#also called out of work today because we can’t stand up for more than a minute 😅🫠

[gojonanami]

THE DOCTOR IS IN - SATORU GOJO

✴︎ summary: aka medical intern / doctor in training gojo. when you go to your annual check-up, you didn't think you'd be crushing on your doctor - or that he's conduct such an in-depth examination - in more than one way. ✴︎ contents: 18+, a lot of smut, implied cheating (but there's no cheating), improper use of a medical questioning and an exam room, improper use of a tongue depressor, panty sniffing, semi-exhibitionism (but not really), fingering (f!receiving), oral (f! receiving), semi-public sex, sex in an exam room ✴︎ wc: 2,573

It was just a checkup. 

You sit, using your phone as you wait for the doctor, squirming on the uncomfortable exam paper drawn over the patient bed — so why were you so nervous? 

And then there’s a knock at the door, and he walks in — but it’s not your usual doctor. 

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” the white haired man grins widely, and you’re taken aback by how good he looks dressed in his white coat — if he had been your doctor before, you never would have missed a single one of your appointments, “My name is Satoru Gojo, and I’m a medical student that’ll be helping out today,” he offers his hand, and you take it, shaking his hand. 

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you smile, introducing yourself by name, and he sits on the chair in front of you. Without his white coat and stethoscope around his neck, he could have looked more like a model than a medical student. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had been offered gigs modeling for his medical school’s brochures — hell, you were regretting not going to medical school right now. 

He’s right down to business, crossing his leg over the other, “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about you, what brings you here, and your personal and medical history?” he asks, clipboard and pen in hand, lips curling. 

“Not at all, Doctor,” 

“Call me Satoru,” he smiles, and you can’t help but smile back. And then he’s running through the usual list of questions — name, occupation, date of birth, smoking status, drugs, prescription list, and all the other questions medical providers need to ask patients, “and sexual history?” 

You tilt your head, flushing, “Can you be more specific?” 

And he’s leaning back, pen pausing in its scribbling, as he glances up to clarify, “Are you sexually active?” 

You lick your dry lips, squirming under his gaze that suddenly feels heavier than before, “Yes, I am,” and he nods.

“Do you have a partner?” 

You nod, “I have a boyfriend,”

His eyes rake over you discreetly, “Must be pretty handsome to date a woman like you,” he remarks, — did he always flirt with his patients? Because he certainly will have good patient retention at that rate.  

“He’s also a little full of himself,” and you see a slight purse of his lips, as he raises an eyebrow, “but he’s very, very cute,” 

“Oh is he? Good to know,” he sighs, pressing the top of the pen to his lips, drawing your eyes to his lips, “and how often do you engage in sexual activity?” 

You have to pause before you answer — god, when were you going to move off this topic? “Pretty often, almost every day, usually,” you clear your throat, unable to meet his gaze, as he nods. 

“And are you satisfied?” 

And you raise an eyebrow, “is that relevant?” 

“Oh, this is a physical, we like to be very thorough,” and you swallow thickly — well this was uncomfortable — but he only looked…almost amused, “Well?” 

“Most of the time,” you shrug.

“Most of the time?” he repeats, placing his clipboard lower, clearly far too interested. 

“My boyfriend has been pretty busy with work lately, it’s been pretty lonely,” your eyes finally finding his own, deep blues darkening a shade. 

And his lips quirk, “Oh I see, I’m sorry to hear that, but I won’t be leaving you alone anytime soon,” he winks, and he’s rising to his feet, as he draws slower, “I think we can move onto the actual physical exam now,” and he’s pulling his stethoscope out as he draws near, kneeling instead of standing — because what else can you do beside a couch instead of a hospital bed — “I’m going to listen to your heartbeat,” 

God, he smells good. 

You try not to bite your lip at him — he was so pretty, up close even more so, his long snow white eyelashes fluttering and his perfect pink lips so kissable — but no, no, this was inappropriate. This was a doctor’s office. 

And he’s putting the stethoscope in his ears, pressing the metal diaphragm to your chest, “Oh, your heart’s racing,” he murmurs, leaning in even closer, warm breath warming your skin, “wonder why that is — this may call for further examination,” 

“Is this concerning?” and he’s tilting your chin up, far too close to your face. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’re in good hands,” he’s moving the stethoscope to your back, pressing the metal end to listen to your lungs, “please take deep breaths for me,” and you do, biting your lip, as he leans against you as he moves the diaphragm to four different points, his chest brushing against your shoulder, “I see,” he murmurs, “have you been experiencing any aches or pains anywhere?” 

You swallow, “My throat has been hurting a little,” and he nods, grabbing a tongue depressor. 

“Let me take a look, now stick out your tongue and say ‘ah,’” and you do as he says as he presses the tongue depressor down, “good girl,” he murmurs, making your cheeks warm at his words — fuck. 

His eyes scan your mouth, pressing against your tongue harder, “I don’t see anything unusual,” as he pulls the depressor back, skimming your tongue teasingly, but still, his face is so close to yours, and he notices your breath catching, “but I may need to do a closer examination if you…consent,” 

“If I consent?” You ask slowly, his lips a breath away, and his thumb drags down your lips, “Satoru—“ 

“Do you consent?” And he’s leaning even closer, noses brushing, and you only can manage a nod, “use your words, Princess,” 

“Yes, please,” and he only smirks, as his lips brush yours — so soft and teasing, his fingers cup along your jaw. He tastes of sugar and warmth, his tongue teasing your lips, until they part, dragging over your tongue, the very same he had just examined. He draws easy moans from you, one after another, before he pulls away, a string of spit connecting your lips. 

“I didn’t see any issues, but I am concerned about your throat,” and he’s kissing a burning trail down your jaw to the hollow of your throat, “feels a little swollen here—“ and his teeth grazes the soft skin there, “it may need a closer look,” and he’s licking and sucking, dragging his tongue over your sweet skin. 

And you’re nearly panting at this point, as he smiles at you, pressing another kiss to your lips, and you raise an eyebrow, “was that you checking again?” And he laughs, lips curling, as his fingers slide to the small of your back. 

“You can be too sure,” and he’s kissing you again, and he doesn’t miss the way your thighs press together, “think the problem may lie elsewhere,” and his hands drag down your sides before finding your thighs, and you gasp, as he parts them, your fingers pressing into your soft flesh, “feels very warm here, and almost irritated — it may be an infection,” he hums, as his thumbs toy with the waistband of your shorts, “I may need to get a closer look,” 

“Satoru—” you whine, and pulling at your shorts now, and he’s looking up at you with lidded, lustful eyes. 

“Would the patient like some help removing her clothes for the examination?” and you only can manage a nod, and he accepts it this time, pulling your shorts down, “don’t worry, I’m a medical professional, I know just what treatments are acceptable in cases such as these,” and your shorts pool around your ankles, before you’re kicking them off. 

And his eyes linger on the damp, dark patch on your underwear, “oh? I see the problem,” you gasp as he presses his thumb against your puffy clit through the thin fabric, “it’s so swollen, so warm — I’m going to have to do a very thorough exam of this area,” and he’s snapping the fabric against your skin, making your squirm, “so sensitive,” he hums as he tugs down your underwear, sniffing your panties, before pocketing them, “a sample, I’ll keep it for further testing,” he winks, before he unbuttons his cuffs, rolling up the sleeves of his light blue button up. 

His eyes darken as his eyes rake over your exposed cunt, “are you ready to begin?” And he waits for your nod, before his fingers part your messy folds, as his arms pin your thighs in place, “so wet, do you hear that, sweetheart?” And his finger sinks into your needy pussy, squelching, “practically swallowing me in,” he grunts, licking his lips, “gonna need to probe a little deeper,” and a second finger is joining the first, fucking you open in earnest, as he pulls another moan from your lips, “s’good for me, but still I can’t figure out what’s wrong, maybe I just need to inspect this area further,” his hands sliding your thighs over his shoulders, pressing a languid kiss to your inner thigh. 

And then his lips brush against your clit, making you squirm, his tongue darting out to drag lazy circles around it. God, you were so close, “don’t be so loud, there are other patients who might hear you — they might wonder what kind of exam I’m doing,” and you’re holding back your cries, biting your bottom lip. as his fingers and tongue bully your insides, “so tight, think I need to loosen you up before the final test,” 

“I’m, ngh, close—“ and his lips close over your clit, sucking hard, and that’s enough for you to fall over the edge. You’re moaning, walls twitching around his fingers, your thighs, as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, lapping up every bit of your release. Your cunt twitches as you come down from your pleasure high, as you look down at him with half lidded eyes, gaze deep and dark, laced with lust as you watch him lick your release from his lips and chin. 

“Such a good baby, you did so good,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your neck and face, until he’s letting you taste yourself on his lips, swallowing your moans eagerly, “haven’t even figured out what’s wrong and look at the state you’re in now,” he tsks, as he rubs the length of your cheek with his thumb, before kissing your jaw, “we still have more work to do,” as he eases your quivering legs off his shoulders. 

And he’s undoing his belt, the clink of the buckle drawing your eyes to his thighs, as he tugs down his slacks and boxers, as it slaps against your stomach. Your lips part at the sight of him, thick and long — a white head of precum, dripping from the engorged tip. 

Fuck, he’s huge, and he chuckles at your expression, “Like what you see, sweetheart?” As he drags his weeping erection along your sensitive pussy, “so messy, gonna have to see what’s going on inside, I have a feeling it’s very deep,” his fingers lift one of your legs over his shoulder, “are you ready?” 

And you’re nodding, “please, I need—“ and he’s parting your folds, past that delicious ring of muscle, kissing the deepest part of you with his tip, as your lips part in a groan, “Toru—“ 

“That’s it, s’good for me,” he’s grunting, as he pulls out only to slam back in, “best little patient, aren’t you? With your perfect princess cunt, made just for me,” 

“Figure out the — ngh — the problem yet?” You tease. 

He only grins, as he gives a nasty thrust of his hips, wiping all sense from your head, “Filthy case of pretty Princess cunt — PPC — and it’s a particularly bad one,” he’s slowing down to stretch out the wet squelch of your cunt, “hear that? It’s the sound of your pussy latching onto me, practically strangling my cock,” and he’s picking up speed, as he lifts your other leg over his shoulder and — fuck how is he going deeper? 

“Gonna come in for all your appointments and let me fuck you, right? Gonna fill you right, you have just what you need, the perfect medicine is this dick in this cunt, and the prescription is for every day, sweetheart,” he’s pistoning in and out of you, “pretty baby keeps pulling me back in, it may be incurable,” but he’s only fucking you harder, “but I’m going to try.” 

The hospital bed is certainly ruined by now, from the creaks and groans it’s giving, it’s nearly as close to breaking as you are. Just a little deeper, a little more. 

“Taking me so well, such a good girl,” his cock is twitching inside you, “fuck, s’good f’me, just for me,” 

“Toru, ‘m close,” and his hips are stuttering, as he groans your name. 

“Cum f’me, sweetheart,” and you do — your orgasm has you gripping him tight, as he continues to fuck you through it, rough thrusts that has you moaning far too loud, “close, gonna cum—where—“ 

“Inside, please,” and your eyes find his, lust blown out, as your hips grind against his, “I need my medicine,” 

And he only groans in reply, sinking his cock as deep as he can before cumming, his warm seed filling you up, as his hips jerk against yours once, twice, before he’s easing your legs down, to lay on top of you. 

Both of your heavy pants fill the room, as his face rests nestled in your chest, his lips pressing sweet kisses to the skin, “I am definitely not helping you sanitize this room, Toru,” 

He pouts, “Oh c’mon it’s half of your mess, most of your mess — you were soaking me—“ 

“I did you a favor by coming to help you practice conducting an intake and diagnosing a patient, I’m not cleaning up this mess too,” you sigh, as he relents, leaning up to kiss your lips.

“Well you did cum a lot I’ll give you that,” and you push his face away, but he only drags his tongue up your fingers. You flush, “you’re the worst doctor,” you grumble. 

“But I’m your favorite one, after all,” he grins, easing himself out, as you gasp, watching your mixed releases leak from your cunt, “I’m the only one who can give you your medicine.” 

A few hours before….

“C’mon, baby, I need to practice,” your boyfriend curled his arms around you, burying his face in your neck, trying to pull your attention from the book your nose was buried in currently, “i need to practice,” 

“I don’t think practicing is what’s on your mind right now, Toru,” you roll your eyes as he presses wet kisses up your neck, “you’re being distracting,” 

“You distract me just by existing,” he pouts, and you roll your eyes, “at least if I practice with you, I can do something,” and you can’t say no to him, could you? 

“Fine but why can’t we practice here?” And he’s shrugging, only grinning in reply. 

“I can get more into the mindset of a doctor at the clinic,” he’s holding up the key he had sweet talked out of the security guard, “it’s a chance for me to get some practical experience. No one else will be around. Just you and me. Please?” 

“…fine,” you sigh, as he kisses you again, “but you’ll behave?” 

“Promise,” he grins — but you knew Satoru Gojo never behaved - especially when it came to you. 

✴︎ a/n: my sister's practice asking me medical questions for an intake finally came in handy.

✴︎ taglist: @mwtsxri, @buttercupmuffins, @sinnerstardoll, @ziieanna12, @capitana18girl, @musababy, @miacakess, @secretmoneybearvoid, @sincerelyyrosemary, @dazailover1900, @maybe-a-bi-witch, @mnare, @kiyoomis-side, @complexivelovely, @imjustmememe, @pandaluvr, @affendy86, @scarlet-kazuha, @peachedtv, @spooky-nanners, @runmeoverkth, @nicobicobee, @kvroshit, @superluver, @paperairplanescanfly, @professorweezy, @i-literally-cant-with-this, @sachirobabe, @aothotties, @naughteehee, @ohphi, @roanryan16, @happyface002, @starrylibras, @sxatorugojoswife, @unamilanesa, @lycheeclare, @oreo-bozado, @yeehawslap, @hidanleftoe, @reaperxdeath

[hitlikehammers]

POV: when you overhear your boyfriend’s bandmates who ⛔️do not like you⛔️ talking to him—about YOU

“Be real though, Ed. Harrington? You can’t actually be serious, here.” Steve doesn’t like to eavesdrop, like, on principle. Which is to say he totally does it. He just doesn’t wholly approve of it, or think it’s a very good habit to have, while still doing it. “You got me,” Eddie sighs, longer and deeper than can be taken wholly seriously. “I’m running my longest successful con to date.”

rating: t ♥️ tags: post-s4, established relationship, corroded coffin, as in: the gang’s all here and being VERY JUDGEMENTAL of eddie’s taste in men, and maybe steve had to pick eddie up from practice today so he overhears it WHOLLY WITHOUT INTENDING TO OKAY?, no one ever REALLY want to hear what the people they love really think of them when said people don’t know who all’s actually listening, true love, declarations of feelings, it’s actually really fucking hard to stand up to your friends, happy ending♥️

for @steddielovemonth day ten: "We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love." —Dr. Seuss

also! Unnamed Freak is Doug for the purpose of this fic because the book can fuck itself I say so 🖤

“Be real though, Ed,” the voice that filters through, and holds Steve’s hand from pushing the car door shut loud enough to notice, is fairly reasonable, like trying to talk down a suggestion absurd enough to send someone to the ER—which means, of the subjects at hand? It’s gotta be Jeff.

“You can’t actually be serious, here.”

Steve doesn’t like to eavesdrop, like, on principle.

Which is to say he totally does it.

He just doesn’t wholly approve of it, or think it’s a very good habit to have, while still doing it.

“You got me,” Eddie deadpans, but it’s like, venom-laced. It stings just to hear and Steve’s struck with how much his life’s changed since Spring Break, and more still since…well.

Since Eddie.

Because Steve is well aware the man can cut glass with how sharp his tongue can get, they did go to high school together whether they ran in the same circles or not.

It’s just strikes Steve in the moment that not once since Vecna, has Eddie turns that tongue on him.

Now, other uses of his tongue—

“I’m running my longest successful con to date. Yep, totally pulled it over on all you bitches,” and where it could be playful, every single word is sharpened to stab, to pierce, to drag the wound out so it bleeds, like a shiv to remind someone where they fucked up, in perpetuity.

“Please applaud.”

And oh, even Steve flinches at that tone, and he’s not even the target. Hell, he’s still in the driveway—he doesn’t make a rule of crashing band practice, no matter whose parents’ garage they’re using; Eddie’s van is just regularly in the shop for one thing or another, so he’s gotta come get his man. But he doesn’t, like, push his way in. Sometimes doesn’t even get out of the driver’s seat. He knows Eddie would more than welcome him; has the handful of times he’s ventured to step in to apologize for interrupting but remind him they have to pick up the shitheads. But one: Eddie is alone in his welcome, and like, the polar opposite of the other three guys, who range from staring daggers at Steve to sneering so scrunched up to the nose that it’d give Carol Perkins at her snittiest a run for her money.

And Steve wouldn’t have made it this far if he didn’t know how to recognise where he’s not wanted, and learn how to make the calculated decision of whether to walk or push his way in. And much as he loves Eddie? Steve actually wants his friends to eventually come around from probably, like, muttering ancestral curses under their breaths at him or something.

Plus, from what Steve understands? Jam sessions are personal. Sacred. Eddie had blushes and stammered the first time he let Steve listen in on works in progress; and Steve had rewarded him for the gift of it liberally and with genuine gusto. It’s earned him repeat performances on the regular, but Steve gets it’s a private thing in general. And these guys don’t know him, don’t presently care to—don’t trust him.

He figures it’s like…masturbating in front of someone. The art thing, the depth of making music and stuff. Showing your soul a little bit, losing control for the betterment of the final product.

Now, he and Eddie definitely have masturbated together, it’s actually fantastic foreplay, or even just a deliciously sloppy go on its own. But that’s neither here nor there. And also totally fucking different.

Steve really doesn’t want Eddie masturbating in front of anyone other than him, ever again. Steve’s sure as shit not looking to on his end; definitely not with the other members of Corroded fucking Coffin.

The metaphor might have gotten away from him. But you get the picture.

“No, man,” and that’s, that’s Gareth’s voice, Steve’s almost sure. Sharper. Concerned but also caustic on the undertow. “It’s just,” he snorts, the disbelieving sort: “this can’t be real.”

Okay, yeah. Tone plus actual words add up.

“Yeah, just,” Doug laughs a little nervous, like of all of them, Eddie’s verbal attack had the most weight in tempering his response of the three of them; “blink twice if you’re being held against your will.”

They all chuckle, but it’s toned down the whole way around—even Steve can clock that. These guys are boisterous when left to their devices, Steve’s taken note of that. Mostly watching from the sidelines—almost exclusively when they don’t know he’s there to watch.

Again: does not condone eavesdropping.

Does not try at all to refrain from doing it.

“I mean, you don’t expect us to believe you’re actually fucking him,” and oh, yeah, okay: Steve was pretty sure he was the topic conversation here, and despite some of the setbacks of recent years, he’s not insecure when it comes to relationships especially.

He’s definitely the only one fucking Eddie. And Eddie’s the only one fucking him.

And while he doesn’t really hold it against these guys for being wary of him—he wasn’t really a perpetrator of their high school woes, but he definitely didn’t do anything to make them less…woeful—so he’s mostly bummed about it for Eddie’s sake, and on principle, but like, seriously.

Doubting Steve successfully scoring Eddie Munson? Like, Eddie’s a catch, Steve of ll people is well aware, but. Steve’s also been long past fishing the shallow end of the pond, y’know?

Give him some credit.

“Right,” Steve narrows back in on what’s happening in the garage that he’s definitely feeling less guilty bout, seeing as he’s definitely a subject of the debate unfolding, but Eddie sounds…angry. Pissed off in that way he gets when he’s fed the fuck up.

“I’m out,” Steve hears scraping of equipment, the guitar case flipped open; “can’t actually make it next week,” he adds like a footnote.

It’s clear within a second he’s the only one who takes it with that same…energy.

“But we have to practice before the open mic—” Jeff, ever the voice of reason, sounds baffled; on his way to ticked off but not quite there yet.

Eddie, however—as is his wont in this type of mood—could not give two shits where the people around him land on the anger-o-meter; he’s exceeded them, even if only in his own head, and they are all therefore irrelevant to his very responsible decision to put distance between himself and doing something stupid he can’t take back.

It’s not the nicest way to deal but, honestly? Steve’s mostly just proud of Eddie for sticking with a coping mechanism that, while not without consequences, generally works better than most.

“I’ll see you guys in two, then. Probably.” And the case clicks shut, definitive, and Steve’s proud of that too; that Eddie’s not digging a hole when the guys re trying to bait him, intentionally or not, over Steve.

Steve doesn’t need Eddie to complicate his band, his friendships, over what the two of them have. One, it’s not their fucking business. And two?

Steve doesn’t thing he’s being self-important in saying he and Eddie…are bigger, and more, than even the very beat high school band.

Not that Steve would ever ask Eddie to choose or some bullshit like that. And he really does believe Eddie’s going places, if that’s what he decides he wants. But…there’s that.

Then there is them.

Different, like, stratospheres.

“What the fuck came up that you can’t make it next week? When we’re staring down our first actual shot at Battle of the Bands this year,” and yeah, of course, if anyone’s gonna try to drag the whole thing out, it’s Gareth. Kid’s got a fucking temper.

“Something more important.”

Which yeah, that’s what was going through Steve’s mind, basically, but—

“The hell could be more—“

“I have plans,” Eddie hisses, viper-quick and fucking deadly, shuts them all right up for it, but then he spins a 180–preens so big Steve swears he can hear his shoulders go back and his chest puff out:

“It’s my anniversary.”

So…yeah. Just because it was where Steve’s head had just been at doesn’t mean his whole chest goes all gooey to hear it said out loud.

And in front of Eddie’s band, who…they aren’t hiding from, but they have discussed keeping kinda mum around. For the same kinds of reasons Steve’s been privy to just in the past couple minutes.

But then Eddie’s voice follows the feeling in Steve’s chest like they’re tethered there, and honestly, more times than not?

Steve thinks they just might actually be, and he’s not proven wrong with the way Eddie halfway coos:

“Our anniversary.”

“Your what?”

Jeff, again, is that middle ground: actually confused, laced with being angry that Eddie’s ducking out.

“Six months,” Eddie answers, soft-like, a little dreamy but in this way that’s rooted somehow still, and in being struck all over again by a level of shock Steve understands, sometimes feels in reverse, but still doesn’t understand being felt so deep as it sounds, now, when it’s applied to…him.

It’s wild y’know?

“I’m like,” Steve hears Eddie’s curls brush against something as he shakes his head—Steve’s money’s on him crouched by his case, or having it already slung over his shoulder:

“Never thought I’d get something to celebrate like that in the first place, but get to keep it, that long without fucking it up?”

Steve, again, wants to give up the pretense and walk the fuck in there and kiss the shit out of his boyfriend because one, same, but two?

Dumbass.

Steve goddamn adores him.

“You mean, with Harrington?” Gareth’s spitting and Steve just shakes his head, a little sad—he doesn’t know what’s crawled up that kid’s ass about him, man; he’s not so much younger that Steve never saw him or didn’t know of him but godDamn: the circles he ran in at the time weren’t the ones doing shit yet when they were in the same elementary school, Steve was barely popular in middle school, and come high school the worst anyone he knew did to the frosh was bang them into a locker—not great, but.

Not worth this shit. And the worst part is if he doesn’t know what’s crawled he did to really piss Gareth off this bad? He can’t even try to Harrington-charm his way back into the guy’s tolerable category. Like, even his best fucking not-pot brownie recipe didn’t sway the fucker.

“Yes,” Eddie is answering, the answer emphatic, like he’s brimming with feeling over it, but then clipped too, like demonstrating that he was brimming and is now being forced to clip it all backis very much the intent: “of course I mean with Steve, who the fuck else?”

It’s not lost on Steve how Eddie says his name. Ever. All the name.

But right now, how he’s making a point to say it in that warm, kinda…beloved way, when anyone else uses his last name in a way that’s anything-but.

“You cannot be—” Gareth scoffs, Steve can imagine him throwing up his hands, that sort of deal, but then Eddie comes in, and it’s a tone Steve’s only ever hear when he’s about to run a campaign into the ground where the characters may never recover, and if somehow manage it, they’ll wish they hadn’t:

“Oh, I am deadly serious.”

Because it’s not Steve’s character, but in defense of Steve’s relationship, that tone trickles something molten through his veins and prickles up his spine and…he’s gone have to stick that one in his back pocket to explore at a later date, for sure.

“Six months?”

Jeff—and Steve kinda likes Jeff, and not for the reason his bandmates would like, that he kicks around Hawkins after graduation, too, but more because Steve knows why; that’s to make more money for a college outside Indiana, and Steve thinks that’s fucking cool—but it’s here where Jeff dips fully away from being angry to being stupefied. Steve lets himself smirk at nothing because fuck yes: him and Eddie.

Six whole goddamn months.

“I was actually gonna ask you guys to come over soon, introduce him properly and stuff,” Eddie says, the disappointment in his voice again; Steve’s niggling desire to go and hug him from behind, maybe kiss under his ear a little, back in full force.

“He picks you up from practice, we see him,” Doug pipes back up, likewise confused, but Steve just takes the useful confirmation that no one did catch on that he pulled up ages ago, now.

“We know who Steve Harrington is—” Gareth snaps, protests in the way that betrays his eye-rolling, his thin-wearing patience.

“No!”

And that comes out of Eddie fierce enough to echo down at least half the block they’re on—seems like Eddie’s patience was worn out a while ago.

“You don’t!”

And everyone is silent in that way Steve knows all too well: when shit’a gone down but now you’re waiting in the edge for the worse thing to hit.

Then it does:

“And it’s a good thing I didn’t bring it up because you dipshits aren’t ready,” Eddie snaps, says dipshitso different from how he does with the Party, theirParty, their kids; he says it here with something real fucking close to disgust.

