#and my days off are always rainy and shitty

[mer-se]

long day yesterday 💤

[swankpalanquin]

maybe it's because last winter i was preoccupied with adjusting to my new job, but damn this winter has felt way more unbearable than last year

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.66)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Wolves always go for the throat, whether they’re cornered or hunting.

Tags: Blood, Guns, violence, near death experiences, everyone lives nobody dies...but someone does die this chapter, horror, non-lethal injury, talks of death and dying, a bit of body horror, Trans! tae, Tae is briefly dead named in this, implied/referenced intimate partner violence, flashbacks, brief suicidality.

W/c: 8.3k

A/N: ahhhhhh <3 we're finally ready for this part of the story <3 i wonder what your guys reactions will be, i'm really glad i decided to split this chapter into two peices! it's much cleaner this way. don't be 🥲 too mad at me.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

(Four years prior, Hoseok)

Today is the day that Hoseok will meet his future pack, he just doesn’t know it yet.

It always feels like a bit of betrayal but the worst and best days of your life often come close together. Maybe just for contrast. A bit of good in the bad. A slice of cake in a feast of raw meat.

This starts as just another bad day in a long stretch of shitty days. The kind of days were anxiety bubbles up and how afraid you are is all you can think about. Taking one breath and then another like just staying alive means you're guaranteed to get better.

The only place to go from rock bottom is up, and hoseok's sneakers are firmly on the concrete, standing outside of the record store in the rain with no place to go.

Hoseok has been afraid for a long time. He can't really remember even if he thinks hard, the last morning he woke up not afraid.

What hoseok really needs is a day off, but he really can't fucking afford it. He can't afford anything- certainly not a one-bedroom apartment on his own. If he's really really lucky maybe he'll be able to find a closet room somewhere that will cost almost his whole paycheck. Because after today-

After today, Jung Hoseok will be homeless, packless, and alone. His pack dropped the news on him last night…or well ex-pack.

He doesn’t expect that he’ll be moving into the pack's house on this rainy day, he doesn't expect that by the end of the week, he won't be worrying about where his next meal will come from because Jin will be there with it ready. Jimin sometimes too.

He won't be worrying about where he'll sleep because the bed in their spare room that smells like tae tae tae will be his. He'll roll around in it when the door is closed, shy about it because Hoseok has never liked other alpha's scents so much before. And when he comes home and Jungkook has made a nest in it, it will feel like a bit of an impossible silver lining, a bit too much- to have an omega making him a nest, making something special just for him

It takes three weeks for Namjoon to make him a house key for himself. After he gets left outside in a very similar storm to this. The doctor will touch his cheek, thumbing at the dimples that they share. how special is it that each smile gets cradled like a crescent moon? the heavens have left imprints on both of their skin. Freckles for stars and dimples for moon's.

"I don't want you to get sick pup."

"People don't get sick from wet heads anymore hyung."

"They don't. But I want to keep you dry and comfortable in my den. i know you still want to look for apartments but...what if you didn't?"

But neither the weather nor Hoseok knows to prepare for good news. Right now the heavens open up and release its deluge, thick rain the way that only happens at the start of summer. Worms and other wriggly things crawl their way out of their holes to find a good spot to die next to Hoseok's shoes. Worn fancy sneakers that his pack-omega had gotten him a few months ago for their anniversary. They're the nicest thing he's ever owned.

His ex-pack omega.

It's hard to rewire your brain, especially for alpha's. Hoseok is a lone wolf. He hasn't been without a pack in so long, it feels weird to not have someone to call, someone he needs to trail after and cling to. He checks his phone but he doesn't have a single notification from them.

He doesn't have a single notification from anyone.

Hoseok is glad he doesn't feel his instincts as keenly as other alphas do. Otherwise, he might be inclined to gnash his teeth at the people who pass by him on their way to work, umbrellas almost bumping him, perceiving even closeness as a threat. So vulnerable without a pack (lone alphas are always the first to starve in winter).

Hoseok shivers even though its summer, he's soaked to the bone after a few minutes.

He has a key to the record store. He could go inside. Granted- he should be inside already. Opening up shop, making coffee, and letting the place warm up. But standing out in the rain feels too much like penance.

Hoseok likes the rain. The smell of it. The way it makes the whole world ache and go still. He feels every drop on his dark hair, soaking through his thin hoodie. It's cleansing almost, letting the rain soak him through.

(The end of relationships is always hard, let alone the end of abusive relationships, they’re downright terrible).

Hoseok keeps replaying their words in his head, with every slosh of a nearby car, every honk of a taxi. The stoplight red and green bleeding onto the wet concrete. Yellow flashing in contrast with hoseok's dark memories.

“You’re welcome to stay here until the lease runs out, but the four of us need to move back home. You understand Hobi don’t you? We’re just omega’s- we’re just girls- and we think this could be a clean break for all of us. We just don't want to lead you on any longer.”

The worst part is that Hobi had sort of known, had sort of already realized what was happening. he’d seen it in their looks; distant and despondent. Their touches that did not linger longer than necessary, cheeks turned as he comes in for a kiss. The phone calls hushed in the other room that cut off abruptly when he entered.

The lease on their apartment ends today. The place has already been professionally deep cleaned and Hoseok's things are packed in his car in plastic bins. He has 6 of them to his name.

He doesn’t have a place to go yet, he might just sneak into the back room at the record store and sleep there until he figures something out. Hoseok drove to work early because he didn't have another place to go.

This version of Hoseok is not the one you know, this version of Hobi is 23 and hopeless, can’t think about moving back in with his parents a city away, with nothing but a rusted-out Corolla that barely gets him to work let alone through the 200-mile trip. It will die on him in about 6 months and Namjoon will be thankful that Hoseok no longer is driving around in a deathtrap.

He hadn’t even gotten this job by himself, his pack omega- his ex-girlfriend had gotten him this job almost 4 months ago after his last one didn’t pan out. Temporary work for temporary people.

Nothing feels like his. Not his body and certainly not this job.

Hoseok hasn’t smoked in months, but something that feels an awful lot like self-disgust worms under his skin and he can’t resist. Not today of all days. Smoking is something that he doesn’t indulge in often, and hasn’t indulged in since… becoming an alpha to someone. But he guesses it doesn’t matter now without anyone to complain that they don’t like the smell.

The cigarette mixes with the smell of petrichor and Hoseok’s own acidic scent. The smell of a terrified alpha draws him more than a few looks but he pays them no mind. He's thankful for his soaking face, at least the rain keeps out the tears. Cool and soothing against his face.

Hoseok just wants- Hoseok just wants to call them. To talk to someone.

Ending relationships is always like this. You want to keep being good, keep being what they want, but that’s impossible. You can’t act or behave right and dupe someone into loving you. Sometimes the love just isn’t there. (A smaller shyer voice says it was never love at all, you can't possess love, only be given it and Hoseok feels like a cast aside possession. Love and abuse cannot coexist).

Hoseok should have known. He keeps replaying the moments in his head. He’d seen them exchanging knowing looks when they thought he wasn’t looking.He thought he was just being paranoid, until yesterday morning when they’d taken him aside.

“You knew this had to end one day Hoseok" "You knew one day we'd move on." "As much as we appreciate what you’ve done for us, we think it’s time for us to move on.”

“What do you mean? I thought we were leaving next week, you really left me with only a day to find a place to go?”

“We’re sorry Hoseok, your last rut was just too much to deal with. We think it's best if we just stay on our own. It's a clean break this way.”

"Wait, please- I love you."

"We know. We're sorry."

Hoseok is too much for anyone to deal with. He doesn’t call his friends (he hasn’t met up with any of them or returned their texts in months thanks to several pointed words from his pack omega). He doesn’t go inside yet because he deserves the rain. He sits out front of the record store, smoking a cigarette that will probably end up killing him down the line, and thinks Good.

He tells himself the irritation in his eyes is just because of the cigarette smoke blowing in his face, even though he knows it's not. He's not even inhaling right because his breaths come all hitched and pathetic. Anyone would be sad if their relationship of several years had ended. Anyone would be devastated.

Hoseok checks his phone again. Nothing.

Most people on the crowded street ignore him. Though the thick throng of people going about their business, probably going to work at their 9 to 5 jobs that pay enough to afford apartments and packmates. Hoseok is the one soul that stands stationary.

Until one, someone a few feet back stops, tipping their face through their hood to look at him. The only other person without an umbrella.

Hoseok knows his face and his name. It’s just Min Yoongi- his coworker and sort of friend who's coming in for his shift. Hoseok doesn't love Yoongi yet but they're sort of friends already. They might be better friends if Hoseok could get over his admiration and jealousy.

Yoongi has this way of quietly taking care of the people around him. He picks up Hoseok's jacket when it slides off the hook at work, asks him if he wants coffee and even pays for it when he goes to the coffee shop next door. He compliments Hoseok's music tastes when it's his turn to play something, he gives Hoseok the aux frequently in a way that feels a little bit like flirting.

The only two good things about Hoseok's job are the music and Min Yoongi.

He even laughs at Hoseok's shitty jokes when they're stacking new inventory saying cryptic things like "they can't be worse than my omega's jokes."

That's why Hoseok's jealous. Yoongi gets packmates, five of them who make him lunch even when he's only got a four-hour shift. that often linger outside to walk him home or pick him up in their shiney not new not old cars.

(Yoongi's packmates certainly have better things to do than send Yoongi to work with a second packed lunch. "Jin-hyung caught a glimpse of you through the doorway, the only thing that he hates more than Namjoon's snoring is skinny Alpha's.")

Min Yoongi has that look that people do when they're well-loved by packmates. Hair ruffled and neck dotted with bruises that might as well be mating bites for a beta. Beta's don't mate, but these ones certainly keep him close. He wears their scents like a shield. Sometimes so thick that Hoseok can't even smell any of his chocolate scent.

Right now, staring at Yoongi a few paces into the street, all Hoseok can smell is the rain.

When Hoseok had been introduced to him it had felt strange just by virtue of Yoongi's sub gender. A beta? Working somewhere so normal? Weren’t beta's supposed to be like- financial advisors or assistants to the president or something? Betas are supposed to have more important jobs than pushing vinyl and bumping Hoseok's shoulder playfully.

(Hoseok hasn’t seen it yet, the way that the owner hands over little white baggies to people who come in looking hungry for a high that cigarettes or alcohol can’t fix. Hoseok hasn’t yet realized that the record store isn't just a record store. This is just one front business of many that the family has organized across this city and the country for distribution of some of his most precious inventory). Yoongi has worked her for the last year, takes calls in the back for the family. The owner only bows to him when Hoseok's not around.

They only hired hoseok for tax purposes. Having three employees looks less suspicious than just two.

The beta looks concerned, and Hoseok knows he can’t hide the fact that he’s been crying as the beta steps up and pushes Hoseok back under the awning. Out of the rain and into the warmth of the doorway. This kind of movement would make any alpha snap, but not Hoseok. Hoseok just tucks his chin down and starts to cry.

“Oh Hoseok.” Hobi sniffles, and wipes his runny nose on his sleeve. Yoongi's hand curls against his throat, chocolate scent spiking to soothe. “You’re soaking wet."

Yoongi grabs his wrist and Hoseok almost keens at the gentle touch. Whole body shaking, shoulders curling in Yoongi's direction. Yoongi’s lips press into a thin line and then tugs him inside.

~-~

(Now, You)

You hold your breath. Still peering around the corner, watching and waiting for the man to spot you.

But he doesn't, after a breath where his soft footsteps echo, you wait, but nothing happens. You peak back around the corner.

You absorb and catalog the details as fast as you can; the black ski mask, covered by one of those traditional Korean masks, wooden with red lacquer. This one is a little different than the one that Jimin had; not twisted with thick eyebrows in a snarl. This one is white with red splotches on the cheeks, like a ghost sent down from above to rob you of your humanity.

The bulletproof vest stops at the collarbones. The gun itself is a black generic model. The long end is extra bulbous with something that might be an attached silencer. His hands covered in black nitrile gloves, leathery at first glance. There is a knife at his waist along with a barrage of other small things; rope and a knife, duct tape and handcuffs. His heavy boots look steel toed and reinforced.

The man (because it is a man you realize; tall, maybe taller than Namjoon) trains his gun at the landing on the top of the stairs. Pointing it in the direction of Hobi, Tae, and Jin’s hushed voices.

Hobi giggles and it sounds so bright. Echoing off the walls and filling the house with his musical laughter.

There is a phone cord tangled in your hands, long and white. You grip it tight.

This man might be silent but you’re quieter as you slide your bare feet across the smooth floors. Your strides are so quiet. You take one step and then another until you're behind the man, mirroring him.

You remember when Yoongi redid the floors, it was one of the few things that he did right away; before the pack came to live here (to love here). It took him weeks and weeks of sanding before he got them to his liking. Days more of brown dark stain that colored his hands ruddy until the soft matte finish stuck. Every pass with the belt sander and dirty rag a movement of love, a meditation for it.

Yoongi made every inch of this house with the same loving intent; to make it a home for all of you. a place to be safe and nurse your wounds and hearts. You won’t let it become a grave. You won’t let this person stay here and ruin it.

Most people get it wrong; In order to kill it is not a matter of elegance or effort. There is no such thing as a perfect kill either. Emotionless and analytic isn't enough and being justified only gets you halfway. There is no way to do it cleanly. People die just as they live, messy and hopeful and dirty.

Murder isn't a matter or wanting or wishing, It’s a matter of rage.

It’s always been this way. Rage has been chewing a hole through you from the moment that you pulled the trigger with Geumjae. From the moment you said ‘I do’. Rage that these violent things have been done to you, that they continue to happen, that you can’t just get away from all the hurt and trauma.

Rage has eaten you clean through to the bone. Rage has made you skinny and starving, rage has made you timid and fragile. But now you're the hungry one. Right now, only three words run through your head;

How dare she.

How dare she send this man into your house. How dare she point a gun at the upstairs, in the general direction of your nest and your packmates. The altar at which you so desperately cling to, for sweet dreams and sweeter worship (There is no deity above the god of love, not even death. Death cannot take the love from your chest, someone dying does not make you stop loving them).

