#2) i love making men sweat up in their sweaters

[throes-of-warm-tornadoes]

hey guys! if you were a song, which one would you be?

[muffindaddystyles]

Request: Could u do one where y/n is a stripper but her and Harry are already together. So Harry and his friends all know y/n works at the strip club because she’s Harry girl and they all go up there and she gives him a lap dance?? Idk I just need something dirty😂✋🏽

Disclaimer: Public infatuation, spitting and teasing.

//

Do you ever see shit crumbling down infront of your eyes and said, "fuck it." before taking the step that could have a ominous impact on your life? Perhaps Y/N did the same. When she couldn't pay for her UNI she started working at a club as a waitress, scrubbing the awful stickiness of beers and alchol wasn't a nightmare for her at least.

She always admired the girls outdoing themselves on stage, something so fascinating about having men on the tip of their shoes and emptying their pockets just to have a watch of mere skin.

One night when the clock striked past 2 am and the club had barely three people her friend ushered her on the stage, it wasn't sexy and eroticaly mind blogging. She was trying to have fun (she's very socially akward and have a stage phobia). Rather, cute as she danced in her pink skirts and showy apron not caring when her headband slid down as she spinned around the pole with loud giggles.

What took her gasp away was a beautiful man sitting in the corner dimmed away from the bashing lights of the room. Hand adorned in gems and jewels wrapped around the crystal glass of beer as he sat man-spreading in a black suit, a white shirt underneath that gives the glimpse of his tattoos and an evident smirk of ferver for her that made her tummy scorch.

"Y/N!" The bartender shouted for her, "Take this order for the table 22, quick." She tumbles down two stairs hastily and it takes out a chuckle from his lips, his eyes following her constantly. The glass of another bevy is for none other than the man with emarld eyes and chocolate curls.

She approaches him with a bicker between her mind and heart to shut the fuck up, as she slides the glass infront of him without glancing up at him.

"Y'dance gorgeously." His voice sultry and so so supple she couldn't belive it came out from him. "Uhm thank you . . . but 'm not what you're thinking 'm." She fumbles with her apron back treating slowly and he raises his brows not in amusement but in acknowledgement puffering out his bottom red lip she oh so gonna think about whole night.

"Doesn't matter, eh." She nods, "like somethin' else?" Her smile. Harry think her smile lit up his previous grumpy mood and his eyes falls over her shoes, he didn't like that they were literally about to thread into patches.

"Nope. Jus' headin' out, take care, love." Fuck him. There's no way she wouldn't imagine about him, being there in her dainty loft.

He left a bunch of cash as her tip and it made her all blushy.

//

Their next encounter was rather funny. Bumping into eachother at a grocery shop and her collection of junk food, cans of sweet sodas and candies went flying infront of him making her feel giddy that what he'd think about him? A child of five ready to go back to school?

His apologies were cut short when he sees it's her and his eyes went glowy. She's completely a different person when not under the blazing lights, so soft and clean wearing a cream coloured sweater, curdoury lilac pants and spectacles perched atop her bunny nose.

Him in a rolling stones tee and slacks.

"Y'alright, there?" He asks her with a brush to her elbow and she nods, "oh, Mr. Gucci pants?" That was the point where their love story started not a clićhe one but Harry's head over heels for her to this day. She calls him Gucci pants to annoy him cause his trousers that had a visible gucci label on the hem of them.

Then after few months of them hanging out and their first kiss she got to know that he's the owner of the club she fucking works at. She didn't know what to do, is that okay to date something out of your status and league? Even boss? She ghosted him for weeks and realized that how much she missed him. His thoughts didn't seem to leave her mind at all, his lips and kisses.

They've a most healthy relationship, he doesn't stop her from working at club as a waitress neither does he feels remorseful when she gets angry for paying her extra replying with cheekiness, "can't wait to have our bank accounts together, i like to give y'me lovin' sweet bug."

Their sex life's a proper satisfaction for both of them, Harry's such a caring domineering to her and it makes her cry sometimes when she floats into her sub-space. She loves to have him inside her after rough nights and to have sex in the morning getting sticky due to him hardening while still inside her.

She's public shy so they never try anything outside (harry respects her boundaries and gives her space whenever she needs some) but giving him a blowjob in his car doesn't seem that scary, does it? And the fact she loves to keep him warm and wet in her mouth everytime. He exposed her to the world of sex toys and how to use them, she was hesitant in the start but now loves to play with herself while he caresses his cock infront of her.

She hates being tied up! Always wants to touch him and feel his velvety skin. He ties up when she's being a bad puppy.

She loves when he fucks her from behind on her knees studying and sometimes she likes him harsh too, to be pounded raw, it makes her panties soak with yearn to have him.

But, in general he's all pet names and kisses. Gifting her silks and making her matchas. Cuddles and hugs from behind. Though, he likes to be a small spoon with his face tucked between her squishy tits and likes to have back rubs by her when the work gets a load on him.

Today though she'd like to come out of her cocoon and do something bold to show him that she wanna put the same effort to turn him on as he does. She doesn't know that her only presence stiffens his dick.

Harry was along his friends in his usual spot away from the bustling crowd when the patter of heels distracted them making their heads perk up, "would you guys like something?" She asks them and Nialler who's already miffed bad hiccups, "another bevy fo' me." She rolls her eyes at him sticking her tongue out.

"Then fetch one for yourself." While they bickered Harry admired his girl. The curve of her peach and her fleshy thighs, the stocking she's wearing doing nothing to satiate his burn to fuck her right now on these tables infront of everyone. "Anddd what'd you like to 've, Sir." She dips her knee between his thighs near his crotch whispering sultry-ly in his ear and pressing her wet lips against his earlobe on purpose.

"You." He smiles bashfully running his hands under her skirt and thighs giving it lil smack making her squeal softly, "'m all yours to take." She smooches a kiss to his mouth and presses her panties clad cunt against his man-spread moaning subtly when he groped her ass to assist her in humping him.

"Get a room you guys!!" Their friends hollered and Harry was quick to take Y/N's hand leading her to a private room, "On the sofa legs spread fo' me." She doesn't listen to him and pushes him down instead crawling up his lap.

"No." She tries to use the most intimidating voice, "what? You sound like a kitten, baby." He teases her letting his fingers linger over her garter and she hisses when he snaps it. She pins his wrists between them telling him grumpy-ly, "I - said - no." Her neck stretches giving Harry more skin to plant kisses as she brought his hand to cup them against her pussy.

"Wanna fuck me 'n d'the dirty work yourself? Go on then." He murmures grazing her collarbones with his teeth and palms her chest, stroking the perked nipple again and again to make her wet than she already's. Except of undressing him herself she orders him because she's too far gone to do anything other than have his cock pounding inside her, "Undress." When he does so she wraps her hand around his huge prick and taps his cherry lips with her fingers.

Pulling at his foreskin for some time and coating it perfectly with his own pre-come she sides her panties with shaky fingers and sinks down on him completely, she loves this position. In this way he feels too big inside her, deep to her tummy and could embrace eachother cosily.

"This's what you wanted? To fuck yourself with me prick, to keep it forever inside you?" He grabs her from sides helping her ride him and she hugs his shoulders whimpering with each languid stroke of his thickness against her spongy walls, "yes, yes, yes." His balls slaps against her bum and she squeezes around him with a cry.

He tuts in a mean voice, "Look how 've turned me sweet innocent Y/N into a filthy girl whose cunt's always drippin' with me cum." Her hairline beads with sweat and she muffles her moans by bitting him, he yanks her.

"Let everybody listen how hard ye're bein' pounded." He growls spanking her ass to a plump redness, groping her asscheeks to push harder and it makes her squirt around him.

"More, more, please more." She says in a soft hoarseness thighs quaking around his waist from exhaustion and he chuckles kissing her temple rolling her sensitive clit with the pad of thumb to make her cum, "oh! Harry — " This time she moans without holding back and when she doesn't stop moving Harry takes the hint.

"Bug you're gettin' tired." He flips them. Pressing her thigh against the back of couch with a tight grip of his hands around, so tight it'll leave imprints. Looking down a whimper slips from his throat at the sight of her widely spread for him and her pussy lips wrapped around his rock hard cock, though the sofa is already ruined with their wetness he spits where they're connected.

The dirty, sloppy wet noises of them turns him on so bad and he laps at her nipples like a kitten would do drilling inside her vigorously it makes her gasp in pleasure, moan and cry his name.

She rakes her nails down his spine when he grinds down at her in rough circles, "I'm gonna cum." She cries out cramping around him and their bones rattles with each pound she receives from him.

"Come fo' me darlin', gonna count to three — " He caresses her jaw, kissing her again and again face expression bundling up with the wave of pleasure that's about fluid over him as she thrashes under him, head on the sofa and torso stretching out, "fuck, fuck, fuck." He mutters unloading inside of her in sticky white ribbons that spill out of her because he came alot.

Taking a breather they untangle themselves a little and she whispers snuggling into his neck, "might think we could crash at this sofa tonight." Wrapping her calves around him like a koala.

"But, 'm hungry too." She giggles when her stomach grugled angrily.

"Let's clean up and get fish 'n chips from the next shop." He pets her head.

"Amazing!" She chirps.

//

[yuzukult]

from home 05 || jjk & reader

title: from home  pairing: jungkook x reader genre: richkid!jk, baker!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut in later chapters word count: 7.5k+ prompt: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? a/n: i was really excited to write this chapter and i still couldn’t get myself to make it longer... :( i suck...

please let me know if you’re interested in being tagged! but also let me know if you want to be removed! taglist: @scalubera @strugglingartistno16-2 @taestannie @teresaisla @drumsofheaven @vampgguk @christiandosworld @madjammil @jungkookieyoongs @bananagguknim @shuttheelleup​ @yobroitsjayden​

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Stating that Jungkook was 'on edge' is an understatement.

His palms and armpits were sweaty from the moment he arrived at your apartment to grab you before going to meet your parents, despite the amount of layers of deodorant he has on. He's never had a real relationship before, let alone met any girl's parents, and he can't help but feel something churning in his gut. "Good to go?" You ask, and he merely nods, suddenly bashful because he feels like he is definitely not ‘good to go.’ "Alright, let's head out."

The ride on the bus to your family home is only 30 minutes away, and truthfully, he has never ridden on one before. Walking to yours, Hoseok, and his home were less than 15 minutes, the thought of taking the bus being the absolute last thing on his mind. 

Jungkook isn't exactly sure how he feels about the bus. The constant starting and stopping makes him nauseous; then the unsteadiness of having to hold the bars and handles throughout the vehicle all around seems unsafe. When there's an available seat, you sense his fear, nudging him cautiously, gesturing him to take the seat. "Sit," and granting he wants to offer it to you instead, Jungkook complies to the demand because he swears he's going to vomit. 

After getting off the public transportation that he vows to never take again, you guide Jungkook through a narrow road, he notices the neighborhood here was more concentrated than the ones in Busan; tightly knitted with homes that stacked on top of one another, side to side, and back to back. People hung their clothes on lines that stretch from apartment to apartment, piles of boxes stored on balconies, and plants resting on the borders with owners sitting idle on their porches, fixated on their hobby of people watching. 

Jungkook is known to be popular to the public, from magazines, gossip TV channels, social media posts, and the types continue on to the point that you couldn’t name them all on your own ten fingers. People don't often recognize him on the streets anymore because he's unrecognizable in regular everyday clothes but today, he learns that you're the celebrity.

The people in their homes say their greetings, making comments here and there as you entertain them with a response back, laughter dispersing in the air. There's an old lady that lounges on the steps of her home, a smile stretched so wide that her eyes disappear, all with a blanket laying across her lap, knitting away. "I haven't seen you around, I assume your mother is having a dinner party for the kids? I see you brought a friend!"

"Something along those lines," you retort indirectly, nose snug into your scarf. "You're not staying indoors? It's cold out."

"My husband keeps the heater on the home too high, I sweat like I'm going through menopause like I’m forty all over again, so I much rather be outside here. Anyways, I don't want to hold you up too long, but please come by for Christmas, I do have a sweater I knitted for you as well!"

Then there's a grandfather, another grandmother, and a couple who seems just a bit older than the two of you, and the list just goes on. Despite the whisper exchanges at the supermarket mentioning that you're intimidating, mean, and scary, it's obvious that you aren't or else you wouldn't be swooning the hearts of these strangers.

But there will always be an exception. Especially when the two of you run into a girl who looks close in age, hair dyed blonde with her lips painted fusion red. He could tell how curvy she was with how tight the winter coat hugs her frame, swaying her hips toward your direction as she eyes you both suspicious. "I see our town loser brought a friend."

"Mm," You nod, attempting your best not to amuse her, or else you’d be pouncing on her back by now. "Jungkook, this is Somin. A classmate of mine when I was in grade school." He bows in politeness, zipping up his jacket further while stepping closer to you. "Nice to meet you, Somin."

"Oh, no!" She gasps, a hand on her chest in exaggeration, completely flabbergasted by something he said. "Don't call me that. I go by Bella, since... you know, I am an American now. Being an American deserves the right name."

"You got your citizenship there?"

"No, but, I spent enough time there to know." She grins, shrugging her shoulders. Spent enough time there—you want to call out on her bullshit yet again, knowing she barely spent a month there before dropping out of school and coming back, but it'd be humiliating to mention that with Jungkook standing by, a stranger that she had only met a mere few seconds ago. "You said Jungkook... Are you perhaps, Jeon Jungkook of the Jeon Corporation?"

You furrow your brows. "How do you even know that?"

"Well, daddy invests in their stocks, of course." Fluttering her lashes, she manages to make her presence known to Jungkook as she moves in his direction. "And I saw his pretty little face in a magazine and couldn't help but admire."

Possessively, your hand slips into his pocket, intertwining your fingers together, causing warmth to creep up his neck and into his cheeks. "Well, great to see you, Somin. Jungkook and I have dinner plans with my parents."

"Whoa, wait, dinner plans?" Somin nearly exclaims, shifting aside to block your way. "Also, it's Bella, get that straight, will you? And why is Jeon Jungkook with you anyway?"

"We're dating," Jungkook interjects, clearing his throat. The words are still unfamiliar on his tongue yet he loves to flaunt them anyway. "I'm her boyfriend." He adds, tightening the grip on your hand as if Somin could see it. Her mouth drops open, unable to grasp onto the fact that you were able to land on a hunk like him. If only she knew how much knowledge of basic life skills he didn't have... actually, she might still have the same perspective. "There's no way. This is fake, right? You realize how rude she is, don't you?"

"No, it’s not fake, and well, kind of," Jungkook admits, scrunching up his nose at the thought. "But it's endearing. Wouldn't be as exciting if she wasn't always trying to banter with me, so I don't think I'd have it any other way. People mistake it for her honesty. I love a woman who can be true to herself and genuine with her words."

Just then, your mother peeks out of the front door of your childhood home, waving her arm eagerly, calling out your name. "Well, that's our cue. Thanks, Somin, for congratulating us on our new relationship. Hope you find someone yourself soon!"

"What—" Somin barely finishes her sentence before you're zooming past her, tugging Jungkook along. 

"I didn't know you had so many enemies," Jungkook says jokingly, a playful smile upon his lips. You roll your eyes before squinting them at him, squeezing his hand hard as he winces. "Now you know how little I care for them, watch out because you might become one."

Upon entering the home, Jungkook observes too many things at once. Your mother is in the kitchen, frantically maneuvering through the junk that your family has hoarded over the years, searching for whatever it is she needs for the task at hand. Your father sits comfortably on the couch, feet on the coffee table with a controller in hand, dozing off with a combination of quiet and loud snores escaping from him. As a family home, Jungkook believes it's small considering that you had mentioned previously that you had two other siblings. To think that your parents are still living in the same home they grew up in is amazing to him, knowing that his parents moved at least five times within his youth while you only stayed in one home.

"Uh, hello," He greets your mom, bowing as she places her hands onto his shoulders, shaking him in excitement. She looks almost like a replica of you, except older and much brighter. "You must be Jungkook! It's so great to meet you, I'm so happy that my daughter found someone. She's known to be a bit... cold, so knowing that you were able to warm her up means that you're definitely special!"

"You make me sound like a bad guy." You hiss before your little sister walks in, in the midst of tying her hair up into a ponytail. She resembled your mother than you did, a delighted expression that matched exactly the one your mother had on. "That's because you are, and any guy who dates you seem to run away once they find out." She halts in her steps when she notices Jungkook's face. "Oh my god, you're that model."

"Model?" Your mother reiterates, glancing back at Jungkook and then your sister. "Yeah, yeah, that model in the new edition of Elle. He was in it—he's listed as one of the 10 most desirable men under 30. No flipping way, how'd you even get him to even date you?" She pauses before pointing at Jungkook with a suspicious look on her face as his eyes widened. "Unless... you need her for something. What's she offering? It can't be her body, she's not sexy... is it her brains? You heard about her—"

"Miyoung." Your mother says sternly, interrupting your sister. "Just because Jungkook is a model, it doesn't mean that your sister is incapable of being loved by a man like that."

"Actually—"

"Oh, hey. You must be the boyfriend." A taller male enters the room, his hair messy and lids hooded from waking up barely minutes before. He's still in his pajamas, a loose grey shirt and red checkered pants, but from the outline of his shirt, Jungkook could tell this guy was built. "I'm Daehyun, also known as their big brother. It's nice to meet you." Jungkook is in awe, hand extending to shake with Daehyun's. He knows he's straight, but even as a straight guy he knows a pretty man when he sees one. 

Jungkook was starting to pick up as to why your exterior was so tough. With a younger sister who didn't have a filter to an incredibly handsome older brother, of course as the middle child you had to protect yourself. "Uh, yeah. And that's my little sister, Miyoung, who basically just attacked me for all of my insecurities within a minute. Thanks, kiddo."

"No problem, Unnie." She grins cheekily, seated on the high stool. "Did mom tell you I was back home from college for the weekend? That's why you're here?"

"Something like that," you respond ominously, hanging up your jacket along with Jungkook’s. Despite her preceding interrogation, she’s chewing on her bottom lip skittishly. "More like she forced me to come. Well, she didn't say anything yet but I felt a guilt trip coming so I just decided that I would come instead."

"Typical," Daehyun scoffs, leaning against the wall beside Miyoung. He sneaks a glimpse into the kitchen where your mother secretly runs back into, resuming in her work. "She's been desperate to get us all back together since the two of you moved out. Remind me again why I'm the only one stuck here?"

"Because you can't find a job." Miyoung and you remind him in unison and he frowns. The interaction between the three of you is crystal clear evidence that you guys are related. "Well, geez, hurt a guy, why don't you? See what I have to deal with, Jungkook?"

With some time left until dinner, the four of you crowd at your small dining table, conversing away about updates in your lives. Miyoung is in University an hour away from home, residing there for an easier commute, and Daehyun stays at home with an ambition to find a job that fits his degree. Daehyun still dates from time to time but he admits that he can’t tend to his needs because well, his mother is a room away, and oddly enough, albeit Miyoung babbles on about other things, she’s silent about her love life. Neither Miyoung and Daehyun are able to hold a steady job, he observes, and he’s starting to pick up as to why you’re so adamant about keeping both of yours. Jungkook learns that everything seems to gravitate toward one of the two phrases from your siblings when it comes to finances and they are: “Mom can handle it,” or “I’m going to let Dad do it so I don’t have to.”

From what Jungkook can gather, your siblings seemed to have different outlooks on life compared to you—they still depended on their parents whilst you were already hunting for opportunities of your own before Miyoung’s age so you didn’t have to ask for money.

“Are you still upset with me about what happened a year ago?” Miyoung finally asks you, chewing on her nails nervously. It seems to be something she’s been holding back from you, Jungkook takes a note of the way her eyes were filled with worry. “Of course,” You reply nonchalantly, leaning back against your seat with your arms crossed. “How could I not be? But you’re my sister, so I can’t actually be mad at you.”

Miyoung begins to tear up— glassy gaze with her bottom lip quivering, in spite of the previous aggressiveness she presented when you first entered the house. Before Miyoung could get another word in, your mom comes in with a guilty expression on her face. She calls your name faintly, a pout upon her lips. “Can you and Jungkook go out and grab me a couple things before dinner?”

Jungkook can’t get the question that Miyoung brings up out of his mind. In the middle of an aisle at another one of his mother’s grocery stores, your lips are pursed in thought at which brand of soy sauce would your mom like more. 

“What was Miyoung going on about?” He eventually asks, but he holds his breath in case you decide to sock him for querying you about something so personal. Strangely enough, you open up. “Miyoung fell in love with my ex. He told me they didn’t do anything but he was in love with her, so we broke up. I thought I was going to settle with him but— guess not.”

Jungkook’s eyes expand like a deer in headlights. “Your little sister is dating your ex-boyfriend? And they were in love with each other during your relationship? I would’ve given her an uppercut if I were you— are you seriously still buying the banana milk she asked for?” He’s trailing behind you as you lead him toward the drinks; your face brightening from the lights from the fridges. How could someone who lost their boyfriend to their little sister seem so put together in the first place? Was this was Hoseok was talking about that your men streak was horrendous? 

“Because she’s my little sister. At the end of the day, I want her to be happy.” Throwing a pack into the cart, Jungkook continues to push it while following you, mind still foggy and angry about the situation. Here you were, with a guy who you’d fallen in love with to the point of considering settling down, then finding out he’s been in love with your sister... he feels like this is all a fever dream and isn’t an ounce real. “You’re fucking with me right?”

You look at him with perplexity. “What do you mean?”

“This sounds crazy. You’re serious? Miyoung stole a guy from you and you’re just going to be the bigger person here and not do anything about it?”

“What am I supposed to do? Throw a tantrum? Get in the way of their relationship that is obviously blossoming in a good way?”

Jungkook pauses. Was this what it was like in another family? Or at least yours?

In comparison, he perceives that within his family, outbursts were everything. Getting attention and being recognized for any wrongdoing was immensely important— he knew that if he stole a girl away from one of his brothers, he wouldn’t make it out of the house alive. His mother, including father, would never forget it. The chattering would be heard through the grapevine amongst the housemaids, drivers, and employees of the company. Even news media outlets would dabble a bit into the family drama, adding fuel to the fire. He could never react the way you did, at least, he hopes he would, but realistically speaking, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it.

Yet, with you, it seemed simple enough. Sure, your heart was broken, but how were you going to be with someone who didn’t love you back?

“If you love someone, you let them go.” You say calmly when Jungkook doesn’t respond back. “Keeping them around for your benefit doesn’t solve anything. If he wasn’t truly happy with me, I want him to be happier with someone else. And if that person so happens to be with Miyoung, what am I supposed to do?”

“But... you’re not happy.” Jungkook declares with no hesitation. He recalls the time where you felt bad for him for not having the best upbringing, and he’s starting to understand the emotion that ran through you. “I’m happier now,” You concede, placing the last ingredient your mom has on the list for you to purchase, turning your back at Jungkook. “Now that I met you.”

His heart flutters at the comments, and he’s desirous about bringing up the topic of the kiss again. Jungkook resists the urge to because he could tell from the way your silhouette begins to quicken its pace toward the checkout line that you really didn’t want to talk about it. 

When the two of you arrive back at your house, your father is jolted awake. Jungkook greets himself to the elder man who only grins brighter than the sun—something Jungkook is trying to grasp where your grumpiness comes from— and instantaneously directs him to the dinner table where your mom has a ton of side dishes laid out with six place settings for you all.

During the meal, there was nothing but exchanging stories, laughter, and elation that swarms the room. If this was what family meant, Jungkook wanted it. And the more he thinks about it, the more he wants it to be with you.

Nothing is working out for Jungkook.

This week, the pipe in his apartment burst. Something about— it’s winter and when it’s cold, the water freezes within the pipe and it expands the material, causing the pipe itself to burst, he doesn’t quite understand how the whole plumbing system works, but he knows that he can’t use the water in his apartment and has to go to yours and Hoseok’s for the week for a shower until the landlord can get it fixed.

Then, one of the deli guys called off because he apparently had the runs which meant that there was a shift change— Jungkook having to cover since whomever was working that day didn’t have the skills to do it.

Skills? Jungkook curses underneath his breath when he recites that word in his head repeatedly because he cuts his finger on the meat slicer as he winces, calling out your name. Coming to his side, you pull out the first aid kit and force him to sit down on one of the stools, tying elastic on a higher point of his finger to stop the blood from gushing out. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I just... I didn’t need to be put here, right? Someone else could’ve done this, I have no idea how to use a slicer.”

“I know,” You coo, wiping some of the antiseptic on the wound as he whimpers at the sudden sting. “The new shift manager panicked, she wasn’t sure what to do since the guy with the actual food preparation license is going to be here a bit late so she put you here. Not exactly the best plan.” After bandaging him up, you wash your hands underneath the faucet as Jungkook slouches in the seat.

Nothing really was going his way.

It doesn’t even stop there. Unexpectedly, his mother calls for dinner but you’re on shift, therefore you wouldn’t be able to attend. He’s tempted to down a glass of whiskey on ice, his signature drink, but when he opens the cabinet in his kitchen, he falters at the image of your face. Would you be disappointed if you saw what he was doing? And Hoseok? What would he say?

Retracting his hand back, he immediately slams the door shut at the thought of the consequences.

Dinner is the usual at the Jeon residence. Father sits at the end of the dining table, the typical beige cloth napkin spread across on his lap while in his usual work attire, glasses rested on the tip of his nose as he’s ready to dive in with a fork and spoon in hand. Mother is settled beside him, pretty as ever and calm in comparison to the hell that’s going to let loose in a couple minutes. The unknown? Who is going to blow up this time and who will they be comparing themselves to?

The answer? Jongseok and Jungkook.

Jongseok is upset to the point that he articulates every word with spit nearly projecting from his mouth to the opposite side of the room. The vein on his temple is stressed to the point that all Jungkook can think about is when it’s going to pop. “Why are you guys always babying Jungkook? You realize the kid is fucking working at a grocery store right? And not just any grocery store, either, but it’s mother’s chain.”

“Okay?” Father retorts, forehead wrinkling in puzzlement. “Isn’t he trying to prove himself worthwhile? Didn’t he find that job himself, despite it being your mother’s chain? He’s paying for his mistakes, learning basic life skills along the way, and even landed himself a serious girlfriend who can hold his hand through these tough times, since, after all, you’re the one who suggested we cut him off. If I’m being honest, I think we should give him access to our funds again.”

A scoff of incredulity comes from Jongseok. He’s a ticking time bomb in this moment; jaw twitching in frustration with the tips of his ears heated red. Even though he’s the target yet again, Jungkook is sober now, mind clear of the fog and the ability to defend himself for once. “I don’t get it. Why are you even mad at me? I’m trying here, right? You’re the one who wanted me to get cut off so desperately— and congrats, by the way, because I did. I had to find a job myself, one I’m not a fan of, and I’m barely making it by. I lost water in my apartment this week, cut my hand on one of those deli slicers, sprained my ankle on my way to work— and that’s only a portion of my bad week. Yet here I am, sitting at the dinner table with people who claim that they love me when you’re here flipping shit at father. What do you want from me?”

“For your name to be completely off the will.” Jongseok finally says what he has been actually feeling unperturbedly, not an ounce of affection in his tone with a gaze that could pierce through Jungkook. “You have nothing to offer to this family. Why we keep you around— I don’t know. Why should you have any portion of our estate and company assets when all you’re doing right now is working at the supermarket. Tell me, Jungkook, why do you deserve to be part of any of this?”

