#I may need to just hush all notifications and check it when I feel like cause my phone can’t survive this

[foldingfittedsheets]

Tumblr did some kind of notif update again and my phone is straight up chugging through its battery as a result.

[heejayjake]

𝒀𝒐𝒖’𝒓𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒎𝒐𝒅𝒆𝒍 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍, 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒓𝒖𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒓𝒖𝒏𝒘𝒂𝒚 🔞 𝑱𝒂𝒌𝒆*

“Alright listen up ladies we’ll be starting the show very soon and we’ll be doing one last check on your outfits because we don’t want any wardrobe malfunctions to happen throughout this show! Good luck for tonight ladies!” The staff yell backstage as you took one last look at yourself in the mirror wearing an black ultra-thin transparent embroidered lace bra set along with some matching panties exposing your ass. You took a deep breath as you felt the adrenaline rushed through your veins. Hands trembling, cold sweat beaded out of your head, you just felt so much mixed emotions and the fact that your boyfriend Heeseung didn’t know that you’re re-participating a fucking fashion show, you just told him that you’ll be out with your friends and that’s it.

You were an ex Victoria secret’s model and when you started dating Heeseung, he told you to quit cause he doesn’t like the idea that you’re job is to cat walk on stage literally half naked in-front of god knows how many people, if Heeseung finds out about this (which he probably would) he’d slap the shit out of you. You decided to contact the company again and they immediately accepted and agreed for you to take part in this show because they miss having you as their model and all the audience will definitely be shocked by your sudden comeback.

You couldn’t handle all the abusive, manipulative, and hurtful shit you have to go through with Heeseung and you needed to get Heeseung off your mind for this night and so that is why you decided to spontaneously take part on this show.

The lights dimmed and the audience hushed in anticipation. The music began to play and the first runner up model appeared. You’re so blessed that you would be the last to walk on stage so you have time to cover up some bruises that Heeseung implanted on you with makeup.

20 minutes have passed and it was finally your turn to walk, the stylist fixing your hair and makeup for the last time and navigated you to the back of the curtain behind the stage. “Good luck y/n, you got this” the staff whispered tapping your exposed back with a gentle smile on his face. You left him a smile and took on last deep breath while one of the model did her last ending pose and walked back behind the curtains of where you’re standing.

As you walked towards the center of the stage to do your starting pose, the audience erupted with cheers, shocks, and every eye of the audience was glued to you, and as the music changed tempo, it seemed to take on a more seductive tone and the atmosphere seems to be more heated with every men attendees looking at your curves and probably eye fucking you. You walked through the stage with full confidence and with Heeseung to be nowhere found in your mind. You felt assertive empowering to show off your body in front of everyone, and to feel the admiration and adoration of the crowd. You did your last ending pose before walking backstage again and you could hear more of the crowd cheering and hyping you up. You felt proud again. You’ve always missed this feeling. You really miss this job.

The show has ended, walking behind the narrow area backstage towards your makeup room with ever staff around you praising you for stage presence and your outfit, exclaiming how much they missed you and all those. You sat down on your seat, staring at yourself with a proud smile and taking a shot of vodka. You took your phone out from your bag and checked your phone filling up with dozens of notifications and missed calls.

You scrolled through the media seeing your recent walk way pictures being fast published. 100+ messages 58 missed calls all from Heeseung. You know he’s mad but this has always been a job that you loved and you missed all the memories you’ve made with everyone here.

“Hey, y/n may I come in?”. A man’s voice coming out from your door as you took another shot and covering some exposed parts of your body a bit before opening the door. “Oh hey Jake!” You smiled happily welcoming him into your room. “I’m so glad your back y/n, and you look beautiful as ever”. Jake spoke while eyeing you from head to toe. You smiled and nod while you snaked your hands from his chest up to the back of neck. You gave him a seductive gaze from his eyes to lips as he does the same as well and quickly pulled you in for a deep kiss.

You got pushed backwards as you felt your ass hitting your desk whilst you were still making out with Jake. Your phone starts vibrating and you checked to see who it was and ofcourse it has to be Heeseung. “You’re still with that dipshit?” Jake scoffed while rolling his eyes. You smiled and said threw your phone across the room then placing you hands back on Jake’s neck. “Sorry I didn’t believe you when you said he’d make a bad boyfriend. I should have just chose you as my boyfriend, but anyways I’ve had enough with him so please make me forget about him by touching me and fucking hard Jake” you spoke sensationally and slightly moaned his name from your sentence.

Jake smirked at your comment while he unbutton an oversized white long sleeve tee, slowing exposing the black lace lingerie you wore earlier for the show. His eyes plastered to your breast and caressing the slowly and gently leaving a moan of satisfaction from you. He kissed you again, deeper this time as your tongue fighting for dominance with his and you felt your body melt into his sending you pulsing waves of pleasure through you.

You wanted him, wanted to feel him inside you. You moaned as he moved his hand between my legs, finding the source of your pleasure. His touch was gentle yet firm, and you gasped as he teased and tantalized you. You wanted more, and you begged him to fuck you on this desk. He turned you around, so you’re facing the mirror then gave you a hard spank. He unbuckled his belt and lowered his pants and boxers, stroking himself before entering you. He tore your panties apart with his fingers and you felt him immediately entering you from behind making you scream from his size.

The sensation was overwhelming, and you cried out as he kept thrusting faster each second until you’ve reached your peak. He followed soon after and pulled out painting your ass with white stripes as he collected his cum in his hands from your ass and brought it to your mouth to give you a taste.

“Fuck y/n, i’m gonna miss your pussy a lot” Jake spoke while he’s still catching his breath. You turned around and looked at him as you whispered “who says you’re not gonna fuck me again?”.

[ratherbefangirling]

🎭The Truth Untold 🎭

Part 10

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader(main) ; Taehyung x reader.

Genre : Mafia AU, Spy AU, future Soft Yandere, Angst, Drama, Romance, Slow burn

Synopsis : You discover your old best friend is now the head of the most dangerous mafia in the country. You go in to avenge your brother's death but things are more complicated than they seem.

Trigger Warning ⚠️: comments on weight. Mentions of previous sexual assault (not between the main pairing).

Note📝: I'm making up university classes to suit the story. I've tried making it so that the weight can resemble the readers weight hopefully since I've not mentioned if the reader is over or underweight which is slightly tricky. I'm sorry if its messy.

Masterlist

Previous / Next

Bring back Blonde/Blue JK anyways on to the story

Jungkook stands in attention at your return.

"Is Lisa here?" He asks.

"No, what happened."

" We fought so she walked out of the house I thought she'd come back but she hasn't."

"Wait let me call her?" You say

"Let's go inside." Taehyung suggests. You nod and open the door.

You ring your sisters phone as Taehyung gives Jungkook a cup of tea, seeing as the boy was out for so long.

"I'm just so worried about her, I don't c-care if she throws me out *hic* I .. I j-just want her to b-be safe."

"She's not picking up Tae." You tell Taehyung worry apparent in your voice.

"Let me try." He offers.

"Oh Jungkook don't worry once we find her Noona will knock some sense in her thick head." You comfort the boy.

"She was .. *hic* she was so angry. I didn't mean to make her mad."

You were too aware of your sisters anger and how it got the best of her. Your sister might look like an angel but sometimes she was no better than a devil.

"Her phone is switched off." Taehyung informs gravely.

Jungkook's crying increases. You can't help but feel pity for the poor boy.

"Hush don't worry we will find her."

You check your phone which has a notification which you didn't notice because it was on silent.

LISA : If Jungkook somehow ended at your house tell him to come back home 🏡 and it's nothing big, he is just a manchild 👶 Sorry if he disturbed you 😕 😬. Sweet dreams 😴 😘 ✨ ❤ 💕

"She texted me she's home Jungkook." You inform him. His doe eyes widen and you agree with Lisa's comment about him being a manchild but may be not in the way she meant it.

Kim Eun Ae was a formidable women with a kind smile, in her youth she was known as the nation's sweetheart. An award winning actress who had found love and sacrificed her career for the sake of her children Taehyung and Taehyun.

Taehyung's mother invited you out for dress shopping, all the other details of your engagement were already agreed upon with by your parents and Taehyung's parent 's. She was already there when you arrived straight from work.

"My beautiful daughter in law." She tells the boutique staff.

"Hello Mrs. Kim I hope I wasn't late."

"Try to be on time my dear anyhow let's start looking." You were thrown back by her attitude but honestly expecting a good MIL was like expecting chilli noodles in a dessert shop.

You try on multiple dresses to a lot of which your MIL quickly says no. The dress you've put on is a coral color and you feel like it's your best bet yet. So putting on a brave face you meet the hawk eyes of your mother in law.

"Hmm... it seems decent if only you'd been healthier it would be perfect. Why don't I recommend you my dietician. She's amazing she'll have you fit in no time maybe not by the engagement but definitely by the wedding."

You clench your teeth in irritation.

"Mrs. Kim I am tired and since none of the dresses are to your liking then maybe let's try another day." You suggest swallowing your anger.

"Right. I need to be home. Taehun must be back from his dance class."

"Have a lovely evening. I will leave first." You say.

She nods dismissively.

You hide in your car. Hands at the root of your hair.

The knock on your car window startles you.

You look up to find Jungkook.

"Jungkook.. hey.. what are you doing here." You ask.

"Just had to get a suit.. I saw you Noona so I came to say hi."

"Don't you have a seminar? Lisa and you are in the same course no?"

"Ah we share a few classes I'm doing a computer engineering and she's doing the chemical engineering one we have the basic sciences class together."

"Oh so you don't have a seminar." You conclude.

"No mine got over today." He says.

"So what's the suit for?" You ask.

"Lisa asked me to be the plus one for your engagement." He replies.

"Ah." You might have to end up being the only person in old clothes you think.

"Can you help me pick a suit Noona?"

"Me."

"Yes... if its not to much I just want Lisa to like it."

Poor boy was whipped for your sister.

"Yes, sure give me a minute."

It wasn't like you were going to do something other than moping.

Shopping for suits is not that tough. The colors and fabrics are limited. You just suggest for him to buy a nice brooch that will make his look more elegant.

"Noona I have one more request?"

"What is it Jungkook?"

"Can you help me pick up one more outfit. Its for my hyung. He's very stylish so I wanted to gift him clothes."

You do feel weirded out by the request. You don't consider Jungkook close enough but you know how clueless boys are you had one at your home. Yoongi had the most terrible style known to mankind. It was always hip never classy.

You ended up chalking up multiple options first a three piece suit in blue color, second a yellow coat with brown embroidery and lastly a black velvet coat with purple insides visible at the collars and purple crystal buttons.

Your phone rang so you excused yourself as Jungkook finalised the pickings and paid the bills.

"Thank you so much Noona." Jungkook said his cuteness overpowering you." Did you get your dress."

You sigh and nod in negative.

"Should I help you Noona?"

"I thought boys hated shopping." You tease.

"Ah.. but you helped me so much."

"It's not a big deal Jungkook-ah."

"Then let me treat you to a meal atleast."

"Fine if you insist."

"Do you want to try a pizza place.. there's this one near our uni and it's unbelievably good." He says excitement radiating.

Eating with Jungkook you realise two things one when he thinks the food is tasty he looks angry and two not worrying about the food and the amount which you consume makes you feel better.

Yoongi takes one last breath of fresh air before entering the dimly lit claustrophobic space. Slow jazz music plays, he looks around cautiously in case anyone followed him here.

He requests for a private room under the name Bang.

The waitress leads him to the private space. Two men are already seated waiting for their third.

"The space is clear." Mr. Bang says.

Yoongi nods relieved.

"What news do you have?"

"My sister is out. Jimin was the leak."

"You mean Park Jimin. Are you sure?" The second man, Minho asks.

"Yes, RM had a party for his welcome yesterday."

"I dont believe you." Minho scoffs. Mr.Bang gives him a stern look. "Last time you gave us a lead my best friend was killed by jhope."

"I only told you what I saw in his phone if your bestfriend got caught that's on him."

"You M..........." Minho swears.

Mr. Bang chatises Minho.

"Still it was because of him we could prevent our team dying when Jimin destroyed the office."

"Yes but our work and proof is gone."

"If you keep being unprofessional then I will have to drop you." Bang threatens.

"Sorry, Sir."

"Do you have anything else" Bang asks Yoongi.

Yoongi pulls out the USB he had gotten from your belongings replacing your USB with a new one. If RM got to know you betrayed him he didn't know what RM could end up doing.

"What's it?" Minho asks suspicious.

"That's my sister's data of RM. I hope you remember the deal." Yoongi checks his watch. Then gulps down one of the drinks." I will leave first." He says curtly.

"We need to go to the base and check it." Minho says." This could improve our progress to at least an eighth of what it was."

Bang nods as we watches Yoongi disappear. He did not expect a civilian to be this good at his job but then again agents didn't appear out of nowhere.

Yoongi is surprised by Jhope's presence in his room.

"What happened?" Yoongi asks.

"RM called for a meeting."

Cold sweat breaks over Yoongi's body. Did he get discovered. He was very careful. He was aware there was no going back.

He followed Jhope who led him to the main discussion room. Jiwoo too stood there. Her stance almost defensive.

RM raised his brows when he noticed Yoongi's sweat.

"Are you worried?" RM asked.

"You're the most dangerous person here and I get called in without notice it's natural to be scared."

RM smiled revealing his teeth. Yoongi was not reassured.

"I had a job for Jiwoo here but she is unable to comply. The reason she claims is because of you."

Yoongi stole a glance at Jiwoo.

"Sometimes you're more trouble than your worth but the only reason you're above ground not under is because my man Jhope here." RM tells Jiwoo.

"She claims she's pregnant with your child. Do you know of this?"

"Yes. That's why I followed them here."

"Ah what a loyal man, you and y/n took from the same side of the family." He tells Yoongi almost thoughtfully then turns to address Jiwoo. " Him I believe. You not so much. So I got you tested. Jin. Results please."

Jin hands him two envelopes.

"This is fun. This first one is a pregnancy test and the second one is a DNA test." RM shows of the envelope and proceeds to open them." Congratulations JHope you're about to become an uncle. And Yoongi you're not going to be a dad."

Yoongi almost vomits at the announcement.

"You Jung siblings have two much fun teasing innocent people don't you." RM says.

"Boss.. " Jhope starts.

"Uh huh Hoseok I'd like to hear from the miss herself. So Jiwoo tell me who's the father."

"Boss, please." Hoseok pleads.

"No I'm not angry tell me I haven't been this curious in a while... go on. I want to know what caused you to miss out on taking the contraceptive pills Jin puts his effort and I my money on."

"Jimin."

Hoseok involuntarily let's out a gasp. Jiwoo avoids looking in his direction.

"This gets interesting by the minute doesn't it." RM says looking at Jin who silently watched the scene unfold.

"It's a soap opera." Jin replies.

"I guess more work for you Jin hyung. Anyhow you're excused for the day and Jiwoo you're under house arrest and nobody will see her except me and Jin." RM says. "And Hoba don't you dare talk to Jimin."

You dread the phonecall from your mother the next day not wanting to face another round of dress shopping humiliation. Lucky for you apparently Taehyung convinced his mom to go dress shopping with you. You feel yourself relaxing.

It's a holiday and Taehyung messaged he would arrive at 12 which gives you time to soak in the bathtub and relax. You put on a rom com movie on your suggestions list. Fill the tub with Epsom salt and lavender and bubbles. Placing your tab on the rack you have put for keeping your bathing supplies. You lay back and relax till you feel pruned enough. Out of the bath you make yourself coffee and set to dry your hair. You make yourself a sandwich as you drink the coffee.

The door bell rings as you finish eating. You're still in your pajamas even if your outfit is ready. Taehyung smiles brightly at you. His grin is infectious. He makes himself at home while you get ready. Done with your makeup your hands reach out for the jewellery and land on Namjoon's necklace.

You pause. Unsure. Your neck feels empty without it and sometimes it feels like it's choking you. There is nothing wrong with the necklace. It's just the memories of the person who gave it to you.

"Y/n." Taehyung says from the other side of the door.

"Coming." You say and hurriedly put on the necklace anyway. Its hidden behind you're clothing. You match your earrings and watch. Taking one final hurried look you go out to face Taehyung.

"Come on beautiful we are getting late." Taehyung says putting on his shoes.

You nod and follow along. Taehyung drives you both to shopping district. The windy weather reminds you of another car ride. Taehyung turns on the radio which plays old music in a genre you're not familiar with. You muse about how superficial your relationship is, if it were Namjoon you'd both be fighting to put your own music or maybe he'd let you put your music if you were sad or if he was feeling generous, if it were Namjoon you'd be unable to control your grin as you went dress shopping even if it was for prom and not your....

The car halts to a stop. You get out the wind ruins your hair but you didn't bring a scarf to help prevent it fizzing your hair. You look up at the sky wondering if it would rain later.

Dress shopping with Taehyung is a relaxed and gentle affair. It's even hilarious when he comes out wearing wings or putting on dresses. By the end of the endeavour you both have new clothes even if your clothes are still with the tailor.

You decide to eat in one of the posh restaurants present in the area. The food is delicious especially due to the tiredness you feel from dress shopping for your engagement. It is a largely silent affair since both of you or mostly Taehyung (who had much more energy than you) has exhausted his energy reserve . The ringing of Taehyung's phone startles you.

It's his mom who has video called.

"Hello my beautiful son... where are you now. ?" Taehyung's mother asks.

" Me and Y/n are having a late lunch after getting our dresses." You put your utensils aside the food tasting weird suddenly.

"Did they fit?"

"Ofcourse eomma. Your daughter in law is very pretty anything she wears looks wonderful."

"You're not even engaged and you're taking her side."

"Of course not. It's a fact that nobody can look better than you eomma. "

"Ah Taehyung you flatter me well."

"What's hyung doing?" Another voice interrupts.

"Ah he's gone shopping with your future sister-in-law."

"Y/n, come." Taehyung calls you. You shift over to Taehyung's side.

"Good Afternoon Mrs.Kim and..."

"That's my baby brother Taehyun."

"Hi Taehyun."

"Hello miss." He greets curtly you're not sure he likes you.

"Taehyun is a trainee. " Taehyung informs you.

"Good genes must run in your family." You say.

"Ofcourse both my sons are so talented and handsome." Mrs. Kim comments.

"Yes ofcourse." You agree.

"Ok eomma talk to you later."

"Goodbye Mrs.Kim." the phone cuts before the end of your sentence and you try not to take it personally.

You sit down and resume eating though you're appetite is obviously affected.

"Are you ok?" Taehyung asks.

"Yes, it's just been a long day filled with excitement."

"Of course, let's go home then ok love."

You nod and give him a smile.

Wasn't this what you wanted. A normal life, picture perfect. Then why did your heart feel so cold.

Author's Note 📝

Yes so yeah that happened. I didn't know what to write and then I wrote too much to write what I actually intended to write in this chapter but yeah things are starting to make sense I hope and all loose ends are tying up. See you next time.

Remember to comment or send asks or reblog. Have a nice day.

Taglist: @sweetwolfcupcake ; @scuzmunkie ; @mercurymoons ; @mwitsmejk

[petersnya]

sight for sore eyes|| peter b. parker ||

[part. 00; jealousy]

summary:: “I watch your eyes as she walks by…” you pause, tears forming as you remember the way peter looked at her- the way you wanted him to look at you, “what a sight for sore eyes…” || when the realization hits you about peter, it’s too late. but sometimes late is just the right timing… sometimes.

word count:: 1.5k

warnings(for the whole series):: friends>enemies>lovers, mature themes/smut, cursing, slight violence, lots of angst, fluff, clueless peter

warning(for this chapter):: cursing, angst, fluff

paring:: peter parker x fem!reader

[a/n]:: wattup! peter parker (and any other teens mentioned) have been aged up to 17 and turning 18 as the story goes on! i hope you enjoy this and make sure to let me know if you want to be tagged in the parts<3 also! endgame and infinity war did not happen for the sake mine and your happiness though out this ‘book’

“Your going down Parker.”

