#French fry looks way older and I look way younger

[slocumjoe]

Do you have any grab-bag headcanons for the companions? (SFW or NSFW, whatever you're in teh mood for!)

COMPANION HEADCANON SAMPLE PLATTER PART 4 I THINK??

Cait; Actually pretty mellow as a person, like, down to her bones, she's...not quite laid back, but she isn't as hotheaded or firey as people think. Trauma and addiction will give you that reputation, though. Once she's off the chems, eased up on the booze, and gotten herself to a healthier place all around, Cait is more like your friend's older, alternative sister in college who buys you Pizza Hut for your sleepovers, than a loudmouth riot girl. It surprises Cait, too. She's got her own way of looking out for people, but once she's got your back, you know it.

Codsworth; functions as a stand-in secretary for the mayor of Sanctuary that is the Sole Survivor. Most people report or complain to him, if not Sturges or Preston. He has a better, less fallible memory, and has a knack for managing things on his own. Sure, sometimes "managing things on his own" means getting a group to fix the water system, sometimes it means personally torching a band of raiders scoping out the outskirts of town. He gets things done. Keeps meticulous record of anything he's told and anything he does "on the clock."

Curie; absolutely loathes working with Wasteland doctors. Very rarely do they stand up to her high, high standards. They have no degrees—understandable, there are no colleges anymore. They don't wash their hands. They don't have basic understanding of anatomy. They don't know what goes in the simplest medicine. Her greatest pet peeve is the more...superstitious healers. If you hold up a rock and say it fixes bones, Curie won't cuss you out, but you'll think for a moment, she just might. Her usual method of handling is to simply guide and educate where she can. But if the week has been full of people just sticking needles in places and praying, her nerves get shot to shit.

Danse; if you end up in a settlement, and Danse goes missing for a bit, just follow the sound of kids. He always attracts kids, drawn to his power armor. Sometimes they just want to watch it move, sometimes they have questions. Usually they want to be picked up. Danse is too soft to say no. He can end up stuck in a loop of playing with local kids, telling the child-friendly stories he has, maybe giving them some pointers with firearms or how to take down a wasteland monster. If you have to pull him way, his puppy eyes are sadder than any of the kids'. Always wanted to have a small family of his own, but resigned to the fact that he'd never have one.

Deacon; Polyglot, but can't speak any language beyond English. He can read other languages, though. Spanish and German are his strongest. This happened largely because his small school growing up had to use books that weren't wholly English. Things just spiraled from there. He can understand a few other languages, but speaking himself...he makes Curie cry with his French. As for his Italian, if he took out some of the, for lack of better word, Mario-isms, he'd be able to hold a conversation with Nick. As things stand, Nick starts hitting him with the fedora until he stops butchering the language.

Gage; really good with kids, though most take one look at him and see a monster. He tends to draw younger adults, fresh off their farm and new in the frying pan that is raider-dom. He usually tells them to go the fuck back home. Most of them aren't cut out for it. They're there because they're scared, they're hungry. They're angry. They want, want, want. Those kinds don't last. Once they're fed, they get the first payout, they get their first kill, they've had enough and want to go home. And Gage, he does get them back home, if they don't listen the first time. You tried. You saw what this life was like. You're still a kid. Go back home, don't tell your ma and pa what you did, and if you see anyone you just worked with, shoot to kill. He doesn't know why he does it. Why he lets them go.

Hancock; Could have been a championship chess player in another life, chems or not. He's smart as shit, quick on his feet, and can read someone's game before they even set it up. He learned to play chess from his neighbor in DC, an older Ghoul gentleman everyone just called Bubblegum. Bubs got his name for always having bubblegum on him, and giving pieces to whoever beat him or just improved at chess. Hancock liked gum, and his parents didn't allow it. So, he was always playing against Bubs after school, hoping to either win, or at least impress the guy enough to get another piece of candy. Bubblegum moved west after the Ghoul exile, but Hancock likes teaching the few young'uns of Goodneighbor chess and any other tricks he knows. If they catch on, they get a gum.

MacCready; Actually a rather quiet, withdrawn person. People he likes/gets close to tend to think of him as more extroverted, more of a rowdy young man like you'd think. Nope. He gets that way once he's really comfortable with someone. If he's not...doesn't talk much. If it's business, he's a bit more sociable, but Mac isn't the type to, say, chat at the bar with strangers, or make small talk with a shop owner. It's a mix of shyness and his more brusque side. If he sticks around one place, he'll open up, and such is the case with Goodneighbor, but if they remember him at all, majority of people will remember thinking he was mute.

Nick; Was a theater kid. The moment he could go into theater at school, he did, and it consumed his teenage years. His favorite play to perform was Hamlet, obviously, and even at a young age, he had a strong voice, so he was often the titular character. This gave him a complex. You don't recite Poe unprovoked without being a little bit pretensious. Aside from the Theater Kid Ego, Nick was different from his peers in that he lacked mental illness (it would come later). Half of his negotiation and de-escalation skills were honed to a fine point, trying to keep Heather and Back Up Veronica #4 from trying to method-act. Nick would later stare down gun barrels and feel less fear.

Piper; Potentially suffers from arthritis, or will in the future. It could be from overworking her hands from writing, or fiddling with her printing press, but the first knuckles on her hands and her wrist joints ache frequently. The pain varies, but putting pressure on her hands usually helps, hence her fondness for fingerless gloves. She wears them a bit too small for the pressure. Piper can always tell when its about to rain or radstorm, because her hands flare up. She jokes that its a superpower, but suffers from anxiety about potentially struggling to use her hands, if she gets older.

Preston; there are few ways to really aggravate Preston, but if you wanna, restrain any limb in any capacity, or touch him from behind or to the side. Y'know how people will sometimes grab another's arm, like, while laughing, but quickly let go and not mean much by it? Preston hates it. He doesn't like any limb being pushed down or held back. As for the touching from behind, he's a bit like a horse. Approach from the front and telegraph the movement. If you try to hug him from behind, or read over his shoulder, God forbid lean on it, you're cruising for an elbow to the crotch. He doesn't mean to, it's just muscle memory, instinct.

X6-88; nosy bitch. He wants to know everything about everyone, and will shamelessly and explicitly poke and prod to get the information. This man will ask pointed questions about your husband that you don't want to answer, not just because it's X6 and you don't know him, but because you don't want to know the answer. He's that kind of person. Oh, you complain about your child? Well, why did you have one? Didn't want an abortion? Kept it for the husband? Well, do you like your husband? No? Did he even want kids? Also no? So, why did you have a kid? Sometimes, X6 isn't even trying to be deliberately confrontational, like a therapist from hell. He has moment of honest, if not overzealous, curiosity. But most of the time, he's just throwing shit in your face.

[zhayilaa]

im currently listening to blonde by frank ocean sobbing lol. i really, really miss my dad. and i don't know why. he passed dec 16 last year and yes of course i've missed him since then but not this hard and deeply. like when i think of him my chest gets heavyyy. he's always ALWAYS on my mind. i was a big daddy's girl. i always was proud to have a dad like him. he was so cool. i feel like when you have older siblings, you look up to them and copy their clothes, their interests, be annoying and stuff. im an only child. so in a way i looked up to my dad like that. i am in love with music. he had a big love for all kinds of music ever since he was a kid. when i would buy a new vinyl i would look to him for validation. he loved cooking. i mean it was a passion of his, he didn't find that passion till later in life but it was a big love language of his. i want to learn to cook a lot of my favs he cooked when i was a kid like his french toast i loved, and his stir fry. and his fish tacos. his tacos de lengua was BOMB. i feel like i can't talk to anyone about this. whats so weird is i wish i could talk to my own dad about losing him. his dad died when he was only 13. he was younger then me. he would be the perfect person to talk to about this. he would know how to comfort me. i hate that he's gone. this is so unfair. i miss him so much.

don't think anyone will see this, but if you do sorry for maybe being weird or too personal. lol.

[danaya2021]

How To Lose Weight Fast, According To Experts

Implement Long-Term Lifestyle and Behavior Changes When trying to lose weight, ban the word “diet,” suggests Albertson. Dieting can be unpleasant and make you hungry, so you constantly think about food, which is exactly what you don’t want when trying to lose weight. Instead, she recommends thinking of weight loss as a part of getting healthier and concentrating on taking care of your body first. “Weight loss is complicated and you don’t have total control over the number on the scale, but you do have control over what you eat, how much you move and other factors that impact weight, such as stress and sleep,” says Albertson. She suggests setting SMART—specific, measurable, achievable, relevant and time-sensitive—goals and rewarding yourself when you hit them.

Focus on the First 5% to 10% Instead of saying, “I need to lose 25 pounds,” and overwhelming yourself with what seems like an impossible goal, look toward the health benefits that can come from even modest weight loss. “Set smaller, achievable targets,” suggests Bennett. “Losing only 5% to 10% of your total body weight (TBW) can greatly improve your health and lower your risk for illnesses, such as type 2 diabetes, stroke, cardiovascular disease and certain types of cancer.”

Reduce Your Intake of Ultra-Processed Carbs and Sweets A study in the Journal of the American Medical Association reveals what you eat is most important for weight loss[4]. The pounds will come off more quickly if you improve the quality of the foods you ingest. “One of the healthiest ways to shed weight is to reduce your intake of sugar and rapidly metabolized carbohydrates,” says Bennett. “In particular, you want to cut out or drastically curtail your intake of high-glycemic-load foods, such as sugary snacks, processed carbs and soft drinks. When you avoid or cut back on French fries, chips, crackers and the like, you’ll speed up your weight loss.”

Eat More Plants Research shows a plant-based diet not only promotes weight loss, but is also easier to stick to than a low-calorie diet[5]. Plus, it’s nutrient dense and has numerous health benefits. “Produce supports weight loss because it’s rich in fiber and water, which are both calorie-free yet take up space in your stomach so you feel full,” says Albertson. In fact, a Brazilian study found a direct correlation between increased fruit and vegetable consumption and enhanced weight loss[6]. Albertson suggests aiming to consume five daily servings of produce to start and working up to seven to nine servings a day. “Start your day with a green smoothie, have a salad or cut up vegetables with your lunch and eat fruit for snacks and desserts,” she says. “For supper, have more stir frys, incorporate veggies into your pasta dishes and stir them into soups.”

Pump Up Your Protein Increasing your protein consumption can help reduce appetite and help prevent the loss of muscle mass. “Eating around 25 to 30 grams of protein—two scoops of protein powder or 4 ounces of chicken breast—per meal can improve appetite control and manage your body weight,” says Dr. Albertson. “The best way to do it is to make sure you have one serving of high-quality protein per meal.” Albertson also says women older than 50 need significantly more protein (1 to 1.5 grams per kilogram of body weight daily) than men and younger women (who require .8 grams of protein per kilogram of body weight daily). “Women need more protein after 50, especially as they approach menopause, because decreases in the hormone estrogen result in a loss of skeletal muscle mass, strength and regenerative capacity,” she explains.

Drink More Water Research shows drinking more water is associated with weight loss independent of diet and exercise. Ample water intake can help increase satiety and combat sugar cravings. Water is also necessary for lipolysis, the body’s process of burning fat for energy. “I suggest following the eight by eight rule—8 ounces of water eight times throughout the day—for a minimum water intake recommendation,” says Florida-based celebrity trainer Jordan Morello who works for the fitness platform Sweat Factor. “My clients are usually surprised once they add this [rule] into their own routine [by] how much this simple thing can curb cravings and leave you more satiated throughout the day.” Another water trick? Try drinking two cups of water before each meal. Studies have shown this simple move can increase weight loss as well.

If you want to know more and faster ways to lose weight, you can check this.

Thank you, Be fit and happy!

[ladysunnilicious]

Fight me @lazyfrenchfrycollection

[hurtthemgently]

Ok but I NEED to ask about Çeran. Dude's named after Saran wrap, has the letter Ç in his name despite not being French at all, instead being half Celtic and half Indonesian (and belonging to one of those cultures, you're right when you say no one's named Çeran in either culture lol). He's a little absurd but in the most interesting way. I adore him. What is his story? How did his parents meet? How did he get his name (in-story, like did his parents give him that or did he choose it himself)? What was going through your mind as you made these details about him? What does he look like?

Okay so- the first piece I wrote in the story, both Ceran and the faerie were unnamed, I kind of intended it to be more of a prompt, but I liked the idea so I kept writing.

When I came up with Ceran’s name, I was cooking a stir fry while writing pt2, and the Saran Wrap is in the same drawer as the cornstarch (used to thicken sauce). This is also why chicken stir fry appears in pt4

The first family member I came up with for him is an older sister who’s usually the one who comes and bails him out whenever he’s in trouble.

Ceran’s father is a conjuror and vampire from one of the less powerful clans, and that clan was split up by hunters. After traveling, he eventually found the clan Ceran’s mother is now the head of, and they got married. They’re currently split up due to moral differences tho.

Ceran also has a younger half brother on his mothers side

Currently his mother, sister, and half brother all live with the clan in Indonesia, while he moved to Canada for a guy, who then broke up with him. I still have to come up with names for these people and I’ll do that when I have time to sit down and do some research.

He also has some small magic capabilities, mostly his affluence for technomancy. He uses it for mechanics.

I have no idea how to resolve the name issue…The cedilla is not cannon tho, just a joke on my part. I’m actually pretty sure there’s no real history behind the name Ceran, the closest thing is maybe Seren, a Welsh name meaning star

I’m also not great at describing appearances (mild aphantasia lol) but he has short dark hair that’s slightly curly, and is pretty tall. He’s more pale than his sister after spending a bunch of time in a place that’s so cloudy, but he’s still more tan than most of the people in this tiny fictional Canadian port town. He usually wears a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and wears fake glasses in public to throw suspicions (everyone can tell they’re fake)

[treasure-hwa]

as stubborn as you

pairing: seonghwa x female reader

genre: fluff, comedy, a tentative of enemies to lovers

synopsis: it's been a long way since they were kids and best friends. They consider themselves arch-enemies, but are they really?

word count: 4528

author's note: I took TOO LONG to write this one, I know! But it’s here and it’s here on this precious star’s birthday!!! I hope you all enjoy reading this. By the way, yes, I changed the story from “pocky challenge” to “pepero challenge”.

taglist: @winterviolet1 @multidreams-and-desires @ateezinmymind @devil-mp3 @little-precious-baby @hwaddict @trinityhasjams @hwa-luvs because when I did my little survey on what should I write, you voted for Hwa <3 @suni-ho

The doorbell rang and, from the bathroom, you heard your brother yelling for you to get the door. You rolled your eyes and took a deep breath, preparing yourself to see that boy's face and try not to punch it. As you opened the door, a body crashed on yours and you didn't even need to see the face to see who it was.

— Wooyoung!

— Babe!

He kissed your cheek and moved away so the other boys could greet you too, but the last one barely looked at you, he seemed displeased to see you there, as if you didn't have the right to be at your own house. It was enough to see him at school, but in your house too?

Who is he, the reader must be asking. He was Park Seonghwa, your arch-enemy. How does one become an arch-enemy? Easy. Park Seonghwa was incredibly annoying and too perfect at everything he did, which was a lot. Class president, student council, volleyball and soccer player and dancer. To top it all, unfortunately, he was your younger brother's best friend and a member of your friend group, so you saw each other too often.

Didn't Yeosang, your brother, know how much you disliked his friend? You both were constantly picking on each other, everything the other said was a reason to eye rolls and scoffs. Quite annoying and immature of you two, the group friend thought, even if they were used by that now.

— Hi, guys, — Yeosang came out of the bathroom, sat on the couch beside Hongjoong and looked at you and his older friend on the door. — Are you two gonna spend the whole afternoon there?

Seonghwa smirked and let out the first teasing of the day:

— I know I’m a very important person, but you don’t need to wait for me to get in and sit to do the same.

You breathed deeply and pushed the door close, almost slamming it.

— Anyways… what are we doing today?

— I brought my new dancing game! — Yunho exclaimed and took the game out of his backpack. — Who wants to play it?

Everybody raised their hands and started asking if they could dance to certain songs, and to your surprise, Seonghwa said the same song you did, and it only fueled him to win over you, because that was one of his favorite songs, he had to be better. Everybody was shocked that you two had at least one thing in common.

— You dance? Since when? I thought your motor coordination was super bad — Seonghwa teased, raising an eyebrow.

— For your information, yes, I do dance and I am very good at it, thank you.

— Up for a challenge?

You two glared at each other, if you were a cartoon, there would be fire on your eyes. Most of the time, your group friend would hate your competitiveness, but it could be fun right now, so they rushed you to get up and Yunho put on the dance game.

It was a girl group song, in which you knew he was amazing at dancing, just as perfect as he was on all the other things he did, but even knowing that, you had to do better, so both put heart and soul on the performance, moving bodies exactly like the figure on the TV was doing.

By the end of the dance, you were panting, sweating and collapsed on the floor. Wooyoung quickly jumped over Seonghwa's body to sit behind you and put your head on his lap, complimenting your dance skills.

— Was it worth it? Did you have fun? — Jongho asked, looking at you, not amused at all.

— Of course… it was. I was… better — Seonghwa spoke between inhaling and exhaling air.

— You weren’t! I was!

— Ha! As if! I am the best.

— Listen here, Park...

— Here we go again. 

— Mom, mom!

— In the backyard!

Seven-year-old you had just arrived from school, your dad went to pick you up, while your mother went to pick your younger brother from his school. You ran to the backyard just to be greeted with a tight hug from a slightly smaller boy, that was not Yeosang, still in his school uniform.

— Noona!

— Wooyoung! — You laughed and hugged your brother’s best friend back. — I’ll play with you and Yeosang in a second, okay?

He nodded and went back to the other boy playing ball. You went to your mother and told her:

— Mom, I need to do a project in a group with two boys.

— Really? And are they your friends?

— No. — You pouted. — I don’t know them well.

— There is no problem, sweetheart, ask them for their phone numbers and I’ll call their parents to invite them over so you can work on the project. Does that sound good?

— Yes, mom, thanks!

Then, you ran towards the two six-year-old boys running, playing a weird kind of two-people tag.

In the same week, your mother called the boys' parents and scheduled a day for them to come to your house. When they arrived, you smiled big and welcomed them, they were Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

After some minutes of talking, you noticed Hongjoong talked more and had a nice colorful backpack, which he proudly showed saying his mom had painted it for him. Excited, you told him he should be the group leader since he looked confident in everything. Seonghwa was quieter, but heard and looked at everything attentively, so he agreed with you. Even if he was older, Hongjoong sounded more suited for the position.

When you were doing the project, colouring and writing, a loud voice and quick footsteps were heard, coming closer to the living room, where the three of you were. The voice owner was Wooyoung, who came to play with Yeosang again, however he changed his path to see you first and didn't like seeing another guy so close to you, looking at what you were writing and speaking quietly to not disturb anyone.

— Noona! Who is he?

— Oh, hi, Woo! They are my friends, Hongjoong — you pointed to the boy across you with the mullet, — and Seonghwa — you pointed to the boy beside you, wearing a red hoodie. — We are doing school stuff.

The boys waved to the younger one.

— I didn't know you had a brother — Seonghwa said.

— I do, but it isn't him, Woo is my brother's best friend. I can introduce you to Yeosang later.

And you did when it was break time. Your mother prepared snacks for the five kids and called all of you to sit at the dinner table, where your friends met your brother and they instantly clicked, though Yeosang was a little shy around strangers.

— Wooyoung! Don’t make a mess — you warned him and cleaned his cheek.

— Sorry~

Seonghwa and Wooyoung weren't the best of the friends right from the start and they still had little fights over the years, but you never understood them. Their friendship definitely grew though.

That was the beginning of the group, when you and Seonghwa were super friends. The others just came along the way.

The restaurant table was large enough for the nine of you, having a booth around its three sides, however Wooyoung insisted on coming closer to you, which didn’t make you uncomfortable at all. You had discussed it before, your feelings hadn't changed since you were little kids, you would always be best friends, you would be his noona and he would be your dongsaeng. The flirt and teasing was just for comedy. He was just a super sweet person who had to give love to who he loved the most, and you accepted his love because it was him.

— Wooyoung, we can't just drown ourselves in this gigantic glass of soda! You are crazy if you think I'm swallowing all this in seconds.

— You are just a coward.

— Hey, that's no way to talk to your noona! — You took the glass out of his hand, then held his face.

— Oh, shut up — he rolled his eyes fondly.

— Make me.

The moment was broken by an annoyed voice:

— Why don’t you two just get a freaking room? We don’t want to see your flirting.

You scoffed and diverted your eyes from Wooyoung, who was now grinning, and placed them on Seonghwa, who was sitting at the extremity of the booth, sipping his soda and looking out of the big window.

— Are you jealous, Seonghwa?

— Huh, you wish!

— Never in a million years. — You threw a saggy french fry on him, and the boy gave you a murderous look, ready to throw it back on you, but everybody stopped you two before things could get violent and you all were banned from the restaurant.

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— I just can't stand him!

— Yet, you talk about him every time you get the chance — Yeosang spoke nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on his video-game.

— But I'm complaining about his behavior.

— You just hate that he is better than you in certain things — he mumbled back.

You inhaled deeply, remembering how your scores on that dance game were always close to his, but never better.

— It's not that… he just annoys me.

Yeosang was right, but you would never agree outloud. When you were thirteen, Seonghwa started being the best student of the class, the best boy of the school, the most talented, everybody loved him. You were just there, beside him, even if you were a great student too, nobody really paid attention to you.

It came a time where not even Seonghwa would pay attention to you. He would hang out with his new friends, with Hongjoong, with the group, but only when you weren’t with them. He talked to you just the bare minimum and it hurted that it seemed like the “fame”  he had in school got to his head. Seonghwa wasn’t the same quiet boy you had met when you were seven, so you decided to not be the excited girl you were back then with him.

★━━━━━━✩━━━━━━★

— But seriously, when will Wooyoung just ask her out? It's getting annoying how he never makes a real move.

Hongjoong paid attention to what his friend was talking even if he was choosing new clothes, but the boy didn't believe what he had just heard.

— What are you even talking about, Seonghwa? You know he doesn't like her like that. They are just super close friends.

— I don't know, something on those two just doesn't smell good.

— Yeah, that's your jealousy, because he is still her friend, but you are not. Now, let's go, I'll try this one.

Jealousy? Pff, please! The boy thought while he followed Hongjoong to the fitting room. Why would he be jealous? Just because you chose Wooyoung over him? It was no big deal, Wooyoung was your friend before he had showed up in your life. Sure it annoyed him when you all were younger that you kept meeting up with Wooyoung, when Wooyoung wasn’t present in the group because he was watching a movie with you, when Wooyoung was always hugging you out of nowhere... he may have distanced himself that time.

But it wasn’t jealousy, he convinced himself. Not now. He had nothing to be jealousy of if he didn’t even like you.

★━━━━━━✩━━━━━━★

Two weeks later, now at Jongho's house, you had a full studying day. While you, Hongjoong and Seonghwa were in the last year of high school, Yeosang, Yunho, Wooyoung, San and Mingi were in their second year and Jongho was alone in first year. He saw it as an opportunity to nag his hyungs and noona to help him. Needless to say, no one resisted him that long.

The studying session, however, was messy. Snacks crumbles were all over the place, covering books and the floor, San even dropped his chocolate milk on the table. You had a break time to eat something real, so Jongho and Yunho poured soda on glasses and everybody made their own sandwiches to their own likes. Later, you ate ice cream and had to hear a long discussion about mint choco ice cream between San and Hongjoong. You were about to scream, but Seonghwa took a napkin and pressed it against San’s mouth, saying “shut up! I don’t wanna hear any more words”. It worked.

After the studying was over, it was clean time. While you liked everything clean, you hated cleaning, so of course you didn't volunteer yourself. But, through a rock, paper, scissors game, it was decided that you and Seonghwa would do the dishes and clean the living room while Yeosang, Yunho and Hongjoong went to get real dinner. The others went to lay in the backyard and "breath fresh air since the weather is so nice".

— Do you think it is a good idea to let them together? They hate each other. — Yunho commented while Hongjoong started his old car.

— They really don't — Hongjoong answered. Yeosang agreed.

While that, you and Seonghwa were washing plates and throwing knives at each other. Not literally though. Not yet.

— Why are you so bad at rock, paper, scissors? — He teased. — You hate cleaning, should have done better.

— Me?! You were the one who played late and still lost! What did you even do that?

— Well, because I…

You didn’t let him finish, because your head was almost exploding, so you threw drops of water on his face, which soon expressed pure shock. Quickly, he wetted his hands and did the same to you.

— Are you a child?!

— Are you made of sugar?

So a water war started, leaving you both with humid hair and wet faces. It only ended because you slipped on droplets of water on the floor and he caught you before you could hit your head on the counter behind you. When he pulled you forward, you collided with his chest and was at a loss for words for some seconds.

— Are you alright?

You nodded slowly and got away from him when you heard the boys were coming back inside.

★━━━━━━✩━━━━━━★

When your birthday came, you were excited and welcomed all the boys and a few girl friends, who couldn't understand why you disliked Seonghwa that much. The boy was perfect and so nice with everyone. You would always roll your eyes with that. Anyways, they all gave you gifts and enjoyed the small party, one of them hoping to see a certain friend of yours. You would play cupid someday. 

Wooyoung entered your house jumping on you as always, kissing your cheek and screaming "happy birthday!". He was a cutie, but, one day, you would lose your hearing. Seonghwa came last and gave you a square shaped gift, not hugging you, just shaking your hand and offering a pause on the rivalry.

— It's your birthday, you should be happy and be better than me at least today.

You smiled, thanked him, but still squeezed his hand until he was saying sorry.

— Come on in, try not to be a pain in the ass. I know sometimes you can’t control it.

— You are it! Ah, nice outfit by the way.

You chuckled and rolled your eyes, taking his gift to your room, you would open all of them later. When you came back to your party, you saw one of your girl friends talking to Seonghwa and… laughing hard? What was wrong with her? He wasn’t even funny.