Jungkook hates how childish he’s being, but he feels like he has the right to. The flickering colorful lights and music booming through the speakers of the club are tuning out the words his brother exclaims at his parents, and the amount of alcohol passing through his lips are numbing the pain that tears through his chest. Your face pops up in his head; your laugh, your smile, and the comfort in the underlying messages through your tough love— he wishes that all of that was enough to heal the sting in his heart and fill the hollowness that his family left.

He doesn’t remember any of these people sitting at this table with him, even though they’re hollering in excitement that “Jungkook is back again!” The girl placing a hand on his chest with his arm around her shoulder isn’t you, but he knows that if it was, you’d be so displeased at how wasted he is. Honestly, this feels wrong. Nothing sits right in his stomach and when another pretty gal with her dress hiked up to the point he could see her thong from where he’s on the couch, he’s not even attracted to her. All he could think about was you, and that scowl on your face when he tells you about this night. He could hide it from you but he’s not going to lie to himself— if he wanted to improve for the better, it meant being straightforward and authentic. Jungkook came here to let loose because the events that occurred at the estate tonight was something he wants to forget.

Turning to the girl beside him, his eyes are hooded and vision is blurry when he asks, “What’s your name again?”

When her rosy plump lips open, she says her name but the voice that comes out of it is deep and oddly familiar. “Hyeri?” Why does she say it like a question, and why is her voice so low? Just then, a hand clenches the fabric of his shirt, pulling him up and he meets the proprietor of the response. Hoseok.

Hoseok drags Jungkook’s weak and frail frame out into the alleyway behind the club, fuming to the point that smoke could’ve been whistling out of his ears. “What the fuck are you doing here? And with Hyeri, of all people! I thought I told you to stop fucking around, dude! I-I thought you knew how much she means to me. Out of the people I’ve partied with— you were my actual friend.” He clenches his jaw before Jungkook could even answer, a fist tightening in his hand. “You’re such a fuck up, Jungkook. So much for a friend.” 

Then everything blacks out.

His entire body hurts. His head is pounding, he can barely open one of his eyes, and his legs are so sore he can hardly shift on the bed— on a bed? He doesn’t have a bed. He has a futon but not a bed. Startled, he attempts to sit up against the bed frame, the other eye opening to skim through the room. 

He’s never been in your bedroom before, but the pictures of you graduating college hanging on the corkboard above your desk, concert tickets, Polaroids, and holiday cards thumbtacked beside them is all the evidence he needs to know it’s yours. Jungkook wants a closer look at them, he can scarcely make out the cute little smile on your face with your family in attendance in the picture, but when he puts weight onto his arms, he groans. Seconds later, you’re bursting through the door, out of breath and worry in your eyes. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Voice hoarse, he realizes how dry his throat is and you lean over to the bedside table to hand him the glass of water you had there originally. “Don’t move, idiot. You’re actually really torn up if you didn’t feel it with all that alcohol in your system.” Inviting yourself onto the foot of the bed, Jungkook frowns after he finishes the entire glass, much more dehydrated than he initially thought. “Trust me, it’s gone now. I feel every ounce of pain. What happened? I blacked out.”

“No shit,” you retort harshly, rolling your eyes at him. “You were drunk as hell, but you didn’t black out from that. Hoseok saw you getting all cozy with Hyeri and knocked the shit out of you. What happened, Jungkook? Why were you there in the first place? Did something happen?”

Reading the expression on your face, he fears for the worse but he doesn’t see any hint of dissatisfaction anywhere. There’s no anger, no resentment, no frustration— none of that. Just curiosity smeared across, genuinely worried about his well-being. “Are you upset that you found out I was there?”

“I was mad that Hoseok called me to come grab you, at first, so kind of, yeah. But if you’re trying to figure out if I’m disappointed in you, then no, I’m not. Old habits are hard to kill, so I understand that you’re trying to cope with something. I just want to know why you were there in the first place and why were you getting all lovey dovey with Hyeri—“

“I wasn’t getting lovey-dovey with Hyeri,” Jungkook exasperates, head falling back against the headboard, closing his eyes shut, interrupting before you lead the conversation into a lecture. “She was just some girl that sat down and claimed a spot next to me. I didn’t even know she was Hoseok’s girl.” There’s a pregnant pause in his explanation, and you don’t break off his train of thought. “I... I went because Jongseok called me useless tonight, yet again. It didn’t bother me as much as it did before, you know, before I met you, and it’s probably because I wasn’t intoxicated or the fact that I’m actually trying now and he still thinks I’m useless. He wants me out of the will.”

“He’s jealous that he’s the problematic child now, not you.” Making your way up the bed, you’re seated on top of the covers, settled adjacent to Jungkook. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re way more useful than you had been initially. I usually do the dishes at my parents’ house, mostly because I’m the middle child, but you did it for me instead. I consider that a huge accomplishment from who you were before.”

As much as he hates to admit how warm and fuzzy he feels inside just from that small achievement, it’s a resemblance of the time when he was younger and won an award for being most creative in his kindergarten class. How are you able to lift up his mood so easily by just saying a few words?

“I… is Hoseok really pissed?”

“A bit,” you reply sincerely and apologetically, even though none of this had been your fault. “He’s been in love with her even before I met him. She was all he could talk about, and I guess she finally gave him a shot, only to drop him a month later. I don’t know much about her, but I know she’s a gold digger from the stories he shared.”

Jungkooks face drops when his gaze meets yours. “Have you ever told him that?” You laugh—the melody that practically heals his wounds on the spot. “No, are you crazy? He’s blinded by love, Jeon, and any interference with that, I’m done for, probably cut out entirely from his life. Have you never been in love before?” 

He wants to say that he hasn’t, not until he met you, but you continue without expecting a response from him anyway. “Well, that’s just how he is. You could tell him a billion times that this girl isn’t for him but he’s never going to care about what I say until something actually happens.”

“I really care about Hoseok, though, and I want the best for him.” His doe-brown eyes are glossy, full of cherish for his friend. “And he cares for you too, Jeon. Just give him some time.” Quickly, Jungkook twists away, gaze avoiding yours as he clears his throat a couple times.

“Are you... okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” He says, choking up on his own words. “Hurts a little. Hoseok is strong.”

You furrow your brows. “Hey, look at me.” He doesn’t react. “Jeon,”

“Can... you give me some space?” 

Pulling your lips into a straight line, you contemplate whether or not to listen to his words or go against him. He’s been living in a home full of people yet still feeling alone, with no one to listen to his perspective on things. Maybe it’s time you change that.

Abruptly, you swing your leg over his thighs, hands cupping his cheeks just like you did that fateful night. He swore his heart stopped beating. “What are you—” There’s tears brimming in his eyes, you realize, with some escaping, trailing down his cheek. He sniffles. “You’re crying?” You’re stating the obvious, yet somehow it comes out as a question. “Don’t cry. Why are you crying?”

“I’ve never had a friend love me before, a friend who actually liked me for me and only wanted to spend time with me because of who I was, not who my family was. Did I really fuck up with Hoseok?” You frown, thumb rubbing against his cheek to wipe away his tears. Truthfully, you never really knew how to react when someone fell apart like this, but with Jungkook, it felt natural, the comforting. It might’ve been the sunlight peering through the windows of your room that made everything toasty, thawing out your cold heart, or it was just Jungkook. “Maybe. But I doubt he wouldn’t give you a chance to explain yourself though. I mean, yeah, you’re bruised all over because he really beat you up... but, I’m sure this evens things out. Plus, I’m your friend and I love you too.”

He sighs, shoulders plunging with his hands creeping up to your waist unconsciously, tenderly steering you to sit on his thighs. Swallowing at the feeling of his body flattened against yours, you’re attempting to shake your head from the dirty thoughts. Jungkook feels at ease, detecting the words come from your mouth, yet he wants more. He craves for more, especially since that night in Busan and he isn’t sure he can hold himself back anymore.

“I... What happened that night in Busan?” Lifting your weight off him, he only stops you by putting down more pressure to stop your escape. Despite being in an awful lot of pain, he still manages to overpower you in strength. “Please don’t avoid this. If Jongseok didn’t come to our door that night, it would’ve led to something more. I want to know, please, what does it mean?” Cheeks burning, you stare at the wooden headboard behind him, except Jungkook knows your next steps before you do because his finger is already on your chin, guiding your view back onto him. He doesn’t need to say anything because the look he gives you says it all, tell me.

“Okay, okay,” You cringe, the idea of talking about this makes your stomach feel queasy and want to recoil in dread. “White flag. I’ll talk.”

“Enough of this white flag nonsense, just tell me.”

Belatedly gathering enough courage, you spill. Although your heart feels like it’s jumping through hoops from suspense, you realize that you can’t hold yourself back any longer anyway. “I’m... attracted to you, alright? I mean, I’m not sure how I feel about you 100% emotionally, because I still feel like we’re on different pages here, but I feel like I kind of like you? If this goes any further, I wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to it.”

That’s... it? Admittedly so, Jungkook was hoping for more of a confession, something along the lines of, ‘I really like you, Jungkook’ but he’d have to settle for this. This was definitely a step closer to where he wants to be. “So... you’d date me, that is. There’s still an opening somewhere.”

“I-I mean, I guess so... why?”

“Because well, I can’t stop thinking about that night, and I know that for sure that I like you.” He discloses. “And if there’s even a bit of an opening, I want a shot at it.”

You scoff. “With me? You want an actual shot with me? After spending time with my family, you want to still try to swoon me?” There’s a smile tugging on Jungkook’s lips; there’s a blackish-bluish bruise underneath his eye, the side of his lips red and blotchy and the entirety of his body is either swollen or bruised, and yet, he still endures the pain to be beaming brighter than the stars. “Of course, you met my family, right? Yours is nothing complicated in comparison... well, maybe your sister. But for once, I feel like I belong here, with you, I feel like I’m home. So, will you give me a chance to win you over?”

“Don’t you think you’re rushing this whole thing? This... you thinking you like me kind of thing.”

“Are you going to keep wasting your time?” He blurts, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “You wasted how long with some guy only for him to ditch you for your sister. What about your happiness, and what you want? None of this is fair to you. What if I could possibly give that to you, that happiness? Would you actually give me a chance?”

Sincerely, you didn’t know what the relationship with Jungkook held and what it would mean in the future. But what he asserts is right with the things he repeats in Busan about being selfish for once replays in your head again, and you finally decide to take a shot at it.

Was it the high of saying ‘yes, okay’ to Jungkook or the painkillers he took earlier because when your lips meet with his, he feels like he’s floating in mid-air. Your tongue is wet and soft when it fights with his, and when his hands on your waist pull you in closer, the bulge in his pants isn’t discreet, raging for attention, twitching against your thigh while your fingers knots through his hair tightens in response to your bottom lip suddenly tucked in between his teeth. The room feels steaming hot, especially when your hips start to move against his, emitting a groan from him as hand trails down to your ass to give it a harsh squeeze in consequence. His jeans from last night are still on and they’re straining in his crotch uncomfortably.

This is escalating so fast—just as quickly as his heart is beating in his chest, almost popping out of his chest cavity. Your natural scent is intoxicating, clouding up his mind to the point that he doesn’t think he needs the alcohol to forget the pain his family has caused him anymore, because you’re mending the pieces of him together. Your hands trail down to his neck, tugging him closer before they wander down to his biceps, giving him a gentle squeeze that releases a wince from him. 

Just as abrupt as the kiss, you pull away with a concerned and panic expression, with your mouth open in aghast. “Oh my god— I forgot you were still injured—” As you’re trying to move back, you stumble on his legs and collapse onto the floor.

“What— hey, are you okay?” He says, breathless as he leans over to check on you sprawled on the floor. Swiftly hopping back on your feet, he observes you clearly with your hair disheveled, cheeks tinted pink, and swollen lips. There’s a look of achievement on his face from the sight of a disoriented you. “Uh, um, yeah. I-I’m good,” Flustered, you push a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m... I’m going to get dinner ready for the both of us, uh, I’m going to leave you to it,” you’re awkwardly gesturing his crotch before rushing out the room and slamming the door shut.

He can only laugh at your reaction. At least his week wasn’t that bad after that kiss, right?

Jungkook stirs awake from the sound of chatter in the living room, voices familiar that he can associate them as yours and Hoseok’s. Unexpectedly, he sounds melancholic, the muffled sounds from your walls, almost to the point of whimpering mixed with your soft assuring words. He figures he should get a closer perspective of this, maybe enough where he can make out what the two of you are conversing about.

He’s not far off from shrieking when he angles his leg too far, but he bites his bottom lip in prevention of any sound, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the torment. Careful, he reiterates like a mantra in his head, chanting it until it’s engraved in his brain. When he reaches the door, he opens it slowly and just barely, to peek out and see the scene unfold before him.

“She told me that they didn’t do anything,” Hoseok exclaims, face in his hands as his elbows are resting on his knees. “That she chose to be there, and Jungkook was just lounging on the couch. That if anything, she wanted him to fuck her. Isn’t that ridiculous? How could she say that?”

You’re seated on the armrest of the loveseat, hand rubbing against Hoseok’s back soothingly. “I know, Hobi, I know. You might’ve been the right one for her, but at the end, she wasn’t the right one for you.”

“I could’ve changed,” He emphasizes, spinning his gaze to meet yours. His eyes are crimson and swollen from his tears, restlessness fills in those orbs. “I love her so much.”

“Well, and you love Jungkook. He’s in the other room, beat up and crying because he thought he lost you. He didn’t do anything wrong and you tore him to shreds! Earlier when we were making—“ You pause, clearing your throat when you realize where you were leading the conversation, Hoseok raising a brow in confusion at the action. “Earlier, I mean, I went to check on him and he was whining in pain. You really hurt him, Hoseok, and not just physically either. He’s both hurt emotionally and physically.”

He frowns. “I mean, I guess... I guess it wasn’t his fault.”

“There’s no guessing, idiot. It wasn’t. He was honestly too wasted to even realize that she was sitting beside him. Poor kid reeked of alcohol that I almost made him sleep on the porch. But he would’ve gotten robbed so... I let him stay in my room and I slept on the couch.” Jungkook glowers at the thought of you struggling to find comfort on the small sofa, wishing you would’ve chosen to sleep by him instead.

“Can I... talk to him?” Hoseok finally asks, looking down at his hands in embarrassment. His knuckles were red, contused from the one-sided fight he had with Jungkook the night before. “I fucked up, and I’m sure he thinks that he really fucked up.”

You hum for a moment before an idea pops into mind. “How about... you go out and get takeout? I’ll check on him, prep him for your appearance, and then you guys can hash it out?”

You don’t take no for an answer, pushing Hoseok out the door shortly, and a soft smile tugs on the edges of Jungkook’s lips before he lightly shuts the door and tip toes back into bed, pretending to be deep in slumber.

When you come into the room afterwards with a wet rag in hand and a bucket of warm water, his heart swells. Patting the towel against his wounds while seated at the edge of the bed, he hastily has a hand wrapped around your wrist, shocking you in the midst of your activity. “Oh— you’re awake?” He gingerly kisses the palm of your hand, heat clogging your face . “Yeah. And, thank you. For everything. I owe you a lot.”

“I—uh, maybe you’ll reciprocate this for me as well, one day?” You respond dubiously. “But... you also might not know how to do it so—“

“Are you still trying to make jabs at me after I made such a sweet comment?”

“Well, I’m just being honest, do you even know how to take care of another person?” You shoot back. “You couldn’t even get yourself back home, I had to be called and drag you back here myself, and my god, you’re heavy—“ He hauls your arm closer, dragging you along with it until your nose is inches away from his. “Can I kiss you again? I miss the way your lips feel with mine.” Even when he says the words in a volume that’s barely a whisper, his breath fans against your skin harshly, causing goosebumps to crawl up your spine.

The door pounds shut and before you can tear away from Jungkook’s hold, Hoseok is already standing in the threshold of the bedroom, mouth wide open in shock before it immediately fades into a mischievous grin. “What did I tell you, Kook? Which one was it first? You or her?”

[kythed]

cold war

semi eita x reader

synopsis: how many degrees does it take to melt semi eita? (ficmas day 2!)

“Why would you ever apply for a job at an ice rink,” he says, tone thickly frosted with annoyance, “if you can’t even skate?”

You blink up at your co-worker from the ice, the seat of your pants growing uncomfortably damp. Giggling children and lovesick couples glide by, all far more proficient skaters than you are. You offer the boy standing above you sheepish smile. “It just pays better than babysitting, I guess.”

He doesn’t laugh, just exhales heavily through his nose and hoists you up by the forearm with an unnecessarily harsh grip.

“Ouch,” you say indignantly, but the complaint dies on your lips when he shoots you a glare steely enough to slice through marble. Though the obvious irritation clouding his angular features renders you unable to fully appreciate his good looks, he’s the definition of severe beauty, all fair tousled hair and slate grey eyes.

“Learn how. Or else.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and effortlessly skates away to go rescue a toddler hanging onto the edge of the rink, crying for her mother. You watch as he lifts her up gently and sets her on her feet with an affectionate pat on the head. Then, almost as if he can feel you staring, he whips around and narrows his eyes with an expression that sends a chill down your spine.

You frown, but the pout swiftly turns into a scheming smile.

Semi Eita is cold. But not so cold he can’t be melted.

--

Operation Melt Semi starts small. The next day, you get to the rink early and wait for him to arrive. When he walks through the door, shrugging off his heavy parka, you sidle up to him and offer him a cheery “Morning, Semi!” along with a beaming grin.

“Morning,” he says, not even sparing you a glance as he ducks into the men’s lockers. Your face falls. Damn it. This might be a little harder than you’d previously anticipated.

You try again that Friday when you catch him in the coat room while you’re both sitting on the bench and changing into your skates. He knots his laces almost aggressively, pulling them so tight they cut angry red lines across his palms.

“Your hair looks good like that,” you say tentatively. It’s parted down the middle today, and it really does suit him. “Very nineties.”

Semi gives you an incredulous look before briefly glancing into a reflective window. He turns back, reaches into his pocket, and unwraps a piece of gum without offering you one. You bristle with annoyance but keep the sunny smile plastered across your face-- your cheeks are beginning to numb.

“Was that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Um, yeah, kinda.” You cringe inwardly when your voice cracks.

“Gross,” he says, jumping up and leaving you to struggle with your laces. You sigh and slump down. Bastard.

On Saturday, however, and every day you see him after that, he has his hair parted down the middle. He doesn’t mention it again, and neither do you, but you do feel a small sense of victory every time he runs a careful hand through his silvery locks, setting them in place after lapping the rink.

--

A couple weeks later, you’ve just gotten off your morning shift, a little bruised and battered (both physically and emotionally). Semi had still been forced to save you from the cruel, slippery ice a couple times, of course, so you’d taken the opportunity to thank him profusely, and you swear you saw the corners of his mouth twitch as he pulled you up once. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

“Hey,” you say, poking your head into the break room. Semi and a couple of other rink attendants look up from their phones. “Anyone want a coffee? I’m gonna make a run to the nearest Starbucks for a latte.”

“No,” Semi says automatically, face blank, and you roll your eyes internally. Of course he’d decline. As your other co-workers rattle off their orders (one small caramel mocha, one earl grey tea), you resolve to buy him a drink anyways.

If I were an annoyingly attractive asshole, you muse, squinting your eyes at the Starbucks menu ten minutes later, what would I order?

When you return to the rink, breathless and bearing a heavily laden, flimsy cardboard tray, you thrust a steaming paper cup of coffee into Semi’s hand. He stares at you, face painted with something resembling surprise.

“I said I didn’t want anything,” he says, taking the lid off to skeptically peer inside. He glances up at you.“Is this a blonde roast?”

“Yup,” you say, popping the ‘p’ obnoxiously. It’s all you can do to keep the smug grin off your face as Semi inhales the mellow, milky bitterness, letting the steam curl onto his face in the cold ice rink air.

“How did you kno--”

“I could just tell,” you hum, plopping down on the couch as you take a long drink of your own latte. The vanilla syrup generously pumped inside is almost as sweetly gratifying as the bewildered expression on Semi’s face. He just shakes his head, still staring at the cup in his hand.

“Well, how much was it? I’m paying you back.”

“It’s on me,” you say casually, smiling serenely at the way his mouth opens and closes like a shocked goldfish. “Don’t worry about it.”

Semi doesn’t respond as he sets the coffee down on the table, but later you see him sipping on it while he plays some little puzzle game on his phone. Mission accomplished.

--

You’re the last one to leave the rink that day, so you lock up and double check each door before skipping into the coat room to grab your bag. The fluorescent lights flicker sporadically, casting an artificial lightning over the benches. As you reach for the bag, squinting, you catch a little yellow post-it sticking out from its smallest pocket.

Thanks, it reads, messy script scrawled in blue ink. Folded beneath it is a slightly wrinkled five dollar bill.

Despite yourself, a small smile spreads across your face. The thawing has begun.

--

It’s an uphill journey, of course, but with each victorious battle you inch a little closer to winning the war. Semi isn’t invincible, and the cracks in his icy facade are beginning to show.

He’s a little more patient, a little more understanding. His small gestures betray his hand as he shows you how to angle your skates to stop on the ice, as he gives you a pack of tissues when you have a runny nose. He still manages to sneak in an eye roll or snide side comment, of course-- “Seriously, you can’t even brake? You’re hopeless,” or “You shouldn’t have come into work today if you’re sick. You’ll pass all your germs to me.” But still, it’s baby steps, you remind yourself, clutching onto his arm as you come to a grinding halt on the ice, snatching the tissues from his hand with a pained smile and a forced “Thanks, Semi.”

One day, you have to take a shift immediately after leaving a family friend’s wedding. It had been a lovely ceremony (with really, really good chocolate cake), but you hadn’t had time to change into work clothes, so you find yourself rushing through the doors still wearing a cocktail dress and heels, tugging your backpack onto your shoulder and praying your manager doesn’t notice you’re a few minutes late.

Semi is at the counter cleaning a pair of skates, meticulously wiping the blades dry. His phone rests beside him, some sort of pulsing electropop trickling softly from its speakers. He’s nodding his head slightly, keeping pace with the rhythm, and his face is calm, devoid of the irritation you’ve grown so familiar with.

You clear your throat. “Uh, hey.”

Semi looks up, and for a moment, time stops. His eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing painfully in his throat as his gaze shakily makes its way down from the tops of your bare shoulders, to your exposed neckline, to the skirt swishing just above your knees. The dress is a soft pink chiffon, more delicate and feminine than anything you’d ever worn into work.

There’s a sudden heat, a jolt in the pit of your stomach as he meets your eyes again, and you swear he feels it too. It seems as though the temperature in the rink has instantaneously risen twenty degrees-- you think you might start sweating.

“You look…” Semi breathes, but then he stops himself, choking down whatever his next words might’ve been. He furrows his brows and tears his stare away, looking back down at the forgotten skates.

There’s a brief beat of silence, dappled with only the occasional child’s shriek of joy from on the ice.

“You’d better get changed,” he says finally, pointedly looking anywhere but you.

“Okay,” you say, unable to come up with anything more sophisticated. Your mind is empty of anything but the memory of those cold grey eyes growing suddenly hot, gazing into yours with a warmth of indescribable magnitude. As you slowly walk into the womens’ lockers, something dawns on you. There might be a different way to melt the ice prince.

--

Work is different, after that. Your days are no longer characterized by torment, by rude jabs and scowls from Semi that poke at you right where you’re sore. Instead, they’re not-so-subtly woven with lingering glances, with “accidental” touches at just the right moment to send an unwanted shudder to the very tips of your fingers and toes.

Once, when you’re working the counter, fitting customers and renting out skates, Semi skids off the ice with a spray of snow and clinks his way over to you, blades meeting the tile floor metallically.

“I’m gonna change these out for a different pair,” he tells you, and you nod, acutely aware of his close proximity. As he slips behind you, he touches your lower back lightly, just enough so you know he’s there. A breath catches in your throat when his fingers linger just a little longer than necessary, leaving their imprints burning on your skin, even through the thick fabric of your sweater.

He doesn’t look at you when he comes back out, but the back of his neck is flushed pink. You catch a whiff of his cologne-- it’s woody and spicy, comforting like a distant childhood memory. You fight the sudden impulse to launch yourself into his arms and bury your face in his hair, inhaling that holiday-esque scent.

No, no, no, you scold yourself as you watch him slide back onto the ice. Not Semi Eita. Anyone but Semi Eita.

You’d set out to make peace with him, to make work life a little more bearable for the both of you. You hadn’t expected yourself to start looking forward to seeing him each day, to have your chest constrict, the air crushed from your lungs like a soda can underfoot every time he looked your way. All you’d wanted to do was melt his icy exterior-- not let yourself get scalded by his heat.

A week later, when you enter the rink, there’s an impossibly tall redhead leering over Semi, who’s idly filling in a timetable on the front counter. He’s chattering away in a lilting, sing-songy tone while Semi pays him exactly zero attention.

“--but the last episode was really of pristine quality, you know? None of that filler crap, just great writing, excellent animation, and-- oooooh.” When ginger giant notices you, a joker-like grin stretches across his face. “And who’s this?”

“I--”

“She’s nobody,” Semi cuts in, slamming the timetable shut and jumping over the counter. He glares up at his friend, looking a bit like a disgruntled house cat attempting to bully a tiger. “I think it’s about time for you to get going.”

The friend ignores Semi’s attempt at intimidation, instead turning his attention to you. He takes your hand in a way that makes it unclear whether or not he’s about to shake it or kiss it. You stifle a giggle. “Well, hello, ‘Nobody.’ Pretty name. My name’s Tendou Satori, but you can call me--”

Semi cuts him off with a sharp jab to the ribs and Tendou doubles over in pain, clutching his stomach overdramatically. “Not her.”

“Ouch, Semi-Semi,” Tendou gasps, though a few stray giggles escape with his theatrics. He glances at Semi, then to you, then back to him, apparently having some sort of silent epiphany. His face lights up as gleefully as a kid’s on Christmas morning. “Wait… is this the girl you’re always ta--”

Semi jabs him again, harder this time, and Tendou yelps, stumbling backwards. You cringe as he knocks over a stack of ice walkers— as entertaining as this squabble is, you’ll be the one to clean up the mess. Then Semi stalks over and drags him back by the wrist with the rough swagger of a sheriff arresting the town’s most wanted. He glowers at Tendou, face dark as a thunderstorm. “Tendou, I swear to God, if you so much say another word I will strangle you with my bare hands.”

“Never knew you were so kinky, Semi-Semi!” Tendou preemptively dodges any possible counterattack and turns to you, punctuating his next phrase with a wink: “Have fun with that.”

Later, once Semi has successfully ushered Tendou out the door, you turn to him, eyebrow raised. “What did he mean by ‘have fun with that,’ Eita?”

“Nothing,” Semi says, though his guarded tone leads you to suspect otherwise. He offers you a piece of gum before taking one himself and slipping the sleeve back into his bag. “He’s just like that. Also, since when have we been on a first name basis?”

You blush. You hadn’t even realized you’d called him by his first name. Then you smile a little, popping the gum into your mouth and folding the wrapper into a neat little square. “If you’d prefer, I could call you Semi-Semi as well.”

Semi pales, presumably watching as a vision of his life tormented by two Tendous flashes before his eyes. Then he looks back to you and clears his throat. “Eita is fine.”

As you go about your day, robotically hooking skates back on the shelf, wiping down the snack bar tables, stacking chair, and shivering the whole time, what Tendou was about to say rings in your ears: Are you the girl he’s always talking about?