“Nah man, Im gonna—“

Peter was cut off but the vibration of his controller as you killed his video game character. Taking off your head set and setting down your controller with a calm, soft smirk spread across your face as your side of the TV had ‘winner’ written across.

“No-no! That’s not fair dude! You cheated,” Peter yelled towards you as you walked into the kitchen to grab a slice of pizza. Reaching into the fridge to get a soda, you felt your back being pressed against Peter’s toned chest as he grabbed the soda you had in your hand.

Opening it and taking a sip he chuckle at the look on your face as you turned around to face him. All he did was walk away, back towards the couch, falling back on to it as he picked up his head set.

The look that made the curly headed boy laugh was still on your face as you watched him. To him, you looked annoyed yet humored by him; but really, you couldn’t help this feeling you felt when you felt him against you. Redness began to creep up your neck but quickly faded as you shook the feeling he gave you.

He’s you best friend idiot. You can feel this way for him if all people.

“You coming?” Peter question, starting a new game. You rolled your eyes to make it seem as if you weren’t flustered but the boy a few feet away from you.

“Yea man. Ready to get your ass kicked agin?” You joked as you sat next to him.

“Haha- not funny.” He said with a straight face and a fake laugh that made you giggle as you shoved his shoulder with yours.

The whole night as you a peter played video games back to back, you couldn’t help but think about the feeling of his muscular chest against you. Around 1:20 AM, you and Peter had started to get tired. The boy next to you turned off the gaming console, slowly turning towards you.

“I got the couch, you got the bed.” He said, sleep lacing his voice. You wanted to protest, saying that you could both have the bed; but something stopped you and you just nodded your head, telling him good night as you walked to his bed room. His aunt, May, wasn’t home but made it very clear that she had an eye on both of you so you knew that Peter didn’t want to his aunt May to see you to in the bed together. Even if the two of you were just sleeping.

Laying in bed, Peter’s bed, you stared at the sealing not being able to fall asleep.

The smell of room sent your mind spiraling. Rolling over onto your side, you pushed your arm underneath his pillow as you inhaled his the sent. Peter was the only thing on your mind. The way he smiled, his chocolate hair and honey brown eyes, the light freckles across his nose that you could only see if you were up close to his face. His laugh made your heart skip beats.

“3:57 AM,” you read the clock sign with a sigh. You knew you should go to sleep; so you rolled once again, getting into a more comfortable position. Your eyes getting heavy as you drifted into sleep.

<<<<<<<<

A warm arm draped around your waist, fingers slowly sliding up and down your bare stomach from the shirt that lifted in your sleep.

You smiled softly at the contact, not thinking to check who it was. But the feeling a bare, muscular chest on your back made your eyes fling open.

Slowly, you turned your head to see who was behind you, even though you knew it was—

“Peter?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed back in response, not opening his eyes. You couldn’t shack the feeling of the chill that ran up your spine, and the goosebumps that formed on your body.

“Wha- uh.. what are you doing?” You questioned in a hushed voice.

“Hhmm? Oh sorry. The couch got uncomfortable. I didn’t think you’d mind though.” He said while opening his sleepy looking eyes.

“Oh no-I don’t mind.”

Peter removed his arm, turning with his back turned towards you. You almost whimpered at the feeling of his arm not being around your waist anymore.

Stop it [y/n]. This is Peter we’re talking about here. But why would he put his arm around me and not expect me to feel some way about it?

The thoughts ran through your head fast, the last on lingering for a while.

You and Peter were the best of friends. If he needed someone, you were there and vise versa. But you weren’t really that girly. So Peter didn’t think of you in ‘that type of way’. You didn’t think of him that way either. The two of you always called each other ‘bro’, ‘dude’, or ‘man’; but you still had that feeling of tingles and warmth—

Your thoughts were interrupted by a loud, tired groan from Peter. The sound going straight to your core. Quickly, you got up and went into his bathroom— making sure to not make a lot of noise as you went, Incase May was home.

Looking in the bathroom mirror you stared at your self in question. You were a tom-boy. You were wearing a pair of rolled up basket ball shorts of Peter’s and one of his very large white Tee’s. You shrugged at your reflection,

“If I wanted to look all girly and ‘pretty’ I could be the hottest girl he would know.”

“Who’s he?”

You jumped at the sound of Peter’s raspy voice behind you. He only had on sweats and no shirt. All you could think was

Damn

“No one, just.. speaking hypothetically.”

“Your wired,” he chuckled as you grabbed a towel from the bathroom closet, mumbling something along the lines of, ‘I’m just gonna go shower in Mays bathroom’. You just nodded, going to take a shower of your own in his bathroom.

After your shower, you went into the kitchen where May stood, making coffee for the three of you. Peter sat on the couch flipping through channels.

“Hey honey!”

“Morning May,” you said as you say in one of the chairs at the dining table.

“Are you going to Florida with Peter, Ned and Mj?” She questioned, you nodded in response. The three of you had been planning this for a while now so you were beyond excited to spend time with you best friends.

You stood for the set you just took, walking over to Peter. He was wearing his usual jeans and flannel but this time had a baseball cap on. As you slumped beside you grabbed the hat and put it on you backwards. Peter chuckled at your childish act, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

The three of you sat in silence till May was done with the coffee. She brought it over to you and Peter, handing you the mugs. You thanked her as she walked away.

Peter’s and your phone got a text notification— the two of you checking it at the same time. It was a group chat with you, Peter, MJ, and Ned for the trip to Universal Studios.

Ned: heyyyy.. so Liz and Flash are also coming to Disney with us.

You and Peter looked at each other at the sight of what Ned texted. You watched as Peter texted back— his cheeks a blushed red color. You have known Peter long enough to know when he’s turning red from anger. This wasn’t anger. He was… blushing?

Peter: Liz is coming?!

You face fell at the text. Looking down at your phone, you glanced up at young guy next to you; but quickly looked away before he saw you.

Mj: yea Ned! Wtf are they coming for???

Ned: well I was talking about it to Betty and they over heard and kinda invited their selves… srry:(

Y/n: I’m just gonna ignore those bitches and go to Hogwarts like I planned.

Peter looked at, “[y/n], you don’t like Liz?” He questioned.

You shocked your head no, not caring enough to look him in the face.

“How dude? She’s so hot,” he said with a smirk. Your heart sank at the words.

What the hell are you acting like this for [y/n]?

Peter continued to text in the group chat. You silenced your phone— not wanted to deal with this right now.

You had never became jealous of anyone. Confusion over took you as you scrambled your mind for why you were jealous of Peter and Liz. You didn’t like Peter at all. Did you?

Did you like Peter Parker? The thought lingered for a while.

No. No I can’t like him and I won’t. It’s just wrong.

Those words that you promised yourself you would keep was the biggest lie you had told yourself. Peter Parker was like a drug—

How could you not get addicted?

I hope you enjoyed this ‘chapter’ !! Let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part!! :)

[shesawriter39049]

|Breakdown’s & Bugatti’s| M|

PAIRING: Namjoon x Reader (Ft a hint of Tae & Jin)

About- Namjoon just does what he has to do to keep you ....calm while at a charity gala!  

OR:

CHAPTER 1 : MEET THE KIMS OF NEW YORK 

**WARNINGS: **Semi public sex, Fingering (F receiving), Minimal prep, Light dirty talk, Light spit play, Choking, Spanking, Gags (Makeshift), Non protective sex (Creampie), light overstimulation

WC: 7K (This is a sneak peak so it’s 1.2k)

NON SEXUAL WARNINGS: (Fictional political background)  Hints at recreational drug use (Molly) Brief mentions of death, father issues, and panic attacks/anxiety (All of these topics are super minor but again, out of respect I’m mentioning them) 

The remaining “characters” will be introduced at a later date

This chapter hints at various future plots 

This is almost 2 years old, I reworked it recently 

If you’ve been following me for a while this is the original draft for “Club First Royale” 

FINAL NOTE: I haven’t been active in damn hear a year ( 8 months) So I am posting sneak peeks intentionally! No, not to torture you guys lol but to get my blog flowing again because I’m sure people aren’t really checking in anymore

OT7 ALTERNATING STORYLINES

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

FINALLY, fuck 36737 years later you spot your Kim!

Standing there in all his glory, in a Valentino slim fit navy blue suit, the jacket appearing to have some sort of paisley print, opting against a tie. Leaving his crisp white dress shirt slightly unbuttoned, teasing at his broad carnalized chest as he makes his way from the bar. Heading over to the table, which has an empty seat waiting right beside him with your name written all over it...literally!

Purposely dodging the old lady to your left in a coat that would have PETA ready to throw hands! Gaudy diamonds, terrible Botox, and smelled as if she showered in an entire bottle Chanel No. 5! 

Yeah, no, sorry, not in the mood for another meet and greet right now!

“Joonie” Squeals from your lips once you’re in close enough proximity, his dark piercing eyes cut over to meet yours. A playful smirk tugging on those sinfully thick lips of his, accompanied by those disrespectful ass dimples!

“There she is!” Eyes dripping with warmth, as he ushered you in with open arms ,and in these types of situations, Namjoon felt like home, he was your safe space. “You look fuckin good” The words hushed into your hair in a tenor meant for your ears and your ears only! A hint of something a little more than just friendly playing on his tongue. 

A small little “Thank you” leaves your lips, and if I didn't know any better I’d think the compliment made you a little flustered.

Namjoon was the definition of Ocean arm’s and goddamn if you didn't just love how big this man was! It literally felt like he was hiding you from the entire universe when he has you nuzzled into his frame! The whole interaction couldn't have lasted longer than 20 seconds in all actuality but god you needed it! 

Face flush to his chest, wrapping your arms firm around his waist, letting your eyes flutter shut briefly, a deep slow exhale flooded through your body. Inhaling the musky yet sweet scent of his cologne mixed with his natural aroma, which has grown to become a calming mechanism over the years. 

“You had me worried for a minute…” Placing a quick kiss in your hair, that you would have missed if you blinked but again, your in public soo...

Palms soothing up and down your back gently, as he breathed into your hair , pulling back a little so there was some form of personal space between the two of you.  

“Your late, even for you princess...I know you started early, I got your live(Instagram) notification, so what happened?” Head clocked to the side as he appraises you and fuck, the bass in his voice still has you all types of fucked up! Glancing over your shoulder briefly before leaning up to place a kiss on the hinge of his jaw, that tittered the line of passing as an “innocent” greeting. 

“I’m fine Jonnie it’s nothing, we just got held up in glam.., Ariel was flying in from Miami...we got a late start” Gaze intentionally diverted as you welcomed yourself to his glass of Scotch instead. Damn near inhaling the entire drink as we speak and you hated dark liquor so that alone let him know something was up!  

Merely resisting the urge to smooth out the crease he felt forming between his brows, a dry snort left his lips, rolling his eyes in response to your blatant stubbornness. Nevertheless, always the gentleman, reaching down to pull out your chair so you could take a seat next to him. Mirroring your actions just moments prior, quickly scoping out his surroundings before he brought those plush pillows he calls lips a centimeter away from your ear.

Fuck. 

  “Right, so I'm just going to assume you don’t wanna talk about it right now! Or wait I’m sorry, have you just upgraded to insulting my intelligence straight to my damn face?” 

Brow quirked inquisitively, and you could literally feel every word, tone taking on a hint of seriousness the more he talked. Namjoon licked his lips and the tip skimmed the edge of your ear and I - . 

“For one you smell like an entire bottle of Heidsieck, I can almost taste the nicotine on your tongue and you've been crying I know you. ”  

Pulling back just enough to glare down at you above the brim of his glasses, which he always wore low along his bridge. Eyes daring you to look him in the face a lie again, teasing his fingers through his chocolate locks. Styled in the perfect semi grown out undercut, the top a little on the long side, while the sides tapered into a crisp fade. Sideburns outlining that extremely understated jawline of his! Though you had to admit the yellow gold diamonds dawning his ears were kinda stealing the show right now! 

“So again, do you just not wanna talk about it right now? Or have you forgotten that I have an IQ of 137, and can smell bullshit from here all the way to Gangnam!?” 

You're having very vivid day daydreams of your hand wrapped around this man's windpipe and for once it’s not even remotely sexual! 

Blatantly ignoring the strong twitch within Namjoon’s jaw and simply saying “I’m here, aren’t I!?” Face stoic, tone flat as all hell, in case it wasn’t clear that this conversation was more than over, you opted to eye his bourbon glazed salmon until he got the hint.

 “Oh, for fucks sake! ” Hissed from his lips without a lick of heat behind them, because as quiet as it’s kept ,your lowkey Joon’s baby, which is why he cares to begin with! Picking up a piece on his fork before essentially shoving it into your hand ”Your lucky I can’t have your ass getting sick on me tonight, we still have like, 3 hours left of this bullshit.”

More like he just can’t tell you no, but hey, whatever helps him sleep at night! Sliding his plate in your direction, completely giving up on eating at this point, he knew you needed it more anyway! Finally, starting to feel your mix of poisons hit your system so you knew you needed  to even it out with a little substance. I mean yeah, you could have just ordered your own plate but meh, this was easier! 

Namjoon started busying himself on his phone while you ate, scrolling through a couple contacts until he landed on a contact labeled under “Kookie”.

“Even though you were only late because “Your glam team ran late” There were air bunnies involved, and again you just really wanna choke his ass!  “What are you thinking tonight? He’s actually on his way here right now, but he already has a couple options on him...” 

The question was vague and for damn good reason...considering…

However you knew exactly what he was referring too.., and thank god!

Speaking over a mouth full of salmon, sounding utterly exasperated!  “Honestly, any fucking thing at this point…” 

Namjoon hums thoughtfully, sucking on a Bourbon soaked Ice cube “He’ll be here in 20, I just went with Smartees…always a safe bet...” 

Smartees, candy, Vitamin -E, Molly... Estcasy...it’s all one and the same, just depends on who you ask!

He leans back in, apparently keen on whispering tonight. “Maybe, if your a good girl and eat enough we can split one before we leave...chill you out a little bit. '' Voice thick and heady, lips curling into a grin with a hint of something wicked playing on the ends, as his fingers idly ghost over your forearm. Giving it a light squeeze and regardless of how innocent the skin-ship may seem to the naked eye, you’re well aware of all the underlying innuendos behind it! 

You make a noise of agreement, trying your damnedest to ignore the slight chill coursing up your spine at the pet name. Though before you could even dwell, Namjoon was sliding back in with another update, this one however wasn't as...arousing…to say the least!

“Fox 2’s been waiting for you to get here by the way...since the event was put together by council and all. They've been wanting to talk to us together about the fundraiser, just the same shit as last year.” 

Waving his hand dismissively idly twirling the various pieces of Bvlgari around his fingers, seemingly un-phased while you on the other hand...release the most exasperated huff! Reclining against your seat, eyes rolling to the back of your head in 30 different directions! Yeah, It comes with the territory, you know this, hints Namjoons reaction, or lack thereof!  But fuck you just really weren’t in the mood to do press tonight, It’s literally physically exhausting to pretend that you weren’t just PISSED! 

“Of -fuckin- course they do!” Stabbing your mashed potatoes in a way that's... somewhat concerning… 

“Baby.” It was a warning, though his voice sat barley above a whisper, his tone was crystal! Eyes cutting in your direction briefly before dropping back down to his phone….

You didn't have it in you to argue, there’s no way around this anyway, fuck it!  “What -the-fuck-ever!” Sliding the half empty plate aside “Well, you wanna just get it out of the way now? Because I’m really not in the mood for-”

“Y/n..oh my god! Hi, honey how are you!? You look beautiful as always…” Suddenly there was a human, a human wearing the wrong shade of foundation kissing your cheek. A human by the name of Caroline, one of the local news anchors...clearly her damn ears were ringing.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi guys, that’s all she wrote, well kinda, actually she finished it like 16 months ago lol but that’s all she wrote for now I guess....

**_

_****Love you...see ya soon!!**

***SIDE NOTE, MY FRIEND MADE THE TWITTER EDIT SO DON’T ASK LOL IDK ****

UPDATE: HEADCANONS FOR THE KIM BOYS/OC

  HEADCANONS

[amarimaryllis]

All The World Drops Dead (Oikawa x Reader)

Pairing: Oikawa/Reader, Slight!Iwaizumi/Reader (like very slight, microscopic kinda slight, almost as if it’s not there unless you read between the lines because it’s not explicitly stated kinda slight) Prompt/Summary: Loving Oikawa Tooru was a dream and maybe it was time to wake up. Alternatively, Oikawa leaves you behind to chase his dreams. Tags: Angst, Fluff Note: I used she/her pronouns for the reader, Bold Italicized sentences are excerpts from the poem “Mad Girl’s Love Song” by Sylvia Plath Warnings: Swearing, Crying (like, a lot), Kinda long (5.7k words),  Haikyuu Timeskip Spoilers

Part of A Sensitivity to Ephemera

Loving Oikawa Tooru was a dream. It was hard-earned. Years of pining and pursuing took place before he ever even saw you in a romantic light. Three years in junior high school and an additional two years in high school. It was hard, but in the end, it was all worth it.

On the journey to what seemingly looked like forever, the name L/N Y/N had been associated with many titles.

Dedicated.

Lovesick.

Brave.

And on occasion, heard in the hushed whispers that echoed through the halls of Aoba Johsai, desperate.

Some part of you gloated once you had proved them all wrong at the end of your second year. It was a quick confession filled with mumbled words and hasty movements. You couldn’t even look the setter straight in the eyes as you mumbled a small “I’ve been in love with you since junior high, and I just needed to get it off my chest since we’ve been friends for a long time, and I felt guilty keeping it a secret from you.”

Impressively, you were able to say all of that in a single breath.

“I know.”

A single breath taken away from you the moment Oikawa Tooru cupped your cheeks and pressed the softest of kisses against your lips.

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;

In that moment, as you lose yourself in the kiss of a boy you had once considered a distant dream, the world stops and there is nothing left but the warmth of his hands against your skin.

I lift my lids and all is born again. 

Suddenly the world was back in motion as Oikawa pulled away from the kiss. Your eyes flutter open and before you, you see chocolate eyes and a charming smile.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N-chan?” 

You’re pulled from your thoughts at the sound of Oikawa’s voice. You were brought to the present. Oikawa hugging you from behind as you sit between his legs, an alien movie of sorts playing on your laptop placed on the bed (You didn’t bother checking the title since it was Oikawa’s turn to choose anyway).

“Have the aliens taken my adorable girlfriend and replaced her with a clone?” You can practically see the pout on his face from his tone alone as he wraps his arms tighter around your waist.

Your face warms but you don’t fold as you answer in your most deadpan tone. “I can only wish.”

“How mean.” Oikawa rolls his eyes, but amusement is clearly written on his face. “Iwa-chan is rubbing off on you.”

“Probably cause I’ve known him for as long as I’ve known you.” You answered casually. “Although I’ll admit it’s probably cause I’ve been seeing him more than I’ve been seeing you.”

You were not meant to say that.

You did not mean to say that (out loud, at least).

Especially not with that bitter undertone laced in your words.

“Oh?” You can practically hear the smirk in Oikawa’s voice as he digs his fingers lightly into your sides. “Replacing me with Iwa-chan already? How mean~”

One part of you was thankful that Oikawa chose not to unpack the issue of his recent absences since you weren’t really ready to lay your feelings out in the open yet. However, another part of you realizes that you just dug your own grave, and Oikawa Tooru was probably going to be a little shit about what you just said.

“Maybe you need me to remind you who your boyfriend is?” Oikawa’s lips brush against the shell of your ear and you could feel the tiniest of shivers diffuse throughout your body.

He presses a kiss behind your ear. Your face warms. He follows the previous action with a tender kiss on your neck. You nearly combust.

But of course, for the sake of what’s left of your dignity, you bite back. “Maybe I do.”

You can feel Oikawa grin against your neck, as if he expected nothing less. “Perfect.”

