#anyway frustrates me to no end that there's more tracks than we were given and just give themmmm the ones that are missing are literally

[kateis-cakeis]

The fact there's more tracks missing from the Merlin Soundtrack than just the S5 ones is incredibly frustrating.

There's so much good music in the show that isn't on the playlists and arghhh it's soo frustrating because it would be so good to listen to!!! Especially for writing, sobs.

[lemoncrushh]

Touch

Summary: You've been having a hard time getting yourself off, so your roommate Harry offers a hand.

Warnings: masturbation, clit stimulation - 18+ ONLY!

Word Count: 3886

A/N: Finally, it's here! Based on this request. Soooo sorry for the delay! My writing mojo was not working this week. Also, I know it's a lame title, but I couldn't come up with anything else, and it's after 2AM lol. Hope you enjoy anyway :)

Slamming the freezer door shut, you collapsed at the kitchen table with a sigh.

“What’s with you?” you heard Harry ask from the living room.

“Nothing,” you muttered. “Just thought I had some popsicles left, but I guess I ate ‘em all.”

“You’ve been devouring those like crazy,” Harry commented. “Something stressing you out?”

You sighed, groaning into your palms as you rubbed your eyes. “You could say that.”

“Anything I could help you with?”

You laughed to yourself as you laid your head on the table. Oh God, if he only knew. If he only could.

“No,” you said with a muffled moan.

“Hmm, alright then,” you heard him say as he rose from the sofa and turned off the television. “I’m going to meet Seth at the track field like I promised I would. Want me to stop and get you some popsicles on the way back?”

Lifting your head, you gave a weak smile. “That would be great. Thank you.”

“No problem. See you later.” When he reached the door, he stopped and looked back at you. “Oh, and Y/N? Whatever it is…if it’s still bothering you when I get back, we can talk about it, yeah?”

“Stop, you!” you waved him off. “Go be a frat boy for the afternoon.”

Harry gave you a smirk before shutting the door behind him.

Harry Styles was sweet. Not your typical college guy. Since meeting your freshman year, you’d become close friends, and eventually roommates. While you were very much attracted to him (honestly, who wasn’t?), you’d never given him much hints that you were interested in more than his friendship. And he was such a great friend, and you’d hate to lose that by stepping out of line. So other than a couple of drunken nights on the sofa when you’d both innocently flirted, you kept your feelings to yourself.

But when you were alone…well, that was a different issue altogether.

Harry was your fantasy man, if you wanted to put it that way. He knew you were a virgin; you’d discussed it many times. But what he didn’t know was that when you were alone in your room, sometimes with him in his own room and sometimes not, you fantasized about him. And many of those fantasies led to you touching yourself and getting worked up, only to end with you sexually frustrated.

The biggest issue was that you couldn’t make yourself come. You weren’t sure what you were doing wrong. You were horny as hell all the time. And thinking about Harry when you touched yourself only heightened the desire. But you just couldn’t seem to get over the edge. You could feel yourself getting so close, time after time, until your wrist got tired and your pussy seemed to dry up. You’d groan, angry at yourself, sometimes to the point of tears. If it was late enough, you’d manage to fall asleep eventually, but if it wasn’t even close to bed time, you’d huff and stomp out of your bedroom to grab a popsicle out of the freezer, your item of choice for cooling you down.

Today had been just like any other Saturday. You’d awakened horny, thinking of Harry. You tried to take a shower, hoping it would help, only to be interrupted by the man himself, knocking on the bathroom door to tell you breakfast was ready. You’d sat at the table with him as you tried not to stare, thinking about how fucking sweet he was to make breakfast. Then when he’d announced he was going to watch some game on TV before meeting his friend Seth, you’d gone to your room, hoping to relieve the pulsing ache between your legs. You’d even gone so far as to sit naked in the closet, the door shut as you touched yourself. But once again, you were unable to climax, thus the need to go running into the kitchen.

Now that Harry was gone, however, you knew you couldn’t waste an opportunity. Grabbing a bottle of water, you brought it with you to your room in case the activity made you dehydrated. Then you lit your favorite candle and turned off the overhead light, leaving only the glow of the fairy lights that trimmed your walls. After removing your shorts, you slipped underneath the covers in just your panties and t-shirt. Closing your eyes, you sighed, imagining Harry was in bed with you. Sliding your hands down the front of your shirt, you let your fingers linger at the edge of your cotton underwear.

“Please,” you whispered into the air.

You pretended your hand was your roommate’s as you let it glide over your clothed mound. You sighed again, willing him in your mind to add a little pressure as your own hand resumed the task. Soon you could feel the moisture soaking through your panties, so you removed them completely. With your head back on the pillow, you gathered a bit of your wetness, bringing it to your clit as your fingertip began to play more aggressively.

It didn’t take long for you to feel the pressure building in your belly, your toes curling as you imagined it was Harry touching you, making you feel incredible. Your cunt tightened as your finger moved around in circles on your now swollen clit. You gasped a breath and licked your lips, praying the release would come soon. But just like all the other times, nothing would happen. It was as though your body was deliberately denying the pleasure you so needed, like a punishment. For what, you were unsure.

Dropping your tired hand next to you, you immediately felt the tears coming, unable to stop the frustration and disappointment. Rolling over onto your side, you pulled the covers up to your chest and cried.

Why was this not happening for you? This was so unfair!

Shaking with sobs, you gave up, resolving that it just wasn’t meant to be. Gulping back the rest of your tears, you drifted off to sleep.

You awakened disoriented as you heard the front door slam shut. Harry must be home, you thought. Suddenly, just the thought of him brought the tears back to your eyes. Shortly afterwards, you heard Harry calling your name. Ashamed, you rolled over to face the wall.

“Y/N!” you heard again just before a knock sounded on your bedroom door.

When you didn’t answer, he turned the knob, opening the door just a crack. “Y/N? You in here? I got those popsicles. They’re in the free-”

Harry’s words stopped abruptly, and you knew he had entered the room.

“Y/N? What’s wrong? Are you sick?”

Not wanting to let him see you crying, you cleared your throat. “Oh, hey Harry. I was…tired. So I decided to take a nap.”

“Um…but…you’re crying, love.”

“No, I’m not,” you snapped.

“Yeah, you are. I see your shoulders trembling.”

“Jeez, nothing gets past you, does it?” you hiccuped. “Do you want a medal or something?”

“Hey…” Harry sounded. Then you felt the bed shift, and you could tell he’d sat down behind you. When his hand touched your shoulder, you tensed up. “Y/N. I told you you could talk to me. About anything. Please, I’m here to help.”

“I can’t, Harry,” you grumbled. “Not about this.”

“Why not?”

“Because…it’s too embarrassing.” Sniffling, you silently hoped he would leave. But he was your friend. And up until then you’d talked to him about all of your problems, big or small.

“C’mon, it can’t be that bad,” he urged. “Was it some jerk you fancied? Want me to beat him up for you?”

“No,” you shook your head.

“Was it one of the girls in that snooty sorority?”

“No, Harry. Nobody did anything. Please, just go. Let me be.”

You heard him sigh as he rose from the bed. You thought he was leaving until he spoke again. “No, Y/N. I can’t. You’re clearly upset about something, and I can’t just leave you crying like this. Let me help. Please.”

With a huff, you finally rolled over to face him. His face displayed the look of concern and worry, and you suddenly felt bad for snapping at him.

“Why is it so important to you?” you asked with a shaky breath.

“Because, Y/N…” he conveyed, returning to the edge of your bed. “You’re important to me. You’re my best friend. I don’t like to see you hurting.”

Biting your bottom lip, you shifted your eyes. Could you tell him? Should you tell him?

“If I tell you…will you promise you won’t laugh?”

Harry tilted his head and ran his hand down your arm. “Y/N, how could I laugh at you?”

“It’s just…it’s very TMI,” you admitted.

“Yeah?” Harry raised a brow.

You gnawed at the inside of your cheek as you sat up. “I…” you began with a pause. Finally, exhaling through your nose, you looked up at the ceiling as you said the next words. “I’ve been extremely horny lately.”

You heard Harry snicker before you lowered your head and frowned.

“No,” he shook his head. “Trust me love, I’m not laughing at you. It’s just…that’s not really a secret, is it? I mean…we’re all pretty horny. I wouldn’t really call that TMI.”

“That’s not all of it,” you whispered.

“Oh. Okay. Go on then.” Harry scooted closer to you. Your insides flipped, even more than when you would sit with him on the couch or the kitchen table. You stared at him for a moment before shifting your gaze down to the comforter. You grabbed it in your hands, twisting the edge between your fingers.

“I can’t seem to make myself…you know.”

Harry’s eyes widened instantly at your confession. It surprised you because you figured you would have to spell it out for him. Part of you was embarrassed, but the other part was relieved that he understood what you meant.

“Have you ever?” he inquired.

Sucking in your lips, you shook your head.

“Shit,” he whispered, his eyes on you. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“One time…it felt a little different, you know? Like I thought maybe I was but then…I wasn’t so sure. But all other times I’d get so close,” you whined, “but then…it goes away.”

“Well…” Harry mused, shifting himself on the bed, “maybe you just need some help.”

Blinking hard, you glared at him. “What do you mean? I…don’t have a vibrator. I was thinking of getting one, but I don’t know…”

“No, I mean…like a person. To touch you. The way you need to be touched.”

His final phrase hung in the air as you stared at his handsome face. His voice and tone had been low, just above a whisper, and it tickled your ears and made your skin blush. He licked his full lips as his eyes drifted down from your face to your lap. The sudden urge to squeeze your legs together was hard to ignore.

“Well…yeah,” you scoffed, making light of his words. “Not like I’ve had the opportunity.”

Harry’s eyes lifted back up to meet yours before he said, “You do now.”

Your mouth opened slightly, though you were unable to utter a sound. Was he suggesting what you thought he was suggesting?

It wasn’t until Harry took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb across your fingers and looked sincerely into your eyes again that you managed to squeak out his name.

“H-arry…you…”

“I’d like to help you, Y/N,” he said softly. “I want to. If you’ll let me.”

“Really?” You asked the word incredulously, almost with a light chuckle as surely he was joking.

“Yes. Really.”

Biting your lip, you hesitantly lowered your comforter. Harry eyed your bare legs before looking back at you.

“May I?” he asked, reaching his hand toward your thigh.

You nodded, giving him the go ahead. With a slight smirk, Harry caressed your leg, gliding his hand up and down your thigh. You sighed, your flesh erupting in goosebumps.

“Your skin is so soft,” he cooed. Then licking his lips, he leaned forward, his mouth so close to yours that you could feel his breath. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?”

With another nod, you felt the nerves magnify just before his lips met yours. When his hand met your cheek, however, you eased into the kiss, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth. Though you had imagined his kiss many times, it was nothing like actually experiencing the real thing. You felt the bubble of a moan rise from your throat before Harry released your lips and chuckled low.

“I was afraid that would be awkward for you, but I’m gonna assume by that sound you just made that it wasn’t.”

“No,” you breathed. “It was pretty great, actually.”

Harry’s smile grew which only made you smile back. This was already going better than you thought it would.

“So, you’re okay with moving forward?” he asked. “With me touching you, I mean.”

“Yes.” You said it so quietly, you would have wondered if you’d only thought it in your head if Harry hadn’t adjusted his position on the bed. Leaning on his elbow, he rested his head in his hand as he reached his other hand to touch your thigh again.

“We can go as slow as you need to, okay?”

“‘kay.”

“Lie back, love,” he instructed. “I want you to be as comfortable as possible. The more comfortable and relaxed you are, the better it’s gonna feel.”

You nodded, breathing through your nose as you laid back on the pillow. Relaxing, however, was going to take a little more effort. Just his gaze alone was enough to accelerate your heartbeat.

“So, tell me how you like to be touched.”

Once again, his words hung in the air like a thick cloud. Were you supposed to have an answer to that question?

