#and they were the tiniest bit smaller and that it was enough to be uncomfortable was upsetting

[strwbabydoll]

pairings: best friend!Harry x fem!reader

summary: Y/N's having a bad day and who better to help than her best friend

word count: 2.2k

authors note: hi hello!! here’s something that’s been sitting in my drafts for a whileeeee while i work on chapter three! :) hope you enjoy!!

TW: for a mention of self harm but the only thing she does is pinch her arms over and over again, please read with caution or don’t read if it triggers you or make you uncomfortable. i love you❤️

----

Y/N’s always been such a happy person, always there for all her friends, always having a smile on her face and making sure her friends are okay. She’s always been that one friend that no matter what time it is, she’ll always be there to lend a listening ear and provide the needed solace. 

She’s always been that friend that’ll give the ones she cares about the last of her anything, always willing to give the last of her money to help a friend in need, willing to give the clothes off her back if it was necessary. She’s just a giver by nature. She’s always been the friend to go to whenever you need advice, always taking care of her friends, giving them whatever’s needed. 

Because she’s grown to be able to mask her emotions, it’s hard to tell whenever she’s not able to fully give as much, whenever she starts feeling down and gets in her head. No one notices as she starts becoming quieter, smaller, less. 

She very rarely has bad days, her sunshine personality weeding its way through the dark clouds and allowing her to smile and laugh her way through the day. It’s easy to forget why her day was bad when she’s around friends, but it’s especially easy when she’s around him. Her best friend, her right hand man, her everything in a sense. 

Her and Harry had become friends when she stumbled into him and spilled her tea all over his cream flared pants and she over-apologized until he laughed it off and rubbed her head gently. After that, they became inseparable, always attached at the hip. They were close, close enough to where whenever they were out by themselves they were constantly asked how long they’ve been together, they were constantly mistaken for a long term couple. At the question, they’d both blush softly and deny the question by laughing and shaking their heads as they smile and say they’re just friends. 

They’ve always been just friends and neither have entertained the thought of becoming more, not seeing the point of appeasing everyone else as long as they were happy. He’s always noticing her, takes in the small details and keeps them all in a special folder in his brain and his heart. 

He notices how she’ll sway lightly in her seat whenever she’s happy, he notices how her nose scrunches whenever she genuinely laughs, he notices how she never leaves without a hug and ‘I love you’, how she puts her hand over a sharp corner when her friend bends down to get something, how she makes sure to never split the pole and to always give a little snack to any cat or dog she sees on the street. 

He also notices when she starts distancing herself in conversation, how her lip will quiver and her eyebrows furrow the tiniest bit when she’s upset but can’t sneak away, he notices that when she starts playing with her rings that means she’s in her head or she’s uncomfortable, he notices how her glossy eyes will lose the light in them whenever she’s having a bad day. He notices things that she doesn’t even notice in herself and he prides himself in knowing her so well. 

She’s his complete other half, his soulmate, he can’t imagine his life without her and refuses to even think about that. He can just feel whenever her energy shifts ever so slightly and he’s always been there to help her. 

But he knows that when she has the bad days she prefers to deal with it alone, she’ll start excusing herself from the friend group when she’s asked to hang out. Her most used excuse is she’s on her period and her cramps are just killing her, and he knows that’s when it’s bad, when her pain is at its worst and she can’t bother to attempt to mask. 

Her body aches, she can feel the pain rooting itself deep in her bones, she’s tense as her muscles scream at her. Her bloodshot eyes sting painfully as fat and heavy tears stream down her pink cheeks, her lips chapped no matter how many times she licks them. She can feel her head pounding and throbbing from how long she’s been crying, her throat sore and tight as she hiccups. 

Her arms are beginning to form a slight hue of red and she can feel bruises beginning to form as she pinches them quickly, trying to distract her mind from the intense feelings of her own emotions flooding through. The muscles in her stomach are tense and uncomfortable at the amount of heavy sobs and pants that flow through her body and out of her plump lips. 

She can’t remember what triggered all of this, her brain too fuzzy to even remember if she grabbed her list to ground her. As she cries and screams into the empty space, she can feel her lungs expand as she breathes, she can feel the light touch of her loose tank top brush lightly against her skin, she can feel the loose strands of hair brushing against the back of her neck. 

She feels as if she can’t breathe, it feels like her bedroom is caving in on her, the small room only seeming to grow smaller and smaller as her breath gets stronger and shaky. Her hand scrambles around her messy bed, searching for the list containing ways for her to calm down and a shaky sob racks through her body when she realizes she can’t find it. 

She closes her eyes tightly as she brings her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them, burying her face into her legs she can’t help as she shakes her head. She doesn’t know how long this has been going on, how long she’s trapped herself in her room, but she hopes it’ll be over soon. 

She grabs her phone from her beside table and with shaky hands she unlocks it and clicks on her messages app. She quickly taps on the conversation she’s looking for and attempts to write out a message. 

——

Sweet Girl: H, can u come over please

She doesn’t have to wait long for a response from him as her phone dings a couple seconds later.

Haz: Of course sweet girl. Do you need/want me to bring anything for you? Some food maybe?

Sweet: Girl: if u want, just want you rn

Haz: Ok bug. I’m gonna get us some food and then I’ll be over. See you soon x

Sweet Girl: kay, thanks H. love u

Haz: I love you sweet girl, just try to breathe for me, I won’t be too long and I’ll use my key so you don’t have to get up. 

——-

As she tries to focus on her breathing, attempting to take slow and deep breaths, she wipes her face to clear away the tears on her cheeks. She sniffles and wraps her arms around her torso gently as she lies in her bed, the soft material and warmth from her cover enveloping her and makes her smile softly. 

She’s only able to enjoy a couple moments of peace before another painful sobs rack through her body. She sobs into her pillow, the pain searing through her body as the tears stain her cheeks.

She hates this, she hates not knowing why she’s so upset, she hates everything to do with her bad days. She wishes she was able to ask for the help she needs but she’s so much of a people pleaser, she can’t bear the thought of not being there for her friends when they need her. 

A soft knock at her bedroom door jolts her gently from her thoughts. She quickly tries to wipe her face from any tears and snot streaks before telling the person to come on. Her door squeaks softly as it opens and his face appears in the small space. 

As he walks into her small bedroom, he smiles sadly at her in which she returns the favor. Her eyes light up just a bit when she spots the brown takeout bag with her favorite Mexican restaurant logo printed onto the cheap plastic. He leans down and kisses her forehead before sitting down on her bed gently and placing the bag next to him. 

“Hi” she whispers and he smiles 

“Hi, feelin’ any better?” He says and she nods 

“Not really, thank you for uh coming over” she says as she leans her head on his shoulder.

He hums softly as he wraps one arm around her shoulder and squeezes once. 

“Y’know m’always gonna come. You don’t have to thank me. Wanna talk about it?” He asks gently and she shakes her head lightly.

“Not much to talk about, dunno why it happens. I just get really sad out of nowhere.” She closes her eyes gently as she relaxes into his hold. 

He nods in response and they sit in silence for a couple minutes before he reaches over to the bag and holds it out to her. 

“Here, you should eat it before it gets cold.” She smiles in response as he nudges her hand with the bag. She thanks him quietly as she grabs the bag from him, smiling bashfully she begins to open the bag and the styrofoam box inside. 

As she eats in silence, she’s not able to eat as much as she normally would. She takes a couple decent sized bites before she begins to move the food around. 

“M’gonna put this in the fridge, I’ll be back.” He says quietly as he makes a way to grab the box, she sighs softly before looking at him. 

“Sorry..” he shakes his head in return.

“Don’t be sorry lovie. M’proud of you for eating as much as you did.” He says before walking out and setting the box in the fridge before walking back to her room. 

As he comes back into her room, he hums a soft song as he makes his way to her bed and wraps his arms around her, squeezing tightly. He kisses the top of her head before whispering into her ear. 

“M’so sorry you’re feelin’ like this lovie. But you’re not alone okay? You have so many people who care for you and love you.” He can hear her sniffle softly and be squeezes her once. 

“Not your fault Haz. I know I’m not alone but I don’t wanna burden anyone.” She says and he shakes his head.

“You’re never gonna be a burden. We want you to be happy, be okay, we want you to not have to suffer alone. All of us worry about you, it’s okay to ask for help, angel. We’re not gonna judge you.” Her quiet tears slowly become louder as he speaks, she shakes her head and he rubs her back.

“It’s okay not to be okay. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to be in pain. It’s okay to ask for help. It’s okay to accept the love you give out, angel. You give and give and give to everyone else, and I know you don’t give yourself the love and energy you deserve.. let us love you how you love us, let us help you. Let us care for you. We’re not gonna judge you sweet girl.” He says and she grabs his t-shirt tightly before sobbing into his chest. 

She can feel the tears streaming down her cheeks and wetting his shirt as she cries into him. She can’t find it to be embarrassed at how loud she’s being and how she looks, not with his hand rubbing small circles on her back and how his words have sparked a sense of warmth in her stomach. She can feel it fluttering throughout her body while he whispers all these soft and sweet words in her ear. 

She can’t remember how long she’s been crying, and she goes to move away from him and he stops her. 

“Y’okay now? You don’t have to move if you’re not ready yet.” She nods before scooting closer to him, their thighs mashed together and her head resting on his shoulder as he rubs her shoulders softly. 

They stay like that, sitting in the comfortable silence for a while before she yawns softly and catches his attention. 

“Y’tired?” He asks and she nods 

“Sorry you spent your day with a crying mess.” She says with a sad chuckle.

“You’re my best friend Y/N. I’d gladly spend however long with you no matter if you’re sad or happy. As long as you’re okay, I’m happy. Want me to stay with you tonight?” He asks and she shakes her head. 

“Uh uh, go have fun with your other friends. I think I’m okay now. Thank you for everything H.” She says as she squeezes him softly before moving to the head of her bed and getting under the covers. 

“Text or call me if y’need anything angel. I mean it.” He says and goes to tuck her in, resulting is a soft giggle to breeze past her lips.

“Okay, dad. I love you.” She says a smile playing on her lips as he leans forward and kisses her forehead.

“I love you sweet girl. Sleep well and have sweet dreams.”

[skxllz]

started; 11.14.23

not proof read

“ hey- ”

voices could be heard - someone talking. someone with a deep, yet soft rumble of vocals. his voice, it sounded all too familiar. yet- as your eyes blink open, only to shut again, you can barely register the tone and the words he spoke.

It's like everything was under water, but you definitely knew it was a man speaking to you. his presence even seemed familiar... comforting. you knew everything was okay, that you're absolutely fine, but that didn't stop your subconscious from panicking at your will.

“ dwayne... ” you croaked, tiredness in your tone. your words slurred, while your eyes slowly blinked. once, twice... your vision still wouldn't focus.

you heard whispering, and then footsteps. why did the slapping of those shoes sound familiar? like... sneakers, almost.

as you felt the rough skin of someone else's against your hand, you jerked, surprised. “ hey... ” it was that voice again. though, this time around it was quieter; softer. “ it's me, baby.. It's only me. ”

“ dwayne? ” you exhaled, trying to force your eyes open this time. your movements were futile at first, unable to properly move your eyelids. It's as if you were under sedation, or a drug- but eventually you cracked your lids open just enough to make out the blurriness of a figure.

tan skin... his hair looked darker. at least, you think it's his hair. you couldn't actually tell. “ dwayne..? ” your voice came out just the tiniest bit louder this time, while you squinted, trying to focus your eyes.

a small chuckle could be heard. you heard a sound, like someone shuffling their feet- before the uncomfortable object you lied on dipped. was it a bed?

your hand moved, just slightly. you felt crumpled softness, that was luke warm under your tingly fingers. by the texture of it, the fabric definitely felt like sheets. and, now that you were slowly coming to, you could feel the bounciness of a pillow behind your head.

“ hey, princess. ” dwayne's husked voice is what made you look up - given that it was right next your ear, now, you were startled. but he soothed you, by running a hand over your hip and down to your stomach.

It made you realize something.

why was there no bump?

and also... beeping? how did you just now hear that?

“ where's my baby...? ” you whispered, moving your own hand messily to feel at your abdomen. your movements were staggered, hand shaky. as you press down, you wince- it hurt. your stomach hurt, as did the space in between your legs.

your whole body was achy, actually. not actually in pain, but it's almost like those cold, bitter chills you get when having the flu. or those aches you'll get in your limbs after a workout if you don't do stretches. It was irritating, but not necessarily painful.

still, it made you question-

dwayne's amusement filled chuckle snapped you out of your thoughts again.

feeling a hand run through your hair, only for a kiss to be pressed to your forehead, you... instantly relaxed. dwayne's touch and caring nature always calmed you. even though you were still internally panicking, though, you somehow knew everything was alright.

“ he's in the nicu, honey. ” dwayne rasped into your ear, the hand that was on your stomach moving to wrap over your own. his thicker fingers squeezed inbetween your smaller ones; gently cradling your hand. “ he's safe. I wouldn't let anything happen to our son. ”

oh, right- that's right. It was slowly coming back to you...

although your mind was very foggy from the pain medication that was pumped into your veins, you can somewhat remember what had happened. your water broke- inbetween, you remember being rushed into an ambulance. then, through the halls of ghe hospital, dwayne refusing to leave your side while paul and marko whooped in the background.

you briefly remember david smacking them on the heads and telling them it wasn't the time to be goofing around. It made you crack a small smile.

but, that led to the painful memory. 16 hours of hard labor. from then on, your memory was spotty. all you could recall was voices that faded in and out.

“ how much did he weigh? ” you mumbled, managing to finally flutter your eyes open. the light in the room was dim, thankfully, but you still squinted because you weren't used to it.

you could feel dwayne's fingers cascade down the back of your scalp, and over your nape. “ seven pounds, eight ounces. ” his hand ghosted over the top of your back, where your shoulders connected. It made you shiver with a grin. “ he has your eyes... little guy wouldn't stop crying, though. ”

that.. that's what made you frown. “ I didn't even get to hold him.. ” you sighed, only to maneuver your hips back. you used your thigh as a crutch, to turn your body and face dwayne - but not without muttering a ‘ damn it ’ under your breath from the twinge of pain that shot down your tailbone.

“ careful. ” the male's hands moved to help you- and usually, you'd insist on doing things yourself, but you let dwayne guide you down this time around. your body was much too shaky and just tje gesture itself warmed your heart.

once you guys were face to face, your eyes flickered up to meet his own. “ hi. ” you whispered, letting out a tired giggle after. he grinned back, those dark eyes of his flittering over your face.

“ hi, gorgeous. ” he whispered back, raising his palm to cup your cheek. dwayne leaned in, capturing your lips in a small kiss.

you pulled back immediately, a grimace taking over your face. “ wait- ” your palm pressed to his chest. “ I haven't brushed my teeth.. ”

dwayne paused. he stared at you in disbelief- is that actually what you cared about right now? “ y/n, baby. ” he sighed out a chuckle. “ I don't care. ” his lips lowered to your once more. “ my mate just gave birth to our child... ” his hand moved, thumb rolling to rub over your bottom lip. “ I'd love to kiss her, bad breath or not. ”

a silence settled over you as you stared him in the eyes, struggling to hold back a smile. dwayne was always so sweet, and caring, and considerate- and he just didn't care. that's what you loved about him, and the other boys. they were all unique little hooligans that just somehow, someway, managed to wriggle into your heart and into the depths of your soul by acting themselves. It was... amazing.

soothing, to know that.

“ then kiss me. ” you finally stated in a mere mumble. dwayne didn't need to be told twice, though- he was on you as soon as permission was granted.

your giggles and exchanged words could be heard all tge way into the hallway of the floor. the doctor, who overheard you two, smiled to herself. she hated to interrupt the moment, especially since you had finally managed to fight off the sleepiness from the pain medication- but of course, it was to benefit you both.

“ mrs. l/n? ” the light knock to the door caught your attention. you stopped your little wrestle with dwayne, who was busy kissing at your neck, to look up curiously and towards the door.

the female smiled, “ hello. I'm dr winslow, I'm the one who delivered your son. I'm guessing you don't recall, by the look on your face. ”

you cleared your throat. dwayne had pulled back by now, to give you space to talk. however, he was still lying beside you; encouragingly rubbing circles into your hip. “ uh, no- I don't. ” your voice came out quiet, since you'll still weren't fully awake. “ but- it's a pleasure to meet you. thank you for making sure my baby is alright. ” you paused, thinking those words over. “ he is alright, isn't he? ”

dr winslow chuckled, nodding her head. “ yes, he's completely fine. he's as healthy as a horse. though, ” she chewed on the tip of her pen while looking over your chart, trying not to laugh. “ I've never seen such a new born cry as much as him. I'm guessing he really must want his mother. ”

your heart could have melted right then and there. thank god it didn't; you didn't want to die before meeting your son.

“ can.. can I see him? ” you questioned softly, playing with the fabric of the blanket between your finger tips. It was a nervous habit of yours, to just randomly toy with things when anxiety creeped up. but dwayne immediately took notice and curled his hand around your wrist to soothe you.

the doctor smiled to you, showing that there was nothing to be nervous about. “ of course. I'll have your nurse fetch you something to drink, and then we'll see how well you can stand. If your balance isn't too bad, we can try walking - but, if you need any assistance, we'll get you a wheelchair. ”

a grateful, sheepish grin graced your lips. “ thank you, so much. I really appreciate it. ”

“ anytime, ” she nodded, before turning and stepping out of the room, shutting the door on the way out.

you were so excited, sitting there and smiling to yourself. you never thought you'd see yourself in a position like this one; in a hospital bed, with your son in the nicu not too far away.

your son.

your son.

you had a son now.

.. nothing stopped you from excited squealing, and hitting your face into the blanket before you.

dwayne, of course, could only watch with wide eyes.

[roosterforme]

Old Habits Die Hard Part 9 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: It's Mardi Gras weekend, and Bradley should know by now that his actions are always going to have consequences. 

Warnings: Angst, swears, smut, fluff

Length: 4000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (fuckboy college student Bradley)

Check out my masterlist

Bradley breezed through his classes on Friday. This weekend was his fraternity's Mardi Gras party, one of his favorites each year. Usually he loved it because of all the tits on display. This year, he'd be there with you, which was perhaps even better. 

"Why do I even waste my time?" he muttered, scrubbing the bathroom again. He had invited you to sleep over all weekend leading up to the party on Saturday night, and he didn't want you to have to use a disgusting bathroom. He also had to go with Jeff and Dev to pick up kegs soon. That ought to be fun. 

Dev tried to keep the peace, but Jeff was still condescending. "Looks like you had a fun time in the study room yesterday," he told Bradley with an eyeroll.

Bradley just grunted, lifting one end of the keg. "Yeah." Yesterday, in the moment, it had been amusing to know that Jeff knew Bradley had fucked you in there. Now, Bradley was uncomfortable thinking about it. That should have been private, just between you and him... and maybe whomever was studying in the next room over. 

And now Jeff had changed tack, and Bradley wanted to throw the keg at him. "She any good? Tight pussy?" Jeff asked casually, and Bradley shot him a warning look. "Just curious. She's cute, but I'd never hit it now that you've had her." 

Bradley would love to punch him in the face. He had to take three deep breaths before saying, "Don't talk about her like that."

Jeff started cracking up. "How else should I talk about her?"

Bradley never talked about any girls like that. Sure, he'd enjoyed a lot of them, Phoebe many times over, but he couldn't stand the banter. "Don't fucking talk about her at all. How does that sound?" 

Dev pushed Bradley out of the way and carried the keg with Jeff. "Chill guys."

If Bradley got into another fight, he'd be gone. Only three months until graduation. He needed to keep it together. 

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

Bradley had his hands all over you at the party on Friday night. It was a smaller crowd, presumably leading up to the rager that the Beta fraternity would be throwing the next night for Mardi Gras. Every time you took more than a few steps away from Bradley, he pulled you back to him. 

"Let's go upstairs, Sugar," he whispered to you over and over again. He had such an eager look on his face, you couldn't help but laugh. 

He wasn't drinking anything, but every time you finished a drink, he offered to get you another one. 

"We'll go up soon," you told him. It was effortless being around him. He wasn't your boyfriend, but he was sure acting like it. Acting like it enough that you could tell how pissed off Jeff was every time you saw him. 

So far tonight, you'd seen Jeff all over two different girls. You couldn't even imagine if you'd started dating him what he'd be like now. He was either doing this to get under your skin and Bradley's, or he would have been doing it behind your back. 

Bradley was standing behind you with his hands on your shoulders, subtly playing with your hair while you watched a game of beer pong. "Actually, let's go upstairs now, Beer Boy." 

Bradley kissed your cheek and grabbed your hand, immediately pulling you toward the stairs. You had to hold the railing, laughing the whole way up as he was trying to take your shirt off. 

"Bradley!" you scolded, and you were both laughing. 

"Sugar!" he scolded you jokingly, but you came to a stop outside his door.

"Did you do that?" you asked, running your fingers over the hearts that had been drawn in black sharpie next to Sugar written on his door. Other than that addition, the door was exactly the same as the last time you saw it.

He nodded his head the tiniest bit. "Yeah."

You bit your lip, forcing yourself to stop thinking about having Bradley as your boyfriend. It wasn't going to happen. 

"I like that," you said pointing to the ink and letting him lead you inside. You had his jeans down, kneeling in front of him right away. "Can I finish what I started yesterday?"

"Yeah," Bradley groaned loudly as you put your lips around his rapidly hardening dick. He was too big for your mouth, so you used both hands too. You bobbed your head a few times, sliding your tongue along the tip. As far as you could tell, guys loved this. You just weren't sure if your technique was good or not. Your mind drifted to Bradley doing this with Janessa, and you felt the burning need to be better than her. 

You sucked hard on him for a few seconds until he moaned, running his hand along your cheek. You let him slip out of your mouth long enough to ask him, "Do you like that?" Your voice sounded deep and needy, and Bradley looked down at you with a subtle smirk that had you wrapping your lips around him again. 

He maintained eye contact with you while he said, "I like everything you do."

Licking along his tip, the words were out of your mouth before you could stop yourself. "Am I better for you than Janessa?" You paused with him resting right between your lips, your breath ghosting over him.