Oikawa turns you around so that you’re straddling him, legs thrown over on both sides as you sit on his lap. He grabs you by your wrists and leads you to wrap your arms around his neck before his hands eventually find purchase on your hips. 

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed

And with that, he’s kissing you. It was almost as if he was trying to chase away any thoughts of Iwaizumi from your head with the way he was moving his lips against yours. Oikawa knew that he didn’t have to worry, but he can’t help it. He’d take any opportunity to kiss his girlfriend senseless.

And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.

Oikawa brings his hand to your nape, pulling you closer, deeper into the kiss, deeper into the dream created by the motion of his lips. There’s a desperation in his actions as if he was trying to make up for something.

And in that moment, you understood. This was his temporary apology. The way his hands trailed from your neck down your arms before it settled on your hips was his way of placating any possible hostility you may hold against him for his recent absence.

You didn’t really mind. You understood that he was busy, but you had the right to miss your boyfriend every now and then. The only thing you could do now was to take as much as you could of Oikawa Tooru before he’s once again pulled back to the whirlwind that is called his life.

Oikawa pulls away for a second before he’s back to pressing kisses on any expanse of skin that he can lay his lip upon without moving from the position you were both in. You were both so lost in your makeout-session--excuse the lack of a better term--that you weren’t able to hear the text notifications from Oikawa’s phone until someone was actually calling him.

“Babe, your phone’s ringing.” You managed to pull away from Oikawa to inform him, but he’s relentless, ignoring what you just said and the phone in favor of trailing kisses up and down your neck.

“Babe--” 

Oikawa pulls away for a second. “Ignore it, they’ll probably give up soon.”

You roll your eyes and go back to kissing your boyfriend. You guys were getting back to the groove of things until it was once again interrupted by the ringing of Oikawa’s phone.

A groan of frustration leaves Oikawa’s throat at the disturbance, and you attempt to hold in your amusement at the irritated look he had on his face as he reached to the side and answered the phone.

“What?” You nearly snorted at how frustrated Oikawa sounded.

However, as the other person answered, that look of frustration was replaced with a softer gaze which made you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. The stream of confusion only grew when Oikawa patted your thighs, an unspoken request for you to get off him.

“Oh Yuki-chan, what’s up?” A smile was on Oikawa’s face.

The stream of confusion had slowly turned into a murky ocean of several emotions that you had not encountered in a while.

Uncertainty.

Insecurity.

Fear.

You knew only one Yuki, and that was Fujimoto Yuki. The darling of the school, loved by all who meet her for her beauty and gentle nature. Oikawa’s friend.

Oikawa’s ex-girlfriend.

“Sure! Library on the second floor, and same time as always?” Oikawa talks animatedly for a second before freezing as if he was realizing where he was. When he speaks again, it’s softer, but there’s a hint of restraint in his tone as if he was trying not to show just how overjoyed he was.

Your heart sinks for a second before you mentally slap yourself. You felt guilty for feeling some dislike for the girl that Oikawa was talking to, but some part of you felt that you were justified in your dislike considering that this was your boyfriend’s ex. His ex who broke up with him because he was too invested in volleyball.

You felt sick.

A few moments pass and Oikawa ends the call. An awkward silence fills the room. Neither of you talk.

“I’ve been--”

“Was that--”

You both speak at the same time. You gesture for Oikawa to speak first and he does.

“I’ve been tutoring Yuki-chan recently.” Oikawa sounds uncertain.It was as if he was walking on eggshells with how cautious he was being. “If you’re wondering.”

“Fujimoto Yuki?” You sat against the wall that your bed was pressed to. “Your ex?”

“My friend.” Oikawa winces at the tone in your voice. 

You try to make sense of what’s going on, One part of you wanted to let out all the negative feelings that were bubbling in your chest, but the more logical part of you chose to tread carefully so that the conversation doesn’t end in an argument. “Is that why you haven’t been around these past few weeks?”

Oikawa’s breath hitches for a second. “Yeah.”

“Stop being so defensive then.” You mask the uncertainty that gripped at your chest with a teasing tone accompanied by a playful jab to Oikawa’s shoulder. “They’re just tutoring sessions, right?”

Oikawa takes the path of escape that you opened up for him as he gives you a small smile. “Yeah.”

For now, you were at ease. You crawled back into his arms and Oikawa doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you before he presses a soft kiss onto your forehead.

“I love you.” You breathe out on his neck, heart racing with both love and fear racing through your veins.

Oikawa stills before he squeezes you tighter. “I know.”

 That moment in your bedroom was now a thing of the distant past. It was forgotten, buried under several layers of denial. Looking back, you realized that the turmoil you felt then was nothing compared to the pure, unadulterated agony that threatened to rip you open at the present.

“Argentina?” You mumbled to yourself, repeating it in hopes that you’ll be able to make sense of what Oikawa had just said. “You’re going to Argentina in a month, and you’re only telling me now?”

Oikawa reached out to you, regret painted all over his face. “Babe-“

“Don’t-“ You pushed his hand away, and you almost felt guilty as a glassy veil took over Oikawa’s eyes, “-touch me.”

“I’m sorry.” Oikawa looks down, clenching his fists so tightly that he almost broke through the skin. “I didn’t want to ruin the remaining time we had left.”

You frowned, extremely confused. “What do you mean remaining-“

Ah. A look of realization settles on your face, and suddenly the fight within you dies. I get it now.

“So you just planned on leaving me then?” For the first time since the start of this conversation, you look Oikawa dead in the eye. “Leave me behind, no closure or anything. I’ll be left wondering where I went wrong or why I wasn’t enough. Is that it?”

You could see the tear roll down Oikawa’s cheek before he hastily wipes it away. Your jaw clenched and your throat felt tight. He had no right to cry when you were the one being left behind.

“I didn’t want to hurt you-”

“And look where we are, Tooru.” You hissed venomously, the pain slowly transitioning into anger. “I would’ve understood you know? I’d be more than willing to make it work-“

The split-second widening of Oikawa’s eyes was enough of an answer to you.

“Oh.” Your mouth opens and closes, but no words leave your mouth. The next thing you know, you’re choking on your tears as you lean against the wall, sliding down to the floor as you gasp for air.

Oikawa’s eyes widen and he immediately rushes to kneel beside you. He pulls you into his arms, rubbing your back gently as he urges you to let it all out. “Fuck, Y/N. Just breathe, okay? Let it all out.”

An ugly sob wretches itself from your throat and you can only grip onto the sleeves of Tooru’s sweater to ground yourself to the world around you. Your head pounds, and a sharp pain repeatedly stabs at your chest as you hold onto Oikawa Tooru as if he was the only thing keeping you afloat in the ocean of your turmoil.

“I’m so sorry.” Oikawa murmurs against your hair, and it is followed by his tears as they drop onto your head. “God, I’m so sorry. I love you so much. I’m sorry.”

Oikawa’s sobs are beginning to match your own as he tightens his hold around you. 

All you can focus on is the fact that he said “I love you”.

It took a few minutes for both of you to calm down. Numerous tears had to be shed and endless sobs had to be released, and now, you both sit in the aftermath of your confrontation.

Oikawa still held you in his arms as he sat on the floor. His arms were still tight around your waist, and your arms were still locked around his neck. The perfect picture depicting two inseparable lovers if only one were willing to ignore tear-stained cheeks and the creases of sadness that seem to have etched itself onto their skin.

“I’m gonna come back.” Oikawa mumbles against your neck before he presses a soft kiss onto it. “I promise you. I will come back.”

“Go chase your dream, Tooru.” You mumble back as you bury your head deeper into his shoulder, lip trembling, fingers shaking. “I don’t want to be the one to stop you.”

“When I come back, I’ll win.” Oikawa tightens his hold as the tears threaten to fall from his eyes once more. “I’ll make you proud. I promise.”

You smile sadly, resignation settling into your veins. “I’ll be watching so you better win.”

Oikawa smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s too guilty. Too conflicted. Too absorbed in his self-deprecation to fully smile. Regardless, he answers. “I promise.”

 A month passes by. You don’t send Oikawa off. Only his friends and family were there, and you were nowhere to be found. Some part of him died at your absence, but another part of him was thankful because he probably wouldn’t have mustered the courage to get on that plane if he had to watch you slowly slip away from his grasp

You had both agreed that you’d enjoy the last month together. Oikawa thought it was best that you broke it off when he left for Argentina. He said it would be easier for you. You wondered if he was right. You wondered if you should’ve agreed. Oikawa was smart on and off the court, but emotions weren’t volleyballs that he could just toss around. Relationships weren’t game plans.

But it’s all in the past. From here on, you could only move forward. So you took up all you had, and you moved to Tokyo after you were accepted to a university in the capital.

The only connection you had left from your high school days was Iwaizumi. On occasion you’d talk to Matsukawa and Hanamaki, but it was Iwaizumi who had a more prominent role in your life. You had a strange bond, which was partially strengthened by the fact that you two were the people closest to Oikawa Tooru, and you were both left behind. The only difference between the two of you was that Iwaizumi still had contact with the setter while you had completely cut off all ties.

Aside from one tie, at least. From time to time, you’d find yourself looking through Oikawa’s social media profile. Just checking to see how he was doing.

If he was doing as badly as you were or if he had moved on.

It was what you were doing right now as you sat in a cafe waiting for Iwaizumi to show up to your usual “friendly” dates. The dates he liked to call “get Y/N’s dumb ass to move on from the dumbass called Shittykawa”. You were just about to click on Oikawa’s profile before someone suddenly took your phone.

It was Iwaizumi.

“Damn, what’s your problem?” You raised a brow as the former Seijoh ace took a sip from your coffee as he scrolled through your account, sitting down on the chair across from you. In all honesty, calling it a sip was an understatement, the man practically drank half of the cup’s content. Your eyebrow twitched in irritation.

“It’s unhealthy.” Iwaizumi answered once he had set the cup of coffee down, still scrolling through your phone.

“How is social media unhealthy?” You rolled your eyes, grumbling as you sipped what’s left of your coffee. “I’m just scrolling.”

“Makes you less productive.” Iwaizumi shrugs as he leans back on his chair, pointing an accusatory glace towards you. “Especially when you’re checking your ex’s Instagram.”

“I was not--”

Iwaizumi snorted. “Yes you were.”

“Yes I was.” You admitted, giving up since you knew that Iwaizumi was probably more stubborn than you.

“Y/N, you have to stop.” Iwaizumi tears his eyes from your phone for a second to emphasize his words. A look of concern along with something unreadable flashing through his eyes. “What’s the point of not communicating with him if you’re still gonna look at his profile every night.”

“Not every night.” You grumbled.

Iwaizumi scoffed and continued to scroll through your phone. Some part of him was also curious about Oikawa’s current life, and while he got updates from the setter through the calls, he hasn’t really seen his best friend’s profile in a while. “When’s the last time you checked—“

Iwaizumi stops himself as his eyes land on Oikawa’s most recent post and the caption attached to it.

‘Guess who I bumped into today’

When Oikawa Tooru left for Argentina, he had already accepted that it would be a fresh start. No one knew him there, and no one he knew was there. There were no expectations, and there was no image to uphold. And while that thought made him ecstatic beyond words, there’s always that melancholic undertone to the situation as he realizes that he’s completely alone. Sure, he had friends that he could play volleyball with, but Oikawa’s connection with them wasn’t as deep as the ones he formed in his own country. He chalked it up to his subpar Spanish-speaking skills. Perhaps the heavens knew that Oikawa Tooru, born with a silver-tongue and the face and body of a god, would be unstoppable if he knew how to speak Spanish fluently.

Which is why he was so shocked to see a familiar face holding a tray of food and asking if she could sit with him. The place was empty and the girl could literally sit anywhere, but Oikawa paid it no mind. All he knew was that before him was a reminder of home. Not home home, but Miyagi kind of home.

He never truly felt at home since her, but he didn’t want to dwell on that.

“So Yuki-chan,” Oikawa starts as he notes how the girl in front of him has changed since high school, “What brings you to Argentina?”

“School.” Yuki replies, an eager grin on her face as she looks at the man in front of her. “I needed a change of scenery.”

“Why Argentina?” Oikawa raises a brow. It was a harmless question on his end. He never really liked small talk, but he didn’t really have a choice. The woman across from him was practically a stranger. That’s what it felt like, at least.

Red floods Yuki’s cheeks and Oikawa realizes the implication.

His heart stops, and he wishes he had never asked. He didn’t need this. He didn’t want this. He genuinely hoped he was wrong, but the fidgety way Yuki moved and the way she bit down on her lip out of habit was enough to answer his question. Oikawa was familiar with that look. It was a look he had always put an effort to bring about when they were still together. 

Yuki smiles, practically wearing her heart on her sleeve as she answers the setter. “Because you’re here.”

He didn’t like the sound of that at all.

Oikawa Tooru’s life was in Argentina, and you decided that maybe it was time to start accepting that. He had the path all ready for him, and all he had to do was walk through it. He’s earning decent money, living in a decent apartment, doing what he loves most—probably in more ways than one, you thought bitterly as you remembered the post Iwaizumi had shown you earlier in the cafe—and it’s all just working out for him. 

So yes, maybe it was time to move on. It would be easy. If loving Oikawa Tooru was a dream, then so be it. Dreams were fleeting. Dreams were insignificant. All you needed to do was treat the memory of him the way you should be treating it. An unreachable reality. A product of the subconscious.

And with his absence, it has never been easier.

If only.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

“Hajime.”

Iwaizumi cleared his throat to speak, mildly unsettled by your choice to call him by his name. You guys were walking down a dimly-lit alley, and he wouldn’t be surprised if that would be the last alley he ever sees considering the tone you used. “Yes?”

“I guess I have to wake up now, huh?”

Iwaizumi is baffled. Confused. Discombobulated. Genuinely wondering what you meant because maybe the heartbreak finally drove you insane. “The fuck?”

“Damn I was trying to be poetic too.” You gave an exaggerated sigh, a small amused smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Way to kill the mood.”

“Do I look like I care?” Iwaizumi’s eye twitched.

“You’ll never get girls to like you if you’re so harsh, Iwa-chan~” You teased, attempting to lighten the mood. “It’s a miracle that Fuyumi-chan still likes you.”

“Shut up.”

He didn’t need other girls to like him. He didn’t need Sato Fuyumi’s one-sided affection. This. This moment was enough.

Years pass and you find yourself in the locker room of Japan’s Olympic Volleyball Team, supporting their trainer the way bridesmaids support the bride on her wedding day. You knew how much the match meant to Iwaizumi, and you knew that win or lose, he’d still be happy with whatever happens. However, Iwaizumi still has a competitive streak, and you knew that hell would have to freeze over before Iwaizumi Hajime stopped chasing victory.

“You nervous?” You asked, eyes trailing after Iwaizumi’s pacing form. His eyebrows were pinched together, and his lips were pulled into a straight line. “The match is in 30 minutes.”

“Don’t remind me.” Iwaizumi groans as he plops down on the bench beside you. 

“They’ll be fine.” You smiled. “You’ve trained them well, and they’ve been giving their all.”

“What if we lose?” Iwaizumi asks, uncertainty lacing his voice.

You scoffed. “You’re probably used to it considering your old rivalry with Ushijima-san-“

Iwaizumi punches your arm.

“Hey that hurt!” You glared at the trainer while you attempted to soothe the point of impact.

“Good, it was meant to.” Iwaizumi smirks before it fades into a soft smile. A distant look glazes over his eyes before he continues speaking. “He’ll be there, you know.”

I fancied you’d return the way you said

“I know.” You shrugged. After so many years, the pain had become a dull ache. It may have been dull, but it was an ache nonetheless. “He did promise.”

Silence fills the room.

“Are you ready to face him?” Iwaizumi turns to look at you, attempting to gauge your reaction only to be met with a blank expression painted onto your face.

“Honestly,” You almost scoff as you start your lie with that word, “I think I’ll be better off not seeing him.”

Silence takes over.

You didn’t want to admit that you never truly moved on. You didn’t want to admit that all those years apart only made you better at hiding how devastated you were. While it’s true that the pain has dulled out, it seemed to be chronic. It’s manageable most of the time, but there are days where it flares up when you’re alone in your room and no one’s there to call you stupid for holding on. It always hits you as hard as it did in the past, sometimes it gets even worse. You were afraid that saying it out loud would solidify itself into your waking reality, not that it hasn’t, but you’d take whatever chance of denial you could get.

Loving Oikawa Tooru was no dream. It was a nightmare on repeat and you showed no signs of waking up.

The nightmare just got worse the moment he stepped onto the court and on your hopes of ever moving on. It grew out of control when he stepped off, victory smiling down on his figure, and his eyes were set on you. 

So you did what you deemed to be the best course of action.

You ran away.

Kind of stupid now that you think about it, considering that your were quite literally running away from an Olympic athlete.

But I grow old and I forget your name

“Oikawa-san.” You bowed slightly before straightening up. You didn’t have a choice other than to act civil considering that the athlete cornered you in the corner of an empty hallway. “Congratulations on your victory.”

When you look up at Oikawa, you’re shocked to see the pain written on his face. His lips were parted, eyebrows were furrowed, and there was a glassy sheen glazing over his eyes. “Oikawa-san?”

Hearing his voice almost made you want to burst into tears, but you didn’t fold, choosing to clench your fists and grit your teeth in hopes that you’ll be able to keep your composure. “That’s your name, isn’t it?”

Oikawa’s mouth falls open fully, and unlike you, he’s not putting any effort into masking any emotion. He looked like he didn’t know what to say. It seemed that he wasn’t expecting the situation before him. “I’m sorry.”

You could feel the tears pricking at your eyes. You avert your gaze from his, turning it to the floor and hoping that he wouldn’t be able to see the tears that began to form. For a second, it felt like you were reliving your third year in high school. “You kept your promise. You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

Oikawa reaches out towards you. “I’m sorry for leaving-”

“Don’t.” You hissed as you moved away, the last shreds of civility escaping your body. “If you didn’t leave you wouldn’t be here today, so don’t.”

“It was hard without you.” Oikawa sounds defeated as speaks. If he had a goal in mind when he cornered you, it seemed that the said goal was now out of reach. The flame in his eyes when he approached you was slowly dwindling. “Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve listened to you and made it work-”

You could feel your head starting to pound. “Oikawa, don’t-”

Oikawa continues speaking, fim, determined. “Sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like if I still had you by my side even if you were halfway across the world-”

You could feel your throat constricting as the tears began to fall from your eyes.

“Sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like if I had asked you to come with me-”

Yuki’s face flashes through your mind, and you break. “Can you just stop?!”

Oikawa looked like he expected that from you because he was unfazed at your tone. “I’ve been away from you for almost seven years, and every night was hell.”

“Every night was hell, as if.” You hissed through your tears, stepping away from Oikawa as you gave him the darkest glare you could muster. “You had Fujimoto at your side. You didn’t need me.”

For some reason, instead of the guilt that you were looking to find, you saw a rekindled flame slowly starting to blaze through his eyes. “I only met Fujimoto once.”

“I’m not your girlfriend. I don’t need your explanation.” You replied sharply as you turned your gaze to his shoes. 

You don’t pull away when Oikawa pulls you to his chest to surround you with his embrace. You allowed yourself to enjoy this moment, just this one moment before you decided that it was time to let go.

You grip at his shirt as you speak, lip trembling, fingers shaking. “Just… I’m trying to move on, and you’re just making it harder for me.”

“What if I don't want you to move on?” Oikawa tightens his grip as he feels you attempt to pull away. 

“Then you’re a selfish asshole.” You managed to hiss out, continuing to struggle in his hold. You knew that the longer you were in his arms, the less you would be willing to put up a fight.

“I love you.” Oikawa whispers, and all the fight within you dies. 

“Don’t.” You choke out as your vision turns blurry from tears. “You don’t mean that.”