How dare she even think about hurting the people you love.

There is no courage, no bravery, no thought in your head about how stupid it might be as you step closer behind the man. You are not a trained assassin. You’re just an omega.

The adrenaline rush is an old friend, a thrall both intoxicating and unnerving. Your heart beats loud in your ears. You grip the phone cord in your hands and take a quiet steadying breath. He doesn't see you, he doesn't hear you, he doesn't know that you're behind him.

Wolves always go for the throat, whether they’re cornered or hunting.

The assassin’s foot ascends the bottom step. You don’t let him get to the second before you’re moving, hurtling forward. Footsteps no longer light. Your hands go over the man’s shoulders. The cord no more than a white flash across his vision before you draw it tight across his neck.

The pain and panic are instant as you’re suddenly tethered to a six-foot-four assassin and struggling to stay on your feet as he stumbles back. You’re pulled off your feet and down the stairs, but you keep it as tight as you can and you don’t let go. Fighting to keep your makeshift garrote tight as he scrambles to get his fingers around where it digs into his skin. Spluttering loud.

The hard wire digs, cutting easily through plastic and then your skin as he tries to pull you off. You don’t let go until he backs you into the entryway wall and slams you against it with a dizzying clang of bone and body hitting something solid. Your head narrowly avoids one of the hooks that the pack hangs their coats on. An inch to the left and he'd have impaled your skull on it. An inch to the left and you'd be dead.

A single inch.

His head slams into your face, and you feel something in your nose pop, flooding your mouth with blood so thick you choke.

He slams you against the wall once, twice, and then a third time until your grip goes slack and slippery with blood. It knocks the breath out of you, and he finally throws you off. You both fall to the ground like stones. Both of you gasp and struggle for breath. At least one of your ribs it broken, but because of the adrenaline you can't even feel it.

When the man lifts his black gloves to his throat, they come away glossy with blood.

(It’s crazy how you never notice the change from the day to day, one day you are begging for a reason to hold on, a reason to live, and the next you’re fighting tooth and nail to keep going. Just about gnawing your own arm off to get out. To survive and live to see another day. Another sunrise.)

By that time the air has returned to your lungs it’s enough for you to scream. “Jin! Jin! There’s someone in the house there’s-”

You try and inhale through your nose and blood makes you choke. You push at the floor with your hands, struggling to stand, fingers slippery and tacky with your blood.

The man tries to scramble up the stairs but you latch onto his legs and make him drop. Doing everything in your power to keep him from going up to them, to your packmates. Hugging his ankle to your chest to slow him down (the same way you’ve hugged Namjoon’s arm and Yoongi’s, the way you held Hobi in the nest on the couch just a few shattered days ago).

The man turns the gun on you, pointing it to your head, you flinch, waiting for the shot-

and open them as He heaves a frustrated roar before he wheels away and turns, aiming at the top of the stairs instead of right in your face.

You could have died right then. could have and should have, but you didn’t. Your brain is too messy with adrenaline right now to make sense of it.

Why didn't he shoot?

The gun goes off, a bullet whizzing by Jin’s head. His face, scared, on the stairs flashes ever briefly. Ducking for cover just in time. The doorframe explodes in a cacophony of dark wood splitters. The doorknob sparks and bursts into a million pieces with another shot. metal clanking against the ceiling, the walls, down the stairs.

One second, you’re holding onto his heavy leather boot, and the next it’s colliding with your face and you’re out like a light.

Getting hit in your face is always such a disorientating experience. You’d never gotten used to it, even with Geumjae. Granted it’s hard to get used to the stomach-churning low vision feeling of weightlessness, like vertigo only worse.

"Hobi! don't- jesus fucking christ-"

You’re not quite sure what happens next only that you can’t see for a moment after the boot hits your face, and you take big breaths through your mouth. Blood, you taste blood. And then your vision comes back. Black spots and all and there’s Hobi’s face in front of you. No assassin, just him, helping you up from the floor. You're not on the steps anymore but at the bottom of them.

“The kitchen, the kitchen," Blood rushes over your bottom lip. Hoseok wipes it away, inhaling a jagged breath. "He’s-”

He pushes at your shoulders. “The car- get to the car.” It feels impossible. This can be happening in your house. Are you about to have a shoot-out in the street? On your quiet cul-de-sac? But then, in the corner of your vision dark movement.

You tug Hobi’s head down the second that the gun goes off- probably saving his life, definitely saving it as the bullet tears through the banister and ends in a hollow thump in the wall. he may not have shot you but he has no quams shooting at Jin and Hobi. The bullets hit the wall- Maybe 6 inches above your bent heads. Too close, close enough that Hobi trembles in your hold. And he rips something- a piece of the doorway, out of his arm with a wince before he covers your body with his own.

The volley of gunshots are so loud, so vicious as they blow things apart, tearing holes through Yoongi’s coat, the doorway, the banister, and the narrow stairway rungs. Pieces of wood hit your curled forms. Hobi shoves your head down when you try to look.

There is wetness, hot, something hot on your hands, your neck, you know it’s blood before you look. You think it’s from you until the Gunsmoke clears and you realize- fingers skimming across hoseok's forehead, a gash above his eyebrow.

A bullet graze by his hairline thats bleeding profusely. head wounds always bleed a ridiculous amount.

There are more bullets behind you but it’s just Jin returning fire.

Jin’s got Tae behind him. Her face ashy and pink from the shower and panic, her mid-length dark hair such a tangle, cowering behind his back. Jin's gun is so much louder without the silencer. Did he bring one upstairs? Or did he get it from Jimin’s stash?

Jin nearly drags Tae to the three of you, and she clings to you. Your hand finds her face. Fingers are red and bloody smudging against her cheek, blink and you're back there a million moments in the past; dotting red blush across her cheeks with a brush- your fingers- kissing it into place with your lips- painting a line of maroon across her eyelids to bring out the lighter flecks in her eyes- Watching her twirl in a red dress. Pressing your red lips against hers in a quiet dark moment in the library room. With her in Hobi's red car- Everything red.

If it starts with red, maybe it's fitting that it ends in red too.

Jin doesn’t give you time to reminisce. Pushing her shoulder down hard. His bare chest splattered with splinters from the door. Covered in wood fragments that stick to his black sweatpants and damp feet. Shouting, “All of you get down!”

You follow your pack omega’s words. Hobi and Tae With their damn alpha instincts blanket you as Jin fires again. The shots are so much louder in the small space. Another shot, another thunder strike. tae grips your wrist tight, your hands.

When you look down, they look mutilated. you can see bone in one place, deep gashes across the centre of your palms.

Your ears ring and you can't make sense of anything over the noise. Jin returns every bang with a boom of his own, bright flashes lighting up the dark staircase. Casing after casing tinkling down to the floor, rolling across the floorboards

But then, for a second- the gunfire goes quiet.

The house creeks and the three of you hold your breath. Jin's still half-concealed. The air heavy and clouded with gunsmoke and the smell of blood.

Hobi tentatively gets onto his knees and then stands when he doesn't immediately get shot at. You make a small noise in your throat, the loudest that you dare, but he’s looking after Jin, standing in the darkness, hackles raising his angry scent of burning sugar acrid in your nose. His hand slides out of yours, your blood on his palms.

And then you hear the rush of boots, echoing in the living room, near your nest- you’d never unmade it after you and Hobi fucked there. You'd been too busy taking care of Jimin. Hoseok bears his teeth.

Hobi turns, sliding out of your hands quicker than you can grab him. Quicker than you can tell him that he’s being dumb, that he’s being suicidal.

“Not my girlfriend! You asshole!”

The world is a dizzying cacophony of gunpowder, pain, bullets, and shouting. Jin yells Hoseok’s name. But the alpha heads after the assassin regardless of your cries. Jin narrowly keeps him from running headlong into no mans land. the open area by the door that would leave Hoseok a sitting duck.

Tae’s standing up on unsteady legs as you all spill out of the stairs into the narrow hall. Out from her hiding place cowering behind the banister. Your attention isn’t on her it’s on Hobi. Neither you nor Jin are looking at her. You’re running after him on shaky legs. Jin holds you both back, trying to corrall you. The air is cloudy with Gunsmoke, hazy and heavy. Her eyes are wide and pretty like dark marbles as she watches Hobi.

They’re just as pretty when the gun presses to the back of her head.

Everyone turns and goes still. The man has Tae in his arms, hand in her hair making her neck arch. The gun pressed to her jaw. Finger on the trigger.

Her body trembles and she doesn’t turn, frozen still in fear a shallow whine building in her throat.Jin has the gun trained on the man faster than you can make to step in Tae’s direction. But it’s no use.

He must have gone around, run through the livingroom through your pantry. A similar path that you took to surprise him. He must know the floor plan of the house, must have studied it to prevent situations like this. You have no upper hand here with tae in his arms.

Tae’s mouth is buttony and parted, but it settles into a resigned line.

Jin’s never been a good enough shot- not for one like this, even barely 10 feet away. He might hit Tae. Shaky, Jin takes his finger off the trigger and stoops down to put the gun on the floor. His other hand is up, already surrendering when the man jerks Tae's head back by her hair. Rougher than he needs to be.

“Don’t shoot her, please don’t shoot- please.”

The man juts his chin at the gun on the floor. “Kick it away now, be a good omega.” Jin grits his teeth but does as he says.

The man’s voice is rough as gravel. Dignified, but with no obvious accent. Not the quiet cadence that you’ve come to expect from the family. Neither posh nor lowbrow. Something in between. Flat and monotone. You're sure that you've never heard his voice before.

“I have to admit, your file said you’d be resistant, but it said nothing about you being dumb as fuck and a poor shot to boot.”

Jin licks his lips and bares his teeth, “Put that gun back in my hand and then say it again.” The masked man cocks his head to the side and then shrugs as if Jin's fury doesn't mean anything to him.

But He’s bleeding, it trails down to the floor so the words can't be genuine. It's a small wound, a graze on his right thigh. Red bright and hot that drips in onto the floor from his pant leg.

His hand tightens in Tae’s hair. “Line up against the wall. Now. Or I’ll blow her brains out in front of you."

You move first, eyes trained on Tae. But he snaps, eyes unreadable behind that mask, “No- not you. I’m not here to kill you.”

He tosses something to Jin and he catches it. Handcuffs that jingle and clink. Your foot hits an errant bullet with a similar tinkle. “Handcuff Jin to the stairs Hoseok.”

Your names, he knows your names. Your mind races over every detail, every moment trying to piece together a way to get out of this. a way to save them.

“Why are you doing this?” Hobi’s trembling, shaking. “Did Jimin-”

“Jiminie did nothing.” The man croons dragging the barrel of the gun down Tae’s cheek leaving a dark smudge in its wake. It's red on her face, the barrel must still be hot, your blood crusty around her lips.

“Honestly though, you should know he was a shit assassin. Truly piss poor even by industry standards. They always threw him the easiest kills."

The three of you are quiet, if he was hoping to elicit a reaction or more of a fight You don’t give him the satisfaction. Although jin grits his teeth, gnashing anger and an omega's feral instinct to protect their pups.

You step forward hands open, barely two steps from Tae. If you can just get to her maybe you can-

“Please- please don’t kill them."

He cocks his head at you, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “Oh no, you misunderstand me I’m not going to do any of it.”

He taps Tae’s head once again with the gun and Tae starts to truly struggle. You tremble in fury and horror as you realize what he means with a sickening lurch in your stomach.

“This is how it’s going to work Y/n” You still at the sound of your name. “Taehyung here is going to shoot Jin and Hoseok. And then once we’re sure they’re good and dead, I’ll kill her.” He tosses you another pair of handcuffs, these ones are meant for you.

You take one step closer; Jin's gun is between your feet now. But you couldn't pick it up or else he'd shoot Tae. Time, you just need a minute to figure out what to do. How to get them out of this.

Yourself now, that's a different story. If you where in Tae's position you'd turn your face to the side and bite the mans hand.

“And what about me then? If they're all dead what’s to stop me from fighting?” he seems to consider it only briefly, the gun in his hand tilting so that you can see the dark oval where the bullet will come out, where it will rocket through Tae's skull and take all the little worlds she dreams of, all her poems and words and make them nothing.

“You think you're so precious? I’ll just kill you.” he says it like it's nothing. like you're nothing. He nods to the others, appealing to them and not you. “What do you want? All four of you to die? Or just three? What will hurt Namjoon the least? Do you think Yoongi will survive loosing his mate? What do you think Jinnie?”

You think of Yoongi's mating mark, the spot on his hip where your small curved semi-circles sit. You think of them turning black- a brand of a dead mate. You think of Hobi's eyes opening and never closing again. You think of Jungkook nesting without Jin and you. Of Namjoon holding out his hand and having no one to take it without Jin there.

You won't let any of this happen.

The others shoot each other unsure glances but you shake your head. you shake your head because earlier on the step, the man didn't take the easy shot, the easy kill.

If he really had orders to kill you, he would have done it then.

you step forward and shake your head. “I don’t believe you. I know your orders are to take me. That’s what all of this is about isn’t it?” The man doesn’t drop his weapon. Just presses it tighter to Tae’s jaw.

“Handcuff Jin now Hobi. Or else I’ll-”

You see the darkness settle in Jin’s eyes and before you know it he's turning to you, eyes flat. Endless in their darkness, the way they might if-

You don't let yourself consider it. You won't let it get to that point.

“Pup-”

You guess it does make sense, having you kill each other as opposed to the assassin doing the dirty work and implicating Moonbyul. If you really are on that ‘no kill list’ like Yoongi said at the hospital, having you take out each other is the only logical course of action. Once Tae kills Jin and Hobi, she'll be free game. This is the only way retribution won’t fall back on her. This is so similar to what she tried and failed to do with Jimin and Jin. This is a second attempt.

Only-

Only this time, you have a bargaining chip.

You step forward, in front of Hobi and Jin, blocking them from his line of sight. Barely a pace in front of Tae, but from the way he tightens his grip on her you know that you can go no further.

