#I hate all the fucking damage wc did to me I miss when this shit was for fun and there wasn’t this judgement of quality in peoples ‘skills’

[blueookashi]

I am being so slow at that one Library animation and it’s because that perfectionism of “it HAS to be consistent it HAS to look good!!” Has come back meanwhile I’m working on the god damn STORYBOARD!!!

I am trying so hard to kill that part of my brain that is so ingrained because of past shit, like even if I was at the refinement stage why does it need to look perfect?? This is supposed to be for fun!

[haechanhues]

chapter twenty : short of rabid 

*written* 

wc : 1k (probably more I just added some)

warnings : swearing. i apologise for any mistakes - i’ve been stressed and it’s not exactly a normal experience for me. (TMI : i’m also insanely angry with my brother right now)

Han sits in front of you, observing the way your face contorts in the nastiest glare. Your lips curl in disgust, muttering uncontrollable murmurs of anger. 

‘Jisung, fucking look at it,’ You spit as you shove your phone in his face. Jisung’s soft features morph into his own anger and he lets out a few curse words. 

‘Fuck- that’s not right,’ Jisung shakes his head. 

‘They don’t know shit about him-’ Your voice is wobbling at the emotion inside you. Jisung places both hands on your shoulders as you start to unconsciously hyperventilate, ‘-He may have been a bit harsh, but we’ve been working on that. They never give him a chance!’ 

‘That’s the point, Y/N. They’re haters. They’re gonna hate on him whether he makes an effort or not.’ 

You shake your head, almost desperate, ‘He’s a good guy and they’re letting that kind of person slip through their fingers.’ 

‘They are.’ 

You stand up, declaring, ‘I won’t be. I’m not stupid. Not like that anyway. Minho is a good guy and I love him.’ 

Jisung watches you almost sadly. Not for the most unknown reasons but because he shares the sentiment. Minho is a good guy. One of the best, actually. It’s just a pity that only a few get to see it in the way the public never does. 

‘Go get him then, babe,’ Jisung asserts. You nod at him, the clouds of anger finally clearing from your eyes (not totally) but with a new purpose. A new step. You give him a quick hug and he catches wind of your new shampoo you washed your hair with before hurrying across the lawn. 

He looks at the Anti-Minho page on his own phone screen, sending a definitive text to Bang Chan, Changbin and Hyunjin. Bang Chan is typing. Then…he’s not. Jisung knows that shit is going to get real. 

Fuck I’m tired of this. 

Let’s end it then. 

The next few hours the ‘reason why I’m going to die at thirty’ groupchat is filled with schemes and bloodlust. 

You look just short of rabid when Minho opens the door. His eyes widen at the fact your hair is askew and your clothes are slightly out of place. You look like you’ve just woken up. But his heart can’t help but feel what it feels. It almost feels inevitable, this feeling of his. You’re in front of him after not seeing each other for a week or two. His heart feels like it’s about to burst. Sparks. Warmth. He doesn’t exactly have the words to explain it. 

He just feels it. 

‘I miss you,’ You say. 

Minho gives you a small smile, it’s brittle but it’s not as fake as the effort feels, ‘I’ve missed you.’ 

Without waiting like a polite girlfriend, you poke a finger into the hard muscle of his chest before pushing him through the door. He lets you lead him right into his bedroom. He maintains eye contact from the bottom of his chin, his eyes half closed. In any other situation, he’d let the arousal lick through his whole entire body but exhaustion betrays him. 

‘Where’s the boys?’ 

‘Went out just a minute ago…’ 

‘And they didn’t take you?’ You ask suspiciously. He shakes his head. 

You stare at him. His eyes. His mouth. His chest. You find yourself staring at his forearm and the bend of his elbow. It used to scare you, the almost instantaneous feeling of love you felt for Minho. It was like a flower in bloom, starting in your chest before expanding to the skin of your fingertips and the tips of your toes. 

Meanwhile, his head flashes back to the moment he found himself the most heartbroken. You, pressed up against his best friend and your lips touching. It may have been chaste and brief, but it was enough for the damage it had caused. Angry. Jealous. Irritated. He was all of it.

‘Did she cry?’

His face crumples and his voice is betrayed and hurt, ‘I didn’t mean to make her cry… it wasn’t on purpose.’

‘I’m not accusing you of doing it on purpose, I’m just asking the question-‘

‘Then yes, she cried. But it wasn’t on purpose and I tried to sound nicer. But she just- wouldn’t stop crying.’

‘I told her that I wasn’t into her and nothing in me changed. And,’ He swallows, ‘I was going to tell her that she’s a nice girl but she’s not the one for me and I don’t want to try things either.’

He pauses his face imploring into yours. He hates that he can’t read you, ‘But she stopped me..’

‘Stopped you?’

‘She said I clearly had a girl in mind but she understood…and she wished me luck.’

He hates the way you’re looking at him now - monotone and cold. It makes him a little on edge. Minho, with just that slightest bit of annoyance, bites out, ‘What do you want, Y/N?’ 

You blink at him, eyes softening before you blurt out, ‘I miss you.’

He watches you carefully, almost in disbelief.

‘I miss you and this shit you’re going through, Minho….it doesn’t make sense not to be there for you.’

With the way you pause and your lip trembles, you fear you’re about to start bawling.

You take his face into your hands and he stares at you, a facade of disinterest to mask the vulnerability underneath, ‘I love you. There’s people who don't know you. All these people want to dismiss you or to let you slip through their fingers, but not me.’ 

He can feel the emotion filling up behind his eyes, but he can’t seem to make himself cry. You do it for the both of you. With his thumb, he wipes at the tears that leak from your eyes. Your face still wet from tears, he leans in to kiss you. 

Your fingers loop into the collar of his shirt to bring him closer to you and he pushes your head closer to his. The distance of the weeks you were apart finally catching up to you. You don’t stop crying. Minho doesn’t try to deepen the kiss more than it already has, nor does his hands wander to cup and tickle like usual. He keeps his thumbs on your face, collecting the tears that stream down your cheeks. 

The kiss isn’t filled with heat, but it’s warm. It’s safe. It feels like a place of Deja Vu, except the only difference is that you know that this is where you are meant to be. Any other crush you’ve had wouldn’t change it. No other boy. Not even your friends could make you turn away from the relationship you know is right. 

‘I could fill a bottle with your tears, you know?’ He comments, pressing a small kiss to your cheek and catching a falling tear with his cupid’s bow. 

With a swelling feeling of love for your boyfriend. Adoration takes over your body and you push forward to meet your lips with his again. He smiles, carding his fingers through the strands of your hair. 

‘You’re my baby,’ You slightly giggle, knowing that Minho is slightly displeased with the nickname. But strangely taking a liking to it. 

‘…My baby makes me sound like your child.’ 

‘That too,’ You admit. 

Minho smirks, ‘That too?’

‘I’m going to love and protect you forever,’ You tell him and it’s your stupid giddy grin that gets him. He leans down to kiss you once more and you think its the sweetest kiss he’s ever given you.

It’s so sweet, he almost forgets the reason why he needed space.

warning for next chapter : sex is heavily talked about. it’s not even implied. the next chapter is very crude.

J U S T  S A Y  I T

you have two boyfriends. one’s fake and the other a secret. one is avoiding love whilst the other is slowly opening himself to it. a story in which one’s cowardice, another’s insecurities and your own volition leads you here, overwhelmed and exhausted, in the middle of two best friends.

chapter twenty : short of rabid 

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taglist: @soobin-chois @penny-quinn @brit97 @bestleeknowstan @hhjkji @skzgallll @aspenwritesstuff @kflixnet

[thatfanficstuff]

Make Me Forget (Part 1) - Elijah Mikaelson

Pairing: Elijah x reader

Warnings: angst

A/N: Celebration Summer #8. There is a part 2 to this so don't fret. Prompt is Person A gets injured Person B is not happy.

wc: 1759

***

Elijah Mikaelson and his family had left Mystic Falls to move to New Orleans months ago. And they’d left you behind in the process. After he swore to you that you’d never have to be alone again, he’d left you with little more than a letter telling you it was for the best. Associating with his family was dangerous. He couldn’t put you in danger. It would be better if you forgot about him. All of them.

What a load of shit. Elijah had swept into your life and turned everything upside down. For the first time you were a priority to someone other than yourself. It didn’t take long for him to become the center of your universe. You moved into the house and became part of the family. Klaus and you would create art and bitch about the Scooby gang. Rebekah took you shopping. Kol would try to get you into trouble while you tried to keep him out of it. And you succeeded for the most part. You’d kept him from getting killed by Jeremy and Elena. Surely, that was enough to cement your place in the family.

But they’d still left you. And it had been Elijah’s doing according to the rest of them. You texted and called and they told you how much they hated leaving you behind but Elijah had put his foot down. Threatened to leave them all if they went against his wishes.

Rebekah did admit it was dangerous at the moment. A bit of trouble with a pregnant werewolf and some witches. She still insisted it would be better with you there. That they’d all protect you.

Klaus begged you to come to his rescue. Elijah and the werewolf would be the death of him, he swore.

Kol just missed his friend. He spent hours talking about all the things the two of you could do if you were there.

Elijah was silent. There hadn’t been one answered phone call or response to any of your texts.

Rebekah swore he missed you. That he was a miserable bastard without you.

Klaus and he had argued terribly when the hybrid threatened to fetch you from Mystic Falls and bring you home where you belonged. Elijah had yelled and destroyed half the room.

Kol said when there was a moment of peace, Elijah sat alone and stared at a picture of you. “I caught him crying, Y/N. It was horrible,” he told you, dramatically.

You didn’t necessarily believe any of them. After all, he found it so easy to leave you, why would he brood over your absence. But you missed your family. You were going to New Orleans. Even if Elijah was angry with you for going against his wishes, the rest of them would welcome you with open arms. You’d just have to stand your ground with the suited Original.

There were probably a thousand better ways to get to New Orleans, but you took a bus. It was cheap and you didn’t have to drive. And even better, it didn’t involve flying. You hated to fly. You stepped off the bus and adjusted your backpack on your shoulder. You’d decided to travel light. While you intended to stay forever, you weren’t sure everyone else would be on board with that. If you did stay, you knew Rebekah would be more than happy to take you shopping to replace your clothes. And Klaus would pay for them if Elijah didn’t. It used to bother you when they spent their money on you, but you’d long gotten over it.

After typing in the address on your phone, you started to follow the walking directions. You were actually quite close to your destination when you were yanked into an alley. Almost before you had a chance to process what had happened, teeth tore into your neck. Son of a bitch. You fumbled in your bag as the vampire drank deeply. Your fingers wrapped around your stake and you slammed it into the asshole attacking you. He hissed in pain and stumbled back giving you the chance to pull it out and stab him again with more precision.

He collapsed at your feet and you stepped over him as you pulled a rag from your bag. You pressed it against the wound and tried to look inconspicuous as you stumbled the rest of the way to your family. Your head spun as you reached the door and you knocked quickly.

The door flew open to reveal none other than Kol Mikaelson. He grinned at seeing you, but it faded immediately when he noticed the state you were in. He grabbed your bag in one hand and placed the other on your arm to lead you into the house. “What happened to you, Darling?”

You made a sound of annoyance. “Guess.”

“Don’t be cheeky.” He dropped your bag by the stairs and continued to steer you through the house. “Brothers, we have a visitor,” he said when the two of you reached a library. Nik and Elijah’s heads snapped in your direction.

Nik stood in front of you in a flash. “Bloody hell, love. Can’t stay out of trouble for five minutes, can you?” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “It’s good to see you at any rate. Come, Kol.” The hybrid strode from the room, dragging his protesting brother along with him.

A moment later, Elijah stood in front of you. Dark eyes stared at you as he lifted a hand to your neck. A muscle ticked in his jaw as he pulled the rag away to get a view of the damage. His hand clenched at his side and you flinched. He’d never hurt you, but it was rare to see him so angry. And you weren’t certain if he was angrier at the vampire that attacked you or you for being there.

His lips pursed as he stared at you a moment longer, then he bit into his wrist and offered it to you. You drank enough to heal then stepped back. He strode away to the far side of the room. Keeping his back to you, he hooked one hand around the back of his neck and rested the other on his hip. “What were you thinking coming here? Did I not make myself perfectly clear that you are not welcome here?”

“I missed you.” God, did that reasoning sound pathetic to you now. How had you ever thought that would be enough for him?

He was back in front of you in a flash. “You deliberately went against my wishes. You followed us here despite knowing I did not want you here and look what happened. Do I need to say anything else to prove my point that it is too dangerous for you to be near us?”

“This had nothing to do with you, Elijah. This was some random asshole vampire picking the wrong person to snack on. I killed him for it.” Frankly, you didn’t understand how he could go from being madly in love with you to not wanting you around overnight. “Everyone else wanted me to come. Didn’t you miss me at all?”

“How could I miss someone that cares nothing for their own wellbeing?” he stated quietly, making you flinch again. It would have been better for him to yell. At least then you’d know he was simply angry with you. His monotone delivery made you believe that he simply didn’t care. Tears instantly flooded your eyes. Why had you asked that question when you were so afraid of the answer? He stepped past you and stopped at the door. “You can stay the night. Tomorrow you leave New Orleans and you will not return,” he said in a low tone. Then he was gone.

You didn’t move as tears streamed down your face. Vaguely you were aware of Elijah and Nik yelling at each other elsewhere in the house, though you couldn’t make out the words. Then you were pulled into a firm chest as arms wrapped around you. “Elijah’s an idiot, darling,” Kol whispered to you.

When you just continued to cry without saying anything, he swept you up in his arms and carried you to one of the chairs. He sat and placed you on his lap. You leaned against his chest and he played with your hair in an attempt to calm you. “It will be all right, Y/N. You don’t have to leave if you don’t want to. You and I can get an apartment on the other side of town. We’ll put it in your name and you can tell Elijah to fuck off when he wants in.”

That pulled a laugh out of you though it sounded rather pathetic. “At least I know why it was so easy for him to leave now. I mean, what a bother I must have been. I always wondered what he saw in me and now I know. Nothing. God, you’d think it would be a relief to finally know, right? So why does it hurt so bad?”

“As angry as I am with my brother right now, Y/N, I don’t think—”

“No. It’s okay, Kol.” You sat up and wiped the tears from your cheeks. “You don’t have to lie to me anymore. Rebekah said him and the wolf seemed to be getting along. Maybe he’ll love her and it won’t be a lie.”

You stood and held up a hand to stop him when he moved to follow. “I’m not angry with you, Kol, but I need to figure out how to live without all of you. See, he told me he loved me and that he’d never leave me. That I’d never be alone again and he abandoned me at the first opportunity. And he took my family with him. And when I come back to all of you, he made it very clear that I am not wanted. I was prepared for him to be angry. I wasn’t prepared for him to not care.”

You paced the floor as you thought about your next step. Kol’s dark eyes followed you. He was at a loss at what to do, how to comfort you. He could beat the shit out of his brother but, while that might make him feel better, he doubted it would help you any. Suddenly, you snapped around to face him. “Compel me.”

His brows shot up. “What?”

“Compel me to forget. Just let me forget all of you.”

[junova]

.˚✦ ๋࣭ˑ ִֶָ 𓂃 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐬. 𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬

my universe

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

notes: this one has been in my drafts....forever. never really liked it too much but fuck it. maybe i can redeem it in a part 2??? this is more of a prologue if anything. idk we'll see. happy reading!

pairing: modern!steve rogers x reader, former!bucky barnes x reader, bucky barnes x natasha romanoff

concept: bucky was all you'd ever cared about, wanting him more than anyone. until he comes along, showing what it actually means to love someone. welcome to heaven in hiding.

warnings: 18+, sexual content, jealous!reader, bucky being a dick, soft!steve, heavy angst, steve is a funny lil shit at the end

wc: 3.9k

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It felt unbearable to be here. Watching how fondly she still looked at him, after all this time, not missing a beat. It was suffocating, surrounding you by a sea of water and having no other option than to drown. Greedily, his love swallowing you up in your entirety.

He did really try to dodge her looks of longing but still, even now he felt the pull to her. It didn’t really matter how long they were absent from each others’ lives.

As you sat next to him, you could feel him slipping from your grasp. Far beyond your control, way out of your depth, he was falling. Deep down, you couldn’t really blame him. The pictures you’d seen of her did no justice, she was truly a vision. Much brighter than you would ever glow and it made you wonder if what he spoke just a few hours ago still held meaning.

Not to mention, she seemed to be as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside. Making you grow even more envious of her.

Sure, she had broken his heart but it wasn’t beyond forgiveness. She had simply put herself before the relationship and if you had been in her shoes you could imagine yourself doing the same. All she wanted was a better future for herself, at least it’s what he had told you.

Now sitting here you couldn’t stop thinking about how she looked at him with admiration and love laced in her eyes. Truly, if she still wanted him in her arms there was nothing stopping her.

Surely, not you. You two seemed to live on two different planes of beauty and hers was the kind you dream of having but only have a very little probability of obtaining. With her ruby hair and glossy lips, tempting nearly everyone around her to the way she carried herself and spoke to you like you were the only person she was invested in.

It wasn’t difficult to see why he spoke of her so much. You would, too.

You tried to enjoy the wonderfully prepared meal Pepper and Tony had made, well mainly Pepper. It was delicious, but your senses had gone bitter and it had nothing to do with the food.

You weren’t sure when you started to drift off, maybe it was when Bucky began looking at Natasha like she hung each and every constellation in the sky. Or maybe it’s when you heard her melodic laugh when Bucky delivered the punchline.

It was like Steve, Wanda, and Thor didn’t exist. The lovely couple in their own little bubble, speaking in a language only the two of them understood. Utterly and completely unaware of any and all of their surroundings.

“You okay?” Steve questioned, placing his hand on top of your hand, giving it a small squeeze. Discreetly and under the table away from prying eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I think I just need some air.” You weren’t sure what could remove the nothingness inside of you, but maybe some space would provide some comfort.

You felt like your heart had been ripped out right in front of you, again. He said he wouldn’t do it again, that he wanted to be with you, but all she had to do was come to town and he’d been chasing her just like he always did.

Excusing yourself you dipped out until you were out on the back patio. Alone to just think and mull over any little thing that should have tipped you off, but didn’t. You let it slide on, blinded by how much you thought you loved him.

You weren’t left in the peaceful night long, until Steve was joining you with two wine glasses in one hand and a bottle of red in the other.

“You looked like you could use a glass or two.” Steve gibed carefully. “I’m just using your sour mood as an excuse to escape from the party.” You were about to object when a full glass of wine was shoved into your grasp.

“I’m not in a sour mood. I’m just swell.” You spoke before taking a big swing of the drink, nearly emptying it’s contents, sending it barreling down your throat.

“Sure, honey. Just like the green monster isn’t oozing out of you.” You found yourself intentionally growling at him, just a little agitated of the truth he spoke.

The absolute audacity on this man seemed to never end. Whether it helped you or caused more misery than he intended.

“It certainly doesn’t help that she's so goddamn perfect. Was she fucking made in a lab? Jesus Christ.” You were jealous and if Steve already knew there was really no point in hiding it. It was written all over you, the longing look you were giving Bucky all night, desperately wanting to be the one he wanted.

“She’s not perfect, nobody is. Just better at hiding her faults than everybody else.” He said it like it was some known fact. Something you should’ve already known, but insecurities tended to eat you alive. Truthfully, it didn’t help that Bucky acted like Natasha walked on water in his hopeful, gleaming eyes. Stinging you like a bee piercing your soft, plush skin for the first time.

He really loved her. It didn’t matter how many times she messed up, what he felt was all the same — she was the one.

“Really? I don’t buy it. Name one.” Steve perched himself on his knees in front of you, his hands on the armrest of the chair you made yourself comfortable in. “Okay.”

“How about the fact that she loves Bucky just about more than anyone else but she’s too selfish to let him go? Then, for months she leads him on and promises she’ll come home but always leaves him heartbroken.” Steve let it flow all in one breath, as his body rested between your legs.

“Sounds gruesome.” You confessed because it hit a little close to home. “Yeah, it is and he has no right to do the same thing to an angel like you.”

You hated how he was right, truly hated it, but anyone with eyes could see how much Bucky dragged you through the mud. He had a good heart, but it just hadn’t been good to you.

Bucky’s intentions weren’t malicious and it didn’t seem like he was either but it didn’t take away from how much he continued to hurt you. All of the unintended consequences only affected you as he went on with his day.

Over and over, he continued to cause you pain and he didn’t even know it. Or he did and just neglected to acknowledge it. If he did, he’d actually have to deal with just how much he was actually hurting you.

It wasn’t like either one was particularly gunning for the latter, but Steve was. It wasn’t the first time Bucky had left you high and dry whenever the red head, beauty stepped foot into town. Although it was the first time you had a front row seat to the attention she commanded from him.

You both sat there in silence for the moment, taking in the starry night as he rested his cheek against your leg. He began running fingertips up and down your exposed calf, letting him soothe you.

“I’ll keep thinking I’ll be alright. That’ll get over him, but he just keeps pulling me back and jerking me around for his ride and I let him.” If anyone saw you besides Steve, you didn’t think you could handle it but you’re comfortable around him.

He’s continuously been there for you everytime Bucky pushed to the side for her. Always so sweet, so tender, comforting you in his warmth. Never once judging you, always taking the time time to just sit and listen to you.

“I don’t think it’s even about him anymore. I’m just chasing this unattainable moment, just so I fill this void in me. Maybe if he loves me I can love me, too.” Mumbling under your breath, hoping he didn’t hear you.

“Bubba.” You smiled for a second, as his voice dripped in concern. “You don’t need him or what little he can offer. Not when you can love yourself better than anyone else can.” He pulled himself up to his feet, picking you up from the chair until you were surrounded by just him.

“We love you. I love you, so stop listening to those nasty little thoughts, bubs. They’re far from the truth. You are truly amazing, incredibly beautiful, and deserve the absolute world.” With slight pressure from his index, he tilted your chin up, letting your eyes drown in his.

“Don’t expect anything less.” Steve breathed out, before testing the waters. He just held you there, caressing your back as you just sunk in his arms, allowing his warmth to ease your hurt. Just like he’d done so many times before.

Somehow, Steve seemed to know exactly what you need to hear. You didn’t know how he managed to be so wonderful all the time. Maybe you could just stay there forever with him shielding you from every single evil in the world out to get you.

“Can you take me somewhere? This is the last place I want to be.” Steve simply nodded before lacing your hand in his, before making your way back inside.

The moment the two of you stepped foot into the house, it was silent. Everyone looked at the two of you. Steve took notice of the Bucky’s bugged eyes at the joined hands of his two best friends, but knew better than to verbally acknowledge it.

It wasn’t something Steve and you hadn’t done, but never in the prying eyes of Bucky. Thor and Wanda had taken note of it a few times, but never spoke a word about it. Secretly, Wanda hoped it meant something for you, because she could see just how much Steve adored you.

He never spoke a word, so you remained clueless to a feeling he never felt like he had a right to speak on. No matter how strongly he felt, he knew if he confessed, it would do more damage than good.

You had become one of his closest friends in the past few years he’d known you and he wouldn’t jeopardize it for anything. Selfishly, he left you under Bucky’s radar because being your friend was far safer than risking the rejection he was sure would be sent his way.

He knew you were close to cutting Bucky off from your life completely, he just had to wait it out. Natasha being here tonight was the icing on the cake for Steve, because all he had to do was be here for in a way Bucky never could. Not when he was slicing through your heart every time his attention diverted from you to her.

Just because he was stuck in a past love instead of the future and Steve would fully take advantage of it — being there for you in any way you needed.

Regardless of everything, he wanted to — needed to. He couldn’t live with himself if he let you go through the hurt and heartache alone. Not when so many times you had seeked the comfort of him to lean on. Steve would never be one to say no to you.

“Are you leaving, doll?” The endearment Bucky intended to be sweet but left a sour taste in your mouth. More than that, you didn’t miss the way Natasha’s eyes widened slightly at the use of his pet name for you. The one she thought was only reserved for her.

Maybe if he held affection for you like he did earlier today, your heart would be filled to the brim, but he didn't. So, you weren’t. “Yeah, Steve’s going to take me home. I have an early morning tomorrow and I’ve already had a bit too much wine.” Bucky didn’t argue, nodding with a tight lipped smile.

Perhaps his indifference is what made you hurt even more. He didn’t care about anything, not even you with you so closely tangled with Steve. It didn’t have an effect on him because the woman sitting by his side, draped over him held more value than you ever could.

“You sure? I can make sure you get home safely.” Bucky pleaded, but before you could respond Steve did.

“I got it, Buck. I’ll make sure she gets home.” He looked like he wanted to say more but he decided to stay silent as he watched you walk out the door with Steve, hand and hand.

The drive home in the Uber was silent, Steve didn’t say a word, just the weight of his arm holding you close. He took note of how you refused to look at anything but the luminescence of the New York’s city lights captivating your vision.

Even if it hurt Bucky only chose you whenever Natasha wasn’t around you couldn’t help but focus on how hot and heated your body felt with Steve so close to you. Holding you so tightly like he was afraid you would let go.