— Planning his murder again? — Hongjoong bumped his shoulder with yours, following your eyes to Seonghwa.

— What? No! I mean, yes. All the time.

— You can’t fool me, stop lying.

— I’m not lying. He’s here just because he is part of the group.

— You know… he has been talking to me about you.

— Has he? What did he say? — you answered eagerly.

The boy laughed and shook his head.

— I think he doesn’t like how Wooyoung is so close to you.

— Well, it sounds like a him problem — you mumbled. — We are just friends.

While you changed the topic and diverted your attention from the other boy, Seonghwa had excused himself from your friend and went to take a glass of soda. Yeosang followed his friend and asked if he had brought a gift.

— Of course I did. We may be arch-enemies, but it’s her birthday. I know how to be decent.

— And what did you give her? I hope it’s not a bomb.

— It isn’t. — He gave a small smile, but hid it behind his glass.

★━━━━━━✩━━━━━━★

When you were alone in your room, you opened the gifts you had received. They were all very nice, you loved them all, but Seonghwa’s probably got deeper to your heart. It was simple, nothing fancy, but held memories of when you were little kids.

— Hwa! You came!

— Of course I did! Is Wooyoung here? — He peeked inside your house. — It’s quiet.

— He is not. — You laughed. — Yeosang went to his house, so today is just me and you. And my mom, but me and you! Hongjoong couldn’t come, he had guitar lessons.

The boy nodded and widened his eyes before speaking again:

— My mom made cookies for us. I-I helped her. — He smiled and handed you a pretty pink container with chocolate cookies inside.

— Really?! That’s so cool! Thank you, Hwa.

That day, you sat around the living room center table, ate the delicious cookies that he insisted on not telling you the recipe, with crayons, colored pencils and paper scattered around you while you two drew and painted several things. You ended up drawing the two of you plus Hongjoong, to symbolize the best friends group formed two years ago in school, but, when you exchanged drawings at the end of the day, you noticed he had drawn only you and him eating cookies and hearts and flowers. It was pretty, so you kissed his cheek before he entered his car.

So, yes, when you saw the same pink container with the same special cookies — you have always loved them, but Seonghwa never told you the recipe — and the drawing you had made years ago inside the gift wrapping, your heart might have clenched and your eyes stung with tears. You kind of missed the old times.

★━━━━━━✩━━━━━━★

Joining the boys that night was an idiot choice. You realized that the moment Mingi suggested playing Truth or Dare. Why did he even suggest that? Everybody agreed excitedly, so it was a dead end, at least it wasn't like they would order you to kiss any of them.

But you were wrong. You were so wrong.

As the bottle spun and stopped at you and Yeosang, you knew he would have no mercy. He asked the question and, for some unknown reason, you answered dare. Maybe you would like to see what he had in mind.

Not good things, you concluded after he said "do the pepero game with Seonghwa". You and the boy choked on your own saliva, looking away for a moment. San took the candy out of its package and offered it to his friend.

— Seonghwa? No way. Step aside, I can do this for you — Wooyoung suggested, winking to you, making you smirk playfully.

— No. I’ll do it — the eldest spoke up, making your eyes widen.

Seonghwa took the chocolate stick from San's hand and placed one of the ends between his perfect teeth. Rolling your eyes, but sweating on the inside, you got closer and refused to touch him in any way, which he approved. You put the pepero in your mouth and when San said “start!”, both your and Seonghwa’s mouths got closer, going forward on the stick.

Nobody thought you two would really do it, they actually expected you to poke each other’s eyes with the candy at the moment Yeosang set the dare. But you loved a challenge, so maybe that was why you two were not stopping.  Seonghwa’s hand went to the side of your neck, thumb placed gently on your jaw, and, surprisingly, you said nothing, just kept getting closer and closer, dangerously close.

— Will they… — Jongho started, but did not finish as an impossible scene was happening in front of his eyes. — They are....

The dark chocolate pepero disappeared inside your mouths as they were glued together, sharing a rather steamy kiss. Your hands were entangled in his gray hair and your mind could only think “his hair is soft, his tongue is soft, his lips too and they are so skillful”.

You kept going until Yunho came back from the bathroom and yelled at surprise. At that moment, your minds seemed to clear from some kind of hypnosis and you pushed each other far. You exclaimed “who wants more soda?” and ran to the kitchen, while Seonghwa rested his back on the couch behind him and wiped his mouth with his shirt.

Yeosang went after his sister and the other six boys glared at Seonghwa with a confused look, demanding an explanation. In the kitchen, you downed glasses of water as if they were vodka shots.

— What are you doing?

— Taking his disgusting taste out of my mouth.

Your brother took your shoulders and turned you to him, looking deep in your eyes.

— Stop lying to yourself — he whisper-yelled to your face. — You like him, it’s okay!

— I don’t! It was just…

From the living room, you heard Mingi shouting:

— I can’t believe you really did the Pepero challenge with her! Isn't her your rival or something like that?

— Yes, of course. And? — Seonghwa answered, trying to sound nonchalant while fixing the strands you messed.

— Dude, you just kissed her instead of stopping eating the candy. You’re not rivals. — Yunho slapped his shoulder, as if he was comforting the friend.

— We are! I didn’t even like their kiss that much.

You couldn’t contain yourself, so you shouted back for him to listen:

— Oh, yes, Park Seonghwa, sure you didn’t like my kiss, but maybe you should tell that to your tongue. That was disgusting!

An ovation was heard from the boys and Seonghwa stomped to the kitchen, meeting you in the middle of the way.

— Disgusting, you say now, but your tongue sure didn’t mind when it joined mine. And your hands! They… They were all over my hair! — His fingers pushed his hair back and, once again, you thought how soft it was. — Stop staring!

After shaking your head, you noticed a faint blush on his cheeks and his eyes were restless, searching a safe spot to look at.

— But you held my neck first! You’re not any better.

— Do you two want a little… private time to discuss your feelings? — Yeosang tried, holding a laugh in, because, yes, it was very funny how you and Seonghwa tried to deny your feelings, when he knew this mutual hate was nothing more than masked desire bullshit.

— No! — both shouted together.

Before you run up the stairs to your bedroom, you stuttered and attacked:

— Your… your breath stink!

His eyes widened and of course he could not let you have the last word, let alone those words, so, yes, he followed you, shouting “it doesn’t!”. Your brother laughed at the way the boy’s cheeks were even redder and went back to the living room, offering to watch a movie to his other friends.

Seonghwa arrived at your room before you could close the door and held it with his foot.

— Go away, freak.

— No! Take it back.

— Take what back, Seonghwa? — you sighed, getting tired from the situation.

— My breath doesn’t stink. Take that back.

— I’ll need to check again.

All your movements ceased when you realized what you had said. The boy was still processing if he heard correctly. You left your spot by the door and threw yourself on the bed.

— Did you really say what I think you did?

— Depends. — Your voice came out muffled by the pillow. — What do you think you heard?

As the mattress dipped with additional weight, you shut your eyes, not wanting to look at him. You had basically confessed, right? Slowly, you sat up and kept your stare at your fingers, playing with them if they were the most interesting thing you had ever seen.

— I’m so-

— What are you waiting for then? Kiss me again and check it.

Your eyes widened and you turned your whole body to him. Seonghwa didn’t want to waste any more time, so he cupped a side of your face and leaned in to get your lips with his. The boy’s mouth was moving with yours slowly, tasting it the best he could and his breath definitely didn’t stink.

Going past the shock, your hands went up to his hair once again, caressing his nape and slightly pulling him closer to you, because it was the best kiss you have ever had — among three: your first one, the one that happened earlier that night and the present one —, but still wasn’t enough. Seonghwa’s kisses had plenty of the feelings that your first kiss with your pre-adolescence crush lacked, and you were already addicted. Call it whatever, but you secretly hoped he would kiss you forever.

This desire, however, couldn’t be fulfilled, because air was a thing and apparently you had to get it, but the kiss sure left you feeling on cloud nine.

— So… — he said low, his breath fanning over your wet lips. — Does my breath stink?

— Yeah… no. You’re free of this.

You opened your eyes slowly only to be met with a pair of big, round, shining eyes. The shining eyes you would always notice when you were kids.

— Hey, uhm… I know we are arch-enemies, but… — The boy scratched his neck, looking away from you. — What if we were arch-enemies with benefits?

You wanted to laugh and tease him, but the offer was interesting, so you asked more information about the concept.

— Like… we can hug, kiss, talk, maybe hang out together, but we still tease and compete with each other?

Reader must now be laughing at how silly the boy was, but he looked 100% serious and you gave it a thought before agreeing.

— If I get to kiss and tease you, it’s okay for me.

He chuckled and pulled you to another kiss, that didn’t last because you two were giggling and smiling too much.

— Can we hang out together soon? Just the two of us, I mean. — He caressed your cheek, noticing how it was warm.

— Like a date?

He stumbled on his own words, but nodded.

— Like a date.

— You are so whipped for me, Seonghwa.

— Shut up!

[paradisewithinpain]

random haikyuu headcanons cause i can

there might be some time skip spoilers in here fyi

tendou listens to mother mother religiously and somehow put goshiki on it too

suga was the type of kid who picked up bugs that made their way into the house and put them back outside

kenma hates conflict and mutes his mic when the people he plays with argue

daichi cannot stand the texture of applesauce

bokuto's favorite book is the sun is also a star

ushijima watches hallmark and finds it endearing

makki and matsukawa both own maid dresses and wear them at least once a month to gain more followers on tik tok

atsumu really wants to learn how to cook so he can spend more time with osamu so he learns recipes to try and impress him

aone has a baby cousin that absolutely adores him and is the only reason he hasn't lost hope when interacting with kids

akaashi draws hands to make him feel better about his own

sakusa despises black coffee despite his demeanor

hinata and natsu have weekly sibling nights where they just sit and talk

iwaizumi doesnt believe in spirits or anything but everytime the seijoh four go ghost hunting, ghosts always mess with him and only him

ennoshita sleeps with two specific pillows and cannot sleep without both of them

fukanaga tells jokes because he has a really heard time conversating with others

kiyoko looks good in any color

ukai once dyed his hair red on a dare and it actually looked good

omimi took a summer job at an amusement park and he absolutely loved it

lev can sing but nobody takes him seriously when he says it but is too nervous to actually sing

akagi refuses to bite into his string cheese, he doesnt care how dirty his hands are, he has to peel it

kyoutani's (maddog) older sister (pretty sure it's canon) is the only person who's genuinely seen him cry because she's the only person he feels comfortable with

tanaka and nishinoya once made out as 'bros' and that was when they both realized they liked guys

terushima once tried jumping a fence and cut his leg really bad you could see the bone, the scar runs from mid calf all the way to his knee

yachi hosted an exchange student when she was in her last year of junior high and the exchange student was her gay awakening

oikawa has pushed kids off the swing because they said something bad about his nephew

aran's younger brother never grew out of his 'my brother is the best' phase, even after the time skip

inuoka has really good fashion sense and can make an outfit out of anything given article of clothing

kindaichi has a pretty diverse music taste to the point where he'll have my chemical romance and cavetown in the same playlist

kinoshita's 99% of the time fiddling with something because he can't sit still

kohona grew to love the whole 'jack of all trades, master of none' thing because his little sister who told him that people who were really good at one thing were boring

suna dances like a piece of cardboard

yamaguchi made a post holding a french fry next to tsukishima with the caption, 'i can't spot the difference' and it blew up. tsukishima didn't talk to him for a week

takeda really likes sparkling water but absolutely despises soda

alisa talks to the younger generation about mental and health issues especially since she's gone through quite a lot as a model

kageyama can be found talking about life and himself sometimes but in reality he's talking to his grandfather

kunimi and his sister go driving a lot and just vibe together

semi once sang the national anthem for a school event and when people came up to him and complimented him, he nearly started crying

saeko has a fat crush on natasha romanoff

tsukishima hates absolute silence so he always has music or white noise playing in the background no matter what

osamu once got food poisoning but forgot to throw out the food so he ate it again the next day and got food poisoning again

reon does yoga and is really flexible but doesnt show off

kuroo cannot flirt to save his life

asahi has watched Harry Potter at least 6 times and read the series more times than he can count but is absolutely terrified of aragog

komori is a really good fighter and got into quite a few fights in order to defend his cousin when they were younger

yamamoto once drank an entire gallon of water in one sitting then threw it up right after

narita has a podcast where he reads bedtime stories in english and he has over 15k subscribers worldwide

yahaba acts all sauve with girls to hid the fact that he's hella gay

[enhypenandpaper]

we never go out of style | jake sim

pairing: Jake Sim x gn!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: descriptions of body image (jake basically checks the reader out), mentions of a diet (jake’s, not the reader’s)

word count: 1.3k

summary: in desperate need of some new clothes, you invite your best friends Jay and Jake on a shopping spree for fashion advice. the day is a success, and while you walk out of the mall with a new outfit, Jake has something new of his own that he’s not sure he can afford.

-

The food court was practically empty.

You and your two best friends were sitting at the cleanest table you had ever seen in a mall; the three of you had last period free, so you were able to get here before the usual mob of high schoolers who left countless straw-wrappers, used napkins, and various unidentifiable foods wherever they went.

The three of you were at the mall because your wardrobe was in desperate need of an update. It was a lot simpler when you were younger, natural growth being an automatic reminder to buy new clothes and change things up. As you got older, it was easier to just throw on the same sweatshirt you wore on your first day of eighth grade and call it a day, which is why you needed some extra motivation in the form of the two boys sitting with you.

“Thanks for coming with me today, guys, I feel like I’ve been cycling through the same three outfits for weeks now.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

You playfully swatted Jay on the arm. He was the only person you would accept this kind of criticism from, him being the resident fashionista of your friend group after all, but it didn’t mean you always liked to hear what he had to say.

“Like you’re any better! At least I get dressed before my morning classes.”

“Changing into a different pair of sweatpants doesn’t count as ‘getting dressed,'” Jay shot back.

“Neither does tossing a $300 sweatshirt on and walking out the door,” Jake, who was sitting across from you, pointed out.

Jake’s comment made you laugh and even pulled a little smile out of Jay. 

“Okay so no sweatshirts and no sweatpants today, that’s the only rule,” you joked, “but everything else is fair game.”

You reached for the bottle of water you had gotten with your meal. No matter how hard you twisted the cap, it wouldn’t budge, even when you pulled your sleeve down over your palm to help.

“Here,” Jake started, “let me-”

Before Jake could finish, Jay plucked the bottle from your hands and opened it with one twist. You and him were unfazed, Jay reaching for a French fry off of Jake’s tray, you taking a sip of your water.

You met Jake’s eyes, noticing his furrowed brows and parted lips; he looked confused.

“What?” You asked, putting the bottle back down on the table.

Jay was staring at him now too, eyebrows raised.

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head. “Where are we off to first?”

-

“Y/N! Come over here.”

You made your way over to Jay, his height making it easy to see him over the racks of clothes. You had barely stopped walking before he turned you around and started holding up shirts to your back, trying to figure out your size.

Apparently satisfied with his findings, Jay put three shirts, two pairs of jeans, and a thin leather jacket in your arms before turning back around to browse the accessory stand.

“How do you even know Y/N’s jean size?” Jake asked.

Jay just shrugged but you explained, “we’ve gone shopping together before.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that,” Jake said, his voice small.

You frowned, why did he have the same look on his face as he did whenever he was on a diet for soccer and Heeseung ate ramen in front of him?

You were about to ask him what was wrong when Jay was back in front of you, holding various pieces of jewelry up to you and the clothes, trying to figure out what matched best.

“Jay, am I made of money or something? Slow down!”

“I’ll pay for it. Consider it an investment in walking around with better-dressed friends.”

You opened your mouth to argue but your friend had already dashed off, flagging down a store employee to get you a dressing room.

“Do you want me to hold your stuff while you try these on?” Jake offered.

You smiled at the boy, accepting. 

He took your bag from around your wrist, underneath the pile of clothes, and made sure not to graze your skin with his fingers lest he start blushing in front of you.

“Can you grab my phone, too? It’s in my back pocket.”

Jake gulped but did as you asked, his fingers reaching around your waist to grab your phone before slipping it into his own pocket. 

You flashed him another smile before walking over to the employee Jay had found, giving Jake a chance to breathe and find a way to bring the heat in his cheeks down before you came back out.

The two boys took a seat right in front of your dressing room. Jay immediately went to scroll through something on his phone but Jake stopped him.

“Do you guys, like, do this often?”

The question caught Jay off guard. Why did Jake care how often you two went shopping? Did he…?

Realizing what was going on here, Jay tried to comfort him. 

“It’s not really a regular thing, I think they just like my honesty. You don’t have to worry.”

“Worry? I-I…Why would I be worried? I was just… oh.”

Jay moved his head to follow his friend’s gaze.

Jake’s eyes were locked on you as you stepped out of the dressing room. The sight of you was a little too much for him and he needed to remind himself to breathe.

Your shopping trips with Jay obviously paid off because the jeans he picked fit you perfectly, a little too perfectly, hugging your body and making your legs look long, the rips giving Jake a glimpse of your bare skin. The shirt you were wearing emphasized your sharp collarbones, a simple necklace laying between them and disappearing beneath your shirt. The jacket really pulled it all together, the expensive design making you stand with more confidence than usual; it was impossible to look away from you.

Jake wasn’t used to seeing you in clothes like this. Sure, he always thought you looked incredible, but Jay was known for his fashion sense for a reason. He knew exactly what to do to emphasize the parts of your body that had Jake’s jaw practically on the floor.

“How does it look?” You asked tentatively. You thought you looked good but the awestruck look on Jake’s face was making you nervous. Either he really liked the clothes or had never seen something so horrifying in his life, it was hard to tell.

Jay, however, was smirking, obviously satisfied with his work. You looked cool and confident and everything fit you nicely. The necklace he had picked was a little long for the shirt you were wearing, but he decided it was a job well done anyway.

“Great,” Jake squeaked before clearing his throat. “It looks really good.”

Relieved, you turned away from your two friends to inspect the clothes in the floor-length mirror off to the side.

Jay nudged the boy next to him with his elbow.

“Dude, you’re staring.”

Jake snapped out of it and looked down at his shoes to hide the blush that was apparently going nowhere.

Jay had to keep himself from laughing at his friend, he had never seen Jake so flustered before. 

After changing back into your original clothes you walked out to join your friends, all of Jay’s findings in your hands.

“Does it all fit?”

“Yeah, that one top is a little low-cut but-”

“Perfect! I’ll go take care of it,” Jay decided, taking everything from you and practically dashing away, leaving you and Jake alone.

“Are you sure everything looked okay? I mean, I trust Jay, but just because an outfit looks good doesn’t mean it will look good on me, you know?”

“Y/N, you looked really good,” his hand went up to rub the back of his neck. “Well, you always do, but especially in that outfit.”

Now it was your turn to blush.

“Honestly, you even looked kind of intimidating in that jacket.”

You nudged him with your elbow. “Are you saying you’re afraid of me, Sim?” You joked.

Jake just laughed at your words, not sure how to explain that while he wasn’t afraid of you, the feelings he had for you were definitely a little terrifying. 

-

A/N: This is obviously a lot shorter than “join me in the sky” but I hope you guys still enjoy it! I feel like Jake would get really shy around his crush lol and when this idea popped into my head I knew it was the perfect opportunity to write about blushy Jake!

[katehuntington]

Title: If The Bunker Had Windows Fandom: Supernatural Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Reader Pairing: Dean x female reader Words: ±5250 words Description: When a Djinn case doesn’t go as planned, not everyone makes it. Dean, who is burdened by guilt, holes himself up alone in his room for days, until Y/N comes in to check on him. Will the girl who was his perfect world be able to pull him back from the darkness? Warnings: Angst/comfort. Mutual pining, some fluff. Description of canon typical violence and supernatural creatures. Mentions of injury, death and alcohol abuse. Depression, refusal to eat, grieving, crying. Satisfying ending. Author’s note: A one shot that will punch you in the feels, according to my betas @winchest09 and @deanwanddamons. Always grateful for you girls helping me out! And to my readers, I hope you enjoy my reading, thank you for your support.

     Serenity floats through the halls of the Men of Letters headquarters, like the morning mist on an autumn day. If the bunker had windows, the sun would have shone diagonal beams through the glass, warm and welcome, but instead it’s the light from the vintage table lamps that give this home its glow.

     Y/N moves down the hall towards the galley, her sock covered feet softly padding against the marble floors. Despite her stealth approach, Sam is waiting for her to appear in the doorway, his eyes already lifted from the tablet that lays flat on the mahogany table.      “Morning,” he greets, continuing to swipe through news articles, in his search for a case. “Coffee’s brewing.”

     She descends down the two steps and sets foot into the kitchen, the aroma of roasted beans flooding her senses. The night hasn’t been without worries and all the more without sleep, so she can use a good dose of caffeine.      “Thanks,” she returns.

     After pouring herself a generous amount of the dark beverage, her thoughts wander off to the other inhabitant of this oddly cosy concrete structure. Dean’s absence is obnoxiously evident, the air not filled with grumpy mutters before he had his coffee, neither with a lame joke that he found on the back of the cereal box, that only he finds funny.      With a deep sigh, she turns around with her favorite mug in her hand, resting against the counter. “Has he come out of his room yet?”

     Sam’s jaw flexes, the tall giant with a gentle heart glancing over. He doesn’t even have to shake his head for Y/N to know the answer. Shutting her eyes for a few seconds, she takes a sip from her hot drink, burning her tongue, but it doesn’t hurt nearly as much as the pain she knows Dean is in.

     It’s been three days since the brothers returned from a particularly tough hunt. She remembers Sam’s voice hollering through the bunker, and she instantly realized that something terrible had happened. When she found the Winchesters in the garage, Dean leaning on his sibling and barely able to stay on his feet, the air was stolen from her lungs. His skin was paler than those of the spirits she has faced and he seemed barely conscious. His eyes beheld an emptiness that faded the forest green of his irises, leaving nothing but a shallowness that reminded her of death, even though his heart was still faintly beating.

     A Djinn had gotten to him, and by the time Sam found his brother, strung up to the ceiling of the monster’s den, he was barely alive. It was too late for the young college student who the hunters were hoping to save, her corpse dangling in shackles next to Dean, drained of blood and life. She was all but a grim memoir of their failure, a reminder of the fate that would have befallen the hunter, had the younger Winchester sibling not found him. 

     Back home, Sam and Y/N carried Dean to the infirmary and thankfully got a hold of Castiel, who came to the rescue as fast as he could. The angel might not be at full power, but he was able to pull his friend away from the reaper, who was without a doubt waiting to claim his soul like the vultures that they are. 

     Even though Cas glued the shattered shards back together until Dean was physically whole again, something inside him remains damaged beyond repair. The mighty hunter, who faces his enemies head on and with guns blazing, who laughs Death in the face, is defeated, and there is not much the cosmic being can do to change that. A broken body is much easier to heal than a broken mind.

     Y/N puts her empty coffee mug aside and exhales, coming back to the present. “Did he eat, at least?” she wonders, a desperate hopefulness in her pitch.      Again, Sam shakes his head. “He left dinner by the door without touching it. I’m sorry.”      The younger Winchester doesn’t have to apologize, after all, it’s not his fault that the food was left untouched. Yet, he knows their female companion had put a lot of effort in making Dean his favorite burgers, hoping it would persuade him.     “It’s okay, Sam,” she assures, forcing a smile.

     While the younger Winchester brother returns his attention to his tablet, Y/N takes a moment to collect herself. She then turns to the kitchen counter and crouches down, taking a large frying pan from the lower cabinets. After lighting up the stove and carefully placing a second ceramic pot on the fire, the bunker’s second best cook opens the refrigerator and collects a carton of eggs, milk, bacon and cheese.

     Sam watches her move around the galley, his brow furrowed. “What are you doing?”      “I’m making Dean breakfast,” she states, matter of factly.      The hunter sighs, pity evident in the soft exhale. “Y/N--”      “I have to try, Sam.” She cuts him off, the tremble in her voice noticeable. 

     Their eyes meet when the woman glances over her shoulder, still stirring the milk and eggs in a bowl. The younger Winchester is well aware that this meal will most likely end in the trash like the others, but he understands why she feels the need to take care of his brother. It’s her way of letting Dean know that she’s not giving up on him, no matter how thick the fog grows in the mind of the tormented hunter. It’s her way of keeping busy and doing something, anything, because watching from the sidelines while someone suffers, is not in her nature. Especially not when that person is Dean, the man who she cares so much for, more than she would like to admit.

     Sam’s lips press into a thin line, the corners reaching up slightly. The crow’s feet by his eyes wrinkle and become a little deeper, despite the brown hair that frames his gentle expression. She and Sam have been friends for a long time and often don’t need words anymore. With just a look, he explained that he sympathizes with her, and that he’s thankful for her efforts. 

     She returns his small smile and focuses on her cooking again, laying out the bacon into the hot frying pan, watching the meat as it starts to sizzle.

     Twenty minutes later, Y/N walks down the hallway towards the dorms, a tray in her hands decked out with scrambled eggs, french toast and a fresh cup of coffee. Before the first room on the right, she halts, staring at the golden ‘11’ on the wooden barrier in front of her. Contemplating if she should leave the warm meal on the threshold or not, she looks down at her feet.      “Dean?” she calls out, hesitant. “Is it alright if I come in?”

     Her question remains unanswered, only fueling her doubt. Is he sleeping? Would she be crossing a line if she enters? Of course she wants to grant him his privacy, but he has been cooped up in there for three days now, without food, without social interaction. There have been many times when she was worried sick about the hunter who has already endured so much, and these past days only add to that count. What is the right approach here? Give him more time? 

     Closing himself off and pushing down the agony is his go-to coping mechanism, and although it isn’t a healthy one, she always respected the space he needed to move past the pain. She’s used to him being quiet, taking the Impala for late night drives, drinking more than usual and sleeping less. But at least he came out of his room, at least he ate. Now, everything is different.