Bradley's lips parted, but it took him a few seconds to answer. "Don't compare yourself, Sugar. You'd make everyone else look bad all the time."

You sucked on him and took him as far as you could, rolling your tongue and listening to all of the noises he was making. When he started whispering your name, you hollowed your cheeks and squeezed his balls. He came so hard, hitting the back of your throat; you almost choked before swallowing him down. You looked up at him as a few tears leaked from your eyes, his dick still inside your mouth.

"You're so fucking gorgeous," he told you.

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

Bradley loved getting head. Watching you suck his dick was so fun for him, he'd remember it for the rest of his life. You made eye contact, struggling to take him all the way and choking on his cum. You shed some pretty tears, and Bradley scooped you up into his arms. 

Softly, you asked him, "Will you go down on me?"

He nodded and kissed you softly. Giving girls head was a means to an end. He already got off in your mouth, so he could not believe he was agreeing to this right now. But he undressed you, spread you out on his bed and found that you were soaking wet. 

"Did you get this wet while your mouth was on me?" he asked you, dipping a finger through your folds and opening you up a bit more to his gaze. Jesus, you were so pretty down here too.

"Yes," you gasped when his finger stroked your clit. He put his mouth on you, slid his finger inside and sucked gently. You were moaning so softly, rolling your hips against his mouth in a rhythm that Bradley found addicting in a way he never had before. He removed his fingers and licked a broad stripe slowly from below your opening to above your clit. 

"Bradley!" you yelped and he grinned up at you. 

"You liked that?" he asked as you nodded down at him. He kissed you softly as he whispered, "Tell me you liked it and I'll do it again, Sugar."

"I liked it," you said, your voice breaking on the words. When Bradley did it again, you moaned his name. 

"Tell me how much you like it," he demanded with a devilish grin, licking you again. "Tell me, Sugar."

You just begged, whispering please again, seemingly unable to form any other words as you covered your face with your hands. 

"You sound dumb, baby." He dipped his tongue into you, swirling your moisture until it was all over his face. 

You sounded like you were crying when he put his lips back on your clit, and your hips were rolling harder. You came hard and loud, half laughing and half crying, and Bradley crawled up your body, kissing your sweetness into your mouth. 

After a few minutes, you shuffled yourself under the blankets and curled up next to him, his pants still halfway down his legs. "I've never been able to cum like that before," you whispered, and Bradley grinned as you dozed off. If this is how it would always feel with you, then he wouldn't mind doing it over and over again.

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

You went home to shower and change before the Mardi Gras party, and Bradley insisted on walking you there. "You don't have to," you said. "It's broad daylight outside!"

"I want to," he told you, covering your mouth when you tried to protest again. 

"I'll walk back later with Janessa," you told him, promising you wouldn't walk alone. 

Janessa did your makeup in the kitchen. "Glitter?!" you asked, cringing as she swiped some on.

"Stop scrunching your face like that. You'll fit right in this way. Just wait until you see what the other girls are wearing....or not wearing, I suppose," she told you, putting a purple shade on your lips. 

"What are you going to wear?" you asked, trying not to move your lips while she worked. 

"Not much," she said with a shrug. "I'm planning on getting some beads. Wanna borrow something tiny?" 

"Beads? Like flashing the guys?" you asked, suddenly kind of wanting to stay home. 

"Yeah, it's fun. Doesn't mean anything. Except when I flash Tyson... that's going to mean something." Janessa was smirking now. 

Bradley was going to be waiting for you if you didn't show up. You exhaled, saying, "I guess. Give me one of your shirts."

You stood in front of the mirror in your bedroom and almost laughed. Janessa's shirt was so small, it looked like an oversized sports bra. But at least it had long sleeves. You threw Bradley's sweatshirt on over your outfit, planning on leaving it on for awhile. 

When you and Janessa arrived at the house, it was more packed than you could have ever imagined. There were literally topless girls hanging out on the porch, and you had no idea how the guys weren't getting a noise complaint at the moment. 

"Let's go," Janessa yelled, dragging you inside the house. When you didn't see Bradley right away, you made your way toward the kitchen, hoping he would make it easy for you in this crowd. There were beads flying across the living room and people were standing on the couches. 

You caught some beads before they could hit you in the head and looped them around your neck. "Thanks," you muttered to the guy who threw them as he chanted  Flash us!

When you were practically shoved through the kitchen door, you saw him, sitting on the counter next to Dev and sipping a beer. There were two girls with them, laughing and probably flirting, wearing shirts smaller than the one you had under Bradley's sweatshirt. Your heart sank. 

"Sugar," Bradley said when he saw you, hopping off the counter and shoving past both girls. You didn't know why you felt nervous. As soon as he reached you, he was kissing you right in front of the others. "Hi."

"Beer Boy," you whispered next to his lips, and you watched him smile. 

He pressed his lips to your neck, and you saw both girls eyeing you up with interest. Well, this was a new feeling for you. 

"Let's get you a good beer," he told you. He opened two and handed you one. "Wanna walk around?" 

You laughed. "It's so packed, I don't see how we could walk around.

"We'll manage. Nice shirt, by the way," he said with a smile, tilting his beer toward his own sweatshirt on you. "What you got on underneath?" he asked, licking his lips. 

"Not much," you told him with a smile, knowing he would find out later. 

"Love to hear that," he said, taking your hand and leading you out into the crowd and noise. 

You had to yell to be heard. "Why are there so many guys here tonight? Usually it's mostly girls."

Bradley leaned in closer to you. "We invite guys from other frats to this party every year. Kind of a goodwill gesture. Come for the free beer, stay for the girls," he said with a laugh. "I don't know most of them, so stay close, okay?"

You agreed as he nodded toward the beer pong tables and raised his eyebrows. 

"Yes," you confirmed. Now that you'd gotten so much better, you didn't mind playing in front of a crowd. 

Bradley got your body squared up just like last time, his hands lingering on your hips and sliding up under the sweatshirt. "You know, if you're too warm, we can just take this off...." 

You didn't stop him when he slid the fabric up higher and higher, revealing your bare torso inch by inch. 

"Damn, Sugar. Are you wearing anything under this?" he asked, and you laughed before he finally revealed green fabric. "That's a tiny shirt." He was licking his lips as he looked at your breasts. You'd skipped a bra, and it was so obvious right now. You were afraid everyone was looking at you, but no... just Bradley. 

You almost whimpered as he tossed his sweatshirt into the corner and let his hands rest on your waist.

"Focus, you two!" called a random guy from the other end of the table, and Bradley got you in place again. 

"Just like last time. It's math," he reminded you, taking the first shot and making it into a cup.

You jumped up and down, and his eyes were instantly on your breasts again. 

"God, this is going to be a fun night," he told you. 

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

Bradley watched you make two shots in a row, throwing your arms around him in celebration. "We won!" you cheered, and he kissed you hard on the mouth. He ran his hands along your back. 

"You're good at it now." He set the table up again, getting it ready for the next set of opponents to try to beat you. Bradley glanced around the room, every once in a while spotting some bare tits. The Beta guys were handing out liberal amounts of Mardi Gras beads, and he had a few strands in his pocket, but he was planning on giving them all to you. 

He had spotted the gold strand around your neck before. "Where'd you get the beads, Sugar?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

You rolled your eyes. "Some guy threw them at me and then tried to get me to flash him. Idiot did it in the wrong order," you told him with a laugh. 

Bradley laughed as the next pair made their way to the table. "You wanna earn some more beads?" he asked, pulling you against him with a smirk. 

"From you?" you asked. It was so loud, Bradley had to practically read your lips. He nodded in response and almost fell over when you pulled up the bottom of your little crop top, and glancing side to side, revealed your tits to him. Your body was pressed against his pretty good, so he only caught a glimpse, but he smiled so much his cheeks hurt. 

"God damn," he whispered in your ear as you blushed and pulled your shirt back down. He slid one hand inside your shirt and pinched your nipple. Your eyes went wide and you gasped. Bradley kissed your open mouth and looped some purple beads around your neck. 

Then he guided you to the table, acting like he didn't have a semi hard dick when he took the first throw. 

You were getting drunk after the second and third games, dancing around next to him. At one point, he had to guide you closer to the wall, because you were insisting on flashing him again. "Just take all my beads, baby. They are all yours," he promised, adding all of the strands from his pocket to the ones you were already wearing. You were giggling nonstop now and reaching for him. He was planning on taking you upstairs soon. 

Bradley knew Phoebe was out on the porch, and he had spotted Jeff a few minutes ago, but he seemed to be keeping his distance, thankfully. "I need the bathroom," Bradley told you. "I'll be right back."

So Bradley walked away as you started to set up the beer pong table again. You were smiling, and the two of you were on a roll, knocking out all of your opponents. He ran upstairs to his bathroom to pee. When he looked in the mirror, which he hated doing, he actually looked happy. Huh.

He wove his way back through all of the tits and found you standing with your back to him. Some guy he didn't recognize was talking to you, and Bradley wanted to start the next round of pong, but he froze as the guy ran his fingers down your side. 

You didn't back away when he asked, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Bradley watched you shake your head, and he clenched his fists. "No, I don't have a boyfriend," you answered, and the guy smiled at you in such a way that Bradley wanted to level him. 

When he touched you again, you stumbled backwards a step and laughed, encouraging this dickhead. 

"What the fuck?" Bradley asked nobody in particular. While he supposed you weren't lying, it made him so angry that you were still chatting with the other guy. The thumping music was starting to make Bradley's head pound. He really needed to get out of this room now, and he wanted to beg you to come with him to the kitchen or his bedroom or outside. Anywhere away from everyone else. 

"Bradley!" called a girl with her naked tits covered in beads. "I haven't seen you in weeks!" He was pretty sure this girl had, until very recently, had her name written on his door.

"What's up?" he asked her, still watching you with most of his attention. 

"Just having fun!" she announced. "I don't know if you remember my name, but it's Willow. Can we go upstairs?" 

"No," he told her softly, letting his eyes dip down to her chest. Her nipples were peeking out between the beads, and he thought for a second that he did remember fucking her. It had been fun. 

"No?" Willow asked, pulling his hands up to her chest. Maybe Bradley had more beer in him than he originally thought, because he was having a hard time processing. She started kissing his cheek, inching toward his mouth as she laughed. 

She kissed his lips, slipping her tongue into his mouth. Bradley sighed, running his fingers aimlessly along her body, stopping at her tits. If you were going to flirt with other guys, why couldn't he do the same? But the thought made him uncomfortable. 

"Wait, no," he managed to say, backing away.

She pouted. "Well can I at least have more beads then?" she asked.

"I gave them all away," he said, turning back to where you were looking thoroughly upset. "To Sugar. Sugar!"

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

You were going to throw up. You turned away from Max, a guy you used to tutor in calculus, before you spotted Bradley just across the beer pong table. He had his hands all over a topless girl, and they were kissing. She was reaching for the front of his jeans, and he wasn't doing anything to stop her. You watched Bradley's hand skim over her breasts as if you weren't right here. As if you hadn't just flashed him and let him touch you. As if you meant nothing. 

You wanted to rip his fucking door right off the hinges and throw it out his bedroom window. 

"Sugar!" he called when he turned to face you. But you started walking away, you already had tears in your eyes now, so you swiped them off your cheeks. He wasn't worth crying over, but you couldn't help it. You had feelings for him, after just meeting him last month. You knew how he was, but you let yourself fall anyway. 

You squeezed through bodies, having an easier time of it than Bradley with his bigger form. 

"Sugar!" he called. "Wait!" But you just moved faster until you were out on the front porch. You saw Phoebe, and she gave you a dirty look which just made you want to cry even more. You were such a fucking idiot, you took off down the sidewalk. But out in the open, Bradley caught up to you easily. 

"Talk to me!" he demanded, and you turned around to gape at him. 

"About what? You touching that girl's boobs? Or you shoving your tongue down her throat?" you asked, sobbing a little bit. 

Bradley looked like he was in agony. "Why the fuck did you tell that guy you don't have a boyfriend?"

"Because I don't, Bradley! The last guy who asked me out was Jeff, and I told him no!"

"Why were you flirting with him? And letting him touch you?" 

Now your anger was taking over and the sadness was receding. "I wasn't! I told him to stop! You know what, Bradley? You have a lot of nerve. You touched her and kissed her, and you're trying to make me feel bad?"

"Sugar, I didn't-"

"Stop calling me that!" 

Bradley ran his hands through his hair. "Look, I fucked up, but it won't happen again!"

You laughed at him and started walking away again, shivering in the night air with your skin exposed. "No shit, it won't happen again. Lose my number. And repaint your fucking door." 

"Will you listen to me?" he asked, grabbing you by the shoulder to stop you. "I really like you!"

You just shook your head and started crying more. "No, you don't. You think you do. You even made me think you did, but you don't."

"Fuck!" he shouted. "I have never dated anyone before, and I want you to be my girlfriend."

You stood stunned, in the middle of the sidewalk. "No." You turned and walked toward your apartment with Bradley on your heels. "Leave me alone," you told him, wiping your tears away as you went. But he stayed with you until you reached your building. "Will you leave me alone? Please?" you asked, hiccupping. You forced yourself to turn to face him, and when you did, the urge to throw up returned. 

He looked devastated. You had wanted him to be your boyfriend. You really wanted him to want to make it official. And now he had ruined it. He had ruined all of the times he had been so sweet to you. Every memory was going to boil down to this moment for you. 

"I just... needed to make sure you got back safely," he said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. "I'm sorry. I fucked up. I wouldn't do it again. I would be a good boyfriend." His eyes looked watery, but you knew you had to stand your ground.

"Lose my number. Paint your door." You went inside. 

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

Wow.... nice going, Beer Boy. Sugar knew better than to get involved. Gotta thank @mak-32 once again... this fic is for you.

Part 10

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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@xoxabs88xox

[captaincryolicious]

Conqueror of Crabs

➳ Xiao x gn!reader

➳ Oneshot ; 3.2k

➳ Fluff, kinda comedy (it's not as much of a crack fic as the title probably implies!) ; Brief mention of animals being collected for food, no elaboration on it.

Your usual nightly activity took an unexpected turn when a certain dashing adeptus decided to join you. [O6.O6.2O21]

Zep's Note ; Lol don't ask, being ar55 brought me to the point where catching crabs became a regular way of passing time for me while I wait for my resin to replenish. That being said, I have no idea why I thought writing a scenario based on that was a good idea but here we go.

content under the cut | masterlist

The cool summer evening had been too tempting for you to stay within the confinements of your room any longer. You didn’t care about the sun already being low on the horizon, nor did you care about the sapphire night falling over the land completely soon. Today had been one of those searing hot summer days where merely being outside was already uncomfortable enough, so you had resorted to staying cooped up inside your house all day long, sprawled out on your bed while moving as little as possible. Needless to say, it drove you quite frustrated, so you were gone as soon as you deemed it cool enough outside.

You found yourself wandering off to one of the sandy shores just outside of the harbor city you lived in. The soft sand was still slightly warm underneath your bare feet, not all that unpleasant as you sneaked over the beach with tentative steps. 

It was probably quite an odd sight to others; a silhouette creeping over the beach under the pale moonlight. Maybe it would even alarm some people, were anyone around to see you. But you meant no harm, not to people at least.

Crabs, however, were less lucky.

Slowly and cautiously, you approached an exceptionally large one that scurried just out of reach of the waves that rolled ashore continuously. It was an ocean crab, and its blue exoskeleton was hard to miss even in the pale light of the moon. You took a moment to observe its movements before you skillfully plucked it off the beach in a swift motion. It wasn't hard to see that this was a good one, and Chef Mao would definitely be happy with it. 

You walked over to a basket you had brought with you for exactly this purpose, and you gently placed the newcaught crab next to the others before walking off again. 

You knew catching crabs at night was a strange thing to do. At least that was what you assumed since you never ran into anyone doing the same. But it was entertaining and you got a nice bonus if you delivered them to Chef Mao in Liyue Harbor. A win-win situation, you'd say. 

A quick count of the numbers of crabs in your basket made you hum in satisfaction. You had collected eleven crabs and you only just started. Around twenty seemed like a decent goal for today; you had brought a smaller basket and you didn't want your crabs to spend their last moments in a space that was way too tight and too crowded to move properly. They might have been caught for food purposes, but that didn't mean you could treat them as rubbish. 

     "Oh, it's you." 

The sudden voice coming from behind you literally out of nowhere startled you greatly, fright gripping around your chest as you nearly stumbled over your basket. It took you a second before you had it in you to turn around, but when you finally did you breathed out in relief. 

It almost sounded like the yaksha was disappointed to find you there, but over time you got to know him well enough to know that he – probably, or hopefully – didn't mean it like that. At least that's what his amber eyes told you, not holding the slightest hint of malice as he looked at you.

     "Xiao, you scared me," you sighed, voice still a little shaky. "It's not the best idea to sneak up behind people like that."   

     "I saw someone roaming the beach so I went to take a look," the male explained, not looking the tiniest bit sorry for his shocking appearance that had disrupted your peace. "I wanted to make sure no harm was caused." 

     "Rest easy, I have no evil plans," you reassured Xiao, even though he already knew you were as evil as the first and best sweet flower growing under a tree – not evil at all. 

     "I know." 

He seemed disinterested already, now that the potential danger had proven to be a false alarm, mindlessly stirring the sand with the jade tassel of his spear. Back in the days, you would have feared that he was bored of you, but Xiao was an individual with a manual and it took time to figure him out. Now you knew better; if the dashing adeptus was really bored of you, he'd leave instantly, not even bothering to stick around you any longer than necessary. Right now he seemingly had no plans to disappear, lingering around with the usual frown present on his face. 

     "What are you doing here?" he asked after a moment of silence. 

Silence was a regular occurence between the two of you, mostly because Xiao was an enigma, unpredictable and capricious. Some days he was closed-off, and his pent-up frustrations would make him irritable and snappy. Some days he was more open and easier to approach, less tense and more welcoming to the attention you gave him  – and gradually more often, even willing to receive and return bits and pieces of affection. 

You always waited for Xiao to let you know how he felt that day, to make sure you approached him in a manner that was okay for him at that very moment. 

     "Catching crabs," you simply replied, deciding that his mood was good enough now that he showed interest in what you were doing. "That's all." 

     "Mortals have peculiar ways of passing time," Xiao commented with a slight frown, his amber eyes flitting to a crab that hastily scurried past his feet. 

You watched the same crab with narrowed eyes, torn between catching it – which came with the risk of knocking Xiao off his feet, something he definitely wouldn't appreciate – or letting this one escape. With a small sigh, you decided on the latter, and shrugged your shoulders.

     "It's fun to do." Regretfully, you saw how the crab buried itself in the sand, disappearing from your view. "Plus, I get free meals if I deliver them to the Wanmin Restaurant."

     "And that can't be done during the safer hours of daytime?" the other inquired, now glancing up at you with the frown still present on his face. "Deserted places like this aren't safe to be on your own after midnight." 

     "Crabs are more active at night," you reasoned, even though you had no idea whether it was true or not – it sounded credible enough. "And I'm not alone anymore, right?" 

You instantly wanted to swallow your words upon seeing Xiao's perpetually unreadable expression. You awkwardly shifted your weight to the ball of your feet, grinning sheepishly. "Uh– I mean, how often did I prove already that I'm perfectly capable of fending for myself?" 

     "That's not the point," the yaksha growled. "I know you can protect yourself from some mere treasure hoarders or hilichurls, but what if you're faced with a danger bigger than you can disperse?"

The chances of that happening were really slim. Not many evil entities dared to get this close to Liyue Harbor, where it bustled with Millelith on patrol after dusk. Pure and true evil carded in a web of thorough plans and strict preparations saw no value in merely a person catching crabs, and those who would attack and rob a lonely commoner were likely to be evenly common thieves. Nothing you wouldn't be able to handle. 

     "Alright, just let me catch a few more and I'll go home," you reassured him, still planning to reach your goal tonight. 

     "So stubborn," Xiao sighed, giving you a bored look. "Please hurry, I'll escort you home when you're done." 

His words caught you by surprise. The adeptus was going to stay with you on the beach, watching over you while you were catching crabs? Xiao was willing to spend this serene night under the radiant moonlight with you? So rarely did that happen, for he was a restless and disturbed soul who felt estranged from the quiescent moments life had to offer. 

You know he stayed just to protect you, a matter he saw as a duty. Nevertheless you were happy. Maybe you could bring him a moment of peace, if he was willing to let you. 

     "Xiao, would you mind lending me a hand?" you asked, looking at the yaksha innocently. "That way, we'll be done in no time." 

     "Look, I'm here to make sure nothing will harm you," Xiao replied gruffly, folding his arms in front of his chest. "I have no intention of partaking in activities such as these." 

You were expecting that; of course the male would deny anything close to the definition of fun. He was looking at you expectantly, the look in his amber eyes unfathomable as he awaited your next move. His foot tapped an impatient rhythm on the sand, and an idea formed in your mind. 

     "Xiao," you started. "What if a crab attacks me?" 

If you had read him correctly, he was willing to be with you right now. Tolerating of your antics, of your wish to get his attention. He was here, openly refusing to leave you alone on the beach. You were positive that you could convince the yaksha to join you. It wasn't even about reaching your set goal of crabs anymore; you just wanted Xiao to indulge in something lighthearted for once. 

     "Fine," Xiao grumbled, unfolding his arms and placing his hands on hips instead. "What do you want me to do?" 

Despite his tough act, you could tell he wasn't all too opposed to the idea of helping you. His demeanor might have been a bit grumpy, but the look in his eyes had softened significantly as he silently awaited your orders. 

     "Just help me catch the last few crabs," you shrugged. "I don't need many since I don't want my basket to be too full."

The way Xiao looked absolutely appalled by the idea almost made you snort with laughter. You knew very well that his sour expression of mild disgust simply served as a mask for his more vulnerable emotions to be hidden, and you figured the yaksha was just slightly confused, unsure how to start the mission of catching crabs. It most likely wasn't something he had done before. 

     "It's simple once you get the hang of it," you began, walking over to your crab basket. "Once you spot a crab, approach it as quietly as possible, pick it up in one quick motion and then hold it like this until you gently put it in the basket." 

