking out of the corner of your mouth, before he finally relented and helped you grab the bottle of rice wine vinegar.

“Thanks,” you smiled as he set it in the cart.

After that you let him grab everything, content to stand on the end of the cart and push you around as you reminded him what else you needed.

“We’re out of Captain Crunch!” you remembered as he passed the cereal aisle, pointing to try to get him to turn.

“Yes, and we need to stay that way,” Bucky explained sternly, “that shit is addictive. Only way to avoid it is to not have it in the house.”

You frowned but accepted that he was absolutely right, though you groaned when he took you to the refrigerated section to stock up on chicken breasts. “I swear, you would eat these for breakfast if you didn’t think I’d judge you for it,” you joked.

“What’s wrong with chicken breasts?”

“They’re just so… bland!”

“Not if you season them right,” he corrected.

“Which you don’t,” you rolled your eyes. “Come on, at least splurge on some chicken thighs. They’re basically the same but so much more flavorful.”

“Fine, but no more making fun of my cooking,” Bucky decided, placing the breasts back on the shelf and grabbing two packs of thighs instead. “I’m still adapting to 21st century sensibilities.”

“Right,” you nodded, though he caught your smile in the corner of his eye— you knew he couldn’t exactly claim to still be as conservative as he was raised to be in every way.

Like any well-planned grocery run, it ended at the frozen section where you got some fruit bars and frozen vegetables (you had this theory that frozen vegetables tasted better in fried rice than fresh ones, and so far you’d proven him right) and he got a pizza to have for dinner in a pinch. When shopping alone before, he always did self-checkout to avoid being seen anymore than he had to… he still did it with you, but he didn’t even think about who might be looking at him, because all he saw was you.

You drove for this trip, and he always felt oddly soothed by riding passenger with you at the wheel. He liked to close his eyes and lean back a bit, or occasionally look over at you (but if he did it too much you complained that he was being creepy and distracting you). It shouldn’t be too much of a surprise that he enjoyed the feeling of you taking control, considering everything, but it was one of those little ways that he hadn’t expected. He just felt so comfortable, so safe with you, and never he felt like he was a burden for asking you to take the lead when he didn’t trust himself with it. And that applied to everything— driving, cooking, speaking up in crowds, all those little things that sometimes made him anxious.

There were some things he didn’t have any trouble being dominant about, though. He was very protective of you, for example, and tended to be uptight about how late you went out for walks or where you should be going alone. And he didn’t struggle to ask you for what he wanted— he was getting a lot better at asking for help, specifically.

He used to ask you to say that you loved him, instead of just saying ‘I love you’ himself, because for some reason it was easier to make you do it first. It started as something he’d beg for in the throes of passion, fingers digging into your skin as his eyes watered (as they often did in intimate moments): please, say you love me— jus’ need to hear you say it, please? And you were always sweet about it in return, of course I love you, James, my good boy, I love you so so much. But then he’d ask you to say it whenever he felt like it— he’d come up behind you while you were reading or cooking or something and kiss the top of your head or the shell of your ear and try to act nonchalant as he asked you love me, right?

You’d laugh and roll your eyes before you answered, but it was, thankfully, always a ‘yes.’ Eventually you figured out how often you needed to say it to make him stop asking all the time, which was probably a little too often.

“I love you,” you blurted out randomly as you turned on your signal and leaned a bit to make sure it was safe to make a left— case in point.

“I love you too,” he answered back with a smile.

“I don’t mind saying it so often,” you added, “but you know that I love you even when I’m not saying it, right? I love you all the time.”

It was a simple question, probably mostly rhetorical, but it hit him harder than he expected. “Yeah, I know,” he managed to get out evenly enough that you didn’t notice he was tearing up a bit.

He put the groceries away while you took the trash out; you liked to keep the fridge pretty organized, and it was an adjustment at first, but by now Bucky had it down pat. Before you, he hadn’t even considered that the contents of a refrigerator could be aesthetically pleasing.

Dinner was leftovers in front of the TV— you two were almost done with Frasier, but after that you had ten seasons of Friends to get through. You had tried to encourage him to watch more challenging stuff— you know, True Detective, Hannibal, dark cerebral stuff with arguably more artistic merit than classic sitcoms— but Bucky had had enough darkness in his life that he didn’t need it in his fiction. Maybe he’d find the time to catch up on the last 80 years of dramas and murder mysteries after he caught up on the last 80 years of comedy.

After dinner you were going to do yoga and Bucky, not in the mood to embarrass himself with that, retired to the bedroom a bit early to read his book— he’d heard a lot about this Harry Potter guy and now that he was on the fourth book and could hardly put it down, he understood the hype. He related a bit to the unwilling war hero in its protagonist; most of the time the series enthralled him, but occasionally something would hit too deep and he’d have to put it away for a couple days. At the moment, though, he was in one of the easy parts where it was just about schoolwork and childhood antics.

He instinctively glanced at the door when he heard you open it— he wasn’t sure how long it had been time-wise, but he’d gotten through quite a few pages— but he only quickly looked up at you as you shut the door behind you, before returning his attention to the book he was reading. “So, Bucky…” you began.

“Yeah?” he mumbled.

“James.”

It wasn’t any one thing that got his attention— not just the tone of your voice or the way it got a bit deeper, not just the look you gave him, not just the way the air of the room seemed to shift all at once. It was everything about you that made his body react instantly. He shut the book and set it aside, sitting up straight to look at you expectantly.

And you seemed to notice his instinctual obedience, considering you just barely smirked at him, raising an eyebrow as he spoke his reply: “Yes, Mistress?”

[prismatica-the-strange]

I posted 29,862 times in 2022

That's 2,677 more posts than 2021!

1,680 posts created (6%)

28,182 posts reblogged (94%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@daincrediblegg

@spongebobssquarepants

@prisma-the-spooktacular

@lokidokeyartichoki

@beardedmrbean

I tagged 5,508 of my posts in 2022

#prisma rambles - 778 posts

#forged in hellfire - 592 posts

#prisma self ships - 520 posts

#eddie munson - 294 posts

#after hours - 164 posts

#daniel and dread - 160 posts

#ask game - 159 posts

#prisma watches - 154 posts

#prisma answers - 144 posts

#st4 spoilers - 110 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#he also proposed that night and planned on having kane. who was rither chancellor or acting chancellor at the time. marry them the next day

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Imagine: Spending time with Eddie in the hospital while he's recovering from that horrific Demobat attack.

Bringing a pack of Uno cards to play with and some of his favorite movies to watch.

Falling asleep in a chair next to the bed or beside him in it because no way is he letting his Y/n sleep in such an uncomfortable-looking chair.

Giving him so many kisses cause he hurts and nothing heals like Y/n kisses.

Brushing his hair for him because he's sore and he loves when you do that.

Him falling asleep against you because you make him feel safe and loved.

Helping him get back on his feet and walking again because those bat bitches really fucked up his joints.

His uncle loving that you're there because he knows that, no matter what anyone else is saying, You love his nephew.

Having fun with the rest of Hellfire when they visit, maybe even running a oneshot together.

Taking polaroids of each other being goofy.

Reblogs > Likes

249 notes - Posted July 4, 2022

#4

Every time Danny Dies and comes back the team adds another birthday to the calendar, and make him start over again. But none of them count until a year after he comes back and they throw him a "First" birthday party. He is then 1.

It's their favorite running gag, much to Daniel's Dismay.

Sometimes they give him "age appropriate" gifts. Like letter blocks glued together to spell out his name, or a doll from another planet. Nothing mean spirited.

Sam bought him a "My First Archaeological dig" set she found online, he thought it was cute.

He finds the whole thing both annoying and wholesome.

Growing up an only child, he never got to experience what it was like having siblings, and this is what he always imagined it would be like.

250 notes - Posted May 11, 2022

#3

Only the Young | Part 1

18+

Synopsis: Flashback! You're in high school. First month of junior year. Your main goal? To make it through the next two years unnoticed. But what's this? You seem to have caught the eye of loud, rowdy Eddie Munson. It's his Junior year too and it's his goal to get you out of that shell of yours.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x shy/socially anxious!reader (I'll admit this is a little self indulgent)

The first two parts are more backstory leading up to st4

Part 2

Reblogs > Likes

You take one last look at your watch as you walk into the classroom.

There's only one seat left, way in the back next to Eddie Munson. You could already feel the eyes glaring in your general direction from just sitting close to him.

There's no avoiding it now, not without causing a scene at least, and that was the last thing you wanted. So you hug your binder closer to your chest, bell ringing as you sit down.

You don't fail to notice him, not-so-subtly look over at you like he'd never seen you before.

Good. You think, that was your intent.

8 minutes into class you hear a noise.

"Pst... psst hey!" You glance over at Eddie and he's leaning towards you slightly, "Hi."

Your eyes dart back to your paper, scribbling notes down.

"Hey, can I borrow a pen?" He asks in hushed tones, "I uh, kinda forgot one."

You peak back at him for a moment and he's smiling apologetically.

Keeping your view on the chalkboard, you reach into your bag and hand him a pen.

"Thanks..." it's quiet for a moment as you listen to the teacher, then, "I'm Eddie by the way."

He tries to lean forward enough to see your face when you don't answer, but is stopped when the teacher snaps at him to pay attention. He doesn't say anything else the rest of the class, but you can feel his gaze glued on you.

▪︎¤▪︎¤▪︎

You find the empty end of a table and sit down with your tray. You would usually eat outside on the bleachers, but of course it's raining today.

You're poking at your Monday Mystery Meat when a metal lunchbox clangs on the table in front of you, making you jump.

"Sorry, you mind?"

You look up at Eddie with wide eyes for a moment before shaking your head.

"Thanks."

He sits across from you and you keep your head down, focus entirely on the barely digestible food on your tray.

"Oh! Uh, thanks for the pen earlier," He goes on, "You mind if I hang onto it for a bit? I should have my own tomorrow."

"Whatever," you shrug. You're not looking at him so you don't see the big smile spreading across his face.

"So you can talk," You can hear it though.

See the full post

358 notes - Posted July 13, 2022

#2

I need to know if the youngens know this or not

375 notes - Posted October 6, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Emma Swan marries her son's grandfather's ex-wife's former boyfriend who was tormented by her son's great grandfather whose ex-wife kidnapped her youngest grandson who was a few hundred years younger than his dead brother who was tricked into dying by Regina's older sister that their mother gave up because she was tricked by a man who got her pregnant and Snow's mother told Snow's father who was engaged to Regina's mother that she was stealing which she was only doing because the man that tricked her was blackmailing her then she told the royals she could spin straw into gold but that was a lie so she got help from her grandson's grandfather who she learned magic from and put his name in a spell book with which her daughter then uses to call upon him to kill Snow white who told a secret that got her true love killed a man who was reanimated by Dr. Frankenstein and attacks her son who is also Emma's son.

385 notes - Posted April 8, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[malghra]

a chorus so sublime: chapter 1

I must admit, I can't explain

Any of these thoughts racin' through my brain

It's true

But, baby, I'm howlin' for you

Alright

There's something wrong with this plot

The actors here have not got

A clue

Baby, I'm howlin' for you

For Darklina Week, Day 1, Songs & Lyrics, Title from Breath of Life by Florence + The Machine

Chapter title and lyrics from Howlin' for you by The Black Keys. 

This fic starts in episode 5, so you can assume that the story is mostly canon compliant up until episode 4. Any changes pre-episode 5 that will be referenced in the story will probably concern Mal. I lowkey ship show!Malina, they're very cute, but then again I lowkey ship almost everyone with everyone on this show 😂 Darklina is just the only ship compelling enough to tempt me into writing. Anyways, I'm probably going to write Mal closer to his book counterpart, just because I feel the relationship needed a bit more conflict and it will add to Alina's inner struggles.

For now, what you need to know about Mal is that he did sleep with Zoya and that he didn't react well to the revelation of Alina's powers. Just remember that for future reference.

What else? Alina is going to leave the Little Palace at some point, and after that, events will unfold similarly to what happened on the show from episode 6 onwards, but I wanted to develop the Darklina relationship a bit more before it all falls to pieces and I try to come up with a way to put those pieces back together.

The first chapter is Aleksander's POV of his and Alina's first kiss.

I spent a bit of time debating what Aleksander should call himself in his POVs. I honestly couldn't see him referring to himself as the Darkling. I also decided that in the universe of this fic, he hasn't told Alina his real name yet. I imagine that at the beginning of this story, he mostly identifies with his title, and not with his true name, so for now, he'll be referring to himself as The General.

Chapter is below the cut, I hope you'll enjoy this!

The day of the winter fete had arrived, and the General had been up since before sunrise. Despite his mixed feelings regarding such events—especially ones such as today when his Grisha were expected to perform like a troup of otkazat'sya clowns, there was a tinge of excitement to his disgruntled thoughts.

Today was the day Ravka and the rest of the world would learn what the Sun Summoner could do. She still had a lot to learn, she still needed time to grow, but she could give them a good show. Their audience of royals, nobles and foreign dignitaries would be easily enough beguiled by the light spectacle they had practiced.

It was a new start, a day of hope and promise, but that wasn't the reason he had risen before dawn. Sleep tended to elude the General for long bouts of time every couple of years. It didn't matter though. He didn't need much of it anyway, but it was an easy way to pass time when he got bored or tired of life.

Fortunately for him, that was not the case right now. These were exciting times. He had never been closer to achieving everything he'd been working for during the last couple of centuries.

He finished his cup of tea, and as he passed the mirror, he reached up to close the top button of his shirt he must have missed earlier.

He heard the soft padding of footsteps in the other room. It was almost time.

"Ivan!" he called out. "My kefta."

As he turned away from the bed, he found himself eye to eye, not with his loyal Heartrender, but with his Sun Summoner.

"You're not Ivan," he blurted out, taken aback by her sudden and unexpected presence in his bedroom.

"Sorry to disappoint," she retorted sardonically. Saints! Why was she always saying or doing the unexpected thing, usually displaying an utter lack of the deference he was so used to being treated with by everyone else around him? And why did that make him want to smile instead of chiding her and reminding her of decorum and etiquette?

"Do I sense a little disdain for my Heartrender?" he asked, mostly to distract himself from his train of thought. "You know, once you get to know him he's actually quite funny."

Ivan Krasimirov tended to have little patience with people and he didn't care much for pointless social interactions, but the General had known him since he was a boy and he liked to imagine he knew the reserved Heartrender better than anyone else. And Ivan was a loyal man, who understood the cause and had display unseen measures of dedication.

"I bet you find volcra hilarious," his Sun Summoner huffed.

Her innocently intended quip stung, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth, but he managed a wry smile. It was rather hilarious after all, perhaps even more so if one knew.

"May I?" she asked. For the first time since she'd entered, he noticed that she was holding his kefta.

"Thank you." His arms felt oddly stiff as he turned around and reached back so she could help him into the garment.

"I hear you were able to focus and split light without the gloves," he told her. She had shown tremendous progress in the last couple of days, but it was better to be prepared. He'd ordered Kostyk to make the gloves weeks ago, just in case.

"I appreciate the gesture, though."

"Well, they were only a safeguard, really," he assured her. "In case of nerves." She was standing closer than he'd expected when he turned to face her again.

"I imagine there are few gatherings in Keramzin that involve such..." He found himself looking for a word that wouldn't sound as an insult to the humble childhood she still seemed to be clinging to so stubbornly. That stubbornness had its charm at times, but in this case he couldn't really appreciate it. "Spectacle," he decided.

"None, in fact," she answered with that some sarcastic aplomb from earlier, and then she whirled around and darted away from him.

Frowning, but intrigued, he followed her out of his bedroom.

Despite her sudden jitteriness, she confessed that she wasn't nervous anymore, though she had considered throwing herself down the stairs to get out of it. Almost certain that this was just her odd sense of humour, he reminded her that he had healers.

He tried not to smile as she laughed at his retort. He studied her as she stood with her back to him, wondering at her suddenly anxious demeanour and the tension he could feel rolling off her body.

He sat down on the edge of the table, listening as she explained why she wasn't nervous anymore. Confusing, unfamiliar warmth pooled in his chest as she spoke but he tried to ignore it.

"That we can offer Grisha and Ravkans hope for the future," she concluded her little speech. She was so close to where he wanted her. He almost had her. He knew he would be able to make her see reason. What she was sharing with him, the fact that she was sharing it with him at all, it all made him hopeful.

Triumph made his chest swell, and his power hummed just below the surface of his skin, ready to surge, to call out, but he wouldn't show her the immense satisfaction that overtook him in this moment. He settled for a heartfelt, "That means a lot to me, Alina," turning her name into a soft caress.

She turned around, half surprised, half... proud, he decided, satisfied that she had pleased him. He could take it a step further.

"You mean a lot," to me, he meant to say. It should be easy to feed her the lie that had come to carry more truth in it than he cared to admit. He needed her, but that should be the end of it. Hadn't he taught himself to stop wanting a long time ago?

She'd lowered her eyes, making it even easier for him, but he found himself incapable of saying the words. "To everyone," he concluded.

She blinked and met his gaze again. Before he could even try to decipher the look on her face, she had closed the distance between them, her hand on his collar.

Some deeply ingrained instinct almost made him recoil. He wasn't used to this. It had been a long time since anyone dared to approach him in such a way.

And then that pull was drawing him in again, that tug he had felt from the first moment he had laid eyes on her, that he had dismissed until he had touched her arm and knew, even before cutting her skin. The confusion and discomfort that always came with it must be clear on his face, but if she had seen them, she must have decided to ignore them.

Then she surprised him by kissing him, softly and tentatively, tender fingertips gently grazing his beard. He couldn't remember when he had last been kissed like that.

He had expected that sense of elation so akin to the triumph and satisfaction he'd felt earlier. He should have predicted the ringing in his ears, the thumping of his heart, the tingle running through his veins as her power called to his, begging to answer her call, as overwhelming as it was.

But the urge to respond to her kiss, the desire to surrender, the sudden, vast fear that gripped him, they all took him by surprise.

Something that had laid dormant for ages bubbled up from a place deep inside of him, frustratingly elusive and only vaguely familiar. It slipped away from him like water he tried to cup in his hands before he could recognize it.

He might have started kissing her back—he was too stunned to tell—but then her lips left his, and she nudged his nose with hers as she pulled away. His eyes flew open at the sudden loss of contact. He couldn't remember closing them.

She was searching his face, colour high on her cheeks. As he rose to his full height, he could see that sliver of doubt growing, that fear of rejection creeping up on her, even as hope sparkled in her eyes, her lips curling into a cautious smile.

He offered her a smile back, let the surprise he didn't need to feign show on his face.

"Not many people surprise me, Miss Starkova," he told her.

Her face lit up, and he followed her example as she lowered her eyes, allowing himself a pleased grin. He started leaning in to initiate a second kiss.

The door was pushed open and Alina jumped back, turning her back to him.

He cleared his throat, pushing his shoulders back to compose himself.

For the briefest moment, Ivan's eyes flitted from him to Alina, but he hid his reaction well.

"Excuse me, General," he apologized. "Your presence is required at the fete."

"Of course. Thank you, Ivan."

He glanced back to find Alina's cheeks flushed and her eyes on her feet.

"Miss Starkova," he said coolly, and she bit her lip.

"Next time, knock before you enter my chambers," he snapped at the Heartrender on his way out the door.

"Apologies, moi soverenyi," he mumbled.

The General dismissed the man with a nod. He should be thanking Ivan. He had almost acted on impulse, like some common fool. So then why was he clenching his fists to keep from strangling his most loyal Heartrender?

[haikyuu-appreciation-club]

Hiii love💞, could I request a kurro x reader based on the song "sometimes" by "Chelsea Cutler?" It's a beautiful song, and I would love to see how you write it out!! Thank you, and I can't wait smto see what you make out of it!!!

•Sometimes•

Kuroo x Reader

warnings: a few curse words + mentions of depression, mental health issues, suicidal thoughts + trust issues

genre: angst to fluff + comfort

word count: 2.2k

hey sweetheart!! 

I really adore this request, it’s different then anything I've done before and I'm excited to get to turn my interpretation of this song into a fic

my interpretation of this song is that its in the perspective of a person that has depression and it’s consuming them. It constantly comes and goes and affects the way they are in a relationship. they feel as though they are unable to be loved and they have a hard time trusting that their partner actually cares for them due to this added baggage they have. 

ik the actual meaning of the song is different but I'm writing based off of that :)

this is a very beautiful song and I hope I bring it justice 

enjoy <3

(TRIGGERS BELOW)

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

(TW DEPRESSION, TW SUICIDAL THOUGHTS, TW MENTAL HEALTH, TW TRUST ISSUES)

You used to enjoy the early morning hours. The way the sun would peer through your partially open blinds, casting rows of golden hues across your walls. The taste of flavorful coffee flowing down your throat, bringing you to your senses. Even the noise of cars passing by brought you a source of peace as you got ready for your day.

Overtime, mornings grew bitter. The sunlight became a nuisance, causing you to bury yourself deeper in your covers. You no longer had to energy to get up and make yourself a cup of coffee and the hum of the car engines just reminded you of the dreaded day ahead. 

Honestly, you can't recall when the beautiful colors of this world had faded from your view.

Although you had grown accustomed to these emotions, they weren't always dominating your life. They came and went in waves, allowing brief moments of happiness to creep through. On one of those special occasions, the universe brought Kuroo into your life.

Meeting him felt like coming up for your first breath of air after a long swim. He wasn't a complete stranger but you had been too encased in your thoughts to ever go out of your way to talk with him. Luckily, he made the effort to reach out and the two of you clicked right away. You had thought things were finally looking up for you, crawling your way out of the slump you had constantly been dragged in and out of. You saw this as your time to collect the broken pieces of yourself and start over with Kuroo, but those thoughts were soon deemed trivial. After a while, your depression had hauled you back into the darkness, stripping you from any ounce of joy you had left. Kuroo had kept you afloat for longer than anyone has ever had, and maybe that’s why you allowed yourself to indulge in wishful thinking. You should have known better though, you were broken repair and it was no ones job to fix you.

Although you never opened up about your struggles to Kuroo, he wasn't completely oblivious to the situation. He had noticed your change in attitude straight away. The way you would shy away from any social situations, silently begging him to just stay inside and cuddle on the couch. The way you would take two or three bites of dinner and lazily claim you were full. The way the things you loved to do, didn't seem to peak your interest anymore. Even the way your sleeping patterns had shifted, either feeling you toss and turn in the middle of the night or finding you still sleeping in at four in the afternoon. 

Kuroo was confused to say the least, this demeanor was so new to him and he didn’t know what to do. You seemed so hollow, as if you were a shell of your former self. It broke Kuroo’s heart to see you in such a state and he wanted to help you, he just had no clue how.

You weren’t the type of person to lay all of your emotions out on the table, Kuroo knew that much. So, he didn't want to force things out of you or do anything to make you shy away from him more then you already had. He wanted to be able to handle this situation in a way you both were comfortable with. So, he took his time observing your behavior and researching the things he noticed. 

Soon enough, his hunch that you had been entrapped in a depressive state had been confirmed. All of your actions and new found mannerisms had lined up with the symptoms almost perfectly. Now he just had to find a way to approach you about your current situation.

Things on your part were growing worse with each passing day. You were exhausted, as if all the energy had been drained from your body. The motivation to even get out of bed had been snatched away. You were at the point where you just felt like giving up. There was no point in trying anymore and you had discovered living to be so tiring. The only thing keeping you going was Kuroo, and you felt oddly selfish for that. 

Kuroo had always made it a point to care for you and be by your side with everything throughout your relationship, but why should he? Did he not realize how damaged you were? As if you were a surgery gone wrong and no one could find the source of the bleed. You loved Kuroo with all your heart but knowing how much trouble you had already caused and how much was waiting to ensue tugged at your chest.

Thoughts continued to swim in your head while you lied in your bed, curled up with your knees to your chest as you stared at the empty wall. You couldn’t recall how long you’d been lying there. Time seemed to fade away recently, the minutes, hours, and days blended together. Honestly, you couldn’t care less. Opening your eyes had been dubbed a difficult task so getting ready for the day had been out of the question for quite a while. Lying in bed all day had become so familiar to you, you were no longer content with anything else.

A creak came from the opposite side of your bedroom as the door leading in softly swung open. Your eyes darted in the direction of the noise but you didn’t move a muscle as light footsteps approached the bed. You knew who it was but you couldn’t bring yourself to greet them, it was too much effort on your part.

The second Kuroo had walked through the door he had taken notice of your disheveled state. He had been unable to see you for the past few days due to a family event that had been planned.

He invited you to come along but you refused, seeing you didn’t want to ruin the mood and you didn’t have the energy to put up a front for that long. Kuroo didn’t want to leave you by yourself but you insisted that he went and spend time with his loved ones. So, reluctantly, he bid you farewell and went on his way. The two of you kept in touch through text messages which helped to sooth his nerves a smidge, but soon enough your replies grew shorter and popped up on his screen less often until they stopped appearing at all. Panic conquered his mind and he booked the first flight home to you. 

There was a dip in your bed as Kuroo sat at your side. A small part of you wanted to hug him but you stayed stiff as a board, expression unwavering. You felt a hand gently sit atop your thigh as small circles were rubbed into your warm skin,

“Hey babe.”

You wanted to answer him, you really did, but only silence hung over the room following his warm greeting,

“I know you’ve been going through a lot lately, do you mind if i help you out a little bit?”

A small nod was given, insinuating that he had your permission to continue with whatever he had planned, not as if you had the strength to disagree.

You felt the covers lightly being drawn off of your body, allowing the cool air to dance against your skin. Kuroo swiped at the hairs that had invaded your vision and placed a chaste kiss to your forehead before scooping you up. You fell limp in his hold, turning towards him and hiding your face in his chest. 

Kuroo carried you to your bathroom and seated you on the counter. He watched as your eyes stayed glued to your feet, as if a weight had been attached to your neck. Although his heart ached at the sight, you were hurting more than he was right now. Grabbing your toothbrush and toothpaste off the counter, he placed a hand on your jaw and began to brush your teeth. 

He continued to tend to your daily tasks, those of which you had been neglecting since he last saw you. He brushed out your hair, bathed you, and dressed you in clean clothes. 

As you sat on the bathroom floor, allowing you hair to air dry, Kuroo carried on. He had changed your bedding, throwing your old sheets into the washer and pulling fresh ones from the cabinet. He also walked around your room, picking up trash and putting things where they belonged. He had even made it a point to peel away your blinds and open your window, allowing the outside world to finally reach you after what felt like an eternity.