Perhaps it was a bit shady of you to drape yourself over his childhood best friend whenever he rejected you, but now you were finding yourself finding solace in Steve in everything, like you used to with Bucky. He had become this safe place for you, where you wouldn’t be shamed for how you felt or what you were going through.

Even if he knew how much you were hurting from your own obliviousness to Bucky’s behavior, he always let you find solace in his strong, comforting arms. Always sturdy enough to hold the weight of your hurt and what he was carrying too. Just like tonight.

“He’s never going to love me the way I want him to — like the way he loves her.” It wasn’t a question any longer, it was a stone cold fact. Something you’d tried to ignore over the past year, especially.

Not wanting anything in this moment but him, you laid your head on his chest, his steady heartbeat giving you a sense of peace in the aftermath of your heartbreak. The crisp material of the white button up he was wearing shifted from the weight of you, he didn’t really mind.

“I think it’s time for me to let go of this image I have of him, one he can never live up to and accept him for who he is and where he’s at right now.” Steve nodded, still not saying a word, slipping farther and farther away from you as he let his thoughts consume him entirely.

It’d been happening a lot more lately. This. The close, excruciating intimacy between Steve and the woman he was in love with.

Over the past few months, anytime you were upset about something, you would show up at his doorsteps crashing into him as you wept. Always wanting to be close to him, snuggled up to his side, bleeding your heart out to him, something you hadn’t done with anyone.

Not even Bucky.

Then there was the one kiss on New Years’ Eve a few weeks ago which stayed imprinted on the forefront of his mind. He remembered when he woke up the following morning, he was holding you to his chest, the both of you bodies laced with one another.

He got up before you were there to consciously witness it, but it was all he thought about weeks after. Being that close awoke the need to be near you. It was already there, but now he knew how it felt to hold you in the comfort of his own bed.

It nearly killed him when you woke up, making your way down the stairs from his bedroom, wearing nothing but his boxers and the shirt he wore last night. Steve wasn’t drunk enough to completely forget the whole night, nothing had happened in his room last night. Seeing you, in here, in his apartment, made him think what his life could possibly be like with you here.

If he was ever to be so lucky.

As of yesterday, when you told him Bucky finally wanted to move forward with you, it broke him. Even if he kept his true feelings hidden, he felt you crush his heart with one fatale squeeze. Any particular hope he once had, was diminished into a fantasy far from reality.

The both of you were Steve’s best friends — he had to be happy for you.

Then, Natasha came to town. Storming through Bucky’s heart just like she’s always done. When Steve invited you to the dinner his best friend was trying to keep you from, he knew it could possibly be the last fatale blow to whatever string your relationship with Buck was. Maybe his, too.

Steve knew going after you could mean losing his really good friend, but he simply couldn’t stop himself. Not when you were a pure goddess ascending from above in all of your glory, capturing his heart in every single glance you threw his way. At this point, he didn’t care what it’d cost him.

As long as he had you, it would be worth it.

When the car pulled up to your street, you let your hand glide down his chest, resting on his lower abdomen. Not missing the way his body trembled under your touch, the thin material of his shirt doing nothing to protect him from you — not that he wanted to be anywhere but here.

As soon as those sinful words left your mouth, he knew he was done for.

Perhaps, if the both of you hadn’t been tipsy of the bottle of wine you shared, you wouldn’t feel the urge to invite him up, but he smelled too good and acted too perfect for any other consideration.

“Do you want to come inside, Stevie?” You purred watching the gears switch in his mind. Contemplating if he really should go through with it. Now that it was within his reach, he was becoming hesitant to grab it. You were drunk, he was drunk. Hence the uber and the both of your cars left behind in Tony and Pepper’s driveway.

“I don’t think it’s the best idea for me to go up there, bubs.” Instantly, you pouted. A deep frown etched on your beautiful face. “Why not? I think it would be a wonderful thing. Don’t you?” With one swift movement, you were cupping his crotch, making your intentions more than clear.

The grunt leaving Steve’s mouth was animalistic as he tried to exercise the very little restraint he was holding onto. It seemed to become increasingly difficult as you refused to move your hand away.

“I need you to take care of me and I’ll take care of you.” Finally releasing your grip on him, you exited out of the car and you didn’t have to look back to know he was falling you into the lobby of your apartment building.

After a silent elevator ride, with you tucked into his side you made the walk down the narrow hallway into your home, fidgeting to open the door with Steve’s hands caressing your sides. Carefully watching as you kicked off the painful heels, the bottom of your feet thankful, pulling you deeper into the apartment.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” You retreated, afraid someone else might turn you down, too. If Steve did, you wouldn’t be able to handle it. He’s been your person you can count on and now you couldn’t imagine your life without him.

Stopping your movement once you reached your bedroom, you were still waiting for his response. Meticulously, he reached for hand before twirling you around your back pressed against his front. Sighing, when his hand dragged up your spine, while the other hung on your waist with his hand pressed against your stomach.

Pushing the thin strap of your velvet dress, letting it fall off your shoulder. Soft, firm lips touching your soft skin, you couldn’t help but lean back into him. Tilting your head back, offering yourself up to him on a silver platter.

His touch felt like heaven and you didn’t think you’d ever want him to leave. Not when you always felt safe wrapped up in his large muscular arms. Never making you question if you felt wanted.

“Right now, my body wants you as badly as it ever has.” Steve confessed while his lips migrated towards your neck, giving you some much needed attention.

“Does it?” You questioned him, losing any other train of thought as let his other hand push the other strap off your shoulder, the slinky dress falling to floor pooling at your feet.

“It does, sweetheart, but it’ll have to wait.” Already pouting like the brat you were, ready to seduce him right into filling you up, just like you brought him here tonight for.

Dropping down to your level, Steve whispers in your ear, “Because when I fuck you just the way your pussy is aching for it won’t be when you’re drunk, princess.” Throwing gasoline on the fire he created, sharply he bit your earlobe, making you moan.

“I’ve thought about this so much, princess. At first, I thought I would take you from behind, but then I wouldn’t see those begging, doe-eyes itching for a release.” You were trembling for him. His filthy words flooding straight to your slick, crying for him already.

“Maybe you’d want to ride me, huh? Do you want to fuck yourself on my fat cock?” At this point, if it was anyone else, you’d be embarrassed if he found out just how wet you were. Your panties are completely ruined because of him.

“I want to ride you so bad, Stevie.” Maliciously, he laughed before giving your clothed pussy a rough slap, causing you to gasp out. Your nails digging themselves into his bicep as you reached for it.

“Well, if you had been a good girl, maybe I’d let you cum on my cock.” You turned around face to face, ready to bruise your knees for him in a heartbeat. In this space and time, you’ve never wanted anyone more.

Harshly, he gripped your chin as his thumb smoothed over your bottom lip, dragging it down so it plumped right back up. “Bucky will be here tomorrow morning, if not tonight. I took his precious little play thing home and he’s not gonna like that one bit.”

“He wants to have his cake and eat it, too. If you want to let him, by all means go right ahead. And if you don’t? You know where I live, princess.” Very much in contrast to the last few minutes, he sweetly kissed your cheek and headed out right back the door without so much as a second glance.

Leaving you with a hell of a lot to process.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

tagging: @tonystankschild | @andromedasstarship | @tinylumpiaa | @brattycherubwrites | @bval-1 | @kayteewritessteve |

[planetdemon]

I just wanted to be a swan

pairing: bang chan x reader

genre: angst, fluff, but mostly angst

warnings: low self-esteem, body hate/dislike, eating disorders, swearing, food, insecurities, arguing DONT READ IF YOU DON'T FEEL COMFORTABLE WITH IT!

wc: 2.003

note: so this scenario has been going through my head for quite a while now, and I tried writing it by myself lol. Hope it's good ;) I've also sent a request to @channienet about the same topic, so make sure to check her interpretation out as well! enjoy!

summary: Due to Chan's heavy working schedule, spending time alone was a thing you couldn't quite befriend with, especially after you've noticed some changes you have gone through. There is a to change it, but it isn't quite... let's say healthy. How will Chan react, after he finds out? Will he even care? (dude I'm shit at writing summary lol)

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Taking a bath was normally something that should be considered relaxing or calming. You've always enjoyed letting the hot water surround your body whilst taking all the dirt and negativity off that you have collected during stressful days at work.

But lately, taking a bath wasn't as enjoyable anymore as it once was. Chris has been working a lot lately, due to the kingdom stage and their nearing comeback. He has been spending more and more time at the company, working on producing new tracks for him and the kids, often staying at the dorms because they were closer to the studio than the apartment you shared. So you were left alone, by yourself.

Even though you wished he would be by your side while you were falling asleep, you couldn't be mad at him. You knew what his work meant to that boy and you would never tell him to stop doing what he loves just so you could spend some time together.

But being alone also meant that you had to kill the boredom somehow and, thanks to Felix's Brownie and Cookie recipes, you had the perfect thing to do in the meantime. Baking and eating delicious desserts.

You were just stepping out of the bathtub, grabbing the towel you had prepared, and drying yourself with it. Once your body was half-dried, you turned around to hang the towel back at the hanger, so it could dry properly.

And at that moment, you knew, you've fucked up. You couldn't avoid looking at your wet, naked body in the hot, steamy mirror near the hangers.

You always hated looking at it, but thanks to the sweets you had been eating lately, looking at yourself only made you feel sicker than it ever did.

You couldn't tear your gaze off the excess of flesh around your tummy and thighs and the stretch marks, that decored your boobs only seemed to scream "Look at me!". You slowly turned around and saw the tiger stripes creeping up your bum and the undersides of your arms.

'Fucking disgusting', that little voice in your head sneered.

'How could I let this come this far?', you thought. At this point, you were somehow happy Chris wasn't here, knowing he would be disgusted with how you've changed.

You've always felt a bit insecure by his side, knowing you could catch up with neither his attractiveness nor his muscular godlike body. But seeing yourself like this destroyed every little self-esteem you had left in your cells.

-

It has been nearly two months since 'the incident' in the bathroom and you couldn't shake that feeling of disgusts off. Not even for one second.

You only wanted to try a one-week detox diet that was blowing up all over social media, hoping you could lose a little bit of weight, so you would be back to normal. But seeing the numbers on the scale dropping so unbelievably quickly only made you realize that you could look even better than you thought you could.

You kept on following the diet and restricting everything that wasn't included, not noticing that restricting also damaged your mind.

One time, Han and Felix asked you if you wanted to have lunch with them and the others, but fear crept up you back as soon as you thought about the food they would have ordered, knowing that you would only gain weight again if you didn't follow the rules.

So you stayed home, keeping yourself isolated from your friends and most importantly, Chan.

You were lying on my bed, scrolling through Tumblr when Chris' Caller ID showed up and your phone started to ring. You sighed lowly, not wanting to talk to him.

Over the past few months, you stopped showing up at the studio, being afraid the boys would notice the changes your body went through, thanks to the diet. You were happy about it, knowing that you were losing weight, but you haven't reached my goal. You were afraid, they would judge you the way you did when you looked at yourself.

"Chris?"

"y/n? Han just told me that you weren't coming over. Are you okay? Y-" Chris's muffled voice appeared and you felt instant regret deep in your guts, knowing how much fun you guys had when you spent time together back in the days.

"Yeah, I'm okay Channie, don't worry. I just feel a little sleepy. I'll come next time. Promise" You tried your best to sound optimistic or at least not too sad, hoping Chris would believe your lie. "Okay," he mumbled, "I love you, baby girl".

-

You knew you were in big troubled the second Chris opened the fridge, seeing no food in there.

He randomly decided to stay over the weekend, saying that he missed you. You weren't ready for this, knowing that you couldn't hide the signs of the 'passion' you had developed in time.

"Why is there no food?" You fumbled with the arms of Chris sweater you were wearing while looking at the ground. "I've forgotten to go grocery shopping" You answered.

"But there is nothing in there, y/n. Nothing" He walked over and took hold of your cold hands while looking you straight in the eyes.

"Why is there no food?" Chris asked again.

"I just told you I forgot to go grocery shopping, Chan. Relax" You snapped back, getting anxious about the fact that he could notice something.

You were nearing your goal, even though you knew that you could never be satisfied with how you looked. He couldn't just come over and ruin all the progress you've made after being not here for so long. He doesn't have the right to do this.

"Don't fuck around, y/n. You always have at least some butter in your house. Where is the butter? Where is Ramen? You must have some food here!"

Your body started to shake as you heard his voice rise, keeping your gaze low, not daring to look him in the eyes right now. He was right.

You always had something at home, so you could quickly cook something when you were hungry. But you didn't saw a point in keeping food at home if you wouldn't eat it anyway. It would just rot.

"Y/n look at me" he whispered, after realizing that you were trembling. Chris gently grabbed your chin to make you look up at him. You were expecting to see anger, but the only thing you saw in his brown orbs was sadness.

You started to tear up after you noticed it, knowing that he put one and one together. You missing out on lunch with the boys, you not showing up at the studio to bring him food and spend with him there, listening to his tracks, you not having any food at home. It was obvious, but you still hoped he wouldn't notice.

Chris slowly took you in his arms, noticing how your figure felt smaller and bonier than before. It made him sick, knowing what you did to yourself. 'Why would my girl do something like this?' he thought 'how could my little princess torture herself this much?' But he couldn't find a 'because'.

In his eyes, you were the best thing that happened to him. You were the prettiest girl on earth. Warm tears were running down his pale cheeks, dropping to the floor.

He couldn't stop blaming himself for what you did. Maybe if he would have been there, he could have stopped you. Maybe if-

"Channie?" You quietly asked, looking up at his tear-stained cheeks. "Channie why are you crying? We can go to the store and grab something if you want. You don't-"

"Why have you been doing this to yourself, y/n?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why haven't you been eating"

Well, shit.

"What are you talking about, Channie?"

"Don't fucking lie to me, it's too obvious for you to do so. Why haven't you been eating?"

"I... I, I'm pressured Chan" You answered, knowing that he wouldn't believe you if you would tell him otherwise. Telling him the truth was the only option at this point, even though you didn't want to.

"Pressured?"

"Yes"

"Princess, I don't understand what you mean by that"

You shook your head and let go of him, before walking over to the couch and sitting down with a low sigh. "Maybe you shouldn't understand," I said.

"Jesus, y/n" I heard him mutter under his breath. He walked over and sat on the floor, in front of you, looking at you with a scared expression.

"Please tell me what's in that pretty little head of yours. I can see that you have lost weight, but I don't understand why. I mean, you are the prettiest human I have ever seen in my whole life, why would you do something like that?"

"Why do you even care? It's not like you here anyway" you simply said, grabbing your phone, trying to ignore him.

After he noticed your intentions, he quickly took your phone out of your hands, placing it on the coffee table behind him.

"Hey! Give me my phone back, you dump a-"

"Fucking stop it, y/n. Stop ignoring me. I care for you because I love you! You are my everything and I know I haven't been home lately, but at least I tried making time for you and inviting you to the studio", he said, "but you never came! Don't act like it's only my fault we haven't seen each other."

You looked at him with wide eyes, shaking your head. He was right, it was also your fault. And you hated the fact that he was right. "I-"

"Please y/n, please stop turning away from me and closing up. I-I know it's not easy to open up, but I'm here for you. I'll always be."

"Well, I... I couldn't, no, I can't feel happy when I look like this, Channie. I mean, look at you, look at your perfect body and your perfect personality and your perfect everything! I don't fit in. I don't fit in, because I am the ugly duck surrounded by beautiful swans. I just... wanted to be a beautiful swan, Channie."

That's it. You've made it. You've told him what was going through your mind all the time.

He slowly pulled you off the couch, into his lap. He could feel your seat humps against his thighs, how bony and strong they were. Chris shook his head in disbelieve, another wave of sadness crushing over him.

"You are perfect, baby girl. You are perfect in every single way. You always were the most beautiful swan I have ever seen in my entire life. I love everything about you, y/n. I love how your thighs wiggle whenever you run towards me when we meet, I love how curves look in that dress I brought you a year ago, I love how your stretch marks are decorating your body like silverish paint. I don't want you to change for me, because you are perfect the way you are. Jesus, even Hyunjin said you are even prettier than himself, and that means a lot. Please don't hurt yourself like this, princess. You are destroying yourself"

He took hold of your hands and kissed your palm.

"I promise I'll stop working so much, so I can spend more time with my beautiful girlfriend, but please... stop hurting yourself" he whispered, searching for any signs of discomfort in your eyes. But you just set in his lap and listened to him.

"Hyunjin thinks I'm prettier than him?" you asked awkwardly.

Chris chuckled and nodded "Is this the only thing that got stuck in your pretty little head?" He asked.

You smiled a bit, leaning your forehead against his while closing your eyes. "I'll try to get better, Chris" you whispered.

It wouldn't be an easy journey going back to 'normal. Once the hole is there, digging is difficult. But it is possible, especially if someones helping you.

[cherryyharryy]

i have an idea for a request (it’s totally ok if you don’t want to do it) like an angst-> fluff where one of harry’s songs accidentally gets leaked bc of y/n like she has something on a flash drive and the song is on another and they get mixed up and obviously he’s really mad at y/n and they have a fight he’s super snappy with her but something happens to her like she gets into a really big accidental or something and he forgives her bc he cares about her more tha the leaked song

WC: 2.7k

***

Damage control wasn’t even an option. 

Y/n sat there, staring at Harry’s laptop, numb to everything except the blaring desire to go back in time just two minutes. Two minutes is all she would need to undo possibly the biggest screwup of her life.

And the worst part is that this mistake ultimately doesn’t affect her. At least not in comparison to how it will affect Harry. And his band. And his team. Basically everyone involved with his career. 

Her mind is equally begging for her to shut down and come up with a plan—an excuse—something, Is there anyway this wasn’t my fault?  

She checks the time, her heart sinking to her stomach when she realizes Harry and his team will be back any minute. Any minute and she’s done for.

They’ve only been together for five months, officially. She’s still new to most everyone. She’s that girl Harry’s dating.

“I told you he played in that movie.” Jeff’s voice echoes outside the studio. Y/n closes the laptop and prays for strength. 

“I have him confused with someone else.” Harry bustles through the door, a small crowd of people filing in behind him, back to the spots they left an hour ago. “Hey darling,” he greets, “finish your paper?”

Y/n’s frozen, morbidly wishing he had found out about his song leaking on his own so she wouldn’t have to tell him. “Uh, almost.”

He kisses the top of her head and hands her a cup of frozen yogurt. “Your favorite.” 

“Thanks.” She sets it on the table she’s sat at while Harry pulls up a chair beside her. “Aren’t you guys still working?”

He waves in the direction of his band, “Mitch’s gotta fix his guitar.” He snickers, and slides his laptop out from under y/n’s hands. “Had a bit of an accident in the car.” 

Y/n’s head tingles with what must be nerve damage, her place in this world, her place in this room, decreasing in value as Harry opens his computer.

“It’s gonna melt.” He nods to her yogurt.

“I’m not hungry.”

He furrows his brow. “You alright?”

“Mhm.” She looks around the room, everyone busy getting back to work, light chatter passing among them. “Uh, actually, I uh, I have to tell you something.” Y/n tries to swallow the lump in her throat with no luck.

“Okay…” He shuts the laptop and gives her his full attention.

“Okay, um—”

“What the fuck!?” The room freezes as everyone turns toward Jeff. “Harry someone’s got a hold of your song!” 

Harry scrambles to his manager, complete shock on his face as they both stare down at Jeff’s phone. “Fuck.” They start to play a video, the sound of a girl screaming, with Harry’s unconsented voice playing in the background, fills the room. “How the hell did this happen?” He’s gritting through his teeth, neck red, veins bulging in his hands as he rips the phone out of Jeff’s hand. “HOW? Someone answer me!”

Y/N considers keeping quiet. Playing innocent. What good will it do to confess anyway? It’s not like it’ll undo what she’s done.

Sarah chimes in from across the room, “It looks like it happened half an hour ago. That’s when this video I’m looking at was posted.”

Y/n’s staring down at her lap, holding her head up with her fingers pressed into her temples when Harry slings himself back into the chair next to her.

“All that work, all that fucking work,” he nearly growls, “for some cunt to spread my unfinished song around for a buck.”

Y/n peers up to the room, a completely different picture compared to five minutes ago. Now there’s talk of lawyers and pressing charges while everyone shuffles around. Jeff slams the door as he steps out with his phone to his ear, and y/n knows she can’t claim denial, it’ll only make things worse.

“Uh, Harry?”

“What is it?” He doesn’t look at her, eyes glaring at his phone while another video plays of a group of people reacting to his song. “Glad they fucking like it.”

“Harry?”

“What, y/n?”

She shrinks under his gaze, mouth dry as she forces her confession out. “I uh, this is all my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m so, so sorry. And I’ll do anything—I know I can’t fix it—but...”

Harry’s tongue presses against the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing in on her as a morbid silence forms a little bubble around them. “Go on,” he whispers with grit, “finish what you were gonna say.”

She stutters, desperately trying to figure him out. “I’m just sorry. It was an accident.”

“An accident? How did you even manage to do this?”

“I—”

“Do you have any idea what this accident means, y/n?”

She reluctantly shakes her head no.

“How the fuck did you do this?”

“I—I don’t know...I was taking a break from my paper, and, I don’t know Harry.” She’s in tears now, warm and salty as they spill down her cheeks. Her mouth wobbles around another apology, but no sounds make it out.

“Fix it.”

“What?”

He stands up, yanking his laptop off the table, pausing to glare at her one last time. “I said, to fix it.” With that he storms across the room, slinging the door open just as Jeff reenters.

“Harry, your attorney—”

“Forget it.” He turns around and points his phone towards y/n silently sobbing in the corner. “She’s gonna handle it.” He takes one step out into the hall and stops, spinning on his heels to face the studio. “Don’t speak to me until you do.”

Mitch’s guitar that was fixed and propped against the wall, crashes to the floor when Harry slams the door. 

Chatter passes around the room one more time, only now everyone seems to be in agreeance—that girl never should have been allowed in the studio, and maybe, Harry should break up with her.

***

Early morning rain fell outside Harry’s apartment. It was still dark, street lamps burning through the fog in the city below. His home fills with coffee as he pours his fifth cup; the prior four never offering more than a few sips before he had abandoned them somewhere, the counter, mantle, bookshelf, because he can’t talk without his hands.

Y/n sits on his couch. It’s velvet and pink and too big for one person. She hated it the first time he invited her over. If he breaks up with her, she’s going to tell him how ugly it is.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do.” She’s exhausted. She hadn’t hesitated to drive over when he finally responded to one of her hundreds of texts in the week since the mishap. But now she regrets it. They’ve been going in circles with the same argument for the past four hours. She’s convinced he invited her over just to be mean. She sighs, rubbing her temples. “I said I was sorry. You know that I’m sorry. And you know that I never, ever in a million years, would have done something like this on purpose.”

“I’m allowed to be angry with you. I have every right to be.”

“Do you, though?” She straightens up on his ugly couch and looks at him leaning against the doorframe that leads into the kitchen. “Aren’t you a little tired of hating me? God Harry, everyone else in the whole world has moved on except you.”

“It’s not everyone else’s song, is it? It’s not everyone else’s months and months of hard work. It’s not everyone else’s unfinished art? Nobody else is having to deal with a girlfriend that is so careless, so thoughtless, that she actually managed to leak my song!”

“Stop raising your voice at me!”

“You had no business snooping around my computer anyway! I told you you could work on your fucking paper, not to go prying around my personal shit!”

“You know what,” she scoffs, shooting up off the couch, “this argument is so pointless. You didn’t want me here so we could talk. You just wanted to torture me because you’re mad that people don’t love your stupid song.”

“What the fuck did you say?”

She brushes his shoulder as she passes by him, and a drip of his coffee spills onto his hand. He curses, and follows her into the kitchen where he lays his final cup down on the island.

“You’re being a baby because people aren’t fawning over you like they usually do.” She shrugs and slings her bag over her shoulder. “It’s not your best song, Harry.”

The veins in his neck strain against his flaming skin. His cheeks are sucked in, and if he bites down on the skin any harder he’ll puncture his face. “Get the fuck out.”

“I was already leaving, dumb ass.” She strides by him once more, practically feeling the heat steaming off his body. When she gets to the front door, she pauses with her hand on the knob. “Your couch is hideous, by the way. Just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you have to buy shitty looking stuff.”

When she slams the door behind her, the apartment shakes, and cold coffee spills from each cup.

***

It’s nearing five a.m. when y/n backs out of the complex. Her wipers race across the windshield, but do nothing against the downpour wreaking havoc in the city. She does her best to stay on what she assumes is her side of the road, swerving to the right each time headlights blind her.

“Shit.” Nothing is open, and she can’t even see where it would be safe to pull over to let the rain pass. But her home isn’t that far, and traffic isn’t too bad. 

She comes to a stop at a red light, only to realize she missed a left turn she should’ve made a minute ago. “Damn it. Fucking hell.”