You had picked up a crab you caught earlier, showing the adeptus how to hold it properly. Your thumb and index finger were on either side of its shell, just below the base of its pincer legs. "If you hold it like this, it won't be able to pinch you." 

     "I'll make them regret it if they do that," Xiao muttered darkly before briskly turning around and setting off to find a crab to catch. 

Again you had to stifle a laugh at his sometimes surprisingly dramatic statements, but in order to not accidentally insult the male you kept quiet. You were more than happy to see the vigilant yaksha take on a task that didn't put him at risk, that wouldn't burden his already suffocating karma even more, one that wasn't drenched with evil and demise. 

He almost seemed normal, like he was your equal instead of a guardian adeptus with scars from his past that were deeper than you could ever imagine. The way he completely missed his first crab and ended up diving face-first into the beachy sand with an annoyed grunt was completely void of any form or shape of immortal grace, and this time you couldn't stop the giggle that bubbled from your throat. Xiao ended up sending you a glare that would have given you the chills if you didn't know him better, and you quickly scurried off to find your own crabs. 

For a little while you both wandered over the beach in silence, with only the sound of small waves rolling ashore there to accompany you. Admittedly, you were paying attention to Xiao more than you were focused on the crabs, but you deemed it totally valid. How often did he join you for activities of the likes of these? Exactly, hardly ever. 

You surprisingly learned quite some interesting things about him tonight. For example, he was awfully determined and the way he pursed his lips and furrowed his brows in concentration before dashing forward to catch a crab was cute. You also found out that his adeptal powers didn't protect him from being adorably clumsy every now and then, while he struggled to get the grasp of catching crabs.

Needless to say, you were progressing really slow, but it was so worth it. The sun had fully disappeared by now, leaving you under the vast sapphire sky illuminated by the crescent moon. You would arrive back home much later than you were planning to, but you didn't mind the slightest bit. 

Just when you lowered another crab into your basket, you heard a small yelp not too far away from you. You instantly jumped up and whirled around, only to find Xiao clutching his right hand with a very boyish pout. As soon as you caught sight of the crab next to his feet, upside-down and trashing its little legs, you instantly figured out what had happened. 

     "It pinched me," Xiao growled lowly as you ran towards him, and you genuinely feared for the poor crab's life. 

     "Let me see," you asked, extending your hand towards the adeptus. He complied, and you quickly intertwined your fingers with his before he could go all Bane of all Evil on the tiny unlucky animal. 

The skin where the crab had pinched him was slightly red and irritated but it would probably disappear soon. It was nothing compared to the severe injuries the male often had to suffer, and you wondered why the pout still hadn't left his face. He wouldn't really be that upset because of a crab, would he? 

     "I don't like catching crabs," Xiao announced, looking as displeased as someone possibly could – almost comically so.

     "It'll be over in no-time," you told him, referring to the small sore spot on his hand. Then, you jokingly added, "want me to kiss it better?" 

You definitely weren't expecting the other to mutter a gruff fine, whatever, and it was safe to say that your heart skipped several beats when he willingly extended his hand towards you more and looked at you expectantly. Your mind went momentarily blank and the whole crab ordeal you were in the middle of was temporarily forgotten. Was he for real?

Xiao stood there unmovingly, hand still presented awfully close to your lips. The look in his solemn amber eyes was unreadable, and he chewed on the inside of his cheek. 

     "Y/N," he said. "You offered, why are you hesitating?" 

Shaking yourself from your little daze, you brought his hand closer and pressed your lips against the irritated patch of skin softly. You lingered for a second before pulling back and flashing the adeptus a smile.

     "There, all better." 

And you swore you saw the stoic mask over Xiao's face break when he pulled back his hand, the corners of his lips curling up into a smile so small and fragile – but unmistakingly there. A wave of warmth washed over you, one that didn't disappear when he averted his gaze and the smile was gone. 

He definitely smiled at you!

The adeptus muttered something under his breath, his tone void of the rough edge that usually was present in his voice. Too immersed in your small moment of mirth, you didn't catch what he said, and you shot him a questioning look.

     "What did you say?" you asked. 

But the dark-haired male shook his head and replied in an almost-pleading tone, "please don't make me say it again." 

You weren't really getting it, and you tilted your head in slight confusion. Now this was a total 180 from the way Xiao usually spoke and acted, and you weren't sure how to react to it. 

     "Well, you kinda have to," you reasoned. "I didn't hear you the first time."

The yaksha looked at you with a troubled expression, his mind running over his previous words before he gave in with a sigh. 

     "Fine. I said that we have caught enough crabs, if you'd ask me. Now I want some attention too. There, I said it." 

He sounded sharp and annoyed, as if the words he spoke were like venom to him, but his voice trailed off and softened near the end of the sentence, almost taking a gentle tone. After that, Xiao quickly folded his arms in front of his chest, taking on his default closed-off stance once again. But his amber eyes didn't leave you as he observed your reaction closely, his lips pulled in the same pout as earlier.

The conqueror of demons could be such a softie if you gave him some time and space to grow comfortable and start trusting you. Sure, it was disguised with harsh words and a demeanor cold and unapproachable, but once you learned to see through his thick facade, you'd be surprised by what you found.

Xiao was precious. 

     "H-Hey, stop smiling and say something," the dashing adeptus growled, narrowing his eyes at you – while being oh so obviously flustered. 

But you couldn't help it. How could you possibly stop smiling after a night like this? You were having a small moment of bliss, Xiao made you happy like no one else and you felt like the bond between you was growing more solid with every rendezvous. Your ultimate goal was to make him happy too, or maybe even become happy together. It would take time and patience, but the male next to you was worth every ounce of it. 

     "Yeah, we're done," you agreed, finally able to form words through your lovestruck smile. It was a good thing he was as dense as someone could possibly be. "How about we go to my place? I'm sure I have some almond tofu to thank you for your help, and it's getting slightly cold, too."

     "The cold doesn't bother me," Xiao pointed out, looking away with a small huff. Then, realization seemed to hit him. "Wait, almond tofu? Ugh, f-fine. I was planning on bringing you home anyway." 

With the jade spear in his hand protectively, he marched away from you, more than ready to leave the beach and its pesky crabs behind. You shook your head with a small grin, hoisting the crab basket on your back and following after him. 

In a spontaneous burst of bravery, you reached out and caught his free hand with yours. He didn't pull back, and instead you felt his fingers lace through yours snugly. 

You loved Xiao. Dearly.

[taechaos]

Can we have some jealous/sweet smut with textbook love couple?🥲 like I guess OC was wearing an outfit that was a little short and some guy was checking her out and trying to get at her but she didn’t even realize it and Jungkook gets mad and you know😏

this really went off the fucking rails 😷

"I don't see the point in you coming, we just go there to get high."

"Maybe she wants to try it," Taehyung shrugs before looking up from his phone with a mischievous grin. "What if she's secretly a freak–"

"I'm not, I just–" you sigh, reluctant to reveal your intentions behind wanting to tag along with Jungkook to a frat party. His reason is clear: his body is craving another drug trip. Yours is unknown to them, and you purse your lips where you stand uncomfortably in the student lounge. Why would such a motivated student go out on a school night to get influenced? Oh, no reason, just want to damage my organs because YOLO, right? "I want to spend time with you," you simply reason to your unwilling boyfriend.

Jungkook clicks his tongue, an indication of an incoming refusal, "It's a crackhouse with live softcore porn, and I know for a fact you'd hate it there. Remember last time?"

The issue is that you do remember last time, and also the time that you weren't there. Much like a fairytale, it ended happily both times, but the beginnings were rocky—and you didn't want to miss out on that chapter before jumping to the end. It ruins the tale.

"It's okay sugar tits, I give you permission," Taehyung says while playing a mobile game with his tongue sticking out, unaware of the stares he's getting in response.

"The fuck did you just call her?"

"I'm not asking for permission," you roll your eyes and put your hands on your hips to assert the tiniest bit of dominance on Jungkook who you hover over. The two men are relaxed in their seats while you're tense from knowing you're going to have to rebel against Jungkook. He isn't going to give in. "I will come."

"No, no you won't," is his plain and casual command. You send him a subtle glare but he merely raises a brow, as if challenging you to retaliate.

"You're not her dad, dude. If she wants to come, she will," his friend chimes in defensively.

"Thank you," you point at him with wide eyes.

"First of all, you're not even a part of this conversation," he tells Taehyung. "Secondly, I'm looking out for you as your boyfriend," he gives you a pointed look. "Thirdly, not her dad? Wouldn't you beg to differ." The suggestive hint makes your face flush in embarrassment, and his wink worsens it.

"Excuse–"

"You told me not to tell him!" The discussion ends when you march out of the lounge to cool off your heated skin along with your high nerves. This relationship did begin when you didn't take no for an answer, so what's the harm in doing it again?

—————

The night you lost your virginity, it was autumn and easy to figure out what to wear for a party: warm and cozy with some charming color. It's spring now, and a little more difficult to decide on what to wear without looking like a "high school girl" as Jungkook often describes your outfits.

Your roommate is more cultured in that field, and was kind enough to lend you her help.

Soyeon racks her eyes over your closet with a hand over her chin, elbow crossing her stomach as leverage for her other arm. Nothing is exactly screaming out sexy to her, and unless it's a cosplay gathering, your wardrobe needs more diversity; dressing shirts, skater skirts and knee highs are out of the question.

You wait to hear her thoughts while shifting in your seat on your bed until she quietly giggles. "And I thought I was conservative." She cranes her neck to you, not moving from her position depending on your answer, "Do you want to borrow my clothes instead? They're more... suitable?"

You nod. "Sure. I mean— if you don't mind."

You trust your friend to take care of the clothing portion, and it's with a few cringing "ehhh"s and "mmm"s that you are satisfied with the outcome of this minor quest.

A thin black turtleneck with unnecessarily long sleeves cover your knuckles like sweater paws, and the fabric hugs your torso tightly but ends just below your belly button. Soyeon found a solution to your discomfort with the slight exposure of your stomach by matching it with high waisted denim shorts and nude pantyhose. It's chilly at night, so it's the perfect outfit: doesn't stand out and fits in just right. You don't look like a high school girl nor a nun.

You kept your only concern to yourself because it's not much of a big deal, but it bothers you that the denim shorts don't reach your knees. By your standards, it's a little... inappropriate, but your roommate assures you that it's a common choice in this occasion. You let it slide.

—————

Your worries of being too early faded the moment you stood before the frat house that boomed with music and flashed with violet. You don't know the time code for parties, but you must be late considering the crowd inside. People are chattering loudly when you squirm past them, but there's enough space in the living room for you to breathe. No softcore porn or crack yet. Not many are dancing either. It seems all good here.

However, the search must go on because Jungkook is nowhere to be found in the living room. You hear deep howls from the kitchen and it piques your attention, prompting you to look there next. You can only hope Jungkook's not high yet, or has a girl on his lap.

When you walk in, the kitchen that is remarkably smaller than the living room is filled with men taking shots from the center counter, and Jungkook leaning against the other counter surrounding the walls with a joint in his hand. You stand still in the doorway, suddenly nervous of his reaction, but relieved that he's alone nonetheless.

He inhales a deep breath and the small smile on his face falters when his redshot eyes drag themselves onto you. He stands straight once you lock gazes, and you grin at him before he shuts his eyes and clenches his jaw. You unconfidently strut over to him, reaching his side in only a few seconds as he glares at you.

Only a syllable comes out of his mouth before his attention diverts from you to another guy nearby in a flash. "Hey, eyes off," he calmly demands the man behind you. You glance at him when he raises his hands before looking elsewhere. You presume that's sign language for backing off, and your shoulder blades move awkwardly at the guess of what he might've been looking at. "What the hell are you doing here?" he brings your focus back onto him.

"I wanted to check up on you," you lean into him to not yell out your words.

"Check up on me?" He's incredulous. "Do you realize where you are? You shouldn't be here."

The moment is interrupted when Namjoon and Taehyung enter the scene, and you stop gnawing on your inner cheek. You don't have any answers you want to tell him, and your muscles relax when Jungkook's friends notice you.

"Oh shit," Taehyung smiles widely, "you're actually here." He appears to be sober and you smile back at him. Namjoon on the other hand, is as high as a kite as he brings you into a light hug. Your eyes widen and you awkwardly pat his back, fixated on his dazed expression.

"I haven't seen you in so long," he says as he ruffles your hair. Jungkook slaps a hand over his face at the interaction and drags the skin with his fingers. "How have you been? Do you want a molly?"

"Dude," your boyfriend intervenes, annoyed. "Why are you back here?"

"Alcohol." Namjoon disappears behind you to search the fridge and cabinets and you look at Taehyung again. He's drinking in your awkward stance as he licks his lips while Jungkook takes another drag from his joint.

"Girl, you are fucked," he says when his eyes trail back to yours with a snort. "You came here in those clothes, when you have a boyfriend? Jungkookie, I have some bad news for you. Your cock isn't even satisfactor–"

"Seriously though," Jungkook tells you with furrowed brows, "why are you here? I told you not to come." His reaction is influenced by the weed, not so mad as he is confused by your rebellion without reason—you must have a cause for waltzing in here, especially after his warning.

You hum in discomfort and shift your weight onto your other foot. "I already told you..."

"Don't give me that bullshit–"

A yelp cuts off his words when you jolt forward from a slap to your bottom. It wasn't a hard hit, but the surprise factor has you throwing yourself on Jungkook. Taehyung's jaw drops while your boyfriend barely reacts.

"If that isn't the cutest ass I've ever seen," the culprit chuckles without taking his eyes off your butt. He's almost slurring his words, and his lopsided grin doesn't seem intentional; he must feel too numb to form a full smile. You watch him in disbelief much like Taehyung. "You got any coke?"

"She's taken, man–" he takes on the peacemaker role, but it's futile when Jungkook gently removes your arm from his chest and walks forward to the stumbling man.

"Oh, my ba–" his face scrunches in confusion when his cheeks are grabbed and squished, leaving his mouth gaping. You peek from above Jungkook's shoulder to see him raising his joint before stubbing the burning tip onto the man's tongue. A scream resounds in the overcrowded room when it makes contact, and you fall back into Taehyung's arms while the deafeningly loud music tries to drown out the pained sounds. It's barbaric.

"Ah, shit," he pushes you to the side and pulls back Jungkook, who's still abnormally calm. The whole situation feels surreal, and it seems as if no one realizes this isn't a dream.

The man stops struggling against Jungkook's hold when he's released and falls to the ground, crawling back while sucking his teeth. He's whimpering and afraid. "I didn't know," he speaks with a lisp, pathetically begging, "I apologized! I-I'm sorry!"

You cautiously take a few steps back, almost like you're trying to flee the scene, but it just seems like a good idea to avoid Jungkook's temper right now. Just as you're about to turn around and sprint, you're held back by a hand on your shoulder. No words are exchanged when you're dragged away, a bruising grip on your forearm as you stumble out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"Some fucking deja vu, huh?" your boyfriend fumes, basically shouting out his words without glancing at you to notice your struggles to keep up with his pace.

Lunatic Jungkook: Unlocked.

You trust sober Jungkook to not hurt you when he's angry, but after seeing him commit such a painful act, it's more than reasonable why you're currently terrified of him while he's high. To think you were so comfortable with him earlier because he's high. His calmness makes him all the more unpredictable, and you're unnerved when he shoves you inside a random bedroom. Some reversed deja vu.

"I'm going to ask you again: why the fuck did you come here?" The only attack is with his eyes that send daggers at you, but you keep your guard up in fear of what he'll do. You have to tread lightly.

"I was worried what would happen if I wasn't here with you." Honesty is your only approach in this instance because when he's glaring at you like that, it conveys that he doesn't want to hear any more of your ludicrous excuses.

He rolls his hand, gesturing you to continue. You're nervously forcing out your words, "I didn't, um... know how you would act around other women while you're on drugs when I'm not around." When his face falls into monotone, you defend yourself, still tense, "Last time, you kissed Soyeon and before that, another girl! I-I had my reasons..." Your voice grows smaller, just like how you feel under his gaze. Your eyes flicker to your shoes.

"And those shorts?"

At your silence, he takes a few steps towards you and leans into your face, slightly bending to level with your height. He tugs on the hem of your shorts harshly, emitting a flinch from you. You don't return his stare. "What the fuck are these? You're stupid enough to come here, but coming here in these shorts? Are you okay?" He taps your cheek, encouraging you to look up at him, but it's both humiliating and intimidating. "I know you're not a slut, baby, but why are you so adamant on acting like one?"

"I wanted to fit in," is your weak defence in a mumble, gaze still downcast. You shouldn't feel so ashamed.

"No, you told me you wanted to make sure I wasn't cheating," he counters. "Don't fucking twist things now. You didn't need to dress up to see if I was fucking someone else."

Your round eyes shoot up in panic at whatever he's insinuating, "I didn't want you to realize how paranoid I was."

"So this was your grand idea?"

"Ah," you groan, just wanting this argument to end already. You know what he's thinking: "I was stupid. I didn't learn my lesson, and I ended up hurting someone because I'm stupid."

You release a relieved breath when he gives you distance to sit on the twin sized bed. He's facing you as he says, "When I tell you not to do something, you don't do it. I'm not trying to dictate you, you understand that, right?" You meekly nod and clamp your mouth shut when he continues, "You pull this shit again, I'm going to hurt someone else again. Simple as that. I don't care if they did anything, I'll hurt them as long as it gets you to listen to me."

"Okay," you exhale, shyly walking between his legs at his beckon. You tower him, but it's not helping your confidence as he places his hands on your hips.

"Okay," he whispers back as he plays with the waistline of your shorts. A moment of silence passes, and you allow yourself to calm down enough to sit on his lap and lay your head on his shoulder. "I like the high school girl look better on you."

You sheepishly grin but decide not to respond for the safety of your friend. He pulls on your pantyhose and it slaps against your thigh when he releases it.

"Do you forgive me?"

"Can't stay mad at you," he murmurs before pecking your lips. It's you who leans back in to extend the kiss, and he responds gently. It ends when he chuckles, "Passive smoking, hm? You feeling okay?"

You nod and lock lips again, his hand soothingly rubbing the side of your thigh when you clasp your hands behind his neck. Maybe he's right, maybe you did get a buzz from the secondhand exposure, but it doesn't influence your actions as you lower one hand to his chest. It just happens to fall on his crotch.

"Mm," he pulls away with a suppressed laugh, "you're actually high? Your hands just got a mind of their own."

"Then tie them," you offer in a breath. His brows shoot up, but his surprise doesn't prevent him from unbuckling his belt singlehandedly.

"A bondage kink? Who are you and what did you do to my nerdy girlfriend?" His joke emits a small laugh from you but his smile falters once his belt is in his hand. "Take your shirt off first."

It's no longer a guess when you slip out of the turtleneck in a flash; you are under some spell when you stand and hold your wrists together. The leather grazes your skin and sends delighted tingles down your spine.

"I hope I'm not going fucking crazy and hallucinating this," you hear him whisper behind you. A laugh escapes you and interrupts his internal monologue, and the buckle is clasped. "Now for the shorts..."

He stands up, pressing himself against you and peeking from your shoulder to undo the button of your denim shorts. You can feel his erection grinding against you when he tugs them down to falll at your ankles. You step out of the garment and turn around. When he gets out of your way, he gestures you to lie down and your hands are pressing against your back when you do so.

You watch him take his short off before straddling you and leaning down for another kiss. It's merely foreplay; he cups your clothed pussy and runs his hand down up and down, prompting you to sigh into him. He bites your bottom lip just as he slips his fingers past your underwear, murmuring against your lips, "Can you take me right now?"

"I think so," you shy. "I want to."

"Good," he sighs and removes his hand to massage his erection while undressing you completely. "I think... this is a better lesson."

"For what?"

"You don't know?" he pushes the cup of your bra to pinch your nipple mercilessly, and he hears your pain through your small scream. "A guy got burnt for no reason then?"

"No, no, I know," you gasp when he twists your sensitive nub, "because I'm stupid and I shouldn't have ignored you." Your back lifts off the mattress when you clench your teeth to suppress another scream. Despite your bounds hands, it's him talking down on you that renders you submissive.

"Mhm," he's condescending in his speech, "he did something wrong, but so did you, right? This is just the consequences of your actions, isn't it?"

It's his stinging touch that makes you agree to whatever he says, and you whine, "Yes!"

That's the only confirmation he needs to push his jeans down to his thighs along with his briefs, and your now bare pussy shies away from his cock by bending your knees. He pushes your legs even closer to you, and your efforts went against your intention by exposing yourself to him completely now. "You're so pretty," he admires with slight awe, "but I can't be shallow... You don't deserve to treated well."

His words make you shutter; you didn't do anything that wrong, but you aren't courageous enough to voice your thoughts. Everything he's told you today have turned out right, so he knows better to make that call. You stay unresponsive, head turned to the side to avoid his fierce gaze.

"No, you should hurt as much as he did," he mutters to himself as he trails a finger down your folds. You shiver and his gaze travels to your shy one. "What? Are you scared?"

You are unconfident with your denial, "No."

"Look at me then."

It's with a deep inhale that you glance at him, and your breath is caught in your throat when he shoves himself inside. Your whimpers resound brokenly in the bedroom where the bass of the music drowns it out. You feel the vibrations, but it doesn't serve as a distraction and you're aware that Jungkook can pick up your pained noises. He's simply ignoring you, but you can't dwell on the thought when he lets you adjust for a few seconds only before ramming into you. Your whines aren't enough for him, after all, what's a better indication of pain than a scream of agony?

His thrusts are out of rhythm, but quick and rough nonetheless as his hands push you deeper into the mattress as if to hold you down before taking your nipple in his mouth—more specifically between his teeth to bite.

"Jungkook!" It's not a gentle bite, and you know it wasn't meant to be, but you try to squirm away nonetheless. Your flight instinct is futile because his strength overpowers yours, keeping you in place with his palms while you struggle and cry.

"No more, please!" You wail when he finally sits up, and he watches you bounce back and forth due to the force of his thrusts. It's so pleasing, especially your moans, but mixed with your bitching... it's irritating.

He grunts, the sound bordering on a growl before he says, "You deserve worse."

"I don't! I didn't do anything." Your protests fall on deaf ears, or rather ears that need you to shut up. He wraps his hand around your neck in a chokehold, daring you to speak with his grip as he moans through a bit lip.