You couldn't understand why he was doing all this, he should leave you while he had the chance. Hell, you would've left a long time ago. So why didn’t he? 

The door of the bathroom was pushed open once more, interrupting your thoughts. Kuroo crouched down in front of you. Although your appearance had returned to it’s prior state, your eyes still held a sorrowful glow,

“I’m gonna bring you back to the bed, is that alright?”

You nodded once more, allowing him return you to your area of origin. 

As you lied on your back, staring at the celling, Kuroo timidly slid down next to you. His body had turned towards you as he wrapped his arm around your midsection, the other tucked behind his head. 

Kuroo may not let you see it, but he was beyond nervous. He was anxious he wasn't doing or saying anything right and the last thing he wanted was to make you feel worse than you already did. Despite this, he knew he had to bring this situation into the light somehow. Even if you shied away from the subject or the conversation ran short,

“I’m sorry Y/N. I know your mind has put you though hell and back. I might not be able to understand it but you aren’t alone, okay? You’re so important to me and no matter what, I'll be right here by your side. And don’t push yourself to let me in, I'm here when you’re ready.” Those words had cleared something from you mind and finally allowed you to feel. Not even realizing it, a tear slipped down your cheek. Then two, and three, until you were choking on sobs. Your hand had found the front of Kuroo’s shirt as you cried into his chest. Everything that had been stored away had finally found it’s way to the surface. 

Kuroo held you in his tight embrace, placing soft kisses on the top of your head as you broke down. He didn’t mind the damp shirt or the feeling in his arms disappearing, all he was focused on was you. 

After a while, he felt your voice vibrate against his chest,

“Hm? Sorry baby, I didn’t catch that.”

Your voice had been muffled by the cloth pressed against your face. So, you pulled away from his grasp, finally looking him in the eyes for the first time since he set foot in your home,

“Why? Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you.”

Your mind drew a blank, was his answer to your question that simple?

“What?”

“Because I am in love with you,” he cupped your cheek and gave you a soft smile, “I am completely in love with every single thing about you Y/N, the good and the bad. I love it all because at the end of the day, It’s still you who’s by my side.”

You felt a tug at your heart as he gently pulled you into a kiss. You slowly returned the gesture, relishing in the feeling of his lips on yours. You hadn't realized how much you had distanced yourself from the man you loved until this very moment. Your depression had lead you to reject the fact that your boyfriend actually cared about you, making you shy away from him as a whole. 

As the two of you pulled apart your mind granted your body permission to pull your boyfriend into your embrace, another sensation you had deeply missed. You sunk your face into the crook of his neck and breathed in the sent of his cologne.

The two of you stayed that way for a while, allowing yourselves to become familiar with each other’s touch once more.  

Soon enough, you had grown tired due to your fit of tears earlier and began to slip in and out of consciousness. Taking notice of this, Kuroo pulled you down until you were both lying side by side. Your body had found his once more as you snuggled into his side,

“I love you Kuroo.”

“I love you more Y/N.”

There was much to be discussed but that could wait until the morning. For now, all that was important to Kuroo was being by your side, where he loved to be.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[jacksjoke]

Title: someone here loves you Pairing: Mork and Pi, Mork and Mueang Nan Summary: Pre-series into episode 1 character speculation Ao3 link

     Mork likes to think that he’s got a skill in reading people. His talents prove handy in pretty much any situation Mork could find himself in, and after years of relationships avoided that Mork could tell would’ve ended on an unfortunate note (romantic or otherwise), he fancies his skills sharper than most others’. Thanks to him, his younger sister had turned down the date of a boy in her class who’d later ended up trying to steal goods from a local shop; and he’d successfully coached one of his old high school friends on how to end a friendship that he wasn’t happy in. So yes, Mork’s fairly confident.

     On the other side of that, whether it be metaphorical or literal, Mork doesn’t like to be under a spotlight. He prefers to be the guy on the sidelines cheering on his friend rather than having to be the poor sucker bombarded by obsessive fans. Mork, in his time as Mueang Nan’s closest friend, has come to see that this isn’t an exaggeration. Mork rarely uploads content on social media, Mueang Nan posts at least one update per day. Mork’s account is private and although he has a lot of followers, he hasn’t reciprocated in kind. Mueang Nan is public and his posts always receive at least 200 comments from strangers, while Mork will get 50 from people he’s spoken to in person.

     He doesn’t fault Mueang Nan at all; he grew up in a remote northern village where he hadn’t had a mobile, barely a television, so for Mueang Nan to enjoy social media to the extent he does is totally fair. Even if he hadn’t grown up the way he did, Mork wouldn’t fault Mueang Nan for something as small as liking Instagram or Facebook.

     It doesn’t matter, at the end of the day, because his well-honed talent has already told Mork that Mueang Nan is a genuinely good guy. Out of anyone, Ai’Nan actually deserves to be as well-liked as he is, and on Mork’s end he’s content to live on the blurred edges of relative obscurity than be made daily the center of a stampede. He’ll leave Mueang Nan to pseudo-celebrity life and remain virtually invisible by his side. That’s ideal, really.

     But a boy nudges his glasses further up his nose, tugging red-bitten lips between his bracketed teeth in a bout of nerves, and within a moment, the fellow first-year knows that if no one else ever knew who Mork was here or anywhere, he’d want this boy to know.

     It’s orientation, as cliché as that may be, where Mork first sees Pi. As a fellow first year, Mork hasn’t met Mueang Nan or really anyone that he’d feel inclined to befriend, and so catching sight of Pi in the crowd of anxious freshers lands a hit square into Mork’s chest. He can’t see his name-tag, blocked in as he is by other students, but to see him here in the sciences is proof enough that they’ll at least share one or two classes.

     And Mork is so happy to be correct. The dentistry student’s name is Pattawee, commonly Pi, and he’s nothing like any crush Mork’s ever had before. He often spots Pi in conversation with another boy, occasions which generally end in elbows thrown into each other’s chests or Pi dragged down into a headlock. Pi’s raucous laughter imprints upon Mork’s thoughts to prompt unbidden smiles from him, and Mork can’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed. The boys are obviously nothing more than friends, so Mork wants to hold onto the hope that Pi is single. He keeps a consistent eye on him both in class and out, and never has he seen Pi spend time with anyone else on campus. Whether or not Mork will ever stop being a loser and talk to him before he is taken by someone else remains to be seen.

     Well, they have spoken, per se, though not at any great length. Pi favours the back row in lectures, Mork always sits nearer to the front; and half the time, Pi packs his bag in record speed and is darting from the room before Mork has even closed his notebook. All this adds up to the unfortunate fact that opportunities for Mork to ‘coincidentally’ run into Pi are pretty much nill. The one time he’d managed to run into Pi had been unfortunately literal.

     Mork had been glancing at his phone for the time and it was enough of a distraction that he’d stepped out into the hallway and directly onto Pi’s ankles. To Mork’s credit, Pi had paused in front of the door to adjust a stubborn zipper on his backpack and directly blocked Mork’s path (a miracle if Mork’s ever seen one). Rather than the usual meet-cute a romantic might expect, Pi had spun on Mork with an affronted air and hissed, “You can’t see me here?”

     “You’re in the middle of the doorway!” Mork had pointed out, his mouth moving faster than his brain. Pi snorted and spun away with a glare as though Mork was the problem here, and there ended Mork’s first and thus far last conversation with his crush. That was four months ago in February.

     By the week following Valentine’s Day, Mork begins to suspect that Pi is plotting his murder, as everywhere Mork goes, Pi appears as well. Only at the beginning of this month, Pi’s behaviour would’ve thrilled Mork. But now he recognises Pi’s comments on Mueang Nan’s Instagram, and he can see that Pi’s giddy attention slides right past Mork to Mueang Nan. If he deigns Mork with a look, it’s one of disdain and annoyance, at best. Mork doesn’t have to be a genius people-reader to know that his crush… is crushing on his closest friend.

     Mueang Nan doesn’t know, of course. He assumes everyone is just incredibly friendly, so any special treatment he receives tends to go over his head. Pi’s also never spoken to Mueang Nan in real life, likely similar to Mork’s own inability due to general nerves. It’s sort of surprising to Mork, considering Pi doesn’t come across as someone afraid of anything or wont to give in to anyone’s demands. But for as much as he trails after Mueang Nan (and by extension, Mork), Pi hasn’t yet said a word, and neither has Mork about his true feelings.

     Hands shoved in his pockets, Mork is just entering the building for a morning class when he hears murmuring from a nearby hallway. He pauses in his steps to look and —

     “It doesn’t sound sincere,” Pi complains to himself. “Nan, I know you like choux cream desserts…” The dentistry student is stood there with a box in his hands and talking to the wall. Mork would say that’s the strangest thing he’s seen Pi do, but that’d be a lie.

     Their last spoken interaction hadn’t been the greatest and, since then, Pi’s only ever shot daggers via sneer Mork’s way, his certainty that Mork wants to ‘steal’ Mueang Nan of no help on that end. Maybe choosing to sit back silently isn’t helping either. If Pi already dislikes him so vehemently, what’s a little teasing going to hurt?

     “I know you like them,” he says near Pi’s ear, “so I stole some for you.”

     Mork comes to find within moments that it can go very badly, actually. He ends up alone in the hallway, his handkerchief covered in clotted dessert cream, and asking why luck has screwed him once again. (Probably his attempt at a joke is what screwed him, but he’s going to ignore that for now.)

     Pi is insistent that Mork is out to get him, so convinced as he is that Mork’s goal in life is to destroy Pi’s, but Mork knows he can’t let this go. Pi is already thoroughly blinded himself against Mork to the extent that there’s really no way Mork could tell him the truth and be taken with sincerity. Anything he says is seen as a dig, so how can Mork help if Pi doesn’t trust him? He isn’t about to out his best friend, but Mueang Nan isn’t interested in dating or anything of the sort. He’s always kind to Pi because that’s who he is, and he’s never one to decline a new friend, but… this won’t have the happy ending Pi has been hoping for.

     If Pi continues down this road, Mork knows he’s only going to be hurt and disappointed until the day he’s honest with Mueang Nan and met with the truth of why. And if Pi’s going to be hurt, which Mork would never want, maybe he can put in some effort to… redirect his affection? It’s sort of self-serving, but Mork will say instead that he’s baking two pies with one oven: make Pi like him and thereby willingly move on from Mueang Nan, never having to be hurt at all.

     He recalls Pi’s doe-eyed gaze behind his glasses that morning and thinks that maybe there’s a chance. Once he really knows Mork, maybe he’ll be swayed. Maybe.

     Mork has to give thanks to Mueang Nan’s obsession with posting status updates because tonight’s brings about another miracle: Pi comes to the club. Mork knows he’s there for Mueang Nan, but if he intercepts him on the way in, who’s going to call him on that?

     He hangs back for a moment as the bouncer gives Pi a quirked, disinterested eyebrow. He can’t blame him entirely when Pi’s wearing his shirt tucked in with worn-out sneakers, but as always, Mork finds Pi’s authentic personality charming. He throws an arm over Pi and revels in the feeling of his classmate brushing his waist, again when he pivots Pi away from an oncoming tray of drinks. And there again are Pi’s wide eyes on him, making Mork almost forget that they’re in a hallway that smells mostly of stale smoke and strangers.

     He takes pictures of Mueang Nan and Pi to be helpful and show the latter that he is in support of, not against, Pi’s crush, because that’s the truth even if it isn’t the whole truth. He stands beside Pi at the table; one, because he wants to and two, as further proof that he isn’t the one here with a crush on Mueang Nan. Mork thinks that it’s going perfectly fine until Pi shoots him a look full to the brim with something too close to dejected for Mork’s liking before fleeing the scene.

     He finds Pi in a pile of garbage beside the dumpster, and his heart jumps where it hides behind his ribs. How the hell had this happened in the two minutes Pi had been away from them? But when Mork tries to express his sincere sympathy, Pi just snaps, “You convinced Mueang Nan to take pictures with me because you want people to look down on me!” and Mork’s at a loss. That can’t be possible. Who in the world could look down on someone as unapologetically obstinate as Pi?

     “People look down on you? Who?” Mork asks, sure that if he had names he’d clear up this misunderstanding. If ‘clearing up’ entails his beating them into the concrete and/or possibly suing for slander, that’s his prerogative.

     But Pi just shoves him off and leaves in a cloud of anger, on his face the very hurt that Mork had planned to avoid. Instagram proves Pi’s point to a devastating degree. Pi is seen as pathetic, like he said. Pi. Loud, courageous Pi… who acts out to avoid being confronted as the timid loser everyone sees him as.

     Later that night, his washed handkerchief hanging between his fingers, it occurs to Mork that he might not be as good at reading people as he thought.

     “I’m sorry, Pi.”

[argylemnwrites]

Fight or Flight - Chapter 1: Flee

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (Book 3, Chapter 1... just kidding. I wish, though)

Word Count: ~3300

Rating: R (language only)

Summary: Riley knows what needs to be done.

Author’s Note: So, maybe TRH3 will interest me if we get something like this... but we won’t. This is an AU (not officially yet, but undoubtedly this won’t be the path PB takes) that picks up immediately after the end of TRH2. I don’t know if I’ll play around any more in this universe or not, but I had a lot of fun exploring how Riley Liu would actually react to everything that unfolded. This wasn’t exactly what I envisioned when I started writing this piece, and it probably won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but I like how this turned out, and I hope some of you can enjoy it. Thanks to @shz256 for asking me to tackle this topic! I don’t know if this will be how you envisioned it or not, but it’s where these characters led me.

Riley felt as if things were happening in slow motion, but as if time was somehow passing by faster than normal, too. She could barely catch her breath, trying to follow the discussion about ancient, unused statutes that would somehow take her daughter from her. She needed to listen, to understand, to pay attention, but it was hard not to be overwhelmed by panic. They were trying to take her baby.

It felt like a horror movie, so surreal and shocking, listening as Landon and Kiara, two people she trusted, pronounced her an unfit mother. Kiara, who was always direct with her, who had never been dismissive or involved in a scheme against her. Until now, apparently. And Landon, who she admired, who she knew Drake looked to as a model on how to be a member of the nobility with some common sense. Well, fuck ‘em.

Fuck all of it. Fuck this country and it’s stupid backwater practices. Fuck social seasons and childhood betrothals and and apple themed everything. Fuck her child being heir to the throne. Fuck Liam for asking. Fuck Drake for convincing her to agree. Fuck being a duchess. Just… fuck. She never wanted her life to look like this, her daughter a political figure before she took her first steps, expected to bear the burden of the crown. She knew what she had to do. She would die before they took her daughter from her.

There was exactly one person who she could trust who was also in a position to help her. As she wrapped her arms around Bridget, holding her close, her eyes darted around the room frantically. Olivia was already on her feet, coming to stand next to Liam, who was now apparently debating the finer points of this fucking law. Widening her eyes and staring her down, Riley was able to get her attention. Olivia tilted her head down slightly in acknowledgement, sliding back a half step and turning her head partially to the side so that Riley could whisper in her ear without drawing too much attention.

“I need you to slow them down,” was all she breathed out before pivoting on her heel. The door was only a few feet away. With the element of surprise and Olivia defending her, she could get out of here. Make a run for it. The main gate was out with all the press and citizens there, but if she could find the back driveway that Drake had told her-”

A hand on her shoulder tugged her back around before she’d even fully taken a step, sharp red nails digging painfully into her skin.

“What the fuck are you doing?” hissed Olivia, taking advantage of the fact that Liam and Barthelemy had both stepped closer to each other, raising their voices ever so slightly, though nowhere near loud enough to be considered yelling, to serve as a small distraction. Even still, she and Olivia didn’t go completely unnoticed. Both Drake and Hana were watching the two of them closely, Drake clearly torn between stepping over to join her and staying where he was and not drawing any more attention to her conversation. Maxwell just seemed lost and in shock, standing off to the side, staring at his fingers. And Kiara had glanced their way briefly, but quickly flicked her eyes back to the brewing confrontation between Liam and Barthelemy. Everyone else seemed to be ignoring them.

“I’m getting the fuck out of here before they take my baby,” Riley ground out, her voice breaking slightly at the end, sliding her hand over the back of her daughter’s head as she started squirming. It was hard to soothe her when she felt like she might throw up if she had to stay here a second longer.

“Calm down. We need a better plan than-”

“I don’t fucking have time, Olivia. I have to go. Now.”

Olivia sighed, then pulled a small blade from a hidden pocket near her waist and slid it into Riley’s hand, “My driver is out front. Ray. Show him I gave you this, and he will take you to the Lythikos keep.”

“No, I need to get out of Cordon-”

“Riley, take Bridget there. You will be safe. Lythikos will not tolerate a Beaumont-led invasion. The citizens will take up arms before that happens.”

“I can’t risk that. I need-”

“You need more of a plan than just running on foot. You know I’m right, so go tell Hana that you are going to go change Bridget’s diaper. Then calmly walk out of here and straight to my town car.”

Riley knew further discussion would be pointless, and she was just wasting time. Fighting every urge in her body that told her to just bolt, she took those few painful steps closer to the assholes who were trying to take her child so she could tell Hana they were stepping out for a diaper change. Hana squinted slightly, clearly not sure why she was being told this info over Drake, but nodded. Riley could feel Drake staring at her, practically boring a hole into the back of her head with his gaze, but she couldn’t worry about him right now. Her daughter had to be her priority.

She strode calmly to the back of the room. Olivia passed her the diaper bag and gave her a nod as she heard Barthelemy cry out, “Duchess Riley, where are you going?” but Riley just kept walking. She couldn’t risk looking back. She caught Hana’s calming voice start to explain, and all she could do was hope that would be enough and that everyone would buy it. 

She kept her arms wrapped around Bridget as tight as she could, striding down the hall and through the entryway. She wanted to bolt, run straight through those doors, but she didn’t know if she could trust anyone at the palace right now. She had no idea if they had heard gossip and knew what was coming or if they were about to feel as blindsided as her. 

“Babababa!” Bridget babbled excitedly at a pair of guards that were stationed near the front doors, squirming wildly in Riley’s arms.

“Shh, Peanut. You gotta stay with Mama right now,” Riley murmured into her hair as she adjusted her grip on her daughter. She nodded at the guards as she passed through the palace doors, hoping they just assumed she was stepping out because her child was being disruptive. She was sure she looked anxious, though, and the only reason she wasn’t visibly trembling was because of how tightly she was holding Bridget.

She heard a few cheers from what was left of the crowds that had gathered outside the gates to see the arrival of all of Cordonia’s nobility for the start of the Social Season, but she couldn’t worry about them at that moment. She squinted in the sunlight, scanning the drive for Ray, finally spotting him pacing next to a town car maybe a couple hundred feet away, tucked around a bend in the drive that limited its visibility from the front gates. She realized he was smoking while he read something on his phone as she got closer, propelled forward by pure adrenaline. He didn’t glance up at her until she was only a dozen or so feet away, likely not expecting anyone to be approaching him for a while. When he realized she was walking toward him, he quickly shoved his phone in his pocket and stood up straight.

“Your Grace, can I help you?” Ray asked as she closed the rest of the distance between them, dropping his cigarette to the gravel and snuffing it out with the heel of his shoe. Bridget tucked her head into Riley’s shoulder and clutched at her collar. She didn’t like being around strangers, probably a side effect of all the galas and balls and shindigs she’d already been forced to attend. It made Riley feel guilty that she had let things get this far before she took any action, having already subjected her daughter to so much she didn’t deserve.

Riley unclentched her fist just slightly, trying to show Ray what Olivia gave her, but her hands were shaking more and more as the reality of her plan set in, plus she was reluctant to loosen her grip on Bridget even slightly. “Olivia told me that you would drive me where I need to go if I showed you this,” she said, her voice quivering slightly as she finally flashed him the razor thin knife Olivia had given her. Ray jerked his head up when he saw it, staring at Riley for a few tense seconds before scanning the palace behind her. Riley chanced looking back. No one had followed her out here… yet.

“Of course, ma’am. Where are we heading today?”

Riley took a deep breath. She knew what she needed to do. “Ray, do you know the closest border?”

He didn’t react to her question with any shock or surprise, just glanced up as if he were recalling a map in his mind. “The closest from the capital would be the Auvernese border, but I am guessing that does not suit your needs.”

“No, not exactly.”

“Well, The Greek border is probably the next closest.”

“Perfect. That’s where we’re going.”

Ray nodded and moved to open the door for her, but stopped suddenly. “Are you and Her Royal Highness the only passengers today?” he asked, eyes locked over her shoulder in the direction of the palace doors.

Riley nodded, letting her eyes flutter shut and taking a deep breath as she gripped Bridget tighter with her left arm, sliding Olivia’s knife into her grasp better. She was ready to do what she needed to do.

“So the Duke of Valtoria won’t be making this trip with you?” At Ray’s second question, Riley’s eyes flew open and she spun around in shock. There was Drake, essentially power walking across the drive, head jerking back behind him repeatedly.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Well, I will be in the driver’s seat, ma’am. Whoever gets in the car with you I can take, unless you tell me ‘hit it, Ray,’ alright? If you tell me that, I’ll remove anyone who isn’t you and the princess. Does that suit?”

Riley just nodded weakly. This morning, she could have never pictured a time where she would possibly be making plans without Drake. Plans in opposition to Drake potentially. But she wasn’t sure how he was going to feel about this. About abandoning Liam and their friends and their country in a time of crisis. But she needed to protect her daughter, whether her husband was on board with that plan or not.

“What are you doing out here? They’re going to get suspicious.” she asked as soon as he was close enough that she could keep her voice low. Bridget squirmed in her arms, reaching for Drake and calling excitedly for “Dada,” but Riley kept a tight hold on her. She couldn’t let go of her daughter for anyone at the moment.

Drake opened his left hand, revealing a tube of diaper cream. “Olivia nicked it from the bag and dropped it on the floor so I would have an excuse to go after you. We gotta get going, though.”

“We?”

“Olivia just told me we’d be under her protection at the Lythikos keep and that we’d discuss details later, so on the drive, if you could fill me in on anything else you know, that would be great, Walker.”

Drake moved to open the car door, but Riley shook her head, a few of the tears she’d been fighting starting to trickle down her cheeks as she clutched Drake’s arm, halting him.

“Drake…” 

He took one look at her and grasped both her shoulders tightly, dropping a light kiss to her temple, “It’s gonna be okay, Riley. I’m not going to let anything happen to you or Bridget. But we gotta get out of here. The sooner we enter her duchy, the better.”

“Drake, I’m not taking Bridget to Lythikos,” she croaked out, opening her eyes and taking in his expressions as he tried to understand what she was saying.

“Olivia said-”

“I know. Olivia doesn’t know.”

Drake swallowed roughly before he spoke again, “So where-”

“Greece is apparently the best option from here.”

Another rough swallow, “Did you have any plans to tell me you were running away and taking our daughter to a foreign country?” His voice had a harsh edge to it, but he wasn’t livid yet. But Riley knew it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge. Not today.

“Drake, I just… I can’t stay and… I would have gotten word to you. I just can’t risk them getting their hands on her. I have to keep her safe.” Riley knew she was rambling, but she just wanted him to understand. It wasn’t about him, it was about doing everything she could to keep her daughter. Hell, there were all those stories about women who lifted cars by themselves to save their babies. Going to hide out in a different country was nothing compared to that.

“Riley, listen to me. This is insane,” Drake kept holding onto her shoulders tightly, but his voice was more desperate, pleading, needy than it had been mere seconds earlier. “We don’t have any luggage or our passports or any of Bridget’s things. If we flee, this gets ten times worse. Come with me to Lythikos. We’ll fight this from there. All of us.”

“What do you mean, all of us?”

“Liam, Hana, Maxwell, Olivia - everyone. Barthelemy right now is in there trying to strip Liam of his title, and I’m no legal scholar, so I have no idea if he has any leg to stand on here. But together we can fight this coup. We will fight this coup.”

Riley just shook her head, tears falling more and more rapidly now. She’d known he would see this as a national matter. But she just couldn’t. Not anymore. “I’m done, Drake.”

“Done?” he pulled back, jerking his hands off her shoulders as if they had scalded him.

“Done being a duchess. Done letting my kid be used as a pawn in fucking political games. Done trusting Liam to sort this out, just waiting for the next shoe to drop. Because the next shoe always drops, Drake. Blackmail and assassins and foreign invasions have been constant, and I’ve haven’t even been here three years! I’m done with Cordonia. I’ve given them enough. I’m not giving them my daughter.”

“Ri-” Drake started, but the words kept flowing out of Riley, all the anger and hurt and fears and struggles just bubbling out, no longer shoved away and ignored.

“This was never supposed to be us! We were never supposed to be raising the heir to the throne! I’m not cut out for this, but I tried. I tried when Liam asked for our kid. I tried when my entire pregnancy was a media circus. I tried when my daughter’s future looked like it was going to be tied up in a foreign marriage alliance. But I am done trying, Drake. Because now they are trying to take my child from me, and I refuse to risk becoming my mother.”

She let out a ragged breath, trying to calm herself. She didn’t have time to get into all this, not now. She needed to be on the road, putting as much distance between her daughter and those asshats and douche nozzles as possible. “I am doing what I need to do to keep my daughter by my side. And if you need to stay and fight this coup, I get it. But Bridget is not going to stay in this country a second longer than she has to, and there is nothing you can say to change my mind.”

Drake just stared at her and Bridget for a few agonizing seconds before nodding at her. “Okay. Yeah… okay.”

Riley tensed slightly at that response, not sure how to interpret his words, but after a moment, Drake continued, “So, we better get going,” tilting his chin towards the town car behind her. “He onboard with the change of plan?”

A little sob escaped Riley as relief washed over her and she sagged forward against Drake’s chest, comforted by the strong, solid arms that immediately wrapped around her and Bridget. She’d been ready to do this alone, she really had. But Drake wasn’t going to let that happen. He hadn’t really let her face much alone since she’d first set foot on Cordonian soil, an impulsive New Yorker with no idea what she was in for. He’d had her back long before he loved her, long before he liked her even. And even now, years later, it still felt like a blessing she never could have expected.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into her hair, “I’ve got you both.”

Riley let out a rough sigh, raising one hand to wipe away the tears still spilling down her cheeks. “Thank you, Drake.”

“Riley, I told you - I’m not gonna let anything happen to you or Bridget. Got it?”

She nodded, pulling back in his arms to meet his gaze and offer him the best smile she could muster. 