“I mean it. God, if it means that I have to tell you everyday, every hour, every minute just to convince you I will.” Oikawa is firm as he pulls away and looks you straight in the eyes. “I love you. I didn’t say it enough back then. Looking back, I never really did enough to let you know just how much I loved you. I understand if you want nothing to do with me, but please--”

Oikawa stops to close his eyes, taking a deep breath as he attempts to calm his racing heart, hands trembling as he holds you by the curve of your biceps. “Please, give me another chance.”

Silence engulfs the two of you. 

You can feel the blood rushing to your head, throbbing, pulsing as you take in the words that had left Oikawa’s lips. Your throat goes dry, your limbs feel weightless, and for once in your life, you don’t know what to do. You didn’t have the guts to push Oikawa Tooru away. You loved him too much to ever truly get over him, and here he was presenting you a reason to not move on from his unyielding presence--even if he was physically absent--that had such a great influence over your life. On the other hand, you’ve had to endure years of heartbreak caused by his departure, and you weren’t sure if you could handle any more. It would be too difficult. 

But you didn’t really give a shit anymore.

Oikawa's eyes blow wide open as your lips meet his. In that moment, he felt everything and nothing all at once. The world around him fades, and all he can focus on is the warmth of your hands that bleeds into his cheeks, the movement of your lips against his, and the feeling of your skin underneath his fingers as he kisses you back desperately.

When you pull away to catch your breath, Oikawa gives you a second before he presses you to the wall, wraps one arm around your waist, and rests his weight on one palm beside your head. He kisses you once more, desperation, regret, apology, and the promise of a better future bleeding through his kisses as he pulls you closer to his body, chest to chest, with only bone, muscle, and cloth to separate the hearts that--in the beginning of days--may have once belonged to the same body.

The waves calm and Oikawa speaks. He doesn’t ask--no--he says it with his whole chest, unwavering as conviction settles itself into his dark eyes.

“Come to Argentina with me.”

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;

At least when spring comes back they roar again.

Iwaizumi is leaning against the wall, smiling sadly to himself as he begins to stand up straight, preparing to walk away, whether it was from the venue or from the reason there’s a slight pang in his chest, he didn’t know. 

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and a familiar name is shown along with a message that he deemed was the sender’s attempt to comfort him on his team’s loss.

Sato Fuyumi

I watched the game [5:31 PM]

You guys fought well so don’t be too down in the dumps, okay? [5:32 PM]

Iwaizumi smiles a little as he pockets the phone. Sato was right, they fought well, he fought well. Two years in middle school, three years in high school, and nearly seven years after, all he did was fight and hold on. 

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead

For a second, Iwaizumi closes his eyes and through them he sees flashes of countless memories: locks of hair, teary eyes, and the saddest face that looked a little out of place for someone who gave him a reason to smile.

Iwaizumi almost didn’t want to open his eyes. Maybe if he shut them a little longer then the images of an impossible future would become the reality of his waking world, but he knew it would never play out like that. Deep in his mind, in the darker corners of his head that was covered by layers of denial, the distant memory of a dimly-lit alley plays in his head. Iwaizumi scoffs as he realizes that he wasn’t the only one who still had their eyes shut.

(I think I made you up inside my head)

A lifeless chuckle escapes Iwaizumi’s lips as he tries to shut his eyes tighter, pain and frustration pooling underneath his lids. The realization hits him, and he resists the urge to cry because he had seen this happening before it even did, but he was too stubborn to admit it, too caught up in a dream that he’d eventually be violently ripped awake from.

Oikawa Tooru defeated him twice that day. 

And the second loss was more painful.

A/N: I finally posted this one AHHHHH. I like to think that the writing style I used in this one was better than my previous ones in terms of imagery, but I don’t know, I’m still trying to find a solid writing style and PHEW it is difficult. Anyways, I hope you guys liked this one!

[thatgirl257]

Maybe It’s Hereditary

MARINETTE’S DIARY DO NOT READ

17 May 2021

Dear Diary,

I don’t know how to write this. I feel like I’ve been shaky all afternoon. Ever since it happened. Tiki told me it would be good to go patrol with Chat Noir, but I didn’t go. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. Alya keeps texting me her theories--I think she thinks she’s helping. But every time I get a notification from her, it launches me further into this pit. I just can’t. I can’t stop seeing him like that. It’s like every time I close my eyes he’s there. 

I guess I should explain what happened--chalk it all up to “keeping records” in case they need more witness accounts. Dang it. I should probably erase that bit about being Ladybug then, shouldn’t I? Why do I have to write in pen? 

Anyways, Diary, it all started in Mrs. Bustier’s class. She was teaching just like she normally does, when Adrien started coughing. It was quiet at first, like he had a slight tickle in his throat. Honestly, I’d be surprised if anyone else even heard him. The only reason I noticed is that I sit behind him and I usually pay attention to everything he does. But then it kept going. The coughs were getting louder, and more painful sounding. It sounded like he couldn’t quite breathe, like he was choking on something. Mrs. Bustier looked concerned; she kept eyeing him like she didn’t quite know what to do. After about a minute, she asked, “Adrien, are you alright?”

Still coughing, he muttered a quick, “Excuse me,” got up from his seat, and hurried out of the room. The class was quiet.

Mrs. Bustier looked at me and said, “Marinette, will you go check on him?” I was confused why she picked me, but I realize now that it was my job as class representative to make sure everyone was okay. I regret ever nominating myself. I regret the quiet smile and nod I gave her as I got up from my seat and walked to the door. I should’ve gone faster, but I didn’t know. 

I didn’t see him immediately when I opened the door. My eyes were scanning the other side of the balconied classrooms, looking for any recently closed doors where he might’ve left through. It wasn’t until I was about ten feet from my classroom that I saw the lump on the ground before me. “Adrien?” I called, rushing to him. His body was twisted at the hip--his legs laying on their side, but his chest to the floor with his arms tucked in. His eyes were closed, but moving under his eyelids. His eyebrows skewed into a wince every few seconds. I rolled his chest over to straighten him out, all the while calling his name. I could see that he was unconscious, but he was moving. Not twitching or convulsing--just moving. His right arm pawed at his chest like he was trying to grab whatever was constricting it. “Adrien!” I yelled. I only noticed that I was crying when one of my tears splashed down onto his face. 

I kept yelling his name, shaking him as hard as I could without hurting him. My shouts must have alerted the other classes, because pretty soon a swarm of teachers had appeared. I heard Mr. Damacles mutter, “Good lord. Call Gabriel Agreste.” Hands tried to pull me away, but I grounded myself. I wasn’t going to leave until he woke up. 

I don’t know how long it was, but eventually his eyes did open. “Give him space,” someone demanded in a hushed voice. I looked up to see that a whole crowd had formed; teachers, students, the janitor. They all wanted to see the iconic model in pain. I just wanted to see Adrien awake. He wheezed in a couple breaths and his trembling hands raised to cover his eyes. 

“What’s going on?” he asked. His voice sounded like someone had taken a sheet of sandpaper to it. 

Mr. Damacles pushed past me, finally disconnecting my hand from his shoulder. “It’s alright, son. Don’t worry about it.” 

 Teachers began shooing students away with, “Get back to class,” and “That’s enough, give him his privacy.”

As I was getting up, I heard Adrien’s faint, petrified voice ask, “Did it happen again?” 

Mr. Damacles responded, “Just rest, son. A nurse is coming with a wheelchair so we can bring you…..” I didn’t hear the rest. 

I can’t get it out of my head. 

Alya’s not helping.

Maybe Tiki’s right. Maybe I should go on patrol to clear my mind.

I’m gonna do that. 

Good night Diary.

Sincerely,

Marinette

P.S. I just got home from patrol. Chat wasn’t there. I hope he’s okay. I could’ve used his jokes right now.

_______________________

next part

[taechaos]

That scenario was really good😱 Yeonjun’s last line made me GASP lolol

can you do another scenario where Yeonjun gifts OC roses and a teddy bear through a delivery service so she is shocked when she receives them, how would Jungkook react? 😱

I love jealous/pissed/possessive Jungkook 🥵

YALL JUST REALLY LOVE THE DRAMA 💀💀 making my man suffer like this,,, you'll be hearing from my lawyers

im gonna be including this bit in the scenario so 😎

"Is this for you or me?" you ask Soyeon who can barely keep her eyes open after waking her upon seeing a bunch of gifts when you opened the door of your dorm room to attend your morning lecture. It's a teddy bear holding a bouqet of roses in its fluffy paw, sitting on the hall floor to provide you with today's first surprise.

You know Soyeon is single, and you know Jungkook like the back of your hand: his romance doesn't extend to these cheesy gestures. It may seem rude to not even think of the possibility that it might be your boyfriend's doing, and despite being such a hopeless romantic, you're certain it's not from him.

Soyeon grumbles drowsily as she stretches before rubbing her eyes with her fists. "What?" she yawns tiredly.

"That," you point past the open door and she follows the direction of your finger with puffy eyes.

"Definitely not," she answers with a sleep strained voice. "Look for a card." She doesn't leave room for a response before turning on her side to face away from you and fall back asleep.

You listen to her advice and crouch before the toy to search for anything that would reveal the identity of the delivery person. It's with close inspection that you find a white card stuffed between the roses.

In your hand it reads: Good morning, beautiful. Can't wait to see you in Human Anatomy.

There's your clarity, and you can't doubt it's Yeonjun when Soyeon doesn't even take this course. It's pathetic, you think, to try and court someone who's already in a stable relationship. This isn't him going after you, but beckoning you to go to him just like he said you would before calling your boyfriend a cliché. It more or less sounds like a mind game, and you're stuck between ignoring his advances completely or confronting him about it.

Yeonjun seemed like an understanding guy; he did say he wouldn't go around you asking for a date, and for two days, he hasn't. If he takes orders so well, it wouldn't hurt to tell him to leave you alone once and for all.

That's your reasoning to march down the hall and find Yeonjun after crumbling the note and leaving the gift on someone else's doorstep. Front rows are your go-to spot to not miss a single detail in your lecture, and it's no shocker seeing Yeonjun sitting on a front row bench.

You clench your fists and scowl to intimidate the creep before stomping over to him. Dismissing your demands is out of the question when your stance nothing short of angry. He needs to know you're not playing around, that he can't manipulate your naivety like he's attempting to.

His eyes twinkle the moment they land on you and he stops spinning his pencil to give you his utmost attention. Good, he's listening. You don't trespass the barrier in the form of a stretched out table between you two as you glower over him.

"I'm gonna make this short," you glare with slit eyes, "I don't want anything that has your fingerprints on it nor do I want to hear you speak to me ever again. Leave me alone or I will report you for harrassment. Say yes if you understand."

The light in his gaze dims momentarily as his awed smile falters. "Y-Yes." He appears afraid and innocent, but your gut denies it. "But may I ask why?"

"Oh, you know why," you scoff in a hushed voice, "I don't want your stupid cards and your stupid gifts, and most of all, I don't want you. Get that through your thick skull."

He never knew you could be this mean, and it almost throws off the sweet impression he has of you until he remembers that you're just loyal. He loves that you're so faithful, and he wants you to be faithful to him only. He craves it so deeply, but he says nothing of the sort and instead stammers, "I-I understand. I-I'm sorry, I'll leave you alone if that's what you wa–"

The slam of the lecture room's doors echo in the spacious hall, and you hurriedly take a seat on the edge of the bench to distance yourself from Yeonjun as much as possible. He has to bite his lip to stop a smile from growing on his face from having you sit next to him.

But just as you requested, he doesn't interact with you throughout the lecture except for a few glances to drink in the sight of you being so close to him. Instances like these are the only time he can feel intimate with you, but it'll only get better on from here.

Because the professor assigns a pair project before you're dismissed.

"Before you leave, by the end of the term, you will have a report submitted in pairs regarding senses that affect the human system in a topic of your choice. More information on the college website, along with the assigned pairs. You can go."

"I already checked," Yeonjun whispers to you, making you immediately wear a distasteful expression, "I'm your partner."

"Nuh-uh," you deny childishly before taking out your phone as you stand from the bench to leave after packing your stationaries. You log onto the site just as you receive a notification from Jungkook.

the love of my life ♡: no good morning text? sus

You have to swipe it away out of worry that you'll actually be forced to spend time with Jungkook's new nemesis. The site loads. You scroll past the details of the task and finally land on the pairs.

And there it is—your name next to Yeonjun's on the screen.

"No," you exhale to yourself and rush out to the hall to avoid Yeonjun. "No, no, no."

Below the names explicitly states: No changes in the assigned pairs. It's too big of a coincidence for you to think it's just your bad luck—you're certain bribery is involved, and how lovely that you can't do anything about it.

You take pride in your intelligence, but you can't outsmart him in this situation, especially when your grades are being held over your head to force yourself to be around Yeonjun. Jungkook would get arrested for murder if you involved him in it, and he surely wouldn't leave you alone if you told him about it.

But then again, you promised—no more secrets.

You: good morning kookie!! i was a little busy so i couldn't text you :< did you sleep well?? <3

"Fuck, fuck," you shriek to yourself as you keep walking, not paying attention to where your feet are leading you. Just as long as you're safe from Yeonjun so Jungkook wouldn't find you with him. You need to tell him when the guy isn't around, so you need to wait until his lecture's over–

Yeonjun calls for your name softly while running past the roaming students, and you stop on your tracks with the desire to spit out every insult you have in mind to his face.

"You asshole!" you grit the moment he faces you while breathing heavily. "You planned this, didn't you? I said–"

"I-I'm sorry, but I had nothing to do with it," he pleads with that innocent expression of his. "I promise I-I won't act like before! I'll respect your relationship and stop being weird!"

"Good," you jab a finger at his chest as you seethe, "I don't want to spend any more time with you than I have to."

He frowns with a jutting bottom lip, looking like a kicked puppy as his eyes turn glossy. You are so mean, and he hates it, but his only leverage is that he can be meaner—not to you, never you, but to Jungkook. He's a step ahead of you, and you can shower him with all the bad words you can think of until you heart is content, but he sees it as just a step in the process of owning you.

You think he's submissive and persistent, but no, he's just manipulative.

—

"Don't get mad," you warily caution while lying down on the grass next to your boyfriend, basking in the sun to last the peaceful atmosphere a little longer. His arm is under your back and his hand on your chest as you hold it.

He has his eyes closed as he says, "no promises."

"We promised to tell each other everything, and there's nothing you can do about this one so please don't get mad at me." He quirks a brow when he opens his eyes to see your timid face. "Remember Yeonjun?"

"You have to be fucking kidding me," he groans angrily as he sits up, prompting you to do the same. "You talked to him, didn't you? I specifically fucking said–"

"Can you just listen?" you sigh. "We have a project together." His brows scrunch intimidatingly, making it harder to say what's on your mind. "And this is unrelated but... he brought a gift to my doorstep."

He doesn't say anything for a few seconds. "Is there anything more I should listen to? Are you done?"

"H-he said he'd stop acting weird and respect our relation–"

"Fucking bullshit. What, did he also say he just wants to be friends? That he's not interested in you anymore?"

"He didn't say that–"

"And you didn't tell the professor you wanted a different partner? Did you keep the gift too?" he sneers mockingly.

"Jungkook, I can't switch, and no I didn't keep the freaking gift," you defend, feeling offended. He can be so provocative when he's mad. It isn't even your fault! "I'm telling you, there's nothing I can do except to convince him to work together online. Isn't that better?"

He grabs your jaw and pulls you a little closer. His grip is bordering on painful and you hold back a wince. "Are you fucking hearing yourself? You can't even be around him and yet you're not allowed to switch? Listen to me. You go to that fucking professor, tell him this guy is harrassing you and that you can't work with him, and if they don't listen, you go the headmaster. You hear me?" he slightly jolts you to command an answer.

"Y-Yes, but–"

"Don't make any fucking excuses," he hisses and lets go of your face. "If you don't do something about it while I'm giving you the chance, then I will."

You hold onto your chin as you meekly question, "what will you do?"

"Things don't need to escalate," he shrugs as he lies back down. "I'll threaten him with my pocket knife and one wrong word from him, I'll use it."

"Like kill him?" you exclaim in shock.

He rolls his eyes. You take him too seriously sometimes. "No. Just send a message. Now go run off to your professor before I ask Yoongi to be my alibi."

[fxcking-anon]

hi! request, spencer xfem!reader? reader works at the bau but spencer isn’t there (mutual crush or beginning of relationship) so she swings by his apartment to see he has a stomach flue so she helps and takes care of him? fluff?

Chicken Soup

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

TW: None :)

Word Count: 1,925

A/N: I’m so so very sorry for how long this took. I ruptured my appendix right after I got this request then started classes again and all of a sudden it was October! But it’s done now and we are on the road to being on top of our shit again! Woo! (I may or may not have posted this during math class too oops)

----------

Spencer had given you a key to his apartment a few months ago. After Penelope was shot, you really struggled being alone in your apartment. So, you found yourself knocking on Spencer’s door after a long case. More often than not, you stayed the night. Over time, you’d brought a few things to keep there for when you did sleep over. While Spencer was no Derek Morgan, protector-of-all, kicking-doors-in-and-taking-names, he knew how to distract you from the darkness you both saw on a daily basis. And on the worst nights, he held you after your nightmares.

You had tried to return the key once you could finally be alone again. Spencer refused, insisting you were welcome to come and go as you pleased. So you did, often bearing gifts as you walked through the door. Sometimes coffee, a home cooked meal, or maybe a movie. 

The two of you had always been close. You had a habit of befriending the misfits and bringing them out of their shells. It also helped that people seemed to find you easy to talk to. You can’t name how many times an acquaintance has spilled their soul to you just because you “seem really approachable”. 

And yet, after months of spending most of your days off together and you having a key to his apartment, it took nearly the entire BAU team, excluding Hotch, holding an intervention of sorts to force you two to address the fact that you clearly liked each other and what you were currently doing, was dating.

That led to an awkward evening back at his apartment, trying to talk things through. You knew Spencer didn’t exactly have a lot of experience with relationships and honestly, you didn’t have a lot of experience with healthy ones. After an excruciating half hour of awkward silence and “well, what do you think?” back and forth, Spencer just took your face in his hands and kissed you. 

You’d been officially together since then. Over the past few weeks, the two of you had established a little routine at work. He usually beat you there on nights you didn’t stay with him. He’d grab you both coffee and leave yours at your desk with a little drawing on a sticky note. The little creatures he drew were odd looking and sometimes a bit scary, but you still found yourself storing the sticky notes away in one of the drawers in your desk. 

Today, you were running late after an accident on the freeway put you much further behind schedule than you would’ve liked. As you stepped out of the elevator on the sixth floor, you scanned the room for his mop of curly hair, coming up empty.

“Spence isn’t with you?” JJ asked, looking concerned as she hoisted the case files she was carrying higher into her arms. 

“No, I stayed home last night because I had to finish some laundry I was putting off. Is he not here?” you tried to ignore the surge of panic that began to flow through you. While it was highly unlikely anything had happened to him, he’d been held captive before. In your line of work, it wasn’t completely off the table. You and JJ locked eyes, slight worry laced in both of your eyes. 

“Hotch hasn’t heard from him, I just figured you had,” she said. 

“No, I’ll call him now.”

You beelined for the empty conference room before calling your boyfriend. “Y/N?” Spencer croaked, picking up on the fourth ring. 

You quickly realized he was sick. After hanging up and reassuring Spencer you’d be there as fast as you could, ignoring his protests that you need to be at work, you found yourself in Hotch’s office.

“Look, we don’t have a case and if we get one, I can be back here, ready to go in twenty minutes flat. It’s just, he doesn’t take care of himself as it is and he’s likely downplaying how sick he really is-” you started off, rambling off excuses.

“Y/L/N,” Hotch said, cutting you off. “It’s fine. Just take your paperwork with you. I’ll have Garcia call you if we get a case, okay?”

“Thank you so much, Sir,” you said, heading back to your desk to grab your things. You didn’t need to take the day off to go take care of your sick boyfriend. However, your boyfriend was rarely sick. In the time that you’ve known him, you’d never seen him sick. Ever. You attributed it to his heightened awareness of the spread of germs and his commitment to handwashing. 