“I dunno,” you shrugged.

“Well…what do you do to yourself? What feels good to you?” His eyes remained locked on yours while his hand moved up to play with the hem of your t-shirt.

“I um…” you paused, swallowing hard. “I usually just rub my clit.”

Harry nodded. “How? Show me.”

Color rising in your cheeks again, you sucked in your lips as you brought your hand down between your legs. Then you gently slid your finger down the outside of your panties along the center, finding the spot you usually went for first. Adding just a bit of pressure, you showed Harry how you touched yourself.

“Okay,” he said. “And does that feel good?”

“A little.”

“Just a little?” he raised a brow.

You hitched a breath when you saw him reach for your hand, covering it with his own. Guiding you, he pressed a little harder on your finger, moving it in gentle circular motions. You swallowed hard before letting out a tiny gasp.

“What about now?” Harry inquired.

“Better,” you breathed.

“Yeah? Is this how you usually do it?”

“For a little while,” you admitted. “When it starts to feel really good, I um…go underneath or take my panties off completely.”

“Mmm,” Harry nodded. “I’d like to do that. Can we?”

“O-okay.”

Harry’s mouth turned up in a slight grin as you lifted your hips to remove your underwear. Once they were off, you pushed them down the bed with your feet, your eyes still on Harry.

“Good,” he said. “Can I touch you now, Y/N?”

“Yes.”

Running his palm across your belly, his green eyes conveyed a sense of calmness, one you recognized well. Harry was always good at putting you at ease, whether it was at a party where you knew next to nobody but him, or just sitting on the couch talking about things that were bothering you. He was never judgemental or tried to press his opinion onto you. He made you feel good about everything, and while this was no exception, you couldn’t deny the somersaults your tummy was performing and the way your heart was thumping in your chest.

He was actually going to touch you now.

And he did. Bringing his fingers to his mouth, he lightly sucked the tips of his middle and forefinger before reaching between your legs. You simply stared as his hand slid across your mound, unable to move. But before he could even touch your clit, he tapped the inside of your thigh with the back of his hand.

“Open your legs, love,” he instructed with a low chuckle. “I promise it feels so much better if I can actually reach you.”

Letting out a deep breath, you spread your legs open a little. “Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” said Harry. “I just want you to relax, okay? I’m not going to hurt you, I promise.”

“I know you won’t,” you muttered. “I’m just…it’s hard to relax right now.”

“Why?”

“Because…I guess I’m a little nervous.”

With a gentle expression on his face, Harry looked at you. “I wanna make you feel good, Y/N. Please don’t be nervous with me. It’s just me.”

You let out a half breath, half laugh as you glared at him. “That’s why I’m nervous.”

Tilting his head, Harry blinked. “Have you thought about this before…with me?”

Biting your lip, you nodded.

“Why…why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, his voice so low you barely heard it.

“Because…I didn’t think anything would happen,” you explained. “Like this.”

Blinking again, Harry leaned over, capturing your mouth. You sighed as you felt him shift even closer, his hand gliding up the side of your shirt to cup your breast. He gave it a squeeze when you sucked delicately on his tongue. Then lifting his head, his eyelids heavy, he shook his head.

“Fuck, Y/N. I wish I’d known. I would have done this a long time ago.”

Before you could argue or retort, Harry wettened his fingers once more and brought them to your pussy. Ever so gently, just like he had moments before with your own hand, he added slight pressure to your clit, creating shapes with his movements. You gasped at the contact, immediately feeling the building sensation in your core.

“How’s that feel?” Harry whispered.

“So good,” you replied in a breathy tone, shutting your eyes.

“Open just a little wider, baby.”

You did as you were told, trying not to let the fact he’d just called you baby spin you into a sense of complete disarray. You focused on the feeling instead, the mere idea that Harry’s fingers were touching your pussy.

You could feel your legs begin to tremble, however, when his circles began to speed up. Your toes curled, and your breaths quickened.

“Oh…” you panted.

“Mmm, you like that?”

“Ohh, god yes.”

“Good girl. You’re doing great,” Harry cooed. “You’re getting so wet.”

Even with your eyes shut tight, you knew he was right. Not only could you feel the wetness dripping down your thigh, you could hear it like a sloshing mess as Harry pressed harder and moved his hand faster.

“Oh my god!” you cried.

“Do you want my fingers inside, or do you want me to keep going like this?”

“Like this!” you shouted a little too quickly.

Harry chuckled. “You got it, baby. I can do this as long as you need me to. Your pussy’s so pretty.”

You groaned at his words, the fire below igniting a whole knew sensation as you felt yourself grind against his hand. You dared a peek at him, opening your eyes to see him smirking at you. This was not his usual smirk like when he was kidding around with you, or letting you in on a secret. This was a smirk just for you, like he knew how he was making you feel, and he was enjoying it. Like he owned you. You always thought he was sexy, but fuck, when did he get so fucking sexy?!?

Harry’s hand slowed for just a moment, giving you both a bit of relief. Surely his wrist had to be aching by now, you thought. And the heavy stimulation was almost overwhelming for you. You noticed that’s when you would sometimes dry up and lose the orgasm entirely.

Shutting your eyes, you relaxed your hips, letting your legs fall open as they may, instead of tensed up like they were a moment before. You sighed again as Harry began to glide his fingertips up your slit and back down, gathering the wetness that had no doubt pooled at your entrance. You moaned at how delicately he was touching you now, with very little pressure at all.

“Fuck,” you cursed out loud, partly because it felt amazing and partly because you missed the friction. “Harry…”

“Yeah, babe. That feel good?”

“Yes, but…”

“But what, baby? You have to tell me.”

“Mmm, harder please.”

“Is that too soft?”

“Mhm,” you nodded.

“Alright,” you heard him say, and you knew he was grinning. But before he resumed the pressure, he lightly patted your pussy with his hand.

You knew he was just being cocky now, but you didn’t care. You’d never felt so turned on in your life, even from your own hand. And while your end goal was to come, you also didn’t want this to end.

“H-h-harry…” you moaned, the incredible friction returning, the sensation creating an overwhelming urge in your belly. “Fuck!”

“That’s it, baby. Are you gonna come for me?”

That made you open your eyes. While his question was one you’d imagined him asking you every time you tried to get yourself off - and the sound of it coming from his lips was so fucking hot, it was a wonder you didn’t squirt right then and there - in the back of your mind you were still worried you couldn’t make it over the edge.

You reached out and grabbed his shirt in your fist, the other hand grasping at the sheet beneath you. Your eyes wide, you stared at him as you felt the pressure build and build, your legs trembling as you silently begged him to let you come.

“Oh my god!” you cried, tugging on his shirt.

And just at that moment, when you thought everything was about go black, Harry crashed his mouth into yours. Your tongue dancing with his, a low, aching moan rose from deep inside your gut. Your entire body shook as you held onto him, his fingers still caressing your wet clit as you came.

When you finally stopped shaking, but your chest was still heaving, Harry lifted both his head and his hand. Staring at you, he slid his hand up your waist, and his other cradled your neck. Then he pressed a kiss between your brows before resting his forehead against yours.

“Is that what you wanted, love?”

“Yes,” you breathed out. “Holy shit, Harry.”

With a deep chuckle, he shifted back to his side, pulling you with him. “I’m so glad I could do that for you,” he said, pushing a strand of hair from your face.

You looked at him in wonder. You’d always been in awe of him, since the first day you’d met. But now he was no longer just your friend Harry, your roommate Harry…he was…Harry! Jesus, what were you gonna do now?

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[symmage]

Ryan had a tan from hanging out in the summer sun for too long before Jaxon came over...so parts of her are...different shades of luscious chocolate. Yea, now back to the story....

The morning had come. Ryan woke up abruptly to her phone's alarm chiming. Frantically, she grabbed her bra from off the floor and deliriously fastened it on herself. There was only an hour's time to prepare for work. Knowing there was barely any time to get ready, she called her job to let them know she was running late and would be in as soon as possible.

"Well, this is not a good impression, considering I just got the promotion." she joked. "I hope they don't count this too harshly against me...I mean, I'm usually there on time..."

Jaxon laughed. "'I'm sure you'll be fine. It was a long night and my head is throbbing from that wine, what the hell was it!?"

"It was good right?" Ryan grinned. "I'm buying another bottle and saving it for our next get together!"

"Oh really? You're already making plans."

"You really wore me out Jaxon. It's been a while and I needed that." Ryan blushed.

"No lie, you were like a waterfall."

"Was I?"

"I told you this was good for us. You get what you need, and I get what I need. In the end, we're both satisfied until...you know..."

"Know what?" she questioned.

"Until you come crying back for more of the hammer." he bragged. "A good pounding always gets us back on track."

"That's not the only reason why I call on you!" Ryan snapped.

"Is that ALL you think I'm WORTH for your time?!"

"Whoa! Why are you snapping off at me like this?!" Jaxon asked, confused by Ryan's sudden outburst towards him.

Ryan sighed.

"I'm having an internal struggle with what is going on with you and me, Jaxon. Sometimes, I hate seeing you because I know what will happen when you come around."

"A part of me...wants to kick you out of my life, then the other half says...what are you doing...hang on to him...maybe he'll come around."

"Ryan..."

"How many times do I have to stress this to you. This can't be more than what this is. You agreed to this remember?" Jaxon asserted.

"...I do..."

"Then why are you making waves?!"

Ryan swallowed her words. She couldn't explain why she was acting this way. It had been eating away at her for the some time, but it all was coming to the surface and wreaking havoc on her emotions.

"I...want a little more than what...is being given..." she finally said.

"Damn it, Ryan! It's like talking to a wall with you."

"If this is going to be every time we meet up, then we might as well call it quits because I'm sick of repeating myself."

"E-Excuse me?!" Ryan stammered.

"You heard me, I'm tired of this shit! I barely see you and when I do it's this back and forth. It's ridiculous!"

Ryan stared in disbelief as she listened to him angrily ramble on. Their night of pleasure had turned so sour the morning after. She started to feel as if this was all a mistake. She shouldn't have ever said anything. Anger began to overcome her. How dare he act up on her like she was the problem!

"You know what, you're right! Maybe we should end things. I'm sick of your wishy-washy ass. I deserve better than what you're half-ass giving me anyways!"

"The fuck..." Jaxon muttered. "Are you serious right now?"

In frustration, Ryan stood up from the bed and stormed toward the bedroom door to leave. A tinge of guilt overcame her. Did she overreact? Why did she lash out like that in the first place? Usually, she was calm and collected, but her emotions were on a rollercoaster this time.

'I'm going to give you some space. It's what we're used to doing anyway, right? Let's continue what we already know,' Ryan solemnly stated.

Jaxon had gotten up from the bed as well, catching up to her before she reached the door.

"Look..." Jaxon started. "We both said some things out of anger, emotions are high, and we're coming down from last night's session, let's not do this right now."

"Can we rewind and go back to where we were, Ryan? Things have to be smooth sailing between us...alright?"

As she looked into his eyes, Ryan melted like butter on a hot summer afternoon. There it was—the reason why it was always hard to leave. The push and tug between them kept her wrapped under his spell. She didn't care. She wanted to stay entangled in his charm for as long as possible.

"Ok.. I won't question it again." Ryan folded. "I'm good...we're good."

"Humm...Good girl."

<-Back Next->

[hayls-parkie]

THE SUBSTITUTE (reader x Yoongi)

2nd attempt at writing fanfic 1st attempt for BTS

idk the format to write this shit so yeah

sUmMaRy: Y/n gets a little taken aback (or flustered?) at her school's substitute teacher for music given his odd behaviour that y/n has never experienced before.

Warnings: none

Part 1

I was just your regular music student trying to survive school. While some people called me pretty, some people talked shit about me behind my back. Either way, I didn't care. All I knew was that I was the most average girl who was probably a tad prettier than everyone else, with the most immature boys for exes and the weirdest bitches for friends.