You can’t help but wonder what exactly Semi says about you.

--

It’s a Saturday evening when you approach Semi to ask for a skating lesson.

“Please,” you say, trailing him around the edges of the rink like a lost puppy. He’s picking up stray bits of trash from beneath the benches— sticky pieces of candy wrappers and cigarette butts left behind by unconscientious skaters. “I just want to stop falling so often-- it’s embarrassing.”

“Yeah, it is embarrassing,” Semi says, suddenly standing upright and turning to face you. He leans close, one corner of his mouth quirking up in a sly half smile. “Sucks to suck.”

“Eita,” you say again, reaching out to tug the edge of his sleeve. He glances at your fingers tightly clutching the thick wool of his sweater and then back up to you. You put on your best pleading pout. “Come on, just for tonight? Just like an hour on the ice, tops.”

“I don’t know,” he says slowly. He glances at his watch and sighs. “I have to get home by nine… I guess we can stay for an hour. But only an hour.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

“Thanks, Semi-Semi,” you say with a grin, and he scowls.

“I told you not to call me that.”

“Too bad.”

--

Semi is a surprisingly good teacher. He pokes fun at you, of course, mocking the way you cling to him when he tries to teach you to skate in a circle, or the way you clumsily flail your arms to keep your balance, but he’s patient. He’s gentle when he corrects your form, when he offers you a hand with which to pull yourself up.

It’s only the two of you now, twenty minutes after closing time. All the lights in the rink are off but the large one directly overhead, a spotlight that illuminates the pale, glassy expanse of the ice. The scrape of your blades over the ice echoes throughout the rink as Semi holds your waist lightly, trying to guide you backwards.

“I don’t understand,” you complain, shuffling backwards and trying your hardest to avoid stepping on Semi’s skates. “If I need to go the other direction, I can just turn around, can’t I?”

“Nuh-uh,” he says, tightening his grip on your waist as you wobble slightly. “Saves time. Just keep your toe pointed inwards and move your skates in curves. It’s not that hard.”

“It’s not that hard,” you say, imitating him in a squeaky, high pitched tone.

You hear him snort behind you. “That’s not what I sound like.”

“That’s exactly what you sound like,” you say, looking down at your feet. Toes in. Skates move in curves. “Hey, wait, am I doing it right?”

You glide backwards, slowly, hesitantly. Semi moves with you, hands still hovering at your sides just in case. “Almost. Bend your knees a little, that’ll make it easier to balance.”

“Oh, okay. I-- shit!”

In an entirely ungraceful lurching movement, you lose your balance, grabbing Semi’s wrist in a futile attempt to remain upright. The next moment unfolds in slow motion as you fall backwards, pulling a horrified, wide-eyed Semi on top of you as your back hits the ice, his entire body sprawled over your smaller frame.

You lay in stunned silence for a second, feeling your spine throb and the cold of the ice already beginning to seep through your clothes. Semi’s face is inches from yours-- his breath smells like the spearmint gum he’s always chewing, and, for the first time, you notice subtle green flecks in his grey eyes.

“Sorry,” you finally whisper, staring at him. “I didn’t mean to.”

He doesn’t shift himself off of you, just stares back at you with furrowed brows. Almost imperceptibly, his gaze flicks down to your lips and back up again. Your breath catches in your throat-- but then a wide, bright grin breaks across his face, and it’s like the sun, brilliantly slicing through a gloomy mass of storm clouds with its sharp golden rays.

“You-- you’re-- you’re such a shit skater,” he chokes out between guffaws. You can feel his chest heaving with each laugh, and an angry flush crawls over your cheeks.

“It wasn’t my fault!” you protest, attempting to shove him off of you. He doesn’t budge. “You weren’t giving me enough space to move!”

“You should’ve seen your face,” he says, dramatically wiping an invisible tear from his eye. “God, it was so funny.”

“Well, sorry I’m not as good at skating as you are, Mr. I Do Everything Perfectly The First Time,” you scoff, again trying to push him off. Semi cocks an eyebrow and smirks, settling his forearms on either side of your head. Your heart beats erratically at his nearness. “And can you please move? You’re crushing my lungs.”

“Nope.”

You scowl. The repressed irritation from weeks and weeks of trying to get on his good side strains at the boundaries of your self control. “Get off, Semi.”

“Make me.” His eyes gleam with silent laughter as you struggle for a moment, unable to do anything more than wiggle beneath him.

You huff, resting your head back down on the ice in defeat. “You’re fucking heavy, Eita. What did you do before this, eat a buffet out of business?”

Semi chuckles, and it’s a low, raspy sound that vibrates in your chest. He leans in close, angling his face slightly. His lips hover just above yours, and you can feel his breath fan over your mouth with his next words: “You’re so damn annoying.”

There’s a beat of silence. A heavy, stifling tension hangs in the air, a live wire with crackling electricity dancing across its taut line. You stare at him, unblinking. Daring him to do something.

And then he’s kissing you, one hand cupping your cheek, the other slipping under your shoulders to pull you flush against his chest. He kisses you hungrily, recklessly, like he’s been fasting and your lips are the first food he’s seen for months. You grip the back of his sweater as you kiss him back, fingers clutching at the fabric like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. He tastes like mint and something sweet; it’s messy, there’s tongue and teeth, and your jeans are wet from the ice— but at that moment, you think you’ve never been kissed better. A warmth spreads from his lips to yours, making its way down your throat into deep within your chest, where it burns your lungs and throbs almost painfully.

Though Semi Eita may be cold, his kisses are anything but.

When you break away he’s in quite the state, breathless with a flushed face and disheveled hair. You must look much the same, you think as you inhale deeply, blinking away the stars behind your eyes.

He sits up, resting on your hips. “Well, then.”

“Well, then,” you echo, propping yourself up on your forearms.

“You’re a shit kisser, too.” Semi grins when you gasp and punch him in the arm. You open your mouth to fire back, but before you can get a word out he leans down quick and kisses you again, soft and light. “It’s okay. We can practice.”

Your heart skips a beat.

“How generous of you.” You try to sound sarcastic but the words fall flat under Semi’s gaze. He smiles again and clambers onto his feet, offering you a hand.

“You wanna get dinner or something?”

--

You hold his hand on the walk out to his car, too, fingers tightly interlocked. He hums something under his breath, squeezing your palm every so often.

It’s freezing outside. As Semi fumbles with his keys, you rub your arms, trying in vain to brush away the stubborn goosebumps.

When you climb into the passenger seat, Semi lets you choose the radio station and, before he pulls out of the lot, he silently taps his cheek for a kiss. You roll your eyes but nonetheless lean over to give him a quick peck.

“Thanks,” he says, putting an arm over the back of your seat to pull out of the space. A slow acoustic song comes on, reminiscent of thick woolen blankets and cheerfully flickering flames.

The cold war is over, and you’re not quite sure who melted who.

“Mhm,” you hum. Semi offers you his upturned palm without taking his eyes of the road, so you slip your hand into his, enjoying the way his fingers envelop yours. There’s a light winter rain outside, washing away any remnants of frost on windowpanes and waterpipes.

But, frankly, you don’t really care.

[kissme-hs]

Torn Strings.2

Author’s note: here’s the awaited part 2 of my previous writing. One thing I wanted to let you all know is that this one is based on my personal feelings. Yes, I am experiencing whatever I’m writing. So I’m trying to put as much emotions as I can in it. Hope you all enjoy. Feedback is appriciated very much.

~Ria

Part 1

Pairing: Fem! Reader x Harry styles

Warnings: 18+ smut, slight age gap, explicit language, fingering, oral sex giving and recieving.

Word count: 2.5k

                                                       ————

“Are you a hoe?”

It’s been a almost a month since Harry slammed the teak wooden door. The loud thud still echoes in your mind of wandering thoughts. To be honest he isn’t the one to be blamed you fell in love. It’s just in his nature, his charm works it’s magic even on those who refused to once give in the feeling of love. That’s just who he is.

And you know, after how ended things last time you shouldn’t be going back to him but it is just the way it is.

So when you texted him on a Saturday evening a month after of no contact-asking if he’d like to hangout since he was back in the town, not too long ago past his sudden outburst he didn’t say no. Pretending forgetting like- anything furious ever happened he showed up on your doorstep dressed up in one of his black sweatpants and navy blue sweater looking completely different from how the world views him. 

And ever since his visit, the circle started again. But this time things changed. He became careful of his actions, making sure to make a move that might end up backfiring on him developing even stronger feelings in your heart for him. He stopped replying to your texts, only messaging you when he wanted to. And other stuff that not only made your heart ache but question your worth, were you so unworthy of to be fallen in love with?

 Despite the toxicity this relationship of yours with Harry brought in your life, there was no stopping. You tried going on dates to check your compatibility with other men but none of them turned out to be like Harry’s. All the men were absolute sweethearts, but you couldn’t find the one that made you feel things like Harry did. The way you could be yourself around him was one of the reasons why you’re beats faster around him.

But when he chose very odd words to describe you, your mind went blurry. Is that what he thought of you? It hasn’t even been 15 minutes, you both still catching your breath from the orgasm.

His lips were hot and heavy on yours as he pushed you back on your bed with a slight force. Lips were never yours he placed his legs on either side of you, his hands travelled up your sides stopping at your shoulders. Fingers dancing delicately on the supple skin of your bare shoulder, his strong tongue gliding in your own with such as ease as your lips smacked together. Biting your lower lip with a tug he pulled away making you arch your back if your soul left your body with the kiss.

As shiver ran down your spine as the back of his ring cladded fingers ran over your skin before pulling down the straps of your cami top kissing the-now complete naked skin of your shoulder. Lips trailing kisses all the way to your neck. A gentle giggle leaving past your lips with the contact of his scruffy cheeks buried in the crook of your neck. You felt him smile over your skin with your hands tangling in his hair-a little wet from the shower he took before driving to you.

“sorry baby”

Pulling away from your neck he tugged on your top, you lifted your arms letting the man take off the piece off clothing. Doing the same with his t-shirt he revealed his tatted-toned chest. Your mouth watering with the thought of having taste of that cock you missed so much. So rolling over you placed your legs on his side seating yourself over his grown bulge over the material of his boxers-his sweats were the first thing that came off when you started palming him while making out.

“I want to get a take of you H.” You whispered in his ear straddling his lap as you kissed down his neck, sucking on the sensitive skin of his neck. He tasted his berries. Sweet and tropical

“Then do it baby. I want you to suck me” he pushed your straddling down lightly hinting you it was time to get to work. You licked his v-line before pulling his boxers down. His hard shaft sprinted up-slapping his lower body as his pink tip leaked with pre-cum.

Biting your lower lip, you grabbed his stiff hard cock giving it a few gentle pumps before licking a stride from bottom to top. He was thick and long and his veins popping out making your panties go damp. Failing miserably when you tried to take him completely in his mouth you gagged pulling away collecting your saliva and bobbing your head up and down his cock.

His hand griping tight enough on your hair to guide your mouth just like he wanted.

“hmm, you take me so good doll. Taking my cock like a filthy little girl you are” he moaned through gritted teeth as he bucked his hips further in your mouth making you gag. You could feel his tip hitting the deepest point it could in your throat. Your eyes leaking tears but you couldn’t care less, as you made a complete mess with your spit on his cock.

Taking him out with a pop you pumped his boner and you felt the twitch in his body which indicated he was close. Determined to make him come you kept pumping him picking up your pace only to pushed away by Harry. Pulling you up to his face level he grabbed your face with his hand and roughly placed you’re his lips on yours. His other hand sliding in your panties as he squished your cheeks before turning your face to his lips were directly hovering your ears.

“I want to fuck you so hard” his words made you whimper as a mewl left your lips. Your body crumbling in his touch and without warning he inserted his one long finger inside your opening, A loud moan escaping your mouth as you laid your head on his shoulder as he pumped his finger, now adding one more opening you a little bit.

With one ease motion he rolled you on your back, your nipples perking up with the sudden exposure to cold air which was no more pressed against a body. Harry placed himself between your legs taking in the aroma of your sex, nose directly over your clothed center. Hooking up his fingers between your pj’s he pulled down the cotton lower along your panties not wanting to waste any more minute and having a taste of you.

It has been a while since he had his mouth on that sweet pussy of yours.

“You smell like heaven darling; I wonder if it tastes even sweeter”

“Why don’t you find out yourself”

Placing his wide tongue on your core he licked from your opening to the clit. His muscular tongue collecting all the juices in one go. Hands spreading your legs wider and pinning your hips down-knowing how you always squirm whenever he goes down on you. He groans as the taste buds on his tongue sensed the sweetness of your pussy. Giving up on being gentle, he gripped your thighs throwing her over your shoulder and licking the pussy mercilessly. Suckling upon the little bundle of nerve, he pushed his tongue inside of you feeling the tightness of your walls.

The eagerness of his licks and sucks on your pussy made your clit throb and soon you were pushing on his head with the building up coil in your belly. Knowing your body like the back of his hand his mouth never left your core as his tongue flicked your clit roughly. He wanted you to cum. He wanted to boost his ego becoming aware of the fact how easily he could make you cum unlike other males you had in your life.

“shhi, I am gonna cum Har- you cut of your own self feeling your body release the orgasm. Your breath heavy and body tired from riding your high you laid there catching some air. Harry laid beside you before his body placed itself over you to finish the unfinished business you started.

“Excuse me?” You replied turning your head to face him who was still looking at the ceiling. Moonlight falling over his perfectly sculpted face as he stared into the oblivious blinking whatever was going through his mind.

“I asked you, are you a hoe?” he answered thinking you didn’t hear him before not knowing it was you giving him second chance to rephrase his question. Seemed like he had no intention of doing so.

“Wh- what makes you say that Harry?” Yes you were hurt, yes you could cry if he wasn’t there. Never ever you have been called a hoe. Been known for the most kind and generous heart yourself the word was completely foreign to you. And you just wished you could forget what it meant but no. You wanted to know what made him ask you such a bizarre question.

“I saw you on a date” He replied finally facing you. His face blank, having no sign of emotion at all.

“I-“

“How can you go on a date when you are fucking me?”

“I did not go on a date harry, It was my colleague. He wanted some help because he was going through a rough patch with his wife” You explained. Your brows scrunches in annoyance. Why did it matter to him at all who you went out with and don’t?

“Also I don’t owe you any explanation of who I go out with and who I don’t. We are just fuck friends like you said so I’d rather have you minding your business.” You said turning to face away from him so he doesn’t see the building up tears in your eyes. He had the audacity to ask you such question under your roof, if it was someone else, he would’ve been out of your house by now but you couldn’t kick him out. And no you did not go on a date with anyone after you rekindled your past relationship you had with Harry.

You were no double standard lady.

“Hey, I’m sorry” he whispered rubbing your shoulder as you hide your face further into the pillow.

“I-I just don’t you to change your feelings for me” his following up sentence made you enraged. Change feelings? He was the one who told you, it was your fault to have feelings for him and now he’s the one who don’t want you changing them either. The confusion he put you in was enough to make you mad. Of course, the feelings you had for him were still there. You were trying your best to fade it away well aware of the fact that future held no possibility of you two being together-in fact he made his point in the same himself. Then why was he scared of you losing your feelings for him?

His words were generating nothing but several questions in your mind, tangling you in the confusion.

“What exactly do you want from me Harry?” You gave up raising your voice as you sat up not caring if your chest wasn’t covered but now bare to him.

“First you go away slamming my door when I tell you I have feelings for you. Blaming me for not knowing better and letting my emotions go. And now when I am trying my best to get rid of the feelings you first, under my roof call me a hoe and then go telling me you don’t want me to change my feelings for you? What kind of fool you’re making of me Harry?!” You questioned his intentions. Shifting to sit up he opened his mouth but nothing came out.

It's like he was caught. He himself didn’t know what he wanted from this relationship of sexual desire that he had with you.

“Oh I’ll tell you, you just want to keep me around so you can have a person you can rely on mentally and sexually when you want to without committing to it. You’re scared of making promises Harry, and when you realized that one day this won’t be what I want anymore leaving you alone you questioned me.” You were spitting nothing but facts.

Yes he was scared that one day you will leave him but wasn’t coming to you just because his body desired yours, but because ever since he left you the day with anger in his eyes. His own self doubted him. Did he really not feel anything towards you? Was it just a fuck or more than it. Trying to find the answers he came to the conclusion of having some sort of feelings for you.

The thought of you happily smiling with someone else wasn’t something he could bear.

But he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready for another heartbreak. Call it his naïve side of nature, he presumed it won’t work out, just like it didn’t between him and Camille. But thinking you’re losing feeling for him brough the fear he had buried deep inside, out once again. He couldn’t lose you. Though he did not want to commit, he did not want you to fall out of your feels for him. Maybe it was his toxic nature or selfishness but he wanted you all to himself without making him yours.

You didn’t hold you tears back this time. He deserved to see your tears, as much as he deserved to know that you were hurting. Every day spent with him took a part of you. You wanted harry to see what pain he put you through, how his confused mind messed up with yours.

“I’m just scared” breaking the silence of your sobs he looked at you. The way fat tears faintly rolled down your cheeks made his heart ache, after all, he did care about you.

“Of what?”

“I’ve been hurt in the past and I just don’t want the history to repeat itself once again.”

“how would you know if you don’t give a chance?”

“I don’t have more chances to spare”

“Then I think we should end whatever this craps is” you said wiping the tears with the back of your hand cussing at his selfishness. For the sake of his heart he was willing to break yours. How pathetic.

“Why would you want this to end”

“why don’t you give us a chance”

“I am not ready for a relationship right now”

“I am willing to make this work if you are-?”

“You can’t change my mind”

“Okay then this is the last time I see you, you know the way out” You replied ending the back and forth going conversation. Saying this indeed stung your heart but you lost nothing. Yes, your love for him was deep, but his selfishness was deeper. It wasn’t your job to get him ready for something he isn’t. And in the end if you who’s hurting both ways so why not put a full stop to the ongoing story of no outcome.

This time it was your time to be selfish and choose yourself over a man who wasn’t willing to give in his feelings for his greed, so why should you sacrifice your peace and love over someone who’s going to end up taking the generosity for granted.

And for how long could you do this anyways. After all, all good things come to an end.

[unholyhelbig]

Title: Centerfold [Pt.2]

Ship: Beca Mitchell/ Chloe Beale

(Read Part one here)

Beca Mitchell’s phone was a box of constant communication. She had her emails redirected so that she could feel every single time she needed to address something at the office, even if she was there and the soft pinging culminated in the very screen she stared at. She had a multitude of contacts and would video chat with the team in Italy, and sometimes L.A.

So, what she knew deep down, was that it was impossible for her not to look at her phone all day. Physically she had to check the notifications to keep her world running. Emily intercepted most of them, keeping her deep stare on her own screen before glancing up at her boss every couple of minutes. They were both on edge and Beca didn’t much appreciate the tension that sparked between them.

She held her breathe each time a new ping sounded off until eventually that lull of anxiety was hushed to a dull ache in the pit of her chest. She went through her morning meets and a new presentation to her team about how their coding for a new watch wasn’t up to parr- they had a few days to fix it before it dropped, and the CEO made sure she knew that.

When the notification from Chloe did finally come through, Beca almost didn’t’ notice. She registered the pink of the logo that slowly shifted to a deep purple. But the name? Oh, the name she hadn’t clocked for a few seconds after that. And even then, Chloe Beale? Her Chloe, actually responded.

Beca lilted the computer screen and frantically looked up at Emily, who was already at her door. She didn’t bother to knock. Instead, she situated the office and closed the blinds and very coolly, but not so coolly, pressed her back against the wood and breathed.

“Dude,” Beca said.

“I know,” Emily said “Did you read it?”

She hadn’t read it. She hadn’t even thought to read it because her mind got stuck behind the massive roadblock that was Chloe Beale and her stupid pun username. She opened the application and hesitated over the message icon. She was supposed to be playing it hard to get like she didn’t’ care if she even got a response. But she did care and apparently so did her assistant because she was right behind her, blindly gawking like her halo fell into her eyes and blinded her from right and wrong.

“If I click this she’ll see that I read it and then there’s no going back.”

“You don’t want to go back, do you?”

“You told me to keep her guessing,”

“Truthfully, I didn’t think you’d even get a response.” Emily shrugged sheepishly “Figured you would forget about it in a few days and… open it.”

Beca frowned but hovered the mouse over the message. She wanted to close her eyes but felt like she was watching a car accident, complete with the red and blue flashing lights and the metallic crunch of metal. Either way, she couldn't avert her stare. She didn’t want to.

Chloe: Hey stranger. I must admit that I was never expecting to hear from you again, big shot manager. I’ve kept my tabs on you… New York is my home, so if you’re serious about coffee, so am I.

Her breath caught in her throat. Chloe Fucking Beale had said yes. Her childhood love had agreed to coffee that neither of them could probably stomach. Chloe Fucking Beale who was a playboy model with more than a million Instagram followers, and Chloe Fucking Beale who she was pretty sure she still loved.

There had been other people, men, and women that she had thought she fell for. She folded into soft touches and stronger commands. She was happy for months at a time and on one rare occasion a full year with a man who ran his own tours of the city. But none of those relationships had ever been like the one she had with Chloe.

Beca pulled in a long breath that filled her lungs with stale coffee and copy paper. She tilted her lid and looked to Emily because she was the expert. And Beca was frozen. That same cold excitement filled her and it also rocked her ever-loving shit. She couldn’t move, she couldn’t think.

Emily looked at the darkened screen, then at her boss, then back at the screen before lunging forward and typing back a reply. Perfect. Are you free this Saturday?

It turns out that Chloe was free that Saturday and if she wasn’t, she didn’t’ say a word and quietly cleared her schedule. The day was quickly approaching and Beca really wanted to know why the New York Branch put her in charge of everything when she could barely figure out what to wear to a simple cup of coffee.

This felt more like a simple cup of coffee.

Emily eventually got tired of the barrage of pictures she was getting and took a cab to Beca’s apartment an hour before the actual date. They settled on black jeans and a blue button-down that Emily pulled closer to her chest for extra measure because according to her “You look good in anything and Chloe won’t be able to make eye contact with you.”

Then she was on a subway that smelled like stale snow and hot morning breath. They picked a small shop downtown that not many people knew about. It was a feat in the city to find a place that wasn’t packed like a sardine can and Beca trusted Chloe’s judgment tenfold.

Beca got there first, and her palms were sweating despite the cool atmosphere that swept through the little shop each time the door opened. It was a meta cross between a thrifted bookstore and a café. People sat and ate and read and the scent of what Beca imagined old magic to be, mingled well with coffee grinds and fresh pastries.

She ordered a simple black americano and settled by the front window, the glass fogged from a warm contrast with the cold of the busy street and curved lettering faced the patrons. There was a simple logo and one barista behind the counter. She chose a random book and pretended to read, but only skimmed the same paragraph over and over again.

Her main focus was on the door and the bell that chimed each time it was opened. One of those times, after a businessman and a hipster kid hugging his laptop close to his chest, it was Chloe. Soft and vibrant compared to the rest of the dim academic setting.

Her hair was pulled behind her ears and a pair of golden framed glasses rested on her nose. She had aged like wine and the wind that blew in behind her carried the sweet scent of southern peaches through the front door. She wore a white sweater with a plaid peacoat and high wasted jeans, and Beca knew she was staring.

Everyone was, they couldn’t’ help it. She overtook the room with a warm and sparked presence. If anyone recognized her they didn’t’ say a thing, out of saving their own face or because the girl in the centerfold of the latest playboy was wildly different than the one standing in front of her. This… this was her Chloe.

She didn’t’ know if she could hug Chloe, if touching was okay, but as she stood to greet her, she was pulled into the warmth of the woman. She was wrapped in overwhelming touch and emotion and she buried her nose into Chloe’s hair as they held onto each other, not quite willing to let go of the familiarity before realizing that it was inappropriate not to.

“Wow,” Chloe ran her hands down Beca’s arms, stopping at her elbows “You haven’t aged a day, have you?”

“It’s the lighting in here, I think it’s one step up from basement overhead.”

Chloe laughed and it was a magical sound. The only thing more intoxicating was her smile, which never seemed to leave her lips as she ordered her own drink, something loaded with sugar and caramel, and leaned forward across the table to get a better look at her date.

Beca sipped her coffee and quirked an eyebrow “What?”

“I haven’t seen you in ten years, I think it’s perfectly acceptable for me to study you.”

“There’ll be plenty of time for that,” She tested “What have you been up to all these years?”

Chloe leaned back in her seat and cupped her mug. It was a russet red and steam rose from the pale liquid that soaked inside. There was a sickeningly sweet odor to it and part of Beca regretted ordering nothing but a black coffee. It seemed like a disservice to the atmosphere of the shop.

“Oh, a bunch of stuff here and there. I used to be based out of LA, I did a lot of acting there. Little stuff like soap operas and a couple of commercials. It wasn’t for me, though so I moved here to pursue modeling and it’s been going well. Really well.”

Beca didn’t’ want to mention the playboy magazine or the curve of Chloe’s legs and the way her skin shown under the bright summer sun. She never returned it to Jason because he never asked for it back. It was an unspoken solidarity between the two.

“That’s amazing,” Beca smiled, feeling excitement in her chest “Anything I would recognize?”

Chloe hummed into her drink “Mm, maybe a few things. It depends on how you feel about Playboy. I never thought you were much of a reader.”

Beca looked down dejectedly at the old spined book to her right. It was true, she hadn’t read the Catcher in the Rye and she barely got through the introduction paragraph because of the nerves and the heartbeat that beat so strongly against the inside of her wrist right now.

“I’m not usually. But I do enjoy looking at the pictures.” Beca flicked her stare back towards the woman across from her “Though, that’s not the reason I reached out to you.”

“Truth is, I’ve always wanted to message you, but you looked like you were doing so well. Like you were so happy. I didn’t want to throw you off or seem like I was chasing something that we used to have.” She said, “So I waited.”

It was Beca’s turn to laugh, “I felt the same exact way. We’re both pretty stupid, then huh? Waiting like this for something we knew… for something we knew we wanted.”

Chloe smiled wider and clinked her mug against Beca’s yellow one, not spilling any of the mostly full drink. “To being stupid. And getting to know each other all over again.”

And that’s exactly what they did. They sat and talked until they were the only two in the coffee shop and Beca even dared to kiss Chloe when they got to the subway platform.  She tasted like caramel and sunshine if such a thing was even possible.

But it was because she had found Chloe. Centerfold Chloe. High school Chloe, and most importantly, her Chloe.

[the-ghost-king]

time for me to share a good™️ headcanon: will and nico love to steal each other’s clothes but their massive size difference makes it so obvious that they’re doing it. nico’s shirts are almost croptops on will and will’s sweaters are practically a dress on nico bc will is like 6’2 and nico’s like 5’5

Anon! Anon! Yes, you. You get it.

I don’t really know what you wanted as a response to this but I felt inspired for the first time in some 10 months so I gifted you a one shot below the “read more”. I’ll also upload it to Ao3 with a link in the notes...

Anyhow Anon, I hope you enjoy it! I got a little off topic but reflective fluff is always good!

If you would have asked Will what he wanted out of life as a kid you probably would have gotten an answer that was something like “a chance to actually go and live life as it was meant to be” or maybe “to be happy, pretty, and stupid”. 