“You can take me; I’ll go with you. Willingly.”

Jin makes a noise in his throat and tries to move, but dares not when the man tightens his grip on Tae’s hair hard enough to rip a bit of it out.

“That’s what she wants, isn’t it? If you just let them live I’ll go with you.”

The man is silent for a second. Hobi trembles and so does Jin. For a second, you truly think that he’s going to take the bait.

But the mask is directed towards the floor, then back up at you. “Those aren’t my orders.” His finger is on the trigger so close to Tae’s head. “Now cuff him, I don’t want Jinnie getting any ideas.”

Hobi’s hands are shaking as he unwillingly shackles Jin to the steps as slowly as he can. He's buying time too. Every second and every heartbeat is precious. Both ends loop around a single rung and click closed. The rung itself is a little loose from a bullet that blew it apart near the bottom, it’s got to be the loosest one. Hobi turns, and you see the pre-meditation in his eyes; he chose that one so that Jin could still get free if he tried hard enough.

Everyone is trying. Everyone is defiant. The quirk of Jin's eyes as he settles, staring with rage at the man, his voice a quiet croon when he says what might very well be the last words he ever speaks.

“Tae you can close your eyes honey, it’s okay.”

"No I can't" She struggles harder against his hold, but it only gets her part of her hair pulled out with how rough the man jerks her, tears clouding her vision. "I can't- don't- please-"

Tae's soul has always been butterfly soft and flower tender. She's not made for this. She's not made for murder or pain or anything that lacks softness. She's never been a killer; Jimin was always that side of their coin. Saint and sinner.

Your body goes cold and for a second, you think you just might pass out, especially when Hoseok grips your wrist. One final squeeze in what can only be goodbye before he steps away and in front of jin. Hair puffed up. Jin is lowering his eyes and no no no.

No.

Tae is staring at you, eyes wide and scared, but you watch in total powerlessness as her eyebrows lower. You see the moment Tae thinks it. Eyes meeting yours, lips mouthing something that you can’t read. Maybe I’m sorry no.

I love you. Sorry.

The truth is that Jimin drilled this with her years ago before she left for college and he couldn’t follow. When Jimin first realized that for the first time in their lives she’d be without him as a constant protector. Delicate delicate Tae with her delicate pink soul. So vulnerable to the world and all its wickedness.

Tae didn't confront him about it until the nightmares were waking him up regularly. They were simple nightmares back then; images of Tae hurt and mugged. Tae beaten and left in an alleyway. Tae stalked through the night. Simple, but enough to keep him awake. Enough to torture him in his wakon hours as well as the nighttime.

If Jimin saw her now he'd pull the heavens down and demand something truly awful in exchange. He'd take one of the knives from the kitchen and gut him from belly button to addams apple. He'd eviscerate him- and Namjoon might help.

Hut there is no one here to do any of that, there is only Tae in the man's hold.

“What are you so scared of?” She’d asked one morning, trailing endless patterns on his chest in an effort to soothe him back to sleep.

“Something happening to you while I’m not there, mostly.”

“Would it make you feel better? If you taught me the basics?”

Jimin's pause is telling, more telling are his eyes, hopeful when he looks up at Tae. “Yes, it would.”

It’s been years and years since Jimin Tae have bothered to drill any self-defense sequences it at all. Since he stopped asking her to refresh the basics with him once a year just to make sure. Jimin never thought that Tae would have to use those skills. Like with most things, you just sort of hope you don't have to fight.

But Tae knows you did fight. It's written all over your bloody face and your bloody hands, tightened to fists by your side. If you fought tooth and nail to save them she should fight too.

Tae has written fight scenes like this before. If she survives the press of the gun to the back of her head, she’s gonna have one hell of a personal experience to pull from for her book. The content will be endless.

She seems to swell in the space, alpha shoulders settling back. Her mouth is moving, mouthing words her eyes on you. Just in case this is the last thing she ever does.

I’m sorry, I love you.

“Be a good boy and pick up the gun Tae.” Tae bends down, syrupy slow. Intentional with her every movement. One heartbeat. Another. Tae's fingers are maybe an inch from the gun when everything goes haywire.

When she's about halfway bent she uses her momentum to hurl her body back, slamming her head into the gun and then into the man’s face. Cracking the mask and from the sound of it, the man’s nose. Tae's almost knocks herself out with the force of her own head colliding with the man’s face.

She turns, she’s not finished, not even close. She might be a woman but she’s an alpha too. Alphas always always fight to protect their pack. She turns and swings.

And drives her elbow as hard as she can between the alpha’s legs.

Hobi can’t stop his flinch. That has to hurt.

The assassin’s gun goes flying, skittering across the dark floor and under the bookcase and Hobi ends up lunging for it. You go after it too but you end up holding Tae instead, crumpling to the floor without anything to hold her up. She’s holding the back of her head, eyes watering.

The traditional mask lyes in pieces around you, shatered by the force of tae's headbut. The man clutches his nose, features still covered by the ski mast. Growling out- "Bitch- fucking bitch! I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill all of you-"

Jin struggles yanking his cuffed hands down as hard as he can- in another minute he might get loose, but not quick enough as Hobi finds the gun and raises it. The bullet hits the molding beside your pantry, missing the man by inches as he dives away to safety. A lucky shot by any standard, let alone for a beginner. Hobi shoots off after him. knocking into the wall before he's up and chasing it.

“Are you okay, Tae, Tae- look up at me.” Tae is clutching the back of her head. Blinking rabidly. That fucking hurt even if it was worth it.

“I’m fine just-” She leans over your legs and vomits, retching loud and horrible. Concussion- she must have given herself a concussion. Namjoon told you months ago how to read the signs of them shortly after the first time Jungkook ever had a seizure in front of you.

You hold her shoulders, watching Jin try and break himself free, yanking his wrists hard enough that it has to hurt. Moving to try and help him.

And then Hobi makes a noise in the other room, a pained ghasp, A thump and then-

Tae is already up and running, stumbling into the wall. You glance at Jin. "Go- just go" Jin grinds out. But Tae has longer legs than you do even concussed.

By the kitchen, Hobi slips on a fallen tangerine. (You remember then, Yoongi clearing the table with a brush of his hands for Jimin, tossing a whole bowl of them onto the floor. Where they've stayed since then) they're fighting, the man must have managed to disarm Hobi somehow because the gun sits under one of the chairs. Both of them are fighting just beside the dining room table. Part of it splintered and broken where someone broke it.

They're grappling on the floor now. Pushing against each other trying to gain the upper hand. you've watched the alpha's wrestle before- small disputes to settle and reaffirm the hierarchy, but you've never seen hobi move like this. You watch the man grasp at his waist reaching for the knife. His hands so slick with his own blood that it clatters to the floor. Hobi may not be trained but he's a fighter too. Gnashing his teeth and growling. Reaching up into the shallow gash at the mans throat and digging in his fingers.

And then he’s got Hobi on the ground and his hands around your alpha's throat. Tae tries to get him off but he backhands her, sending her sprawling to the ground and clutching her cheek. Too dizzy to stand. Big hands that squeeze and squeeze and squeeze Hobi's narrow throat. Spit at the corner of his lips turning frothy as hoseok tries to breathe and can't.

“I didn’t come this far to get killed by a bunch of family rejects; 11 years and 1458 kills later and I will not die. Just give up already- I didn’t come this far to-”

Hobi’s face is turning purple, hands scrabbling, pushing against his face trying to get him off unsuccessfully. Dying there on the floor. Hobi is going to die right there if you don't do anything.

Jin is shouting from the other room and there is a frying pan in the kitchen. On the countertop that you snatch on your way past, winding up for it before you swing it with all your might at the man's head and-

At the end of the day, it’s hard to say exactly what kills him. Whether it's you or Tae who wields the killing blow. It’s more of a group effort between you and her.

Tae has read countless books that described love as some gentle force, but this love has not made her gentle. Tae cannot sit there on the floor and watch Hobi die. She'd do anything to protect him and the pack. She’d kill people like Minnie did, would lie just as Jin had, would have sacrificed anything- even herself just like Yoongi.

Love had always been giving in Tae's mind, and she would give countless sins and untold violence, to have this not be the last day with you and the pack.

The gun is just sitting there under the chair. tae hardly has to lean over to get it. (If she makes it out of this alive, she swears to himself that she'll finally start taking those kickboxing classes that Jungkook teaches.) Tae lifts the gun at the same moment that your hand descends with the frying pan.

Tae turns, points, aims, and fires. She doesn’t even think twice about it. The trigger goes down as easily as breathing.

Getting shot in the throat definitely distracts him enough, definitely makes him let go of Hobi, clutching at his own throat instead of his. blood rushing over his hand and down onto hobi's face. So much that it almost splashes.

And then the frying pan hits his head with a hollow final thud.

There is a placid terror in things like this, a quiet as things go and come. The thumping, the sobbing breaths you let out, the descent of your hand, beating out your terror on the body below, a vessel for all of your fear.

The handle of the frying pan is thick and heavy in your hands. You bring it down on the man’s head, the curved edge of the cast iron connects with the plate of his skull with a hollow thud. One second, he's clutching at his blown-apart throat, and the next he goes limp, blood and brain matter splatters loud and heavy along the floor. Falling on top of Hobi like a lead weight.

Hobi's brown eyes are bloodshot and red in his mouth, heaving one big breath that sends the room spinning. Sends vertigo into his veins and panic-running adrenaline. You lift your arms up again and hit him, descending again and again.

His body is still, so still. His chest gives one open shudder and then goes truly quiet. Frozen in time. You are covered in blood, in your mouth, on your hair, on the ceiling. More and more splatters as your hand goes up and then down in an endless loop.

Dark cotton soaks, matted with blood and brain matter, blurry from your tears. A bit of it hits your face, wet and stinky. People never tell you how horrible it smells when people die.

You don’t stop hitting the man, even when it's clear he's dead. Even when you glare down at him through the tears in your eyes and see half a face staring up at you. An eyeball rolls across the floor.

There are arms around you pulling you off of him eventually. Dry warm arms, big and heavenly. One wrist dangles with a pair of handcuffs as Jin yanks you back from the man. The body.

“Pup- It’s done, pup- he's gone- Stop.”

There is blood all over you. On your face, on your hands, around the frying pan. Tae too, sitting just beside you. Half of her body splattered. Hobi's soaked with it and still struggling to breathe. But both of them, the three of them are alive.

“It’s over pup.” Jin sounds like he might be crying. Tae definitely is.

Hobi puts his head between his knees, gasping for every breath but still breathing. Tae's got him in his lap. Holding on to him as he splutters. face so soaked with blood he can't open his eyes without blinking rapidly.

It’s anything but over you think as you let go of the handle of the frying pan.

It clatters to the ground with a bloody and final thunk.

~-~

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Notes:

if the beginning of the chapter feels weird/different in terms of narration that is because it was mostly written 3+ years ago and my writing style has changed alot! kinda crazy! hopefully people will just attribute it to hoseok's internal monologue. it might be meandering but i kept reminding myself that this is hoseok at his lowest you know?

One thing i want you guys to realize is that the m/c may not be smart, but holy fuck can she take a beating and still get up.

Gun shoot outs are uniquely hard to write because like, just bang and it's done right? idk why part of this writing just felt so tedious usually i love writing stuff like this :(

hobi calls the m/c his girlfriend 🥺 did you guys notice???? he's such a cute pup charecter.

i have more notes for this chapter BUT i can't share them until the next one is out because it involves hobi's secret.

i hope you guys see like- how good the m/c actually is at the crime and thinking on her feet shit- i think that this chapter above all others shows her street smarts. she knows to keep the guy talking and distracted- i think it compliments her similarities to jimin and jin like. the trio of them are very capable people you know? vs hobi who just headlong rushes the assassin and fucks shit up. i'm not saying it's his fault- he does the best that he can in this chapter.

I'm trying to pull from my actual knowledge of how guns work but fun fact, silencers are still fucking loud, like still so loud that you need ear protection. and even blank bullets can still cause serious injury at close range.

I'm again at the stage where i can't tell if the gun shooting scene is clunky and too predictable or if it's actually as creepy as i've made it out to be.

This is one of those situations- the bargaining for each others lives, that i've actually never had to handle. it's actually pretty unusual for me to write about things that i haven't experienced in some way shape or form.

i've only written a few scenes in my life that have made me wonder like "huh- i wonder if people might actually think that i've seen a dead body, been around a dead body, or killed someone before?" and ngl, the scene with the assassin dying is one that makes me wonder that... i promise i just have a scarily vivid imagination.

[simp4gyu]

knee socks | c.bg

beomgyu x afab reader

genre smut, fwb to ??

word count 2.1k

🎶 arctic monkeys - knee socks

txt x arctic monkeys series 1/5

This past winter had fucking sucked for you. You'd lost your dream job when the company you worked for collapsed. You hated winter as it was, and depressingly dreary days weren't helping. The early December days were dark and long, but you really tried to get back out there, searching for any jobs in a similar sector to you. After a day of job hunting, you'd returned home to find your boyfriend in bed with your sister. Not exactly ideal.

Naturally, you withdrew from everyone and mostly stayed home. Staying up through the night to watch shitty reality shows and sleeping in until the afternoon. Your savings would last you a while before you desperately needed a job again so you decided to make the most of it and be the recluse you'd always dreamed about becoming.

Your only ‘company’ was your attractive neighbour Beomgyu, who you'd occasionally bump into when getting your mail. You’d pad out into the hallway with your knee socks and oversized hoodie, trying to shield your face when you realised you weren’t alone in the hall. Beomgyu would just give you a small smile and a wave, but would never pry. You were sure your situation was pretty obvious to him and you appreciated that he didn’t feel the need to remind you of it.

When the new year approached, you decided it was time to get out of your lonely state. You'd reached out to some of your old college friends who you knew were party animals and then it was every other night you were heading out with them. Drowning your sorrows with tequila, rum and whatever liquor you could get your hands on. You’d flirt harmlessly here and there but none of the guys seemed to help take your mind off your situation. You needed a good stress reliever, and you weren’t going to get it from just anyone.