     Before she can reconsider, she balances the tray in one hand, freeing the other to reach for the brass knob. Carefully, she pushes the door ajar, allowing the light from the hallway to bleed into Dean’s room. The state in which she finds the resilient soldier, who courageously charges into battle and has won wars on strength and will alone, almost brings her to tears. He’s in his bed, curled up on the far left of the mattress, leaving the empty space next to him vacant. His back is turned towards her as he lays in a fetal position, the comforter pulled up over his shoulder. The darkness that surrounds him only seems fitting for his frail state of mind.

     Y/N isn’t sure if the older Winchester brother is even awake, since he fails to respond to her presence, but she steps into the shadows nonetheless.      “Dean? I brought breakfast,” she announces, softly enough that if he is sleeping, her words will not wake him.

     The broken form in the bed shifts slightly. She might not realize it, but Dean has heard her, and has done every single time she has brought him something to eat. Her light footfalls passing his room, the hesitation on his doorstep, the soft knocks on the wood, the sigh when she turned away again. A part of him was glad she never came in before, yet at the same time, he was fighting the urge to call out, craving her company, her touch. Anything even remotely close to the way she was with him in his dreams, when held captive.

     “I’m not hungry,” he croaks, his voice failing after not having used it for so long.      “You’ve got to eat something,” she tries again. “It’s been a couple of days.”

     The beaten hunter turns into his pillow, leaving the woman who intends to make him feel better by the door. A shuddering breath falls from her lips, one laced with disappointment and frustration. He should be used to letting people down by now, but it still stings. Struggling to not give in to his own longing, he opens his weary eyes and stares at the empty bottle on his nightstand, the whiskey it once beheld long gone.

     Dean expects her to leave. It would do him justice, because he doesn’t deserve such kindness. But instead, he can hear her shuffle closer. She makes room on the side table, putting the remnants of his self medication down on the floor, the glass thudding softly on the stone surface, and sets down a tray. The smell of bacon fills his nose, and even though his stomach growls in response, he is sure the food would turn to ash in his mouth. Nothing can still the hunger that this perfect dream stirred up. Nothing can fill the hole in his gut that has only grown larger since Sam pulled him away from the world created by the Djinn he was supposed to kill. 

     He gave in to a fairy tale, even though he is well aware they are make-believe. He couldn’t leave that utopia, because for once, he just wanted to be happy. Instead of stepping up and slaying the monster at the end of the book, he was selfish, weak, and a girl died because of it.

     His self-destructive chain of thought is interrupted when the bed dips down, Y/N taking up the small space on the edge of the mattress. Her delicate hand reaches for him, moving his tousled hair from his forehead, running her fingers through his light brown locks. Closing his eyes, he swallows with difficulty, biting down to keep the tears at bay. He doesn’t want her to see him in this state, to see the fucked up train wreck that he is. 

     “Talk to me,” she says softly, her whisper breaking the silence, but Dean shakes his head.      “I can’t,” he returns, hoarse. “You should go.”      She stands her ground. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

     The tired hunter doesn’t have the energy to argue, and for a while, they just are. Dean on his side, huddled under the comforter, Y/N right next to him, one leg pulled under her, the other dangling from the edge of the bed. The motions of her gentle caressing almost lulls him to sleep, but he doesn’t allow unconsciousness to take him. The second he drifts off, he will be faced with either the same old horrific nightmares he has gotten used to, or return to the dream that will never be. Waking up from either will be too devastating for him to handle.

     Wishing she could offer him any kind of solace, Y/N allows her thumb to rub his temple, cupping his handsome face gingerly. The action draws his weary eyes to meet hers for the first time this morning. The slight improvement should be a relief, yet it is anything but. The sorrow that swims in his gaze breaks her heart.

     “It isn’t your fault,” she offers, her words so soft, that if the room hadn’t been draped in silence, the hunter would have missed it.      Dean looks away, however, shaking his head slightly, unable to accept her comfort. “It is. I could’ve snapped out of it.”

     The woman by his bedside furrows her brow, her expression soft and sympathetic. Why does he expect the impossible from himself? Why does he have to rescue everyone on this earth? No one can live up to that, not even the hero that he is. It’s a burden too heavy to bear for any being, a responsibility that sets him up to fail, because he can’t save them all. He would always beat himself up, whenever they would lose an innocent during a hunt, but this time there’s more to it. This time he can’t get up.

     “A Djinn put you under. How could you have known it was a dream?” she says, trying to help him see that this blame is not his to take.      “That’s the thing,” he sighs, the air that flows from his lungs substantial with regret and remorse. “I was aware it wasn’t real. I just… I didn’t wanna wake.”

     Without pausing, her gentle touch traces the scruff on his cheek as she analyses his words that raise so many questions. If he knew what he was experiencing was indeed a fantasy, then why didn’t his hunter instincts kick in? Coming back from a coma as such is anything but easy. Yet just like with a vivid nightmare, once one realizes the terrors are nothing but a manifestation of their deepest fears, they can fight their way back to the surface. What could Dean have possibly seen that would keep him from coming home?      “What did you dream about?” she wonders.

     His focus turns in a thousand yard stare, as if he can see it all again. Every reason that made him decide to lay down his weapons when the creature captured him. Every experience that was so tentative, that he was ready to swap that reverie for reality. Every vision, every touch, every smile, every laugh. Every wish come true. It is right there, just out of reach, displayed behind the glass that encases his memories, reminding him of what will never be.

     “Mom, Dad... they were alive,” Dean begins, the recollections causing his eyes to shimmer. “Your parents too. Sammy was married to Jess. She was pregnant.”

     Y/N listens to the fallen hunter breathlessly, trying not to blink, because she knows it would force the tears to fall from her lashes. Slowly, it begins to dawn on her why he couldn’t find his way back. 

     “There were no monsters, we didn’t hunt. Sam was a lawyer, I owned an auto shop. We had family barbecues, dinner during thanksgiving. It was…” he lets out a shuddering breath, drops brewed by bittersweet reminiscence rolling down from the corner of his eye. “It was simple, peaceful, without the constant worry. No sorrow, no regret. And you, the way you were smiling… I’ve never seen you glow like that.” 

     He breaks away from the perfect vision, glancing at the woman who he got to call his in that dream. The woman who he lived with, in a house by a lake, with a back porch looking out over the water. The woman who he married and gave him two beautiful children. The woman who he loves, and in that perfect world he allowed to love him back.

     Dean tries to swallow down the painful lump that obstructs his throat as a hint of a smile tucks at the corner of his mouth. He could tell her all that, but it wouldn’t do her any good. In fact, that illusion might break her, just like it broke him. Instead, he allows a final sentence to fall from his lips, but the emotion that has closed around his airway only allows a whisper.      “We were so happy.”

     Tears find their way down Y/N’s face, leaving shimmering pathways in their wake. Not a word has left her, not even the smallest sound. She doesn’t trust her voice to ease his dreadful affliction. 

      It makes sense now, why he couldn’t bring himself to pop that bubble. What Dean experienced, it sounds perfect. It is the definition of heaven, not just for him, but for all the people he cares about. It shouldn’t be a surprise to her that the selfless man only wants what’s best for his family, eliminating his personal desires, but it moves her nonetheless. Their happiness, her happiness, is Dean’s.      It’s only then that his choice of words begins to settle in her conscience.      “We?”

     Confusion adds to all the emotions that pass by in her misty eyes like frames of a silent film. The hunter’s gaze meets hers again, and he’s not sure if he should be terrified or relieved when he sees that puzzlement transition into comprehension. The puckered lines between her brows even out as her mouth opens slightly, her eyes growing larger, boring into his soul.      “We were together,” she realizes.

     Dean doesn’t have to confirm, it wasn’t a question after all. She has figured it out already, and that conclusion now hovers between them, neither of the two knowing what to do with the revelation.      “Doesn’t matter,” he eventually whispers. “It was just a dream.”

     The downhearted conclusion has Y/N tilt her head to the side, watching the man who she has loved ever since she met him. The memory is one she holds dear, the wide grin he flashed after witnessing her taking down two vampires with a machete, before he and his brothers even got the chance to make the kill. She didn’t think she needed saving, but when his emerald greens took her in, she felt a warmth flair in her heart. He did in fact rescue her that day, and now it was her turn to rescue him. Y/N breathes in, because in order to do so, she needs to be brave. 

     Her left hand reaches for his, which is holding onto the pillow under his head. She takes it, unfolding his clenched fist, and laces their fingers together.      “It doesn’t have to be,” she speaks softly.

     For a few seconds Dean beholds their entwinement, astounded by the gesture. Is she doing this because she feels sorry for him? Because she’s worried that her resentment would send him further into the dark? But when he glances up at her, the look she gives him stuns the hunter. There’s no pity, nor desperation. All he sees is a softness in her beautiful eyes, a calmness that tells him that it’s alright, that she knows, and that she feels the same way. 

     “Y/N...” he utters, unable to let go of her hand, but not ready to close her palm in his a little tighter. “We can’t. It’s only gonna end sad and bloody.”      She shrugs at that, running her thumb over his rough skin, the motion soothing them both. “Maybe,” she agrees, “but denying this, not giving in to what we feel, isn’t that worse?”

     His chest rises and falls slowly, his focus now locked on their hands again, while the woman still seated on the side of his bed holds her breath. It’s almost as if he’s too scared to look at her, aware how fragile this moment is. They are at a crossroads, and depending on the direction he decides to take, this instant might remain just that, a jiff, or it might be the start of something new, yet terrifying.

     “I don’t want you to get hurt,” Dean sighs, fresh tears glistening though his long lashes.

     Swallowing with difficulty, Y/N looks down, sniveling. She can feel him slipping through her fingers like sand in an hourglass, every passing second taking the battered hunter further away. But before she loses him all together, she strengthens her hold.      “I know you don’t,” she acknowledges, “but having to look back at some point, realizing we missed our shot and watched that ship sail by, that would cause me so much pain, that I--”

     The whimper that falls from her lips, draws his gaze up to study her expression. She’s crying silently, her mouth firmly closed in a thin line. The woman who goes out her way to make him feel better, is breaking in front of him because of his doing, and it hurts him more than anything he has felt in the past three days. Instinctively, he frees himself from her hold, only to take her small hand in his palm, protectively wrapping his fingers around hers. The reassurance gives her just enough strength to continue her plea.

     “After everything we’ve been through, the losses, the sacrifices. Hell, multiple apocalypses…” she begins, barely able to grasp how many battles they have survived. “We deserve this.”

     There is not a doubt in the hunter’s mind that Y/N has earned all the happiness the universe can offer, but him? No, he hasn’t. People have died because of him, lives ruined, families torn apart. He has made too many mistakes, and no amount of good deeds could set the record straight.      “Why would you wanna be with me?” he huffs, shaking his head slightly. “I’m such a fuckin’ mess...”

     Y/N takes him in, the man who has never believed he was good enough for anything. There is not a monster on this planet that could hate Dean more than he hates himself. If only he could see how Sam looks up to his big brother, how proud he would have made his parents, if they had still been alive. If only he could see her, and know how much she loves him.

     Taking a bold step, she begins to lower herself, leaning towards him. The action is rushed, afraid that the coward inside of her might alter the course, but once her lips meet Dean’s, she stills. She can sense him freezing against her and panic jolts through her body, the fear of rejection almost having Y/N pull back herself. But then he eases, his mouth moving with hers. The kiss is short and light. Neither of them intends to deepen the touch, the gesture adding enough depth to the situation as it is.

     When she opens her eyes, his are still closed. Almost as if he was still in the Djinn’s hold, and can’t let go of the bliss that surrounds him. A small smile adorns her soft features as she waits for him to look at her, which he only does when she lovingly brushes her nose against his.

     While his focus bounces over her features, taking in every perfect imperfection that makes the woman before him so unmistakably her, he mirrors her smile. No one wants to disturb this precious moment, but Dean has to let out the breath he was holding for some time. He shifts his head against the pillow, watching how Y/N pulls his hand closer, pressing her lips to the knuckles, lovingly. 

     “I’m a mess too,” she admits. “I’m just as scared, Dean. But, together it might just get a little more bearable. I know I’m just a fraction of that dream--”      “- Y/N.” The hunter stops her then and there, pushing himself off the mattress on his elbow. He might not think of himself as worthy, but he will not stand for her effacing her own purpose. The interruption silences her instantly, her wondering eyes still glossed over with emotion, awaiting. Now it’s his time to be brave. 

     He doesn’t let go of her hand, nor of her gaze. He doesn’t let go of the woman he wants to spend his remaining days with, no matter how many or how few.      “You are so much more than a fraction,” he expresses, heartfelt.

     Having made up his mind, Dean sits up and reaches for her, the warm shade of green only hooded by closing lids when his mouth finds hers. He allows himself to graze over her soft lips, drinking in the one person who he has longed for, but never expected to be with. The sensation that erupts in his stomach once the kiss intensifies is the equivalent to a firework show, the bright colors and sparks lighting up the black skies. Euphoria overwhelms him, the same sense that flooded his conscience when the Djinn lured the hunter into that heavenly hallucination. This is a dream too, and yet it isn’t, because this, this is real.

     The kiss leaves Y/N breathless, yet she is able to sense his warm hand coming up her side and sliding around her back to settle between her shoulder blades, hugging her tight without ever removing his lips from hers. Finally, they are here. After months, years of denial, they are ready to give themselves to each other. Sometimes you need to lose all that isn’t, to appreciate what is. 

     She has to pull every string not to cry in elation, but can’t stop the drops of emotion from rolling down. When Dean feels the wetness against his own cheeks, he reluctantly breaks the connection, cupping her face worriedly.      “Hey…” he hushes.      She shakes her head, dismissing his concern, and laughs through the tears. “I’m okay. I’m just - I’m so happy right now, I don’t know what to do with myself.”

     A twinkle reaches her eyes, making it impossible for Dean to look away. He never thought he would be able to witness her so content, let alone have her admit it out loud. Not in this world, anyway. An image of the custom made dream forged by the Djinn pushes itself to the forefront, Y/N on the porch of their house, comfortable in his arms, absolutely beaming. When he awoke from that coma, he thought that the illusion couldn’t be further from reality, but he was wrong.      “I’ve seen that smile before,” he says warmly.

     Y/N grin grows even wider at that, but before she can ask what the man who she just revealed her affections to means, a rumble rises from Dean’s stomach, causing them both to drop their gaze to where the sound is coming from. Once she realizes what caused it, she giggles, and it’s the greatest harmony Dean has ever heard. 

    “You must be starving,” she comments while wiping her tears, hoping he will finally take in some food after having gone three days without it.     “I could eat,” he admits with a chuckle.      “Well, it’s a good thing I made you scrambled eggs with cheese and extra bacon then.” She straightens her back and shifts to the edge of the bed, taking the tray with both hands. “Scoot.”

     Dean pushes himself up further and sits back against the headboard, his mouth watering when Y/N sets the platter over his lap. Only now does he realize how hungry he truly is. He picks up the cutlery and cuts off some toast, overloading it with egg before he has a mouthful, the delicious meal still warm on his tongue.      “Take it easy, okay? Wouldn’t want you to get sick,” she says kindly, reaching for him and rubbing her thumb over his stubble.      He looks up at here before taking a bite of the strip of meat, his eyes having gained some of that boyish sparkle again. Relieved by the sight, Y/N watches him, glad that she finally managed to get his spirits up. 

     “You want some?” Dean checks with his mouth full, pushing the plate of bacon in her direction.      She frowns at that. “Since when do you share food?”      “Since now, and only with you,” he admits. “Don’t tell Sam.”

     They share a laugh and continue to eat in silence until the dishes are so clean, they barely need washing. The pair leave the darkness of room ‘11’, Dean heading for the showers, Y/N turning the corner towards the kitchen. With a spring in her step, the giddy woman makes her way through the hallways of the enormous building. The tray in her hands feels much lighter, and not just because of the cleared plates she’s carrying. 

     With a smirk on her lips, she hops down the steps into the galley, finding Sam by the fridge, who is restocking it with the groceries he just picked up. It’s not until he notices the empty dishes which she sets down on the counter, that his gaze shoots up to their female companion’s joyful eyes.     “He ate?” he asks, hopeful.     “He did,” Y/N smiles, dropping the plates in the sink. “He’s feeling much better, he’s freshening up now.”      The younger Winchester continues to stare at her in awe, stammering something intellectual, before he pauses and blinks a couple of times.      “What happened?” he can’t help but wonder, surprised by his brother’s improvement.

     She remains silent for a few seconds while she runs the tap and adds dish soap to the hot water. What took place in his room is hard to explain. It required a long list of events, building up to this disclosure. It involved Dean opening up about what he went through, comfortable enough to share his grief and let it out. It included them both being fearless after being scared for so long. It comprehended two individuals, growing together, taking a leap to cross a gap that seemed impossible to overcome. 

     “He let the light in,” she states simply, meeting Sam with a meaningful smile.

     Grateful, the tall hunter huffs in astonishment, before he closes her in a hug and presses a kiss on her hair, not needing words to tell just how appreciative he is of her presence. He  assists her and takes up the task of drying the dishes, the two friends working side by side to finish the chore. They are storing away the plates, the noise of the china being stacked in the cupboards allowing Dean to wait in the doorway without being spotted just yet. He’s freshly showered, wearing his dark grey robe over comfortable clothes, leaning against the post and taking in the woman who has turned his life around. 

     If the bunker had windows, the sun would have shone brightly. The late morning rays would come in through the portals to the outside world, illuminating their home. The beams would have been warm and healing, burning away sadness and discomfort, like it would melt the snow on the last days of winter. 

     But the bunker doesn’t need windows.      The bunker has her.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page).

[wherevermyway]

why can’t we drink forever? (1/2) // minsung // 18+

one: i will only complicate you series navigation: [desktop] [mobile]

⚠ POTENTIAL TW: READ WITH CAUTION! ⚠ pairing: lee minho x han jisung rating: explicit! 18+ warnings/tags: creator chose not to use archive warnings, explicit sexual content past character death, alcohol abuse/alcoholism, depression, edgy cynical depressed jisung, ambiguous/open ending. word count: 5,883 also on AO3

originally posted: 20 january 2021

After being arrested for driving under the influence, Jisung learns that money can buy his way out of jail time, but it can’t buy his way out of his feelings.

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction! any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are  interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do  not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of  the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable,  please stop reading now.

“I don’t know how things got this way, Sungie, baby. I’m worried about you.”

A sarcastic huff leaves the lips of the young man seated in the passenger seat of a sleek, new all-white Audi. He kicks his feet up on the dash, earning a frown from the middle-aged woman driving the vehicle. The young blonde stares out the window as he fumbles around his hoodie pocket. Out comes a white pack of Marlboro Gold cigarettes and an engraved silver lighter.

“You and me both, ma,” he tuts as he pops a white cigarette up from the pack into his mouth, flicking the dial of his lighter as he takes in a deep breath. He jams a finger down on the window button, the crisp winter air blowing the grey cloud around, the acrid scent of burnt tobacco filling the car. “Guess if we knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t be in the car now, huh?”

“Maybe you’d have gotten into a better university,” his mother sighs as she shakes her head.

A devious smirk curls up on the young man’s mouth as he brings the cigarette up to his lips again, taking a long drag. He knows better than to verbally respond with a cynical quip.

Maybe I’d be fuckin’ dead.

Alcoholics Anonymous sounded like a cult following: a twelve-step programme where all of its members had to follow a strict code, be mentored by a sponsor, and thank some bullshit deity to be given a new chance every day. “Every day is a new chance,” the cult leader would say at the beginning of every meeting. “May God grant us the serenity…”

“I’m Jisung, and the courts told me I’m an alcoholic, so I guess I’m an alcoholic,” the artificial blonde shrugged his shoulders, the ghost of burnt coffee still dancing on his tongue as he spoke.

The mindless cult drones spouted off a casual “hi, Jisung,” in monotonous, unenthusiastic unity as the young man sat down.

“How did you get here?” The meeting’s leader was relentless in prodding the young man. “You’re not obligated to tell us, of course,” which was a boldfaced lie, “but acknowledging your problems might help your recovery.”

Jisung brought the styrofoam cup full of lukewarm, acrid coffee to his lips and took a long sip. He winced at the taste and pursed his lips as he made eye contact with the leader. “I was abducted by aliens, man, now I’m here. Shit was crazy.”

The leader frowned, ready to interrupt Jisung.

“Nah,” the young man kicked his feet out from under the metal fold-up chair, flipping his hood over his head with his free hand. “I got drunk, went out to get more booze, then hit a tree on the way back and the cops pulled me over since my headlight was out. The internet wasn’t lying when they said all cops are fuckin’ bastards.” His quip earned a laugh from a few younger members, whereas several of the older people shook their heads in frustration.

“Please,” the leader sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “let’s refrain from political commentary. Thank you for your,” there’s a pause as the leader clears his throat, “for your candor, Jisung. Now that we’ve introduced all of our new attendees, why don’t we move along with the next step in the meeting?”

The meeting was pointless, all of the same shit that Jisung had read about in the fliers that were handed to him with his sentencing. He had to endure twelve months of this, but it wasn’t like he was doing much else with his life, anyways. Jisung poured the last of the disgusting coffee from the cardboard takeaway box into his cup, then tossed the box into the large rubbish bin at the end of the table. One last cup of free shitty coffee before he left; it would pair nicely with the cigarette he so desperately craved.

“Hey!” A bright voice came up behind him and Jisung rolled his eyes at the way optimism dripped from the trill. He slowly turned around, taking a sip of the cold coffee in his cup. A young man with neon pink hair, probably the same age as Jisung, smiled widely as he stuck his hand out. “I’m Felix, nice to see someone here that’s about my age.”

Jisung gingerly accepted the hand and shook it twice before quickly sticking his hand back into his pocket. “Charmed. How long are you stuck here for?”

“Oh!” Felix shook his head, smile still wide on his face as he pensively looked down to his shoes. “I’m not here for… well, I’m a psychology major.”

Of course he was.

Felix tucked his hands into his jacket pockets and tapped his foot twice as he continued to smile at Jisung. “I’m also new here and was hoping I could make friends.”

Jisung shook his head, reaching into his hoodie pocket for his pack of cigarettes and familiar silver lighter. “I’m not a good influence. Don’t think I’d make good friends with someone so… nice.” He meandered a white cigarette out of the packet with a single hand, then tucked it behind his ear, lighter still tucked into his palm. “No offence, dude.”

The smile finally fell from the pink-haired man, who quickly pulled his hands from his pockets, “wait, wait!”

Jisung cocked an eyebrow at the man, biting his tongue as he felt the clawing at the back of his head, his synapses screaming a plea for him to get a hit of more nicotine.

“I don’t wanna sound desperate,” Felix ran his bottom lip under his teeth as he looked around nervously, “I just really wanna talk with someone that’s so different than me. I’ll even buy you dinner or something from the diner down the street.”

As insulting as the words ‘so different than me’ came off to Jisung, desperation was a bad look for anyone. “You got a car?” Felix nodded twice, biting his lip as he stared at Jisung. “Lead the way, psycho student Felix.”

Felix’s eyes went wide and his bright smile came back, beaming brighter than before. “It’s psychology, not psycho.”

The blonde rolled his eyes as he plucked the cigarette from behind his ear and tucked it in between his teeth. “I know what I said.”

The food at the diner was mediocre at best: rubbery scrambled eggs and burgers made from frozen patties that were likely a concoction of rejected organ meat slurry and textured vegetable protein. It was cheap, but it was always good. Rich in comfort, lacking in quality: the antithesis to Jisung’s life.

Jisung hadn’t been here in two years, not since his friend turned on-again, off-again boyfriend Changbin left for university, halfway across the country. This was the place they’d come to at three in the morning after hitting up a house party, where they would drunkenly curl up with each other and swap kisses that tasted like stale beer and watery coffee.

This was the place where Changbin broke up with Jisung for the final time, Changbin citing that they wouldn’t be able to stay in contact much anymore. However, he hadn’t told Jisung that he was sleeping with someone that graduated a couple years prior and was conveniently attending the same university as him.

That night tasted like vodka and strawberry soda, the latter of which Jisung never let grace his tastebuds again.

The blonde scowled down at his orange juice, watching the ring light above their table shimmer and ripple in the liquid. He hadn’t heard from Changbin in two years, and he was as bitter about it as the black, burnt edges of the hashbrowns that stuck to his plate.

“You okay?” Felix poked his fries with a fork, bringing one to his lips as he scanned Jisung’s expression.

“Are any of us okay, psycho student?”

Felix furrowed his brows and set his fork down against his plate, chewing on the crinkled french fry a bit before he swallowed. He folded his hands together and rested his chin against the interlaced fingers. “No, like,” he shrugged, eyes shifting around a bit, “I mean it. You seem kinda distant.”

Jisung rolled his eyes up to meet Felix’s and he cocked his eyebrow. He was starting to regret tagging along with this kid he barely knew, feeling like this was less of a potential friendship and more like a therapy session. “You don’t know me, man.”

“No, but I know people.”

“You’re a sophomore psychology student, dude. You don’t know shit.”

The pink-haired man sighed, back thudding against the plasticky booth. “I guess you’re right about that. Doesn’t mean I don’t want to know, though.”

“Your funeral, then.” Jisung followed suit, leaning up against the booth with a bit more tact, swinging his arm around the wood frame. “I had my first sip of alcohol when I was thirteen. Got bored when my parents fucked off to Italy on some shitty trip without me.”

Felix tilted his head up like a dog, suddenly alive with renewed interest.

“They’re only parents in blood and title.” Jisung looked down at the table, scratching inanely at a chip in the pale green linoleum. “I was raised by nannies and tutors until I was fifteen. Most parents would probably panic when they leave the house, coming back to an empty liquor cabinet. My parents? Nah, they just restocked it and told me not to drink too much at once.”

“That’s,” Felix’s voice trailed off as he looked away, milling over the new information.