He didn’t dare to hope for more, demigods didn’t live long lives, and being involved in a major battle at thirteen didn’t do wonders in regards to establishing confidence in your survival. As for the “pretty and stupid” part of his answer, it wasn’t that Will had ever hated being smart, he just hated the disconnect different intelligence levels caused in peer groups and society; being smart was hard, sure for school purposes it was nice, but that intelligence means you’re constantly thinking and so often so much of the world seems so dull and petty. Will had been lucky enough to be blessed with decent looks, moving through the world was made easy in at least that regard, but he wished he could live without thinking so much because so often he could only see so much awful in the world. 

Thirteen year old Will wouldn’t have dared hope for anything more, he wouldn’t have dared hope for anything else more than a decade or so of normal life beyond camp and a chance at an easy life for those few years. When fourteen year old Will got a depression diagnosis he wouldn’t say he was surprised, he would have been annoyed but he hadn’t really felt much of anything in years. (”Atypical depression” The doctor had said, “likely clinical”)  A few different types of anti-depressants and a few months of therapy things started feeling okay, better at least. Fifteen came and went, he tried to go off the pills and didn’t quite get there, but his dose got lowered which Will supposed was nice. 

In the months of early 16, Nico di Angelo stumbles into his life; exhausted and melting under the pressure of the universe, he makes friends with death. It isn’t much, but Will remembers him from when they were kids back before any major fights. He remembers hearing about Nico running off and he felt bad for not having made a continued effort to get to know him. He felt bad when he left after the Battle of Manhattan too, they’d prepped bodies for their departure together and Will had gotten hung up in the infirmary (he had been one of the last Apollo campers and he was the only one with medical training). In some ways, Will supposed he was making up for those lost years when he didn’t have time to befriend Nico as he would have liked, it made him feel like he was at least trying.

In the beginning things were undeniably rocky, Nico was constantly hooked to machines just so Will could guarantee he wouldn’t die overnight. Even on Nico’s first night in the infirmary he had struggles with sleep, the bed wasn’t comfortable enough and after trying a large variety of options Will had hauled Nico and all of his equipment out to the porch on the back of the infirmary and they slept there for those three days (which turned into two weeks), wrapped up in jackets and in a pile of blankets beneath camp’s fall skies.

Within a few months, they fell in love. 

Okay listen, people can call Will ridiculous all they want- but love at first sight is real and he experienced it. He didn’t know it but the day he met Nico and looked into the dark browns of his eyes, he thought something about how his eyes looked like ash from the fireplace at Mama’s house, or how they looked like the soil that his windowsill plants grew from. If you would have asked Will what he thought of Nico the very first time they’d met, he would have told you something about how his eyes were “big, dark, and round like a baby cow”. What Will really meant is that Nico reminded him of the family ranch house he grew up in, he meant he looked like home. 

At the time Will just hadn’t known that was what love felt like, but when he figured it out one day teaching Nico how to play Hold ‘em on the back porch of the infirmary with a light breeze and setting sun as they settles down for bed; he knew one thing, he didn’t want anything more than to make Nico happy and he hoped that he could be a part of that more than anything.

It took a little longer for Nico to come around, he had his own demons to battle. Internalized homophobia, even in small doses, is a real downer to say the least, let alone when you’re fighting demons you’ve manifested for some 15 years. The biggest struggle however, was probably in all honesty the fact that Nico was so goddamned oblivious. After spending years alone with limited human contact at best, and having spent so many years desperately wanting Percy to notice him, and being met with negative reactions, Nico didn’t know what love looked like anymore. How had he been supposed to know he was in love with Will?

There was a lot of subtle back and forth, would the other even be interested in a guy? It ended one day with an unplanned kiss followed by a declaration. Will called it the best mistake he ever made, neither of them really thought it was a mistake.

It was days like today that only proved that.

Will had woken up to Nico’s face on a pillow next to him. He’d fallen asleep with his hair pulled back in a ponytail, and some of his smaller hairs had fallen loose in the night and now framed his peaceful face. The first rays of golden sunlight fell through accidentally left open curtains, and Will reached out to brush a stray piece of dark hair and place it behind Nico’s ear. 

He woke up to a morning more beautiful than he would have ever hoped for at 13, and he would always be glad for that. He would always be grateful for how far he had come in not quite a decade. At just twenty-two he was 4 years into medical school, and three years married to Nico and he truly believed he was one of the happiest men in the world simply because he made Nico happy.

In time, Nico too would wake up. 

First with a huff, and then a grumbling noise of annoyance as he rubbed his face with his arm as though trying to block out light before half-asleep Nico seemed to accept his fate and wake up fully. 

“Good morning”

“How long have you been up?”

“Awhile”

Nico made a knowledgeable humming sound, perhaps he was just acknowledging Will’s response or perhaps he was saying ‘of course’. 

A few kisses, a short conversation, and a couple of “I love you”’s later, they got out of bed.

Nico's was wearing Will's high school hoodie that was a bit too short on Will anymore like it was a dress on him. The hoodie went down to Nico’s knees, he's got his own black shorts on because Will's just fall off unless he ties them really really tight. He's got black socks pulled up almost to his knees, there’s a little gap between the end of Nico’s shorts and the start of his socks. The hoodie goes down an inch or two past his short pockets, and he goes outside to grab the mail with a pair of unlaced combat boots on his feet. He's got his skull ring on his middle finger of his right hand, and his left hand holds a simple wedding band which glint in the light as he opens the front door. His hair is pulled up into a messy ponytail, some of it is up some of it is down, there's tons of flyaway hairs which frame his face since he hasn’t fixed it sense getting out of bed.

Call it a cliché, but Nico looks like Heaven personified without even trying. 

Sure, everyone looks nice in a suit or a dress, but how many people can roll out of bed without doing their hair wearing a decade old hoodie and look like they belong in a magazine spread?

Will is wearing one of Nico's looser shirts, on Nico it comes down past his hips and a little onto his thighs, on Will is he so much as lifts his arms a centimeter it reveals his hip bones. He doesn’t really mind, he kind of likes it to be entirely honest. Will can remember being just a few inches shorter than he is now and fitting fairly comfortably in Nico’s clothes at the time, they had never worried whose clothes they grabbed back then. Nico had finished his growth spirt and Will had thought he was done only two inches taller, it didn’t matter whose clothes were whose because everything fit well enough.

That wasn't quite the case now, Nico had stayed at his casual 5"5 while Will had shot up and extra six inches to 6"2 and ruined his own chances of sharing clothes. Such as right now he was sure he was wearing his own sweats, because he had specifically had to get a pair last night despite Nico's having been more accessible. Anytime he's actually managed to get a pair of Nico's pants comfortably on in the last few years, result in him wearing pants that are more like compression shorts or capris than pants.

Will was just happy he could wear some of Nico's larger shirts and hoodies still, the fact that Nico preferred to sleep in lots of clothes and typically baggy clothes meant Will had some options when it came to wearing his husbands stuff.

Will has also managed to steal a pair of Nico's socks, they're a taller pair on Nico (he buys winter wear so often because he's cold always) but on Will they gather a little awkwardly around his ankle. Will doesn't usually wear socks but they had gone to bed without the heat on and apparently the cold had set in over night and you could definitely feel it on their apartment floors.

The clothes would be a bit stretched out from him, it was something Will can remember being worried about after his second growth spurt, but Nico doesn't mind, He's assured Will of this time and time again, he says something about "aesthetic" and "alternative". Will doesn't really know, he's never cared much for fashion but he'll take Nico's word on it. 

The truth, although it's something Nico would only admit in their bed late at night when it was so dark you could barely see his face, and arguably a little drunk as well, was that he actually enjoyed the way the clothes fit better after Will wore them. He found some sort of comfort in the way the shoulders of his shirts would be just a little too wide on him, it was one of those small acts of love, it wasn't one Will entirely understood but both of them got their own sort of enjoyment out of Will stretching out Nico's sleeping clothes some so they went with it.

Will turns his attention from Nico walking out the door to the coffee pot on the countertop.

Will doesn't like coffee much, he likes the social aspect of getting a cup more. Nico had introduced him to it, he’d been drinking it for years by the time they’d left camp. It reminded him of home and he grew to like it for such reasons, and although Nico would consume just about anything with enough caffeine in it Will needed creamer to enjoy coffee to any amount. 

They were both honestly probably more tea people, but they never seemed to remember to buy any. Will will try to remember to write it down on the grocery list later, but Nico has walked back into the kitchen, climbed up on the counter next to Will and now he is looking at him; and Nico is always a distraction that's worthy of taking, Will will definitely forget to write down tea for their grocery list and the week will start over with more coffee in the house and no tea.

Nico’s fingers grip the countertop and he swings his legs a little bit back and forth from where he sits on the black granite, his white gold rings set against the counter in contrast. Will's worn out blue hoodie looks grey with age, the little printed letters are cracked and peeling on the back of it, his last name can still be read in white though. 

Will knows the cliché about your lover wearing your name is often unhealthy and overly possessive, but he likes seeing Nico with his name because it feels like a gift. It’s like he’s given Nico a part of himself and Nico accepted it with pride, and Will loves that, he loves him and Nico being little pieces of each other.

Nico is smiling at him, and leans just so, Will turns in acknowledgment of the gesture, and moves so he’s standing to the left of Nico. Nico crosses his legs at the ankle and leans towards Will laying his head against Will where his neck and shoulder meet. Will leans forward and buries his face into Nico’s hair, comfortable and a little sleepy still.

"Coffee?"

"Mhmm."

"Good."

Will isn't the best cook, for fucks sake he's not even someone who could be considered a good cook, but he can handle this. Nico taught him the basics when they were still living at camp, Will failed every time, he ended up going home for a short period for Christmas break and begging his mom "teach me how to make eggs" he left off the bit about impressing Nico but he knows she knew. When he came back Nico had just smiled at him, "you practiced huh?"

Will hadn't gotten better at making much else, some eggs, toast, coffee and he could boil water now too! He had burnt lots of stuff over the years, plastic containers in the microwave, a plastic ladle they had on the stove top, at least 100 failed attempts at grilled cheese. Will was honestly just happy he hadn’t blown up any microwaves since he was a kid... 

Nico had come home to many of Will's failed attempts at making him various things, sometimes the food was underdone other times it was bits of inedible char. Will did try, he really did, but the heat was always too high or he would end up distracted, or he would use sugar on accident instead of salt. Will did actually try, but his best attempts still often left something to be desired, so he often was the one doing dishes.

Most notably one time Nico had come home to him attempting to pan-frying some fish.

It had been supposed to be a surprise, it was Nico's birthday, and Will had had the day off of class even though Nico hadn't. He figured he would have surprised him; it had been back in their first apartment, not quite as nice as this one. A cheap tiled cream counter top that Nico had literally cringed at when seeing it the first time, the cabinets had somehow been cheaper than a set from IKEA and it had become an inside joke to them.

He had walked in the apartment to see smoke coming off the pan with a bit of flame still coming off it, and a large piece of charred fish stuck to the bottom of one of their frying pans.

"Hey dumbass, what did you do in here?" 

People thought they were an odd couple, Will could see that. The whole parallel people drew between light and dark and optimism and pessimism and such between them, none of those people were really correct though. Will and Nico were more similar than they were different. At the end of the day it didn’t really matter what people said, Will liked Nico, he loved him in all honesty- he'd never heard the word "dumbass" said with so much affection.

Nico was hard for most people to read, years along had left him struggling emotionally in some manner; he did his best to hide most of his emotions, cloak them so heavily that sometimes they were even unrecognizable to Nico himself. 

The most obvious example of this in regards to Nico was how "shut up" often meant "I love you", "idiot" was synonymous with "darling" in some ways. Don't get Will wrong, Nico could be very affectionate, but pet names came with hesitation for him in the early days; Should he use Venetian, Italian, or English? Masculine words that were romantic had been hard for him to say as well... But everyday he grew and got better, and Will was proud of him every time he called Will “dear” and didn’t hesitate before or after. 

Nico had started masking his emotions at some point during his time at Westover, whatever he had done there hadn’t been much more than how much the average person masked their feelings, but when he started training with Minos Nico had doubled down on keeping his emotions secretive. Minos hadn’t been kind or safe in any sense of the word, emotions were what he used to manipulate Nico all that time, it was no wonder Nico developed such a strong sense of apathy towards anything overtime. 

Nico could be affectionate, he could be the most loving person to ever exist. Nico’s emotions were sort of like secrets, if you stayed awake late enough into the night you would only come to know him then, such was the nature of him. He often whispered so quietly his wants and needs into the dark, there was some sense of fear tied to Nico’s vulnerability and he handed off his worries each night to the stars soft glow. Nico often refused to talk openly during the day, but at night apologies and truth always came, he had known what he had wanted earlier he had simply been to afraid of the rejection to acknowledge it, Will is glad that with the years the worst of such things is over; it is unlikely to be something Nico will ever fully grow out of, such is the nature of humanity, but progress is a virtue.

Such times not only resulted in Nico’s acknowledgement of his wants and faults, but also garnered the most affection from Nico. Nico couldn’t always communicate in an effective manner verbally, which was still a process they were working on, but he did his best. Nico’s act of love was like that of a small bird, he gave you small things that seemed insignificant until you realized he had only ever told you such things. Will fell in love with him for it, it wasn’t just about the way he would describe the wallpaper in his childhood bedroom, it was the fact that nobody knew anything else about Nico’s childhood bedroom. 

Will had never truly understood the concept of “touch starved” until he met Nico, he had known the definition sure, but he had never truly witnessed it. Nico never asked for touch, but it was the way he leaned into it, the way he sought it out; pressing up against Will’s hand like a cat stretching trying to get a little more contact somehow, trying to make the touch last just a bit longer so he could savor it properly. It was literally starving in some manner, starving for contact that wasn’t a goodbye or a hit, just for wordless contact. When he grew comfortable he gave affection fully, there was a joy in holding Nico’s hand, knowing that he felt safe enough not to worry about the effect a few extra seconds of prepping for a fight that holding hands would add.

Nico didn’t show affection in big ways, and that was more than okay with Will; they were laid back in comparison to most, he’d have sought the comfort of placing soap bubbles on each others head in the tub a hundred times over a night on the town. Nico’s affection was something quiet and almost secretive, unknown to anyone it wasn’t directed at; it was the way he would lead Will out of a room to kiss him, or the quiet way he whispered “I love you” into Will’s ear when in public.  

Will supposes in the early days “shut up” became “I love you” in order to avoid being seen as weak in some manner, in order to avoid acknowledging what he really wanted to say and having Will not respond in kind. Will didn't mind, they weren't an overly affectionate pairing- banter was common, almost everything they did was turned into some sort of game, the term "boys will be boys" definitely applied to their relationship of 3am pillow fights, late night discussions about what order the Christmas ornaments had to go up on the tree in, and whenever they wrote thesis papers for living room debates over the best Disney villain.

Will honestly preferred it that way, he preferred having the little moments reserved for solely them. He preferred the aversion to sappy clichés, the way a lover could say your name with exasperation and a smile that meant the whole world. He had seen what some other couples had, quick kisses in lines at cafes, holding hands across the table, and calling each other pet names they’d made up that were somehow ten times worse than the original- and Will didn’t want that. 

It wasn’t that what those couples had wasn’t love, it just wasn’t love in a way Will could understand, it wasn’t love Will felt from those sort of exchanges. He didn’t understand the idea of “butterflies in your stomach”, love wasn’t nerves, love was like coming home after a long day, love was the way someone could say your name like it was divine, love was the way someone would smirk at you when you were missing the point, love was not being afraid to cry in front of them,  it was knowing you could show up to them with any problem and instead of leaving you they would research the ins and outs of it in all their entirety. 

The coffee maker makes a sound, Nico lifts his head of off Will’s body and the deep browns of his eyes are like the freshly turned dirt of fields in planting season, and Will feels like there’s a garden growing in his chest that Nico feeds. Nico sits straight on the counter and pulls his legs up and sits cross legged on the counter as he pulls out his hairband, and runs his fingers through his hair before pulling it back up without all the flyaways. 

Will moves towards the coffee machine, pours it into two cups, and sets one on the counter beside Nico before making his way to the fridge to grab creamer. Nico’s watching him right now, but there’s no need for talking; there will be talking in a minute. Talking about Will’s schedule for the week, talk of whatever project Nico is working on right now, talk of what they should do for dinner the rest of the week, little sweet nothings, and eventually they’ll make their way to the couch to watch some tv and maybe later in the day they’ll play some sort of game or something as well.

So yeah, maybe "light" and "dark" were polar opposites and some people would have walked out on the word dumbass rather than immediately loving it, but Will liked it- everyday was a game of sorts, a new adventure, all with Nico who he loved. Coming home from work wasn’t necessarily about the place Will lived but knowing Nico would be there for him to see was the point  of going home, home was wherever Nico was and some small part of Will hoped eternity was real in some manner.

Will remembered when Michael had died thinking nothing could possibly get worse, and in some ways he was kind of right; he had ended up with some sort of demigod style fairy tale ending with the man he loved, and that was ten times better than anything fifteen year old Will would have hoped for.

[fakeloveaskblog]

Patty have you ever asked Janus to join for dinner when you meet him? Maybe that can somehow help Logan with his flirting? Or at least get Janus more relaxed?

(btw you're adorable ily!!)

(*cracks knuckles* Oh yeah baby we’ve gotten to the angst. Words: 2364 )

Patty: ": D Oh hello lil magical bird who just talked to me! I love you too!! I didn't want to barge in too much into their relationship but now when my honeypie has asked him out once already I guess I can help just a bit!"

Patty had sunglasses on to look like a secret agent. This was an important step in her plan, she swore on it. She sneaked into the open library while chuckling to herself.

She glanced around and almost immediately caught her eye on Janus standing in the reception. She did a few sneaky walks between the bookshelves before sliding up to him.

"Hello Janister!" She greeted with a bright smile while putting her elbows on the reception to lean closer.

"Hiya PatPat. Logan is off helping a customer but he'll be back soon"

"Oh silly I'm not looking for him right now. I am actually here to ask if you could come over to our place tonight. You see I'm planning on making Jambalaya but I always make too much! I'm talking leftovers up to the roof!! But if a third person was there maybe I would be able to make a perfect amount" She lied. She was making jambalaya for Janus purposes alone!

Janus' heartrate shot through the atmosphere "To- me?- your place?- tonight?- I uh- I don't know if I have time-"

She pouted and did her puppy eyes "You sure? You don't have to if you don't want to!! But it would be nice!"

He let out a happy sigh "Sure"

She took his hand and let out a sqeaul "aaah Great! It'll be so fun!!"

---

Logan was leaning down so Patty could help him with his bowtie. "Are you completely sure I look adequate?" He asked.

"Oh honeybee, You look super duper ultra adequate. You're literally wearing a sweater with a math pun on it!!"

"Hmm sound argument. I can not deny the sexiness of math puns"

A knock came on the door. The couple stared at each other. Logan stimmed out of nervousness. Patty gave him a quick kiss before pointing between him and the door. They did a good luck high five.

Logan combed his hair back and leaned on the wall to look cool as he opened the door. Janus stood on the other side looking like a sardine that had just been pressed into a can.

He had on a purple vest with embroidered flowers details and with a long sleeved black button up under. Also a very funky pair of stripped pants with even funkier yellow snake socks under.

"Greetings Jan. You are looking" Like a dream. Like someone he wanted to kiss right this moment. "Very good"

"Aww are you trying to be a snake charmer Log-boy" Janus replied with a smirk.

"I am not a log or a boy. I'm an adult man made out of meat"

"You better be because I'm starving" He had downed 2 shots of vodka before coming to try to and cool his extreme anxiety. He was a lightweight.

Logan lead him into the living room "Are....Are you implying cannibalism?"

Janus shrugged while smiling.

The apartement truly did look like a mismatch of the couple's personalities. The walls were filled with maps of constellations and uplifting cat posters. On the bookshelfs cook books and travel books were stacked next to thick philosophy books and essays. The decorations were either cute porcelain animals, magical anime girl figurines or figurines of characters from Lo's different hyperfixations. The sofa was filled with fluffy blankets and pillows and stuffies were scattered around the light blue carpet filling the living room.

“Do you want to watch star trek while eating?” Logan asked with a hopeful glint in his eyes.

“As long as I get to watch your beautiful face as well” Janus flirted back while doing an unsteady fingergun.

“Oh- Of course” His crush’s sudden forwardness was making his heart flutter.

Janus curled up in the corner of the couch, making himself as small as possible. Logan sat down pretty far away from him.

He started the first episode. Janus had a constant smile on his face as he listened to Logan go between telling him facts and gushing over his favorite moments. All while he could hear Patty in the kitchen half singing along to dad rock.

“Does she want help with that?” Janus, known gentleman and also nervous wreck, asked.

“She’ll tell us if she need it. She likes cooking. I like baking. It usually works out”

Janus got an amused look on his face “You’re into baking? So all those times at work when you brought desserts, that was your making?”

“Yes. And they were delicious. Anything wrong with that?”

“No. No. I simply didn’t take you for the type”

“Well cooking involves creativity and there’s room for your own ideas. Baking doesn’t. It is only about following a structure and doing kitchen chemistry. Of course I love it” He lowered his voice “It is also tremendously good for when you need to flirt without words”

“Oh really? I better start looking up recipes then” He pulled in Logan's bowtie “You have any favorites?” 

In his head he had the guts to say ‘Your lips against mine would be my favorite’ in reality he said “HehuHFKdjf jam drops in the shape of heart. The heart part is important. It adds to the taste”

“It usually does”

Janus slowly looked him up and down. And then he realized what the fuck he was doing. He shot back into his corner of the sofa like a naked rat. Logan sat still with blushing cheeks, staring at the tv but not taking in anything that was happening except his racing heart.

“Done!” Patty exclaimed, coming in with a big ass fucking pot of jambalaya and a just as big bottle of wine.

She saw the nervous state both of the guys were in and quickly made up a plan. She slammed the pot down onto the coffee table and moved the blankets so they took up about half of the couch. Then she sat down using up as much space as possible leaving the guys no choice but to move closer to each other, If both of them sat their hands down they would touch.

Patty cuddled up to her husband with a proud smile on her face. Logan moved his arm around her. 

“It looks great sweetheart” He pressed a kiss to her cheek making her giggle.

“So do you!! And so does mr. star trek captain man!”

 She enjoyed the hell out of her jambalaya while the two idiots sent each other awkward smiles. Janus downed his glass of wine in record speed. (He took it slower with the food, he didn’t want to seem disgusting). 

The whole star trek episode went by. Logan asked Janus a thousand excited questions about how much he liked it. All of his answers made the nerd happy stim. They put on a documentary none of them were really interested in the background while continuing to chat. Patty went on a long epic story about how a kid at her daycare had tried to bite her finger off last week.

“Soooo” Patty sudenly changed the topic. She said it with an innocent tone “My nerdy lil honeypie over here had the biggest crush on Data for a while. It was adorable. ANd while we’re on the topic” The look she gave Janus was happy but it still sent shivers down his spine “You having any crushes lately? Just curious!”

Both of the men internally gasped at the audacity. The gall! The sheer power!! Janus was sweating like a naked rat who had just been clad for the first time.

“...Well.......I have actually been meaning to....Ask about the polyamourous thing?” 

The couple exhanged knowing glances before looking back at him “Mhm yeah Mhm” “I am poly and also a thing so I am an expert in this”

“So...I totally haven’t fallen in love with 3 people. 2 of which I met in the span of around a week”

Patton did a double thumbs up. Logan took a long sip from his wine. “We’re all gossipy bitches here. Tell all about it”

“Well. The first one is Remy-”

“The one with the sunglasses?”

“...Yes...Are....Don’t tell me they’re a serial killer”

Patty broke up into a chuckle “Logie-bogie tried to kiss them while he was drunk once”

“I threw up on their shoes”

“He threw up on their shoes!”

Logan saw the terror in Janus’ face as he worried that maybe 2 of his crushes were exes and quickly added “We are only acquaintance and I was momentarily struck by the impressive lenght of their legs” 

Janus went on to gush about Remy and Remus. Why he loved them. All the dates he had daydreamed about. And then finally his voice was shaking when he mentioned just having a third crush.

Patty let out a long yawn before he could say anything more. She stood up “Well looks like it’s time to snooze! I assume 2 big burly ultra masculine men like you two can handle the dishes”

“It will be a challenge but we shall do our best. Goodnight honey” Logan kissed her.

She leaned in and whispered “Good luck Logie-bear! You got this”

She giggled mischievously while going off into the bedroom. She closed the door behind her. Only the two lovebirds were left now.

“So the third crush? Who’s the lucky gentleman?” Logan asked.

Janus held onto his newly refilled wine glass so hard it nearly cracked. He forced a smile “Wouldn’t you want to hear about the fake couples counseling I go to together with Remus instead?”

“Fake what now?”

“Well me and Remus, who I am hopelessly in love with even though he clearly doesn’t feel the same way, started going to a therapist pretending we were a couple to see how long it would take before he realized we didn’t know each other. He hasn’t realized anything yet. It’s great!”

It looked like Logan’s eyes was about to bulge out of his skull “That sounds illegal. It should be. You are dragging shame onto the face of psychology you double dumbass!”

“I have done nothing wrong ever in my entire life and frankly I deserve to waste even more therapist’s time” Janus replied.

He let out a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose “Which therapist is it that you’re harassing exactly?”

“Dr. Picani”

Logan’s eyes widened and he shut his lips tightly “Emile Picani?”

“Yes.....Please don’t tell me he’s a serial killer”

He slowly looked away while taking a sip from his wine “I have had intercourse with that man”

Janus choked on his drink. He coughed while staring at his friend with wild eyes “YOU FUCKED MY THERAPIST????”

“No.......He fucked me” Logan replied in a quiet tone. “Besides he’s not even your real therapist”

“He is still a sort of therapist man to me! I told him I enjoy Lana Del Rey. That was a very intimate moment for me!”

“Well I had a very intimate moment with him too”

Janus looked at him with flushed cheeks and wide eyes. He let out a chuckle which turned into a laugh which turned into Logan not being able to not laugh along which turned into the room filling with nothing but flustered happiness and laughter.

Logan grabbed onto his crush’ arm just to have some contact with him while his eyes teared up from laughter. Janus leaned his head against his shoulder and curled up close to him while giggling so much his stomach hurt.

“Oh we’re idiots” Janus sighed.

“We are. We truly are”

They stayed sitting like that. So so close. Logan’s arm around him. Janus breathing being felt against the other man’s skin. Their hands touching. Only comfortable silence surrounded them.

A few minutes went by. Janus looked at him shuly. His thoughts worrying about everything and anything “Should we- ehm- the dishes?”

The moment broke. Logan moved away before standing up “I uh yeah- we should”

It was strange. Just dishing together with his crush made Logan happy. All he could think about was getting to be this close, this domestic, with him every day. Getting to wake up next to him. Kiss his knuckles. Share a morning with him.

“Who was the third crush by the way?” Logan asked, glancing over at his crush.

Janus stared down into the water “I- I can’t say it”

“Understandable”

He stopped and turned fully to look at Janus. He had never been more unsure of where to put his hands before.

“Well I can...Say it I mean....I....I...Janus.....You make me happy just by being near me...You are so wonderful...I....I love you”

Logan couldn’t hold himself back anymore. He took a step forward and cupped Janus’ cheeks. He leaned forward, so close, so close that their noses and foreheads were pressed against each other. It felt like had been starving for this.

Janus froze. His wide eyes stared in shock at the other man. His hand moved up to his chest on instinct, to try and push him away.