Pulling up outside of your apartment building, you stumbled out of the taxi for the nth time that month. Tipping the driver way too much, you headed to the door but your inebriated state made you unable to navigate the key code to enter the building. You cursed under your breath as you swayed and attempted the code again only to be declined entry a second time.

"Need some help there?" You turned to see Beomgyu stood behind you with a smile. You blushed, the embarrassment sobering you up slightly. "Thank you", you replied biting your lip. You were so humiliated for your cute neighbour to see you in this state, but again grateful for his 'I’ll mind my own business' attitude.

You were certain you looked a right state, boots in hand and exposed thighs red with the January chill. The rain drizzling down soaked your hair to the sides of your face. Thank god for Beomgyu being in the right place and time to save you from the rainy Tuesday night.

Beomgyu took a step closer to you, holding his umbrella over the both of you to stop the rain from further soaking you. As he reached over to type in the building code, you found yourself admiring him and his handsome features unabashedly in your tipsy state. The scent of his cologne intoxicating. He turned back to you, not breaking eye contact as he gestured downwards.

"Cute socks."

Flash forward to 10 minutes later and here you are, back pressed against the inside of Beomgyu's front door. Your body held up as Beomgyu essentially pins you against the wall with his hips holding you up. Your lips were all over each other, heated kisses being placed wherever they could reach.

You didn't want to waste a single second, but it seemed Beomgyu had other ideas, taking his time to caress and stroke your body. The touch made butterflies swarm in your tummy. Feelings. You couldn't be having those. You grabbed Beomgyu's face and pulled him in for a passionate kiss, hands desperately reaching down to open his trousers and reach his hardening member.

He couldn't find the urge to resist now when you squeezed his cock through the thin material of his boxers, his head falling back as he let out a low growl against your skin.

Your dress rode up and exposed your ass as Beomgyu held you in his toned arms, fingers snaking into your underwear to stroke between your legs. He had a cocky smirk on his face at the state of your wetness, but decided to bite his tongue and not comment on it - he was just as needy as you were after all. He was quick to pull your underwear to the side and take you then and there against the front door. You let out a sharp gasp at the way Beomgyu felt filling you up, the ache from not being prepped oddly pleasurable.

He fucked you feverishly, hot breath fanning over your neck as he panted in exhaustion. The grasp he had on your ass was sure to leave bruises, but you didn't care. You just wanted to forgot everything that had happened this past month, you just wanted to feel Beomgyu and nothing else. Feel his thick cock pounding into you. Feel his hot breath on your neck. Feel the grip of his fingertips on your skin. Over and over and over again until your mind was only full of him.

It was a nice distraction.

And that's how it all started.

It was like Beomgyu was a medicine, curing your January blues. Things still weren't great. Still out job searching, still constantly reminded of your ex boyfriend and sister's relationship whenever you'd speak to your family. One thing that had certainly improved was your drinking, not feeling the need to go out and drown your sorrows with booze, instead your reprieve was in the arms of your neighbour.

It continued this way for weeks. Casual hookups occurring in the dead of the night so not to alert anyone to your situation. You just didn't want anyone knowing about this. It wasn't as if you were embarrassed of Beomgyu, you were just embarrassed by yourself.

There was supposed to be no emotional attachment. Just casual, you couldn't afford to get too attached. But what the fuck was happening? Your heart was softening for him.

Tossing and turning in your bed, it took you hours before you finally gave up on sleep. You knew what was needed in that moment and it didn't take you long until you were on your phone and sending a text to Beomgyu with the two words that seemed to be a regular occurrence these past few weeks.

"You up?"

Barely a minute had past before the chime of your phone confirmed his response.

"Doors unlocked"

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

It was usual for Beomgyu to wake up to an empty bed after spending the night with you, as if you were scared to be seen with him in the morning light. That’s why he was so shocked when he awoke to the smell of eggs drifting in through the bedroom door and the sound of soft singing.

He made his way out of the bedroom cautiously, not wanting to startle you. He leaned against the doorway and admired you for a few moments in your innocent state. Clad in just one of his blue shirts and your trademark knee highs, your hips swayed as you sang one of your favourite songs. He was content watching you in your happy state, but wanted to have his hands on you.

"Mmm something smells good," Beomgyu mumbles in his sleepy state, wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling himself into your neck. He didn’t want to comment on the fact that you were still here, afraid he’d scare you off like a deer in headlights. It was nice. He’d wanted to spend more time with you, but it seemed clear to him that you didn’t feel the same due to you always running off long before he woke up for work. He didn't want to lose what the two of you had (whatever that was), so was happy to just go with what made you most comfortable.

“Well, I tried making you an omelette, but it hasn’t seemed to go very well,” you poured and he peered into the pan. Personally, he thought they looked more like scrambled eggs, but his nose scrunched up as he smiled at your effort. He reached round and kissed you on the cheek softly and you froze.

"Beomgyu, I... think we need to talk-"

Beomgyu's heart pounded, he couldn't lose you, not now.

"Can we talk later?" He muttered against your ear as he gently nibbled on your lobe, making you weak at the knees. You nodded, easily swayed as he continued his ministrations down your neck causing you to let out little moans. After quickly reaching over to turn off the hob, he'd hoisted you up upon the kitchen counter, standing between your knees as he stroked them and played with the hem of your socks.

“Keep the fucking socks on,” Beomgyu growled, grazing his teeth against your neck and taking little nips, basking in how your body was responding to him. He gripped onto the underside of your knees and pushed them towards your chest, exposing your core to him. He situated himself snuggly between your legs, clothed cock gyrating against your thin undies.

Desperate. That's the only way you could describe the current situation. Mouths on each other like you were starved. Hands grabbing any part they could get their hands on. Every part of the two of you was pressed together and it was intoxicating. Beomgyu brought his hand up and tangled it in the back of your hair, bringing your mouth to him to envelop you in a passionate kiss.

You were both too needy to get undressed, only pulling back for a second to pull down his boxers slightly until his hard cock sprung out. You didn't waste a second, taking him into your hands and pumping him, needing to make him feel good. Needing him to know how good he'd been making you feel these past few weeks. His moans were so addicting. You swore you'd never heard something so sexy in your entire life.

"Need you now," you breathed out against his lips and guided him towards your core. He nodded and sunk into you, the both of you stopping to bask in the feeling for a second before he pulled back and began to drive his cock into your needy heat.

Your request to talk to Beomgyu was now long forgotten, your mind just filled with the rhythm he was fucking you open with. Mind dizzy with nothing other than thoughts of him. Your fluttering eyes opened to observe the beautiful man in front of you. Sweat gradually forming at his hairline as his fringe hung in his eyes. Chest rose and fell rapidly from the effort he was exerting. You swore you had never seen something so beautiful and sexy in your entire life.

Beomgyu’s eyebrows furrowed as he struggled to keep his erratic thrusts regular, balls slapping against your skin as he longed to get you to your peak. He was holding you up now, your body too weak from the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you. Your hands slid up the back of his loose fitting t shirt and took perch around his shoulder blades, nails digging into his skin in hopes to lose yourself in Beomgyu. He hissed with the pain but that only served to make him pound into you harder.

Bruising grip digging into your hips as he directed your body to meet his thrusts. Your head rolled back as you felt him hit that sweet spot inside of you that had you seeing fireworks.

Desperate moans of each others names were all you could communicate as you reached your high, the tightening around Beomgyu driving him closer to his own release. He continued to fuck into you slower now, not wanting to overstimulate you but being so close himself. The deep, measured thrusts helped ease you down from your high as his hips stuttered and he finished inside of you.

The sounds of your laboured breathing was all that filled the air as your bodies started to recover. When you were back down to earth and able to open your eyes again, you saw Beomgyu watching your face and trying to gauge your reactions. Neither one of you said a thing, but the silence spoke volumes; you didn't want this to end, nor did he.

"y/n, are you free today?"

He played with your fingers nervously, not able to make eye contact.

"Yes.”

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

A/N so I started this trash 5 months ago and only just finished it 🙃 maybe expect the other 4 members sometime before 2050??? thanks

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

hey!! can i request small scenarios of s/o asking aot boys what hairstyle do they like the best on them? (like braid, ponytail, bun, hair down, etc?) some fluff :)

you can choose the characters but pls do zeke, reiner and armin if you do it!! ty ^_^

✩ the aot boys & their preferred hairstyle on you ✩

✩ short scenarios ✩

*zeke jaeger*

zeke was going to take you out to dinner tonight. he had planned to bring you to the nicest restaurant in Trost. you, being the woman that you are, are taking decades to get ready. you’re in the master bathroom, fussing about your makeup and your hair. zeke is listening from the bedroom where he’s straightening his tie. he laughs quietly at you. unfortunately for him, you heard him.

“what’s so funny about me?” you ask, coming out of the bathroom with a hair brush in your hair. you point it threateningly at him. “you try dealing with all of this.” you gesture to your hair.

zeke throws his hands up. “relax, relax. you look just fine.” he adjusts his tie one final time and strides over to you. he reaches a hand up and caresses the side of your hair. “i always thought you looked prettiest like this.”

“like what?”

“like this. with your hair down.”

you sigh a breath of relief. at least your hair was taken care of.

*reiner braun*

you and reiner are at the gym today. it was a rainy, shitty day but he insisted on going. there was ‘no off days’, according to him. you didn’t mind going with him if it meant being close to him, but you would have much rather been at home.

he’s off on the far side doing leg presses. you’re sticking to the treadmill today, not wanting to break out in a real sweat. you two continue your sessions separately with occasional loving looks at each other.

you decide to put your hair in a high ponytail. the low ponytail was sticking to the back of your neck. it wasn’t a good look or a good feeling. right after you do, you get a text from your boyfriend.

‘why’d you put your hair up so high?’

‘i’m sweaty’

‘but now you look extra hot and every guy is going to look at you’

‘i doubt any guy is going to be attracted my revealing sweaty neck’

‘…i am.’

*armin arlert*

sitting on the couch, armin has no worries except for the fact of you taking forever with the snacks. the two of you had planned a movie night tonight. you picked the movie, of course. armin never complained about the things you put on tv. he just liked spending time with you. he’d sent you to the kitchen to get an arrangement of different snacks. that had to have been about fifteen minutes ago.

curiosity getting the best of him, he decides to get up to look for you. you’re nowhere to be found in the kitchen, chips and cookies just sitting lonesome on the counter. where could you have gone to?

“(y/n?)” there’s no answer.

armin heads down the hall, beginning to grow worried at the sound of your silence. he doesn’t see you at first. in the corner of the room, the bathroom door is open. there is light coming out of the room. he walks over to the open door to find you, looking in the mirror. you don’t look sad; you just look confused. you’re huffing and tossing your hair around, looking as if you don’t know what to do with it.

“(y/n), what are you doing in here?” armin asks. there’s a tinge of concern in his voice. “i was starting to get a little nervous.” he admits.

you turn to face your boyfriend. you turn your head to the side and put your hands on your hips. “armin, i need to ask you a question.” the phrase puts knots into his stomach.

“yes, baby?” he replies.

“what is one way i do my hair that you really like?” armin tilts his head.

“what?” his eyebrows furrow.

“i don’t feel like having it down. it’s bothering me but i can’t decide on what to do with it.”

“hmm.” armin goes silent for a few minutes, leaning against the door frame. you patiently away his answer. he brings a finger to his chin. “i like your hair any way you wear it. buuut, if i had to pick a favorite, i’d say a braid.”

“a braid?”

“a braid.”

“a braid it is then.” you agree and braid your hair.

you and armin spend the rest of the evening on the couch, drinking wine and munching on all of the snacks you prepared. you thank god armin picked something simple and not an elaborate up do you’ve worn a few times. he knows you. he loves you. you’d braid your hair forever if it meant keeping him around.

a/n: this one was fun! thank you!

[thestralluvr]

Lars Pinfield x reader headcanons part 1

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

- he’d have the usual socials like tiktok, insta and all that but his only post is a picture of you that you absolutely hate and his following is just his friends, family and famous cats.

- he probably has another instagram account for his cat basil, a chunky tabby who he adores with his whole heart.

- taps on the possessors enclosure (the possessor taps back it’s like a weird little high five) before he leaves and at this point it’s become an instinct.

- his work space is definitely an organised mess, you’ve got no clue how his system works but he surely has one.

- you guys definitely get takeaway at LEAST once a week (especially on a friday).

- claims he doesn’t know how to flirt yet every single word that comes from his mouth leaves you BLUSHING.

- he’d never admit it to anyone but he secretly loves reality tv 😭 it has him hooked and it’s one of his favourite parts of the day when he can just unwind with you and watch shitty television.

- this man just adores you, you’ll catch him just admiring your features like you’d hung the moon and stars.

- i feel like he’s a decent cook but a terrible baker, he never fails to set off the fire alarms.

- one morning he’d tried to surprise you for your anniversary by baking you a lovely breakfast.

- it ended with the pair of you standing on the front lawn in your pyjamas waiting for the fire brigade.

- baking is now left for you and uber eats.

- this man had a hipster tumblr phase i just know it and you take every opportunity you can get to tease him on it 😭.

- i’d imagine his favourite bands would be stuff like the kinks, tears for fears, the smiths, talking heads, soft cell etc. (he’s a music nerd).

- he loves gloomy rainy days, 1 because it reminds him of his home town, 2 because it’s the PERFECTTTTT weather to snuggle under blankets with you (his favourite activity).

- maybe has a few tiny tattoos that only you’ve seen besides one.

- one night the two of you went out with a few coworkers (much to lars’ annoyance) so what better to do than take the opportunity to get pissed? makes the boring conversations less boring right?

- anyway let’s just say it was an eventful night as you’d both woken up with the wonkiest matching ghost tattoos on your wrists.

- the pair of you weren’t exactly ecstatic to find your drunken decision but hey, they didn’t get covered up. besides, it makes you think of him whenever you see it so it can’t be that bad.

- he has a tendency to run his thumb over your little ghost whenever you’re holding hands or cuddling, it’s very sweet.

- you take turns being the big and little spoon every night but basil is always the tiny spoon.