“It’s fucked,” Jisung finished the sentence, then brought the plastic cup of orange juice to his mouth and took a long sip. He set the cup back down and pulled up the sleeve covering his left arm, presenting the flesh over the table. Felix visibly recoiled as he eyed dozens of scarred lines littered across the skin, some marks still relatively fresh. “Their response to this? ‘We’ll get you into therapy and you won’t do this again.’ It was always the best money could buy, but their money didn’t do shit to my brain.” He shuffled the cloth over his arm again, ignoring the look of pity Felix offered him.

“If money could buy them a better son, they would’ve traded me out, like upgrading a car on a lease.”

Felix stumbled over his words a bit as Jisung rifled through his pockets, pulling out his phone and his wallet. “You still wanna make friends with someone like me?”

It took a moment, but Felix tentatively nodded his head. “Doesn’t sound like you have many friends to begin with,” he nervously sputtered out.

Jisung cocked his head to the side and licked his teeth as he smiled. “I don’t do friends. But life’s full of surprises. Anyway, gimme your phone so we can swap contact info.”

They exchanged phone numbers and Jisung dropped a couple of bills on the table. “Don’t worry about it,” he said as soon as Felix opened his mouth to protest, “you’re a university student and I’ve got my shitty parents’ cash to burn.”

“I’ll see you next week?” Felix questioned as Jisung stepped out of his shoddy 2003 Toyota Camry.

Jisung nodded once, tipping his index and middle fingers off of his forehead. “You got it. Thanks for the ride, mate.” He slammed the door with a fake smile that faded as soon as he turned around. Sure, Felix was the antithesis of everything Jisung was, but he could prove to be a source of entertainment over the next year.

Despite being cynical and vehemently anti-religion, Jisung always said a quiet prayer to himself as he opened the door, hoping his parents weren’t home when he arrived. Today, it seemed like luck was on his side: his mother’s keys weren’t on the key rack, and his father had yet to return from some bullshit ‘business trip’ off in China. Perhaps it was Morocco or Norway; they all blurred together in a haze of indifference. All Jisung was sure of was the fact that his father had probably taken one of his mistresses away to some foreign country he was pretending to secure a business deal in.

“Everyone’s favourite fuck-up is home!” Jisung shouted in the empty vestibule, his voice echoing against the cold walls. He didn’t expect a response, so when he was greeted with a comfortable silence, he smiled to himself. He kicked his shoes off and unceremoniously tossed them into the corner by the key rack.

His heavy, heel-first footsteps echoed as he made his way towards the kitchen, pulling a bottle of wine out of a glass display cooler as he padded towards the main refrigerator. He pulled out a box of takeaway Indian curry from the night prior, setting both the box and the bottle on the marble kitchen island, shuffling his feet towards a drawer. He retrieved a fork and a wine key, tossing them onto the countertop as he pulled out his phone, pack of cigarettes, and his lighter.

Jisung opened the bottle of wine as he sat down on a stool next to the counter, tossing the cork towards the rubbish bin, shrugging as he missed. That was a problem for later, and he didn’t feel like dealing with it now. Completely ignoring the takeaway carton, Jisung grabbed the wine bottle, then took a long guzzle directly from it. He winced a bit as the flavour of fermented floral grapes perfumed his mouth with a sharp, sickly rotten scent. The bottle clattered loudly against the marble, the echoing reminding Jisung of just how alone he was in such a large house.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, bringing his phone up in front of his face, scrolling through one of his playlists until he found the right song. With a few taps, some Drake came through the kitchen speakers. Jisung turned up the volume to near max, his head subconsciously moving to the beat of “In My Feelings”. He took a cigarette from the pack on the table and lit it, the tip turning from paper and plant to a red, ashy ember as he inhaled.

Was he allowed to smoke in the house? Of course not.

Did Jisung give a shit? Absolutely not.

A text message popped up as Jisung aimlessly scrolled through his various notifications. He opened it, barely scanning through the entire message from his mother until his eyes stopped on a blue phone number. His eyes narrowed, poring over the entire message. “A coworker of mine offered to be a sponsor for you: Lee Minho. He’s a few years older than you, but he’s nice. Here’s his number, please reach out to him.”

Jisung sarcastically scoffed, locking his phone as he placed it back on the countertop, swapping it for the bottle of wine. He took a drag off of his cigarette, then took another long swig from the bottle. “We admit we’re powerless to alcohol,” he mutters the first step under his breath as he slams the bottle down on the counter.

“Maybe I don’t fucking care.”

Jisung woke up on the couch to the sound of heels clacking against the hardwood floor just before eight in the morning, his fingers jostling an empty bottle of scotch on the floor as he brought his hands to his face.

“Get cleaned up, please.” His mother’s voice was accompanied by bright spotlights suddenly shining directly on his face. “I’ve invited Minho over to meet with you.”

“I didn’t ask you to.” Jisung’s voice was low and gravelly, groaning as he sat upright. The world spun, his body carried by the false inertia his mind had created.

His mother trotted off to the kitchen, shouting over her shoulder. “I know you didn’t. I did it because I care about you, Sungie.”

The blonde rubbed his clammy hands against his face again, attempting to wipe the sleepiness from his eyes. He grabbed his phone off of the floor, then wobbled his way upright, the living room spinning around him in a familiar sense of uneasiness.

“You don’t give a shit about anyone but yourself,” he muttered under his breath.

Somehow, Jisung managed to make his way upstairs to his room, stripping an article of clothing off with each lazy step from his bedroom door towards his personal washroom. By the time he got to the glass enclosure of the shower, he was totally stripped bare. Jisung distantly stared at his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror, a gaunt and ashy doppelganger staring back at him with a pained, empty look on his face.

Instead of stepping into the shower, Jisung approached the mirror, subconsciously bringing his hands to touch his flushed face. His cheekbones were more prominent now than they were earlier in the year, dark circles painted in broad strokes under his eyes. His gaze trailed down the scars he had inflicted on his arms and on his thighs, reminders of the failed attempts to take his own life that he was now forced to carry with him, wearing each line and mark as a badge of shame.

A warm tear rolled down his face as it contorted into an expression of terror and hurt, before he took his fist and crashed it into the mirror in front of him, a spiderweb of the impact left behind in the cracked glass as he pulled his bloodied knuckles away. Some glass shattered to the floor, some still wedged in the gaps between his fingers, and Jisung stared at the crack that split his reflection into several fragments.

How he was still alive was beyond him.

“Mrs. Han, please,” a lilted, unfamiliar laugh travelled up the staircase as Jisung slowly made his way down towards the first floor. He squinted at the noise that caused his head to throb, realizing that someone unknown speaking to his mother, likely the Minho she had mentioned earlier. With each step he took towards the drawing room, the voice got louder, each staccatoed laugh more pronounced.

“Jisung, come sit,” his mother said, replacing the genuine smile on her face with a fake, ‘Vaseline-on-the-teeth’ smile. She motioned towards the empty space on the couch, opposite from the young brunette that turned around.

Jisung met his eyes and it suddenly felt like his surroundings cracked and shattered around him, like the mirror upstairs. Rich brown eyes glistened behind the black and gold browline glasses that rested against the bridge of his nose. Rose-tinted lips curled upwards in a shy smile, revealing large, rabbit-like front teeth that rested softly against his bottom lip.

“Hi,” the stranger said with a gentle wave, “I’m Minho. Resident biochemist at the pharmaceutical company your mother works for.”

As Jisung made his way over to the open spot on the couch, he squinted, refusing to break eye contact with the strange invader. It felt like he was a wild animal on display, about to be poked and prodded by zookeeper staff or by scientists in some sort of underground, off-the-books laboratory. It would fit, after all, since the man was some sort of scientist.

“I’ll let you be,” Jisung’s mother says, rising to her feet. “Maybe you should tell Minho about your little misstep last night, hmm?”

Jisung rolled his tongue over his bottom lip and shook his head sarcastically. “Go enjoy your overfilled glass of wine at nine-fucking-thirty, ma. I’ll be here spilling my guts to a stranger that gives more of a shit about me than you.” Minho winced and his expression fell from cheerful to shocked.

The men stared at each other, Jisung’s gaze layered with arrogance, and Minho’s heavy with awkward discomfort. “So,” the younger man kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, pulling a pack of cigarettes and his trusted lighter from his sweatshirt pocket, hoping to wrap up the conversation as soon as possible. “I know you work with my mother, you’re an alcoholic, and your name’s Minho.” As quickly as Jisung could take in a breath, the cigarette between his teeth was lit, and he was glaring at the intruder through the grey haze that came between them. Their eyes met again, Jisung growing more and more wary by the second. “Why should I pick you as my sponsor, when I feel like you’re just gonna snitch to my mother?”

Minho’s jaw looked like it was clenched too tight, his bottom eyelids squinted upwards as he studied the younger man in front of him. They watched each other, eyeing each micromovement the other’s face made. About halfway through Jisung’s cigarette, Minho finally broke the uncomfortable eye contact, and took a deep breath. “I’m not asking for you to trust me, or to spill your life story,” he shifted, sitting upright, “but for you to see me as a mentor when things get hard and you want to dampen your feelings with alcohol. I’ve been there, Jisung.”

Indignation washed over the younger man’s face, quickly replaced by a familiar wave of arrogance. Jisung shook his head, ashing his cigarette directly onto the floor. “Doubt it,” he tutted, licking his teeth as he nodded his head, staring at the ring on Minho’s finger. He smirked to himself, then turned his head away and up towards the ceiling. “Looks like you’ve got someone that loves you. I don’t know what that feels like; never have, never will.”

The elder chewed on his bottom lip, clenching his fist as his eyes subconsciously scanned the ring on his finger. “Had.”

“What?” Jisung turned his head back towards Minho with a look of disgust on his face, ashes falling from his cigarette.

The brunette sighed, leaning further into the couch, nervously running his thumb over his balled up fingers. “He’s the reason I turned to drinking, to fill the void he left in my heart when he died.”

Shit.

For the first time in ages, Jisung felt a slight pang of regret twinge in his abdomen.

Minho swallowed hard, almost as if he were holding back his emotions. “We were married for five years, together since high school. You’d think I would’ve known the signs, but Chan was so good at hiding things, hiding his pain from everyone.”

The ember in Jisung’s cigarette died out as he found himself enraptured in Minho’s story.

Chan was Minho’s high school sweetheart. They started dating their sophomore year of high school, both attended the same university, and they got married when they were twenty. To Minho, Chan was everything. They supported each other, making the other man stronger and gave them a reason to go on.

Minho had no idea that Chan was severely depressed, holding his true feelings to his heart. Not long after Minho’s twenty-fifth birthday, Chan disappeared, only leaving a journal behind. It had started off with an apology, that if Minho found his journal, that it was too late to save him and that Chan had simply given up. On nearly every page, Chan reiterated that it wasn’t Minho’s fault, that Chan was just too far gone beyond repair, that Minho had given him a new lease on life, but it wasn’t enough.

Exactly three weeks after Chan had gone missing, police were on the doorstep of their shared home.

“Dental records,” Minho whispered, his eyes distant and glazed over as he lost himself in the memory. “That’s how they knew it was Chan. I don’t remember much after that, but I thought that I could find the answer to why Chan took his own life at the bottom of a bottle.”

Jisung’s grip on the arm of the couch was so tight, his knuckles had turned white and they were starting to ache.

“Several bottles,” Minho continued, “several bottles and several near-death experiences waking up in the hospital later, and I still hadn’t figured out the answer. I figured that maybe I’d see him again if I drank enough. Now,” he folded his arms, tucking his chin into his chest, “I’ve accepted that I’ll never know the answer to that question, that I need to live on for him. If there’s an afterlife, maybe I’ll get to ask him myself. Until then, though,” Minho rolled his teary eyes up to meet Jisung’s uncomfortable gaze, “I just want to atone for not doing enough before. I want to help others that are hurting, you know?”

They continued to stare at each other for what felt like hours, until Jisung finally shook his head. His voice cracked as he tried to speak. “Sorry,” his apology was shockingly sincere, “I guess I spoke before I thought.”

Minho awkwardly smirked, dismissively waving his hand in between them. “Don’t worry about it. I just wanted you to know that I’ve been at rock bottom and that there’s a way up and out, as long as you’re willing to put in the effort.”

Maybe Jisung was willing to give Minho a try.

At first, Jisung agreed to meet with Minho once a week after the mandatory AA meeting he attended. It took seven visits spanning seven weeks before Jisung eventually opened up about the neglect he faced from both of his parents, the emptiness he felt from being raised by nannies, feeling like money was more important than his own life.

Ten weeks in, they started hanging out on the weekends. Their relationship shifted from mentorship to friendship, and it was somewhat a relief that Jisung finally had someone he could trust enough to call his friend.

Week fourteen was when things started to shift further. Jisung hadn’t consumed alcohol in eight weeks, and things were clearing up, slowly but surely. He had been meeting with Felix more and more, too — maybe they weren’t quite friends yet, but Jisung was at least trying.

Things were looking up for the first time in Jisung’s life.

At week sixteen, Jisung stayed over at Minho’s apartment, convincing him that he needed to watch Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood. The blonde had vehemently pressed that it was, quite possibly, one of the best series of all time, animated or otherwise. After some gentle pressure, Minho finally caved, and they sat on his couch, diving into the show and into some mediocre takeaways.

They had gotten through the first three episodes and Minho finally relented that, yes, it was a good show and that, yes, Jisung was right.

“I knew you’d like it, dude,” Jisung snickered, playfully poking at Minho’s chest. The corner of his lips tugged upward into a crooked smile, and he wore Minho’s seal of approval as some sort of badge of honour.

The brunette turned away, softly smiling into his shoulder as a rush of crimson started to tint his face. “You’ve got me trying all sorts of new things, Ji,” Minho rubbed the back of his neck for a moment before he flashed his teeth at the younger man. “So much for me being the mentor here, huh?”

Jisung sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth at the nickname, trying to ignore the warmth blossoming up his face. He tried to stumble out some sort of response, but he caught himself getting lost in the way that the overhead lights shimmered in Minho’s eyes, highlighting the soft amber and warm bursts of hazelnut that erupted around his pupils. His expression started to falter, and he felt a familiar rush of excitement bloom in his chest, causing his nerves to come to life all around his body.

He remembered that this was how it felt right before he shared his first drunken kiss with Changbin, but something about this felt different. Perhaps it was the fact that Jisung was completely sober, but he desperately wanted Minho to kiss him, to want him back. However, Jisung wasn’t sure if it would have been a good idea, pondering over if Minho was really ready to start a new relationship, especially with someone he was supposed to be mentoring.

“Something on your mind?” Minho’s voice was soft as it gently guided Jisung back to the moment. “You’re kinda spacing out on me.”

“No, no,” Jisung stumbled around the words he wasn’t sure he could say, suddenly distracted by the television in the background. “I guess I was just thinking about the show.”

Minho’s head tilted to the side, concurrently lifting his brow in confusion. “You guess?”

Jisung waved his hand in between them and readjusted his posture so he was further away from Minho. “Yeah, I mean, I’ve seen it so many times, but it’s one of those shows that you watch and you see something new each time and—”

Warm fingers were suddenly on the side of Jisung’s face, pulling him back into Minho’s space. “You’re a terrible liar.” The voice was soft, yet assertive; low, but so loud. Jisung’s eyes went wide as Minho’s apartment blurred around him, his vision suddenly taken over by the sight of the brunette’s face right up next to his. In front of him.

Before Jisung could process what was happening, he was subconsciously pressing his lips into Minho’s, trying to remember exactly how kissing worked. It was years since the last time he had any practice, but it all came back to him as Minho helped guide Jisung’s face with his hands.

Minho’s tongue was soft, warm, and damp as it gently pressed up against Jisung’s lips, wordlessly pleading for entrance. Without letting his mind mill over the fine details and concerns he possibly had, Jisung parted his lips. Timidly, he rolled his tongue around Minho’s, his hands quivering as his fingers scrambled for purchase in Minho’s hair.

Unlike anyone Jisung had kissed before, this felt right, even if there were some uncomfortable grinding of teeth and awkward nose bumping. Within a reasonable amount of time, they slowly became experts at training the way the other wanted to be kissed. As if Minho could read Jisung’s mind, he would interrupt his soft kisses with gentle nips and grazes at Jisung’s bottom lip.

“Please,” Jisung’s voice cracked as Minho pulled his teeth down his bottom lip, “my neck, I…”

Minho swiftly moved his lips from Jisung’s, peppering tiny pecks against his jawline to his ear, stopping to take the blonde’s earlobe into his mouth with his tongue, grazing the tender flesh between his teeth. Jisung’s back involuntarily arched as the grooves of Minho’s teeth pulled at his sensitive skin, the sensation causing his nerves to come to life with an electrical jolt from head to toe.

The brunette chuckled, his warm breath brushing up against the tiny hairs on Jisung’s ear. He said nothing, simply moving down to press a few soft kisses to the skin just below the younger man’s earlobe. Minho’s lips were soft, gentle, only to be quickly replaced by a sudden, harsh bite into the tender flesh.

A yelp, accompanied by uncontrollable twitching, came from Jisung, who was simultaneously melting into Minho, but also pulling away. The elder’s fingers dug into the blonde’s waist, keeping him in the same position, not allowing him to escape. Jisung’s yelp had faded into a whimper, which evolved into a moan as Minho sucked the flesh between his teeth, quickly repeating the process several times in various spots along Jisung’s neck.

The moans were increasing in volume and breathiness, Jisung subconsciously, frantically rutting his pelvis into the couch. Minho must have caught on to this, letting go of Jisung’s waist to ease him down onto the couch. He pressed his lips to Jisung’s again, dancing his fingertips down to the waistband of the younger man, who was completely blissed out.

“Can I help you with this?” Minho’s voice was somehow both soft yet assertive as his palm pressed against Jisung's clothed erection.

Words eluded Jisung, verbal language suddenly turning into complex algebraic equations that didn’t translate from his head to his tongue. Instead, he groaned in affirmation as he hopelessly rolled his hips upward, finding himself pitiful that he was so desperately craving for Minho to just keep fucking touching him.

Things started to blur in a haze of wanton desire. Minho’s hand gently stroked Jisung’s cock, paying special attention to the way that his fingers and palm brushed against the head. Involuntary twitches took over Jisung as he whimpered and mewled, his shoulder blades grinding into the couch. Minho continued to nibble and bite at Jisung’s neck, occasionally whispering words of assurance and praise into his ear.

“You’re doing so well,” as he slowly dragged his hand from the base of Jisung’s cock up to his head.

“I can’t imagine how incredible you would feel around me,” as he gently thumbed the slit, rubbing precum around the sensitive head and causing Jisung to bite the back of his hand as he failed to stifle a cracked moan.

Jisung’s breaths turned erratic and he was nearly convulsing as his body started to twitch. Minho shifted his weight to his knees, slowing his strokes just enough so that he could awkwardly shift one leg off of the couch to position his head in a way he could take Jisung into his mouth.

“What are you—” Jisung started to question, until he found himself losing control of his body as Minho rolled his tongue around his cock. “Fuck, Minho!” He clamped his eyes shut, arching his back upward, hitting the back of Minho’s throat as he convulsed, his orgasm suddenly completely taking over him. “Minho,” he whined and unclenched his fists; “Minho,” he panted and opened his eyes; “Minho.” With one last breath, he was back to reality.

This had to have been the closest thing to heaven that Jisung thought he would ever experience.

Jisung had stayed over at Minho’s that night, too tired to function like a normal human. They slept on the couch together, necks crooned in uncomfortable positions all night long, bodies stiff from the unnatural firmness that Minho’s couch held. The next morning, they chose not to discuss the night prior, but they did exchange some soft kisses, until Jisung protested, mentioning that their morning breath was distracting him from actually enjoying the kiss.

Their weekends continued on like this: spending time watching a couple of episodes of their chosen programme until they got distracted and lost within each other. Nothing progressed further than handjobs, the occasional blowjob, and the one time that they rolled around naked, making out for so long and so intensely that the way they pressed their bodies together caused Jisung to come without any additional stimulation — and, hey, they liked it.

The budding relationship between them was confusing. During the week, Minho acted like the appropriate, wise mentor, with Jisung as his eager pupil. When the weekend came around, however, all bets were off. In everything but title, they were boyfriends for all intents and purposes. Every time Jisung tried to bring it up, Minho would shut down, saying that he wasn’t ready to really think seriously about it yet.

So, Jisung didn’t press. He was sure that their intimate interactions were causing conflicting emotions to arise within Minho, emotions he probably had been ignoring since Chan’s death, trying to shove them down as time went on. Even though he wanted to navigate the full spectrum of sexual experiences with Minho, Jisung remained silent until Minho was ready.

[cali-holland]

Worst Kept Secret- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Osterfield!Reader

Prompt: Sam gave Tom one job, but Harry and Harrison’s gossip leads to the worst kept secret and the biggest miscommunication in history...

Word Count: 3500

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex

Based on: “The Ring” from Last Man Standing (absolutely iconic episode)

a/n: sam’s girlfriend’s name is el right? tbh i don’t keep up with sam’s relationship because privacy