It was autumn. A soft breeze in the air, maple leaves drifting in the wind as the trees are left to go bald for the winter. There I was, in the hallway as usual. I wore a casual sweater neatly tucked into my knee length skirt. In one hand I had my books, in the other my bottle of mineral water. It wasn't common to see teens my age have a water bottle with them since it was more of a middle school thing, but who cares?

I paused in my tracks. I looked down at the transparent, plastic bottle in my hand, and walked towards the bin, tossing it before continuing my walk to music class.

Maybe today I could try to not have water with me...

Why would I need water anyways? __________________________________________________________

I sat down in my usual seat for music, second row from the front, all the way to the right, just beside the dust covered windows.

We always used the lecture theatre. Never the classrooms. There were more than 40 students taking music as a gradable subject in school so I guessed it made sense to use a bigger venue for it. The stale air in the lecture theatre was a clear sign that no one had used it in a few days, probably even a few weeks.

F/n sat down in the seat next to me, placing her tote bag on the vacant seat next to her. We've been friends since the start of high school, and it was a pure miracle that we had ended up in the same college.

"Y/n!" F/n shook my shoulders lightly. I looked in her direction, knowing she had something to say.

"Did you hear about the substitute for music today?" F/n asked. I could tell that she was trying hard to coat the excitement in her voice with a layer of questions. I frowned, shaking my head.

F/n inhaled sharply, leaning in closer to my ear. I shifted closer, curious as to what she was about to say.

"People are saying he's this hot teacher from a private academy that specialises in children who are gifted in music." F/n whispered into my ear before pulling away, a huge grin plastered on her face as she bounced up and down in her seat, eyes sparkling with excitement.

"And why are you telling me this?" I asked, raising an eyebrow in suspicion.

"Are you seriously asking me this question y/n?" F/n groaned in frustration. What, was I supposed to magically know why f/n directed certain questions to me?

F/n leaned in again, but not as close as the first time.

"If he's hot we could date him!" She whisper shouted. I swear I almost choked on non-existent water. I stared at her, wide eyed in shock and...a tinge of disgust. F/n looked at me with utmost disappointment before rolling her eyes.

I shook my head. "We're not going to date any teachers or whatsoever," I paused for a moment. "But then again, who's stopping us from admiring them?"

As soon as f/n heard my words, her entire face lit up again. My lips curved into a smirk. Tricking f/n was always fun.

Within the next 10 minutes, a few more students had begun streaming in from the large ceiling to floor wooden doors, seating in a randomised order. Eventually, everyone had sat down.

Just as the soft chatter slowly turned into loud conversations, a shadow slipped through the now half closed doors. I craned my neck towards the shadow, only to see a glimpse of black hair almost reaching the person’s shoulders.

“Y/n! That’s the substitute for our music class today!” F/n shook my shoulder vigorously like a love sick high school girl (F/n and I are already in college) watching her crush from football walk in. Her eyes were wide like marbles, mouth agape as her eyes trailed over to the figure standing by the door at the other side of the lecture theatre.

I rolled my eyes at her childish behaviour. Why would anyone bother about a hot substitute? He'd just be another handsome man who'd waltz into our lives and walk out the doors, oblivious to the heartbreak the girls just went through watching him leave.

Just as I was in the middle of my thought process, I began to notice the conversations around me turn into hushed whispers and gasps. My gaze wandered over the crowd of students as their eyes stuck to the front of the lecture theatre.

"His hair is gorgeous!"

"He looks so hot..."

"Black's definitely his colour."

All these comments were sickening. Girls fawning over a substitute. The boys awestruck by his sense of fashion. F/n beside me, her breath knocked out of her windpipe as she tries to contain her heart from beating out of her chest.

"Are all of you just gonna sit there like fools?"

His voice was deep as hell.

The shocked voices of everyone were quickly drowned out by the rush to stand up before another insulting word was thrown at us. I stood up, still trying to catch a glimpse of his face.

“I’ll be your substitute teacher for the day as your current teacher is sick. You can call me sir.”

Everyone frantically greeted him with a courteous bow before sitting back down, the murmurs surfacing again. His side profile was the only part of him that was visible to me right now.

Finally, this “sir” walked towards the stand at the front of the lecture theatre, just a few metres away from where I was. He placed his briefcase on the stand as I craned my neck again, hoping to finally see his face. Just as he looked up at the class, I glanced over, looking at him.

He was…gorgeous to say the least.

A man in his late 20s, dressed in a black suit that complimented his tall frame and a head of hair that was a beautifully crafted mess of soft curls that sat on his collar. In the midst of admiring him from afar, he turned his head in my direction, my gaze meeting his.

The moment we locked eyes, A burst of butterflies emerged within my stomach. My heart stopped for a split second, a spark igniting inside of me. My mouth fell open a little, my eyes wide open as we held eye contact for what seemed like an eternity before he looked away.

Was it just me, or was he experiencing what I felt as well?

I couldn't dwell on it. Not when he was taking on the role of a teacher in a class that I was taking.

"Today we'll be doing some vocal warmups." He announced, taking a step in front of the stand.

"B-but sir we're doing theory work-" F/n started to speak.

"You'll be following my instructions today." He cut her off, his tone displaying uninterest in whatever we had to say. He slipped his hands into his pockets, walking down the rows.

Pure horror was engaged.

Projection of our voices, keeping our mouths open, correcting our pronunciation, having to be in sync, blah blah blah.

After a rough 10 minutes of vocal warmups, my throat was nonetheless sore and completely deprived of water.

I raised my hand, looking in his direction.

"Sir may I get some water?" I asked, my voice hoarse and weak.

"No."

"But-"

"We'll continue on with more vocal warmups."

I looked at him in horror, turning to f/n, seeing if she had a water bottle. F/n could only raise her empty one sheepishly, before putting it in her bag.

After a lesson of hell, I couldn't speak anymore. It almost felt like the spirit of those vocal warmups had come and sucked my voice box out of me, leaving nothing but a suffering throat and aching jaw. This "sir" wasn't as nice as I expected.

The bell rung, signaling the end of class. Even though the only thing that I did today was lose my voice, it still felt physically draining to my entire body. F/n was nowhere to be seen now. What a bitch she was now. Her best friend was in desperate need of water and not a single bit of compassion was being shown.

I stayed in my seat for a while, watching everyone making a beeline for the exit.

"Hey!"

I looked around, only to see the teacher walking towards me. I cleared my throat, only to realise there wasn't anything to clear. Sitting upright, I could feel my heart pounding against my chest, the butterflies swarming within me again.

He stood in front of me, hands behind his back. I eyed him suspiciously, noticing his features were rather defined.

"Where's your water bottle?" He asked, his eyes taking the shape of siren ones as he stared me down.

"I threw it out." I replied weakly, my voice fading towards the end of my short sentence.

He sighed, before revealing a matte, black water bottle behind of him. Gesturing for me to take it, he tilted his head to the side, an amused smirk on his face.

I couldn't really bother much as to why he offered it to me seeing as to how I was dying of dehydration. I snatched the bottle out of his hands, twisting the cap open and tilting it towards me lips, the fresh feeling of water gushing down my throat. I quickly emptied the contents of the water bottle, before exhaling in relief.

"Thank you sir." I said meekly, handing the bottle back to him. His slender fingers wrapped around the bottle, hands showing faint signs of his veins as he took the bottle from my hands.

"Why did you let me drink from your water bottle?" I asked him, looking up at his alluringly handsome face. My gaze was then focused on his hands, his fingers around the bottle. What if those fingers were around something else, or better, in...

I bit my lip to refrain my mind from drifting to the darker side of all this.

"You said you didn't have your water bottle and I was being kind." His nonchalant voice and expressionless face seemed to be hiding a deeper emotion, but I didn't question further.

"Thanks I guess." I mumbled, grabbing my bag, slinging it on my shoulder.

"Next time bring a water bottle."

"Next time?" I looked up at him, confused. He didn't bother to answer my question, instead walking back to the stand where he packed his water bottle into his briefcase. What rude behaviour for a teacher.

I scoffed, and walked past him and towards the exit of the lecture theatre.

"Oh, and don't call me sir anymore. Call me Yoongi."

"What?"

I stood right at the doors, looking back at him, butterflies exploding inside me yet again. Heat began creeping up to my face, my cheeks burning. My heart was about to burst out of me chest again. My hand gripped the knee length skirt I was wearing, a perplexed look on my face.

"Y/n?" F/n had come to look for me again. I snapped out of my trance as I swiveled around, looking at f/n. She had mineral watered bottle in her hands, all ready to give it to me. I kindly took it, smiling awkwardly as I turned back to look at him ignoring my presence as he continued to pack up.

"S-sir?"

"You may leave now."

"What?"

"Leave."

A little taken aback, I blinked, only to stumble out of the lecture theatre.

[evelyn-the-archivist]

🕸 Click.

ARCHIVIST

I'm going to be recording your statement on this tape recorder, alright?

EVELYN

Isn't that a little... old fashioned?

ARCHIVIST

Maybe, but it's what works for us. We digitalize statements after they're recorded, anyway.

EVELYN

Okay, I guess that makes sense. Why change what works, right?

ARCHIVIST

Exactly.

Statement of Evelyn Marie, detailing...

EVELYN

My experience in an abandoned factory.

ARCHIVIST

Statement given January 19, 2001. Whenever you're ready, Evelyn.

EVELYN

Well, I was living in Tulip Hills, which is a small town in Ohio. There was an abandoned factory right at the center of it, and my best friend Max and I decided we wanted to explore it.

ARCHIVIST

Max's full name, please?

EVELYN

Uh, maybe I shouldn't.

ARCHIVIST

The more information we have, the more thorough our research can be.

EVELYN

Alright, I guess that makes sense. Max Ferry.

ARCHIVIST

Thank you. You can continue.

EVELYN

It wasn’t until we had gotten past the tall wire fencing that it sunk in for me what we were doing. The sun was high above us, but suppressed by the overgrowth at the untended factory site.

I rifled through my backpack, making sure I had everything we might need. Water, granola bars, first aid kit, flashlight, phone.

“Max, do you have everything you need?”

They flipped through their own, much smaller backpack. “I brought tarot cards?”

It wasn’t unusual for them to be unprepared, and I had brought enough food and water for the both of us, but I still found myself a little frustrated. “I’ve got us covered, I guess. Let’s find an entrance.”

We kept moving, and I was relieved to see that several of the windows had already been broken. Max started to climb through, but I stopped them. “What are you doing? Do you want to get glass in your arm?”

They chuckled a little. “Not really.”

I pulled my sleeve over my hand and carefully swept the broken shards away. “There. I might not have gotten all of it though, so be careful.”

The interior of the building was pitch black. The light shining through the windows seemed to stop just a little bit in, as if running into an invisible wall.

I pulled my flashlight out of my bag, and it clicked on satisfyingly. It was a heavy security flashlight, one that had single-handedly lit up an entire room before. But in that building, it didn’t extend any further than the light from the windows did. It was weak, flickering sporadically.

I was unsettled, but shook it off. The batteries were just low, right? No big deal.

I began to walk, but Max started to run.

I quickly gripped the back of their hoodie before they got ahead of me. “Hey, we need to stick together. I don’t want to lose track of you.”

They turned around, grinning sheepishly. “I’m just excited! We’re in an abandoned factory!”

I crossed my arms. “I know, but we have to be cautious. Who knows what’s inside of here?”

“Maybe a ghooooost~” they suggested, waving their arms up and down.

I laughed, and we kept moving.

It was warm inside the building. Warmer than it should have been, especially since Autumn was nearing its end. A thick droplet of sweat rolled down the back of my neck. I could taste the heat on my tongue, dry like wilted grass.

The ground was cluttered with art supplies. I leaned down and picked a few up, but they were all unusable. The colored pencils were splintering apart, the watercolor paints were cracked and pounded into dust, the markers were dry and crushed. Not a single tool was in a salvageable state. “So many good supplies, wasted.”