Logan noticed his reaction. Of course he did. It was blindingly obvious. He forced himself to move away. He forced the desire to kiss him to simmer out.

“I-I’m sorry-” He mumbled out.

“No....Lo..” Janus took his hand. Holding it so so lightly in his own “I know” He looked up at him “I know. I’m sorry. I should go”

A horrible feeling of guilt filled Logan’s throat “You don’t have to” 

“I should go” He repeated, letting go of his hand.

Logan walked after him as he went to get his jacket “A date. Do you want to go on a date? Not just a hangout. Janus I- I want so badly to be close to you. We could go to the zoo, look at the snakes?”

Janus held his hand on the handle of the door. He didn’t look at Logan “Thanks for having me over”

He left. Logan stood alone in the hallway. His arms hanging helplessly at his sides.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: The Rose and the Thorn: Chapter 18 (Mafia AU)

Summary: Rus makes a decision.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Cherryberry, Mafia AU, Flower Shop AU, Violence, First Meetings

Warning:  Heads up, let me add a warning here for attempted sexual assault and violence.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17

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Read Chapter 18 on AO3

or

Read it here!

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Lilies were lovely flowers, and it was a damn shame that Humans seemed to only associate them with funerals and Easter. They made for a beautiful focal point in a bouquet, large waxy petals in a bright array of colors surrounding the dark stamen, dozens of them spilling out and around a vase or basket, brilliant shades complimented by a delicate frame of leafy greens.

So many gorgeous colors available and Blue grew many of them, but the lilies Rus was working with were white, only a hint of creamy yellow at their centers. They smelled nearly as beautiful as the crimson roses that joined them, each delicate bloom nestled into its cushioning bed of neighboring white.

(A single red rose, please)

Only Rus’s fingers were stained with redness, not from those velvety petals but from the thorns, the dark crimson of his own marrow spotting the lilies, smearing bloody across those pale petals and he couldn’t stop even as they began to wither under his touch, white petals spotted in redness curling up and dying, and—

Rus woke with a gasp, the cold sweat on his bones chilling him as the dream of withered petals slowly faded. He sank back against the mattress and ran a trembling hand over his face, grimacing at the dampness.

Next to him, his brother slept on obliviously, his smaller frame buried deeply in the luxurious comforter on their borrowed bed. The bathroom light was on, seeping out to cast the room in shadows and even in the dimness, Blue’s much-loved face was lined with obvious exhaustion. The crow’s wing of a bruise running down his cheekbone wasn’t quite hidden into the pillow, stark against pale bone.

Thoughtlessly, Rus reached out with the vague idea to heal it and hesitated with his fingers still inches from that bruise. Tired as Blue was, he sure as hell wouldn’t be able to sleep through any sort of magic being used on him. Better to let him rest and take care of it when he woke up, and if looking at it made his gorge rise with swelling guilt, then Rus only had himself to blame. This all might have started with him getting dragged in, but things had changed since that day in the shop when he had hidden behind the counter in a stranger’s arms.

That day was over and a new one was dawning, one where Rus complicit, for not listening to his brother’s warnings, for not keeping his distance, for letting his desire for Edge overrule his rather uncommon sense.

No, that wasn’t entirely true, at least one other person was at fault here, the one who’d caused that bruise. He wasn’t sure he believed Blue that their so-called host wasn’t to blame; even if he hadn’t struck the blow, he’d obviously failed to protect them as promised. Broken promises tended to multiply, that was a hard lesson Rus learned while they were still Underground.

Well, he certainly wasn’t lost in a metal fog any longer. He felt as if he were waking up from more than an unpleasant dream. His pleasure-tinted memories of last night in Edge’s bed had lost their luster the moment he got a good look at his brother’s bruised face and cold reality settled in its place, sinking down into the pit of his soul like cold water sinking to the ocean floor.

Somehow, he’d been slowly starting to forget the truth; that he and Blue were here unwillingly, staying only for protection against revenge that hadn’t been theirs to begin with. They were very bad men, Edge warned Rus of that from the very beginning, and Edge was still planning on dealing with Blaze however he would; someone would likely be dead and dust by the end, and Rus couldn’t allow himself to forget that, if only to ensure that neither he nor his brother were part of it.

Rus wrapped his arms around his legs, settling his chin on his updrawn knees. Where the hell did he think this was all going to go, anyway? When everything was said and done, and Blaze was dealt with, where did he fit in a place like this? He didn’t, that was how, did he really think he’d be able to finish up his shift at the shop making bouquets and then come back here to pretend he didn’t know what was happening around him, both inside and out of these walls. Even if Edge wanted him for longer than a few nights, Rus couldn’t do that. He couldn’t.

His brother’s comment about getting paid well might have been cruel, but it wasn’t entirely untrue. Only it didn’t seem to be dollars that Rus was bartering with, but instead his own soul.

No. He couldn’t let that happen, not to Blue. His brother worked so hard for everything they had ever since their pop left. He wasn’t going to throw it away, not for a few minutes of pleasure, he couldn’t.

This would end eventually; they would go back to their home and their flower shop and leave all this madness behind, and though it made a fresh lump rise in his throat to think of it, Rus decided that he would tell all of this to Edge today. Whether it ended in pleading or demands didn’t matter, he was going to end whatever this was, could it even be called a relationship? All Edge knew about him was what he’d seen through a window. It was time to set aside this ridiculous fantasy, if not for himself then for his brother’s sake.

The sheets were still clinging to him clammily, sweat from his nightmare drying uncomfortably on his bones. Rus slipped carefully from the bed, snatching up his phone and using the flashlight to help him pick out fresh clothes from the closet.

It was still relatively early, only barely past six am, no wonder Blue was still sleeping. Normally, Rus would be as well, it was another hour before his time to groaningly drag himself out of bed and down to the shop for his daily shift. As tired as he was, the idea of crawling back in to lay on the damp sheets didn’t appeal much.

Instead, he went into the bathroom to change, this time in a pair of loose, flowing trousers with an oversized sweater layered over a plain button-up. It was a heck of a lot closer to something he’d find in his own closet, even if he could tell by the feel of the fabric that it was from some pricy department store and not the local thrift shop. He wondered idly if someone had actually gone shopping for these new clothes or if they’d simply ordered in like Chinese takeout. He had kind of a hard time picturing a delivery boy turning up at the back entrance of the club loaded down with bags of clothes instead of egg rolls. Whoever brought ‘em, he was reluctantly grateful for the quantity even as he shrank away at the thought of how long they might be intended to be there, and how could he stay away from Edge living directly down the hallway from him, how could he…?

Rus resolutely pushed that thought aside, splashing cool water on his face and patting it dry. It was a good thing their closet was filled, he told himself, ‘cause the clothes he’d worn yesterday were downstairs in the stripper’s dressing room, probably never to be seen again.

That thought made him cast a guilty look at the clothes he’d worn up here, the ones loaned to him by Mona for her brief tutorial on dancing. They were lying in a careless pile leftover from last night’s shower and he bit the tip of his tongue worriedly. Maybe Mona would need them back, someone had to. He could ask the Dogs to bring them to her with a note of thanks…or he could take them himself and let her know that he was all right.

Plus, it’d be a chance to give her some proper gratitude for trying to help out. Sure, it hadn’t worked out the way he’d hoped, really not, but that wasn’t her fault, and she didn’t have the first idea how the story ended last night. Seemed like she should at least get to know Rus probably wasn’t gonna end up with cement shoes or anything, but this time, if he was going downstairs, he’d do it properly and walk.

Decision made, Rus gathered up the clothes, folding them into a tidy bundle. They were rumpled and stank richly of sweat and sex. He blushed to think of returning them that way, but he couldn’t lie, it felt less embarrassing to bring them back to Mona than to leave it for the Dogs to find on laundry day. Worst that could happen with her was it would confirm some suspicions she already had.

He carried the bundle out of the bathroom with him, hesitating as he glanced at the bed and the lump in the covers that was his sleeping brother. This time there wouldn’t be any slipping off without a word, no more secrets, not if he could help it. He paused at the little table by the door to write his brother a note, his scribbly handwriting stating clearly that he was returning something downstairs and he’d be back soon.

That was one thing done right, at least.

That done, he slipped out the door to the hallway, closing the door hastily before the light could wake his brother. As expected, there was a Dog standing guard outside and it turned to him questioningly, its headed tilting to one side.

“excuse me, can you take me downstairs to speak with the ladies?” Rus said. Firm yet polite seemed like the best route and he held up the bundle in his arms. “i have some stuff to take back to them.” He really hoped they didn’t offer to just take it for him and not just because there was no way a Dog wouldn’t pick up on the reek. He was gonna talk to Mona one way or another, flimsy excuse or not.

The Dog said nothing, and Rus still wasn’t quite sure if that was a choice, an order, or simply a physical impossibility. It seemed to consider, then pulled out a cell phone, unhindered by its paws as it briskly tapped out a message. Whatever reply they received, they nodded and led the way down the hall to the elevator, the same one Edge brought him upstairs in, hey, he was starting to get the hang of this place.

Once the doors open again, Rus took the lead, heading to the dressing room from last night. The Dog waited at the entrance as he slipped inside, clothes in hand.

It was mostly empty now, none of the bustling and hurried dressing of the night before. The only stripper in the room was the Cat Monster…Lilith, that was her name, and her clothing was a stark contrast to their first meeting. Her revealing slip of a dress was exchanged for simple jeans and a t-shirt with ‘Bad Girl’ written in sparkly letters across the chest. She was tying the laces on her sneakers, glancing up and then again in a doubletake as she caught sight of him.

She gave him a sultry smile, pink tongue curling over her lips. “Well, hey there, sugar skull, stopping in for another visit or are you hiding out again?”

“no, um,” Rus said, awkwardly. He held up the bundle. “mona loaned me some clothes, i was just bringing them back.”

“Oh, is that all?” she yawned, showing sharp teeth, “Night shift is over, hun, Mona’s gone for the day.” She tilted her head in the direction of a large bin that was already overflowing with clothes, bra straps and stockings hanging over the sides. “You can toss it in the pile, they’ll get take care of.”

Rus wavered, torn, then decided he didn’t need to keep them as an excuse to visit with Mona. A lack of one hadn’t stopped him yet. He tossed the bundle in the pile and started back out to the hallway, then hesitated to ask, “do you know when mona will be back?”

Maybe if she worked tonight, he could slip down to see her before she started for the night.

“Sorry, hun, schedules change. If you want to wait, I can check after I get a smoke. I’m dying for a cig.” She held up a pack of cigarettes and against his will, his gaze strayed to it longingly. He hadn’t had one in days now and his nicotine craving lifted its ugly, eager head, starting a painful itch in his marrow. Damn, he hadn’t even checked his backpack when the Dog gave it to him and didn’t remember if he had a pack of smokes in it. He sure wasn’t about to ask Edge or, angel forbid, Red for one. It might be days yet before he got out to buy a pack himself.

Lilith gave him a knowing look. “Want one, sweetheart? You got that kind of look.”

The sudden flood of saliva in his mouth was embarrassing, but eh, the rules were a little different for smokers, nothing wrong with bumming the occasional cigarette so long as it didn’t become another habit, a worse one than smoking itself.

“i…yes,” Rus said gratefully, “if you don’t mind?”

“Nah, c’mon, I can share.”

She turned and walked towards the back of the room, her slender tail curling around her feet and Rus followed her to heavy door with a bright ‘Exit’ sign gleaming over it in neon red.

“I’d get a smack on the hand if they caught me sneaking out this way,” Lilith confided. Her whiskers quivered as she wrinkled her little muzzle. “But I can’t stand walking all the way ‘round for a quick smoke. I get enough exercise on the pole, you know?”

He didn’t, but he could certainly guess. He followed Lilith outside into an alleyway lined with trash cans, the sky overhead tinged grey with the coming dawn. She shook out one for herself and lit it before handed over the pack, and the first hit of nicotine melded into his magic with deep, mellow relief. Talking didn’t seem necessary, Lilith only played on her phone while both of them smoked silently through their cigarettes and when Lilith was done, she tossed her butt to pavement already littered with dozens more and shook out another before handing the pack back to him.

“May as well have another, honey,” she said, and he really shouldn’t, he had enough debt as it was, and what was that look she was giving him, something like regret…?

There was a sudden stinging at the back of his neck, coupled with hot breath, whispering low in flame-speak. “Yes, do have another. It might well be your last.”

The still smoldering butt fell from his nerveless fingers, falling into a puddle with a hiss, the dizziness already swarming over him distancing him from both his senses and his magic. He whirled clumsily around to see a fire Monster standing behind him, as tall as he was and nearly as broad as Red. The hectic flutter of his purplish flames cast the alley in disturbing shadows, devils dancing to their deaths in the slowly growing sunlight.

Blaze.

Rus took a stumbling step back, fumbling at the door, but there was no handle on the outside, only smooth metal. He looked at Lilith disbelievingly, slurring out, “wha…why?”

Tears were streaming down her pretty face, soaking into the short fur. “I’m sorry, honey, I’m so sorry. He was offering money, so much money, you don’t understand what it’s like here—”

He didn’t hear whatever else she said as he was suddenly seized, pushed back against the rough bricks of the alley wall. Those deep purple flames managed to be somehow both dark and blinding, Rus squinting against that painful light, cringing away.

“don’t—” Rus stuttered out. But his hands were disobedient and strengthless, pushing helplessly against Blaze’s shirt as he stepped closer, his surprisingly heavy body pinning him against the wall. His face was too close, burning fingers painfully pinching his chin and forced Rus to lift his head, the smoky ash of his breath gusting over Rus’s face.

“Perhaps I judged too quickly on Edge’s tastes. You are rather a pretty thing, after all.”

Rus cried out, the sound muffled, choking as his mouth was taken in a rough kiss, the pained heat of flaming tongue forcing its way between his teeth. He didn’t think, could hardly manage a single idea past no. He bit down automatically, choking again as his mouth filled with bitterness reminiscent of gasoline.

He nearly fell as he was released, gasping for breath, and he only barely managed to open his sockets enough to see the blow before it struck, his vision exploding into whiteness as Blaze backhanded him and sent him to his knees amidst the filthy puddles and the rotting old cigarette butts.

Dazed, he could only watch as Lilith grabbed hold of Blaze’s arm as it rose again. “Stop it! You said you wouldn’t hurt him!”

“So I did,” Blaze said, and someone Rus couldn’t see was translating in a gleeful drawl, “You should have secured the same promise for yourself.”

A deafening sound rang through the alley and Rus stared dumbly as a bright blossom of red appeared on Lilith’s shirt, splatters of crimson stark against her white fur like winter berries in a snow bed. She looked down at herself in confused disbelief, touching that awful wound with trembling fingers and smearing that stain across her shirt as she slowly collapsed to the ground. Filthy water splashed, more redness tainting the puddle in a slowly spreading pool as she stared sightlessly up at the rising sun.

In that moment Rus found his voice, managing to croak out something like a hoarse scream before a rough hand slapped over his mouth, the brutal grip painful on his jaw.

“Come on, put him in the backseat. I’ll see if I can keep our guest entertained for the trip.”

He was dragged over to a waiting car, shoes scraping the pavement uselessly, barely noticing the leather seats beneath him. A door slammed and hot hands hauled him upright until he was sprawled awkwardly across an uncomfortable lap, a scorching mouth licking a painful path up his cervical vertebrae. Fingertips plucked threateningly at his clothes, but didn’t wander beneath them, and that only made Rus shudder helplessly, dizzily nauseous and numbly clouded in rising fear over what was to come.

edge. help me. It was hardly more than a distant, uncertain thought, the words never making it to his slack mouth.

tbc

[glenncoco4]

Doctors and Detectives Part 3

2 years later...

It's been a long morning to say the least. She's on the tail end of a 24 hour shift, a shift not unlike most that's been full of blood, sweat and tears. What hurts the most is that she just lost a patient 10 minutes ago and the lack of sleep paired with emotional turmoil she's dealing with right now is about to send her over the edge. She feels like crumpling against the wall and just giving up, especially after the scene of the older woman crying out in agony over her husband plays over and over in her head.

Kensi Blye doesn't give up, but she does have a moment of clarity when she remembers the effect not taking time to morn can have on her mind. When she first became a resident she learned early on that if you don't take time to yourself after loosing a patient then it will just eat away at you until one day you explode. Finally giving in, she leans against the wall and slowly slides down until her butt hits the ground. Taking a few deep calming breaths, she lets herself be, thinking of all the joy she saw today and about going home in a few hours, curling up on the couch in one of his sweaters, falling asleep as his scent envelops her.

She's drawn out of her daydream at the feel of something vibrating against her thigh. Reaching down into her coat pocket, her hand finds the object and pulls it out. A tired smile rises to her lips as she reads the name on the caller ID."Doctor Blye." She grins, knowing how much he likes it when she answers the phone signifying her title.

"Hi, doc. I was just calling to confirm my appointment tonight."

It's another moment of clarity for her, she knows what's coming and he knows she knows. His ability to pull her out of her own head makes her love him that much more. "Right. Can you remind me of what your problem is again?"

"Well you see there's this matter with my heart, whenever I talk to or am around this woman it starts to pick up speed...I mean we're talking at least 250 beats per minute."

She leans her head back against the wall as the sound of his voice centers her. "Yeah, that sounds like it definitely needs to be checked out. Perhaps after I check you out, you could return the favor."

"Oh, that most definitely can be arranged."

She doesn't have to see his face to know that there's a big grin plastered on it. "How are you this morning?"

"Perfect now. Although its not as good when I wake up with you at home."

"So you're saying you missed me?"

"Desperately."

"Has anyone ever told you that your girlfriend has you whipped?"

"Oh, yeah, plenty of times, but I really don't care."

She can feel her cheeks redden at his statement. His call is just what she needed to get through the rest of her shift. He always knows what she needs before she does. Her mind travels to her father's ring that's pinned to the pocket of her scrub top and how it might be finally time to give it a new home. "Okay, baby, I better go. I have to check up on a few more patient before I head home."

"Lucky patients."

"I lov-" Her voice suddenly leaves her body as she hears screaming and the floor begin to fall out from under her. Her body is slammed into the ground, as smoke fills the air she can hear the blearing of sirens and his voice. She opens her eyes and sees that her phone though smashed, is still connected, she reaches for the object as he calls out to her but the darkness takes over, sending her into a harsh reality that she may never get to see him again.

XXXX

"Lucky patients."

"I lov-"

He hears the sudden scream in the background and is about to ask his girlfriend what's going on when a loud boom envelops the speaker. It all happens so fast, he knows the sound he heard and panic starts to set in as he calls out for the brunette on the other end of the line and receives no answer back.

Jake looks at his partner as he freezes. "Deeks, what is it?"

"Something's not right?" Before any more questions can be asked, Deeks runs to the driver side of his truck and hops in, quickly starting the engine as his partner gets in the seat next to him.

"What do you mean? Is something wrong with Kensi?"

"Yeah."

Jake is just about to ask what it is when his phone goes off. As worry begins to set in, the detective pulls is phone out of his pocket and immediately answering in hopes that he can get more information. "Yeah, Lieu?"

His eyes meet Deeks', they share a look of understanding that no matter what Bates says they're going to the hospital. That's where their girls are so that's were they'll be. "We're going." Jake hangs up, not caring what else the older man has to say.

"What happened?"

"A bomber."

"A...where was he?"

"According to reports, the North Wing."

All the blonde can do is press the gas harder as the new information paired with what he heard over the phone confirms his worst nightmare.

By the time they pull up at Cedars its complete chaos. Firefighters and cops are everywhere along with a sleuth of SWAT members. Both men quickly jump out of the truck, running over to the triage station in hopes that both Kensi and Katie got out.

The pair maneuvers around the makeshift triage, searching the crowd of doctors, medics and patients before they hear someone callout behind them.

"Jake!"

"Katie. Oh, my god, you're okay." Jake runs over to his wife, enveloping her into a bear hug.

Deeks frantically looks around looking for any signs of his girlfriend. "Have you seen Kensi? I was on the phone with her and-"

A sadness crosses over the nurse's face. "It was her floor."

"I'm so sorry, Deeks."

He tries to hold it back, but slowly he can feel the tears pooling in his eyes. The weight of the ring in his pocket feeling like a million pounds.

[newobsessionweekly]

The pain she left behind

Title: The pain she left behind

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader, Sam x Platonic!Reader, Castiel x Platonic!Reader, Jack x Platonic!Reader

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: language, character death, grieveing, Dean crying, angst, death, a little bit of explicit content,  violence, fluff, spoilers s14

Prompt 1: Loving me is a death sentence.

Prompt 2: We found each other. That’s all that matters.

A/N: This is my enterance for SPN Bi-Weekly Writing Challenge. I don’t usually write and all that, but I wanted to try something new and I don’t know... I tried my best, I hope you enjoyed it!

Tag: @supernatural-jackles

Something Dean has told himself and everyone around when they asked, is that he doesn’t need that in his life. He doesn’t need love, he doesn’t need to find a girl; he tried that before and it didn’t work out. But what he needs is to have his mind clear, focused on cleaning America from monsters, he needs to keep his family safe. But he failed, he met you and all his life was turned upside down. And sometimes he regrets the day they met you, because now, you are just too hard to forget.

Laying on the kitchen floor, heavily breathing from the enormous weight that’s pressing on his chest, Dean’s playing with a bottle of beer, switching it annoyingly from one hand to another over and over again, just as you’re switching in his head, from one memory to one another. He locked himself in his room for the past 3 days, binge watching some random horror movies wanting to wash away the need to cry, to scream, and beg God to bring you back to him, but it was pointless, he still cried himself to sleep. So he decided it’s time for something stronger; he needs to be back in tracks as soon as possible and be ready to fight the monster that took you away, there’s no time to grieve.

“Dean!” Sam yelled his name again while descending the stairs to the kitchen, abruptly snapping him from his memories of you.

He refuses to answer, he refuses to talk to anyone and Sam understands it, because he feels the empty space you left in their lives too, but he’s maybe more afraid than Dean to show it. Sam wants to be strong for his brother, he wants to be there for him, especially these days. Only the third time after hearing his name, Dean bothered to look up at his younger brother and allow him to see all the broken pieces of his heart spread all over the place.    

“Sammy, I don’t want to talk to you right now.” Dean’s voice is rough and shaky, tears threatening to burst in any moment and Dean’s aware that he’s going to lose it soon, but still hoping that Sam will not be around.    

“Dean, you have to – “

“I don’t have to do anything today.” He raised his index finger and stopped Sam, then he pointed to the fridge: “Now pass me another beer and leave.”

Sam did so and Dean thanked him with just a movement of his head, before turning his attention to the abandoned metallic box full of memories from his lap. A bunch of photos with Sammy, some with his mom and dad, few with his friends that soon became family, and even fewer with you. Dean doesn’t like photos that much, he’s not that kind of guy who’d let himself be photographed everywhere and every time, but now he wishes he was that kind and wishes he’d have done a lot more photos beside you. There are only six instant photos of you, with a red ribbon wrapped around them; six, one for every anniversary and one from the first proper Christmas the Winchesters ever had.

He’d have wanted to be that stupid kind of men and take photos of you everywhere: in your favourite pyjamas, curled up in a chair from the library with a leg under you, so deeply focused in research, trying so hard to fit in with his life; standing in front of a pan in the mornings when Sam would be out of town, only in your beautiful underwear, moving your hips while making breakfast for him; curled up in a soft, warm blanket on a chair, sound asleep far too many hours before Sam and Dean would come home after so many weeks of being away.

“Dean!”  

“Dean!”

You jumped from one of the chairs on the war room at the sound of the bunker’s door loudly opening. You almost caught roots on that place waiting for Dean and Sam to show up. You woke up alone this morning, no sight of any of the brothers or your angelic friend so you waited and waited before panic started to grow inside of you. You prayed to Cas and asked him if something happened, you started to pace around the war room when no answer was coming and then you sat on that chair and wondered what the hell happened with everyone. Bad scenarios running through that beautiful mind of yours and you were preparing for the worst.

But you were never prepared for what entered that door; Sam, Dean and Cas were fighting over heels to carry a giant fir tree, you could bet it is even taller than Sam. Your jaw dropped at the sight of Dean, all covered in snow and sweat beads painting his forehead, trying his best not to drop the lower part of the tree.

“What happened? Are you ok? How hard did Sam hit you in the head?” You tried to hide the fact that you were scared as hell with a sarcastic tone, and thankfully Dean bite it, but Cas not so much, because he was throwing you Cas-type of awkward glances.

Dean always rejected the idea of having a proper and normal holiday celebration so as you skipped Halloween, again, you pleaded and pleaded, every night and every day to celebrate at least Christmas, your favourite holiday. But a week or two ago, you gave up when you saw you were getting not even a negative response to your question.

Library was transformed and instead of two big and cold tables with some uncomfortable chairs around, there was a long table decorated with two beautiful candlesticks and little angels and snowflakes. The dish was prepared by Dean with a little help from you, and all around the bunker were hanged beautiful lights, some Santa figurines and angels. Christmas tree was decorated by you and Dean who got involved in this holiday celebration thing more than you even expected.

Sitting around the Christmas tree, after everybody praised the food, you were smiling proudly to have these special people around you. Jody, Donna, Claire, Alex, Patience and Kaia are your second family, and every time Sam and Dean would leave for a serious case, they’d prefer you to stay with the girls. Not because they don’t trust you, just because they’d be more peacefully than knowing you home alone so many days in the bunker. You and Alex became very good friends especially because none of you is hunting. Your boyfriend wants to keep you out of this life as much as possible and is trying to make everything as normal as he can.

Dean ripped you from your thoughts when he wrapped his hand around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder. You smiled at him excitedly and then exchanged presents with the girls. Then you gave Jack his present, a blue sweater to match yours, and he sadly looked at you. You panicked a little when you saw his face and your body strained, catching Dean’s attention.

“Why are you sad? You don’t like it?” you asked Jack.

“No,no! I love it!” he immediately said, stopping you from making films inside your head. “But I didn’t know we were buying each other gifts. I thought only Dean was supposed to buy you a present, because he’s your boyfriend.”

“Oh, so Dean bought me a present, huh?” you turned to look at your boyfriend and showed him your most beautiful and mischievous smile. “Sam, you really should tell me with what you hit him in the head because it may use me too in the future.”

Everyone laughed at your joke and Dean could swear he had never seen you so happy in his life. He knows Christmas is your favourite holiday and he and Sam were always preoccupied with hunting and saving the world to even think about these holidays, but you understood and never complained. You anyway got to celebrate it at Jody’s place, so you never said anything to Dean, mostly because it was pointless; you loved Dean so much and you accepted him as he is, you accepted his life and embraced it, though he kept you at a secure distance from his life, especially to protect you, and offered you a life as normal as possible, but it was impossible after a certain point ...

Sam watched Dean from distance as he flipped through the Polaroids, with tears cascading on his cheeks, knotting under his chin and loud sobs shaking his body in pain. It breaks Sam’s heart, but he needs it, he needs to cry, to express his feelings, to get it over his chest, even for a moment.

Jack accompanied Sam and Cas and watched over Dean, but they stopped themselves to intervene when a bottle of beer loudly crashed on the floor and wetted everything around. All three of them startled when the sound reached their ears, but they stood still.

It was odd for Dean to break like that in a place where anyone could enter any moment, but nothing was normal anymore, it wasn’t normal for him to lose like that the love of his life, so he allowed himself to do all sorts of strange things in order to calm down even for a second.