- he’s a little touch starved so he never ever takes any little touch, kiss, and caress for granted.

- speaking of kisses, ALLLLL THE KISSES!!! forehead! head! hand! eskimo! cheek! neck! this man is just so lucky to be able to kiss you he never wants to stop oml i could cry he’s just the sweetest.

- basil definitely gets many kisses too she’s very spoilt.

i hope this was decent, my first time writing for this lovely man so i hope i did okay!! lmk if you want anything in particular for the following parts through my asks or comments!! <3

[lovelettersforthedamned]

re: “congrats on 200 followers, lovely!! you deserve 100x more! could i request 8 from the angst prompt + hurt/comfort 5 ❄️❄️”

oh my gosh i didn’t even realise i forgot to put a character - suppose that’s what happens when you spend all night on tumblr 😭 tasm Peter or Matt Murdock pls <333

Priorities

--genre: angst :(

--pairing: matt murdock x gn!reader

--word count: 1.1k

--warnings: language, mentions of alcohol, arguing, matt is the king of self sabotage, angst.

i'm a sucker for some good angst omg

“He hasn’t been alright (Y/N),” Karen sighs, “when he’s here he’s on edge. I know he can hear things we can’t, but it’s like…it’s like he’s not really here.”

You’re sitting next to her at Josie’s bartop, the crowd is mellow on this rainy Wednesday night. You can tell Karen is genuinely concerned about Matt, the look in her eye tells you so. You’re running through the possible reasons why your boyfriend could be feeling this way, but you draw a blank. You furrow your eyebrows, frustrated, “He’s been quiet lately, but he never brings it up.” 

The blonde in front of you takes another sip of her drink before she clears her throat, “I don’t know what’s going on, but I have a feeling it has something to do with the devil.”

You can only nod your head. You hate when Matt gets in over his head about his nightly activities, it’s hard when you can’t do anything about it, not like he lets you anyway. “I’ll keep an eye out for him the next few days,” you reach into your wallet for cash, “just keep me updated about how he is at work, okay?”

She stands with you from the seat, giving you a tight hug as you say your goodbyes, and heading home to your apartments. You can’t help but think about Matt the entire walk home, your mind taking you to dark places. It wasn’t hard to worry about him, considering the fact that he loves to push himself past the limit more often than not. 

You would never tell him to stop, right? 

***

For the next few days, you start to pay attention to Matt when he’s home. The first thing you notice is that he seems to always be in a rush. He’s quick to get ready for the day, and he’s quick to get ready for the night. You’re not sure where this sudden boost in drive has come from, but what Matt doesn’t realize is that the quicker he riles himself up, the harder he plummets. 

You’ve gotten multiple texts from Karen during the day that Matt is blowing up on Foggy while clients are in the room. You know that something’s wrong, and you don’t know how to fix it, but you have to try. 

Later that day, you caught Matt putting his suit on to go out into the city, the sun draining the light away from your apartment. As he’s about to put his helmet on, your voice interrupts his movements, “Matty, can we talk real quick?”

He sighs, already walking away from you, “I’m about to leave, can we talk later?” 

“How long have you been feeling like you need to do more for the city when you do more than enough?” 

Your question catches him off guard, he stops in his tracks, his back facing you. He can hear that your heart is beating faster than normal, the question making you nervous. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he responds, quickly. 

You cannot help but laugh at his response, “You’re a terrible liar.” 

Shaking his head out of frustration, he takes a deep breath, “You don’t need to worry about anything that I do when I’m out at night, trust me.”

“Another shitty lie, Matty,” you walk towards him. Once you reach his back, you raise your hand to hold his arm, giving it a soft squeeze. Unconsciously, he leans into your touch. You know that he’s been craving this kind of softness since he started to act differently. “You know that I still worry, even though you tell me not to. I can’t help it,” you speak softly. 

And suddenly, it’s like his hard demeanor returned with a flip of a switch, “I need to get out there (Y/N),” he shrugs his arm out of your hold. You’re left there standing like an idiot in the middle of the living room as you watch your boyfriend walk away from you. You can’t help but feel angry, it’s like everything you said went through one ear and spilled out the other. Turning on your heel you walk to the closet, pulling down the suitcase, letting it slam on the floor. You don’t care. 

The obvious slam caught Matt’s attention, his worries now focused on you. He hears more shuffling coming from your shared bedroom, along with sniffles. He calls out to you, before walking to you, “(Y/N)?” 

He’s met with no response, just the sounds of your muffled sobs and the rustling of clothes. As he gets closer to you, he can taste the salt in the air as your tears stream down your face, and suddenly he’s panicking. “I never wanted it to get to this point,” you zip up the suitcase as you rise to your feet, Matt’s sudden appearance scaring you as you see his figure. 

His eyes are darting back and forth as he tries to de-escalate the situation, yet his tone is still sharp,  “What point?” 

You’re still a mess, running your hand across your eyes to wipe your tears, you smear your makeup across your skin. With an uneven breath, you respond, “You’ve reached the point where you stop valuing yourself and the people around you to dig your own grave, Matthew.” You try to make your way around Matt, but he doesn’t make it easy as he holds your shoulders, keeping you in place. 

“Don’t make me do this,” he says quietly, “don’t make me choose.”

You think that you’ve actually gotten through to him, you hope a sense of clarity has finally washed through his senses. Until you see his head twitch, his ear lifting towards the air. You can’t hear anything, but you know that he already has an exact location of whatever commotion is happening in the streets of Hell’s Kitchen. 

With your boyfriend distracted, you shrug his hands off your shoulders, “Looks like I didn’t have to make you choose, you’ve already figured out your answer yourself.” 

As you’re walking out of the bedroom and towards the front door of the apartment, Matt calls for you, “I’ll be back in a few hours, then we can talk, okay? Just–please, don’t go anywhere.”

And just like that, he slips out of the window, not even waiting for your response. Maybe Matt’s heart will never fully belong to you, and you should’ve known that when you first met him. He has always and will always dedicate himself to the city, and you’ll just have to come to terms with not being his priority. That is if you stay. 

--author's note: I KNOW THAT MY 200 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION IS DONE, BUT I HAD A BURNOUT PERIOD SO HERE'S ONE LAST FIC!!! ❄️ anon this is such a good request, thank youuuu! don't forget to like, comment, and reblog to support me and your fav writers! my asks/inbox is open, so send me your juicy ideas baes...ok, bye ily<3333

[roosterforme]

A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 9 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley counts down the hours until you return home. You try to dodge some appealing offers intended to lure you away from Top Gun. And then you break the news to Bradley about when your wedding will be.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, and swearing

Length: 3200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley was up early on Thursday morning, but he had to keep himself from texting you right away. The last thing he wanted was to cause a distraction. It was your big day. You'd worked hard for it. He wanted to give you plenty of space. 

He didn't like taking the back seat, but he knew now that sometimes it was necessary. Especially since you told him you understood now why he hit Josh back in June. 

He'd hit that asshole in the face a million more times if he had to. Thank goodness Jake got through to you about it, because Bradley wasn't going to back down.

"Shit!" he growled when he spilled coffee down the front of his flight suit. He was tired and cranky and unfocused without you at home, and even Tramp was giving him a weird look. "Mommy will be home in two days. We'll both feel better then."

Bradley mopped up the mess, and when he made his way out to your shitty car, he was surprised to find the sky looked like rain. You loved the rare rainy day in San Diego, and Bradley really wished it would hold off until you were home this weekend. Just thinking about a rainy Sunday at home with you was too much. Bradley could practically feel the luxury of your body against his, the cool sheets rubbing his legs as he listened to you sighing his name. He could almost feel your weight on his lap while you fed him Marry Me Rooster, the sound of the rain becoming your playlist. 

"Pussy whipped," he muttered, wrenching the driver's door open and ducking down into the car just as the rain started coming down. He gently slid the key into the ignition, but nothing happened when he turned it. "Come on," he groaned. The car had given him an issue every single day this week. He tried to crank it again. Nothing. "You're joking."

Dead battery. Okay, he could deal with a dead battery. He ran through the rain to the elderly neighbors' house and knocked on their door. They were sweet, and Bradley always pulled their weeds for them, so of course they would let him use their car to jump your battery. 

So he pulled their Buick into the driveway next to yours, and within a few minutes, he had your car up and running. 

But after returning their car and running back through the rain, he was soaked to his compression shorts. "Son of a bitch!" he growled, dashing back inside to change into a dry flight suit. He could still be on time if he left immediately, so he didn't bother drying off his hair.

He ran back out to the driveway and made it to his scheduled simulation with one minute to spare. 

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

"I am so impressed by you, Lieutenant," your boss told you while he helped you test the equipment that would be used during the presentation. You had about an hour until showtime, and you were more excited than nervous.

"Thank you, sir. I love what I'm working on right now. Please keep me in your lab forever."

Bickel chuckled and lined everything up behind the podium for you. "I'll be happy to have you as long as you want to stay. But I wouldn't be surprised if a more enticing opportunity comes your way. Something might even lure you back to Annapolis permanently."  

You pictured the Craftsman, and your backyard with Tramp running around. You pictured your car parked next to the Bronco in the driveway. You pictured your pretty kitchen, and the piano next to the sliding glass door. You pictured Bradley, cracking up and kissing your neck while you made dinner.

"No way. I'm set on Top Gun, sir."

"Well then, we'll keep you. And I'm going to submit paperwork for your next rank promotion come the January cycle."

Your heart skipped a beat, and you tried to speak, but he quickly added, "Assuming you don't blow this presentation. Which I know you won't. Now, let's get started."

You texted Bradley to let him know you would be shutting your phone off shortly, but you got an immediate response that made you smile. 

Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3: I miss you too much. I'm counting down the minutes until I can pick you up on Saturday. Good luck. You're amazing. 

He was sweet. He was always so sweet to you. And he was probably having a lovely week without you, but still wanted you to feel missed. 

"They are about to introduce us, and then it's time to shine. Make me look good," Bickel told everyone. You made sure your hair was still in its bun, straightened your uniform pins, and then strode out to the front of the room to the polite applause. 

There were several hundred in attendance to hear all about the work that was done in your lab, most of which you had directly contributed to. So you breezed through everything, barely needing to consult your notes. And when it was time to take questions at the end, nearly everyone in your group was smiling. 

"How does your work relate to the portion of the pentagon budget used for the un-manned aircrafts?" asked a Commander who was seated near the front with a sour smirk on his face. "Or are you unaware of that competing research?"

You adjusted the microphone clipped to your shirt and thought about Bradley, Phoenix, Jake, Bob and Payback. You thought about Fanboy and Coyote and Maverick. 

"Our work is not related to the un-manned projects in any way, sir. Simply because we don't believe in naval aviation without naval aviators. That way of thinking is misguided and misinformed. And I'll be happy to explain it to you."

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

Bradley almost never had headaches. But he had one today. You'd apparently only had time to send him a thumbs up letting him know everything went well. He hoped you'd been swallowed up by a sea of admirals asking about your work. 

He also hoped your car would make it to the mechanic for him to switch it with the Bronco. He'd needed to have Nat help him jump your shit car again after work, but luckily he had a voicemail message letting him know that the Bronco was ready to be picked up. So he was planning on switching them and praying the prognosis would be that your car was not repairable. 

But as he crossed the bay bridge, Bradley could already hear you complaining that the car never ever gave you any issues, so it must just be him. He rolled his eyes so hard as he drove slowly through the pouring rain, nearing the far end of the bridge when the car stalled out. 

"What the fuck," he gasped, trying to pump the brakes and restart the engine. "A fucking death trap!"

Bradley guided the careening car to as safe a stop as he could manage, nudging the front end against the guide rail off the side of the road at the end of the bridge. He saw his phone lighting up on the passenger seat. You were calling him, most likely on your way back to your room after dinner. 

"Baby Girl," he said as calmly as he could when he answered, but his nerves were shot. 

"Roo! I've had the most wonderful day! Do you have a minute?"

He glanced around at the traffic that continued to drive past him through the rain, and all around the interior of your stalled out car. "Sure do, Sweetheart. All the time in the world, since I've got nothing else to do today except push your piece of shit car off the side of the goddamn bay bridge!"

"What happened?" you demanded. "You promised you'd be nice to it!"

"I was nice to it. It was not nice to me."

"I told you it gets finicky in reverse!" you reminded him. 

How reverse gear was supposed to help him drive across the bridge was beyond his comprehension at the moment, so he just took a calming breath and said, "Everything is fine here. Please, tell me about your day, Sweetheart."

You squealed. "Well I just got back to my room, and I spilled cocktail sauce on my dress at dinner, which was very annoying. But Sonya had a Tide to go pen in her bag, which was really helpful. But anyway, I nailed the presentation, Bradley. Like absolutely destroyed it! I even shut down an obnoxious officer when I took questions. I just wish you could have been there!"

"I'm proud of you, Baby Girl. And tomorrow night is the dinner you've been looking forward to."

"Yes! And then I get to come home to you and rest and relax! And I have a treat for you that I think you're going to love."

"You got me a treat?" he asked, picturing some new lingerie in his future. "Can I get one for you too then? How mad would you be if I bought you a new car?"

"You're being dramatic. I'm sure whatever you did to hurt my car's feelings will be remedied as soon as I get back."

He once again glanced around at the dead car. "Great idea. Just come back to me, and honestly everything will be better, okay?"

"I love you. I'll see you on Saturday, sexy." You hung up without another word, leaving Bradley to once again check under your hood in the pouring rain. 

"I hate you. I hope you know that," he told the car before pounding his fist repeatedly on the steering wheel.

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

Your green wool dress was the perfect thing to wear to dinner with the admirals in October in Maryland. You were feeling great. You rocked your presentation. Josh could go fuck himself. And you looked like a million bucks as you took a cab with your boss to a swanky restaurant. 

"So, how are your wedding plans coming along?" Bickel asked you, and you suddenly felt like you wished you could tell him more about it than just confetti cake. The funny thing was, he was there that first day you ever met Bradley, and really, he had been around for your entire relationship. 