Max looked down and saw the crayons crushed under their feet. “Yeah. My grandpa says that Fiverid Art used to be the heart of the town.”

“What happened to it?”

“A Crayola factory set up nearby, I think in the 1930’s? And they couldn’t keep up.”

“Ah, capitalism.”

We both laughed. “I’m surprised you didn’t know already. Everyone in Tulip Hills knows about what happened.”

I waved the flashlight around for emphasis as I spoke. “I just moved here, remember? Shitty housing market?”

“Oh yeah! Pass me some water?”

I tossed them a bottle, which clattered to the ground. “Butterfingers,” I said, not bothering to hold back my laugh. “So how come it’s still here? Shouldn’t it have been demolished by now?”

They picked the bottle up and took a small drink before turning to me. “Well, that’s the creepy part. After Fiverid went under, the land was bought up almost immediately. But no one knows who bought it. The records were kept private by the city, probably at the purchaser’s request.”

I set the flashlight on the ground, facing it upwards. “That was years ago, wasn’t it? Wouldn’t that person be dead right now?”

“Probably, but the records are still private. Whoever owns it now is just as secretive as the old owner was.” They took another drink of the water.

“Huh. That’s... weird...” I fell silent, listening closely. There was something... “Do you hear that?”

Max glanced at me, furrowing their eyebrows, then stood very still for a moment. “Music, right?”

It was faint, but if I strained my ears I could hear it. A strange, erratic melody. It continued to wind up, never resolving on the right note. I couldn’t tell what instrument it was on, as if it was being made by something entirely unique.

The heat on my tongue grew more bitter, making my throat ache.

“Where’s that coming from?” I asked, wiping sweat off my forehead.

"Let's find out!”

Max darted ahead. I scrambled for the flashlight and ran after them, desperate not to get separated.

“Oh my god, slow down! I can’t run as fast as you!” I gasped for breath, the heat wearing me out even quicker than normal.

They whirled around and crossed their arms. “Don’t you want to find where the music is coming from?”

“Of course I do! But I can’t keep up with you if you're running.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll slow down. Pass me the flashlight?” They held out a hand.

“No! This flashlight is the only thing stopping you from going on without me.” I lightly shoved their shoulder. “If you had it, I bet you would leave me behind.”

Max rolled their eyes. “Fine. Come on.”

We kept walking, the light flickering dangerously.

After a few minutes, I heard Max gasp. “Oh my god, Evelyn, take a look at this.”

They crouched down, gesturing at... well...

Hands are complicated. 27 unique bones, held together with sinew and tendons, and layers of fat and skin on top. To fully recreate a hand, of paper and wood and rubber, it would take hours of painstaking work. And what would even be the point of it?

Yet, someone had gone to the trouble of doing just that. A false hand lay on the ground, detailed and rotting.

Sweat slid down my back.

There was a piece of paper lying underneath it. Max kneeled down, slid it out, and looked it over.

“Max, I don’t think-”

“It says ‘It Will Replace Us.’”

“What?”

They held it up in the flickering light, grinning excitedly. “On the paper. ‘It Will Replace Us.’ Come on, take a closer look!”

I didn’t move from where I was standing. The paper was just as old as everything else in the factory. With all the water stains and wrinkles, I was surprised it was legible at all.

The heat was almost unbearable. I felt sick.

Max stood up and stepped closer to me, still holding the paper. “Creepy, huh? What do you think it means?”

“Maybe we should go.”

It was then that the flashlight clicked off.

Max started laughing immediately. “Now that’s fun. Perfect timing, huh?”

I shook my head, before realizing they couldn’t see me. “I want to leave.” Nausea pulsed through me.

Max rested a hand on my arm. “I know it’s a bit spooky, but the only thing we’re in danger from here is tetanus. If you really want to leave, we can, but I’m having a good time... and...”

They trailed off, distracted.

The music was much closer than before. It had begun to speed up, increase in volume, resolve on notes even worse than earlier.

Without a word, Max pulled away from my arm and started running towards the music.

“Max! Come back!” I yelled, desperate not to lose them.

I got a hold of my phone and turned on the weak flashlight included with it. It was barely enough to see my own feet, but it was enough to run after them.

The odor of mold mixed with the dry heat, making me cough desperately as my feet pounded against the floor.

And then I spotted them, facing away from me. “What are you doing! We need to stay together!”

Max didn’t answer. They were practically frozen, staring ahead, trembling a little. I turned to see what they were looking at, and...

It was shaped like a human, but it was clearly meant as mockery and not as imitation. Wrinkled and ripped paper served as the skin, like a twisted paper-mache project. The translucence of the water stains showed broken paintbrushes underneath, forming the shape of bones. Colorful rubber bands stretched all around in what I can only assume to be an attempt at muscles. Every body part, recreated in painstaking detail out of the remains of Fiverid art supplies.

It was missing a hand.

But the worst of it was the heart. It was made of neon crayons, crushed and rolled together. Every vein and artery carved in, perfectly done, and glowing nauseatingly. And it was beating, right alongside the music.

The music that I then realized was singing. The mouth of whatever sat in front of us was open, and moving so slightly it could have been an accident. The tongue was made of sopping wet cardboard.

The song dug into my ears, making my head spin. The heat burned me, but there was no discernible source. The stench of mold was so strong it might as well have been coming from me.

“M-Max, w-what-?” I stuttered out.

And then it stood up.

I turned and ran, no longer frozen in my fear. The light from my phone flickered, threatening to go out.

My body retraced our steps from earlier, on instinct. I couldn’t think of anything except the horrible creature from before. The sound of my feet was loud, but not nearly as loud as the beat of my own heart, which almost seemed to have come up through my throat in its rapid pace.

Finally I found the window, glass shards still coating the floor, and climbed out of it as fast as I could. Glass dug into my skin, but I hardly noticed.

I reached the fence and forced my shoes into the holes.

A sleeve caught on the wires, so I paused to detangle it.

That pause was enough to halt my adrenaline.

Blood dripped from my arm; it was soaked into the fabric of my shirt.

I was breathing heavily, my lungs aching.

Cool wind ran through my sweat-soaked hair.

"Max?” I called out.

But there was no response. Just my own voice, echoing pathetically back at me.

I never saw Max again.

We moved to DC about a month later. Then I heard about your Foundation, and, well.

ARCHIVIST

Of course. Thank you very much for coming in to tell your story.

EVELYN

Thanks for having me.

...

Do you believe me?

ARCHIVIST

We'll have to do some follow up, but it certainly sounds within possibility. Would you like us to contact you about our findings?

EVELYN

Yes, please.

ARCHIVIST

Alright. It might be a while since Tulip Hills is so far away, but you'll be one of the first to know whatever we discover.

EVELYN

Thank you so much.

Click.

Click.

ARCHIVIST

Regarding follow-up.

At first I was doubtful of the truth of this statement. Evelyn's remembrance of specific details and the fact that the incident seemed not to fit in with any Entities made it seem like more of a creative writing project than anything. So imagine my surprise when the recording failed to digitalize.

I had Avery do some digging, and she actually managed to find a copy of the deed to the factory. The owner is none other than Monty Lukas, the USA's resident patron of The Lonely.

As for the incident itself, it remains frustratingly difficult to categorize. Obviously the creature itself seems to be of The Stranger, but The Dark is very much in play, as well. And there's traces of The Desolation and The Spiral, as well. Perhaps Monty Lukas is doing some unsavory experiments in that factory.

Another thing to look out for, then.

End.

Click. 🕸

[gatheringbones]

[“To be a lesbian, do I have to sleep only with women?

Circumstances being what they are, too sordid for me to elaborate upon without getting shrill, your confusion is understandable. Even if we were in the business of policing female behavior and isn't that job best left to those with more experience and appropriate involvement; i.e., men?— one cannot always expect to find undiluted lesbian activity among even pure lesbians.

Don't panic; the occasional slip into the shallow end of the male pool, though not a sign of great discernment or even sanity, does not automatically invalidate your lesbian membership. Like alcoholism, heterosexuality is something from which the falsely thirst-quenching lure of convention being what it is one must be in a perpetual state of recovery.

Sleeping only with men, however, is a practice few lesbians have been able to explain or justify convincingly. It is a tradition you would do well to eschew.

I was born with a name so feminine I can't even bring myself to tell what it is.( All right, Lucinda.) Can I still be a lesbian?

Happily, there is an easy answer to your dilemma. First, to reassure you, of course you can; in fact, your parents have virtually guaranteed your lesbianism merely by saddling you with an emblem of femininity so ripe for parody.

Lesbians over the years who have found themselves in similar straits to yours have established a satisfying, time-honored tradition: that of reducing overly girlie names to monikers of one syllable or less. In your case, the solution is so obvious we're almost embarrassed to say it aloud, though we have before and we will again: Lou.

By the way, any lingering affection you may feel for your given name need not be in vain. The original version does not have to go to waste: Feel free to bestow it on one of male homosexual friends, for whom it was originally intended anyway.

I have always found women extremely annoying. They always want to talk about their feelings, they rarely spend a tenth of the energy they do on relationships on anything else, like their careers, which if you ask me could use it, and the minute you sleep with them, they act like they own you. Whenever they take their clothes off, though, I seem to lose track of the next several hours. Could I be a lesbian?

Yes. Anyone who does not at one time or another find herself experiencing such frustration with women is either a heterosexual woman, in which case our sympathies, a homosexual man, or the kind of lesbian who ruins it for the rest of us.

Lesbians who believe clinging, obsessive, needy behavior is a sign of devotion rather than neurosis give women everywhere a bad name, and there are more than enough people doing that already. Just the fact that you were spoon-fed girl medicine all through childhood and can whimper, “Call me" in your sleep without even breaking a sweat doesn't mean you shouldn't take a hint from the fact that you're not exactly traditional in other ways. What's lesbianism good for if it doesn't provide an escape valve from conventional social training? (Okay, a few other things.)

Unlike lucky, lucky you, heterosexual women don't have the advantage of mandatory skepticism. What they do have is the benefit of male partners who can be relied upon to counteract neurotic behavior by such helpful responses as not answering the phone, leaving town until it passes, or pretending not to recognize they're being spoken to until the woman speaking either changes the subject or starts in on dinner. Those of us with female partners rarely have the knowledge, training, or forethought to use such tools and would be wracked with guilt if we did.

Still, the fact that you continue to enjoy nude females despite their attendant difficulties a hopeful sign. Try to concentrate on the positives and behave as if the side effects did not exist.”]

helen eisenbach, lesbianism made easy, 1996

[max33imagines]

34. ‘Please don’t leave me.” — Max Verstappen X Reader.

Kindly requested by @chiogarza​ <3

Notes: Lil angsty, angry Max, lil fluffy. 

“Try and get into the pitlane, Max.” You heard GP say over Max’s radio. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. After what some would say was an epic battle with LeClerc and a solid P2 finish for Max, the goal of finishing the first race of the season came to an end. 

“And Max Verstappen is out of the race!” You took off your headphones while continuing to watch Max’s attempt of getting the car back to the garage. “How can you let this happen!? He’s meant to be a champion and he’s gonna DNF!?” Jos said to an innocent member of the pitcrew, almost as if the cars design rested solely on this guys shoulders. 

You smiled briefly at the man, briefly telling him to just ignore Jos and that he’s just as frustrated as Max. 

Max got back to the garage with the help of a few engineers running to pull his car in. It wasn’t long before Max was jumping out the the car and heading straight over to analyse the data, GP shortly joining him. 

“Bad luck today mate.” GP said reassuringly as you tried to creep closer to make sure Max was okay. 

Max had pulled off his helmet and balaclava, shoving them on the closest surface before questioning his race engineer. 

“Bad luck? That would’ve been a podium! What the fuck happened!?” He yelled. You watched on as GP attempted to calm him down while Max just got more and more frustrated. GP eventually left Max alone, walking away. With his hands held up as you knew he had given up with his attempt, just like most people do. 