“Deano!” you giggled happily in his ear as your body embraced him from behind, your naked body combined with his, just as clothless as yours. It is barely eight and he would probably curse for the rest of the morning if your plan on waking him up will work. It is your fifth anniversary and after long and deep talks with Sam, you decided it’s time to do a little more today.

After you prepared your special breakfast while Sam was leaning on the kitchen counter giving you small advices here and there, he decided to leave you two alone, teasing you, saying you can be as noisy as you please.  

You leaned over him and pressed your lips on his back, chaotically tracing kissed all over his shoulders and going up to his neck and cheeks and then right back from the beginning. Leaving wet spots all over his body, Dean rolled on his back, making you to fall on top of him, your breasts pressing firmly on his chest.

“Well, that is a very interesting way to wake me up, sweetheart.” Dean yawned and looked at you first only with his right eye, then with his left one, finding it very hard to keep them both open.  

You are a simple couple, but more like an old married couple who just puzzle up one another like you’ve known each other for your whole lives. Dean and you as well are not the kind to celebrate and do big stuff about it, just cooking together a breakfast, finally making time for you in such a long time and mostly spending the day together, talking and fixing the problems that you encountered on the way. You are just communicating, that’s your celebration. And this is all you need. But this morning, Dean felt it’s going be a little different. He can smell the breakfast already cooked and he frowned at the smell of fresh, hot coffee.

He kissed you with love, cupping your cheek and rubbing his finger over it, as he always does when he wants to melt your heart, because he knows your weaknesses so well. You cuddle in a little more before you decided to get out of bed and eat your breakfast, stalling a bit to telling one more time – or ten more times – how much you love each other.

“I wanted to spoil you today.” You told him as you put your underwear on and wrapped the red satin robe, the one Dean loves, around your body.

“You know what –“ Dean begins, chewing loudly his bacon. “I’ve been thinking –“ he stops again, sipping his coffee, giving you appreciative sounds as in he’s enjoying very much the coffee you made.

“Oh, no! Always ends bad when you’re thinking.” You teased him and laughed so hard when he gives you the Winchester bitch face. “Ok, we are serious this morning. I’m listening.”

“I was thinking... maybe we should get married.” He says.

Your heart stops at the sound of his words and you almost choke with coffee, slightly coughing to get lost the lump that formed in your throat. You dreamed of marrying Dean from the first moments when you met him. He’s exactly what you’re looking for in a man, he is smart, funny and you can feel his love for you, though he doesn’t show it that much. You love him terribly much and never crossed your mind that this day would come, despite the fact you wanted it so bad. You understand that his life is dangerous, complicated and he doesn’t have time for this kind of things in the first place. You never thought about changing a thing about him or his life and never said anything, because nothing bothered you in the first place. Dean loves you, Dean treats you so right and protects you that you never needed anything and accepted him with his good and a little less good things without questioning, because it is a part of loving.

You adore him with every inch of your being, and the fact that he thought about marring you shocked you, that for the first time, you couldn’t get the words find your mouth. He looked at you, still chewing his food, but he had more of a worried look.

“Ar-are you sure?” you asked and he grabbed your hand over the table and caressed your soft skin.

“Yes, I am a hundred percent sure.” He frowned a little before he continued: “You?”

“Yes!” you immediately responded, leaving no place for any other thoughts. “Yes, I want to marry you, Dean Winchester.”

“Good, I’m glad to hear that.” He chuckled and pressed his lips over yours, and then over your forehead. “I discussed with my mom about it, when she was around... She gave me her ring.”

He excitedly bit his bottom lip and then he told you to wait for him, just rising his index finger and then hurried over your bedroom. You smiled like a fool and your stomach flipped almost painfully just at the thought that he discussed this with his mother, especially knowing how important his mother was.  

He came back too soon and ripped out of your thoughts and he shyly asked for your hand. Dean placed the ring on your ring finger and you kissed him so many times, as he dragged you on his lap.

You planned your wedding to be something simple, just a dinner with some friends at the bunker, but soon enough, it turned out to be a dinner with all of your friends at the bunker. You are wearing a simple white casual dress and Dean is wearing his FBI costume, nothing fancy, because fancy was never the Winchester style.

“I am not good at words, especially not at speeches.” He paused a little and everyone laughed. “But I need to say that I love you to death, Y/n Winchester! And I am so grateful that we found each other, that’s all that matters. “

“I love you to death, Dean Winchester!”

And you indeed loved him to death.

In Dean’s head was repeating over and over again the way your body collapsed into the ground, as the last tears fell onto your cheeks when your eyes shut closed. Dean could imagine only a quarter of the pain you left the world with, but he never understood your enormous love for him, not even in your last moments when you looked at him and told him how much you love him.

As Chuck paced the grass and waited, you stand still as you had the gun He gave to you pointed at Jack. The nephilim is dangerous, he is a monster and must be stopped.

“Y/n!” Sam and Dean shouted as they came running towards you. “Y/n, no!”

“I understand...” Jack said, looking up to you from where he stayed on his knees, Sam and Dean calling your name in the background. “I know what I’ve done.”

“No, no, no, no! Y/n!” your husband came running to you, but he stopped as he heared your voice:

“Stay back, Dean!” you said, looking at Jack.

“And you were right, all along. I am a monster.” Jack said.

“Do something!” Dean told Chuck, but he frowned when He shushed him. “Are you enjoying this?”

You took the safety off as you overheard their conversation and looked at Jack one more time; he was standing in his knees in front of you, with his hands folded on his lap, looking innocently at you. He is just a kid, he’s no monster. You frowned; all of this is just Chuck’s plan. You put the safety back on and lowered the gun, throwing it away on the grass.  

“No,no! Pick it up!” Chuck said and approached the two of you and Jack looked at him with a frowning painted on his face. “Pick it up! This isn’t how the story is suppose to end!”

“The story?” Castiel asked.

“Look at the Gathering Storm, the gun... this is epic!”

“Wait what are you saying?” Dean asked Chuck, moving his sight from you to Him.

“He’s saying that he’s been playing us...” Sam responded and Chuck sighs “...this whole time.”

“Come on – “ Chuck started but he’s been interrupted by Sam:

“Our entire lives... mom, dad, everything. This is all you, because... you wrote it all, right? Because... because, what? Because we’re your favourite show? Because we’re part of your story?”

“Y/n, no offense, but your brother-in-law is stupid and crazy. This kid is still dangerous. So pick up the gun.” You looked at the gun but didn’t make any move. “Pick is up. Pull the trigger. And I’ll bring her back. I’ll bring Mary back.”

Everyone’s faces fell contemplatively, and you really thought about it as a possibility. Jack moved his looking to you and tried to understand what were you thinking.

“No!” Dean responded immediately.

“I’m not talking to you, Dean. I know how much you want this for Dean, because you love him so much and you want him to be happy and all crap. So pull the trigger and I’ll bring her back.”

“No.” You said and Chuck frowned.

“My mom was my hero, and I miss her, and I will miss her every second of my life, but she would not want this, she would not want this for Y/n. She wouldn’t want for her to have her hands stained with innocent blood and live with the thought of killing someone innocent, someone she loves so much, for the rest of her life. And it’s not like you even really care, ‘cause Sam’s right. The Apocalypse, Lucifer and Michael, you knew everything that was going on. So why the games, Chuck? Huh? Why don’t you just snap your fingers and end it?”

”Look...” Chuck started, but he was again stopped by Sam.

“And every other bad thing we’ve been killing, or dying over...” he scoffed. “Where were you? Just sitting back and watching us suffer? So we can do this over and over and over again? Fighting, losing people we love? When does it end? Tell me!”

“Y/n, don’t do this – “ Chuck said, but no one let Him finish one sentence.

“No, we’re done talking. ’Cause this... this isn’t just a story... it’s our lives! Leave my wife alone. So God or no God, go to hell!” Dean said, both of the Winchesters having their serious faces put on, while chuck smiled mischievously in the corner of the lips.

“Have it your way!” He said, then snapping his fingers.

Everybody watched as your body collapsed lifelessly into the ground, and Dean shouted your name, but the pain was too deafening. Everyone was shocked, and Sam reacted as adrenaline was pumping in his body. He picked up the gun and drunken in pain, he shot Chuck in order to kill, for you, for his best friend. Unfortunately, he shot God in shoulder, and Sam as well felt a killing pain in his shoulder.

Dean cried his pain out of his body, his soul and he tried to cry you out of his mind too, but it was too hard. He tried to erase that hurtful memory of you, but it just wouldn’t get off, it would play over and over again, just to kill him slowly and slowly every second. He broke down one more time, loudly sobbing and frantically shaking his body.

Sam ran towards him and crashed beside him, Sam as well having tears staining his cheeks at the sight of his big brother broken like this. There were too many bottles of beer drunk and Dean was not feeling alright at all. Sam’s arms moved around Dean’s body and embraced him, trying not to let him broke into pieces.  

“It’s alright, Dean! I’m here. I’m here, Dean!” Sam shushed him and tried to keep him from shaking.

“Everyone around me is getting hurt and they are dying, Sammy. Loving me is a death sentence, Sammy.”

“Dean... listen to me!” Sam cupped his cheeks and moved his head from his shoulder so that he can look into Dean’s eyes. “Dean, look at me. I love you and I’m not going anywhere, alright? Y/n loves you from a better place, alright? I bet you’re gonna get into the same heaven someday, alright?” Dean slowly nodded his head and looked at Sam between the eyelashes, finally he stopped crying. “Let’s go get your strength back and we’re going to kill that son of a bitch, alright?” Dean nodded again and let Sam put him to bed, hoping maybe it will hurt less tomorrow.

[psychedellic-phase]

Fifteen (pt 4)

A/N: thank you so much for all the love so far! If I’m off at all on timelines I’m really sorry; time moves weird in cm. I’m loving writing this one though! requests/comments/etc are always welcome! xxR

Masterlist: 

(Part 1)  (Part 2) (Part 3)

tw: kinda smut but not really? otherwise none

wc: 3.0k

“Item #3 is a watch. Your watch, the one I got you for your birthday. It’s the first gift I ever got you as your “girlfriend”. I gave it to you the weekend after your birthday because we were out on a case. It came in a little black box that I tied a blue ribbon around. I made you dinner at my apartment; spaghetti and a jar of Ragu. (Cooking is clearly not my strong suit) You pretended to like it to spare my ego, which was very sweet of you. I took it out after we ate.You started protesting the minute I picked it up; insisting that I didn’t need to get you anything. To which I probably said something like “Of course I had to get you something. You only turn twenty-nine once.” 

I wrapped my arms around your neck and laid my head on top of yours to watch you open it. 

You loved it, of course you did. I picked it out especially for you. Then you blew out a candle that was shoved in a cup of jello because you love jello and don’t really love cake. 

I love that day, but that isn’t the important story I want to tell with this watch. It's just a $50 piece of black leather and glass that I liked at the jewelry store. The story I want to tell is about a very specific time you wore it. 

The black leather has worn out over time, especially on the hole where you would close it. You always wore it on the hole one looser than it needed to be so it could fit over your shirts and sweaters. I never understood why you do that, and I guess now I’ll never find out. 

I bet you’re wondering why I have this and you don’t. You left it at my place. Our place? No, I guess now it’s just my old apartment that I once had the privilege of sharing with you. This watch is years old, so eventually it got pushed to the back of a drawer where you never went looking for it. Somehow, you forgot about it. I didn't think you could forget about anything. Ever. Isn’t that like your whole thing? But you forgot this. I found it when I was packing up my life the other day. It can’t come to Seattle with me and it’s rightfully yours. So you can have it back, even though you don’t seem to want it.”

Spencer held the watch in his hand. He had looked for it. He turned his whole apartment upside down looking for it. It never occurred to him to ask you where it was and by the time he missed it the mere thought of asking you about it made him sick to his stomach. The battery died while it was hidden in a drawer in the room the two of you used to share. A room he would never see again in an apartment he would never see again because you moved to Seattle. 

Today is February sixteenth, and the watch had stopped on December 3 at 10:36 am. It struck him as odd that the clock stopped ticking on the day you officially split up. It’s like the clock ticked just for the two of you, timing your relationship, and when you stopped the watch did too. 

He decided to put it on and admire it. The buckle went into the worn hole easily. He loved this watch, mostly because you got it for him. You always were the best gift giver. 

He took it off quickly. The leather suddenly felt like it was burning his skin. 

“The important story starts on a case in Jacksonville, Florida. The one where the bodies were all deep in the ocean. We’d been together for maybe a few months at that point and it was going great. Our platonic sleepovers had become very not platonic. I wore your t-shirts to bed like nightgowns and woke up most mornings to see you next to me. You always wake up before me, so usually you would be watching me sleep like a weirdo. Once I would stir and finally wake up you'd kiss my forehead and pull me in for a hug. It was amazing. I definitely miss waking up next to you. It felt like when you’re a kid and sleep with your favorite stuffed animal or baby blanket. They soothe you, which is something I always needed. The nightmares wake me up every night. Sometimes even multiple times a night. It’s hard for them not to when we see the things we see, but anytime I slept next to you the nightmares wouldn’t paralyze me. If I woke up in a cold sweat and could feel your arm slung lazily over my body, the fear would melt away. 

At work though, we kept it cool. We didn’t share a room or get too touchy. We didn’t need to add fuel to the fire that was Derek Morgan and Penelope Garcia’s snide remarks. 

I made an exception that night though. Something about that case got under my skin. I’m pretty good at compartmentalizing most of the time, but the fact that so many bodies were in the ocean and we had no idea about it made me want to simultaneously cry and throw up. The cruelty of humanity is really never ending.  

That night was the night before we caught him. I was so tired that I fell asleep early, which is rare for me. But sadly I was awoken by one of my worst recurring nightmares. You know the one, the really bad one. When I woke up I was screaming, thrashing my legs, and drenched in sweat. I yelled so loud I thought I woke up Rossi who was in the next room. Thankfully, he sleeps pretty well. I tried to go back to sleep but only tossed and turned. The nightmare kept crawling back in. Eventually, I gave up and crept down the hallway to your room. I knew you’d be awake. The only shut eye you get is when you blink. I knocked and whispered “It’s me.”

You opened the door and looked confused, “W-What are you doing here?” You looked down the hallway both ways to make sure nobody saw us. Your hair was all tousled and wet from a shower and you had on loose pajamas that clung to your damp body. You also had on the watch. 

“I had a nightmare.” I said it desperately, the images came back. It got hard to breathe. I was panicking and thought I would cry. That’s all I needed to say for you to grab me in your arms tightly, reminding me where I was. With you. Safe. In a hotel room in Florida. On Earth. I can float up into my head so easily, and you were always there to bring me back down. You let me bury my face in your chest. I grabbed at your shirt frantically. I needed something and someone I knew was real. You just let me do what I needed to. I know how much it used to hurt you seeing me hurt, I can only imagine how you felt that night. Despite whatever you were feeling, you whispered reassurances to me. You told me that I was safe. That I was okay. That I was alive. 

You drew small circles on my back until my breathing and heart rate went down. When I could breathe again, you placed a kiss on the top of my head. We realized I hadn’t even passed the threshold of the door yet. I was just standing in the hallway at 1 am clinging onto you like an idiot. So you took my hand firmly, forcing it to stop shaking, and led me into your room. I pulled you to the bed and sat down. You sat next to me and asked me if I wanted to talk about it. All I could do was shake my head no. You understand. You have your own nightmares all the time; we all do. I stared in your eyes, the same way I have a million times and I could see it. I could see the love. We hadn’t said it yet, but we both knew. 

You pulled me in close and I asked you, “Can I please sleep here tonight?”

You nodded and lifted the covers so I could snuggle into them. You tucked me in and then started walking away. 

“Wait! Where are you going?” I protested, reaching out for you and giving you my best puppy dog eyes. (Which you ALWAYS fall for)

You bent down next to me and moved a piece of hair out of my face before cupping my cheek, “I’m getting you a glass of water. When you wake up screaming your throat goes dry. We can’t have you losing your voice.” 

I smiled. You’re too caring. I didn’t know there was such a thing until I met you. In fact, I didn’t know men could be so kind until I met you. 

“Okay, then get in here with me. I can only sleep well if I’m pressed up against you.”

You smiled, and leaned in to give me a peck on the lips. A peck that I then deepened into a real kiss. You pulled away and chuckled awkwardly, “Can I get you water first?”

I nodded and you hurried away. When you came back you climbed in next to me and pulled me into your arms for a hug. Your arms may be skinny but they’re strong and steady. I can’t even count the number of times your arms have steadied the cries that rack through my body. You were my rock.”

Were. Past tense. He winced at that like it was a slap in the face. 

“I turned over to look at you. The bedside lamp was off but the moonlight was streaming through the window so I could see you. That night is when your two arms became home. Home. I wonder if I’ll ever feel at home again. Seattle won’t be home. Seattle doesn’t have you, but then again neither do I.”

With a sharp intake of breath, Spencer stood up. His throat felt impossibly dry and his tongue felt two sizes too big for his mouth. He held the letter in his hands as he got a glass of water, just like he got you that night, his eyes never leaving the words. He wanted to yell that you did have him. You’d always have him, at least a piece, and if you wanted the whole thing you could have that too. But if he did scream it from the rooftops there would be no one to hear it and no one would even want to hear it anyway. 

“So when I was looking at you I kissed you. And then again. And again. You’re so easy to kiss, your lips are soft, but always a little chapped because you’re constantly biting them. We kissed and kissed until my hands happened to take your shirt off and your hands happened to take mine off. We kissed until I was on top of you, bare skin against bare skin. We kissed until we couldn’t anymore; until our bodies were glistening in sweat and we were out of breath. We kissed the whole time, it was actually impressive. Your mouth never left a part of my body, and mine liked to migrate to that spot on your neck and behind your earlobe. We only stopped kissing when you’d ask me if I was okay. Ever the gentleman, Spencer Reid. Diana raised you right. 

That was the first time you ever saw me naked and surprisingly I wasn’t uncomfortable. Usually I can be a bit insecure in how I look, but you let me know you loved every inch. I saw you that day too, almost completely naked, except you never took off the watch. The watch that I saw as you gripped the sheets with your hands. The watch that I saw when you pulled my hair into a makeshift ponytail. The watch that was cold against my hot skin as you leaned into me. 

That morning we woke up as a mess of tangled limbs, which is my favorite way to wake up. The first moments of morning are bliss. Everything is still and perfect. You sloppily kissing my cheeks and me giggling under you.

“I’m sore,” I said, fake pouting. 

You went to make some crappy coffee in the crappy hotel room coffee pot.  A blush formed on your cheeks and you stammered, “I-I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”

You were so worried. It was so sweet. 

“You could never hurt me.” 

What an ironic thing for me to say. 

“Come back to bed, Spence,” I patted the mattress next to me and you smiled and agreed, flopping next to me. 

“I’m coming, Love.” 

“Love?” I said. 

“Yes, Love, is that okay?”

“Yeah, I like ‘Love’, Love.”

You scrunched up your face, your little nose wrinkling, “Love? We can’t both be ‘Love.’”

I batted my eyelashes and said, “What would you like me to call you instead, Sir?”

You smirked, “I can think of a few things.”

That lasted a solid five seconds until I heard loud knocking on the door. 

“Reid, me and Rossi are going to hit the free breakfast in ten, you coming?” 

Derek. Derek coming and ruining our morning sex. 

We both groaned and you got up, opening the door just enough so he could see you and not me in your bed. He could immediately tell what happened. I think that’s his superpower. 

“My man!” He said and I imagine you glared at him, “Am I interrupting something?” 

You just shook your head nervously, “We, uh, I will be down soon. I have to shower.”

You shut the door in his face and I just laughed at the vibrant shade of red you turned. You joined me in bed and I just laid on your chest, listening to your heartbeat. You drew little shapes on my arm; I twisted the curl that forms on the nape of your neck. It was so perfect. That may be the happiest I’ve ever been. 

But sadly we were taken out of our own little world by Hotch calling us. As much as I hated it at the time, I definitely will miss getting a phone call from Hotch. 

I left your room with just a chaste kiss and a promise that we’d have more slumber parties like that when we got home. You made me pinky promise to talk about my nightmare. 

“Talking about the dream is extremely beneficial,” You said. And I knew you were right, but I didn’t want to scare you away yet. So I didn’t tell you until two years after that day. I just nodded and told you the next time I had it I would tell you. You smiled and squeezed my hand as I passed the threshold of the door. That was the end of our lovely night, and then we spent the rest of the day in Work Mode. 

So that’s what this watch reminds me of. This watch is that night. The night I visit often in my daydreams. It’s the only tangible reminder of the first of many nights to end in us falling asleep undressed next to each other. The night where we said ‘I love you’ with every part of ourselves except our voices. It took a few more months to say the words, but we both always knew. 

When I found the watch while packing, I put it on. Even on the tightest hole it still spun around on my wrist. It felt funny on me, because it should be on you. 

You never came looking for it, which, I’ll admit, hurts a lot. I keep thinking that maybe if you had things would be different. You could’ve called me and asked where it was, then I would have invited you over to get it. Maybe I could’ve given it to you over coffee. We could’ve talked, maybe even figured out what we needed from each other. We could’ve reconciled. Fixed this. God, how badly I wanted to fix this. But we couldn’t. Could we? I guess we’ll never know. 

Maybe one day you’ll wear this again. I hope you do. I hope you want to. And if you do, I hope you think of me.”

Spencer put the letter down and rummaged through some drawers until he found the supplies he needed to change the battery. Once he did, he spun the little knob on the side until it got to the right time. He buckled it on his wrist and admired it. He had no idea what it meant to you, but now that he did he could never look at it the same again. He remembered that night often when he missed you. He remembered how the soft skin of your hips felt against his finger tips. How your skin tasted salty when he kissed along your chest. He remembered how your body felt as he moved above you and how your lips never left each other for even a second. How your hands tugged at his hair and how your nails dug into the skin of his back. He missed it. In the last few months of your relationship you refused to be intimate. He was lucky if he could get you to be in the same room as him. There was a good reason for it, but he still missed feeling that close to you. He doubted he’d ever let himself get that close to anyone again. 

You were right, of course. You’re always right. He should have called about the watch. Hell, he should have called about anything. He should have found any excuse to talk to you more than just about work. He should have done so many things different. But then again, you never called. You never texted him to come get his stuff. You never talked to him about anything other than work. So maybe in some weird way you guys were even. It takes two. 

He looked at the time on the watch. It was well past midnight now, so he grabbed the box and your notes and put it on his bed. He laid next to it, imagining it was you. The box was parts of you, and if that was as close as he could get, that would have to be enough. He rolled over and closed his eyes, begging his brain to let him see you the only place he would from now on. His dreams.

PART 5!

tags:  @l0ve-0f-my-life @aperrywilliams @helloniallslovelies​ @random-ravings @ajwantsapancake​ @boiled-onionrings​

[karasunovolleygays]

UshiIwa Fic Recs

(that nobody asked for)

Hello! It’s my distinct pleasure to welcome you all to UshiIwa hell! I’ve been malingering here for years, but with new developments in canon, it looks like I am no longer stuck on Gilligan’s Island (me plus the six other sad bastards i’m stranded with). 

As a long time sufferer of this ship, I would like to introduce you to some of my favorite UshiIwa stories, including a few of my own bc tag smol. :’)

Rating: G/T

I Lose Control by voices_in_my_head Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, OMC (Coach) Summary: "He looks to the bench, where Iwaizumi’s eyes dance from player to player." Words: 1,538 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: this is an interesting study of how Ushijima would deal with an injury at a crucial moment when everyone is counting on him, plus a dose of priority.

Cordially Uninvited by Karasuno Volleygays (that’s me) Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Possible Current Manga Spoilers, Established Relationship, Paparazzi Summary: Paparazzi haunting notable people has always been a problem, but Hajime and Wakatoshi opt to clear the air on their own terms. Words: 1,279 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: I thought it would be interesting to see how Ushijima would deal with celebrity and subsequently strangers poking their noses in his personal business.

Three Doors Down by Karasuno Volleygays Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Fluff, More Fluff, pretty bara men bonding over dogs Summary: When Ushijima inherited a property that had seen better days, he found himself spending a lot of time and effort in a new part of town restoring the house to its former glory. However, he didn't expect a litter of puppies in a yard a few houses over to revive his spirit, as well.

He certainly didn't anticipate their owner stirring something to life within him, either, but that was a development he didn't need much coaxing to get used to. Words: 13,145 Chapters: 2/2 My notes: I have no excuses for how fluffy this is.

you're good, too quickly admitted by pyrality Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Coffeeshop AU, College AU, Fluff, Getting Together, Awkward Flirting Summary: Iwaizumi sits back in the chair, "Oikawa thinks I could do better."

Ushijima swallows, eyes still on his laptop screen, "And what do you think?"

"I think I'd like to go out to lunch with you sometime."

He looks up at the other boy, feeling warm at the sight of Iwaizumi's crooked, barely there smile, a challenging twinkle in his eye.

"Oh," Ushijima manages before he recomposes himself, "I'd like that.” Words: 2,731 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: UshiIwa dating to spite Oikawa is too good to turn down.

Alight by Karasuno Volleygays Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Time Skips, Rivals to Lovers Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime can't believe his soulmate is the guy who just wiped the floor with his team, but there is no denying the fact that he is irrevocably linked to Ushijima Wakatoshi. Words: 4,504 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: If you’re interested in them getting to know each other through their failures and vulnerable moments, this is probably your jam.

Baby It's Cold Outside by RarePairGremlin Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Winter, Cuddling, light grinding, hints to smut but nothing is described, jaw kiss, Kissing, Fluff, Established Relationship Summary: The childish grin spread over his lips again as he faced them, his gaze roaming up them slowly as an idea formed. Ushijima, ever prepared, was fully dressed in thick socks a pair of blue sweats, which they had tucked into their socks like the crime against fashion they are, and a thick hoodie. He knew for a fact, since he’s stolen it enough times, that the hoodie was fuzzy and soft on the inside. Beside them lay a steaming cup of tea, the bag still steeping inside as they liked their tea strong, and the aforementioned throw lay comfortably across their lap. A perfect image of warm and cozy.

It would be a shame if someone was to disturb that now wouldn’t it? Words: 1,471 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This is exactly what it says on the tin, plus a bonus NB Ushijima!

the ghost in your room by mousecat Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Unrequited Love, Unrequited IwaOi, oikawa is a bit of a dick Summary: Hajime finds a way to get over Oikawa Words: 1,173 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: It’s an oddly pleasurable mixture of fluff and a punch in the throat.

Good Graces by Karasuno Volleygays Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Established Relationship, Arguments, Mending Fences Summary: Hajime is pissed at Wakatoshi for something he admits he did until he finds out the real reason he did it. Then he feels like a jackass. Hopefully, his live-in boyfriend is up for a good old fashioned groveling session. Words: 2,059 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: Making your otp mad at each other is hard and it hurts, but the communication afterward is so important. 

lit the very fuse by mousecat Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Getting Together, Unrequited Love, Christmas Eve, Mostly Fluff, ushiwaka is a soft boy, you can never convince me otherwise Summary: Hajime isn't sure what he and Ushijima are to each other, but he knows he's still stuck on Oikawa. Words: 2,609 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: If you like FWB to Lovers, step right up and scream into the void with me. 