As soon as the light turns green, she spins the wheel to make a U-turn, and if it hadn’t been for the rain, and her own clouded mind, and Harry’s voice echoing in her ears, she might have seen the truck who didn’t even try to avoid her.

***

It’s the headache from hell that wakes her up. And it’s the sterile smell of hospital that jogs her memory. And it’s a nurse not much older than y/n that says something about you’re lucky to be alive. 

She’s poked and prodded and asked a thousand questions before her IV is adjusted and a pill to ease one of the many pains scratching her body is handed to her in a small plastic cup. A police officer repeats half of this process, and somewhere in the mess of her reality, she learns that the other driver was sending a text to his wife when he plowed into her car. He’s at home and she’s here. Lucky to be alive.

She made calls to her mom and friends, and even managed to type out a decent email to her professors for her upcoming absence in class.

When she automatically pulled up Harry’s name on her phone, the last text he sent, the one inviting her over so he could make her more miserable than she already was, sat there in all its taunting glory.

What is she even supposed to say? Hey, I know you hate my existence right now, but I’m lying here in a hospital bed with bandages wrapped around my head. It’d be cool if you stopped by.

It’s not long before the sun pops up and reminds y/n of just how early it is. The clouds part, and it’s like it had never even rained, like it had never even been dark for hours, and if she closes her eyes, y/n can pretend that the past week hadn’t even happened.

***

 “How are you feeling today?” The nurse checks y/n’s IV, humming after her question.

“Just sore. Ready to get out of here.”

“We’ve started the paperwork, so shouldn’t be too long. Who’s coming to get you?”

Y/n blinks, feeling stupid she hadn’t thought this far ahead. She doesn’t even have a car anymore. The nurse looks over the computer monitor, waiting for a response.

“Uh, my friend.”

“Awesome. Dr. Kirby has to come check on you one last time before you leave. I’ll go see if he can stop by now, if you want to let your friend know.”

As soon as the nurse is out the door, y/n scrambles to turn her phone back on, and once it is, her lock screen is filled with missed calls and unanswered texts.

She’ll respond later; gives her something to do in the car to occupy her in front of Harry. 

She can’t call him. Harry’s not a monster, although the past week doesn’t exactly prove her case, but she knows he wouldn’t refuse to come get her. If anything, he’ll be annoyed she didn’t tell him about the accident sooner. But she’s too emotional to deal with hearing his voice.

She types out a text recounting her last 24 hours, along with the name of the hospital. He immediately reads it, and a moment later he’s trying to call.

To: Harry

I’m too tired to talk rn

She lies. And it works.

From: Harry

I’ll be there as fast as i can

***

“Baby?”

Y/n cracks her eyes open, irritated she never quite fell asleep. Confused as to why Harry’s calling her baby. Angry that she cares. And the next words out of his mouth are ones she’d been predicting.

“Why didn’t you call me? I would’ve dropped everything. You’ve been here all alone, shit. Are you okay? What hurts?”

He’s hovering over her, fidgeting, unsure if he can touch her.

“I’m fine now. Just sore. And tired.”

“Fuck I can’t believe this, I—”

“The doctor already said I can go. I’m not allowed to walk out on my own, so, you need to let the nurse know you’re here. She’ll take me down in a wheelchair.”

“Baby I’m so sorry-”

“No, Harry. You would still be busy hating my guts right now—”

“Hate you? I don’t hate you?”

“Well you did a great job this week making me feel otherwise.”

Harry sighs, gripping the bed frame and dropping his chin to his chest. When he looks back up he has tears brimming his eyes. “I’m sorry,” his voice cracks. “I know I’ve been an ass this week. I—you were right. I took out my anger from no one lovin’ the song on you.”

“Well it’s not no one. A lot of people did. And it’s unfinished anyway. You wouldn’t enjoy a meal if it was only cooked halfway.”

He nods, but y/n knows he’s only accepting her words because of the situation.

“You mean so much more to me than a leaked song. I’m sorry I treated you like shit. And that I—I made you think I hated you. You have every right to hate me.”

“You annoy the hell out of me, but I don’t hate you.”

His lips twitch, but a few tears slide down his cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” She takes his hand off the rail and smoothes her thumb across his knuckles. “You can make it up to me by getting me out of here.”

“I can do that.” He kisses the top of her head and hits the remote to call for the nurse.

“You can really kiss me, y’know. I’m not gonna break.”

He’s hesitant, but slowly lowers his head to press his lips to hers. He’s timid, and his lips are still damp from tears, but it’s more relieving than either of them would ever admit.

The nurse ends their moment when she pops in the room, pushing a wheelchair in front of her. “Hi, you must be y/n’s friend.”

“Friend?” He peers down at y/n, suggestion lacing the word. “Care to explain?”

“Not really, I’m so tired.”

“Mhm.” He clicks his tongue, supporting her arm as she swings her legs off the bed. Once she’s standing and steady, he tucks her hair behind her ear and bends down so his mouth can graze her lobe. “Since we’re just friends, I guess you’ll have to sleep on my ugly couch.”

[starlight-starwrites]

not me taking days to come up with a request 😌💅 lmao may I get some hurt/comfort with Ezra 🥺 maybe he or Reader is injured and the other has to patch them up (and maybe they feel at fault for the other's injury 🥺) thank you, my love 😍 you're the best! 😘💜

Angel

ezra x reader

wc: 2.9k (oops this was supposed to be like 1k...) warnings: some non descriptive violence, swearing, injuries, hurt/comfort, vague and inaccurate medical care, and soft feelings (it ends in fluff i swear it) note: not me taking weeks to answer it 😌 so sorry i took so long to get this out for you!!! but i hope it lives up to the wait? i also couldn’t decide who should be injured and who would feel at fault so i said ~both~ :)

“Shit, shit.”

You pull Ezra’s arm tighter over your shoulders, but his added weight aggravates your leg. Your limp slows you down, but you aren’t leaving him behind. Not after what he did for you.

“Ezra, c’mon.” You jostle him slightly as you try to stumble further back to the pod, moving as fast as you can. You don’t know if he’s fully conscious. “Please you gotta help me out. I can’t do this on my own.”

He mumbles something into your shoulder, and you don’t quite catch it. But he’s not unconscious. Not yet.

“Fuck,” you cry out. You can see the pod in front of you, it’s so close now. But Ezra still sways into your side, barely able to do more than drag his feet after you. A jolt of pain shoots though your leg, and you collapse onto one knee. “Ezra!” Tears prick at your eyes.

You’re so close. So fucking close.

You can hear shouts behind you, and the fear rises. You had shot one of them, though not fatally, after Ezra had killed two of theirs. You didn’t know how many were left. Not too many, but certainly too many to take on by yourself while injured.

You try to push yourself up with your one good leg, tucking yourself under Ezra’s arm to get him up, but it’s too much. You sob into the cold air, trying to catch your breath. Castomore had a breathable atmosphere so you didn’t need helmets, but the air was thin, and combined with your recent skirmish, you were already feeling lightheaded.

“Ez, please,” you whisper. His head lolls to the side, mouth moving but eyes closed.

You can’t do it. You sink to your knees in the powdered snow, tears already freezing on your face. You lower Ezra slowly to the ground next to you and try not to cry again at the sight of the red stains on his suit. You don’t have a choice anymore. You could hole yourselves up in the pod for a while, maybe try to fix Ezra and yourself up best you can. But it would only delay the inevitable.

You’d be trapped inside, and the miscreants following you would get you eventually, possibly even damage the pod before you could do anything. You couldn’t afford to be trapped here.

Ezra still breathes, talking quietly, though nothing more than nonsense. You drag him behind a fallen tree, hiding him as best you can for now. You sling the thrower off your back, prepping it quickly.

You only have one option now.

Ezra’s face is soaked in sweat despite the cold, and you steel yourself. You wouldn’t let it end like this. You wouldn’t let him die for something that was your fault. His cheek is scratchy under your palm, and you gently brush your thumb along his face. You resolve to tell him. You’d tell him exactly how you felt if you survived this.

Another shout comes, this time closer. You breathe out and look away from the man that lays on the ground, taking up your thrower and balancing it on the stump you hide behind. You turn your head, squint through the scope, waiting for it to come into focus.

Three men. One limping, just like you.

You take another deep breath. Take Aim. Fire.

--

Ezra jolts up with a gasp, nearly knocking into you, and you have to push him back down just to make sure he doesn’t make his wound any worse.

The stim in your hand is quickly tossed away, both hands gently holding him and pressing on his chest.

“Hey,” you say it softly while his eyes dart quickly around your cabin, “just breathe, we’re safe now.”

He glances around, checking your surroundings as if he were still in danger. His heart beats rapidly underneath your palm now, so much faster than the dull thump when he lay unconscious. You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I had to stim you,” you reach up to smooth down his hair, and his panicked eyes meet yours. “Ezra, we’re alright, I just need you to breathe okay? You’re shot full of adrenaline, it’s going to take a moment, just stay with me baby?”

He lets his head fall back on the bunk beneath him, trying to breathe just like you said.

“What?” His voice is nothing more than a rasp, and you carefully check the bandage you pressed to his skin. The bleeding has slowed considerably.

“A stim,” you say it slowly, thinking he didn’t understand you. “I had to bring you back, but now I need you to try and breathe.”

His eyes slipped closed when he smiles, huffing a laugh that quickly turns into a wince.

“Ezra.”

You diligently work on fully patching him up now, wiping up some of the residue from the medpatch you put on him, and securing it nicely with the bandage tape.

“What appears to be my diagnosis, Doctor? Am I to continue on this wretched rock, or will I be sent to float among the stars?”

Even injured as he is, he still finds a way to be melodramatic. Or maybe he’s just cracking a joke at your expense.

You roll your eyes. “You’ll live. Now be quiet while I clean you up.”

Tossing away some of the wipes you used earlier, you tidy up the bunk to turn back to your patient. He smiles, eyes still closed, and you take the moment to admire his features.

He looks like shit.

His skin is pale and lips blue from the cold. His hair is slicked back with sweat and dark circles lie under his eyes. Added with his cut open suit and the patches on his chest and abdomen, he looks lucky to be alive.

You focus on cleaning up the dried blood, inspecting him for any other injuries as you sit on the bunk beside him. His smile slowly fades.

“Does it hurt at all when you breathe?”

He shakes his head, eyes opening. He reaches a hand up over yours and holds it to his chest as he looks to you.

“What happened?” his voice sounds weak. He looks so tired. You’re willing to bet you both do. You needed a week’s worth of rotations just to recover from this expedition. Neither of you were on top of your game—hadn’t been for some time now.

The both of you lost more money and supplies than you made so far, and every chance you got to make up the difference somehow ended in disaster. You sadly stared at his bandages.

“They’re dead,” you whisper. “I got you back here while you were unconscious.”

His thumb strokes the back of your hand. “My angel.”

You look up, see the slight curve to his lips. He’s trying to comfort you.

It’s your turn to close your eyes, hold back the tears you’ve been trying get rid of since the moment you stopped outside, fully believing that was your last stand.

“I’m so sorry, Ez.” Your voice cracks, and that’s when it starts. A silent tear tracks down your cheek, and you shake your head when you feel him squeeze your hand tight. “I’m so sorry, I thought it would be fine, I should have listened to you, I should never have made you come—”

“Hey.” He squeezes tighter and all you think is that you’re relieved he has some strength left. “This ain’t your fault. We went together.” His hand lets go of yours, and he moves to place it on your thigh. “Here I lay, nothing more than a sad—”

“Ow!” you yelp as soon as his hand closes around your leg.

He immediately snatches it away at your cry, startled. He starts to sit up, looking over you truly for the first time. His eyes widen when they see the track of blood that runs down your leg, the torn hole in your trousers.

“You’re hurt.”

He’s shocked by it. You had forgone checking over yourself and instead focused only on the man before you now. The pain had dulled to a constant throb, uncomfortable, but with more pressing matters at hand, able to ignore. His reminder suddenly brings it back.

You shift where you sit, taking your leg away from his reach, and he starts to sit up.

“No, you need to lie down,” you say through gritted teeth. “You shouldn’t be moving, just rest.”

“You are hurt. Let me—” He looks at you more intently now, scanning your body. You’re not sure what he sees. His face morphs into an expression of concern, then anger. “Look at me.”

You don’t move. He’s forced to reach up, and you can tell it strains him. His fingers take your chin, turning your head to the side so he can look at the part of your face you hid from him. He looks murderous.

“They shot you.”

“It was just a graze.”

“They shot you twice.”

You lower your head. Feeling the dull ache in your leg, your cheek. Your arm.

“Three times,” you whisper.

Your jacket is pulled off, revealing the hole in your bicep. It went straight through, seemed to have missed your artery, going through the meat of your upper arm. You were lucky. Incredibly lucky.

Ezra stares at it, breathing raggedly still. He says nothing for once, situating himself so he can sit on the edge just as you do. He should be resting, but you refuse to say anything more. You make sure he is as comfortable as can be, help him bring the field kit closer so he doesn’t have to reach.

He takes care of you silently, efficiently patching up your leg first. His brow is furrowed, eyes focused as he does it. You hate how it makes you feel. You had almost gotten him killed, and now here he was, forced to patch you up too.

The arm is quicker than your leg, and his hands are rough and shaking as he wraps the white cloth around it. He tries not to aggravate it, you know that, but it still hurts when he pulls it tight. You had used most of the pain killers when you worked on him. You would just have to bear it.

His hands still before coming to gently hold your face again, turning it towards him. Your eyes find the white square on his chest, and you think of the hole underneath. You’d almost lost him because of a reckless decision, because you had been foolish and greedy and too tired to care. It was your fault, and you deserved the three wounds you sustained. But he didn’t.

You feel Ezra swipe his thumb over your uninjured cheek, taking a tear with it. “Sweet angel,” he whispers, “don’t you cry for me.”

Your chest shudders when you breathe, and as he carefully wipes the blood from your cheek, you fight to not collapse into him. “I almost got you killed. I could have lost you. And I—” You stop yourself quickly, feeling a pull in your chest again.

You wonder if he remembers how you screamed when he went down, how you yelled and begged for him to stay with you, how you whispered your confession into the frozen air when you feared you wouldn’t make it.

“You’ve done nothing of the sort.” His touch his gentle as he cleans you up, tilts your head so he has better access to the gash that runs from the bridge of your cheekbone to the tip of your ear. He looks so tired and worn, and you want to comfort him. All you can do is bring your hand to his leg, relieved by his proximity and that he’s still here to speak with you. His gaze is fixed on your cheek, thumb still stroking your other, obviously distracted from treating your graze. “It was my fault, birdie. I…”

He trails off, a pained look in his eye as he turns from your cheek to your bandaged leg. You sag where you sit, leaning closer but still hesitate to put any weight on him. “No, Ez, it’s not.”

“I vowed once I would protect you,” he steels himself as he says it, snapping back into action and raising the disinfectant to your cheek. The sting makes you hiss, stopping you from interrupting him. “I may not be much, but if I was ever a man of my word, I was to you.”

He patches you up quietly, and you watch his eyes as they follow the graze along your cheek. You never had the chance to look at yourself, but from what you surmised by the blood flow, it wasn’t too deep. He pointedly fails to meet your gaze, scanning you for anything else while he smooths the bandage at your face, his other hand braced on the bunk by your hip to keep him upright.

He was right. Ezra was many things, but he had never lied to you. And remembering the promise you made to yourself not minutes before, you wouldn’t make a liar of yourself either.

“I love you, Ezra.”

His one hand fumbles with the tape and it falls into your lap.

“I’m afraid these drugs might be a little stronger than I first believed, angel.” His lips quirk up nervously, and his eyes dart between yours. “What did you just say?”

“I love you.”

It feels like such a small thing to say. As though the words don’t really convey exactly what you want them to mean. It’s a true statement, and you’re not afraid to say it finally. No matter how it’s received, it’s true, and you think he at least ought to know it.

It doesn’t stop you from fiddling with seam of your pants however, and you drop your gaze from his when he’s still quiet.

His hand comes back to gently cup your jaw, just under the now-bandaged gash.

“I’m…still not sure I…”

You lean forward at the same time he does, your hand finding the curve of his face. His lips fit nicely to yours, like they were meant to be there. His forehead rests against yours, nose brushing your uninjured cheek, and each of you become the other’s support. Neither of you move for a moment, content to feel the press of each other’s lips, have the knowledge that someone cared for you, and, of course, much too exhausted to do anything else.

He breathes out, lips adjusting over yours before his thumb brushes your cheek. You tense as the touch skirts over the edge of your bandage. Ezra pulls back, and you already mourn the loss of his warmth. You drop your hand from his face to his shoulder, and he grunts at the pressure, the two of you barely able to hold each other upright.

“I must apologize,” he speaks slowly but a soft smile plays on his lips. “As much as I should like to, I cannot in good conscience—” he breathes deep again, a hand over his chest, “nor in good health do anything more.”

You let out an easy laugh, finding it hard to keep your eyes open now that you had to chance to close them.

“Please, angel,” he starts again while letting himself lie back against the bunk, hand taking hold of yours on the way. “Please tell me we’ve at least earned a moment of respite.”

“Yeah, Ez,” you set the kit on the floor, not wanting to deal with anything else now. The man you love is calling you to bed. “We can have a moment.” Or ten, you think.

You shuffle silently in next to him, fitting so the two of you can lay shoulder to shoulder. You turn your head to watch his eyes slip closed, just as he reaches to clasp your hand in his and entwines your fingers over his stomach.

You let him, finding the bunk somehow much more comfortable than it ever was before. Your eyes roam over his face, noting the way his lashes kiss his cheek, the slope of his nose that dips to the curve of his mouth, the patches of scruff along his jaw. His eyelids flutter as he settles, his chest moving with each breath, and you’re grateful to see the life in him.

His head turns to face you, eyes opening just as yours drift closed, too heavy to keep open. You’re safe in your temporary home, nestled into Ezra’s side. No one was left to chase you, the pod is sealed, your wounds bandaged. You breathe easier, reassuring yourself that all is well, just as you feel a finger trace along the side of your face, carefully avoiding your newest scar. Even as you begin to fade, the action makes you smile, and you sigh, focusing in on the small details you still feel.

His thumb caresses yours, the gentle motion lulling you further to sleep. You only feel the hard press of the bunk mat at your back, the press of his shoulder to yours and the touch of his hand. All you hear is the gentle hum of the air regulator and his soft breathing, and just before you drift off, Ezra’s quiet whisper.

“I love you too, angel.”

[capaimagines]

im jaebeom - underworld

Pairing: mafia leader!Im Jaebeom x Reader | Genre: angst & mafia | Warnings: alludes to sexual assault, fighting, weapons, drugs, blood, swearing | WC: 2.6k

Request: Hi, I'm not too sure if you write them or not but if you do, may I please request a mafia/gang fic? Or if you don't want to do gang maybe just like JB got7 sells drugs or something?? Anyways I'll let you decide but maybe something goes wrong during the mission and they are led to the wrong place and in the mean time they take JB fiance and sexually assault her? Of course you don't have to write in detail. Maybe Mark and Jinyoung come in mid way and lose their shit and you are just limp and weak that you start screaming whenever they touch you but they need to get you to safety. Lots and lots of angst please. I understand if you can't. Thank you!!!

part two

You would consider yourself as an adventurous soul. Ever since you were little you were never one to back down from a fight. You spoke your mind no matter what anyone else said which, when you were younger, got you into a shit load of trouble. So, when you had met Jaebeom at your dingy workplace, which was some dirty ass, barely-lit bar, no one should have been surprised that you had a go at him for being a prick.

He had been rude all night but being a mafia leader to one of the biggest groups in the nation at the moment could stress you out a little. He had snapped at you because the food they had ordered hadn’t been cooked right or something. You had rolled your eyes, not caring if you got fired and snapped right back at him.  

“Feisty,” He commented with a smirk.

Now, had you known at the time who he was and what he did you probably would have dialed it back just a little bit. Then you wouldn’t be where you were now, years later. Engaged to Jaebeom and living a lavish lifestyle. You weren’t that surprised when you found out he was in the mafia and he really hadn’t done much to hide it. It had only enticed you even more.

Let alone the six others that were always by his side always made for good entertainment.  They had all become family to you and like all cliché romances, you had fallen in love with Jaebeom and it only took a year of dating before he proposed to you. You excited him and while your feisty attitude sometimes got on his nerves or came dangerously close to putting you in jeopardy, he loved that you weren’t afraid of him. That you embraced this lifestyle like it had been the only thing you had ever known.

Now, he never wanted to actually put you out on missions but you weren’t having it. You refused to freeload off them and wanted to help wherever you could. Being a housewife, cooking and cleaning had never been something you wanted to do. So, Mark has thankfully shown you how to fight properly. Jackson and Jinyoung had frequently brought you to the shooting range which was located below the mansion. You had a sharp eye and caught on quick and while you were adventurous, you hoped you’d never have to shoot anyone.

Youngjae had shown you a little of hacking skills and all the equipment they used. How to fix things if they broke or were damaged during a mission quickly. Yugyeom and BamBam have taught you better acting skills. You could play the role of whoever they needed you too, lure in whoever was needed without issue. Plus, BamBam loved shopping and so did you so, lots of new clothes and shopping trips. Especially when a new mission came up.

Jaebeom had done his best to keep you quiet. He didn’t need enemies knowing about you because he knew they’d try to harm you to get to him. While he knew you could hold your own, he loved you and he was protective. He never wanted anything to happen to you. Until what was supposed to be just a meeting to discuss terms on some product coming in that went bad.

Then you went missing.

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

You spat blood out of your mouth, wanting to vomit from the iron taste. Just a mere few hours ago you were sitting next to Jaebeom, proudly, while he negotiated terms for some drugs that were smuggled in. You had insisted on going as you had planned on helping Jaebeom run and build this empire up. You never wanted him to change everything just for you. Sure, the danger was high but you didn’t care, you loved him and if this was what he wanted to do, you would stand by him.

You aren’t really sure what happened though. You remembered a loud bang, blinding white lights and then someone hitting the back of your head. You groaned at the memory; that’s probably why the back of your head hurt. You knew something was off when you had first arrived at the meeting. The other goons around the leader were too fidgety, eyes constantly shooting around the room. Your mistake was brushing it off, thinking that Jaebeom would keep you safe. Yet, here you sat, tied up with your throbbing head and a stinging cheek.  

“We can’t kill her yet,” You heard someone say.  

“Well, isn’t that a damn relief,” You scoffed as you rolled your eyes. Whoever was standing next to you kicked you harshly, to which you groaned and bit down your lip to keep quiet. Your mouth always did get you in trouble.

“Once he gets here, you’re all dead anyways. He wouldn’t lose to someone as pathetic as you,” you growled to which you spat at him. You remembered him from the meeting earlier. Here we are again, your mouth getting you into trouble as he punched you across the face. You spat out some more blood, surprised your jaw wasn’t broken yet. You were also surprised at how calm you were. That just showed how much you trusted your fiancé to come to your rescue. He’d never let anything bad happen to you, or so you thought.

Except when the leader got tired of your snarky comments and changed tactics. Instead of physical violence, he gave permission to his goons to do whatever they wanted to you. With you being tied up, you couldn’t fight back. You tried, of course, but without the use of your limbs it didn’t do much. You screamed, you bit them, you tried kicking and headbutting. Though it always ended with them hitting you and doing what they wanted anyways.

You don’t know how long you had been in that room, in that place, but it felt like years. They never opened the blinds so you didn’t see the sun rise or fall. The leader came back a few times, ensuring that JB was well aware where you were and what he wanted in order to send you back. You knew he wouldn’t send you back. JB would come to save you and he’d kill you both.

You felt like an empty shell now. What you had been saving for your wedding night had been taken away without your will. You hated how timid you had become in just a few days. Every noise, every footstep, every breath made you flinch. You tried to be strong, but you were breaking little by little. When you heard the door open and smelled the alcohol you squeezed your eyes shut, willing the vomit to stay down. You knew what was coming, yet you still hadn’t prepared yourself for further damage. 

Again, you tried to fight. You swung your tied legs around wildly, tried biting and headbutting. All it took was one swift kick to your stomach to stop you. Everything hurt and you heard the unbuckling of a belt. You gulped, willing yourself to stay strong. Then you heard a gunshot.  Then another. One after another followed by the sound of screams. Then the door slammed open to where you were.

You squeezed your eyes shut. This was it. Either JB was here to take you home or they were really going to kill you. 

“What the actual fuck?!” You knew that voice. That was Mark.  

“M-Mark,” You said weakly, opening one of your eyes and sure enough there stood Mark and Jinyoung, eyes fuming with rage.  

“You’ve fucked up royally,” Jinyoung said, deadly serious. Before you knew it, the guns were dropped and the two boys had started beating the life out of the two males in the room with you.

You knew they were dead, they were in the room with two of the best fighters you knew of. You also heard a neck crack and another gurgle. Mark and Jinyoung were breathing heavily, blood littering their clothes and their knuckles as well as some splatters on their faces.  

“Y/N,” Mark said, turning to you and reaching to pull your shirt up over your shoulders and push your skirt down before he could untie you. You flinched at the sudden touch, trying to scoot back and immediately felt guilty at the hurt look in his eyes.