This was your cue to head over to Max, no one can calm him down like you can. 

‘My good luck charm.’ He’d say, always fretting when you wasn’t able to make a race, worrying he wouldn’t get a good finish purely because you wasn’t there to cheer him on. But this time you were, and you know its just another bad race in which you need to try to understand how he’s feeling right now. 

“Max I’m-“ 

“Not now Y/n, shut up.” He said harshly. You followed his attention to the screen he was watching to see Checo had found himself in the same situation as Max. Oh fuck. Here we go. 

“Are you fucking joking!?” Max yelled, gaining the attention of more people around the garage. You wasn’t sure what hurt him more. The face both red bulls had DNF’d or the fact they practically handed Mercedes a podium on a plate. 

Max began you storm off as you began to follow after giving an apologetic smile to the crew. Max has grabbed his water bottle and hat before making his short trip to his drivers room, you slightly jogged to keep up with him, something you’d be laughing about if the circumstances were different. Max looked behind his shoulder to see you trying to catch up to him. 

“Y/n please just leave me alone, not fucking now! Alright!” Max exclaimed as you stopped in your tracks. 

It was no secret Max had a bit of a temper, but he could usually hide it better than this. You knew how this went. He has a bad race, isolates himself to calm down, he’ll apologise, talk about it and move on. Often seeing you straight after a race, good or bad, it’s as if it makes everything better. 

A good race wasn’t worth it until he gets to see you. And a bad race is all forgotten about once he speaks it through with you. He just needs to calm down. 

There wasn’t really much to do without Max, especially being the reason why you were obviously at the track anyway. You waited until he left for media to go to his drivers room, feeling like an idiot for just standing around in the garage as everyone else made small talk as to why bath cars ended up the way they did. 

Scrolling through social media was a mistake, it was swarmed with opinions on the race, opinions on Max and a few opinions about you being at the track with Max. You closed down the apps and decided to just reply to messages, your family being the main people that wanted to let you and Max know how devastated they were for how the race went. After clock watching and replying to messages for what felt like an eternity, despite the fact you were well aware it was only 30 minutes, you heard Max approaching his room. Finally.  

The door swung open and was slammed shut again, Max coming into the room and sitting on the small sofa. He took his hat off and ran his hands through his hair, keeping his head in his hands. 

You sat beside him, putting your arm around him as you gently rubbed his back. 

“I’m guessing it didn’t go well with the media then?” You softly questioned only to get no response. 

“Max, these things happen, you know that better than anyone! You’ll come back next race fighting, you always do. And I’ll be right here-“ 

“Y/n, shut the fuck up!” Max yelled, standing up to move away. You were taken aback by Max’s reaction, only trying to comfort him a little. 

“Can’t you see I don’t want to talk about the fucking race? All everyone wants to talk about is how much of an unreliable driver I am. How I’ve already said goodbye to the championship at the first round! Do you know how shit that is for me, Y/n? Hm? Do you?” He questioned. You shook your head no. 

“Didn’t fucking think so!” He replied, slightly waving his arm to emphasise his point. 

Unlike other girlfriends of the drivers you haven’t come from a racing background which is one of the reasons you and Max always say your relationship was fate. It’s obvious you can’t relate to Max’s feelings right now on a personal level. But after being together for a number of years you can empathise with how he’s feelings. You know he doesn’t feel good right now. You know how angry and pissed off he is with himself and his team. Just because you can’t relate, doesn’t mean you know nothing right now. 

Max’s anger was different this time. Clearly being more to the situation than what he’s showing on the surface. His anger is rarely directed towards you but today is clearly different. 

“You don’t know anything about how I’m feeling right now, so don’t sit there and give me bullshit that you do. You always fucking do this you know. Down playing my emotions towards the race by putting more pressure on me, saying ‘it’ll be better next week,’ newsflash Y/n, you don’t know that. You know nothing about this side of my life and I can’t fucking take it anymore-“

“Max what are you talking about? What’s going on with you?” You questioned, standing up as he gets more heated. It’s clear he’s just using you to vent his emotions, but you didn’t deserve the digs and personal attacks he was throwing your way. 

“Exactly Y/n! What is going on with me? Because if you don’t know, I sure as hell don’t have a clue!” He continued to yell. 

“You know what? Just leave, just get out of here right now, you’re just making things worse.” 

“Maybe that’s a good idea, I’ll let you cool down and I’ll see you back at the hotel-“

“No Y/n. Go back to Monaco. I can’t be here with you right now when all you’re doing is stressing me out as usual.”

“You want me to go back home?” You asked, shocked that he’d be so drastic when all you were doing was letting him vent this anger. 

“Is that not what I just said? Just go now. I’ll sort the plane.” He wasn’t even looking at you at this point, just waiting to hear the door close behind you. 

You grabbed your things and headed towards the door, stopping momentarily to try and explain to Max how irrational he’s being, but in fear of making this worse like you apparently always do, you left. 

“Leaving so soon Y/n? Where’s Max? Christian asked as he saw you making your way to leave the track. 

“Oh yeah, early night for me! Max is still in his drivers room.” You excused yourself from Christian, watching as he made his way towards where Max was, maybe he can calm him down if you couldn’t. 

You found your way back to the hotel, opting to walk opposed to using Max’s car, not wanting to explain to anyone why you were leaving alone. 

“Car will pick you up at 8.” Max’s text read. He really does want you to go.  You had just under an hour to sort your things, easily doable considering it was only a short trip to Bahrain anyway. Part of you thinks he’s going to come running after you, begging you to stay. But the text has just confirmed otherwise. 

A few tears threatened to fall while you began packing your things into your bags and suitcases, shortly realising you shouldn’t blame yourself for any part of Max’s anger. Of course it hurt though. Maybe you should’ve expected it? Knowing how Max gets. Maybe your turn was just waiting to come. And today it had. 

You got changed into an outfit more suitable for a flight, checking the time to see you only had a few minutes until you had to leave the room to go. 

Maybe you shouldn’t? Maybe you should just wait for Max to get back and have a second attempt of talking things through? What if that made things worse? 

You sometimes hated the affect Max had on you. Instantly making you second guess yourself. Memories of past races running through your head of when you were just trying to comfort hum, make him feel better. Did he really mean all of those things he said? 

You sighed before picking up your bags and grabbing your suitcase. Closing the hotel room door closed behind you as you headed downstairs. While exiting the elevator and heading towards the front door your attention was taken by the car you assumed was waiting for you. 

“I’m sorry mate but there’s been a mistake, we don’t need the car anymore - yeah whatever I’ll pay you just leave !” You saw Max throw some money through the window of the car. Laughing slightly to yourself as he wondered where he’d found cash from. You stopped laughing when he came running over you you, pulling you into his arms as small sobs left his mouth. 

Confusion overtook you. A few hours ago he was ripping into you and now here he is sobbing into you at the front of the hotel. 

“Okay okay, let’s go back up, come on.” You said softly. Turning around to walk away before he grabs your arm, turning you around to face him. 

“Please don’t leave me.”  He whispers.” You assured him you wasn’t going anywhere before the two of you went back into the room you had just left. 

“What’s going on Max?” You questioned as you sat on the bed. 

“I’m sorry Y/n, I’m sorry. Just please tell me you’re not going anywhere, please stay with me.” 

“Max I’m not going anywhere. It was you that wanted me to leave, remember?” Max nodded as he sat beside you. 

“You need to talk to me, what happened back there? Am I really no help at all?” You questioned. Unsure of whether you actually wanted to hear the answer. 

“The first race of the season and I couldn’t even finish it. Going from such a high last year to such a low today, there’s so much pressure on me Y/n. From the team, my family, my Dad especially. I don’t want to let anyone down. I don’t want to let you down. You help me in more ways than you ever know. I was scared you was going to tell me how you expected more from me, how I should’ve done better today. It wasn’t fair to take it all out on you, and you know I’d never want you to leave me here, I hate being without you.. I hate being alone.” 

“Max you know I’d never say that. I mean it when I say you’re going to come back fighting because you are! When have you ever let one DNF get you down so much? You know things like this happen and what do you always do? Stand back up, brush it off and come back stronger. I’m sorry if I’ve been putting pressure on you, that’s never been my intention. You know all I want for you is always good things, and I always want to be right here where I belong. With you, cheering you on. On the good days and the bad. Always.” 

“Always? Even when I’ve just been a massive prick to you?” 

“We’ll talk about that another time.” You joked, slightly nudging him as he let out a small laugh. 

“I love you Max. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Promise, baby?”

“Promise.”  

[junglxqueen]

The Verstappen Devil [08]

Italy 3/3 Warning: Angst, violence. A/N: Here's the long awaited chapter and answer of your doubts. Finally! Thank you for your support! The heck?? this was longer than I expected and Italy isn't supposed to finish yet, help. See you in the comments 😉

For a split, small moment there was silence. I feel the bracelet vibrate but before I can answer something snaps me out of it.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” An angered scream breaks the silence and I feel something hit my helmet and fall to my lap. It’s Max 's glove.  

Oh no, he didn’t.

I take off my seat belt like a bolt, raise up and throw him back his glove as hard as I can, hitting him straight on the chest. “What the fuck is wrong with me?! What the fuck is wrong with you?!�� 

I take off one of my gloves and throw it to him, hitting him on his side as he stands up. 

“You are the one that fucking tried to kill me smashing me to the fucking barrier!” He catches the other glove that I throw at him out of anger and points to the wreck of a car as he expresses his opinions quite vividly for someone that should be thanking me instead of yelling at me. “Are you insane?! You could’ve killed me!”

Now I wanna throw him the whole car.

Wait, I already did. 

Is he an idiot or does he just like to pretend to be one? 

If looks could kill, I’ll be five feet underneath the earth. But I wouldn’t be alone, no,  he will be right there beside me. 

You have to know something, if you have ever seen Max angry, then you have seen me angry. Whatever rage, pride, instinct to kill, curse or blessing of Ares running through his veins is also running through mine and none of us back off from a fight. Doesn’t matter how wrong we are, we are willing to die on our sinking ship.

I feel the bracelet vibrate for the fourth time, annoying me even more, so I quickly answer back to make him stop, not distracting from the issue on the table.

(In retrospect, I feel bad about that. He was probably just worried and wanting to check on me, how could he know that I was trying to take Max’s head off in the middle of the track?)

“I could of fucking kill you?! I?! I saved your fucking life you fucking asshole! You should be thanking me!” I push him hard and he stumbles back when we find each other out of the cars. I can see the marshalls running towards us but I just ignore them, too involved in the argument with the imbecile in front of me.

“This is what you call saving?!” He points at his car and looks at me as if I’m the stupidest person alive. “You just ruined my race! If this is what you call saving I don’t want it, and I didn’t need it anyways, I was just fine!” 

“Oh yeah, Right! You were just fine! Stupid me for thinking that you needed help!” I exclaim gesturing with my hands with an ironic smile on my face that quickly wipes off before I scream at him again “I should’ve just let you deal with your fucking mess of a car all alone so you can go and fucking kill yourself in the next curve! In the end, it’s just one less competitor for me.” I spit, inches away from him. I see a glimpse of something in his eyes that leaves as soon as it comes and before he could answer back the marshalls arrive to separate us. 

The tension is high as they guide us to different directions. Our eyes don't leave each other, we may not be arguing with words anymore but sure as heck our glares are having a war on their own. When an obstacle separates us my attention comes back to the moment and I see at least four cameras pointing at us.

What a show we must have given, the media will be delighted.

I shrug the marshall's hand that was guiding me off my shoulders. 

“I’ll walk.”

Once I think I'm a safe distance away from the cameras (spoiler alert: I was not) and still with my helmet on, I let out a loud scream and kick the earth to try and let out some of the anger and frustration that was built up inside of me.