"Coming along. Bradley has been really patient with my work, and once I get home, we're really going to nail down our plans. But something small, nothing crazy."

"Evelyn and I just eloped. Save yourselves some time and money," he recommended with a smile as he helped you out of the cab. 

The restaurant was lovely, and the dinner ended up being perfect. And by the dessert course, Admiral Jennings was probing you to see if you'd ever consider Annapolis for your career.

You'd had a glass of champagne and a few cocktails, and everyone was really enjoying themselves, but you just shook your head. "Honestly? Probably not, Admiral. I love Top Gun aviation. I don't know that I would find the same niche at the Naval Academy, even though your labs are impressive."

She just nodded at you and said, "You'll keep my number on hand? If you change your mind? Your presentation was excellent, and I would love to steal you from North Island if you ever wanted to leave."

You laughed and said, "Never say never. But I plan on taking over his lab someday."

Bickel pretended to glare at you, but you knew he really wanted the best for your career. 

When you eventually got back to your room in the barracks, you called Bradley since it was three hours earlier back home. 

He answered after one ring. "Baby Girl."

"Roo," you sighed, and he groaned in response. 

"We miss you too much. Flight lands at two? I'll be at the airport by one just in case."

"How do you manage to be deployed and not miss me?" you asked, tossing your dirty clothes into your suitcase and packing up your things.

"I miss you the entire time I'm deployed. It's just maybe a little easier to get through the day when I know there's no way I can communicate with you."

"That makes sense," you told him, stripping off your dress and admiring your tattoo in the mirror. "Are you excited about your treat?"

You heard him moan softly. "Is it something lacy that you can wear when we make another video?" he rasped, and you actually had to squeeze your thighs together.

"No.... but it could be combined with something that is," you replied, making sure you had a cute pair of clean underwear left for the morning. "Would you like that?"

"Absolutely, Sweetheart. I can't wait for my treat. And you."

When you ended the call, you spread some ointment on your tattoo and pulled on Bradley's UVA shirt for bed. You could shower and finish packing in the morning.

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

Your six hour flight was the only thing between you and Bradley at the moment, so you were anxious to take off. You settled into your window seat with the rest of your lab team across the aisle from you. You stretched out in your leggins and Bradley's huge UVA sweatshirt when you noticed newlyweds in matching Just Married shirts walk past. You smiled at them as you checked the time on your phone. 

Your lock screen was a picture of you and Bradey in front of the Bronco outside the Hard Deck. Phoenix had taken the picture, so of course you and Bradley were both mid-laugh because of whatever she had just said. The sun was setting in the background, and the San Diego sky had that magical, saturated look where every color was represented.

"Perfect for a wedding," you muttered, putting your earbuds in and selecting a playlist as the plane started to taxi. 

What did you even want for your wedding? Your dress was with you in a garment bag. You already had Carole's veil. You'd need pretty underwear and some shoes; you could remedy that in a day. Bradley could wear anything he wanted, you didn't care. Confetti cake was a done deal. You'd have so few wedding guests to invite, you could probably get away with a simple catering menu. 

Just that pretty sky in the background would be enough. 

You checked your phone calendar. Maybe November could work after all? You'd immediately loved the idea of having the same anniversary month as your parents and Bradley's parents. Your heart was beating a little faster as you considered it. 

Your parents would be out for Thanksgiving. You'd only have six weeks or so to make it all happen, but now that you could picture it all in your mind, you wanted it. And you wanted it next month. It would be perfect.

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

Bradley arrived at the airport an hour early. He managed to snag an empty bench near baggage claim, and then he continued with his research. He had about twenty tabs open in his browser, each one with information for a Hawaiian honeymoon. 

He had eliminated a few hotels already. Nothing seemed good enough for you, but he had found a few with nice perks. Like one with a private pool and hot tub. And another one with private bungalows where he figured you could get nice and loud. A butler to deliver room service so the two of you could stay in bed all day? Sounded like a necessity to him. 

God these places were expensive. But he just smirked, because you hadn't mentioned a budget, and he wasn't about to bring it up. 

A text from you popped up letting him know your flight had landed. He wanted to hold you in the worst way. He also had to break it to you that your car was in the shop with a plethora of issues. He didn't know if he should tell you that before or after he got you home, because you would definitely notice that it was missing from the driveway. 

When he heard the announcement for your flight, he made his way to baggage carousel F and waited. Finally he saw you weaving through people as you smiled at him. You were the most stunning woman he had ever seen in his life, and you were his. In fact, you were wearing his sweatshirt and now running towards him. 

"Roo!" Your voice made the biggest smile break out on his face as you dropped everything you were holding and let him scoop you up.

"I missed you, Baby Girl," he said just as your lips found his. Your kisses were gentle yet needy as you threaded your fingers through his hair. 

He held your hips while you wrapped your legs around him. "Is this what it feels like when you get back from a deployment, Roo? Because I feel like I've missed everything about you, every inch of you, and it's only been a week."

He rubbed his nose softly against your cheek and nipped at your lips. "That's exactly how it feels. Like nothing has ever felt as good as holding you."

You whimpered softly, and he kissed you harder until he heard the carousel start up. As you eased down his body until you were standing flush against him, looking up at him, he stroked your perfect cheek with his thumb. "Sweetheart, how did you come back with more bags than you left with?"

Bradley watched you nudge the thick garment bag with your toe as you casually shrugged. "Oh, this? In the garment bag? That's just my wedding dress."

His heart was pounding, and he was speechless. He tried several times to formulate actual words, but you just smiled and kissed his Adam's apple. "Cat got your tongue?" you asked softly as he held you tight. 

He swallowed a few times before he managed to ask, "You bought your wedding dress this week?" 

"Mmhmm. Well, my mom did. But that's it, right inside the bag. Texted photos to Nat and Maria, and they approved it as well."

Your tone was so relaxed, merely speaking facts to him, but Bradley could barely handle this information. "That's the dress? You're going to marry me in that dress?" he asked, pointing at the plain black bag as his feet. When you nodded, he scooped it up like it was sacred and hung it over his arm. "Don't leave it on the floor!"

You just laughed and pointed out your suitcase and one of your huge plastic tubs. 

Bradley gathered all of your equipment and your suitcase, but he refused to let go of your dress bag. 

"Can I see it?" he asked softly as you raised the handle on your suitcase. 

"Absolutely not, Bradley! Not until the end of next month," you said with the cutest grin as he laid your dress bag across the bins and picked them up.

He was afraid to ask. He didn't think his brain could handle any more information. But the smile on your face was goading him, and he wanted to know everything that was going on inside your mind at the moment. 

"What's at the end of next month, Sweetheart?" he asked as you took a small step away from him, wheeling your suitcase behind you. 

You turned back to look at him over your shoulder, that same perfect smile adorning your lips. "Our wedding."

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

She went and did it, made all his dreams come true. And he hasn't even seen his treat yet....that will be in the next chapter, promise.

PART 10

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[ironstrange1991]

Defender Strange Random Headcanons

Word Count: 0,800k

Warnings: None.

A/N: Headcanons written picturing the same reader from my previous Defender fics. Let me know if you want headcanons for the other Stephens

1. Defender is definitely a winter person, but since the accident he feels a lot of pain in his hands on cold days.

2. Spooky season is his favorite time of the year. Secretly loves Halloween but he won't admit it because he thinks halloween is a kid's thing.

3. Loves to read. He can spend all night reading. Likes to read novels but prefers to read his magic books. Always ready to learn something new.

4. Forests on rainy days is probably his favorite landscape. He would definitely live in a cabin in the middle of a forest in a tiny town if he could.

5. He's always working, but when he can rest he'll want to spend all day cuddling on the couch with you, eating junk food and watching your shitty tv shows.

6. Loves classical music, but also enjoys classic rock and other music genres. Loves Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds.

7. Amazing cook. Defender can cook any type of food with incredible ease.

8. Watch recipe videos secretly to learn how to cook new dishes to impress you.

9. Writes poetry.

10. Presents you with poems he writes for you.

11. Wears glasses to read, but is terrified you'll see him with them on.

12. Meditates when is very anxious for a mission.

13. Reads to calm you down when you're having an anxiety crisis or just because you asked him to. Will usually read until you fall asleep.

14. He doesn't usually have nightmares, but when he does, he loses sleep and ends up in the library reading.

15. Has nighmares where he's losing you.

16. He is sure he's not strong enough to live without you anymore.

17. It's a light sleeper. Sleeps on his stomach when sleeping alone in bed, but prefers to sleep with you in his arms, usually using his chest as a pillow and caressing his hair.

18. Very romantic and affectionate.

19. Kissing your forehead is his favorite way of saying he loves you without having to say the words.

20. Loves children. Is an amazing father.

21. Takes too many risks in his missions trying to protect everybody else.

22. He is a very serious man.

23. Thinks very carefully before saying anything. Reason always above feelings. His smiles and laughter are reserved only for you.

24. He's definitely a know-it-all, but tries not to come off as arrogant. He doesn't always succeed.

25. Very organized. Hates things out of place.

26. Hates having his things taken away from where he left them.

27. Very strict. He lives by his rules and expects everyone else to follow them too, especially you.

28. Loves to teach. He's a wonderful teacher, but since becoming the Sorcerer Supreme, doesn't teach anymore.

29. Likes animals, but believes the Sanctum is not the place for them, so won't allow you to have them.

30. He's not as vain as he was before the accident, but he spends a lot of time grooming his hair and beard. He's always flawless.

31. Before the accident he used to work out, but now the missions are enough to drain his energy.

32. Feels guilty for spending too much time working.

33. He loves that you take care of him when he arrives tired from his missions.

34. Loves hot baths with you. Loves that you wash and comb his hair.

35. Loves that you massage his back.

36. He doesn't swear a lot, but when he does, his favorite curse word is fuck.

37. It's not competitive.

38. He is extremely respected by everyone as Sorcerer Supreme and leader of the Defenders, for that reason he doesn't usually get into confrontations, but when necessary he can be extremely angry.

39. He doesn't usually get into fights or arguments, least of all with you. Tries his best to work things out by talking.

40. He knows how to hide his emotions very well, but he manages to open up to you a little.

41. Loves going to the theater. Loves musicals.

42. Gets mad if you disobey any of his rules and end up putting yourself in danger.

43. He hates asking for help with anything, especially if it has to do with his hands, but if he needs it he will ask you for help.

44. He hates driving since he had the accident so he uses magic to go anywhere.

45. Breakfast is his favorite food.

46. He prefers salty food to sweet food.

47. He doesn't usually drink, but when he does, he prefers wine to whiskey.

48. Drinks whiskey when nervous about something or extremely anxious.

49. Never gets drunk.

50. Doesn't tend to get mad at you easily, but gets mad when you get in the way of his work. However, he ends up giving in when he realizes that you just want his attention.

51. Will always be the first to apologize to you, even when he's right.

52. Is extremely resistant to pain. Usually takes care of himself when he comes home hurt after a mission, but will let you take care of him if you ask.

53. He is very quiet when he is tired or upset about something related to work.

54. He is extremely considerate of you.

55. Loves to take care of you whether it's because you're sick, on your period, had a bad day at work or any other reason.

56. He is not jealous.

57. Not given to public displays of affection.

58. He gets extremely shy when you kiss him around his defenders friends.

59. He is extremely selfless. Will always put your needs first.

60. He tends to be very focused on work, but sometimes he catches himself daydreaming about you which always brings a smile to his lips.

61. Is secretly afraid that you will one day get tired of his lifestyle.

62. Trust your love for him, but fear that one day you might leave him.

63. Never got over his sister's death, still blames himself for it and can't talk about it, not even to you.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

DEFENDER STRANGE MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

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[stormblessed95]

Jikook's Rainy Day Fight

So FINALLY getting around to making this post. Lol so honestly go read this one first. It's a HUGE post I made where I really broke down my thoughts about the rainy day fight before they told us more about it. I still stand by alot of these thoughts for the most part now that we know more. The only thing I might switch up a bit is the very last paragraph where I said something like "this clearly has nothing to do with BTS as a whole and seems like a couple-esque fight more than anything else." Imma walk that one back with the new info given lol

Regardless, read this post first before proceeding. Thanks!

Okay, all done with that post? Great! So here is what JK said about the rainy day fight:

And here is what Jimin said:

Overall, the dramatics were ridiculous (i say lovingly) for what this fight was about and somehow it still gives off couple vibes simply because of the way they escalated this "speak more politely to your hyungs" conversation into a "I'm cutting you off" and a slam dunk hug in the rain reunion. Lol

(The way they both think back the most fond over that reunion hug is so freaking cute)

Things I want to additionally point out.

- Hobi hyung getting angry was the barometer of "wow. I super fucked up this time" which makes me cackle 🤣 the man is an angel lol

- after brushing aside his other members remarks and everyone else huffing but leaving, Jimin was the one to make the effort to pull him aside to have a more serious conversation about it. Trying to take it seriously with him, give him respect in return and not make it seem like he was being ganged up on. It speaks once again to how they have always been so incredibly close to each other. This was back in 2015 ish and they made these allowances for each other and gave each other their trust.

- Both Jimin and Jungkook told the same story, but took the blame for the fight upon themselves. They recongized what happened but when sharing the story with a third party, made it seem totally like their own fault (when clearly they both had some anger issues and bad judgements during that fight). It seemed like they were lowkey trying to protect the other and mostly just felt bad about their own contributions to the fight rather than the other person's. Clearly the forgiveness was absolute.

- Jungkooks snarkiness clearly got Jimin feed up to the point where he snapped and said something he clearly didn't mean, but also clearly felt. He probably felt disrespected and felt like that wasn't the type of bond they had cultivated together. And JK clearly felt bad and was upset himself and even after they separated, when he found himself upset and lost, his first instinct was to reach out to Jimin. And even pissed off and mad, Jimins first instinct was to answer JKs phone call and make sure he was okay and safe. Just for them to reunite not too long after, both feel shitty for their behavior and find a secluded spot for them to actually talk it through before they went home and to bed. Regardless of their full day of schedules right after that too. It's incredibly sweet of them.