It hardened quicker, Mark’s specialty. Not showing his emotions, especially on missions, “I’m just going to untie you, okay?” He said quietly and you nodded. Jinyoung was still fuming but kneeled down to try and help you sit up. He touched your shoulder to help pull you up but you jerked away. 

“J-just d-don’t touch me right now,” You stuttered, “Please,” Your voice was low.

The two boys looked at each other, worried. The once feisty girl that had no problem running into the middle of a gun fight, who was usually the first to throw a punch, who seemed to have no fear of anything except spiders, was afraid of them. Of the people she should trust most, she was afraid of them. Never had they seen her look this weak, this broken. They both exchanged another glance while you pushed yourself up on shaky legs and fixed your clothing.

You walked out, looking for your fiancé. You weren’t okay. Not in the slightest and honestly?  You really didn’t want anyone touching you right now, but you needed to see him, just to know that he was there and that you still had something to fight for. Mark and Jinyoung followed close behind, but made sure they didn’t touch you. You saw JB, in the middle of killing the few remaining men and nodded your head in relief, walking outside to the car where you knew Youngjae was waiting.

JB saw you walk out and went to run after you but Jinyoung stepped in front of him, pushing on his chest and shaking his head, “D-don’t, hyung,” He said quietly and JB raised a brow.  

“Is she okay? Is she hurt?” He had been worried sick for days, not sleeping or eating until he found you. Mark cleared his throat, shaking his head and not meeting JB’s eyes.

“No. No, she’s not.”

⋘ ──── ∗ ⋅◈⋅ ∗ ──── ⋙

You were different. Everyone noticed, but JB really noticed. The once confident, feisty woman he had met at the bar all those years ago that wasn’t afraid to run her mouth. The girl that looked down the barrel of his gun all those years ago with a smirk and a laugh wasn’t there anymore.

You were jumpy, timid, hypervigilant. Jaebeom noticed how whenever you went out, even just around the mansion that you had come to call home, you were always on alert. Always checking over your shoulder. Jumping and tensing at every little noise. How the affection you used to show the boys was near non-existent at this point.

The affection you showed him was barely there. He was lucky if you let him hold your hand every now and then or kiss your temple. Everyone had stopped trying to initiate skinship with you. The one time, a few days after they had brought you home and you had managed to get yourself out of bed, Jackson had come up behind you. 

He was excited to see you out of bed and moving around the kitchen. Excited to see that you had showered and were looking more like your normal self. Mark and Jinyoung hadn’t told the others outside of JB what they had walked into that night. At least not at that point. So, Jackson, without knowing, wrapped his arms around your waist and nuzzled himself into your shoulder.

You panicked, your elbow came back to his ribs and you flipped him on his back on the tiled ground. While his breath was knocked out of him he was more in shock than anything else.  Mark had been in the kitchen at that time too and he wasn’t as shocked, but more surprised. It was enough to tell him that it wasn’t the only time that had happened when they walked in on it.

They all sat down and had a meeting. Jinyoung and Mark explained what had happened when they did walk into the room that night. What was happening. How terrified, scared and vulnerable you looked. How, even though you could barely walk yourself, you would not let them touch you, let them help you.

You hadn’t spoken to anyone about what had happened while you were in captivity. You didn’t want to or need to. You didn’t want them to pity you and you didn’t want them to view you as a weak little girl that couldn’t defend herself. So, you did what you had to do and you bottled it up.  Tried to go on as if things were normal, as if you weren’t disgusted with yourself, but the boys knew you better than you knew yourself, they weren’t dumb.

They could see right through you.  JB could see right through you. He didn’t get down on one knee and ask you to marry him if he wouldn’t be able to know when you weren’t okay. While he wanted nothing more than for you to just talk to him, to let him in and let him help, he knew you didn’t want his pity.

He stood in the doorway of your shared bedroom, watching you. He’d been here for at least fifteen minutes just watching you and if you noticed, you hadn’t said anything. He leaned against the door frame, eyes trailing over you. On the outside, you looked okay, but he knew inside, you were in turmoil. He wanted nothing more than to take that turmoil away for you. To bear it all himself.

“What is it, Jaebeom?” You sighed, turning to face him.  

He straightened up, brown orbs meetings yours, but you instantly looked away. You’ve never looked away from him, “I want you to talk to me about that night,  about those days locked up there.”  

You groaned, sitting on the edge of the bed and burying your face in your hands. He had asked you this every night since you had gotten back, “Nothing, Jaebeom. Nothing at all.” You said, no trace of emotion in your voice.

He sat down next to you and you tensed. He felt his heart break; you were afraid. Afraid of him.

“Are you afraid of me?” He murmured, not making eye contact. You, however, looked at him with wide eyes. Did he really think you were afraid of him? Were you? You shook your head, you knew he would never hurt you. Never do anything to purposely put you in danger. You did that enough on your own.

“I could never be afraid of you, Jae.” You mumbled back in response as you reached for his hand but hesitating along the way. He grabbed yours, heart breaking more as you tensed but then he felt a little glimmer of hope as you slowly relaxed and weakly squeezed his hand a little tighter.  

“I just don’t want to talk about it Jae. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t want- I don’t want you to see me as weak and vulnerable,” You sucked in your bottom lip, feeling the familiar burn of tears in your eyes.

“I would never think that about you. You’re the strongest woman I know, Y/N. I love you and nothing is going to change that. Ever,” You squeezed his hand a little tighter, eyes trained on the floor.  

“I love you too, Jae. More than you can imagine,” You took a breath, your glossy eyes turning to meet his, “But I don’t know if I will ever be the same again.”

[missskzbiased]

I Hate That I’m Afraid to Love You (4)

Genre: Romance, Friendship, Angst, Hurt /Confort , Suggestive, Fluff, College Au, Enemies to Friends to Lovers Au, REALLY Slow burn, Love Square (?)

Pairing: Hyunjin X Fem!Reader  X Han X OC

WC: ~ 10,0K

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Masterlist

Warnings (general*): Language, Mentions of (Physical abuse, Death/ Loss of Loved One, Child Abandonment/Neglect, Divorce, Toxic Parents, Cancer, Mental disorder, Anxiety Attack, Alcohol, Food), Suggestiveness (?) 

Notes: This Chapter is from Hyunjin’s POV. I like to write in a “self-inserted way”, but in this case. You=Hyunjin lol. I was going to change it but realized that change all this after writing 10K words wasn’t on my plans. So… Yep. In later chapters it will happen again.

Reference to “Losing You” (Wonho)

Also, sorry for the big chap but I had a lot to expose in Hyunjin’s POV since it’s not the usual POV.

Also I didn’t finish reviewing it and I’m sorry. 

REMINDER: I’m neither a psychologist nor a psychology student.

Updates: I’ll update it once a week [Tuesdays] because I still have to write the chapters to come and review the ones I already wrote

                                                      ///

HYUNJIN’S POV

   If there was a single thing you didn’t expect this afternoon it would be a punch, thanks for asking!

   You walked side by side with Chan, wondering what that was all about. You didn’t recall him talking about an older woman who he’s been seeing… Well, if you were fair enough, you didn’t recall him talking about any woman besides Y/N and his therapist. Although judging someone by their appearance wasn’t really right, you couldn’t say the flashy woman looked like a therapist at all. She was beautiful but seemed a little bit off, and Chan was certainly anxious about seeing her.

   Who was she?

   You couldn’t see her eyes, since she was with that huge sunglasses, but you could tell she wasn’t some relative of him. If she wasn’t his relative, his therapist, and obviously she wasn’t Y/N, that could mean just one thing: She was his lover. You didn’t know Chan was into older women, but it could explain a lot since he didn’t double-check anyone in college as far as you noticed…

  Your train of thoughts was promptly interrupted by someone calling you out of nowhere.

  “Hey, Hyunjin!” You heard the male voice that sounded like Han’s, which was pretty surprising. As far as you remember, he and you didn’t talk since… Well, ever. You turned around, confusion written all around your face as you spotted him closer than you expected but still rushing to you, his hand raising promptly.

   His fist met your face midway.

   “-Holy shit!” You heard Chan gasp ─his amused chocked expression registering in your head as your face was pushed to the side with the impact─ before you staggered, balancing yourself with a step back so you wouldn’t fall. You could say a lot of things to Han right now, but you couldn’t say he was weak… What a damn heavy hand! He stood there panting, his enraged eyes shooting your skull as he seemed to wonder if he should give you another blow.

   As much as you wanted to beat his shit up, your startled self reacted poorly.

   “What the fuck, dude?!” You blurted out, your hand shooting to your cheek as your eyes scanned him while he straightened himself after the punch; his scoff sounding annoying to your ears. What the hell was that for? You didn’t think you were an angel nor anything like this, but the bloody guy was single, and as far as you knew you didn’t hook up with anyone he was interested in. Besides, you never even talked to him directly, so why the hell would he punch you?

   “What did you do to her?” He shouted, mad, and you could only look at him as if he had grown a third head, completely oblivious to the reason why he was being a jerk “I asked” He hissed, coming closer to you and grabbing your collar, pulling your face closer to him “What did you do to her?” He spat angrily, his eyes on the level of your own, madly searching for any signs of something you couldn’t put your finger on.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” You asked, grabbing his hand and yanking it away. Han grunted before giving you another unexpected punch, this time leaving a faint ironish taste in your mouth. You staggered again, balancing yourself and running your thumb over the corner of your lips, checking it for blood, looking around to see the crowd slowly forming.

  What a bunch of unoccupied people…

  “You hurt her!” He accused, making you scoff.

   “I don’t even know who you’re talking about, man” You rolled your eyes “Look, if you’re that mad about your girlfriend wanting to fuck me, you should just fuck better” You mocked, fed up with his attitudes. Han came to give you another punch; one that you would gladly respond with a kick if Chan hadn’t held him back, pulling Han away as he struggled to get off of his grip.

   Oh, now he helps!

   “Hey, hey! Hands off from pretty boy” He instructed, making you snort “What the hell, Han?” He asked in disbelief, voice in a hiss as he tried to control the writhing boy.

   “Let me go, Chan!” He hissed “You call yourself her friend?! You let this asshole hook up with your friend when you know he’s a fuckboy that can’t keep his dick in his pants when he sees any fucking woman around?!” Oh! Of course, it was about her! You couldn’t help but laugh at his face, amused by the ridiculous situation.

   “Let him go, Chan! Let him come… I’ve already fought other jealous boyfriends before… Although when I asked her, she was so eager to deny any relationship with you…” You looked in his eyes, smirking, and you could see he was more than ready to come for you.

   You enjoyed the feeling of power running through your veins.

  “You couldn’t get her with that face of yours so you tried to damage mine? What a shame, baby boy… It’s not my fault if she ogled me when you were right beside her” You shrugged, looking at him pitifully “If it makes you feel any better when she asked me to go to my place I said no… She isn’t really my type” You smiled sarcastically, seeing Han struggling to get out again, urging to hit you.

    “You’re a piece of shit, Hyunjin!” He yelled “You don’t deserve her” He hissed, and although seeing him struggling was amusing, you were getting quite confused. When the hell did it look like you had something with her? There must be something missing, some piece to complete that puzzle… “You shouldn’t have made her cry!”

    You shouldn’t have her doing what now?

    “Let me go, Chan! Let me beat the crap out of him!” He added, Chan frowned worried by his words, looking at you with lost eyes. You straightened up, dusting off your clothes, and smiled obnoxiously at Han before you eyed Chan smugly.

   “That’s enough” Chan said harshly, his voice cold and sharp, “Hyunjin, stop provoking him… Han, stop acting like you’re her boyfriend or something” He pushed him away, making the boy stumbles before fixing his posture and looking angrily at the both of you “Where is she right now? Did you see her with anyone before? Are you sure she was crying?” He asked worried, and your brain clicked in realization.

   Of course! You were so dumb… The flashy woman had something to do with Y/N.

   It couldn’t be a coincidence.

   You recalled how Chan took the woman away to talk, behaving secretively as he pointed some directions to her, which made you believe he was going to meet her there, away from the eyes. It was kinda suspicious and it could have been some kind of secret affair, but it wouldn’t explain why he seemed so anxious and on edge, calling some people on his phone. Especially since you overheard him calling his family’s Hospital, which was pretty weird. He seemed worried as hell as he asked you to stay still, running for dear life to the opposite side of his directions to the lady, calling someone else on his phone while he did it…

   Indeed, you were so dumb.

   So that lady was related to Y/N somehow, and in a way that made her cry about something… Interesting. You avoided her during your classes ─planning to do it until she forgot about her lucky strike that allowed her to get close to your deepest insecurities─, and expecting her not to follow you bombing you with her intrusive questions, which she didn’t. Now, everything was different. You had an ace up your sleeve, you had a weakness of her, and you intended using it for the best.

   You were the one making the calls now.

                                                                    ////

   You called Chan about ten times already.

   You laid down on the couch, head resting on the pillow and arms raised so you could check your phone. Your eyes wandered around the messages, looking at the time and at the door, expecting Chan to come in at any moment.

   You were doing this for about three hours now.

   You sighed, bored, resting your phone on your chest and fixing your gaze on the ceiling, trying to weigh your options. Of course, you didn’t need to know Y/N’s story. You weren’t interested in her at all, but she was interested in you and you should be prepared for anything… She hated you. You never quite understood why she didn’t like you, but you knew since day one that she wasn’t fond of you at all ─ that only being confirmed by her complaining to Chan, right behind your back. You had to admit that teasing her was funny, though. Every time you could mock her about something you knew she would get upset you did, because it was amusing to see her cold stare at you, ripping your limbs one by one.

   She was weird.

   You have heard about her from Chan before, of course, she being his best friend and the reason why he searched for help… Chan considered her as a goddess or something like this but to you; she was nothing but a whining little girl that couldn’t handle a fuckboy around… Just a goody-two-shoe.

  That was also was the best type to tease.

  Maybe someday she would just beg for you to corrupt her.

  You laughed at the thought. There was no way in hell she would beg for you to do anything; it would be easier for her to chop her arm off than asking you for a hand. You didn’t understand why she hated you so much, though. She certainly met other fuckboys in her life; she couldn’t hate all of them with all her might, right? She couldn’t hate you because you were rich either; she was best friends with Chan, for lord’s sake! You knew she hated when you got better grades than her, but it couldn’t be about being the best, because she didn’t seem to mind it when other people overcome her…

  She was a puzzle.

  Maybe she was always interested in you and was trying to get your attention.

  The door opened slowly; your eyes shooting to watch as Chan came inside, looking contemplative as he locked the door and glanced at you on the couch, his eyebrow arching inquisitively. You picked up your phone and checked the time before sitting down on the couch and looking at him confused.

   “You don’t have classes today, why did you show up so late?” Chan averted his eyes, thinking about what he should answer, and you took it as a clue “Were you with Y/N?” You asked slyly, his eyes laying on you again.

   “I was studying at the library” He said shortly “Why do you care?”

   “I want to ask you a few things” You shrug him off, crossing your arms and tilting your head as you looked in his eyes “Who was that woman today?”

   “That’s none of your business” He stated bluntly, just like Chan always did when he didn’t want to give you much information. It was crystal clear he was hiding something from you and it did have something to do with the strange woman “What is it? Watching too much gossip girls lately?” He mocked, trying to change the subject.

   “How does she relate to Y/N?” You decided to play your cards; Chan twitched uncomfortably “Why did she cry about her?” You added, watching as his eyes turned ice cold and a stern look took over his face.

  “When she asked me about your problems I didn’t say anything. I hope you understand that I will do the same now” You nodded, getting his point but not planning to back off just yet. You got up from the couch, wandering around. Chan eyed you closely, knowing you wouldn’t trail off like this.

  “It’s just that it must be pretty serious if she even cried about this… I was wondering if she was fine” You smiled sickeningly sweet, making Chan scoff “Maybe I could help her out…”

  “Yeah, right” He nodded sarcastically “I didn’t see you were so interested in her before, maybe I should give you her number? Do you want me to set up a blind date or something?” He mocked, grimacing at you.

   “I’m not interested” You rolled your eyes “She’s not really my type”

    “So why are you so interested in her wellbeing? Look, I know you like to have the upper hand, Hyunjin, and I know you’re anxious with her knowing you have some kind of dark past or whatever she is thinking right now… But I won’t give you anything to use against her” He patted your shoulder, trying to be comprehensive before you swapped his hand away “Y/N is far more important to me than you and I will not hesitate a bit before standing by her side if you try to be a jerk to her” He said sternly, his eyes burying into yours.

    “You wouldn’t” You muttered, Chan gave you a half-hearted laugh in response.

    “You have to understand that I don’t own you anything, Hyunjin…“ He stated seriously “We’re friends and we went through a lot together… I was there for you when you needed, Hyunjin… I don’t intend to leave you behind, but you can’t just do whatever you want and think I will stand by your side” You averted your eyes, ashamed.

   You knew Chan was right. He didn’t own you anything nor needed to be by your side at all costs, but it still hurt that he would say that to you like that. You had the chance to be by his side when he needed, just like he did to you, and you were utterly useless, just as expected… It was obvious he would be far more grateful to Y/N than you, after all, she was the one who connected to him, pointed out he needed help, made him search for a therapist, and got him out of a dark place he was drowning since forever.

  It still made you mad though.

  If you were fair, maybe you didn’t tease her just because it was fun… Maybe you hated her back, maybe you wanted to see her struggle once in a while, maybe you wanted to see her not being the perfect doll she tried to be… Maybe you were just jealous, maybe you weren’t really trying to defend yourself from her, and maybe you were trying to hurt her because she was a threat to you… She was exactly what Chan needed by his side, and it was the only thing you couldn’t outdo her even if you had all the money in the world, even if you worked your ass off, even if you wanted it from the bottom of your heart. You just couldn’t exceed her in the only thing that really mattered to you.

    Your only friend would drop you without a second thought if it meant to protect her.

    You knew you were being childish trying to hurt her just because, trying to gather her weakness so that you could use it against her… You were handling your problems in the only way you were taught to do. The truth was that Mr.Lee was right, you were afraid of a lot of things and you couldn’t move on. You were stuck in the past. And your past could hurt, just like you.      

 “I’m afraid she will use my past against me…” You whispered under your breath, but Chan heard it anyway “I don’t want anyone spreading my past around” You admitted.

   “I don’t understand what’s the big deal” He stated “People die, Hyunjin… People die all the time, and a lot of people lost loved ones before, you know? You won’t be the first… It’s not your fault he died, and it’s not your fault your mother is a sly bitch” You laughed at that, agreeing.

   “She is indeed a sly bitch… I know it wasn’t my fault, but I don’t think you understand it… He was young… He was so young” You gulped, your throat burning as you tried to control your voice and the tears that wanted to make their way to your eyes “I can’t handle the pity looks and all the questions all over again, ok? I can’t handle the fact that it should have been me” As soon as those words left your lips you felt your eyes burning, voice cracking. You rubbed your eyes so the tears wouldn’t fall and turned your face to the side, avoiding Chan’s gaze.

     “Just because you were the older brother, Hyunjin? It wasn’t an accident! It wasn’t irresponsibility! It was cancer, for lord’s sake!” Chan uttered, frustrated “It shouldn’t be you! You couldn’t control it! You have to understand you fear something that was out of your grip! You can’t keep holding onto it until you die!” His words were harsh, but you knew he was right.

    Of course, you knew but you couldn’t just act on it.

     “Sorry” You blurted out, not really knowing what were you apologizing for. You just did it out of reflex, just like when you were a kid, afraid anything you did would push him away. Chan sighed, defeated, holding both of your shoulders as he waited for you to look into his eyes. You looked at him ─ hurt written all over your face─ before he pulled you into a hug.

    “No, I’m the one who’s sorry… You should take your time to handle it, I’m just tired and I didn’t think before speaking” He admitted, breaking away from you “Today was a long day, I have a lot going on my mind and it’s no excuse to vent my frustrations on you. You’re not replaceable, Hyunjin, you’re my friend too. I like your presence, I even moved in with you!” He smiled, patting your shoulder “It’s just that a very dear friend is facing something hurtful right now, and I can’t do anything about it… I’m overwhelmed” He sighed and you patted his shoulder back.

   “That’s okay, you suck… Not everyone can be like me” You joked, making him snort and shake his head astonished “I’m sorry too, I should have known you were overwhelmed, of course, you would be when your best friend is going through… Well, whatever she is going through” You shrugged “I shouldn’t have pushed you” You added, smiling apologetically to him.

   “That’s enough, you’ll make me throw up” Chan feigned a disgusted expression, pushing you away lightly and heading to his room, stopping at the doorframe before turning his head to you again “Try to not upset her too much this week” He asked, making you nod.

  “I’ll only see her Friday now” You stated “I’m not going to upset her until then, can’t promise I won’t upset her in classes, though”

                                                              //////

   You couldn’t help but bit your lip and narrow your eyes as you watched Mr.Lee smiling.

   Not only he thought it would be a good idea to make you guys write an essay about the feelings you choose and how could you relate to them (which was a terrible idea, if anyone would ask you, but whatever) but he also thought it would be a good idea to make you guys discuss it in trios. Okay, you weren’t an expert professor but you would say it was bullshit, which was why you were looking at him, incredulous. It wasn’t really pleasant to write about your issues, especially after you argued with Chan on Tuesday, but it would be even worse to talk about it with a trio you didn’t even know! What the hell was going through his head?!

   “I know you guys must be feeling betrayed, and I hope we can get over it later” He said, smiling to you all “But after reading your essays, I figured we could have a good development by discussing it… Of course, I know you wouldn’t be comfortable to discuss it out loud in a class, so the best way to do it was to form groups so you could discuss it as privately as possible” He stated, his eyes connected with yours for a fraction of second, and you were sure he could feel you roasting him inside your mind.

   “We shouldn’t feel obliged to do it! It’s personal information” You heard Y/N utter, which was pretty impressive since she usually behaved really quietly and respectfully with all the professors. Mr.Lee seemed to notice it too, but he just smiled apologetically to her, as if pity would solve anything.

   “I understand how you feel, but I hope you understand that’s exactly how a patient feels when they trust you with their deepest insecurities about themselves… It’s not an easy task, I know, but you signed up for this course knowing that I don’t rate any of you by useless tests, so you can’t say it’s really unexpected, right?” He shrugged. What a jerk! You eyed Y/N, watching as she shrank in her seat, not really having anything to say back to him “I organized your groups, and before anyone asks it, I know it sounds unfair, but I had my reasons to organize it as I did” What a great and understanding person! You rolled your eyes, pissed off “I’m going to call each of your groups and you’ll be dismissed for today so you can organize yourselves, okay?” He picked up a paper, starting to call some students.

   So he thought it would be a good idea to put three useless young adults to discuss some serious issues… Really great. As far as you understand your new task, one of you would be the psychologist of the group, having the access to both of the other members' essays and would have to try to help them out as much as possible, but the others could only read the psychologist essay… Okay, why did he come up with that? It was utterly ridiculous. Your mindless rambles were interrupted by his voice calling your name.

   “Hyunjin, Y/N, and Paris” He announced, looking at you, and then at them.

   Great.

   Your eyes met Y/N’s, both of your extremely aware you would have to… Share your insecurities, Paris darting her eyes between you two with a worried look. You stood up first, going to their desk and waiting for them as they wiped their things into their bags and stood up, following you out of class.

   “You won’t be the psychologist” Y/N stated as soon as you got to the stairs, stopping in her tracks, you and Paris turned around to look at her “I don’t want you to read my essay”

   “Fair enough, you can’t be the psychologist either, since you don’t want me to read your essay” You reminded her “I don’t have any objections, I don’t want to be the psychologist and I don’t want you to read my essay either” You agreed before looking at Paris.

   “So that means I’m the psychologist?” She asked surprised “Oh… That will be fun” She stated sarcastically, sighing right after “I don’t mind you reading about my life, so I think that’s fair enough” She agreed, eyeing both of you in wonder “I will need to read your essays, you can send me an email, I will send mine to you two… Should we set a date so we can discuss it?”

   “I think the best-case scenario would be if you discussed our essay in private… And we both can discuss yours together, since we have to analyze you and you have to analyze us” Y/N suggested, seeming to think through a lot of options in her head “The first step would be to speak about your situation, so we can understand you better when you analyze us… It will give you time to read our essays too since you have a lot more to work on, and then you can talk to us and analyze us! In the end, we can write what we thought we learned from each other… I think that will be good enough” She proposed, looking at you.

   “I agree with whatever you say” You shrugged “I think we should do it at my place, so Chan can keep an eye on us” You suggested, making them snort, and you let a smile crackle “It’s more private too, and I don’t think the point is to discuss Paris’ essay in front of her, so…” You added, getting a nod back.

   “I agree, I think it’s a good idea” She stated, and you couldn’t help but stare at her in awe “What? What is it?” She asked uncomfortably.

   “I would never dare to dream you would agree with me one day” You joked, making Paris laugh and Y/N give you a small smile “Should we do it today? Paris can email us right now” You suggested, but Y/N shook her head.