“Asking hostage questions, fuck off,” he huffs, and Steve hears Eddie’s footsteps, can’t tell if he’s gonna leave it at that, come find Steve and know he’s been standing there but that’ll be fine, it’s not like Steve wasn’t going to let him know as soon as they left—but then:

“Look,” and Eddie sounds the way Steve sounds when he’s pinching the bridge of his nose to fight a growing migraine, the sting of tears for all sorts of pain behind his eyes, and that hurts to hear from his boyfriend, like, a lot.

It fucking hurts.

“I am not just fucking him,” Eddie growls through the bridge-pinching pain; “I mean, fuck yes, I am, but,” and Steve hears the way he swallows all the way down the drive:

“I’m in this for the long haul,” Eddie tells his bandmates like throwing down a gauntlet; “and if you can’t respect me enough, and my choices, that stings,” Steve knows Eddie shrugs then: “but I’ll live.”

Steve’s about a millisecond from saying fuck it, opening the door just to slam it to announce his approach, and then going to physically grab his boyfriend, drag him to the car, and park in the abandoned lot down from the Wheelers’ neighborhood to kiss him senseless because that’s the closest place he can think of and he doesn’t think he’ll make it to either of their homes before he can’t fucking handle himself.

“But if you are gonna disrespect the man I love, no. Absolutely not.”

Eddies voice is a deadly sort of whisper. Steve would cower at it, the way it washes through a person, if he hadn’t just…said.

That.

“You love him?”

And for what Steve thinks is the first time since he climbed out of the car and committed to listening where he wasn’t invited, Gareth sounds…muted. Genuinely asking a question.

Steve, for his own part, kinda expected that he’d be more breathless, heart racing and shit, to hear the answer but in reality?

“Of course I love him.”

Steve already knew that in his cells, in his bones.

In his steady, not all-that-fast but particularly-especially-happily beating heart.

“Have you guys, like, said it and stuff?”

And of course Steve already knows that answer, both the literal one and the one that matters more, but he does perk up a bit, curious to hear what—if anything of note—Eddie chooses to give away here.

“He has,” Eddie says, and now…now maybe Steve should stop listening because this part, the way Eddie says that as flat fact—Steve doesn’t knowthis part beyond speculation. But…

“I wanted to, like,” and eddies voice can’t hide the way he’s gotta have that soft smile, the one he used to hide behind his hair before Steve started pulling it back to see in full, so now he only brings his hair out just to tease, to okay.

“I don’t think I’ve wanted much in my whole life, but he’s,” and Steve thinks he hears how Eddie chews his bottom lip for a second, in the subtlest click of how it slips free before Eddie takes a deep breath and—

“He doesn’t know what he’s worth,” Eddie starts, a little mournful almost, even, and Steve is unexpectedly glued to the spot in his fucking Nikes.

“He doesn’t understand that I’d sell the sun and the moon just to keep him,” Eddie’s saying, and with passion. With whole-ass honesty. And here, maybe, is where Steve gets to have some of the heart:fluttery feeling after all:

“He comes out the gate with the whole you don’t have to say it back and I just,” Eddie sighs, sniffs a little before heaving another breath deep enough to stretch his shirt, which Steve’s not imagining or anything, at all;

“I couldn’t say it, not right then, and risk him everthinking it was something I’d done to like, match. Like that I didn’t mean it with everything I’ve got, when I mean it with everything I’ve got and then also everything else. Like, anywhere. Ever.”

Steve realized he’d stopped breathing at some point when the little dots start floating in front of his eyes and he sucks in a shaking breath because: he’s known Eddie loves him. Unshakeably.

But, but all this—

“I couldn’t say it and have him ever wondered if I wouldn’t rip my heart out of my chest just to keep his safe.”

And of-fucking-course Steve’s pulse is running fucking riot about how much he’s in love right now, make no goddamn mistake. Jesus, he—

“Fuck.”

And Steve has never heard Gareth Emerson pushed just this side of speechless but: that’s the best way Steve can describe the kind of breathless wonder he says it with, like watching a rare bird take flight.

“You mean it.”

And Steve can pick out Eddie’s huffs and categorize them, on demand at this point: he doesn’t need to see the eye-roll to know Eddie’s deemed the expression of pure shock to be so beneath him in this specific context that he’s deemed it unworthy of any more attention.

His heart’s not jumping that loud to have missed it. So.

Steve just kinda grins toward the blacktop under his shoes.

“Why didn’t you,” Doug starts, still—usually, really, in Steve’s limited experience at least—the peacekeeper, the one who’s most invested at the human level when he’s not getting swept up in whatever the rest of the gang has deemed the cool thing to laugh at or make fun of at any given moment.

The huff Eddie gives this time is his incredulous one, which allows for just the slightest bit more consideration:

“The fuck do you think?”

The slightest bit, being the operative point.

“I’d hoped you’d take it better but,” Eddie adds, and there’s less drama in it than Steve might have expected. He’s being serious with them, and he sounds…disappointed.

Steve kinda want to make some kind of noise, give away his position, and just…hug Eddie tight from behind, if nothing else. Be there. Solid against him, wrapped up around him. Never wavering. Always at his back as much as at his side.

But Eddie’s not done:

“I’m not even asking you to like him, just be decent,” and it sounds like it hurts him to say as much, and Steve knows why; he genuinely despises when anyone thinks Lea with a the very beat thing about Steve. Steve believes this to be n unreasonable standard, and has expressed as much to Eddie who nods and smiles and kisses Steve’s forehead and does absolutely nothing to change his stance, but deep down?

Steve fucking feels so…loved for it.

“And like I said,” Steve can hear the judgement in Eddie’s tone clear as day; “you’re not ready, and I’m not putting him in that kind of situation.”

Steve sucks on the inside of his cheek, lest his grin at the way Eddie is not just defending him, but…protecting him, not his honor but his heart…

No ones ever even tried that before. Steve may not need it, or maybe he just learned he couldn’t survive needing it.

Getting it now…now it’s just…

Wow.

“And I’m in this for keeps, like, this is a forever type thing, so long as he wants it,” Eddie saying, explaining the color of a sky to a small child like what these words are that fundamental, that unalterably true. “So—”

“We’ve known each other forever, man,” Gareth eventually mutters, sounds indignant, but mostly gutted.

Steve knows before it happens that it’s not gonna make a difference.

“And we can still know each other. Just not everything, anymore,” and Eddie does sound a little sad but he’s…he’s a monolith, unshakable. “I don’t trust you with the parts that revolve around him, yet,” and Steve feels more than hears the ways his friends deflate, maybe shrink for being deemed so…insufficient. In the eyes of their ostensible leader, no less.

“Eddie, we didn’t,” Jeff starts, slow, and he doesn’t sound remorseful but—Eddie has all those coping mechanisms for a reason, right?

Because he’s quick to feeling, good and bad, and sometimes neither is fit to the moment.

Steve can’t help but be kinda glad Eddie doesn’t bother with those mechanisms just now, though, if it means he gets to hear this part:

“I know you didn’t, that’s the fucking problem,” Eddie groans, Steve can see the way he lens, bends at the knees and throws his body around a little in sheer, undiluted exasperation. “

“Because I could tell you he’s changed since school, and that’d be true, but that’s not even it,” and there’s more of the frustrated stomping round, Steve can hear it, but he’s…he’s ready distracted by that thing in his chest that has to has to be tied up in Eddie’s, too, that thing tugging on him to pay the fuck attention.

And who is he to ignore it?

“he was never who we thought he was in school in the first place. He is,” Eddie licks his lips, just to snack them loud:

“He is kind and funny, and goofy, and such a fuckin’ nerd, and he’s smart in these incredible ways where he’s sees what everyone else misses, and he’s protective as fuck and he’s got a heart of gold,” and Eddie’s voice only gets more heartfelt in its own right that longer he goes and Steve just, he’s, it’s—

“And I would tear my skin off just so it doesn’t get so much as a scuff on it,” Eddie ends with the most scathing delivery imaginable: he fucking meansthis shit. And Steve is going o live and die next to this man, scuffed heart still kept safe to the fucking end, he will swear that shit to anyone who needs to hear it.

He is going to have a whole fucking life with Eddie Munson, and love him for every single breath of it.

“And I don’t trust you guys yet not to tempt me to tear off my skin,” Eddie says finally after enough silence to catch his breath, and temper his tone just enough to sound tired; a little dejected. “I don’t trust you with him, and until that changes, we’re still friends,” Eddie sniffs, breathes out long; “you just won’t get to know about that part of me.”

He says it so simple, like he’s not half-cutting off some of the longest, closest friendships he’s ever had, and for Steve.

Steve doesn’t know if it makes him a person, or a really selfish one or whatever, if he doesn’t feel any urge to talk Eddie down, to make him walk it back just a little.

He doesn’t think he cares, though, either way.

“Seems like a really big part of you,” Doug says, deflated entirely.

“It is,” Eddie answers, unapologetic in a way that swells and sparkles in Steve’s ribs. “He is.”

“You’d walk from the band?” Of course Gareth asks, but it’s the first time he sounds small in his words. Like he maybe knows the answer, and isn’t so okay with how he got around to it even before Eddie wishes all doubt:

“In half a fuckin’ heartbeat.” Boom. Done. No hesitation whatsoever.

Less than half-a-fuckin’-heartbeat.

“That’s not what I’m saying I’m doing right now, but,” Eddie laughs a little, and that probably cuts deeper than anything for the boys, Steve suspects, especially when Eddie makes it unquestionable:

“It’s not even a question.”

And…maybe that drives a knife deeper for the band, but for Steve?

Steve kinda wants to…giggle, or some shit. He hadn’t realized just how much he wanted someone who answered a question like that, exactly like that, who talked about Steve exactly like that, without anything to gain, just because they…believed it.

“Jesus,” Gareth mutters, sounds kinda blindsided, kinda thrown and then some.

“If we,” Jeff clears his throat after a long period of quiet; “if we do better, could we meet him someday?” And the way he says it, earnest and shit:, like he wants to at least think about, at least maybe try:

“Like, really meet him?”

Like Eddie means enough that he’ll try, and that sings sweet in Steve’s veins because goddamn straight, his Eddie deserves that from the people hecares about. No matter who or what Steve is, Eddiedeserves that much, and so much more.

But he sounds like even just this is something amazing, Steve can hear the smile in his voice:

“Yeah, man,” he answers Jeff, claps him audibly on the shoulder; “I look forward to it.”

And shit, y’know what?

So does Steve.

“See you in two weeks,” and Eddies footsteps follow, guitar slung over his back for the way his weight falls with each one, but then:

“Eddie!”

That’s Doug; the footsteps stop close to the edge of the garage door as another set rushes to catch up, where he’ll see Steve if he walks much farther, where Steve’s got his hand on the door handle of the car, slowly inching it open to push shut and look wholly-unsuspicious now that Eddie might be followed out to his ride:

“Get him flowers. For your anniversary,” Doug says, tone low like a secret; “I know, like, it might seem like guys wouldn’t want flowers, but,” and Steve actually has to strain to hear the next part:

“My mom gets my dad flowers on his birthday every year, and he lights up like the Fourth of July.”

Steve remembers the first time he ever got flowers. His favorites, even if he thinks he only knew it subconsciously because they were handed to him with the stammering explanation of I don’t even know if you like flowers, or like these ones, but you look at them when we’re out, like, just walking or something and your eyes linger, and these ones just remind me of you and—

Apparently, Steve loves hyacinths. And sunflowers make Eddie think of him.

Because of course Steve’s first gift of flowers came from Eddie.

“Thanks man,” Eddie sounds the lightest, most genuine Steve’s heard him since he pulled up and got out of the car; “they’re already ordered.”

And Doug chuckles, and Steve?

Steve bites down his smile to less exploding-star levels—if he’d just pulled up he doesn’t have a reason, save that Eddie is enough of a reason in Steve’s eyes, his mind, the way his chest expands just thinking on him—as he pulls the car door closed again, loud enough to be noticed.

For Eddie to walk out of the garage fast as anything and meet Steve with a smile of his own that justifies the fuck out of where Steve’s had started, anyway.

All star-bright and everything.

♥️🎸♥️

✨also on ao3✨

btw this is either titled ‘halcyon shoegazing’ or ‘heart in your shoes’ so if you have an opinion you should maybe tell me or something, my brain’s tired and is resisting decisions rn

✨permanent tag list: OPEN (lmk if you want to be added/removed): @ajeff855 @askitwithflours @awkwardgravity1 @bookworm0690 @bumblebeecuttlefishes @captain--low @depressed-freak13 @dragoon-ze-great @dreamercec @dreamwatch @dreamy-jeans137 @estrellami-1 @goodolefashionedloverboi @grtwdsmwhr @gunsknivesandplaid @hiei-harringtonmunson @hbyrde36 @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @kimsnooks @live-laugh-love-dietrich @mensch-anthropos-human @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notaqueenakhaleesi @ollyxar @pearynice @perseus-notjackson @pretend-theres-a-name-here

divider credit here and here and here

[merrybloomwrites]

A Livestream Love Story

Summary: Your story with Spencer, as told in a series of livestreams.

Word Count: 3.1K

AN: I got 2 requests (request 1, request 2) that had to do with livestreams, and decided to do a story much like my "Podcast Love Story" oneshot. Hope you enjoy!

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

Rocking Out In Guitar Hero 

“Are we live?” Spencer says as the livestream officially starts broadcasting. 

“It’s live,” Brennen answers from behind the camera. 

“Wait, actually right now?” Spencer asks. 

“Yes, right now,” Brennen confirms. 

“Wow, that was too chill,” Spencer says before launching into an explanation about today's livestream. He and Courtney will be playing Guitar Hero, and they’ve managed to upload some of their favorite songs to play. 

For the next half hour, they show off their skills for all the people watching. 

You’ve been busy filming another show and happen to end early, meaning you can pop in and watch them stream for a little while. You try not to be spotted, not wanting to interrupt of course, but also not wanting anyone to see the way you swoon over Spencer. 

The crush you’ve been harboring on him since you started working at Smosh has only continued to grow. Keeping it hidden has been getting more difficult, and peaking in to watch him now is probably a bad idea. 

Because for some reason, him absolutely effortlessly shredding on Guitar Hero is way more attractive than it has any right to be. You try not to stare too much, but the way his fingers move so dexterously on the keys has you feeling some sort of way. 

Of course you can’t hide for long, and soon enough Courtney is calling you over to join them. 

“Y/N, were you a guitar hero girlie?” Spencer asks. 

“Well I played a lot as a kid but it’s been awhile. Might be rusty,” you answer.  

“Give it a go,” Spencer says. He stands, shifting and brushing up against you in the small space. Trying not to blush at the contact you sit in his now empty chair and Courtney passes you the guitar. 

You scroll through the songs, reading comments from the chat as you try to find one you want to play. 

Seeing a comment about how well Spencer is playing, you say, “I feel like people don’t know how good of a guitar player you really are.”

“You actually do play guitar,” He says, leading you to reply, “Yea but you actually play guitar too!”

Courtney smiles watching the two of you compliment each other, then gets surprised when you hand her the controller asking her to pick a song for you. 

After finally settling on “That’s What You Get” by Paramore you put it on medium, not wanting to embarrass yourself by failing on hard mode. 

You begin to play, chatting with the others as you do and you’re pleasantly surprised by how well you do. You’re especially happy when Spencer compliments you at the end. 

Though you try it head out once you’re done, but Courtney encourages you to stay for one more song. You watch as Spencer plays “Five Nights at Freddy’s”. Since it’s one of the songs they uploaded, it only has one difficulty: extreme. 

That’s no problem for Spencer, as he begins to shred on this toy guitar, barely missing any notes. You dance around, covering up how badly you want to just stare at his hands as he plays. 

Once it’s done you compliment him another time before thanking them for having you on and leaving the stream. You have a meeting starting soon, but you detour to the bathroom for a minute. You take some deep breaths, splash a little water on your face, and tell yourself to get your feelings under control. 

We Stream Resident Evil 8 For The First Time

You’re not entirely sure how you got roped into this. Well, you kind of knew, but it all happened so fast! 

You weren’t supposed to be on this livestream. It was meant to be Spencer playing with Amanda and Angela watching, just like in the recorded series. 

But Angela came down with a stomach bug, and here you are, filling in for her. You’re not a big fan of these games, the jump scares and freaky characters really creeping you out. Which of course is the reason you got picked. Because they knew you’d have big reactions which makes for good entertainment. 

So while you don’t love these games, you confirm you’re on board when Spencer checks in with you right before streaming. 

The three of you get set up, you next to Spencer with Amanda behind the two of you. Before you know it, the stream begins, and Spencer starts explaining everything to the audience. 

It’s only a minute later that he starts the game, and the first jump scare occurs. You and Amanda both yell at him to get away from the monster, and he tells you guys that it’s a cutscene and he has no control yet. 

“Oh, Y/N, you should close your eyes,” Spencer says. “You won’t like this part.” 

Choosing to trust him, you shut your eyes until he says it’s safe to open. You’d heard Amanda shout out but couldn’t tell exactly what had happened. 

“Spencer just killed a pig!” She says when you turn to her, confused. 

“I had to! I needed to get food,” he says to defend himself. 

You’re glad that he’d warned you, since seeing that play out definitely would have upset you. 

As the stream continues, you start to get more into it, asking questions and even giving out some helpful ideas. 

There are a couple parts that make you anxious, and as though he can sense this, Spencer leans his leg against yours. It’s hidden beneath the desk, ensuring no one will see, and that simple connection helps you stay relaxed. 

At one point Spencer pauses, saying that he has a headache and is suddenly not feeling well. He asks for water and you don’t hesitate to grab yours to share with him, truly worried by him suddenly acting like this. But a moment later Alex hands him a bottle of water, and Spencer sprays some of it on his hand.

You and Amanda both shout out, realizing that this was just a bit, since the character is always healing himself by spraying water on his hand.

“We were worried about you!” Amanda yells at him.

He just laughs, and you roll your eyes fondly, admitting that he did a good job at fooling the two of you. It’s nearing the end of the stream, so he unpauses and plays a little longer.

Just before you hit the three hour mark, there’s one final jumpscare. It startles you so badly that you nearly tip your chair over and fall. Amanda quickly steadies the chair while Spencer reaches out to grab your arm.

It’s clear you’re flustered when you sit back up, and you hope people will assume it’s because you nearly fell, and not because of how it felt to have Spencer’s hand on you.

After the stream is over, Spencer thanks you for filling in at the last minute. And just like that, the three hours of anxiety and elevated heart rates is worth it.

Seriously Super Stupid Sleepover: Charity Livestream 

“Welcome to the Seriously Super Stupid Sleepover!” Ian shouts as the livestream officially starts. 

“For the first time ever, we are doing a 24 hour charity stream,” Anthony says. “This is for a cause near and dear to us, and we want to start by saying we appreciate every dollar you all donate over the next day.”

“We have lots of activities planned, and various guests will be joining us, so get ready!” Ian adds.

You’re sitting in the conference room with some of your coworkers, watching the start of the stream. Since it’s going from noon on Friday until noon on Saturday, you’ve all been given a schedule of the times you’re set to appear on screen.

It’s been a big undertaking planning for this, but you know it will be worth it. Not only is it for a good cause, but there’s the added bonus of everyone getting the following Monday and Tuesday off. 

You’re not actually appearing on screen until that evening, but once you’re on, you’re there for a while. You know you should try and squeeze a nap in at some point in the afternoon, but you know that you’re likely going to be too excited to manage that.

You watch as the squad kicks off the stream with a classic TNTL, followed by George Primavera leading some of the Games crew in a new tabletop RPG. This together fills the first couple of hours, and you decide to head back to your desk to continue doing some work there. 

“Hey, Y/N, dinner���s ready in the conference room,” Kiana says, bringing you back to reality. You’d gotten lost in your writing, and it was a surprise how much time had passed. You grab something to eat, and by the time you’re done, it’s past 7pm. No time to take a nap now, since you’re due to stream in less than an hour. So of course, you make yourself a latte using the new fancy machine in the kitchen, and drink it as you get yourself ready to appear live. 

The first show you’re appearing on is Beopardy. It’s one of your favorites, since you love trivia, and it gets your energy up for the night. You get a quick break while some pre-recorded content plays, and then you’re back on for Angela’s funeral roast. Due to the number of people involved, this one takes quite a while, and by the time that session is done, it’s already 10PM, and you’ve been on screen for nearly 3 straight hours. 

You get a short break while Anthony does an interview with Mac. During that time, the rest of you change into pajamas for the overnight portion of the stream. 

Now dressed in your starry pajama pants and oversized Smosh crewneck sweatshirt, you wander into the kitchen looking for a quick snack. 

Spencer notices when you walk in, and he gives you a smile as well as a package of your favorite cookies. You thank him with a shy smile of your own, and the two of you chat for a few minutes. 

You haven’t seen him for a while. He’d been on the stream early and had a break, during which he managed to squeeze in a nap. But now he’s back, joining you, Olivia, Courtney, and Noah for some classic sleepover games. 

You start with the awkward dance party, and then do the Urban Dictionary Challenge, where one of you reads out a term from urban dictionary and the rest have to guess the definition. 

As it nears midnight, you all settle on the couches for a couple of Jackbox games. Due to the late hour, it’s no surprise that the answers you all give grow sillier and sillier. 

In the very early hours of the morning, you find yourself on the couch, Spencer on one side, Amanda on the other. There are a few other people on chairs throughout the room, and you’re all set to play Geoguesser. 

Half of your group is very clearly hopped up on caffeine, especially Angela, while the other half is starting to fade with sleepiness. You fall into the second category. It’s especially hard to stay awake since this game doesn’t need too much input from you. 

Amanda notices your eyelids getting heavy and drops a blanket in your lap. You bring your legs up on the couch, curling them under you and wrap yourself in the blanket. Within seconds you’re cozy enough to fall asleep, but you fight off the drowsiness. Luckily, you recognize the next location to pop up, and it re-energizes you for a second as you lead the others to find the right place on the map. 

But that energy doesn’t last long, and soon your eyes start to droop shut again. Not realizing what you’re doing, you shift to get comfortable, your head resting on Spencer’s shoulder. The rest of the group notices that you’re asleep, and while they make a couple jokes about it, no one tries to bother you and wake you up. 

You stay like that for the next twenty minutes as they finish playing the game. Occasionally you’ll move and snuggle closer to Spencer, and he does his best to hide the pleased smiles that your actions cause. It’s clear to anyone paying attention how soft he truly is for you.

When the segment ends another pre-recorded commercial airs, giving you all some time to exit the set. 

Spencer gently nudges you until he sees your eyes blink open. You’re confused, then embarrassed, but overall, what you feel most is tired. 

“C’mon, let’s get you to the lounge, they’ve got beds set up,” he says. Spencer then wraps his arms around you, helping you stand and guiding you to one of the free air mattresses. You’re both quiet, not wanting to wake anyone who’s already asleep. 

You lay down and Spencer tucks the blanket around you, saying a soft goodnight before finding a mattress of his own. 

A few hours later you wake up, still groggy but at least somewhat rested. Looking around you see a few people still sleeping, so you tiptoe out of the room. 

You get dressed and freshen up, knowing you’ll be appearing in the stream one more time. All cast is expected to participate for the last hour, making sure to close out the stream with a bang. 

There are a few people hanging in the conference room so you grab some breakfast and join them. You stay there for a bit, and a minute before you’re going to head back to the set, Spencer walks in. 

Suddenly, memories of the night before enter your brain, and you realize what had happened. What you’d done. 

You’d fallen asleep, on the live, with your head on Spencer’s shoulder. 

And you’re now mortified. Spencer gives you a soft smile, but you don’t have a chance to talk to him since you need to get back to the stream. 

One last commercial break airs, allowing you all to get set up. When you’re live again, everyone starts to banter, talking about the last day. You’re happy to hear that you weren’t the only one to fall asleep in front of everyone, though it seems you were the only one who used a coworker as a pillow. 

Finally, it’s time for Anthony and Ian to wrap everything up. They thank the audience for all the kind donations, and suddenly, the stream is over. 

A couple crew members who weren’t working overnight are set to drive everyone home, so that no one drives while sleep deprived. Which means you don’t get a chance to talk to Spencer before leaving, as you don’t want to hold up the other people in your car. 

Then comes the long weekend. Which is lovely and a nice, well appreciated break. But you can’t stop thinking about what happened Thursday night. You’ve already seen the moment clipped and giffed online, people clearly starting to ship the two of you. 

Even after days of thinking of what to say, you still avoid Spencer when you do get back to work. You’re embarrassed by your actions, and afraid of what he might think of you. But at the end of the day, Spencer asks you to talk, and you take a deep breath, knowing you can’t avoid this any longer.

The two of you sit in an empty office, and it’s quiet for a moment. You bite the bullet and break the silence, saying, “Sorry for passing out on you the other night.”

Spencer shifts in his seat, and you hate that you’ve clearly made him uncomfortable. But then his answer is something you never would have expected. 

“Truthfully, I didn’t mind. I uhm, it was nice. I liked that you were close to me,” he says. You notice the way he looks down as he says it, the slight pink on his cheeks that wasn’t there before. 

“Really?” you ask and he nods, his confirmation giving you the confidence to admit, “I liked it too.”

“You did?”

“I did. I mean, I know I was asleep but I’ve seen some of the gifs and it just makes me happy.”

Spencer takes a deep breath and says, “Y/N, do you want to go on a date? With me?”

You’re surprised by the question, but quickly steady yourself enough to answer, “I would like that.”

And just like that, a moment you thought would forever embarrass you has instead led to the happiest outcome. 

Teaching Y/N Fortnight

It’s been a few months since the charity livestream and the subsequent start of your and Spencer’s relationship. You haven’t exactly gone public with it, but you haven’t kept it a total secret either. Fans have started to speculate, and you guys are okay with that.

You’re just not ready to make it publicly official yet.