Masterlist   Tom Holland Masterlist

*Pic is not mine*

~~~

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Tom asked as he sat down across from Sam in the corner of the coffee shop. It wasn’t often that Sam asked to meet with Tom alone; in fact, it had never happened before, and, needless to say, the older boy was concerned.

“Why does something have to be wrong?” Sam rebutted, but he knew there was no hiding his nervousness from his brother. Tom didn’t even need to say anything before he continued, fidgeting with the plastic cup, “I, um, well, I want to ask El to marry me.”

“Really?” Tom’s eyebrows raised in excitement. He smiled proudly at his younger brother, “That’s amazing. I’m so happy for you.”

“The thing is,” He paused, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small ring box. He opened it up, showing Tom the extravagant diamond ring, nestled in the middle. “I haven’t asked permission yet.”

“You mean you got a ring and you haven’t even-“

“No, I haven’t. I’m going to talk to her dad this afternoon, but I just- can you hold onto it for me? I feel like El will find it.” Sam closed the box and extended it out to Tom, who carefully slipped it into his pocket.

“Have you told Harry and Paddy yet? They’ll be thrilled. I bet mum and dad were so happy when you told them.” Tom said, his smile growing wider at the thought of his family cheering on Sam’s big announcement.

“I haven’t told anyone yet. I wanted to get her dad’s permission first and then propose. I don’t want anyone else to know because what if she doesn’t say yes? We’re only 21, but-“

“Hey, she’s going to say yes.” He cut off his younger brother’s rambling, his eyes full of reassurance, “El loves you, she’d be crazy not to say yes.”

“Thanks, I just- I’m so nervous over it all.” Sam paused, running a worried hand through his hair, “Have you and Y/N talked about it at all?”

“A little.” Tom shrugged slightly. You two had been together for over two years now and you had been living with Tom (and your brother Harrison, Harry, and Tuwaine) for the past several months, but the topic of marriage wasn’t something that was brought up. Tom knew you were his future, you were all he ever wanted; the thought of actually proposing had just never crossed his mind.

“Y/N can’t know about this either.”

“Of course.” He nodded, “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

And Tom fully intended on keeping that promise. He kept the ring box hidden in his jeans drawer because that was the one drawer that he knew you didn’t even bother looking in. Since you lived together, you both had a “what’s mine is yours” mentality, especially when it came to Tom’s clothes. He didn’t mind that you’d wear his shirts, his hoodies, his sweats or even his underwear sometimes as pajama pants- he loved it when you wore his clothes. But you didn’t wear his jeans, so that made it the safest place to hide the ring.

Or so he thought. 

Harry was missing his favorite pair of jeans, and he knew that they had just been through the wash. He also knew that Tom had a bad habit of accidentally taking his brother’s clothes.

“Where are they?” Harry grumbled, digging through Tom’s jeans drawer. He knew you and Tom were out to pick up lunch for everyone, so it was perfect timing for him to scavenge through his brother’s room- as siblings do. He smiled triumphantly as he pulled his pair of jeans from the drawer. Just as he was about to shut it, a little box caught his eye. Curious, Harry picked up the box and shook it a little. When no sound came from the velvet box, he opened it up, just to drop it in surprise.

“Holy shit.” He picked up the ring box again and examined the diamond ring. His heart was racing; he couldn’t believe that Tom was going to propose. He wondered why his older brother hadn’t said anything about it. If Tom didn’t even tell Harry, did he tell Harrison? Was your brother aware of Tom’s plan? He heard the familiar sound of Tom’s car pulling into the driveway and Harry quickly hid the box under the jeans and closed the drawer. Grabbing his pair of jeans, he rushed out of the bedroom and into his room.

“Harry, lunch!” Tom called out for his brother from the kitchen. You sat down comfortably in Tom’s lap at the dining room table, and he gave you a kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist. Harrison fake gagged, sitting across from you two.

“You’re just jealous.” You teased your brother, throwing a small french fry at him. Tuwaine scooted away from Harrison, not wanting to get caught in a food fight between siblings as he continued to eat his lunch.

“No, it’s gross.” Harrison said, eating the fry before taking a massive bite out of the hamburger.

“Yeah, sure this is gross.” You jokingly rolled your eyes at him before biting into your own burger. Tom rested one hand on your hip, eating his lunch with rather large bites just as well. When Harry came downstairs, all he could think about was the ring box hiding upstairs. Seeing you and Tom cuddled up, sharing your food with each other, he felt a sense of reassurance wash over him. You made Tom so happy, and Harry was happy at the thought of you becoming an official Holland.

It wasn’t until a couple hours later when you and Tom left to take Tessa on a walk that Harry worked up the courage to bring it up to Harrison. He was certain that Tom would ask for your brother’s permission before buying a ring, but he was so wrong.

“He what?” Harrison asked, eyes wide. Tuwaine let out a laugh at his best friend’s reaction to Harry’s words.

“He bought a ring. I thought he would’ve said something to you.” Harry said, his eyebrows furrowed. He couldn’t tell how his friend was feeling; was Harrison upset? Angry? Frustrated? Did he not want to give Tom permission to marry you? The main question resting on Harry’s mind was why would Tom keep this such a big secret- you all live together?

“No, Tom didn’t tell me he bought a ring.” Your brother replied. He looked over at Tuwaine, who just shrugged nonchalantly.

“I didn’t know he got one either.” He admitted.

“Look, at it this way, you’ll be our brother officially now.” Harry offered with a small laugh, trying to ease the tension.

“I’m not mad.” Harrison said, running a hand through his blond hair, “I just didn’t expect it. I mean Tom asked me for permission before he asked Y/N out and he made sure I was okay with her moving in. He’s always asked me before doing anything. It’s just weird that he wouldn’t tell me that he bought a ring.”

“It’s a big step, maybe he’s just nervous and wants to wait to announce it to everyone?” Tuwaine suggested.

“Ah, shit.” He sighed, a new thought crossing his mind, “Tom’s taking Y/N out tomorrow night to that really nice restaurant- the one they went to on their first date. He was just telling me about it.”

“He’s really proposing then.” Harry breathed out, a smile appearing on his face. His brother was going to propose to you tomorrow.

“I thought it was because she just got a promotion at work, but guess he’s got other intentions.”

The conversation was cut short as the front door opened and laughter from you and Tom filled the air. Tessa came bounding into the living room, happily seeking pets from Harry.

“Look what we got!” You smiled, proudly, holding up a plastic bag from a store.

“That new candy store down the street finally opened.” Tom said eagerly as you dumped the contents of the bag on the coffee table.

“Ring pops are still a thing?” Harrison asked with a laugh when he noticed the disproportionate amount of ring pops compared to other candy. “You used to eat these all the time.”

“‘Cause they’re good!” You replied, grabbing one of them. The boys helped themselves to candy as you enjoyed your ring pop. You slipped the ring pop on your left ring finger, seeing as that was the only finger that was suitable for the plastic band. You didn’t notice how that simple action was spotted by both Harry and Harrison.

The next day, Tom went out on his morning jog (which he wouldn’t tell anyone that really it was giving Sam the ring back) as you made breakfast for the household in the kitchen. Harrison was abnormally silent when he came into the kitchen. Usually, he’d talk to you about everything and anything while you made food and he drank some tea, but today, something was off.

“Everything alright?” You asked him, looking up from the sausage on the stove over to your brother sitting at the island, hunched over a steaming mug.

“Just thinking.” He shrugged lightly. He didn’t even look at you when he spoke, yet another dead giveaway to you that something was up with your brother.

“What is it? You know you can tell me anything.” You said softly.

“Tom’s gonna propose.” He blurted out. Your jaw dropped at his words, unsure how to process this new information. At your odd silence, Harrison finally looked up to make eye contact with you. He stood from his seat and went over to pull you in for a tight hug, “I’m sorry, I ruined it.”

“No, no, I just-“ You stepped out of the hug and let out a confused sigh before a hopeful smile found its way onto your face. “He’s really going to propose?”

“Harry found the ring yesterday, and with tonight-“

“Oh my god.” You breathed out, realizing the weight of tonight. Why didn’t you see it sooner- Tom insisted on going to a nice restaurant for dinner and that restaurant was the same one from your first date.

“Just don’t say anything before tonight, he’s planned this all out.” Your brother pleaded, and you nodded understandingly.

“I won’t.” You agreed, turning back to the stove to continue cooking.

Later that day, you nervously got ready for your big date with Tom. Sure, you two had date night almost weekly, but he was proposing, it was more than just a date night. You made sure your nails, makeup, and hair was perfect and ready for any pictures. You didn’t want to sound vain, you just wanted to be prepared for the big question.

“You ready, darling?” Tom asked you as he put on his shoes.

“How do I look?” You emerged from the bathroom, a wide smile on your face. You did a little twirl in your little black dress and he smiled, approvingly.

“You’re gorgeous, as always.” He stood from the bed and pulled you in for a quick kiss.

“I just need my shoes.” You said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and putting on your heels. Once you finished, you stood and grabbed his hand, “Got everything?”

“Yeah,” He replied, a little confused by your question. What would he need besides his keys, phone, and wallet?

Your seats in the restaurant were in the far corner, mostly secluded and away from any prying eyes if anyone noticed Tom. It was sweet, having a nice dinner with just the two of you, but you couldn’t help the uneasiness you felt as the night went on. Tom made it feel like any other date night. Was Harrison wrong? What if Tom didn’t want to propose to you?

After dinner and dessert, Tom drove the two of you home and you felt your heart drop in disappointment. Nothing, no question, no ring. You didn’t even see the rest of the boys when you got home, you immediately went to get ready for bed. 

Tom was confused himself; he had thought it was a nice night, a great celebratory date night for your latest promotion at work. And now you were abnormally quiet and seemingly rushing to go to bed. There were no passionate post-date kisses that led to passionate post-date sex. He didn’t say anything though, thinking that maybe you were just tired or not feeling well- both of which often made you go quiet. He got changed into his pajama bottoms and climbed into bed beside you. He couldn’t help but frown as you settled for a spooning position with him as the big spoon. He loved to fall asleep with you on his chest; something was wrong and he didn’t have any idea what he did to upset you.

The next day, Tom woke up to you already gone and out of bed. He pouted, getting up to go find you. He found you downstairs, quietly talking to Harrison in the kitchen. When he came in, the conversation dropped and you greeted him with a small, “good morning” before taking a long sip of your coffee.

“Good morning,” He smiled, greeting you and Harrison. He gave you a quick peck on the cheek before fixing himself a cup of tea. “Did you not sleep well?”

“Hm?” You hummed as you got out some eggs from the fridge to make yourself (and Tom) breakfast. You may have been disappointed from last night, but you weren’t going to starve your boyfriend who couldn’t cook.

“You’re drinking coffee.” He pointed out, “You only drink coffee when you don’t sleep well.” You wanted to cry, damn him for knowing your coffee and tea preferences so well, but for not realizing the problem from last night.

“I don’t think the food sat well with me last night.” You explained and he nodded. He looked over at Harrison while you were distracted by the stove and his friend simply shrugged his shoulders and left the room quietly. Tom knew the two of you better than that though; he knew something was wrong with you and he knew Harrison knew exactly what it was.

“So, Sam’s invited us around for lunch today. It’s a family lunch.” Tom stated, trailing off a little as he expected you to come with him.

“I promised Charlotte I’d go out with her today.” You replied, and he held back his frown. He didn’t know you had arranged anything with your sister.

“Oh, okay.” He mumbled, a bit hurt from your separate plans.

Breakfast went on quietly, and you felt bad about it, but you didn’t know what to do. Tom had planned out such a perfect proposal date, and yet here you were with nothing on your left hand. You just hated this feeling of disappointment.

Tom and Harry left later on to go to the Holland house for lunch, and you were left in your own pity. You didn’t want to see Tom’s family, not today at least, and so you had lied about your plans with your sister, and Harrison knew it too, but he wasn’t going to say anything to Tom. He was just about as disappointed as you were.

“You okay?” Harrison asked, his blue eyes sad as he walked into the living room to see you laying on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

“I don’t know.” Your voice was quiet, almost broken, as you spoke. You sat up and your brother came to sit beside you.

“Are you going to be okay?” He changed his question.

“It’s just disappointing, I guess. I mean I want to marry him, but we haven’t really talked about marriage. We’ve only ever just acknowledged that we want a future together.” You said, picking at your nails. You did them specifically for last night, it wasn’t worth it to have them done now. “I love him, though, and it shouldn’t matter how or when or even if we get engaged.”

“Want me to talk to him?” He offered, but you shook your head.

“It’s fine. I’ll talk to him.”

Meanwhile, when Tom arrived at the Holland house, he got pulled aside into the kitchen by his mother away from his brothers. He was asked immediately where you were, your absence didn’t go unnoticed by the matriarch.

“She’s doing something with her sister. It was super last minute.” He explained weakly, still upset over how this morning went.

“Is everything alright?” She asked in concern.

“I don’t know. We went out on a nice date last night, and she just seemed upset afterwards. She hasn’t said much to me since we got home last night.”

“What did you do?” Nikki immediately accused and he held up his hands defensively.

“I didn’t do anything. I pulled out her chair, I paid, I gave her my jacket, I was a gentleman and somehow something went wrong.” He sighed in frustration.

“Talk to her, okay?” She ran a comforting hand on his back for a moment. Tom helped his mother serve the food on their dining room table. His face lit up when Sam and El came into the room, he knew Sam had proposed last night and Tom was more than excited to hear the news.

Before they ate, everyone sat around the table and Sam cleared his throat nervously.

“So, I’ve got an announcement.” He started with an eager smile. He wrapped an arm around his fiancee’s shoulders, “We’re engaged!”

El held up her left hand, which she had been hiding previously, and showed off the new ring on her finger. Various cheers came from Tom, Paddy, and his parents, but Harry’s excitement was lost as he looked at the ring, recognizing it from Tom’s bedroom.

“What the fuck?” Harry muttered, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. The room fell silent as Harry grabbed her hand, eyes scanning over the ring.

“That’s a weird way to say ‘congrats, Sam. Can I be best man?’” Sam joked lightly and his twin turned to Tom, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Tom, isn’t that your ring?” Harry accused.

“You told me you wouldn’t tell anyone!” The newly engaged Holland groaned.

“I didn’t! Why the hell do you think that’s mine?” Tom questioned.

“It was in your room, in your drawer.” Harry stated, and Tom’s face fell.

“You didn’t- you didn’t tell Y/N, did you?” He asked. He swore his heart stopped as he waited for his brother’s reply.

“No. I only told Harrison and Tuwaine. I thought you were proposing to Y/N, so I assumed you told Harrison.” He explained.

“Fuck!” Tom shouted. If Harrison knew then you definitely knew; and if Harrison thought that it was a ring for you then you definitely thought that.

“What is it?” Paddy asked, trying to keep up with the odd drama between his brothers.

“I fucked up,” was all Tom could manage to get out before he grabbed his shoes and took off from the house.

It all made sense to him now. Harrison had told you that he was going to propose, and you thought he’d propose on your date last night. You weren’t upset about what Tom did, you were upset about what he didn’t do. And no wonder he didn’t know you had plans with your sister today because you didn’t really have plans, you just wanted to be alone. Tom hurried home and burst through the front door to find you, laying on the couch, eating a ring pop and scrolling through your phone.

“Tom? I thought you were at lunch.” You said, sitting il and suddenly feeling guilty that you’d been caught in your lie about your sister.

“I’m so stupid, I’m so sorry.” Tom rushed into the living room. He knelt down in front of your spot on the couch. “It wasn’t my ring. It was Sam’s.”

“You mean Sam and El-“ You smiled as he nodded, happy for the now engaged couple.

“He wanted me to hold onto the ring for a couple days and not tell anyone until after he proposed. I didn’t think you or the boys would find it, and I definitely didn’t think that it’d look like I was proposing.”

“It’s okay. I was disappointed last night, and I’m sorry, too. I should have just told you why I was upset, but I love you and I don’t care that you haven’t proposed. I just want to be with you, married or not.”

“But I want to marry you,” Tom held your left hand in his and carefully slid the ring pop off your finger. “Y/N Osterfield, will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

“Yes,” You laughed as he put the ring pop back on your finger. He pulled you in for a passionate kiss, the fingers of his right hand intertwining with your left hand, mindful of the sticky ring pop.

“Now I need to get you a ring, one that isn’t edible.”

[mrs-daddyissues]

considerably

~ C H A P T E R  8 ~

~ Masterlist ~

Pairing: Alfred Pennyworth x OFC

Series Summary: Sarabi Nichols is Bruce Wayne’s life long friend that aids in creating weaponry and making outfits. When she was younger she had a thing for Bruce but now her taste has aged. Considerably. Alfred Pennyworth, Bruce’s guardian and butler is more her style now. Despite this knew found liking, Sarabi feels trapped. She can’t talk to Bruce about it and clearly can’t mention it to Alfred. The only person she has is her best friend, Claudia. Sarabi has to fight the things she feels for the older man because he could never feel the same way back, right?

{Normal} Playlist

{Slowed+Reverb} Playlist

Warnings: Swearing, sexual references

Word Count: 1831

Author’s Note:

If you didn’t see it in my last post, I just wanted to say that I am returning to work soon so my posting schedule will not be as consistent. Apologies but for now, enjoy!

Sarabi’s eyes fluttered open as soft morning light filtered through her curtains. She felt warm and tingly all over but couldn’t remember having a sex dream that night. She felt around her nightgown and found no evidence. Suddenly, like a large wave, all the previous night’s events replayed in her mind.

She remembered the way every person stared at her as she graced those stairs. She remembered dancing with that old guy and then with the young, skinny Edward Nygma that she introduced to Claudia. 

But the thing that was making her feel so pleased was the moments she shared with Alfred. She recounted their sensual dance as if they’d done it millions of times before and the way he talked to her in his jealous almost possessive tone. The dance and the small encounter that happened afterwards replayed in her mind and made her sigh contently.

At that moment, her phone pinged. She turned over with a gruff and grabbed the phone. On her screen was a text from Claudia.

So...did you get some? ;)

Sarabi’s smile faded when she realised what this all meant. She would have to face Alfred today and what was she supposed to do? Act like nothing happened or address the ache in her core that had started building. She felt a pinch of annoyance as she thought about how she could’ve ended the night with Alfred in her bed. 

Sarabi rolled back over and slapped her forehead. ‘What the fuck am I suppose to do?’ Sarabi stressed over and over again before deciding to text Claudia back.

No, did you?

Sarabi tried to distract herself by making conversation with Claudia but it didn’t help. Her body yearned for Alfred in a way it hadn’t before. Sarabi knew this stronger craving was because of how close she got to what she wanted last night. She didn’t know how long she could stand it.

Aw, that’s too bad. You’ll get him eventually. And yes I did get some and it wasn’t half bad. 

Sarabi was glad Claudia had some fun but now she wanted to have her own fun. She didn’t know what to do but she knew Claudia would.

What the fuck should I do? Do I act as if nothing happened?

Sarabi texted, hoping that Claudia had all the answers she needed.

Talk to him. When you get a spare chance. I might come over later and we can discuss it further, alright Sarbi? Gtg but I love you and go get some ;)

Claudia’s answer made Sarabi’s nerves fly through the roof but she made the decision. She’d discuss it with Claudia, hopefully, and get all the advice she needed. She would then, when she got a private, spare chance, talk to Alfred and see what happens. It could ruin everything they had but if it went the way she wanted, it could have some of the most delicious payoff.

Please, come over. I need your guidance, wise one! Love ya.

She texted back almost instantly. Sarabi knew it was the only way to know for sure. If she didn’t talk with him she would never know.

Sarabi managed to avoid Alfred for the day as he was in the ballroom helping clean up. Sarabi busied herself with work in the cave that ranged from weapons manufacturing to hacking into security cameras and surveying crime. In retrospect, she’s very glad that Bruce had that gala because now Alfred would be away for the whole day.

Halfway through the day, Sarabi realised what she was doing was useless so she retired to her room. Having no clue what else to do, she read, watched some TV and even had a random shower. She was bored and kind of wishing she had some sort of work to do.

“Miss Nichols?” The sonorous British voice registered in her ears while she put away a pair of socks. She turned around quickly and felt all rationality leave her mind. Everything she had prepared before was completely washed from her mind like a sandcastle during high tide. She marvelled at how Alfred, without any effort, could make her mind unravel like that.

“Miss Nichols?” Alfred’s head inclined when Sarabi didn’t respond. She then quickly snapped out of her trance and shook her head, her curls bouncing on her shoulders.

“Yes, Alfred?” Sarabi let go of a shaky breath as her heart thumped against her chest.

“Miss Flynn is here to see you,” Alfred responded with the most professional voice Sarabi had ever heard him use. It was like he was trying to be overly professional.

“She didn’t tell me she would be here,” Sarabi wasn’t surprised though, Claudia was the ultimate best friend. She was there for her whenever she needed it.

Sarabi walked up to where Alfred was standing and watched how his eyes flickered down to her lips and back up to her eyes. Sarabi gave a similar stare to Alfred hoping he would just confess to her first. The tension between the two was thick.

After the dance the two shared the feelings between the two seemed much hotter and heavier. The tension was extreme and almost unbearably. She would love to get it other with and jump Alfred’s bones but he had other plans. 

“Miss Flynn is waiting,” Alfred reminded Sarabi as her body moved closer to his. Sarabi didn’t even notice she was doing it.

“Right, thanks,” Sarabi quickly scurried away to find Claudia watching from the bottom of the staircase.

“Did I interrupt?” Claudia asked with a worried but playful tone. She hoped she hadn’t interrupted an important moment but also hoped that things were moving forward.

“You interrupted nothing, let’s go,” Sarabi grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her along.

“Where are we going?” Claudia questioned, thinking they would just talk at Wayne Manor.

“Anywhere but here,” Sarabi responded, she looked back to find Alfred watching her from the staircase. Those eyes were burning into her but as soon as Sarabi caught them, he turned around and walked away. The voyeuristic stares shared between the two were growing in number. Sarabi had no idea what to do about it. Sarabi just hoped Claudia had all the answers.

The two girls ended up having lunch at some swanky 50s style diner in downtown Gotham. They were seated at a red leather booth in the very corner. Claudia had in front of her a cheeseburger, fries and a large coke. Sarabi consumed and thoroughly enjoyed a hot dog, fries and a cherry cola milkshake.

While they ate, they discussed everything that needed mentioning. 

“So, how was Edward Nygma?” Sarabi wanted to know all the details and knew Claudia would share them without a care in the world.

“He’s got some weird quirks, that’s for sure, like he kept giving me riddles the entire night but I like riddles so it was kinda cute. We went back to my place and did it in my bed, on my couch and on my kitchen counter,” Claudia listed off the places she had sex with Edward Nygma and Sarabi scoffed.

“Jesus Claudia! I wouldn’t be surprised if you ended up with an STD at some point,” Sarabi took a sip from her milkshake while Claudia rolled her eyes.

“They’re called STIs and I get tested regularly, I also always use protection,” Claudia stated matter-of-factually while shoving a bunch of french fries in her mouth.

“Is that what you did with Edward?” Sarabi teased and Claudia threw a fry in retaliation.

“No, but yes,” Claudia answered and the two girls giggled like school children.

“So, was he good?” Sarabi inquired, throwing a fry back at Claudia.

“Well I fucked him 3 times on 3 different surfaces, so,” Claudia chuckled while the waitress walking past stared on in disgust.

“I’m guessing he was pretty good,” Sarabi watched as the same waitress’ mouth hung open in utter disbelief. Sarabi had no idea what was wrong, they were talking quietly so the family a couple of booths over couldn’t hear and it was a free country after all. Sarabi just rolled her eyes at the waitress and she went on with her duties.

“Who are you rolling your eyeballs at?” Claudia looked behind her in the most unsubtle fashion and Sarabi slapped her arm.

“The waitress, now turn around before you get us kicked out,” Sarabi pulled Claudia by her shirt back into her seat and she pouted her lips in mock sadness.

“Okay, mother!” Claudia chastised with an overly dramatic eye roll and huff.

“Can we talk about Alfred now?” Sarabi looked around cautiously and she had no idea why. It’s not like Alfred would be around or had supersonic hearing.

“Right, right, right, let’s get down to business,” Claudia clasped her hands together and leaned against the table as if it was an interview.

“You reckon I should just talk to him?” Sarabi scratched the back of her neck nervously at the thought of confessing her feelings.

“Yes girl, definitely! Talking sorts everything out. You just sit him down and tell him how you feel,” Claudia explained as if she’d given the same talk a million times.

“But I don’t know how I feel,” Sarabi huffed in annoyance. She didn’t know if it was love, liking or something entirely different.

“Of course you do. Look deep into your heart and look. Do you find Alfred there?” Claudia spoke in a soothing voice as if she was a yoga instructor.

“As if Alfred is where?” Sarabi queried, confused beyond belief. Claudia could be overly poetic sometimes.

“Your heart, dipshit! Do you see him in your heart?” Claudia allowed ample time for Sarabi to take a look. 

Sarabi let her mind wander to the man being discussed. She felt the suave brilliance that followed him wherever he went. She saw his beautiful locks of hair and deep brown eyes. She heard his voice, low and rich with expression and British excellence. She could also smell his aroma, musky and deliciously masculine with the right hint of cologne. She experienced Alfred in every facet. She saw him, heard him, smelt him and felt him. He was everywhere. He was on her mind, behind her eyes, burning her core and in her heart.

“Yes, I do,” Sarabi opened her eyes and saw Claudia smile mischievously. 

“Then you love him! Simple as that, do you see yourself with him in the future?” Claudia took another fry and swallowed it greedily.

“I hope so,” Sarabi took a gluttonous gulp of her cherry cola milkshake, feeling the cool, sweet liquid burst in her mouth.

“So yes. It’s love, girl and believe me I do know what love is,” Claudia reassured when Sarabi’s head cocked to the side.

“So I love him?” Sarabi’s mind seemed to clear when the realisation hit.

“I do. I love Alfred,” Sarabi admitted to herself and for once, she felt relieved. 

For once she knew what she was, she was in love.

<<CHAPTER 7<<  ~ ~ ~  >>CHAPTER 9>>

[67impalaandwhisky]

Destiny Is Heaven Sent

Summary: Knowing Dean Winchester since you were fifteen, you’ve always been pulled in his direction. Always wanting to open up the rattled and broken cage your heart lives in. But when the child you’ve been raising together dies, you find yourself closing up the cage of your heart again. And if destiny has one thing for you, it’s to break you down before bringing you back up.

Characters: Dean x You, Sam, Castiel, Bobby, OFC’s, OMC’s, (Ongoing) 

This Series Is Set Through Seasons 1-6 With Knowledge That The Bunker Exists

Rating: 18+

Warnings (Ongoing and Will Be Updated): Grieving, Mentions of Rape and Defilement (As Per A Case), Show Level Violence, Swearing, Smut, Impreg Kink, Blood, Fighting, Drinking, Dean Being Dean, Fluff, Angst, Dom!Dean, Sub!Reader

Warnings For This Chapter: Grieving Over Dead OMC, Drinking, Swearing, Flirting

A/N: This is my first Supernatural fic ever! I’ve been writing for a while and have adored Supernatural since the beginning so I’m really excited for this series and I hope everyone enjoys it! 

Chapter 1.

Autumn used to be a season that you adored when you were little. It was the fresh chill of the air and the taste of possibility that clung to the wind. Now you can't help but find it mindlessly awful.

You used to love Halloween and all of the holidays that accompanied soon after. It brought you and your family together. Until your mother died. Then it was just a teeth gritting ride of vengeance by your father, who had loved his wife since he was a teenager.

He did his research, something that you would find harrowing if you didn't grow up in this life. He spent your entire life dragging you around, preparing you to fight against monsters and magic. 