  “No, I have work today… Are you free tomorrow?” She asked, and you nodded, thinking about mock her by saying it was a date, but you refrained yourself. Now that you would have to work together, it would be better if you tuned out a bit of your teasing for a while.

  “Sounds good to me” You agreed “Guess I will see you tomorrow then… Hm… Have a nice day?” You cringed, looking at them unsurely as the three of you seemed awkward with each other. You went down the stairs, waving goodbye on the last step and heading to your car. If it was this awkward to set a date for your project, imagine discussing it alone… It would be embarrassing.

                                                                /////

    The bell rang loudly, a persistent noise hanging in the air annoyingly.

     “Coming!” You yelled, already pissed off with that project. Y/N suggested you both to meet at 10 AM, which wasn’t exactly the time you hoped to study on a Saturday. Actually, you would prefer to not study at all on a Saturday but it was already too late to back away. As soon as you got in the living room, you saw Chan opening the door, an annoyed frown on his face.

    “You don’t need to hold the damn thing” He complained, getting out of her way so she could come into your place, the peaceful silence finally reaching your ears. She looked sleepy and pissed off just as much as you, her clothes were baggy and kinda old, probably her pajamas for the night judging the wrinkles and her messy hair, dark circles adorning her eyes “Also, what the hell are you doing here this early? Did you come to beat Hyunjin up too?” He rolled his eyes, clearly too upset and too tired to think about what he said.

   “No, Hyunjin should have told you that I would come to do our proj—“ Her sentence was cut abruptly by herself, her brows shooting up with surprise and amusement “What did you just say? Someone beat him up?” She laughed, more satisfied than she should be in your opinion but anyway, her eyes came to you, analyzing your face for a bit before wandering around your body, looking for dark spots anywhere.

   “First of all: I wasn’t beaten up! He punched me twice, don’t twist the facts!” You whined, Chan chuckling at your poor defense “ And you don’t need to pretend to look my bruises all over my body, sweetheart, you can just check me out if you want” You smirked to her, getting off on her inaudible grumbling, her mouth moved to mock the way you talk, a grimace over her face.

   “Well, for what I counted, he hit you twice and you didn’t hit him at all, so I rate this as you being beaten up by Han” Chan joked, laughing at your peeved expression before paling up, his eyes widening and trailing back to Y/N, sensing he had messed up.

   “What? Han beat you up? Why?” She asked genuinely surprised. Well, Han wasn’t known for picking up fights, he was actually a good boy from the volleyball team, never heard him doing anything wrong in these years of college, so how could you simply say he hit you because he thought you were the one who made her cry and not the flashy woman? Well, you couldn’t.

   “I guess he couldn’t get the girl with his face so he came to damage mine” She looked disgusted at you as you tried to maintain your smug facade until she walked to the hall, shaking her head in disbelief. The best thing about Y/N was that she was predictable, so every time you needed to dismiss her or change the subject you just blurted anything obnoxious and she would give up on you.

   You smiled relieved behind her back, winking at Chan that was thanking you in silence.

   She waited in front of your door, giving enough space for you to reach for it but not daring to open it without your permission. You rolled your eyes at her antics, opening the door and coming in, asking her to close it when she followed you, her eyes analyzing everything at display. You sat at your chair, spinning it in front of your desk once, waiting for her to take her place on your bed but she didn’t.

  She stood there looking conflicted.

  “I hope you’re aware that it doesn’t mean we will fuck” She said out of nowhere and it took everything inside you not to burst out laughing, so you just looked at her, your lips quivering slightly as you tried to stay serious “I know what sitting on a man’s bed can mean, and If you come any closer to me than necessary I’m going to rip your dick off” her eyes buried into yours and she sounded too serious to be joking, although you didn’t really believe she could just rip off something from your body. At least you hoped she couldn’t.

   “If you consider that I’m only one man and tons of girls slept there, maybe you can see it as a woman’s bed?” You suggested, and she rolled her eyes before giving up on you just as you predicted, finally sitting on your bed, struggling to get to your wall so she could rest her back there. You suppressed a chuckle, watching as she squirmed for cluttering your bed, her eyes darting to you to check if you would get upset “That’s fine, although I didn’t picture you as the clumsy and messy type” You joked, trying to light up the mood.

   “I’m not clumsy, your bed is too big for me” She whined, embarrassed, masking her blush by searching something around her bag for a while before getting her laptop, opening it so she could write what she wanted “Well, Mr.Lee sent us a guide. Did you see it?” She seemed uncomfortable, her shoulders shrunken and body too stiff. You deduced that was her way to break the ice, so you just played along.

   “No, did you?” She nodded, her eyes focused on her screen, looking for the archive. She tapped the touchpad, satisfied with herself, her eyes wandering around quickly on her screen before she shot her head up and looked at you.

   “Well, let’s begin with our full names” She said, typing fastly. You opened your mouth to give her your full name but she shot her brow up as she scoffed “Please, I know your full name! We’ve been sharing classes through all these years” She rolled her eyes but you were taken by surprise. You didn’t expect her to know your name at all “Okay, next… Who is the psychologist? Paris” She mumbled, typing it “Hm… Why did we choose her?” She looked at you in wonder.

   “Well, because we clearly don’t trust each other” You both snorted at the same time, your eyes meeting for a split of a second before you cleared your throat, agitated “But I guess we can’t write it down…” She looked at her screen for a while, thinking, before she shrugged it off and looked at you.

   “We can answer it later… Maybe we can say she volunteered? But why did we accept it? I’m the one who wants to be a psychologist… He’ll know we’re lying” She sighed “Or I can say I didn’t think I could help you? But I didn’t even know your story yet…” She was rambling already, worried about what to write down. You watched as she talked nonsense, quirking your brow as she finally seemed to find a worthwhile answer “I can say we didn’t feel like we could be helpful! You’re clearly… Hm… Troublesome” She tipped around, making you scoff “And I can say I didn’t feel reliable enough” She looked pleased with her answer, so she wrote it down before eyeing you unsurely “That’s okay with you?”

     “Yeah, it sounds okay” You agreed, relaxing into your chair. So she was willing to do all the work… You rested your feet on your bed, the sudden move startling her as she wrote, which she showed by glaring at you before resuming to her writing “Did you read Paris’ essay?” You decided to ask, she raised her eyes to meet yours and both of you felt uneasy for a moment “Hm… Did you know all that?” You decided to ask, she shook her head.

   You never really talked to Paris about important or serious stuff, so it should be no surprise that you didn’t know anything about her life. Even so, you didn’t expect her to have a sad past at all since she always looked so giggly and bubbly… You just assumed she had a good life, good parents. You could never imagine your mother being strong as hers, supportive and protective like that, giving you so much love that you would grow to be… Well, like Paris.

   “Her mother is pretty impressive” You decided to say, because you thought so, expecting it to be a neutral subject for the both of you “I mean, you have to be really strong to walk away from an abusive relationship like this” You added when Y/N didn’t spare you a glance, too lost in her own mind “Especially to protect your child… I… I could never imagine someone being able to give so much love” You tried again, frustrated with the silence in the air.

   “Yeah… She’s pretty impressive” She agreed absent-mindedly “Walk away from something requires a lot of courage… I can only imagine how she felt lost when she did it” You eyed her weirdly. You wouldn’t say that walk away from someone who beats you up, controls you, and abuses you psychologically was hard at all. She seemed to notice your frown, speaking up quickly “I mean, leave something behind will always be hard, right? Even the harmful ones” You nodded, agreeing with her.

   “Can you imagine how her life would be if she was raised by her dad?” You didn’t know why you felt that urge to try to keep a conversation with her. Maybe it was because you needed to work together to get that ridiculous project done in two weeks, or maybe it was because you needed to vent about your thoughts. Would you be like Paris if you stayed with your dad? Would she be like you if she didn’t have someone to look after her?

   “I’m sure she wouldn’t be Paris” Y/N looked at you, stopping her typing “I mean, you can’t possibly grow up and turn into Paris if you have someone constantly bringing you down… Right?” It was a strange feeling, like the both of you wanted to say something but were afraid to let out your thoughts. You sensed she was uncomfortable, probably worried to be caught red-handed by you, since she didn’t think you were trustworthy enough to vent. You nodded, deciding to drop the subject for now, not wanting to share your insecurities either. Clearly, neither of you had ‘be vulnerable to the one person you didn’t really wanna open your heart for’ in your to-do list.

   “So, I guess we’ll say she did well, right? I mean, she had a traumatized mother that took control over her life for a long time… She could have done so much worse! I mean, Paris is a sweet girl” Y/N quirked a brow at you, clearly interested in the way you just described her friend “Oh, please!” You rolled your eyes “You know what I mean! She had everything to be like… I don’t know, me” She snorted at you, her face showed a controlled amusement.

   “I don’t know if she could get that bad” She joked, averting her eyes to her screen as you looked at her in disbelief, the twist of her lips noticeable, although she tried to hide it. Okay, it was the strangest thing that ever happened to you. Did Y/N just make a joke? Okay, a joke about you… But still! She didn’t even look at you smugly. Before you could retort, she spoke up again “Anyway, I think we could work on it. You do have a point, her mother used to be really controlling but I don’t think Paris is like this, and I live with her for a long time. I think it’s clear that her stepfather’s love was essential for her mother but why didn’t she hold a grudge against her?”

   “Maybe she’s right… Maybe love heals all things” You shrugged “It’s not like her mother didn’t love her before, she just expressed it awfully, and when she finally succeeds in expressing it healthily to her, Paris got better?” You suggested unsurely, both of you seeming to think about it. Actually, if you thought about it, if your mother had shown you something along the way maybe you could feel better. Maybe you wouldn’t hold a silly grudge towards your best friend’s best friend… Maybe you wouldn’t fear being rejected and actually start some kind of healthy relationship.

    Yeah, right.

    “Well, I guess? I mean, I can’t really relate… If I was her, I wouldn’t just forgive my mother like this after all the problems she had caused” She didn’t look you in the eyes, her eyes focused on the screen, refusing to move “I mean, her mother took her life away from her, right? She couldn’t go out, she couldn’t meet anyone, and she couldn’t hang with any friends… I understand it’s her father’s fault and her mother was just… Well, lost in her mind… But I would have liked to have those things” She seemed frustrated, the tap of her fingers were hovering over the board, unmoving “I mean, if I was her” She added suddenly, her eyes darting to you.

   “Well, I can’t relate either” You agreed “I lived my life just fine, my mother didn’t stop me from doing anything at all” Actually, she should have tried to stop you a bunch of times but she never did “So I can’t understand how she felt but I guess knowing her mother loved her and did it because she loved her and was afraid someone could hurt her… Well, it seems like it was enough to Paris” You shrugged “I think if someone showed me love like this I would forgive them too, wouldn’t you? I mean, her mother ran away from home, she had to take care of her pregnant self and then of her baby all alone… I don’t think I could hold any grudges for someone so invested in my well-being” Y/N looked at you impressed.

   It was more than obvious she didn’t think you had any depth to your brain and soul.

   “Yeah, maybe you’re right” She agreed “How could she be angry with someone that helped her that much, right? Even if they made some mistakes… What’s important is that she was doing this for them, she took care of her how she could, right?” She smiled at you, apparently glad by her trail of thoughts, and you nodded, watching as she typed fastly, regaining her focus.

   “Yeah, it’s not like her mother abandoned her or something” You scoffed, missing the way her fingers faltered for a moment “Maybe if she just let her by herself all her life or neglected her, right? I think she raised her as well as she could, it was a good thing she didn’t stay with her father, I think her mother is a real warrior” You smiled to her but Y/N stood serious, her frown growing as she typed everything.

   The moment was awkward, to say the least.

   You watched her as she typed the things, wondering if you should offer some help with something. You retreated your legs from the bed but she didn’t spare you a glance, and you both stood like this, in silence, just the hitting of her fingers on the keys, and from time to time your uneasy coughing that didn’t appear to disturb her. After what seemed to be hours, she finally raised her eyes to you, her fingers stopping their motions, a tired sigh leaving her lips.

   “I can’t stay much longer, I have other essays to do” She confessed “It’s almost noon anyway, so I think it’s good, right? We’ll have to meet at least one more time to adjust somethings and discuss it better” She closed her laptop, putting it back in her bag “Also, I think discussing some things with Paris may help us to see things clearer… I guess we done enough for the day?” You nodded at her, getting up from your chair and waiting for her to get up from your bed.

  As soon as she got up, she tried to tidy your bed, an uneasy expression on her face as she struggled to fix the fitted sheets. You suppressed a smile, amused by how it made her upset, turning around when you heard the crackling sound of the door opening to see a curious Chan leaning his upper body inside your room, tilting his head to the scene, a mischievous smile spreading in his face.

   “Hm… Care to explain why are you fixing his bed, Sweety?” His voice sounded so suggestive that Y/N stopped in her tracks, turning her head around, a grimace on her face “Don’t look at me like that! You had it coming!” He laughed as she straightened herself, looking for something probably to toss at him “I’m here to invite you to eat with us” He said quickly as soon as she got her pencil case from her bag.

   “You don’t cook” She narrowed her eyes, suspicious of him, her pencil case going back to her bag “Also, I’m fixing it because I’m a polite guest, unlike some of my friends that mess my room and let it be” She scoffed, looking at him. He smiled sheepishly, shrugging as he turned his back to us, making his way to the living room.

   “I ordered some food, you ungrateful brat” He whined, raising his voice so you would still listen to him “Take it or leave it” She smiled to herself, finally getting the sheets right and picking up her bag. You followed her, meeting Chan at the table, a smug grin on his face.

   “You know I can’t say no to free food” She joked, sitting across him. Chan gestured to a chair so you would sit down, your eyes trailed to Y/N before a sigh left your lips. You sat next to Chan, helping him to uncover the food, so all of you could eat together. You felt strange having your not-so-friendly-partner sat down across you, having lunch like it was normal for you to hang out. Of course, you had meals with her often when you had lunch with Chan but it was never under your roof.

   It just felt strange to have her over like this.

                                                            ////

   Paris gestured to the couch, crossing her legs before adjusting her fake glasses.

  “You gotta be kidding me” You sat down anyway, watching her getting more comfortable on her chair, supporting her notebook in front of her like a clipboard, a pencil behind her ear. She took the pencil and spun it a few times, looking at you as you laid down on the couch, looking at the ceiling, feeling silly.

  “Do I look like an amateur?” You couldn’t help but laugh before turning your eyes to her, she grinned satisfied, taking off her glasses and resting them on the table “I’m just kidding, I thought it could help to break the ice” She opened her notebook, reading something while she bit her pencil, pensive “Well, I read your essay and I must say we have a lot to talk about” She admitted.

  “You’re really into the character” You joked, her eyes darted to you, a small smile on her lips before she nodded “What do you want to talk about, Doc?” She laughed at this, her pencil tapping her lips twice before she spun it again.

   “I think we should begin with your brother” Her tone was cautious, and your mood dropped immediately, a sigh leaving your lips “As far as I understand, everything began there, right? Do you care to talk about it? I know you wrote it down but I want to hear it from you… It’s different when we hear something and when we read it. Sometimes lyrics seem to change when you just sing it in a different way” You looked at her, impressed with her words. You did feel different when you were writing all you had to say. You felt barely anything. As if it didn’t matter. As if you didn’t miss him at all.

   But you did.

   “He… Well, he died at a young age” You started unsurely, your eyes focused on the ceiling “He had cancer” You added, eyes meeting hers for a split of a second, eager to see her reaction, to see if she pitied you like everyone that had found out but she stood there, reassuring eyes looking at you, motivating you to continue “He didn’t make it” You cursed at yourself. Of course, he didn’t make it, he was dead.

   “That’s okay, take your time” She said after you sighed, feeling exhausted already “Do you want me to play a song for you?” She asked suddenly, taking you by surprise. You frowned at her, astonished at her random question, nodding mindlessly, too lost to think about what to answer. She got up, going away for a minute and coming back with a ukulele, playing some song you didn’t really recognize but sounded sad enough “…Cuz losing me is better than losing you, ah… Don’t you know that I would die for you? If I knew that you would make it through… Cuz losing me is better than losing you, ah…”

   “Are you trying to make me cry?” You asked, tearing up, and she stopped her strumming, looking at you “I mean, I get it! I lost my brother! He was way too young for this!” You didn’t realize you were yelling until you felt your lungs burning, your eyes widening as you ranted. Your throat hurt as you tried to hold back your tears. Your heart seemed to sink in your chest as if your pain and grief could drag you down.

   As if the only thing that held your body until now was your pain.

  “I think that’s how your heart sounds right now, so I sang it” She said it like it was nothing; like she didn’t just open a scar on your heart. You wanted to get up and storm out of there but you didn’t. You just stood there, holding your tears back, fixing your gaze on the ceiling with all you had in you “Do you think you’re like this because your brother died?” You shut your eyes, breathing heavily.

   “What do you mean? I’m like what? A fuckboy? Yeah! I just fuck people around because my brother is dead!” You scoffed “That must be it! You would be a great psychologist!” You sat up, ready to go away. You couldn’t take that shit. You would be going to Professor Lee and tell him to get his shit together because he couldn’t be doing this kind of essay with a bunch of undergraduates as if they knew what they were doing.

   “Do you blame him?” She asked out of nowhere and you shoot her a glare, anger filling you up “Do you blame him for dying? Do you blame him for the divorce?” You could just slap her right now but you didn’t, you looked at her bewildered, unsure if you should laugh at her stupidity or if you should just go “Do you blame him for the divorce?” She repeated, her eyes cold as ice, burying into yours.

   “How can I blame him? Are you stupid?” You got up, ready to go away but as soon as you reached the door, and you stopped in your tracks, turning around “You know what? You’re dumb! Do you think you’re a real psychologist or something? What the hell are you thinking right now?” She didn’t seem affected by your outburst at all, looking at you calmly before speaking.

   “I think you miss him” She said, her fingers strumming the ukulele again “I think he was too young to die, and I think it scares you… I think your mother is a bitch…” She looked at you in the eyes, serious as you never saw her “And I think you’re too afraid of death to allow yourself to connect with someone, so when you face a conversation like this you prefer to run away instead of talking about your fear”

   It would hurt less if she just slapped you in the face.

  “I think you should mind your own business…” You muttered, embarrassed, and she snorted, getting up from her chair, leaving her ukulele there, resting her hand on the hand you had on the doorknob, eyes concerned.

  “You’re my business until we finish that essay” She reminded you, patting your back “And I think you need to vent about your mother… I think you have to mourn your brother’s death… I’m not a psychologist but I can be your friend, Hyunjin, I can hear you out” This time when your eyes met, you felt soft inside, strangely touched by her words, wishing to stay and talk.

   “I don’t blame him… He fought against it the best he could, he did all he could” You muttered, breaking the silence, and her hand squeezed your shoulder to encourage you to keep talking, you let go from the doorknob “And I know I couldn’t change it even if I tried, I’m not dumb… It’s just that I wished it was me” You sighed, feeling the tears prickling your eyes.

   “Why? Do you want to die?” You rolled your eyes at her, face morphing into a fed-up grimace “Well, that’s basically what you’re saying to me” She pointed out, insulted by your expression, “Would it be better if it was you? I think your brother wouldn’t be happy to be raised by your mother!”

   “Are you saying it’s good my brother died?” You asked amused, her mouth agape, shocked that you would even say something like this.

  “No! I’m saying you’re suffering and if you switched places with him, he would be the one suffering right now. Is that what you want? Maybe you should say that you wished he was here… Not that it was you” Her voice was kind when she said it, and she finally let go of your shoulder, walking back to her chair, you followed her, sitting on the couch again “When you say that you wished it was you, it sounds like you don’t think you matter at all… I mean, do you think Chan would be happy without you? Because I think you matter to him, you know?”

   “Well, I know I matter to him…” You agreed, pondering if you should add your thoughts. You looked at Paris, who seemed unjudging, waiting for you to say whatever you had in mind, and sighed “… But I think Y/N is more important to him” You added, averting your eyes. You rooted your eyes on the ground, fingers intertwined, supporting your chin as you waited for a reaction, the silence growing heavy, making you feel more and more ashamed.

   Your eyes shot up when you heard her snort.

   “I can’t believe it! Is that why you pick on her so much?! You’re jealous?” She burst out laughing, holding her stomach as she tried to recompose herself, her fake psychologist facade going down the drain as she grunted like a pig, unable to control her laughing. She just lost it. You twitched uncomfortably, shy about her reaction.

   “I wouldn’t call it jealou—“ You tried to say but she interrupted you promptly.

   “Oh, but I would!” She wiped a tear from the corner of her eyes, sighing pleased with the news “So you don’t hate her… That’s nice, actually. I think you two are a good match, you know? I’m not shipping you guys, don’t get me wrong” She rolled her eyes as you grimaced, disgusted by her suggestion “I mean that you guys have a lot more in common than you think… I really think that if you guys bonded, you would benefit from this relationship” She confessed, looking at you in deep thought “Maybe I should try to establish a truce between you two? I promise both of you will evolve a lot if you guys just talk about your feelings, I think you will feel found”

   You laughed at the thought.

   It was absurd.

   “There’s no way in hell we could be friends” You waved your hand, shrugging off the idea “Even if I wasn’t jealous, which I’m not! Really! I don’t think she would like to share anything with me” You snorted, Paris had to be delusional “She hates me” You added, more serious now. She made an unreadable expression, tightening her lips as she weighted what she was going to say.

   “Does she really? I think both of you are childish and blind… I’ll make you get along, you can write it down! Both of you need each other, you have a lot to learn together” She seemed obstinate; eyes sparking with determination “Now, let’s get back to you!” She crossed her legs again, taking her notebook and preparing herself to write things down “What do you want to say to me right now?”

  “That you look ridiculous” You joked, laughing as she stuck her tongue out for you “Well… I think you should write about my mother in your part of the project” You suggested “The thing is that she doesn’t care about me, she didn’t care about my brother and she was a bitch to my father… I just feel I can’t rely on her, and it makes me feel vulnerable” You never thought you would say this out loud, especially to Paris. She took her notes, thinking deeply about what you were saying before looking at you again.

   “Why do you think she was a bitch? You didn’t write it in your essay… I was wondering what she did before. Why did she get divorced?” She asked, unsure if you would be comfortable talking about this, and you shrugged, sighing.

   “She cheated on my dad while my brother was in the hospital” You summed it up, chuckling at her flabbergasted expression “Yeah… She cheated on him and didn’t support us at all, she just let my father alone with me and my ill brother, so… Well, yeah… She is rich and the mother, so the judge obviously thought I would be better off with her, and here I am now” You extended your arms in a dramatic gesture, gesturing at yourself with your palms up “She just thinks she can buy anything and it will be alright” You shrugged.

   “Wow, your mother sounds awful” She blurted, widening her eyes as she realized she was badmouthing your mother again, this time not using your words.

   “That’s okay” You reassured her “She’s awful… Not as awful as your father though” She nodded, chuckling “Do you… Do you think I would be like you if my dad raised me?” You muttered under your breath, eyes darting to your hands as you waited for her answer.

   “What do you mean? You’re not that bad, Hyunjin” She frowned, kicking you lightly so you would look at her “Okay, you’re a fuckboy… What else makes you so unbearable? You have good grades, I never saw you hurting anyone, and you’re neither a killer nor an abuser… Why do you think so low of yourself?” You shot your brows up, surprised.

   “You don’t think I’m awful? I mean… I can only imagine Y/N cussing me around and stuff” You laughed “I thought you didn’t like me as well” You admitted, making her giggle.

   “Y/N doesn’t even talk about you, don’t get ahead of yourself, darling” She mocked you, smiling when you blushed, embarrassed for assuming you were a topic of her conversations “Also, I didn’t really like you but I didn’t hate you either… It’s just that we don’t have much in common, right? You don’t like music or volleyball… Or Y/N” You laughed at that, crossing your arms.

   “You don’t like volleyball either! You didn’t even know Han couldn’t make a point!” You accused, making her laugh. She shrugged, looking at you mischievously.

  “I have my reasons…” Her tone was mysterious but she giggled right after, killing her own vibe “Anyway, we just didn’t click! Tell me, what do you like to do? When you’re not hooking up with girls, I mean” She hid her smile when you rolled your eyes.

  “I don’t know… Watching Dramas? I like to watch things by myself, I guess… Sometimes Chan joins me” You shrugged “Does it count as a bonding thing?”

   “Are you kidding me?!” She squealed “Of course it does! Screw this project, let’s watch something!” She chirped, throwing herself on the couch and turning the TV on. You looked at her amazed. What the hell?! She didn’t pay you any attention, surfing through the channels, looking for something that interested her “Do you have a preference? Let’s watch something romantic! Maybe an animation?! We could watch a horror movie too! Are you a scared cat? Hm… Maybe we should watch something calmer?” She started to ramble, ignoring completely your attempts to voice your thought.

    “You can choose anything, I don’t mind at all” You reassured her, amused by her rambling. She finally decided to give you the controller, squeezing your shoulder as if you had a really important mission to the world.