“Good. But we need to hit the road. This is already a long “diaper change,” and someone is bound to go looking for us,” he said, taking a step towards the car, sliding his arms from Riley’s back to grab Bridget who had twisted on her hip to grab onto Drake’s shirt. This time, Riley let him take her from her. “Before I put my foot in my mouth in there, I need to know what Ray knows.”

“He thinks Olivia is having him take me wherever I want to go.”

“Got it. You set?” he asked, opening the door for her with one hand as he bounced Bridget on his hip slightly.

“Yeah,” she responded, sliding into the back seat of the town car. Drake was seconds behind her, and as soon as he closed the door behind him, Ray twisted around to face them.

“Ready, Your Graces?”

Riley clutched Drake's hand on the seat next to her and gave Ray a little nod, “Yup. Same plan.”

“Excellent. Just knock if you need anything,” Ray said, turning back to face forward, starting the car and raising the privacy divider between the driver’s and back seats. 

Within seconds, the car was rolling forward. Bridget was babbling, patting her chubby little hands against the window. She loved car rides so much. Drake, on the other hand, sat rigidly straight, staring out the window with her, but clearly just as anxious as Riley that they weren’t even going to make it off the palace grounds without getting stopped. But they barely paused for a few seconds at the guard station before the gates swung open and they turned onto the main road.

Riley let out a massive sigh of relief and Drake closed his eyes and tipped his head back, also letting out a rough breath as he gave her hand a squeeze. As they picked up speed, distancing themselves more and more from the palace, Riley leaned over to rest her head on Drake’s shoulder, smiling up at him as he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her. He dropped a long kiss on her forehead before pulling back and nodding at her, slowly and surely. For now, they were safe, and they were together. It was a good first step.

Permatag:  @walkerswhiskeygirl   @riley--walker  @bebepac @ravenpuff02 @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5  @mfackenthal  @thequeenofcronuts  

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @ao719 @mskaneko @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @axwalker @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @dcbbw @yaushie

Drake x MC: @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria  @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @notoriouscs  @drakesensworld​

[katelynn-a-fan]

Sleepless Nights and Broken Promises (3)

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Word count: 3819!!!!!!!

Deceit caught Virgil as he slumped over, limp from the sword to the gut.

He looked into Virgil’s unconscious face with disbelief and shock. 

Virgil… saved him... saved… Deceit...

Everyone stood stock still in silence for a moment at the shock of what just happened. But then Righ-Moral-Patton broke the silence with a way too small sounding “Virgil?”

That seemed to break everyone out of their shock and a bunch of things happened at once, most of which Deceit couldn’t pay attention to as he searched for any sign of life in his form- no still his  best friend’s face. Though maybe more if Virgil was truly truthful in what he said.

Logan came over to where Deceit had Virgil, not caring about the relationship between them as Dark Side and Light Side, just coming over to help his friend. Patton too darted towards Virgil, cradling his head as he settled down beside  Deceit where he held Virgil.

Roman, however, pulled the sword from Virgil’s body, frozen for a moment of shock at what had just occurred. But after a fleeting moment of shock, his expression turned to utter and complete rage as he looked up to face Deceit, meeting him right in the eyes. Neither of the other two sides seemed to notice as they fretted over Virgil in Deceit’s arms.

“No! Virgil are you alright! Can you speak?” Logan asked, immediately starting to administer first-aid to Virgil’s unconscious body.

“My sweet Stormcloud, please wake up!” Patton pleaded with Virgil’s peaceful face, smoothing Virgil’s hair out of his face.

Deceit froze in fear as Roman stared daggers into his soul, he vaguely heard Logan telling him to “Put Virgil down please, Deceit.” His arms however, did the opposite as he pulled Virgil closer to himself, not heeding the other two sides protests.

“Deceit, please, we need to help him, he’s dying!” Patton pleaded with Deceit, not that he took any stock in Patton’s words, only knowing that Patton was being honest.

“Deceit, you need to let Virgil go or we can’t help him, please, be sensible!” Logan desperately asked Deceit, tugging at one of the arms encircling Virgil. Deceit didn’t pay him any mind as the fear of Roman drowned out any energy to even register their pleas.

Roman took this opportunity to declare, brandishing a blood soaked sword with Deceit best and first true  friend’s blood being the blood covering it, “Fiend! You’ve brainwashed our friend to protect you! You even made him think that he loves you! I don’t know how you’ve managed this, but rest assured it will not stand! I should kill you right now for even daring to touch him!”

“No, I- stop-” Deceit spluttered, failing to call back that cool facade he so easily conjured usually in the face of surprising situations. But in this situation, no one could really be that composed. Unless of course, you were Creativity, as he called upon his sickening persona within a moment’s notice. Deceit inwardly gagged, which was impressive as he lived with the living embodiment of inward gagging in the form of Remus on a daily basis.

Deceit realized he had become distracted by his thoughts and suddenly snapped back to reality, realizing at some point Virgil had been extracted from his arms. He saw Logan and Patton working on him a few feet away. Deceit scrambled towards them, finally getting back onto his feet.

But Roman stepped in front of them, coming nose to nose with Deceit. Deceit could see every pore on his face and felt the heat of Roman’s anger as well as it’s dishonesty. It was the one thing Roman could never change, Deceit always knew when he was putting on a show for the others. The air always tasted sour and Roman’s body language never matched what he was saying.

Deceit launched himself at Roman, not caring now about telling the truth to them as Roman was getting in Deceit’s way of keeping his promise to Virgil. He needed to get to Virgil, he needed to protect him, to make up for his failure to keep their first promise. Roman was now an obstacle between him and that goal. In fact he was the reason Virgil was dead now, so Deceit didn't care about holding back anymore as he launched himself fist first into Roman’s jaw.

I hate you, you’re a monster and everyone should know! Fuck you! Deceit screamed in his mind, not even knowing if he was just thinking it or speaking it.

“Gah!! Oh, you motherfu- fiend!” Roman shouts, drawing his sword with one hand as he cups the blow on his jaw with the other and glancing at Patton as he was about to swear. Deceit got into a defensive position and got ready for Roman’s retaliation. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of silver, but he was too slow to react in time.

Suddenly without warning, Deceit felt a sharp pain in his head, his hand coming up sluggishly to touch it in vague curiosity. Distantly, he felt his arms relax and his body slump forward as his world went black.

Ow...

Deceit’s last full thought was wondering how they thought Remus was so bad when they had someone so much worse constantly with them as his vision tunneled in. He swore he heard someone curse and gasp as his awareness fully faded.

-

Someone prodded his face. He swatted their hand away.

“Dee Dee! Wake up! It’s time to wake up!” A familiar and excited voice exclaims.

“Warm…” Deceit replies, bundling himself more in his thick comforter, trying to float back into that mind-numbing warmth and go back to sleep.

But as the comforter was yanked off of him and he got an overwhelming burst of cold cold cold cold COLD, he was forced to curl into himself as he immediately began to shiver at the cold that overwhelmed his senses.

“An-an-an-anxiety! I to-told you not to-to pull off the covers to wake me up! You know I’m cold-blooded! It’s very unpleasant to wake up cold like that!” Deceit reprimanded a bouncing Virgil on his bed, fistfuls of his comforter in his grasp.

The two Sides looked around 18, with Anxiety being particularly smaller in size, if just a few inches shorter right then, but still share the same resemblance in age.

“I know! I just really want to have some breakfast! I’ve been really anxious I’m gonna starve lately.” Anxiety replied with a slight pout.

Deceit snatched the comforter from Anxiety’s grasp and pressed it to himself, savoring the warmth it brings before sighing exasperatingly and groaning, “Ok, fine! I’m up!”

Deceit swung his legs over the edge of the bed, letting them fall naturally to rest on the floor before pushing himself up. First things first he slipped on his heavy outerwear for the day that served the function similar to the comforter during the night. Even the undergarments he wore every moment of the day and night would cause other Sides to sweat if they wore anything close to what he wore. Not to mention the heavy outfit and cape that insulated him to feel almost hot in the mindscape.

Anxiety had tried on Decet’s coat more than once before and the last time he had almost fainted from overheating within just 2 minutes. Deceit kept his coat far away from Anxiety’s curious hands after that, though Anxiety seemed wary of it anyway as he had been out of commision for 12 hours due to heat stroke, throwing up, being really fatigued among other symptoms. Namely, a hefty bit of disorientation.

Anxiety thought Deceit was a turtle for 3 hours because of his bulky clothes and actually tried to climb back into Deceit’s coat, thinking ‘the turtle's shell leads to salvation’, without a second thought of what had gotten him like he was, was the coat itself. Throughout the ordeal, however, Anxiety’s anxiety seemed to have increased tenfold, he spooked himself a number of times with his own breathing for instance. Deceit thought Anxiety would never stop shaking with how much he was trembling for so long as he recovered.

Despite his complete and utter cautiousness with the other Sides, Anxiety always seemed to put himself into situations that left him hurt or vulnerable enough for the other Sides to possibly hurt him.

That’s why he had cut them off, among other reasons, namely Creativity, from the other Sides, the Sides that Thomas embraced, however flawed they actually were.

Deceit had cut them off from the other Sides, embracing that Dark part of the Mindscape as he had seen when he had first met Anxiety, though vague early memories told him that every Side had emerged from the ‘Darkness’ of Thomas’s mind when they came to be.

That didn’t mean that other Sides couldn’t come there, that just meant that one had to willingly want to enter their part of the Mindscape by sinking down and rising up in their domain.

Deceit was never one to turn up a chance of shenanigans with the other Sides, though he was definitely more covert about his strategy. Deceit was one for social manipulation, to impersonate other Sides and begin a fight between them and watch as they squabbled. Anxiety however, was not secret at all about his influence and would hide in places where Deceit honestly would wonder how he had gotten there and then spook whatever Side happened upon him first, relishing the fear it sparked in them.

More than once Deceit had to force Anxiety to sink down as Creativity would never hesitate to brandish his sword if he was the unlucky target of Anxiety’s antics.

But Deceit wasn’t thinking about that as he ruffled Anxiety’s hair as he went by, eliciting an impassioned “Hey!” from Anxiety.

-

Deceit heard voices that sounded like they were far off in the distance, they sounded concerned, talking in hushed tones. Deceit felt so cold, had he taken off his coat? He didn’t remember. He felt a hand swiping over his knuckles, though that sensation too felt miles away. One of the voices started to sound really angry and Deceit groaned, trying to see what was happening, but his body felt like it was sinking down through the floor and he felt so tired….

-

Deceit rolled his eyes as he exited his room into the hallway to their personal common room, his and Anxiety that is.

But just as he felt a true smile alight his face, a sound that didn’t come from Anxiety back in Deceit’s room behind him  put him immediately on edge.

Anxiety was immediately by his side, clinging to his bulky sleeve, like all those years ago when they were together but alone with the others in those first days they’d know each other.

Anxiety started to shake in the way that Deceit knew his thoughts were racing uncontrollably like when he was building into a panic attack. “What’s that? You think its-”

Deceit put a gentle gloved hand over Anxiety’s mouth, silencing him, but immediately removed it as Anxiety knew panicking was not wise in this situation. Anxiety just couldn’t help it sometimes, and Deceit understood that.

Deceit had finally discovered that he could force Sides to stay quiet. He had been doing it subconsciously for years. The occasional speechlessness other Sides had experienced when they had had heated arguments with Deceit made sense now, he had been silencing them without realizing it or consciously meaning to.

He had a particularly heated argument with Morality about how he was making Thomas miserable worrying him sick about what other people and his teachers thought of him and how he had to have good grades. Morality had said that his parents wanted Thomas to get good grades and that he should care about his classmates because they were all part of the class.  Deceit argued that constantly focusing on others neglected Thomas and Thomas needs at least some time without focusing on others, even in school.

Morality had retaliated saying, “That’s wrong! Having Thomas just think about himself is wrong! It’s selfish!”

Deceit had roared back, saliva spraying towards his verbal opponent, “What’s selfish is that you think everyone needs Thomas when they have their own lives. Thomas is his own person and just like you might think it would be good for other people to indulge in a mental health day, Thomas needs that too!”

And when Deceit looked at Morality’s face to gage his reaction, it was suddenly too much, Deceit was furious and his anger boiled over. Morality opened his mouth to speak, face full of indignation and an anger or frustration all his own.

And Deceit just snapped.

“No! Be quiet! You’re wrong! You’re wrong! You never let me be! Just SHUT UP!” Deceit had erupted, pulling at his hair before pulling his hat off his head and squashing it with both hands before gesturing in a way that felt natural and foreign at once, feeling a new sensation through his connection to Thomas. He felt angry tears roll down his face as his anger-filled exclamation finished.

Suddenly, Morality’s hand had come up and covered his mouth, stunning Morality and stunning Deceit so much that he lost all his anger and forgot what his next point was.

Deceit, being the Side he was, had recovered his composure first, smirking as he remarked, “Hypo-allergenic cat got your tongue? Or have you finally realized that Thomas isn’t the goody two shoes you’re so stubborn to believe he is?”

But much to Deceit’s surprise, and Deceit was rarely so surprised, much less twice in thirty seconds, Morality didn’t even try to remove his hand from his mouth, he had just muffledly shouted something through his fingers.

“Um… Morality, just take your hand off your mouth and then speak.” Deceit had instructed Morality, dumbfounded as to why Morality wasn’t doing that to begin with.

Morality had then looked at Deceit incredulously, like there was some insult thrown by Deceit through that simple suggestion or something.

“What? What’s so hard about removing your hand? You just…” Deceit had mimed placing his hand over his mouth and then removing it, waiting for Morality to do the same.

Morality had a sudden expression of realization and then started rapid-fire gesturing with his other hand at the hand covering his mouth.

Deceit could barely keep up with the gestures Morality was making, but when he caught a gesture and a pointer finger at him and then to where Morality was covering his mouth with his hand, it clicked.

“Wait… I’m doing that? Fuck! Oh, shit sorry! I mean…” Deceit had spluttered as he naturally cursed in realization, forgetting Morality’s great dislike of swears. Even if they disagreed, Deceit had never been one to be outright rude to disregard some etiquette of mutual respect. Deceit had then gathered himself for the 3rd time in 2 minutes and then concentrated, trying to undo whatever he did to Morality, feeling out that foreign sensation.

For a moment as he had felt out the sensation, he feared he wouldn’t be able to reverse what he had caused, but Morality's surprisingly gentle voice pulled his eyelids back open.

“Deceit, it’s alright, you’ve stopped whatever happened, just breathe.” Morality had gently cooed.

When had he curled up on the floor, when had his breathing become so difficult, when had the darkness behind his eyes as well as the room itself gotten tinged a shade of red at the edges?

Oh, I’m having a panic attack. Fun.

Those had been the last words he thought before he woke up back in his room, that oh so familiar feeling of aching, no that was too tame a word, of agony all over every inch of his body. He had to use every inch of resolve in him to not scream out like Creativity relished hearing him do in his special room, in addition to warranting more of that pai from Creativity  if any of the other Sides discovered him like that. Creativity did not like to have to explain Deceit’s... ‘accidents’ too often. It made him… cranky. And cranky Creativity was not fun to be around.

Creativity had apparently found him with Morality, promising to Morality to return Deceit to his room to wake in a calmer environment that would feel safer. Creativity, however, apparently had other plans, learning Deceit was the one that silenced him, even without knowing, all those times Creativity had ‘needed’ his voice. And Deceit’s body was the receiver of Creativity’s frustrations, whether Deceit wanted it to be or not.

But Deceit would never subject Anxiety to his muting power, all Deceit needed was that tiny gesture to both soothe and quiet Anxiety.

“Sh…” Deceit shushed Anxiety, placing a single finger gently on his own lips.

Anxiety pulled back, eyes closing as he focused on his next action. Anxiety took in a few deep, slightly shuddering breaths before looking into Deceit’s eyes and nodding grimly.

Deceit went first, going past the kitchen he had originally intended to go to after exiting his room, fists out in a combination of an offensive and a defensive position. Deceit had to be ready for either, knowing the likely cause of the disturbance.

But as he repeated the same trek down the bend of their own personal mini-Mindscape hall, he stopped short when he saw what was there.

The memories of that day with Anxiety were flashing through his mind as he saw a Side curled up on the far wall, silently crying.

Fear coiled in his stomach as he took in their attire, though strangely it looked half formed, like the Side hadn’t consolidated fully yet. The Side had a green regal attire on, with lines across the chest Deceit knew to be Creativity’s staple of his outfit, though why he chose to change costume like this wasn’t important to Deceit.

What was important to Deceit was why he was here and why he was pretending to be upset. No doubt to trick them into a trap of some sort.

Deceit was both equal measures fearful and furious, the only thing holding him back was the tentative hand gripping his from behind him.

With much less care than all those years ago with Anxiety, Deceit approached this Side in front of him he knew to be Creativity.

“Why are you here? To mock us? To try to pull me into another one of your games? Well, it won’t work, you’re in our territory now.” Deceit accused the quivering Side, not surprised at how authentic his cries were. Creativity had had plenty of time to learn new ways to cry listening to Deceit as they ‘had fun together.’

But much to Deceit’s surprise, Creativity looked up, tears in his eyes, and Deceit was overwhelmed by the truth in his expression, in fact, Deceit didn’t even sense a way there could be a lie on the Sides lips. This... wasn't that Creativity, the Creativity that had the desire to manipulate him into silence while breaking him from the inside out. The beginnings of a full blown moustache clued him in to what was truly occuring, but before he could speak the Side panicked and started to yell and scream his pleas.

“No! I’m not! He left me! He’s the one that’s bad! The others hate me because of him! He lies so much! He told me… He told me…” Green Creativity trailed off as Deceit opened his arms, face full of pure understanding and dare he hasten to call it love. He hesitated only for a moment before slamming into Deceit in a hug. Anxiety exclaimed in indignation and yelled for Creativity not to hurt Deceit, but faltered when he realized what Green Creativity was doing.

“Whoa, it’s okay, I do understand. You’re alright now, I know you’re not him. That you could never do the things he wants to do, I see it in your eyes. And you know I see people’s true intentions, their truths they would want hidden and locked away.” Deceit soothed the sobbing Side, glancing at Anxiety and giving him a small smile to go ahead.

Anxiety tentatively placed his hand on Green Creativity’s Side, but that caused the Side to wail into the crook of Deceit’s neck. “He told me that I’m what was wrong with him, that I was the one who wanted to do those things to you and the other Sides. That I was getting in the way of him being the best Creativity he could be, but he’s wrong! I don’t want to do that to you or anyone else, even if the thought crosses my mind!”

Deceit sighed softly as he felt the truth in the Side’s words, lowering them both to sit on the ground, Anxiety still standing up nearby. Deceit slowly brought Green Creativity’s head up from the crook of his neck, looking him directly in the eye with purpose.

“You are not like that other Creativity. That Creativity is a manipulative asshole that lies even more than I do and that is my job to help Thomas lie. He isn’t here.” Deceit gently but firmly said, maintaining eye contact with the other Side, relieved when he saw him calming down.

Green Creativity mumbled while dropping his eyes to look at the floor, “Morality would have a conniption hearing those words.”

Deceit smiled and brought the Side’s chin up with his hand to look him in the eyes again.

“And Morality isn’t here either, so you can say all the shitty motherfucking goddamn curse words you damn well please here.”

And for the first time, Deceit heard real laughter come from the regal Side, though even if it was now a part of that original singular regal Side. But Anxiety’s hesitant voice spoke up before either of them could continue.

“Deceit?”

“Yes, Anxiety?”

“Is this Creativity good?” Anxiety asked, looking warily at the Green Creative Side.

“He won’t hurt us, my sweet shadow friend. He wasn’t lying.” Deceit reassured Anxiety, knowing and understanding his concerns.

“Okay.”

Deceit smiled at the suddenly shy Anxiety, as the fear from before in Anxiety was mostly gone. It was quite endearing to see Anxiety so shy. Deceit was silent for a moment, looking the newly split Side over before asking, “What would you like us to call you? I suppose Creativity might not be something you would want to be referred to due to... past memories.”

Green Creativity nodded solemnly, thinking for a long moment before speaking one word.

“Remus.”

-

A voice cut through Deceit’s sleepy haze as he became semi-conscious, not really knowing where the memory stopped and reality began. He vaguely registered the words as words, but he knew their meaning. His body was still so heavy.

“Wake up!”

And really, Deceit didn’t have much of a choice.

Deceit opened his eyes.

General Taglist:

@spooky-scary-virgil @hermitcreature

Snaep Taglist:

@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @paranoidgurl @alexisrealgay @light-it-on-fire @love-support-and-cookies @blue-bis @cohesiveanxiety @solitarius-lupus14

[iiimber]

three years

aizawa x reader

word count: 945 warnings: yandere behaviors

Three years.

Three years, five months, fifteen days, twenty minutes and fifty-two seconds and counting since you left him. Since you escaped his safe hold, off into the dangerous world-- a location so unknown that not even Aizawa could figure it out.

He was good at things like that; tracking people down and getting the job done. It was apart of his job, and sometimes underground heroes like himself have to take a dirtier route to find who they’re looking for-- and it usually worked. Because it always worked for him.

Except this time, it didn’t. You had escaped and disappeared without a trace, existence whisked away like a cool breeze of air in a scalding month of summer. It scared him, made him anxious in ways he had never felt before. Aizawa had always been able to find some way to keep himself calm and steady in moments of panic, but this situation was different. So different.

He had designed this with no way for you to get out. His plan was so meticulously crafted over months-- years of watching and planning, getting to know you and getting you to trust in him that when he did s a v e you, you wouldn’t be as scared as you would with a stranger.

But somehow you weaved your way out of his beautiful (now, destroyed) web. Now you were gone without a trace and Aizawa felt helpless. There was a hole in his heart, a disrupted part of his life that he was slowly loosing hope in ever getting back. It made him feel pathetic and small-- you had always made him feel strong and important, and while he had never really cared much about the need for love in one’s life, you made him realize that life was useless without it.

How can he live without you now? Three years and he was getting worse; patrolling the streets in search of you much longer than any unease in the city, researching and sorting through files and social media in hopes that would be something. One small breadcrumb, even a hint the size of a grain of sand would do. Anything, anything that would lead him to you.

He had thought of travelling, and he would-- would go everywhere in the world to find you again, but his everyday life was much too structured to just put on the shelf and leave. It would be too suspicious...until now. It had been a long shot, but he had free time during the summer and it was the only thing resembling a hint to your whereabouts. It was smaller than a grain of sand-- but it was something.

“I haven’t been to the mountains since I was probably a toddler,” You had told him and others one night, drinking in a low-lit bar after school hours. You looked angelic in the hazy lights and heavy eyes from the alcohol. No one else could appreciate that sight as much as he had. “But I’ve seen family photos and it’s so beautiful! I want to go back someday soon, maybe if I have my own family.”

Your own family, his heart could’ve beaten out of his chest at that thought. Your own family-- a married life with you and small humans just the right mix of you both sounded like fate.

There was no family with you if you really were at the mountainside, you were missing him by your side-- but perhaps that would be why you were there. To throw him off, keep him from being able to feel your smooth and holy skin once more.

The mountainside town was small and quaint, family-owned shops and cobblestoned roads gave off a homey vibe. It made him feel at ease despite his growing anxiety-- dark eyes darting every which way in search of you, a sign of you. It might’ve been smart to head towards an Inn first considering how late it was getting, but he couldn't help himself but patrol.

Which, could have been an instinct-- as a voice sounded after an opening door, freezing him in his spot and making every hair on his body stand on edge. The breath that left his lips was more like a wheeze, that angelic voice like drinking water after weeks of dehydration. Perhaps that smaller-than-a-grain-of-sand hint was, in fact, worth something. 

“Come, Yamashi. We should get you home before it’s too late, you need to rest.” He stepped closer to the side of a building, slowly as to not startle you-- long strands of hair covering most of his face as he turned slightly, just enough to see you.

Crouched on the ground, a small boy stood before you. He was sniffing while you rubbed his nose with a tissue, (e/c) scanning his face cautiously as you spoke. “My poor baby...thankfully the doctor gave us some medication for you to take tonight. I’m sure you’ll feel much better after we get you home and tucked in bed.”

The small boy… hair and eyes as dark as Aizawa’s, only nodded. He had your nose, from what the man could tell from his side profile, lips pouting just like yours had when you were unsettled. He couldn’t have been more than three years, much too tiny for any older…

Your eyes, sweet and gentle lifted and met his-- dark and wide with realization. Not even the shrinking of your pupils and quick switch of loving to horror deterred Aizawa as he turned fully.

It seems like you had a head-start on your family in the mountainside, and luckily he arrived to deliver the last missing piece: himself.

[megalony]

Brothers and love- Part 2

This is a new Ben series I am working on involving a slow-burn Ben x reader and partial Gwilym x reader, I hope you will all enjoy it.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @rogahs-drowse @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me

Ben Hardy masterlist

Series masterlist

Summary: Ben’s brothers Joe and Gwilym and their dad Roger try and help him through his addictions that have stopped Ben from being able to look after his daughter. When (Y/n) becomes involved with the family, she vows to help Ben get custody of his daughter and finds herself falling for him along the way.

Enjoy.

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Crossing her legs beneath her on the sofa, (Y/n) tilted her head up to look at her boyfriend with a quizzical smile as he sat down next to her. (Y/n) started to question herself as she thought of the date and the time but she knew she was right, Gwilym should be at his dad's house now with his brothers instead of being here with her.

"What's that look for?" Gwilym questioned with narrowed eyes and a smile before he leaned over the small distance to press a kiss to her lips.

"Nothing, I just thought you'd be at your dad's today. Joe said something about Ben visiting Hazel so I presumed..." (Y/n) trailed off, wondering if she had gotten mixed up or misunderstood what Joe had told her. But she was so sure that he had said they had the family around or a few people there when Ben went to visit Hazel. It was showing support for Ben and it was safety in case he got upset or angry or tried to leave with her.

"Oh, no he's not visiting her today. Dad went to see him and he was drowning in drink so dad cancelled the visit. This happens a lot, love, we just get used to it." There was something about the way that Gwilym spoke rather calmly about all this which unsettled (Y/n), but after he spoke and hung his head down to look at his lap, it made her a bit more relieved. Gwilym wasn't as cold and uncaring as Joe seemed to make out the other day. He did care about Ben and he was unsettled about the situation his family was stranded in, even if he didn't always show it.

Something pulled at (Y/n)'s heartstrings when she thought about how Ben would have taken the news. He was so paranoid about people taking Hazel away from him that being told he couldn't see her was clearly going to be unsettling for him. Anyone could see how much Ben loved her.