"Your ass was hanging out in a room filled with men," he speaks in between moans while you gasp to catch your breath, sounds of pleasure getting suck in your throat when he slams deep enough to hit your sensitive spot. "You didn't listen to me! Ah..."

Your windpipe is getting crushed the tighter his grip gets, and your cheeks start to flush until he drops his hand to lift your hips, spanking you while you wheeze. "You want attention that bad?" His words are mere gasps when he starts to lose himself, now gripping your waist to match his thrusts for you.

"Only yours," you muster out as your eyes roll to the back of your skull, letting him do all the work while you get closer to your climax.

"Lying whore." He slaps your tit before completely concentrating on his release, inching closer and closer by the second teasingly. It builds up in his stomach, and his abs contract and tense while he pistons his cock inside you faster, not drained enough to get sloppy just yet. It's when a loud moan resounds in the room, reducing to pants with slow drags of his length. "God, yes..."

You feel it when he cums, painting your walls white and warming up your insides, and he rubs your clit so fast that it has you seeing stars in mere seconds. It's so quick, the high, and your moan is music to his ears; he's too spent to enjoy it any longer before he collapses next to you.

"Fuck, please let me tie you up again," he breathes while you recover from the euphoric sensation he brought you by twitching and seeing white. You're panting when his hand falls on your stomach.

"Please... I'll be nicer if you let me. Hm?"

[whump-a-la-mode]

Hero and villain falling into a river together. Villain is unconscious or hurt or something so hero gets them both outta the water. They then have to figure out how to heal villain and survive in the woods.

This has the tiniest bit of angst but is mostly some fluff! This is a super interesting prompt, I hope I did it justice.

Also I’ve never seen Lost in my life.

CW//Car accidents, very unsafe driving, driving off a bridge, blood, broken legs

Nobody liked backseat drivers.

As removed from the life of a normal civilian as they were, Hero still knew that fact quite well. Powers or not, they had had plenty of experience with know-it-all acquaintances and overbearing relatives who had decided that their driving abilities could use improvement in one way or another.

Yes, backseat driving was bothersome. But that was all it was. It wasn’t dangerous.

Having two front seat drivers at once, however? Yeah, that was dangerous.

“Let go!” Villain cried out, wrenching the steering wheel to the right, threatening to throw the vehicle into a tailspin. Their position was as awkward as it was uncomfortable, kneeling in the passenger’s seat, stretched out over the center console, shoulders forcing Hero against the driver’s side door.

“You’re gonna make us crash, you daft idiot!” The hero protested, quite literally butting heads with their adversary. They, by all accounts, had the right to the steering wheel, considering the fact that they were quite literally sitting in the driver’s seat. Yet, their arms were locked in a furious tangle with Villain’s, struggling with white-hued knuckles to simply grip the damn wheel.

“You’re going to make us crash!”

“No, you are!”

“Let go of the damn wheel!”

“No!”

The two jerked the steering back and forth, back and forth, sending the car lurching back and forth like a bucking bronco.

Hero’s panicked gaze flickered in between their nemesis and the world outside the windshield. Alarms howled and metal crunched as traffic veered out of the way of the oncoming vehicle, shuddering as it was as its tires were jerked from ninety degree angle to ninety degree angle, back and forth and back and forth.

“You’re gonna kill someone!” Villain’s mouth was close enough to the hero’s face that they could feel their hot breath on their cheek.

“You do that all the time!”

“Do not!”

Despite the less-than-ideal technique with which it was being driven, the car was moving, and moving quickly. It screeched down the city’s central highway, striking traffic cones and trash cans and curbs, all in equal measure, in its rampage.

“Left!”

“Right!”

The car continued straight as both ‘drivers’ exerted as much force as they could manage onto its wheel. A pedestrian dove out of the way of the oncoming, trundling brick of metal and rubber, narrowly missing a terrible fate beneath its wheels.

For a split second, the vehicle was rendered airborne as it struck a particularly large bump in the asphalt.

“You’re going to get us both killed!” Villain snapped.

“No, you are!”

“You don’t even know-”

“What don’t I know?!”

“What street the fucking drawbridge is on, dumbass!”

Within Hero’s chest, fury was replaced by freezing, liquid cold.

“If you would have just turned left-”

“We needed to go right!”

And, yet, the car continued forwards.

It seemed as though local traffic had gotten the memo regarding the occurrence, as the street before them seemed almost suspiciously clear of vehicles.

“Come on.” Hero insisted. “There’s no way its gonna open now, right? What are the chances?”

“What are the chances that you’re an idiot who can’t see bright flashing warning lights?!”

Now that they thought about it... They had assumed the flashes to simply be from another vehicle, but-

“Shit.”

“You did this!”

“If you would’ve just let me drive-”

The duo of nemeses had their petty argument abruptly cut off by something far, far more important. To be more specific, their argument was interrupted by being in a vehicle, speeding down a road-- a road that had decided, at that very moment, to split in two. At the drawbridge’s side, a massive ferry boat honked its disapproval.

“We have to turn around, shit!” Villain hissed.

Before them, the solid, grey asphalt cracked to reveal the dark, murky depths below.

“We can’t turn around, dumbass! There’s no time!”

The villain jerked the wheel to the side, but was quickly countered. Regardless of the struggles of either side, the vehicle was staying on its path.

“Stop the car!” Villain’s foot lurched out, but missed the brake on account of its awkward position. Hero gritted their teeth-- their nemesis was practically laying on top of them!

“There’s no time!”

“Of course there’s time! What are you talking about!”

The gap was growing wider.

“We’re going too fast, we’ll never make it. We need to jump!”

“You’re insane!”

“You’re insane!”

“Slow down!”

“Speed up!”

“Stop it!”

“Keep going!”

The car stayed at the exact same speed as the knot of limbs fought amongst itself. The accelerator was struck, then the brakes, then the gas, then the pedal.

And neither driver got their way.

With a pair of screaming fools inside, the car jumped the gap, and plunged into the river below.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Its easy to see cars as unstoppable, unbeatable things. Able to crush and destroy with a driver’s slight wrong twitch. Hunks of contorted, twisted metal, more than willing to maim.

And, on land, perhaps those things were true. But underwater?

The car screeched as its hood slammed into the riverbed, crumpling to a tin can with the impact alone. Contorted into a far smaller form, the river’s current swept the metal brick alone with far greater ease.

Above, the world rushed by at a million miles an hour.

Below the river’s surface, it crept along in slow motion, because Villain was not moving.

Oh, god, they weren’t moving.

Hero couldn’t care less about the alarms, the screeching lights that surrounded them. Every safety precaution had been long forgotten, they were far, far past the point of precaution.

Their nemesis was thrown around the passenger’s seat, no seatbelt or consciousness to aid in keeping them in place. The hero struggled to move closer to them, but found themself just as much beholden to the vehicle’s whims.

The car slammed once more into something, a spiderwebbing crack launching across the windshield. Water began to hiss through the fissures.

They couldn’t stay in here. The car would do more to harm them than protect them. The red, sticky fluid staining the back of Villain’s head made that fact more than apparent.

Hero sucked in an anxious breath.

They spent every day of their existence saving lives, but this was different. This was Villain.

But, letting harm come to them was out of the question.

Their nemesis was surprisingly light-- though that could have been just the adrenaline talking. With one arm, they drug the unconscious villain to their lap, holding them firmly to their chest, trying to ignore the red trickling down their neck, and the way their leg didn’t seem to quite be moving right.’

Another breath, this one deep and shuddering.

Their life as a hero would do nothing for them, here. Desperately, they struggled for civilian knowledge. An old PSA came to mind. As a kid watching it on TV it had always seemed ridiculous, but-

Wait till the car is completely submerged. That was already well taken care of.

Aid unconscious passengers. Check.

Undo or cut all seatbelts. They had been too stupid to wear any.

Then... Then open the door, and swim to the surface.

Open the door.

Open the door.

Just do it! Okay, on three.

1...

2...

3.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Villain was soaking wet.

It was the first thing they managed to notice as they struggled to jolt upright, only to find that they were already positioned in such a way.

Before their eyes were even fully open, a new instinct wracked them: The intense desire to cough. It was not an urge they could resist, and, soon, their chest was wracked as they struggled to...

Water. Water, coughing from their lungs.

They blinked, managing to open their eyes on the second attempt. Though, almost immediately, they closed them once more. They stung terribly, stinging with...

Smoke?

It was confusion that allowed them to try a thrice time, squinting to protect their eyes.

Yes, it was smoke! Grey and heavy, twisting through the air. The fire presented itself just as quickly-- small and contained, to their good fortune. An equally fortunate wind turned the singing smoke from their face, allowing them to fully see the world around them.

Trees and dirt-- a thick wood, all tangled in on its own biomass, hardly allowing them to see the dark, heavy sky hanging above.

Oh, and Hero was there.

Villain blinked, then, once their mind remembered what surprise was, yelped.

“Um...”

“Morning.” Hero lifted a hand, waving from where they sat, on the ground, behind the campfire.

“I didn’t realize you were a boy scout.”

“I’m not.”

“Then...”

“I just watched a lot of Lost.”

The hero’s gaze drifted downwards, to Villain’s legs, outstretched before them. Their own gaze followed.

A stick. On the side of their leg, secured with taut vines, was a big ass stick.

“You...”

“They did it on Lost!”

“Where are... Where are we?”

“No clue.” Hero shook their head. “But, you’re in no condition to go anywhere with that leg.”

“Then... why are you here?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your legs are fine.”

“Yeah, I know. But you’re hurt.”

“You hate me.”

“Really?” Hero raised a brow. “No one told me.”

[leejeongz]

cix as your boyfriend

requested: yes, by anon

bx: (i don’t not need i do not need i do not need 🥲🥲🥲 ok maybe i need🥲🥲🥲)

♡ his favourite date- late night drive + music

♡ he’s the dj and the driver. you can just sit back, relax, and enjoy the scenery. he likes the privacy that you two have without being locked away in a room. you two can talk for hours while he just drives, with no real plan on where you’re going.

♡ skinship- he’s annoying ASF, he just wants to be by you all the time. most skinship comes after teasing, to show you that he was just joking. he loves holding hands, wrapping his arm around you and linking arms in public, back hugging and resting his head on your shoulder sometimes too. at home, there is no limit. there is no skinship that he wouldn’t partake in with you.

♡ his love language- quality time. when you’re together, you’re not getting a word in edge ways. he tells you anything and everything, everything he’s seen, everything he’s eaten, EVERYTHING. but it’s only because he wants to share his life with you, even the moments you don’t see. he loves seeing you laugh at his stories and how your eyes light up when he’s around. but even when no one is talking, he’s content and doesn’t want the moment to end.

♡ kisses- he likes catching you off guard, pressing kisses onto any exposed skin at any time. he loves placing kisses onto your jaw line and then pulling away and looking at you expectedly with a grin on his face. he’s very proud whenever he gets to kiss you. deeper kisses are rare and usually lead to something more, but he’s not apprehensive to initiate them.

♡ uses pet names ironically, to tease you, especially in front of your friends. he has no shame and isn’t afraid to call you his flower anywhere he wants.

♡ he can sense when somethings upsetting you or you’re being off and he’s straight there to comfort you with whatever you need, hugs, a bath, even just a conversation. he’s NOT letting you be upset or down when you deserve to be happy :((

♡ the type of guy to want to stay home with you rather than go out. especially if you’re more on the introverted side. he just doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable and thinks it’s more intimate.

♡ if he’s not getting all of your attention, he’s gonna be hella jealous. when he’s jealous, he can either get real mad or real pouty, but it’s usually something that you can reassure him on with some extra loving that day.

seunghun:

♡ his favourite date- escape room

♡ even if you never manage to escape because brain cells???? he still loves watching you try and helping you where he can. honestly, he’s no help at all because he’s too busy watching you, but you’re so captivating while at work like that hehe, can you blame him?

♡ skinship- his hand is always engulfing yours. he quite often gives you back hugs too. he prefers back hugs to normal hugs since he thinks they’re more innocent and sweet. he loves having you tucked under his arm when you’re sitting next to him, even if it’s in public. this boy does not care, skinship is the same at home or in public.

♡ his love language- quality time. when he’s not working, he’s with you. you do everything together, he values your company over anyone else’s. he knows you must miss him, because he misses you the moment you say goodbye. he wants to be the centre of your attention the whole time and he’ll do anything to make sure that he is.

♡ kisses- first of all he loves when you kiss his neck!! but your lips actually meet regularly. he likes to kiss you when you’re both tucked up in bed, he thinks it actually helps you both sleep better. he’s forever giving you pecks on your cheek too, but he knows when to stop so that it doesn’t become annoying.

♡ you first held hands after he asked you to compare hand sizes. he always thought of the moment beforehand and that your hands are probably a lot smaller than his, but the reality was they were only like 1cm smaller. but he thought it makes it easier to hold your hand so he prefers it this way ><.

♡ he will do anything to make you laugh or to make you smile. he’s hates seeing you upset or down, even if it is over the tiniest thing, so he’ll be EXTRA goofy and jokey with you until you’re happy.

♡ it doesn’t matter where you’re going, who you’re going with, what you’re gonna do, he’s gonna be there. and you can’t get sick of his presence so he doesn’t have to worry about that either

yonghee:

♡ his favourite date- thrifting together

♡ first of all he is NOT gonna get bored while shopping with you and is actually prepared to take an active boyfie role. he’ll help you pick out clothes that he thinks look good on you that you may have not picked out for yourself. when you come out wearing them from the changing room he smiles at you brightly while his heart is just going CRAZY.

♡ skinship- he strokes and pats your hair a lot, he thinks it’s endearing and it always makes you smile and blush, so he does it all the more. he’s a little shy when it comes to skinship, even when you two are in private. he’d rather tell you how much he loves you and show you through his acts of service. that being said, he does love placing tiny kisses on your forehead wherever you are.

♡ his love language- words of affirmation. sometimes all he needs is a little chat with you to make him do that little better. he wants to make you proud, especially since you go out of your way to help him. he often thinks about how lucky he is to have someone like you who gives him that boost of confidence without even realising what you do.

♡ kisses- very romantic. long, passionate kisses are rare but when they do happen, they take your breath away. when you two kiss, it takes away any struggles or any worry that you had for that brief moment. playful kisses are more frequent. he smiles into them and when he pulls away, he covers his mouth because he’s gone all shy 🥺

♡ he still gets a little bit shocked when you ask to do things with him. he’s like “what? me? why?” (his subconscious constantly wanting confirmation? we’ve all been there bby) and when you reply “because you’re my boyfriend” he gets EXTRA FLUSTERED

♡ the pet names he has for you 🥺 make you blush a whole lot 🥺 he hasn’t gone a day since you pair got together without calling you “honey” or “darling”, but he’s also created some more that suit your personality 😭😭

♡ definitely prefers calling you over texting you, or leaving you little voice notes. he likes leaving voice notes for you to wake up to when he’s not there and imagines your cute reaction when you listen to them.

♡ knows exactly what to say and when to say it. he can be flirtatious in a jokey way, but hidden under the laughter there’s sincerity and you know it

jinyoung:

♡ his favourite date- art museum

♡ as well as being able to giggle with you at all the suggestive 😼 art, he also likes having deep conversations with you about how you’re interpreting the art. he likes learning about how you think and how you feel. plus it’s an excuse for you to both dress up nicely and maybe even a little bit… matching.

♡ skinship- there’s not much pda, if any at all. i think he’s someone that would want to keep his relationship private, so not even hand holding in public. he’s that guy who waits for you to fall asleep just so he can wrap his arms around you or place a kiss on your nose. he likes resting his head on your shoulder while you watch movies together, sometimes he even falls asleep like that 😭😭

♡ his love language- acts of service. he really appreciates even the tiniest things that you do for him. when you cook for him, or collect his mail, or clean up while he’s resting after a busy day. he feels a little guilty since he knows that you have a life too though, so he’s never expecting you to do anything for him, which is why it’s even more lovely when you do.

♡ kisses- HOT AND PASSIONATE, DEEP KISSES. they always leave you flustered, but to make things even worse, he’ll then place his cold hands on your cheeks and laugh at how hot it made you. expect tiny kisses throughout the day on your hand or on your shoulder (but you cannot expect the surprise ones ofc which are even more frequent)

♡ his gift giving skills are out of this world. he remembers every date that he should and gives you something he knows that you’ll like, as well as the cliché but still nice things like flowers and chocolate. he gets so giggly when he gives them to you aww babyyyy

♡ gets so whiny when you say no to him 😭 it will be like 2am and he wants to come over but ur like “can’t you wait until tomorrow?” and then he ends up just coming over anyway to complain about you saying no

♡ uses his cuteness against you. either you love it and can’t resist it, or you hate it and give in just to make him stop.

♡ he likes fun but what he likes more is seeing you have fun. catching you smiling when you’re doing something or seeing you on pictures with a massive grin on your face makes him so happy.

hyunsuk:

♡ his favourite date- bowling

♡ seeing u in those shoes is enough. but fr he likes how light hearted it is and how fun it ALWAYS is with you. he almost always lets you win and when he does he pays for your drinks and food while you’re there. he does get a kick out of you getting it down the gutter 3 times in a row, even if it happens every time.

♡ skinship- not much for pda, maybe a little bit of handholding and a discreet back hug while you’re waiting in line. he loves being near to you though. at home, he’s more of a playful boyfriend. there’s lots of tiny little scraps on the sofa about who’s feet get the rest on the other’si laps, and who gets to sleep on the other’s chest in bed.

♡ his love language- receiving gifts. given that he can’t spend much time with you, he thinks about you a whole lot more than he does anyone else, and receiving gifts from you shows him that you do the same. more so than the gifts, he gets excited when he sees how excited you are to give him something. it’s endearing 🥺

♡ kisses- longer kisses are giggly but still full of passion and love. he can’t wait to put his lips on yours and soon becomes more and more comfortable with making the first move. he’s not one for giving little pecks, those are rare, but he loves when you surprise him with them.

♡ even though he always wants to make you flustered, he usually gets wayyy more flustered than you in his attempts to do so. his cheeks burn up and his hands come up to cover his face.

♡ okay this boy LOVES listening to you talk. looking into your eyes while you talk about everything and anything, just admiring everything about you.

♡ sings for you. all the time. even if you don’t request it he’s gonna be belting out a romantic song to you.

♡ sometimes he doesn’t even realise he’s done it, but he’ll drop something really sweet and romantic into a conversation and your heart will be thumping immediately and he’ll panic thinking he said something wrong.

[pride-moth]

If you were church, I'd get on my knees [Stolitz Week Day 4 - Wedding]

Ao3 Link

Event Info Link

The paparazzi are everywhere. They sit in the trees, in the windows of neighboring buildings, in the cars on the adjacent streets, some have even made their way onto the premises. They’ve been taking pictures of everything all morning. Of the seating area, the flower arrangements, the early guests, even the waiters. They’re prepared to fill the tabloids with the most scandalous wedding in hell. A Prince and an imp. The highest and the lowest. It’s gossip pages simply filling themselves.

They’re prepared for everything. Except for the ceremony not happening in the elaborately-staged venue. They will sit there for hours until dawn comes and there’s still nobody there, except the guests and waiters who have been roaming the place since the morning. “We’ve been duped,” someone will say eventually but nobody will have any idea what to do next.

Sometime in the afternoon, the real wedding congregation is happening in the I.M.P headquarters, with only a handful of people and a private wedding photographer. Everything is decorated in the crispiest shade of white they could find. It’s smaller and simpler than the fake venue they’ve coordinated, but it’s still stunning and gorgeous and perfect, and Stolas is slowly losing his mind in his little pre-room where Millie and Octavia are doing their best to keep him together. He picks at his white suit, wrings his hands and runs to the mirror every single minute to check himself.

“You need to calm down,” Via says, slightly exasperated considering Stolas hasn’t exactly been calm in hours, “Everything’s going to be fine.”

“What if it isn’t? What if the paparazzi come here? What if they find out? What if Blitz decides he doesn’t want to marry me after all?”

“Blitz is…” Millie says while fine-tuning her own hair, “Not gonna lie, I didn’t think he’d ever marry. Didn’t seem like the type. But he’s decided to marry you and that’s something, right. Plus, you’ve gotten married before, you know how it works.”

“That was so long ago, I scarcely remember.”

“The point is there’s no reason to be nervous, everything is going to run smoothly.” Millie gives him a hearty pat on the back.

“Weren’t you nervous when you and Moxxie married?”

“Oh, I wasn’t, Moxxie almost lost it, though. But do you know what I told him?”

“What?”

“That marriage isn’t that big a deal. We love each other before the big party and we’ll love each other after the big party, just with more tax benefits.”

“That’s not very romantic…” Via remarks from across the room.

“It’s true, though, isn’t it?” Millie shrugs. “You’re just having a big party to celebrate how much you love each other. And to get tax benefits.”

“Maybe.”

“So, don’t worry about it! Also, there’s no paparazzi, they’re still swarming the fake venue, Moxxie has CCTV on them.”

“Thank you, for organizing this whole thing, I just… Didn’t want to do this with the press present. It’s… I don’t know, it feels less special when everyone gets to watch, you know?”

“No problem, and now get out there and marry my boss!”

Stolas takes a deep breath and his daughter by his hand and walks out of the room.

He walks in with Blitz already waiting in bated breath, wearing a matching white suit that makes him look just obscenely handsome and when their eyes finally meet, it’s as though all worries fall off him in an instant. It’s going to be fine, Stolas thinks, maybe all of it is going to be fine. Forever.

“You look great,” he says shyly and takes both of Blitz’ hands.

“You are absolutely smoking hot,” Blitz responds. Stolas chuckles.

Next to them, Loona, their impromptu officiator, clears her throat to get their attention. “So, uhm, again, can someone explain to me why we’re doing this all proper and pseudo-Christian??”

“Because I like to spite the establishment which I’m marrying into. Also, Christian weddings have a very good aesthetic, we’ve been over this, now ask us for our vows, Loonie,” Blitz replies sharply.

“Okay, sure, uhm, vows please?”