Your father had discovered what had killed your mother when you were fifteen on Christmas Eve. He had left you at the Right Swing Motel to kill the monster on one of your favorite holidays.

You weren't mad then and you still weren't mad now. You couldn't imagine loving someone so much that you were overcome with anguish and the need for revenge. 

When he finally came back to the motel two days later, you had expected him to be relieved. He killed the werewolf that ripped your mother's heart out. You expected him to be your father again. But alas, he seemed angrier and more prone to violence then you could ever imagine.

When he finally died on a job that could never be done alone, you realized just how fucked in the head he had become. Just how overwhelming grief could make you and you swore to yourself that you would never become like him.

Even if that meant setting your emotions aside every time.

Pulling up to the old diner on Route 30, your eyes lazily drift over the parking lot. Spotting the 67' Impala you've grown to know since you were a teenager, you park your car beside it before blowing a bubble in your gum.

You watch the bubble expand and expand before sucking all the air out of it as you step out of your car. Slamming the door shut, your combat boots slap the concrete as you enter the diner.

Taking off your sunglasses, you walk past the waitress as she welcomes you. You give her a brief smile before spotting the men you've grown up with.

Without a word you walk towards them, watching as Dean devours the cheeseburger in hand like he has never eaten a damn thing in his life. Grimacing, you plop yourself down in the booth earning both of their eyes as they slowly drift up from their plates.

"Oh Jesus!" Sam yells, putting his hand over his heart.

"Am I that hideous? My God." You mumble as you grab a french fry off Dean's plate. 

He smacks your hand multiple times earning pink splotches as you slap his hand back.

"Order your own food, Y/N. I'm a growing boy. Gotta eat." He complains as you rest your elbow on the greasy table surface.

"Can I get you anything?" The waitress asks as she approaches. 

"She wants a philly cheese steak, extra onions. No mushrooms or peppers. And, a strawberry milkshake." Dean says as he wipes some crumbs out of the stubble on his chin.

You hum impressed to him before throwing your legs over Sam's lap. 

He's been used to it by now, earning the title as your best friend quite quickly since you were fifteen. His hand wraps around your thigh high combat boots before ignoring Dean's gaze and continuing to eat his salad. 

You steal a cucumber off his plate before looking at his older brother. His eyes were on yours, forest green irises looking over your body intently before looking back down at his food.

"Job?" You ask as Sam holds up the local newspaper he was reading before you arrived.

"Nothing we can't handle. Why don't you go back to the bunker and just relax, hmm?" Dean offers sweetly and you scowl at his suggestion.

"What's with this whole macho man show you've been putting on lately? It's so infuriating, Jesus. I've saved your life so many times and now suddenly I'm a frail crone that has to be a housewife to her two best friends as they go out and fight demons and monsters?" You ask, raising your eyebrows.

He cringes at your words before setting his burger as if it made him feel sickly.

"This job is dangerous." The oldest mumbles and you find yourself suddenly aggravated. When has Dean Winchester ever made you back down from a hunt? When has he ever begged you not to come instead of joining them? 

The answer is never.

"This ghost seems to abduct beautiful, single women and do things to them. I don't want you at risk." You look over to Sam as his brother speaks and you notice how he avoids eye contact with you. 

Your plate of food is set down in front of you and you thank the girl quietly as the tension in the air thickens. Dean Winchester in his whole life has never called you beautiful. He's never even given you the time of day. Which you don't mind really, that's how he's always been. But he's never kept you away from a hunt and you're wholeheartedly offended.

"Then I'll be perfect bait." You reply. 

"I said no." Dean says through gritted teeth.

Sam squeezes your leg gently as if to beg you to not start a fight in a random diner off the highway. 

"I don't give a fuck about what you say Dean Abel." He coughs awkwardly at the middle name you bestowed on him since you were younger. 

You never use it unless you mean business. 

"Y/N. I'm just looking out for you. Jesus Christ." He whispers. 

Folding your arms, you look over at Sam expectantly. You know he hates to be involved in your spats with Dean.

You're both hard headed beasts that don't quit until you get what you want.

"I mean...When has Y/N ever backed down from a fight? When has she ever been anything but safe with us?" Sam says, still avoiding eye contact with his brother.

If looks could kill, Sam would be dead against the window of the diner.

"Thank you Sammy." You say happily before sipping your milkshake. 

Dean makes an angry grunt before leaning back in the booth and throwing a balled up napkin onto his plate.

"What's so wrong with me wanting you safe? Is it a fucking sin?" He asks bitterly as you take a bite of your sandwich.

You look up at him again, watching as he swallowed thickly.

What's his fucking damage today? 

"In your life you've never kept me away from a hunt. In your entire life. I've been attacked by ghosts. Bitten by vampires. Abducted by djinns and you've never batted an eye. Now when there's an abducting ghost you suddenly assume the role of protector?" You ask pointedly, your index finger pressing into his chest across the table.

Dean sniffs before pulling out his wallet and throwing cash onto the table. His large hand runs over his face before he's shoving his hands in his pockets. 

"You're not going. End of story. I am not losing another person." He mumbles before walking out of the diner and leaning on the hood of Baby.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?" You ask his brother loudly.

Sam shoves a fork full of salad into his mouth as he plays with the laces of your combat boots. He seems to be distracting himself so he doesn't have to look at you.

"He's been this way for weeks. He's...I mean he's worried about you. We only just burned Marsh a few weeks ago and he doesn't seem to think you're ready to go back out." Sam says before looking over at you. 

You begin to smile, a feral nasty smirk spreading onto your face. Gripping your legs harder, he widens his eyes at you begging you to stop.

"Let go, Samuel Cain." You seethe through your teeth and he sighs loudly before finally going slack against the leather of your boots.

Jumping out of the booth, you fix your leather jacket. 

It takes a few large steps before you're barreling out the diner door straight towards the boy you've watched become a man.

"You son of a bitch." You curse as you advance on him. 

His head turns to you slowly and his jaw clenches. 

At one time when you were sixteen, you'd find it absolutely hot but now it just sets fire into your veins at a quicker pace.

"Y/N…" His voice is weak as he holds his hands up.

Opening up your hand, you stiffen your arm before jabbing your palm underneath his chin.

With a groan he slides off the hood of his car.

"Come on!" He yells angrily before standing up and opening his mouth before spitting out a drop of blood or two.

"How dare you decide what I need to do! How dare you for one second think that I need to be told to sit one out!" You yell as you grip his jacket. 

Hauling him up, he puts his hands on your shoulders.

"I'm just looking out for you, goddammit! You're not okay, and you won't talk to me! You look through me! I'm trying to protect you! You mean something to me! Fuck!" He yells as he shakes you about.

"Yeah?! Well I don't need your fucki-" You begin to scream before being cut off.

"Guys. They called the cops. We gotta go." Sam says before ripping the door open to the Impala.

Dean lets go of you before huffing out and smacking the hood of his car loudly. 

"This isn't over you asshole." You mutter, jutting your finger to your best friend as you put on your sunglasses.

"Why am I not surprised?" He seethes as you open the door to your car.

It's incredibly insulting. Unbelievably unfathomable. In all your life, Dean Winchester has never thought you were weak. 

These weeks without Marsh haven't been easy but that doesn't mean you're lost. Doesn't mean you haven't given up sight of who you are and how things need to be. He wouldn't want that.

"Hello Y/N." The deep monotone voice pulls you out of your thoughts and you jump slightly at the man now sitting beside you in the passenger's seat.

"God! Cas, what did I tell you?!" You yell, slamming your hand onto the steering wheel.

"To never appear in your car like this." He states matter-of-factly.

Rolling your eyes, you begin to focus back on the road watching as Dean speeds down the highway.

"What? What do you want?" You ask the angel as you lower the music.

"Well. I don't want you to fight with Dean." He says as he stares ahead at the road.

You give a short laugh before clicking your tongue and tilting your head.

"Sorry Cassy, all me and Dean do is fight." You mutter as you open the window. 

"It's okay to not be okay, Y/N. I have been watching you, seeing your inner struggle. I know it's hard without Mar-" 

"First of all, don't watch over me. I don't need you to. Secondly, you don't know anything about how I feel. He was just a kid, Cas. He was fourteen years old for God sake." 

He stays silent as you drive down the road. 

"He's happy where he is. He isn't in Hell." Cas says and you laugh to yourself before biting your bottom lip almost hard enough to draw blood.

You've been there through it all, through the angels and the demons. Through the ghouls and the werewolves. Heaven and Hell were so far off your list of things to think about, just the notion bleeds your very soul. 

"Doesn't mean Dean can try to keep me away from what I need most." You tell the angel as the Impala in front of you turns into the parking lot of a motel.

"And what is that?" He asks as you park beside them.

You open your mouth to answer before shutting off the engine of your car and turning your body to him. He looks upon you blankly as you run your fingers through your hair.

"Can't you see what I need without asking?" You ask quietly. 

He sighs before nodding, "Yes. I see." 

Exiting your car, you don't even look at the oldest as you grab your bag from the back seat. 

"Room?" You call out before opening your trunk and grabbing your duffel bag filled with the usual gun paraphernalia. 

"Seven." Sam says and you don't miss the irony of it. 

Luck could go shove it.

You push past Dean as he holds his hand out for your bags and you hear him curse under his breath.

"Come on." Dean says as he jogs beside you. 

You hold your hand out for the key and it's immediately placed in your hand by the younger brother.

"I'm gonna go for a walk." Sam mutters out.

"Be careful." You and Dean say at the same time. You crack your neck loudly before pushing open the door and dropping your bag onto the small table the cheap motel room offers.

Closing the door behind him, you can hear Dean sigh loudly. 

Fighting was always fun with him in years passed. It was always an adrenaline rush. But, these days you're so far past it. You just want to do your job, have a drink and that's it.

"You can't just shut me out." Dean says, folding his arms and leaning against the wall.

"Yeah? Watch me." You retort as you begin to make lines of salt on the window. 

"Y/N. I mean it. This has fucked you up entirely. I know what it's like to bottle things away until you're overflowing. I know that pain you're hiding. Just talk to me." 

"No!" You bark out before you feel arms wrap around you.

You can smell him. The smell is something akin to home. He smells of whisky and musk. Old leather that is worn and creasing. He smells of gunpowder and mint. 

"Get the fuck off me." You seethe, writhing in his grasp as it tightens.

"I know you. I know you so well- Hell, I practically am you. Don't you dare think it's okay to keep it to yourself. You're strong? Yeah well, sometimes dams break too." You set the bottle of salt down on the table before turning towards him.

His evergreen irises, staring deep into yours. His small freckles that you've counted a number of times since you were fifteen. His gentle stubble, a sign that he's been taking care of himself. 

His thumbs run over the leather of your jacket but you can practically feel the calloused skin on yours.

"If I talk about it, it makes it real. I just want to work. I want to shoot things and save people." You say before ripping your eyes away from him to the gold necklace he adorns.

"This is real, Y/N. A kid that we called our own is gone. His mother. His father. His uncle. Are all without him now." Just those words send you hurtling yourself towards him. 

Breaking free from his grasp, he lets you punch him in the chest. He lets you take your anger out on him. Because he's Dean and he's always here to drink in your sorrow whenever it comes around. Because, in order to be truly emotionless you have to give them away to someone else.

"He was just a kid! He was just a little boy!" You yell as you punch the older man in the jaw. His body makes contact with the floor as your screams become intelligible.

With a groan he pulls himself up before standing still. Your hard punches slowly turn soft and then you're beating on his chest. 

Letting out a shaky breath, he pulls you close to him. You let out a sob, a small garbled noise, into his grey t-shirt. Feeling the cotton absorb your tears as your eyes burn.

"He was a baby. We should have just left him at the orphanage like Bobby told us. We sh-shouldn't have taken him with us." You cry out.

You let the sorrow eat at you for a second. Let your mind wrap around your emotions before closing yourself off once more. Something you're getting almost too good at.

You shove the handsome man away from you before wiping at your face and turning away from him.

"Y/N. He wanted to come with us. We couldn't leave him to the system after everything he had seen. He wanted to grow up and be a hunter. He wanted us. And we wanted him." Dean whispers, you can hear the crack in his voice. The strain of his vocal cords from weary emotion.

"Yeah well, we fucking failed him. We should have never taken him with us."

"He loved you, Y/N. You raised him. You were his mother for years when he didn't have one himself. You made him into a strong boy." He tells you.

You look down at the woven bracelet Marsh had bought you for mother's day with Dean's money and your jaw clenches with grief.

But, Dean was his father too. And, you know it's taken a toll on him as well. You can't be so selfish. 

"He loved you too. You were the father he needed and always wanted. I'm sorry." You say finally before looking out the window at both of your cars as they sit side by side like always.

"Me too. I'm-I'm sorry." He mumbles.

You know that's big for him. Even if he is ever sorrowful getting those two words out is like hot searing pain to him but he at least tries with you.

"We good?" You ask him as you turn back around.

You find him still staring, still drinking you in even with your back turned and your stomach coils like when you were a teenager. 

"Yeah. Yeah, we're good." He says finally before opening his arms. 

You almost take that welcoming before snorting and grabbing the discarded salt on the table.

"Nice try." You mumble before putting salt in front of the door.

"It's not a sin to hug someone." He whispers before grabbing your gun bag and throwing it on his bed.

No but it's a sin to hug him.

"So what's the job?" You ask aloud as you all sit in the dive bar.

Sam holds up the newspaper before sliding it across the table. 

"Annalise Greenlee. An aspiring model, murdered and raped in her apartment. Police say there was no forced entry, all doors and windows were locked. Now, get this-- her body from her kidneys and above were mush. Exploded inside her body while she was dying." Sam says earning widened eyes from you.

"Must be one pretty pissed off bitch." You reply before taking a long sip of your whisky and coke.

Dean seems to have meant it when he said you were both okay because his attention has now left you and worrying about you. He's more worried about who he'll be sheathing his cock in tonight. 

Typical.

"Y/N. Go tell that girl that we're producers for a reality t.v. show." Dean says elbowing you and nodding to a pretty petite brunette that leans against the bar.

You sigh almost a little too loudly.

"Hey! Pretty girl!" You call over to her. 

Her head turns and you want to roll your eyes at her confidence. As if she was the only pretty girl in the bar.

Sauntering over, you watch her overly eager hips sway. Her index finger twirling her hair seductively as she approaches.

"My friend here wants to buy you a drink. You okay with that?" I ask her as she looks over at Dean.

Her pupils widen and her tongue slowly licks at her lips before smiling.

"Sure. That sounds great. I'm Olive." She says leaning against the booth. Her breasts thrust upwards in the air as her low cut tank top is pulled lower and you can hear the audible growl your best friend gives.

"Just call me Popeye." Dean says before shoving you out of the way and climbing over you to get out of the booth.

You stare at Sam unimpressed and he covers his face as he begins to smile. 

"See you two later hmm?" He asks.

Kissing the top of your head quickly, you roll your eyes before turning the small black straw in your mixed drink. 

Seems like he's forgotten every reason to be upset when he can be knee deep in pussytown.

Fingering at the small woven bracelet, you let out a small, unamused laugh before finishing the contents of your drink.

"You okay?" Sam asks quietly as you pick up the newspaper.

"Why wouldn't I be?" You bite back, angrier than you mean to.

"It's not fair of him to do that." He replies kindly and you put your fist under your chin before skimming over the bar.

"The word fair and the word Dean do not go hand in hand. Come on, let's go play pool. I could do with beating your ass in something today." You say before standing up.

It's almost too easy for Dean to unlock the recesses of your heart but it's almost too painfully easy to lock yourself back up.

[solalunar-eclipse]

Team Dark: A Holiday Special

Chapter Two: Shadow

One | Three

Word count: about 6500 words

No warnings, just more angst than last time because Shadow.

Author’s Note: Thank you all so much for the great comments you left on chapter one- it’s really what keeps me writing and posting.

In other news, I believe that Hanukkah started yesterday evening, so to anyone who celebrates that holiday, Happy Hanukkah!

...

It was the dawn of a bright new day, and Shadow stirred as the sun rose, feeling oddly content. His bed was warm, and he was comfortable, and he really didn’t want to get up just yet. Fumbling around on the bedside table for his book, he began to feel even better at the thought of hiding under the covers for another hour or two, curled up reading…

Except his book wasn’t there. He made several quiet irritated noises, before forcing himself to sit upright.

Chaos, he was not a morning person.

This was incredibly frustrating, of course, since he only needed about five hours of sleep a night and tended to wake up early. Coffee beans usually helped with that, though, and some hot water. 

His thoughts now focused on coffee, Shadow dragged himself slowly out of bed, shuddering as the cold air hit his fur. He searched through the clothes he’d brought and pulled out a warm, soft sweater, sighing with relief as he put it on. It was his favorite, too, since it matched his stripes nicely. 

Sliding on a pair of slippers (plaid, fluffy, chosen by Rouge) he padded downstairs silently, eyes scanning the area for his book- and caffeine. He wandered through the main hall, enjoying the view that the large windows provided of the snowy landscape. Still, he wished they’d turn the heating up a little, shuddering as he wrapped his arms around himself tightly.

As he walked into the kitchen, still half-lost in a morning haze, Shadow was fully awakened by the shock of seeing other people up. More specifically, Rouge’s mother and stepmother were cooking. Already. He clamped a hand over his mouth to keep from shouting, and his quills bristled in surprise. 

His friend’s mother startled and dropped the flour she was carrying, while her stepmother yelped and fumbled with the frying pan on the stove. Shadow rushed over and caught the dropped bag before it could explode, his nerves feeling slightly shot from having to deal with so much this early on.

“My bad,” he whispered, placing the flour on the island in the middle of the kitchen. “I didn’t know anyone else was awake yet- sorry.” he finished lamely. The hedgehog began to feel slightly uncomfortable, as both of the other occupants of the kitchen were looking directly at him. Until now, he’d managed to avoid everyone’s notice pretty well at this party, fading quietly into the background after that first introduction. 

He was not prepared to socialize, especially not this early.

Camellia just smiled at him, though, and said kindly, “It’s perfectly alright, honey, we didn’t realize anyone else could stand to get up so early either!”

Rouge’s mother rolled her eyes good-naturedly at Shadow as she walked past him. “You say that like I like mornings, Cam.” she quipped.

He felt awkward just standing in the middle of the room- especially having interrupted their formerly-private moment- so he took a couple of steps to the side quietly. “I’ll just be out of your way now…”

“Oh no, don’t worry about it at all!” the bat exclaimed. “Were you looking for something, sugar?”

Having two terms of endearment directed his way in as many minutes stressed (and slightly flustered) Shadow, and he found himself beginning to retreat into his usual cold persona. The hybrid muttered, “I was just looking for my book. If you happened to know where the coffee is, that would help. That’s all.”

The cardinal handed him a bag of coffee beans, still smiling warmly. “And I think your book’s over there, honey.”

Shadow took his book and turned to walk out of the room, nodding a quiet ‘thank you’ as he did so.

However...the second he set a foot outside the kitchen doorway, he froze. Looking back over his shoulder, he asked, “...how much more do you have to do?”

It would be downright rude to leave his hosts doing all the work, wouldn’t it?

...and why did that sentence sound like someone else had said it?

“Oh! Well, we have the eggs, and the waffles, and the…” the bat began to rattle off a long list of the different things they had to make. “But don’t worry about us, dear, you have your book to read!”

He wavered a moment longer in the doorway, before reluctantly putting the book down. Walking back to stand in front of them, he sighed. “Where are the aprons, then?” he asked flatly.

“Are you sure, honey?” Camellia asked. “You really needn’t trouble yourself…”

Shadow raised a brow ever so slightly. “I’m sure.”

“Oh, aren’t you sweet!” Rouge’s mother gasped. “We usually get help a little later on, but if you really want to…”

“I have a little experience with cooking, but not much.” he warned, taking the apron she offered him and putting it on. (This was true. He only knew how to make waffles and French toast, and that was just because Rouge decided she would go without breakfast if she had to cook.)

The cheerful cardinal pulled him over to the counter, making Shadow startle slightly. “Have you ever made hash browns before, honey? Those shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“No…?” he said, a little confused. “I...I’ve never had those before. What are they?”

“What?” Lila cried out, on the other side of the room. “What has Rouge been feeding you? Well, it’s about time you learned then.” She moved over to stand next to Shadow, handing him a bag of potatoes.

The hedgehog just stared at the vegetables, his mind going blank.

He needed to have his coffee before he dealt with this. Now.

…

Two hours and several handfuls of coffee beans later, Shadow could say that he absolutely knew what hash browns were, having produced enough of them to feed an army. He had also made veritable mountains of scrambled eggs and stacks of pancakes, all while asking ‘Are you sure we need this many?’. He’d thought that the dinner spread was incredible last night, but seeing everything as it was being made only served to emphasize just how much food everyone here needed.

A few other family members had shown up near the end to help out Rouge’s parents, but the real flow of people was only just beginning. Young children were now rushing down the stairs, lured by the smell of breakfast. A few adults began to come down as well, along with Rouge and Omega.

The younger bat looked a little surprised to see Shadow in the kitchen, and he internally cringed as he realized just how bad he must look right now. His quills were tied back in a sloppy ponytail and the apron he’d been given was more than a little long on him. It wasn’t long enough to conceal his slippers, though, and his sweater was rolled up past his elbows, while his arms were covered in flour, sugar, and even a little bit of oil.

“Aww, hon! You’ve been helping!” she said, batting her eyelashes in a blatantly over-the-top manner. She was clearly fighting the urge to laugh at his appearance.

Shadow rolled his eyes. “Don’t rub it in.”

Rouge’s mother bustled up at that, smiling warmly at him. Shadow became significantly more uncomfortable- he was used to having glowers and wide-eyed stares directed at him, not...that.

“He just walked over and demanded an apron, then he got right to work!” she said cheerfully. “He’s really quite helpful, honestly!”

Omega looked at the older bat. “Shadow does not like to admit that he’s helping, even when he is very clearly doing so. His pride is too great to ever admit that he’d do such a thing.”

The hybrid scowled. “That is not true.”

Rouge giggled. “Oh, it’s not, hm? Then what about the time you finished-”

“-don’t you dare-”

“-cleaning my room when I-”

“-now you know how it feels, Shadow-”

“-shut up-”

“-took a quick break, or the time when-”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Shadow roared, leaping at her. Rouge’s mother seemed quite startled at this, but Rouge started cackling just like last night, and Omega looked incredibly smug (somehow), watching as she dodged his attack.

“Just look a little sad, Mom, and maybe tell him you’d be ‘ever so grateful’ and he’ll drop everything to do iiiaaaAAAAH!!”

Shadow had managed to catch Rouge and pin her down on the couch. “Take it back.”

“Never.” she said, smiling sweetly at him.

The hybrid prepared himself to inflict some sort of punishment (messing up her makeup, perhaps, or tickling) when he was hoisted bodily and flung over a very square and very metallic shoulder.

“Umph.” he wheezed in a very undignified manner as Omega hauled him out of the room.

The robot looked very pleased with himself. “Ah yes. Revenge is truly sweet.”

...

“Alright, guys!” Rouge announced after breakfast. “It’s perfect weather out, so you know what we’re gonna do? We are going sledding.”

Shadow- who had been cleaning up and lost in thought- nearly hit the ceiling. “Wait, what?”

“Don’t worry, hon, we’ll get you all wrapped up first.” Rouge said gently, placing a hand on his shoulder.

The hybrid’s body immediately sagged in poorly disguised relief.

Five minutes later, Shadow wore three layers of shirts, a coat, sweatpants, snow boots, thick gloves, a hat, and a scarf. “I look like an idiot.” he growled.

“Would you prefer to be cold?” Omega asked him dryly.

Shadow shuddered at the very thought. Pulling his clothes a little tighter, he was suddenly launched back into the past, a very particular memory running through his mind.

“You ready for lessons today, Shadow?” a young, blond-haired girl asked. 

Maria.

Shadow, at the perky young age of two and two-thirds (eight mentally), leaned on the edge of her bed, smiling. “Always!”

Professor Gerald entered shortly with their lesson for the day- exponentials for Maria and multiplying fractions for Shadow- and began to teach.

As Shadow worked on his problems later, the professor’s voice going on in the background as he spoke to his granddaughter, he began to notice his fingers trembling. Weird.

The longer he worked, the more it spread, until his fur was bristling and his whole body shook occasionally. But he was the Ultimate Lifeform! He was made to be tough!

So he kept on going.

Eventually, his breath began to come short and his teeth clicked together. He accidentally dropped his pencil, his fingers trembling too much to hold it.

Maria noticed.

“Shadow, are you alright?” she asked. “Come here for a second…”

He walked over, trying to keep his legs from shaking and failing miserably. She reached out to touch his arm, but gasped as soon as she felt his fur.

“Maria!” he cried out, worried. “Maria, what’s wrong?”

“You’re freezing, Shadow! Come here…”

She pulled him onto the bed next to her, the warm quilt on it keeping her from struggling as Shadow had.

He let out an involuntary sigh as warmth began to flood his body, melting away the shudders and allowing his breathing to return to normal.

“Strange…” the professor had said, after getting Shadow a warm jacket to wear. “This was unexpected- I didn’t think it was so cold! I know the temperature on the space station is meant to simulate wintertime inside on Earth, but it’s only an indoor climate.” He’d later discovered that Shadow’s DNA predisposed him to get cold easily.

Or as Rouge put it: “You’re half lizard, hon. I’m honestly surprised you don’t spend all day lying on hot rocks when it’s cold.”

That event had led to a lifelong hatred of Space Colony ARK’s air conditioning (and several heated glares at the ventilation system for Maria’s benefit).

And then…

Shadow remembered what it felt like to have ice cover his body. When he’d woken up from his frozen sleep, he’d been filled with a chill he just couldn’t shake.

He’d been able to ignore it in his quest for revenge, but from then until he finally went Super, he had struggled to become warm, even in the tropical heat of the jungle. A cold sensation had settled in his very bones.

But now, he no longer felt frozen inside, and the cold was just an irritation, albeit a slightly more emotionally charged one.

Wasn’t everything.

Rouge and Omega had both been incredibly understanding, though. The bat had never made him go outside when it was cold, and she often dumped armfuls of blankets on him at random moments. (He appreciated it more than he let on.) The E-series robot was more subtle in his support, doing things like handing Shadow an extra scarf before he left their house or silently placing a mug of hot chocolate next to him when he shivered.

And now, they were standing in front of him, having packed all of these clothes for his benefit.

Somehow, Shadow couldn’t find it in himself to complain.

“No,” he sighed, “I suppose I don’t.”

“Alright, guys, let’s go!” Rouge practically dragged them out the door, pushing Shadow up onto Omega’s shoulders and then flying up to grab his hands once they were outside.

“I will never comprehend how such a small being has the power to lift both myself and Shadow.” Omega commented as they took off.

“Lots of practice- hff- and weight training- hh- does the trick.” Rouge gasped, evidently straining to keep them in the air. “I’m- ngh- out of practice.”

“It’s fine, Rouge.” Shadow said, his voice muffled by the scarf. “Take your time.”

Eventually, they made it to a giant hill with an incredibly steep slope. As they trudged up to the top, the (relatively) small hedgehog began to notice just how very angled and high the incline was...

Shadow regretted everything. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea, Rouge?” he asked, watching as Omega lay down on what would have been his chest to be the actual sled.