   “You choose it, I will pick up the ice cream” She tightened her lips and nodded, proud of her idea, “I think after a heart to heart we can enjoy ourselves, right? It’s to cheer you up” You scoffed as she got up, going to the minibar and picking up two ice cream pots, searching around for the spoons in the kitchen as you choose a random movie that had just started. She sat across you, handing you the ice cream and focusing herself on eating hers, don’t really paying attention to the movie at all.

[heavymetalover]

Call Me Daddy (Michael Langdon x fem reader)

Part II

Summary: Michael is about to become your step dad and the two of you have an unusual relationship…

Warnings: daddy kink (duh), nsfw, dirty talk, female masturbation, mean!michael, cockwarming, vaginal sex, rough sex.

WC: 4k

A/N: long awaited, but ive licherally had the worst few months mentally lmao so i hope you can understand. anywaysz heres pt 2 in all of its fucked up glory…

~~~~

 “Sex on the Beach,” your mom says.

“What?” you gasp, slapping down the menu you were hiding behind.

“And for you?” the waiter asks. A hint of confusion is spread on his face, but is conclusively overridden with professionalism.

“Oh,” you sigh, there’s a slight raspiness to your voice from all the screaming you did last night. “Just a water,” you fold up the menu and hand it to the waiter with a faux smile. You’ve been zoning in and out of consciousness today, ultimately trying to talk yourself out of believing what you did with Michael. You don’t even know how you brought yourself to talk to your mom, let alone sit face to face with her and share a drink. You’re going to be sick.

Your mom sighs, looking at you up and down. “What am I going to do with you?” she asks, shaking her head. “You’re just like me when I was your age. I mean, look at the circles under your eyes,” she reaches over the table to point on your face, “did you even get a wink of sleep?”

Now that she pointed it out, you feel the sudden urge to yawn. “I was cramming,” you yawn. Your mom raises a brow inquisitively. “Cramming for a test, studying,” you quickly explain, “I was studying all night.”

“Yeah, I bet,” she rolls her eyes. “I’m not stupid, y/n.”

You swallow hard, staring daggers at your mom. “What do you mean?” you ask. The waiter drops off your orders, but he might as well be invisible.

Your mom sighs and takes a sip of her drink. “You don’t have to lie to me,” she says, “I know you were at a party last night. I was your age once, too.”

You let out a shaky breath, “Yeah, you’re right.” Every word that comes out of her mouth now sounds threatening. How are you going to live under the same roof as the two of them? Last night was a mistake to say the least. You don’t know how you’ll live with yourself, especially since you haven’t seen Michael since…

Your mom waves someone down and you glance over your shoulder, making eye contact with his light blue eyes only for a moment. His eyes glue to your moms until he reaches the table and kisses her on the cheek, squeezing into the seat next to her. He’s completely ignoring your presence, rolling up the sleeves of his formfitting black turtleneck and talking to your mom.

Michael flips through the menu and you stare at him, waiting for acknowledgment, and being met with disappointment. “Their cocktails are great,” your mom enthuses, rubbing his slim bicep. “I’ve had this before,” she points at the menu, “it’s really good.”

You don’t even hide your stares, being as obvious as you can be about it. You know he knows you’re looking at him and waiting for the satisfaction of his eyes to meet yours. “Michael likes sex on the beach,” you exclaim. Both of them look up at you, Michael’s face is pale and his lips are pressed into a straight line. “Doesn’t he?” you turn to your mom.

There’s an aggressive silence between all of you, but the tension is most apparently shared between you and Michael. “Oh, I don’t think he likes the sweeter drinks,” your mom finally answers for him. Michael hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. He stares at you with, the only way you can describe it, sheer hatred.

The waiter comes back again, hands behind his back. He stands patiently and asks Michael if he’s decided on anything from the menu. After a few more moments, he breaks his stare and looks down at his menu. “I think a bourbon would be great,” he smiles, “that’s it.” He turns back to look at you, eyes wide. You can practically hear his voice, soft yet demanding, in your ear. Behave kitten, his voice purrs in your skull. Behave or I’ll have to punish you. You’re gushing just at the thought.

Your mom dismisses herself from the table to go to the bathroom and gives Michael one more quick kiss before leaving. He watches her walk away with a faint smile, then turns to you. “So, you’re just going to hold this over my head now?” he whispers over the table, eyes darting around in case your mom pops back.

You sit back in your seat and cross your arms over your chest. It’s like you’re programmed to always be defiant with Michael. “No,” you reply nonchalantly with a shrug.

He scoffs and shakes his head. “If you’re going to act this childish, then whatever happened last night should be left on that beach.”

“Fine,” you spout.

“Fine,” he replies casually.

You feel your face twisting in anger. Michael takes everything from you; your mom, your house, your life. You can’t bare letting him have the last word. “Good,” you answer, subtly trying to shift in your seat from the soreness he’s caused you.

His eyes trail down your body, watching you struggle from his damage, and he smiles slightly. “Good.”

Fucking asshole.

----

The cute guy from the party last week shoves his tongue down your throat. His name is Derek… or Dylan. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter to you. You and Michael have successfully ignored each other this past week. He started doing his work in his room, spending all his free time with your mom, and fucking her louder than he ever has before just to piss you off. It’s working.

You sit on the kitchen counter while Derek craned his head up, caressing your legs with a gentle touch. Despite not knowing his exact name, you like him. You like running your fingers through his curly brown hair and tasting the remnants of peppermint gum in his mouth.

“Maybe we should take this upstairs,” he breathes into your lips.

Your heart skips a beat, now facing the only reason you brought him here in the first place. You want Michael to walk in on the two of you. Even though it’s difficult for you to admit that to yourself, it’s true. The only place you two ever cross paths anymore is in the kitchen, but Michael’s been out of the house all day. You’re willing to kiss this boy for hours if it means Michael will see the two of you for a second.

You wrap your legs around him, pulling him smack against the counter. “I like it here,” you lie. Your ass is getting numb from sitting on the counter, but you don’t dare show it.

Derek continues kissing you; his hands drift up your dress and round your hips to cup your ass. He hostilely shifts you closer to him and you gasp into his kiss. His fingers inch closer to your pussy and you feel your heart beating in your throat, you’ve been craving a possessive touch.

He presses one finger against your clit and you let out a shaky breath. He pulls the fabric of your panties to the side and starts rubbing your clit up and down, not quite as skillful as you were hoping. You put your hand over his and pilot his fingers to move in small, slow circles like Michael does.

You shut your eyes tight; finally feeling somebody else’s touch is so liberating. “M’yeah,” you moan into his mouth, “just like that, daddy.”

“Daddy?” he says with a slight chuckle. You stop kissing him for a moment and his half-lidded green eyes stare up at you. “That’s so hot.”

He reaches up to give sloppy kisses, forcing his tongue into your mouth again. His fingers lag when he focuses on kissing you, but you don’t mind. You like his lips; you could taste his minty kiss for hours. He speeds up his pace on your clit and you throw your head back in pleasure. He moves his lips to your neck and starts sucking to leave love bites, until the two of you are interrupted.

“Off,” Michael’s frigid voice cuts the sexual tension like a knife. “Off the counter, now,” he orders you.

Michael grabs Derek’s arm and pulls his hand away from you. “Is this your dad?” he laughs as Michael pushes him out of the kitchen.

“Yeah, I am,” Michael answers for you.

You slide off of the kitchen counter and follow them, grabbing Michael’s shoulder and pulling him away from your date. “No, he’s not,” you spit, directing it more at Michael than Derek. “He’s my step dad.” You’re looking at Michael while you speak, his nostrils flare in anger. “And he has no fucking authority over me.”

He pauses for a moment to shoot you a dirty glance. “Yeah?” he asks you with a slight nod. You shrug your shoulders, as you always do when you want to piss him off. Derek looks at the two of you, completely oblivious to the underlying tension. Michael shoves Derek closer to the door and you follow him, trying to stop them. Michael holds a hand up to you. “Stay in the kitchen, y/n, or so help me God.”

You sigh and reluctantly walk back into the kitchen, watching your date being kicked out of the house. Your mom is unloading bags of groceries by the front step as Derek stumbles out of the house, she tries to hold in her laughter and your lips curl into a smile. Your mom walks back to the car when Michael sets his sights on you, your smile fading when you see his outrage. Shit.

“Michael, I can explain,” you start.

He pushes you against the refrigerator door, your back slams into the glacial stainless steel. “No authority?” he fumes. His warm hands reach between your thighs to find your sex, dripping through your lace panties. He starts rubbing your clit in circles, somehow his hands know you better than you know yourself. His talented fingers circle your deprived clit. You grab onto his toned arm and brace yourself against the fridge, feeling your whole body tense up under his touch. It’s everything you’ve been missing and you hate yourself for it. “Are you stupid enough to think he’d touch you like I do? He’d fuck you like I do?” he asks through gritted teeth; his temper seems genuine. You moan at his touch in response and he smacks your cheek, taking your face in his hand. “Answer me.”

“No, daddy,” you respond warmly.

“That’s right,” he coos. You quickly feel yourself coming undone under him. You hear your mom drop off another bag of groceries at the front door step and fight the urge to groan from Michael’s touch, instead trying to breathe through the elation. “Look at the authority I have over you,” he mocks, “you can barely speak.”

Your mouth trembles, searching for a quick and witty response, but he’s right. You’ve got nothing. All you can focus on is your hot, beating core being pillaged by Michael. His hand moves faster and you take in a deeper breath, unable to hide your loud moans any longer. Michael slaps a hand over your mouth and smiles. “You like the way your dad touches you, hm?” he presses, moving even faster over your sensitive clit. You purse your lips together under his hand and nod your head, trying to be as quiet as you can and failing. “Such a good little girl for daddy,” he whispers.

He takes his hand off of your mouth and leans in for a kiss. “Michael!” your mom calls from the front door. Michael doesn’t respond, he keeps his lips locked to yours, his hand rubbing your cunt harder and faster. “I’m thinking we should do a movie night with y/n tonight!” she yells.

“If you’re good tonight, maybe I’ll let you finish,” he mumbles into your lips. Your mom’s footsteps approach the kitchen and Michael pulls away from you, leaving you an unfinished, disheveled mess against the refrigerator. “Yeah, that sounds great,” he says back to her and leaves to help with the groceries.

She walks into the kitchen and her eyebrows furrow when she looks at you. “You okay?” she asks. You breathe in response, still collecting yourself from Michael’s wicked spell. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes. “Go clean yourself up. You look… dirty.”

And you sure felt it, too.

----

You pull your bag of popcorn out of the microwave, sighing when opening it and finding nearly half of the kernels unpopped. Whatever. This night is going to be a travesty anyways, might as well add unpopped popcorn to the list of things that could go wrong.

You saunter into the living room and plop onto the chair opposite of the couch. Your mom and Michael sit on the couch together, practically sitting on top of each other with how close they are. It makes you want to gag. You take a handful of the not-so-popcorn popcorn and stuff it in your mouth as the movie starts up.

Your mom picked the movie. It’s some rom-com type flick that’s not really your style. You scroll through your phone instead of watching the movie and things don’t seem too bad at first. If you had your earbuds, it would be just like any regular night. Until it isn’t.

Your mom and Michael start locking lips on the couch. At some point you swear you saw Michael shoot you a glance while his lips were on your mom’s. You stuff your face with the shitty popcorn, opting to hear your chewing instead of their kisses, but it still doesn’t drown out the sound. You look over at them with disgust, but for some ungodly reason you feel a pang of jealousy in your chest. “Ew, oh my god, can you guys not fuck for like five seconds?” you accidentally blurt out.

Your mom pulls away and stares at you with a dumbfounded look on her face. “Y/n, watch your language,” she scolds.

“Sorry. I meant, can you stop sucking face and being gross while I’m in the room,” you respond sarcastically. Michael presses his lips together, clearly suppressing a smile. He must love seeing you jealous after what happened earlier today.

“If you hate it so much then why don’t you sit here,” your mom says, moving away from Michael and patting the spot in between the two of them.

You sigh, rolling your eyes and standing up. You trudge towards them, reminding yourself that this movie must only have another hour to it and then you can go back to peaceful, Michael-less solitude. You’re about to drop into the seat between them when Michael takes your arm and pulls you towards him. “Come and sit on daddy’s lap,” he says jokingly.

You look at him with wide eyes, then at your mom who found it amusing. You let out an obvious fake laugh, but Michael pulls you so hard that you fall onto his lap. You awkwardly twist around in his lap, trying to look at the television screen. “Aw, see, I knew you two would eventually get along,” your mom teases.

“We get along plenty. Right, y/n?” he asks, bouncing you on his leg.

You feel reduced to an infant. “Mhm,” you respond through your anger. How can Michael do this to you in front of your mom? Half of the time you don’t know what kind of diabolical thoughts run through his head.

He puts his hand on your thigh and you tense under his touch. “Damn, you’re so cold,” he says. You touch your leg, it feels normal to you, but he insists on throwing a blanket over you. You keep the blanket on the lower half of your body and shift around on his lap. Although this gag is amusing to him and your mom, his legs are not as comfortable as a couch cushion would be.

As you’re adjusting yourself, your ass brushes against Michael’s hard, naked cock. When you realize what he’s doing, you subtly look over your shoulder and look down at him. Communicating an are-you-fucking-serious look on your face without saying a word. He grabs onto your hips as if telling you to lift them slightly. You don’t know why, but you follow his orders. You lift yourself up slightly and feel his hands quickly shove your panties to the side and line his head up to your hole. He takes your hips again, guiding you to sit down on his cock.

You sit down on his dick, feeling him slowly stretch your tight walls; even though they’re still raw from your last rendezvous. You mask your gasp with a laugh, pretending that the mediocre joke in the movie was hilarious to you. “Don’t move,” Michael whispers in your ear.

He’s filled your pussy to the hilt, his cock is so big and thick that it almost hurts how delicious he feels inside of you. You shut your eyes, trying to focus on keeping your face neutral and listening to the actors on screen, but your pussy has a mind of its own. You feel your cunt quivering, throbbing, spilling all over of Michael’s dick. You open your eyes again, trying to pay attention to the movie and look down at Michael, who looks as if nothings happening. As if he isn’t balls deep inside of his step daughter.

You keep still. Every muscle in your body is on high alert and stays completely tense. You dig your nails into your thighs, wanting nothing more than fuck this whole situation and bounce on his writhing cock, but instead you follow his instructions and keep still.

A moment washes over you where you feel fine, but it’s immediately consumed by pleasure in an instant, causing you to lean back on Michael. His dick shifts inside of you and you let out a breathy moan. “Mmaaaah-oh, it’s so strange how they keep running into each other, hm?” you try to cover yourself.

Your mom, too enveloped in the movie, just gives you a tired “mhm” in response.

You grab onto Michael’s arm that isn’t visible to your mom and dig your nails into his skin. He looks up at you and you look down at him. He must feel how pent up your pussy’s getting. He must feel your cunt twitch and your walls tightening around his cock. He must feel how sweltering hot and unavailingly wet you’re getting. You’re sure if you were to stand up now, his pants would be soaking in your sinful juices.

He budges under you, his cock moving slightly inside you and a tear runs down your cheek. This nearly sends you over the edge, you open your mouth to scream, but thankfully your sobs get choked at the back of your throat. He grabs onto your arm too, squeezing it lightly for reassurance.

You’re close to coming; if he were to pound himself into you now, only once or twice would do the trick. You let out a breathy sigh, another tear falls down your cheek, but your mom doesn’t notice. She’s too busy munching on your not-so-popcorn popcorn and keeping her eyes glued to the tv screen, watching as the two love interests sit down at a shabby New York restaurant.

“Y/n, you’ll love this part,” she says, not even batting an eye your way.

You’re all startled at the doorbell ringing. Your mom jumps from her seat and pauses the movie. You quickly wipe away any evidence of tears from your face. “Ooh, that must be the pizza! Let me run upstairs and get my purse,” she announces. You and Michael intently watch her skitter out the room.

Michael immediately slams you onto the couch cushions and pounds his throbbing cock into you. “You were driving me fucking crazy,” he sighs. He digs his cock into your tight twat and shoves his fingers in your mouth, to stop your moaning. You suck on his salty fingers, sucking off one of the rings off of his fingers and spitting it onto the floor.

You let out a loud groan and grind your hips against him, entering the most excruciating, yet euphoric, orgasm you’ve ever felt. Michael throws his head back, rolling his eyes in pleasure. “You’re such a dirty fucking slut,” he jeers, “fucking daddy right in front of mommy. You’re so goddamn nasty.”

“I’m your dirty little girl, daddy,” you say in your highest, syrupy voice.

Michael laughs out a wavy breath, “Yeah you are, baby.” He positions himself over you better and climbs on top of you, hammering his hefty cock into your taut slit, nearly splintering you. “Now come for me,” he whispers into your lips, “come for daddy.”

A few small moans leave your lips. You dig your nails into the fabric of his shirt, undoubtedly leaving claw marks along his back. You grind on him harder and he pushes into you deeper. “Come on, baby girl,” he encourages, leaving a weak kiss on your lips. Both of you pant into each other’s mouths, reaching for each other’s lips every few seconds to give a pathetic kiss.

You shut your eyes, another tear falling down your face, but this time it’s from release. “Holy fucking shit!” you scream, Michael slaps his hand over your mouth. You come all over his cock, hard. Harder than you’ve ever come before. Your pussy gushes all over him, all over the couch, all over the blankets. Your walls squeeze him so tight that even he comes from your orgasm, emptying his sticky seed inside of your hot cunt.

Normally you would take a second to absorb what just happened, but you hear the door slam shut and sit up. Michael puts himself away and you sit up on the couch next to him, shutting your legs together to aid the soreness that’s already overtaking your tender pussy.

You’re scrambling to find your phone when Michael take’s your head in his hands and kisses you on the lips. His kiss is deep and passionate, almost like a warm, romantic kiss you’d receive from a lover. It makes your heart skip a beat. He pulls away and your mouth hangs open. You must have a dumb look on your face because Michael smiles at you. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby.”

He slumps back in his seat and your face turns hot. Your mom walks into the living room and sets the pizza down on the table. “It took me forever to find my purse upstairs, I must’ve forgot where I left it,” she sighs. You glance at Michael, suspecting it was his doing and it was his plan all along to fuck you tonight. That bastard.

Your mom sinks into the seat next to you and looks at the two of you. Her attention shifting between you and Michael. “Aw man,” she finally sighs, “I thought you two were gonna sit together the whole time.” She does an exaggerated pouty face and Michael forces a laugh. You just take out your phone and start scrolling through social media, trying to take your mind off of what just happened. “Anyways,” she says and hits a button on the remote, “back to the movie.”

[olivarryprompts]

Fanfic Friday #8

Welcome to Fanfic Friday! Each Friday I will post a new fanfic here and on A03. Enjoy x

Read and save it on A03 here https://archiveofourown.org/works/32602807

{ur still my boy}

Ship: toliver (tommy/oliver)

Warnings: swearing, canon typical violence, oliver’s ‘death’ to Ra’s

Wc: 2,564

One:

“Oliver! Ollie oh my god you- What happened?” “Nothing, just a- a mugger.” “A mugger! Did you really ditch Mr. Diggle again? This is why you have security. I though five year on some island what make you a little less of a dumb fuck!” “Alright, what? That’s a little intense.” “A little intense? Are you kidding me right now?” “No, what. Why are you here anyway?” “The club, we need to talk about it. But, not that’s not the point.” “Why not? Seems like an important conversation. “ “Oliver stop!” “Stop what?” “Pretending.” “Pretending? About what?” “God Oliver,” he said, falling onto Ollie’s desk chair. Oliver was perched on the edge of his bed. “I’m fine, it’s fine. I don’t understand why you're fussing over this.” “BECAUSE YOU DIED OLLIE!” “I-” A silence fell upon them. “You died, and I had to deal with that, and it’s something I never want to have to deal with again.” “Tommy, I know but it’s the world. The real world. And it’s not always going to be safe.” “I know that, I know, but ditching your security, Ollie. Why? I just don’t understand it.” “I-i can’t explain. You just need to trust me. I can take care of myself.” “Last time I let you care for yourself, you died! You get that right. You get that I never want to let you out of my sight ever again because I’m scared.” “I survived on an island for five years, I can handle Starling City. Trust me.” “That doesn’t mean that if a bullet flies through your heart you won’t die!” “Tom-” “No. “Don’t, don’t do that.” “I love you, everyday on the island I wanted to come back. To come back and say the thing I just said.” “What do-” “I love you, stupid. For real.” “You mean-” And they had a long overdue kiss. And some more.

“You really know how to divert a conversation,” Tommy said, into Oliver’s bare chest. “It’s one of my strong suits,” he smiled.

Two:

“Hi Ollie,” he said, from a chair in the Arrowcave. “Tommy! How did you get- how did you find!” “Your excuses were getting pretty lame, and you know we both own this club.” “Yeah but-” “You’re the arrow.” “I’m- yeah.” “God Oliver, you are so shit a lying.” “You’re not mad?” “Mad? Are you joking? I’m so- everything. How the hell could you keep this from me? ME?” “For your safety,” he replied calmly. “My safety, what if I know your secret, I’m in danger. That’s not how the real world works. I don’t understand you.” “I had to. My father,” Oliver stopped. “What did your father say?” “I have plans okay.” “Beyond just, just murdering people.” “Collateral damage, plus I only kill when necessary.” “It was you. That day we got kidnapped.” “Yes-” “Why? You should have told me.” “What, what so you can hate me from now on!” “I could never hate you, it’s you.” “But you hate the Vigilante.” “But I trust Oliver Queen, or I did before you kept the biggest secret possible.” “HOW DO YOU NOT SEE I WAS PROTECTING YOU!” “Because why would me, one person knowing, change anything!” “The people I am going after are dangerous and powerful, so if you are close to me you will be targeted. If you know, that will make you even closer.” “You understand that that makes no sense.” “Whatever, you know now.” “Why don’t you trust me?” “Tommy, that is just fake! You know that I trust you with everything in me. I trust you to see me!” “You lied about your scars.” “That was all true,” he said, putting his head in hands, “I only left out parts about me becoming the arrow. I- truly Tommy, I thought you were going to pieces together. From my story to the arrowhead rock to the timing of my return.” “You were telling me,” he said, with realization. “Yeah I tried.’ “You could have just told me.” “Should have, yeah.” “Oliver! I-” “Why are you still upset?” “Because because-” Tommy slammed the desk. “Tommy, if you’re still worried about me getting hurt, clearly I can handle myself.” “I know but- a knife will still kill. Playing fucking superhero will get you killed!” “No, it doesn’t have to.” “I can’t Oliver, I can’t. Why, please, I-” Tommy started crying. “I can’t quit this. It’s too important.” “No Oliver, your life is too important. It’s too important to me because I’m sure, I’m certain you're my last, and I’m not losing you.” Oliver brought him into his arms, and kissed his head. “I swear to you, I’m not going anywhere.” “I can’t, I don’t want you to go out every night and risk death.” “Rules, we’ll make rules, whatever you want. To keep me safe and you happy.” Tommy just held him tighter.

Three:

“When’s the last time you slept?” Tommy said, approaching their breakfast counter. He placed a kiss on Oliver’s cheek. Oliver was staring at his computer, working on mayoral plans. “A while back.” Tommy rolled his eyes knowingly. Yet another late night Arrow mission that ended with an all nighter. “Oliver.” “Tommy.” “You need sleep to function as a human being.” “No not really,” Oliver smiled, switching his attention to the other man, “Green arrow.” “Ollie please, I hate you being tired because then you do stupid shit as the mayor and even dummer shit with a bow an arrow.” “Since when do I do dumb shit?” “We are talking about the same Oliver Queen right? The one who pissed on the police officer?” “Oh please come on, not the childhood.” “You were eighteen, Ollie,” Tommy smiled fondly. “If we’re sharing embarrassing stories-” “Shut up,” he said, digging his head into Ollie’s shoulder. He wrapped an arm around Tommy and then went back to looking at his computer screen. “Hey, you avoided the point.” “Yes, yes I did.” “You don’t need to be in to work till 10 today. We have a great opportunity to get two hours of sleep here, babe, and it’s quite enticing.” “You have a company to run.” “I also have an Oliver Queen to tend after.” Oliver scoffed, “I don’t need tending after.’ “Clearly,” he replied sarcastically, “Please for me. I know you're tired. Rule #3” “Really now? You’re playing the rules card. I’m not even tired, T.” “Come on, I’ve known your tired face since we were five.” “Fine. Rules are rules.” “Really?” “Yes only if I’m little spoon.” “Done deal!” Tommy grabbed Oliver’s hand, and dragged him into their bedroom.

Four:

“The plan is to break into the Argus facility whilst the state of emergency has been turned on due to the prisoners being released. Of course, they will stay contained in their cell block just not the individual cell. From there we can get Bloodine out of there, and force him to give up all the information he’s been given on the new Argus protection.” Tommy had entered the arrow cave moments before, unnoticed by Oliver. “Hey,” he said, joining them in the center of the room. “Hi,” Ollie whispered to him, giving him a kiss. “Hi Tommy, what brings you down to our humble abode?” Felicity questioned. “Just needed to drag Oliver home, remember we have the Merlyn Global Charity Gala tonight,” he only half made up. “That’s on Thursday,” Oliver remembered. “If you know when it is, why are you always so goddamn late for everything!” Tommy jokes, kinda. Felicity and Diggle sensed the tension, “We have to- uh, go over there,” Diggle awkwardly covered. “They did the thing, so started talking,” Oliver told Tommy. “Fine, fine. I’m vetoing this mission for you.” “This is a standard mission,” Oliver said with a sigh, “It’s not unsafe.” “Yes dealing with a mass murder who has slipped through your fingers a number of times is not dangerous at all. And, who has beaten you in a fight previously.” “Won’t happen again.” “How are you so sure about that?” “I am. I get it, you're scared, but this one is important. It’s the difference between the city blowing up and it now blowing up. We’re talking millions of lives here.” “I know, I-” “I’ll be careful.” “Rule #1.” The sacred rule one, which Tommy, in four years of dating, has only used a single other time. “Tommy you can’t. Not this one.” “The rules are the rules.” “Not this time, no. I- it’s too important.” “Oliver, do you not remember that your missing being so important was the whole basis of creation of the rules!” “Tommy, I can’t deal with this right now.” “Can’t deal with-” Tommy turned his back on Oliver, “Yeah, you know what. Go and get your stupid ass killed. And do not think about stepping foot in our apartment if you take on the mission!” Oliver was at a loss for words as his better half stopped off.

Later that evening Tommy made an important call. “Hi Barry, I need you to do me a favor.” “Anything, you know I owe you one.” “Thanks. There’s this mission that Ollie’s idiotically going on. It’s bloodline-” “The one he lost a while back.” “Yeah.” “Give me the details. I’ll watch out for all of them.” “Ok, so-” Tommy described the mission and sent him the plan he’d downloaded on his phone with some Merlyn Global tech he indefinitely borrowed.

As soon as he got word that they’d returned, he made his way to the Arrowcave. “Thank you Barry,” he said, giving the other a hug. “Anytime, good thing I was there too. Bloodline nearly bombed the place secretly, and would have killed anyone in the building. The guy’s smart,” he said, only slightly gravely. Oliver was standing there looking guilty. As soon as Tommy heard that, he launched himself into Ollie’s arms. “God you idiot, you almost died. Stupid. God, I love you, please listen to me next time.” “I’m sorry, I’m-” “It’s okay. I got you. You might be the green arrow and all, but you're still my boy first.” Oliver just smiled.

Five:

Tommy curled into Oliver’s side, and said,” You are not going back to that island, not without me.” “I don’t want to take you there.” “Why?” “It’s horrible and the worst memories of my life exist there-” “You trust me?” “Yes.” “Then listen when I say, I know you. I know many of those memories, and if there are worse terrors it will not change how I see you. It will not change how much I love you.” “It will though. Some of the things I had to do and some of the things that were done to me, they are truly awful.” “I can swear to you it will not. And we can talk. I can tell you how I’m feeling and what I’m thinking. It’s this great thing called communication.” “Shut up.” “Ok. Fine, only if you take me on the island.” “Tell me why you want to come so bad.” “You're so oblivious sometimes, it's adorable.” “Nothing about me says adorable Thomas.” “Thomas huh? Everything about you is adorable. Have you seen your face when you're happy, it’s the cutest thing in the world.” “Whatever you say. You’re such a sap.” “I am. And the reason I want to go is because of what you said. The worst memories of your life exist there.” “Yes and?” “It will be, if not close to, physiological torture returning there. If you haven’t noticed, I’m a tad protective of you.” Ollie rolled his eyes, “Of course I’ve noticed. I also know that I’m fairly mentally strong at this point.” “That doesn’t mean you don’t need a reminder that you no longer exist in those memories. A reminder that you live here. That you have a team that loves you and a boyfriend who loves you even more. And we live together in a wonderful apartment, and have some, might I say, wonderful sex and-” Oliver laughed, “I get your point, thanks, love.” “So?” “Yeah.” “Yeah I can come or yeah we have great sex.” With a smile on his face he said, “Yes you can come. Might need a refresher on the second part, though.” “Do you, now? I think that can be arranged.” They both started laughing, and then kissing. “Thanks,” Oliver whispered moments later. “Anytime, you’re my boy after all.”

+1:

He let him go. Well, no, he didn’t. He didn’t know, no one told him. Oliver didn’t tell him. What kind of stupid motherfucker goes and fights Ra’s al Ghul and doesn’t tell his fiance.”

He crashed into his father’s home, “MALCOM!” Malcolm seemed to be praying in his sparring room. “Hello son, it seems as though you’ve started using my name once more. What have I done this time?” “YOU LET OLIVER GO AND FIGHT RA’S AL GHUL.” “One does not ‘let’ Oliver Queen do anything. You of all people should know that.” “Stop with the cryptics, this is my fucking fiance we’re talking about.” “It was his choice.” “It was- I? Please just, is he alive?” “Likely no. These battles are to the death and Ra’s al Ghul-” “I’m not asking for your opinion, I’m asking for proof. His body, a sword, blood.” “I know a place that could tell you that information, I shall go. I mean no harm to you, son.” “No harm, no harm,” Tommy chuckled. “Come, I’m having tea, then I shall leave.” “Tea? Tea? Do you not remember when mum died? No course not, you are an apathetic killer. My fiance is, is missing and you want me to have tea with you. God, you really are a joke.” “I am doing you a favor here, Tommy.” “THIS IS YOUR FAULT.” “Do you really believe that? Or are you blaming me because you blame yourself. I-” Tommy was walking about before Malcom could end his sentence.

When Malcom returned with the sword, Tommy fell to his knees, tears filling his eyes. “It’s not Oliver blood, we don’t know yet-” Felicity attempted, already swabbing the sword. “And how do we know this is not fake?” Diggle questioned. “Because it is the family we are talking about. I do not take matters concerning family lightly.” “Thank you Malcom, you may leave now,” Tommy whispered, barely audible to the room. Malcolm dramatically exited, and Tommy was left waiting. “Felicity,” he managed weakly. There was a beep, a moment of absolute silence, and then a broken voice, “it’s his.”

How do you cancel a wedding venue, how do you sleep in a bed alone, how do you cook an omelette. These were all questions that he never needed to answer. But he did. It all changed.

He constantly blamed himself for not knowing and not stopping his boy. Each night he laid awake drifting between awake and lightly asleep. He wanted his Oliver. He wanted his boy to hold him tight and never let go. “Hey,” a voice said, a voice that sounded eerily familiar. “Shut up, shut up,” Tommy said, crying. He couldn’t hear that voice in his head. “Hey, it’s me, it’s me Tommy I promise.” “Oliver?” Then he was crying all over again, but this time he was crying into Oliver. “Don’t d-d-do that again.” Oliver was crying too, “I swear, I swear I won’t. I’m not going anywhere.”

[plaidshirtjimkirk]

sorry, everyone. this is totally off topic in terms of trek, but since i rejoined this fandom to write and spent a lot of my time......uh, suffering over words/complaining about that here...i just wanna talk about what i did in september. it gets a little personal but i don’t mind sharing.

tl;dr: i did a writing challenge that proved i *could* write on a regular basis since my adhd diagnosis, but bad self esteem killed the good vibes. i proved it could be done however so... stfu, brain.

on the last day of august, an awesome friend of mine posted a month-long writing challenge. the minimum we were supposed to shoot for was 500, i believe, but she said she’d aim for at least 150. she absolutely smashed her goal. i didn’t even have a goal and yet.....i wrote 63k in one month. i didn’t miss a single day. sometimes, i wrote over 5k.

me @ me: who the fuck are you my brain: this is you with your adhd treated, asshole me: OH SHIT!!1 RIGHT. NICE.

the wc was rounded down to the nearest hundred to keep things neat, and the avg word count per day based on that was 2.1k.

all of these stories except for 3 are about oc otps/ot3s. topics range from fluff to angst (ken, my oc, met his demise and i’m not even sorry) to just full out pwp. proposals, fights, breakups, fluff fests, ken getting told off when he deserves it...every day was something new.

i posted all of them in docs and shared with my friends who made these characters.

naturally, you can treat your attention and focus issues but that won’t stop bad self esteem from ruining your day plenty of times. day 7 was rough. i was feeling depressed and like everything i write is irrelevant and futile. (it kinda is but i’m more accepting about it rn and not as emotional.) i almost gave up on day 12 but i refused to let such low hanging fluff fruit like “blanket” be my demise. ups and downs, ups and downs....and then day 25 was awful. i hit 51k that evening and fell into a major depressive episode. who gets depressed over writing 51k? me, i guess. it was just...y’know, writing all these stories and tossing them into the black hole of docs for a few people to read if they please....and then to never be seen again. i started second guessing everything and sounding like the old, pre-diagnosis me where everything is horrible and i’m worthless and i can’t write for shit and blah blah blah. but day 26 was better, and i finished out the month feeling stronger.

30 days of writing is hell and i really would not like to do this again. but i did it to prove a point to myself. i can actually get things done. i still struggle with concentration sometimes, especially in the afternoon, but evenings work best of all for me to sit down and get words out.

i still feel shitty that all i’m apparently capable of writing is one-shots. there’s nothing at all wrong with one-shots, don’t get me wrong, but they’re what i write most of all. that’s really...still the capacity of what i can handle. i can’t write long things without having a day 25 every day. or maybe i can and i just haven’t tried since being on medicine? idk. maybe someday i’ll figure it out? (*paths in the starlight looms threateningly overhead* go away, you 90k wip monster from hell.)

anyway, i feel lucky because i got a diagnosis that helped me see actual progress. i’m sorry i haven’t produced anything for this fandom. the husbands aren’t speaking to me, but i just wanted to kinda document what i went through.

the things i learned were: a) month long challenges are fucking HARD but not impossible. b) writing that much in a month should feel like a great accomplishment because i worked so hard, but self esteem issues and blah blah i hate my writing, etc. my brain ruins everything. c) it helped having multiple characters and relationships to be inspired by. i’ve attempted several otp challenges in the past and failed every single time. d) i’m damaged goods. i appreciate any and all feedback so much, but because of a past abusive relationship, i have a hard time accepting praise. i don’t think anyone is lying to me. i just think i suck. lmao there’s no way to sugarcoat it, that’s the truth. but just writing and throwing nearly an entire novel length into the void made me wonder what i was even doing. so, while i have trouble accepting compliments and have always always always appreciated feedback, i appreciate it even more now.

[fictionalarsonist]

may i request nr 9 of your recent prompts with taeyong x reader?

「 unexpected encounter 」

pairing ›_ taeyong x readerwith ›_ jaehyun ; doyoungcontent ›_ slice of life-y ; flirting ; friendshiprating ›_pgwc ›_2k

―

premise ›_After moving to a big city, you find yourself missing everything about home that you complained so much. Taeyong was one of these things, but when you two meet again, by a coincidence, he’s nothing like you remembered.    ›  One-liners Inspired Drabbles  ― #9.“Hot, gorgeous, beautiful…whatever you want to call it.”

「 ao3 | masterlist 」

The cold streets makes you shiver even with all the layers of clothes you’re wearing, you press your dry lips in a thin line, but that only harms the damaged sensible skin. You’re not much of a winter person yourself; you hate all this cold, wet streets, the chaotic traffic and the annoying, disgusting steam. It makes you think of winter back home, it’s just as cold, if not worst – but you liked winter just fine there.

You miss playing in the snow, the trees always tinkling with snow, the smell of fresh winter mornings that isn’t tainted with the toxic smell of pollution. The bone, chilling cold was as pleasing as it could get, but there’s the fireplace and the familiar faces and your favorite bakery shop. You’re not quite sure if you’re homesick because you can’t afford going back home for Christmas or if you’re just not cut out for the big city. Funny, though, you were so eager to live the pathetic small town just two, three years ago.

It’s relief seeing your colleague arrived earlier, the lights inside the shop is dimmed, the closed sign shows on the glass door. You push open the door and the bell announces you. Jaehyun raises his head to see you walking in.

“Good morning!” He greets you with a quick, tired smile.

“Morning!” You greet, smiling back at him as he goes back to work. “You beat me today,” you hear his scoff.

“Well, I might pass out during the day,” you hear him reply from under the balcony and you stop in front of it, unbuttoning your coat.

“Another night awake?”

“That fucking stupid project,” he grunts before appearing from the balcony, his face twisted in annoyance, “I swear, if no one send me their part in this I’m just gonna watermark the whole shit with my name with big, bold letters. I’m not going to give credit to anyone.”

“Can you do that, though?” Jaehyun shrugs in response, “How long ‘till deadline?”

“Uhm- four days?” He frowns, looking into the distance, “Wait, what day is today?”

“Today is the 28th”

“Three days, then” he corrects himself, looking at you, “Even if they send something I don’t think I have enough time to edit, so-” he shrugs, leaning his weight on his elbows on the balcony. “I don’t even care about the fucking prize, the shitty award or whatever- I just want a good grade, that’s all.”

“Don’t worry about it, at least you’ll make it,” you comfort him, patting one of his slumped shoulders.

“You’re right,” Jaehyun replies more energetically before pulling back.

“I’ll get ready and come out to help you real quick,” he hums as you rush to the locker room.

Inside the shop is warm and cozy and you, slowly, regain the sensibility on your fingertips, your lips, and on the tip of your nose. You go through the usual routine to get ready before meeting Jaehyun outside.

“What’s left for me?” You ask, finishing to tie your apron.

“Those two needed to be cleaned. I’m gonna get the pies-” 

“Okay,” you shrug

“The espresso machine’s already on,” he warns over his shoulder.

There’s nothing but the sounds of Jaehyun at the back while you clean the machines, but this silence is welcoming and even relaxing. It contrasts so much with the view beyond the glass door. The chaotic traffic and people walking up and down the street. You enjoy these times before opening the shop, not knowing how the rest of the day would be.

***

Taeyong looked through the car window, irritated with the stillness. The car’s been stuck in traffic, not being able to move for far too long. Clicking his tongue, he lowers the partition with an impatient sigh. His driver looks at the review mirror, waiting. Ten, sitting by his side, spares him a watchful look.

“Isn’t there anything we can do to get out of here?” Taeyong asks, impatient.

“I ‘m afraid not, sir.” The driver replies with a trained apologetic tone.

Upset, Taeyong slumps back on his seat, undoing the button of his suit, blowing air out of his lungs, trying to tone down his anger.

“Are we too far from the company?” Taeyong asks, this time his questions directed at Ten, sitting by his side.

Doyoung spares a look at the map on his phone before replying.

“I’m afraid so.”

This reply only causes Taeyong to be even more discontent with the whole situation.

“This is ridiculous,” Taeyong protests in severe exasperation.

He glances outside yet again and sees you running out the door after a client.

“Taeyong, if you-” Doyoung’s cut off when Taeyong pushes the door open, letting the frigid wintery weather in the perfectly warm, luxurious car. “Taeyong!”

Before he could say anything else Taeyong’s walking on the wet streets, with drizzling rain falling on him.

“Park the car somewhere, don’t move anywhere without us.” Doyoung orders the driver and doesn’t wait for the response, already pushing the door open and chasing after his boss with an umbrella.

***

As soon as the sign at the door shows the coffee shop is open people come in, seeking the warmth and coziness as well as the drinks. Jaehyun busies himself to serve a couple of tables as you take his place at the balcony.

“What can I get-”

“Hey, Y/n!”

You blink, not quite believing the dazzling smile directed to you belongs to the awkward boy you had a crush on back in high school. Though now, Taeyong looks nothing like he did then. It hasn’t been that long and yet, he changed more than you could ever think.

“Taeyong?” You gaped.

“Taeyong!”  Doyoung calls, hurrying after him inside the coffee shop, “If you want we can go back to the hotel and I rearrange the meeting-”

Doyoung’s words are cut off, noticing Taeyong isn’t giving him any attention. Doyoung turns to look at you, someone who looks… Quite average, nothing like Taeyong’s usual interests.

“We can discuss something like this later, Doyoung.” Taeyong says rather gentle and that gets Doyoung puzzled.

“Yes, of course. Should I get you a table?” Doyoung asks with a light frown.

“I think Y/n could do that for me. Couldn’t you?”

“Uhm- I-” You start, but protests of the customers lined up cut your words. Taeyong wasn’t even in the queue.

“Hey, dude! I don’t care if you’re here for coffee or you just wanna flirt, but get in line.” Someone says aggressively and Doyoung gets between the two people just so the other wouldn’t dare to push Taeyong as they intended to.

“Hey, Y/n!”  You hear Jaehyun whisper by your side and you jolt in surprise, “I’ll take care of this, get him a table or something”

Jaehyun’s fast at the job and you step out of the balcony. Taeyong follows you to a more private table.

“Is this place yours?” He asks when you handle him a menu.

“No, I just- work here”

“And when are you free?” He places the menu on the table without even glancing at it while you stand there, waiting to get the order.

Your eyes wander around and you can tell there are quite the number of people looking at him. It’s not everyday someone like Taeyong comes along to place like that, people like him or, at least, the way he looks right now are usually found in over the top, expensive, luxurious restaurants, ordering food which you can’t even begin to imagine the names of, let alone pronounce if you ever came across.

“Y/n?” He asks again, in an inducing tone. With that smile that knocks the wind out of your lungs. You can’t believe you still have a crush on him after so long.

“Uh- Yes. Yes, what’s your order?” You ask automatically after snapping back to reality. He chuckles charmingly.

“I asked, when are you free?”

“At seven. We close at seven.” You speak up before you could stop yourself.

“Okay, then- I’ll come back at seven, then.” He stands up and Doyoung stands up after him. “I’m really glad I got to meet you again,” his smile looked quite sincere this time.

But that’s because, for a split second you could see the face of the boy you liked back then, instead of the arrogant man that was now taking your hand and bringing to his lips. You didn’t notice Doyoung’s eyes going back and forth between the two of you.

***

As soon as the shop got more of a free time, Jaehyun came to you as you cleaned one of the tables. Your mind went back and forth that moment over and over and still- you couldn’t figure how that could possibly happen.

“Okay, so- Tell me.” He asked, standing beside you as you repeatedly wiped the table, the same spot, over and over again. “Y/n?” He called, lowering his head to notice your eyes were looking into the distance instead of the the clean spot on the table or him. “Y/n!”

His half-scream made you jump in place and look at him.

“What now? Did you really need to-”

“You weren’t even paying attention to the table. What do you want, make it invisible or something?”

“Huh?” 

He points at the table you’ve been cleaning, literally shining at this point. A wide contrast to the others.

“We have two options now, either we clean the others the same way or get this one dirty,” he says thoughtfully, looking around for a moment before looking at you, “But, seriously- Who’s that guy?”

“Who?”

“You know who,” he insists, chasing after you when you run away from him, “The guy that came here looking for you.”

“He didn’t came looking for me!”

“He came in, ordered nothing. Just talked to you and left,” Jaehyun states

“You- might have a point.”

“Who’s him?”

“He’s- He’s just someone I knew,” you try

“You knew?” He asks with scoff. “He didn’t seem dead to me.”

“Oh, c’mon, Jae! I had a crush on him when we were in high school or something, that’s all.”

“Did you date?”

“No!”

“Then, why’s he here?”

“How am I supposed to know?” You ask in frustration. You’ve been asking the same question yourself. “He’s different. He’s…”

“Hot, gorgeous, beautiful…?” Jaehyung mocks as you seem to search for words.

“Whatever you wanna call it” You say, impatient with the way he keeps joking around with you. “But I was about to say that he doesn’t look like himself. Like the guy I had the crush on. Maybe- Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”

“And- Still, you’re going with him?”

“I- You know, it might be nothing.”

“Yeah, and he might be a jerk. Look, this is what we can do for the day-  You’re leaving with me today. We can do something fun that won’t end up with you getting hurt by the morning and leave me to take care of this chaos by myself. Deal?” You watch him manner his hand to the busy but now quiet coffee shop.

“What about your project?” He shrugs

“It’s almost done, I won’t add anything from anyone else by this point, so I can seat back and do nothing. So? Deal?“

“Deal.” You shake his extended hand to you with a self-assertive smile.

[scandeniall]

mirrors for friends ch //3

pairing: TBD x reader

| prev | next | masterlist

wc: 1428

Ch 3: New Month, New Plans

“Mom and dad are back,” Atsumu jokes as you and Iwaizumi come back from your food run. Rolling your eyes you set the boxes of pizza you were holding on the table. “Mom, can ya make my plate.” Kurro’s laugh fills the living room as he chimes in. “Yeah please, we’re so hungry. Dad, can I have something to drink.” Iwaizumi throws the roll of paper towel at Kuroo to which he catches flawlessly. “I hate this band.”

“I second that Iwa.” You then proceed to wash your hands, taking some paper towel from Kuroo who had joined you in the kitchen. You ignore Kuroo’s quip about both of you loving the band as you maneuver around the tight kitchen. “How many slices do you want Tsumu,” you yell from across the bar separating your kitchen and living room. “Wait, are you really going to do it?” the drummer questions glancing up from his phone to see his three bandmates trying to move around the too small space. “If it keeps your ass from trying to squeeze in here too.” 

“I knew you loved me. 3 please.” With that, you move into your cabinet to grab 2 plates, turning around and running straight into Iwaizumi who is holding a can of beer. “Fuck, I’m so sorry Hajime,” you quickly look around you assess the damages. The majority of the liquid had gotten onto his shirt. “It was my fault (Y/N).” he shrugs as you attempt to dab a paper towel onto his shirt to soak up the liquid.

“So that's what it takes to get (Y/N) to rub on my chest. Noted” Kuroo says, eying the two of you with amusement. That causes you both to look over at your guitarist, you flicking him off as he laughs. “I’m kidding.” he answers, putting his hands up in defense. “Yo, (Y/N) it's cool. Don’t worry about it. We always told you that you needed a place with a bigger kitchen.” You shrug, “None of you have given me bigger kitchen money. Quite sad.” You pick up the plates that you'd placed down before brushing past your drummer to grab pizza for you and Atsumu. “Mind if I toss this in the washer. I can barely stay sane around you three with a dry shirt.”

“Sorry that you're the boring member,” Atsumu yells out. 

“Yeah, sorry grandpa. But, go ahead. Hurry up though so we can get this meeting started.” You decide to tease, not even bothering to face him. Iwaizumi shakes his head, before trying to squeeze past you. A warmth fills the spot on your lower back, from where the drummer placed his hand to gently move you out the way. “Trying to rush us out, I see.” Iwaizumi teases before disappearing through your hallway. “I always want you guys out of here. I hate you all”

A few minutes later the final member of your band makes his way back into your living room, this time missing a shirt. Your eyes trail across the tattoos that littered his body. The dragon that covered his deltoid and onto his chest seemed different. You made a mental note to ask him if he added something to it later. He settles on the bigger couch, next to Kuroo who had been stretched out and taking up your entire couch. He had missed the way you scolded the guitarist for getting more comfortable than you in your apartment, and only shifted once the drummer came. Kuroo’s refusal to move for you caused you to have to share your giant recliner with Atsumu, who claimed he's only sharing his favorite seat with you because you bought him his food. 

“Someone’s been working out, it's getting a little hot in here. Buff daddy Iwaizumi.” Kuroo whistles out, jokingly fanning himself.”

“You wish you were as buff as Iwa,” you say back. Kuroo waves you off before clapping his hands.”Now that we’re all together, let's talk. So April.” You lightly elbow the bassist next to you who was typing away at his phone” You return his glare with a sweet smile as he finishes his text, locking his phone.”

“I know Bauhaus and Dusk Til Dawn, both emailed and wanted us back sometime during the month,” you say. “I didn’t give them a date, because we needed to check our schedules. How's it looking for everyone.” You mentioned two of the bars you guys had performed at previously. This was how Mirrors For Friends ended every month, preparing for the upcoming one. The four of you would get together, and set dates for intended shows, youtube recording days, other social media, practices and everything. All around your regular schedules. Your schedule offered the most flexibility, as you only worked Monday-Friday, but the other guys were a little more complicated. Kurro had to juggle school, and his student teaching. Atsumu had to work around coaching and games, and then Iwaizumi had to work around tattooing and those appointments.

“Only major shit I have this month is a group project with some people in my cohort. I can just schedule that around. Its due at the end of the month”

“I’ll probably have a few more late practices near the second and last weekends. Tournaments are coming up. Gotta whip the little losers into shape.” Atsumu chimes in. “I’m always up for the late night shit though.”

“I have a few sessions this month,” Iwaizumi starts scrolling through his phone. “Most are during weekdays so those are fine, but I do have a few longer sessions. 4 hour tattoo on the first Saturday. Won’t be done until around 8.”

You nod, pulling out your own phone to share a group calendar. “Mark off days and times you guys know don’t work and we’ll go from there.” Two of the three men pull out their phones and you eye the third man next to you. 

“What? Ya told me to put my phone down.” Atsumu smirks from beside you and you withhold the urge to strangle him. “My lovely Iwa. Dearest Kuroo, can one of you please get our bandmate before I murder him,” you saw sweetly staring the blonde dead in the eyes.

“No murdering Atsumu”

“I’ll say you didn’t do it”

The other two members remark simultaneously. Kuroo is clearly the only real friend you have. “Tsumu, c’mon be serious. Please,” you decide to groan out flopping back on the giant chair. “Fine, only cause ya said please.” Atsumu pulls up his phone, flopping back as well resting his head on your shoulder as he fulfils your request. 