"Can't we- you, do something for him? Gwil, he's lost and he just wants his daughter back. It seems so... I don't know, it just seems unfair." (Y/n) knew it wasn't exactly her place to get involved. She and Gwilym hadn't been together that long and she didn't know his family well or his history with his brothers. She only knew what she had seen and had been told but she felt a yearning to help Ben. (Y/n) knew Ben very little but she was compelled to get him clean and get his daughter back for him. If it was her in his position she would want any form of help she could get.

When (Y/n) turned her head to look at her boyfriend, he looked perplexed as he took her hand tightly in his own. Gwilym turned so he was facing her properly, leaning his arm and head against the back of the sofa as his expression looked like he was going to tell her bad news.

"I haven't given up on Ben, he's my brother and I'll never cast him out, I've just lost faith in him. It's not unfair when Ben does this to himself and then blames everyone else for his troubles. Hazel being with dad is a lot better for everyone until Ben gets his act together, keeping him away and getting him clean is all any of us can do, he has to do the rest."

Something inside of (Y/n) could understand what Gwilym was telling her because it must have been hard and draining on everyone. But it felt like there was so much more that everyone could do for Ben but they weren't even trying. The only one willing to go the extra mile was Joe but without help or support, he was limited in his actions for his brother.

"He's an addict, Gwil, no matter if he's doing this to himself, he can't help it and he needs help. If you take his daughter from him he's going to turn to something to make it feel better, he's been trapped in a cycle no one will break him out of." (Y/n) wasn't Gwilym, she didn't grow up with Ben she didn't know him as a person, she knew him as a character who had been described to her and she could see a side that no one was looking for.

An addict was someone who was in need of help, Ben may have been the one to decide to take the drugs and turn to drinking but it wasn't as simple for him to just throw out the drugs and drink water instead of alcohol. He would feel the need for what he shouldn't have and he would be tempted to get it. But if Ben was drinking or taking any sort of substance because he couldn't have Hazel back, then he was going to be trapped. He would abuse substances because he couldn't have his daughter but then be told he couldn't even see her because he was abusing. He would then cycle back to taking anything to make it feel better which was his downfall.

Ben needed to be broken out of his cycle but no one thought that was the case or saw that as a means to an end.

"(Y/n), you don't know him. He's been anxious all his life, he's been afraid unless he was doing sports or when he was on stage and that's perfectly fine and normal. But he chose to get in with the wrong crowd, he chose to take drugs and he chose to decline all the help we gave him. He walked out on dad when he tried to help him and when he had Hazel he couldn't cope at all, that was the only time he asked for help. But when dad found out he was on drugs he left instead of getting the help he needed. He doesn't want help, he physically won't accept it and then he says no one is looking out for him."

Gwilym remembered so distinctly the phone call he had received from his dad saying that Ben had left high on drugs with Hazel in his arms because he thought Roger was going to take her away from him. Roger would never turn any of his kids away so he helped Ben but when Ben's mental health started to suffer he tried to go back home with Hazel because he knew no one was going to want him looking after her. Then when she was taken from him he spiralled so far down no one could see him anymore.

"Being forced to accept help and asking for it are two different things, maybe the help he was given wasn't the one he needed and now he's asking for what he needs, no one is going to care. Gwil, I know he isn't my brother but-"

"Love, I can't do anything. Ben won't go to AA meetings and he won't go to rehab because then people will find out and his career will be over and we're all doing everything we can to save his name here. But with Hazel, our hands are all tied."

His career was the one thing Ben had left and he couldn't jeopardise that any more than he already had. His manager simply thought he was sick and no one had seen him or got pictures or information to say otherwise. Everyone was covering up what was happening to Ben could have a career to go back to when he got himself out of this situation and everything started to pick up. That was how Gwilym chose to help his brother.

"What do you mean?"

"Social services got involved and Ben was deemed unfit to care for Hazel so dad and Marlene have guardianship of her. It's up to them whether Ben can have scheduled visits with Hazel, not me or Joe. If Ben turns up unannounced to see Hazel they can and should turn him away and if he doesn't stick to scheduled visits then it goes against him. But if he gets clean and has visits then he can get custody of her again."

"Shouldn't social services decide the visits then and decline them instead of your dad?"

(Y/n) felt like Gwilym had just stabbed her because his hands were tied and even he was upset about this because they couldn't do anything. If Ben wasn't fit to take care of Hazel then (Y/n) understood him not having custody and she wasn't arguing over that. She was mad at the fact that Joe was right in the sense that no one was helping Ben. If they cancelled his visits to see Hazel they were going to make him worse instead of helping him and Roger or Marlene shouldn't just be able to cancel visits when they pleased.

"It's a private case, money's paid for this not to get out to the press. Dad pays enough and he has a lot of rights, social services just sign papers to say Ben can't have Hazel back yet. They visit Ben to see his living arrangements, they check on Hazel and then they're done."

"So Ben's royally fucked." (Y/n) stated more than questioned as she rolled her eyes. They had stitched Ben up well and good here even though it was done in his best interests.

When Gwilym reached out for her hand again (Y/n) shook her head, pulling her arm away as she got to her feet. Gwilym cared, but he didn't care nearly enough as he should. Joe cared too much but couldn't do very much about it and no one was prepared to do anything to get Ben out of this.

Well, (Y/n) was different, she was going to help him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A shiver ran down (Y/n)'s spine the moment she walked into the flat that smelt like a brewery. Her anxious eyes darted around the flat that she didn't think even looked habitable, trying to find the blond they were here to see.

Following her conversation with Gwilym, (Y/n) had made a call to Joe to see if he wanted any sort of help involving his brother because (Y/n) couldn't sit and stir it over in her head any longer. When people sometimes told her she was either too kind or got too involved she never thought they were right but now she knew they were. But being involved like this wasn't a bad thing because she wanted to help and being too kind to someone who got very little kindness from anyone else was never a bad thing.

"Get out." (Y/n) heard the rather gritty voice but she couldn't place where it had come from nor could she see the blond anywhere but he had to be close for him to see them. When her eyes finally found him, he looked like a disaster.

His blond curls were shining in the light from the grease of not having it washed in days, they were matted and flat against his head and they formed curtains in front of his bloodshot eyes. His face was pale with blotches of red in various places and his body was crouched like he couldn't even stand. Ben was sat on the floor leaning against the wall near to the kitchen with a bottle of whiskey in his hand that was almost empty. (Y/n) could practically see the stench of booze radiating off of him.

"Ben, buddy this is (Y/n) from the party, Gwil's girl. We're here to help-"

"Help? I spent all of Monday throwing up my guts so I could see Hazel and when dad came round yesterday, he said I couldn't go round because I smelt of booze but I hadn't had a drink in twenty-four hours! I tried and he threw it back in my face, there's no point anymore." Ben sobbed at the end of his sentence as he gripped the neck of the bottle so tightly like he wanted to suffocate it.

Ben had tried so hard. He had tried to detox himself so Roger would let him see Hazel but he couldn't help it if the smell still attached to him. It had been for nothing because now Roger had said he couldn't see Hazel for another two weeks and Ben doubted his dad would allow him round even if he was sobered up. The longer Ben spent away from her the worse temptation was and the more he feared Hazel would forget who he was.

"I'm not dad Ben and you know it. Any progress you make I will take it happily and I would let you see her if it was up to me but it isn't. You said you wanted help, so let us help you." There was a firmness to Joe's voice like he was talking to a child who was having a tantrum and (Y/n) wondered if Joe had been like another father to Ben growing up.

She knew it couldn't have been easy for Ben because he came from a broken home, he was an accident. He had two elder brothers who didn't grow up in the same home as he did and they saw their dad more than him. They had a stable home and one of them didn't want as much to do with Ben as the other.

Ben threw the bottle away from him in a moment of rage before he seemed to break right before them. His head fell down to rest in his hands as he tucked his knees into his stomach but it only made him want to be sick. Just as Joe was going to either try and comfort him or tell him to buck his ideas up, (Y/n) rested her hand on his shoulder. She silently shook her head at him before she moved over and bent down in front of Ben. She didn't know him at all, but that might just be the approach Ben needed to kickstart him into trying to get better.

"Get up." (Y/n)'s words confused Ben as he pulled his head from his hands so he could look at her. The tears falling from his eyes didn't stop but the rattling sobs leaving his lips came to a halt.

"W-what? Why are you even here, you don't know anything about me." Ben's eyes creased as he looked at her in something she could only figure was disgust and confusion. He didn't want to be mean but he didn't have the patience to be kind like he would have if he were sober and in a better state of mind.

"I'm here because I thought you wanted help getting your daughter back." There was a look of hurt on Ben's face as if (Y/n) had wounded him by insinuating that he didn't want Hazel back with him after all. "If you actually want her back, you have to do some of the work because Joe can't do everything. Social services won't let Hazel live here so this flat needs to be cleaned from top to bottom and you have to be sober to be able to see her again."

(Y/n) didn't quite know if a firm approach was something that would work with Ben right now but she was willing to try. He had to get his mind in gear no matter how much he was wallowing in his pain. The flat had to be cleaned up and presentable if Ben wanted even the smallest chance of getting Hazel back with him and he couldn't stay drunk all day and night if he wanted to see her.

"Now get up and go get a shower and put something clean on, I'll take you for coffee to sober you up and get you out of here and we can start on cleaning this place up."

Ben seemed to take (Y/n)'s words seriously or even to heart, despite not saying a word to either her or his brother. He simply disappeared down the hallway to the bathroom like he was a robot carrying out an instruction that (Y/n) didn't even think would work.

The flat needed a good spring clean, there were bottles, ashtrays, cigarettes and joints dotted everywhere and small sachets of powder that was clearly the drugs he had been smoking or taking. There were clothes scattered about, small toys and blankets and used milk bottles that must have been left from Hazel. Crumbs littered the floor along with cigarette ash and there were take out boxes piled on the table. No way would Hazel be allowed back here with her home in this state.

When Ben came out of the shower, he looked like a different person. There was more colour to his cheeks, no tears staining his face. His hair was damp but bouncing up like springs and it looked clean and the jeans and jumper he had on made him look more sociable and sober than his previous pyjama bottoms and messed up shirt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Why are you helping me?" Ben's index finger ran along the rim of the porcelain coffee cup resting in front of him. The rather large circular cup was chipped so when his finger did circles around the rim, the ridge kept catching against the pad of his finger like a scratch on a record.

He kept his eyes on the milky coffee in front of him that was like a universe in front of him that he couldn't look away from. The milk had slowly been poured into the cup and left unevenly shaped circles trying to reach the middle like a toddler had tried to draw them. He couldn't see the sugar dissolving but he could imagine the small speckles slowly evaporating and adding to the scent he was inhaling like the drugs he normally took.

Ben remembered Gwilym telling him about (Y/n) when they had last talked, he remembered being told she was kind, funny and a bit shy like him. But Gwilym hadn't said all that much about her and even when Ben met her for the first time last week at the party, he still didn't get much of an impression of her. But when they walked down to this secluded cafe round the corner from his flat, he learned a few things about her. She kept looking at him whenever their arms brushed together, her fingers were often tapping against her thigh like she had too much adrenaline and she could never keep her eyes on him or anything else for too long.

But she was clearly determined and she had a good heart if she was willing to help him when he was simply a stranger to her.

"I don't know." Her words were so sincere but Ben couldn't believe them. He was the kind of person who would help anyone out, but he would always have a reason. Even if it was simply because someone looked like they needed someone to talk to or they were lost and he thought they needed help. There had to be a reason why she was helping him.

"You don't know me, I could be a waste of space but you want to help. You have to have some sort of reason or inkling as to why you're doing this for me." Ben couldn't accept her help if he didn't know why she was helping him, it made him anxious that she didn't even know why she wanted to do this for him. She had brought him here, bought him a coffee and was already thinking about how she could help him and she was saying about how they would clean up his flat ready for any social service visits to his place.

No stranger would help out their partner's brother on a whim, especially when they knew their partner thought their brother was a lost cause.

"Joe. He's so desperate to help you and his hands are tied, if he is trying this hard to help you, then you have to be worth it. I don't like seeing people treated unjustly and you need help, I don't think I can just stand and watch." When (Y/n) lifted her eyes from her own drink, she saw the vulnerability in Ben's eyes. She saw the uncertainty and the thankfulness and the hope and the tears threatening to spill over.

(Y/n) saw the passion Joe had towards his younger brother and she knew he wouldn't try so hard for Ben if he was a lost cause or if he was a bad person or didn't deserve this. She knew Ben would be worth helping because of how Joe was acting for and towards his brother. And (Y/n) knew in herself that she hated injustice towards anyone but there was just something about how Ben was being treated that sparked a flame inside of her. She hated that he couldn't be with his child or that no one saw him how he was or his situation through his own eyes. They were all helping in the wrong way and she wanted to put this situation right if she could.

"I'm sorry if I've caused you and Gwil to argue... I don't want to get in the way." Ben didn't have to be told anything about (Y/n)'s relationship with his brother to know that he was most likely going to cause an argument. He and Gwil weren't the closest of siblings but he didn't want to be the reason (Y/n) and Gwil argued if she tried to help him.

"Who says he has to know I'm helping you?"

Maybe it was overwhelming to Ben the amount of help he was receiving after yearning for it for so long. Maybe it was the alcohol still in his system or maybe it was simply the fact that a stranger was willing to help him, but he had tears in his eyes.

"W-what if I don't deserve your help?" Ben couldn't judge himself for her but he couldn't help but worry if he was undeserving of such kindness. There were plenty of people in situations like his who had no one to help them and he couldn't help but wonder if they were more deserving of (Y/n)'s efforts than he was.

"That's for me to decide, not you." There was a kindness in (Y/n)'s tone as she reached over and gingerly took his free hand in hers. She had made the choice to help Ben and she was making the choice not to tell Gwilym because she didn't want to row with him. She was helping Ben her way and if Gwilym didn't like it then it was tough, he couldn't stop her from doing what she thought was right and what she thought was going to be a good idea.

"Gwil thought I was in with the wrong crowd, he's the kind of person who tries to do everything by the book and stay in the lines. I know I did stuff wrong but I'm not perfect like him, he thought having Hazel was a bad idea, he said me and my ex were an accident waiting to happen and he was right. But I love Hazel, I want to be a good dad, all of this, it's not me." He squeezed (Y/n)'s hand so tightly her circulation almost cut off but she said nothing because the compassion he spoke with made her heart soar.

Ben understood where his brother was coming from, Gwilym was the kind of guy who kept his head down but tried to do his best and do good and that was fine. But he thought Ben getting in with a bad crowd was something to be ashamed of or something he couldn't cope with and when Ben got with his ex Gwilym saw it as a very bad idea. They were triggers to each other and the relationship was volatile and when Hazel happened Gwilym thought it was like history repeating itself.

But Ben loved his daughter and he didn't care how she came into the world or who her mother was. He simply cared that he loved every inch of her and he wanted to be the best dad he could. Ben wanted to be like Roger or like anyone else he had seen with their kids, he wanted to be a good example but right now he was the example of what not to do.

This wasn't who Ben really was, not on the inside and Ben had to get people to see that.

"People can make mistakes, God knows I've made a few in my time. You're not human if you do everything perfectly, but me and Joe are gonna help you because we know you deserve to be back with Hazel." No one breezed through life doing everything right first time, even Gwilym had done a few wrong or bad things in his life and that was okay. No one could be perfect all the time in every single way, that was life and that was acceptable.

Ben wanted to be a good dad to Hazel and asking or help wasn't a bad thing. Now he had that help, he could turn his life in the direction he wanted it to go.

[sugamoonv]

Baby Fever

Summary: You and Jin finally decide to have a baby.

Pairings: non-idol!Jin x Reader

Word Count: 5,936

Warnings: smut, breeding kink, some angst if you squint, pregnancy, lots of fluff

 Masterlist >

Your leg was draped across Jin’s lap and his fingers were tracing indiscernible shape son your kneecaps. Your heart was beating frantically inside your chest and you kept nervously glancing at Jin’s face that was enraptured by the show playing.

Tonight, you and Jin may be taking the largest step forward in your relationship than anything else throughout your three years with him.

You sit up taller so your legs are bent over JIn’s lap and take in a deep breath.

“I want to have a baby.”

For the past four or so months, you’ve noticed yourself gazing at families and children in public, following family-oriented channels on social media, and filled with a sense of longing whenever you saw the baby section in stores. And seeing Jin and the rest of the boys interact with their younger family members conjured up scenarios of you all being a large family and them looking out for your’s and Jin’s imaginary child.

You hold your breath when Jin turns to you, fully anticipating for him to go off on why it would be a bad idea to have a baby currently. And all of his reasonings, especially his upcoming promotion, you would agree with. But it doesn’t stop the desire to want to start this next chapter in life with him.

Jin looks at you in shock for a moment as the words register in his brain. He rapidly blinks at you with wide eyes. The fact that his nervous tick is making an appearance because of you does nothing to ease your fears. Though those fears don’t stay for long as Jin’s eyes return to normal when he joyously laughs.

He takes in a few dramatic breaths, his cheeks a light pink. Jin finally calms down and softly pushes your legs off of him so that you can both fully face one another on the couch.

Jin gives you a loving, closed-lip smile and peers at you with a meaningful gaze. “You really want to have a baby?”

Your laugh is somewhere in between anxious and relieved, “Yeah.”

Jin joins in on your laughter and leans forward to press his forehead against yours. He grabs both of your hands in his then changes his mind so his hands are cupping your face in order to kiss you.

The kiss is slow and his lips are pressed heavy to yours, making smiling difficult but that doesn’t stop you nor Jin. You are both so caught up in the feelings of giddiness that you both continuously laugh into the kiss. Teeth lightly bumping onto each other’s lips. Briefly pulling away to laugh at nothing before Jin is pulling you back to him and your lips are caught in the soft plumpness of his.

Jin releases you from the kiss and gazes into your eyes with pure, unadulterated happiness.

“Let’s have a baby,” he lets out one last breathy laugh, “Let’s have a baby.”

“Really?” you beam at him.

“Really.”

Jin pushes you back so you’re laying on the couch and moves so he’s hovering over you. “I say…we start trying for one now,” he whispers mischievously and languidly moves his lips against yours. The show playing on the t.v already long forgotten.

The atmosphere between the two of you has completely changed. The air has become heavy and your skin feels hot to the touch. Jin pushes your knees apart and rests in between your legs. His hands pet down your side then back up again until they’re on your breasts as you continue kissing. You let out a quiet mewl as Jin gives a test roll of his hips into yours.

You feel the bulge of his cock straining in his jeans. Your legs tense as you slightly raise your hips to press against Jin further, the pressure on your cloth covered mound making your muscles quiver.

Jin shifts so he’s sitting on his knees. Both of you are slightly panting from the kiss. He hastily tugs his shirt over his head and you watch with hungry eyes as his toned stomach becomes exposed to you. Jin throws the shirt somewhere in the room then moves down to unbuckle his jeans. He pushes them part of the way down before he returns over you, hands gripping the edge of your shirt and lips in a blazing kiss. You greedily take in as much air as possible while Jin is distracted removing the shirt from your torso. His hands find purchase under the padding of your bra as he dives back into the kiss.

“Does that feel good?”

You whine at the way Jin teases you. It’s hard to give a straight answer when his hands are expertly kneading your breasts and your nipples are taut between his fingertips.

At your silence, he gives a particularly hard roll of your nipples. “Tell me I make you feel good.”

You arch your chest into his palms. “Yes. Fuck, you make me feel so good.”

It’s the exact encouragement Jin needed because in a flash, he’s unclasping the hooks to your bra to toss it next to the couch. You moan as Jin’s mouth replaces one of his hands. If possible, your nipple hardens even more under the attention of his tongue.

Once your breathing in heavy and you’re comfortable, Jin patiently maneuvers down to the waistband of your jeans. Before touching your stomach, he makes sure to mark the expanse of your collar bones. You let out another moan when you catch Jin peering up at you nearly between your legs and another wave of heat runs through you as you anticipate for when Jin puts out the fire.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers into your skin. You heart skips a beat and your eyes flutter shut to allow you to truly feel every sensation.

Jin’s warm hands slip under your jeans and underwear and slowly drag them down. His hands are soft but they still feel somewhat rough against your smooth legs. You’re thankful that you made yourself shave this morning.

Jin’s fingers run through your slick, “Already so wet.”

“Jin, please,” you whine.

“What do you want, baby?”

“You.”

His lips pull into a smirk. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

The feel of his hot breath against your pussy nearly drives you mad.

“Your mouth. I want your mouth.”

You moan out as Jin’s lips meet yours and his tongue darts out to tentatively lick your clit. His ministrations are soft and you find yourself rotating your hips to try and get Jin to do more.

His tongue circles around your entrance before pushing in and searching for your g-spot. He lets you enjoy the sensation for a few moments before he replaces his tongue with his fingers and suckles your clit.

“Aw fuck, Jin.” Your hips buck against Jin’s face and the coil in your stomach winds tighter.

You know by now that you’re dripping as the noises coming from Jin stretching you open and licking your clit is obscene. As his tongue swirls around your bud and his fingers curl up, the coil in your stomach snaps and your toes are scrunched as pleasure courses through you. Jin keeps his mouth on you until your back is no longer arched and you’re muscles are again relaxed.

Jin moves back up to lovingly kiss you, his lips sweet and slow moving. “I love you so much.”

You lock eyes with Jin and hope that he can feel the adoration you feel for him seeping through your skin into his. “I love you too.”

Jin’s eyes flicker around your face before he glances at your lips and dips his head to recapture your lips. You can taste yourself on his lips. You slide your hands down Jin’s stomach until they reach his hips and push down his pants further. He helps you completely take them off along with his boxers and you hear them hit the floor with a dull thud.

You lightly push on his shoulders.

Jin looks at you confused before he catches on to what you were trying to do and shakes his head. “No. The only place I’m cumming is this pussy.”

Your hands clench on the decorative pillows as Jin rubs the head of his cock through your folds.

“Shit, you look so beautiful spread out for me,” he mutters to himself, eyes transfixed on where you two are about to be connected.

Jin lets out a long, quiet moan as he drives his cock into you and when he’s fully seated in you, his head drops into the crook of your neck and your fingers thread themselves in his hair. He draws in a shaky breath as he slowly pulls out before slamming back into you, knocking the breath from you.

It takes him a few thrusts before he finds a good rhythm. Jin’s cock gives your pussy a slight stretch but you find yourself enjoying it. That, and the heaviness of his cock and the way his head brushes against your g-spot every time he pulls out.

Jin looks like a god above you. Eyes lust ridden, a sheen of sweat supon his golden skin, hair damp and falling in his face, and lips completely swollen and a vibrant pink.

Jin slows down his pace for a moment to catch his breath. “Fuck. You feel so fucking good,” he gives a few harsh thrusts, “I’m gonna’ fill up this pussy so good.”

You can tell he’s getting close with how much he’s moaning and taking the time to slow himself to avoid being sloppy.

“You’re going to look so pretty swollen with my baby.” Jin places a hand on your lower stomach to feel the bulge of his cock thick inside you.

Your nerves light up at Jin’s words and your nails form deep half-moons in his back as he pulses inside you.

“This pussy is mine and everyone’s going to know. I’m the only one that gets to breed this pussy.”

The words spill out of his mouth as he becomes more and more lost in his own pleasure. His knuckles are white as his hands grip the arm of the sofa behind your head. You clench around him so you’re both moaning out loud.

You ignore the cramping in your muscles and press onto the back of Jin’s neck to draw him down into an intoxicating kiss. Your tongues lazily swirl around each others’. His hips snap towards yours harshly, in a controlled manner that has you mewling into his mouth. Jin’s hand caresses down your thigh to hike it up so it’s wrapped around his waist which draws you both closer together.

Jin’s thrusts are now slow and bruising in order for him to maintain control. If he were to stay at the same fast pace he started with, he would have long finished. He moves with elongated strokes, pressing as deep as possible as he returns back into you until he’s gripping your waist and moaning into your neck as he ruts against you and paints your walls white.

“Shit, baby,” Jin gasps, “Take my cock so well.”

“Nggh, Jin, yes. Feels so good,” you babble.

Jin stays seated in you as he reaches down and circles your clit with his fingers. “Come one last time for me, baby.”

He increases the pressure until your eyes are rolling to the back of your head and you’re overcome with another bout of ecstasy.

Jin slowly pulls out of you and you feel his cum dribble out a little. He scoops it with his fingers then gently pushes it back in, looking down at his mess in admiration. His eyes move up to meet yours and he looks at you with pure love. His cheeks have a healthy blush and the rest of him has a radiant glow. You can’t imagine yourself being more in love with this man than right now.

You sat hunched on the toilet seat, leg nervously bouncing as you chewed on your nails. You reach to your side without looking to grab your water bottle and take a few sips.

“Anything yet?” Taehyung’s voice drifts into the bathroom from your cell phone speaker.

You mumble no into your hand, too preoccupied to care if your best friend can hear you over the phone. You can’t take your eyes off of the line of pregnancy tests lining the side of the bathtub. After being queasy for a few days, you had gone out and bought as many tests as you could without seeming suspicious. You had hidden them from Jin, half not wanting to get his hopes up and half wanting to surprise him. But now that you were waiting for the results, you didn’t want to be alone and Jin was at work, so you called the next person you could think of.

“How bout’ now?”

“Um,” you watch in anticipation as the color blue starts to fade onto the first stick.

Negative.

Your heart drops to your stomach and it feels like the breath is knocked from you.

“Taehyung, I’m going to have to call you back.”

You kind of just stare at the floor, head in your hands, completely still. It’s the first breath in that brings tears to your eyes. You spend the next few minutes completely enveloped in your own disappointment. This is the fourth time the pregnancy tests have come back negative.

You furiously wipe the tears from your face and grab the negative test to throw away when you catch a glimpse of pink.

Positive.

Without your paying attention, the other test results had come in. Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you jump from the toilet seat squealing. After your own private celebration, you stare at the tests, somewhat fearful that your mind had tricked you, but they still show positive.

You pick up your phone that had scattered to the floor when you jumped up. You have a missed call and a few texts from Taehyung and right as you’re about to press on his name to call him back, you catch the time.

Jin’s nearly out of work.

All plans to call Taehyung are dropped as you gather the positive tests in your hands and rush out of the bathroom. You set them on the dining table before running to your room to get the surprise box that has tissue paper, baby shoes, a baby name book, empty family photo frame, and a ‘Congratulations for becoming a dad’ card.

You probably rearrange the tests and the other contents in the box a million times before you force yourself to move on.