For that asshole I sacrificed my race for tomorrow? I was in a good place! I could’ve had my first podium tomorrow! What is wrong with me? 

And the audacity of that man? I just saved your life you jackass! That’s how you repay me? Seriously, I should’ve let him crash and die for his own freaking stupidity. Why the heck did he keep racing if he was in serious trouble? He put all of our lives in danger!

Oh no… the realization sinks in, I got myself into so much trouble. 

The team will yell at me up and down, and I will have sanctions. For sure I’ll get sanctions and probably a fine too. 

Why did I do this? 

Because we were in danger, not only me or Max, but my dad too. 

Wait.

My dad, he gave me his place, I just let him down horribly. He put me first and I just wasted the opportunity that he gave me. He would be so mad at me, or worse, disappointed.

I let out another scream of frustration as I press my hands against the helmet.

Fuck you Max, really fuck you and fuck me for being such an idiot.

I don’t know how long it takes me to reach the pits but when I do, most of the steam has already blown off, instead a dreadful feeling sits in its place. 

I don’t wanna face the media, I don’t wanna face the team, or my dad, or even Mick.

Sneaking to my room seems like the best option but to my bad luck everyone is out there in the paddock already and my plans go to trash when one of the workers reaches me and guides me where they are weighing the drivers. 

I avoid everyone, thankfully I don’t see dad or Mick around and even though some drivers wanted to talk to me I stayed quiet, just nodded and shrugged and as soon as my opportunity arrived I runned of to my drivers room.

For at least 20 minutes my plan succeeded, my guess is that with the loud door slam that I did when I entered the room, everyone got that I wasn’t in the mood for talking and no one dared to come and talk to me. So I used my time wisely, I took a shower, cleaned up, changed into my uniform, gathered my stuff and got ready to leave.

In theory I don’t have any other press duties or team duties so I should be free to sneak out, go to the hotel and rest for tomorrow’s already awful race (And to think that I was excited for Italy, literally everything that could go wrong went wrong, thank you Murphy).

That is in theory because after such a horrible Qualy and worst crash, I’m quite sure that the team will want to have a meeting, probably to scold me and get me ready to make some kind of apology declaration. 

Theory is confirmed when I hear a knock in the door. 

I breathe in, gathering all the courage and strength that I could find to face the dragon at the door with the best excuse that you’ll ever hear ready to burst out as soon as I open it.

Now what I find behind it when I open it is not exactly the dragon that I was expecting but rather a much, much worse and awful one.

Ice cold blue eyes filled with covert anger meet my eyes and my first instinct is to slam the door closed, hide and wait for him to leave. I see my plan fall into pieces when his hand stops the door from shutting.

“Hello little one” My hand tightens around the door knob and I feel my heart start to beat erratically. “Is that the way to greet your father?” He asks when I try to close the door on him again.

“What do you want?”  My voice sounds so cold that I know that if it was anyone else in his shoes, they would freeze in an instant, But not my father, no.

I don’t think there will ever be a day where I’ll intimidate him in any way or form.

“Damn, not even a greeting or an invitation to come in?” He pretends to be hurt but I know better and I stand firm in my place, blocking the entrance. “Fine, I’ll do it myself then.”

He shoves me inside as he enters the room, janks the door from my hold and closes it behind him. 

Honestly I don’t know what to say, I don’t know what to tell him or why is he even there.  It’s been years since Jos and I stood in the same room, face to face, and rare were the times where he came to look for me and just talk. 

Even when we lived under the same roof. 

Therefore I was genuinely curious about the reasons behind his presence here. So instead of trying to kick him out again, I just stayed quiet while he scanned the room, waiting for him to talk.

“Little, humble.” I scoff and roll my eyes at his opinions in my room. 

There’s one thing though: I’m scared. I’m terrified.

My hands are shaking inside of my pockets, my heart is hammering my chest, and my throat went dry the moment that I saw him.

I’m just playing pretend here.

Pretend to be strong, pretend to not be scared by his presence, pretend to be intimidating, pretend that I don’t care.

I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing my reactions, of seeing the power that he still holds over me, of seeing that his sole presence makes me want to curl up in a ball and cry. 

No, I refuse to give him that power.

“What do you want here apart from playing interior designer?”

“A bit cocky aren’t we?” He answers, throwing me a look before continuing examining the room. “Feeling the fame go up to your head yet? That’s what happens when you get into F1. You think that you are all great and big now that you’ve arrived to the category, don’t you?” He asks, not turning to look at me. Instead, he walks over my table and starts to examine the objects in it. I can’t help but feel offended as I try to understand where all of this is coming from.

“Excuse me?” 

“But… in your case in particular, you don’t have a reason to feel all powerful and mighty, do you?” He ignores me as he continues his speech. “You are not here because you deserve to. No, you don’t have what it takes. You being here it’s not the result of talent nor skills…” 

He looks closer at a framed picture that I bring with me to any grand prix as my lucky charm and I hold back the urge to snap it away before he can take it.  “No…no, It’s because you played the game. You played daddy’s little girl and the whore of some important driver’s son that is as useful as a lettuce right now.” 

I can’t believe what he's saying, my mouth opens in shock. Michael was his friend, how can he talk about him like that? No, how can he talk about me like that? 

He turns the picture for me to see, not that I need to, I have it pretty much engraved in my heart. It’s a photo that someone took when I won my first race at F3. 

We were all drenched from the celebrations, confetti all around us. I’m up in the sky laughing, trophy in hand, Mick and Dad are standing with their arms open to catch me with huge smiles on their faces.

Much like in real life.

That’s why I love that photo so much, it’s a summary of how my whole life is, framed in a picture. Me, up in the sky, doing my own thing, resting on the fact that the two most important people in my life are there on my side, enjoying my wins, crying my losses and ready to catch me if I fall. 

I reach forward to take the picture from his hand, regretting that I didn’t do it when I had the chance but he quickly moves it farther away from me and puts a hand up to stop my approaches. I close my fists on my side and clench my jaw in anger.

I want to say something, I want to scream at him, I want to punch him, I want to kick him out, just do anything at all. But for some reason,  I can’t bring myself to do it. I never could. I have always found it incredibly hard to stand up to my father.

Not only is he disrespecting me and my career but also my dad, the one that did everything that he failed to do, Mick, arguably the most important person in my life and even Michael, who opened the doors for me when I needed him the most and holds a huge place in my heart. 

“You need to leave”

“I should even congratulate you.” He continues ignoring me. “You played a great game. Look at you, all happy, making them believe that they are your family, lying to their faces and using them for their names and fame.” He says in a tone that you would use if you found something adorable, not looking away from the picture.

My stomach turns when I hear him talk like that, my nails digging in the palm of my hand.

“And look at them. Oh how gullible. Ignorance truly is a blessing, innit? That’s why you runned away, I see it now. You couldn’t get what you wanted from me, because I could see right through you. But them? They brought your crocodile tears, playing a hungry for love victim and fell right into your trap.” 

He looks back at me with a fake smile on his face. My eyes are clouded by tears and I don’t know if it is because I’m feeling powerless or if it’s truly his words affecting me. 

“That’s how you got your seat. Isn’t it?”

“You have no idea what you are talking about” My voice barely comes out, shaking because of barely contained anger and impotence. “and I’ve had enough of standing here and letting you deliberately disrespect me and my family that way. So give me the picture back and leave my room, you fucking assho-”

I don’t see it coming. I just feel it, something hit me so hard across my face that makes me turn my head to the side. My hand flies to my cheek, and I look at him in disbelief. The place where the picture frame impacted is burning hot, stings in an awful way as I feel a few tears escape my eyes because of the sudden hit.

The man that is looking back at me makes me tremble in fear. My father’s eyes are terrifying, suddenly the facade that he was holding up fell all at once and the true devil that laid underneath it it’s showing up.

Now I remember one of the reasons why I hate my nickname. Jos is the real Verstappen Devil and not in a cool way.

“You don’t disrespect your father like that!” The strong act that I put up fell down when his scream made me jump. His fist is clenched against the frame. Is it broken? Gosh, I hope he didn’t break it.

“You are not my father.” I dare to hiss in anger as I reach forward to the picture. 

A rookie mistake on my part. You see, you don’t take anything away from a narcissist. You don’t deny him authority or power, or credit for anything (in this case the parental title), less if said narcissist also has huge anger and violence issues. 

I learned that years ago, I guess I just forgot, but that doesn’t matter, he is nice enough to make me remember. 

Soon my back is pressed against the wall as I fight to get his hand out of my neck to let some more air reach my lungs. His face inches away from mine, eyes bathed in anger.

“You may want to deny me or your brother, but you are my blood, you are my daughter and you are who you are because of me.”

That statement makes me mad and I dig my grave more when I try to speak again.  My heart is hammering against my chest.

“You…” I start, barely getting the words out of my mouth. “ say that… now. But you… denied me…. first-”

“Shut up!” He yells, tightening his hold on my neck. I don’t think I’m touching the floor now. 

A few tears come out as I struggle to breath. With the last bits of common sense left in my system, I take out an arm to feel what’s around me. In search of anything to help me out of this situation.

Lord please, help me out.

“I gave you everything you needed, food, shelter, education, but that wasn’t enough for you, you ungrateful bitch, wasn’t it? You wanted more, you wanted everything, you even wanted to be Max. You don’t think I realized, but I did. You wanted the attention that he had, his position, his talent, even now you still do. But that will never happen, you know why? Because you aren’t enough. Not even remotely close, you don’t have true talent, you don’t have the skills that are needed, you are weak, a crybaby that needs all the attention that she could get. You are useless, a waste of money and time. You should just give up and be a taxi driver, but even in that you will suck.”

I feel something and I try to grab it, but it's hard to do it when you are barely awake now. He gets closer to my face and pretty much spits the next phrase, looking me up and down with disgust.

“You are never going to be like him. They may call you the Verstappen devil, but he? He is a god.”

Gotcha.

I grab the thing and I bring my arm up, hitting him on his side as strong as I can.

It works, he lets me go, yelling in pain and I fall to the floor, grabbing my neck and panting for air. I look while I try to breathe, it was my helmet. The thing that I grabbed was my helmet.

Thank God for the helmets.

“You little shit” 

My victory doesn't last long because soon I feel the air kicked out of my lungs. I gasp for air and hold my stomach in pain and he lifts me up again with his hands back on my neck.

He is going to hit me, I’m pretty sure he is going to hit me so I just close my eyes and prepare for the impact.

I hear it, I hear something impact something and a yell of pain.

But is not to me.

So when Jos’ hand lets me go and I fall on my knees, again panting for air, I look around to see my father sitting on the floor next to me, grabbing his head with pain and I see someone walk quickly to me with concern written all over his face.

His blue eyes meet mine.

To say that I’m shocked it’s an understatement.

“Are you okay?” He asks, cupping my cheek as he examines the one that Jos previously hitted. I nod still, catching my breath and eyeing my father who just stands up again.

“Max, what-” My brother turns around and gives him the deadliest of glares that he has ever given. 

“Leave.” That has me looking at him with big eyes, completely surprised by the scene unfolding in front of me. I look back at the older one, who holds the same expression on his face, clearly not expecting that either. “Now.”

Jos looks at him, then at me, and then back to his son. He mumbles something that none of us understand and leaves slamming the door behind him.

“Are you okay? Where did he hurt you?” 

Everywhere.

I don’t answer straight away (not that I can, still too concentrated on catching a breath), instead I point to my throat. 

“Water?” I nod and he looks around, standing up and walking to the minifridge to bring me a bottle of water. He comes back with the bottle on hand and takes the cap off.

“Here, drink up.” He passes me the open drink as he kneels next to me and patiently waits for me to finish the bottle.

“Thank you.” My voice comes out small and low as I give him the bottle. 

He sits next to me, back against the wall as he waits a few minutes in silence. Not really knowing what to say or to do in this position.

“Are you okay?” He pretty much says in a whisper, if I wasn’t next to him I probably wouldn’t have heard it. 