Once An Enemy. by BGee93 Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Getting Together, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Friends, Aged-Up Character(s), Slow Burn, Misunderstandings, Not Beta Read, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluffy Ending, Volleyball, Volleyball Dorks in Love, Volleyball Dorks & Nerds, volleyball mentioned not played, Getting to Know Each Other, Love, Love Confessions, Falling In Love, Friendship/Love, Idiots in Love, Declarations Of Love, Dorks in Love, Confessions, Enemies to Lovers, Sharing a Bed, Literal Sleeping Together, Coffee Shops, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Coffee, First Dates, Awkward Dates, Aobajousai, Shiratorizawa, boyfriend sweater, Confusion, Cliche, cliches, Awkward RomanceAwkward Meetings, meme team - Freeform, Slow Build, Slow Romance, very slow burn, Sleeping Together, Sleepovers, Bonding, Forced Bonding Summary: 'It took several minutes to catch his breath again and to stop hissing through his teeth at the areas that throbbed, until they were just a dull ache. Once Iwaizumi felt he was able to move again he slid his hands up the strangers chest, ignoring the ripple and twitches his touch caused since the situation was already awkward enough without Iwaizumi appreciating the well toned muscle under his fingertips, as he pushed himself up till he was able to look at the persons face. There was more lighting on the bottom floor, as it was closer to the illuminating street lamps outside, so he was able to make out exactly who the man was within mere seconds despite the face still being quite shadowed. And the identity shocked him into stilling every joint, muscle and fiber of his being.

Oh hell no.' Words: 20,130 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This was written for me as a gift in an exchange a while back. Have I stopped screaming about it? Not bloody likely.

Rating: M

Focus (On Me) by Verbrennung Tags: Underage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ushijima is a 1st year, lots of staring, and looming, and crowding, Seijou!Ushijima, rated for ~makin' out~ Summary: Nobody had foreseen future Super Ace Ushijima Wakatoshi transferring from Shiratorizawa to Aoba Johsai for high school. Everyone's curious to know why, and as Iwaizumi discovers, some of his reasons are... unexpected.

An AU in which everything is mostly the same except Ushijima is a first year at Aoba Johsai and has a huge, looming crush on Iwaizumi. Words: 12,454 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This should probably be rated T instead, but whatever. If you ever wanted to know how much of an awkward bastard both of them are when they’re into someone, this is your jam.

Point Blank by Karasuno Volleygays Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Future Fic, Brief (but pertinent) Mention of Homophobia, Slow Burn, Financial shenanigans, Scary Men with Guns, Minor Character Death Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime accepted a position at a company that was going places, and he knew he had a bright future ahead of him if he just kept his head down and worked hard — a future his family desperately needed him to achieve. He didn't count on an old rival working in the same building, nor Ushijima Wakatoshi's surprisingly cordial demeanor, yet he managed to make an unlikely friend and an even more unlikely roommate.

But when Iwaizumi climbed up the company ladder and into some of the more shadowy recesses of the corporate realm, he knew they would both get more than they bargained for, and the only person he knew he could trust was Ushijima. Words: 44,981 Chapters: 12/12 My notes: This was my first UshiIwa and I still think about it a lot. Imagining these guys in regular jobs is strange, but kind of endearing when you get a feel for how they live their lives after volleyball.

Rating: E

Flare by fish_wifey Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, From dislike to like, Tension, Sex Toys, Anal Sex, Dressing Room Sex, Topping from the Bottom, Orgasm Delay/Denial Summary: Ushijima's forwardness makes Iwaizumi edgy, but after they figure their shit out, it's Iwaizumi who brings Ushijima on edge. Words: 7,687 Chapters: 2/2 My notes: Enemies to lovers speed run ahoy!

Tangled Webs by Karasuno Volleygays (Restricted) Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Black Widow AU, Assassin Iwaizumi, Crime boss Ushijima, alcohol use, Drugging, dubcon elements, Angst Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime is a seasoned killer, with wit sharp enough to cut and reflexes to match. He's never missed a kill. That is, of course, until he meets his new mark — Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Can Ushijima offer Iwaizumi what he truly desires, on top of a night of heated passion that can only end one way? Words: 4,120 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This was some fucked up stuff, but sweet baby jesus it was a wild ride to write.

Unraveled by Karasuno Volleygays (Restricted) Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Bondage, Knife Play, Edging, Rough Sex, Flogging, Breathplay, Toys, Dubious Morality Summary: After his liberation from his past life, Iwaizumi adjusts to life with Ushijima. But something is missing, and Ushijima picks the strangest (and most erotic) way to give it to him. Words: 5,145 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: It’s cute that I thought the first fic in this series was fucked up. This one was clearly more so, but noragerts.

Poly/Multiship ft. UshiIwa

4 AM by ApparentlyAda Rating: T Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, this is so stupid, I'm Sorry, Oikawa and Ushijima talk about dogs, Iwaizumi is Oikawa and Ushiwaka Trash #1 Relationship: UshiIwaOi Summary: "Ushiwaka."

"Yes?"

"What if one day you woke up as a chicken?"

"What if one day you shut the fuck up?", interrupts Hajime groggily.

(Or, simply put, the awful(ly amazing) conversations these three dorks have during sleepless nights) Words: 1,064 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: I hope you like banter and Oikawa roastage haha

Bridge the Gap by FindingSchmomo Rating: T Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Polyamory, Established Relationship, Divorce, Past Child Abuse, Lawyer! Oikawa, Police officer iwaizumi, Flower Shop Owner Ushijima, child kageyama, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Panic Attacks, Anxiety, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Meet the Family, chap 6 is the familys ongoing mission to keep kags hydrated, chap 7 is meet the parents edition, Internalized Homophobia, just a touch of it really Relationship: UshiIwaOi Summary: Iwaizumi Hajime, Oikawa Tooru and Ushijijma Wakatoshi love each other more than anything, but sometimes that’s not enough, especially in a world that doesn’t love them back. Tiny cracks begin to widen, ever so slowly, until the gaps they leave seem insurmountable.

They find their answers with each other, and surprisingly enough, with the little boy loitering outside their window.

—-

Or, a story of disconnects and the love it takes to bridge them. Words: 121,443 Chapters: 18/18 My notes: It’s long with a lot of heavy themes, but if you look at the tags and think you can get through them, it’s so worth it.

a taste of heaven by beatboxbmo Rating: T Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Polyamory, Birthday baking, Cuddles, Established Relationship, Aged-Up Character(s) Relationship: UshiIwaOi Summary: tooru comes home early on his birthday to see his two boyfriends asleep on the couch. they baked him a surprise. Words: 2,141 Chapters: 1/1 My notes: This is exactly as warm and gooey as it sounds.

Three's A Crowd by FindingSchmomo Rating: T Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Romance, Comedy, Romantic Comedy, Miscommunication, Dating, First Kiss, a mess, These Boys are a MESS, Chatlogs, Light Angst, Polyamory, OT3 Relationship: UshiIwaOi Summary: Iwaizumi loves Oikawa.

Oikawa loves Iwaizumi.

Neither of them will say anything.

Then, suddenly, Ushijima is there.

And things get very complicated. Words: 32,385 Chapters: 9/10 My notes: Normally I don’t put WIPs on rec lists, but this one is close to completion and it’s so, so worth it. Boys are dumb and you should appreciate them.

adolescence and all its glory by pageleaf Rating: E Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, Established Relationship, Developing Relationship, Wooing, Future Fic, College/University, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Fluff, Flirting, Established Iwaoi, eventual OT3, Threesome - M/M/M, Manga Spoilers Summary: Iwaizumi was supposed to meet new people. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do, when you go to a different university from your best friend? Now that his life isn’t filled with Oikawa, he should have been making new friends, trying new things, whatever.

Instead, he shows up barely on time to his anatomy class, hears a small noise from beside him, and turns around to see Ushijima Wakatoshi. Words: 20,024 Chapters: 2/2 Relationship: UshiIwaOi My notes: Accidental rivals to lovers? Enjoy the sound of me screaming into the abyss, and the abyss screams back.

Close For Comfort by Leryline Rating: E Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, NSFW, ushioi - Freeform, really sinful but great, Angst, it has a happy ending i promise, iwaoi - Freeform, Phone Sex, Rough Sex, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Romance, Threesome, Double Penetration, Spitroasting, Bottom Oikawa Tooru, Cheating, but look it's integral to the plot ok, ROMANC E AHGHGNJD it's so gay, turning a oneshot into a multi-chap out of spite: a novel by me, also: don't cheat on people irl my dudes it's not cool. not cool.like legit please DO NOT Summary: Oikawa Tōru has always seen his future with Iwaizumi Hajime - solely, utterly, completely. After all, Iwaizumi is his pillar, the only person he needs in the world.

...right?

[or: Ushijima Wakatoshi comes in and fucks everything up, as usual, but Oikawa has never given in easily, and neither has Iwaizumi, for that matter.] Words:61041 Chapters: 15/15 Relationship: UshiIwaOi My notes: If infidelity makes you uncomfortable, even if it has a happy ending all around, I would pass on this one. The smuts, however, are top shelf.

Privacy by plumtrees Rating: E Tags: No Archive Warnings Apply, House Party, Alternate Universe - College/University, Future Fic, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Riding, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Spanking, Partner Swapping Summary: Iwaizumi reaches for the knob by his hip, easily twisting it open and getting them both inside. They stumble in with their lips still sealed over each other’s, silent giggles passing between mouths as Oikawa hurries to flatten his hand against the door to shut it and crowd Iwaizumi against the surface, other hand winding around his waist to pull him close, keep him there—

But then an alarmed noise rips from Iwaizumi’s throat, the hand steady on his shoulder suddenly pushing him away Iwaizumi’s looking behind him, expression a mix of shock and mild horror and Oikawa follows a split second later, just in time for a moan to resonate past the muffled music being carried over from downstairs.

“Oikawa.” Ushijima greets, only the slightest tremor to his voice as Shirabu sinks down on his cock. “Tendou didn’t mention you’d be here.” English Words: 9,736 Chapters: 1/1 Relationship: UshiShiraIwaOi My notes: Good lord this is spicy. This is ‘swinging’ in its truest form.

Show Me You Own Me by preciousghouls Rating: E Tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Threesome - M/M/M, Threesome, Rimming, Barebacking, BDSM, Daddy Kink, on oikawa's part, Dom/sub, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Multiple Orgasms, Bottom!Iwaizumi, bottom!Oikawa, top!oikawa, top!ushijima, switch hitter oikawa, Established Relationship, Developing Relationship, i have sinned, sleeping drug in five lines, Consensual, Begging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Petplay, Collars, Cuffs, Butt Slapping, Spanking, Butt Plugs, domestic AU, Crossdressing Summary: It's Oikawa's idea, of course. But Iwaizumi finds himself loving the way Ushijima has Oikawa wrapped around his fingers, and before long they're both moaning at the hands of Ushijima.

aka the kinkiest shit I've ever written in my life. Words: 20,819 Chapters: 4/4 Relationship: UshiIwaOi My notes: Sometimes wanting to be dommed by ushiwaka is a communal mood, ya know?

Tumblr Fics

(mostly not rated/tagged; proceed with caution and at your own discretion)

Untitled by notsuchasecret

Untitled by worthlesspride (this is definitely E)

Untitled by worthlesspride (this is definitely E)

Untitled by raspberrydevil

Untitled by raspberrydevil

Untitled by deathbelle

Comfortable by raspberrydevil Relationship: ushiiwaoi

Morning Kisses by raspberrydevil Relationship: ushiiwaoi

Meet My Nephew by raspberrydevil Relationship: ushiiwaoi

[maaaaaatryoshka0325]

Kiss Away The Pain - Lee Felix - Part 1

Warnings: violence, angst, fluff, smut

Description: Felix was your best friend your whole childhood, but one day, he and his family just disappears.  Years later he comes back, but is he the same Felix he was back then?

Part 2

Requested 💕

There’s gonna be a part two because Tumblr sucks when it comes down to texting blocks 🙄 part two will just be the Smut scene. 

You remembered every detail about him, every freckle that adorned his pretty skin, his sweet laugh, his voice that got too deep way too quick, and his clingy personality. You two were inseparable since childhood, always each other’s shadow. Neither one of you went a day without each other, not even when you were sick, which resulted in you both being bed ridden together.

And maybe, just maybe, you were in love with him. You could always be yourself with him, never having a dull moment with the sweet boy. He was always there for you, and you both could read each other’s emotions almost perfectly. He was always so gentle with you, no matter what. Even when the two of you rough housed, he made sure to handle you with extreme care. You thought the two of you would be together forever, that he’d never leave you. But you were wrong.

One day he just disappeared. He and his family moved without your acknowledgement, and you were left feeling broken and empty. You cried for months, wondering why he never told you, or why he wouldn’t tell you where he went. He disappeared before your last year of high school, and you were now going into your second year of college/university. You didn’t think about him as much, you didn’t cry at night anymore. It had taken almost two years for the crying to stop, for the pain to turn into a dull ache.

You headed back to your apartment, which you moved into because of how close it was to your college/university. You had stayed a little later than usual, your physics teacher helping you with a few things you didn’t understand. The sky was painted red and orange as the sun was setting, the cool breeze ruffling your hair. You walked down the side street you always took home, your headphones in and blaring your favorite song. Your eyes were down on your phone, reading an email from one of your professors.

When you raised your head, it was too late. In front of you was a group of men, seemingly beating another single man. He was heavily outnumbered, but he was throwing hard punches left and right. One man staggered out and looked up at you, his eyes narrowing.

“Hey, you!” He yelled at you.

You began to back away as the others looked at you.

“Get her! We can’t have the cops catching us!” One of them yelled as he held the other man.

The world around you stopped spinning when he raised his head, his eyes meeting yours. His eyes held yours for a moment, before he slammed the back of his head into the man holding him, making him grunt and let go. He began to run towards you, shoulder checking the man that was approaching you. He grabbed your hand and pulled you away from them, his small hand warm in your own.

He held your hand tightly until you both managed to put a few blocks between the two of you and the group of men. You both panted as you came to a stop, and you pulled your hand away to bend over and catch your breath. You felt his eyes on you and you slowly raised yourself back up, your eyes meeting his.

“It really is you.” He breathed.

It was Felix. He had gotten a little taller, his face more mature. He had more of a muscular build compared to his body before he left. He bore a gash across his forehead from the fight, which was trickling with blood into his eye.

“Y/N?” He asked.

You snapped out of your thoughts and focused your eyes on him, slowly nodding your head.

“It’s been so long.” He whispered.

“Y-Yeah...” You stuttered out.

“What were you doing walking down back roads? Don’t you know it’s dangerous?” He asked.

“You’re one to talk, you’re hurt.” You pointed out.

Felix wiped the blood off of his forehead and shrugged. “It’s just a scratch.”

You went to open your mouth to say something, to tell him it wasn’t just a scratch, but you quickly shut your mouth. Your mind was spinning, your throat dry and hands sweating.

“Where were you headed?” He asked.

“Home.” You answered lowly.

“Aren’t you far from home?” He asked, tilting his head.

The blood dripping down from the gash was starting to bother his eye, so you reached into your bag and handed him a handkerchief you kept in your bag.

“I moved into an apartment near my college/university.” You said as you put it in his hand.

He gave you a confused look and you pointed to his forehead. He dabbed at the injury, then looked down at the blood on the handkerchief.

“You go to (college/university name)?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You responded, your eyes focusing on his busted knuckles.

“Oh, I start there tomorrow.” He said.

“When did you get here?” You asked.

“Yesterday.” He answered.

“And you already got into a fight?” You asked.

“Y/N-“

“Since when do you ever fight Felix? You were always so calm and sweet, what happened?” You asked.

“People change, Y/N.” He said, his deep voice sending chills up your spine.

“I see that. I hope you heal quickly.” You said, adjusting your bag and walking away from him.

“Wait, Y/N!” He called.

You hurried away from him, tears filling your eyes. You haven’t seen him in years, years, and your first encounter with him is finding him in a fight.

People change, Y/N.

His words haunted you that night, you couldn’t focus on studying, or anything for that matter. Yeah people change, but how could he change like that? Images of the Felix you remember flashed in your head, then images of the new Felix took over. Where was the sweet, goofy Felix you had fallen in love with? Where has he been all this time?

Your mind was whirling, your head beginning to ache as you tried to wrap your head around everything. You laid in bed that night, tossing and turning. Half of you was relieved he was back, relieved he was here. And the other half held the hurt and anger of him leaving, not speaking a word to you about where he was going. Your heart ached every time you thought of the gash in his forehead, your stomach dropping when the image of him fighting flashed in your mind.

He was going to the same college/university as you, and you didn’t know how to feel about it.

The walk to your college/university seemed longer that morning. The cool breeze bit at your cheeks, as you forgot your scarf. Who knew it would be this cold in the spring? The sweater you wore did almost nothing to protect you from the wind, and you were starting to regret even going to classes that day. It’s not like you’d miss much, and you never skipped or took a day off, so it’s not like it would’ve been a huge deal.

You walked past where you had seen Felix fighting, and your stomach dropped when you noticed the small, dried up puddles of blood. You shook your head and continued walking until you got into your first class. You were sat in the row right before the last. You quickly took out your books and got your supplies ready, when a hauntingly familiar cologne filled your nose.

“Hey.” The deep voice rumbled behind you.

You turned your head to see Felix sitting in the seat behind you, a smile on his face.

“What a coincidence, looks like we’ll be seeing each other in this class.” He said with a smile.

Great.

You turned away from him as your professor walked into the class, his eyes flicking around to look for someone. They landed on you, or rather, the person behind you.

“We have a new student today, please welcome Felix Lee.” He said.

Felix bowed his head with a charming smile, making some of the girls in your class squeal.

Still a ladies man I see.

Your teacher began his lecture, and you were trying to fully concentrate. Trying, because Felix kept poking you in the sides to get your attention.

“Y/N.” He whispered.

You ignored him and continued writing the notes your professor was putting on the board. You felt a poke to your side that made you jump.

“Hey!” He whispered.

“Felix, I’m trying to write down my notes and learn, stop poking me!” You scolded. “You should be writing them down too!”

Before you turned around, you caught the pout on his face. You almost giggled at his pout, as it was the same one he used to give you when you were younger. He stopped poking you and you heard him shuffling around as he took out a notebook and began writing down the notes on the board, seemingly taking your advice. When the bell rang, you packed up your books and headed out of the door, when you felt someone grab your bag. You turned your head and made eye contact with Felix. He wore a leather jacket, a tight shirt beneath it, ripped jeans, and combat boots. The wound on his head had stitches, and his smile was a bright white.

“Are you gonna keep ignoring me?” He asked.

“I’m trying to get to my classes.” You said, shrugging him off.

“What class do you have next?” He asked.

“History.” You said, trying to get away from him.

“In room 208?” He asked.

You looked at him in a bit of shock and nodded, and he gave you a smile.

“I have that class next too.” He said.

He held his schedule up and you almost let out a groan, as he had been telling you the truth. He walked with you to the class, and for once he was at a loss for what to say. He couldn’t understand why you were being so distant towards him, when you both had been so close.

And much to your relief, his seat wasn’t close to yours, it was on the opposite side. You could feel every time he stole a glance at you, and you began to feel a little bad for ignoring him. But it’s not like you could help it, right? You had every right to be upset with him, and you still needed to time to process all of it.

After classes you began to head home, when a voice called out for you and you let out a small groan. You turned over to see Felix approaching you, another man with him.

“Heading home?” He asked.

“Yeah, I have a lot of homework.” You said, trying to make sure he didn’t ask you to hangout or anything.

“Oh, bummer. This is Chan by the way, Chan this is Y/N.” He said, introducing the both of you.

“Nice to meet you.” You said with a bow.

“Like wise.” He said, bowing back. “How do you two know each other?”

“We’re childhood friends.” Felix said.

Childhood friends before you abandoned me.

“Well I have to get going, see you’s.” You said, turning around and walking towards your apartment.

It’s been a week since Felix had come to your college/university, and no matter how many times he tried to be around you and talk, you kept brushing him off. No matter how much you wanted to talk to him, to find out where he went and why he changed so much, you couldn’t bring yourself to have that conversation yet. You weren’t gonna just let him off thinking it was okay to abandon you.

When you walked into your first class, your heart sank. Seated a few seats away from you, was a student that was the absolute worst, Choi Seungchul. He had been suspended for beating a kid up, so he hasn’t been in classes for almost two weeks. He also loved to mess with you, making this class unbearable. Felix sat in the back, his notebook and pen out.

Your professor walked in and you felt relief, as Seungcheol never really bothered you when the proffessor was there. Today, however, may have been a different day. Maybe Seungcheol was angry that he had been caught, or just in a bad mood. You noticed he started to throw little pieces of paper at you. You ignored it, hoping if you didn’t react he might just leave you alone. A small pile of tiny paper balls were on the side of your desk, the pestering balls bouncing off your head or your sides. You continued to ignore it, until he threw a pen and it bounced off your knuckle, making a small startled yelp leave your lips.

“Something wrong Ms. L/N?” Your professor asked, turning away from the board.

“N-No. Just dropped a pen.” You lied, picking up the pen he had thrown at you.

Your professor shrugged it off and turned back to the board, and you had hoped no one noticed what had happened. Unfortunately, one of the few people who had witnessed it, was pissed off. Felix grit hit teeth when he saw the red mark on your knuckle where the pen had bounced off.

Your professors phone went off and he gave an apologetic bow.

“I have to take this, behave while I’m out.” He said, stepping out of the classroom.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you desperately hoped Seungcheol had finished his little game. Unfortunately, he didn’t. He chucked another piece of paper at you, and it bounced off your cheek and landed on your desk. You noticed writing on it, “look at me” written on the small piece of paper. You flicked it off your desk and continued finishing your notes, when another one hit you and landed almost in the exact same spot. This one read “don’t ignore me”. You, once again, flicked it off your desk. He usually gave up when you ignored him, so you figured he’d give up.

You were wrong. He picked up a full eraser and pegged it at your face. It was just an inch away from your face when Felix caught it in his hand, anger in his eyes.

“Throw one more thing at her and I’ll shove my boot up your fucking ass.” He yelled, his deep voice booming.

The whole class was silent, even Seungcheol. Your heart began to pound as everyone stared at you, their gazes making you anxious. The bell saved you, and you quickly ran out of the class, hanging your head low. Anxiety gnawled at your tummy as you quickly rushed to your locker, throwing your bags in.

“Y/N!”

You turned to see Felix running over to you, his bag slung over his shoulder.

“Why did you run away?” He asked.

You ignored him and walked past him, heading for the exit.

“Where are you going?” Felix called, throwing his own bag in his locker.

You hurried out and into the cool air, cursing yourself for forgetting your sweater in your locker.

“Y/N wait!” Felix called, running up to you.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“Home.” You said lowly, walking faster.

He jogged until he got in front of you, blocking your path.

“Why? Why didn’t you defend yourself back there?” He asked.

“Because he usually leaves me alone if I ignore him.” You said, trying to walk around him.

His eyes narrowed, anger flashing in them.

“He bothers you often?” He asked.

“Why does it matter?” You asked.

“What the Hell do you mean why does it matter? He’s bothering you!” He yelled.

“If I ignore him he leaves me alone! If I do anything he’ll get worse!” You yelled.

“Then I’ll beat him up!” He yelled.

“Why the Hell do you even care Felix?!” You yelled back.

“Because you’re my best friend!”

“No! I was your best friend until you abandoned me!”

Felix’s eyes widened as tears began to drip down from your eyes.

“You abandoned me and think now that you happen to go to the same college/university I go too we’re best friends again?!” You yelled, your voice cracking.

“Y/N I-“

“You don’t know how many night I spent fucking crying because of you! You didn’t even say goodbye! You didn’t even try to keep in touch! You just l-left me like I was nothing to you!” You sobbed.

Felix lunged foreword and pulled you into his arms. You sobbed into his shoulder as he held you tightly, his one hand cradling the back of your head as he clutched you tightly. His fingers gently ran through your hair, the same gentle touch he had years ago.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He whispered, his voice shaking. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

The years of crying by yourself, crying yourself to sleep at night, felt like such a distant memory as you cried into his shoulder. His arms felt like they did back then, they felt like home.

“Please don’t cry, please... I’m sorry.” He whispered in your ear.

“Y-You have no idea wh-what I’ve been through and how m-much I needed you.” You sobbed.

He held you tighter, his cologne filling your nose as you buried your face into his shoulder. You felt his breathing go ragged, his arms securely around you.

“I’m sorry... Please, let me explain.” He whispered, his voice shaking.

You pulled away and wiped your eyes, the cold air making your body shiver. Felix slowly slid his leather jacket off and put it around you.

“Felix you’ll get cold-“

“It’s fine. Just, please, let me explain.” He said, his dark eyes glassy with tears.

You nodded and he sighed in relief.

“My family was moving away, and the neighborhood wasn’t that good. I-I knee if I told you it’d make leaving you much harder. I planned on visiting when I got my head straight, but then I got caught up in things I didn’t want you to get caught up in.” He said.

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“I’m-“ He sighed. “I’m just not the same good kid I was back then... I changed a lot. And I guess trying to be friends with you like we used to be was a mistake. I don’t want to risk anything happening.”

You stepped foreword and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“You’re still good Felix, you helped me back there. You’re still so gentle with me, you still care about me.” You whispered.

A tear slipped down from his eye as he buried his face into the crook of your neck, a soft sob leaving his lips.

“I’ve missed you so much Y/N... I really have.” He whispered.

Your own tears poured down your face again as you both stood there. His arms were tightly around your waist, his face in your neck.

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry.” He whispered.

“I forgive you.” You finally said, making his arms tighten around you.

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness... You’d hate who I am now.” He whispered.

“I could never hate you, Felix.” You whispered back.

You both walked along the streets, you in his jacket as the wind blew around you both. The city wasn’t as busy, as everyone was at work or school.

“Wanna go to the cafe?” Felix asked.

You nodded and he led you to one of your favorite cafes. You were a bit shocked that he had brought you here, not knowing if he had seen you here.

“They have the best drinks and food.” He said.

You nodded in agreement as you both ordered, and he paid for your stuff.

“Hey, I could’ve gotten my stuff.” You said with a frown.

“I invited you here silly.” He said with a laugh.

You both sat at a booth as you both ate and drank your drinks, your eyes wandering out the window.

“So, how was the last year of high school?” Felix asked.

“It was alright.” You said lowly.

“Just alright?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You said shortly, taking another sip of your drink.

“Why just alright? Didn’t you make any new friends?” He asked.

You shook your head and he looked down at his hands, his knuckles almost fully healed. The way his brows furrowed made him look upset, but he quickly looked up at you and gave you a soft smile.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, you were always shy and quiet.” He said with a sweet smile.

You nodded and played with your hands, biting your lip.

“Did you make any new friends?” You asked.

“Uh, a few. Just Chan and a few other guys that transferred to (college/university).” He said.

“Ah, I see.” You said lowly.

“None of the people I met could replace you, though.” He said.

Your cheeks turned red and you quickly dipped on your drink, a small smile stretching across your face.

“Yeah,” You whispered. “No one could ever replace you either.”

Felix walked you back to your apartment, the both of you quiet. It was a nice quietness, almost comforting. His cologne stuck to you under his jacket, a smell you were just starting to grow fond of. The only sound between you both was the sound of the chain jingling from his dark jeans.

You stopped at your apartment and Felix looked up at it, looking back over to you.

“This is your apartment?” He asked.

You nodded and he chuckled.

“It looks like a cute complex.” He said, his eyes soaking up the bright flowers flowing in the night breeze.

“Yeah, our landlady keeps it clean and looking nice.” You said.

He nodded and scratched the back of his neck, his eyes looking worried. You tilted your head and he gave you a soft smile.