You were lighting the last candle when you hear the keys in the door. Jin doesn’t see the changes made to his shared home as he focuses on taking off his shoes and slipping his bag off his shoulder to hang up. He finally looks up to see the plethora of candles lighting the house and you impatiently bouncing on the balls of your feet at the end of the entryway hallway.

“I didn’t forget anything, did I?” Jin nervously chuckles.

“No,” you shake your head while biting your lip to contain your smile, “I just wanted to celebrate your promotion.”

“We already celebrated,” Jin laughs, all anxiety is forgotten. “Unless you want to celebrate again…” He walks forward to pull you closer by the waist and looks at you with hooded eyes. A look that works most of the time in getting you in the mood but tonight, you’re too excited.

You shake your head again then turn in his arms and grab Jin’s hand to drag him to the dining room. He laughs at how much energy you have and follows along. You pull out the chair and Jin hesitantly sits down with a confused smile as he glances between your face and the box in front of him.

“Open it,” you urge Jin.

He opens the box and begins to pull the tissue paper from it. “You know you didn’t have to get me any presents.”

Jin’s hands freeze and you feel your heart stop in your chest as you wait with bated breath for him to react as you assume he’s finally reached the actual contents of the box. You back away from the chair when he stands and he turns to you holding the baby shoes and a positive pregnancy test.

“You’re pregnant?” Jin breaths tears already forming in his eyes.

“Yeah,” you confirm, hands clasped together in front of your chest as your laughter floated through the air.

Jin launches himself at you and wraps you in a bear hug, twirling you. He sets you down and begins peppering your face in a multitude of kisses. The happy tears rolling down his cheeks spring tears to your own eyes.

“We’re finally going to be parents.”

“So, you’re pregnant pregnant?”

“Yes, Jungkook.”

Taehyung walks over and places both hands on your belly.

“If you’re waiting for him to kick, it’s going to be a couple of months.” You look down at Taehyung’s hands petting your barely noticeable, pregnant stomach.

“Him? You’re having a boy?” Namjoon leaves the conversation Jin is having with Jimin to join you, Taehyung, and Jungkook. Hoseok and Yoongi are worriedly hunched over the grill as they agreed to take over with the cooking.

You and Jin had planned this to be a simple get together to tell the boys. Once you had found out you were pregnant, you and him had immediately told your family and now that you were just beginning to show, Jin and you decided it was time to tell your best friends.

They had all assumed it was going to be a party to celebrate Jin’s promotion but once you pulled out a pregnancy test and Jin made the announcement, they had all nearly burst with excitement. You were shocked at how quickly they reorganized your party so that you and Jin didn’t have to do anything. Yoongi and Hoseok were in charge of the meat, Jimin and Jungkook snacks and side dishes, Taehyung was in charge of drinks, and Namjoon was there in case anything else needed to be done and to help around.

“Wha- I don’t know! Guys, I just found out I was pregnant a month ago. I have no idea what the gender is.” You don’t have time to feel bad for the way Namjoon looks at the ground embarrassed. “Taehyung, please stop petting my stomach.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung says abashed and he removes his hands from your stomach.

In the corner of your eyes, you see Hoseok jerk away from the grill as the flames jump out at him. Jungkook also sees this and is laughing hysterically as he walks over to help and has to pause, doubling over with his hands on his knees before straightening and clapping his hands as he laughs even harder when Yoongi desperately calls for Jin. You too have to laugh at the puppy dog eyes being directed at Jin.

Jimin holds Jin’s beer and nurses his own as he walks over to you since Jin is now stomping over to the three men, exclaiming playfully that they’re useless. Namjoon gets bored of the conversation and goes over to join his best friend, only for Jin to direct his yelling at him as he stands, laughing, after messing up cutting an onion. You’d think that after all these years, Namjoon would have learned at least that.

Yoongi and Hoseok have gotten the grill under control and are placing the meat onto paper plates. Jungkook is busying himself by setting the long picnic table and opening the bowls and containers with the side foods, fruits, and sauces.

“Are you sure you want to have a baby? It looks like Jin’s already got his hands full with them,” Jimin teases and motions over to Jin, who is now looking over Jungkook’s shoulder as he builds a tower out of cookies.

Taehyung moves behind you and wraps his arms around your waist in order to put his hands on your stomach again and rests his chin on your shoulder. Jimin chuckles at Taehyung and goes back to silently watching his boyfriend at the picnic table.

“I’m upset you didn’t tell me first,” Taehyung pouts.

“Seeing as Jin was the one that got me pregnant, I figured it would be best if I told him first,” you roll your eyes.

“Doesn’t matter. I should have been the first to know.”

Growing up together, you and Taehyung made a pact to be the first people each other went to for anything. Taehyung had introduced you to Jin and had been the first to know when Jin asked you on a date, when you and Jin had first kissed, became an official couple, first had sex, made plans to move in together and had even helped with picking out the apartment, been the one you went to during your first fight with Jin, then been the person you went to to gush when you and Jin first said ‘I love you’, and finally, had been the only person to know you and Jin were trying for a baby.

“I’m so sorry. I should have realized that you play an even bigger part in this than the father of my child.”

“You should be. The only way to make to up to me now is to name the baby after me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“How can you eat that?” Jin turns his nose in disgust as he turns the steering wheel.

Your head shoots up. “What do you mean?” You look down at your milkshake and jar of pickles.

Jin glances at you. “You’re dipping pickles in a milkshake, I mean,” Jin shakes his head and makes a fake gagging noise.

“I’m hungry!” you cry out indignantly. Jin snickers when you take another bite of a pickle with a pout. “Listen, you agreed to this, you knew this was coming,” you speak while still chewing.

“Yeah, but I had no idea it would be this bad,” Jin exclaims.

The car falls silent except for the crunch of the pickles at Jin finishes driving to the clinic. You were showing way more and you and Jin were going in for a regular check-up at the place your OBGYN recommended and possibly to find out the sex of the baby. Jimin was meeting you at the clinic.

You and Jin had asked Jimin to be your birthing coach/midwife (in case you weren’t able to make it to the hospital). Jimin had always been interested in education and science and after realizing teaching wasn’t an exact fit, he went into the medical field, specifically pediatrics because he loved children so much. And he had gotten certified so he could help as many children and parents as possible. It just made sense to you and Jin.

“Ready?” You take a sip of your milkshake, choosing to leave the rest of the pickles in the car.

“Mhm.” Jin shuts off the car and meets you on the other side. He grabs your hand and you head into the clinic.

Jimin was in the waiting room when you both walked in. You and Jin made idle chit chat with Jimin while you all waited. It was strange, Jimin had the ability to be your friend one minute, endlessly teasing you, then professional the next, only offering kind words as if he hasn’t known you and Jin for years. Forty-two minutes pass before you’re called back.

You blow out as the cold gel is squeezed onto to your stomach then spread around. The sonographer mutters to themselves before placing the transducer on your belly and moving it around until a clear picture appears on the screen. They point out where the baby’s head is and the limbs and give you a rundown of your baby’s development. You try to follow along as best as you can but you don’t worry too much. Jimin is going to be getting a copy of the document the sonographer fills out so if you or Jin have any questions, you can just go to him.

“Would you like to know the sex of the baby?” The sonographer turns to you and Jin expectantly and you look at Jin.

“Um, actually, I kind of want it to be a surprise,” you anxiously confess.

“I thought you wanted to know?”

Jimin watches your conversation with raised eyebrows while the sonographer waits patiently. You and Jin probably aren’t the first couple to do this in front of them.

You shrug. “I don’t know. It’s our first child so I wanted it to be a surprise.” You wait another moment before speaking again. “So that, you know, we’re not influenced by any one thing once we have the baby.”

Jin stares at the floor in contemplation.

“Why don’t you have them write it down and then I’ll hold on to it?” Jimin offers.

You look at Jin curiously. He slowly nods and with that, the sonographer quickly scribbles something onto a piece of paper before triple folding it and handing it to Jimin.

You clutch onto the kitchen counter, doubled over in pain as another cramp runs through your body. You breathe in deeply through your nose then groan out in pain and duck your head.

“Okay, we’re at eight minutes,” Jin tells you. His hand is rubbing your back.

“Then why the fuck aren’t you taking me to the hospital?” you snap at Jin and see him flinch in your peripheral vision.

“The doctor said to wait until your contractions were four to five minutes apart,” Jin reminds you. He keeps his tone soothing. “I’m sorry, baby. I know it hurts.”

You groan again. “Damn right this hurts,” you choke out as the rest of the contraction passes. You take another moment to breathe in a few times before standing back up straight. Jin keeps his hand on your lower back and watches with concern as you begin waddling to the couch. You use Jin as leverage to ease yourself onto the couch cushion.

“I already called Taehyung. Him and Jimin should be here soon. Namjoon also told me he’s on his way.”

“Why don’t you go ahead and invite every other fucking person you know while you’re at it. I’m sure if we ask politely, we get the biggest room in the hospital just so everyone fits,” you grumble.

“I know you’re pregnant and in labor, but I think you’re being a little unfair right now getting mad at me for wanting my best friend with me when you said having Taehyung with you was non-negotiable,” Jin frowns at you.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. There’s just a lot happening right now.”

“Sorry! I’m so sorry it took me so long to get here,” Taehyung shouts as he frantically barges into your house, Jimin and Jungkook in tow. Jimin’s changed into his scrubs and Jungkook looks as though he was just woken up in an oversized hoodie and joggers.

Taehyung has several bags hanging from his arms. “I bought stuff because I wasn’t sure what exactly you needed.” He looks at you and Jin with wide eyes, “Do you need a car seat?”

“We already have a car seat, thank you,” Jin dismisses Taehyung and Taehyung nods. “Just put everything in the kitchen, we already have a hospital bag packed,” Jin orders and Namjoon walks over to help Taehyung set the bags on the dining table.

“How far apart are her contractions?” Jimin comes and kneels next to Jin in front of you on the couch. Your face is scrunched in pain and your hands are squeezing the life out of Jin’s as you wait for the contraction to pass.

“About five minutes,” Jin says, keeping his eyes on you.

“Y/N, do you need anything?” Namjoon calls from across the room.

“To have this baby,” you hiss once the contraction passes.

“Well, it looks like you’re going to get what you want because I think it’s time to head to the hospital.” You’re grateful for Jimin’s ability to stay calm and keep a light tone.

Suddenly, you have five men helping you stand from the couch and surrounding you as you walk to the door.

“Jungkook, do you wanna’ drive?” Jimin mumbles while he’s focused on you, one hand clasped in yours. Jungkook silently nods and grabs the keys from Jin and walks ahead of you all and a second later, you hear the engine of your car.

Taehyung runs forward to open the back door for you. Namjoon lagging behind to lock up the house for you and Jin. Jimin gets in the back seat first so you’re sitting in between him and Jin. Taehyung shuts the door and turns to get in the front seat to find himself face to face with Namjoon. They both start gesturing for the other to get into the front seat but neither of them takes the initiative.

“Are you fucking kidding me!? I’m literally about to have a fucking baby and you’re standing there like dumbasses! I need to go to the hospital! One of you get in the fucking car!” you shriek at them after they spend another minute being too polite to take the seat from the other.

Namjoon flinches and takes a step back from the door so Taehyung squeezes into the front seat with an apology.

“I’ll meet you at the hospital,” Namjoon yells to you and Jin right before Jungkook pulls out of the driveway.

You swear if you weren’t in labor, you would have leaped over the console to strangle Taehyung. When he’s nervous, he has a habit of excessively talking and tonight wasn’t the exception as Jungkook drove to the hospital. Surprisingly, Jungkook has remained calm the entire time and the ride is far more steady than you were expecting. It’s most likely because Jungkook’s learned from Jimin to stay calm in stressful situations or because he’s too tired to really care.

“You’re doing so good, baby.”

Right after shutting Taehyung up, you were going for Jin because at the moment, the last thing you wanted to hear was meaningless encouragement.

“Why don’t we stop talking and focus on the contractions,” Jimin, as attentive as always, noticed your death glares and stepped in trying to keep the situation in control. He directed his comment mostly at Taehyung and Taehyung could tell when he locked eyes with him through the rearview mirror.

“We’re nearly at the hospital, okay? Hold on for a little longer,” Jimin reassured you.

“How much is a little longer because it seems like Jungkook decided to take the long way,” you grit through an intense cramp.

“Well, I was gonna’ say we’re at the hospital but if you want to take the long way, I’m more than happy to turn this car around,” Jungkook brattily replies.

“Hey! No! We’re not fighting,” Taehyung reprimands Jungkook while Jin yells from beside you.

“Really, Jungkook?” Jimin sighs as he helps you step out of the car. Jin runs into the waiting room to get a wheelchair and comes back out only to run back in to check you in.

The triage gets you in a room pretty fast, which is good because if you were made to wait, you were sure that you would have actually somehow strangled someone. Jimin’s gone off to prepare with your OBGYN, occasionally coming in to check your dilation with the attending nurses. Jin is standing by your bed while Taehyung is seated in the chair about a foot away from you. Jin’s changed into generic scrubs supplied by the hospital. You assume Jungkook is either in the waiting room or decided to dive himself back to his and Jimin’s house.

“Hey. I made it,” Namjoon shyly peaks his head into the delivery room before fully walking in, Hoseok following behind. Hoseok gives you a tired smile.

Jin exhales a breath of relief and meets Namjoon half way to hug him. “How are you doing?” Namjoon pats Jin on the back.

“Good,” Jin puffs his chest as he deeply inhales, “Scared. I’m about to become a father.”

“It’s a big deal,” Hoseok chimes in nonchalantly as he looks around the room.

“Yoongi didn’t want to come?” Now that you have pain medication, you feel as though you can speak like a rational human being somewhat.

“Nah, nothing against you,” Hoseok scrunches his nose, “You know how he is about sleep and it is about two in the morning. When Namjoon called him, he woke me up and forced me to get him,” he points to Namjoon, “He did say to call him when the baby’s born though.”

You nod before resting your head back on the pillow as you moderately feel what would be an incredibly difficult contraction. Taehyung takes your hand in his and gives a reassuring squeeze.

Jimin walks into the room with your OBGYN and a couple of nurses. One of the nurses brings out the stirrups and directs your legs into them. Taehyung stands and kisses you on the forehead before gathering at the door with Namjoon and Hoseok. You hear a chorus of ‘Good luck!’ as they all leave and that’s when it hits you that this is about to happen. You look at Jin to see that he’s already watching you, just as scared, excited, and determined as you.

Your OBGYN wheels a chair to sit on at the end of the bed. The nurses busy themselves with all of the equipment to monitor you.

Jimin goes to the opposite side of the bed of Jin. “Alight, I’m going to tell you when to push and remind you to breath,” Jimin chuckles which lightens the tension you feel. “You ready to have a baby?” he looks at you and Jin with a soft, excited smile.

“Ah,” you tiredly gasp in awe, “look at how perfect they are.”

You and Jin gaze down at the baby cradled in your arms. Jin’s laying with you on the bed and both of you look like wrecks; both of you crying and you sweaty and pale. Jin’s face would still be pale from watching the process too if it hadn’t become red when he started crying. The staff had left after cleaning the baby and checking all of their’s and your vital signs. Jimin had gone out to the waiting room to inform everyone and give you and Jin a moment alone. He left a piece of folded paper on the side table, but as it’s now useless, it goes practically unnoticed by you and Jin.

“I can already tell they have your nose,” you peer up at Jin with a smile but he’s too busy staring at the squirming baby.

Jin reaches forward and the baby’s hand reflexively grips onto Jin’s finger. “Their fingers are so tiny.” Another wave of tears springs into Jin’s eyes and his bottom lip trembles. As much as you feel the same, you can’t help but giggle at him through tears of your own.

Jin finally looks at you with raw emotion, “I love you. So much.” His eyebrows pinch together as he fights from dissolving into a full sob. Jin looks back down at the baby, “I love you both so much. I will never stop loving you.”

“I think we did a good job.” You tilt your head to rest it on Jin’s shoulder as you continue to admire your baby.

“We did perfect.”

Tags: @detectivebourbon @temptaestions @omgsuperstarg

[badchoicesposts]

Don’t Dream It’s Over Chapter 23

Series Summary: Liam and Ali thought that their relationship was perfect, but their whole world came crashing down when Constantine called him back to Cordonia. Four years later they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party, determined to make things between them work even if it isn’t always easy.

In this AU, Liam and MC (Ali Moonessar) dated for a year in New York while Leo was still crown prince. They broke up when Constantine asked Liam to come back to Cordonia, but they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party before the social season. The story will contain flashbacks, which will be italicized, of their relationship and follow them as they try to navigate the season with Ali as a suitor. I’ve messed around with the timeline a bit so that it fits the story better. I’ve also added in a few OCs of my own.

Pairing: Liam x MC (Ali Moonessar)

DISCLAIMER: I’ve changed up the timeline of the social season a bit to fit my story better. I’ve based it off of some research I did on the British Social Season.

Taglist: @flowerpowell​, @ao719​, @kingliam2019​, @emceesynonymroll​, @hopefulmoonobject​, @dcbbw​, @qammh-blog​, @liamxs-world​, @drakesensworld​, @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction​, @lauradowning29​, @texaskitten30​, @senseofduties​, @alexintheskyy​, @jared2612​, @lodberg​

A/N: This is the first fic I’ve ever written. Please let me know if you enjoyed it and would like to read more. I thrive on validation, lol. Thanks for reading!

Catch Up: Masterlist

Ali felt great. The sugary cocktail she had with dinner was definitely making her feel amazing. She swung her hips to the music that was playing through the speakers of Liam’s living room, aware of the man’s gaze on her back. She listened intently to the music, waiting for her cue. 

“I get wings to fly

Oh, oh....I'm alive”

She belted out the words, her voice mixing in with Celine Dion’s as she turned dramatically on her heels to face her boyfriend. Liam bit back a laugh, staring at her fondly as she continued to serenade him. 

“When you call on me”

She followed this line by pointing aggressively in his direction. 

“When I hear you breathe

I get wings to fly

I feel that I'm alive” 

She continued to sing and dance, her voice becoming more off key the louder she got. 

“Liam! Sing with me!” she said, lunging towards him and grabbing his hands in hers. 

She pulled him up to his feet, losing balance herself for a moment before he straightened them both up.

“I’m not sure you want that, love,” he responded, smiling happily down at her.

“Please?” she begged, pushing herself up onto her toes to gently peck his lips. 

Liam looked around sheepishly for a moment as if to make sure no one was around before giving her a mischievous smile. 

“You've set my heart on fire

Filled me with love

Made me a woman on clouds above”

“What are the two of you doing?” Drake asked.

Neither of them had realized that he was home, but he had obviously just come out of his room and was looking at them like they were crazy.

“Having fun,” Ali responded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“And singing completely off key is fun?”

“Extremely,” Liam replied calmly.

“Liam, harmonize with me. You go high, I’ll go low,” Ali said, preparing herself for the upcoming chorus. 

“And it's only begun

I can't wait for the

Rest of my life”

They sang together, Liam’s voice cracking as he tried to carry out the word “life” in a high note.