I deny with my head. “Not really”

“What did he do?” 

“You know, the classics: a slap on the face, kick in the stomach and tried to kill me by denying me oxygen.” I answer feeling more witty and wanting to ease up the air but I don’t anticipate that my voice gets out more bitter than it should have. 

Silence sits around us again and from the corner of my eye, I can see Max closing and opening his fist. Maybe because with that one he hit Jos.

“Are you hurt?” I ask and he denies with his head.

“I just… didn’t expect to do that.”

“Believe me, no one did.”

He lets out a long sigh and then looks back at me. His eyes are sad.

“Can you stand up?” I nod, and start to get up slowly, he quickly rises and helps me out. 

Something in my abdomen stings and I hiss in pain.

Gosh, that kick really was something. 

He helps me sit on the sofa but he doesn’t take a seat.

There’s a mirror on my vision line but I don’t dare to look at it. My neck must be red, with marks of Jos’ hand on it, my hair and clothes a mess, my eyes surely are red as well and I don’t know what state is my cheek after that tremendous hit he gave me. 

That surely is why Max cannot look at me right now.

“Not that I complain, but why are you here?” It’s weird, his presence in Aston Martin or anywhere around me. And him standing up for me like that to our father? Even weirder, it’s most likely for a pope to die than him doing what he just did. So I don’t find it out of place to ask him why he is here. 

I’m suspicious even.

Is this his way to have his revenge after I ‘ruined’ his race? Did he send our father to teach me a lesson?

“Oh.. um…” He looks around the floor, looking for something. I follow his eyes and I catch a glimpse of the broken frame on the floor.

No… Not the picture.

I stretch to pick it up and shake it to make the loose broken pieces of glass fall out. 

“Here” He extends a green pair of gloves to me, I look at them recognizing them immediately and look back at him surprised.

“You brought me back my gloves?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner. I knew I wasn’t welcome here, especially after the stunt that I pulled on the track so I wasn’t sure if I should’ve come or not. At the end Kelly convinced me to do it, and now I feel sorry that It took me that long to come. Maybe I could have avoided this all happening.”  His eyes were filled with guilt and I can’t really comprehend what’s happening right now.

Everything seems so out of place, me helping him out, my father’s friendly visit and this gesture from Max? What the heck is going on?

There’s an uncomfortable feeling in me, everything takes me years back, I wasn’t supposed to be living this whole thing again. My whole body aches, I just want to be alone, curl up and cry.

“Thank you.” I say taking the gloves from him, but I don’t mean it just because of the piece of clothing but also for standing up for me. He nods and I think he understands what I mean.

Silence.

I look back at the picture.

“It’s broken.” I murmur with the voice of a child that just broke its favourite toy as I caress the broken glass with the tip of my finger.

Mick's smile in the picture almost makes me smile as well. Almost.

He follows my eyes and lands on the frame. A frown forming on his face and his heart tightening in his chest when he gets a good look at the picture.

Truth be told, he wishes things were different. Maybe, if he acted sooner, if he stayed by her side… maybe he could’ve been in the picture too, be one of those people who are ready to catch her in one of her most important moments of her life. 

But reality is that things weren’t different, he was never really there to catch her, never when she needed her, so he was out of that picture. It is what it is and he had to face the consequences of his decisions.

He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh trying to piece himself back together.

“Thank you.” He says opening his eyes back and meeting her eyes. “for what you’ve done, back on track. I’m sorry I was a jerk about it, I didn’t mean it, I was just pissed off and really I didn’t understand that you’ve done what you’ve done to help me-”

“Dad was behind you. It wasn’t for you.” I interrupted him, not wanting him to believe that it was for him. Then I cursed myself because for once in our lives we could talk in a relatively calm but extremely weird atmosphere and it was me the one to mess it up. 

On his side, Max doesn’t let her interruption get to him, instead he remembers Kelly’s words of encouragement and continues with his apology.

“Still, you helped me and instead of thanking you, I blew up on you in front of everybody. I’m so sorry for that, thank you for giving up your race tomorrow and risking your safety to ensure mine and the others.”

He sounds almost as if he practiced it. Maybe he did.

I examine his face and I see honesty and guilt in his factions. I breathed out, deciding that it was okay to let my defenses down a bit and show myself to him. I nod, accepting his apology before I question him.

“Why did you do it? You were without comms and no breaks, but you kept racing anyway. You endangered yourself and all of us out there, why didn’t you stop?” I try to not sound rude but I was genuinely curious about his reasoning behind why he continued.

He clenches his jaw and avoids my gaze, deciding instead to look towards the doors through which my father walked out a few minutes ago.

Wait.

“Did Jos have anything to do with it?” I ask truly hoping for a negative.

And when silence was my answer I suddenly understand my father’s little visit to my room:

Jos wanted him to keep racing, that’s why he continued even though he could collide and get severely injured at any moment. That’s also why he got so mad at me and came to ‘talk’ to me out of nowhere after so many years of 0 contact.

I stopped his son and he didn’t want me to do it again.

Unbelievable.

“I can’t believe it.” I blurt out.

 I want to laugh but this isn’t funny.

  I leave the picture next to me as I stand up to face my brother. “You continued because of Jos.”

“You don’t understand-”

“No, I do. I do understand, somewhere in that little brain of yours still believes that he wants the best for you so you just comply with everything that he says even when he is telling you to jump off a freaking bridge!” I can feel myself increasingly angrier and agitated, because of the impotence and disappointment that I’m feeling right now.

Why can’t he open his eyes? Why can’t he see the true form of his so adored father? 

“You don’t know what you are talking about, I just came to say what I said and leave the gloves. I’m leaving now.” He says turning towards the door but I get a hold of his arm and stop him.

“No Max, wait. Please see the importance of this incident. He is willing to let you crash and die if you have the chance to win. The fact that he encouraged you to keep going, even in the conditions that you were in, with your life on the line, talks about how little he truly cares about you. Max he doesn’t love you, he loves the Max winner, the Super Max, the one that is succeeding in the career that he failed to have, he loves your ups but not your downs. He won’t be there if you fall, he won’t be there if you fail or lose. That’s not love Max. He is living his dreams through you, he is using you.”

I look at him with pleading eyes, wanting him to understand what kind of father is the one that he adores. But I find myself looking at a huge wall, my words cannot find a way past it.

Dad used to say: There’s no worse blind than the one that doesn’t want to see. And that’s what I’m looking at right now, even after all that Jos’ has done, even seeing the scene of a father brutally hitting his daughter, even after I tried several times to show him the truth, he still loves him, he doesn’t want to leave his side, he doesn’t want to see the reality.

It has always been like that.

“No one loves anyone on their dark side, it’s just the bright side that matters.” He speaks almost like a robot.

“No, that’s where you’re wrong. Family is supposed to love the dark and bright side of you. I learned that after I left.” I can’t help the bitter tone that drowns my voice when I talk. I pick up the broken frame from the sofa and hand it to him. 

He looks at me with a questioning look, taking the picture from me. I lift my bag from the floor and hang it on my shoulder, starting to walk towards the door.

“Oh and Max?” I stop to look at him, he turns his head, eyes meeting mine. “I did. I loved you before the ‘super’ came along, when you were just Max, my big brother. Through the dark and bright sides, I loved you and I always stood there for you, no matter what happened, I was there.” I can’t read the expression on his face, too busy trying to keep myself together. Resentment is clear in my voice.   “Shame you couldn’t do the same for me.” 

I leave, not giving him time to answer back, I couldn’t stay any longer in there, it was suffocating me and even more when I dropped a bomb like that.

I leave behind a mess of a room, a broken frame of a picture that shows real love and true family to an also broken and lost man who is trying to understand the meaning of those two words.

I don’t like leaving it behind, it took everything for me to walk out the door without it but this is my one act of kindness towards him and I know that he may need it more than I do right now.

So I leave in search of my person, my safe place and the only one that I want to be with and need right now.

It’s alright, we are going to be alright.

A/N: With this we finish the first phase of the book and we enter the second and more calmed and sweet and short phase. The third is the hardest and last one.

Tagglist: @iamasimpingh0e @celinehdr @memeorydotcom @multifamdomfan12 @idkiwantchocolatee @isasv @marelovesf1 @teamspideyman @fictional-l0v3r @capela-miranda @juliejulesblog @ricsaigaslec @theplobnrgone @bands-messed-me-up @starxqt @sriusun @coffeehurricanes @anthonykatebridgerton @laura-naruto-fan1998 @home-of-disaster @fleeing-pancakes @amulhermaisfelizdomundo @labastarda @altheahuf @dan3avacado

[starryhyuck]

pretty girl. (m)

pairing: alpha!jaemin x reader

words: 4.3k+

summary: you hate that jaemin follows you around every full moon. you’re determined to know the reason why, but you end up getting more than you asked for.

genre: fluff, smut

warnings: large amounts of cum, manhandling, breeding, knotting, overstimulation, fingering, hair pulling, rough sex, oral sex

“It’s dangerous for you to be out here.”

You blink twice at Jaemin, who is hovering protectively over your form. As your best friend, Jaemin’s always been cautious of you because of his alpha instincts. This oddly includes finding him in your apartment on random days, cooking you dinner because you ‘can’t make it yourself,’ walking you around campus and glaring at anyone who glances your way, and finally, following you to places he should never be at anyways. Tonight falls under the last category, where you were itching to have a nice time with some of your group partners in your Economics class. You all collectively agreed that grabbing drinks at the nearby bar on campus was a good idea. Everything was going perfectly until Jaemin came storming into the bar, almost pushing one of your friends from his spot next to you.

You awkwardly clear your throat, laughing breathily as you stand, trying to move Jaemin away from the table. You can feel the heavy stares of your classmates on your back, and you try your best to ignore it. Once you’re out of earshot, you mumble lowly to him.

“Uh, Jaem, why are you here?”

He frowns at you. The expression on his face is clearly one of disappointment. “It’s a full moon. You shouldn’t be out here, especially if there are other alphas lurking around.”

You tend to frequently forget that Jaemin gets extremely clingy when the full moon rises, and he often perceives most of the population as a threat to your life. In fact, you’re both very good friends with Jeno, another fellow alpha on campus. Jeno’s shown time after time that he has absolutely no interest in you, but when the full moon appears, Jaemin’s convinced that Jeno wants to kidnap you and keep you locked in his dorm forever.

You sigh. “Jaemin, I’m fine. I’m just hanging out with my friends. There are no alphas around, I promise.”

His frown grows deeper. “I passed two of them on the way here. They could have easily hurt you.”

“How about you have a drink with us?” You offer, knowing his worries aren’t subsiding anytime soon. “You can relax and make sure I’m safe.”

The tension in his shoulders loosen at your suggestion, and he hesitantly agrees. You order a beer for him and he reluctantly follows you back to the table. Your friends are eyeing him warily.

“Everyone, this is Jaemin,” you introduce awkwardly. “Is it okay if he joins us?”

Jeongyeon is the first to speak, despite everyone’s reluctance. “Sure, the more the merrier!”

You toss her a grateful smile and Jaemin slides in next to you, unaware of the looks he’s receiving. Luckily, Seulgi launches into a discussion about her day before anyone else can comment. It isn’t long before Chanwoo leans over to whisper in your ear, causing Jaemin to stiffen beside you.

“Is your friend okay? He looks like he hates all of us.”

You brush off Chanwoo’s question. “He’s fine, just tense. Rough time in the semester, you know?”

Chanwoo nods but doesn’t seem convinced by your answer. No one else approaches you about Jaemin for the rest of the time, and the boy next to you chooses to remain silent. You bid goodbye to the group at the end of the night with Jaemin giving subtle nods to each of them. He still hovers protectively over you on the walk back to the campus dorms.

“You really didn’t have to come out tonight,” you mumble to your best friend as he walks alongside you. “I was fine on my own.”