It’s a Thursday afternoon, and you’re once again getting ready to do a livestream, this time one where Spencer will be teaching you to play Fortnight. 

He gives you a quick kiss before you both settle in for the stream, and it causes you to smile, as his shows of affection always do.

Making sure to be professional, you turn to the camera as Alex gives you the warning that the livestream is about to begin. Spencer does the intro, then gets into teaching you all of the controls and objectives of the game. 

A few minutes in, there’s a slight issue that leads to Spencer having to leave the room to fix something, while Alex sits at the computer to solve the problem on that end. 

While this is happening you’re trying to keep the viewers entertained, making jokes and telling some stories that you hope they’ll find interesting. 

“You know, I have to admit something,” you say.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” Alex questions.

“I’ve played Fortnight before. Not enough to be good! But like, I kind of already know all the basic stuff.”

“So why let Spencer explain it all?” Alex asks.

“He just gets so excited to teach! It’s cute,” you explain.

And yea, you know the fans will be freaking out with that moment. And this being a livestream, you get to see those comments in real time.

Once the tech problem is solved, Spencer comes back and sees the way chat is freaking out, and asks what happened. Without hesitation, the viewers immediately tell him your admission, leading to him pretending like his pride has been ruined. 

But when he sees why you kept the secret from him, he can’t help but melt a little inside.

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

AN: Thank you for reading, and thank you to those who sent in the requests that made this happen!

[wosohours]

not close enough - alexia putellas x reader

word count: 1854

“Alexia, I told you that I wouldn’t be able to hang out today because I needed to focus on my work,” you say in a serious tone toward the blonde standing in your doorway.

“I know that mi amor but I missed you so much. I feel like we haven’t been spending much time together because of our schedules,” Alexia gives you a cute pout as she raises two bags, “but look I brought you food and snacks and these pretty flowers you like.”

Biting back a smile you stand to the side signaling that she can come in. You knew that if you did not let her in now she would find her own way in, whether that be crawling through your window, again, or calling your mother who would convince you to let her in.

“Thank you. I appreciate it, baby,” you tell her as she speeds past you towards your kitchen.

“I just want to take care of my girl, bebé. I don’t like it when you work too much and stress yourself out,” she states while grabbing your waist to pull you into a tight hug.

“I only work so much so that I have more free time to spend with you, and also money to spoil you. You deserve to be catered to as well.”

Alexia can’t help but smile at your words as she kisses your neck. “While I really appreciate that amor, you know that just being in your company is more than enough for me.”

“I’m glad that you feel that way but I still have to work, these bills aren’t gonna pay themselves,” you tell her as you tickle the sides of her stomach, making her giggle and release you from her tight grip.

“Move in with me and I’ll pay your bills,” Alexia states. “We’ll talk about that later, but I’m not letting you pay my bills,” you roll your eyes as you open one of the food boxes she brought which was filled with some of your favorite pastries.

“We’ll see,” she shrugs, coming up behind you to take a bite of one of the pastries already in your hand.

____________________

“Thank you for breakfast, but I really need to get back to work. I have two more meetings today and then I’m all yours,” you tell your girlfriend as you pick up her plate to bring to the sink.

“I don’t want to leave you here alone,” she says, grabbing the dishes from your hand so she can wash them. “I’ll be fine, but if you really want to stay you can watch TV in my room or the living room,” you tell not really paying attention to her as you grab your computer and headphones.

“I’ll be in my office if you need anything just text me, okay?” you tell her while blowing her a kiss from the door of your office. As you are closing the door you catch her pretending to grab the kiss from the air and place it on her heart.

____________________

Though your relationship is not even a year old Alexia can’t help but be absolutely obsessed with you. She always wants to be around you, always thinking of you, and everything she sees and does can all be traced back to you.

This feeling was so new and different to Alexia that it scared her so much that she called her mother panicking. Of course, Eli calmed her down and gave her reassurance that this was a good feeling but told her if it bothered her that much then she should talk to you about it and take it slow.

A couple of days later when Alexia sat you down and told you how she felt she was relieved to know that you felt the same way and that you were more than happy to continue the relationship at whatever pace she needed.

It turned out that Alexia did not need to go as slow as she thought. Soon after your talk she was bringing you over to meet her mother and sister and hinting at you moving in with her, but you kind of talked her out of the latter, at least for now.

You two have been nothing but in love and happy and that is all Alexia could ask for.

____________________

After about an hour of laying around your living room and tidying up things here and there, Alexia gets bored and decides to go into your room. She flops on your bed on what she has claimed ‘her side’ and lays there in silence, basking in the atmosphere of your space.

The smell of your perfume she loves so much lingers in the air making her take deep breaths. As she turns over to your side she can smell the scent of the new shampoo you are trying out in your pillow making her smile.

She looks at your nightstand to see a framed picture of you two. The same one she has at home on her nightstand. As she reaches over to grab it she notices that you have one of her captain’s armbands. Alexia laughs at the thought of you stealing it from her bag. She holds it up to take a selfie and sends it to you.

To: Mi Reina 💕

“You are a little thief.”

*sent attachment*

Alexia gets up from the bed and into your walk-in closet. She can’t help but smile at the two different spots you have cleared out, one being a drawer for her clothes, and the other being her jerseys that you have bought or ones that she has given you.

From: Mi Reina 💕

“technically I didn’t steal it. i remember being told ‘take it off of me.’🙃”

After reading your message Alexia closed her eyes and let her head fall back with a deep sigh as she remembered that intense intimate night after the Champions League Final game.

Shaking her head out of thought she sends a reply back.

To: Mi Reina 💕

“Get back to work.”

From: Mi Reina 💕

“😭sorry baby. i was just getting the facts straight.”

Alexia rolls her eyes and smiles, putting her phone in her pocket before going back to look around your closet.

She reaches up to take your favorite hoodie off the hanger and brings it up to her nose, inhaling more of your perfume. Even though she is at your house, in your room, and you are on the other side of the wall she still can’t help but feel you aren’t close enough, so she strips off her FC Barcelona Nike jacket and tugs your hoodie over her head.

Ale lays down in your bed once again, this time on your side, and when she realizes that you aren’t going to be done with work any time soon she decides to just take a nap.

____________________

After both of your meetings, you get up from your desk to stretch and check on Alexia. You walk past the kitchen and living room when you notice she isn’t there and go straight towards your room.

When you open the door you see Alexia sleeping peacefully on her stomach with her face shoved into your pillow.

“Hey baby,” you whisper quietly, as you gently rub her back coaxing her out of her nap. Her eyes flutter open and she gives you a sleepy smile. “Are you done with work?” she whispers.

“No, I am done with my meeting though and I’m taking a break. Do you want to make some lunch?” you ask her.

Alexia nods her head as she sits up and stretches, letting out a small yawn.

“I see you stole my hoodie, who’s the thief now?” you tease, making her let out a little laugh.

You grab her hand and pull her out of the room towards the kitchen where you pull out ingredients to make sandwiches.

Alexia sits at the kitchen bar where she watches you with a loving gaze. When you are done making the sandwiches you pass Alexia her plate and a water bottle.

“Are you done with work?” she asks before taking a bite. “No, I still have emails to answer but I can probably get through those quickly,” you answer.

“Can you answer them on the couch and I sit with you?” she asks.

“I could, but you might be a little distracting,” you smirk at her as you take another bite.

“I am not distracting,” she pouts, crossing her arms which makes you laugh. “You can be sometimes, but it’s not always a bad thing. I like that you always want to be around me.”

“I just love you very much. Since we met, I have always wanted to be around you,” she tells you in an almost shy tone.

You walk around the bar to turn her chair so that you can stand in between her legs. Putting your hands on her cheeks you tell her, “You’re such a lover girl. I love you so much.” She leans in and pecks your lips multiple times.

“Go sit on the couch I am going to go grab my computer and I’ll meet you there,” you tell her pulling away.

____________________

“Alexia I cannot sit in your lap and do my work,” you tell her trying to pull away.

“And why not?” she asks.

“Because I said so,” you finally get free from her and sit on the other edge of the couch where you stretch your legs out and set your computer on your lap.

“Put a match on the TV or your ‘Love is Blind’ show,” you tease her knowing that she doesn't want to admit to liking that sort of show.

“I do not like ‘Love is Blind’ Don’t tell anyone that,’ she demands like she has been caught doing something wrong.

You can’t help but let out a loud laugh at the panicked expression on her face. “Oh really? I’ve caught you watching it multiple times, and did you forget we share a Netflix account? I can see everything that you watch.”

She lets out a puff of air and you can hear her mumble a ‘whatever.’

“You literally like to tell me all the red flags you see in these people. It’s okay baby, you know I’m not one to judge,” you say, raising your hands in a ‘surrender’ position.

Lifting your computer off your lap you motion for her to come lay between her legs. Alexia immediately replaces her pout with a big smile as she moves to lay her head on your stomach. “Is this close enough for you baby?” you ask her.

“It’s okay for now, I wish I could be in your skin,” she replies.

“Um. Okay,” you whisper to yourself a little stunned.

Still needing to work you place your computer on her back like a little table.

“Let me know if it gets too hot on your back,” you tell her as you kiss her head.

Alexia nods her head as she grabs the remote to turn on the TV…to ‘Love is Blind.’

[thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch]

of humans and soulmates [TEASER]

a/n: we all knew i was gonna tease it lets be honest (• ε •) -not proofread, there be spelling errors/inconsistencies ahead-

teaser w.count - 900+ words [current full w.count: 14k] genre: dragon emperor!zhongli, human servant!y/n, royal au, soulmate/dragon mate au, different kingdoms, angst, slow burn but also kinda not really?, hidden identities original teaser announcement

“Li!” You call out, jogging up to his side. The stranger who isn’t a stranger turns, and you assume he smiles at you. You can’t tell. You can’t see him.

Coming to stand at his front his hand moves to brush against your cheek. He does this offer so he can ‘see’ what expression you're making. Today he runs his knuckles down the apple of your cheek and can feel you smile. 

“Good evening, my dear.” 

This is Li. Your soulmate. The soulmate you can’t even see. That’s how it works- at least for you both. 

You were born with a mark on your back. Golden lines that never touch and form the shape of a diamond imprinted on your left shoulder blade. It was because of this mark you were never loved by your father or your half-sister. 

Abandoned to be a mere servant of the palace as a maid and nothing more. You’ve never once acted the part of your kingdom’s first born princess; in fact, they don’t even know you exist. Sometimes, it feels like the only good thing you got out of being unrecognized is the fact you were allowed to carry your mother’s maiden name and not the royal families. 

According to the rest of peoples in your kingdom, the first princess was still born and the mother mourned so deeply she took her own life. Thus the king remarried two years later and had a child with the late second-queen. 

Sometimes you wish you were accepted despite your ‘flaw’, yearning for familiar love. It never lingers because if you had been brought up any other way than this one, you wouldn’t be where you are now. You could have treated Li like a stranger you loathed. You don’t. You love this man whose face you have never seen. 

The way your soulmarks work is simple yet complicated. You both can meet in dreams just like this. The first time you both met was when you were 15 and to stay you were beyond spooked is an understatement. You actually woke yourself up by screaming in pure shock. He snickered at you the second time you met in a dream. 

Li is simply a shadowed figure to your eyes. You appear the same to him, a simple shadow in the shape of a human. Neither one of you will know what the other looks like until you see one another. It’s almost cruel, since you’ll probably be trapped inside this castle until you're old and grey and when you finally die, you’ll be lucky to be buried in the cemetery. You may never know what he looks like or ever get to meet him. It's tragic. 

That doesn’t mean you know nothing about your soulmate. You know plenty. 

For starters, his name isn’t actually Li, but that’s what he’s asked you to call him. He says he can’t say his name for reasons that are hard to explain. You understand though. He’s tall with long hair he usually ties low at the back of his head during the day. 

He isn’t a human, but a dragon (when he told you that, you begged to touch his ears since you’ve heard they’re pointed- he let you). However the horns you can make out the silhouette of that separate, branch off, and stretch above him you leave alone. 

He prefers drinking tea over liquor and he prefers it black- but he does fancy a particular wine that’s often made in his homeland. His kingdom has two names- one is pronounced in dragonic tongue and the other is much easier for humans to articulate. You still haven’t learned what is it though since he doesn’t often speak of home. 

He can’t stand seafood. 

Apparently he’s actually over 500 hundred years old- and when he first got his mark that matched yours- it was on the day you spooked yourself awake for the first time at 15 years old. It’s been many years since then. 

You’ve traced his face with your fingers before, hoping to get a mental feel for how he appears. His features are defined and he feels handsome, but unfortunately for you- you still couldn’t create a whole image of him in your head. You don’t know if it’s arrogance, but he also claims that others say he is pleasing to look at. You choose to believe him. 

Li loves the smell of flowers. Where he lives in the kingdom of dragons- with that dragonic name you have quite the struggle pronouncing since the language is tough on the tongue- there’s a special flower that grows spontaneously on cliffsides. The plant that blooms in three, purple stalks is called violetgrass and while every flower has its own uniqueness and beauty, he tends to favor the blue bell blooms that hang downwards. 

He was kind and patient with you. Li often speaks freely and listens attentively. Despite claiming to have a short temper some days, he’s never once lost it. He claims your presence has a calming effect on him, and should the day ever come when he raises his voice towards you, you are free to put him in his place. You can’t imagine either happening. 

While you are soulmates, Li has also taken time before to explain that additionally on his end, you are considered his dragonic mate despite remaining human. He speaks of you as if you hold his very soul in your palms and it always makes you warm. 

“You’re a bit late to fall asleep tonight,” he points out. Taking your hand in his, he helps ease you onto the ground and let your legs dangle over the edge of the cliffside. He joins you once you’ve settled, never letting himself become comfortable first.

a/n pt.2: if the whole soulmate thing doesn't make sense, i swear to god i'll try and explain it later when the m.draft is finished hngghhh. it makes sense in my heaD OKAy

[aspenmissing]

Okay. This one is specific and hyper indulgent. This past week (last Friday to today) I've worked 70 something hours. With two fourteen hour days back to back on days lol

Could we have some sweetness from Arcane boys for an overworked s/o who's in healthcare (working with folks with intellectual disabilities. If you don't want to get that specific I don't blame you, and a generic 'medic' of sorts would be fine, too)

ʀᴇꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴇᴀʀʏ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴄʟᴀɢɢᴏʀ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ-ɪꜱʜ || 3714 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʙᴜʀɴᴏᴜᴛ, ᴏᴠᴇʀᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ, ɴᴇᴀʀ ꜰᴀɪɴᴛɪɴɢ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʏᴀʀɴ! ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ, ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ʙᴇ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ʀᴇꜱᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ! ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏᴜɴᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ʀᴇꜱᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴄᴀɴ ꜱᴏᴍᴇᴡʜᴀᴛ ʙʀɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴍꜰᴏʀᴛ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇ <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴄʟᴀɢɢᴏʀ

JAYCE

Y/N had always been the kind of person who pushed through. She had to be. Working in healthcare, caring for those with intellectual disabilities, was more than a job—it was a calling. But lately, it felt like the weight of the world had settled on her shoulders, refusing to budge.

Long shifts bled into sleepless nights, and exhaustion settled into her bones like a second skin. She barely had time to eat, let alone rest, and Jayce had noticed. How could he not? The dark circles under her eyes, the way her hands trembled when she tried to hold a pen, the distant look in her gaze when she thought no one was watching—it all worried him.

Jayce had never been one to sit idly by when someone he loved was hurting. And he loved her. He loved her in ways he couldn't put into words, but if there was one thing he knew for certain, it was this—he wasn’t going to let her burn herself out.

So when she stumbled through the door after another grueling shift, her coat barely making it onto the hook before she collapsed onto the couch, Jayce knew he had to intervene.

Y/N groaned softly, rubbing her temples as she lay sprawled across the cushions. Her entire body felt like lead. Just the thought of moving again made her want to cry.

Jayce crouched beside her, his warm hand brushing against her cheek. "Y/N," he murmured, his voice filled with concern.

She hummed in response, her eyes fluttering open just enough to meet his gaze. The sight of him, so soft and worried, made her chest ache.

"Have you eaten today?" he asked, his voice soft but firm.

She hesitated. That was answer enough.

Jayce sighed, shaking his head. "You can’t keep doing this to yourself."

She let out a tired laugh. "It’s fine, Jayce. I just need a little—" A yawn interrupted her words. "—a little rest."

"No," he said gently but firmly. "You need a break. A real one. Not just a ten-minute nap before you push yourself into another shift."

She closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. "I don’t have time for a break."

"You don’t have time not to take care of yourself," he countered, his thumb brushing over her cheek. His touch was grounding, but it also made the guilt rise in her chest. "What if you get sick? What if you collapse in the middle of your shift?"

"They need me," she whispered.

Jayce’s jaw clenched, his expression softening even more as he leaned in closer. "And I need you," he said, voice barely above a breath. "You take care of everyone else, but who's taking care of you?"

She swallowed hard, staring at him like she wasn’t sure how to answer that. Because the truth was—she hadn’t thought about it.

Jayce ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly before standing up. He didn’t give her room to argue as he gently took her hand, coaxing her up from the couch. "Come on," he said, his voice softer now. "Let’s go to bed. You can sleep in tomorrow, and I’m making you breakfast. No arguing."

"Jayce, I can’t just—"

"Yes, you can," he interrupted, unwavering. "You deserve rest. You deserve to be taken care of too."

Her resolve wavered. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the warmth of his hand wrapped around hers, but she let him pull her into his embrace.

She melted against him, burying her face in his chest as he held her close. His arms were strong, steady, the kind of warmth that made her feel safe. He pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head, and for the first time in what felt like weeks, she let herself breathe.

VIKTOR

The apartment was dimly lit, the soft glow of a single lamp casting long shadows against the walls. Y/N barely had the energy to remove her coat as she stepped inside, her shoulders slumping under the weight of exhaustion. Her limbs felt like lead, her mind hazy from another grueling shift. Healthcare was rewarding, but it was also relentless. The long hours, the emotional toll of caring for individuals with intellectual disabilities, the paperwork—there was never enough time, and yet, she pushed through.

The soft clink of metal against the wooden floor echoed through the quiet space, pulling her from her thoughts. Viktor stood at the end of the hall, his cane in hand, concern evident in his golden eyes. He didn't say a word at first, simply watching her as if assessing the full extent of her weariness.

“You’re home late,” he finally murmured, stepping forward with a slight limp. “Again.”

Y/N let out a breathy chuckle, though it lacked any real amusement. “Yeah. I know.”

She turned to hang her coat, but before she could, Viktor gently reached for her wrist, his touch featherlight yet firm. “Come sit,” he said softly, guiding her toward the couch. He was careful, mindful of the way her body sagged with exhaustion.

She didn’t resist. She couldn’t. The moment she settled onto the cushions, the weight of the day threatened to pull her under completely. Viktor knelt beside her, his cane resting against the couch, his hands finding hers. He traced slow, deliberate circles against her palm, grounding her.

“You do too much,” he whispered. It wasn’t an accusation, merely an observation, spoken with the quiet concern of someone who knew her far too well.

“I have to,” Y/N replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “They need me.”

“And I don’t?” Viktor tilted his head, lips twitching with something unreadable. “Because I do. More than you know.”

Her breath hitched at the sincerity in his tone. Guilt gnawed at her edges, but before she could argue, Viktor lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against her knuckles.

“I am proud of you,” he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. “You have the heart of a saint, but even saints must rest.”

A lump formed in her throat. “Viktor, I—”

“Shh.” He shook his head, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Let me take care of you tonight.”

For the first time in weeks, Y/N allowed herself to let go. She melted against Viktor as he guided her to lie down, resting her head in his lap as his fingers threaded gently through her hair. The steady rhythm of his touch, the warmth of his presence—it was enough to quiet the storm inside her, if only for a little while.

“You can’t keep going like this.” Viktor murmured, his brow furrowing slightly as he gazed down at her. He brushed his fingers gently over her cheek, concern laced in every touch.

Y/N exhaled, closing her eyes for a moment. “I don’t have a choice,” she muttered. “They need me.”

Viktor shook his head. “And I need you too,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “I see what this is doing to you. Let me help.”

Her breath hitched, and she felt Viktor’s fingers tighten around hers. She wasn’t alone. She had him. And maybe—just maybe—she could lean on him, if only for a little while.

JAYVIK

The apartment was dark when Y/N stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her. It was late—too late—and exhaustion pressed against her bones like a vice. She exhaled a deep breath, rubbing at her temples as she toed off her shoes. The day had been long, draining, and thankless. She loved her job, truly, but some nights, it took everything out of her.

Her body moved on autopilot as she drifted into the kitchen, her fingers fumbling with the fridge handle. Food. Water. She needed something, anything to keep her from collapsing into bed on an empty stomach. But her hands shook, her limbs sluggish as she reached for a glass from the cupboard. She barely registered the way her grip faltered before—

Crash.

The sound of shattering glass rang through the apartment, snapping her out of her daze. Y/N blinked down at the mess, the broken shards scattered across the floor, twinkling under the dim light. Her heart thudded in her chest as frustration burned behind her tired eyes. She was too exhausted for this.

Footsteps—quick, concerned—echoed from down the hall. Viktor appeared first, his cane tapping softly against the floor as he approached, eyes wide with worry. Jayce followed close behind, his broad form shadowing the doorway.

“Drahá, what happened?” Viktor’s voice was thick with concern, his accent wrapping around the words as he immediately stepped forward. (Dear)

“Are you okay?” Jayce asked, already reaching for the broom in the corner.

Y/N let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “I—yeah. Just dropped a glass,” she mumbled, but her voice wavered, betraying her.

Viktor’s sharp gaze flickered over her, taking in the slump of her shoulders, the exhaustion in her eyes, the way she was barely keeping herself upright. He sighed, setting his cane aside carefully before placing his hands on her waist, grounding her. “You should be resting, not cleaning up broken glass at this hour.”

Jayce knelt down, sweeping up the mess without hesitation. “You’ve been overworking yourself again, haven’t you?” His tone wasn’t accusatory—just worried, just soft.

Y/N swallowed, guilt curling in her stomach. “I had to stay late. Some of my clients needed extra care today.”

Jayce huffed out a breath. “That’s always the case, isn’t it?” But there was no anger in his voice, only gentle exasperation. He stood, dumping the glass into the bin before turning back to her. “Come on, let us take care of you for once.”

Viktor tugged her closer, pressing a feather-light kiss to her temple. “Sit. I’ll make you something to eat.”

“You should be resting too,” she murmured, leaning into him despite herself.

He chuckled, a quiet, warm sound. “Ah, but I am stubborn. And you, lásko, are exhausted.” (Love)

Jayce wrapped an arm around both of them, his warmth seeping into her bones. “He’s right. You take care of everyone else—let us take care of you.”

Y/N wanted to argue, to insist she was fine. But her body betrayed her, leaning into them, melting against their touch. She sighed, finally letting the weight of the day slip from her shoulders. “Okay,” she whispered.

Viktor pressed another kiss to her hair before pulling away to start cooking. Jayce guided her to the couch, settling beside her, his hand never leaving hers.

VANDER

The streets of Zaun were quiet at this hour, the dim glow of the undercity’s lights casting long shadows as Y/N made her way back to the Last Drop. Her feet ached, her limbs felt heavy, and exhaustion settled deep into her bones, but she pressed on. She always did. The job was grueling, demanding, but she couldn’t turn away from the people who needed her—those who relied on her care, on her patience, on her unwavering presence.

By the time she reached the familiar door of the bar, the front was already closed up for the night. She slipped inside, careful not to make a sound as she locked it behind her and made her way toward the living area. The soft sound of Vi’s breathing, the occasional sleepy murmur from Powder, and the quiet shifting of Mylo and Claggor let her know that the kids were all safe and asleep.

Relief should have settled in her chest, but instead, the weight of the day threatened to crush her. Her legs barely carried her to the couch before she sank down onto it, head in her hands as she tried to steady herself.

Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out.

It didn’t help.

Her vision blurred as hot tears slipped down her cheeks, silent at first, then shaking sobs wracked her frame. She had been holding it in for so long—every frustration, every overwhelming moment, every pang of guilt for feeling like she wasn’t doing enough.

She didn’t even notice the soft creak of floorboards until a warm, familiar presence settled beside her. Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her close, and the scent of smoke and leather surrounded her.

“Y/N,” Vander’s voice was rough with sleep, gentle with concern. “What’s wrong, love?”

She couldn’t answer, not at first. She just buried her face against his chest, hands clutching at his shirt as if he was the only thing keeping her from shattering completely. And maybe he was.

He didn’t rush her, didn’t push for words. He simply held her, one hand stroking slow, soothing circles on her back while the other cradled the back of her head.

“You’re workin’ yourself too hard again,” he murmured after a long silence, pressing a kiss to her temple. “You can’t keep doin’ this to yourself.”

She shook her head against him. “They need me, Vander,” she whispered, voice raw. “I can’t just stop.”

“They need you, yeah. But so do I. So do the kids.” He pulled back just enough to cup her face, wiping away the tears with his calloused thumbs. “And you can’t help anyone if you run yourself into the ground.”

She let out a shuddering breath, her body finally beginning to relax against him. She knew he was right, even if the guilt still gnawed at her. But in this moment, with his arms wrapped around her, she allowed herself to let go—just for tonight.

“C’mere,” Vander murmured, shifting so he could pull her fully onto his lap, tucking her against him like she was something precious. “Rest, love. I got you.”

And for the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed herself to believe it.

SILCO

The dim glow of the flickering lamp cast long shadows across Silco’s office, illuminating the stacks of paperwork that awaited his attention. He sighed, rolling his sleeves up as he stepped inside, feeling the familiar weight of exhaustion settle onto his shoulders. But the moment he did, his sharp gaze landed on the worn couch tucked into the corner of the room. There, curled up in exhaustion, was Y/N.