“You guys are ridiculous,” Drake mumbled.

~~~

“Do you think Bertrand’s head is going to explode when he finds out about Savannah and the baby?” Ali asked, smoothing down her dress as she waited to enter the ballroom beside Liam. 

“Mine almost did,” Liam responded, straightening his tie. At least now Maxwell’s knowledge of prenatal yoga made sense.

“Do you think Drake’s going to be okay?

“I think Drake’s stubborn and hurt. He’ll be okay, but he’ll need some time. He’ll probably be angry with the Beaumonts for a while,” he said, reaching up to fix the tiara on her head.

It was Ali’s first time wearing a tiara, and it was completely odd to her. The weight on her head wasn’t unpleasant, but it was definitely something she would need to get accustomed to. 

She grabbed onto Liam’s arms and pulled him in for a gentle kiss, thankful for smudge proof lipstick.

“I’m nervous,” she confessed, her eyes darting towards the closed ballroom doors. “Actually nervous is an understatement. I’m terrified.”

After announcing their marriage, the two had been met with a certain lack of support. People were shocked, assuming that they had only done so because of the pregnancy and that they were irresponsible and incapable of properly leading because of their rash decision. Ali couldn’t even deny that they were partially right. Their marriage was rushed because of the pregnancy. A part of her felt guilty for the way people were beginning to view Liam’s potential as a leader. 

She couldn’t even be mad about the negative reactions that they received. From the outside looking in, they seemed reckless. She was an American with no noble blood in her at all. She wasn’t born into this life or trained for it, and scandals seemed to be the only thing she was good for. If she had seen the future leaders of her country act in the same way she and Liam had, she would have doubted their abilities to lead as well. That was probably the toughest part of it all. Their concerns were completely warranted. 

Liam reached down and squeezed her hand in his. She could tell that the entire situation had been taking a toll on him. He refused to admit it, though, and that worried her. Learning of Constantine’s betrayal and illness had done little to help the situation. He was torn between hating his father for his interference in their relationship and wanting to spend as much time with him as possible now that he knew he was dying. She could see him getting more and more worn down and dejected as the days moved on, but she didn’t know how to fix everything, and that killed her inside. It didn’t help that her emotions had been all over the place, and that the littlest things had been triggering her recently. She had been snapping at him more recently, leaving both of them frustrated and anxious all of the time.

“Whatever happens, we’ll face it together,” he reassured her. 

She desperately wanted his words to make her feel better, but they didn’t. 

“It’s time, my love,” he said, checking the time on his watch and returning to his spot next to her. 

They both straightened their posture, and Ali took his arm as the doors were thrown open. They made their way around the room, greeting everyone they met with artificial smiles. Although the ball had been planned perfectly down to the napkin selection, there was still an air of discomfort surrounding it all. However, Ali remained dutifully at Liam’s side, making small talk with all of the people she came across. 

“My love, this is King Bradshaw and Queen Isabella of Auvernal,” Liam introduced her politely. 

Ali had just about reached her limit on pointless conversation with people who obviously didn’t respect her, but she still smiled at the stuffy looking royal couple regardless. 

“Lady Alison, we meet at last. We’ve heard rumors of you all the way in Auvernal. Our entire court has been… intrigued by you all season,” said Isabella, who was sporting a small baby bump herself.

Ali wasn’t sure if her words were meant to be taken as a compliment or an insult, but the young queen’s tone of voice made her believe it was the latter. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet the both of you,” Ali responded. “I believe congratulations are in order. You’re having twins, correct?” 

“We are,” Bradshaw said proudly. 

The king beamed at the mention of his unborn children, but Ali had been learning more about body language from Liam, and she noticed the way he tensed every time he looked to his wife. 

“I believe we should be offering you congratulations as well given your… situation,” Isabella said. 

Ali had to stop herself from outwardly reacting, instead continuing to smile politely.

“Thank you.” 

“We were obviously surprised to hear of your marriage, but I applaud your bravery in going through with it in the first place. I can’t even begin to imagine what it must be like to have conceived the heir to the throne out of wedlock! But, even I have to admit that going from a waitress to a duchess and eventually to a queen is quite a success story,” she continued, a judgmental edge to her voice. “Tell me, are you enjoying your new life or do you miss your simpler days?”

At this remark, Ali could see Liam beginning to get uncomfortable as well. 

“I am honored to be able to represent Cordonia.”

“Such a diplomatic response. However, you didn’t really answer the question,” Isabella said. 

“Regardless of your answer, you definitely know how to throw together a party,” Bradshaw said, swiftly changing the subject.

Once again she wasn’t sure if this was meant to be a compliment or not. She supposed she should be grateful that he changed the subject before she was forced to answer his wife’s demeaning question, but instead she was angry. She was angry at Isabella’s words, and she was angry that Bradshaw reduced all of her hard work to “throwing together a party”. She was so upset that she almost missed the glare Isabella shot in his direction. Almost. Perhaps the King and Queen of Auvernal weren’t as happily married as everyone thought. 

“Yes, at least I’m good for something,” she responded snarkily.

“Well, we won’t keep you from the rest of your guests any longer. It was a pleasure meeting you!” Bradshaw said, holding his arm out for his wife and walking away.

He was obviously satisfied with the reaction they had gotten out of her. 

“Ali,” Liam began to say her name before she cut him off with a fake smile.

“Oh! Look! There’s Em with Hana and Lizzie. I’m going to go say hi,” she said, dodging him and heading straight for the three women.

“Hey, you did a great job with all of this!” Emma said happily as she approached. 

Emma had decided to stay in Cordonia “so she could attend the ball”, but Ali had her suspicions that it was more for the woman whose hand she was currently holding onto. Ali was happy for her and Hana even if they hadn’t put a label on their relationship yet.

“Yeah, great champagne choice,” Lizzie said, raising her glass to her before downing the whole thing in one go. 

“Thanks. I’m about one more conversation away from screaming,” she said, angrily running her hand through her hair. “Queen Isabella is a bitch.” 

“King Bradshaw isn’t much better,” Lizzie mumbled. 

“Is this really my life now? Making small talk with people who hate me? Smiling while people insult me to my face?” she asked tiredly.

“It’ll get easier,” Hana said sympathetically. “Once you’re queen and people see how great you are things’ll get better.” 

“And remember the reason you did all of this in the first place was because of how much you love Liam,” Emma said.

“And now you have another little one to love, too,” Lizzie said this while placing a hand gently on Ali’s stomach. 

Ali let out a sigh, relaxing visibly. 

“Thanks, guys,” she said, pulling the three of them into a group hug.

All of her stress evaporated from her body and for a moment she felt like she could breathe again. 

“Lady Alison?” a soft voice came from behind them. 

Ali pulled out of the hug and turned to see another woman smiling at her kindly. 

“I’m Princess Marguerite of Monaco. It’s nice to finally meet you,” the woman said. 

“Princess Marguerite! It’s nice to meet you as well!” Ali responded, putting her persona back up. 

“I imagine this could be a bit much for you. Most of us were raised for all of this,” Marguerite began. 

Ali inwardly sighed, psyching herself up for this conversation all over again. 

“I want you to know, if you ever need a friend or someone to talk to, you can ask me anything!” 

Ali was taken aback by the kindness in her voice. Marguerite seemed genuinely sincere, and for a moment, Ali wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Thank you,” she whispered, suddenly overcome with emotion. 

It was relieving to have someone be so nice for the first time that night.

“Of course! I adore you and Liam. The way you look at each other… I can just tell it’s true love!”

“It is,” Ali responded, smiling widely and resting a hand lovingly on her stomach. 

However, the one moment of happiness that she’d had all night was over just as quickly as it came. The voices of two noble ladies conversing nearby filled the air.

“True love? Please, more like social climbing,” a woman with platinum blonde hair said with a scoff. 

“I thought Prince Liam had more common sense. I can’t believe he actually married her. He should have chosen Madeleine. If it came down to it, I would have even taken Penelope over her,” her companion replied. 

Ali was both offended for herself and for Penelope.

“He probably only did it because of the baby. I can’t see him being with her for any other reason. There’s not much to like, is there?” the first woman said, laughing maliciously.

Ali bit down roughly on her lip, and her eyes filled with tears. She saw Marguerite shoot her a sympathetic smile, but the action did very little to comfort her.

“He can’t possibly believe it’s actually his,” the second responded, scandalized. “Oh, he’s going to be so heart broken when it comes out looking like his best friend.”

“Can we even be sure it’s Drake Walker’s either? I wouldn’t be surprised if she was sleeping with half the men at court. She seems like the type.” 

The two women dissolved into a fit of laughter, both completely aware that Ali and Marguerite had heard their conversation, but neither one of them caring. 

“That’s hilarious coming from you, Beatrice,” Olivia’s loud voice broke through their giggles. “Tell me, does Lady Antionette know that you spend every weekend in her husband’s bed?”

Lady Beatrice, the woman with the blonde hair, opened and closed her mouth furiously, desperately trying to find a comeback, while her companion, Lady Antionette, was looking at her friend in shock and anger.

“Maybe you should take a look in the mirror before you start criticizing someone else,” Olivia concluded, a victorious smirk on her face. 

Ali shot her a grateful smile and quietly slipped away, Beatrice and Antionette’s newly started argument fading into the background. She kept her head down as she tried to find her way out of the ballroom undetected, desperate to make it outside before she broke down in tears. She broke into a run once she had made it safely outside, not stopping until she reached the gardens Liam’s mother had commissioned all those years ago. She collapsed on a bench and began sobbing freely, pushing her glasses up to rest on the top of her head as she angrily wiped her eyes.

Only moments after, she felt a presence nearby, and someone took a seat cautiously on the bench next to her.

“There, there,” Bertrand tried to say in a soothing tone as he awkwardly patted her shoulder. 

Despite herself, Ali couldn’t help the amusement she felt at his actions.

“D-did you just p-pat my shoulder and say ‘there there’?” she choked out, an odd chuckle escaping her throat. 

Bertrand sat stiffly beside her and cleared his throat. 

“You seemed to be in need of comfort,” he said, obviously unsettled by the situation. 

Ali smiled sadly. 

“Well, thank you,” she said, wiping her eyes and resting her head against his shoulder. 

Bertrand’s body stiffened initially, but after a moment he relaxed again. The two sat quietly for a moment, Ali’s occasional sniffles were the only sounds filling the air. 

“Have you spoken to Savannah yet?” she asked quietly. 

Bertrand cleared his throat again. 

“Briefly.”

“Briefly? That’s all you’re going to say?” she asked, raising her head up to look at him. 

“I was surprised to learn of her reasons for leaving,” he continued. 

Ali remained silent for a moment, expecting him to go on. However, he simply sat there quietly, as if the conversation were over. 

“And… you’re okay?” she prompted. 

Bertrand still remained quiet, but he began fiddling with his cufflinks. 

“I’m gonna take that as a no.”

“I’m a father,” he said in shock. 

“Yeah, you are, and you should talk to Savannah about that.”

“I can’t.”

“You have to. Look, I don’t know what happened between the two of you or how you feel about each other, but it’s not just about you guys anymore. You need to think about your son. Do you really want to be an absentee father?”

“No,” he replied sadly. 

This was the first time Ali had ever seen Bertrand actually show any kind of strong emotion that didn’t revolve around court or preserving House Beaumont. 

The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted their moment. They both turned to see Drake standing nearby. 

“Liam’s looking for you,” Drake said, his voice was harsh as he glared at Bertrand, but Ali knew that he was directing the comment at her. 

She got up from her spot on the bench and shot Drake a look telling him to be nice before slowly making her way back to the ballroom. Internally she was battling with taking as long as possible to get back, maybe stopping to take a stroll through the maze, and heading straight to find Liam. She didn’t want to keep him waiting too long, but she also had no desire to go back to the party that was causing her so much stress. Eventually she figured it was better to bite the bullet and get it over with, trying to make herself look pleasant as she reentered the room and scanned the area for Liam. 

The man spotted her immediately and walked over to her, not noticing her foul mood until he had already pulled her onto the dancefloor. 

“What’s troubling you?” he asked, concern filling his voice as he led her in a waltz. 

“Nothing,” she tried to say convincingly, plastering a wide and artificial looking smile on her face. 

“I can tell that something’s bothering you,” Liam sighed, pulling her closer to him in attempts to comfort her even though he wasn’t sure what was going on. “Please don’t shut me out.”

“Not here,” she finally responded, looking over his shoulder to see Bradshaw and Isabella dancing behind them and another lord and lady right beside them. 

Liam pulled her impossibly close, halting their waltz and simply letting their bodies sway together. Ali pushed her face into his shoulder, not caring that their display of affection would be all over the news tomorrow, and needing to feel him close to her. Her eyes filled with tears again, but she desperately tried to hold them back, not wanting to cry in front of the entire court. That would definitely make the news. She sniffled softly and tried to channel the confidence she had felt just a week earlier in Constantine’s office.

The song came to an end, and they separated after a moment. Liam remained by his wife’s side for the rest of the night, the two only parting ways momentarily after the ball when Liam needed to check in with Constantine. 

Ali made a quick stop at the kitchens on her way back up to their newly shared suite, snatching an apple for a late night snack. Upon entering their room she promptly stripped out of her gown and jewelry and dropped back onto the bed in her underwear, taking a large bite out of the apple. 

Liam looked at her curiously as he entered the room while loosening his bowtie. 

“Are you eating a Cordonian Ruby? I thought you hated them.”

“I do, but apparently your baby doesn’t,” she grumbled, continuing to munch on the apple. 

For the past week, much to her initial displeasure, she had been constantly craving Cordonian Rubies. This was definitely Liam’s child.

Liam smiled as he watched her devour the fruit. He continued to undress with a small but troubled smile on his face before settling down onto the bed beside her. He lay on his side and placed a hand gently on her bare stomach, unsure of how to ask about what was bothering her. 

“My love.” “Li.”

They spoke in unison, breaking off into a soft laugh when they realized what they had just done. 

“What’s on your mind, love?” Liam asked softly.

Ali struggled with her words for a moment.

“Tonight was… awful. Everyone thinks I’m a joke. To them I’m just a social climbing whore, and they think that our baby isn’t yours,” she said, her voice cracking as she got to the end of her sentence.

The anguish on his face was evident. However, in typical Liam fashion, he began to reason with her.

“I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you, but we both know the truth, love,” he began, gently running his hand up and down her stomach. “I know that this is our child, and I already love them so much. I know that you weren’t using me. I know how we feel about each other.”

Ali sighed angrily, tears streaming down her face as she moved away from his grasp. She was angry and frustrated about how people were treating her, and she was just as upset about how they were treating him. She was tired of him trying to be reasonable when she knew that he was being affected just as much as she was. Liam had a tendency of bottling up his emotions and shutting her out, until he finally snapped. This was exactly what he had done at the beginning of the social season when the rumors about her and Drake had started going around. It was what had led to their misunderstanding in Lythikos. 

“Yeah, it’s difficult for me. It’s awful and terrible, and I hate feeling like this, but it’s difficult for you too. Liam, people are just as upset with you as they are with me. I know you’ve seen the things they’ve said about you, and I know it’s been bothering you!”

He remained silent after her sudden outburst, turning to lay on his back as he stared up at the ceiling. Ali deflated at his silence, feeling guilty for taking her frustrations out on him. 

“I’m sorry for losing it like that. I’m just worried about you. I’m worried about us. Everyone loved you and believed in you before I came along. I can see how upset you’ve been recently, and I hate that. I hate that I can’t make all of this stop, that I can’t fix things for you. I feel like this is all my fault, and I don’t want to you to end up resenting me for it,” she confessed, nervously tugging at her bra strap. 

“You’re right. It has been bothering me. But, I don’t blame you for this. We both chose to have sex the night of the bachelor party. The way things worked out haven’t been… ideal, but what’s done is done. I love you. I love our child, and that’s all that matters,” he said, turning back to her. 

“But, it’s not all that matters. Li, we have a whole country to worry about too. So many things are changing right now, for the both of us, and we haven’t been handling it well. I hate arguing with you, and I’m so sorry that I’ve been so snappy recently, but there’s just so much going on,” she continued. “I love you so much, but I’m scared that if we continue on the way that we are we’ll just constantly be at each other’s throats by the time the baby comes and this beautiful thing that we’re supposed to love with all of our hearts will end up getting hurt because of it.”

“What do you think we should do?” he asked, his tone both sincere and worried at the same time.

“I-I think we should talk to someone,” she said nervously, resting a hand on his bare chest. 

“Talk to someone?” 

“A therapist. I think it could help us. The both of us,” she clarified, keeping her voice strong this time. 

Liam seemed unsure of the idea. 

“I know that it’s a big decision to make, especially since you’ve never done it before, and I don’t want to force you into it. But, I think we could benefit from a few sessions together and maybe a few solo ones too.”

Liam rested his hand on top of hers and took a deep breath. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” 

“If you truly think that it’ll help, then I’m willing to give it a try,” he said, smiling softly. 

Ali laid down next to him, cuddling close to his chest. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, as he kissed the top of her head lovingly

[mypassionfortrash]

Do More of What Scares You: Parts 7, 8 & 9 of 11

Things go from bad to worse when you find out what Roger really gets up to on tour.

◾️Catch up: 1&2 ~ 3&4 ~ 5&6 ◾️

Warnings: Smut!

[7/11]

Your heart pounded as you wandered through the cabin. The last time you were on a plane was when your parents had decided on a disastrous holiday in Tenerife when you were still at school. It wasn’t that long ago, but it felt like it had been an eternity. There were, however, a few differences this time.

You would be spending longer inside this floating tin can. The best part of a day, apparently. You could already feel the germs in the air clawing at your skin.

And then the dull chatter of your fellow passengers. That was going to be difficult to avoid. Even with ‘Soothing Sounds for Anxious Minds,’ blaring away in your ears at full volume. The tape was Roger’s idea. You doubted it would have any effect, especially if you had to have it up so loud to hear it.

On the plus side, Roger made sure you were traveling First Class. Something you hadn’t realised until you were on the plane, showing a stewardess your ticket. She immediately sprang into action, “Come with me.” 

You had to fight your way through the rabble of the Economy cabin, fearing you might spontaneously break out in hives or faint. You struggled to keep up as she expertly darted through the horde of screaming children and adults towards the front of the plane. Finally, she pushed through the curtain. The great divide into what felt like another world. By contrast, this one was quiet and tranquil. Plush leather seats, champagne and canapés. “You’ll be in here, Miss, at the request of Mr Taylor. Is there anything I can get you?”

The cabin was empty. It took you a moment to register that this was where you would be spending your day. With wide eyes and an open mouth all you could muster was a quiet, “I need a drink.”

“Of course. What would you like? It’s all complimentary.”

It was so easy, in the lap of luxury to go for something more outlandish than your social standing would allow. Normally a vodka and coke would suffice. But this wasn't normal. Not by a long shot. Without thinking, you droned, “Champagne.” Not even a 'please' in sight.

You lost count how long you spent cooped up on the plane when it touched down at LAX. The champagne was, seemingly, the only thing you needed on the trip. And the self help tape was surplus to requirements. You wondered, packing up your belongings, why you didn’t do this more often. You could get used to being shipped off abroad to join Roger on tour.

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

“No! You go and hide in a bloody bar somewhere. I don’t want her coming all this way to be mobbed by you three arseholes!” Roger screeched. He felt like his entire body was going numb as he fretted over every last detail of your arrival. He could barely hold on to the wilting bouquet in his hand.

Roger was no sooner in the private car to the airport but Brian, Deacy and Freddie had climbed in behind him. Much to his annoyance. He needed your reunion to go down without a hitch. And this wasn’t going to help his case.

“Oh, don’t be such a bore, darling!” Freddie retorted. "Who wouldn't love us?!"

“I mean it. If my girlfriend flakes out because of you lot-”

“So she is your girlfriend now?” Deacy said. “Interesting.”

Roger sank back into his seat, eyeing his bandmates. “Yeah, I guess she is.” Then, he jolted forward again. “But that’s not the point!”

Brian turned to Roger, putting his hand on his shoulder. “Look, Rog, we’ll go off and hide somewhere, if that’s what she needs.”

“We’re doing this for her, not for you, remember that,” Freddie huffed. “I still can’t believe she’s going out with you.”

Roger clenched his jaw. “It’s a bit cramped in this car. I’m going to call another one for the ride back,” he muttered.

“So you don’t even want us to meet your girlfriend?” Freddie pouted.

“Not until you’ve all calmed down. Stop being so hysterical!”

Deacy kept his face smushed up against the window, watching the world go by as his bandmates bickered. “That’s rich, coming from you,” he muttered.

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

Bags in hand and successfully through immigration, you waited in the Arrivals Hall for Roger. He was late. Fifteen minutes late. He was never late.

Your stomach churned, wondering where he was. Maybe he had forgotten all about you. Maybe he was back at his hotel, cosied up with a bunch of groupies. All those hours on the plane would have been for nothing. You began to pace back and forth. The urge to run off and lock yourself in the toilets to bawl your eyes out was so strong that you had to sit down. If your legs moved any more, then they may well have carried you off to the next flight home. Slinking down the wall, you hit the floor with a thud. The rushing in your ears had reared its ugly head again for the first time in weeks. That self help tape didn’t seem so bad now.

On the other side of the airport, Roger was breaking a sweat as he power walked through the crowd of travellers. His bandmates weren’t far behind.

“I can’t believe I always listen to you lot. I told you where she’d be, and you’ve led me on a wild goose chase. This is brilliant. Exactly how I wanted this to go!” He whined, his cheeks turning scarlet. “She’s somewhere in here on her own, going out of her mind, thanks to you lot!”

“Rog,” Brian began, pulling at Roger’s arm. 

Roger’s first instinct was to turn around and glare at him for holding up his mission. 

Brian was having none of it. “Do you want her to see you like this?”

“Like what?” he scowled.

“You look like an angry chihuahua, dear,” Freddie remarked, breezing past Brian and Roger.

“Come on,” Brian said, “take a deep breath. And bin those flowers. They look more pathetic than you. I’ll get on the phone and have some ordered to your room.”

Roger huffed, beginning to see reason. “You’re right.”

Deacy took his time catching up, but when he did, he noticed the state Roger was in. He whipped a handkerchief out of his jacket and, like a mother hen, began dabbing at Roger’s brow. “Don’t worry. Brian and I will see to it that Freddie behaves himself.”

Brian nodded in agreement. 

“Thanks,” Roger said, slicking his hair back, a coy smile on his face. Then he became aware of the situation again, looking around him. “Where is Freddie?”

You had resigned yourself to the fact that Roger wasn’t coming to get you anytime soon. Your legs had gone numb from the perishing cold floor and all you could focus on was the breathing exercises droning away in your ears. Eyes closed. Breathe in. Breathe out. Now, imagine you’re in your happy, safe space. Fuck.

You flung off your headphones, and opened your eyes.

A figure loomed over you, immediately catching your attention.

“Oh good, you know I’m here! Excellent. Let’s find your boyfriend,” he said, pulling you to your feet. 

“I don’t… Wait, where’s Roger?” you asked, grabbing your bags.

“Nice to meet you too,” Freddie grinned. “I dumped him somewhere along here with Brian and Deacy.”

“Everyone’s here?” Your voice cracked. Your legs stalled, rooting you to the spot.

“Yes! We wouldn’t have missed meeting you for the world.”

“Of fuck,” you sighed, looking down at the floor, feeling like it was curtains for your excursion abroad. 

“Oh, thank god!” 

Now, that was a voice you knew. 

Roger burst from the crowd out of nowhere, throwing his arms around you. He picked you up and spun you around so ferociously that you feared the champagne from the plane might resurface. You could feel his heart fluttering next to yours. But you didn’t feel panic. Not anymore. 

Plonking you down, he littered kisses everywhere he could. “I’ve missed you so, so much. I’m so sorry I’m late. These bastards insisted on coming along and I brought flowers but-” he held you out to get a good look at you. “God I missed you.”

You sighed, giggling away. “I missed you too.”

“Was your flight ok?” He asked, looking concerned. “Did they treat you well?”

“Yes, it was perfect,” you said. “I was getting a bit worried there.”

“I’m so, so sorry,” Roger said, hugging you again. 

You buried your face in his chest, slowly taking in his cologne like it was part of those god-awful breathing exercises. “You’re here now.”

The pair of you were forced apart by Freddie clearing his throat, much to Brian and Deacy’s disdain. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

[8/11]

“Are you sure you don’t want to be there?” Roger asked, slipping into a crisp white t-shirt.

You wrung your hands together on your stomach, staring up at the ceiling. The bed had accepted you as its own, and in your state of exhaustion, you huffed. “I’m not really up to it, tonight. I’m still jet-lagged.”

Roger threw himself down beside you, taking one of your hands and giving it a kiss. “Will you come out tonight?”

Being cooped up in a tour bus with Roger and his bandmates for ten hours forced you into some semblance of being comfortable around them. You paused, thinking for a moment. “Let me sleep this off, and I’ll see what I can manage.”

Roger left for the night, leaving the name and address of the club where Queen’s afterparty was to be held, and the promise of having a brand new outfit sent to his suite, just for you.

Thumbing the card in your hand, you considered his offer before you succumbed to the jet-lag and drifted off.

Four hours later, you woke up to find your room dark and empty. But there was something that called out to you from the far side, over by the dining table. Draped over one of the seats was a crimson dress. Beside it, on the table sat a pair of gold heels, a dozen roses and a bottle of Moet. You ambled over to your gifts on shaking legs and picked up the note nestled in your flowers. “Ask your mum if you can come out tonight. Love, Rog. x.”

As much as you wanted to stay in bed all night and wait for him to return, you were overcome with the urge to put on your new clothes and be a different person. Just for one night.

And so your mind was made up. An hour later, and looking your best, you strutted into the bar. Heads turned as you delved further into the cloud of smoke that blanketed the place. The regret, the panic, the rushing. It all took hold so quickly. You couldn’t ignore the eyes on you. So you kept your head bowed. It did you no good. You hit a brick wall.

“Hello, my love!”

You looked up, recognising that voice. It was Freddie. But, you needed to find Roger before the room suffocated you. “Hi darling,” you said, giving him a hug and a fake smile. “Do you know where Roger is?”

“We have a lounge through in the back,” he began, pointing towards the curtained entrance at the far side of the dancefloor, “but it’s more fun out here, don’t you think? Would you like a drink?”

That smile of yours was real now. You peered over Freddie’s shoulder, at the entourage of moustached men behind him.“I’ll bring him right back out, Fred. Then we’ll come party with you lot.”

“I’ll be waiting,” he said, hauling himself up on to a bar stool.

You nodded, speeding off into the swarm of partygoers. The music in the room was so loud that it made the ground shake like an earthquake ripping through the building. But as you approached the entrance to the lounge, you could hear laughing. Roger was laughing. You reached out and gingerly pushed back the velvet curtain to peer inside.

What you saw felt like the most vicious gut punch of your life, knocking all the air out of your lungs, sending your head spinning.

There he was, lying on an opulent sofa, with a model on each arm, competing for his attention. You needed to get out of there fast.

The following morning, bags in hand, you wandered out of the hotel towards the bus. Only for Brian to catch your arm. “I wouldn’t go on there if I were you,” he said, giving you a sympathetic look.

You sighed. “I know what he got up to last night.”

“If it’s any consolation, he’s an idiot. We’re going to give him a right bollocking when he wakes up.”

“Fuck when he wakes up. I’m giving him a bollocking right now,” you resolved, wiping your eyes and standing up straight.

Deacy was next to leave the hotel. “Bollocking? Oh, you mean Roger?” He asked.

You nodded.

“Good for you.”

“Well, since you’re feeling brave, can you get rid of those girls too?” Brian half-joked. “Don’t want to smuggle them back into Britain or anything.”

“I’ll deal with them.”

The noise in your brain seemed to escalate as you marched on to the bus. Bottles lay strewn over the floor along with a trail of clothes; men’s and women’s leading all the way to the lounge area. Dragging the beaded curtain aside, you were met with a similar image to the night before. Roger was precisely the same, but the girls were different. The three of them lay on the sofa, half naked and sound asleep; you thought it ironic as you hadn’t slept a wink for worry.

You searched the lounge for something - anything - to disrupt the scene. You hand finally found the neck of a vodka bottle. It was already open. You doused them, emptying it completely.

The girls quickly woke up, realising what was happening. They wordlessly scurried through the bus, gathering their clothes and bundling them in their arms as they left. They had clearly done this before. 