----------

On your way back to Spencer’s apartment, you made a quick pit stop at the local grocery store, picking up a few ingredients for your normal go to comfort foods. 

You set the bags down when you reached his apartment door, fishing your key out of your bag. You opened the door to find a full sink and no sign of Spencer. You set the groceries on the counter before peeking into his bedroom. 

Spencer was dead asleep, curled into the fetal position under his comforter and an additional three throw blankets. His hair was damp and matted on his forehead. There was a tense look on his sleeping face, brows furrowed and frowning. You stepped into the room, moving to situate yourself next to him on the bed. Gently, you brushed a few strands of hair from his forehead. “Y/N?” Spencer mumbled out, not yet opening his eyes. You leaned down to place a soft peck on his forehead, causing him to open his eyes. “I told you not to come,” he said sleepily, trying his best to sound stern. 

“As if I wouldn’t. How are you feeling, baby?” you asked, voice still hushed. 

“I have a fever. It’s probably the flu. Which means you’re going to get sick too,” he started, propping himself up on his elbows and pulling himself out of your gentle grasp.

You rolled your eyes before climbing all the way onto the bed and guiding him to rest back on your chest. “If I can handle kicking ass on a daily basis, I can handle a measly little cold. Now shut up and let me take care of you.”

Spencer huffed under his breath before settling his head on your chest, right over your heart. You could feel him relax as he listened to the steady pace of your heartbeat, drifting off to a more peaceful sleep. His eyebrows relaxed as you stroked his hair. 

----------

You weren’t sure how long you were asleep when you woke up, checking Spencer’s bedside clock to see it had only been about two hours. Instinctively, you checked your phone, making sure you hadn’t missed any calls from Hotch. By some miracle, you had no new notifications. Maybe just this once, the universe would give you a day to take care of your sick boyfriend without having to race off to play hero. 

Spencer was fast asleep, his breathing even and slow. You smiled to yourself before slipping out of his bed and resting his hand back against the pillows. You could lay there all day as he slept, but you knew you needed to start cooking now so he’d have something to eat when he finally emerged from his slumber. 

Your mother had always made homemade soup when you were sick. It was cheesy as hell, but it was what you knew. So you got to work cutting up the vegetables you brought from the store as you popped the chicken in the over. You hummed to yourself as you cooked, dancing around aimlessly and singing into the butcher knife in your hand. 

“Should I be concerned that you use knives as microphones?” Spencer asked, shuffling from his room, wrapped in a blanket. You froze, striking an Elvis pose with your knife as you smiled at him. His voice was less groggy now and he seemed to be a little more awake.

“Thank you, thank you very much,” you imitated Elvis, giggling a bit as you returned to chopping vegetables. “And listen, a girl has to make do with whatever makeshift mic she can find,” you teased, “Are you hungry?”

Spencer scrunched his face just enough for you to sense he still didn’t have an appetite. Regardless, he needed to eat. “I don’t need to be a genius to tell you how important it is that you get nutrients into your body-”

“Yeah, yeah” he grumbled, making his way to a cabinet behind you. He grabbed a sleeve of saltines from the middle shelf before hoisting himself onto the counter next to where you were slicing. “What are you making? It smells good.”

“Chicken soup,”

He hummed in acknowledgement, placing a cracker in his mouth. You smiled to yourself as the two of you sat in silence, you cutting up some celery and him munching on a cracker. You didn’t often get much domestic time together. With your work schedules, you didn’t have a lot of free time to begin with. Mostly, you’d do something quiet and low energy. It was hard to remember the last time you got to just be in each other’s presence while you did normal people things.

“What are you smiling around?” Spencer asked, looking at you inquisitively. 

You looked up at him, breaking into a bigger smile. “It’s nice, getting to just be with you on a weekday, making lunch. I’d rather you weren’t sick, of course, but we haven’t had a day off in forever.”

He grinned back at you, taking a moment to brush a strand of hair that escaped your bun behind your ear. “I love you,” he said plainly, making you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

You’d both said I love you before, but you still felt the same butterflies as the first time he said it. You could’ve stayed like that for the rest of time, reveling in his gaze. However, the oven beeped, letting you know the chicken was done. 

“I have to get that,” you whispered out, hating to remove your face from his light touch. 

You pulled the chicken from the oven before shooing Spencer out of the kitchen and back into bed, convincing him to get some more rest as you finished the soup.

----------

As you lounged on the sofa with Spencer’s head in your lap later that evening, it dawned on you that Hotch never texted. You actually got a real day off. You stroked Spencer’s hair softly, twirling some of his little curls between your fingers. “What’s that song?” Spencer asked, shifting to look up at you. You furrowed your eyebrows at him, clearly confused. “You’ve been humming something, I don’t recognize it,” he said.

You stopped for a moment, realizing it was the same song your mom used to sing you when you were sick. “I’m not actually sure what it’s called,” you admitted, “My mom used to sing it to me when I was sick. I don’t remember the words anymore, just the melody.”

Spencer nodded in agreement, still staring up at you. 

“What?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Nothing, I just love you, that’s all.”

“I love you more.”

He leaned up to give you a quick kiss, his lips far less chapped after you spent the day pumping him full of liquids and hot soup. He laid back on your lap, tuning back into the silly cartoon on the television screen. Your hands found their way back into his hair again, sighing contently.

[beomglocks]

colors ; k.th

part of the badlands series!

colors: “you’re ripped at every edge but you’re a masterpiece.”

based off halsey’s badlands album.

warnings and other: museum curator!taehyun, old money!y/n, mentions of depression and grass smoking, little bit of angst i guess??

taehyun sighed as he took down the 11th painting this week. the museum hadn't been very busy in the past couple of weeks, maybe because the weather was getting colder. one part of him figured that many people just wanted to be bundled up at home watching holiday themed movies and drinking warm drinks rather than appreciating enchanting artworks.

he couldn't fool himself though, he knew the truth. today's generation didn't care about the fine arts anymore. a shame, seeing as everything around them seemed to be inspired by it.

kang taehyun worked at his local museum. he had been offered the position by the owner one night while roaming the place. this should've been a red flag looking back. the owner seemed desperate for someone to fill in the position since the previous employee had left without notice. nonetheless, taehyun took the job and didn't regret it one bit.

open 24/7, the red haired boy was always working on the clock. not that there was much to do seeing as most of the people his age or even a bit older didn't hang around museums purely for the joy of it. actually, his only job was to exhibit the newly arrived collections, clean and dust them off, and conduct regular tours and workshops for the public. due to this and the fact that not many people even came by he would take regular breaks.

once in a while you'd see the occasional old person or art expertee roaming around the small museum. if you were lucky, you'd see the local edgy teens posing next to a piece they didn't understand just to get an aesthetic picture. taehyun would also have the unfortunate job of shooing them away or scolding them for getting just a bit too close.

recently his boss, who was the museum manager and maybe the only other person besides taehyun that worked there, had informed him that due to funds and unfortunate unforeseen events, the museum would be closing down in about a month from now. this caused taehyun to fall deep into a depression since this was his only job and he loved it here. the museum was like his second home. he found comfort in the silent images displayed throughout the building. they always told him a story and when new pieces came in he would sit and stare attentively at the new anecdote being told to him.

taehyun smiled sadly at the piece he had just taken down. it was a painting of 2 people kissing however both of their faces were covered by white cloths. this was his favorite and he didn't even have a clue as to why. probably because of the uncertainty of what the other was feeling or because of the fact that the other couldn't see each other's faces through the cloth, that would've made the kiss more exciting in his opinion.

he stepped out of the museum and into the frosty air of the outside world. it was only autumn so why was it so cold? he thought to himself. he discreetly pulled out a prerolled blunt and his white lighter from his pocket. he lit it and stuck in between his slightly chapped lips.

maybe smoking dope wasn't the healthiest thing in the world, especially for a boy so young, barely 19, but it helped taehyun get his mind off the inevitably of losing his job and being homeless for the winter. he shuttered at the thought. he would have to room with one of his friends, he sighed shaking his head. no, he didn't want to be a burden, yeonjun had helped him enough as it is.

he looked at his surroundings taking in the cold autumn afternoon. the trees had long lost their leaves and were bare. the sky was a murky gray color as if it were threatening to rain any time soon. he noticed a girl bundled up in winter clothes near the entrance of the building glance at him. he smiled at her and she jumped at the eye contact, thinking that he wouldn't catch her. taehyun chuckled as he watched her rush into the museum. "back to work," he said out loud to himself.

once the blunt had been almost gone, he smoked what was left of it and headed back into the empty museum. he was feeling light-headed, the effects of the blunt finally taking action, but taehyun was used to it so it barely affected him as much.

he made his way to the girl who was now starting to take off her jacket and scarf. taehyun tapped on the girl's shoulder to get her attention. "hi," he smiled at the girl, showing off his dazzling smile. "if you'd like, i could give you a tour of the museum." well what's left of it anyways, he thought to himself.

"oh...no thank you," said the girl. she smiled warmly at the worker. "well not to be invasive of your decision but it's sort of in my job description," taehyun replied as he rubbed the back of his neck. the girl sighed in defeat, "i guess i have no choice then."

taehyun laughed as he took her coat and scarf to hang up in the public closet, "yep, trust me. they say im not that bad of a tour guide, im quite fun to be around if i do say so myself. i promise not to bore you too much." the girl nodded, not entirely convinced. "if i do end up bored i will hold you accountable..." she took a moment to take a peek at taehyun's name tag, "kang taehyun," she joked.

as they walked through the museum the girl couldn't help but notice that it was fairly empty. "why are there almost no paintings in here?" she laughed hesitantly. "i thought this was a museum?" taehyun stopped walking, turning to her with a sad expression on his face.

"the museum is expected to close in about a month or so," he stated simply. "oh...that's terrible. may i ask why?" the girl responded. "my boss says we've run out of funds or something like that," taehyun chuckled bitterly. "people don't really give a shit about good art these days anyways."

"that's a shame..."

they continued to look through the various paintings that were still up and occasionally the girl would ask to see the ones that were taken down and left on the floor. it seemed the two were lost in each other's company as night started to approach.

"thank you for the tour of this lovely museum taehyun. it was fun but it's a shame such a nice museum like this is closing down," the girl said softly. taehyun nodded solemnly, he just wanted to get this day over with and crash at his apartment. he didn't blame the girl before him but talking to her reminded him of his harsh reality. a notification coming from the girl's bag made both of them jump as they were both lost in their thoughts.

"ah, that must be my father. he's kind of annoying when it comes to my curfew," she chuckled, digging her phone from her bag. taehyun watched her with a bored expression until his eyes reached her bag. he hadn't noticed this earlier but she had been carrying a louis vuitton bag. his eyes bulged at the expensive item that was so close to him, they got even larger when she fished out the latest iphone from it.

taehyun wasn't poor per se, he had just enough to get by since he was living paycheck to paycheck. however, he had never been in such close proximity to any luxury items. he suddenly felt weird being this close to this girl.

"what do you mean by curfew?" taehyun asks hesitantly. the girl sighs, "my father is one of south korea's richest chaebol's, maybe one of the big three at his point." she rolled her eyes as if this information was nothing. "he's super strict with me because i guess i'm just his show pony daughter whom he can show off to say he's a good father."

taehyun gulped, had he just been casually hanging out with the daughter of one of the richest men in korea? he felt sick at this. she looked up at taehyun's uneasy expression, "oh my god im sorry i just dumped that all on you! i just needed to catch a break so i came here, i didn't mean to drag you into my life story."

taehyun fixes his face, laughing nervously, "no- no its fine really. we all need a break sometimes right? im glad you got to have that time here." the girl smiled up at him, completely misreading his nervous laughter, "im glad i got to spend it here with you taehyun."

"oh before i go!" taehyun watched her pull out a checkbook from her bag and his stomach dropped. he silently watched her scribble some stuff onto the slip and tear it out, handing it to him.

"there's not too much i can take out of my account without my father flipping out but i hope this helps even just a little. whether it be in your personal life or with the museum."

taehyun eyes the check and chokes when he sees 50,000 dollars written neatly on the black line. he swears he can feel sweat going down his face like in the cartoons. "i- i cant possibly take this from you." he moves to hand the check back but the girl refuses to take it back. "taehyun, you love this museum with your entire being. i see the way to look at the paintings and the passion with which you explained them to me. i'd hate to see that taken away."

"plus, if you're gone who's gonna give me the tour when i come back?" she laughs as if this is something casual. taehyun's hands shake as he pockets the check, "i seriously cannot thank you enough...you don't know how much you just helped the museum and m-"

the girls phone dings again and she grumbles, "ugh why can't he just leave me alone. sorry but i think i really gotta go for real before he tracks my location or something crazy like that."

taehyun nods wistfully at the mention of her having to leave. he was really starting to enjoy her company.

"oh by the way," the girl giggles as she pulls her coat on hurriedly.  "was that you smoking weed at the corner of the museum earlier?" the girl chuckled to herself again just remembering it. taehyun furrowed his eyebrows, "why would you say that kind of thing at out loud and at my job?!" he scolded in a playful hushed voice.

"i just thought it was funny and you also smelled of weed the entire tour, i didn't mind though so don't worry," the girl concluded. she was starting to walk away towards out the door now. "i'll walk you out," taehyun offers. "such a helpful employee. is this in the job description too?" the girl jokes, turning to him while a smile on her lips. "well, not exactly," taehyun says smoothly.

she shakes her head, "i'll see you soon taehyun." he watches her walk off into the darkness of the night when he suddenly remembers something.

"hey what's your name by the way?" he shouts after the girl. for some reason taehyun really was hopeful of seeing her again.

"y/n!" came the disembodied voice of the girl he had just met.

[spookysmujer]

Cherry pt.2, O. Diaz

Summary: Y/N is in her feelings and Oscar’s guilt doesn’t allow him to let her in. 

warnings: angst, f e e l s, cliche love shet 🤩

word count: 3.6k

A/N: I want to thank everyone who has been so patient! The writers block was soooo major. The love that Cherry got sent me so naturally I had to do a part 2 and I hope y’all like it. I’m lowkey feeling a part 3...🤪 I have a few drafts of Spooky/Sad Eyes fics that I am slowly but surely working on. Hopefully I’ll have a few up sometime this week/weekend. ❤️ Please: Heart! Reblog! Follow! Turn on those notifications! Love ya!

(gif belongs to @merakiaes 🦋)

-

“Boo, you whore.”

Another piece of popcorn hits the tv screen joining the pile that has accumulated on the floor below since the beginning of the movie you started almost 2 hours ago. The guy confessing his love below the girls window, the sappy confession, the cliche smile and laugh. Yuck, it makes you pretend gag as you fly a handful of popcorn this time.

If someone told you that you would be all bent up about turning down a guy, you’d tell them that they’re tripping but here you are. The typical ‘in your feelings’ watching sappy shit and in the same clothes as yesterday morning. Yes, yesterday morning. How the hell did you get here?

For the 3rd time in that hour you pick up your phone to check for any notifications. Almost unlocking it to open the contacts app and.. No! You mentally condemn yourself for thinking of calling him. It would be pointless considering he hasn’t made any form of contact since that night at the beach. Since Oscar ‘Spooky’ Diaz told you, his weekend booty call, he might think he feels something more between the two of you. It’s not the first time a guy has confessed that he has a crush on you, it’s just never been done like this. It’s usually, hey I like you, then comes the banging and then ghosted. Now it’s completely opposite.

You can’t help but be confused and laugh about the whole thing because since Oscar became the leader of of the Santos he had been a cold looking, tough talking, macho man that no one would dare question. Even with you when the whole FWB started then he got comfortable. You definitely weren’t prepared for it.

With all this ghosting and being a sad little girl, it has given you time to think about it all. About pursuing a relationship with Spooky. But with how things went down, you question it even more than you did before. His immediate reaction to rejection is anger and pettiness. Instead of looking at the situation and thinking on how to handle it. If this is how he handles his relationships you can only imagine how he handles his gang business but the teardrop tattoo tells you enough.

Without even thinking of the two you of being the two of you, being with him... it was something. When you’d have sex and just lay next to him, it did feel like something. But you never acknowledged it as anything because it was just sex and was explicitly labeled by him as just so.

“This is just sad.” Your sister says as she stands in the door way, to which you completely ignore.

You point the remote to the tv and turn up the volume, “Your life is sad.”

“Yeah, but not as sad as yours.”

She strides over and grabs the remote from besides you to turn off the movie. You roll your eyes and grab your phone as another means of distraction, which she grabs from you too.

“What?!”

She gives you a look of ‘oh really?’ and crosses her arms. If there is one thing to get you to lose your marbles it’s when people stare at you. Waiting for you to crack and you always do.

“What do you want me to do? He clearly got his feelings hurt and doesn’t want anything to do with me. And for what it’s worth, I’m not even entirely sure I can see anything happening between us.” You admit, finally looking at the younger verison of yourself.

She sighs and ushers you to move over to let her lay beside you, “Y/N, you really don’t get it, huh? Oscar likes you! It scared you when he admitted it because like I always say, he’s a dangerous guy. But sweetheart, you may not see it entirely but you still see it. You are curious. You want to know what’s there besides sex no matter how much you say that you can’t see it. Hello! We can all see that y’all weren’t just sleeping with each other. Something is there and you need to just take that leap of faith. You keep telling yourself that it’s pointless to try and talk with him. Then I see you like this and it’s obvious you’re in your feelings. So do something about it.”

She smacks your leg and gets up to leave. You can only huff and puff at her opinion. What more could you do though? You’ve given him space both after the night at the beach and when you left him the voicemail. Perhaps his pride is too big and he didn’t want to make the first move. But so is yours. If you didn’t make the move, your sister would drag you there. So fuck it, you sigh and roll out of bed to make yourself presentable to go talk to Oscar.

After sitting in your driveway for 10 minutes trying to talk yourself out of it, you twist the key into the ignition and take a deep, semi-confident breath, “Okay, just go over there and talk to him. Ask him what’s up, why he been ghosting you. Just be cool. Com’n Y/N, shake your damn nerves. You’re that bitch, been that bitch and will foreva be the bitch!”

You pep talk yourself while driving to Oscars and it makes you feel a little better and it distracts you long enough that you’re now driving on the familiar street. You park behind a few cars on the curb that’s a house down from his.

As you approach it, music can be heard as well as guys talking. It’s mid afternoon which meant the Santos were probably scattered on the front lawn. Sure enough as you step in front of the house there is a few on the porch, a few on the run down couches and others standing around. Oscar leant besides the stairs and his eyes find yours for a brief second.

You look at the Cholos as you walk up the pathway leading to the stairs of the house. A few hushed conversations and tsks from the rucas.

“Hey,” You make your way in front of Oscar who just takes a swig of his redbull, eyes avert and looking down at his feet.

“Sup.”

You look at Joker who sports an amused face, staring at you like you were raspado on a hot day, you inhale deeply and look back to Oscar, shifting your weight and crossing your arms.

“I tried calling, even left you a message. Did you get it?” Oscar still didn’t look at you, only at the can in his hand, sniffing and shrugging his shoulders.

It isn’t that Oscar is upset that you turned him down or even that you trash talked him, but that he feels like shit when he listened to your voicemail. As he had just spent that Friday night doing fine ass Leti in a hotel room on Fremont street, in Sin City. Because yes, it was fucked up on what you said. But Oscar did feel like he wanted more with you, not from you. It scared him to admit it, he wasn’t one to have time for serious relationship shit but hell he wanted it. So when you went off, he did too.

“Been busy, I’m a busy man.” He finally looks to you, taking a long gulp then crushing the empty can in hand and tossing it aside. Your eyes follow it and you scoff.

The Santos laugh as a side smirk forms on his face, “Real busy, homes!”

It’s obvious he is playing the part of being the leader, looking tough and shit. His machismo running hard.

“Since when you that kinda hyna, Y/N? Y’all just fucking why you so pressed on why he ain’t on your ass?” Joker calls out, getting a chuckle from Oscar and everyone else.