Stolas breathes in deeply. “Blitz, when you came into my life, I never could have imagined standing here with you now. You were loud, abrasive, vulgar and… Well, you still are all of these things, but now I love you for it. Now I want to listen to talk about nothing and rant about your least favorite fruit all day. I want to hear your voice from morning to evening and I won’t tire of it. When I met you… I thought you would be nothing but a tiny speck on my night sky. Seen once, but quickly forgotten. But now I know you’re the brightest star of them all, always leading my way. I love you and I wish to always find my way to you.”

There is some sniffling in the room, though someone is probably also throwing up.

“Wow, okay. Dad, would you like to go next?” Loona says, then, her voice shaking just the tiniest bit.

Blitz looks around and takes a deep breath. “I’ve never been lucky with relationships before, they were… Yeah, they were all pretty terrible. And I didn’t even plan on having one with you for a long time, frankly. But… You know, sometimes you don’t really have a choice. You don’t want to fall in love with the weird bird prince. You just want to get his book and you have sex with him to do, but… It becomes more than that and that’s why we’re here now. Because I love you, even though it took me a long time to accept that. And I can’t wait to be married to you and rail you in the Hellton Hotel honeymoon suite.”

There’s an uncomfortable silence for a moment. A silent, disturbed “What?” comes from Octavia.

“What?! Do you think I’m not gonna fuck my husband harder than ever before in our wedding night? Fucking prudes.”

Loona clears her throat again. “So, uhm, right. Stolas, do you wish to take Blitz over here as your husband?”

“Yes, of course I do!”

“Great. Dad. Blitz. whatever. Do you wish to take Stolas here as your husband?”

“Hell yeah, let’s go!”

“Good, then blah blah something something by the power of whatever is going on here, I pronounce you two married. But please wait until after the party with whatever you two want to do to each other…”

“And…?” Blitz says.

“Oh, right, yeah. You may now kiss. As if you need my permission for that. ...Wait, we didn’t even do the thing with the rings yet!”

But they’re already kissing. And so they share this, their first kiss as husbands, it feels exactly the same as always in the best way possible. They’ve kissed before, hundreds upon thousands of times, and this time is no different, it’s an intuitive motion, a well-practiced one, carried out with pure trust and comfort.

And yet, it absolutely is different because that kiss now carries a promise. A promise for many, many years of more kisses, years of just them, together.

The party goes into the dead of night, people dancing and drinking all in celebration of their love, it’s an almost surreal concept. Octavia gets drunk for the first time and that’s a whole piece of work, but Loona is there for her, them being sisters now and all.

But in the Hellton Hotel honeymoon suite they’ve booked for the night, nothing much actually happens because they’re drunk and tired and exhausted, so all they do is cuddle up against each other in the gratuitous pink bed and fall asleep soundly, secure in the knowledge that there’s more than enough time for everything else during the rest of their lives.

The next day, the tabloids will be filled with only one picture, the one their own wedding photographer made, the one they actually want the world to see on their own terms. It shows them, in their matching white suits, Stolas with one hand on Blitz’ hips and a content smile on his face while Blitz has his tongue out and gives the camera the middle finger.

[dearest-kibble]

yan kenma who has you locked up in his apartment- it’s been some time and you’ve given up escaping but you know he live-streams so you kind of start living small clues that you’re there in hope someone will figure it out? but instead of a viewer kenma finds out; and instead of stopping you he just decides to taunt you and play along to the point his viewers make it an inside joke- the emotional rollercoaster that would be? he wouldn’t have to punish you- the crushing despair is enough alone

This is so deliciously fucked up I love it,,, thank you anon, Kenma hits so different. I love him thank you so so so much. i am working on so much,,, thank you for being patient with all my uhhh lateness? this kinda became something a little different than the prompt but hopefully thats good?

Kenma Kozume x Fem reader

tw: Typical yandere-ness, humiliation? Sexism? Mentioned stalking, (If im missing anything please let me know my brain isn’t functioning rn)

You’re sitting on his lap, camera angled so that no one’s view is obstructed by your body, but so that all his views can clearly see you. You’ve been here so long, any hope of leaving, ironically, has left you. But, the thought crept slowly, surely, deeply into your brain and hasn’t left. You turn around on Kenma’s lap, straddling him and you’re sure the live chat is going a little crazy at the thought of Kodzuken having someone in his lap while he streams and he’s probably going to tell you to get off soon, but you’ve got the chat’s attention, and you are going to work with it. You tap Kenma’s cheeks, slight squish on them and you know he hates that it’s on camera all the same, you drum three fingers on his cheek, smiling at him for the camera as your fingertips meet his clammy skin. He doesn’t tell you to stop so across his cheek you swipe your thumb three times as tenderly as possible. As you stand from his lap, you pat his cheeks, three times delicately. You look into his eyes, still as calculating as when you met him, a deceptively warm amber with the tiniest hint of frustration (and somewhere inside, you know it’s probably with you but you can’t care.)

“I’m gonna sit on the couch, ‘kay?” You call softly, hoping you were subtle enough with your plea.

“Oh, okay,” And you think you’re free before he calls a “Wait! Come back for a little.” You’re even halfway to the couch before the words rope you back in. He beckons you to lean down, and whispers into your ear. “I noticed you trying to sign to get out. Morse code isn’t as subtle as you think, you might as well just ask them to get you out,” You chance a quick look towards chat.

“Was that morse code?”

“Holy shit! Yeah, I think that was SOS.”

“You think they actually need to get out or it’s one of those ‘my bfs terrible’ jokes?”

“You see the way they were straddling? Def not a hate my bf sorta thing.”

“See?” He’s still whispering into your ear, game forgotten in lieu of what might be called humiliation.  “They won’t believe you because you want to be here. Regardless of what you say, you would’ve left already if you didn’t.” He smiles at you and affectionately pats your head. Like he’d pet a cat. The idea is still in your mind, though perhaps a little shallower. You glance at the chat once more, someone is still talking about it, but Kenma pushes you away with a “I’ll get you when I’m done, okay?” You end your night on the couch with Kenma. He smiles at you and puts your legs on his lap.

The next livestream is two days after the last one. You have something planned once more, hopefully more effective.

“I’m playing minecraft today, I could set up your computer, and we could play together?” His small smile is back. And though a kind gesture, all you can think about is how easily you could make a point.

“Okay!” The earlier plan is immediately forgotten, and thoughts of what you could do in a game, fills your mind. “Will I have a mic?”

“No, I can’t have you telling them can I?” And it clicks, because of course he’d taunt you. But it’s like your brain grew claws that cannot lose their hold.

“Will I have a camera?” And you know the answer, but Kenma might still surprise you. You’ve already had one shock tonight, maybe you’ll get another.

“No. Sorry. You have chat though.” He pats your head again, ruffling your hair. “I’ve already got you set up, c’mon.” He tugs at your hand, pulling gently.

“Thanks Kenma.” He’s put another computer across from his desk on a much smaller table made for playing cards.

“You’re all set up.”

“Yeah.” He clicks the mouse a few times, waves at the camera to his right. “Can everybody hear me?” He waits a few seconds for chat’s response. “Chat is saying yes, so let’s get right in?” He smiles sheepishly to his camera.

“Hi everyone, I’ m Kodzuken and today we are,” He pauses to look at you with honeyed amber eyes. “Playing Minecraft with my partner.” He nods in your direction. You just open the minecraft tab, the only shortcut that seems to be on the computer.

“It’s a LAN server, click that, okay?” So you click it and say nothing. You start to go through the motions of chopping a tree, making sticks, making a crafting table. Kennma is narrating what he does, and you’re not even sure where he is in game until you're knocked back and turn your mouse to look at him.

“Yeah, I know - she should be relying on me.” He’s responding to something in chat, he’s gotta be. You type a quick,

“What’re they saying?”

“Oh, that my girlfriend shouldn’t be so independent, you rely on me - I'm your boyfriend.” Kenma says it so casually, so acerbically that you immediately take off sprinting from the forest in game.  

“She has these bouts - you saw them last stream - where she likes to try and ‘get away’.” Kenma laughs softly; little glockenspiel notes falling from his mouth. “It’s a really cute joke honestly! Anyway, I’ll put my minecraft bed next to hers later, right now...” You stop paying attention and start planning how you’d try to get your point across more clearly. You could make signs, say “Get me out!” Like Kenma suggested.

“Hey! He looks over the screen at you, piercing eyes staring right through you. “Don’t go off on your own, we’re staying together alright?”

“No.” He’ll have to deal with chatting, possibly hearing you by himself. And you continue through the coded forest. It goes pretty smoothly, though you’re sure Kenma is trying to find you, you’ve already created a mine for yourself, and made a little sign with instructions that reads: “Get me out!”

“Her voice is quite cute, isn’t it? I’ll get to hear it for the rest of my life.” He continues humming out yes’s and no’s to his audience that sit captivated in a land of blocks and pixels.

“Hey, I’m going to use the restroom, is it alright if my girlfriend takes over for me?” He stands, and waves you over into his chair that’s been made for gaming and padded with red accents. He watches you with his cat-like eyes as you sit down and pats your head. “I’ll be right back Kitty, behave.” And you hear his soft footsteps get farther away and the creak of the door twice before you finally look at chat.

Woa, Kudzu got lucky huh?

“Please,” You don’t sound nearly as someone might think you would. You’ve been here too long. “Get me out of here?”

Sure sweetheart, just come over to my place first.

“Just - get me away from him please!”

Girls are so whiny huh?

Hey man, its funny at least amiright?

“It’s not a joke -”

She’s really committed to this bit huh

Damn iim staartin to feel bad for ken

Me to :(

“I’ve been here for year and I don’t want to-”

Wow. what an ungrateful bitch.

Ikr? She’s got a bf and everything and she wants to get out?

“No- it’s not like that - he stalked me for months I-” And the familiar desperation you thought hoped beyond all hope that you had lost bleeds back into your voice all repression surfaces like the tide in your eyes.

Oh fuxxx we made her cry.

relax bet she’s just on her period or smth

“I am not!” A bubble of snot pops from your nose and mucus drips uncomfortably to your lips. “I just-”

What could you want that you don’t have.

“My house! My job! My friends!” And your voice breaks

She wants to go back to a job?

Crazy lady huh.

She wants friends when all she really needs is a man? smh.

“Kitten, what-”

“Leave me the fuck alone!” It’s an outburst that you’ll regret later, for one reason or another. But for now it’s a small comfort to speak your mind. With your voice wavering and congested, you choke out a “Let me go home.” Kenma’s eyebrows furrow but his eyes are still the calculating, cold amber they always are.

“Shh shh, it’s okay.” Instead of the quick pats he’s so fond of, he strokes your hair and massages the nape of your neck like he’s picking up a kitten who's gotten into a fight. “I’m going to cut the stream, okay?”

Who’d want to leave Ken, he’s cutting the stream short to help his gf.

…….yeah

I feel bad.

“You should. Please don’t make her cry.” A few clicks later and the stream cuts. “Do you want me to upload that one?” To get your message out? You’d do anything.

“Yes please…” Someone will have to see it. How miserable you are.

“Then it’ll go up, okay?” He pats your back twice, and he stands again to sit at the computer. Out of the blue he speaks again. “They’re right.” No no no no no. “I’m lucky, i’m so glad you're here with me and that you won’t leave.”

“I will get out!” The proof of your white hot anger is breaking the dam built in your throat.

“Where will you go? Your friends don’t know where you’ve gone, they won’t be happy with you coming back unannounced.”

“My parents-”

“You can rely on me, you don’t need anyone else.”

“But I-”

“Shhh kitty, you’re overreacting let’s get you to bed, you’ve had a stressful day.” And so he walks you back to the room you share that's covered in pictures, and he tucks you under the covers and dries your tears with a blanket. He whispers words to you, faint little nothings about games he’s going to play that you’ll enjoy watching and little bits of trivia about what “Kuroo” is up to. Eventually you fall asleep, with his hand in your hair and a chair pulled up close so he can stare. You both know it but no one will admit, some part of him will always enjoy how you lose hope so quickly.

--

once again! This should not’ve taken so long,,,, and it kinda deviates from request but! there we are! also,,,, you can’t tell me that like,,,,,,, kenma hasn’t been at least exposed to incels and or like,,,, really sexist guys he streams on twitch or youtube or something so- also thank you anon,,, i really like this one

[little-ligi]

Summer of Whump - No.7

No.7 - Storm Fandom - BBC Merlin Wordcount - 1484 @summer-of-whump

For the Nony who asked for more Gwaincelot!! Hope you enjoy!

The rumble of thunder echoed behind the grumble of Gwaine’s groan. Lancelot pressed down harder on the wound, ignoring Gwaine’s stammered expletives and angrily kicking feet. His boots were digging hard into the ground, trying to give him purchase to push away from Lancelot.

“I’m sorry,” Lancelot said through gritted teeth, his hands not lifting the pressure on Gwaine’s side.

The bandits had been fast and they’d outnumbered the two knights three to one. But Lancelot and Gwaine weren’t two of Arthur’s best knights for nothing. They had fought back hard, and eventually they had won. Except Gwaine had taken a dagger in the side halfway through the fight. Not that it had slowed him down much.

But as soon as the bandits had all been defeated, Gwaine had let out a strangled yelp and collapsed to his knees. And now that the adrenaline had worn off, Gwaine was in agony.

He groaned again as Lancelot carefully peeled back the wad of cloak he had pressed to the wound over Gwaine’s ribs. The bleeding seemed to have slowed a tiny bit and he put the pressure back on it quickly.

Continue reading on Ao3, fanfiction.net or below! 👇

“It’s stopping bleeding,” he told Gwaine reassuringly, but Gwaine just grumbled, dragging his hand through his own hair and biting his lip.

A few heavy raindrops fell from the branches overhead. Lancelot had dragged Gwaine under a large tree when the rain had become too heavy, trying to get the tiniest bit of shelter to stop Gwaine getting cold once Lancelot had removed his chainmail and gambeson to see the wound. He looked up at the darkening sky, the thunder still rolling in the air. The storm was definitely moving this direction. Lancelot just prayed that it wouldn’t come right across on top of them before he had finished treating Gwaine.

Taking one hand off the makeshift bandage, he caught Gwaine’s hand as it flexed in and out of a white-knuckled fist as he tried to breathe through the pain. He soothed his thumb over the back of Gwaine’s knuckles, just enough that Gwaine managed a slightly grimaced smile.

“Thanks, Lance,” he said, his voice gruff and strained.

Lancelot gave him a smile and squeezed his hand before letting go and pressing down hard on the wound again.

“Or not,” Gwaine gritted out, throwing his head back and kicking his feet again.

Rain lashed beyond the confines of their tree shelter. Suddenly the air around them lit up with the flash of lightning arcing across the sky, a tremendous crack of thunder making the whole ground seem to vibrate. Lancelot swore loudly, snapping Gwaine to attention, causing him to push up onto his elbows with a look of panic obscuring the pain on his face.

The storm had moved faster than Lancelot thought it would. If there was anywhere Lancelot really did not want to be in the middle of a storm, it was out in the open, under a tall tree and wearing a suit of metal.

“We have to move!” He pulled the wadded cloak away from Gwaine’s wound, straightening it out into a long strip which he wrapped around him and tied as tightly as he could manage.

Standing hurriedly, he fought against the buckle of his belt, ripping it from his waist and dropping it to the ground, then yanked his chainmail up over his head. He flung it away, kicking Gwaine’s already discarded mail further from them as well. He refastened his sword belt, jamming Gwaine’s sword into his belt beside his own.

“Lance!” Gwaine was struggling to pull himself up to his knees, putting a hand on the tree to balance.

Lancelot snatched Gwaine’s hand off of the bark, hoisting his arm over his shoulder and tugging him to his feet. Gwaine let out a yelp but gripped tightly to Lancelot’s gambeson, holding himself upright as best as he could.

“Come on!”

Pulling Gwaine away from the tree, Lancelot started moving, crouching as much as he could while supporting Gwaine’s weight. They staggered out from under the tree’s branches into the rain.

“Where… can we go?” Gwaine gasped, his wet hair whipping against his face and sticking to his cheek as he looked around. He lifted a hand to push it away, smearing blood across his forehead as he did so. Lancelot wanted to reach over and wipe it off but they didn’t have time for such triviality right now.

“There’s a little valley along this way,” he said over the roaring sound of the rain, pointing to the south. “Can you manage?”

Gwaine’s face was already screwed up in agony, his hands grabbing at Lancelot so tight his fingers were digging in through Lancelot’s gambeson. With the colour of the cloak tied around his middle it was hard to tell if the wound was bleeding again, but from the way he was sagging, Lancelot suspected it was.

“I’m fine,” Gwaine insisted, earning a scoff from Lancelot. “Let’s go.”

It was slow moving and Lancelot’s heart was in his mouth, racing and thudding in his ears. Gwaine stumbled at his side, his teeth gritted as he tried not to whimper. The air was a constant rumble of thunder, unrelenting and deep.

Tufts of thick grass and rocks tripped them as they moved across the open hill. Lancelot hoped he was doing the right thing; his instincts were screaming that getting to low ground was their best chance of surviving the storm. But having to be so exposed as they made their way there worried him.

He felt the prickling, tingling feeling under his hair, the static in the air fizzing around them. Get low, his mind was repeating to him, as low as possible and hope that the lightning reached for the trees and not them. He pulled Gwaine down, squatting and wrapping his arms around his head, cradling Gwaine against his chest, his head under his chin.

The paleness of Gwaine’s face was lit up by a flash a moment later, the dark bloody smudge in stark contrast to the ashen colour of his cheeks. His eyes were half lidded, looking slightly glazed.

A second lightning bolt followed immediately after, this time striking the tree they had been sheltering beneath just mere minutes before. The bark splintered, flames licking over the smaller branches, and Lancelot saw a fork of lightning streak from the branches to his abandoned chainmail on the ground.

Immeasurably thankful that they’d moved when they had, he wasted no time hauling Gwaine up again, apologising profusely when he cried out in pain.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but we have to keep moving, we have to get to the valley,” he panted, his voice sounding shrill even to his own ears.

“I’m slowing you down,” Gwaine mumbled.

Lancelot cut him off before Gwaine could even think about suggesting he leave him behind.

“I’m not leaving you. We’re almost there.”

In truth they were still a fair way from the valley, but Lancelot was determined they would get there. He rolled his shoulders, trying to shift the uncomfortable pressure that was building all down his spine. He readjusted his arm around Gwaine, pulling him closer against his side and got him stumbling forwards again.

“Nearly there, nearly there,” he heard Gwaine muttering under his breath, his voice laced with agony and fear.

Lancelot repeated the mantra to himself as they struggled on, Gwaine’s feet getting clumsier and tripping often. His hands were heavily shaking, his grip wavering on Lancelot, but Lancelot just tightened his own grip and towed him along. He could see the dip of the valley up ahead them now, the gentle curve of the earth as it wound towards the brook at the valley bottom.

Their way was illuminated by many more flashes, the crash of the thunder beginning to hurt his ears. The tree behind them crackled with fire still, a beacon and a warning, the terrible groaning of the wood sinking fear into Lancelot’s stomach.

He was shivering, drenched with rain, but as they crested the ridge of the valley – finally – he felt small glimmer of hope sparking in his chest. Gwaine collapsed, stumbling over the uneven ground, and Lancelot caught him. Dragging him far enough down the slope of the valley that they were well below the level of the hill. He held him steady as he too sank to his knees.

Practically pulling Gwaine onto his lap, he let his hands roam down his chest to the edge of the blood soaked cloak and resumed pressing down on it to stanch the bleeding. It wasn’t quite as bad as he’d feared, the blood slowly oozing not gushing.

“I’ve got you, we’re alright,” he murmured and Gwaine managed a shaky grimace that Lancelot interpreted as a smile.

Praying that they were indeed safe, Lancelot took Gwaine’s hand and squeezed it. Now they just had to wait out the storm.

[kissinginkitchens]

You Bring Me Home—Chapter Two: Where the Heart Is

a/n: Thank you so much for all of the love you have shown to part one! I’m so glad to see that you’re enjoying YBMH so far, the story is just getting started. I hope you’ll stick around for the full thing, so without further ado, here’s chapter two! As always, my inbox is open so feel free to come chat with me when you have finished this part :) Much love, Mel <3

Pairing: Hawai'i!Harry x Original Character

Warnings: swearing, mentions of drug use

Word Count: 5.1k

read part one here

The phone screen flickers to life at the touch of Harry’s finger, flashing the exact same time that it had the last time he checked, though it feels like hours have passed since then. He sighs at the disappointing revelation and turns his phone over so that the screen meets the aged wood of the piano where it rests. In all honesty, Harry has no idea why he agreed to the interview in the first place. He had skillfully dodged the hundreds of requests for an exclusive tell-all following the untimely split of One Direction and successfully avoided the prying eyes of the general public for several months. So why had he indulged the first request from a girl he hardly knew without so much as a blink? The answer seemed a frustrating mystery to him, but to anyone else, the fluttering in his stomach when he caught a glimpse of her yellow Ford Bronco pulling up to the studio and the way he instinctively raked a hand through his hair gave the answer away.

“I know I’m late, I’m sorry!” Alani apologizes, emerging from the car with a notebook nestled under her arm and a smoothie in each hand. She closes the door with her hip before making a beeline to the studio entrance where Harry stands, his right shoulder leaning against the doorframe with the same stoic expression Alani recognizes as his signature look.

“I had to get my sister to cover for me at the café and then I got lost because Google sent me to a Napua restaurant instead of the recording studio,” she rambles in an attempted continuation of her apology. “But anyway, this is for you. A peace offering and a thank you for doing this.”

Harry gingerly takes the green smoothie from her outstretched hand and offers a curt nod in response before ushering her inside.Alani pushes her sunglasses up and settles them into her windswept waves, trailing behind Harry and taking in the space. In one corner across the room, she notices a couple of brightly colored tapestries thumbtacked to the wall with a microphone stand perched in the center, all encased behind a screen of plexiglass. The adjacent wall is lined with guitars all standing at attention and glimmering, despite the dim lighting. Harry stops at the doorway of another room with a couch and a coffee table, the floor littered with wires and pieces of crumpled paper. He motions Alani to step inside and then clears his throat, which catches the attention of two other long-haired men chatting with amused expressions on their faces.