But Roger refused to budge. He was still snoring away in his underwear, mouth agape, head lolled back against the window. It infuriated you. You decided it was time to get vicious.

“Wake the fuck up!” you roared, grabbing an empty beer bottle. You lobbed it at him. Instead it smashed on the window.

Roger’s eyes fluttered open. “Hi darling,” he droned, still in a drunken haze. “Feeling better?”

“Better? Better?!” Tact was never your forte. But to get any meaningful response from him, you didn’t need it.

He looked around, completely missing the severity of the situation. “What’s wrong?” He asked, scratching his head, blinking at you.

Your heart sank. Either he was willingly trying to deceive you, or he was so wasted the night before that he had no idea what was going on. You didn’t even want to imagine the other scenario. 

Maybe this kind of thing was so prevalent in his circles, that it was an unspoken thing you merely had to accept. You crossed your arms, pacing in front of him. “Who were those girls you were with? Who were you with last night?”

Roger’s face fell. “I don’t remember anything.” He was quiet, sober, now. “What did I do?”

Tears stung the corners of your eyes. All your pride melted away. “When I went to the bar last night, I came to find you, and you were in the back with…” you trailed off, throwing away the last of your sentence with a flap of your hand. Great, wet tears made tracks through your makeup. Your legs threatened to give way, while your heart was working overtime, thumping away against your ribs. “And then this morning. You were here. With different girls. What the fuck, Roger?” you sobbed. “Has that happened before?”

Roger leaned forward, staring at the floor. He ran his hands through his hair and gave a deep sigh. “I don’t know what to tell you.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at you; if he did that, he’d be acknowledging a cold, hard truth. He had let you down. In the cruellest way he could. 

“I really trusted you.”

“I know.”

But it was as if he could sense your mind beginning to race. To entertain the thought of going back home. And the worry about how you could afford it. He didn’t miss a second. 

Finally, he looked up. For a moment, he just took in the state of you; facing the fact that he did this do you. “Can we get back from this?”

Footsteps came thundering through the aisle of the bus. You turned towards the noise to find Brian poking his head through the divider. “We’re leaving now, so I’ve just popped your suitcases up front,” he said softly.

“Thanks,” you sniffed.

“Everything alright?”

Roger was quick to pipe up. “We will be.”

Brian shot him a questioning look, before turning his attention back to you. “If you need us, we’ll be down the front, having a game of Scrabble. You’re more than welcome to join us.”

“Thanks, Brian.” When he was safely out of earshot, you and Roger resumed crisis talks. “All this time you’ve been away, has that happened before?” you pressed.

“You’re not going to go home, are you?”

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m fucking stranded here with a boyfriend who thinks it’s ok to get shitfaced and cheat on me! Of course, I’d like to go home. But you dragged me all the way to a place I can’t get back from!”

Roger propped his chin against his hand, sinking his front teeth into his knuckle. For someone with so much verve and presence, he looked utterly defeated. “If I get you a plane ticket home, can we try again when I get back?”

You shook your head. As upset as you were a moment ago, it dawned on you that if Roger got his way, you’d run the risk of falling into a routine. Things would be hunky dory for a month or two. And then a tour would come around, and Roger would be back to thinking he’s a free agent. As much as you hated yourself, you weren’t prepared to put up with that, even if the good times were almost divine. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Roger nodded, unable to speak.

“I’m going to…” you began, pointing towards the front of the bus. The last of that sentence escaped you.

[9/11]

Brian, Deacy and Freddie desperately tried to look busy as you approached the front of the bus. But even you, in your sad and panicked state, knew their game of Scrabble was all a ruse. They were eagerly awaiting details of the conversation you and Roger just had.

Flopping down beside Freddie, you tried to gather your composure again. But it was no use. Your body shook as you descended into a fit of sobbing.

“What’s the matter, darling?” Freddie asked, draping his arm around your shoulder. 

“I don’t know if-” you began, sniffling. “If we’re going to be ok. I want to go home.”

Brian and Deacy sat at the opposite side of the table. They exchanged a look, before nodding in agreement. “We’d be happy to pay for your ticket,” Brian suggested.

“It would be no trouble at all,” Deacy added.

“Plus it would give you and Roger some time apart. You never know, you might be able to pick right back up when he gets home,” Brian explained, trying to summon as much cheer.

“I couldn’t let you do that,” you said as Freddie ran his fingers gently under your eyes, catching your tears. “And besides, it’d take a miracle for me to trust him again.”

Deacy and Brian nodded. They knew you had a point. Even they weren’t blindsided by the fact that their friend had hurt you terribly.

“Do you know what I think you should do?” Freddie asked, shuffling in his seat to face you.

“What?”

“I think you should stay.”

“But I can’t-”

Freddie held up his hand to shush you. “Stay. Have some fun. Make Rog see what he’s been missing. He won’t do that again, I can assure you.”

“But he’s been-”

“On his best behaviour, actually,” Brian said, not quite finishing the sentence you started. 

“Since he met you, anyway,” Freddie added.

“Old habits and all that,” Brian concluded.

Deacy was quick to impart another detail. “He really does care about you. We’ve even seen him cry over you.”

“I was so sure he’d been sleeping around,” you mused, shaking your head.

“Oh, believe me, Roger used to. But not anymore.” Freddie smiled at you warmly. “Let me take you shopping. We’ll have you out of those drab clothes of your’s in no time and flirting up a storm with someone even more handsome than Roger.”

You looked down at your outfit, tugging at the neckline of your top. Blue jeans. A plain white t-shirt. A pair of blue loafers. It wasn’t fancy, but it was comfortable. “Drab?”

“I quite like your clothes, actually,” Brian said quietly. 

“Thank you,” you said, turning your attention back to Freddie. “There’s one glaring problem, here.”

“Oh, I know. Your anxiety sometimes gets the better of you. Well, Brian has a stash of those self-help tapes, don’t you, darling?” Freddie pressed.

“I thought that was Roger’s idea?” you laughed.

Deacy rolled his eyes, leaning into the table. He was growing tired of the conversation, so he got straight to the heart of the issue, putting you on the spot in a way that almost terrified you. “Do you love Roger?”

“I did.”

“Would you like to get your relationship with Roger back on track?”

“In my own time,” you squeaked.

“You don’t have to go out every night, throwing yourself at every man who looks at you,” Freddie said, softening his tone. “Just get drunk, flirt with someone and make sure Roger see’s.”

“And then what?”

Finally, Deacy and Brian were getting on board with Freddie’s plan. “And then you stick around until the end of the tour,” Brian added.

Rounding off the plan, Deacy concluded: “To keep tabs on him.” 

“And do you think this is going to work?” You asked.

“It bloody better!” Freddie began. “There will be no living with him if he loses you.”

“Vested interest. Lovely,” you remarked, realising that Brian, Deacy and Freddie had succeeded in talking you down. No more tears. Just scrabble and talk of outfits you were going to wear to make sure Roger’s eyes didn’t stray again.

 —————————————— 

As it turns out, the following night’s show was one of the worst of the tour. 

It all started when you ignored Roger’s pleading for the two of you to share a room. He cornered you in the lobby, still reeking of booze and sweat and sex, trying to apologise. Begging for ‘one night’ to make it all up to you. Instead, you were going to sleep in the master bedroom of Freddie’s suite (he had elected to take the sofa bed in the lounge area, despite your insistence he take the bed). 

He showed up outside Freddie’s suite that afternoon with another bouquet of roses, but you and Freddie had gone out shopping together. He even trawled around the entire crew’s rooms in search of you. 

Eventually, he binned the flowers. 

Roger kept his distance for the rest of the day. 

You laughed and joked with Brian, Deacy and Freddie, doing their hair and applying their makeup, while Roger sulked on the other side of the dressing room, wearing a sour expression.

When it was show time, you watched from the side of the stage. You had never been to a concert before. That wasn’t to say you had never wanted to go to one. You adored music and always went about your business with your headphones blaring your favourite cassettes in your ears. 

But concerts? 

The vast expanse of bodies?

The sweat and the heat?

And the sheer amount of noise?

It wasn’t for you. 

But you had the best spot in the house, and you were safe, with a clear exit planned out if you needed it.

You didn’t. In fact, your eyes were glued to the band. Brian, Deacy and Freddie were all on top form. However, Roger was having the night from hell.

During your dates, he would always bleat on about how the drummer was the heart and soul of a band, half-jokingly, but that night, you truly understood what he meant as he meandered his way through the night. It was like a car crash in slow motion right until the final song.

As the packed venue erupted into thunderous applause, Roger got up and began to haul over his drum kit, sending each item flying across the stage. He didn’t even acknowledge the audience, storming off when ran out of things to wreck.

After the show, Roger disappeared. It played on your mind as you and Freddie got ready together. “What if he doesn’t show up?” You asked, knocking back a shot of vodka, admiring the clothes Freddie held up against your figure. 

“Well, you’re going to have a great fucking time anyway. Fuck Roger.” Freddie was so matter-of-fact as he rifled through the mountain of clothes he insisted on buying you earlier. He maintained he knew what Roger liked to see on a woman and made your style choices accordingly. Even if most of them weren’t to your taste. “I know this is a little bit out there for you, but why don’t we go a bit more colourful?” Freddie suggested, taking out a bright pink silk shirt, dotted with blue brushstrokes. 

You scrutinised the shirt. “What am I going to wear that with?”

“I got you some lovely blue leather trousers, remember?” he said, pulling them from the rail. 

“Uh-huh. And the shoes?”

Freddie pointed at the shoes you were wearing. Your comfy blue loafers. “Those are perfect.”

“I can’t help feeling like I’m your little pet project, Freddie,” you giggled. Shrugging out of your clothes was easy now that you were sufficiently drunk. You weren’t even sure if the outfit Freddie had chosen for you looked objectively reasonable, or if it was just the vodka telling you lies, but you didn’t hate the image you saw in the mirror. 

Freddie wandered up behind you and placed his hands on your shoulders. “It’s because I have a vested interest, my dear.”

“When Roger suffers, everyone does?” you guessed, crossing your arms. 

“You said it, not me!”

You and Freddie arrived at the afterparty fashionably late. In stark contrast to the previous post-gig shindig, this venue was surprisingly tame. Brian, Deacy and the crew congregated around a table in the centre of the room, unbothered by other patrons. “Can you see Roger anywhere,” you asked, clutching Freddie’s arm, walking further into the room. The pair of you stopped. Searching.

“There he is,” Freddie said quietly, pointing towards the bar.

Roger sat alone, surrounded by empty glasses, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. He gazed off into space, getting lost inside his own mind. 

“See anyone you like?” Freddie asked.

You sighed. “I almost feel bad for him.”

Freddie looked horrified. “Well, don’t! He’s harbouring enough self-pity to last him a lifetime. He doesn’t deserve any of yours.”

“Ok,” you agreed, scanning the room for someone else. 

“What about him? He’s much more muscular than Roger,” Freddie said, pointing towards a man who epitomised the term ‘frat boy.’

“He looks like a brute.”

“Fine, I’ll have that one! What about…” Freddie gave a dramatic pause before drawing your attention to an older gentleman, quietly sipping a pint a few places along from Roger. “Him?”

“I’m not looking for a sugar daddy, Freddie.”

He shot you a perplexed look. “What’s wrong with that?”

Then someone caught your eye. The bartender. He was tall, well over six feet, and broad. With thick, dark hair, and charisma that was palpable in every corner of the room. You nodded in his direction. “What about him?”

“Free drinks all night? Works for me,” Freddie shrugged. 

You and Freddie scurried towards the bar and hauled yourselves up on to some stools, a few feet away from Roger.

He was still knocking back his drinks with a surly look on his face. His sunglasses were perched on the bridge of his nose; you had no idea if he knew you were there. With the mood he had been in all evening, it was probably best not to disturb him.

Freddie quickly got the attention of the object of your desires, but you froze when he leaned in to take your drinks order. He had such a warm, welcoming smile and the kind of eyes you could get lost in for hours. Where Roger was lively, this man was dreamy. You tried to commit every detail of him to your memory, from his strong arms to the half-buttoned dark denim shirt that contained him.

And you couldn’t talk to him.

It was sod’s law, really, that Freddie would be the one to introduce you to him and to order a vodka on your behalf. 

He served you quickly, whacking down an entire bottle of the stuff, along with some shot glasses, in front of you and Freddie. There wasn’t a ring on his finger. “I’m James, by the way,” he said with a wink. Looking around the bar, he realised that there weren’t any customers waiting to be served, so he leaned over in front of you and Freddie. “I know why you’re here,” he began, nodding at Freddie before turning his attention to you. “But what are you doing so far from home?”

You quickly gulped down a shot, and tried to think up an answer that didn’t make you sound like an idiot.

Again, Freddie was quick to swoop in. “She’s in a kind of ‘fella done me wrong’ situation.”

“Really?” James said, raising his eyebrows. “What did he do to you?”

Freddie pointed over to Roger who was minding his own business. “You see, she went out with Rog over there, our drummer,” he explained, taking a sip of his own shot. “But he’s been a bit of an arsehole.”

You rolled your eyes. “More than an arsehole,” you said under your breath.

James’ face lifted, forming laughter lines around his watery blue eyes. “She speaks!”

“Oh she’s a timid little thing,” Freddie said, slapping your thigh. “But she bites. Be warned!”

The ice had well and truly been broken between you and James. Feeling bolder, you decided to ask him about himself. “So do you own this place?”

“I do,” he said, smiling. “I actually inherited it from my father and his before that. This place has been going for well over a century!”

You listened intently as you poured yourself another shot. “That’s wonderful,” you said. “Would you like a shot?”

James smirked, considering your offer. “Why don’t you and I have a couple of drinks together at the end of the night?” He suggested, pointing to the clock on the wall behind the bar. “It’s an hour until I close anyway.”

You glanced at Freddie, whose eyes were wide. He urged you on.

“I’d love to,” you beamed. 

Someone at the other side of the bar was trying to get James’ attention, but he was so taken with you, he failed to notice. The realisation of what you were doing hit you like a ton of bricks. Suddenly your words dried up.

“Um,” you began, pointing over James’ shoulder, “you should probably…”

“Oh,” James said, looking around. He seemed to have turned into a bumbling idiot, just like you. “Fuck, I should, yeah…”

When he was safely out of earshot, Freddie leaned into you. “Look at you!” He squealed, shaking you by the shoulders. 

“I can’t believe that,” you grinned.

Freddie took another shot, and you drank in the view of the bar, gazing around at the revellers in the room. Brian and Deacy were still having a civilised time with the crew. Groups of people were dotted sporadically throughout the place, including members of Freddie’s perpetual entourage, but no one was disruptive. Until you clapped eyes on Roger. 

He was sitting there staring at you. You weren’t sure how long he had been doing this for, but as soon as you looked him, he clenched his teeth together, desperately trying to form a smile. Then he waved. 

“Fred?” You said, your voice low with renewed nervousness.

“Yes, my darling?”

“Do you think Roger saw all that?”

“Wasn’t that the plan?” He asked, turning around in his seat to face you.

“Yes, but he’s looking right at me.”

“So?”

“What if he tries something? Oh god…”

“What?”

You and Freddie watched as Roger snapped his fingers to get James attention. And then looked on in horror as Roger grabbed James by the collar, like a chihuahua trying to wrestle an Alsatian. You slid off your seat to intervene, but Freddie merely put out his arm to stop you. From what you could gather, Roger was snarling something at him, his face viciously screwed up.

James remained calm, removing Roger’s hands with ease, before leaving the space behind the bar to join Roger on the other side.

By now, Roger’s face was scarlet as he squared up to the bartender. He got the shock of his life when James grabbed him by his hair and dragged him towards the door. You couldn’t help but laugh as Roger shrieked from the street outside: “Don’t you know who I am?!”

You and Freddie exchanged looks when James returned triumphantly to his post. “He wasn’t hassling you, was he?” you asked him.

He raised his hand and shook his head. “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

“Good. I know he can be a bit hot-headed,” you began, only for him to cut you off.

“I’m thinking about closing early, do you want to stay for a bit? Have that drink?”

You glanced at Freddie, knowing full well you had his support. And then back at James. “I’d love to.”

In the space of ten minutes, everyone had filed out of the bar, leaving you and James alone together. A bottle of whiskey sat between you in one of the booths closest to the door.

In front of patrons, he seemed like the chattiest man in the world. But alone, you could feel the tension radiating from him. 

He eyed your lips intently when you spoke, or slurred, about your trip. Once you got started telling him about everything that had gone wrong, you couldn’t to stop. But he grew more and more impatient with every word.

Finally, when he couldn’t take much more of hearing you lament your relationship with Roger, he swooped in. Deep and passionate, he kissed you so fiercely that you had to cling on to the table to stop yourself falling backwards. Not that it did much good. As the moment intensified, James pulled you on to his lap and began to undo the buttons on your shirt. 

Even in your current state, you were still lucid enough the know what was about to happen.

James took off your shirt, sending it flying over the divider of the booth. The bar had a coldness to it now that it didn’t have before and it seemed to drag you into the abyss, in your head, at least. 

Sure, you went along with everything James did, right until he finished. 

But the only reason you did it was to tell Freddie about it in the morning, in the hopes that Roger overheard. 

But it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t thrilling. All you felt was cold, icy detachment. He wasn’t Roger.

It was always the ringing that drove you to despair. Spent, drenched in sweat and hastily throwing your shirt back on, it even followed you out of the bar and into the street.

You felt sorry for yourself, wandering off into the night, following the streetlamps back down the road to your hotel. The fresh night air shot a bolt of clarity into you. 

Freddie meant well when he suggested this stunt to make Roger jealous, but if you were honest, it hadn’t achieved anything. It only made you feel even more worthless. Your heart sank.

Maybe you should take Brian and Deacy up on their offer of a ticket home, you thought.

“What are you doing out here? You’ll catch your death.”

That familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. You turned around to find Roger loitering outside the bar with those ridiculous sunglasses still on his face.

“What are you doing, Roger?” you asked.

“I didn’t want you walking back to the hotel on your own,” he admitted.

You couldn’t help but get defensive. “If this is your way of-”

“Making sure you’re safe,” he said, holding up his hands, “that’s all it is.”

You sighed. You didn’t want to fight. You didn’t have the energy for it. “Fine. Walk with me.”

Roger didn’t need telling twice. He was glued to your side in seconds. Keeping quiet as you wandered.

The silence didn’t last long. “Do you care about me?” you asked.

“You’re all I care about.”

“Well, why did you do that, then?”

“It’s a bad excuse, but we all do terrible things when we’ve had one too many. Me, more than most… I’ve been trying to be better.”

“I think I’ve been a bit worse. I don’t know why I did it.”

Roger looked at you questioningly. “It worked though.”

“What?”

“When I was sitting outside that door there, listening to you and that bloody bartender. God, it made me sick.”

“You heard that?”

Roger nodded.

“I just want you to know that I didn’t enjoy it.”

“Why? He was handsome.”

You sighed. “He wasn’t you, though, was he?”

“I still feel awful about what I did. And I can’t even remember what it was that happened. That’s the worst part.”

Finally, you reached the hotel. The warmth from the lobby soothed your bones as you and Roger waited for the lift to the suites on the top floor. You looked at him from the corner of your eye. His gaze was fixed to the floor.

“Roger?”

He looked up. “Yes?”

The lift doors pinged open, and you got inside, backs against the walls, facing each other. “Freddie’s probably asleep by now. Can I stay the night with you?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

“Thanks. I don’t want to wake him. He seems to like his sleep.”

Roger nodded. “Oh, no. Of course. That’s no problem at all.”

You looked each other up and down in silence. It had only been a short time since you and he slept in the same bed, but it felt like an eternity. And so much had changed.

The doors slid open again. Faced with a fluffy, dusty pink hallway, you followed Roger’s lead towards his suite. It was much smaller than Freddie’s and he hadn’t bothered bringing his luggage inside from the bus. Just the essentials - underwear, aftershave, toothbrush. It wasn’t like Roger at all. 

Neither was the nervous figure he cut in the centre of the lounge, clasping his hands together and looking around aimlessly. “If you need something to sleep in-”

“My underwear’s fine,” you said, shedding your clothes on your way to the bedroom.

“Do you want me to take the couch?” Roger asked.

You shrugged and spoke calmly, while your insides raged. “We’re both adults.”

Roger slowly began stripping down to his underwear while you did the same. 

You could see why girls fawned over him everywhere he went. In fact, it was all you could see.

“Ok,” he said, standing at the other side of the bed. “Goodnight.”

You sank your head on to the pillow, paying him very little attention as he crawled in beside you. Your eyes drooped closed as if he wasn’t there at all. “Goodnight.”

It felt like centuries, lying next to each other in silence like two dead bodies laying in wait. In reality, it had only been ten minutes. “Roger?”

“Hm?”

“I can’t sleep.”

“Neither can I.”

“Can you cuddle me?” you asked, rolling on to your side.

You felt Roger turning around next to you. Before you knew it, his arm was around your waist. He pressed a few quick kisses to your shoulder, his breath was electric against your skin. “How’s that?”

“It’s perfect.”

But there was something in the way. Roger huffed. “I can smell him all over you.”

That statement made you tense. Half of you wanted to scold Roger and remind him that it was he who cheated on you first. But the other half of you was desperate for him to reclaim you. The truth was, you didn’t want James lingering around on your skin or in your mind. 

Roger’s hands began to wander, and, eager for them to explore you more, you turned on to your back. He gently undid the front clasp of your bra, exposing your chest to his touch. Drawing feathery strokes around your nipples, he marvelled as they began to harden. “I forgot how much I adore you,” he mumbled against your side.

You ran your hand through his hair, letting out a quiet laugh. “I think you should show me how much you adore me.”

Roger shifted, looming over you, and placed long, luxurious kisses down your stomach. He dragged your underwear, still damp from James’ efforts at the bar down your thighs as his mouth moved lower. Urgent and feverish, Roger’s tongue got to work, eradicating any trace of his rival from your flesh. 

Second guessing what was going through Roger's head at that moment was part of the thrill for you as he ardently lapped at your clit. He was hell bent on showing you that you were his, burying his face against your cunt, fingers clawing at your hips. The noises he made were feral. They sent glorious vibrations through your body. You could only respond with a breathless beg for him to fuck you. 

His movements ceased for a moment, looking up at you. “Are you sure, darling?”

You were desperate to be back in his arms again, so desperate that you couldn’t help but whine. “Please, Roger.”

“Ok, baby,” Roger whispered, his face now inches from your own. “I’m here.”

The relief you felt at having him close again was better than any fucking you could do with any bartender. Having Roger slowly push into you was even more blissful. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him by his hair in for another chaste, breathless kiss as he gathered momentum. 

Then, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, overcome with how incredible you felt around him. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” you whispered in his ear, your cunt grasping at his cock. “I bet those girls don’t feel nearly as good as this.”

“Oh fuck,” Roger hissed, thrusting harder into you. “You feel fucking incredible.” He leaned back on to his haunches, grabbing your waist to hold you up as he pounded you mercilessly. “Let me see you play with yourself, darling.”

You did as Roger told you, and began to circle your clit in time with every one of Roger’s sharp thrusts. He was stroking just the right spot inside you, winding you tighter every time, making you milk his cock. Coaxing release out of him. 

You got there first. Seeing stars as tears stung your cheeks, barely able to get a breath.

He wasn’t far behind, collapsing over you as his passes became jagged. He buried his face into the pillow, and with one low growl, he was spent.

Lifting his head to get a good look at you, he wore an angelic expression. “Are we ok?” Roger whispered. His voice still shook.

“We’ve got a lot to figure out. But I hope so.”

[yurtletheturtlehenderson]

The Tug || Stan U. x Fem?Reader

Requested: @trash-mouthlover Could you do a cute soulmate au with good ol Stan the man. If not that's cool too. P.s. your writings are amazing!

A//N: Absolutely! I love Stan the man! I will always love my sassy little noodle-head boi. I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG!!! P.s. thank you, you are so sweet! After a lot of searching I finally decided on this soulmate au:

-You can feel a tug from wherever your soulmate is. These may either be automatic or have stronger tugs whenever your soulmate is in distress.

Also, while writing this, it actually started to morph into a Bev x reader without realizing and I had to steer it back on track 😂 Also, going back and reading it, I’m realizing there is almost no interaction between Stan and the reader and for that I apologize, this is the first time writing a soulmate au and I quickly realized, I’m not that good at it. Also, I’m probably gonna make a part two at some point to make up for the lack of Stan x Reader.

Pairings: Stan Uris x Fem!Reader    <btw, the whole fem!reader is only on one small technicality and that was because reader uses the girls bathroom. But technically you can read it as any gender considering they didn’t exactly have gender neutral bathrooms so it can be read as either way I believe>

Warnings: Some cursing. Henry Bowers being creepy for like two seconds. Greta being mean and throwing literally ONE homophobic slur. It felt in character but I still didn't enjoy writing it and might take it out later.

{EDITED AS OF 6•17•19}

Summer break.

Fucking finally.

You forgot how angelic the final bell was on the last day of school. You were gladly swept along the ocean of kids into and down the hallway until you found yourself in front of your locker.

Entering the code you've done mindlessly so for the past 9 months for the final time. The metal door swung open and hit the adjoining lockers with a rather obnoxious clang that was drowned out by the crowd in the hallway. Given that your bus wouldn't show up for another twenty minutes, you knew you were in no hurry so you took your time emptying out your lockers contents. Having learned your lesson from last year, you had brought a spare plastic grocery bag for trash. You had just finished separating the trash and were now putting the rest of your belongings into your bag when you couldn't help but overhear a snippet of conversation from some passing boys in the hallway.

"Yeah, and I think the rabbi's gonna pull down your pants, turn to the crowd and say, 'Where's the beef?'"

With a curious frown, you froze and looked over your shoulder to see the infamous Richie, the trashmouth Tozier. Oh, you were definitely familiar with him. With a small shake of the head, you rolled your eyes and smiled. You closed your locker, swung your backpack over your shoulder and made your way to the girls room.

Of course, the traffic in the hall was still pretty congested so you found yourself a few feet behind Richie and his friends. Anxious to get to the bathroom, yet, as usual, there seemed to be absolutely no wiggle room to squeeze by leaving you no option but to trail behind them awkwardly unintentionally overhearing their conversation. You only saw the backs of their heads and you took an educated guess of who's who. To his right was a blonde boy, just a little taller than Richie, who you assumed to be Bill Denbrough. You frowned at the thought.

Poor boy.

Derry was a relatively small town, or at least small enough for word to travel fast. And the strange passing of his little brother Georgie was no exception. Everyone heard about that. To his right, the tallest boy, who was wearing a kippah, began speaking.

"At the Bar Mitzvah, I read from the Torah, and then I make a speech and suddenly I become a man."

Having been previously staring at your shoes, you nervously look up when you get the sudden feeling of being watched. Your eyes hastily dart up and you curse yourself under your breath when you see the cold dark eyes of Henry Bowers and his posse look you up and down.

No longer feeling safe, you quickly return your gaze to the floor, tighten your grip on your backpack straps and push past the boys. Unintentionally shoving them aside, a pang of guilt passes over you and you quickly turn your head back and throw a quick "sorry" their way.

You visibly relaxed when you reached the safety of the long hallway of the girls bathroom.

What you saw made your face scrunch up in confusion, there was a pair of girls standing around but the suspicious thing was one of them was filling up the trash bag from the garbage can up with water in the sink. Deciding staying out of it was your best option you kept to yourself and walked into one of the unoccupied stalls. The smell of a burning cigarette filled your senses and you couldn't help but cringe.

You had just done your business and done what you needed to do, you were just about ready to pull open the stall door when you heard an angry grunt followed by the sound of someone kicking the nearby stall. You froze out of instinct.

"Are you in there by yourself, Beaver-ly? Or do you have half the guys in the school with you, huh, slut? I know you're in there, little shit. I can smell you."

You frowned. You wanted to say something, but Greta was ruthless and you didn't what to say. You felt ashamed for sitting there, doing nothing.

"Which is it, Greta? Am I a slut or a little shit? Make up your mind." You couldn't help but smile at that. Good for her.

"You're trash."

Thump.

Oh, no.

Now you understood why the girl had been filling up the garbage.

You hastily opened the door to do something, not knowing what yet. You came out just in time to see the other girl standing on the neighbor toilet dumping the trash bag full of water into Beverly's stall.

"Hey! Get out of here! Leave the poor girl alone!" You yell, livid.

"A bit late to defend your girlfriend, you dirty little dike." She spit in your direction causing you to jump back in disgust.

The three girls laughed and strutted out of the bathroom.

It was quiet for a moment and you walked to stall Beverly was still in.

You two knew each other. You weren't exactly friends, but you didn't hate each other or anything. You were acquaintances.