“Of course, hon! It’s going to be great!”

“Uh…” the hedgehog muttered nervously, even as he allowed Rouge to pull him onto the robot’s back. “I…”

“Alright let’s go.” Omega said quickly, firing his rocket boosters.

Rouge whooped and Shadow (to his eternal shame) screamed as they blasted down the hill at top speed, flying across a patch of ice at the bottom and skidding to a stop several yards away. Panting heavily from his adrenaline rush, Shadow fought to get his thoughts in order. “That...that was….”

“Awesome!” Rouge shouted. “We’re doing that again!”

“...alright?” Shadow agreed. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice, but it was a little fun.

The next time, Rouge tried lying down and yelled the whole way- not being able to see where you were going made things a lot more scary. Omega tried carrying them up to the top of the hill as well, completely eliminating the usual grind of dragging a sled up the slope that came with this activity. Shadow got into it eventually, clearly enjoying himself despite the fact that he never quite yelled like Rouge as they careened wildly downhill.

Eventually, Rouge convinced Shadow to try lying down as well. “Don’t worry, hon, I’ll hang onto you and make sure nothing bad happens.” she reassured him.

“Okay...okay. Just make sure you hold on tight.” Shadow groaned, clinging to Omega with enough force to strain his fingers.

They blasted off down the hill and Shadow shouted in surprise- this was so much more intense! He felt every bump and jolt all the way down, but it was all fun.

Until Rouge yelled, “Omega! Tree!!”

Shadow gasped, startled. There was a tree and it was coming up-!

Omega fired his left booster, spinning them far away from the tree. Unfortunately, that meant spinning literally, as he’d majorly overcompensated for the potential collision. Whirling around in a circle, both Shadow and Rouge were thrown off. The bat managed to catch herself mid-air with her wings, but the shaken hedgehog wasn’t quite as lucky.

Shadow’s vision went completely white. For a moment, he feared he’d hit his head- but it was only snow. He sighed in relief.

That feeling didn’t last long, though, as he felt the cold begin to seep in from all sides. Panic wormed its way into his chest- and then when he tried to move, he could only push helplessly against the lightly packed material.

Calm down. It’s only snow. Rouge and Omega will be here any minute now.

He took a deep breath.

And another.

And then Omega was there, clasping his hand to pull him out of the snow, and Rouge was sitting on his shoulder, looking worried but pleased to see him alright. 

“I’m so sorry, hon, I didn’t mean for that to happen…” she said sympathetically.

“Neither did I.” Omega added, and Shadow noticed that the robot wasn’t quite looking him in the eye.

The cold was quickly banished with yet another reminder of just how much his friends cared. “It’s fine. I just…” He looked away, a little embarrassed. “I did what the therapist told me to do and just breathed, and waited for you.”

“Awww, that’s good, hon! Tolja therapy’d help somehow.” Rouge smirked at him, but it was all warmth and kindness underneath.

Shadow shuffled awkwardly in the snow. “It seems that way...I’ve decided to keep going with it, after all.”

“Excellent.” Omega said, and Shadow felt even better. “Now we should get back. Shadow appears to require the immediate application of blankets and hot cocoa.”

The snowy, slushy hedgehog was not in the mood to protest, and simply said, “Yes. Now.”

...

Two pairs of red eyes narrowed in a face-off. It had taken their owners over an hour to get to this point- the final competition. The winner of this match would be crowned champion.

About half of Rouge’s family watched, holding their breath as Shadow opened his mouth to speak.

“E-4.”

“Miss.”

“Dammit!”

Shadow didn’t care one bit who might hear him swear right now, his teeth gritted and mind racing a mile a minute. He was supposed to be good at tactics and strategy, yet here he was losing at Warboat. Badly.

Three of his ships, covered in red markers, lay slain off to one side. Meanwhile, Omega had only lost one and a half of his. Accursed computer processors.

The hedgehog was certain that Omega would have a gigantic grin on his face, if it were possible for him to produce one. As it was, he stared constantly at Shadow, even as he moved his markers around.

“C-6.”

Shadow felt relief flood his very soul. “Miss.”

It didn’t take long for Shadow’s fourth ship to get knocked out, even as he still searched for Omega’s third. He was getting trounced, and he knew it. Yet still, somehow, he had a shred of hope.

But then, two rounds later, he snarled furiously when Omega switched his LED eyes from full circles to half-moons- an evident hint at a smile.

“H-2.”

Shadow’s stomach dropped. “No!”

“Yes.” the robot said proudly, before planting a red marker on his board. 

The hedgehog began to search frantically for Omega’s ship, his moves becoming increasingly random and less thought-out as imminent destruction closed in.

Finally, something happened. “A-1.”, he muttered, resigned to his painful end.

“...hit.”

“Yessss.” Shadow hissed, somehow feeling triumph despite his imminent defeat. 

“Yay.” Rouge remarked dryly from the spectating area. “Consolation prize.”

“Shut uuup.” he whined petulantly, before realizing how very relaxed his demeanor had become. Straightening his back and smoothing down his quills, he allowed that familiar blank expression to settle back into place. “No distracting the players, please.” he added coolly.

Was it him, or was that a flash of...disappointment he caught from her?

Anyhow, he lost on the very next turn. Grumbling quietly, he went to sit down on a couch as Omega partied loudly with all of the children, blasting up-tempo dance music from his speakers.

It was one of the children (such sweet little kids, some of them were) who suggested that they make trophies. Pulling out cardboard and paper to draw on, they quickly made little certificates and gold, silver and bronze medals. One parent found some ribbon to thread through a punched-out hole, and then the little ones all scrambled to set up a proper ceremony “like on TV”.

As Shadow bent down to receive his handmade medal and crayon certificate, he knew without a doubt that this was being saved. For good.

…

Later, Shadow was relaxing in his bedroom when Rouge’s mother walked in, Omega following behind her.

“Oh, good, I’ve found you!” she said, her voice bright as always, but...off, this time. “Would you mind coming with me for a minute?”

As Shadow followed her out of the room, exchanging bewildered looks with Omega, he realized what the strange tone was.

Her voice was brittle. Fragile. As though it might break if one of them spoke wrong.

They entered a different room, one high up and far away from the rest of the party. Rouge’s mother stood in front of them for a moment, pulling at her sweater before deciding to sit down. She looked at her gloves for a moment, clearly thinking…

And then promptly burst into tears.

The two were incredibly startled at this, and despite both being relatively...emotionally inexperienced, they gathered around her to try and help. 

“Uh...I...is something wrong?” Shadow asked, immediately kicking himself mentally. Of course something’s wrong, people don’t cry if everything’s perfectly fine!

Omega, thankfully, got straight to the point. “What is it?”

“It’s...no, no, it was...Rouge.” the bat said, her voice sounding choked.

“Rouge?!” Shadow’s quills bristled. “What happened?”

“She...when Rouge came back. From her two years, you know, away-”

Shadow and Omega did know, now.

“-she came to the party two years ago, and she was different. She was cold, and distant, didn’t talk, and only laughed a- at people, not with them.”

Rouge? Cold and distant?!

“She wouldn’t talk to anybody about her life- the only reason I even knew she worked for G.U.N. was the logo on the paychecks she sent. When she stopped sending those, after I told her the news about Camellia- she took that well enough, but after that...I heard nothing. Nothing, for almost ten months.”

Omega’s eyes were wide, and Shadow was sure his own were as well.

“A-and then one day, she called me up. Her voice was different. Warmer. Happier. She apologized for her silence, and said she’d been in a bad place. I blamed myself, and accepted her apology, of course. She had to grow up so young, do so much all by herself… and she paid the price for it...for a while.

“And then I happened to look at an old article a couple weeks later, and I realized why she was better- and I couldn’t believe I’d missed it. My baby girl, in the news! And of all the things...fighting a world-renowned supervillain alongside the likes of Sonic the Hedgehog!

“But that wasn’t why she was better. No, when I started searching the internet frantically and saw her perched on the shoulder of a massive black and red robot, laughing uproariously- when I finally worked up the courage to go to her social media pages and saw, not darkness and pain, but her with an arm slung tightly around a young striped hedgehog, flashing the biggest smile I’d seen in years, I knew.”

Shadow’s hands were jittery and he really wished his heart would stop beating so loudly.

“It was both of you. I never found out the specifics as to how she met you two- I hope she’ll tell me the story someday- but you saved her from all of it. She had coworkers, sure, some nicer than others, but you gave her friends, and ones who understood her position at that.

“And this year- getting into a snowball fight! Telling silly stories at the dinner table! She would never have done that last year, mark my words.”

Rouge’s mother was smiling broadly through her tears now, looking at both of them. She reached out and hugged Omega, tightly but quickly, and did the same for Shadow, leaving him dumbfounded. “Just- I-

“Thank you.”

Shadow sat there for a minute, unable to do anything other than keep a hand on her shoulder. Suddenly, though, he noticed some movement by the door, and spun around to see Rouge standing there, absolutely silent as mascara-filled tears streamed down her face. Her hand was clamped over her mouth, presumably to keep from making any noise. 

“Rouge?” her mother asked, startled.

“Mooommmmm….” she whined, her own voice sounding tight- and then she rushed across the room and into her mother’s arms. “I love you, Mom.”

Shadow tried very hard to ignore the burning sensation just behind his eyes.

“You’re right. About, like, all of it.” Rouge said quietly, once she was finished crying with her mom. “Nothing here mattered to me when I was out there every day being, basically a soldier, y’know?”

She sighed, wiping more tears from the corners of her eyes, and stood up. “I think now’s a good time to say something that I’ve been thinking about for a while. Sorry if it isn’t perfect-” she laughed thickly- “I’m not exactly in the best state right now.”

Rouge’s mother smiled at her. “I’ll give you three some privacy, then.” she said gently, closing the door on her way out.

After she left, the younger bat resumed her impromptu speech. “Okay. Omega....chaos. Omega. Ohhh man.” She pointed at him. “That day? When you busted out of heckin’ nowhere and started blasting your machine guns like mad? O-one of the best days of my life. Wanna know why? I met you.”

Omega looked very fixedly at a point on the wall behind her.

“You literally carry me places. You crush our enemies with your epic missiles and fists of steel. You helped me prank Knuckles so bad he was checking everywhere for traps for the next week. You’re so fun and I just. You. Awesome. I can’t explain it properly right now but hopefully I’ll get to do a lot more of that later. You’re the best ever.”

“I…” Omega sounded like he was at a loss for words. “I am...honestly extremely flattered by this statement. I will continue to carry you places and destroy all who oppose us.”

“Awesome.” Rouge grinned.

“Aaaand Shadow.” She wheeled to face him, and the hedgehog in question attempted to mentally prepare himself and failed horribly. “You. You are so cool there are no words to describe it. And I don’t mean because you own a motorbike or you dress in all black or any of that stuff. 

“I mean because like half the people who’ve been important in your life so far have been trying to kick the ever-loving hell out of you...and yet you get up each and every single time they do it and win. Honestly...I’m proud to know you, Shadow. And I hope you know that if you need me, for anything ever, know that I will give up the Master Emerald in a hot second to help.

“So yeah. And you’re the first guy I’ve ever met who’s actually willing to talk makeup- let alone likes it. The one who tries all the new restaurants with me. And the only person I will ever know who can somehow handle going to the mall with me more than once in a week.” Rouge finished with a smirk. “I guess you really are Ultimate.”

Everyone in the room who had tear ducts was currently using them. A lot.

Shadow sniffed furiously and wiped tears from his eyes. “Th- thank you…” He cursed internally as his voice betrayed him.

“Oh yeah, get ready for more.” Rouge warned him. “There’s more.”

The hybrid’s throat tightened in response.

“You know how I said, before we came here, that you guys meant as much to me as my real family?”

“Yes?” Omega asked, his voice sounding a little quieter than usual.

“To heck with that. You guys don’t have to, like, change anything because of this, but you are my family. You’re both my real family. As real as Mom is.” Rouge said, her words shaky yet determined. 

Shadow felt as though he’d just been struck by a bolt of lightning. Dazed, he swayed slightly, clinging to the edge of his seat. 

Family?

Is...is Rouge...is Omega….

He began to hyperventilate just thinking about it, just considering that after all he’d been through, after everything he’d lived through- at the end of it all, waiting for him, right now, was a--

“Shadow. Shadow, hold your breath.” Omega reminded him, and he shut his mouth and clasped his hands tightly for a minute. 

A family? My family?!

“I- yes. Please. Yes. Family sounds good.” Shadow managed to stammer.

“Well, then!” Rouge said, looking pleased. “Now I get to assume the official Big Sister duties of kicking anyone who dares look at you wrong and buying you food.”

Shadow blushed a little. “Rouge. I don’t need protecting like that...”

“I know, but since when’s that going to stop me?” she asked. “And don’t start complaining- being the baby brother’s the good life, from what I’ve heard.”

A fresh wave of tears poured down his face at the words ‘baby brother’. 

Of course, that was when Omega decided to go completely off the rails. “Am I the middle sibling or the youngest?”

Shadow and Rouge stared at him for a second. Then they both started laughing wildly, the toll of the various emotional highs and lows hitting them all at once. 

“M-middle one.” Rouge gasped out eventually. “Definitely, the attention-seeking middle sibling.”

Omega made angry eyes for a second, but reconsidered. “Fine. That...yes, that works.”

“Family group hug?” Rouge suggested, smiling warmly at them both.

Shadow nodded weakly. “F-family group hug.”

Omega picked them both up and held them tightly. “You both will always be my favorite organic beings.”

“Thanks, Omega.” Rouge said, squeezing them both a little tighter.

…

A couple of hours later, Shadow was pulled out of his room for the third time in two days, again by Rouge’s mother. “Sorry to bother you, honey, I just wondered...would you mind giving us a hand with dinner? You were such a great help with breakfast that Cami and I had hoped....”

Curse you, Rouge.

So now he was in the kitchen. Again.

Only things were very different this time. Now, there were about ten people in there, all rushing around in some complicated pattern and carrying hot, cold, cooked, uncooked, and various other kinds of dishes all over without running into each other.

Somehow. 

Shadow, despite feeling very overwhelmed and (strangely) underqualified, took one step into the fray- and immediately jumped several feet straight back as he was nearly mowed down by one of Rouge’s auncles rushing past with some sort of casserole.

“Sorry, kiddo!” they yelled over their shoulder, handing off the dish to someone else before sprinting back across the kitchen. Seconds later, another relative vaulted over the island in the middle of the room to get to the sink as quickly as possible, while carrying a semi-full plate that he somehow managed to keep steady.

The hybrid suddenly remembered several battles and sparring matches that he’d participated in. This...actually looked a lot like those.

He locked eyes with Rouge’s stepmother. She didn’t have time to say anything to him, instead just tilting her head in one direction. Shadow’s eyes snapped to a frying pan left unattended and knew what he had to do.

He took a running start and launched himself clear over several people’s heads before sticking the landing right in front of the pan. Several people applauded, and one person- the vaulting relative from earlier- frowned, having been severely upstaged.

So it was a competition, then?

Shadow looked directly at him and smiled like a feral shark.

...

The wild food preparation/parkour show finished with several people throwing the food to each other across the room like in a musical (Shadow thanked his lucky stars that he’d caught his- it was made of glass), and he decided it only existed because Rouge’s family was extremely over-the-top.

Immediately following that, everyone gathered around for another large dinner, during which Shadow only ate a little. And after too many more embarrassing stories, everyone gathered into a room to watch one of those cheesy Wintersweek romance movies that always came out in droves at this time of year.

Shadow said that they were all incredibly cookie-cutter style stories, each one following the exact same plot. Rouge claimed they were uplifting, fun stories and that she didn’t care if they were all the same. Omega liked to categorize all of the things that were wrong with them, so he was willing to sit with Rouge as she watched them.

The hybrid had scoffed cynically and walked away, filling the kitchen sink with water in the next room over and making a big deal out of clattering the plates around that he planned to wash.

Romance movies were so overrated.

Shadow could still see the screen through the doorway (not that he wanted to), and despite his wishes, the movie kept distracting him. He couldn’t stop himself from looking up to see what was going on.

It appeared to be a classic enemies to lovers story, as currently the shy young woman with a rock band shirt- who also happened to be the main star (cliche alert)- was glowering furiously at the trendy, popular blonde movie star. Who was, of course, berating the main character for her poor customer service.

At a coffee shop.

Shadow sighed loudly.

And of course, just as he’d suspected (he wasn’t paying that much attention to the movie all these films were the same really) they both ended up competing. In a Wintersweek cooking competition.

The movie star was confident she would win. Her film crew was ever-present, taking all the best shots of her as she ‘worked’.

Obviously, the main character was determined to beat her through hard work and skill. She was fully prepared to show this star just who she was dealing with…

...and all that and so on. Shadow rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the soapy water.

And then (this movie was like every single other one!!) their partners both came down with an illness that wiped out several other competitors as well. So naturally they were forced to work together. And of course they worked well, too.

(Shadow had stopped working on the dishes by now. Somewhere around here, he’d forgotten to look away.)

By the time these two had begun to look past each other’s flaws and see the real person beneath them, his eyes were riveted to the screen. It was still bad, he told himself, even as he watched every move they made. It was still bad.

They were working together now, smiling slowly and talking quickly and sometimes, occasionally, laughing. The obligatory hands-touching-by- accident scene happened. The two looked into each other’s eyes.

Shadow couldn’t decide how he felt anymore. Confusing emotions swirled inside him.

The kiss scene. (He saw it coming a mile away.)

The awkwardness. (Just to build up the tension.)

Their lips meet. (And a little voice deep down inside Shadow whispers…

 ...that feels right.)

The hybrid didn’t move a muscle for the next several minutes of the movie, refusing to miss a moment.

The couple won the competition. Of course, he thought, some form of rational thought returning to him. That was to be expected.

As the movie ended on their celebratory kiss, Shadow began, strangely, to feel as though someone had just punched him in the chest. When the credits rolled, he left, walking away from the movie, trying to get rid of this strange sensation.

He heard the click of Rouge’s high heels follow a minute after. And then the stomp of Omega’s ironclad steps.

Folding his arms, he tried to project an I-don’t-care attitude. Unfortunately for him, Rouge and Omega could a) tell that he was projecting said attitude and b) figured out quickly what he was really thinking. Curses.

“Was it the movie?” Omega asked bluntly.

The only acknowledgment Shadow gave was a slight twitch of his shoulders up and down.

“Did you hate it?” Rouge questioned.

Again, just a twitch of the shoulders.

They both studied him for a second.

“No…” the bat whispered, her teal-shadowed eyes widening. “No, you liked it! You liked it!”

“I did not!” Shadow spat furiously, more venom than he’d intended finding its way into his voice.

“You did.” Omega said. It wasn’t a question.

“I mean…” he sighed, looking away. “Let’s not talk about it, okay?”

“Come on, Shadow…” Rouge said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“Please?” Omega asked.

The hybrid groaned. “I...it was just- it wasn’t good, are we clear? It was just sappy. But. If you insist. I suppose...romance...argh. I can’t say it!”

“It’s okay, hon, just be patient.” Rouge said soothingly.

“Ugh...I mean...I’ve never dated someone before. Is it...really that nice?” Shadow muttered. His eyes narrowed, daring them to taunt him.

Omega looked at him, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “You want to date someone?”

“Wh-no, not like that! I- I mean...not just anyone…” he sputtered.

“So you’ve got someone in mind, then?” Rouge smirked at him, raising a brow.

“No!” he snapped, his eyes wide. “I- just meant- promise me you’ll never set me up on a blind date, are we clear?”

“Promise.” she said. “And I’m not crossing my fingers, either.” The bat waved both of them in front of her to demonstrate.

“However, we will force you to converse with others at future social events.” Omega declared. “I have heard that this is the first step in a successful relationship.” 

Shadow scowled, but without any real heat. “Don’t you dare.”

Rouge giggled. “No more sulking edgily in the corner for you, emo-hog!”

He groaned. “Are you both turning against me? Really?”

“Of course we are.” Omega remarked. “That is exactly what family is for.”

“I don’t know whether to feel flattered or irritated.” Shadow grumbled.

“Flattered. Definitely~.” Rouge quipped with a wink.

“Ugh. Well, I’m going to bed now. I’ve had enough of this nonsense.” he sighed, stalking out of the room.

“Aw, come on, Shadow!” the bat said teasingly. “Don’t you want to watch the sequel?”

The hybrid spun around so fast his quills nearly sliced up the doorway. “I’m sorry, the what now?”

“The sequel.” Omega repeated flatly. “You know you do.”

He hesitated.

“Fine.” Shadow growled through gritted teeth, his hands occasionally clenching into fists. “But only if I get to run commentary with Omega.”

“Sounds fair!” Rouge chirped, flying off with the other two right behind her.

As they walked away, Shadow in the back, he allowed himself a small, secret smile. They truly cared about him, and he knew they only wanted to see him happy. The teasing was all their way of showing affection. His eyes began to glimmer softly with a faint hint of happiness as fond thoughts and memories drifted through his mind. One sentence, though, stood out above all the rest.

I love my family.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

Getting away with it (1/?)

Summary: August Walker was dead. At least that’s what people believed for almost 2 years. When the CIA found reason to believe that he was alive they made it their top priority to find him. Including sending one of their best female agents to recruit his twin brother. Walter Marshall.

Pairing: August Walker x Reader (Walker) + Walter Marshall x Reader (Walker)

Warnings: none yet

Wordcount: 1.893

A/N: I swore to myself to never write a series again, yet here we are. Got a feeling that this is going to be a long one. This is more like an prologue. Updates hopefully coming every Wednesday. Hope you enjoy it x

Masterlist

Taglist:

@ladyreapermc / @theolsdalova / @greenmanalishi / @itsmydreamlifethings / @palaiasaurus64 / @celestial-vomit / @penwieldingdreamer/  @notyourtypicalrose / @babypink224221​ / @fanficsrusz / @solariumss / @starlite13 / @ly--canthrope / @mytbel0st / @oddsnendsfanfics / @ravenpuff02 / @sofiebstar / @chamomilebottom / @keiva1000 / @agniavateira / @peaceinourtime82 / @dearlybelovedluke / @vania-marie / @wildwavehc / @fcgrizi / @mary-ann84 / @ayamenimthiriel / @radaofrivia / @ohjules/ @omgkatinka / @xceafh​

@its-jb86 / @singeramg / @mrrightismrreeves (I can’t tag you guys. Sorry)

CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia

“We have reason to believe that August Walker is still alive.” The words seemed to quiet down the room. Swallowing her feelings, she felt the eyes of her superior Agent Miller on her. The man looked at her with caution, his eyes a silent warning. ‘Don’t do anything stupid’ they seemed to say. She nodded once at him before her eyes focused back on the person in front of her who briefed the team on what had happened and was supposed to be happening next.

Apparently August had been spotted in Quebec. Blurry photos had been taken and yes, it could be him. 

She remembered his funeral. A funeral only a handful of people attended after word got out on who exactly August Walker was and what he had planned to do. She still couldn’t understand what on earth ran through his mind when he was planning to steal plutonium. 

Closing her eyes for a brief moment she could see August in front of her, on the morning after they first had sex, him wearing her pink apron as he made breakfast while singing along to the radio. A morning almost 6 years ago. She didn’t know then how things would drastically change in the next years. She was in love with him. She wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. She knew the man he once was. And she still couldn’t believe she didn’t see the tiny changes in him. How he stayed away in the evenings. How he suddenly had a second phone. How all the passwords of his devices seemed to change regularly. Before she found out he also was John Lark, a terrorist he himself had been helping her to take down. Breathing in and out deeply she opened her eyes again, her stare becoming ice cold.

She would find him. And she would make sure he would pay for everything that he did. 

A thick envelope was waiting for her on her desk when she got back to her office. Looking through the glass wall of her office she could see Agent Miller nodding a her, as she sat down, ripping the envelope open. A big classified case file fell to her desk. It was an old adoption record. Frowning she could see that there was a police file from the Minneapolis police department attached. Opening the file she gasped as she saw familiar blue eyes staring at her. Shaking her head she read through the first page. Detective Walter Marshall, born on June 21nd 1978, divorced, a daughter, working in homicide at the Minneapolis state police. She continued to read, remembering hearing about the case with the twin brothers he had been involved in. She didn’t know how long she sat there, reading. And trying to understand what she was reading. A knock on her door startled her. Agent Miller opened the door, closed it behind him and sat down on the chair in front of her.

“It’s not him.” She said right away.

“I know.” He sighed.

“How is this possible?” She asked.

“You knew August best. You knew he was adopted. That he didn’t know anything about his parents.”

“So August has a twin brother he doesn’t know about?” She asked.

“It seems like it, don’t you think?” The older man looked at her. Looking down at the picture of the man that looked so much like August she sighed.

“You want me to get him, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“What makes you think he would be interested? My guess is you want to use him to find August. Why should it work with him, when it wasn’t when I....” She breathed in deep.

“When it wasn’t working before?” She asked.

“We have to take every possible opportunity and chance to find August. Walter Marshall has a brilliant record in tracking people down.”

“You want to use him, don’t you?” 

“We need all the help we can get. Take a week off, take your daughter and drive down to Minneapolis. Try if you can find him.”

“He works at the police department. Why not use the official way?”

“Because this is not only a state matter, it’s a personal matter for you. Find him, get to know him. Find out if he has any idea about his ancestry. I trust you to know what to do. This might be our chance to finally get him.” 

Slowly nodding she looked at Agent Miller. 

“You want to recruit him.”

“If he is half as good as his brother, he will be an excellent addition to the CIA.”

“You’re not telling me everything, aren’t you?”

Agent Miller chuckled. Ever since she came from he academy she could see right through him. He couldn’t even imagine how she was feeling that she didn’t see all of this coming.

“You’re right. Bring him in, and I will answer every single question you have Agent Walker.”

....................................................................................................................

Minneapolis, Minnesota, 1 week later

“Mommy!” Evie giggled as Walker took a bite from the french fry Evie was just about to eat.

“You have to be quicker, Evie.” Walker grinned, chewing the fry. Evie narrowed her eyes, trying to look intimidating, which made her only look cuter with her blue eyes and dark locks.

“I love you Mommy, but don’t steal my food. Stealing is bad, you said it yourself.” Evie said strictly, making Walker try hard to suppress a giggle.

“Stealing is very bad, you are right. I’m sorry.” Walker kissed her cheek.

“I forgive you.” Evie sighed and continued to eat. Walker watched her daughter who looked so much like her father. She even had the same expression on her face when she ate. She would never understand how he could have left her and Evie on their own. How he could have tried to destroy the world his daughter was living in, just for some insane idea of bringing order to the world. A little part of her hoped she would see him again, just so she could punch him to death for the things she as his wife had to endure after his disappearance. She couldn’t even blame the CIA for thinking she must have been involved in all this Apostles mess. She would blame herself until the day she died that she didn’t notice it sooner.

“Finished.” Evie smiled and Walker noded.

“Let’s go see some sculptures.” Walker smiled, picking up their trash from the bench they were sitting on and reached her hand out to her daughter.

“Will there be bunnies?” Evie asked hopeful, looking up at her mother. Walker still didn’t know what her newest obsession with bunnies was, but it was definitely better than when she whined about wanting a snake a couple of weeks before. 

“Let’s find out.”

.........................................................................................................................