“Sorry lads,” Harry crosses his arms with eyes glued to the floor to avoid their questioning stares. “‘Fraid I have to intrude. Can we have this room?” 

One of the men grins behind a full beard,  popping a peanut M&M into his mouth before standing. “Sure thing, boss man. Let’s bounce, Rowland.”

The other man, also bearded but smaller in stature with a thin, pointed nose nods silently. He continues twirling two drumsticks between his fingers and points one of them at Harry in passing. Alani offers polite smiles at the both of them, and a quiet “thank you” falls from her lips as they exit without another word. Harry closes the door behind them and gestures to the couch, which she takes as her cue to sit.

“I like the uniform,” Alani smiles, gesturing to her hair as a comment on the fact that the three men all share similar lengths and styles.

“Thanks,” is all Harry says, taking a seat across from hers and clearly dismissing her attempt at humor.

To pacify the urge to fill the uncomfortable silence, Alani sips her strawberry smoothie and steals a glance through her eyelashes at Harry who is doing the same. She clears her throat after a minute and sets the drink on the table in front of her; a notebook takes its place on her lap.

“Thank you again for doing this, I really appreciate it,” Alani offers while digging through her bag for her phone. “I’m gonna record this on voice notes, just for the sake of quoting you accurately.”

“Sure,” Harry replies, occupying his gaze with the condensation trickling from the cup onto his fading black jeans. 

Dry retorts from everyone else, especially customers, have little effect on the way Alani conducts herself.  But every short comment from Harry, or lack thereof, makes her feel like a bug under a microscope. She settles her phone onto the coffee table and takes a deep breath to calm the trembling that spreads from her chest into her fingers and toes.

“So first, I wanted to ask about your time in Hawai’i. Are you enjoying it so far?” Alani poses the question lightly, hoping to open him up just enough to extract the story that she’s really looking for.

“It’s nice,” Harry nods, finally meeting her expectant stare. When she doesn’t respond for a beat, he clears his throat and adds on to the statement. “Weather’s good,”

Alani musters a half-hearted smile and glances down at the questions on her page. This is going to take for-fucking-ever, she sighs.

“Is that what drew you here—vacation? Getting away?” 

“Yeah, pretty much,”

The row of guitars behind the singer catches her attention suddenly and guides the next question.

“And to write or.. record?”

Harry shifts in his seat, calculating his response carefully. “Both,”

“Solo stuff?”

Alani watches as he takes a slow sip of his smoothie and crosses his legs, an action which tells her that she’s struck a dead end. Or, at the very least, a door that she hasn’t gained his trust to open yet.

“You were with One Direction for half a decade,” She recovers. “Constantly releasing new music and touring. But now you’re here, doing neither, and haven’t done so for almost a year. What is that transition like?” Alani isn’t sure if Harry will answer when she poses the question, but to her surprise he meets her gaze and nods, as if to say that he accepts the inquiry.

“It’s different than anything I’ve ever done, for sure,” he starts slowly. It’d be a lie to say that he hasn’t given the breakup and, subsequently, his future outside of the band much thought. He thinks about it every day, especially his bandmates and their supportive fans. That much he has been able to unpack privately, but the rest of it—the sudden need to escape and write new music— is still something he can’t quite put into words, so he leans into the nostalgia and hopes it’ll suffice.

“Like you said, it’s been non-stop for the past five years, so I guess it is a bit jarring to come to a sudden halt after so much momentum. Obviously, it’s nice to have the time off, but I love putting out music and touring it. I wouldn’t trade that for anything,”

Alani is grateful to have more than a couple of words of material, despite the fact that it doesn’t really answer the question or tell her anything new about the man sitting crossed legged and closed off in front of her. Looking through her notes, Alani selects another question and embarks on a new angle.

“You were really young when all of that began,” she starts, thinking about how she could never have left her family and home at just 16. Hell, she was 22 and still figuring it out. Hopefully, if all things went well with this interview and Rolling Stone, she would finally find the opportunity to do it. “Do you ever think about where you would be if you hadn’t auditioned for X-Factor?”

Harry knows that she’s playing it safe, trying to feel him out and test the buttons she can push. He also knows that he’s being difficult, much more so than usual due to his nerves. So with an unfamiliar pang in his chest, he decides to relent the tiniest bit.

“Well, I’m starting to think maybe I could’ve been a professional surfer,” he offers matter-of-factly which makes Alani flash an amused grin. Harry’s sudden humor makes the room a bit less suffocating for the both of them and she’s grateful for it.

“Surfing, huh? This I have to see.” she  quips back, suddenly trying to picture him ditching the black skinny jeans for a wetsuit.

He nods with a faint smirk. “Maybe you will.” 

Alani meets his gaze with a shy smile of her own and her eyes fall to his lips for a brief second. The almost imperceptible action sends another foreign jolt through Harry’s chest. She opens her mouth to resume questioning when a loud bang startles them both and causes Harry to spin in his seat, looking through the glass window of the sound booth.

“Sorry!” A man with short, blonde hair and a fading tie dye shirt laughs while lifting the tipped over drum cymbals. “Don’t mind us!”

The two men from earlier straggle in behind and poorly conceal their own fits of laughter. Harry flashes his middle finger briefly, mouthing something that Alani can’t see but knows is undoubtedly rude. She suppresses a giggle and sneaks a glance at her phone, which indicates only a few minutes worth of dialogue. When she lifts her head, the door opens and the blonde man peeks his head in.

“Hello,” he greets with an extended hand before entering and taking a seat next to Alani on the couch. “Tom Hull, or Kid Harpoon...or just Tom, whatever you like best,” 

 She accepts his hand eagerly, not missing the way Harry pinches the bridge of his nose in her peripheral vision. “Mahealani Hale, or just Alani. Nice to meet you,”

“Wow, beautiful name,” Tom compliments. “Sorry to interrupt, I didn’t realize you had company, H,”

“She was just—”

“I’m writing about-” The two speak at the same time, making brief eye contact before Harry turns his attention back to Tom.

“Did you need something?” He asks. Tom’s eyes dart between Harry and Alani before he clears his throat and reclines in his seat.

“Just dropping by to see if you wanted to go for lunch...” he trails off, which Alani takes as a cue to start gathering her belongings.

“Kind of busy here,” Harry offers with a glance back at the girl seated awkwardly across from him. “Another time,”

At this, Tom turns to Alani and ignores his friend’s protests. “Alani, do you eat lunch?”

Before responding, she casts an apprehensive glimpse at Harry who has suddenly become very intrigued by the drink in his lap, purposefully avoiding her eyes.

“Uh.. well yeah, but I don’t-”

“Great! Have lunch with us,”

“Mate—” Harry speaks up.

Tom grins, shrugging. “What? You plan on starving the poor girl?”

“I really can’t, but thank you for the offer,” Alani explains with a sheepish smile, standing and slinging her bag over her shoulder. “It was really nice to meet you Tom. And thank you again, Harry, I’ll see you around.”

The musician watches her shuffle out of the sound booth quietly and turns his attention back at Tom, who sits with an incredulous look on his face.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” He asks, standing. “Go after her, dickhead!”

“It’s not like that she’s-”

“I really don’t give a fuck about your excuses, go!”

Harry scoffs and rolls his eyes, looking out the window as Alani slips through the front door.

She fishes her keys out of her bag and sighs when a familiar voice says her name.

“Alani!” Harry calls from the doorway, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun. He makes his way down the steps and over to the driver’s side where she  ghosts the key over the ignition. 

“Come have lunch...please?” 

“It’s okay,” she purses her lips together politely. “I don’t wanna get in the way,”

Harry catches his lower lip between his teeth and runs a hand through his hair, choosing his next words thoughtfully. 

“No, you’re not—you won’t,” he starts. “I would really like it if you joined us for lunch, especially since our time got interrupted. Please, let me make it up to you.”

Alani can’t help the way her stomach flips at the words “our time” that fall from his lips and she finds herself nodding in agreement before her mind has had a chance to intervene. 

She makes her way to the passenger seat of the Range Rover parked behind the studio, which she learns is where all of Harry’s entourage keeps their vehicles. A variety of brightly colored vintage cars are neatly parked, and it amuses her that Harry skips all of them, instead going straight for the black SUV with darkly tinted windows. At least he’s consistent,  she smirks. As Alani climbs into the car, she is met by the warmth of Harry’s scent—something woodsy and vanilla— and the fact that she recognizes it makes her heart pound.

“You can connect your phone,” Harry nods to the stereo as he buckles his seatbelt. “To the Bluetooth, I mean, if you’d like.”

 “Really?” she asks, brow raised in mild disbelief.

“Only if you play something good,” he teases with a stony expression, adjusting the sunglasses on the bridge of his nose. Alani takes that as a challenge, scrolling through various playlists as Harry peels away onto the main road. Over the speakers, the beginning of “Don’t Worry Baby” by The Beach Boys surrounds the two of them. 

“Is this to your liking, my liege?” Alani poses in an exaggerated British accent that makes Harry cringe, though the small grin on his face gives away his endearment.

“Yes, but please don’t do that accent ever again,” 

“So you admit it, you’re the one with the accent,” she wiggles her brows, eyes peeling away  from the view out her window to Harry in the driver’s seat.

“If it’ll get you to never do that one again, sure,” “Dunno, love,” she continues, watching the coast shimmer under the afternoon sun. “Think  it kinda suits me,”

Harry shakes his head and checks the rearview mirror to make sure that he hasn’t lost Tom, Mitch, and Jeff in the car trailing behind.

“What’s it like?” Alani questions, studying the perfect slope of his pointed nose and strawberry pout.

“What’s what like?”

“England,”

Harry thinks for a second, recalling his London flat, lunches with his mum and sister, the streets of Trafalgar Square, and Abbey Road. 

“Rainy,” is all he says.

Alani scoffs, which draws  his attention over to where she lounges in his passenger seat, sitting comfortably as if it was exactly where she belonged. “That’s all?”

“What?” He questions, though he knows exactly what she means and is perfectly aware of his own stubbornness.

“Just seems like... I don’t know, such a generic description for a place you consider home,”

Harry mulls her response over, the word “home” especially catching his interest. It’s a strange concept in his mind because while, yes, England is where he has spent the majority of his life and where the people he loves most reside, he has never truly felt connected to just one place. And after spending his formative years traveling the world, who could blame him?

“It’s... safe,” he tries again, attempting to verbalize what he’s feeling. “When I’m there, I mean, I feel safe. Like I don’t have to be anyone or do anything specific, I can just... be. No expectations,”

Alani lets Harry’s words sit between them for a moment, sensing that there is still more he wants to say. When she doesn’t respond after a minute,  he continues in an effort to clarify and fill the lull in the conversation.

“I used to think that London was just a starting point and that if I could make it to LA, it would mean that I had really made it, and I would feel more at home there,” he continues, slow and calculated. “But I dunno... when I’m there it still feels like an extended holiday,  like I’m just buying time until I leave for the next place. London doesn’t feel like that, feels much more constant... so yeah, I guess it is home,” 

As if she had read his mind earlier, Alani adds on. “Not to mention that’s where your family is, I’m assuming,” 

Harry nods, once again thinking of his mum and sister. The image of their beaming faces  brings the shadow of a dimple to his cheek.  “Yeah,”

“What’s your family like?” She continues, truly interested and forgetting for a moment about the article she still has to write.

“Kind of small, I guess. S’really just my sister and my mum, but they’re,” Harry pauses, searching for the right words, “They’re the best. My mum’s probably the kindest woman I’ve ever met. Feel pretty lucky with that one, considering what a pest I was as a child,” he chuckles lightly and it’s a sound that Alani hadn’t heard up to this point, but one she knows she’ll replay in her mind over and over again.

“Gem’s pretty patient too—and brilliant, always the studious one,” he adds finally, a dreamy look on his face that Alani much prefers to the stoic one he always dons. .

“Ah yes, there’s always one,” she nods, catching the quirked brow he offers in response.

“Oh yeah? Are you the one in your family?” 

“I guess so. School just seemed to come easily to me,”

“And what made you want to study journalism?” He questions, stopping to let a woman and her toddler cross.

Alani thinks about it for a moment while twirling a strand of fabric from the hem of her ripped shorts around her finger. 

“I’ve always loved to write, ever since I was really little— like short stories and stuff. And I don’t know, I guess I like the idea of traveling and seeking out a story, too.”

Harry nods understandingly, pulling up to a curb across the street from a restaurant that Alani has frequented. It’s relatively empty at Pineapples for a summer afternoon, though most tourists don’t stray too far from the beaches, so Hilo maintains a healthy local population at all times. The pair climb out of the car and Alani makes her way to the rear where the rest of the group has parked. One of the men from earlier greets her with an outstretched hand while Harry chats with the other two that emerge.

“Hi I’m Jeff, it’s nice to meet you.” He smiles warmly,  pushing his sunglasses into his hair. 

“Alani. It’s nice to meet you, Jeff,”

“Sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to be rude by not saying hi it’s just-”

Alani dismisses his concern with a wave of her hand. “Oh don’t worry about it! I was kind of nervous then, too. I don’t know if he told you, but I’m interviewing Harry,”

“Oh, right! Yeah, he did mention that I think,” Jeff recalls, “Which magazine are you with?”

“None.” Yet, Alani thinks, her mind wandering to the Rolling Stone rejection letter. “It’s for a class, I’m a journalism major. Harry was just being nice and agreed to let me write about his music,”

Jeff nods. “Got it. You know, he’s not normally this serious. Just got a lot on his mind but he’ll loosen up,” he explains quietly just as Alani and Harry’s eyes meet. She quickly averts her gaze back to the kind, bearded man standing before her.

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” she smiles appreciatively.

“Where’s Jeffrey?” Harry speaks up, catching her attention. She looks back to Jeff, confused, before he shakes his head.

“Other Jeff, his manager.” He explains.

“Probably already inside, he said he’d meet us here.” Mitch pipes up.

With that, the rest of the crew head into the restaurant while Alani stays a few steps behind to follow their lead.

“Y’okay?” Harry asks, shuffling along beside her.

Alani startles slightly at his unexpected presence, but relaxes as their strides fall into sync.

“Yeah, thanks. And thank you for the invite, too.” She offers, the corners of her mouth upturned softly.  Harry responds with a tight-lipped smile of his own and clears his throat before holding the door open for her.

In the far corner of the restaurant near the open balcony, Harry’s manager Jeff waves the group over to the table he saved. Everyone exchanges greetings and settles into their seats, the two at the end facing each other remain open for Alani and Harry.

“Jeff, this is..Mahealani, did I get that right?” Tom gestures to Alani for approval.

She nods and waves. “Yes, but you can just call me Alani,”

“Nice to meet you,” Jeff calls from the other end of the table, glancing over to Harry in search of  an explanation for her presence.

“I’m writing a piece about Harry and his music,” Alani offers. “But I’d love to talk to all of you, if you have a chance.”

Jeff nods, still shooting Harry a knowing look. “Yeah, sure thing.” 

The two Jeffs, Tom, and Mitch engage in their own conversations, mostly inside jokes that go over Alani’s head. Harry watches, silent for most of the interaction and barely engaging the girl seated across from him, though he is overwhelmingly aware of her presence. When the server comes to take their order, warmth floods to Alani’s cheeks.

“Alani, hey!” the tall server greets, flashing a handsome, pearly-white smile. “Long time, no see. You’re looking good as always,”

“Mahalo, David. You look good, as well,” She smiles politely, catching onto the way that Harry sits a little straighter in her peripheral vision. David still pays no regard to the rest of the table, but his gaze momentarily flickers over Harry and sizes him up before returning to Alani.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t realize you were on a date,” he apologizes, which makes Alani’s eyes bulge  and Mitch snicker beside her. 

“Oh no, we’re not—“

“He’s just—” Alani and Harry speak at the same time, eyes darting to one another before she explains.

“I’m... working on something—an article,” she says, and David nods understandingly.

“Oh...right. Big-shot reporter, I almost forgot,” David teases in a snide way that makes Harry’s blood boil with annoyance. “Anyways, what can I get you all? The usual for you, right Alani?”

She nods curtly while the rest of the group take turns ordering. After the server has gone,  Harry notices a shift in her easy-going demeanor and decides that it’s his turn to break the ice.

“Come here often then?” He poses gently, taking a sip of his lemonade.

Her lips press into a tight line as her eyes wander to the other patrons. “Yeah, kinda,”

“Asshole ex-boyfriend ruined that, I’m guessing?”

Alani lets out an amused breath and shakes her head.

“He’s not my ex. I mean we went out, like, once in high school... and maybe a handful of times in college but that’s it, really,” 

Harry studies the uneasiness in her expression trying, and failing, to understand what she’s holding back.

“Seems like you dodged a bullet,” he confides, leaning in. Alani’s eyes meet his and her pursed lips ease into a small grin, which Harry mirrors with a simper of his own. As he rests his smooth chin in his palm, she notices a large, healing scab along the underside of his forearm, and her brows furrow.

“How’d that happen?” Alani asks.

“He jumped out a window,” Mitch intervenes. “Though to be fair, he was high,”

Harry shoots a deathly glare at Mitch and turns back to Alani. “It was a one-time thing.”

“It was shrooms,” Mitch replies with an amused smirk.

“Hardcore,” Alani giggles lightly. 

Mitch swirls the straw in his mimosa with his index finger while extending a pinky at Alani. “You do drugs?”

She shrugs, taking a sip of her Mai Tai. “Smoked weed a few times, though not enough to consider myself a pothead, I guess,”

Mitch snorts and steals a glance at Harry. “Pot makes our boy sleepy, and hungry. Alcohol makes him giggly. Shrooms get him buzzed just right,”

Harry’s cheeks flush and he averts his gaze past Alani where families and visitors roam the streets outside. 

“Jumping out a window’s  ‘just right’? I’d hate to see what going overboard looks like.” she teases, watching the blush of embarrassment creep across the bridge of Harry’s nose and cheeks.

“Keeps things interesting.” Mitch shrugs, turning back to Jeff to join his previous conversation.

 Alani feels a strange sense of endearment wash over her at the thought of a giggly Harry, dimples replacing a deeply furrowed brow. In the short time she’d known and served him at the café, she’d only ever seen him reserved—polite, at best. Alani had hoped that interviewing Harry would provide some insight into his mysterious background, but she didn’t imagine that she would want to know more than what could be penned in her article. In the few minutes spent mingling with him and his friends, she began to think that maybe there was something worth getting to know, not just professionally, but before she can give it a second thought, David returns with their food.

“Thanks, Derek.” Harry says, flashing a facetious grin at David who stands confused for a second before sauntering back to the kitchen. Alani laughs, quickly clasping a hand over her mouth, and Harry’s stomach flips at the sound. He immediately wishes he knew what else he could do to hear it again.

Alani scrapes the last bits of potato off her plate and leans back in her seat, patting her growing food baby. 

“I’m thinking of naming mine Oliver, you?” She sighs contentedly. 

“Anne, after my mum,” he quips back, pulling out his wallet.

Alani reaches into her bag for her own, but Harry shakes his head and speaks up. “Don’t worry about it, ‘s on me,”

“Oh, no Harry you really don’t have to—”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugs, slipping his card onto the small clipboard attached to their receipts.

“Thank you,” Alani smiles, feeling warmth spread through her limbs, but she assumes that it’s mostly due to the rum in her system.

Harry pushes a lock of hair behind his ear and returns the wallet to his back pocket without another word. While there is no alcohol coursing through his blood, he refuses to believe that the burning in his cheeks has anything to do with the girl seated before him.

Alani climbs back into the passenger’s seat of the SUV while Harry settles behind the wheel. He braces his right hand behind the headrest of her seat and skillfully reverses, only becoming aware of their proximity when he turns back to switch gears. Alani peels her eyes from his and focuses on finding a playlist for their journey back to the studio, her mind racing as she clicks shuffle. Harry’s arm retreats, much to Alani’s disappointment, and his ears perk up when he hears the familiar chimes at the beginning of Fleetwood Mac’s “Everywhere”.

“‘S a good one,” Harry breaks the silence, tapping on the steering wheel. “Christine always says it’s her favorite,”

“Christine...McVie?” Alani questions with an eyebrow quirked. “You know Christine McVie?”

“Kind of,” he shrugs, the corners of his lips twitching into a smirk.

“Do you know Stevie Nicks?”

“Yeah. She lives in London,”

“Holy shit!” Alani marvels, covering her mouth in excitement.

Harry chuckles lightly, stealing a glance over at Alani still processing the news. “Big fan?” 

She whips her head away from the window and scoffs. “Massive. Named my car Stevie, actually,”

“Hardcore,” Harry teases, echoing her own comment about his psychedelic escapades.

“Yes, Mr. Spider-Man. In my own right, I suppose it is hardcore,” Alani retorts.

“I thought  Spider-Man climbed buildings. Don’t think he jumped out of them.”

“I’m sure he’s done his fair share of both.”

The two drive down the coast for a while without a word, Harry drumming against the steering wheel as the song dies out while Alani soaks in the view outside her window. Suddenly, she reaches over and taps him on the arm, drawing him out of his reverie. 

“Turn right up there!”

“Why?” Harry asks, already putting his blinker on. 

Alani doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t need to. Harry saw it just seconds after turning into the lookout and it left him breathless. The car comes to a stop and Alani wastes no time unbuckling her seatbelt and stepping into the humid air, Harry close behind. Before them, the biggest rainbow either of them had ever seen shimmers in the high afternoon sun like a wall of unbelievable vibrant hues. Harry had never seen one this close, he felt as though he could reach out and feel each color slip through his fingers. 

“Are you making a wish?” Alani asks reverently, as if raising her voice too loud will spook it away. 

“I thought that was for shooting stars,”

“We’re literally staring face to face with a rainbow and you’re gonna argue with me about the logistics of a wish?”

“Okay, okay,” he relents, grinning to himself as his eyes flutter close. 

Harry takes a deep breath and searches his brain for something, anything, but there is only one word pounding in his mind. He doesn’t know why it stood out to him when Alani first said it, but it struck a chord within him that hasn’t stopped reverberating, so it must mean something. Harry swallows the lump forming at the back of his throat and releases the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. When his eyes flutter open again, he steals a peek through the corner of his eye at the girl beside him and then fixes his gaze back on the rainbow. 