His footsteps softened as he approached, his chest tightening at the sight of her. Her uniform was slightly disheveled, the fabric creased from a day spent tirelessly tending to others. The faint scent of antiseptic clung to her, mingling with the natural warmth of her skin. A clipboard lay discarded beside her, barely hanging onto the couch, a sign that she had likely intended to work but succumbed to exhaustion before she could even begin. The dark circles beneath her eyes, the way her body seemed so small, curled up against the armrest—it all painted a picture of just how hard she had been pushing herself. His jaw tightened, irritation prickling at the back of his mind—not at her, but at the cruel reality that forced her into such relentless dedication.

Silco crouched beside her, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face with the backs of his fingers. She was always so strong, so unwavering, yet here she was, fragile in her fatigue. Y/N stirred slightly but didn’t wake, only letting out a small sigh as she unconsciously shifted toward his touch. The sight of her like this made something in his chest ache in a way he rarely allowed himself to feel.

“Why are you here?” he murmured, more to himself than to her. He had expected to find her at home, asleep in their bed, not here—drained and vulnerable, asleep in his office like some exhausted soldier who never knew when to rest.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice. She blinked up at him sleepily, taking in the concern that lingered in the hard lines of his face. Her lips parted, voice hoarse from sleep, “Didn’t wanna wake you.”

Silco exhaled sharply, his expression shifting into something unreadable. “You could have.”

She gave a small, tired smile. “You work too much already… thought I’d let you rest.”

Silco shook his head, taking a seat on the couch beside her. He placed a hand on her back, rubbing small, slow circles as he let out a rare sigh of frustration—not at her, but at the situation. At how much she gave to others, so much so that there was nothing left for herself. He had seen it time and time again—the way she poured every ounce of herself into her work, refusing to acknowledge the toll it took on her.

“You push yourself too hard,” he muttered.

Y/N let out a breath of amusement, her fingers weakly grasping at the fabric of his sleeve. “Takes one to know one.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he shifted until he was settled against the couch, pulling her gently into his arms. Y/N sighed as she melted into his warmth, tucking her head beneath his chin.

Silco’s hand continued its slow movements on her back, his fingers tracing absentminded patterns. He could feel the steady rise and fall of her breath against him, her weight pressing into his side in a way that felt so utterly human. He was a man who built walls, who allowed few people close enough to see past his defences—but she was different. She had a way of slipping past his barriers without effort, of settling into the spaces he thought had long since been abandoned.

“You need rest,” he murmured against her hair, his voice softer now.

“Mm. Just for a little while.”

Silco didn’t argue, simply holding her as the weight of the day finally pulled her back into sleep. His own exhaustion crept up on him, settling behind his eyes. The flickering lamp cast a warm, golden glow over them, illuminating the rare moment of peace they shared. And for the first time that evening, he let his own eyes close as well, allowing himself to rest alongside her, if only for a little while.

CLAGGOR (AU)

Y/N sat at the kitchen table in their small apartment, staring at the glowing papers that had been scattered in front of her. The documents, full of notes and reminders, reflected the exhaustion that had been taking over her lately. Another long day at the healthcare clinic, filled with paperwork and endless tasks. People needing attention, patients needing guidance. She had been working for hours already, but there was no end in sight. The piles were only getting bigger, a mountain that seemed impossible to climb.

Her shoulders ached from the weight of the work, and her head throbbed with the onset of a headache she couldn’t seem to shake. Every day, it was the same—overworked, pushing herself to do it all because she couldn’t bear to leave anyone behind. But tonight… Tonight, she wasn’t sure if she could keep going.

“Y/N?” The familiar voice of Claggor echoed from the living room. His deep voice was tinged with concern, his usual carefree nature now clouded by the realization that something was off.

“I’m fine,” she replied, her voice faint and tired, though she wasn’t sure if she truly believed the words herself. She heard him pause before he entered the room, his footsteps slow and deliberate.

Claggor stood in the doorway, his gaze soft as it landed on her hunched figure. His hand rested gently on the frame as he leaned against it, studying her. Y/N didn’t meet his eyes, keeping her focus on the work before her.

“You’re not fine,” he murmured, stepping closer. “You’ve been at this for days, haven’t you? Don’t lie to me.”

Y/N sighed, pushing the papers aside as she finally looked up at him. “Claggor, you don’t understand. There’s so much to do. The people I work with, they need me, and if I don’t give them everything I’ve got, who will? I don’t want to let anyone down.”

Claggor's expression softened, his lips curling into a small, knowing smile. He sat down beside her, his large hand gently brushing the back of hers. “Y/N,” he said softly, “you’re one of the strongest people I know. But even the strongest need a break sometimes.”

“I don’t know how to stop,” she whispered, her voice cracking with exhaustion. “I don’t know how to rest when there’s so much to do.”

He leaned in closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into the warmth of his chest. His comforting embrace felt like a safe haven from the storm inside her. “You don’t have to do everything alone. You don’t have to push yourself past your limits. I’m here for you.”

Y/N closed her eyes, leaning into him, letting his words sink into her. “I’m just so tired, Claggor. I don’t know if I can keep going like this.”

“You don’t have to keep going like this, love,” he said, his voice steady and comforting. “You’ve already done so much. Let me help you. We can face it together.”

He reached over, pulling the papers away from the table and tossing them aside. “For tonight, you don’t need to worry about them. I’ve got you.” He brushed his fingers against her cheek, wiping away a tear that had escaped without her noticing.

Y/N turned her head, her forehead resting against his shoulder as she let out a soft, relieved sigh. “Thank you,” she whispered, her body sinking into his embrace as if it had been starved for this kind of care.

Claggor pressed a kiss to her forehead, his arms tightening around her as he whispered, “You’re my everything, Y/N. Rest now. We’ll face tomorrow together, and we’ll take it one step at a time. But tonight, just let yourself be here with me.”

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Y/N allowed herself to just be. With Claggor’s arms around her, she didn’t have to be anything more than what she was—a woman in love, in need of care, in need of rest.

And for the first time in days, she finally allowed herself to sleep, knowing that she didn’t have to carry the weight of the world alone anymore.

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Princess | Intro/ Part 01

There's more to it than what meets the eye.

Tags/Warnings: Wolfdog Hybrid!Jungkook, Showdog Hybrid!Reader, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Fluff?, Brat!Reader, Jungkook has major brat tamer energy, reader has some issues, mentions of depression

Length: 6.5k Words

-> Masterlist

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook hates loosing.

And that’s especially true when it comes to bets- because he also can’t really pass up any opportunity to show off and be the best at something. So when he took on the bet with Jimin, he didn’t think anything of it- after all, even if he lost, he could still simply teach that so-called ‘puppy’ Jimin was supposed to be working with a killer choreo and make his way on top either way.

What Jimin failed to tell him, however, was that you are an absolute menace.

Not only are you spoiled to high heavens and dressed head to toe in pretty designer pieces designed and tailored just for you, no- your attitude is making him want to throw himself into a busy road to be run over by any moving vehicle willing to do so. It’s been not even thirty minutes he’s spent in the meeting room, and he already regrets his big mouth with Jimin.

But maybe it’s just a bad first impression. Maybe, you’re just having a bad day.

“So, basically, we’ve got four weeks to make it work.” Your manager says, having finished his plan as he stands at the end of the table everyone is sitting at, you included- though you clearly do not listen to the conversations happening at all, instead occupied with a game on your switch console, decorated in plastic gemstones and cute stickers, sound not even all the way down as to not interrupt anyone.

Jungkook feels his blood boiling. Can’t you at least attempt to listen? After all, it’s your career that’s on the line.

“I’ll need the possible song choices she made, and I also gotta get a copy of the guidelines and what the judges generally look for. Doesn’t have to be today, but I’d like to have it before we start making anything up.” Jungkook offers, arms crossed. You’ve not even looked at him once today.

If he just went by looks, you’d actually be quite cute- you're clearly taking good care of yourself, and you fall right into the category of hybrid girl he’d see himself interested in- but your character seems to be the exact opposite, as you stare down at the small screen in your hands, lashes long, hiding your gaze a little from him.

“We can totally do that.” Your manager says. “I- uhm.. Are you okay with that too?” He asks towards you, and you simply take in a deep breath before you sigh, shoulders shrugging and head somewhat nodding. Your eyes however never break away from your game, instead, you just adjust your seating postition a little before you become completely detached from the situation again. “I’m sorry about that. She’s.. Having a bad day.” Your manager justifies.

Jungkook smells the lie right away.

“Practice will start at 7 AM then-” Jungkook starts, and that seems to catch your attention as your face turns into a frown. “-And we’ll practice the whole week, except weekends.”

“That’s too early.” You mumble, grumbling down at your game while your legs stretch out under the table, feet brushing against his shins. You’re not wearing shoes, only your knee-high socks, having discarded the slip on’s early on for no apparent reason other than comfort.

“She usually sleeps until.. 11 so..” Your manager starts, and Jungkook has to swallow a growl.

“8.” He says sternly, staring at you who scoffs down at your hands. “She’ll have to get up earlier then.” He decides, making you lift your chin a little, before you save your game, turn off the console and put it on the table, your arms now crossed as well as you finally, for the first time, look at him.

The fire in your eyes could seriously burn someone if it was to be manifested into a real flame, he decides.

“You’ll have to wait until I show up then.” You answer him, and his eyes narrow, feeling challenged. But before he can respond, your manager seems to sense the growing tension between you two, as he dissolves the meeting quickly to have you driven back home.

Jungkook however, can’t let go this easily.

“You forgot to tell me that she’s an absolute bitch.” Jungkook growls into his phone, sitting on his couch with the TV on but on mute. “There’s no way I’ll be working with her for four weeks without committing a crime.” He threatens, and Jimin has the audacity to laugh.

“Oh Jungkookie, don’t let her fool you!” He laughs. “She’s a literal angel, believe me. She just acts all tough.”

“Or she was just interested in you.” Jungkook denies. “I’ve spent barely an hour with her and I already know She’s gonna be a handful to manage.” He sighs.

“Come on now, she’s what? Half your size?” Jimin playfully exaggerates. “Just put her in timeout, big guy, and you’ll be fine.” He jokes, very much aware of Jungkook’s rather dominant nature due to his wolfblood. And while the joke is funny, it’s also a problem.

Jungkook doesn’t know if he can really stay calm while working with you. And his career could be over in a second if he so much as lashes out at you verbally- because no way would someone work with a hybrid choreograph or dancer who can’t keep his cool. He already has issues getting some gigs due to his wolfblood mixed in- one mistake and he can surely put his career to rest.

He really regrets taking on this bet now.

Hopefully this won’t end too badly.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You really do not turn up at 8 like he told you to.

He’s impatiently waiting in the practice room, your manager and stylist and other staff already present- everyone trying to get a hold of you with no luck at all. It’s only until an hour later that another staff member informs everyone that you’ve finally woken up, and that you’re currently on your way to the practice room.

Jungkook is pissed, to say the least.

If you work like this the entire four weeks, there’s no way he can manage to push a good choreography into your head that you can pull off properly on stage. And if you fail, it’ll be on him- and he just can’t accept that. Hopefully, you’ll warm up to the idea of actually putting effort into this.

Hopefully.

When you finally turn up, you don’t appear to be sorry at all- still somewhat asleep and in no way ready to start practicing anytime soon. Instead, you sit down and take out your breakfast to eat, while your stylist runs a brush through your hair. But what’s odd about this, is more or less that Jungkook can sense a total shift in energy right now.

It’s like they’re shielding you, giving him no access to you until they deem the timing alright.

And you just robotically eat your little breakfast, while everyone else scatters around you, rushing from spot to spot. Jungkook isn’t too sure what exactly might be happening- but then again, it’s also not unusual to see such a scene. You’re a showhybrid after all- meant to look pretty at all times and in every living moment just in case there’s a camera around. And he knows that the practice is going to be filmed occasionally for some behind the scenes content for your fanbase- which is why you have your stylist around in the first place. You’re just supposed to look like you’re not wearing any makeup at all.

No one wants to see reality, because reality is what everyone can witness if they look in the mirror. And that’s boring. That’s not entertaining. That’s not something to be jealous of, or something to admire.

In a way, Jungkook starts to feel a bit sorry for you. Do you ever have a moment for yourself?

Either way, the moment the cameras start running, you switch character almost instantly. Suddenly you’re polite, soft spoken and determined to get every step right- though your true nature does poke it’s head through on occasion, especially when you can’t get something quite right the first or second try.

“Maybe we need to work on how to keep to the beat first.” Jungkook suggests, and at that, you seem to break, sighing with an agitated groan as your tail unravels, falling limp behind you. He’s not seen this happen often- his best friend Yoongi being a dog-hybrid with a curled tail as well, who can be quite grumpy most of the time. But even he never has his tail this.. Lifeless.

It’s unnerving to see.

“I’m not lobotomized, mutt.” You groan, making the manager motion to cut the cameras for a second. “I can keep to a beat, you’re just shit at teaching.” You growl to yourself, sitting down stubbornly as you visibly try and mask the fact that you’re out of breath.

Truth be told, Jungkook isn’t technically a choreographer. He usually works with professional dancers or simply follows whatever he’s given by an artist themselves- so yes, he might actually be a little rusty when it comes to teaching others.

Do you have to be so rude about it though? No.

“Well we’re going around in circles like this.” Jungkook shakes his head. “I’ll get us something to drink. Try and calm down a bit..” He attempts to soothe your temper, as he leaves the practice room- mostly so that he himself can escape the situation for a moment.

He’s not sure what it is. Maybe your scent full of anger and fear filling the space so much that it feels like it’s drowning him in the room, or the fact that you always have to be so rude-

Wait.

Fear?

Alarmed by that, Jungkook walks a bit faster with the water bottles in hand to get back into the room- just to find you not there anymore, everyone looking at him as if they’re surprised to see him back already. “Where is she?” Jungkook asks, and your manager blinks a little, caught off guard.

“She went to get something to drink.” He states, making Jungkook frown.

“I said I’m gonna get us some. Why did she go by herself?” Jungkook asks. “She doesn’t even know where the vending machines are.”

“She said you were taking too long.” A stylist mentions. Jungkook pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I was gone for not even five minutes?” He growls to himself, before he hears you enter the room again, a small juicebox in hand that you punch the tiny straw into. “Don’t just run off.” He scolds you.

You roll your eyes.

“Yeah alright, Daddy.” You scoff, walking past him to sit in a corner- actually facing it for some reason, your back turned towards everyone else.

“Ah, don’t be alarmed.” Your manager explains. “She.. Sometimes does this. We don’t know either why, and we don’t really question it either. Give her a few minutes and she’ll be right back to practice.” He beams at him, and Jungkook feels weirdly played.

Something’s odd here.

But it’s also none of his business.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

The next day, you’re not there on time again.

And despite the fact that Jungkook had told you no food in the practice room was allowed, you clearly disregarded that as nothing but background noise, while you take out your bag of foods in the middle of the large room.

“I said no food in the practice room.” Jungkook scolds, walking towards you to stand right in front of you, arms crossed. “and you’re also late again. Two hours to be exact.”

“You said no food.” You shrug, lifting up the small bag of puffed rice crisps. “That’s snacks.” You respond, making him narrow his eyes and clench his jaw.

“put it to the side.” He says. “You’re here to practice, not to eat.” He reminds you, able to talk freely with almost none of your staff around today.

“can’t practice on an empty stomach.” You respond however, letting yourself fall into your bag, before you take out your phone to scroll on it while you eat your snacks- crumbs already littering the floor. “Why’s your wifi so shit in here?” You mumble to yourself, when suddenly, the signal stops entirely. “Hey, your internet cut off-“ you start, before you spot him putting his phone down. “Turn it back on-“

“Since you’re acting like a brat, I’ll treat you like one.” He simply says. “wifi stays off until you practiced.” He scolds, boldly taking both your snacks and your phone from you to put it on a table close by, the act alone catching you so off guard that it has you frozen in place while you process it. “Do you want to get up yourself or do I need to help you with that as well?” He asks, and you glare at him.

“Touch me and I’ll sue you.” You threaten, and he watches you for a moment as if to see if you’re serious- before he decides you’re clearly not, with the way your tail slightly twitches, clearly needing to be consciously held down by yourself to not wag.

“Alright that’s it.” He simply tells you before he walks towards you, and much to his dismay, you let yourself fall limply down onto the ground as if you’re trying to become liquid. “You’re being ridiculous right now-“

“let me have the wifi again!” You just huff. “and my snacks. I’m hungry.” You argue.

“get up earlier tomorrow and have breakfast then.” He shakes his head, before he grabs your wrists to lift you into a sitting position. But the moment he lets go, you’ve flopped back down again, lips twitching.

Now your tail is wagging, clearly.

“so that’s what you’re after, huh?” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “too bad. I’m not playing your game.” He says, before he walks to the side where all his stuff is, changing his shoes.

“wait- What’re you doing?” You ask, watching him tie his sneakers.

“going home.” He answers without looking. “were clearly not getting anywhere.”

You sigh, groaning out lout before you angrily hit the floor-

Getting up to walk towards him, pulling his jacket from his hands before you let it fall onto the table. “I wanna practice.” You pout.

“What a bummer, princess.” He answers, taking his jacket back to slip it on. “I don’t. Now get your stuff, and then-“ He tells you, walking closer before he points to the door behind you. “-get out.” He demands.

And you just angrily huff at yourself, doing just that.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You fail to get to practice on time again the day after.

And the day after that.

But on friday, Jungkook has finally had enough of your poor excuses and frankly stupid behavior.

"Why is she late this time?" Jungkook asks your staff, jaw clenched as he's already frustrated again. You're clearly not taking this seriously, and he honestly doesn't know how anyone else has ever managed to work with you in any way.

"We're.. not sure." Your manager says, face showing his own shame about your behavior. "She turned her phone off, we can't reach her."

That's it.

Jungkook can understand a lot of things. You're used to being spoiled and having everything set in front of you on a silver platter- he gets that. Sometimes, people's minds can be poisoned by wealth and success. But turning off your phone? That's too far.

What if something actually happened? What if you're sick, in need of help, in danger? This is absolutely ridiculous behaviour, and he does not care anymore. "She said she lives in the city here, right?" Jungkook asks, and the manager nods. "Alright, where exactly?" He wonders, and a stylist of yours calls out your address.

And that sets him off even further- because you barely live ten minutes away from him. Which means there's not even a single reason as to why you would be late at all.

"What are you going to do?" Your manager worries as Jungkook changes his shoes and slips on his jacket, grabbing the keys to his motorcycle.

"I'm getting her myself."

If there’s one thing Jungkook hates, then it’s people isolating themselves just for their own convenience. It’s mainly due to his best friend years back doing that constantly- turning off his phone to get some quiet time for himself, until he actually did end up being in trouble.

And when someone tried to call him, and couldn’t get a hold of him, they just thought ‘It’s probably one of those days again.’

If Jungkook didn’t go against his better judgement, if he didn’t end up checking up on him despite his mind telling him that it was for nothing, Yoongi would not be alive today.

He rings your doorbell multiple times, annoyingly so to get you to stand up at some point. There’s no way you can sleep through that, especially when he starts angrily knocking onto your door. Suddenly, you open it, staring at him with eyes barely open. “What.” You ask, and Jungkook takes a look at you for a second.

You’ve clearly been asleep, but you don’t look rested at all- eyes barely open as you glare at him, and funnily enough, one of your ears is even a bit floppy- not quite entirely down, but also no standing as straight as it usually does. “You’re late.” Jungkook scolds. You attempt to close the door again, making him attempt something dangerous.

He puts his hand in between the door.

But, maybe Jimin wasn’t so wrong after all, because you immediately open the door again, now wide awake as you look at his hand, worried you might’ve hurt him. Only when you don’t find anything you push his palm back towards him, and cross you arms.

“Come on.” He says, nodding towards the hallway behind him.

“No.” You deny.

“What do you mean, no?’ he asks, agitated.

“I said no. I don’t wanna.” You answer, walking back into your apartment- and with your door left open, he takes it as an invitation to walk inside.

The second he closes the door and turns around, he’s in shock.

Cardboard boxes, trash bags, crumpled papers and wrappings all over the place. Shoes litter the entrance area, your coats are thrown over the chairs at your open kitchen which sink is filled with unwashed dishes. The windows are shut, curtains heavy as they hide the mess in your home from the outside world. It’s so dark that Jungkook feels like if he wasn’t a hybrid, he most likely wouldn’t be able to see where he’s stepping at all.

How long have you been living like this?

The apartment isn’t big, there doesn’t seem to be many rooms at all. After searching for a bit he finds you curled up in your large bed, pink bedsheets and blankets halfway on the floor while your little gaming console chimes and beeps while you play.

“..come on now, you’ve.. got the weekend off.” Jungkook says. “it’s just today-“

“I said I don’t want to.” You growl, face focused on your game. “now fuck off and leave me.”

Jungkook sighs. This really isn’t any of his business.

But somehow, as he walks back into the main area of the small apartment, he finds himself opening a new trashbag to throw away all the plastic strewn around. He puts your shoes in order, places the garbage bags in a corner to have them out the way, before he rips the cardboard apart to throw away easier later. He’s not sure why he’s doing that- maybe partially to annoy you and get you to get out of bed, or maybe because he pities you.

This isn’t just laziness. From the way you act, to the body language you scream out quietly, to the fact that you don’t seem motivated for anything at all.

This is something deeper.

“What’re you doing?” You growl from a corner, before you walk closer to rip the cardboard box from his hands, throwing it in a corner again. “I told you to fuck off.” You threaten, and he nods.

“heard it loud and clear.” He agrees with crossed arms, and you huff.

“Ears seem to be working then.” You snap. “the mistake must be in your brain.”

“I can assure you it’s working just fine as well.” He answers, and you snarl at that, distinctive canines showing.

“Then why are you still here digging through my shit?!” You bark at him, and he shrugs.

“Because no one deserves to rot away like this.”

It’s quiet at that, for a good moment. The only sound heard is the clock in the kitchen ticking, some faint rain against the windows, and a garbage bag slowly slipping a little from its position. And when it falls to the floor, he catches a short second of your eyes tearing up, before you turn around, looking away from him before you run off into your bedroom-

But the door won’t close with all the clutter, making you angrily growl at it while you try and somewhat pull it close.

Jungkook slowly walks towards you, to pull your hands off of the door handle, making you drop down to the floor in defeat, sitting right on your clothes that are laying on the floor. “leave me alone.” You cry to yourself, head low and hybrid ears even lower as you sit there, kicking away some of the clutter.

The wolfdog hybrid slowly squats down to your level, before he carefully moves a broken jar away from your leg and onto a small table close by. “What’s going on with you?” He finally asks, and you kick your leg again at that, a small box flying through the room.

“I just want to be alone!” You bark. “I don’t want anyone in here, I don’t want to go to practice, I don’t want to do this stupid contest, I don’t want anyone to look at me!” You complain loudly, and Jungkook would easily call this a textbook temper tantrum, if it wasn’t for your clearly desperate tears.

“did you tell your management?” He asks, and you scoff, sniffling.

“as if they care!” You huff. “it’s always just do this, do that, go here, eat that, smile, be nice, film everything.!” You tell him. “I want to go home!” You begin to cry now, hiding your face in your hands.

“Home?” Jungkook wonders, unsure what you mean. Isn’t this your home?

“I just wanna go home..” you continue to cry into your hands. “I wanna go see mom, and dad..” you mumble muffled into your palms, and Jungkook feels terrible seeing you like this. He doesn’t know you, but something is clearly not right. This isn’t acting, because your body language, your scent- everything tells him that you’re in genuine distress.

“Maybe you can visit them?” He wonders, slowly reaching out to put his hand on your knee, offering silent comfort that you, for now, seem to accept. “do they live far away-“

“they won’t let me.” You say. “they told them.. they told them I don’t wanna see them and that I hate them, and now they hate me.” You whimper.

“They?” the wolfdog asks, pushing some clutter to the side to sit down as well.

“the company.” You mumble. “because.. my dad didn’t want me to move away back when.. when I was still a pup.” You say. A pup possibly meaning that you were still underage. “and.. back then, I thought it was for the best. This was such a one-in-a-million chance..” you reveal to him. “I thought it was worth it.”

“Do they threaten you?” Jungkook worries, and you’re quiet for a moment.

“..They’re all I have.” You admit. “my.. my apartment. My money. My name. They own me.” You say, defeat evident in your voice as you slowly calm down again, tension leaving your body. “just.. leave me alone.”

“I cant.” Jungkook denies with a sigh. “not anymore.”

“fuck off-“ you start, grabbing at his hand, but he somehow moves it around, holding yours now instead.

“I won’t.” He sternly says. “Alright? I don’t know how, but I’ll figure something out.” He promises, and you look up at him with slightly red eyes, confused.

“Figure out what?” You ask, and he smiles.

“How to bring you home.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

You’re very clearly not very happy about Jungkook currently cleaning your apartment with you.

You’re slow and sluggish, and you constantly complain about everything- and Jungkook can somewhat understand it. You’ve quite literally buried yourself in this little cave, having someone take it apart like this must be horribly uncomfortable. But it’s for the best- and you’ll soon realize that.

That doesn’t mean you don’t annoy him, still.

“Come on now, get up.” Jungkook scolds you, as he watches you sit on the couch.

“What?” You complain. “I’m cleaning.. under the coffee table.” You pretend, but he doesn’t take that as an appropriate answer.

“We agreed on one area at a time. We’re still in the kitchen.” He says. “now get over here and help me with the dishes. I wash, you dry.” He decides, making you somewhat reluctantly get up. It’s odd to have anyone in your apartment at all, since not even staff is allowed inside- you constantly find and make up excuses to keep them out at all times. This is your only safe space, after all.

The only place no one is looking at you.

“yesterday..” jungkook slowly says, putting another plate towards you so you can dry it. “..you said that the company owns you.” He remembers, and you nod. “To what degree?”