“I’m sorry are these seats taken?” A female voice asked. Looking up Walter was about to say no when he saw that the woman was holding a child in her arms. He guessed the girl was about 4 years old, sleeping peacefully.

“Please sit, I’m almost finished with my lunch anyway.” He gestured towards the chair, making the woman nod thankful as she sat down, the girl in her arm only stirring for a second before she continued to sleep on the woman's shoulder.

“Took her to the sculpture garden today. Didn’t make it back to the hotel before the rain started.” She sighed, making Walter nod.

“Are you visiting the city?” He asked, bringing his coffee to his lips.

“Yeah. Little vacation before I start a new project at work.” She nodded. Walter looked at the woman who was looking lovingly down at her daughter. He guessed she was in her mid thirties, no ring on her finger, but he imprint still visible what either meant she was divorced or widowed. Somehow he thought it was the latter. She looked tired, the bags under her eyes weren’t easy to get within a few days. Her dark hair cling to her face, but that was thanks to the rain outside. Her green eyes seemed to scream of pain as she looked up at him. 

“Can I invite you for a coffee?” Walter found himself asking.

“Oh. I wouldn’t want to hold you up from work, Officer…?” She asked.

“Detective Marshall.” He smiled. “And you’re not holding me up. There’s no way I will get to my car in this rain.”

“In that case… Can I get a tea instead?” The woman smiled.

“Sure. Mrs...” He nodded, looking at her daughter. She looked a lot like Faye when she was younger. The dark curls hiding her face as she was sleeping peacefully against her mother's shoulder.

“Walker.” She said quietly.

“Mrs. Walker.” He repeated, waving at the waitress.

“But friends can call me Walker.” She winked, making Walter chuckle.

“In that case I’m Marshall.” He said.

“Nice to meet you, Marshall.”

It was scary how similar yet different at the same time Marshall was in comparison to August. She almost felt like she was back in New York where she first met August as he was assigned her partner for a case. Her first case. He had taken her out to lunch the first day and they had spend the whole time talking about everything and nothing. A meeting she had repeated so often back in her head it was driving her insane. 

“Walker?” She heard his deep voice.

“Yes? Sorry.” She shook her head, looking up into his eyes.

“You were gone there for a second.” He said, his blue eyes watching her. As she looked at him she could see that there was a hint of brown in his right eye. 

“Yeah. Sorry. Long day.” More like long year. She added in her head.

“You telling me.” He said. “Anyway. I need to get back to work. It was nice meeting you. I hope you have fun in our city for the rest of your stay.”

“I am planning on it. Thank you for the tea.” She smiled a little. He liked how her whole face seemed to lighten up with even the little smile. By now he was pretty sure she had lost someone important to her. There seemed to be a mencholacy in every word she said.

“You are welcome.” He said, getting up. “If anyone makes you any trouble find me at the police station.” He joked making her chuckle.

“Aren’t you busy tracking down criminals?” She asked.

“I would make an exception.” He winked, before he nodded and walked out of the diner

She felt her daughter stir on her shoulder, thankful that she only woke up now. She had taken a risk getting into the diner when she saw him sitting inside. Looking so much like August, yet so different. That wasn’t something her four year old daughter Evie would understand. Why this man looked so much like her father. On the other hand it had been more than two years since Evie last had seen him. Only knowing him from the few pictures Walker hadn’t removed from the house.

“Daddy?” She mumbled, her eyes fluttering open.

“It’s only Mommy.” Walker smiled softly, pulling the dark locks out of her daughters face.

“Sounded like Daddy…” She yawned, making Walker sigh sadly.

“I know he did, Darling. I know.” Walker said quietly, kissing her daughters forehead. 

[bts-storys]

A bad mix of sweets

Author: bts-storys

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Rating: mature content, 18+

Genre: Strangers to lovers/ Fairground AU / Smut / slight Angst

Word Count: 4,941

Summary: You work at a fairground selling crêpes, minding your own business, sometimes judging a customer in your head. When all of the sudden someone has an order you just can’t stay quiet about. 

Warnings: oral (female receiving), fingering, dirty talk, graphic description of sex, penetration

A/N: This piece is my first smut. Ever. I really hope you like it :)

The sweet scent of melted chocolate caught your nose. 

Easily, one of the best smells imaginable. Except it was probably the 200th time today and at this point you would much rather smell some freshmen’s dirty underwear. 

 “Y/N, can you get me another bowl of dough from the fridge?”, Miriam asked, cutting you from having more weird thoughts about unwashed boxers. 

You put it down on her table and turned around to meet the next customer in line. “Hi, what can I get you?” 

While listening to the little girls’ order – once again something screaming ‘caries’ on another level – you thought about your job and if the money was really worth hating on chocolate. To be fair, working at a crêperie wasn’t all bad. Most customers were extremely nice and your payment was definitely higher than average. Plus, you didn’t need to wash your hair five times to get rid of all the frying fat, like Fynn who sold French fries at the other end of the fairground.

Still, at some point you started losing your sweet tooth which was sadly one of the reasons you even wanted to work as a crêpe maker. The fairground had always been one of your favorite places in the city, one of the reasons being the fantastic smell in every corner. You handed the little girl her chocolate-marshmellow sugarbomb and put your eyes on the next person waiting in line.

It was a tall guy. He looked like he was your age or maybe a bit older and he was almost ridiculously handsome. His dark hair went over his ears, hiding the top part of his silver earrings underneath it. He was wearing a white tee combined with black leather pants and he looked like one of those guys who could get anything they asked for. Still, he wouldn’t meet your eyes as if something made him feel very uneasy. When you asked for his order, he scratched the back of his head, before finally looking up to you. You felt your heartbeat increase, right before he started talking. 

“Could you make me a crêpe with everything, please.” 

“A… What?”, was all you could get out, taken aback by his request. 

“Just… You know, with everything”, he repeated. 

“You’re saying you want me to make you a crêpe containing chocolate, strawberries, banana, marshmellows, sugar, vanillasauce, cream cheese, ham and salmon?!” 

With every ingredient you mentioned, he looked even more like he was in pain.

 “Listen”, he began. “I uh- I might have lost a bet saying I could throw 40 baskets in a minute on one of those hellish Basketball machines…” 

You cut him off by bursting into laughter. When you saw Miriams irritated gaze from the corner of your eye, you quickly tried to stop and catch your breath again. 

“I’m so sorry”, you giggled. “But I think you just made my day. I’ll get started right away.” 

He did look slightly offended by your outburst, but offered you a smile when you started making the crêpe. It made him look a lot younger and to be honest pretty cute. You felt your cheeks rose from that realization. 

“May I ask how many baskets you managed to throw?” 

The question coming from your mouth surprised you. You wouldn’t consider yourself shy, but normally you tried not to talk to the customers too much while preparing their food. 

The guy groaned with frustration. “16.” 

“Wow, that is actually impressive!” 

You meant what you said. Everybody around here knew, that Leo always got the bounciest balls for his basket game. You smiled encouragingly while handing him the crêpe if one could still call it that. He paid and took it from you while scrunching his nose in disgust. Before he left, his gaze locked with yours one more time. 

“Thanks, for trying to cheer me up.” 

You failed to smile back at him as you felt something hot bubbling in your belly while looking into his dark eyes. Luckily, he turned around right then and didn’t catch you staring after him. You saw him approach a group of boys who crackled with laughter on his arrival. One of them playfully smacked his back while they headed in another direction. 

“Well that was strange”, Miriam said, snapping you right out of your trance. 

 “Do you mind if I head home, Y/N?” 

“No, it’s fine, the last two hours aren’t too busy, I can manage them alone.” You gave her a smile, turning to the next customer. But in the back of your head, you were still thinking about the cute guys smile for the rest of your shift.

“He ordered WHAT?” 

You sat on your bestfriend’s bed the next day, trying not to laugh at her horrified expression. 

“It’s not that weird!”, you tried defending the poor boy. “He lost a bet you know? Also, didn’t you tell me about that one guy the other day who bought like 20 different bath bombs to try them all together?” 

“Actually, he bought them from my co-worker. She says his name is Jin and he wanted to see what color they would produce! Crêpe-Boy was just trying to get a higher bill at the dentist as it seems.” 

At that you just laughed. You and June had met through some college courses and quickly decided to move in together, while bonding over some secret comfort Ben&Jerrys in the library during the week of finals. It was just like her to defend some strange guy from her job at the Lush store. 

“At least tell me he was handsome enough to pull it off”, she sighed while bringing her hand over her eyes in a dramatic gesture. Under her palm you could still see her eyes sparkle. 

 You looked away. “It wasn’t like that.” 

“So, he was handsome!”, she grinned, knowing she got you right where she wanted. 

“Stop acting and let’s start with the presentation already. You know we’re due to tomorrow”, you laughed while she fake-pouted your way but reached for her notes nonetheless. “I don’t even think I will see him again.” 

Your head was caught up with loads of university stuff for the next day, so you didn’t have the chance to think about the crêpe-guy until your next shift on Friday. You were busy cleaning some shelves when you heard a voice behind you. 

 “Hi.”

You turned around quickly, only to find yourself staring into dark brown eyes. Today he wore a black turtleneck, fitting almost too perfectly to his upper body and his hair looked freshly washed. Startled you tried to brush away some loose strands from your face. 

“Hi! What can I get you? Or are you here to sue us for selling you this crappy thing on Wednesday?”, you asked jokingly. 

He gave you a little laugh. “Actually, I came here to buy another one.” 

You froze and stared at him. He noticed your expression and quickly lifted both of his hand in front of his chest. “Oh! No- No! I mean I want to buy another crêpe. Maybe only chocolate this time?” He smiled sheepishly.

You laughed with relieve. “Thank god, here I was thinking I had to put you on my weird people list.” 

“Your what?”, he asked, while you started making the Crêpe. “Who exactly is on that list?” 

“Well”, you counted on your fingertips. “Barb, the fortune-teller, for trying to convince me that I would lose my right foot the other day, the mailman because I once caught him licking one of my letters, my great uncle Jim for collecting dozens of different pickle jars…” 

“Okay, okay!”, he interrupted you with laughter. “I get it, I don’t want to end up on that list. Even though I wonder what color that bathtub had at the end.” 

His response made you giggle and you felt your face heat up again when he met your eyes. Quickly you looked down, handing him his order. When he gave you the money, your hands touched for a split second. 

“Well uh- see you next time!”, you told him, hating yourself for not coming up with a better goodbye. He walked away and you wished you had asked for his name. 

The following weekend you visited your family but often had your mind wandering off to a certain black-haired boy. The last time you dated anyone was even before you started college and it was thrilling to think about someone that way again. On Monday you woke up from the buzzing of your phone. 

June: Are you excited for todayyy? [9:25 AM] 

Y/N: Please enlighten me. What would I be excited about? [9:29 AM] 

June: HAHAHA [9:34 AM] 

June: You can’t play me girl! I know you’re hoping to see crêpe-Guy again [9:34 AM] 

Y/N: I never said that! I don’t even know his name! [9:36 AM] 

Y/N: Also, where are you right now? [9:36 AM] 

June: Stop trying to distract me y/n. You know I’m right [9:38 AM] 

Y/N: Are you having breakfast without me? [9:39 AM] 

Y/N: You know I can see that you left me on read! [9:59 AM] 

 A little part of you knew that she was right. But that part was a bit dreamy in general, so you tried your best ignoring it for the rest of the day. By the time Miriam went home, leaving you alone for the last hours, every last one of your secret hopes had disappeared. 

He hadn’t shown up. 

Instead you found yourself hiding behind the counter for the second time since your shift began, trying to avoid fortune-teller Barb. Who knew if it wasn’t the day your left foot would get a bad forecast. At least the shift was almost over. You kneeled on the floor, counting to 100 when you heard a familiar voice.

“Hello? Anyone there?” 

You closed your eyes. Of fucking course it would be bad luck to hide from someone who could see the future. Your options were limited. You could just wait until Crêpe-Guy disappeared again, missing yet another chance on talking to him or… You stood up. 

“Yeah, I’m uh- here.” You gave him an apologizing smile. He was clearly confused by your sudden appearance. “I’m sorry, this looks pretty ridiculous right? To be honest I was kinda… hiding? You know I really like my feet and I want to keep them and also I think she looks just really creepy sometimes so I didn’t want her to see me…” You stopped mid sentence. “Sorry, now I’m just talking too much, what can I get you?” 

You could see a spark of irritation in his eyes but he still proceeded telling you his order.

 “I’m Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook”, he suddenly blurted out. You stopped in your motions just fast enough to see him wince uncomfortably.

 “I’m Y/N Y/L/N”, you smiled and went on with his crêpe. 

“So, Y/N.” You really liked the way he said your name. Soft and with some sort of special emphasis. “Where is your co-worker? Without wanting to end up on your creepy people list, why are you alone all of the sudden?” You could see in his eyes that he was really interested, mixed with something else you couldn’t quite make out. 

“That is exactly the kind of question some creep would ask”, you laughed. “But to give you an answer, Miriam always leaves two hours ahead of me so she can get to her yoga class. I’ll manage the remaining time alone and when the fairground closes in a few minutes, I’ll head home as well. There you go.” 

You handed Jungkook the warm Crêpe, taking his money instead. 

“You’re going home all alone? In the dark?”, he asked startled. 

“I don’t live that far”, you smiled at him. “Just right next to the university.” 

“Still. You shouldn’t have to go alone. I could walk you. I mean- If you want me to.” His offer got you by surprise. And apparently, Jungkook took your silence as a no. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to push you into anything, you don’t even have to answer me, I-“ 

“Jungkook”, you interrupted him. “Wait for me to shut the booth?” 

He nodded and started relaxing again, patiently eating his crêpe while you cleaned and finally locked the door behind you. Looking at Jungkook from your elevated place behind the counter was something completely different from looking at him on even grounds. Suddenly he was right there next to you and you tried your best to ignore the fluttering in your stomach. 

His black Hoodie let you imagine what his muscular arms would look like without it and when you glanced at him from below, you noticed how defined his jawline was. Suddenly you felt the urge to touch his face and the soft strands of his hair surrounding it. 

On the way back to your apartment the two of you talked about your courses at college and Jungkook being a freelance photographer which you found really impressive. He wished you a good night at the door of your building and you felt excitement rushing through you at the sight of him disappearing into the darkness. 

On Tuesday, even some of your professors commented on you being weirdly fidgety. Of course, only June would connect the dots between your behavior and ‘this Jungkook guy’. Your nervousness had it’s peak on your Wednesday shift. At some point you even lightly burned your hand with the pan and Miriam almost send you home asking if you didn’t feel well. You managed to brush her concerns aside and exactly 15 minutes before closing time, Jungkook showed up in front of the booth. 

“Hey there!”, you chimed, trying to hide your obvious excitement. 

“Hi”, he smiled at you. “I was just on my way home and I thought I could walk you again? You know, because you shouldn’t walk all on your own.” 

You chuckled lightly and started a conversation about a movie both of you liked while you cleaned the surfaces. 

Walking next to Jungkook felt nice. You didn’t touch but you were almost shoulder to shoulder and his soothing voice mixed with the noises of the city.

“What kind of pictures do you like taking the most?”, you asked him curiously.

“I love portraits. When you see every element of a person’s face. Every scar has a story, every wrinkle means something. You can really see a person through their picture. I also like landscapes though, I’m sorry if that sounds boring”, he finished as if he didn’t want to annoy you. 

“It doesn’t. I would love to hear more about your art.” You smiled at him, stopping right in front of your door. 

When you grabbed your purse to get the key, you hissed with pain. 

“What’s wrong?” He sounded alarmed.

“Nothing”, you tried to play it down. “I just burned myself earlier, it’s okay, really.” 

“Show it to me”, Jungkook demanded, grasping your hand carefully. 

His soft skin felt warm under your palm and suddenly you noticed how close he was to you. When you looked up, you met his gaze and the butterflies in your stomach started moving again. You took a step closer, bringing your other hand to his face and he leaned into the touch. His cologne smelled like leather mixed with something really sweet you couldn’t name and it made your head spin with intoxication. 

His eyes trailed all over your face, stopping at your lips and then finally he caught them with his own. The kiss was soft until you sighed into it, giving him full access to your mouth. His tongue ignited a firework inside of you and he tasted sweet and hot at the same time. It was like nothing you ever tasted before. You put your hands in his hair and he pulled you closer by your hips, leaving burning marks where his fingers touched you. When he pulled away, both of you were panting hard and he took a step back to catch his breath. 

“Do you believe me now?”, you asked. 

“Huh?” 

“The burning really isn’t that bad, right?” 

Jungkook could only nod, which made you chuckle. “Goodnight, Jungkookie”, you said sweetly while opening the door. 

“Goodnight, Y/N.” 

When you told June about the kiss, she wouldn’t stop screaming into her pillow, telling you how happy she was for you and how she had told you to stay away from frat boys, for good! 

Friday arrived and you worked next to Miriam when she suddenly pulled at your sleeve. 

“Isn’t that the guy who bought a crêpe containing everything on the menu the other day?”, she asked. 

You looked in the direction she pointed and your upcoming smile fell from your face. She was right. On the other side of the street you saw Jungkook in his black hoodie. From where you were standing you could see how his hair reflected in the sun. He wore those leather pants again which made his muscular legs look gorgeous even from further away. You noticed all of those features but could only focus on the person standing right beside him. 

She had long black hair and even though she looked some kind of weird from behind, you could make out her blue skirt and her red pumps. Just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, Jungkook laughed and took the girls hand, pulling her with him. You tried to understand what was going on. Jungkook had told you he had an older brother and no cousins. Who was that girl he held hands and seemed so familiar with? 

“Y/N?”, Miriam asked and you heard the concern in her voice. “Are you oka-“ 

“I have to go, I’m sorry Miri!”, was all you could get out before you practically ran out of the booth so she wouldn’t see you cry. 

You couldn’t remember how you got home, only how June found you later that day, buried between your pillows. After making sure you were not physically hurt, she hugged you until you told her everything. 

“What an asshole!”, she exclaimed after listening to you. “So that guy really has a girlfriend?! I wish I could make his manly parts disappear! I would even pay fortune-teller Barb to jinx him! I’m so sorry girl!” 

You snorted at her remark, making you feel the tiniest bit better. After speaking to June, you called in sick at your work for the next week. You tried convincing yourself you didn’t even knew him that well, but having your heart broken after a long time of not giving it to someone felt just shitty. You tried to distract yourself from the thoughts by studying harder but you still felt like crying most of the time. 

It was only now that you realized how much you had actually liked Jungkook despite knowing him for a few weeks top. The kiss you two had shared felt so special to you, well at least now you knew it hadn’t meant the same to him. He was after all just a good-looking guy like all the others. After a few days you started to get really angry with him for leading you on like that. He had walked you home, he did kiss you back, where was his problem? When June left on Sunday to visit her family for a few days you were fuming. It was also the day before you had to go back to work again. 

“You go tell him, girl!”, June told you when she hugged you goodbye. 

On Monday, everything seemed normal. Miriam asked you if you felt better and, after hearing your answer, started chatting about a new yoga studio right around the corner. The time flew while you sold all kinds of crêpes and when your co-worker was gone, you just hoped for Jungkook not to show up. It seemed like your wish would be fulfilled because he was neither there when you locked the door nor when you started walking to your apartment. You almost sighed in relieve before you saw a tall figure right in front of your door. When you approached the building, he called out your name. 

“Jungkook”, you said quietly. “What do you want?” 

“What do you mean?”, he asked with confusion. “Are you okay? Why were you gone the whole week? Did anything happen?” 

“None of your concern. Would you let me get inside please?” You tried pushing past him but he wouldn’t move. 

“I don’t understand! What’s wrong?” Now he looked just really frustrated which provoked your anger. 

“I saw you, Jungkook!” You blurted out, unable to hold it any longer. 

He blinked. “You… saw me? What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“I saw you at the fairground with your girlfriend!” Finally throwing the information into his face made you feel a lot better. 

“But Y/N I don’t have a girlfriend! Why would I lie to you about that?” He pushed a hand through his hair, getting more irritated by the second. 

You laughed into his face but it wasn’t a nice feeling. “I’m not stupid. Last Friday I saw you with that black-haired girl, you were even holding hands! And I was foolish enough to think you would ever be interested in someone like me!”

After your last sentence he looked at you with his big, brown eyes. “First off Y/N, I don’t know what you’re saying. You’re fucking gorgeous! I still don’t know how I got the courage to even start talking to you!” He looked into your eyes. “Can we please go inside and talk about everything? You must be wrong, I wasn’t with any girl last Friday I was-“ He stopped talking. 

You could see on his face when the realization hit him. You cocked an eyebrow. “Finally remembered your girlfriend, Jungkook?” 

He looked at you like he saw you for the first time ever. “Y/N, I am so sorry. I never thought about you seeing that but you have to believe me I don’t have a girlfriend. It wasn’t even a girl I was with on Friday. Do you remember that I had to buy that first crêpe because of a lost bet?” 

You nodded, still being suspicious. “Well, in my group of friends we bet each other a lot and when Min Yoongi lost his bet last week, he had to dress up as a girl and ride the ghost train at the fairground. That’s who you saw me with! If you don’t believe me, I even have a picture.” 

He pulled his phone from his backpocket, showing you a picture of a guy who was clearly not amused by being photographed. He was wearing a black wig as well as the blue skirt and red pumps you saw the other day. If the situation hadn’t been so tense, you would’ve laughed at how ridiculous he looked. 

Jungkook offered you a smile. “I’m really sorry Y/N. If I had known how you got it all wrong, I would have come here a lot sooner.” 

“No”, you said. “I’m the one who has to apologize. I’m really sorry I made assumptions about you without even asking. I’m sorry I just cut you off. It’s just that I really like you and seeing you with another girl- it hurt, you know?” 

His smile widened at your words. “You like me?” 

“I do, dumbass”, you flicked him off with you hand, not trying to hide your own smile anymore. 

“Good. Because I like you too.” His confession made your cheeks heat up. 

You lowered your gaze so he wouldn’t see the redness of your face but Jungkook made one step and grabbed your chin forcing you to look up again.

“Don’t be ashamed Y/N. You’re beautiful.” His thumb went over your bottom lip in a caressing gesture. “I really want to kiss you right now”, he murmured. 

“Do it then.” 

His lips felt soft against your own and his hand moved to your neck tilting your head slightly to get better access to your mouth. You brushed his hot tongue with yours grabbing the fabric of his top to pull him closer. He wore that damn turtleneck again. Jungkook walked you back until you hit the wall of the building and when he pushed against your body you could feel the hardness in his pants. You brought one hand down to his crotch stroking the front of it and he moaned against your lips. The sound was addicting. In return, Jungkook started pinching your left nipple through your shirt. Arousal built up between your legs. You stopped the kiss, meeting his dark gaze with yours. 

“I think you’re right”, you panted. “We should go upstairs and ‘talk’ about everything.” 

He smirked, seeing you fumble with your keys, letting you pull him inside the house and into your apartment. Both of you kicked your shoes off and then he was all over you again. His mouth was on your neck, sucking and nipping the soft skin until you were a whining mess in his arms. After pulling your shirt and bralette off, he stared at your bare chest in awe. Diving down he started sucking your nipple having you close your eyes, moaning from his touch. 

“You’re so responsive, baby.” The new nickname sent shivers through your whole body. 

“Jungkook please, bedroom”, you moaned, showing him to your room where he laid you on your bed. He started kissing you again feverishly, taking everything, you had to offer. 

“Tell me baby. What do you want me to do?”, he asked as he broke the kiss. 

“I don’t care, just do something, I need you Jungkook!”, you whined. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot. Take you pants off for me baby.” 

You did as he told you to, exposing yourself in front of him. You felt a new wave of heat rushing through your core at the thought of being completely naked while he was still fully dressed. Jungkook put two fingers in front of your face. “Suck.” 

You did your best, licking them with your tongue, bobbing your head making him imagine your lips around his cock instead. “God”, he groaned, pulling his fingers from your mouth. “I will make you feel so good baby, I promise. Spread your legs for me.” 

The next thing you felt was a single digit stretching you out and you moaned at the feeling of Jungkook pushing deeper. He curled his finger professionally leaving no imagination to where this would end. While he held you in place with one hand, the other one was working towards your relieve.

“You’re so wet baby, do you think you can take another one?” 

“Yes, please”, you told him before crying out at the stretch of two fingers inside of you. He started pushing them in and out scissoring you from the inside and when you felt his tongue circling your clit you knew it was over. 

“Ah, I’m coming, Jungkook!”, you let out a high-pitched moan as he worked you through your orgasm. 

“That was so hot, you look fucking gorgeous when you come”, he told you, looking at his wet fingers. “I need to be inside of you right now. Please?” 

You hummed in approval, already feeling empty without him. Somewhere distant you could hear him tear his clothes off and rip open a condom. The next moment he was beside you again, rolling you over on your side and positioning himself behind you. 

“Are you ready baby?” 

“Fuck me, Jungkook.” 

The second those words left your mouth, you could feel his tip at your entrance. He pushed himself further inside, still going slow to let you adjust to his size, before he started pumping in and out of you in a steady rhythm. Now that you could feel how big he was, you were relieved he took his time preparing you before. 

“Your sweet little cunt feels so tight around me, fuck!” 

You cried out at his words and the feeling of his cock entering you from behind. He shattered kisses down your neck and your shoulders, still pushing deep inside of you. His large hands were holding you in place, sometimes teasing your buds to tear a whimper from you. Heat started to build up again inside of your stomach and Jungkook noticed your moans turning higher. He started speeding up bringing one hand to your front where he began rubbing circles to your sensitive point. With every thrust he would hit a certain spot inside of you, making you see stars. 

“Ahh, right there!” 

“That’s it, baby. Come for me.” His cock and his hand made you trip over the edge, moaning uncontrollably into your pillow. White light exploded in front of your eyes as the pleasure hit you. Only a second later Jungkook groaned, spilling himself into the condom. 

He gave you a few last pushes before pulling out and you sighed at the loss of him. You heard him throw the condom into your trashcan before he got back on the bed, pulling you into a hug. It was silent for a long time where both of you just listened to each other’s heartbeat before Jungkook spoke up again. 

“Would you go on a date with me Y/N? I meant what I said outside, I really like you.” 

You turned and smiled at him shyly. “Me too. I would really like that.” 

He playfully nudged your check with his nose. “I’m so glad I lost my bet and had to buy that nasty crêpe. Even though it tasted real shit.” 

You furrowed your brows. “Please don’t tell me you really ate that!”, you said, trying not to laugh but failed miserably. 

“I did. All of it.”

© Bts-Storys, 2021. Do not copy or repost without permission.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading until now! TT There’s still much I would like to improve about my writing so stay tuned!