“S’quite big, innit?” He remarks, breaking the reverent silence. 

Alani snorts and shakes her head, turning on her heel back to the car. 

“You’re so eloquent. Can’t wait to hear what lyrical gems are hiding in your new album,”

“Heyyy,” Harry pouts, climbing behind the wheel. “Who said anything about an album?” 

As they peel away from the lookout, Harry can sense something has shifted in the atmosphere, though he can’t quite put his finger on it. He opts to ignore it and poses a lighthearted question instead. 

“What’d you wish for?”

Alani narrows her eyes playfully. “You’re not supposed to tell. It won’t come true.”

Harry hums, trying to imagine what she could possibly wish for that would require such secrecy, but his thoughts wander back to the singular word that has haunted his mind since it left her lips. 

Home.

Next Chapter

[sevlgi]

replay

requested: no

group: twice

pairing: jihyo x fem!reader

genre: fluff

contents: camp counselor!au, summer camp sweethearts. [18/33]

warnings: none

synopsis: Will your return to summer camp as a counselor be a replay of your only love story?  

a/n: you can probably tell i’ve never been to summer camp before

word count: 1.7k

The first time you fell in love, you were 15.

Back then, you had never had a relationship before, and it wasn’t exactly too high on your list of priorities, either. You were at that point of your life where you thought you were never going to fall in love.

And then you met Jihyo.

The only word you could possibly use to describe her is beautiful- you still have a few pictures with her, and if she looks even the slightest bit like she did back then, she must still be stunning. Huge eyes glimmering with light, and the prettiest smile you’d ever seen in your life.

You only had 2 months together, but that was enough to never forget her; that was the first year you actually asked to go back to summer camp. You didn’t have any form of contact with her, so all you could do was hope that Jihyo yearned for you enough to go back to camp too.

Thankfully she did, and you spent another 2 blissful months together, sneaking kisses in your bunk beds and hiding from counselors, catching fireflies together at midnight and teaming up for every activity you could.

She was all of your firsts- first girlfriend, first kiss, first time. And you wanted her to be your last, despite how unrealistic it was. 

It was almost the same the next year, but that was the last time it could be; once you turned 18, you knew you couldn’t go back. You asked for her phone number and rewrote it on your arm in Sharpie every night, hoping with all your heart it would become permanent.

But you wrote it down wrong.

You texted her the day you got home, and the person who responded was definitely not the beautiful girl you loved. In a fit, you threw your phone at the wall, then pored over its cracked screen every night, trying to find some way to find Jihyo again.

After nearly 4 years, nothing.

To say the slightest, you’ve moved on from what you brush off as a first love, something that was never meant to last. You’ve had other girlfriends, other boyfriends, in an attempt to fill the void Jihyo left behind.

This year, your parents refuse to let you date around for the entire summer again. This year, you’re going back to the place where it all began.

Back to summer camp.

“Y/N Y/L/N?”

Smiling, you bow and shake hands with the pretty woman who greets you; from what you remember of your phone call with her, her name’s Nayeon. “Yeah.”

“Welcome, thanks for coming so early,” Nayeon grins, brushing a lock of brown hair behind her ears. She doesn’t look like a particularly outdoorsy person, but then again, you don’t either. “We don’t have many counselors this year, but you’re going to be overseeing cabin 4 with Jihyo.”

Your blood practically freezes and you stop in your tracks, Nayeon sending you a confused look when you stop walking. “Jihyo?”

“Yeah, Park Jihyo. Do you know her?” she frowns, opening the gate for you. The camp is basically the same as you remember it to be, though the cabins have all been painted gray instead of the beige from 4 years ago. “She’s only started being a counselor this year, you can’t have had her before.”

“No, I...” Your fingers tighten on the suitcase as you wave mindlessly to some of the other counselors you pass. “I don’t think so.”

“Alright. Can you find cabin 4 on your own?” Nayeon asks, tapping on the plastic of her clipboard. “We’re going to start prepping for the kids tomorrow, but we’ll have a bonfire and dinner together tonight. Get to know Jihyo, you’re going to be rooming together for a summer!”

You nod, sighing, “Sure.” Cabin 4 looks the same as all the rest, except for the faded number 4 painted on the door.

Nobody’s inside, surprisingly. Like you remember, there are 6 bunk beds and corresponding cabinets, a doorway leading off to the bathroom and one more leading to the room you’ll share with the other counselor.

That room is much smaller, of course- there are just 2 twin beds and 2 tiny cabinets, one of the beds already made and the cabinet already filled with clothes. Sighing, you set your suitcase down in the narrow space between the beds.

“Y/N?”

Disbelief colors your expression when you turn to find an all-too-familiar face; just like you expected, Jihyo is still absolutely beautiful. She’s lost a little weight and grown up a lot; now, her hair is dyed a pinkish lilac, skin radiant and full lips glossy. “Jihyo. It’s actually you?”

“What the hell,” she breathes out, stepping into the room and examining you as if she still doesn’t believe you’re real. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

No reply is needed as you crash into her, your fingers tangling into the back of her hair as you hug her close, the familiar smell of her perfume making your eyes sting just the littlest bit. After 4 years, she still smells like delicate lilac and jasmine.

She pulls back a bit too quickly than you’d like, stepping away awkwardly and giving you a half-smile. “So. How’ve you been?”

“Ah. I’m... good, I guess. Missed you.” That’s such an understatement, you want to tell her. It’s stupid that you want to cup her face in your hands again, see if she still tastes like waxy vanilla chapstick. 

Jihyo smiles, rubbing her arm and shifting onto one foot. “Great. Um, do you have a girlfriend?”

Your mind shuts down at all the possibilities of the meaning behind that question; could it be that she still feels the same? Maybe she has a girlfriend now, or maybe... maybe she feels uncomfortable around you? Her eyes give nothing away, so you blurt, “Yeah. Uh, nothing serious, though.”

“Same,” she answers, nodding her head oh-so-awkwardly. “Uh, I’ll let you get settled. See you at dinner?”

“Sure.” Part of you wants to ask what she’ll do for nearly 4 hours, but you watch her leave hurriedly, wanting to wrap your arms around the lingering scent of her perfume.

The first week is awkward, to say the least, though the arrival of the kids makes it a bit better. They talk a lot and move a lot, enough to keep the both of you occupied until it’s time to sleep.

You’re always stuck minding one kid or another out of the 6, so there’s really no time to talk to Jihyo at all. At mealtimes, you end up sitting with another counselor named Momo, a bubbly Japanese girl who apparently is friends with Jihyo.

Tonight, the other counselor has offered to stay with the kids who don’t want to go to the bonfire while you accompany the 2 that do; you end up just talking with Momo the entire night.

“You like Jihyo, don’t you?”

“What?” You frown as you turn to the other counselor, mouth agape at how much she apparently has picked up.

She smiles, handing a toasted marshmallow to one of her kids. “We can all see it. You don’t have a girlfriend, do you?”

Tucking your knees into your chest, you shake your head and sigh, “No. I thought she’d feel uncomfortable around me, since we used to be... you know.”

“Why would she?” Momo cocks her head, handing you a s’more despite you not asking for one. “Jihyo doesn’t have a girlfriend either.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” The blonde shrugs. “She kept telling me that she hoped she could find the girl she fell in love with here, so I guess that’s you? She’s been single for years, I think she’s still hung up on you, Y/N.”

You don’t mean to bolt to your feet so fast, but Momo doesn’t look surprised. “Watch the kids for me.”

The wind whips at your face when you sprint, almost tripping over the stairs leading up to the cabin. The 4 kids inside look up, surprised, when you yank the door open, Jihyo’s eyes the widest when you grab her wrist and lead her to your shared room. “Y/N, what’s-”

“Please tell me if this is a mistake.” Your fingers still curling around her hand, you step closer, eyes searching for a sign to stop. Closer, closer, closer-

Jihyo is the one who finally closes the gap, stumbling forward until her lips meet yours. It’s awkward, of course- you haven’t even seen each other in years, never mind kissed like this. But you get the hang of it quick enough, pushing back with just enough pressure.

Her cheeks are red enough to make her look drunk when she comes up for air, lips the tiniest bit swollen. “I thought... you had a girlfriend?”

You shake your head, panting slightly for air. “I don’t. I thought you were uncomfortable around me, so I said... I told you I was over you. I’m not, Jihyo, I still have feelings for you.”

“Okay.” She pauses, tongue darting out to lick at her lips again. “So... what do you want me to do about it?”

The smart thing to do would be to talk, but you’ve never exactly been rational when it comes to Jihyo. “Kiss me,” you smile, pushing the door to your room shut. “And try to keep quiet.”

[mostlycompetentwriter]

“Small Things”- A Phobia Sequel

F/M Pairing: OC x Bang Chan (SKZ)

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Explicit language, mentions of violence, mature content

Genre: Mafia AU

Summary: The birth of his first child puts a lot of things in perspective for Chan, and he’s determined to do everything in his power to keep his family safe.

There were a lot of things in Chan’s life that he could’ve never predicted. For example, when he was just ten-years-old, he met two younger classmates in Mrs. Park’s fifth grade group who he never imagined would become his most reliable confidants. But hindsight was 20/20, and Han Jisung used to be a mess of small limbs and puffy cheeks who had an uncanny knack for sweet-talking the assistant teachers into allowing him an extra portion of chocolate. Meanwhile, quiet and leering Seo Changbin was the shortest kid in class, but it certainly never made him appear any less intimidating. Together, the three of them were a formidable force, and they found it very difficult to stay apart. Yet, Chan’s only regret when it came to his friendships was the harsh and demanding mafia world that he had brought them into as business partners.

Likewise, when Chan met his future wife for the very first time, she was nothing more than the daughter of the man who had murdered his parents and threatened to harm his friends. It was surely enough justification to convince Chan that he should stay away from anyone associated with that vile and horrible man who he was forced to serve. But his daughter was nothing like her father - and Chan was always the type to observe people from a distance and learn as much about them as he could. He listened with patience, and he was quick at sorting his enemies from his allies.

It wasn’t long before Chan found himself completely enamored with the daughter of the man he hated the most - and Chan was determined that she should never have to suffer anymore. In fact, it only took one stupid decision from her father before Chan was leading her as far away from that horrible life as possible. They settled down together, and Chan started to build his own reputation in a competitive world where survival of the fittest was taken quite literally.

Consequently, Chan learned to keep his wife near him at all costs, and she was never in the direct line of fire. Chan only brought her along when he knew that there would be no danger to her well-being, but even that eventually had to stop with the unanticipated surprise of her pregnancy. Thereafter, Chan worked tirelessly to ensure that his future child would have a good life, and he was determined to keep his personal life completely separate from his business affairs.

But after so many close-calls with rivals and partners alike, Chan decided to take a huge step down from his role as the prime authority figure in their organization. Jisung and Changbin were more than willing to fill his shoes because that’s the kind of the friends that they were - perhaps even more like brothers at the core. In any case, Chan’s role became minimal, and he wanted to be there for every step of his child’s life - even if that meant giving up what he had once prioritized and considered most important.

But life had a way of constantly changing - and Chan’s priorities shifted as well. Gone were the days of late-night stakeouts and meetings with buff and angry drug dealers who always wanted more than what they were worth. Instead, Chan traded most of his responsibilities for the simple pleasure of waking up next to his wife with their daughter sleeping in the middle of the bed.

It always brought a smile to Chan’s face: to simply glance over and see the tiniest and most innocent face in the entire world looking back at him with wide eyes that promised an unequivocal love. For his entire life, Chan had always fought for what he wanted, and he used his fists and cunning tongue to help him in most situations. Yet, when it came to his wife and daughter, everything was so much easier - there wasn’t any stress to burden his shoulders, and he never felt the need to constantly survey his surroundings for any sign of trouble.

None of that was necessary anymore, and Chan was beyond grateful for the inclusion of his own little family to cherish. Some might say that his world got a lot smaller, but Chan didn’t quite see it that way. His leadership of a mafia organization meant danger and deception around every corner, but being a husband and a father promised a future full of happiness as opposed to the constant risk of death and destruction.

It was a massive upgrade in his opinion, and Chan widened his eyes when he saw his daughter start to squirm around on the bed as if in discomfort. But Chan’s fatherly instincts were surprisingly natural, and he carefully collected his little girl into his arms for the short expedition to the bathroom. Chan gently laid her down on the changing table - starting the process of providing a fresh diaper while his daughter studied him with big, brown eyes that looked a lot like his own.

“There you go,” Chan said, smiling down at the joyful bundle who allowed a series of incoherent gurgles to escape.

It was at that moment that Chan’s phone chose to go off, and he sighed because he knew that it meant he was needed elsewhere. But he allowed the call to go to his voicemail while he brought his daughter back to bed, brushing a kiss across his wife’s forehead as he watched them both journey back to sleep.

In the meantime, Chan walked downstairs to stand on the outdoor patio, choosing a more private area to return Jisung’s phone call. It only rang twice before his familiar voice was offering a greeting: “Chan, we’ve got a problem.”

“Yeah, I’m listening,” Chan said, trying not to let his annoyance bleed through his tone as he allowed Jisung to explain the complicated meeting they were planning with one of the area’s biggest drug lords. Apparently, he wanted to meet with Chan directly, and Chan briefly wondered what could be so important than neither Jisung nor Changbin could satisfy this impossible man. “I’ll be there tonight,” Chan said, ending the call with an exaggerated groan of displeasure.

The club that had been chosen as their designated meeting place was one of the raunchiest in town. It made Chan uncomfortable to see the scantily-clad women waltzing around the joint, even if Changbin and Jisung were clearly enjoying themselves. “This is my type of place,” Jisung remarked, eyes shining with mischief while he plopped a blonde onto his lap. She was young and beautiful, and she certainly had no qualms about giving Jisung an impromptu handjob through the front of his skinny jeans. 

Meanwhile, Changbin hadn’t taken his hands away from the attractive brunette who had spent a good solid five minutes complimenting his biceps before Changbin was pulling her along to their designated table. His lips were glued to the side of her neck, and Chan was growing slightly annoyed with the sound of her pornographic moans as if Changbin was somehow capable of giving her an orgasm simply by painting her throat with love-bites. “Let’s be professional,” Chan said, even if he knew that it would be hard to convince his friends to turn their attention away from two very willing women.

It was actually a good tactic on the part of their host - a useful distraction to lower their guards. Too bad Chan had outgrown these tasteless maneuvers, and he could handle himself while his friends had a bit of fun with their women. Of course, the host himself was rather extravagant with introductions, and Chan rolled his eyes when a richly-dressed young man marched himself through the entrance with several women attached to his arms and a big, burly bodyguard trailing along behind him.

“I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” he said upon his arrival to their table. “My name is Don, and it’s an honor to meet the infamous leader of the Miroh Organization.”

Chan forced a smile in return. “Likewise.”

“Well,” Don continued, taking a seat next to Chan. “I can see your men are taking full advantage of our offerings.”

Chan grimaced when he realized that Jisung and Changbin had yet to acknowledge the presence of their host. “I’m sure they’re very grateful.”

“But you don’t seem to be sharing their opinion,” Don remarked. “Are they not to your satisfaction?”

“I’m not interested,” Chan said, and it was hard to notice - the barely visible upturn to Don’s upper lip as if he wasn’t happy to hear Chan say that.

“I see,” Don said, glancing between the two girls standing at his shoulders. “I didn’t want to believe the rumors, but I guess they’re true.”

“Rumors?” Chan repeated with an admirable level of patience.

“About your wife and child,” Don said, and Chan felt a sickly shudder creep down his spine. Because nobody was supposed to know about his daughter. “What a great risk for you,” Don continued. “How can you even ensure their safety?”

“We’re here to negotiate a deal,” Chan said, and he noticed that both Changbin and Jisung had finally tuned in after hearing mention of his family.

“And I’m simply proposing a few useful bargaining chips,” Don said with a sardonic sneer. “Let me say this, Mr. Bang: your asking price is outrageous. We want $10,000, or else you might never see your family again.”

Chan felt the entire world come to a standstill at Don’s declaration - like a dark curtain had suddenly eclipsed all the light left to guide his path and there was nothing left. For his entire life, Chan had never really valued his life all that much; in fact, he didn’t fear death or the prospect of what came after this existence. But the idea of hearing his wife or daughter’s lives threatened? Well, Chan had never felt a comparable rage to the one suffocating his lungs and igniting a fierce passion deep down inside of him. “This is not good business, Don,” Chan managed through the haze of red. “You won’t see a single penny from my organization, and if I see you or any of the scum associated with your shady dealership again, then I won’t hesitate to put a bullet straight through your head.”

He exhaled slowly when he stood up from the table, feeling some satisfaction when Jisung and Changbin dismissed their playthings in return. Because their loyalty was far more profound, and they would always stand by his side. Then, he gave Don one last warning glare before he led his men out of that horrible place - with no intentions of ever coming back. 

Chan was still shaking from adrenaline when he walked into his bedroom later that evening, and there was a sense of relief when he saw his wife lounging on their shared bed with his daughter steadily falling asleep in her arms. It was everything that mattered the most to Chan, and he took a step into the quiet room while running a stiff hand through his messy hair. “Hey,” Chan whispered to catch his wife’s attention.

She smiled at him, and it was enough to clear the earlier tension that had rested heavy on his chest. “You were gone for a while,” she said.

Chan nodded, and he paused next to her bedside. “Can I hold her?”

His wife seemed to notice the latent fear and uncertainty in his tone. “Of course,” she said, and Chan brought the wriggling bundle closer to his chest, looking down at his daughter because there was an undeniable innocence reflected in her eyes that dispelled all the cruelty of the world that he was forced to endure during his meeting. “Did it not go well?” his wife asked, studying him with the same look that he had grown used to seeing - the one that told him she was not at all satisfied with whatever was happening.

“It...caught me off-guard,” he replied, reaching down to adjust the collar of his daughter’s shirt. 

“Do you need to talk about it?”

Chan shook his head. “I think it would upset you.”

His wife inhaled sharply. “That bad?”

“It’s nothing that I can’t handle,” Chan said, and he was fiercely determined as he lowered himself down to the bed. “I’ll always protect my family.”

It was a solemn promise that was often difficult to keep in his world, but he had never felt this much love for anyone else before. Yeah, the mafia world was full of constant danger and seemingly endless trials and tribulations, but Chan wouldn’t dare say that he preferred that world to the one he kept safely hidden away from harm. Because his wife and daughter? They were his greatest adventure - and he would do everything in his power to give them the best that life had to offer.

[animebaby00]

I Don't Deserve It: Chapter 1

Summary: When Shoto gets a nasty stomach bug, Izuku stops at nothing to help and take care of him.

But Shoto can't help but wonder...

Why?

Shoto was used to his body's fluctuating temperatures, shifting from hot to cold, then back to hot. Sometimes an odd combo of both.

But when he woke up, he was warm, unbearably so and he knew it wasn't from his quirk...which he found strange.

It was very noticeable that this warmth was different. It was radiating inside and out, pulsing, thickly covering his skin. It was a heavy heat, pressing him down, increasing his rare drowsy state as he lay under the comforter of his futon.

He had to get up though. He had school. And he wasn't about to let the touchings of a slight fever prevent him from doing so.

A slight fever. Yeah, that's all it was. Once he was up and moving he would be just fine. He'd had fevers before. He's powered through them in the past. He had too, because if he dared show any sign of weakness…

Shoto shifted around under his covers, stopping to clench his eyes shut as a spiking pain shot through the front of his head. It stung his temples and traveled over the entire surface of his scalp down to the base of his neck.

A headache ? What the hell ? He just woke up. Why was he getting a headache now?

The pressure drummed through his skull and rattled his brain. It felt like his head was trapped in a hydraulic press. His room was still dark and he was lying down, yet for some reason, he felt very dizzy

God it hurt. Maybe he should stay-

No. Stop that.

Your fine. You're strong.