“Hey Iwa-” you hum out as you wait for the boys to finish. He gives you a quick look, signaling you to continue. “I think I want another tattoo this month, it's a small one. Think you can squeeze me in during my lunch break?” The shop he worked at was within walking distance of your office, so you heading over there on occasion wasn’t anything unusual. 

“Sure, just let me know when and I’ll make sure I’m already set up for you.”

“Thanks Iwa. You're the best. Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Those words also weren’t unusual among you four. Even, to your most annoying bandmate, you tended to remind your bandmates that you did love them. They were your best friends and you all tend to exchange the words to one another. It was a shared sentiment, and was always understood. 

The rest of your evening continued as you all made out your relatively stable plan for the month. You’d all agreed on your performance days. One on the first friday, April 3rd and the other on the third saturday, April, 19. You’d triple checked with the boys to make sure, before quickly sending out your confirmations to the two bars. You all also agreed to get some youtube footage those days, vlogs, and just recording a few covers during your practices. At some point Iwaizumi’s newly clean and dried shirt returned, but not without Atsumu’s joke of missing the good view. 

Shortly after you found your own eyes drooping, your head found its way onto Atsumu’s shoulder.

“Aw look at our little leader. All sleepy n shit.” His annoying voice was enough to almost instantly wake you up.  You heard Kuroo coo something about you being adorable when you're not talking, and even Iwaizumi agreeing and laughing at your expense. “Only time (Y/N) is tolerable.” 

“Yeah, it's time for you all to get the hell out of my apartment.”

a/n: Just a little platonic band dynamic action here. This is me actually getting into plot now. I already wrote out the ideas for the next 2 chapters. Anyways, this au is actually so much fun to write, and while i love my other series and they're more read, this one makes me :). I love writing friendship dynamics so much. 

Anyways if someone wants to be on the taglist hmu.

[courtesansofrome]

almost is never enough | noah [litg]

almost is never enough | noah [litg]

pairing: noah x female!oc (alba navarro)

description: we have learned that the heart wants what it wants, but will it be enough?

warnings: no fucking idea i'm sorry

wc: 1.8k (and worth it, i'm proud of this one)

Everybody in the communal bedroom was sleeping soundly and, for once, the snoring was not coming from Noah. The golden eyed man laid awake the bed he shared with Hope, his heart pounding in his chest at the fact that soon enough, the person next to him would no longer be Hope, but Alba. His Alba. A small smile found its way to his lips despite his crippling anxiety at the thought.

Everything in the Villa would violently change. The entire dynamics of the group would be thrown off, and Noah wondered whether Hope, Bobby and even the rest of the crew would ever forgive them. He hated the thought of hurting their feelings, and he hated how twisted the situation had become. In part, it had been his fault. He had played a game and in fear of breaking hearts he had let things go on for too long, only to break Alba’s and his own. 

In that moment, Noah doubted whether they should proceed as discussed. Perhaps what would be best for everyone involved would be to simply let the remainder of the summer fly by, and be together once they went back to England? Would that cause less damage? Would people hate them less?

In the light of his doubts, he sat up on the bed calmly to avoid awakening Hope. However, as they always did and without fail, his eyes scanned the room for Alba. He was equally joyous and frustrated at the sight of her. 

She was sleeping soundly, in all of her groundbreaking beauty. God, she was breathtaking. Her gentle features seemed so harmless in the twilight, and the sheer peace that Noah felt as he gazed at her was comforting. Yet, to see her in the arms of another man made him sick to his stomach. He fought the urge to stand up and walk over to Alba and Bobby to rip her away from his arms and into his own. Noah was surprised at his own feelings, as he had never been a possessive man. But as with everything else in his mind and heart, Alba changed that.

Noah shared his head and got out of bed, and headed out of the bedroom to make his way to the terrace. He chuckled on his way out. Was there anywhere else that a man in an Alba situation would go? Alba had made everyone in the Villa doubt their realities, and he was far from the only one to shelter himself in the terrace to think about her in peace. Yet he was the only one that had taken ownership of her heart there.

He had barely made it out of the bedroom when he heard a quiet voice.

“Noah?” He turned to find a sleepy Alba, her coffee eyes smaller and laced with tiredness, her voice gentle yet groggy, his name no more than a mere whisper out of her mouth.

“Dove,” Noah replied, walking over to her, taking her hand. “You were asleep. second ago.”

Alba’s heart almost burst at the nickname, and a sweet smile took over her lips, turning Noah into putty. She then smiled sheepishly. “I guess I can always feel when you’re not close. There’s something missing in me.”

Noah smiled broadly, his hand reaching to cup her cheek, caressing softly as she leaned into it. “Quite poetic, there.”

Alba frowned and slapped his hand away before giggling. “You’ve done it. You’ve turned me into a proper melt.”

Noah smirked and reached out to wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him.  

Alba smiled and placed her hands to rest lightly on Noah’s chest, as she looked up at his eyes. “Tell me, Noah. Am I loyal, or pathetic, for fancying you?”

Noah’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“After everything. After Hope, and Blake, and Hope again. What am I?”

Noah sighed deeply in defeat, and tightened his grip on her waist. “You're mine, Alba. That's what you are.”

Alba looked away promptly. His. A shiver ran up her spine. Didn’t that sound so perfect? Too perfect. If the English sun peeking through the clouds after a pouring rain on a warm summer day had a sound, it would sound like Noah calling Alba his. But Alba knew better. It was nothing but a fairytale. 

“Yours, Noah?” Alba sighed and took a step back. “Am I? Am I yours? Or almost yours?”

Noah looked at Alba quizzically, completely confused by her sudden distance. “Technicalities.” He reached out for her again, but Alba took another step back. “What's wrong?” Noah asked, suddenly growing worried.

“Almost, is what’s wrong Noah. That simple almost. The thought of us just being an almost. Don’t tell me you having been worrying about what will happen at the final recouping.”

“Alb-” Noah looked at his hands and sighed.

“We both have. And I’m scared. Shit, I’m petrified. What if that is all we ever are, Noah? Almost lovers?” Alba raised her hands in the air in despair. “What if you back out and I’m left for the rest of my life with what ifs and could haves and regrets, trying to tell myself that maybe we weren't right and knowing that is a lie?” Her eyes teared up, and Noah opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. “Knowing that we were so close, so fucking close to being in love?”

In love.

The moment those words left Alba’s mouth, a dam in Noah’s heart broke and he  closed the space between them, only to grasp her face with both of his hands and press her forehead to his. The thought of their journey being reduced to an almost broke his heart. He couldn’t imagine a life where Alba Navarro was not in the picture, and he didn’t want to. 

“Hey, hey,” He murmured softly, caressing her face, his soothing voice sounding like a lullaby. “That won't happen. Look at you, Alba, looking like my salvation in the Spanish moonlight, and then ask me if I’m doubting us.” Alba opened her mouth to protest, but Noah shushed her. “I never doubted us. And I never will. What we have, Alba,” Noah freed one of his hands to grasp hers and raise it to his chest, where beneath was his pounding heart. “is the realest thing I’ve ever felt. And we haven’t even been able to fully explore it.”

A single tear fell down Alba’s cheek, and Noah kissed it away. 

“Almost is never enough, Alba. But this?” Noah waved a finger between them, pointing at their chests. “This isn’t and will never be an almost. I’ll make sure of it.”

Alba gazed into his eyes, drunk on his proximity. It felt like gazing at the stars, and being part grounded and part awed. She then nodded slowly, and after a while, she spoke.

“Now who’s the melt here, eh?”

In the Spanish moonlight, the couple laughed in between kisses, and the stars cried at the fact that no one would ever put to paper the greatest of this particular love story.

[gaspbrat]

Senior Year Hues

not blues

au where IT is just a normal travelling clown.

Georgie is alive and well.

As is the prom haze.

warnings: angery jealous eds, swearing

ENJOy, I don’t know why I never posted this. Undoubtedly was part of an entire series.

wc: 3500+

Gretchen Tozier was a beloved and respected 1968 partially black Barracuda “carefully” handed down through the family. Gifted to Richie’s uncle in ‘71, pawned off on Richie’s dad following his uncle’s first DUI and the damage that came with it in January of '72.

Two matte grey mismatched panels on the driver side door and the front bumper were added, hoped to be finished by '73 so Richie’s older sister could joyride through her senior year, seven years later. Thanksgiving that same year, though, dear Uncle Andy rolled through Derry again. He borrowed the car for about twenty-six minutes before overturning it on an embankment near Neibolt. Gretchen was towed, fixed and released back to his father a few months later. His uncle spent the night in the drunk tank, receiving his second and final DUI. Andy hasn’t returned to Derry or their lives since.

To his sister’s distaste, she would not be able to take it a few hundred miles down the coast to college with her like she had hoped. His parents told her she needed to buy her own, especially with her living on campus. She does, a beat up ‘88 Mitsubishi with peeling forest green paint and a bumper that didn’t match.

Richie, upon turning 15, bought her off of his dad for fifty dollars and a pay stub in '91. She has been appreciated properly for the next three wonderful years. Only the finest of company near Ol’ Gretchie.

Eddie definitely hated the ridiculous, loud, obnoxious piece of junk. He definitely didn’t end up falling for that piece of junk just like he did with its driver. Out of the question.

He didn’t get excited when he heard the rhythmic drumming of the old engine approaching his street from a block away.

He most certainly did not love the homey fabric of the seats with endless rips in them or the faint lingering smell of the little trees Richie puts up to mask the ghost of cigarettes past. (Eddie is almost certain they aren’t Richie’s, but if they were he knew Richie would never admit it.)

Eddie did not love that car. Whatsoever. But he did find a place in his heart for all the memories made with it. With him.

So when Richie told him he had to take it to the dump, Eddie nearly lost it.

“What do you mean you’re trashing it, I thought you loved that thing?!”

“Eds, why are you getting so upset, I thought you hated it?”

“I do (not), but… it’s sad seeing you just get rid of it like that.”

“You’re gonna miss ol’ Gretchie aren’t you, spaghetti?”

Richie knew his car didn’t actually need to be trashed entirely it just needed a few major repairs that he knew he would never be able to afford. At least not soon; not for another three months until he could save enough. And if Eddie found out he’d dump his savings into that thing no question. His little hypochondriac was far too good to  him. Even if he wasn’t his yet.

Eddie always was ready to help Richie any way he could, he knew that wholeheartedly, but his stupid damn pride would not allow it.

Richie took up working overtime on the weekends just so he could get back to driving his little Eddie bear around Derry as soon as possible.

Gretchen was a staple in the Tozier’s Promposals. She accompanied his parents to their prom. He was not about to break this tradition just because of his bank account. Eddie deserved the best carriage for his first prom. He was going to have to swallow his pride and buckle in for the most agonizing waiting game of his life, so far.

“Hey, Richie,” Eddie called over to his friend, remembering an invitation he was to extend, snapping Richie from his brooding, “Bill’s having a sleepover tonight, did you want to go? He said you can pick the movie.”

Eddie’s smile was so genuine and hopeful the he almost said yes just so he could keep that smile right where it belonged always but he remembered he had to close tonight and work the mid shift tomorrow. And Bill never let him pick the movies, ever.

“Wish I could but I work tonight. Sorry, buddy.” he patted Eddie’s shoulder and gave him a weak smile.

“You’ll get along without me though, won’t you, Eds?”

“I guess… yea.”

Richie immediately wanted to take it back just to see that smile. Just to see those damn dimples.

He seemed to have gotten his wish when he noticed those big brown eyes light up.

“What about tomorrow? We could go see that movie you wanted to see?”

Again, almost horrendously, Eddie looked so hopeful to be spending time with him that Richie’s frozen heart thawed, just slightly.

“My old man wants me to help him get my sister’s junk out of the house and down to her dorm this weekend, shit, I’m really sorry Eds.”

Richie really really hoped Eddie would leave at that but of course not. He really wanted trashmouth to suffer even if he didn’t know he was suffering.

“..I could help?”

Eddie knew he just grasping at straws here but he really missed being annoyed by this dumb stupid asshole every day even though he would never tell him that.

“Eds, I’d love for you to,” the smaller boy’s eyes twinkled, “but there probably wouldn’t be enough room?”

He knew he didn’t sound convincing. Not at all. He just didn’t want to think about it anymore. He wanted to just get work done so he could get paid and then never ever ever have to see this look on Eddie’s face again.

“Oh. Yea, you-you’re probably right, um, sorry I asked. Maybe next week, I guess.” Eddie decided it was best to just give him his space at that point, turning away from him, trying to end the conversation.

“Eds, wait-”

“Stop fucking calling me Eds.”

Richie didn’t see Eddie for the rest of the weekend after he dropped him off at Bill’s that night. Partially from working almost the entire weekend, partially because Eddie had avoided him as much as he could.

Somehow Eddie managed to steer clear of anything remotely related to Richie that next Tuesday.

The taller boy caught a couple glimpses of him the previous school day but he would disappear before anything could be said between them.

Richie sauntered over to the rest of the losers at lunch to find Eddie absent like the day before.

“Hey, where’s Spaghedward?”

“We thought you would know, didn’t you guys just have chem?” Ben answered from beside Stan.

“Yea but he darted off somewhere in a hurry. I thought he’d be here.” Richie turned around hoping to spot Eddie coming from the bathroom or something.

“He seemed kind of upset when I talked to him earlier, what’s going on?” Beverly interjected after swallowing her first spoon of peach yogurt.

Stan ate in silence while the others discussed what could be wrong. He eyed Richie with what others would call just blatant disgust but hid it behind his thermos of chicken noodle soup.

“Yo, Stan, what do you think?” Richie finally asked him directly. He knew something.

“I think you should talk to him.” Ben responded before realizing he wasn’t the one with the answer Richie wanted.

“I second that. Talk to him.” Mike said around his turkey and cheddar sandwich.

Beverly and Bill simply nodded as they picked through their lunches.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea.” Stan very quietly said, focusing pointedly on his sandwich.

“Why not?” Richie started to get impatient. Stan knew something he didn’t and it was clearly upsetting enough that Stan couldn’t hide his distaste. More than usual.

“He clearly just wants some space, I think you should respect that, okay?”

Stan started to raise his voice slightly and that immediately made Richie eight times more concerned knowing that Stan, of all people, was trying to keep Eddie away from him. Stan quickly picked up his tray and dumped it into the trash before heading down one of the halls.

Richie gave Beverly a kick under the table.

She initially was annoyed but softened when she saw the beat up Docs that had kicked her, nodding without a word. She kicked back twice, the second kick stronger than the first.

“Ow,”

“What, Richie?” Bill raised his head.

“Nothing just kicking myself.”

Lunch proceeded in near silence. Richie was silent for once while the others gossiped about their classes. He was debating the decision to ditch his last period to be early for work. Craig would appreciate him showing up and relieving him early, anyway.

The others returned to their classes and the day sailed by. After school most of them, save for Richie and Mike, met up by the racks to see each other off. Beverly and Ben made a plan to head to the library to cram for their English final tomorrow morning. Bill was planning on tagging along but decided to spend some time with Georgie instead.

Stan knew he didn’t want Ben to third wheel, even though it was evident Bill would be the outlier.

“Bye guys, see you Monday!” Eddie called to the other three losers as he and Stan got on their bikes to head home.

“Oh, hey can we stop by the store really quick? I need to pick up some more of the Nutty Buddies for my mom.”

“Sure.” Eddie didn’t think twice about the grocery run given Mrs. Uris had an acute craving for peanut butter after four.

He was unaware, however, that Stan had set a plan in motion.

Just so happens that the general store was directly across the street from the arcade. Eddie immediately got excited and thought to tell Stan they should go say hi to Richie. Then he remembered Richie telling him he had to help his sister today and brushed it off.

The two went inside to pick up the Nutty Buddies. Stan bought a kit-kat and a bag of chips for him to eat after dinner later.

“I don’t know how you can eat all that junk Stan, how do you sleep at night with your teeth just-,” Eddie stopped nagging momentarily as something outside of the store caught his attention. A dark green, vaguely familiar, car pulled up outside the arcade.

He saw Richie pop out and walk into the arcade with a can of Shasta cola in his hand and a snickers hanging from his mouth, leaving who Eddie assumed was his sister to drive off.

Weird. Thought she would still be in New York right about now.

“Eddie whats going on? You stopped yelling at me.”

“Shut up Stan, look!”

Eddie pointed out the window towards a car he noticed was parked every other season in the driveway.

“Wait, I thought you said he was helping his sister.” Stan inquires further, knowing far better.

“He said he was.” Eddie was immediately disappointed for a reason he wasn’t sure of yet.

Their investigation was put on hold while the clerk rang up their items. She tried starting small talk but Stan just replied curtly with, “Not interested, thank you” while waving a twenty in her general direction.

Eddie supplied a ‘thanks’ to Stan for buying the goods without once looking away from the arcade, observing a cloud of teenage girls huddled in a corner. Their ring leader was approaching the glass and Eddie started to feel dread at the pit of his stomach. He nudged Stan and then started bagging erratically.

They gathered the items and bolted out the door, trying to make sure they could see Richie through the glass without him seeing them.

“Wait, who’s that girl?” Eddie said after a long period of silence.

“Looks like Melissa Cromwell. She’s pretty hot du-.” Stan passed on the general rumor he heard relentlessly from around town. They made him sick but she was definitely well recognized by most boys.

“Shut up, Stan, who asked you?” Eddie whipped out, hoping his words stung like the sting he felt in his chest at this moment.

“You.. did-”

“What the fuck is she doing?”

“Is that a trick question?”

He scoffed but let Eddie’s rambling continue, however, because he had a feeling that Eddie cared a lot more than it already seemed he did. He hasn’t said anything to Stan like ‘Hey I’m bangin’ Richie now, deal with it’ but they’ve been spending a lot of time in each other’s company as of late.

He also knew exactly what a little jealous sap Kaspbrak was like so he didn’t intervene; didn’t mean he couldn’t feed the flame just a bit. Richie was being dismissive and kind of a dick lately, not that that’s anything new. Stan just didn’t want to see his friend tossed over a cliff over this dirt bag.

“Oh my God he’s making her laugh? Look- look at that!”

“I mean, yea? They have Lit together.” Stan announced with his all-knowing bird brain. He saw all and only repeated what he wanted to.

“Why do you care about what Richie fuckin’ Tozier does with his wa-”

Eddie turned to Stan and gave him the look.

Stan shut his mouth tight.

“He lied to me Stanley and know he’s chatting up that hot chick.”

He would never say it to Eddie’s face, (Richie’s face is another story) but Stanley didn’t truly understand what Eddie saw in that asshole. Richie was a dick about three-hundred percent of the time. A dick to Eddie three-hundred percent of the time. He was also for some reason intensely obsessed with his mom.

Stan decided it was best to just let that ship sink on its own eventually when the captain abandoned it. However, if he saw a time bomb ticking down the hull of that ship, he would hop on that lifeboat without a single word and paddle away, letting the pieces fall behind him.

But he couldn’t do that to Eddie.

Right?

The pair noticed the girls all call his name as they exited through the glass doors, cackling with their mob mentality. Stan found them repulsive but knew most guys saw the other qualities.

“Eh, Richie makes a lot of girls laugh sometimes. I guess they think he’s funny?” Stan attempted to level out some of the doubt surrounding his friend.

Much to Eddie’s dismay, Richie started to head back outside of the arcade.

He let out a panicked ‘oh fuck’ before darting off into the alley and biking through it, he didn’t care where he went he just wanted to get far from there.

Stan was struggling with the bag and his kickstand and failed to notice the quick departure of his friend.

He started off a moment later but hesitated when he saw Richie following Melissa further down the street holding a pair of sunglasses and a sharpie in his hands.

Bright neon lights blinked in the arcade window with a welcoming glow. It felt like home to Richie. Except he worked there and wasn’t allowed to play (unless it was empty because it was so slooow after eight).

He got out of his sister’s car with a quick ‘thanks, sis’ before closing the door and heading into work. He wondered what bullshit he’d have to put up with today as he munched down on his snickers.

Richie immediately noticed Melissa and her biters at Pacman not far from the counter. He knew all too well that it yielded almost no tickets at all.

“What’s up, Craig?” he called from around his almost-gone snickers.

The mid-twenties blonde looked up from his comic to acknowledge the brunette boy before him with his hand outstretched in a fist. They bumped fists before Richie set down his shasta on the glass prize display case so he could vault the counter. He landed with a huff loud enough to peak the interest of one of the vapid cheerleaders. It wasn’t hard, none of them were at all focused on collecting dots.

“Those girls came in about a half hour ago. One of them was asking about you.” Craig was telling Richie offhandedly while the younger brunette took off his leather jacket to replace it with his work shirt.

“They’re annoying please, just, like, give them your number and be done with it, totes,” Craig started to bust out laughing while he took off his work shirt and headed into the back of the store.

Richie bent down to put his keys and jacket under the register, pausing when he heard a light giggle from above him.

Fuck.

He slowly got up to face whoever was waiting on the other side of the counter.

“Heey, Richie.” Melissa was leaning on her hand with her elbow propped up on the glass of the counter.

Richie took small a step back from the register.

“Hi, Melissa.”

“I, um, wanted to exchange these tickets for something.” she reached into her back pocket and brought out a pitiful stack of tickets.

Absolutely pathetic.

“Okay.” Richie took them and put them into the ticketing counting machine next to him.

27

“You have twenty-seven.” He said back plainly.

“Ooh, jackpot.” she said slyly smiling as she bit on the end of her sunglasses.

“You can get a finger puppet, a pocket alien” He began listing the lowest tier of redemption.

“A pair of dice,”

“Or jelly bracelets.” The short list came to an end, his attention being returned to the glinting eyes across the counter. He took note of how flattering this direct light would be on anEone else. He pushed it back and awaited her decision.

“Can I get that one?” she pointed to a particularly adorable bear toy.

“Oooh, no sorry. You don’t have enough tickets. How sad.” he clicked his tongue, cocking his head to the side.

“How many more do I need?” She asked with a horrible attempt at puppy dog eyes.

“One.”

“Let me check,” she dug into her back pocket, bouncing from foot to foot.

“Ah-hah!” Melissa pulled out a single ticket, setting it on the counter and sliding it across to him.

“Lucky you.” he said so sarcastically he almost sounded believable.

Richie turned the ticket over before putting it into the machine revealing red numbers and a call me in sloppy cursive loops with,his favorite, a little winky face. He paused, collected his nerves before presenting her with a coy smile.

“I’m sorry, this ticket has been tampered with. I can’t accept this.” he slid it back, grinning.

“Fine. Then I’ll take the,” she leaned much farther than necessary over the counter to point to a tiny alien on a key chain.

“Weird ass alien thing.”

“All yours.”

“Thank you.”

She winked at him before returning to her gang of much too giddy single sheeple friends.

He couldn’t wait to tell Eddie all about this petty ordeal but then he remembered he probably wouldn’t see his best friend until tomorrow at lunch if Eddie showed. Maybe he’d sneak out tonight.

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw Melissa and company head towards the exit.

“Bye Richie.” they all called in shrill unison as they left the arcade, giggling manically to each other. Melissa dangled her alien keychain from hier pinkie as she turned away.

Fuck he hated his job.

He crossed his arms on the glass that he would need to clean anyway and rested his head on top of them. His nose bumped something on the counter causing him to jolt up.

Fuck.

Richie picked the glasses up off the counter before vaulting it again. He walked with some urgency through the glass door after Melissa.

Lucky for him she was lagging behind her friends while they undoubtedly chattered among themselves about how perfect him and Mel would be together. How great they would look together at prom, most likely.

“Melissa!”

Eddie’s bike was thrown into the dirt far from the arcade while he sat down on a rock and used his inhaler. He hasn’t biked that fast since they had to chase Bill to that stupid fucking house on neibolt. That house that he broke his arm in. The house that the clown tried to eat him and all of his friends in.

That goddamn house where Richie set his broken arm after relentlessly trying to keep his focus on that motherfucking shit clown.

He coached his breathing back down to mildly panicked just before he saw Stan biking rapidly towards him. He seemed shocked.

He immediately worried if Richie had seen his buddy Stan and stopped him.

“Hey Stan, what’cha got there, lube for you dad?”

“No it’s Eddie’s snacks, he bolted like a bitch when you came out.”

“Oh damn, well, I got Melissa’s digits and I would have wanted to tell him that his mom’s gonna have to wait unt-”

“Eddie!”

Stan shook his shoulder lightly.

“Wait, when did you get here?”

“Like a minute ago while you were lost in thought, dude.”

“Shit. Damn.”

“You okay?” his only sanity broke off at Stan’s useless question.

“No, Stanley, Im not o’ fuckin’ kay.”

Thanks for readin’! Much love