“I have an independence license.” You say. An independence license is basically a permanent permit to live on your own, and also work on your own. Basically, with it, you don’t need an owner at all. “But.. the company has full control over my finances and such. And they own my, you know, brand name.” You shrug.

“I meant it, you know?” He tells you, draining the sink of the soapy water. “I’ll try and figure something out.”

“Don’t bother.” You simply say. “it doesn’t matter.”

“It does.” Jungkook denies, drying his hands on a towel. But you stay silent as you put the dishes away in their proper places, not really sparing him any glance at all again.

Jungkook doesn’t really know yet how to help you. First, he wants to somehow get into contact with your parents and set things right again- maybe he can get their names and phone number from jimin who’s been working you for a good while now. And then, maybe they can help, too.

“I’m tired.” You complain as you sit down on the now finally somewhat clean floor, all the trash in bags and in a corner.

“You can take a nap.” Jungkook agrees, and you look at him with positive surprise.

“wait, really?!” You ask, tail wagging a little.

“sure. You’ve been working hard.” He approves. “and now that your couch isn’t cluttered, you can take a proper nap there.”

“Why not my bed?” You whine, disappointed.

“bed is for proper sleep. Couch is for naps.” He explains. “if you go to bed now you’ll just start rotting again.”

You stay quiet for a good moment, before you speak again, looking out the windows, curtains by now pulled open. Slowly, you walk over to the couch to sit down on, staring at your hands in your lap.

“I’m such a fuck up, am I not?” You sigh. “imagine if people knew how much of a failure I am.”

“You’re not a failure.” Jungkook denies, sitting down next to you on the couch. “just.. a bit lost at the moment.”

“Jungkook..” you say quietly, looking at his chest. “I really want to go home.” You admit, and he smiles softly.

“I know. And I’ll figure out a way, promise.” He offers, opening his arms. And much to his surprise, you take the invitation- even so much as to crawl onto his lap, leaning against his chest with your arms wrapped around him. It’s a lot more than he thought this was going to be, but he also can’t deny that this feels oddly comforting for him too.

And even though your tail is still limp and lifeless, at least you’re starting to open up. And maybe jimin was right after all.

Maybe you’re just acting tough.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

Jungkook quickly learns that you really must’ve left home at a very young age- because you’re very much completely lost in translation when it comes to general tasks that fall onto someone when they live alone.

You’ve got no idea how to properly do laundry, you don’t know how to cook at all, and you have no idea what cleaning products to use for what. When he asked you if you had some window cleaner, you’d stared at him for a good second before you asked him why he can’t just use soap- and cooking in your book is simply boiling water for instant noodles.

It’s no wonder your apartment was in the state it was in. No one ever taught you how to look after yourself and your own home.

“Alright?” Jungkook asks while you stare at the washing machine with a determined gaze.

“put the clothes in, put the soap-squishy-thing in, close the door and then set it to that program there.” You repeat. Jungkook nods.

“But-?” He presses, and you stare at him for a second, thinking.

“But...uh..” you try and find an answer. “no colored stuff with white clothes? And no black with colors?” You try, and he grins, tail wagging.

“Good girl. See? You’re not dumb, you just didn’t know.” He praises. “now press start and then we can go laze around a little until it’s done.” He says, making you happily press the start button.

Something that Jungkook has noticed, is that the entire apartment seems oddly.. sterile almost, in that it looks and feels taken straight out of a magazine. You’ve got no thing personal it seems like, no blankets that aren’t a neutral color, no toys, no plushies despite you telling him by now that you love these things. Instead, you only really have your little gaming console and that’s it- your bedroom is mostly taken over by designer clothes and shoes, as well as all sorts of accessories. The bathroom contains shelves full of skincare for face and body, but everything else appears to be not at all to be your personality.

“You can get yourself some new blankets for the couch now that we’ve cleaned up.” Jungkook mentions, but at that you simply begin to pout next to him, legs pulled close to you as you slide down a little, slouching.

“Nah, they’ll say no.” You huff, watching the TV commercial play.

So you really meant it when you said that the company has full control over your money. He believed it might just involve big spendings, which would make sense- but it looks like it more so involves every single purchase you make instead.

“How long is your contract?” He asks, and you shrug.

“I think forever.” You say, flopping to the side, legs hanging off to the floor. “I don’t know.”

“Thats.. not legal.” Jungkook frowns. “did you never renew it?”

“Huh?” Your ears tilt towards him for a second. He still wonders why one of your ears is floppy these days. “..no. I don’t think I ever did.”

“I.. how long have you been with them?” He asks, and you hold your hands in front of you to start counting. And the more fingers you seem to add, the more concerned he becomes.

“Well, I uh.. wait, I left when I was..” you mumble to yourself. “and now that I’m.. I think eleven years?” You answer, looking at him.

The maximum contract length for hybrids is five years.

Five.

“I.. okay, can you do me a favor?” He asks, and you nod, slowly sitting up. “next time you’re at your company’s HQ, try and get a hold of a copy of your contract. But don’t tell anyone what you need it for.” He says.

If he can get a copy of whatever slave contract you’re under, getting you out of it will be easy. There’s strict laws for hybrids in place after all- one can’t just work them like pets, there’s rules every company has to follow. And that is the same in your industry as well.

“am I gonna go to jail?” You ask, and Jungkook shakes his head.

“No no, you did nothing wrong.” He denies, reaching out to pet your head- pleasantly surprised when you visibly accept the gesture.

Because he speaks the truth. You did nothing wrong.

You were simply used from the start.

♥━━━━━━━━━━•.♡.•━━━━━━━━━━━━♥

On Monday, jungkook is standing at your door, 7 AM.

And you really, really do not want to go with him.

“Come on now-“ he urges again, pulling on your fluffy sweater while you cling to the doorframe of your apartment building entrance, having just seen what exactly Jungkook uses as his preferred means of transportation.

“No, you’re not getting me on that death-trap, no way in hell!” You complain, escaping his grasp just for a second before his arms are around your middle, easily removing your fingers from the door with a smile sent towards the security guard as reassurance, before he carries your struggling body towards his Harley. “No!” You complain. “This is kidnapping! Abduction!” You cry out, before he puts the helmet he’d gotten recently on your head, hands fastening the strap beneath your chin before he gets onto the motorcycle as well, sitting in front of you.

And the second it roars to life, you’re clinging to him with arms and legs involved, resulting in Jungkook adjusting your grip a little to not strangle him.

Well- at least he’s not driving fast.

“I hate you.” You complain when he removes the helmet again in the underground parking lot beneath the dance studio, pupils still blown wide, cheeks a bit flushed.

“If you just got up yourself like a big girl, I wouldn’t have to drive you.” He easily tells you, helping you down from the vehicle. “we’ll do this again and again until you learn.” He explains, stepping into the elevator with you- still lowly growling to yourself, pissed off at his attitude.

You’re not a kid. He’s stupid.

But it does work, because at least you somewhat practice with him for a few hours, before you stubbornly lay down starfish style in the middle of the practice room, demanding a break- one he grants for once, even if it’s just ten minutes.

“I really don’t wanna go to that contest.” You huff, half of your face squished against the shiny floorboards. Jungkook slowly walks towards you, squatting down to flick his finger against one of your ears that’s again, a little floppy today.

“I know.” He answers, because he does still remember your outburst, devastating cries edged into his mind.

“Hey Jungkook?” you ask, as he absent-mindedly rubs your ear between his fingers, almost enchanted by the softness of it.

“Yeah?” He answers, noticing the way you clearly enjoy such a simple touch to the fullest. You’re constantly surrounded by people, and yet it’s clear that you’re touch-starved and just treated like a doll and nothing else. How lonely must you have been until now?

“Do you have a girlfriend?” You ask. “or a boyfriend?” You wonder, leaning into his hand with closed eyes.

“No.” He answers, unsure and most of all suspicious.

“nice.” You smile, tail wagging softly. “I’m your girlfriend then.” You decide, and he freezes.

“...what?” He asks, sitting down now, a water bottle next to his crossed legs. “You can’t.. that’s not how it works.” He explains, but you shrug.

“My mom and my dad didn’t like each other either.” You reply, staring at nothing ahead, chin on your hands. “they just.. got together out of convenience. Cause they were the same hybrid breed, and I guess didn’t have anyone else at the time.” You mumble. “love isn’t real anyways. I’m pretty- isn’t that enough for you to like me?” You ask, turning your head to look at him with a gaze so.. detached that it makes him feel pity.

Is that your view on the world around you?

“You are pretty.” He responds. “but that’s not a foundation for.. a relationship.” He shakes his head.

“I don’t mind that you’re a mix.” You shrug. “you’re handsome, I’m pretty, and I have money.” You say. “if we get together thousands will flock to your dance studio. You’ll be super successful. “ You propose to him. “doesn’t even have to be for long. You can just.. I don’t know. Spend some time with me until you get bored, and then move on.”

“No.” He denies again. You frown.

“Huh.” You huff, slowly sitting up. “whatever then, I guess.”

“Do you even like me?” he asks you, confused, and you shrug before nodding.

“You’re nice. A bit stick-up-you-ass, but overall nice.” You offer.

Jungkook just watches you for a second, in full disbelief at what had been done to you. Raised in a place of luxury, with a golden spoon in your mouth and lies fed daily to create the view you have on everything around you right now. No kindness without some ulterior motive fits your reality. Everything has to be convenient for everyone involved.

“I don’t want a relationship without love, no matter what I might gain from it.” He explains himself, and you roll your eyes, before you flop onto your back, arms crossed again as you sulk. “You shouldn’t settle for less either.”

“Yeah well I wont get that.” You answer. “no one wants me. They want.. her.” You say, while twirling the silver name tag from around your neck in your fingers.

Until he leans over you, body entirely covering yours for a second, causing you to become nervous and wide eyed at his bold move. He’s looking at your neck, and you’re sure he must’ve realized what’s in it for him- after all, everyone is out for something to gain.

His hands move around your neck, fingers warm. You close your eyes as his face draws closer, awaiting the inevitable.

When suddenly, the collar around your neck is undone, and pulled off your neck.

“what-“ you ask, eyes open again as you watch him still above you, now looking into your eyes, and no longer anywhere else.

“I don’t want her.” He says, referring to the name on the tag around your neck that’s now in his hand, pushed into the floorboards where he holds himself up.

“But I’d like to get to know you instead.”

[cwwv9]

"Silence heard"

— without gender!depressive!reader x Isagi Yoichi, Meguro Bachira, Hiori Yo, Karasu Tobio, Michael Kaiser, Alexis Ness, Mikage Reo, Hagi Seishiro, Itoshi Rin, Itoshi Sae, Shidou Ryusei.

Warning: depression, emotional detachment, mention of apathy, inner pain, attempts to cope with mental difficulties, passive suicidal behavior (hint), obsessive behavior.

mailbox open for queries!!!( I need it )

Isagi Yoichi

He notices it from the very beginning - how you hold yourself apart, how you keep silent at times when others are laughing. Isaiah is lost at first: he can not cope with the pain of others, because he always made up for himself at the expense of the goal. But one day he will just say:

- If you’re sick, I won’t distract you with happiness. Just... let me be there. Even if it’s silent.

And it really stays - quiet, attentive, not pressing.

Meguro Bachira

His first reaction is an obsessive positivity. He thinks that he can "spin" you like a toy. He dances, jokes, wears stupid glasses.

But then he realizes: you don’t need funny clowns. Then he begins to share his loneliness - about the imaginary friend, about the silence in his head when there is no football.

- You don’t have to laugh. I know what it’s like to live in your own world. Just... let me in for a second, and I won’t tell anyone what’s inside.

And you believe.

Hyori Yo

He can immediately feel the familiar sadness in your eyes. He doesn’t ask questions - he just starts making you tea, leaving playlists, sometimes writing short messages: "Did you eat today?"

His care is unnoticeable, almost imperceptible. But at one point you catch yourself waiting for him to walk down the corridor with his hands on your shoulder.

Hyory never demands changes from you. He just exists as a warm room in a cold house.

Karasu Tabito

At first he gets irritated. Like, "Why are you being so pushy?" - but it’s a defensive reaction. He can’t say "I’m worried".

And then you start noticing - how you’re slouching, how your eyes are slipping away from the light. And it becomes cautious, almost careful. He will start calling you to the gym, explaining:

- Exercise helps. Seriously. I’m not a doctor, but when I have shit in my head, I run. We can run together.

And you run. Be quiet. This is also a form of closeness.

Reo Mikage

He wants to "fix" you. Right away. Money, gifts, trips, everything to make you smile.

But when he sees that it doesn’t work, he breaks himself. He sits down next to him and says, almost whispering:

- I can’t love any other way. But if you just need to be held by your hand in the dark, I’ll learn.

And it holds. Long. Until you want to come out - yourself.

Nagi Seichiro

He’s not very emotional, but even he can feel the weight you’re carrying.

- It’s exhausting, isn’t it? Living at all.

It will not make you feel. Just lie next to it, plug in headphones, throw a gamepad:

- Let’s just not think. Together.

You don’t have to "be better" with him. He accepts your apathy as something natural. And this, surprisingly, heals.

Michael Kaiser

His first instinct is to ignore. He doesn’t have time for other people’s pain.

But you hold him in your detachment. And one day he comes up, looking straight into his eyes:

- You look like you’re already dead. Do you know what I do when I’m dying inside? I look in the mirror and remember who the hell I am.

He is provocative. He is stiff. But then he hugs - suddenly, firmly.

-And you won’t die while I’m around. Remember that.

Alexis Ness

He feels more than he understands. He looks at you and squeezes his lips.

- I want you to see yourself with my eyes. There’s so much beauty.

He starts doing little things: folding origami, leaving candy, telling stupid stories.

He doesn’t expect a reaction, he just hopes that one day you will smile. Even for a second. And that will be enough.

Rin Itoshi

Rin thinks you’re weak for a long time. He doesn’t understand why you can’t just stand up.

But then one day he sees you crying quietly at night, thinking no one notices.

He hasn’t said a word to you since.

- You hold on. That’s enough. I’ll take care of the rest.

He can’t be soft, but he stays. Every day. No explanation.

Sai Itoshi

He frowns. Not because you’re sad, but because he hates that the world made you do it.

- If someone hurt you, I’ll find them. I’ll break them.

But on those rare evenings when you’re just sitting next to him, looking at one spot - he’s stroking your hand, barely touching it.

The room does not demand, does not ask, just gives you the right to be who you are. And then quietly adds:

- If you want to feel alive, I’m here for you.

Ryusei Shido

He’s laughing in your face. Literally.

- Oh, the dark girl! Let me fuck you - maybe you’ll come back?

But then he sees how you tremble at night, and all his pofisticism flies away.

He is angry. At himself, at you, at the whole world.

- You don’t have to be funny. But you do have to live. I won’t let you disappear. Not you, okay?

Becomes aggressive in caring. It annoys. But saves. Because he is always near - like a storm, like a fire. Like life.

[runnning-outof-time]

Hello K! Happy 3.5K followers celebration! I couldn’t wait to join in the celebration and also see what you have prepared! Enjoy the bunch of followers!

May I ask for a glass of wine 🍷? 🥰✨🎉🍾

This is my request: Tommy + “Look at me right now.” (If it’s not taken already of course)

Thanks for this lovely message, Mar! I’m sorry it took me a bit to write your request - it got pretty angsty. And I’m sure none of y’all were watching my posting schedule, but I’m technically a day letter with this one. Sorry! I hope you like what I did with it! Enjoy! :)

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Part of my 3.5k Celebration - find more stories here!

Take the Ring

Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Tommy’s a bit of an asshole…what else is new?, (Y/N)’s a bit brash in this one too

Word Count: 964

Summary: (Y/N)’s last straw slips when she confronts Tommy about his absence.

“I really can’t let you in there, Miss,” the man sitting behind the desk in the receptionist area told (Y/N) for the umpteenth time.

(Y/N) sighed. She’d been at this for at least twenty minutes now. She was hoping that maybe her persistence would soon reward her with a different answer. So far it hadn’t been helping.

“Why not?” she asked, her eyebrows raised.

“Because you do not have an appointment. Mr. Shelby only sees those who have an appointment scheduled with him,” the man explained.

“And if I were to say that I was his fianceé?” she tried, “would I need an appointment then?”

The man’s expression changed immediately. (Y/N) just watched as he scrambled to get up from his chair as quickly as he could. “No, you most certainly wouldn’t. I’m sorry, ma’am,” he apologized as he led her to the door that connected to Tommy’s office.

“Thank you,” she nodded at him, a pleased smile on her face as the door was opened to show Tommy sitting at his desk, his face practically buried in papers.

“Mr. Shelby, your fianceé’s here to see you,” the secretary announced, allowing (Y/N) to step inside before he shut the door again.

Tommy’s head snapped up upon hearing the door shut to see (Y/N) standing with her hands clasped behind her back. “Why’re you here?” he asked, no evident emotion present in his voice. If anything, he was confused as to why she was paying him a visit.

“Seriously, Tommy?” (Y/N) was shocked by his nonchalant question. Tommy raised his eyebrows and flipped his right palm to the sky, as if he was repeating his question in a nonverbal manner. “You’ve forgotten what we were supposed to do during lunch today?” Silence followed her question. “We were supposed to tour the venue?”

A sigh left Tommy’s lips. “Something came up, love,” he told her, removing his glasses then so that he could pinch the bridge of his nose.

“Just like with the fittings and the tasting appointments. Something always comes up,” (Y/N) huffed, crossing her arms, “it’s almost like you don’t want this wedding to happen anymore.”

“That’s not it,” he said, shaking his head.

“Than what is it?” her eyes were wide as she waited intently for an answer.

“I’ve got important things to do here, (Y/N). I’ve been elected to this position, and there’s expectations placed on me. I’ll call the venue and reschedule the tour,” he spoke in a flat voice, as if he was dealing with another item of business.

“No, you’re not going to reschedule it just so that you can miss it again,” she insisted, pursing her lips to stop them from quivering in anger.

“I won’t miss it,” he assured her.

“You said that the last time,” she snapped.

“And I’m saying it again,” he said dismissively. Shock filled (Y/N)’s features then as he looked back at his papers, trying to figure out where he was with his work before she’d entered the room.

Is he being serious right now?! (Y/N) thought incredulously, her eyes wide as she watched him slip back into his work like it was nothing. “Look at me right now,” she demanded then, even surprising herself by how assertive she sounded. She waited until his eyes were back on her before continuing, “do you even care about this, Tommy? Do you care about us?”

Tommy stared at her for a moment, digesting her question and thinking it over. His eyebrows were so deeply furrowed together at this point that his forehead was almost starting to hurt. Where had all of this come from? “Where’s this coming from, eh?” he asked exactly what was on his mind.

“It’s just that…” (Y/N) paused with a long sigh. She’d kept all of these feelings bottled up, but now that it was time to talk about them, she had no clue where to start. “I feel like I’m on my own with everything,” she finally said. Her statement barely scratched the surface of what she was feeling, but it was a start.

“You’re not. I’ve got a lot to do, (Y/N). You know that,” he told her, motioning to his desk before he glanced at the clock. He had a meeting that he needed to be at.

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel that way. Sometimes it feels…”

“Mr. Shelby, you’re needed for a meeting,” the secretary broke into (Y/N)’s statement, his words making Tommy stand from his desk.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” he told the man, who nodded and shut the door. He took a glance at (Y/N), who now looked baffled, before he went through the motions of lighting himself a cigarette. “Now, is there anything else that’s needed to be talked about? Anything that can’t wait until I get home?”

Is. He. Being. Serious. Right. Now? she repeated to herself as she blinked a few times, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that he was essentially dismissing her. The more she thought about it, the more her anger rose. This was the final straw for her. She was at the end of her rope.

“Yeah, actually there is something else,” she responded, her emotions quickly becoming apparent as she took a few steps closer to his desk while fighting with the piece of jewelry present on her left hand’s fourth finger. “Take the ring, Tommy. I’m finished with all of this.”

“(Y/N)…”

“No. Save it. I see how this ends now, and I’m saving myself from it. Goodbye, Tommy Shelby,” she cut his objection off, looking up at him only to reveal her glare before she turned on her heel and stormed out of the office.

*tags in reblog so that hopefully they get sent out

MASTERLIST

[smallestapplin]

Hello- I have come back once more! Could ask for G1 Jazz and the terror twins?? (Please don’t mind me, I love them-)

This time just with an insomniac cybertronian reader??

Or more like a cybertronian reader that just sucks with taking care of themselves, in which they tend to overwork and not recharge properly or they don’t fuel themselves properly either. They just kinda forget they have to- which ends in them being dragged off either to go get energon or to theirs or their partners berth to recharge.

They don’t mean to, they just kinda forget they have to take care of themself to instead of working or trying to take care of their partner(s).

Hope ya had a good day or night! Make sure to take care of yourself and take breaks when needed!

🥺you’re too sweet to me I swear. I hope you are taking care of yourself too! Be sure to drink some water if you haven’t.

-

-

Jazz knows more than others give him credit for, whatever they think he knows he always knows more. You and your lack of care for yourself was one of many things he noticed around base even before you made his helm spin and had him swooning. He it’s going to just let you continue this, but he also knows he can’t just tell you to do it either, so Jazz gets creative with it.

You won’t take lunch for yourself, but will you take lunch to eat with him? His grin his devilish when you sigh and stand from your desk, not being one to make your beloved sad, you can’t find it in you to deny his sweet request.

You get so caught up in working you stay up writing reports or fixing things around the base, completely zoned into work and forgetting to recharge? Jazz is already ‘sleepily’ going to you, whining your name and pleading with you to return to your shared habsuite.

“Rechargin’ just ain’t the same without you there, I can’t sleep without you.”

It’s comical to see your frame shake trying to stay strong cause you’re almost done, you swear! But the sad look he gives you makes you instantly cave. You do not have a strong will when it comes to Jazz, and the sly glitch knows it, he knows the power he has over you and will use it against you.

Late night reports? Hope you don’t mind him walking behind you, slowly wrapping his arms around your shoulders and nuzzling his helm into your neck cables, kissing your cheek so sweetly.

“You’ve been working so hard, sweetspark, I miss my little light.”

He misses you sooo much, it makes you feel bad thinking you’ve been neglecting not only your own health but also your beloved, and that’s the last thing you’d ever want! Jazz chuckles, smiling as you instantly stand, apologizing to him, that you love him so much you never want to make him feel like he’s not a priority to you.

Trust, he knows, but it certainly enjoys hearing it every now and then.

-

-

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are, as you’d call them, affectionate bullies.

These two don’t like two things happening here, thing one is you are busy working and not taking care of yourself, and thing two is that means you’re paying less attention and spending less time with them, and that is a crime.

These two have quite the approach, if they notice you haven’t had anything to eat today, well guess what? They are barging into whatever room you are in and literally dragging you away to get you to eat, all while scolding you for this scrap!

“You do this every damn cycle!”

“At this point we might as well keep you at our side all the time.”

Sunstreaker scoffs, “At least that means SOMEONE would be having some energon.”

They mean well, they worry a lot about you and it drives them crazy that you just forget to take care of yourself, when they remember all the time because they are obsessed in love with you, and you’re all they can think about.

You shower with them too, cause they always drag there on a set schdule so they can wash you and you can help wash them, though sometimes it’ll just be two of you if one of them gets sent out somewhere. However the two are big on looking good, always using the best polish they can get their servos on, which means YOU get a nice polish after every shower.

Forgetting to recharge? Prepare to have them standing at your office door, arms crossed and scowls on their faces.

“And just what are you still doing here, you should be in your berth by now.”

“OUR berth. You know you need to recharge, don’t you? C’mon, we are going.”

You can try to argue all you want, but they will be on either side of you and dragging you to bed, where you get tossed into the center of it and swiftly have one of them on either side of you and snuggling into you.

Grumbling about the scrap you make them do, before kissing you and finally resting. They can’t sleep without you but refuse to admit it, so your sleep schduled starts to impact them, though it just makes them hunt you down around base so they can finally sleep too.

[pboogerswbb]

TOO LOST IN YOU - part I (reupload)

Paige Bueckers x bartender!oc

Dislaimer: player!p is very present in this fic so please do not read if that bothers you. this is not a true depiction of what i think paige is like but merely a character

Warnings: toxic!p, SMUT, language

Wordcount: 6.2K

A/N: if you're looking at this like it looks familiar... it's because it is. i'm reuploading because i accidentally deleted part 1 which had almost 800 notes sooo uh yeah ANYWAYS go enjoy this and the other parts, perhaps it's a good time for a re-read before the final part?

-

“Yo I’m about to get fucked up tonight” A strong voice comes through from the bar entrance.

I would recognize that voice anywhere. Before I even lift my gaze I’m brought back to the memories of her talking into my ear mid shift, hands on my waist, soft whispers in my ear telling me how good I looked. Or the flashing images of her in my bed on top of me, sweat dripping down her back, talking me through it inbetween groans. The images I replayed over and over in my head, a lot more than I’d like to admit - more than was okay for someone who had called the whole thing off between us anyway. 

In a panic I quickly bent down to hide behind the bar, pretending that scrubbing the sticky liquor stains off the floor was of the utmost importance. All just to get away from having to serve her.

“Hey, can you get this one, I’m dying for a break” Natalie, my co-worker, says - clueless to the hiding or the cause of it. For a moment I consider faking a heart attack, throwing a glass at her, or simply screaming “no”. But her round eyes (and the fact I needed to keep this job to pay the bills) softened me. With a deep breath I nod and stand up behind the bar, as Natalie walks off. Leaving me face to face with her.

She’s standing in front of me - Paige. It had been weeks since I had seen her last, doing everything in my power to avoid her. My eyes can’t help it though when they travel from her long fingers to her veiny hands to her broad shoulders that I swear had filled out even more in the weeks I hadn’t seen her. My gaze roams over her neck and my knees almost buckle at the memory of burying my head there, leaving open mouthed kisses on her pale skin.The way it bruised and reddened. The navy blue Uconn trackies made her skin even brighter, and I swear she glowed a little. Finally, my eyes land on her bright blue eyes that are already staring at me, heavy lidded, needy even. The way always looked when she made her way to my dorm in the middle of the night, needing me.