That's what the little voice in the back of his head told him. And he listened to it. With a soft grunt, he sat up despite his body's protests and stood, gathered his things and left his room, convinced that a cold shower would knock him back to his senses.

~~~~~~~

Turns out, that was a mistake.

When he arrived at the bathrooms, he was relieved to see that there wasn't anyone in there. The idea of chattering voices as everyone got ready didn't sound appealing at all, especially with a pounding headache. It made sense though, as he was usually one of the first ones up in the dorms as well as one of the few males who showered in the morning.

He had kept the water on cold in the hopes to relieve the uncomfortable, feverish feeling on his skin. It felt nice in the beginning, but after a few minutes, his body had strangely broken out into a violent chill, causing the pain in his head to increase.

He then opted to turn the heat of the water up in the hopes to cease his body's shudders. But it wasn't working. Shoto found himself leaning against the wall of the shower several times as the pulsing of blood in his ears grew more extreme.

Every bone in his body ached, every muscle felt tight, especially his stomach which now carried an uncomfortable, heavy feeling that he couldn't place.

After coming to the conclusion that a shower of any temperature wasn't going to help, Shoto shut off the water and grabbed a towel, jaw clenched tight from his chattering teeth. And he found himself unable to stop.

He took careful steps in getting out of the shower, drying himself off as quickly as his tired limbs would let him and proceeded to get dressed.

That proved to be a challenge too.

He almost lost his footing in slipping on his pants, had issues buttoning his dress shirt due to his trembling fingers, and even before he was fully clothed, his body started to grow warm again as if the chills never existed.

Shoto wiped at the sweat that had beaded on his forehead, bewildered at it's presence since it had only been a few minutes since he had gotten out of the shower. Why the hell was he so hot ?

Maybe it was just because he was closed in a heated, small space, considering that the bathroom wasn't very wide. It was more long due to the strip of sinks and showers right next to each other. And there was an additional warmth to the room due to the final few minutes of his hot shower that had caused some steam to fog up the mirrors.

He just needed to get out of there. Then he'd be fine.

Shoto turned his head around towards a hook by the shower to grab his tie and uniform jacket, and it was there that everything took a turn.

He didn't even move that fast, but everything around him started spinning, his line of vision turned fuzzy, and he could feel his stomach do a backflip. He stumbled, just barely catching himself on the edge of the sink. His heart thumped in his ears as he braced the edge of the sink with his sweaty palms, inhaling deeply through his nose.

That was close.

Carefully, he eased himself up, resting his forearms on the sink's counter. He raised his head, and for the first time, got a real, good look at his reflection.

Though the mirror was still foggy, he could make out the continuous perspiration dripping from his forehead and neck. His heterochromatic eyes were dull and outlined with dark circles. His skin was pale aside from his cheeks and tip of nose, which were blushed a bright, splotchy red.

He looked terrible.

And he felt terrible.

But that didn't matter. Heroes didn't take time off from things like this. And he'd be damned if news got to his dad that he stayed home because of a small fever. He would never hear the end of it.

"Haven't you learned anything?" Endeavor would ask him, "We don't let insignificant things like this get in our way. This isn't how heroes act. We don't show our weaknesses. Are you going to let people die because of some fever? Stay home in bed while they struggle and suffer? Let everyone down again?" 

No. He wouldn't. He couldn't. 

With a deep inhale, Shoto pushed himself away from the counter, but wobbled forward back against it as his vision once again began to swirl.

His insides churned with unease and he clenched his stomach with his free hand, grimacing.

And it was then that he heard a knock at the door. 

"Hello ? Anyone in there ?" A voice sounded from the other side. 

Shoto cursed under his breath and forced himself to stand up straighter, his head highly disagreeing with the action as it thumped against his skull.

"Y-yeah. Come in." 

The door opened, and Shoto recognized the individual immediately, his mop of fluffy, green hair a dead giveaway. 

"Oh ! Good morning Todoroki !"

Shoto had to keep himself from hissing in pain at the tone of his friend's voice. It's pitch just the tiniest bit too high.

"G-good morning, Midoriya…"

He mentally scolded himself on how weak his voice was, but it's as if the freckled teen didn't notice as he nonchalantly walked over to one of the sinks.

"You're up early." Midoriya chided, grabbing his toothbrush from the holder, "Then again, you get up pretty early every morning. Even on weekends."

"Y-yeah." 

The green haired boy beamed, and Shoto watched as he opened a drawer and grabbed a tube of toothpaste.

"Ah, I forgot ! We should probably get downstairs sooner than usual. It's Sato's turn to make breakfast and I heard that he's going to make homemade pancakes !"

Shoto's eyes widened drastically at his friend's sudden mention of food, and the idea of it made the rest of the color drain from his face, gut gurgling violently as an overwhelming feeling of nausea took over his senses. He had no choice but to cover his mouth.

No. He was not going puke. Not here. 

Not in front of Midoriya.

"Knowing him, I bet they'll be amazing! Ah, he could put blueberries in them, or maybe chocolate chips! I can't wait!"

Shoto inhaled a shaky breath through his nose. He felt so sick, and he deeply wanted to tell Midoriya to stop talking about food. But he felt that if he opened his mouth, something other than words would come out instead. 

He shut his eyes as Midoriya rambled on, trying to quell the growing, nauseating feeling in the pit of his stomach, but it was traveling quickly. It was growing beyond his control and he could now taste a metallic like sensation on his tongue, which felt thick and heavy like wet cotton. 

He shivered, hand gripping the sink tighter, and let out an involuntary, tensed groan from the back of his throat. It sounded quiet to him, but maybe not as quiet as he thought. For after the sound of it breached the air, the bathroom went silent, and a cool hand could be felt sweeping his bangs aside.

Shoto opened his eyes slightly. A pair of green orbs were staring back at him, filled with concern and worry. 

"Todoroki ? Are you okay?" Midoriya asked softly.

In that moment, Shoto felt obligated to lean into his touch and admit defeat. The feeling of Midoriya's fingertips alone against his heated skin compared to that of pure bliss. He wanted to say that he wasn't okay.

However, he didn't do that. Instead he pulled away in an attempt to walk towards the door of the bathroom, but his body acted completely against him. He stumbled and fell forward, prepared to make contact with the floor. 

But he didn't.

Instead, he fell into a pair of arms, slightly smaller than his, but warm, strong, and comforting as a voice barked desperately into his ear.

"T-todoroki !" The ill boy groaned, pressing his lips together sourly as a new sensation stormed over his body. He fell numb, and it was then that he could feel something warm creeping up his throat.

"Todoroki ! Y-you're burning up ! " Midoriya exclaimed, pressing a hand to his friend's forehead, "What's wrong ? Are you not feeling well ?"

Midoriya didn't receive an exact answer of "yes" or "no". Only a mumble and an action, but  it was enough to prove his claim as correct. 

Shoto's eyes had widened once more at the question, a low "M'gonna be sick…" leaving his lips before he turned a practically flung himself towards the toilet. 

His hands fumbled with the lid, and once he pushed it up, his body immediately convulsed and he pitched forward. His stomach tightened in on itself in a painful, sharp heave. His mouth became coated in thick, bitter saliva, before he threw up forcefully into the toilet. 

Shoto's hands gripped the toilet's rims so hard that his knuckles stung. Every muscle in his body was shaking with each gag, his digestive system showing him absolutely no mercy as wave after wave of vomit poured out of his mouth. 

It was acidic. The smell burned his nose, and just nauseated him more and more to a point of no end. It was absolute agony...save for one thing.

"It's okay Todoroki...I'm right here." Midoriya's voice sounded calmly, palm on Shoto's sweaty back" You're okay...just let it all out."

Though each heave and convulse was painful, Midoriya's words and soothing hand rubbing his shoulder blades and hand holding back his hair brought a small sense of comfort...but it also brought humiliation. 

He felt pitiful like this, weak and trembling on the floor of a bathroom while someone was there…

Watching him.

Helping him. 

Half of Shoto wanted to push Midoriya away, say that he could handle this himself. But the other half...felt like he couldn't function or deal with the situation if Midoriya left his side.

And that was the side that won. At least for that moment. 

Several more minutes went by before Shoto finally had the opportunity to pull his head out of the toilet to catch his breath, but he didn't feel much better. 

In fact, he almost felt worse. 

His body was sticky, covered in sweat which caused his clothes to mesh to his skin rather uncomfortably. He felt hot and icky all over. His mouth carried the remnant taste of vomit, bitter, sour, and absolutely disgusting. His muscles hurt terribly, as if he had just got done with a 24 hour workout session. His stomach was mostly empty, but it burned and ached from the aftershocks of his endless dry heaving. 

And he was dizzy. 

Very dizzy. 

Unable to keep his head up, he let it fall forward to rest on the rim of the toilet.

Shoto could feel his consciousness slowly slipping away. His eyes were heavy, darkness dotted his vision, and Midoriya's voice and the feeling of the cold porcelain toilet against his cheek were the last things he remembered before he was out cold.

[giggles-and-freckles]

anakin comforting obi wan with ✓: waking up either adorably confused or painfully scared and ✘: forehead kisses!

[¿por qué no los dos? and also HAHA at this one being closer to 2k+ words than 1k HAHA I HAVE A PROBLEM]

Anakin flipped over in the bed again.

He hadn’t managed to get a truly good night of sleep since being at the temple, but this was excessive. One side of his bed was burning hot, the other was freezing cold. His pillow was too flat, but he would fluff it and then he would feel like it was too thick. His sheets were tangling around his feet and the light from Coruscanti traffic poured through his window in an aggressive assault on his consciousness.

But more than the physical feelings was that strange something pressing down on his chest.

He’d only been at the temple for a couple months, but he’d already learned a lot. Obi-Wan had encouraged him to jump right into classes instead of waiting to ‘adjust’ like some of the other masters around the temple had suggested. So far, Anakin was thankful Obi-Wan was his master and not those other Jedi. He liked his classes and had learned more about what he now knew to be the Force.

He was confident it was what was keeping him up, more than the uncomfortable bed and Coruscanti traffic.

Anakin slipped out of his bed, finally giving up on the sleep that seemed determined to elude him. He rubbed at his eyes and padded into the common area. It was pitch dark, as he knew it would be, but the feeling in his chest deepened, pulling him toward–

“Master Obi-Wan?” Anakin called, rushing toward the older Jedi’s room.

There was another crash, then, followed by a groan.

Anakin slid open the door, not even pausing to marvel at the way the door obeyed the instinctual move of his hand in front of it. Obi-Wan was in trouble.

“Obi?” he called into the dark room, blinking at the empty bed.

Another groan and then– “You.”

Anakin’s eyes widened as he took in his Master’s crumpled form on the floor. The lights from the city caught on his face and the eyes that Anakin had found comfort and peace in these past few months now gleamed with danger and hate.

“M–master?” said Anakin with uncertainty.

“You killed him!” Obi-Wan screamed, lunging toward Anakin. The younger boy managed to jump out of the way and Obi-Wan collapsed onto the floor in front of him, a pathetic, heaving pile of anger. Anakin briefly wondered whether he should flee or hide or something, but then Obi-Wan’s shoulders began to shake with sobs and Anakin found that there was no question what he needed to do.

“Master Obi-Wan,” Anakin whispered timidly, crouching to the floor and putting a light hand on Obi-Wan’s back, like his mother had done so many times before.

“Get away from me,” Obi-Wan croaked. “You killed him.”

“I–I’ve never killed...anyone,” Anakin swallowed, begging Obi-Wan to see him.

“You killed him and I’ll kill you!” Obi-Wan’s voice rose again and he pulled his face from the floor, fixing Anakin with a glare of absolute malice. For the first time since being at the temple and since meeting Obi-Wan, Anakin felt...scared. 

He took a step back, watching Obi-Wan crumple back into himself, the way worms on Tatooine would if they hadn’t found shade by double noon. The sobs started back up and Anakin, once again, found himself torn. He should get help or a healer or maybe a weapon if he needed to defend himself should Obi-Wan try to–

A vice-like grip encircled Anakin’s ankle and he barely managed not to scream from the surprise of it. Obi-Wan pulled himself toward Anakin and fell back on his face in front of the padawan. “Qui-Gon...he’s...and you–” 

Anakin’s eyes widened in horror. This was about Qui-Gon and––Obi-Wan blamed him. It hadn’t been on purpose! Master Jinn had promised to take Anakin on as a padawan but he hadn’t meant for the Sith to find out or for Master Jinn to fight him. If Anakin had only followed directions; if he’d stayed put like Qui-Gon had asked, maybe he would have been there to help the former Jedi or–

“Maul,” Obi-Wan croaked to the floor, his hands twisting at the bottoms of Anakin’s sleep-trousers. “Maul, please don’t do this…”

Anakin released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Obi-Wan wasn’t blaming Anakin...he didn’t even know Anakin was there. He thought he was the Sith from Naboo!

“Obi,” said Anakin softly, suddenly feeling brave, “it’s me, Anakin. Your...your padawan.”

The word felt clumsy in his mouth, but he didn’t know what else he was supposed to say or do to bring his master back. 

“You killed him and–” Obi-Wan broke off into another sob and Anakin dropped to the floor, crouching in front of his master.

He wasn’t experienced in this sort of thing; he’d never seen someone have a nightmare. But he’d had his fair share and his mom was the absolute best at this sort of thing.

“You’re dreaming, Obi,” said Anakin, trying to make his voice as soft as his mom’s, “it’s not real.”

Obi-Wan didn’t respond, his hands still ringing Anakin’s pajama pants in anguish.

“It’s not real,” the younger Jedi repeated, placing a tentative hand on his master’s shoulder. “You’re real. And I’m real, too.” He squeezed Obi-Wan’s shoulder just like his mother had done. “See? Real.”

Still no response from Obi-Wan.

Anakin moved his hands down the older Jedi’s forearms and stopped above his wrists, lightly squeezing there, too. After that, he gently pulled Obi-Wan’s hands from his trousers and gripped them with his own smaller hands. “Real,” said Anakin, giving his hands a squeeze.

“Real?” Obi-Wan managed.

The beat of Anakin’s heart sped up. Obi-Wan.

“Real,” Anakin nodded fervently, squeezing Obi-Wan’s hands again.

Slowly, Obi-Wan looked up from the floor, blinking at the boy in front of him. The traffic lights dancing across his face looked less harsh now, though they still highlighted the shimmery tears dotting his cheeks.

“Anakin?” he asked with a confused frown. “What are you–how did you…?”

“You were having a nightmare,” Anakin offered, not willing to let go of Obi-Wan’s hands just yet. Obi-Wan didn’t seem ready, either.

“Jedi don’t have nightmares,” Obi-Wan’s frown deepened.

“Well,” Anakin shrugged, “you just did. You were talking about…” Anakin trailed off before finally muttering, “Maul. And...Master Qui-Gon.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and shuddered momentarily. Anakin felt his master’s grip tighten around his hands and he wondered how many times this had happened before.

“I’m sorry if I woke you, padawan,” said Obi-Wan, casting his eyes to the floor. He seemed to finally notice that he was still holding his student’s hands and dropped them quickly. 

Anakin tilted his head and reached a hand up, pushing the fallen bits of Obi-Wan’s hair out of his eyes. The older Jedi looked up with a start, his eyes flashing in surprise. “It’s okay,” said Anakin, lightly resting his hand on top of Obi-Wan’s head. He wondered if he’d always looked as lost as Obi-Wan when his mother had sat up with him after a bad dream. “Sometimes at night, it’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s not.”

Obi-Wan sighed shakily.

“My mom used to always tell me to remember two things; no matter what was in my nightmares, I was real and so was she.”

“That’s true enough, I suppose,” the ghost of a smile flickered across Obi-Wan’s lips.

And then, because his mom had always done it and he felt like it was the real game-changer of this exercise, he leaned toward his master and gave him a light kiss on the forehead, where Anakin’s hand was still pushing his hair back.

Obi-Wan jolted backwards with a start. “What–what was...that?”

Anakin’s eyes widened and his cheeks reddened. “I...it’s what my mom always did.” He could feel his lip quivering and he pleaded with his tears to stay back because Obi-Wan could not see him cry. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t...I didn’t mean to–”

“Hey,” Obi-Wan interrupted softly. It was him who laid a hand on Anakin’s shoulder this time. “It’s all right. It just...surprised me is all. Jedi don’t typically...show affection. Not like...that.”

“I’m sorry,” Anakin hug his head, feeling so stupid. What was he thinking? Of course Jedi didn’t kiss each other on the forehead. They carried lightsabers and had perfect fighting form and drank completely black caf. 

He was such an idiot.

“Anakin,” said Obi-Wan, and it suddenly occurred to Anakin that they’d been whispering for this entire exchange. “Look at me.”

With a sniff and a deep breath, Anakin looked up at the older Jedi. Obi-Wan was smiling warmly at him, his eyes finally, finally focused. “I’m glad you’re real,” he said, still whispering. 

Then, with the tiniest bit of uncertainty, he leaned forward and grazed Anakin’s forehead with his lips.

[peaskyblonders]

Tease

GIF NOT MINE!!!

John Shelby x reader

26: “Bite your lip one more time. I dare you.”

Warnings: swearing, slight choking (oops), reader being a tease

1.8k words

You had known the Shelby family for a few years now. You first met them when applying for a job as a bookkeeper when their business was still considered "small" and consisted mainly of family members, but considering you were one of the only women in Small Heath who knew how to add and subtract, they gave you the job and welcomed you with open arms.

The company eventually started to expand and grow and with that, so did your position at Shelby Company Limited. You moved from bookkeeper to John Shelby's secretary, a position that you were content with and wouldn't change for the world.

Unbeknownst to everyone else, you secretly favoured the mischievous Shelby brother to the rest. You remember how giddy you felt when you got offered the job and recall having to stop yourself from jumping with glee upon hearing the news.

You came to work early every day, making sure that Johns desk was tidy and everything was in place, you then wrote him a to-do list for the morning before moving towards your smaller desk across from his room. Your desk was placed directly in front of his windows so you had a clear view of him throughout the day. It was helpful as you could tell if he was too busy to deal with clients, bringing it upon yourself to take a message from them which you would forward onto him later in the day.

The placement of your desk also meant that John could see you at any given moment of the day, he wasn't complaining, of course. He was actually the one who insisted your desk be placed there. Truth be told, if he could have it his way, your desk would've been placed in the room with him, but he couldn't always get what he wanted and he supposed that what he was given was more than good enough.

Johns feelings for you started to shift after a month of you working for him. You had both gotten into a steady routine and were getting used to each other's company, you were getting more confident around the people that you worked with and started wearing clothes that you enjoyed wearing, rather than clothes you thought made you look professional. The first day you ever came to work for the Shelbys, you had on a pair of trousers, a day which John hasn't forgotten since. You seemed to have favoured wearings skirts to work recently, John had noticed, but he wasn't complaining as he knew you'd look good in anything and everything.

You had been wearing a skirt the day everything changed between you and John. You got into work and did all your necessary tasks, you believed it was just a normal day, but John, on the other hand, was frustrated the moment you sat down at your desk. He wasn't sure if you had noticed that your stockings were on full display to him, but he didn't really care as he was finding it difficult to concentrate on anything except them.

You were silently killing him as he nervously bounced his leg up and down behind his desk, hoping somehow to ease the tension that was building around him. He found it even worse that you had no idea what you were doing to him, you were just simply doing your work, he couldn't believe what kind of effect you had on him.

You, of course, knew exactly what you were doing. You could see how uncomfortable John was and you were loving every minute of it. You could see him from the corner of your eye as you did your paperwork and you were determined to see how far you could go before he cracked.

You knew you had to step it up a notch when you saw that John had calmed slightly, you shifted in your seat, trying to make your next moves appear to be as seamless as possible. You crossed one leg on top of the other and ran your hand along your thigh, exposing the garter of your stockings to John. You never once looked up from the paperwork on your desk and silently prayed that he was watching your every move.

He was, you realized when you looked up for a split second to find him already looking at you with his jaw clenched and his hand placed firmly on his knee, holding the majority of his body weight upwards. You gave him an innocent smile, as you normally would, and continued on with your work, trying your hardest to ignore the butterflies in your stomach.

You carried on with your work for an hour or two, until you eventually got bored and looked up into Johns office, finding him emersed in paperwork. You heard the telephone ring from your desk and quickly picked it up. "Shelby Company Limited, Y/N speaking, how may I help you?" you asked, you saw John's head shoot up at the sound of noise outside the office and you made eye contact with him as you continued your conversion with the man on the phone.

You bit your lip slightly as you listened to the man, and raised your eyebrows at John when he requested to speak with him. John furrowed his eyebrows at you causing you to smile and point at the phone and then towards him. He nodded his head when he seemed to understand your message so you redirected the call and hung up from your end. John leaned back in his chair as he took the call, but never seemed to remove his eyes from yours. He was staring at you with a look of hunger in his eyes and you were starting to think that you may have taken your game to far.

You tried to go back to work, putting an end to your childish game. Out of habit, you bit your lip as you calculated numbers, you hadn't even noticed you were doing it until you heard the phone slam down. Your head shot up and a shiver ran down your spine when you saw John motioning for you to come into his office.

You took a deep breath as you stood up, flatting out your skirt before you walked the short distance to his office and opened the door. "Everything alright, Mr Shelby?" you asked, an innocent look plastered on your face.

John scoffed at your words. "Would you like a drink?" he asked as he walked to the other side of his room, you made your way closer to his desk, wondering what the hell was happening and if you were about to get fired.

"Em no thank you, I don't drink while I work."

"You don't think it's ok to drink while working, but you think it's ok to tease me all day and not let me get any work done, huh doll?" he spoke as he took a predatory step towards you, causing you to walk backwards and lean on his desk.

"I'm sorry?"

"Don't act all innocent now, darling" he scoffed as he swallowed his drink in one long gulp. He leant down to place it beside you on the table. You could feel his breath on your shoulder and you bit your lip to stop yourself from letting out any noise. John straightened up and his eyes immediate fell towards your lips. He hand moved to gently grab your chin, his tumb removing your lip from your teeth before his hands fell down to hold the desk, entrapping you between him and the desk. "Bite your lip one more time. I dare you," he whispered as he looked deeply into your eyes.

You felt your breath hitch in your throat and john smiled mischievously at the sound. "We shouldn't be doing this, John" you warned, although your body seemed to be betraying you as you leaned closer to him.

"And why the fuck not?" he wondered, his head ducking down to be eye level with you.

"It's wrong, I'm your secretary, Imagine if Tommy found out-"

"Tell me you don't want this. Tell me and ill step back."

You, once again, bit your lip at his words, knowing that there was no way you could tell him you didn't want this when you had constantly dreamt about it for over a month. You opened your mouth to speak but before you could get any words out, John had slammed his lips onto yours, his two hands cupped your face, pulling you into him while his body pushed you further against his desk.

You kissed him back with as much force as you could, grabbing the sides of his suit jacket and pulling him even closer to you. You were certain he could feel every curve of your body and the only thought going through your mind was that you wanted him even closer.

John eventually pulled away, his chest rising and falling rapidly with every breath the took. He closed his eyes as he rested his forehead against yours. "Told you to stop biting that fuckin' lip, Y/N"

You brought your hand up to gently run your fingers over the side of his face. His eyes fluttered open at the feeling, causing a smile to grace your face. "Make me."

Those words seemed to be a breaking point for john. His eyes darkened in colour as he shoved the books off his desk and placed you on top of it. Standing in between your legs, he ran his hands along your thighs as he kissed you again, with more passion this time. One of his hands moved to grab the side of your neck while the other squeezed your thigh. You involuntary let out a moan and John grinned at the sound.

His mouth moved to your neck, kissing every bit of flesh that he could find until he found your sweet spot. He began to suck lightly on the patch of skin before pulling away and blowing lightly on it. "No hickeys, John," you warned.

He laughed as he placed a quick peck to your lips. "I'm afraid its too late for that, sweetheart. Besides, it'd be nice to look at tomorrow, a little reminder so to speak." You rolled your eyes at him, the action being cut off as he applied the tiniest amount of pressure to your throat. "None of that love."

"Just kiss me you idiot" you moaned as he resumed his previous position. You felt his hand move higher on your thigh, hissing lightly as he lifted your garter and let it fall against your skin.

"Now these have caused a tremendous amount of pain for me, think id prefer to just take them off, hmm?"

"John your anyone could walk past" you scolded, although your eyes were closed and you were leaning into his touch, so you doubt you put up much of a fight.

"Lets put on a show then," he grinned before kneeling down and removing your stockings at a painstakingly slow pace.

And put on a show he did.