Until now.

You softly knocked on the stall and asked in a quiet voice.

"Hey, you need any help?"

+++

You were glad you made friends with Beverly Marsh. She was kind and funny and the two of you had a lot more in common than you'd realized. Of course, the time came for you to catch your bus and the two of you parted ways, not before making plans to hang out later of course.

You made your way onto the crowded bus for the final time and took a seat in your regular spot and got out your walkman and pressed play, turning off your brain. Many bus stops later you found yourself in your regular routine. You rounded the familiar corner of your neighboring street, only two blocks away from your house when it happened.

That tug.

The one everyone talked about. Bragged about even.

Sure a couple of times you thought you felt it, or the ghost of the tug. But this time you were sure.

It wasn't the good tug either, it was the rapid, frantic tug. It made your heart flutter. Were they okay? You'd heard stories of a soulmate being in distress, but it never felt like this. It was frantic and the pull was in every direction at once. It caused your own heart to thud rapidly against your chest. Once again you felt helpless. But what could you do? You didn't even know who your soulmate was.

Unable to think about anything else, you let your feet carry you home as your worried mind conjured endless scenarios. Anything that could possibly explain what the hell was happening. To your great relief, it gradually relaxed. Lulled into a soft but present tug.

They were safe. For now.

+++

A few days later, you finally were able to meet up with Beverly. She had insisted on going out and doing literally anything other than staying inside. When you stopped by her house and had a rather unpleasant greeting from her father you immediately understood why. The two of you were content with walking around town, and when she mentioned she needed to stop by the drug store you obliged. Naturally, you told her about the tug from the other day and she listened intently, invested in the conversation and offering advice as friends do. Which you greatly appreciated.

"I know, right? I'm glad you think so, I was starting to think I was paranoid or maybe I, I don't know..." You trailed off when you noticed two boys in the alleyway, one of them looked to be pretty bloodied up.

"Hey, why don't you go inside and get your supplies, I'll meet you out here? Sound good?" She looked confused but seemed to understand you had a good reason.

"Oh, uh, yeah. Sure thing." She smiled and headed inside, the ring of the store bell echoing.

Your eyes never broke contact with the boys in the alley and you walked toward them to offer help.

Upon closer examination, or rather being within earshot, you realized it was none other than Richie Tozier."Glad I got to meet you before you died." He said awkwardly standing above the bloodied up kid who was sitting on a crate.

You recognized the kid. It was the new kid, Ben. You remembered him from math class. He was a sweet kid.

"Alright, now just what did you do to him, Tozier?" You called out teasingly, grabbing the attention of the two young boys.

Richie's eyes bugged out behind his big glasses before he quickly recovered.

"Oi! Wassen' me I'm tellin ya!" He squeaked in awkward accent.

"Yikes! That accent needs a little work there, Tozier."You winked and turned to the bleeding boy before you could catch the offended look from Richie.

"Ben, right?"

He nodded.

"[Y/N]. Nice to meet ya." You two shared a polite but genuine smile.

You crouched down to meet his eye level, and sat on one leg."So, I'm just gonna assume that you that there actually IS someone who can help? You are aren't just letting yourself bleed out in some alley with this douche, right?" You said with a crooked smile, gesturing with your thumb to the speckled boy in a Hawaiian shirt.

You and Richie had known each other for a couple months. You two were the only ones who could keep each other sane during social studies class. Friendly banter was not uncommon between you two.

"Y-Yeah, they went inside," Ben spoke up.

"May I?" I gesture to his injury to take a look and he obliges.

You gently straighten out his shirt to examine the injury and it doesn't take too long to notice the three deep gashes that form an "H" on his stomach. You press your lips into a firm line, sighing, meeting the poor boy's eye.

"Bowers, huh?" You said quietly.

"Yeah." He admits quietly.

"Yeah, he is a real prick." You mumbled, terrified to say such things even when he's nowhere around.

Suddenly, you thought you felt a gentle tug in the center of your chest and your attention was quickly snatched at the sound of the drug store bell ringing rapidly. You heard a cluster of hurried footsteps and you stood to your feet turning in the direction of the noise to see two of three boys scurrying down the alley carrying a bunch of supplies.

You recognized the boys to be one the very same ones from school the other day. You could only name one, and that was Bill, although he seemed hesitant to walk over. It seemed he was more interested in something just outside the alley.

"I'm assuming you guys are the medical team I've heard so much about. Great response time." You quipped sending a smile.

The shortest one, who was carrying all the supplies was focused only on tending to Ben, which you dubbed a good thing.

"Why do you have two fanny packs?" You asked.

"I don't want to get into it right now, who are you anyway?"

"Y/N. I noticed Ben here in the alley, you know, bleeding out. And I figured, I better come rescue him from the company or Tozier, here." You smirk, and earning a glare and a snide comment from Richie.

Soon enough, the attention redirects itself back to Ben's wound. Richie starts yelling at the boy tending to Ben, who you learned his name to be Eddie, and Eddie argues back.

"You gotta suck the wound dry before applying the band aids. This is 101."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." You snort, and seem to have earned a chuckle from the other boy.

You were about to turn and introduce yourself when you heard a familiar voice.

"Are you okay? That looks like it hurts."

"Bev, there you are!" You stand up and make room for Eddie to tend to Ben.

You take a few steps back and stand next to the girl. It was then you made eye contact with Bill. He had a hint of recollection.

"[Y-Y/n], r-r-right?"

You smile politely.

"The one and only. Nice to meet you... Bill?" You asked his name, confidently, but asked anyway not wanting to seem weird.

He nodded and you took your hand out of your pocket for a brief moment to shake hands with the tallest boy.

"And I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met?" You asked politely.

The tallest boy stood still, almost in a daze of some sort and you frowned slightly, pulling your hand back hesitantly.

You looked around at the other boys in confusion. "Did- Did I say something, or-?"

Richie waltzed over, with the largest, shit-eating grin you had ever seen and placed his arm around the boy's shoulder shaking him slightly.

"Oh, no! Don't be silly! Ol' Stan the Man here loses his shit when he sees somethin' he likes." With that same shit-eating grin, he looked you in the eyes, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

You quirked an eyebrow and chuckled softly. "Excuse me?"

Before Richie could answer, the boy, Stan you presumed, spoke up, elbowing Richie in the process.

"Can it, Richie."

He sighed and straightened himself out as he looked back to you, awkwardly sticking out his hand to shake yours. "Stan Uris."

You smiled warmly and reached out to take his hand. "[Y/N] [L/N]."

The two of you froze when you simultaneously felt the same tug, the strongest you had ever felt, the one your parents gushed about, and you two shared a look. Silently agreeing not to bring it to attention and save it for later you two smiled at each other and turned to the poor kid who was still getting patched up. Although you couldn't help the blush that rivaled Stan's.

You made a mental note to ask him what happened to him the other day...

Bev directed her attention to the Ben, they seemed to know each other

She had a certain glint in her eye as she spoke to him.

"You sure they got the right stuff, to fix you up?"

Bill spoke up. "W-We'll take care of him. Thanks again, Beverly."

"Sure," she nodded, then turned gesturing to you. "Maybe, we'll see you around."

You made eye contact with Stan, and smiled knowingly, causing another blush to dust his cheeks and he awkwardly coughed.

It seemed everyone was oblivious to this, thankfully.

"Yeah, we were thinking about going to the q-quarry tomorrow, if you guys wa-wanna come."

You and Beverley shared a look and you turned to the boys. "Good to know."

"Yeah, thanks."

Hiding your smirk, the two of you turned and walked down the alley together.

This would definitely be interesting.

+++++

⇴ The Tug - [Part 2]

[a-jynx]

Fleeing Love

Summary: Y/N ran in hopes to escape the hunting life that seemed to have swallowed up her family and friends. Her hideout soon discovered by a certain friend of the Winchester’s who just wants to bring the family back together, but how will he react when the youngest Winchester expresses her true feelings towards living the hunting life? 

Pairing: Castiel x Winchester sister! reader; Sam and Dean make an appearance :) 

Warnings: The usual from SPN, concerned friends turned to lovers, concerned family, cute and confused Cas

Notes: Another requested fic! This is perhaps the second or third time of me writing for Castiel, so I hope it turns out well! As well as, the Anon who requested sees their fic! 😁

Enjoy! Feedback is appreciated! 

How long has it been..? I couldn’t tell you. It’s felt like forever since she’s up and disappeared. Just... Left. Dean, Sam and I were sleeping, peacefully in the night only to wake and find her gone. 

“Cas, buddy, you here?” Dean waved his hand in front of me, making me flinch as I snapped my eyes up, finally noticing the brothers were staring at him with confused and worried looks. “You okay, Cas?” Sam asked, setting down the book that we had been searching in for hours. 

“Uh, yes. I’m fine. What were we discussing?” I hummed as Sam and Dean furrowed their brows before clearing their throats and speaking. “Well, Bobby said there were a few hunters up in Michigan that could use our help with some... Beast that’s been going around,” Sam sighed, as Dean nodded, taking a sip of his beer before adding. “None of them can figure out what it is, so we have to head down there tonight.” 

“Tonight..? I thought we were going to look for signs of Y/N...” I whispered her name as they both looked to me, shock and sadness suddenly etching around their faces. “Cas, it’s been two years since Y/N left... She doesn’t want anything to do with us,” Sam whispered, the term upset not even reaching the hurt that the younger brother spoke of. Dean suddenly slammed his palms into the rickety table, causing it to sway and creak in agony. “I say good riddance! She left us like a coward would -- waited till the deepest part of the night to scramble off with nothing but a room with a cold bed and a few books!” Dean growled, scoffing as he leaned back in the old wooden chair, crossing his arms over his chest with a huff. “She’s probably out having the time of her life without us dragging her down, so, I say, have fun and don’t come runnin’ when somethin’ is trying to kill you.” Dean spat angrily as Sam and I stared at him, his chest rising and falling with short pants. “I’m going to get another beer.” He growled, throwing the chair back as he stalked towards the kitchen, leaving Sam and me in the tense silence. 

Suddenly, Sam spoke, “Cas, buddy, I know you miss her... We all do, but Dean’s right. She left without an explanation of why or where she was going, hell, she hasn’t texted or called since she left. Maybe we should just... Just let her go.” Sam shrugged as I furrowed my brows, snarling some as I shook my head, pushing up with the help of the table. “No! We need to find her and make sure she’s not dead, or... Or kidnapped! She can’t be on her own for so long-” 

“Cas. Drop it. I know you’re still hurting, so are Dean and me, but we have jobs to do. We can’t just sit around, or drive around looking for her. So, just drop it.” Sam spat, showing that I had overstepped one or two boundaries. Standing taller, I sighed, nodding before clearing my throat. “I’m... I’m truly sorry, Sam. I just want her to return here -- safe.” Sam sighed, nodding before he rose from the table, pushing in his chair with a sad glimpse. “Don’t we all.” 

“Pick up, pick up, pick up -- pick up the goddamn phone!” I hissed, yanking the cell away from my ear while tugging at my hair, anxiously. I should have never left... But, it was the only way. “Hello?” A tired voice hummed through the speaker, my nerves slowly dissolving only to be wound tight once more. I gulped, my lips quivering as I sighed. 

“Cas..?” 

“Y/N!? Y/N, where are you -- are you hurt? Does someone have you? Let me go wake Sam and-” 

“No! No, Castiel, don’t.” I growled, feeling the tears build as I rested my arms against my legs, caressing my forehead as I sighed; why did I do this again? “What? Why not, they’ll be ecstatic to hear from you.” Cas stuttered out a laugh as I frowned, furrowing my brows before humming, closing my eyes. “I just... Cas, I need help but I called you because I have nowhere else to turn. Bobby is too busy with hunters, Jody is off doing her cop-like duties, and Sam and Dean-” 

“Are just as anxious as I am to have you home, Y/N.” Cas sighed. I could hear the pain in his voice. I could hear the sadness and anger mixing with the grief that seemed to melt through the phone and squirm into my heart -- it broke for him, it did, but... I had to keep them away. “Cas. I just need some help with this hunt I’m on, then it’ll go back to the way it was. No more burden, and no more continuous anxiety of watching over me.” I scoffed with a laugh, but Cas didn’t laugh, nor chuckle as he growled into the phone. “Y/N, do you really think that’s how I want it? To go back to thinking you were dead or kidnapped? Why don’t you come to the bunker, TALK to us, and we can solve the hunt together?” Cas begged. God, he was begging me to come back... 

“I can’t.” 

“Why not?” 

“I just... Can’t. Cas, I’ll send you my location in the text, but I’ll only be here for a few more hours. You can come but come alone if I somehow think you’re coming with Sam and Dean -- I’ll be gone.” I whispered, before yanking the phone away from my ear and quickly ending the call. Clenching my phone, I quickly tossed the device away, acting as if it had burned me. 

“I’m so stupid... Goddamnit, I’m so stupid!” I growled, resting my head against my wrists, thickly swallowing as I pushed myself up from my motel bed, grabbing my phone and bag before I started piling my items into it. I have to be ready... 

I downed another shot before jumping at the knocking. Swallowing the gulp, I quickly moved towards the door, peeking through the peephole with a sigh, I slowly open the door. “Cas.” 

“Y/N.” Cas moved quickly, developing me in his arms as I sighed, wrapping my arms around the angel’s neck with a slight squeeze. His musk making me sigh in content before I slowly moved my head from his shoulder, glancing up at him with a soft smile. “It’s good to see you, Cas.” 

“My dear, it’s been too long since I’ve seen you. You look...” His voice trailed for a second, making me step back further as I sent him another soft smile; I heard him inhale sharply. “Beautiful.” 

“Thank you, Cas, but... I didn’t call you for a social gathering.” I sighed, feeling my heart sink as I turned on my heel, listening to Cas close the room door before following behind me. “Right. What is it you need help with?” Cas murmured, sitting close to me as I inhaled sharply as well, feeling his fingertips scratch against my jeans. “Uh, well, there’s a hunter who's been going around and... Have you and my brothers heard anything about Michigan as of late?” 

“Uh, yes actually. Sam and Dean just went up there tonight, Bobby sent them in hopes to help some hunters discover what’s been killing things around their towns,” Cas shrugged before narrowing his eyes, glancing at me. “Why do you ask?” 

“I went up there last year; this has been going on for, well, forever for those poor people. None of the hunters know what’s happening, and I’ve been doing research... I don’t think it’s anything supernatural.” I grabbed my notepad, placing it in front of Cas as he studied it, his eyes darting across the page as I took a second to just... Stare at him. I couldn’t help it. I hadn’t seen him in two years and it was all of a stupid scheme I had. 

“So, your thinking it’s someone, not something -- Y/N?” I flinched when Cas turned towards me, my eyes snapping wide for a second before I cleared my throat and nodded. “Uh, yeah... I think someone is trying to actually frame supernatural beings.” 

“Who would do anything like that? And... Who knows of supernatural beings that would cause such mayhem?” He murmured as I frowned, turning away as we both grew silent; thinking. Then, a thought hit me... I turned slowly towards Cas, who did the same, his face slowly breaking into a small smirk as I did the same. 

“Hunters.” 

Cas called Sam and Dean, explaining that he had gotten a lead about their case, and thankfully whenever they asked how he figured it out -- he kept me out of the picture. I stood off to the side as Cas and my brothers talked, he gave them all the information I had gathered over the two years I was gone, I couldn’t feel more than relieved that the people would finally get a normal life but... What did that leave me with?

“Okay, your brothers are heading towards Michigan with a game plan on how to stop the-” Cas paused, causing me to glance up as he furrowed his brows with concern flooding his bright blue eyes. “Hunters. Y/N, what’s wrong..? You look so... Saddened that we solved the case.” Cas frowned as I shrugged, picking at the beer label with a sigh before placing it back on the table with a scoff. “What am I anymore?” 

“I... Don’t understand the question. What do you-” I growled, slamming my drink before it even touched the table, shoving myself up from it with a huff. “What am I, Castiel?! I’m not a hunter, I’m not a Winchester, I’m not some supernatural being, I’m... I’m nothing!” I screamed, not caring about the motel residents as I sighed, moving towards the queen size bed, resting my arms against my knees with a sigh. “I’m a coward. I ran the moment I caught wind of a case, and I... I thought it would be so easy. So smooth that I wouldn’t need your help, or my brothers help. So easy that I wouldn’t need anyone again, but... In the end, I needed another goddamn crutch.” I spat, caressing my forehead in my palms as I felt tears well up in my eyes. 

Closing my eyes, I listened to the drag of the chair legs against the old, rugged carpet before slowly parting my eyes to see the ends of Cas’s shoes by my feet. “Y/N,” Cas started, leaning down before taking my hands away from my face as I slowly lifted it, feeling the burn of tears itch at my eyes. “You don’t need a crutch... You never did. And you’re not a coward, you’re anything but that!” Cas gazed at me with pure light and happiness developing in his eyes. “Y/N, the moment you left, everyone was broken but... I was lost.” He whispered, making me lean closer to hear him. 

“I was so lost and confused about why you left, and I... I kept waiting for you to come back, but you never did. I, God, I missed you so much, Y/N. And when you called me, I felt so happy... Almost too happy.” He murmured as I furrowed my brows, feeling the tears cascade down my cheeks until his hand pressed against my cheek, wiping away the tears gently. “Y/N... I fell in love with you, and when you left me it shattered me.” 

“Cas, I... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” I coughed, gagging on my tears as I slipped down from the bed, falling onto my knees in front of him before looping my arms around his neck once again. His arms immediately followed my embrace, his face snuggled into the crook of my throat as I coughed on the forced back sobs. “Cas, I didn’t know what I was doing... Hell, I don’t know what I’m doing now, but I love you... I love you so much.” I whimpered into his chest as he nodded, pressing a gently and chaste kiss against my neck. 

“Oh, my darling... You were fleeing, love.” 

The End! :’) 💖

Holy. Crap. This was a slightly longer fic, especially with me actually writing on Tumblrs format! I usually write in Google Docs, but recently I’ve just been working on Tumblr, so yeah. Anyway, I do hope you all enjoy this sweet fic for Castiel! I’m pretty proud of this one, and I hope whoever requested it likes it as well! 

F.I.T: @laceyn-1201 @waywardnewcomer @i-hear-crazy-calling-my-name @casiskween @great-godpotato-akane @closetspngirl @specialagentlokitty @dearsmileyman @im–an–angel–you–assbutt @destiel-trenchcoatangel @msimpala67 @thetallassgirl @invisibledevour @hobby27 @gabriels-trix @gabby913 @xiumin-girl99 @stileslove @polina-93

[kpopchangedme]

You agreed to meet Jinyoung for a coffee date, what could go wrong? Surely you are not going to run into Im Jaebum on the way there… Right?

Starboy-Masterlist || M A S T E R L I ST

Protagonists: Baseball player Im Jaebum / You / Dr. Park Jinyoung

Word Count: 2.2k

Genre: SFW | University | Baseball | Romance | *Socially offensive language* – Mini-Series

Lysandre’s note: Repost because I wanted this chapter on my main ;)

Staring at your reflexion, you barely have time to avoid the pair of rolled up socks Makayla throws at your head. She boos, sitting on the small bed of your dorm bedroom with her arms crossed, clearly disapproving your choice of outfit.

“At least show some cleavage. Let the poor shaman have hope!” Laughing, you pull your black sweater over your head to change into something more appealing under her expert gaze. “I thought you hated dating by the way…”

“He’s still a doctor, not a shaman! And I do hate dates... And I totally told him that...” Although, you didn’t exactly mention to Jinyoung about your last messy breakup. You choose a cute embroidered raspberry blouse, slipping it on and showing it off. “He said that if we met by ‘coincidence’ in a coffee shop it wouldn’t be what he’d call a date –” Makayla frowns, skeptical. “– but fate.”

“Ugh. Are you kidding me?” You laugh at her cringe, deciding her lack of comment meant she approved of the blouse. “Did he actually say it aloud or texted you that corny crap, what century are we–”

“Aloud.”

“Well, fuck me.” She finds her phone in the sheets of your unmade bed to tap at the screen, angrily. “And I can’t even get a text back!”

“Sungjin would text you back...” You pull your tongue at her, siding with your classmate for his desperate crush on that hopeless girl. “He’s a decent guy, it’d changed you from those football players.”

“Joke’s on you, my last victim is a golfer! I don’t know y/n… I kinda live for the thrill of being left on read.” At that, you can only shake your head in disbelief.

She might like to tease your dating phobic ways, but she’s as bad as you when it comes to commitment. While you usually avoid guys altogether, Makayla always seems to only get involved with the ones she knows will never be interested.

“You should wear that with your pale jeans, your ass looks fantastic in those!”

“Ooh, great idea, thanks!”

“Also, please put on lingerie!”

“Tst – This is a coffee non-date! I won’t jump him or any–”

“Hot guys can sense that shit.” You hesitate, pouting as Makayla wiggles her brow suggestively. “What if he drops his coffee on you and gets scared when he sees that horrible skin-coloured monstrosity through your soaked clothes?” Makayla rolls to the side to grab a lace bralette on your headboard and throws it at you. “Wear that, he’ll love it! That one screams ‘Please doctor, pour hot liquid on me!’.”

You study the pink floral lace between your fingers, feeling heat rush to your face as you remember the last time you wore it. You can still recall the feel of Jaebum’s hands; his fingers sliding the straps off your shoulders, his lips sucking your nipples through the thin lace...

“Yeah – Um, I think I’ll just go with the ‘monstrosity’ for today, it’s the only one that doesn’t show through the fabric.”

What’s with you, thinking of that stupid pitcher like that? You’re about to go on a date with a handsome med Resident. Somewhere on the floor, your phone dings from under a pile of rejected outfits. You hurry to fish it to look at the text, anxious.

Park Jinyoung: I’m going to be getting coffee at a very random coffee shop (the one on the corner of Wall & College) in about 15 minutes… [18:44PM]

You smile dumbly reading it just as another one comes in.

Park Jinyoung: (Not that I would ever expect to see you there... This isn’t a date or anything!) [18:44PM]

“Oh my god. You’re smiling at your damn phone y/n! Just leave already, before I kill myself!”

___

10 minutes later and you’re standing in front of the coffee shop, too nervous to move. It’s been a while since you dated – not that this could be considered a real date – almost two years. You run a hand on your blouse, smoothing imaginary wrinkles. Unfortunately, it’s when you finally decide to enter the coffee that he, exits it.

And Jaebum isn’t alone, he’s with another one of his teammates, one you haven’t had the pleasure of meeting yet. When he sees you, there’s a flicker of dread in his eyes, but in a second, he’s back to his usual composure. Which is horribly unfortunate, because now he’s walking straight at you and you have virtually nowhere to hide.

“Hey y/n”, he smiles sheepishly, disregarding the fact that you were evidently trying to walk by without greeting him.

“Hey.”

“Hi”, the player you don’t know nudges his friend with his elbow. He’s a bit shorter and very very handsome. Although, beautiful would probably be a more appropriate choice of word. “I’m Mark,” his smile is so white and wide it almost blinds you.  “And you are... Y/n...”

“Yes… That’s me…” You deadpan reddening, and Jaebum wiggles from one foot to the other. Now you’re unhealthily curious about what is said of you in their locker room, you bite your lips.

“Y/n”, Mark repeats as if you needed to be reminded. Does the baseball team have a secret black book with conquests names, or what? Clearly, that guy is in the known somehow. Tilting his head towards Jaebum, he adds: “The Creative Writing girl...” Mark giggles, the sound surprisingly irritating and you stare at him, shocked.

Creative Writing; a class you took to force yourself out of your comfort zone after your break up forever ago. You didn’t socialize, so it’d be surprising that guy remembered you at all – if you truly were in his class.

Mark turns to the pitcher, poking him with his elbow again. “I wasn’t aware you guys knew each oth–”

“I really wanted to tell you, about that night at the club,” Jaebum ignores him, keeping his baffling coolness despite the obvious teasing. “I’m so sorry, I was horrible. I’m a jerk and I wanted to apologize ever since, but I don’t have any way of contacting you or–”

“It’s okay Jaebum, it’s in the past – I don’t care – So don’t feel bad about it, these things happen. We were both drunk.” You clench your teeth, forcing a polite smile. If he truly felt like apologizing, he knew you worked at the clinic, he knew where to find you. It took you three weeks to digest his outburst, but you’ll stick by your not caring resolution. Even if in the end it truly makes you a bitch.

“The club…” Mark looks confused, gaze darting between you two until something seems to connect in his mind. “Oh, the club! Y/n!”

“Right, we’re fine then”, Jaebum’s sly smile falls and he brings his left hand up to scratch his neck, uncomfortable. Despite yourself, you note that he still seems able to move his arm and bend his elbow easily – not that you’d care. “Thank you... For forgiving me, it’s a relief.”  

“It’s nothing!” You take a step in the direction of the coffee shop, but Jaebum moves aside at the same time, blocking your way. “I a-actually need to go.”

“Yeah, sorry”, he avoids your gaze, inadvertently moving at the same time as you again.

“Our campus is so small”, his friend Mark makes the same high pitch giggle sound again, causing you to turn to stare. “The girl from Creative Class is… Y/n.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, surprised he seems so entertained by all this. “I took that class forever ago and I–”

“One year”, he grins, overly confident, “with Mr. Yachnin, you sat next to us for the whole trimester.”

“You were in that class too?” You frown at Jaebum with skepticism. You’re pretty sure you’d remember if a guy looking like him sat next to you.

“I… guess so...” He shrugs, exchanging a look with his friend. “Anyway, sorry again, have a great day!” Finally stepping away from your path with success, Jaebum pushes Mark forward, forcing him to walk.

“Bye, y/n the Creative Writing girl. I hope to see you around a lot more!” The other player laughs again, obeying his teammate reluctantly. “Come see us play Saturday!”

AH! As if.

You wave back at him, frowning. It’s so weird to think you shared a class with them without knowing. Of all the classes related to sports you took over the course of your studies, you had a random art class together. Surely that’s why Jaebum said he thought you were in the Art Dep the first time you met. It makes a lot more sense now, but he’d have to have recognized you. Again, he was right that night when he said you knew nothing about him. You don’t even know what he’s studying, you just assumed it had to do with sports since most athletes are in Physical Ed.

You’re almost pushing the door of the coffee shop when you decide to do something completely useless. Jaebum and Mark have stopped walking and are now absorbed in a heated discussion, several meters away.

“HEY, I almost forgot!”, they both twitch when you yell, although you only keep your eyes on the tallest one. “Im Jaebum!” He opens his mouth perplexed, and you laugh, entertained by his confusion.

“I do know your last name, Starboy!”

Without waiting any longer, you push the door of the coffee shop, leaving the two confused baseball players behind. Jinyoung instantly stands up and waves when you walk in, looking so handsome you stop in your tracks. Your wide smile, a remnant of your amusement freezes a bit, turning to an awkward grin. You can do this. This is just a coffee break and Jinyoung seems like an amazing guy.

You can totally nail this non-date.

“Hi y/n,” The young doctor tilts his head to the side, smirking as you walk up to him, “fancy running into you here.”

“Hi,” you giggle, sounding like the stupidest girl in the whole world, but he doesn’t seem to mind, gazing at you warmly. This time, you don’t feel as intimidated as he takes you in. Your makeup and hair are on point, clothes evidently carefully selected for this very moment. You are okay, you are in control of your variables, or so you repeat to yourself mentally like a mantra.

“Wow, you’re gorgeous.” Jinyoung sighs, slightly dazed, as though influenced by your thoughts.

“T-Thanks,” His eyes crinkle as he flashes his perfect teeth, watching you get shy, “you too.”

His compliment sounded sincere whilst yours is half-mumbled, unable to do him any justice. He’s even more handsome than the first time you met him. Today he ditched the dress shirt in favour of a casual white tee, dangerously tight on his chest, and pale jeans. He also came without his glasses and, although he still looked godlike with them, it seems to make his eyes pop-out even more. You struggle to hold eye contact, too flustered, hopefully, you won’t be awkward for the whole date. You want to feel less anxious, be more comfortable, but don’t know how. It’s been too long. Jinyoung doesn’t even seem to notice how out of it you are when he puts his hand in the middle of your shoulder blades. He barely touches you to guide you to the lineup in front of the register, but it still makes you mentally freak out.

“Since we’re both here at the same time, only by pure chance. I think we should grab a cup of coffee together, y/n. Surely it’s a sign.”

“Oh, a sign?” You laugh stiffly at his joke, nervousness perceivable. “Right, what were the odds of us meeting here, today, at 7pm? It’s not like we planned this.”

“Well, I like to make my own odds.” Jinyoung nods, eyes anchoring themselves in yours with all the confidence in the world. At the moment, you can tell he’s not the type to ever have been hurt or rejected by a girl. How could one say no to such a guy anyway? “My father always says we should never play the waiting game and should strike while the bat is hot.”

“The iron?” You snort, reassured a bit by his easygoing playfulness. It’s true that Jinyoung was nothing but smooth and funny on your first encounter. You have no valid reason to feel so stressed when he’s obviously trying to make light conversation. “Your father sure sounds like a wise man.”

“Not at all.” Jinyoung chuckles, shaking his head slightly. “I probably shouldn’t listen to what he says, he’s both awful at relationships and idioms.”

“I see.” His palm is warming your back, and you lean closer to his shoulder, unthinkingly.

“Either way, date or not,” Jinyoung talks softly this time, for only you to hear in the crowded coffee shop, “I’m glad you said yes, happy that you’re here with me now.”

Your heart skips a beat at his confession, but the doctor just smiles, turning to the lineup in front of you as if it was the most natural thing to say. Unbeknown to him, you stare at his profile in awe, finally allowing yourself to be happy you came too and starting to relax.

Starboy-Masterlist  ||  M A S T E R L I ST