You deadpan look at him and then look to Oscar, waiting for him to talk to you. To ask the guys to bounce or even signal you to take a walk but he just stares at you like you were some annoying Girl Scout at the front door.

“You lucky you fine because you real dumb.” Another Santo you recognize as Oso says and you feel real ganged up on now. You lick your lips and purse them into a thin line, looking at him to ask what the hell he means by that. “Nena, he was busy banging fine ass Leti that’s why he ain’t call you back. Looks like he wanted something spicer.”

Your brows furrow at Oso’s words. Busy banging fine ass Leti. Everyone begins to laugh and look at you like you’re the high school laughing stock. Oscar’s facial expression says yup, that’s right. But you weren’t about to succumb to Oso’s words and react the way they probably hope you will.

“Sin City, huh? Nice.”

That’s all you say as you start to walk away from the house. You honestly could have said more, more trash talk about Oscar fucking Leti or worse. You could have gone off about how Spooky got his little heart broken but you weren’t about to make a fool of him in front of the Santos, you weren’t a prick like that. Let him have his power trip, you thought.

You could feel the tears forming as you make your way back to the car. The hot liquid threatening to spill over but quickly blinking them away. After getting in the car, you grip the steering wheel and take a deep, sharp breath before starting it and driving off.

Oscar continues to laugh with his homies about what just happened but he briefly lets his face fall as he replays the look you gave him and how cold your voice became. But this is how he hoped it’d go. He secretly hoped you’d be offended and leave because the guilt he felt when listening to your voicemail told him that he didn’t deserve a woman like you. So pushing you away works better.

“Hynas be fuckin’ trippin’.” He says pulling the cigarette pack from his pocket.

-

The look you give your sister when you get back to your loft is all she needed to understand how things went. She gave you an apologetic look as you shrugged your shoulders. Nothing a bathe couldn’t fix.

In all your years of dating, this has to be the most fucked up thing. It’s one thing for a guy to sleep with you and then ghost you, but to admit feelings then fuck other chick and ghost you? That hits different.

The speaker plays music as the candles burn sweet aromas while you sit in a hot, bubbly bath. You have your head tipped back and eyes closed. It’s when you get comfortable that your mind starts replaying the moments that connected to Oscar’s confession that night.

The smiles Oscar had when you’d walk through his front door, the lingering stares when you’d talk, the skin to skin even after the sex was long over. The guy has liked you from the start.

Then you start to think your reactions. The burning feeling in your cheeks, the comfort in the touches, the tink your heart had when his name popped up on your phone.

“Fuck.”

How did you not see how you were falling for him as he was for you? How could you deny it was just sex when you thought of him before, during and after the hook ups? Did that “Spooky” image of him really cloud your judgement that much? Sweetheart, the guy admitted he bounced to go fuck Leti in Las Vegas!

But you know the only reason he did so is because of his go-to reaction to things. Oscar always gets his way with things and people.

You sigh as you finally push the denial and fear aside to see things more clearly. The water splashes around as you sit up from the tub, turning on the shower to rinse off. You get out, clean up and dry off while thinking what your next is move is going to be. From the looks of it you were right about Oscar’s pride. Either he isn’t making the first move or actually has decided that he is over you. Yet, here you are. On a mission to get him to talk to you.

There isn’t any hesitation this time. You don’t wait in your driveway before driving off nor do you pep talk yourself on your way there. It’s one of those moments that your ambition is so strong that you are diving head first.

And thank the heavens there are no Santos crowding the house. The red impala in the driveway and the dimly lit kitchen shows that he is home. Unless he had fine ass Leti pick him up. You shake the thought as you pull up the curb directly in front of the Diaz residence.

You step out and walk onto the sidewalk when your feet plants itself there. It’s then that you begin to think. What will you say to him? Why haven’t you been talking to me? What’s with you dipping to Vegas? Or ‘hey, in my 20 minute bathe I had before coming here I suddenly understood what you meant about thinking of other shit besides sex. And I also realize I let everyone’s image of you cloud my judgement before giving you a chance!’

You turn back and open the passenger side door, turning the ignition so that the car system is on. The glow of your phone hitting your face as you reach for the aux cord and connecting it.

“This is so stupid, this so fucking dumb. All or nothing, Y/N.”

As the music starts, you turn it up and stand up back on the sidewalk.

The instrumental starts playing to “The Story” by Sara Ramirez that was featured on one of your favorite shows, Grey’s Anatomy. The moon casting a glow onto the yard, the chilly air surrounding. It’s like out of the damn movies you swear are so cliche. The same ones you would gag at and promise yourself you wouldn’t let a guy ever do. And look at you now.

All of these lines across my face

Tell you the story of who I am

So many stories of where I been

And how I got to where I am

But these stories don’t mean anything

When you’ve got no one to tell them to

It’s true, I was made for you

“I know you’re home. I can see the lights on and your car is here... and I’ll stand out here until you come out and talk to me. All night if I have to. I know you wanna talk.”

You call out loud, leaning against your car and reaching through the open window to up turn the volume.

Oscar mutes the tv to make sure he’s hearing right. As you spoke, he stands from the couch and in place when he confirms it’s your voice he’s hearing. That’s when the soft music under your voice gets louder.

I climbed across the mountains tops

Swam all across the ocean blue

I crossed all the lines and I broke all the rules

But baby I broke them all for you

The music blares from outside. He rolls his eyes and stands by the front door for a moment as he listens. Fighting the urge to walk out, shut off the music and tell you to bounce. He is also fighting a grin that his face is forcing, hearing that sappy music. But the first urge wins.

You see the front door open and a visibly irritated Oscar descend down the small staircase. He strides over quickly, pulling you off from against the door and reaching in to hit the knob, turning off the stereo system.

Oscar stands and faces you. He doesn’t say anything looking at you with annoyance.

“I knew you were home.” You joke, a little smile peeking. He wipes his chin and huffs.

“What do you want?”

“To talk.”

He only shakes his head, “I said all I needed to when you were here earlier.”

The sounds you make makes him quirk an eyebrow and you untangle your arms that were across your chest, “You’re acting like your compas are around. Afraid someone is listening? Don’t want anyone to hear you talk about your feelings? Come, let’s go inside.”

You walk towards his house and welcome yourself in without him so much as a step behind you. He stands there as you did so, shaking his head and releasing a held in breath. Things are definitely not going how he imagined.

When he steps over the threhold, you’re sat on the couch and staring of towards the kitchen. The many times you were here and it for the first time feels like you’re out of place. Oscar clears his throat and sits on the chair across from you.

“Let’s talk.”

You lick your lips and look down at your hands then to him, “You’re mad I turned you down. That’s why you’re acting like this. And that’s fine. You acted out with the whole Vegas shit and that’s fine. I get it.”

“You get it?” Oscar leans forward to rest his arms on his knees, “I went to fuck another hyna barely a day after we talked and that’s fine to you?”

You swallow and shrug your shoulders, “Yeah. I’m not your ruca, like Joker said we’ve just been fucking, we didn’t make a rule that we can’t see others.”

Oscar laughs at himself, reading you before looking away and standing. He walks to the dining area grabbing the ashtray, lighting a joint before settling back in his seat.

“It didn’t tick you off one bit that I spent the weekend in Las Vegas with someone, not just someone but fine ass Leti? Ha, bullshit it’s fine.” He scoffs.

“I-it didnt. It doesn’t.”

Oscar’s face contorts to anger, brows furrowing and lips pressed together tightly before shouting out, “It should! It should bother you. Why would you come running back to the guy who treats you like that? That’s fucked up. You shouldn’t let no one treat you like that. Not me, not anyone.”

You inhale sharply, “Well I’m here! I’m here because you got me thinking now. You got me in my damn feelings. Because any other guy to pull what you did, I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t come running back, like you say. I didn’t plan to. After your little machismo stunt with the guys I thought, fuck um. Fuck all that. Then... all those stupid times when I could feel you smiling at me, when you claimed we were just fucking? How when I craved, when we craved each other when we weren’t fucking?”

You’re out of breath. Your chest heaving, as the tears has formed, your anger always summoned tears, it’s a weakness of yours.

“I started thinking and seeing all the things that you claimed you wanted with me. And then I finally broke the vision of you that everyone sees and I saw you, Oscar not Spooky. And then my little stupid heart told me to come tell you all this.”

Oscar has only felt like this with his little brother, Cesar. The feeling of pushing and fighting for something. And when he built the courage to tell you he wanted more, he felt it then too. But then everything else that happened afterwards broke that feeling. Until now, he feels it again. It feels like a warm feeling, in the pit of his stomach that spreading throughout his chest now. And you feel it too.

You two only stare at one another. The only thing between you is the coffee table. He leans back in his chair, when his cheeks lift in a small smile. Oscar keeps his eyes off you for a bit. He really thought you’d get more upset and storm off after he dragged the whole sleeping with someone else thing. But here you are, pushing and fighting.

“So what now? Hm, tell me what you want to happen now.”

Just as he did, you look away and feel your cheeks burn. The warm feeling assaulting your chest.

“I want to figure this out. I want to know why my gut is telling me to find out what’s here. And you’re right, I don’t deserve to be treated this way but... I want to be treated someone kind of way with you.”

Oscar nods, blinking slowly and peering at you as you stand. You walk over and swing your leg across his lap to sit. His hands automatically reaching your waist, sliding up your back and down.

“Tell me you want that too.”

Oscar nods as your faces are mere inches apart. The space growing smaller and the warm feeling intensifying.

When your lips connect and it’s that moment you hear in those stories, the ones when the guys come home from the war to their gals, it’s bliss. The kiss isn’t needy, it isn’t I want you so bad but I want you. You two aren’t fighting for dominance. You aren’t trying to rip each other’s clothes off like you usually would in this situation.

After a few moments of kissing, you pull back and rest your forehead against his. Shallows breaths while keeping your eyes closed.

“So where do we start?” You ask him. He chuckles as you lean back, hands interlocked at the back of his neck.

“Dinner tomorrow. I’m gonna cook for you, get to know each other. Let’s start there.”

Tags:

@clemmingstylins0n @fairygardenss @firebenderwolf @spookysnena @princesstiffxoxo

[mimiplaysgames]

Terra Week Day 3 (Dreams/AU)

Summary: Terra hears stories about Xehanort during his apprenticeship. Everyone has something to say about his face. | Word Count: 3,954

Read on AO3

A/N: For Terra Week 2021! You can find that account on Twitter!

~*~*~*~*~

The Tenets of a Master, Ch. 3

To Dream is to risk. To risk is to show bravery. To show bravery is to embody strength. To embody strength is to Dream. 

In the middle of construction, Radiant Garden looks as though it’s been dealt an iron fist. Some neighborhoods need their roofs replaced and there’s now what they call an automatic trigger alarm system that is run by motion sensors. They are still clearing rubble from the streets on the west side. The east looks good as new, slowly filling back up with tufts of flowers. 

Terra has never been inside Ansem the Wise’s castle (well… him, not him anyway) but it used to be beautiful. It used to stand on brick and alabaster stone, graciously presenting a giant clock mechanism that made it look Grandfatherly, a home away from home, carefully placed gears running three pendulums. Now the remains are held up by pipes. Cranes pull up missing spires that have fallen off. The only part truly original to the castle is still that clock piece. Grandfather had a rough night but at least he’s cleaning up nicely.

Ven jogs to keep up with Terra’s strides. “I saw you talking to Naminé last night,” he says.

“You saw right.”

“I’m worried.” 

Terra is worried, too. Aqua, not suspecting anything, is leading the way up the stairs to the front entrance.

“You’re going to have to distract her for me,” Terra says, keeping his tone hushed.

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“Stall her when you get the chance.” At which Ven rolls his eyes. “Just for a short while.” Checking to see if Aqua has turned her head, Terra pretends it’s a casual conversation. With a (painted) smile, he says out loud, “Race you to the top.”

Ven groans and lags behind. 

At the top, Aqua greets one of the guards, a tall and meaty man with waist-length dark braids and slick sideburns that might as well be shaped by the edge of a knife. Terra has to push aside the question if this is one of the men who had kidnapped people for the sake of Xehanort’s experiments— the people he will meet today are not the same as they were.  He has to remember that.

“Terra,” she says. “This is Dilan.”

Dilan. Terra doesn’t recognize that name.

Speaking of, Dilan takes one glance at Terra before bursting into laughter, haughty and rich. 

“Aeleus,” he calls, his tone piercing like lances. “Come and see whose Somebody has finally decided to grace us with his presence.”

Aeleus. Nope, not this name either. 

Ven cowers behind Aqua when a head of orange curls appear around the corner.

If Dilan is tall, Aeleus is a beast, a walking fortress with muscles bigger than Terra’s head. It’s impressive enough to make Terra keep Earthshaker close at his fingertips. Aeleus has what looks like a permanent scowl—so woven into his skin that when he smirks, no other muscle moves with it. It must be the eyebrows, but it leaves Terra wondering if he’s going to get his nose caved in at any moment. These men do have reasons to hold resentment, after all. 

“I’ve given up on expecting a visit,” Dilan says when joined by his comrade. Two gatekeepers. “And I hardly ever expected to… feel this much when I would come upon your face again.” He grins and its equal parts amused and hurt. 

Aeleus grunts in agreement. He crosses his arms and Terra swears it makes him grow another inch. 

“If I may,” Dilan continues, “there have been quite the corrupted experiences in our history.”

Terra steps back. Corrupted. Before he can feel too sick, he feels a gentle hand on his wrist, Aqua stepping near him as she waits for his cue.

“I’ve carried such regret since,” Dilan says, hands wrapped behind his back. “I watch every face that passes by this castle, and at the end of each night, I’m left with this vacant pit in my chest, asking myself if we ever shared a shred of self-awareness, would we have pursued our dreams differently?

“Now that you are here,” he presses, angling down. “I realize it matters not what you remember of that time. I know when I see that shackled look in your eyes. I am not alone in this. For that, you’ll have no choice but to share the weight of that debt forever.” He smirks. “What say you, Aeleus?”

Aeleus measures Terra with his eyes. His voice is deep and as dense as rock. “You’re puny.”

Dilan spits into another bout of laughter.

Their roast of him eases Terra. He doesn’t know these men, and they know less of him, but they have a mutual friend called Burden, sharing the cheer. Aqua gets the message that all is fine, and lets go. 

“Well...” Terra starts, too self-conscious of the way he speaks. The sound of his voice must be entertaining for Dilan, who’s containing himself. “I’m here to make some things right. Can we come in?”

Dilan sustains a grin and raises a hairy eyebrow, nodding off to Aeleus in some silent conversation. “Did you really think you can have access without telling us the secret password?”

“A password?” Now he feels like a dork. “Can I have a hint?”

“You can give us your heart,” Aeleus says, and Dilan can’t control himself any longer.

With a clap of their hands, the castle doors open, and they spread apart to let Terra and his friends through. Terra has to wonder if normal will ever bless him with its visit ever again. If he could be normal when he hears of others’ stories, when some jokes hit too close to home. 

“Come back to train,” Aeleus says, giving Terra a hard knock on the shoulder that pushes him forward. “You need more muscle.”

The castle doors shut behind them with controlled weight, cutting off Dilan’s lingering amusement with a bang. Terra is left with hot ears, massaging his biceps to see if he’s gotten smaller.

“I think they like you,” Ven says. 

Pipes line the crooks between the walls and the ceilings. Like a respiratory system, it steams and churns, pumping humid life into the castle. Some of the halls are dark. Parts of the floor are chipped and if not, grimey. They have a long way to go before it looks pristine.

And Terra apparently has spent years here. But nothing gives him that spark. Nothing makes his stomach turn or drops a loaded bout of nostalgia. The very thought of having lived here sounds like an alternate reality that was never recorded, so at best it’s just a story, at worst a lie.

“Soooo…” Ven says to Terra, hands casually behind his head. “Does this place bring back any memories?”

Aqua scoffs. “That’s an awful question to ask, Ven.”

“You mean you’re not curious?”

Terra groans. It’s not the invasive nature of the question, but the fact that he asked Ven to lay low about this mission not several minutes ago and here he is nearly sabotaging it. He flicks Ven at the ear.

“What? I just want to know!”

“I don’t,” Aqua mutters. 

Stars. Terra’s pocket buzzes with notifications from his Gummiphone, but he ignores them. Now’s not the right time.

A man steps from around the corner, knee deep in a long, white lab coat with coiffed wrist cuffs and a folded handkerchief on his collar. He walks so quietly that they don’t hear him approach. Clean cut except for the hair—too clean, actually, and brushed over the front, like linen pulled too far to one side of the table.

“Master Aqua,” this man greets with a bright and timid smile behind the curtain. “How pleasant to finally meet you to face to face.”

“Likewise, Ienzo.”

Ienzo. Terra only recognizes it because Aqua keeps in contact with him. 

Likewise, when Ienzo looks over her shoulder, he lights up. 

“I’m Terra.”

“I can tell.” Ienzo clears his throat. “Pardon, I shouldn’t be so forward, but… You look so much like him.” He clicks his tongue. “I shouldn’t have said that, either.”

“It’s fine,” Terra says, though it’s not.

“I-I can show you around the castle.” He adjusts his collar. “It may seem unhomely now, but I assure you, it warms up in time.”

It’s already too warm.  

“This has been home for you for a while, right?” Aqua asks, a plastic quality to her voice as if she’s trying to patch things up. Nothing needs patching though. It’s just awkward. 

“Since I was a child.” Ienzo glances back at Terra. “May I say something?”

Everyone has something to say. Terra considers researching a magic spell to alter his face. “Sure.”

Ienzo tightens his collar again, the knot knuckling into his throat. “I really admired him. Xehanort.” 

It doesn’t feel like a punch to the stomach but more like his breath was sucked out by a hand after it slapped him in the face. “Um…”

“I don’t mean to be rude. Or forward.” This guy apologizes too much. And will choke himself if he doesn’t stop. “But for some time, ever since I’ve heard word of who you really were, I wondered what it would be like for the two of us to meet. I held no expectations. And yet… Everything about you is so foreign to me.”

There goes Aqua again, standing near and giving Terra gentle notice that she’s there. There goes Ven, gawking up at him and being completely unsubtle about how the conversation has turned. 

“Everything about this place is foreign to me,” Terra says, trying to be polite and failing at somewhere closer to aghast. 

“I apologize.” Ienzo turns his nervous ticks to his wrist cuffs, effortlessly attempting at cutting off his circulation. “I suppose you could say Xehanort was a profound presence in my life.” 

When Ienzo finally catches on to what he’s doing to his clothes, he exhales and puts his hand to his face, thinking deeply, maybe about a time in an alternate universe where lies and stories were real. It makes him look like a child.

“You would have been,” Terra says, keeping himself sweet, “very young when you met him.”

Ienzo nods slowly. “I was a child and taken in to study. Science was a language he spoke with ease and I wanted in every way to emulate that when I grew up.”

Terra can relate. “Was that hard on you?”

“Not in the beginning.” Ienzo slowly finds some courage with every word. “He wasn’t kind… Not like you are. He was polite, however, and he was focused. If anything, Xehanort had a sort of quality that made you believe all the possibilities were in your grasp. No matter what they were, or your age, or level of intelligence. He was magnetic. I grew up thinking I was capable of anything because of his support.” Ienzo stares down at a small puddle building up from the steam. “I wanted to impress. I believed in what he believed, and never once did I think—I justified everything I did. I did not know about you. And I am so very sorry.”

“I get it,” Terra says softly. “He made you feel like you were worth the time and effort.”

“Yes. Exactly.” 

And it came with a cost. Terra doesn’t need to say it, and neither does Ienzo, a quiet acknowledgement passing in the moments they nod and paint a smile between them. 

“I appreciate you giving me the time to release these thoughts,” Ienzo says. “I’ve struggled with them for some time, especially after waking up again.” 

“Happy to help.” Actually it hurts, but Terra can deal.