Her eyes widen. “Oh… didn’t know you were working today” Paige says. It’s a lie. It’s clear in the strain of her voice, the way her fingers twitch. Last time we talked I told her I never wanted to see her again. But right now as she towered over me forcing me to tilt my head up to meet her gaze, I nearly forgot why.

“Whatchu want?” I ask, ignoring her statement already instinctively reaching for the grenadine. I knew her too well to pretend anything else. My stomach twisted uncomfortably thinking about how we had left things between us.

Paige pretends to think. “Uhh… a dirty shirley.” Her words are slightly slurred. She’d already been drinking. I move my eyes away from hers, unable to take the severity of her stare. The tension is broken, however, by a very drunk KK crashing into Paige and leaning over the bar. “also shots” KK adds and nudges Paige who smiles weakly, her eyes never leaving mine. With the way she looked I might’ve thought she had missed me - but I knew better. Paige Bueckers did not yearn for any girl. Certainly not me.

I smile widely at KK. “You wanna be more specific?” I ask, making the shirley with a rehearsed ease. I had made quite a few since Paige had taken a liking to me earlier in the year, coming over to Ted’s almost every night, sitting in the corner with her teammates watching me, tipping me way too much with that smug grin of hers. It would’ve pissed me off if she wasn’t so insanely, out of this world hot.

“Anything strong” KK snorts and I let out a chuckle, reaching for the vodka. “You got it.”

I set the drinks on the counter but Paige is quick to grab hers, her fingertips pressing into mine for just a moment. I nearly whimper at the contact, seeing how Paige’s jaw flexes and cheeks blush. She felt it as much as I did, the tension from the last time we slept together.

“Thanks…” Paige murmurs uncharacteristically quiet. KK rolling her eyes and scoffing, grabs the shots for her and the team. “Bro” KK shakes her head at the interaction, leaving the blonde alone with me to pay. I try to ignore the burn between my legs, watching her long fingers shuffling through cash in her wallet. It would take a gun for me to admit I had been thinking about those fingers during lonely nights and fuck, even nights spent with other people. No matter what no one ever measured up to how those fingers knew exactly what to do, which buttons to push.

“Keep the rest, ma” Paige says, snapping me out of my daydream. My mind is too hazy to take in the nickname. I can’t get a single word out before she’s already turning away, dirty shirley in hand and a stupid grin on her face. She had got to me and she was enjoying every moment.

–

Paige dangled over the bar, her eyes wide and searching, finally setting on me walking out from the back. She’s pushing her blonde hair off her face with a sloppy, uncoordinated movement, clearly feeling the alcohol. I stop her before she can speak though.

“If you want another one you gotta ask Natalie, I’m off my shift” I tell Paige, refusing to give her my attention the way she wanted.

“I know, you’re off this time every week” Paige chuckles and leans forward against her elbows on the bar. She was in a Uconn tee now, her biceps flexing, making me want to groan out loud. “we should talk.”

“We really shouldn’t” I say sternly, taking off the nametag I had been wearing. “pretty sure I said I never wanted to talk to you again.”

“Sure and you also called me a bitch but never stopped us from fucking before either” Paige says, a slight annoyance in her voice for not having me wrapped around her finger like she used to. She’s licking on her grenadine stained lips, chasing my gaze. I finally meet hers, ignoring the aching I felt looking at her, looking at me. I knew how this ended up unless I left. Now.

“I have class tomorrow” i sigh, walking around the bar towards the exit and throwing on my jacket. Before I know it Paige’s hand grips my arm holding me still. I can smell her around me. Grenadine and alcohol sure, but also the scent of her. The scent I looked for everywhere. Her eyes were pleading, like I was water and she was on fire. I almost forgot why I hated her, just for a second. 

“Lemme drive you ma” Paige pleads. 

“You can’t drive, you're drunk” I say, brushing her hand off of me. A feeble attempt as Paige’s free arm quickly snakes around my waist and pulls me in, her scent so strong now it’s making me dizzy.

“But I need to talk to you, been driving me crazy” She murmurs with a slight whine in her voice. For a moment I waver, her hand firmly on the small of my back, all her height towering over me. It made my head spin.

Paige takes it as a sign and leans closer, pulling me in tighter but I place my hand on her chest holding her back, suddenly aware of how empty the bar was and how the most famous person on campus probably shouldn’t be doing this in public. I notice the way her chest is heaving, mine doing the same. The fabric of the shirt underneath my fingertips felt all sorts of wrong, I needed it off of her immediately. No, I had to be stronger than this. 

But I wasn’t.

“Do you need a ride back to campus?” I ask her, swallowing. The way her tongue slides over her lower lip as she watches me forces a deep blush to set on my face. 

“Yeah, bad” Paige murmurs and I push her hands off me, wordlessly heading to the door with Paige following close behind. She hurries past me to open the car door for me. I would think it was sweet if I didn’t know that it was just one of her plays. One of the ways she made girls like me think she actually cared. She didn’t. She just wanted to fuck.

The air is tense as I start the car, praying Paige doesn’t notice the slight tremble of my hand. I’m not sure if it’s anger from what she did to me, or how weak her touch had made me feel. Paige slouches on the passenger seat, watching me with hooded eyes, leaning her head back against the seat. Her legs were spread wide apart, sweatpants pulled low enough for her Nike Pros to peak through. For a second all I want to do is pull the car up and climb on top of her and from the smirk on Paige’s face I can tell she’s having the exact same thoughts.

“Been missing you y’know-” Paige starts but I interrupt, knowing she had the tendency to talk herself right into my bed.

“Told you I never wanted to talk to you again, remember?” I say with a slight shake in my voice.

“Baby c’mon, you weren’t serious about that,” her hoarse voice filled with amusement.

“What the screaming didn’t seem serious to you?” I sigh my eyes strictly on the road. Paige let’s out a chuckle and leans forward on her seat.

“i just remember how bad i wanted to fuck that attitude out of you,” she chuckles and the car swirls on the road as i slap her only half seriously across the chest. I pull over on the road, parking the car.

“Get out” I tell Paige sternly, rage and annoyance swirling inside me. She had no right to be making light of the situation. Not after what she did, how bad it had hurt me.

Paige lets out a laugh. “Man you’re crazy” she tells me turning to face me. I face her too, the anger turning my cheeks even brighter. 

“I’m fucking serious. Get out,” I repeat my voice rising a little but it doesn’t have the desired effect. Paige just chuckles and shakes her head.

“KK always telling me I pick the crazy ones, I’m thinking she’s right,” Paige groans, not taking any initiative to get out of my car. I unbuckle my seatbelt and groan, getting on my knees to lean over Paige manspreading on the passenger seat, reaching for her door as she grabs my wrist, my face so close to hers I could smell the alcohol on her breath. The air in the car shifted, my annoyance turning into something that made my legs feel weak, as she licks her lips, her eyes on me. “M sorry ok,” Paige says, her voice low and hoarse now.

I fold, once again.

“I don’t wanna hear a word from you, mmkay?” I say clearing my throat and pulling back from her before I made some really, really bad choices.

“Yes ma’am,” Paige grins, satisfied by the effect she had on me.

I start the car and in silence we drive back to Storrs, the streets quiet on the dark tuesday night. Paige fiddles with the zipper of her hoodie, her nimble fingers needing something to do - always looking for something to toy with. 

I tried to shake the feeling of each cell in my body screaming for her, needing to feel her skin against mine. I knew we weren’t good for each other. She wasn’t good for me. Part of me wished she came to tell me she’s done fucking around. That I’m all she wants, better than all the countless other girls that spent nights in her bed. That I was different, special. Worth letting everyone else go for. Frankly, even if she told me all those things, each word I wanted to hear, I wouldn’t believe her. 

When you were with Paige, it never felt like you were one of many though. She knew how to make you feel like you were the only one. It was in the way her blue eyes roamed my face, in the whine of her voice - like she would die if she didn’t have me. She’d remember your favourite movie and your mother’s name and the way you liked your coffee. All just to go see some other bitch later and repeat the same routine with her. Even with the girls she fucked, she had to be the best. Not because they meant anything, but because that’s who she had to be - the best. A winner.

Paige stretches her arms behind her head, the grey Uconn tee hiking up just enough for the skin on her lower abdomen to peek out as I park the car. There’s a moment of silence, Paige staring at me intently.

“Look, I-” she starts but I quickly climb out of the car, not wanting to hear it. She’s quick to follow me though, her long limbs catching up to me quickly. 

“Ma, c’mon-”

“Don’t call me that,” I say, doing my best to sound stern as I head towards my dorm walking as fast as I could, Paige right next to me. The campus was empty, most students already in their dorms, spending the night in.

“Bro you gotta listen to me-”

“No I don’t, you got your ride now fuck off!” I yelp, entering the building as Paige holds the door open, still persistent on following me. “You said you’d keep your mouth shut so… keep it shut Paige.”

“Well… I lied” She murmurs still on my tail all the way to my door, watching me struggle with the lock, my hands shaky from the mix of anger and how bad the need between my legs had grown for her. Paige reaches over, unlocking the door for me, her hands brushing against mine. I close my eyes and sigh - I really had to get it together.

“Well yeah you do that huh,” I chuckle bitterly entering my dorm, Paige leaning against the doorframe, not letting me lock her out.

Paige chuckles and shakes her head. “Bro you’re being so dramatic, we both knew what this was when we got into it. It’s not like you didn’t fuck around too!” Paige raises her voice, slightly amused, slightly bitter.

The truth was, I hadn’t slept around. Since Paige first fucked me, she took over me, consumed me. I would never admit this to her but I couldn’t even think about anyone else. 

“God, you can be such a bitch I swear to-” I groan loudly, rolling my eyes but Paige interrupts me, stepping into my room.

“Me?! You’re the most psycho bitch I ever met-” 

“Psycho bitch?!” I’m screaming now, my body hot with rage. “It was you who told me you weren’t fucking anyone else with some other bitch’s bra under your bed! Not me!”

Paige groans and shuts the door behind her, throwing her head back in frustration. “It’s just something people say! You were in those purple panties too ma, I’m not responsible for the shit I say when you wear those,” Paige argues. I chuckle, turning to face her. She was staring at me, heavy lidded and jaw sharper than usual from biting her teeth together. Paige was getting pissed off, wondering if any pussy was worth this much trouble.

“You’re a fucking sociopath P!” I yell at her as she takes a step towards me, her eyes darkening. The blue in her eyes nearly gone from the way her pupils were blown out.

Paige grins smugly at me, licking her lower lip, looking me up and down. “Yeah? What else?” she says smugly, her big hands coming to hold me by my waist. The moment my eyes meet hers I knew it was over for me. Suddenly my legs felt weak, and my head spun.

“An asshole too,” I sigh, my voice breathy and more quiet. My body was immediately responding to her touch, Paige’s fingertips sliding underneath the hem of my shirt sending goosebumps everywhere.

“Yeah?” Paige grins, with a smug tone. I nearly fall over.

“Yeah,” I repeat, my chest heaving. 

“That’s too bad ma…” Paige murmurs, her eyes roaming from my eyes to my lips to my body. 

I furrow my brows, fighting to not let out a whimper as her fingertips rubbed up and down against my sides, carefully over each rib. Up and down.

“It’s too bad because I’ve been dying to fuck you,” She says with a low voice, eyes returning to meet mine. “Shit baby, watching you tonight, the way your ass looks in those jeans? Fucking killing me,” she adds shaking her head. Paige’s hand drifts down from my waist to my hips, all the way to my ass. Gripping it hard, hungrily with a groan. 

I can’t fight the whimper that spills from my lips, the way my eyes flutter shut just for a moment. Paige grins, watching my reaction. She pulls me closer by my ass, my body pressing against hers as she towers over me. Paige leans down, nuzzling her nose against my ear. And I don’t stop her, biting my lip, feeling the way my panties were growing damp already. Only Paige could have this kind of effect on me - one touch and a few words and that grin and I was hers. She knew it as well as I did and I hated her for it.

I was too weak to hate her right now though. Too far gone.

“But since you hate me so bad…” Paige whispers into my ear, her lips brushing against it as she left a few wet kisses right under it. “I should probably leave.”

In a haze I reach up to wrap my hands around her, my hand pressing against the back of her neck to keep her there. To make sure she didn’t go.

“No…” I nearly whine. Paige chuckles against my neck, kissing it slow and soft. Her hand kneads my ass again, like she had been dying to feel it..

“No? You want me to stay?” She says, teasing.

“Want you to stay,” I murmur, tilting my head to the side, my eyes shut now.

“Want me to get you right ma?” Paige asks hoarsely. My body feels like putty as she holds me against her, like she could do whatever and I could do nothing but watch. I didn’t feel in control. I never did with her.

“Y-yes,” I finally admit with a sigh.

Paige pulls away from my neck, her lips ghosting mine. Her breathing was heavy. She needed this just as bad as I did.

“Attagirl,” she murmurs and finally presses her lips against mine. I moan against her, Paige’s lips slide against mine hungrily - like all these weeks apart she had been underwater and I was air. She could finally breathe.

With a swift movement, Paige pulls my shirt off, leaving me in a bra and jeans as her lips return to mine with a groan. Paige’s tongue slides against my lower lip, begging for access. I open my mouth, my tongue meeting hers, my hands pulling on her t-shirt, feeling the muscles on her abdomen, earning a small whine from her.

“Fuck,” she whimpers and walks me back without breaking the kiss. The backs of my legs hit the edge of my bed, forcing me to fall over. Paige watches me hungrily, her mouth ajar just slightly as her eyes roamed my body. “So fucking sexy,” she groans, pulling her shirt off over her head before climbing on top of me in her sports bra.

Paige starts kissing my neck roughly, sucking and nibbling enough to leave bruises to remind me of her later. Her leg finds its way between my legs, quickly pressing against my core as her free hand roams my side, fingers sliding underneath my bra and kneading my breast.

“Fuck, P…” I whimper arching my back off the bed. The friction provided by her leg was the opposite of relieving, making me more aware of all the layers between our bodies. “Need these off,” I murmur breathlessly, my hands pulling the blue sweatpants down desperately as Paige’s open mouth moved from my neck to my jaw.

“Whatever you want baby,” she whispers, kicking off her pants. She was now on top of me in a sports bra and Nike pros, a silver chain dangling against my chest. Paige leans back a little, eyes roaming my body, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe I was real. Her blonde hair was down and tousled from the way I had been gripping it as she grabs a hair tie from her wrist, tying it back messily, licking her lips.

“Baby, I need to taste you or I might die.”

With that Paige brings her lips back to my neck, making her way down with a trail of wet, sloppy kisses between my breasts, down my stomach, my hip bones, her hands unbuttoning my jeans, shaky with need.  

I watch as she gets on her knees on the floor between my legs, watching my face as she pulls down my jeans painfully slowly. I buck my hips, needing her mouth on me so bad I felt lightheaded. Paige’s hands pin my hips down with a grin, eyes moving to my panties and the visible spot that had grown wetter under her gaze.

“Fuuuckk ma,” she groans, finally bringing her lips to my core, kissing over my panties.

I gasp and grip the sheets beside me, trying to buck my hips closer but Paige shakes her head, still holding my hips still. “Thought you hated me,” she murmurs against my core. I wanted to cry, needing her lips on my bare skin. The feel of her mouth through my panties wasn’t enough.

“I do,” I whine, squirming in frustration, throbbing with need. I wanted to hate her, I really did. But when she was between my legs, pinning me down, a chain on her neck and that smirk on her face, I simply couldn’t. 

Paige brings her hand to my hip, finally pulling my panties down to my ankles, her eyes never leaving my core. With a bite of her lip, she brings her finger to my cunt, already soaked, all for her. Her fingertip presses against my clit menacingly, enough to make me gasp.

“If you hate me so much then why are you this wet huh?” Paige teases with a gravelly voice starting to circle my clit slowly, drawing out whimpers from my lips. My legs immediately trembled, and I watched her with heavy eyes and furrowed brows, nearly unable to think yet alone speak.

“You’ve been such a bitch all night shoulda known you just needed to be fucked,” she chuckles, pressing her fingers harder against my clit, making me let out a moan. It had been weeks since we last did this yet the way she touched me seemed practised and effortless, like she had been doing it every single day of her life.

“Fuck you,” I moan arching my back as Paige bit on my inner thigh, the veins in her forearm turning visible from the strain of rubbing my clit. 

“Nah ma,” she breathes out, shaking her head. “I’mma fuck you. Just need to taste this pussy first,” Paige groans and leans over, both her hands gripping my inner thighs harshly, forcing them apart as she dives in face first, her lips quickly attaching to my clit.

“Shit. Paige, I-” I moan, unable to come up with any comprehensible thought, Paige’s tongue lapping me up like she really would die if she didn’t taste me. Paige’s eyes are fluttering shut and she’s moaning against my cunt, unable to get enough.

“Fucking missed this pussy so bad,” she murmurs against me, wrapping her lips around my clit and sucking. “Taste so fucking good, never gonna get enough of you,” she rambles on, making quick mess of me. It doesn’t take long for the coil in my stomach to tighten, my hand gripping onto Paige’s blond hair, falling out of the bun now. 

“Paige-” I whine, throwing my head back, feeling her tongue swirling in my folds. The sheets underneath me were growing damp, wetness dripping out of me from how good she was eating me out.

Paige pulls away spreading my folds apart with her fingers. “Shit ma she loves me huh,” she groans at the sight of me dripping all over the bed. Without warning she pushes two fingers inside me, all the way as deep as she could. 

“OH fuck P” I gasp loud, bringing my eyes to her face, glistening from the mess I had made. She groans, my cunt tight and wet around her fingers as she curls them against me, her bicep flexing as she does. I moan loudly, throwing my head back, my legs shaking bad. Paige’s thumb rubs against my clit harshly as she pumps her fingers into me.

“P… mmph, please,” I cry out, not even sure what I'm pleading for. 

“Shh,” Paige coos, her hand reaching up to cover my mouth and shut me up. “Listen ma,” she says and groans. The room is filled with the sound of my wet cunt, as her fingers slam into me faster, curling harder. My cheeks burn up, almost embarrassed at the state that she had me in.

Paige grins watching my face. “Don’t sound like you hate me, huh,” she murmurs, a bead of sweat dripping down her face. “No one else gets you this wet right? No one fucks you like this,” she groans, hand moving from my mouth to gripping my jaw, making me watch her fingering me.

“Mmmh,” i whimper and grip the sheets harder, overwhelmed with the fullness her fingers were bringing me. I wanted to look away, unable to take the way her arm looked, muscles flexing, veins prominent, as she worked me. It was all overwhelming me as the pleasure built enough to make me shut my eyes.

“Answer me,” Paige commands, her voice stern and her hand moving faster. 

“Shit… No one.. No one fucks me like this,” I cry out, unaware of what was coming out of my mind. Too fucked out to care.

“Shit, that’s right. No one baby, only me,” Paige murmurs, her mouth returning to my clit, tongue working against it as her fingers fill me up, overwhelming me and getting me to my peak.

“P- I’m close,” I cry out, my legs nearly shutting but Paige grips my thigh with her free hand, spreading me open for her.

“That’s it ma, s’ good for me,” Paige coos working harder, her fingers curling inside me, tongue flicking against my clit. “Come for me baby,” she praises, groaning against me.

“Oh-” I whine and my head lulls back, as my core tightens around her, my legs trembling, her movements coaxing my orgasm out of me. Who cared she slept around, who cared I was supposed to hate her. In this moment, it was just me and her. And no one made me feel like she did, no one took care of me like this.

“Perfect fucking pussy, all for me,” Paige groans against my cunt, working me as I released all over her, the pleasure washing over me in waves. My moans turn to whimpers as I slowly come down, her movements slowing too.

I let out a breath, feeling the aching emptiness inside me as Paige pulled her hand away. She watches my pulsing cunt, mesmerised and hungry. The thing about Paige, one was never enough for her. Her lips kissed around my clit before pulling away, licking her lips from my slick. 

“Missed how you taste baby,” she murmurs while I lay back, trying to catch my breath. Paige brought her fingers against my lips, sliding them into my mouth. I wrap my lips around her fingers, tongue swirling around them, tasting myself. Paige hisses, watching me sucking on her fingers. With a groan she climbs back up, kissing me hungrily. The taste of me, and her saliva all mixing together. 

Her lips move against mine, the kiss filled with something more tender than pure lust. My arms wrap around her shoulders, pulling her in as we move up towards the headboard of the bed. Paige breathes heavy through her nose, kissing me with all the need she had, her hand holding my face by my jaw. I move my hand from her shoulder, down her arm squeezing her bicep, all the way to the band of her Nike Pros, tucking on them.

“Need to feel you P,” I admit in a moment of weakness, my heart fluttering with how good it felt to be underneath her again. I needed all of her.

Paige pulls back a little, breathing heavy and I swear her eyes are filled with tenderness for just a second as they meet mine. Her fingertips trace my jaw and lower lip before letting go and pulling down the fabric I was tugging on, lips parted from need. My eyes roam her sports bra covered chest, down the muscles of her abdomen finally to her core. I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly going dry.

I reach up and flip us over, with some help from Paige who was much stronger. She grins, watching me on top of her, straddling her thigh as I lean down and kiss her hard. Paige is quick to place her hand on my ass, gripping it harshly and hissing at how good it felt to touch me. My hand trails down her abdomen, fingertips itching to feel her cunt but she grabs my wrist, shaking her head.

“Ride me ma,” she says, half commanding, half pleading. I open my eyes meeting her eyes and I realise, she is fully pleading. 

“Need to feel that pussy on mine.” Shit.

Too weak to fight or to make her beg, I manoeuvre myself between her legs, angling her body just right, Paige’s other leg up in the air in my grip. Paige watches me, leaning back against the bedframe, eyes half shut and mouth agape, looking so good I could’ve burst.

Finally, I lower myself against her, feeling the slick of her cunt press against mine. 

“Ohhh shiiit,” Paige groans, watching our cores pressing against each other. I whimper, pressing on her lower abdomen to find just the right angle. 

“Oh,” I whine, feeling her pressing against my clit just right, my body immediately trembling, still sensitive from my previous orgasm.

Paige’s head lulls back at the same time, as she lets out a guttural groan, gripping my ass and forcing me to start moving my hips.

I do so, slowly, drawing it out for her - just the way Paige loved and simultaneously hated. Her breathing was getting heavier as she watched me. “Just like that,” she whimpers, trying to keep herself together. It never lasted for long.

I moan, grinding my cunt into hers, watching her face scrunch up in pleasure. Her hands snake around me, unclasping my bra with ease, letting my tits fall out as she groans. 

“Look so fucking good for me,” she murmurs, a slight whine in her voice as she leans forward, her mouth attaching itself to my nipple, tongue circling it as i ride her faster, mind spinning once more. “Such a bitch huh who knew you’d be so good for me,” Paige whines and I grip her shoulders, steadying myself, letting my nails dig into her skin as she hisses.

“You’re the bitch,” I whimper breathlessly, letting out a gasp when she bites my nipple. Paige’s hand are digging into the skin of my ass, forcing me to move faster, her hips bucking into me. She chuckles, breathing heavily, head falling back against the bedframe. “Shut the fuck up and ride me ma,” she hisses, gripping my jaw and forcing my gaze to lock on her face.

I hiss, furrowing my brows as i look down at her, moving my hips desperately, our cunts grinding together harshly, igniting that familiar burn inside me.

“That pisses me off, pretending you don't want me. Pretending you don’t want me to fuck you, it’s bullshit,” Paige groans, fighting back her own orgasm now. Her words shook and the muscles in her abdomen were contracting as she looked up at me. “Look at you now riding my shit, being a slut for me,” she rambles on. “You’re my slut ma,” Paige moans bucking her hips into mine, eyes fluttering shut from pleasure.

My nails dig into her skin harder, my whole body trembling. I was close, and it only made me ride harder, grind against her faster, the slickness of her cunt making me wetter. Paige’s hand squeezed my jaw, forcing my eyes open.

“Tell me.. Shit- tell me you’re my slut,” Paige whines. She’s desperate for it, barely aware of the words coming out of her mouth.

“Mmph, P-” I moan, my cunt throbbing.

“Aw shit- I- Tell me,”

“Fuck I am, I’m your slut P, please,” I mewl, my eyes growing wet as they shut.

“That’s right ma, fuck- ride me so good you’re gonna make me come,” Paige murmurs out inbetween moans, hands gripping my jaw and ass so tight I’m nearly bruising underneath her grip.

My whole body shook and I cried out, barely able to keep grinding my cunt into hers. But when I heard the moan that slipped from her lips, and felt her mouth attach itself to my neck, I knew I’d do anything to get her to fall apart beneath me.

“P- I’m-” I cry out but she interrupts me.

“Me too baby, shit- ride me so- aw fuck- fucking good,” Paige rambles, barely able to form sentences as she moves underneath me, the friction growing unbearable between us as she lets out a guttural moan, her body coiling underneath me. 

“Fuck-” Paige finally moans.

That’s enough to get me there too, coming against her cunt, fingernails leaving marks on her shoulders as I kept grinding my hips, movements turning sloppy as i whimpered on top of her.

My body trembles, eyes still closed when I feel Paige’s hands wrapping around my body and pulling me down. My naked body presses against her skin as she soothingly rubs my back, nuzzling her nose into my hair.

“Meant it when I said I missed you,” she murmurs into my ear, still out of breath. I bury my head into the crook of her neck, brushing her hair gently. It was moments like these that got me confused. You didn’t do this just for someone you fucked. Except Paige did.