- its still lowkey giving off couple fight/break up and reunion vibes. Lmfao but only in how they handled their dramatics, not in the actual fight. Nor do I think they were a couple during this time frame. I do think they were harboring crushes on each other, but that's a seperate conversation. And the fact that JK held onto feeling guilty over his bratty attitude and causing this fight so many years later??? Clearly, it had a lasting impact, even though he still acts like a brat to Jimin sometimes lol its done in a teasing manner rather than a disrespectful one. And it's something that the two of them clearly encourage in their bond together.

- the acknowledgement of that through this fight (and the subsequent conversation on the roof and make up afterwards) they got closer is worth highlighting and mentioning too. When a fight/disagreement is done in a healthy way (and while it didnt start that way. They clearly got there), the communication and the way you can get to know someone better can be so helpful for having an even better relationship. Platonic, romantic or any other kind. I'm glad they spent that time together on the roof. It was probably something they both really needed that night and lead to even more emotional vulnerability and comfort between the two of them going forward I'm sure.

Thanks to everyone for waiting so long for me to write this up and for anyone who read this far too. 💜 I know I ramble a lot! I think this was everything I had to say about the rainy day fight though! 💜 Hope you all have a good rest of your day/night!

[lucystark12]

i very very rarely listen to running up that hill but i am right now and it's just like holy shit YOU HAD TO BE THERE (weird reflection post that i just randomly started writing and couldn't stop for some reason about my depression lol that was supposed to be cute and lovey about my love for stranger things but ended up being really somber)

i didn't immediately watch season 4 when it came out on may 27th, because friday may 27th was the day that i came back from a week long class trip to the deep depths of northern washington (hell on earth, no mans land, if you will) and since my parents were out of town for my mom's 50th birthday, i was going straight to my best friend's house to stay over for the weekend. that i did. my best friend everly, whom i was staying with, always falls asleep really early, so at some point in the early hours of may 28th, probably around 1 am, i pulled out my phone and starting watching stranger things. i had spent the entire spring rewatching after all.

i got to where chrissy got possessed and immediately had to turn it off because i was in seventh grade and the bone cracking thing scared me to death (this was before i watched GOT for the first time, my tolerance for gore was not as high as it is now)

such began the first of many times where i'd neglect watching my favorite show for no reason. i did it with house of the dragon season 2 as well. so, a few days later i left everly's house and my grandma came to stay at my house with me while my parents were finishing out the rest of their trip.

at this point, the whole internet was already talking about running up that hill. it was that sunday when i decided i had to watch the show. who the fuck was i kidding? i loved stranger things. problem was, my grandma is and will always be the worst tv hog in the history of the world, so with a shitty disaster movie playing in the background, i put in one airpod and finally started watching stranger things season four.

this was a particularly rainy spring for portland, something that literally scarred me at the time because i was nearing the end of the worst depressive episode of my entire life, and the sun not being able to peek out of the trees like it had in late may last summer and every summer before that was something so insignificant yet something that really was sending me off the edge. i didn't realize how far off the edge i already was at the time. my other best friend had just started taking medication for her depression, which manifested very differently in ways that mine didn't. she was mad. she was resentful. between the few moments that she was the same laughing, loving girl i'd always known, she hated me and our other friends and hated herself more. my cousin likewise had depression so bad he couldn't get out of bed. he hadn't been to school in three months. i wasn't like that. i thought i was happy comparatively. i was diagnosed with OCD the year before and thought that was an explanation. it took getting a new therapist and unpacking my behavior back then to understand what was really happening. i never cried. when i did, it was violent. it came in bursts that lasted all afternoon. i started and i didn't stop until i fell asleep. i threw things, i refused to talk to anybody. i was failing math, which i've never done before. i couldn't understand a thing. i didn't even care to try. i hated myself. the only thing i ate was a bowl of craisins at school every day because i couldn't physically force myself to eat. i thought i was just tired even though i got ten hours of sleep every day. i was always exhausted. my therapist couldn't diagnose me because after years of being taught i had to be perfect, i refused to tell even her that there was something wrong. i thought i was stupid, i thought i was ugly, i thought i was worthless. i thought i was just experiencing what it's like to be twelve years old.

so, another rainy and overly misty sunday afternoon passed me by as i reached the ending of the fourth episode, and finally, the fated song that i'd been hearing all over tiktok and didn't quite understand yet started playing out of max's walkman. i watched the entire scene with my grandma barking questions at me about why i was tearing up.

running up that hill was my most played song of 2022, just ahead of africa by toto.

now i'm not going to say that stranger things brought me out of said depressive episode, because it didn't. the four months ahead of me were four of the hardest of my life still to this day, just as the six before them had already been. but i've grown a lot since then, and two years later when i was in spain alone, sick and crying, experiencing a little week long bout of similar feelings to the ones i felt when i first watched season four, the show weirdly managed to find me again.

the week before i had left to study abroad in spain i had learned that i got a B+ in math instead of an A- in math because my teacher wouldn't round up my 89.9%. it might seem trivial especially because a B+ is incredible process from the algebra i had nearly failed for the second time in the row the year before, but sometimes things like that can be enough to cause somebody to fall back into old habits and feelings. estranged from everybody and everything i'd turned into coping mechanisms for hard times like these when i was literally half the world away, i didn't know what to do. so, when i was in my dorm with food poisoning from a salad i'd eaten the night before, i decided to press on the byler analysis video that had popped up in my youtube feed. such began what i've been calling my "stranger things renaissance"- a second stranger things phase that's been going on since late june.

not to sound overly bylerish, but i've been seeing a lot of parallels between this summer and the summer season four came out. for reasons out of my control, i've been forced to spend a lot of time alone. this summer when i've started feeling lonely, i've taught myself that rather than overthink, to channel it into something else like writing, or doing something that will calm me down. now when i'm home alone and haven't seen a friend in a few days, i'm not sad anymore. i think "well damn" and then i move on with my night. i'm no longer depressed. with the help of my new therapist, i've gotten really close to growing out of my OCD. i no longer have to pray every night. i don't wake up in a cold sweat if i go to bed at 10:31 instead of a "perfect number" like 10:30 or 10:35. i rarely lock my bedroom door anymore. and no, it's not perfect yet. i'm not "cured"- i still have my crying episodes. i still have moments, even though they're few and far between now, where i feel the same way i did back when i was twelve.

but i'm moving on. things have shifted in my life. i've grown up and this show has with me. i started watching it on halloween of 2019 when i was in fifth grade and my friends and i did the "goodbye mike" trend in my basement. i watched the first three episodes that night and finished it for the first time during covid. it was with me through that hard time back in the day, and for some strange (haha) reason, it's with me now, and will probably continue to be with me until the show ends, because like as typically happens when i fall back into obsession with something i liked when i was a little younger, (the mcu, harry potter which remanifested in the marauders) it becomes more than a phase, but a part of me in some weird way.

stranger things may have its flaws and it might not end the way i wanted it to, but for the rest of my life it will be special to me regardless. i'm finally for the first time in my life older than the characters. i was seven when season one came out, eight when season two, ten during season three, 12-13 and season four, and will be 16 in season five.

so thanks, stranger things, for helping me, and thanks even more for showing her that there's nothing wrong with the many different aspects of her that she'd been led to believe were wrong. as corny as it sounds, she couldn't have done it without you 🫶

(say hi to baby lucy, because it's always more fun with pictures, and because depression can happen to anybody no matter what they might look or act like on the surface)

rip 2022 lucy, you would have loved the byler sunset pictures that you somehow would have found a way to relate to reddie and your best friend that you were highkey in love with. you also would have loved mike wheeler if i could explain who he really is to you because said in an EARLY analytical essay that "All I really gained from season four though was that I absolutely hate older Mike and that I wish he would’ve died instead of Max." in the same essay you say you wish you could throw mike of a cliff. oh the irony. (please laugh)

ps: if you ever find yourself feeling anything like what i described in this post, know that it gets better even if it seems like that's what everybody says and it seems like it never will. there were times back then when i didn't even know if i'd make it to the age i am right now, and now i'm at one of the happiest points ive ever been in my life. know that even if we've never talked before, i love you and i believe in you. my blog is always a safe place if anybody out there ever needs anybody to talk to.

[thatonecrookedsmile]

"Effective today, you are dismissed from any employment at Joey Drew Studios. This is due to complaints received about the grim and disturbing subjects of your work. May your dreams come true somewhere else."

[Opportunity is always just a step away from you]

"Gent Corporation looking for research subjects. Pays three fifty a week."

[When one story ends,so does another unfold]

-Umbrella-

-----

My participation in an Ink Demonth would not be complete without at least 1 drawing that takes a few days to complete.

I've had this idea in my head for a while, so this prompt was a good opportunity to put it into action. Featuring Riley Wells and Alan Gray.

I don't remember if I've ever drawn a rainy scene before. This was a first attempt. I liked it, actually. I think it worked for what I wanted in the end. (Thanks old tutorial from 2004) (The raindrops running down the umbrellas I had to learn by myself. Probably not the best thing possible, but better than nothing).

I'm happy with the overall atmosphere of the drawing and how it turned out. I think I managed to encapsulate the original vision I had in my head. I kind of messed it up during the process but I managed to turn it around and get it how I really wanted it.

When it comes to Riley and her joining Gent: all things considered, it would make more sense that she ended up at Gent in a similar way to what Archie Carter talked about in his audio log. She probably found a newspaper about Gent looking for test subjects and decided to go with it. She may have met Alan for the first time when she started working there, no doubt. Rather than meeting him before she joined the company in a "he was the one who offered her the job" situation, as I showed above.

I only went with this second scenario just because I found it more interesting to draw. And I wanted to touch on the possibility of Alan offering the chance to work as a test subject directly for certain people (without saying too much about the darker details of the job, of course). It's kind of evil, but at the same time, so is Gent (shockingly/j), so it's all good. (Realizing now that I may be making shit up for a character that has yet to be characterized. If this isn't the Bendy experience I don't know what is) Also, poor girl, she was fired from a shitty company and went to get a job at another shitty company. How sad.

Also, as an addendum, I don't know if their heights are 100% accurate. My vision for my Alan design is that he's a tall guy. Taller than Joey and, for that matter, Riley. When I was drawing him I realized he wasn't that tall and I had to resize him in the end. And Riley I never thought about how tall she is. Maybe her height here is a little off-model. So, don't take this drawing as my definitive vision of how tall they are. Because I don't even know for sure lol.

Next drawing is simpler so it probably won't take too long. I hope.

[hackerqueen]

Another Love

Chapter 1 Heartburn

warnings: this fanfiction will tackle heavy topics such as mental health and violence. there will be sex scenes.

– Fuck!

This word was often repeated every morning in my apartment. I was not an early bird, quite the opposite. I definitely preferred to fall asleep late in the evening, often in the middle of the night, to sleep until noon. Unfortunately, I was no longer a teenager, but a twenty-three-year-old woman who had to go to work every morning to pay the rent and bills. Life was often a bitch, wasn't it?

More curses spilled out of my mouth as my windshield wipers sped faster than Dan making up another shitty joke. Or a meme. His memes sucked, though I never told him that.

Duskwood was usually cloudy and rainy at this time of year. This is the second time I am convinced of this, because I moved here exactly two years ago. At times like this, I ask myself why? I could live peacefully in sunny California, sipping drinks on my balcony. But sometimes life writes its own scripts without asking you.

The pouring rain made my commute a bit more difficult, but I finally made it to the office where I was supposed to stay for another eight or nine hours. My boss threw papers at my desk, which didn't bode well. Halfway through work, I looked at my co-workers. Since I was a child, I liked to observe, analyze and draw conclusions about human behavior. So it was also now. However, the current view made me drowsy boredom. A group of people locked in a glass building, caring only if their shitty paperwork will pay the rent and pay off the mortgage. Will it allow them to go out to dinner at a restaurant at the beginning of the month, or maybe they'll get lucky and they can afford four days away at the end of the year? Corpsrats whose minds were completely closed to the world around them. I was a hypocrite judging them. Because I was absolutely the same. I also chased after money, abandoning my dreams and passions.

Deep, philosophical considerations were interrupted by the ringing of the phone. Seeing the name on the screen, I smiled slightly, despite my obvious tiredness. I picked up right away.

– Hello, hello. - greeted a nice, almost singing voice, which finally regained this lovely note – I'm picking you up from work today.

– But..

– Without any buts. We'll be choosing decorations today, you can't be absent! Nobody I know has better taste than you. Besides, you know what Thomas is like. He'll agree with me about everything, even if I pick the worst shit.

I burst out laughing. There was no contact with Hannah for several weeks. She needed hours of therapy, shed tears, and shutting herself off from the world to recover. To understand what happened. Has she come to terms with it? Was there any reconciliation at all in this situation? No one in the group seemed to agree with it. Damn, how were they supposed to accept that their longtime friend, the man who always made them laugh, did something like that? They couldn't even talk to him. Only Jessy had this honor, but I don't know if it didn't affect her even worse. I was just a shadow. A hiding shadow that listened to their conversation.

– Okay, you convinced me. Be there at 4pm – I told her shortly and said goodbye. Maybe this day won't be so bad after all.

* * *

– Thomas, don't interfere. – I grumbled under my breath as I flicked through the catalog with bouquets

I heard his loud protests to which Hannah reacted immediately.

– Babe, you know I love you, but I'll be carrying the bouquet, not you. Unless you want too?

The man got angry and left us alone. I suppressed the urge to comment on her rather dubious choice of husband and rolled my eyes, but a mischievous smirk must have affected my face hearing my biting thoughts.

Did that sperm really win?

I stopped quickly when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

– I can see you're not getting along, but just a little more. It will be better after marriage. Thomas is just stressed out. – she assured me and I nodded – You know, two years ago it all ended. This anniversary has such an effect on him.

I felt a shiver run down my spine. How... how come it's been two years since this nightmare ended?

– Have you forgotten? – she asked, seeing the pale expression on my face

– N-No. – I coughed at my broken tone of voice. – It's just that... it's a bit weird? That, time flies so fast and we live like two years ago?