“Now I must reciprocate my efforts.” Ienzo turns to Aqua. “You are looking for your Keyblade.”

Aqua, for the second time that day, lets Terra go. “Did you find out anything new?”

After a moment, he says, “It is blue. Before you raise your hopes”—he lifts his hands in defense—“neither of us can recall what Xehanort has done with it. I don’t believe I have ever seen evidence of it during my time as a Nobody. We are regressing quite a few years in the past.”

“Oh.”

Ienzo blinks. “I was uncertain if I had dreamed of it, but when I was a child, I would take walks around the castle at night. A ritual I felt I needed in order to sleep. One of those serendipitous nights, I had walked past Xehanort’s personal office.” He glances at Terra, opens his mouth to say more, then thinks the better of it and addresses Aqua instead. (You, but not you.) “He had left the door open. He was studying a large object, electrifying it and concocting different spells to get it to react. I want to say it was blue, but I was not certain what I was looking at.”

They all stare at him in silence.

“He was… toying with it?” Aqua asks.

“I am not sure.”

“Maybe he was trying to activate it?” Ven says. 

“Perhaps.”

“How was he that night?” Terra asks, a distinct acidity to his throat and so help him stars, he might just spit it out in the next minute. It’s natural to hold your friends’ Keyblades. This is different.

“Frustrated,” Ienzo says. “I almost want to say that he was on the verge of giving up, as though it had given up on him.”

“That makes it sound like he was attached to it,” Aqua spits.

“That is a possibility. But whatever it was, it didn’t want to work with him.” 

Aqua smirks and lifts one elegant shoulder. “I can’t say I’m surprised.”

“Let me escort you to our records room.” Ienzo gestures with an arm to the hallway behind him. “I’ll show you some of his earlier journals. Perhaps there is a mention of it?” 

They start ahead except for Terra, who waits until they move several paces before they noticed he opted to stay behind.

“Actually,” Terra says slowly, finding opportunity here and swallowing the acid down. It’s going to take at least two meals to remove the taste. “Being here and listening to all of this makes me a little dizzy.”

Anything involving discomfort with her friends set off panic with Aqua. “Are you okay?”

Ven gives Terra a warning glare.

Robin Hood would have tweaked the truth for the better good. What a horrible thought, stars, Yen Sid has got to be humoring Aqua in getting Terra prepared for his Mark of Mastery. 

“I’m just overwhelmed,” Terra says. She believes him.

“Maybe you should step outside.”

Ven puffs out.

“I think that’s a good idea,” Terra says, pressing Ven with a glare back. Have my back. “I won’t be gone for long. I want to be around to help you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Aqua says, checking his eyes for signs of exhaustion. “Get your rest.”

It’s that easy and yet Ven walks away defeated. It shouldn’t take long. All Terra has to do is pull out his Gummiphone and find—

“Naminé.”

She’s back near the entrance. Thank the stars she prefers to use full sentences and could direct him where to go to meet her. When she sees him, she signals to be quiet and gestures for him to follow her. They go down a different hallway, one that is much more well kept than the one Aqua and Ven are taking. They pass by labs this way, some filled with computers, others with flasks, half of a library, and infirmary beds. Nothing so far that looks menacing or painful, but maybe Terra is overthinking the whole Xehanort-tortures-people legend. Or maybe the castle is designed to hide such things. 

She takes him to a room with a recliner and several computer screens that are running some diagnostics about the security systems outside, and closes the door behind them. 

Someone is already waiting here.

“Riku?”

“Terra.”

“What are you doing here?”

Riku holds his waist and draws out a long exhale, like a tired schoolteacher. “Ven was worried.”

“And spilled the beans.” Terra scoffs.

“And spilled the beans.” Riku smirks and it lightens up his whole face in a way that only fits with him. Terra never has to take anything too seriously for too long when he’s around Riku. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”

A mixed feeling of anxiety and relief wash over Terra like a lumpy massage on his shoulders. “I don’t mean to do this in secret.”

Riku shrugs. “I would have.” 

“I need to say something,” Naminé says, her arms wrapped around a lineless notebook. Even when announcing to a room, she keeps herself soft and small. “I’m not entirely confident about this.” 

Riku snorts. 

“How is that funny?”

“It’s not, I’m sorry.” After noticing how she’s staring at him with utter confusion, he waves at her. “You’re a lot more capable than you give yourself credit for.”

Unconvinced, she sighs and motions to the recliner. “Please get comfortable, Terra.”

“What is this going to look like anyway?” Riku leans on the dashboard behind him, a ghostly light silhouetting him like a grim reaper on guard. 

Naminé pouts. That same light gives her an eldritch glow, illuminating her white dress. “I’m going to attempt to connect Terra to Xehanort’s memories.”

“Nam,” Riku says, crossing his arms, suddenly serious. “That’s not a good idea.”

“Attempt.” 

“Xehanort is dead.”

“But memories stay with you,” Terra objects. They do. He can play them in his head, over and over. He already has for years. 

Eraqus lives as long as Terra can replay his voice. 

“From what I understood,” Riku says, leaning on his thighs, “you don’t remember being Xehanort. So how can you connect to his memories?”

But death is a one way door. 

“He was in my body,” Terra says. However, that Riku is skeptical of this suddenly makes Terra uneasy.

“Would you say you were bonded with Xehanort?” Naminé asks, so quiet it’s a shy whisper, afraid to ignite a bomb with the soundwaves of her voice. 

“Does irreparable damage count?”

“That may hurt you in the long run,” she says, pulling a stool aside Terra and opening her notebook on her lap. “What I mean is, the memories we share with other people form the bonds. They link together, like chains.”

Chains. Terra winces.

“You choose who you bond with, in all the decisions you’ve made in the past,” she continues.

In some way, Terra has chosen to bond with Xehanort, hasn’t he? He chose to confide in him, and he carries the shackles all these years later.

“But you are trying to access memories you’ve played no role in,” Naminé says. “There is nothing to link between the two, except for the body.”

“That isn’t enough?” Terra sits on the recliner. It’s stiff and unyielding, but he leans on his back and looks up at the monitor, illegible script running numbers upside down.

Riku groans.

“If you were still carrying Xehanort with you,” she says, “I think I could have made an artificial connection there.” Slowly flipping pages, she grimaces until she finds a blank slate. “Kind of like I used to do. I can create false memories. I can break chains and rechain them. But I cannot propel you to a time you did not exist.” 

“I did exist,” Terra says softly.

“What she’s trying to say,” Riku says, getting up on his feet and pacing,“is that you’re doing what Sora did before he disappeared.” Sora, a warning to keep you from getting lost in the woods. “I’m not comfortable with this.”

Naminé splays out crayons on the nearby table: one orange, one blue, a green and a red. She looks sickly. “But Sora went too far.”

“So,” Terra starts, obviously a fool even to himself, “you mean if I don’t go as far, I can be okay.”

Naminé fiddles with her fingers. “I can’t guarantee that. I don’t know what you will end up seeing.”

Terra pauses. He’d be testing the limits of chance in putting Aqua and Ven through this grief again. It’s hard to imagine—Aqua getting the news of something happening, choosing not to cry in front of people she doesn’t know. Robin Hood would have made better choices.

But Aqua would grieve anyway if she goes through those books, picturing no one else but Terra doing all those horrible things. He’s heard some of the stories: the screaming at night, the monsters, the disappearances that start with the children and later swallow the entire family, where neighbors never see them come home again. Xehanort happened to all of them. 

“I don’t mean you will disappear.” She lets loose a nervous chuckle.

“But I could go nuts,” Terra says with a painted smile.

“That’s why Ven asked me to be here,” Riku says, that edge of his sanded out some. “I’ve lost count how many times I’ve beaten Xehanort. Or Ansem. They’re the same really. I don’t think you’d be too much of a hassle.”

“Well, thanks,” Terra says, and Riku replies with a fisted nudge on his shoulder.

What’s the fun in playing the game if you already know the outcome? Terra doesn’t know why he’s thinking that way, but he’s absolutely stupid for taking the gamble. There’s no way Yen Sid seriously considers him for Mastery. 

And Aqua would grieve anyway.

“I don’t want to let it come to that,” Naminé says, eyes on the floor. 

“Are you going to make me watch Xehanort?” Terra asks.

“That’s up to you.” She starts with red. “I can’t make you do anything without writing memories for you.”

“Should let his heart guide him?” Riku asks.

May your fickle, sickly heart be your guiding key to oblivion and all the ridiculous delusions you hold dear.

“It’s a safer way to approach it,” Naminé says, not nodding but not shrugging either. 

“Why am I not surprised.”

Terra doesn’t know why she sounds so insecure about her skills when he’s heard nothing but amazing things. “I suggest letting your mind move with your feelings,” she tells him. “Don’t force a thought, and don’t get lost in the emotions. Just sit. Does that make sense?” She taps the crayon to her chin. 

“It does.” Terra counts his breaths. In three, out five. In five, out seven. Xehanort. He doesn’t know what to think about Xehanort. Hatred is useless. Revenge is futile. Anger will sabotage his way to Mastery. While Terra has tried his best in his meditation exercises, he’s only done them for the sake of earning good marks in his classes. Settling down, not thinking, relaxing—those are things Terra’s never claimed to be good at, especially lately. 

Xehanort walked through these halls with Terra’s body. Should he try and picture himself instead? In the same lab coat Ienzo wears? With white hair, most likely. And definitely too much hair gel.

“What’s it going to be like?”

“A dream,” Naminé says, her crayon drawing loops on the page, though Terra cannot see what it is. 

“It already feels like I’m dreaming,” Terra says, watching the ceiling ebb and flow with running lights from the computer monitors behind him. Ever since he stepped in here, it’s felt like he lived a lifetime away from home. No start, no ending, moving pictures that he loses as soon as he blinks. Nothing stays, like waking up and forgetting a whole night. 

“I have to warn you,” Naminé says, her voice quieter, “I may have to unchain the memories you want linked together if it gets too hard for you.”

And there, in the midst of wondering if he’s ever going to get this right, he thinks of a white door he’s never seen before. 

[starrybethany]

Clayton Keller: Part 2

Word count: 2168

I look over in surprise as my front door opens, unsure of who it would be this early in the morning after a long night out. Betsy steps into my apartment, sending me a red-lipped smile as she closes the door behind her and steps out of her heels.

“Um, what time did you leave the club and why do you look like you’re going back at, uh,” I glance over at the clock, “Nine o’clock in the morning. Also, why the hell did you just barge into my apartment without knocking? I have so many questions.”

She rolls her eyes, tugging her pencil skirt down as she walks over to my pantry, opening it and pulling out the package of Oreos.

“If you eat any of those you have to buy me a new package. Don’t you dare mess with my Oreos,” I warn her.

“I have to go grocery shopping today anyways,” she waves me off, pulling herself up onto the stool next to me. “Roger called an emergency meeting this morning so guess who had to show up at the office at seven A.M., hungover as hell?”

“And you came over to my apartment after, why exactly?” I question, scrolling through the article of ‘seven easy ways to make money online.’

“I wanted us to suffer together,” she shrugs, laughing and pointing at number five. “I like this one, you’d for sure earn a lot of money if you sold your nudes.”

I click back to go to my Google search, mumbling to myself, “I don’t even know why I’m looking this up, I already found a good way to make money.”

“You did?” Betsy asks, making my head snap towards her in shock. I totally forgot that she’s here. “What is it?”

“Um, I don’t know how you’re going to feel about this,” I admit, turning my body towards her. “Because you always joke about it so I don’t really know what you think about it.”

“What is it?” She raises her eyebrows, plucking an Oreo out of the package. “Are you becoming a prostitute?”

“Close…”

“A sugar baby?”

I don’t respond so Betsy looks up from admiring her Oreo, mouth dropping in shock when she sees the look on my face.

“Oh my god, Y/N, what? You’re a sugar baby now?”

“I guess that’s the technical term,” I confess.

“Wait, for who? Let me see the picture of the guy. I didn’t know you were into older men, damn, is he at least cute? Or good in bed, hopefully? Do you know, have you met him yet? Did you sign up for one of those websites or-””Oh.”

“What? What’s ‘oh?’” Betsy questions, looming over my shoulder to stare at my laptop screen.

I pulled up Instagram while she was spewing questions at me to show her a picture of Clayton, and I guess I haven’t checked the app since last night because there’s now a notification that he requested to follow me.

“He’s the guy you were dancing with and talking to at the bar last night,” Betsy gasps dramatically, hitting my arm. “He’s young! And cute! And an athlete so you know he’s hella rich.”

“Seven million a year,” I murmur.

“What?” Her eyes are practically bulging out of her head. “Girl, hook me up with a teammate. How the hell did you become this guy’s sugar baby? No offense.”

“Well he asked me on a date, I said no, he found out that I need money and offered it,” I recap.

“How do you not want to date this man?” She screeches, clicking on a picture of him and another hockey player.

“Stop yelling, this is why Debbie hates me.”

She ignores my words. “I mean, look at his necklace chain peeking out from his shirt, Y/N, he’s hot as hell.”

“I’m not looking to date right now, Betsy, I’m young, I want to party and let loose.”

She rolls her eyes and grumbles about it but doesn’t make many other protests. She watches as I confirm his follow request and follow him back.

“Does Tyler know?” She inquires.

“No, Tyler told me not to bother him the rest of the weekend because he’s getting dicked down,” I answer.

“Are you getting dicked down this weekend?”

“I don’t know, he hasn’t texted me at all.” I look over at my phone, like it would make a noise now that I made that comment. “He said that he was going to make up the contract and get back to me sometime this weekend.”

“Who does he play for? The Arizona Coyotes?” She squints at the screen, typing something in on her phone. “Oh yeah, I’ve heard of them. Hannah fucked one of the married guys on this team while his wife was in the kitchen.”

“That’s fucked up,” I mumble, scrolling through his profile.

“Yeah. Okay, so they have a game against the Columbus Blue Jackets today, but that’s at seven so he should be getting back to you soon.” She picks my phone up, staring at my lock screen of us at a wild party a couple of weeks ago. “I’ll figure this out, Y/N, don’t you worry.”

“I’m not worried at all,” I raise my eyebrows at her, closing my laptop and grabbing my phone as I make my way to the couch. “In fact, I think I may take a little nap if you don’t mind.”

“Okay I added the team on snapchat,” she says, “And they’re in practice right now. So he should text you after practice.”

“Hey, can you shut up if you’re going to be here a while?”

“Actually, Brandon just send me a booty call. So I’m going to head out.”

“Close the door on your way out!” I holler after her.

~

Clayton: Hey Y/N, it’s Clayton

I can’t help but bite back a smile. I mean, obviously, we exchanged numbers and I have him saved in my contacts, who else would it be?

Y/N: Hi Clayton

Clayton: I had the time today to create the contract if you would like to come over and sign it

Y/N: Send me your address

He shares his location with me and I text him that I’ll be there in a half an hour. It’s all a part of my plan to make him wait. Since this is the first time that we’re hooking up I want to look somewhat presentable, so I check to make sure I’m wearing matching lingerie.

I pull a plain T-shirt and a nice pair of skinny jeans that shows off my ass, putting on minimal makeup and slipping my shoes on.

When I show up to the address Clayton sent me I’m just about on time.

Clayton opens the door with a slight smile on his lip, stepping to the side and wordlessly motioning me into his house.

“Nice place you got here,” I compliment, stepping in and looking around the large living area.

“Yeah, I share it with one of the guys on the team,” he tells me, closing the front door and making his way to what I assume is the kitchen.

I raise my eyebrows, following him. “So your teammate will hear us fucking?”

He laughs. “He’s barely home, it’s fine. So here’s the contract.”

I step forward to read over the rules.

Once a week Clayton will make a payment to Y/N of $500 cash.

The weekly payment is excluding the purchase of clothes, dinners, vacations, etc.

In return Y/N will do romantic things (such as have sex, go on dates, etc.) with Clayton.

Y/N will listen to Clayton’s demands.

The encounters will take place at both parties' places of living.

“I’m not listening to all of your demands,” I say aloud, giving him a look. “There are some things that I just will not do.”

He sighs but edits the rule to say ‘to a certain extent.’

“Also, I don’t want you sleeping over at my apartment. We can have sex there, yeah, but you can’t sleep over,” I command.

“Why not?”

“Because my friends tend to break into my apartment early in the morning and if you met them you would be scared away,” I respond. He laughs and I give him an offended look. “I’m serious!”

“Okay, fine,” he sighs but writes the new rule down.

We look over the contract together, confirming that it’s what both of us want.

“So are we doing this?” I question, looking over at him.

He gives me an expression of surprise. “Right now?”

“Well, yeah,” I say. “What’s a better time to start than right now?”

He shrugs. “Alright.” And before I can even react, tugs his T-shirt over his head and throws it onto the floor.

“Clayton,” I giggle nervously, shy for probably the first time in my life. I can’t stop my eyes from staring at his abs. Wow, how is it fair for one man to be so perfect? He’s rich, he’s athletic, he’s hot- he’s probably smart, too.

I snap out of my thoughts, forcing my eyes to move up to his face. He’s already smirking by the time we make eye contact and I force the eye roll that’s begging to come out down.

“Come here,” he orders, his voice suddenly hushed.

I don’t even have to tell my feet to move, they push me forward until my chest is pressed against his. His large hands grip my hips and I feel the need to hold my breath, looking up into his shimmering green eyes.

His head moves down slowly and I hold back from pushing mine forward, instantly connecting our lips. Soon, our lips connect and the wait was worth it.

I feel like all of the oxygen is getting sucked out of my lungs- like I could kiss Clayton forever and it still wouldn’t be enough. Our lips glide slowly against one another as my hands place themselves on his chest, blatantly feeling him up.

He pushes me gently into the kitchen counter and I take the hint, jumping up on it without disconnecting our lips. My arms move to wind themselves around his neck, pulling him in as close as he can get between my legs as his hands slide to my ass, gripping it and squeezing it.

My lips move from his to place soft kisses down his cheek and jaw to his neck, sucking a hickey right below his ear. He moans at the action, lifting me up with ease.

“What are you doing?” I squeak out, not expecting to be picked up.

“Taking you to my bedroom so we can finally do this.”

~

I take deep breaths, trying to get my breathing back on pace after the adventure of a night I’ve just had. We spent two hours in between the sheets when Clayton, the most in shape boy I’ve ever slept with, finally decided to call it a night.

I wanted to whine and beg for more but at the same time I needed a break myself.

Once my breathing is back to normal I swing my feet over the side of the bed, wincing at the ache in my lower half, but force myself to stand up. I slowly search the room for my panties, pulling them on before Clayton’s voice causes me to jump in surprise.

“Where are you going?” He questions.

I look up to see him watching me from the entrance to his walk-in-closet. He’s leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and I stop myself from asking him to bang me against the doorframe.

“Back to my apartment,” I answer, hooking my bra on.

“No,” he shakes his head.

“No?”

“You’re staying the night. You have to stay the night.” His tone makes it sound like it’s a demand.

“No I don’t,” I disagree.

“Rule four,” he points out.

Rule four. Y/N will listen to Clayton’s demands.

I know I have a right to object, but I don’t think sleeping over counts as something that goes too far over the line. Plus, this encounter paid my rent for this month and it got me laid, so I feel obligated to stay and please him.

I give him a look but push past him to enter his closet, ignoring the sparks that shoot through my arm at the contact of our shoulders and the cute chuckle that he lets out.

I pull one of his T-shirts on as I head back to his king sized bed, climbing in and scrolling through Instagram on my phone.

I don’t know how long it takes but soon I feel another body climb into the bed behind me, arms winding around my torso and resting on my stomach as I’m pulled into another person.

Clayton watches me scroll through my feed for a while before I turn my phone off, setting it on the bedside table.

We don’t talk before we fall asleep.