“Y/N... Are you sure you wanna be friends again? To get involved with me again?” He asked.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” You asked.

“Well like I said I’m not... Good.” He said.

“What are you in some type of gang or something?” You asked jokingly.

Your heart dropped when he swallowed thickly, his bottom lip being pulled between his teeth. You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out. You swallowed hard and took his jacket off, giving a quick bow before turning away.

“I should go.” You said, walking into your apartment building.

Felix watched you, his eyes sad. He had just gotten you close to him again, why did he fuck it up so soon? He wanted to tell you everything, he wanted to tell you how much he loves you, and always has. But now, he scared you off again.

You once again laid in bed wide awake, your eyes on the ceiling. You felt like crying, you felt like completely breaking down and sobbing. Felix, the sweetest boy you’ve ever known, was no involved with a gang? How could he do that to himself? None of it was making sense to you, none of it.

You sat in your first class, your eyes on your notebook. Felix hasn’t bothered you once, keeping to himself. When he had walked in, his eyes were down, his head almost hanging as he walked by your desk. Your professor had run down to the office to make copies of the assignment. Your class had to watch a movie for the next few days and fill in the questions having to do with the movie.

“Where’s that pen I threw yesterday?” A voice asked.

Your heart stopped in your chest as Seungcheol was across from your desk, leaning on the other one. You didn’t say anything, you just continued writing something for another class.

“Are you deaf? Or just a freak?” He asked.

You, once again, ignored him. This seemed to tick him off more.

“I’m fucking talking to you!” He growled, stretching his hand out to grab you.

You flinched, but his hand was caught before it even touched you. You slowly looked up and saw Felix standing in front of you, his hand gripping Seungcheol’s.

“I told you to leave her alone, or are you the deaf one?” Felix growled.

Seungcheol grabbed Felix by his leather jacket, his jaw tight.

“I’ll kick your ass, Lee.” Seungcheol growled in Felix’s face.

“Try me, Choi.” Felix shot back.

You grabbed the back of Felix’s jacket and gave it a light tug.

“Felix stop.” You said lowly.

“No.” He growled, glaring at Seungcheol. “I’m not going to let him mess with you.”

At that moment your professor walked in, his eyes widening when he saw Felix and Seungcheol in each other’s faces.

“Felix, Seungcheol, is there a problem?” Your professor asked, arching a brow.

“Not at all sir.” Seungcheol said, giving Felix a smirk. “Just a little friendly competition is all.”

He let go of Felix’s jacket and walked back to his seat, and Felix did the same. The movie played and you felt Seungcheol’s eyes on you the whole movie, his eyes also shifting to Felix, who was side eyeing him. After your class, Felix didn’t walk with you your history class. He stayed back in the same class, and you realized Seungcheol did too. You sat in your history class, anxious as all Hell waiting for Felix to come in.

When he did, you sighed in relief. He looked fine, his eyes still narrowed and more irritated than before. He remained silent all class, not even bothering to talk to anyone around him, not even the guys he usually jokes around with. His eyes seemed distant, only focusing when the professor stood upfront.

When classes were over, you quickly found him after school. He was walking along a back road when you ran over to him.

“Felix!”

He froze, and slowly turned around when you called for him. You caught up to him, your eyes on his.

“Thank you for earlier... You didn’t have to do that.” You said, a small blush on your cheeks.

“It was nothing, I’ll see you later.” He said quickly, turning away.

“Is something wrong Felix?” You asked, walking beside him.

“No, I just have something to do. You should go home.” He said, his eyes not meeting yours.

“Why are you being the distant one now?” You asked.

He looked over at you, a sigh leaving his lips.

“Listen Y/N, I saw the way you looked at me last night when I told you. I know I’m bad for you...” He said lowly.

“Felix I was just in shock. I know you would never do anything bad to me.” You said.

Felix’s eyes were soft, his mouth opening to say something, when a bone chilling voice echoed in your ears.

“Brought the other freak along with you, huh Felix?”

You looked up and saw Seungcheol standing there, a few other guys behind him. Felix stepped in front of you, his eyes darkening.

“She wasn’t aware. Let her go home.” Felix said.

“Felix? What’s going on?” You asked, panic in your voice.

He didn’t say anything, he just kept himself in front of you.

“Let her go home? Why doesn’t she stay and watch while we beat the confidence out of you?” Seungcheol asked, a grin on his face.

“Can’t even take me in one on one?” Felix asked.

You grabbed Felix’s jacket, your eyes starting to brim with tears.

“Felix don’t! Why are you fighting? Why are you fighting him?” You asked, your voice shaking.

He looked back at you, his eyes soft.

“I told you, I��d beat him up if he continued to bother you.” He said.

He slid his jacket off his shoulders as the group of men began to approach you both.

“Go home Y/N.” He said. “I’ll be there soon.”

You grabbed his arm, giving him a pleading look.

“Felix don’t do this! Please!” You begged.

He didn’t look at you, he just pulled his arm out of your grasp as he stepped up to Seungcheol. Seungcheol had size on him, and your stomach dropped as he threw his fist into Felix’s face, catching him in his eye. You flinched at the sound of his fist coming back up and connecting with Felix’s jaw, making him stagger back.

“Not so tough now, huh Lee?” Seungcheol asked.

“Fuck off!” Felix growled, throwing a hit and punching Seungcheol in his nose.

Seungcheol backed up, clutching his bleeding nose.

“Get him.” He growled to the others.

They all ran into Felix, hitting him in any place they could. Felix fought back hard, taking hits and throwing his own. You backed into a wall, tears pouring down your face as one lifted Felix up and slammed him on the ground, the sound echoing in the empty back road. Felix pushed himself to his knees and was about to get up, when Seungcheol appeared and kicked him in the stomach, making him grunt as he landed back on the ground.

“You look good like that Lee.” Seungcheol said, kicking him in the cheek when he tried to get up again. “On your knees like the bitch you are.”

Felix flew up and knocked Seungcheol in his chest, getting him on the ground and punching his face. The others began to grab at Felix, punching him hard, but he ignored all of the hits. He just continued to beat Seungcheol’s face in. One was finally able to get him off, his fist cracking off of Felix’s face. Felix landed on the ground, slowly pushing himself up. Blood was dripping down from his face and the rips in his shirt, his knuckles cut open and bleeding. One of the men was about to hit Felix again, when you ran over and put your body over his, your arms around him, his face in your chest.

“Stop! He beat Seungcheol and he’s hurt! Leave him alone!” You sobbed, holding him tightly.

“Y-Y/N, move.” Felix rasped, trying to push himself up.

You kept your tight hold on him, your eyes on the man standing in front of you.

“.... I don’t hit women.” Is all the man said before he turned and helped Seungcheol up, bringing him away. “Next time, you won’t be so lucky.”

You sighed in relief, burying your face into Felix’s hair.

“Are you crazy?” He asked. “You could’ve gotten hurt!”

He pulled away and stopped when he saw your face. Tears were pouring down from your eyes, small sobs leaving your lips.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, stretching his bloody hand out to you.

“No.” You sobbed. “But you are.”

“Don’t cry...” He rasped, his hand touching your cheek. “Don’t shed anymore tears over me.”

You leaned foreword and buried your face into his chest as you sobbed. Your fingers shook as you clutched his shirt, your body shaking against his own. He held you like that, stroking your hair. You pulled away and took his blood face into your hands. His eye was swollen, his lips busted open, bruises painted across his face.

“You’re a mess.” You sobbed.

He gave you a pained smile as he wiped your tears, his eyes soft. “I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”

[assembledherethevolunteers]

Request 2

A/N: Hi, everybody! So, I got this request back in July from @theichabbieclub. I’m so so sorry this took so long, but we are FINALLY letting up on the mandatory overtime (and I need some good distraction from the total shitshow that is my country’s politics right now). I changed the request a little bit, but I hope you still enjoy it!

Pairing: John Deacon x fem!Reader Queen x fem!reader (platonic)

Summary: The band is recording at Rockfield. You were invited by the band to come watch them record ‘A Night At The Opera’. However, a farm takes a lot of work.

Warnings: None really

Taglist: @queenlover05 @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee @theblossomknows

 `I love my job. I love my job. I love my job,’ you kept chanting that mantra to yourself as you cleaned up the barn.

Working with Queen had been a dream come true for you, and getting to see them record what, according to Freddie, would be their crowning achievement (“Thus far”-again, according to Freddie) was something you couldn’t pass up.

You also thought that maybe you could get John alone at some point. And maybe you would get enough courage to tell him you had feelings for him.

However, you hadn’t been told that it would take place on a farm until you were halfway there. And you weren’t aware of how much work you all would have to put in to keep it going so that the owners would let them record there.

Every single muscle that you knew and some that you didn’t know the names of (you made a mental note to ask Roger) were aching and screaming at you. You’d been awake since before the sun trying to get as many chores done before recording and then you would watch the boys record and then back to chores before dinner. Then everybody would want to stay awake and spend some time together, meaning you usually didn’t get to bed until about midnight. You’d be lucky if you got four hours of sleep before you were awake again. Which would be fine if you could eventually catch up on your sleep, but you weren’t.

You were just about to start rounding up the chickens when you noticed a chill taking over your body. Even your teeth started to chatter. You started to get the chickens where they needed to be, but not quickly enough. It took you far too long because some of the hens thought that you were trying to attack their chicks instead of getting them somewhere safe.

You thought that you heard somebody yell your name, but you couldn’t be sure with the wind in your ears.

After what felt like hours, you finally got them where they needed to be and finished up the last of your chores. You were done. Not just with the chores, but the day. You were going to get something quick to eat and that was it. You were going to bed and God help whoever got in your way.

On your way into the house, you felt a little woozy. The whole ground seemed to be swaying. You blamed it on the wind throwing off your balance, even though you knew it was probably more than that.

Once you got in the door, you could smell somebody had made dinner. Something that made your stomach give a growl. You pulled your boots off and nearly fell over. You tried to stay on your feet as you walked through the house to the kitchen, but even that was proving a challenge. Maybe you should just go up and go to sleep.

“Y/N?”

You looked towards one of the boys, the one you assumed said your name, but then your vision went black.

“Holy…! Brian!” Freddie barked at him since he was the closest. “Grab her!”

Brian jumped from his seat and caught you before you completely crashed on the floor.

“Good God, what happened?” John stood up to help Brian steady you.

“No idea. Roger, I think you should look her over.”

“How am I going to be any help?” Roger shot back at Freddie, but got up to look you over nonetheless. “She’s out cold.”

“Thank you, Doctor Taylor,” John muttered, readjusting you so that you were in a better position.

“Oi!” Roger started, but Brian snapped at them.

“Can we fight over this later? She’s frozen to the bone.”

“I’ll get her a blanket,” Freddie announced before he dashed out of the kitchen.

“Where are we going to take her? I can’t just hold her all night,” John’s voice had a tinge of panic to it.

“Well, we can take her to your room,” Brian offered, trying to keep a cool head himself. “It’s the closest. And, if I remember right, you’ve got the biggest bed.”

“Fine, fine,” John replied as Freddie came back with the blankets from the den.  

The four of them gently moved you into John’s room, which was just down the hall.

 “We can’t…I mean, we…what are we supposed to do then?” John felt a blush come to his cheeks. Yes, he’d imagined you in his bed, but not like this.

“Y/N?” Freddie whispered, giving your shoulders a slight shake.

“Hm?” You hummed at him, not fully awake.

“We’ve got you in John’s room, love,” Freddie kept his voice low and soft. “Is that okay?”

You nodded, still mostly sleeping, but didn’t make a movement. You heard John’s name and it made you feel relaxed.

The four men looked at each other, none of them sure what to do.

“Are we just going to leave her here for the night?”

“What else do you suggest we do, Deaky?” Freddie lifted an eyebrow at him.

John looked to the other two for some sort of answer, but neither of them could come up with one either. John sighed and went to his dresser and grabbed one of his jumpers.

“Here,” John handed it to Freddie. “She’ll need something warmer.”

“Why don’t you help her with that, dear? We’ll go finish cleaning up in the kitchen,” Freddie began ushering out Brian and Roger, despite their looks of confusion.

John stared at the door that Freddie had just slammed shut. He then looked to you, barely awake.

“Y/N? Could um…could you put this on for me?” John held out the jumper to you.

You slowly opened your eyes, meeting John’s. You felt yourself smile.

“John, what are you doing here?”

John chuckled under his breath. “You’re in my room. I think I should be asking you that question.”

You looked around, confused as to how you got there. Then you looked at the bed. “I’m really tired.”

“Yes, you should get your sleep. I’ll let you have this,” John handed you the sweater. “And then you can get some sleep.”

You just nodded as you pulled the sweater on and fell back into the pillows.

John chuckled and shook his head. “No, come on, love, let’s get you under the blankets.”

You whined, but John continued to get you more comfortable in the bed so that you were wrapped up in the blankets.

“Stay,” you requested, grabbing John by his shirt.

“Y/N,” John began, trying to pull away. He didn’t want to take advantage of you in your state. Not that he would do anything. He just wasn’t sure that if you were fully awake you’d be asking him to stay with you.

“John, please stay.”

John sighed and got into the bed. He got himself comfortable and then froze when you rolled closer to him, practically on top of his arms.  John hesitated, but then wrapped his arms around you.

You burrowed yourself deeper into the warmth, barely hanging onto consciousness. You inhaled deeply and smiled to yourself. The smell made you feel safe.

“John,” you hummed out before finally totally falling into the darkness.

The next morning you woke up, almost sweating. You felt blankets all around you. You could feel the sun hitting your back, which was odd, because you usually were awake before the sun came up.

You finally opened your eyes and tried to figure out where you were. You came face to face with a chest. You looked up and saw a sleeping John Deacon holding you. You felt your heart begin to pound. You didn’t remember much of last night. The last thing you remembered was finally getting the chickens where they needed to be for the night.

When had you ended up in bed with John?

You tried to remember what happened last night, but it felt like you had been blackout drunk.

You started to move to try and get out of the bed without waking John. You were almost out of his arms when you heard a deep inhale. You sheepishly looked up and saw John sluggishly start to blink his green eyes. He finally looked down at you and gave you a sweet smile.

It made your heart melt a bit.

“Good morning, how’d you sleep?”

“A little hot,” you joked.

“Fair enough,” John started to untangle you from the mess of blankets around you.

As he slowly got you unraveled, you realized that you were wearing one of John’s jumpers.

“John? Is this yours?” You looked up at him.

“Oh,” John felt a little embarrassed, even though he wasn’t sure why. “Well, yes, because of what happened last night..”

“What even happened?” You cut John off.

John explained what had happened to you the night before, including the detail about why you had woken up in bed with him.

“...and then I… you…we woke up. I…I hope that’s all okay.”

You were quiet, mostly because you didn’t know what to say. You didn’t know the boys cared for you like that. Sure, they always referred to each other and some of the roadies as family, but you’d never thought of yourself included in that.

“I’m just…well, all of us really, are happy that you’re okay,” John told you, hoping to get some sort of response from you. “Some of us more than others.”

You looked at John with a raised eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

John cleared his throat and shifted his glance from you to the blankets. He picked at one of them before he met your eyes again.

“I’ve been thinking, and especially since last night, that maybe once we get back to London, you and I could, perhaps, spend some time together. Alone. Away from the rest of the band. Outside the studio. I mean, only if you actually want to and we could just…you know, get a drink? Go to a pub?” John held his breath.

You bit your bottom lip to keep a large smile on your face. You then leaned over and gave John a kiss on the cheek.

“I’d like that.” 

[marveloussupernerd]

Hey! I SWEAR I’LL STOP SENDING IN REQUESTS lmao but I really really enjoyed your jumin Halloween charity fic and recommended making a part two for Christmas time and you said to remind you in December and here we are! Obviously you don’t have to do it but I wish you a happy holidays nonetheless take care!

Aw literally don’t worry about it you are the absolutely sweetest and I love writing things for you !! Thank you SO MUCH for reminding me I’m all excited to write this now

Holiday Charity Stream (pt1) - Jumin

Summary: after the insane success of your Halloween live stream for charity, you’ve been asked to hold a Christmas one. This time there are fun games and some RFA guests too

This time you were ready for the event. Last stream was a little slow going because you weren’t used to such a large, diverse audience, but this time you felt a bit more confident. It was helpful too that the RFA members were going to be guests on the livestream, taking some of the slack off you.

Baby-wise things were going pretty well. You had just started your second trimester, thank goodness. Your morning sickness was gone and you even had a little bump to show for it. This was something people were always so excited about! But you chose to dress up in an oversized sweater. You didn’t want to feel self-conscious; even if you were pregnant, people always talked.

Shaking that thought from your mind, you made your way onto the couch next to your husband to get ready to start your stream. You were now streaming on five international channels and YouTube. It was exciting to see how much everyone enjoyed the last one!

“Are you feeling alright?” Jumin asked, placing a kiss to your forehead, resting a hand on gently on your stomach. “If you don’t feel well at any time, we can take over. It’s okay, really. Everyone will understand.”

“I know.” You smiled at him. “But I’m feeling really good actually. Super energized. Excited to raise some money and have fun.”

He chuckled, smiling fondly down at you. He was dressed in a cute Christmas sweater as well; you had convinced him that sweater Jumin > suit Jumin, at least for these livestreams. Made him far less intimidating. He said he was starting to look and dress like a dad. It made your heart flutter.

Jaehee came over and set a glass of water next to you. She had been shoving water down your throat all day. You half-glared at her. Any more water and you’d probably drown. You knew she was just looking out for you as a friend though.

“Don’t pout like that,” she fake-scoffed. Jumin straightened up upon hearing her tone. He must not have fully understood you and your friend’s dynamic. “Mr. Han, please make sure she keeps drinking. The lights are hot and I don’t want her to get sick.”

“I’m fine,” you rolled your eyes. You grabbed her hand though, shooting her a smile to let her know you were teasing her. “Thanks for watching out for me Jaehee.”

“We’re starting in 2. I’ll make sure everything is in order.” She excused herself, leaving you and your husband sitting in front of the bright lights and the camera.

“No big surprises this time, huh?” Jumin asked. The tech people came over and started hooking microphones on the two of you.

You leaned over to look him in the eyes. “I don’t think I could pull another one on you. What would it be? Twins?”

“I don’t know if we could handle twins,” he teased.

“I wish we would have gotten the baby’s sex by now. That could’ve been a fun thing to share too.” Oh well. Gender reveal parties were usually toxic anyways.

“Have you ever thought about keeping it a secret? Not finding out until they’re born?” He asked. The people moved away, finished with their job. There was a gleam in Jumin’s eye.

“Hmmm... if you want to then we can do that. Gonna be a pain to theme the room though.”

“Worth it.”

The cameraman started counting down the start of the stream, grabbing your attention. This time you’d open up the video.

“Hi everyone! Happy Holidays from the Hans! We are just so excited to be spending the holiday season with you and your family, and raising money for such a great cause.” You went on to explain a little bit about today’s charity, an organization that made gift packages for the Low income children in the city to make sure they got presents on their special holiday.

“Remember, please give what you can,” Jumin chimes in. “Also, I’ve heard word that those who donate a certain amount will be able to send us a message.” He looked over at you. “That’s kinda cute.”

You giggled. It was cute. “Today we’re going to have a few very special guests from our organization, the RFA, with us, and lots of fun challenges and games. It seems my poor husband has been living under a rock and missing out on a lot of fun holiday things.”

He chuckled again, rolling his eyes playfully at you. A top donation came in already! It was a news site. They thanked you for supporting such a good cause and then asked how far along you were.

“Oh! I’ve just entered my second trimester.” Your hand instinctively rested on your stomach. “I have the tiniest bump, but it’s one of those things where you swear you can see the difference but aren’t sure if it’s just you going crazy.”

Jumin’s hand joined your own, linking his fingers with yours. “It’s been very exciting. We’re anxious to meet the little one, but we’ve got a long way to go.”

“Now, for our first guest of the night, we have the musical actor Zen! Let’s all give him a warm welcome through the screen,” you segued.

Zen walked out onto the set. He was wearing a high necked black sweater. He looked very posh. The color contrasted well with his pale skin and hair. He looked all ready to go, but walked in with caution.

“Hi Zen!” You got up to go over and give him a hug. Jumin and him awkwardly shook hands. “We had to have you here first while the set was absolutely clear of any cat allergens.”

Jumin looked over at the camera, rolling his eyes, somewhat playfully. “He’s allergic,” he explained.

“Well I appreciate that.” Zen focused his attention on you, taking a seat next to you on the couch, you squished between the two men. “I’m so happy to be here today. What fun thing have you got planned?”

“Well, I thought we could do a finish that lyric, Christmas Carol edition! Jaehee picked the songs, so I don’t even know what’s going to play, that way I could take part in it too.” You had thought long and hard about different challenges that would highlight everything so wonderful about each of the members, and you’d be an idiot not to have Zen do something related to performing. Jumin didn’t have too bad of a voice either. It was a nice warm baritone. You liked it when he thought you were asleep and sang to the baby, soft enough that you could just barely hear. He really was the sweetest man and oh no you were definitely flushing.

Zen nudged you gently with his shoulder. “What a great idea! I’m excited to crush this one.”

Jumin quirked an eyebrow, chiming in: “Oh no, I’m going to crush this one.”

You decided to let them have their little rivalry. You were certain Jumin wouldn’t win, he never listened to the radio. Zen was a maybe, but you were semi confident in your own skills. You listened to holiday music all the time, especially in your childhood.

Jumin got the more traditional Christian ones. Oh Holy Night was all his. There were way too many verses for you to remember. Away in a Manger? Nailed it. Zen focused on the classic Christmas songs: Jingle Bells, Frosty, Rudolph. When things got a little newer and sometimes a bit more vague, that’s where you really stepped it up. Rocking Around the Christmas Tree, Christmas Wrapping. Dammit! Zen stole All I Want For Christmas Is You. That’s okay. Last Christmas, The Chipmunk Song. Thank goodness you were forced to watch the glee Christmas specials by one of your friends; they really covered all of these.

“It looks like it’s a tie.” Zen commented, looking down at the scoresheet. You and him had an even number of wins, Jumin trailing behind.

“No, you must’ve forgotten.” Jumin took the pen and paper and glanced at it. Zen was right. “Uh- my wife and I obviously count as a team. So we win.” He scratched his neck awkwardly. You and Zen just laughed, brushing him off. You’d have to force him to endure the Glee Christmas special eventually as well; it was the best way to learn all the songs.

You gave Zen a present to thank him for coming (a bountiful bouquet of roses), and sent him off. Time to answer some viewer questions while you waited for the next guest. Another glass of water was set next to you.

“What does Elizabeth the III want for Christmas?” You read off the question list. “Oh! I guess we can bring her out now that Zen is gone, huh?”

One of the workers let Elizabeth out of your bedroom and she strolled over to you, stretching then jumping on the top of the couch.

“If only I could talk to her to find out,” Jumin sighed wistfully. Oh no. You had to change the topic before he got another business idea.

“I’m sure what she really wants is a nap! She sure does love napping.” Your draw for attention was not subtle, but to Jumin it was. Jaehee wiped a bead of sweat off her forehead from behind the camera.

“And!” You added, cutting Jumin off before he could even think to say something, “speaking of animals, our next guest is currently studying to be a veterinarian. This is Yoosung Kim!”

Yoosung came onto the set, tripping over a cord that luckily was not connected to anything important. Jumin stood up quickly to make sure the poor boy didn’t fall, and Yoosung’s ears turned bright red out of embarrassment. “Sorry, it’s really bright up here.”

“I’m feeling the exact same way, trust me. Yoosung, do you wanna know what game I’ve planned for us this time?” You asked, trying to smooth over the embarrassment Yoosung must have felt.

“Sure!”

“We’re all going to be making gingerbread houses! Yoosung, I know you’re a good cook, so I’m going to leave one house to you, and I’m going to team up with Jumin to see if we can even attempt to build something that stands up,” you explained. The chef came in and placed the cookie pieces on a tray in front of you, white frosting already in piping bags and bowls of candy laid out.

“All the gingerbread is fresh-made. I’ve never built one of these but I’m quite excited to try,” Jumin grinned. He was being so sweet and enthusiastic about the stream; it was nice to see him so open to broadening his horizons.

You had ten minutes on the clock. When they started, you immediately got to work, explaining to Jumin how to do it. At first, he tried to stand up the pieces without any frosting to connect. Then you told the poor sweet boy that that is not how they work. You got to work piping a thick layer of frosting on the edges of the pieces to stick together, and left Jumin to hold them in place while the frosting hardened.

You glanced over at Yoosung. How did he glue everything together by now!? He was just one person. You tightened the top of your frosting bag, piping snow onto the roof. “You wanna line the top in candy? I think it’ll look cute,” you suggested to Jumin. “I’ll do the windows while you do that.”

Jumin nodded, grabbing gumdrops and nestling them into the pile of frosting on the roof. As you were piping a window into place, part of the roof fell on your frosting bag, squirting frosting all over the side of the house. “Jumin!” You squealed.

“Sorry. I think I pressed too hard.” He sounded stressed. He grabbed the roof and tried to stick it back on. “How much time do we have?” He asked Jaehee.

“Thirty seconds.”

“Thirty seconds!?” You exclaimed. “Hurry Jumin stick it back on!!!” You desperately tried to scrape the excess frosting off the wall of the house. Looks like you were losing this one.

“And time!”

You set the frosting bag down. You couldn’t stop giggling. You glanced over at Yoosung’s. It looked so good it could have been on the front of the ‘build your own’ kits. “Look at ours!” You told him, trying to contain your laughter.

The second you all turned to look the roof caved in and fell again. “It... has a skylight.” Jumin explained, trying to make up an excuse for why you would be missing HALF the roof.

“Why is there all that snow on the one side?” Yoosung asked. He seemed genuinely confused.

“Uh... blizzard came in from the North,” you explained.

Jumin chuckled at that one.

“Well that’s an awful place to have a skylight then. Wouldn’t it snow all over the house?” Why did Yoosung think this design was intentional? Did he hear all your frantic squealing?

“Uh... creativity.” Jumin shrugged. “We don’t need a judge. You can send the judge away. We can just give this one to Yoosung.” His cheeks were bright red; he obviously did not want to show off the current house, fully in shambles because of the two of you. It was honestly hysterical.

“And for your prize Yoosung we got you a LOLOL gift card!” You cheered, handing the card to Yoosung. He thanked the two of you for letting him join and gave you both a quick little hug. He was the absolute sweetest.

“We’ve got another comment this time around,” Jumin informed you, grabbing onto your hand and shifting closer to you to get more comfortable.

“Okay, you wanna read it?”

Jumin scooted closer to the screen so he could read it better. “They say ‘Hi! I love you two so much. You seem like the sweetest couple. Will you be my mom and dad?’” Jumin turned to look at you. “I don’t quite understand how that works.” Back to the camera. “You want us to adopt you?”

“Oh! Thank you for the message. Uhm, Honey, I think they mean like ‘internet mom and dad’” you explained.

“What’s that?”

“No adoption necessary. Just like... you know what? I don’t know how to explain it. I’d love to be your mom, so long as you don’t expect me to do anything ,” you told the camera, smiling widely.

“Sure okay. Then I can handle the role of dad.” Jumin shrugged. “We’re going to go for a five minute break now and then bring back some more guests for even more fun activities.”

You were super excited to bring in Jaehee and V. You were going to ask them to be the baby’s godparents. It was so exciting and so special, but right now, your main focus was that during this break you had to pee.

Part 2 coming soon :))