– Can we do otherwise? I think we'd be best off living for them. – she said, then smiled sadly and squeezed my hand – Have you been at his grave?

I sighed, slowly shooking my head.

– Me neither. I'm not ready for that yet. –she confessed honestly and my heart clenched. Today was the day I had to face my past.

Getting into the car, I typed into the GPS the cemetery, which was located on the outskirts of Duskwood. Half an hour later, I was there. I gripped the steering wheel, letting out shaky breaths. I had no idea how long I sat there, but I finally moved and took out the rose I had bought on the way out of the back of the car. It was intensely red, reflecting my feelings at that moment. My mind was unconscious, my feet led me all the way to the grave. No wonder, my body knew the way by heart. I looked up at the name carved on it.

Jake Donfort

I swallowed. One candle was lit, illuminating this late evening. So Lilly must have been here already. I crouched down and carefully placed the flower on his grave. It may have been two years, but some things haven't changed. My heart still burned as I remembered the black-haired hacker who once meant so much to me. Now my heart squeezed even tighter as I realized something else.

The memory of him was fading, a little at a time and I could feel myself forgetting.

Time passed inexorably, and my upside down life returned to normal. Two years ago, I couldn't imagine my life without him. We had a promise, right? He promised we'd meet. He promised he wouldn't let us be separated. However, his promise was burned with him in the mine fire because he never came back. Even though he said he would.

[leeizzy]

Roy hates rainy days. It's not only because of his fucked knee. No. Roy's been hating those days with every part of his aging body. Ankle, muscles, headache, even the one joint on his right fucking pinkie. He hates those days, when they remind him the fact he is pushing forty.

"What do you want, grandad?"

Roy growls through his teeth.

"A fucking fucked Precious Moments collection figurine."

Nothing personal, really. That one little prick has always been the sort of shameless in the most annoying way. Jamie Tartt frustrates him. With his messy hair, glistening skin and sparkly fiery eyes under the rain and frail sunlight. On and off the field, he reminds Roy of something he can't shake. So yeah, maybe it's a bit personal. And bitter.

~~~

Roy hates rainy days, when clothes smell moldy and trainers are ruined faster. Even he has money now to afford a cabinet of fancy water resistant ones. Still a bitch to clean all the dirt and mud though. He thinks to himself, watching Jamie wipes sweat off his face and isn't it just the pinkest shade of pink.

"What's next, coach?"

"Breakfast. Rain's getting heavy." 

His knee has been telling him to hurry up already. 

"We'll have about 10 minutes to reach my place before..."

"Roy! Please don't take this the wrong way, but I think I might throw up now."

Jamie puffs and clutches at his arm, trying to stand straight, with both hands clinging to Roy. They stands still when a bunch of kids running by, splashing water in an enormous puddle on their trainers. The warmth on his elbow is comforting, strangely, soothing his ache from cold air that rain always brings.

~~~

"Sorry. I don't know where else to go."

Roy has thought he was drowning, the moment he opened his door to a bruised and bleeding Jamie Tartt at 2 in the morning.

Jamie sits in Roy's kitchen, in his night trackie, oversized t-shirt, messy walnut hair and hands bundled up in his niece's dragon blankie. No word has come out since he walked through the door. Every thing feels so wrong, when Jamie is anything but a cocky mouthy little bubbly golden retriever. It makes Roy sick in some way. As if nothing makes sense and the world is spinning out of his callous hands. 

There'd always one or two kids, every year, through out his days in the academy. Jamie doesn't want to say and Roy doesn't need to ask. He knows the kind of scar you'd have from a beating like those. He sees it in Jamie, the same eyes he still haves, facing his own shitty parent, even though any one of them is no longer a defenseless child. Different excuses, but the stories are still the same. He cleans up the cut on Jamie's cheek in silence, with all the calm and softness that he can muster in himself.

"I don't mean to bother..."

"There's a couch in the living room. A bed in the guest room." - and some space on my bed, - "Pick one, Jamie."

Rain is tapping gently on his window. And Roy can't seem to sleep. He keeps waking up from a nightmare, or perhaps a long buried memory, that there was screaming and banging out of his bedroom door, the sounds of gentle rain, rumbling thunders and someone's distant crying.

Roy stares at the wall that restless night, thinking about Jamie's sleeping in a room downstairs across the hall.

~~~

Roy hates the rain. 

It's like Pavlovian or some shit. It worries Roy, whenever he senses the cold and the smell in the air. His heart drums a loud and steady rhythm, expecting, but dreads a knocking sound that could come on his front door. 

"You're still welcome when the sun is still up in the sky, you know."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Even when I'm not beaten or soaking wet or drunk?"

"Yes, you prick."

I'm so fucking sorry. That's what he's been trying to say all this time, after one particular night outside the kebab place, at arse crack hour in the morning, fighting over some stupid thing.

Roy tosses Jamie a towel, turning away, because he's definitely not ogling at him and those glassy eyes, or fighting the urge to wrap Jamie up in said towel himself. The rain is making him shiver. 

"Don't want to come knocking only to find out that you're not home, coach."

"I really doubt that, Jamie." 

He always looks so young and fragile, standing like this on his doorsteps. Every fucking time. Soft light dances on Jamie's skin and Roy lets out a breath, knowing the baby prince (of pricks) is not bleeding or hurt anywhere, in any way. His trendy white shirt is almost see through, hugging him tightly, that sends some kind of jealousy to Roy's mind.

"What? So no fun night, ever, with some lucky lady, sharing a bottle of wine?"

"Are we talking about you or me?"

The familiar voice follows him inside, kicks off their private little dance. Roy turns on the stove. This is usually the moment Jamie would ask for tea and he would hand him a glass of warm milk.

"Aw. You'll make such a good house wife."

"Yeah yeah. It's just fucking work and groceries, and home for a wrinkly old spouse like me." - Roy doesn't mention almost every waking moment training and caring for a rising fragile footballer, of course.

Jamie fills the space with laughter. It feels nice, having him here, knowing he is safe. Roy contemplates, relaxing in the heat that is spreading from where their knees touch under the kitchen counter.

"You know. I used to have a poster of you on my wall."

"I know. I saw it. And you still."

Jamie smirks, throwing a tissue at him.

"Do you what I do when I look at it?"

"I don't know, draw on it?"

Roy slips off his chair, gets on his good knee to pick up the tissue and ask himself, exactly what he had let Jamie done to him. So many things, apparently. Curse? Decorative wall paper? Throw darts at it? At his heart? The possibilities are endless considering how far their relationship has come. 

"Nah. I would never ruin my mom's gift." - Jamie plops down the floor right in his face. - "Always want to do this more."

All his answers are out the window, the moment Jamie put a kiss on his lips. It was soft, in the most painful manner, but planted with bravery and hope, just on the corner of his mouth. Roy ends up staring at those blue grey eyes. They are screaming in his silent home, that 'this is it, either a penny or a fucking pound'.

He manages to look strong even when terrified. Fucking bastard, and his drunken careless bravado. There's no whiff of alcohol on him. Good. Neither of them makes a sound. So Roy can't help teasing him just a bit, letting Jamie's brain goes into panic mode with frantic scrambling and rambling. 

"Right. Um. Well, yah know, If you want to punch me now, or figuring out a way to let me down easily, I just want you to know that I respect you. Always been. And I lo- Ah... I'll be gone, no-, in a..."

Roy shuts him up with a proper kiss this time. Under his kitchen counter, Jamie's smiling silly on his lips, beaming brightly like a gorgeous sun.

Roy still hates the rain, though. Not that much, mind you. But maybe, secretly, he loves what it has brought him, sometimes.

*Inspired by this fic 'Fragile' - by gingerwren

[nicistrying]

Mon 1st April

Rainy, muddy walk with Mags this morning after a family sleep-in until 9am! That's the latest we've woken up in a long time 😂

Called my sister to catch up, was hoping to get out for a run but it waa fairly pouring down when I got off the phone so just did a quick leg day at home instead before visiting the in-laws for dinner

I'm so glad I did that workout bc I dread to think how I'd be feeling if I hadn't bc I currently feel like absolute shit after spending the afternoon with them 😂 I just cannot do anything right. I buy a shed, it's the wrong kind of shed but how was I to know? I look at wedding evening reception invitations, I'm wasting money and I should just text people to invite them. I say anything about improving the house, I'm told don't bother bc you won't stay there long will you it's too small you need a bigger house. I literally always leave their place feeling so small and shitty and stupid. Anyway I ordered the evening invitations, and a dress for the registry office which is pretty much the same shape as the one I have, but it's sparkly and a bit more fancy so hopefully more legal ceremony vibes, especially if I get a little shawl or something to wear with it

Adjustable straps so I can make it less booby, and I'm a full foot shorter than this model so it'll be longer on me. I hope to god it fits nicely when it arrives and I can stop looking at fucking dresses.

Anyway, back to work tomorrow. Office day so 5.30 wake up. Urgh. Trying to remember most of this weekend has been wonderful. This afternoon was a blip and I'm trying not to let it ruin it

[ax-y10]

The Zones Of Regulation

In which- You struggle a bit, and Mr. Soot is able to help

A/n: Literally just an au I have for Wilbur (guidance! Wilbur), Based off when I went into the guidance counsellor office when for my fucked up sleep schedule.

Chapter info : basically a vent of my own life, Wilbur being a supportive guy, one swear, Wilbur is 26 and reader is 17, isn't a teacher x student because yuck, teacher! Wilbur, student! reader, really long, hope it's alright.

Masterlist:

---

Usually you enjoy rainy days. Why was today so god damn shitty?

First, you forgot to hand in your Agriculture assignment. Then, you had two classes in the one space for History. you failed my math test next. And, to top it off, you got your seating plan changed in English because kids were being idiots. HOW MUCH WORSE CAN IT GET!

You had an appointment with the guidance counsellor that you were meant to see last week (that never happened) so it got rescheduled to today. It was about your home life but descended into your sleeping habits. At least Mr. Soot was always up for a chat.

Making your way up the stairs, you heard other kids talking about you. "Look at them" "What are they doing?" "Where are their friends?" "Ha. Sook".

Reaching the door, you knock rapidly, hoping that you didn't get the wrong time. A seperate teacher, Ms. Campbell, greeted you and invited you in.

"Who do you need, sweetheart?" She asked politely, not wanting to disturb your already frantic self.

"Is Mr. Soot available by any chance. I have an appointment with him." you respond, on the verge of tears.

"He's currently talking with another student. He won't be too long. Have a seat in his office for now." She informs.

"Alright, thank you." You nod, before walking through the short maze called the guidance block and finding a seat in his office.

His office was decorated nicely, with distractions and calming senses for the tough conversations, and coping mechanisms for stressful situations. Many colours were visible throughout the space, from vermilions and oranges to navy blues and purples. He had fidget toys next to the seats, including fidget cubes, cards, kinetic sand etc. It was a very calming space to say the least.

Waiting patiently, munching on a small chocolate bar your friend gave you, he walks in.. looking different than usual.

Usually he is wearing a yellow sweater, his black jeans, his casual dress shoes and a beige jacket, with a beanie sat atop his head.

Today, though, he's wearing a random cream sweater with grey sweatpants resting on his hips, random converse and a white collared shirt underneath the sweater, missing the beanie that you always sought comfort in.

"Hello, Y/n. Glad your here," He says with the sweetest smile you've ever seen, compared to his usual droopy smile when he's on playground duty.

He gestured towards the fidgets next to you, noticing you picking and scratching at the sides of your fingers, clearly nervous.

"How is it going?" He asks quietly, almost at a whisper, knowing how this sort of stuff can upset you easily.

Your usual visits to the guidance block usually resulted in having to be walked back to class, tissues in your grasp, half an hour late to class. And you knew this visit wouldn't be different.

Eyes drifting around the room, desperately trying to detour the conversation another way, not wanting to pour your emotions onto him. 'But that's his job. To deal with people like you.'

Tears pricking at your eyes, he notices your uncomfortable state and directs the conversation another way.

"So-" he pauses, "how's your cats, Daisy and Twix? Are they alright?" He asks, earning a slight chuckle from you.

"They're alright, yeah. They're having a lot of fun at my dad's house. Dad loves animals, so he adores Daisy and Twix." You smile, as he watches you, making sure you are actually alright.

"Hows your mum? If you want to talk about it? I'm not forcing anything." He reassures.

A tear slips from your eye. Fuck.

"She's alright. Nothing has changed between us but at least I'm getting better. Getting away from her behaviours. Not having to bottle up my emotions anymore. I'm safer at dad's now. He understands. She doesn't. I got help from Ms. Thornton about a month ago, when you weren't available and she gave me strategies-"

Another tear.

And another.

And here it comes.

The floodgates open and he's on the ground infront of you, calming you down.

"It's alright, sweetheart. You don't have to continue if you don't want to. Would you like me to talk about some things?" He asks, not needing to, knowing you love anything to calm your stressful states.

"Please-" a shaky breath, "Please sing?"

And almost immediately, he starts singing your favourite song. You told him about it at the very first appointment with him. Starting the first lyric, his voice soothed you immediately, 'Cigarette Daydreams' runs past his lips and into your ears.

He was musically talented and often taught the music class, which you were in. You'd stay behind with him and talk about everything. His music, how you're learning how to play the guitar, how different instruments and music platforms work. But they always ended in you asking to sit with his guitar and strum a few chords, showing him what you've learnt so far. And you recently started learning "Jubilee Line', a song he wrote. You enjoyed it so much, and he sat on a desk in front of you, helping you if you stuffed it up.

You zoned out halfway through him singing, playing with a new fidget he had placed next to the chair. He placed his hands on either side of your legs and stood up, walking back over to his chair, and seating himself again.

"Do you want to keep talking, or do you want to head back to class? The bell went off 2 minutes ago." He'd asked, and you rapidly shook your head. He was a great comfort to you and you had a few more things to talk about.

You talked about how you are scared to tell your family a myriad of things because of their beliefs, how you a scared of what is going to happen in the future, and before you knew it, he was guiding you back to class, and letting you walk in, watching you to make sure you were alright.