“Don’t like fightin you,” she whispers, pressing a kiss on my temple. I feel my heart fluttering in a way I didn’t want it to for Paige. But I’m too tired to fight it. I press a kiss on her jaw, gently and pull my head back to meet her gaze. She looks completely fucked out, mascara smudged under tired eyes. Her hand reaches up to brush a strand of hair off my face before she leans over and kisses my forehead, as tenderly as humanly possible. Maybe this was her trying to show me I was in fact different, that she was done with the other girls. She just wanted me. 

“Don’t like fighting you either,” I whisper, resting my chin on her chest. Paige’s eyes are filled with relief, as she smiles weakly. 

“I’mma get us some water, okay ma?” Paige hums and I nod, letting her crawl out of bed from underneath me. I watch pull her clothes back on and turn to me, smiling affectionately. She leans down and presses another kiss on my temple, smoothing over the blanket to make sure I was comfortable. “Just a sec,” she whispers before walking into the kitchen. Surely you don’t do that just for a girl you fuck. There’s no way you look at someone like that and proceed to sleep around with other people. My heart fluttered as I let my mind wander, finding myself fantasising of getting to call Paige mine. All mine.

Just then I heard Paige’s phone buzzing on the bedside table. Without my better judgement, I reach over, seeing 4 missed calls and 12 messages from a girl, asking where she was and when she’d be over. My heart sinks, the reality quickly bringing me back down from my daydreams. Paige wasn’t here because I was special. No. She was here because I was whipped, and she knew it. And I had given her every single thing she wanted.

[watchyourbuck]

Buck flicks the tiny brush one more time before setting it down on the sink. It looks… decent. It’s a bi flag, just— a tiny bit more purple than the one he copied from Pinterest. But it works.

“Hey, babe!” Buck calls, tilting his head against the bathroom lights so he can see the flag shine in the mirror. “I’m almost ready!”

This is his first pride as a member of the community instead of just an ally, and his excitement is through the roof. He called Hen and Karen ahead of time to make sure they’d be there, actually. He can’t wait.

“Take your time, Evan,” Tommy says from the bedroom, presumably scrolling on his phone. “We have an hour still.”

“I wanna get there early! The Instagram post said there’d be rainbow cupcakes for the first hundred people!”

Buck steps back to admire his whole ensamble. Tight faux leather pants and a white crop top that says ‘if lost, return to Tommy.’ He’s also got a few rainbow bracelets on and they’re each carrying their own flag — which reminds him he has to get them from the car.

He smiles and makes his way out of the bathroom, only to come to a halt when he sees Tommy getting into his ‘I’m Tommy’ shirt. “Oh.”

Tommy turns to look at him with a frown. He stands up and takes a few steps closer. “What? What’s wrong?”

“Am I doing too much?” Buck asks rashly, his eyes widening. “I’m doing too much, aren’t I?”

Before he can fully panic, Tommy puts his hands on Buck’s waist, pulling him a little closer with a stern look. “Okay, no. You’re not doing too much. Where’s that coming from?”

“You just— you look so,” he gestures vaguely to his boyfriend, opening and closing his mouth a few times. “So day to day.”

Tommy smiles amusedly. “Evan, the fact that I personally don’t enjoy painting a — beautiful, by the way —,” he adds and Buck preens, “pride flag on my cheek doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.” He closes the distance to give him a peck. “You look amazing.”

“I’ve just never—,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’ve never dressed like this before. Never wanted to before today.”

Tommy puts his thumb and index on Buck’s chin and tilts his head to the sides a few times, admiring his handy-work. “So?”

“So, I don’t wanna seem— I don’t know, too eager? Like, the community has gone through- through enough, right? They don’t need a-a man who found out basically yesterday that—.”

He doesn’t get to keep talking because Tommy kisses him again. More intently this time. Buck melts after a second, kissing him back. His heart starts slowing down.

Tommy pulls back, kissing along his jaw. He’s careful enough to not rub off any of the makeup. “You deserve to be there as much as everyone else.” His voice is soft and Buck can’t help but to lean into his touch. “You deserve to celebrate however you want.”

Buck pulls away, looking into his eyes. “What if— what if one day I don’t— I don’t wanna go? Or I rather just— just spend the day with you? Just us?”

Tommy smiles again. “Then we do just that. You don’t have to wear rainbow socks or underwear every year to be proud of who you are, Evan.”

“I’m definitely not wearing any rainbow underwear right now,” Buck says, blushing a little.

Tommy scoffs, closing his eyes for a second. “Neither am I.”

Buck’s fingers curl on Tommy’s belt loops, pulling him closer and trying to look down his pants. “Yeah? Are you wearing any underwear at all?”

“Careful,” Tommy warns, and a low groan’s already starting to form on Buck’s throat. “Or we’ll be late.”

“I thought you said we had an hour still,” Buck insists, looking up, a smirk tugging at his lips. He puts his other hand on Tommy’s hips, pinching at the skin above the hem.

“And I thought you said you wanted to get there early. Something about… rainbow cupcakes?”

Bucks chuckles, walking them both back until the back of Tommy’s knees hit the bed and they fall onto it. “Fuck the cupcakes,” Buck says, pulling up Tommy’s shirt to mouth over his abs. “We can get our own on our way there.”

Tommy laughs, curling his fingers on Buck’s hair and pulling him up for a filthy kiss.

(Happy pride everyone! <3)

[lovecla]

© property of lovecla, nhl masterlist, nico hischier x you:

FAKE IT ‘TILL YOU MAKE IT, phase one:

<last chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: none!!

➴ word count: 2.1k

💌 from me to you: i heard it’s thanksgiving in the us so happy thanksgiving to all of you!! thank u so much for all the love in part one, but here’s where the fun really begins. also, thank u for the 500 reblogs <3 i love u all so much and i’m thankful for all of u. 🤍

𖧷

emmaroberts

Newark, New Jersey

liked by nicohischier, dawson1417, ninahischier and 603 others

emmaroberts night out :)

View all 30 comments

user1 it’s so funny to me how the hischiers always like emma’s pics like they love her 😭

miaturner YOURE SO FINE HELP HELP HELP CALL THE COPS

emmaroberts miaturner mia you’re mentally challenged but i love you a lot

user2 it’s not even been five minutes since she’s posted and nico’s already in the likes

user3 user2 and so is nina so???? your point??

tmeier96 Why was I not invited 😢

emmaroberts tmeier96 next time we’ll call you promise

user4 ok. have u guys seen nico’s story

user5 user4 omg yes do you think they were dining together

user6 user5 user4 it wouldn’t be THAT much of a surprise bc they’ve been friends for AGES

user4 user6 you’re right i guess 🤷‍♂️

𖧷

nicohischier and emmaroberts added a new story!

𖧷

THE FLORAL perfume you had chosen for the night was bothering you, yet you had no one to blame but that one lady at Sephora who offered you a huge deal and made you buy it even if you didn’t like it that much.

Realistically speaking, you knew that the perfume wasn’t really the issue here. You were nervous about this whole fake-dating thing, even if you’d been your idea to begin with.

Lying and faking things weren’t really your deal. As a child, you’d always get in trouble because you could never lie properly. Growing up, you also faced your own problems because you can’t lie.

But you really want to help Nico.

Tonight’s Luke’s 21st birthday, and you had been invited to his little birthday dinner, a small celebration with people from his team and close friends, which included you. Although, you’re going more as a plus one than a friend, but Luke doesn’t need to know that.

A knock on your bedroom door has you turning your head around, facing Nico as he leans on the door frame and crosses his arms in front of you.

“You look nice,” he compliments you, and you smile, putting your arms behind you.

“Thanks. So do you.”

“So,” he claps his hands, sighing. “Are we ready? What’s the game plan for today?”

You take a deep breath, mentally repeating the “plan” you’ve been working on.

“Okay, this is what we’re going to do tonight, and Nico, you have to take this really seriously or else—”

“You sound really scary right now—”

“Nico.”

“Okay,” he pouts. “Go ahead.”

“All of your teammates are going to be there tonight and if anyone is going to help us fool Nora Ellis, it’s them,” you walk around the room, moving your hands as you explain your thoughts. “If we make ‘em believe that we are very much in love and together, then we’ll be safe.”

“That will be kind of hard,” he shrugs. “We’ve been friends for a while and we’re close but… I don’t know.”

“Nico,” you step closer, standing in front of him. “For this lie to work, you have to believe it. We have to believe it. It’s the only way we’ll be able to make this work.”

He whistles. “You know a lot for someone who can’t lie to save her life and started crying when I asked you if you had turned my jerseys pink when you decided that washing them with Nina’s pink shirt was a good idea.”

You roll your eyes and bite your lips, trying to hide your smile. “I just read tons of books.”

“When was the last time you—”

“This isn’t relevant right now!” you point your finger at him. “What’s relevant is: we need to make your teammates believe we’re together and in love. Think you can make it?”

Nico smirks, poking your cheek with his finger.

“When have I ever backed out of a challenge?”

“You’ve been around Jack for too much time, you’re getting too cocky,” you joke, crossing your arms. “So, the second part of your plan: PDA, pet names and touching.”

“Go on, little genius.”

“Lots of touching,” you say, feeling your cheeks get warm as you emphasize the word lots, making you want to look elsewhere. You don’t. “Lots of PDA and I guess we can squeeze some pet names in there too.”

“What?” he chuckles. “Want me to call you baby? Sweetheart?”

You spend the next five seconds forcing your face to remain red-less and your heart to stop beating so fucking fast— you were afraid Nico might hear it, considering how close you were and how fast it was going.

Gulping, you continue. “I don’t want anything,” you mumble. “I just think it’ll work.”

“Then we’re fine,” he claps again, moving his hair around. “Do we need to discuss something else?”

You look at the watch on your wrist and click your tongue.

“We don’t have time, we have to leave now,” you walk towards your bed and grab your purse, your phone and your wallet. “We can talk more in the car.”

“Lead the way, baby.”

Oh God, you think as you hear Nico’s laugh and comments about how fun this is all going to be, what have I done?

𖧷

“OKAY, AND remember, we started dating a month ago but we kept it super lowkey,” you remind Nico as you walk by his side towards the restaurant Luke chose for the night. “I hate lobster, you hate pop music.”

“I don’t hate it—”

“Strongly dislike,” you smile, before looking down, where Nico had just slipped his hand and intertwined both of your hands together.

Right. You’re dating.

Entering the fancy place, you felt Nico’s body close to yours, and you tried your hardest to keep your cool. You were used to being close to him but not in this way, not like this—

“Hischier!” Jack shouts across the room and you almost want to knock him out with your own two hands for yelling like this and drawing everyone’s attention to you and Nico. “And… Emma?”

It was almost comical how grown men looked interested in your hands together, and how many smiles you could see directed at both of you. Your grip on Nico’s hand tightened without you even realizing it did, and you smiled politely at Luke and the rest of the Devils.

Nico let go of your hand for a second before shaking hands with Luke, wishing him a happy birthday like an old grandpa.

“Hey, Emma, thanks for coming.” Luke hugs you briefly, barely touching you, and you grin.

“Happy birthday, Lukey.”

“Emma!” Mia, one of your best friends, shouts and gets up, running to you. She hugs you tightly, and you hug her back, happy to see her again after weeks. “I didn’t know you were coming! Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I forgot,” you lie, feeling your cheeks getting warm. Mia looks at you like a human lie detector and you can tell she sees right through your bullshit but, happily, she doesn’t say anything else. “Sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. Ella’s here, too.”

You look around and try to find Ella, smiling when you see her sitting beside Luke, quietly speaking to one of the wives sitting beside her.

“I’ll talk to her later.” You reply.

You and Nico spend the next five minutes greeting the other people there, the rest of the players and some of the girlfriends before finally sitting down by Jack’s side— per his request, you must say. Nico’s hands immediately found yours as you placed them on top of the table, before grabbing the menu and smiling at you, brown eyes full of mischief.

“What do you want to eat, baby?”

Before you could even think of what to say, Jack’s loud and annoying laugh filled the table. “I fucking knew it! Hamilton, you owe me a hundred bucks!”

“Oh, man,” Hamilton sighs as he picks up his phone. “Couldn’t you guys keep hiding your relationship for a little bit more?”

“W-What do you mean?” you ask, looking at him before looking at Jack again.

“Dougie and I made a bet: if you made your relationship public by the end of the year, I’d win,” Jack starts, and you can tell how proud he is. “But if you didn’t, he’d win. Thankfully, I know my man here always gets my back.” He cheers, slapping Nico’s shoulder.

“You’re such a fucking child, Hughes.” Mia hisses before looking at you, clearly asking you why you hadn’t told her before.

“Shut up, princess. Now,” he grins. “My money, Dougie.”

You stare at them in disbelief, while Nico puts on his best performance and squeezes your hands together, smiling like he had just been caught eating snacks before lunch.

“Sorry, guys. We were just waiting for the right time,” he explains, and he sounds so natural you have to remind yourself to keep your surprise hidden. “Didn’t want to be like you and rush things.”

“Oh, screw you,” Jack laughs. “We all knew. You’re not slick.”

They kept talking while you tried to hide the fact that the things they were saying made no sense. Because you and Nico have never been close, romantically speaking. Sure, you’re friends, best friends if you want to go that way, but dating?

And, okay, you’re used to people thinking you’re together, because apparently a guy and a girl can’t be friends anymore, but this? The fact that they were sure of your “relationship” with Nico, sure enough to bet? This is surreal.

“Did you choose already?” Nico whispers to you, and you look at him with wide eyes. You don’t answer, trying to find the right things to say so you don’t screw up everything. “Baby? Are you okay?”

You nod, blinking a few times before staring at the menu in Nico’s hand again. “Yeah,” you whisper. “I think I’ll get the Caesar Burger, please.”

“Great choice.” He smiles at you, before telling your orders to the waiter.

You thought that your biggest concern here would be Nico, but in reality, it’s going to be you. You can’t really deal with too much attention on you, that’s why you’ve been keeping yourself in the shadows for this long— Hockey players can be loud and invasive sometimes, and you’d rather hang out with their kids or parents, because they won’t ask questions you don’t want to answer.

“So,” Timo starts, sipping on his beer and resting his chin on his hands, looking like a goddamn school girl. “What made you decide it was finally time? Sie ist ein hübsches Mädchen, Nico.”

Nico looks at you, smiling. “Ja, ist sie,” he nods, and even if you have no idea of what they’re talking about, you smile too, because Nico’s smile makes you want to smile. “And, I don’t know, man. If you had a girl who looked like this,” he points at you with his head. “Would you want to hide her?”

“Nico, he won’t ever get a girl like Emma,” Dougie laughs before getting shoved by Timo. “Ouch.”

“Well, I think it’s nice you guys are finally out.” Palat’s wife says, making you smile and rest your head on Nico’s shoulder.

“Thanks,” you say, sweetening your voice to the max. “I think we were just trying to understand where we stood before, y’know, letting everyone know.”

“How did the Hischiers take it?” Mia asks, looking extra curious. “I bet Nina was happy.” Like I would’ve been if you had told me sooner, she mouths, making you cringe. Sorry, you mouth back.

“They took it well,” you lie through your teeth, squeezing Nico’s arm more than you probably should. “And Nina is just glad her sister-in-law isn’t a Hockey obsessed girl.”

People laugh and you can’t help but feel you had just gotten your approval from Nico's friends.

Nico changes the topic of the conversation, moving back to Luke, the star of the night, and you’re glad for it. You eat side by side with him, you laugh at his jokes, you’re constantly touching him, as he’s constantly touching you.

“We should go out some time,” Mia says, casually, like she doesn’t mean anything by it. “Y’know, catch up.”

“Like anyone would willingly choose to spend a day with you.” Jack bickers, and Mia rolls her eyes at him.

“Go fuck yourself, Hughes.”

“Hey, guys,” Luke yells from the other corner of the table. “You promised you’d be nice to each other today. It’s my birthday.”

“I said no such thing—”

“You can’t even hear what we’re saying—” They both say at the same time.

“Jack and Mia. Shut. Up.” Luke says and they both pout while they shut up.

“It’s so funny because they’re much more alike than they think.” You whisper to Nico, smiling as he places his hand on your thigh, squeezing it lightly.

“They sure are, baby.”

It all seems so… natural. It’s weird and unsettling, but you’re fine with it as long as it helps people buy your lie. Also, the feeling of Nico’s heavy hand on your thigh isn’t really unpleasant.

The rest of the evening flies by and when you notice, it’s time for you to leave. You almost don’t want to, for the first time, happy to spend time with the players.

“D’you think they bought it?” You ask when you’re away from the guys and the restaurant. Your hands are still together but none of you notice it.

“I think they did,” he chuckles. “Actually, it was a lot easier than I was expecting.”

None of you address the fact that they already thought you were dating, though.

“Yeah,” you whisper, looking at your heels. “Phase one is complete, then.”

“I like how seriously you’re taking this,” he says, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to look down at you, dimples on display for the whole world to see. Yet, you were the only one watching them right now. “Thank you. Truly.”

You smile, standing on the tip of your toes and giving him a light, brief kiss on the cheek, as you’re used to doing.

“You’re welcome.”

<next chapter>

[cha-melodius]

I am so here for these ficlets !! 🥰🥰

27 + firstprince, please ❣️ Merci ❣️❣️

(Also for @firenati0n. I told myself I was going to keep these below 1k. This one is 999 words. 😂 Also inspired by fanart that I will link at the end so as not to spoil the reveal. read all the hug ficlets)

27: The hug that has them clinging onto you for dear life. 

Two years into their friendship, and one year into their time as flatmates (and approximately one year and three hundred sixty-four days after he first fell in love), Henry finally convinces Alex to go sailing with him.

“I promise, you’ll be safe,” Henry tells him, for the thousandth time, as they stand on the dock. The small sailboat bobs next to it, more stout than Henry would usually rent, but perfect for today.

Alex shoots him his one-thousandth sceptical look. “What if I fall in?”

“We’ll be wearing these,” Henry tells him, brandishing a bright red life jacket in front of him.

“I don’t know, I don’t think I’m ready,” Alex says.

Henry can’t help but deflate. “Look, I won’t force you, but I really think you’ll enjoy it. And in a tub like this, we won’t even get wet.”

Chewing on his lower lip, Alex stares down at the boat. “Promise?”

That’s probably a silly promise to make—they’ll be on a small boat, after all, quite close to the water, but Henry makes it anyway. Finally, he gets Alex into the life jacket, shrugs his own on, and steps into the little boat, which rocks under his weight. He holds out a hand to help Alex in, which Alex stares at for an excruciating minute before he finally takes it.

Of course, Alex doesn’t know how to get into a boat, which means the moment he steps past the gunwale, the boat lurches to one side and Henry ends up with Alex clinging to him for dear life, holding onto Henry’s jacket with a white-knuckle grip as he presses his body as close to Henry’s as physically possible.

“It’s ok, love, you’re alright,” Henry laughs, curling one arm around Alex as he uses the other to hold onto the rigging. He’s certainly not complaining; if he thought this would happen, he might have pressed to go out on the boat earlier.

“I’m only staying because I can’t move or I’ll fall out,” Alex huffs, glaring up at him.

“You’re not going to fall out,” Henry insists. “And if you do, I’ll come rescue you.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “My hero.”

In the end—once they get underway and Henry convinces him to stop white knuckling the sides of the boat—Alex slowly relaxes. In fact, for someone who almost religiously avoids the water, he looks surprisingly at home out here with the sea breeze tousling his curls. They’d packed a picnic lunch, so Henry drops the sails and lets them bob aimlessly in the sound while they eat, and it’s really lovely. Henry’s ready to mark this down as a resounding success, at least until he goes to raise the jib and finds it caught on something.

“Stay here, I’ll be back shortly,” he tells Alex, then climbs up to the bow and sets to work untangling the knot that his lines have gotten themselves into.

It takes longer than he expects, and when he turns back, he sees Alex standing at the stern, one hand on a stay, just staring into the ocean. Henry’s so distracted by the sight of him that he doesn’t notice the motorboat’s approach until it goes rocketing past them at far too close a range, sending a massive wave careening toward their boat. Henry calls out to Alex, but it’s too late—he watches, as if in slow motion, as the boat heaves in the wake and sends Alex toppling over the side.

“Alex!” Henry yells again as he scrambles desperately toward the stern, only to find the life jacket bobbing in the water. Empty.

It takes no more than the length of a breath for Henry to shuck his own jacket and dive in. The water is clear for the first few meters, but there’s no sign of Alex near the boat. His lungs scream as he kicks deeper, desperation thrumming in his veins.

He sees a flash of iridescent red, like the fins of something large, out of the corner of his eye, which is as good a sign as any that he’s running out of oxygen. There’s no fish that’s red like that up here. He doesn’t want to, but he has little choice—Henry claws his way to the surface and gulps air, screaming Alex’s name even though it’s probably pointless.

But then—

Something brushes his shoulder, and a familiar voice murmurs, “Henry, sweetheart, stop,” and Henry spins around to see Alex bobbing effortlessly in the waves. The fact that he’s not even treading water barely registers, because Henry’s too busy pulling him close, and it’s his turn to hold on for dear life lest Alex slip beneath the surface again.

“Oh my god, Alex, I thought I’d lost you,” he nearly sobs. “Come on, we have to get you out—”

Alex laughs, an odd musical quality to it. “Little late for that,” he says ruefully.

He pulls back, a hesitant look on his face, and a moment later a red, finned tail emerges from the water next to him.

“You’re—” Henry gasps. “You’re a mermaid.”

“Merman, actually,” Alex corrects as Henry swims close to him again. He can’t fight the to urge reach out toward Alex’s tail, mesmerized by the iridescent scales, and he sees Alex frown out of the corner of his eye. “You’re not scared of me?”

“No,” Henry says. “Why would I be? You’re beautiful. I mean, you've always been beautiful, but this…” When Alex doesn’t pull away, he cautiously strokes his fingers along one of Alex’s fins, and when he looks back he finds Alex watching him raptly. “You’re incredible, love.”

Alex’s tail slips beneath the surface, but he reaches out with both hands, grabs Henry’s face, and pulls him into a kiss that makes Henry’s blood sing in his veins. And Henry might not know how any of this works, but he’s completely sure that he’ll do whatever it takes to keep Alex in his life—and in his arms—forever.

(Loosely inspired by this art from @shirmirart, namely the Alex in the tub one—I envision that moment as coming later, back at their apartment, after Henry finds out about Alex)

[spidermans-l-o-v-e-r]

10 Things I Hate About You

Pairing: Eddie Diaz x Reader

Word count: 3.7k

Notes: What am I doing right now?? I have THINGS TO FINISH. Also it IS established later but reader is Mexican lmao

Bobby stops the truck outside their usual coffee spot and puts the brakes on. He lays his head on the steering wheel and looks over at Chimney who’s bobbing his head along to whatever the hell he’s listening to in his AirPods 

You know what he’s not listening to? 

“Oh my god. Can you just shut up- can you please just shut up!” Eddie is seething as he stares at you across the truck from him and you roll your eyes, your arms crossed over your chest 

“That is literally so fucking childish you can’t tell me to shut up just because you don’t like what I’m saying!!” 

“Actually I can? And oh yeah I did! Shut the fuck up short stack” 

You two had been going back and forth ever since you’d gotten into the truck before the fire. 

Hen looks at Buck, giving him a “you better fix this shit” face and he sighs loudly because he’d definitely accidentally started this fight. He just wanted to know what you guys wanted him to order for lunch. 

“Hey? Are we feeling Chinese today? Maybe Mexican?” He’s got his DoorDash up as he scrolls through the restaurants 

“Chinese” you mumble as you turn the page in your book 

“Mexican” Eddie says from his seat next to you as he studies the word search Buck gave him (he couldn’t find porterhouse) 

“You have Mexican at home Eddie, go make some tacos and we’ll get Chinese” You snuggle down more into the couch and he looks at you 

“Ha-ha very funny. Just order me some tamales please” he tells Buck 

“How many do you-“

“Hey!” You look up over your book “Who said we were getting Mexican?” 

“Uh, I did? Just now?” Eddie gestures and you take your feet off the couch and sit up 

“Did we miss the whole I want Chinese?” 

“Did we miss the whole I don’t care?”

“Do you want me to make your freaking tacos? Because I will if it means that much to you”

“First of all, you’d poison them. Second of all I don’t want tacos, I want tamales. And you of all people should know I can’t just go home and make those so there” he sticks his tongue out at you and you roll your eyes 

“Buck order me orange chicken please” You bat your eyelashes sweetly and Eddie scoffs 

“They don’t have orange chicken at Catalina’s”

“You’re right! They have it at Panda Express! Which is what we’re getting. You like teriyaki right?” 

“Guys I can just-“ Buck tries to break it up but now Eddie is standing over you 

“You can’t just freaking bat your eyelashes and think you’re gonna get your way? That’s not how it works”

You’re standing up now too, it doesn’t do much, you’re only five feet

“Okay well-“ you grab a chair and drag it over to him, he holds his hand out for you and you take it before stepping onto the chair 

Safety first 

“Thank you. Anyway, You can’t use your best friend status to get your way!!” 

“Oh, and you think “trying” to be cute is going to get you your way, tiny??” 

“I am cute! First of all, and second of all, he likes me better so yeah being cute is gonna get me my way. Third of all, quit finding ways to call me short!!!” 

“Buck?!” Eddie laughs cruelly “You think Buck likes you more than me?! Oh sweetheart you’re stupider than you look”

“Eddie” Buck groans loudly (and orders himself Subway) 

“Did you just say I was stupid?!” 

“No, I said you looked stupid! But since you wanna go there…”

“Eddie Diaz you are the most-“ 

Before you can begin to curse him out the alarm bells go off, you glare at him and he smiles innocently as he grabs your hips and sets you down on the floor, Buck clocks the way his hands linger a bit longer than they should, he sees the way his fingers flex and he pulls you just a little closer

He also sees the way you look at Eddie, because there’s a fire burning within you… but not for the reason you’re pretending it is 

You two had been fighting since the moment you met. Buck remembers it like it was three months ago (because it was) You’d caught him and Eddie talking, and Eddie was talking mad shit about you. Saying a pretty little thing like you would never make it in this line of work, you were probably going to cry if you broke a nail and how would you even reach the higher stuff on the truck. You’d totally have to jump! 