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[feistypaants-archived]

Between The Pipes [Chapter 14]

Rating: M Words: 2284 Pairing: Kristanna Summary: When a new owner takes over the Arendelle Ice Breakers, Kristoff isn’t sure about his future with the team. That is, until a PR nightmare throws the newest member of the media team, who also just so happens to be the daughter of the new owner, right into his arms. Kristoff and Anna can’t even stand the interviews they have to do together… how on earth are they going to fix this mess? Hockey!AU.

[Chapter Index]

Where To Read: [AO3]

Notes: Kristoff “god is testing me” Bjorgman, ladies and gentlemen!

Enjoy!

God damn it, what was that annoying ringing and why wouldn’t it stop?!

Anna blindly slapped at her bed, groaning loudly when her fingers grazed over the offending, vibrating device. She could tell by the sun peeking through the one window in her room that it was barely morning, and was immediately annoyed that anyone would call her this early on her day off . Glaring at the screen as she rolled over, she tried to make out the name blurred from her still focusing eyes before quickly giving up and just answering. “Hello?”

“You are dating him?”

“Elsa?”

“Anna,” her voice was low and hushed, as if she was trying to prevent anyone from overhearing. “You said you weren’t sleeping with him.”

“M’not,” she grumbled, sitting up against the pillows as she started to wake up. 

“ My favorite place to be ? With his hands … It sure seems like you are.” Anna could practically see the panic in her sister’s eyes and the wringing of her hands together as she paced the floor. 

She sighed and rubbed a knuckle against her eye, trying her best to form a coherent sentence. “Els.” A yawn. “S’not what y’think.” Anna paused for a moment. She didn’t know if she was allowed to disclose the truth to anyone. But… it was Elsa. She wouldn’t say anything, right? “It’s…” she bit her lip when she heard her sister practically whining into the phone. “It’s just for PR.”

“ What ?”

Rubbing a hand across her face, Anna blew out a breath. “I mean like, don’t tell anyone…” Elsa hummed at her, frustration evident. “We’re pretending. For his… y’know. To help with the Hans thing.”

She heard some shuffling in the background and could only assume that Elsa was trying to find a place to sit. They both stayed silent for a moment, hoping the other one would talk first. 

Anna sighed. “It’s a good idea, and we’ve got it all sorted. Just…” her fingers rose to her mouth, biting at a nail. “I don’t know if I should tell our father the truth or not.” She almost relaxed when she heard her sister sigh, too, as if she was taking some of the weight of it all away from Anna.

“I’ll talk to him. He’s not going to be happy.”

“I mean,” she bolted up, leaning forward in bed. “Should I tell him the truth or like… just tell him I was so moved by his defending me that… now we are dating…. or… like, just tell him that this is the best way to clear up the reputation of his player? Or try to convince him I’m really happy or…”

“Stop, Anna,” but it wasn’t mean or frustrated, as she laughed as well. “You’ve got enough going on there. I’ll… call Gerda and then talk to him, okay?”

Anna had never been more grateful for her sister. “Thank you,” she sighed, flopping backwards against her pillows.

“So…” She heard some mischief lacing her sisters’ words. “Do you want to sleep with him?”

Her cheeks flushed and she let out the most unconvincing “Uh… sh-yeah right, you’re crazy!” before deciding to try and turn the conversation onto Elsa. “But there is this girl who works here… Seems your type —“

“Goodbye, Anna!” 

She hung up with a laugh, knowing any talk of any sort of dating made Elsa run away, embarrassed. It was then that she was able to look at her phone properly, the overwhelming notifications smacking her in the face. A voicemail from Honey, simply a Nice job, good caption, they’re eating it up, about a thousand instagram likes, and a couple hundred comments and new followers.

And one text from Sven, that only said WHAT?!

—

-

—

Kristoff was already embarrassed before he walked into the rink. Aware of how quickly word traveled around here, the entire team was bound to already know that he and Anna were now dating . 

His suspicions were quickly confirmed when Sven tackled him and threw him to the ground, shoving his phone in his face. “What the fuck?! What the actual fuck !!!!” Kristoff groaned as he looked up, her instagram feed too close for him to really make out much detail. “Who allowed this? Did you guys fuck?! Did you take her to the back of your truck and —“

“Stop it, Jesus Christ,” Kristoff shouldered his captain onto the floor and moved to stand up. “I punched one asshole, I’ll punch another.” 

Sven flipped onto his back with a laugh and opened the picture again. “Dude. Look at her face. She’s obsessed with you.”

Dating. They were dating. He wasn’t even sure he could tell Sven the truth, so he put on his best act and shrugged. “I’m… obsessed ,” ew, “with her, too. She’s…” Amazing. “Really, really great.” At least that wasn’t a total lie. 

“I knew it,” he laughed, scurrying up to his feet. “Didn’t I tell you? You guys were going to get together.” He clenched his hands by his stomach and shouted. “I felt it in my gut!!! Dude!!!”

“You said we were going to fuck .” He felt gross just saying it. He wasn’t going to be crass about any of this. He wasn’t. 

“Same difference.”

“No.” Kristoff really didn’t want to be an asshole, but he needed to set a boundary here. “Look… I don’t want you talking about her like that. Not anymore. She’s…” was saying she was his too much, or a line he shouldn’t cross? “We’re dating . Not fucking.”

Sven immediately got serious. “Yeah, man. I got it.” But his smile came back quickly. “I’m really happy for you, man.” His palm smacked against Kristoff’s cheek, and he really thought he had to convince Sven to stop doing this. “‘Bout time you stopped being so serious about your already successful career and started letting yourself live a little.”

Kristoff felt like he had been punched in the stomach.

He’s never lied to Sven before.

—

Hours of practice, a long, long shower, and one phone call to confirm her address later, Kristoff’s truck was parked outside of Anna’s building. He shot her a quick text to alert her that he was there, but after five minutes of no response, he sighed and got out of his truck, resigned to doing this the old-fashioned way. Pausing for a moment to check the passenger seat of his truck, Kristoff shook out his worry and started climbing the steps to her third-floor apartment. After confirming the number, he knocked on the door.

He heard a crash and a curse come from behind it and couldn’t help but laugh. But when the door swung open and he got a good look at her, her soft pink bra out and visible as she was still sliding one arm through her dress, Kristoff felt his whole body tense. 

“Can I help —“ she finally looked up at him, hair pins cleaned between her teeth, clearly annoyed that someone was interrupting her. “Oh. You’re early.”

Kristoff swallowed the thick lump in his throat as she reached up to put a pin in her hair. “Do you always answer the door half naked?”

Anna simply shrugged. “Maybe one day a man will see my bra and decide to date me.” She turned, ignoring his reaction, and gestured at the back of her dress. “Can you zip me up?”

Letting out an awkward laugh, Kristoff reached forward to grab at the small zipper of her dress, tugging it gently until it started to move. “Careful. I think that bra is marriage material.” He tried his best to ignore how her back curved, how soft and pale her skin was beneath the smooth rose velvet of her dress, and he definitely wasn’t thinking about kissing every freckle on her small shoulders, the ones exposed by the sleeves that only rose to the middle of her upper arms. 

She turned quickly, ripping his fingers away from her zipper, and let out a laugh as she tugged at the neckline of her dress. Pulling it away and peering down with an inquisitive smile on her lips, Anna shrugged. “And this isn’t even my nicest one.” Dropping her dress back down, she continued “If you think this is wedding material…” She hummed and ticked a finger up under his chin. “Then you’ve got something to look forward to, honey .”

Kristoff stared after her as she disappeared back into the apartment, his mouth dry. He stood in the doorway, feet stuck to the ground, until she peered back around the corner. “You can come in, you know.” 

He stepped forward, flushed, and shut the door behind him. 

“Do you want anything?” Her voice echoed a little, and he could guess that she was in the bathroom. “I’m almost ready but, um… There’s… water or wine!”

He frowned, staying perfectly still in the middle of her living room. “I’m okay.” 

Kristoff wasn’t sure what he imagined for Anna’s home, but it really wasn’t this. Small and boxy, nothing on the walls, just a small loveseat, a bookshelf, and a little television hung across the way. His eyes took a risky glance down the hall into the open door, smiling when he could see some clothes strewn about. Had she actually… worried about how she looked tonight?

Taking a second to look at himself, Kristoff sighed. He was used to wearing suits, but he didn’t feel like this was a suit-worthy moment, so he had dressed in a nice pair of dark jeans and a button down, with a tie thrown in the back of his truck just in case. He was almost worried he’d look stupid next to her in that pretty, flowy dress.

When she emerged, her hair twisted up into some sort of intricate low bun, he really felt like he should have dressed up nicer. Until she started crudely adjusting the top half of her dress as if to make her chest look even more delectable. Then Kristoff felt his throat tighten. He may not have been a religious man, but at that moment he knew there was definitely some asshole sitting up there, testing him. 

He snapped out of it when she pushed her chest up again and frowned, mumbling something about definitely coming home with a bra full of crumbs.

“You always this lady-like?”

Anna’s head popped up with a grin on her lips. “Only for you, babe.” She was going to kill him one of these days.

“So many pet names,” he laughed, trying to hide how much they got to him. How much they made him want to put his mouth on her, made him want to pull those names from her lips as he bit his way down her exposed throat to the swell of her breast. 

She seemed to falter for a moment, a frown peeking out. “Is… that okay? I’m sorry… I… Was just teasing and,” her hands were twisting together in front of her hips. “If I’m going too far just let me know? I tend to… make jokes when I’m… I’m awkward.”

Oh no, no, no . He didn’t want to do that .

“They’re… they’re fine!” He started, his voice cracking slightly. “I just… wasn’t expecting it?”

It was small, but a smile returned to her lips. Thank god. 

“You look… um… nice dress.”

Anna twisted her hips a little to make the skirt flare out as she grinned. It was almost too cute for him to handle. “I think I might’ve overdressed. But I like it.”

“Yeah it’s… it’s good.” He coughed when she stepped closer, and gestured at himself. “I have… a tie. Uh, in the truck. If you think…” 

He watched as she grabbed her purse and smiled, hooking it over her elbow before she moved towards the door. “You look perfect, Kristoff.”

That was good enough for him.

Anna looked towards the door with a small tilt of her head, asking him silently if they should go, and he cleared his throat before nodding, heading out of the apartment and down to his truck. Kristoff felt his nerves running wild, higher than they had ever been for a real first date, and he wasn’t sure exactly what to make of it. He quickly got ahead of her to open the passenger side door, smiling when she moved to get into the truck. 

But she paused, and he remembered the stupid thing he had done.

She reached in quickly, snatching up the bouquet he had gotten her.

“You got me flowers?”

Kristoff stammered, blush high on his cheeks. “Well… I mean… It’s a date, right? That’s… what you do?”

Her small fingers brushed delicately over the petals, flattening out a few that had been crushed from laying on their side on his seat. “Daisies?”

“Well I thought roses were too, you know…” he flopped his hands back and forth. “And when the florist asked what they were for, I said a first date… and she suggested these? I guess… they’re… good for… that kind of thing.”

God why couldn’t he shut up? 

The soft, genuine smile on her lips was worth it, though. 

She climbed into the cab, eyes locked on the flowers as he shut the door and moved to the other side, hopping up and in with ease. He started the engine, pulled at his collar and sighed. “So… I guess Gerda already alerted the tabloids, so they’ll probably be at the restaurant when we get there.”

If he didn’t know any better, he could’ve sworn her smile fell, just a little. 

“Okay,” she set the flowers into her lap, her eyes moving to meet his. “Ready?”

He supposed he had to be.

[queencatherynerhys]

The Fighter - Chapter 6

A/N: I’ve had this published in Wattpad for a while now. I just have been too lazy to publish it here. Sorry. I just got back into being active this week when editing my Masterlist.

Summary: The more time America spent in the palace, the more she can’t control the memories that she’s buried deep within years ago.

Tags: @devineinterventions2 @madaraism @theroyalweisme @drakewalkerwhipped @drakesfiance @hhiggs @hellospunkiebrewster @alicars @mrswalkerreynolds @mfackenthal @simplyaiden-blog @hopefulmoonobject @blackcatkita @cocomaxley @boneandfur @lizeboredom @crayziimaginations @umccall71 @zarina-x-zig @writtenbycandy @ranishajay @heatherfilliez @drakelover78 @indiacater @pens-girl-87 @katurrade @speedyoperarascalparty @greyeyedsmile14 @barbaravalentino @zilch3 @mynameiskaylabella @darley1101 @blznbaby @trashbagfullofflannels @bella-ca @highlyselectiveextrovert *I just used my usual tag list. Let me know if you want to be taken off if you don’t want to receive notifications about this story. Also let me know if you want to be added.*

Marlee hugs me for quite some time until it gets a little uncomfortable. I debate whether cutting it short, but I understand the reason why she was hugging me for so long. I missed her, too, but I haven't had this kind of personal interaction in six years and it's my impulse to push away. One cannot afford to be vulnerable in this line of work.

"Um, Marlee, you're crushing me," I lie to get her off me.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, America. I just missed you so much. I don't get why you left or why you lied to everyone saying that you were dead," tears begin to form on the corners of her blue eyes.

"I missed you, too, Marlee, believe me. But please you must promise me you will never call me America again. No one can know who I am. It's safer for you, for everyone and for me. Promise me, Marlee." I ignore her curiosity for now. I simply have too many worries in mind to answer her inquiries about why I left.

"I promise, Amer-, Scarlet. Sorry," she corrects herself and I nod my approval.

"Now, I'm sure the royal family is waiting impatiently for my arrival to breakfast, so I must go. If you wish to know more, you can come by later tonight and I will disclose what I can about what happened in the last six years," I sound so distant and I hate myself for not being able to talk to Marlee like I used to, but this is the way it has to be. I can't allow myself to get close to her, to anyone. I have to remind myself that I've made my choice. I chose this life of solitary, of loneliness, for the happiness of everyone I love and that includes her.

I look at Marlee and she nods before leaving the room. I grab and put on my black leather bomber jacket and tuck my gun in its permanent home in the back waistband of my pants before heading down to the Great Hall. I decide to search for James on my way to inform him of the breach in our security. I find my loyal secretary doing a perimeter check with one of the palace guards and I whistle to catch his attention.

He walks towards me and I drag him to a remote part of the hall without guards or staff to hear our conversation.

"We have a breach in security. Marlee Tames knows my identity. Now before you scold me, I didn't tell her, she just figured it out. She was always the smart, observant one. Find her, instruct her of the proper protocol and measures that must be put in place since she has top secret information. When you're done, report back to me. Can I trust you with this, James?" I ask him.

"Of course, Scar. Why even bother asking? You can trust me with anything, you know that."

"I know. I just needed to hear you say it. Thank you, by the way, for not scolding me about someone recognizing me."

"You're welcome. I figured you're already doing that for me. But I am still strongly suggesting that we leave and let our Fennley team handle this mess. What if more people start recognizing you? What if he recognizes you? What then?" He asks. It's a fair question. I can't have him knowing or figuring out who I am, but I also can't leave without knowing he'll be safe. I can't leave without keeping my personal promise.

"A valid question, but you already know my answer. I am not leaving. Not without ensuring his safety. Especially with our prisoner lurking two stories beneath my feet." I confirm yet again.

He huffs in defeat, "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you."

"If something happens to go awry, you can be the first to tell me 'I told you so'. But right now, we should really head to the dining room." With that, I start my path to the eating space with James beside me.

As we reach the door, I take a deep, calming breath to center and ready myself to face my past. To face the person who has haunted my days and nights. There's no turning back, Scarlet, I thought to myself. I release the breath I was holding and begin to reach for the door handle when the guard posted by the grand entrance interferes, "Allow me, miss."

I nod. After six years of opening my own doors, I was taken aback by the formality, but I have to get used to that for this short period of time. He opens the door and the familiarity of the room rushes back to the forefront. Many memories of eating with the royal family and the elite in this very room. Oh, how naïve I was to think that my life was complicated, then. How I'd give anything to be back in those simple times. Times when I could be America again and sing my days away. Sadly, those days are long gone. They must stay gone. For the sake of the one person that sits in this room.

The lavishness and grandeur of the dining room amazes me to this day. It's nothing compared to the massive U-shaped dining table we sat on the very first day of the selection. This dining room is smaller, more informal, intended solely for private dinners between the members of the royal family. When the Selection was narrowed down to the Elite, this was the place we ate. I hear the faint whispers and laughter from distant, buried memories. I feel James' light nudge pulling me out of my recollection.

"Well, well, we were beginning to think you weren't coming to join us. If it were left to me, we would've eaten a few minutes ago, but my lovely wife insisted we wait," the king states in a rude tone.

I learned a long time ago how to not react to childish remarks even if they came from a person with such a high rank in Illéa's hierarchy. America, the old me, would've scowled at that, I'm sure. Instead, I curtsy to the direction of the queen, "Thank you, Queen Amberly." The king notices my ignorance and I am almost positive I will receive the back end of that decision later.

I take my place on one of the chairs on the side of the table facing Princess Kriss. King Clarkson and Queen Amberly sits on opposing sides facing each other on the head of the table with Kriss to the right of the queen and the prince to the king's left.

As the servers begin their task of bringing food, Queen Amberly acknowledges me, "Miss Ryan, please kindly invite your..."

I realize the queen doesn't know my relation to James and I quickly reply, "James."

"Your...James to come and eat with us." I obey and whistle for James, who was just beginning to make his way to the door after making sure I was safe.

He turns around and we do our silent conversation.

Come and sit down, I say.

Is that appropriate? He silently asks.

The queen asks for it.

Are you sure?

Would you just sit the hell down!

Alright, alright!

It's not like the bastard king will bite. At least he won't in front of his wife.

He laughs with his eyes.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," James bows before taking his place beside me on the dining table across from the beloved prince. I glance at Maxon for the briefest of moments before concentrating on the meal set in front of me. Eggs, bacon, toast with a fresh cup of orange juice. It's been more than 3 years since I sat down to have a proper breakfast. Usually my morning routine included me taking my meal to work and getting a head start toward my long day of running a clandestine organization. Also, my work allows me to forget my horrible nights.

I slowly dig into my plate, savoring the quality of food in the palace. Since becoming director, I am blessed to have a decent life. Still, there's still a distinct difference in palace living and the rest of Illéa.

The quiet buzzes of hushed voices fill my ear, but I don't really try to comprehend what they are saying, too focused on my worries. I tear myself away from my internal concerns to see a maid set a plate of strawberry tarts placed before me. Distant memories immediately bombard me. Instinctively, I reach for James' hand underneath the table. He knows every detail of my past, the selection.                  

                  He looks into my eyes and know the predicament I am in as he sees the pastries in front of me. He squeezes my hand as I recall one of the earliest memories I have of the Selection.

Our first meal with the handsome, celebrated Prince Maxon. I was contently minding my own business eating delicious strawberry tarts when the precious royal thought it would be funny to single me out.

"Lady America?" I looked at him, shock clearly written all over my face and a mischievous smirk in his as if it was his plan all along to address me just when my mouth was filled with food.

I hurriedly chew and reply, "Yes, Your Majesty?" No doubt my face was as red as my hair from the embarrassment he was so clearly amused by.

"How are you enjoying the food?" His facial expression clearly said that he was enjoying the sight of making me look and act like a fool.

I explained how the food was excellent and my sister, May, would cry if she had these strawberry tarts. And as if he found that information amusing, he beamed with a smile as he continued to make a bet with me. If my sister cried, I made a barter that I would be allowed to wear jeans instead of the stuffy dresses we are mandated to wear. If he won, I would have to go on a date with him.

I was confident I knew my sister well enough to win, so I agreed. As if fate had other plans, I lost.

Looking back on how my life had completely gone off the rails, I wish I could back to the girl who had the audacity to knee the prince in the groin. I wish that my nightmares would cease. I wish I would stop seeing the face of all those I've lost when I closed my eyes. I wish the screams I hear in my head would silence themselves. I wish to not have the scars I carry on my body from the torture I've had to endure from the last six year. Most of all, I wish to be in the place of the woman that sat in front of me. The one who held Maxon's heart in their hands. The one he called his wife, his love, his world.