You didn’t hear, however, how Eddie had used all of that to avoid Buck’s question of 

“Isn’t she the most gorgeous thing you’ve ever seen” 

Which brings all of you to now. No one is really sure how you got onto the topic of where Eddie could go throw himself but you’ve been spewing insults back and forth the entire ride, needling at each other 

“I will actually pay you to shut your fucking mouth,” He says unbuckling his seatbelt and looking for his wallet 

“You’re not paying me like you pay for more than your hand” 

Buck snorts and both Hen and Eddie’s heads snap to him, he slaps his hand over his mouth 

Rule number one. Never get in the middle of you two 

“Are you kidding me?!” Eddie says and Buck shakes his head fast 

“Wait, wait, wait!!!” No, I wasn’t-“

“What was her name again? Diamond Honey?” 

Bobby turns in his seat “Wait Eddie did you act-“

“Fuck no!!” 

“Hell yes!” 

“She’s lying!” Eddie stabs his finger in your direction and you giggle in your seat 

“Y/N this isn’t really a topic to be discussing-“

“It’s not true!” Eddie practically whines and Buck can’t keep the giggles back 

“I can’t fucking stand you” 

“Good thing you’re sitting”

“Oh that is-“ He lunges for you and Hen holds him back, Chimney finally pulls an AirPod out to see if you’ve stopped. Buck holds you back from pouncing on Eddie and Bobby whistles loudly, causing all of you to freeze 

“Y/N and Buck go get the coffee, Chimney and Eddie switch places. As soon as we get back you’re both on probation” 

“What?!? She star-“

“He star-“

“If you two don’t want to be fired you’ll shut up and do what I say! Now go! Everyone!” 

You and Eddie both angrily hop out of your side of the truck, and even if he wants to toss you into an abyss he helps you down

“I can do it my freaking self” You may be arguing with him, but you let him grab your hips and help you out anyway

“Yeah whatever pipsqueak, just get the damn drinks” 

“You could say please” You glare at him and he backs you up toward the truck, his chest is pressed into yours, and his hands are still on your hips

“Are you gonna make me?” 

“If you wanna fight let’s fight” you hiss at him and he pins you back against the truck fully now, his leg slotting between yours. 

“I would love nothing more than to slap that stupid look off your face, but my Tia raised a gentleman. I don’t hit women”

“What in the sexual tension” Buck mumbles under his breath as he comes around the truck. He takes a picture and sends it to Hen “Look at this shit” 

“This is all your fucking fault” you spit and he rolls his eyes 

“Now who’s the childish one?? This is your fault! You couldn’t just be normal for one day?”

“You literally started this!!!” You thrash in his arms but he holds you even tighter now

“I started this??” He scoffs and laughs “Yeah whatever helps you sleep at night Princess” 

“Don’t call me that!” You scowl and he grins widely

“Oh? Don’t call you Princess? Like the spoiled fucking brat you are??”

“Are you kidd-“

“Oh I’m sorry did I hurt the little princess feelings?” He’s talking in a baby voice now “Did I hurt the little itty bitty babies feelings?” 

You have no response to that, you’re absolutely fuming at his stupid little baby voice and his stupid smirk and Princess?! Is he fucking serious? 

He stays like that for a minute, looking down on you in a completely condescending way. You shift uncomfortably, accidentally grinding down on his leg and he raises an eyebrow. Your cheeks flush as you glare at him 

“Do you two need a room? Because my apartment is actually really close to here” Buck clears his throat and you shove Eddie away. He straightens out his jacket and scoffs 

“I wouldn’t go near her vertically challenged ass with a 10-foot pole”

“Oh yeah well I wouldn’t go near with you a 20-foot pole!” 

“Really? Because you guys were just-“

“Shut up, Buck,” You say in unison. Eddie rips the door open and trades places with Chimney and you storm into the coffee shop 

“Operation closet is a-go” Buck winks as he follows you into the coffee shop. 

True to his word, you and Eddie are stuck at the firehouse cleaning the place. Bobby says you have to work together on every task. Maybe it’ll teach you two to act like adults and work together.

It goes horribly wrong. 

Bobby nearly has an aneurysm when he comes to check on you both and Eddie is spraying you down with the hose and you’re screaming at him to stop, he’s also soaked to the bone with the empty soapy water bucket at his feet… that you clearly dumped on him. He shuts off the water and yells at you both to go get changed and then clean out the old supply closet. 

He has no idea why he went along with Buck’s stupid plan. But he’s desperate at this point. He signals Buck when he notices you both heading over 

“Ladies first” Eddie opens the door and you walk in past him, he sighs as he reaches over you and turns on the light, it just barely flickers to life, illuminating the room in a soft yellow glow 

“How do you want to do this?” You ask as you peruse the shelves and Eddie shrugs 

“I dunno maybe we can start with-“

He’s shoved further into the room and he stumbles into you, nearly knocking you both over 

“I’m sorry guys this is for your own good!! I love you!!” Buck slams the door shut and you and Eddie bang against it 

“Let us out!!!” 

“This is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done!” 

“No!! Not until you two come to a truce!!! No one can stand either of you!” He shouts back through the door and you hear his feet running away

“What the fuck do we do now?” You toss your hands in the air and Eddie lays his head against the door 

“Wait him out? He can’t keep us in here forever our shift ends in six hours”

“He wants us to sit here… for six hours”

“It’s Buck, do you expect anything less?”

“I expect him to let us out!!” You shake the door handle harshly and Eddie slaps your hand away 

“Quit it before you break it!!”

“I’m not gonna break it!” 

“If you break it we’re fucked, shrimp”

“News flash, jalapeño boy! We’re already fucked!!” 

“Jalapeño boy? Are you shitting me?”

“Would you prefer enchilada brain?? Tortilla face??” 

“None of these even freaking make sense”

“They’re not supposed to!! They’re just meant to bother you” You smirk at him, your hands on your hips and he slams his fist against the door. You jump a little as he steps closer to you 

“You do realize you’re Mexican too?” 

“Yeah and,” you say a bit quieter “Look I’m the only one who can call you these things. Anyone else does, I’ll karate kick them in the face. It’s our thing! I call you names and you stand there looking stupid” you bat your eyelashes at him and he blinks slowly 

“I’m going to throw you through this door” 

“He’s not gonna let us out” Eddie has fully given up and is now sitting on an overturned bucket while you’re trying to get the door unlocked. Which in a firehouse you think would be pretty easy 

“Hey, Captain Obvious? Yeah, you maybe wanna help me out instead of sitting on your ass over there??” You turn to him glaring and he sits back against the wall, putting his hands behind his head 

“I dunno, pretty comfy here” he sighs loudly “Gettin a great view watching you struggle”

You’re a bit glad at how dark it is in here, the light went out about an hour ago, it definitely wasn’t meant to be on this long. But still, you’re glad he can’t see the way your cheeks flush at his little comment 

“Can you please stop hating me for five seconds so we can think of a way out?!” 

You rummage around in your corner of the room, sighing when all you find is an extra hose. You and Eddie had eventually taken a roll of tape from one of the bins and drawn a line across the room, you got the side with the door because he wasn’t going to keep trying anymore 

“I don’t hate you” he’s standing over you now, god he’s quiet. You look up at him, blinking slowly

“What?” Your mouth is dry, too dry in fact 

“I said, I don’t hate you. You just…. Get under my skin really really easily” 

You stand up slowly, and he takes a step forward, his chest almost touching yours. The air is sucked from the small space as his cologne invades your senses. Has he always been so… fit? And his lips? Were they always so full and pink… and downright bitable 

“I’ve never hated you Y/N. Honestly” 

“I don’t hate you either” You mumble distractedly and he looks surprised for a second before smirking 

“You just really really get under my skin” 

He puts his hand on the wall behind you, you roll your eyes and look away from him, but he gently grabs your chin, turning you back toward him 

“Wanna know somethin’?” His eyes flit down to your lips and yours do the same to his. Your eyes meet again and he leans closer, tilting his head 

“I actually think you’re really pretty” You feel his words ghost across your lips before he pulls away a little, kissing your nose instead 

“Y-you wha-what?” 

“I said-“ He kisses your forehead “I think-“ He kisses your right cheek “that you-“ he kisses your left cheek 

“Are really fuckin pretty” 

Eddie is sure he’s lost his damn mind the second he has you up against that wall, your eyes roll back as he kisses your neck and you rip his shirt open. He shrugs it off and starts working on yours next. 

It had just started as an intense make-out session. You grabbed him by the collar and smashed your lips into his, he growled against your mouth and kissed you back just as eagerly, he won that fight for dominance, wrapping his tongue around yours and sliding his hand behind your head so he didn’t kiss you right through the wall. It’s sloppy at first, all tongue and teeth, but then his other hand finds its way to your chest, cupping your breast in his hand and kneading it softly and he knows he needs you right this second when he hears the way you moan his name 

“You’re so hot when you’re mad” he whispers in your ear and you blush “Every single time you got me all worked up… I wondered if you felt the way I did” 

“And how did you feel?” 

You gasp as he bites down on your pulse point, causing your hips to jerk against his. He pulls away to look at you for a second, taking in your body underneath him. He stares at you like you’re a work of art, your heart races in your chest, and your body trembles against his. His hand comes up your bare side, enjoying the way your skin feels under his fingertips 

“Horny as fuck” 

You fumble with his belt buckle, getting it off and letting his pants drop to the ground 

“I’m not going to be gentle” He warns you, pushing your pants down over your hips. He groans frustratedly as you pump his cock in your hand teasingly, smearing the precum over his tip with your thumb. You lift your leg and he holds onto it while you drag his cock through your folds and line it up with your dripping entrance 

“I don’t want you to be” 

The wind is knocked out of you as he sets a bruising pace. He drops your leg spins you around to pin you to the wall, thrusting himself nearly all the way in, before pulling it almost all the way out. His cock pistons in and out of you and he has to slap a hand over your mouth before you shriek his name. Your eyes roll back as you moan into his hand, and he grins wickedly 

“Who knew you’d be such a slut… getting fucked in a supply closet. How easy are you?” 

You shake your head back and forth a bit trying to get him to let your mouth go and he just laughs, lifting your hips to fuck you at a deeper angle. You’re balancing on the toes of your boots as his strong arm wraps around your waist to keep you exactly where he wants you 

“Fuck that’s good” he pants heavily as he pounds into you, the wet slapping noise just makes you clench around him harder 

“So wet for me Princess, whole stations gonna hear what I’m doin' to you. Gonna hear what a dumb slut you are” 

You melt into his arms, the degrading words he uses causing your brain to short-circuit. Because fuck you didn’t know you liked that, but oh boy apparently you do 

“I knew you’d like that. Being fucked like a whore… being called Princess. Maybe that’s why I argued with you so much… because you like it when I’m mean to you, don’t you honey? You know how many times I would jerk off to the idea of you on my cock?” 

It’s like he’s reading your mind, which is great because you aren’t even in your own head right now. All you can think about is the way his hips piston in and out of you, the way he stuffs you over and over until you’re sure he’s perfectly imprinted himself in your tight cunt and no one else could ever fill that spot 

“Shit” he slows down for a minute “Holy shit do you feel that?” He takes one of your hands you’re bracing yourself with and puts it over your stomach. You feel the way he stretches into your guts, thrusting torturously slow so you can feel every single inch of him 

“O-oh my g-god” Your thighs shake and you feel your pussy clench tighter around him

“So fucking tiny” He chuckles darkly in your ear, kissing the tip of it “Jesus look at the way you’re gripping me”

“Y-you hav- thing ‘bout s-size d-don’t you?” You can barely speak with the way your body bounces on his, all the little names he’d been calling you these last three months, all the times he’d press himself against you when he was reaching something for you, or when he’d help you from the truck which was completely unnecessary. Oh it made sense now

He fucks you harder, your toes aren’t even on the ground anymore as he drills into you. He takes his shirt and hands it to you and you cry into it, trying to muffle your moans as best you can. He bites your shoulder and kisses along your neck leaving harsh love bites in his path as he tries to keep himself quiet. But you’re too good for him, too tight for him. 

You can feel his thrusts becoming sloppier and you know what’s coming 

“Don’t- ple- please don’t-“ 

He knows what you’re asking him to do and fuck you really don’t have to tell him twice 

He’s just as blissed out as you are, lost in the way you feel as you squeeze around him. He has to slap his hand over your mouth when you cum, your body writhes violently against his as he shoves his cock in you as far as he can and you feel the way he paints your walls with his hot seed. He pins you up against the wall, his cock stuffed balls deep in your aching cunt. He takes one of your hands again, putting it back on the bulge in your stomach 

“You feel that Princess?” His chest heaves against your back as you both pant together and he pulls you flush against him. He takes his hand and places it over yours, stroking it down your soft skin 

“Wanna take you home and keep it there” he kisses the back of your neck and across your shoulders softly before nuzzling his head against you 

“Take me home huh?” You’re fighting to keep your eyes open, he can hear the sleepiness in your voice. He pulls out slowly and your eyes roll back at that distinct little sucking noise 

“Mhm… if you want to” he sounds a little hesitant as he turns you around and pulls you into his arms 

“I want to” You blush and he kisses your nose 

“We done arguing?” 

“Probably not” you giggle and he rolls his eyes and kisses you softly 

“At least I know how to get you to act right” He smirks and you narrow your eyes at him playfully 

“More like I know how to get you to act right” 

“Are you joking? I just wrecked your shit” he scoffs and sets you down carefully, reaching up behind you and grabbing some clean towels to clean you up with 

“Are you joking? I’m the best you’ve ever had” you say in a sickly sweet voice while batting your eyelashes, just messing with him 

He looks up at you, wiping the cum that’s dripping between your legs. He knows you’re just joking… but 

“Can’t argue with that one sweetheart” 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Itcha gurl, back at it again.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The doctor checks the chart then glances at the machine with your father’s vitals. Today, you’re father’s awake. He has been for a few days but today he’s alert. You know because he told you the jello was disgusting. Those are the first and only words he’s said to you in more than two weeks.

“You’re very lucky to have a daughter who knows what she’s doing,” Dr. Shearer remarks.

Your father grumbles, scowling as he doesn’t offer much else to the doctor.

“You must be happy to have her around,” Shearer continues, “it is time to start considering your discharge. You’re stable, breathing on your own again, your heartbeat is within a normal range.” You watch your father as he stares past the doctor. It’s as if he refuses to acknowledge that this is real. “You’ll have a few new meds to add to your day but with normal check-ups I think we can be optimistic.”

A grunt. You fold your hands and stand up, “thank you, doctor. Erm, could someone explain the new medicines to me?”

“Yes, of course. That’ll be in the discharge paperwork but I’ll have a Nurse Practitioner come to discuss with both of you,” he assures, “and some resources on quitting. The cigarettes can’t continue.”

“I’ll smoke if I goddamn want,” your dad snarls, breaking his shield of indifference.

The doctor gives him a sharp look but doesn’t argue, “I’m only here to diagnose and give me treatment suggestions. But you keep smoking, sir, and next time, you won’t make it to the hospital.”

“Good,” your dad sneers defiantly.

The doctor nods and his mouth seals grimly. He turns back to you, “let us know if you need anything else. We have some support groups and resources, I’ll make sure that info is also sent off with you.”

“Thanks so much, Doctor,” you squeeze your hands tighter. You want to apologise for your father but you know he’ll only get worse if you do.

“It’s alright,” Shearer says as if reading your mind, “these things are stressful. For everyone. Couple more days and he’ll be free to go.”

You try to smile but your cheeks can only tremble. The doctor leaves you with your father and you peek over at him. He grimaces at the ceiling.

“That’s good news, dad,” you say as you near the foot of his bed.

“Is it? You shoulda left me to die,” he barks.

You flinch, not once, twice. A chirp in your pocket further jars you as it shrilly erupts in the buzzing silence. You reach into the pocket of your hoodie and clutch your flip phone as it bings even louder. The little digital display shows the agency’s number.

“Sorry,” you apologise and flip it open, turning away to scurry out and answer, “hello?”

You hold your breath. Why are they calling? You didn’t have a job today and you only really get emails regarding clients. It must be very serious.

“It’s Clara,” your boss begins in her terse way. “Have you seen my email?”

She sighs, “you should be checking daily. Got a job today. You want it?”

You blink. This is the first time you’ve been asked to come in for an extra shift. You could use the money desperately. When your dad is discharged, he’ll be sent off with another invoice.

“Yes,” you accept without hesitation, “I’ll take it.”

“Great. Check your email. Details are there,” she sniffs.

“Alright, tha-nks,” your voice cracks as she hangs up in the middle of your last word. She must be busy, surely more busy than you, the lowest rung on the ladder she has to keep from falling over.

You close the phone and put it back in your pocket. You shuffle back into the room and find your father with his eyes closed. The machine continues to beep in time with his pulse.

“I gotta work,” you say, “that was my boss–”

“Then leave me alone,” he snaps without opening his eyes, “can’t you see I’m tryna sleep?”

“Sorry, I–”

“Go and don’t come back,” he growls, “I don’t need you crowding this shit hole.”

“Um, dad, I–”

He coughs and hacks and waves you off, swallowing thickly, “I said go.”

You dip your head down. You can’t imagine being in his position. Stuck in a hospital bed on the other side of near-death. You might not be very nice yourself.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“I don’t care,” he turns his head and wiggles his shoulders as he tries to get comfortable.

You swallow down the hurt. You didn’t expect him to thank you for what you did. Not for anything. That’s just what you do for someone you love. Yet, you hoped he might have woken up a little bit nicer than before.

“Love you, Dad,” you murmur.

He grumbles. That’s all you get. You suck in a breath and hold it in, trying to keep from crumbling long enough to get out of that room.

🧹

At first, you’re not certain the information in the email is correct. You’re to return to Mr. Laufeyson’s house for the second time that week, but it’s a Friday night. In your days at the hospital, the calendar lines skewed between the alarms you kept in your phone for sanity. The return to reality is just as disjointing as the descent away from it.

You go home and change into your typical cleaning attire. All black. Plain. Clothes meant for getting dirty. Not that any of your wardrobe is particularly spectacular.

You grab your kit and your water bottle and rush out to catch the bus. You’re not used to being on transit near-dark. The prospect of getting home comes to mind as you cling to a pole amidst the crowded vehicle. It makes you nervous but you’re certain it will be okay. Mr. Laufeyson lives in a nice neighbourhood.

You get off the bus and bring your phone out. As you approach the house, it is lively with bodies milling in and out. You let yourself through the gate and peer over at the two cube vans near the front entrance. A white jacket, pristine uniforms, you can only assume they are some sort of catering company. The type you’ve seen on TV in those reality shows with women drinking wine.

You watch them for a moment. They are orderly and determined. What’s more, they work together in perfect harmony, words passing quietly and easily, trays moving smoothly between hands and set onto carts. It’s a shining contrast to your dim and lonely work.

You make yourself turn away and continue around the back of the house. You stop short of the rear corner and a gasp bubbles up. You watch a hummingbird buzzing over the bed of flowers. It’s so small and green and cute. You wince as it flits up towards the window, your cheeks bulbing to the smile as your gaze follows it. 

In a moment, it wings away, shyly retreating from your admiration. Your eyes fall to the window as you sense a shift on the other side. Just between the edges of the half-drawn drapes you meet a pair of green eyes over a long and cynical nose. Your smile dissolves as you recognise Mr. Laufeyson and his stony observation. You touch your fingertips to your mouth in self-reproach and tuck your chin down, turning back onto the path.

You go to the back door but it’s already unlocked. You let the handle go and linger outside. You noticed the email is shorter than usual. This isn’t your typical rote with Mr. Laufeyson.

‘Cleaner to be at standby for guests and cook…’

You glance down the paragraph. You’re to stay until after the ‘event’ so that you may tidy up. Your curiosity sparks but quickly fizzles. It’s best not to be too concerned. Just focus on what you need to do.

You let yourself in but forego the shoe covers and gloves as specified in the email. You hang your hoodie in the closet along with your kit. As you hook the strap of your water bottle over your head, a glimmer passes down the end of the hall and the lighting shifts. You look up as Mr. Laufeyson approaches.

He always dresses finely but he looks particularly put together. His hair is tidy and neat and he wears a velvet jacket in a deep shade of violet over a black collared shirt and matching trousers. His tie is narrow and blends into the fabric of his shirt. He keeps his hands behind him as he holds his chin up.

“I trust you understand your assignment,” he prompts as he stops a foot away, cornering you in the back hallway.

You nod. He tilts his head but his veneer does not break.

“Not that,” he points to the water bottle, “you may ask one of the cook’s assistants for a glass should you require it, but be rid of that ugly thing.”

“Oh–” you gulp back your voice and bow your head again. 

You untangle the trap from your torso and open the closet, tucking it away with your sweater and bag. You shut the door and find him closer than before, his hand on the door frame as he looms over you. His other wanders down the trim of his jacket.

“You are to keep yourself unseen. You tend to messes and that’s it. The rules remain. Are we understood?” He asks.

You look at him and nod. He sighs and stands straight, a deep breath rising in his chest. 

“You may answer aloud so I know we are clear,” he says.

“I understand, Mr. Laufeyson,” you eke out.

“Mmm,” his gaze lingers on you in unreadable consideration. Dressed in plain cotton, you feel wholly insignificant before him. “Go on, you will keep your vigil in the kitchen. They would require most of your assistance.” He backs away and buttons the front of his jacket, “you will not disturb my guests. Not a look, not a word.”

You know your turn to talk is over. You merely nod and he seems pleased by your deference. Not openly, he shows a hint of a smile nor does he praise you. But he is not unhappy and you know that is a feat.

🧹

The cook’s name is Corissa. She has spiraled red hair and pretty gold-green eyes. As you enter, she introduces herself and asks your name.

“I’m just here to clean,” you explain. “So if you need me–”

“Oh, hon, no need ta be shy,” she says in her wolfish voice, “we’re all in this togetha.”

You smile and stand against the wall, waiting to be told what to do next. She gives you a lingering glance but doesn’t comment. You see a question woven in her brow. She begins her work, directing her assistants at saucepan and cutting board alike, all while falling into a raucous rapport.

“Theo say ‘ma, did ya have ta tell that story?’” She cackles midway through a tale you lost track of, her hands moving expertly at her work, “and I say, ‘the gal deserves ta know, ‘specially if ya mean to burden her’.”

You bite into your lower lip. It’s like there’s an invisible wall in front of you. It’s been there your whole life. That one that separates you from others. You’re always on the outside watching. Just like in the schoolyard when the girls wouldn’t let you play with them. Or when your dad has his buddies over and told you to ‘piss off to your room’.

The first course is served on sleek black trays. As you watch the servers carry them out, Corissa calls your name. She makes you lurch in surprise as you’d be convinced you blend right into the plaster.

“Come have a taste,” she insists, “this one’s a bit mussed up.”

“Um, er, it’s okay, I’m not hungry–”

“Bah, come on, have some. I hate ta toss it in the bin.”

You don’t want to argue. That would be rude. So you come forward and accept the crumbly pastry with an ugly tear in the top, the filling bulging out.

“Lobster croquette,” she explains, “you’re not allergic, are ya?”

You shake your head and thank her as you back up to the wall again. You cup your hand under the misshapen ball as you bite into it. You could hum at the taste. It’s delicious and rich and savoury. You’ve never had anything like it. You’ve never even tasted lobster before.

“You like it?” She asks as you swallow your mouthful. You nod. “Quiet one, you.” She points at you.

You don’t answer. What can you say? You are quiet. You finish the croquette and go to dust the crumbs off your hand over the bin. You slide your foot off the pedal and let the lid drop. You take the cloth from your waistband and near the counter, going to work at tidying up the remnants of her work.

“Eh, look at you, busy little bee,” she chuckles, “I was gettin’ ta tha.”

“My job,” you insist.

“Maid,” a snap of the fingers draws your head up as Corissa sprinkles seasoning into a new pan.

Mr. Laufeyson offers only a curled finger. Your eyes round and cross to him, tucking the cloth into your pants again. He’s already striding away as you get to the door. You trail him, uncertain at what he needs. 

He leads you to the dining room, the garble of voices and clinking of glasses preceding your arrival. He enters ahead of you and claims the seat at the head of the table. The serves pass you with empty trays and you gape around in confusion.

“Oh my, look at me,” a woman giggles as she uses a cloth napkin to pat along her collarbone. Thin straps cling to her delicate shoulders as her skin glistens beneath the golden chain strung around her throat, “making a scene already.”

You see the wine glass on its side and hear the contents dripping onto the floor. You put your head down and hurry over. The dinner guests laugh and are quickly onto their next topic, about some coast they plan to vacation at once the summer comes. You try not to eavesdrop as you sop up the puddle of wine on the table and get down to wipe clean the floor.

As you do, you feel a tickle on the back of your neck. You don’t let it stop you. It must be an accident. You’re so cramped between the woman’s seat and the next that you must be in the way. The fingertips remain and brush more firmly as you hear a low, gritty exhale. 

You ball up the damped cloth and stand, daring a glance at the man as he draws his hand back into his lap. His broad shoulders make the back of the tall chair seem small and his blonde hair is twisted into a low tight bun. He guffaws loudly at the table, seemingly unfazed by his own wandering touch. It must’ve been an accident.

You back up and peer towards the head of the table. Laufeyson’s eyes are slits as he stares in your direction. Surely, he’s not watching you. You’re supposed to be unseen. Get out of there.

You retreat quickly, the din thundering louder and louder at your back, rumbling behind you into the hall. You wring the cloth, now stained and stinking of wine. You hope you didn’t upset Mr. Laufeyson, you only did as you were told.