“You’re not fine on nights like these,” he responds, and you can hear the frustration in his tone. “You don’t know what’s out there.”

You huff and stop in your tracks, turning around to face him. You cross your arms over your chest.

“No one is going to hurt me! No one has ever tried to hurt me on a full moon, it’s just your imagination! It’s annoying how much you follow me around, Jaemin, seriously.”

He’s visibly hurt by your outburst and you instantly feel regret. You can almost feel him shutting you away, and it pulls at your chest. He motions to your dorm, which is only a few feet away from where you’re standing.

“Good night. I hope you sleep well.”

“Jaemin-“

You watch as your best friend scurries down the sidewalk, not sparing a single glance back at you.

—

You startle Jeno the next day, pounding on his door and ignoring the glares you’re receiving in his hallway. The boy sleepily opens the door up for you, hair sticking out in multiple directions. He mumbles something under his breath and you ignore him, pushing through and entering his room.

“Well, come on in,” he hisses sarcastically.

You have no time to humor him. “Are alphas usually super clingy and annoying?”

He pauses at the question, closing the door slowly. You raise an eyebrow at his hesitation.

“Um, is this about Jaemin?”

“Maybe,” you drawl, watching Jeno carefully. He definitely knows something he’s not telling you about. “And what if it was?”

“Then I would say you need to talk to Jaemin.”

You roll your eyes. “Jeno!”

“What?” He retorts, avoiding your eyes as much as possible. “It’s not my place to say.”

“I don’t care if it’s your place or not,” you say, frustrated by your lack of alpha knowledge. You’ve tried to learn more since Jaemin presented himself, but it was difficult since many alpha secrets were kept between alphas only. “I need to know what’s going on with him. He’s been following me around every full moon like he’s expecting me to get mugged or something!”

Jeno exhales loudly. “He hasn’t talked to you? About anything?”

You huff. “Jeno, if I needed answers, I wouldn’t be standing here with you.”

The more you talk, the more Jeno grows uncomfortable. It almost seems like it pains him to say anything about Jaemin without him present, and it’s getting on your nerves. Jaemin usually never keeps secrets from you and it must be pretty big if Jeno is barely holding himself together.

Jeno finally speaks after you watch him run circles in his head. “What do you know about mates? Alpha mates?”

You frown, tilting your head to the side. “Mates? I didn’t even know alphas had mates.”

“They’re chosen specifically by an alpha. Someone the alpha has a connection to, someone they would like to spend the rest of their life with.”

He’s still not making any sense to you. Does Jaemin have a mate? Is it someone you know?

Jeno can see the gears spinning and he scoffs. He whispers something under his breath that you can’t hear.

“You need to talk to Jaemin about this. I really can’t say any more.”

You spare Jeno the interrogation and leave his room, thoughts swirling in your head. He’s given you everything and nothing at once, and you don’t even know if Jaemin will offer anything better. You trek over to his dorm anyways, on a mission.

His eyes soften when he sees you behind the door. It tugs at your heartstrings and he motions for you to come inside. The awkward tension drowns the room and you sway on your feet.

“I’m sorry,” he says first. “I know I made you uncomfortable by being with your friends last night, and I should’ve stayed away. I just get very worried around the full moon because-“

“What are alpha mates?”

Jaemin chokes, not expecting your question. You watch as he gathers himself again, and this time, he can’t bear to look at you.

“Where did you hear that from?”

“Jeno.”

Jaemin curses lowly. You frown, your gaze never faltering. You can practically see him trying to come up with some type of excuse.

“Jaemin, I want the truth.”

He sighs. “Can you sit down? Please?”

You reluctantly follow his request, taking a seat on his bed. He paces around the room, looking more nervous than you’ve ever seen him before. You begin to grow antsy while watching him.

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine.”

His head snaps up to look at you, heart breaking at the dejected look on your face. He shakes his head and takes a seat next to you.

“I do, I want to tell you everything. I just want you to have a choice first,” he states, staring at you as if you hold all the answers.

You frown and shake your head. “What choice? You’re not making any sense.”

“I, uh, I unknowingly bonded myself to you. You became my mate, and I realized it too late. We spent too much time together and I should have taken a step back before it got too serious. I was just- I’m never in the correct headspace when I’m around you, and it causes me to impulsively make decisions. I can’t break the bond unless I wish to die a slow death, but if you want me to, I can try.”

You’re spiraling. Your brain is short circuiting, and you’re unsure of what to say in response. Your best friend has just confessed that he bonded himself to you for life, which probably runs deeper than marriage. If you reject him, he’ll die a painful death.

Wonderful.

Jaemin starts freaking out, standing back up and resuming his pacing. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have left weeks ago, I shouldn’t even be bothering you with this. Listen, we can forget this ever happened. I’ll just- I’ll figure something out. Surely, I can break the bond-“

“Jaemin,” you say timidly. He stops in his tracks at the sound of your voice. “I think I’m okay with being your mate. I mean, I’d rather have it be you than anyone else. Not like you’re my second choice or anything! I just-“

He kneels down, his hands resting on the expanse of your thighs, causing you to jolt at the contact. His hands feel oddly warm, and it’s sending a plethora of dirty thoughts to your head.

“I don’t want you to do this because you feel bad,” he speaks softly. “If you don’t want this, we don’t have to do it. It’s my fault, and I’ll pay the price.”

You protest. “No, I’m doing this because I want to-“

“It’s a big decision-“

“I know that, and I-“

“I hardly think you’ve thought through this carefully-“

“Don’t tell me what I haven’t done-“

“I’ll just move away. It’ll be easier for the both of us that way.”

“Jaemin,” you hiss, placing your hands on his shoulders to stop him. “Can you quit being so difficult? I’m telling you I want to be with you and your rejection is making me feel upset.”

His expression falls. “I didn’t mean to make you upset. I don’t want to cage you in, that’s all.”

“You aren’t caging me in,” you promise him. “Can you tell me what being a mate entails?”

He flushes deep red, and you grow anxious once again. He removes his hands from your thighs and you silently wish he kept them there. He stands again, avoiding your questioning gaze.

“Um, well, technically- I mean, it’s just-“

“Jaemin,” you say sternly. “Stop dancing around the subject.”

He clears his throat. “Technically, we’re not fully mated yet. In order to complete the bonding process, we need to- um, well, we need to-“

“Jaemin!”

“We need to fuck!”

That definitely floors you. You blink at him, not believing what he said. You haven’t slept with anyone in months. You’re not going to lie — you’ve thought about Jaemin in that way a handful of times, mostly when it’s late at night and you’re left with an imaginative mind. You didn’t realize it could ever become a reality.

He starts rambling again. “Of course, I don’t want to make you do anything you’re uncomfortable with. I can’t imagine me putting my dick anywhere near you is appealing at the moment, so we can probably just forget it and-“

You say his name again to bring him out of his thoughts. “Can we try?”

He sputters, more than the last time. “W-What?”

“I mean, it can’t hurt, right? I trust you.”

“U-Uh, um, uh, I-“ He short circuits in front of you, struggling to find coherent words.

You don’t give him time to second guess again, immediately falling to your knees and reaching for the band of his sweatpants.

“Woah, woah, wait, let me just-“

Your mouth waters when you pull his cock out from his briefs, the tip already red and leaking. You don’t know if it’s because he’s an alpha, but his cock is absurdly large and thick. You can barely wrap your hand around the base and the thought of taking him into your mouth is daunting, but you would regret it if you didn’t try. You take an experimental lick, watching the way Jaemin struggles above you.

“Slow down, we don’t have to do this now-“

You ignore him again, enveloping the tip in your mouth as he releases a long groan. Your eyes flutter shut, pushing him deeper and deeper into your throat. You run your tongue along the base of his cock, licking and swallowing him. He’s barely holding on to the last string of his control, and you can tell by the way his hands are clenched at his sides.

You decide to push him further, casually deepthroating him and locking your gaze with his. The sound of you choking on him snaps him awake, and it isn’t long before he’s gripping your hair and throwing you on his bed. You squeal at the force of his movements. He pushes you on your stomach, fingers gripping the flesh of your ass.

He hisses in your ear. “You’re going to be a good girl for your alpha, aren’t you?”

“I’ll be good, alpha,” you keen. “I’m good for you.”

“Yeah?” He grunts, watching as you arch your back. “You’ve been waiting a long time for me, haven’t you?”

“So long,” you practically sob. “Just want my alpha to make me feel good.”

You hear the rip of your skirt and he tears the fabric of your top, tossing both items across the room. He’s feral at this point and you have no intention of stopping him. It feels electrifying to have him this close to you, touching you in all the places you never thought before.

Even though he’s your best friend, it feels as if he’s been doing this with you for years. He doesn’t feel like a stranger as he grabs your waist, finger running up and down your clothed slit.

“Aw, pretty girl, look at how wet you are for me,” he muses, pulling your underwear down to fully see you. “So beautiful. Is this all for me?”

“Yes,” you whimper. “All for you, just for you.”

You see stars when he sinks his finger into you, moaning at his touch. You hear him murmur behind you.

“So so perfect, so pretty and wet. You’re so good for your alpha.”

You flourish under Jaemin’s praises, his eyes observing as you submit further to him. You wish you read more on the subject of alphas and their mates. The way Jaemin’s touching you is sending your mind into overdrive, and you’re not even sure what to do when you hear the slick of your cunt as he slides another finger into you. He’s cooing at you, chanting how you’re such a ‘good girl’ for him.

You shut your eyes as he builds a steady pace with his fingers, brushing against your sweet spot. You moan loudly, not registering the volume of your voice. He doesn’t seem to mind you being loud either.

“Such pretty noises,” he hums, digging his other hand into your side and picking up the pace inside of you. You cry and squirm away from him, but he holds you in place. “I imagined for so long what you would sound like. Full moons were the worst. I couldn’t bear the thought of someone else being able to see you like this, touch you like this. You drove me insane.”

“J-Jaemin,” you whimper, getting closer and closer to snapping.

He hums again in response. “Almost there, sweet girl? You’re so pliant for me, so easy to fuck. But it’s all for me and only me, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, yes, only for you, alpha,” you whisper, fingers gripping the sheets as you near the edge.

“Pretty little pussy you have, I can’t wait to knot you. You’re going to take my knot so well, aren’t you? I chose you to take it, and to stuff your cunt full of my cum. I wonder how I could fit my cock into you, you seem too small to take it, pretty girl.”

“I-I can t-take it,” you struggle to get the words out, your brain turning a bit fuzzy. Once he brushes your sweet spot again, your body explodes and you sob loudly at the intensity of your orgasm. Jaemin praises you throughout it, eyes locked on your cunt gushing into his palm.

“So pretty, such a pretty girl. You came so much for me.”

As you float down from your high, you can hear the sound of Jaemin greedily licking his fingers. You nearly scream when you feel his tongue prod at your pussy.

“No, n-no, Jaem, please-“ you begin to beg, squeamish from the overstimulation, but it’s useless. He loves the taste of your cunt already, digging in like it’s his last meal.

Your body begins to ache and you slowly sink down on the bed, tired of arching your back. Jaemin doesn’t seem to mind, following you down as he slurps up your cunt. You’re mumbling incoherent noises as he sucks on your folds, and you can feel his smile when he plays with your clit.

“Alpha,” you whisper breathlessly. “Alpha, I can’t.”

He clicks his tongue. “I know you can. I chose you because you can. Take what I give you, pretty girl. I know you can be good for me.”

You lay there, boneless, as he dips his tongue into your entrance. You barely scream when your second orgasm rolls over you, the sound catching in your throat. He licks up the evidence and you try to wave your hand back to stop him. He gets the message, pulling back and wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

“You taste so sweet, pretty girl. I’ve never tasted a cunt that good before. All for me, right?”

“Yes,” you answer. “All for you, alpha.”

You hear him shifting behind you, and you see him toss his clothes over his shoulder. He picks you up and adjusts you until you’re seated on his lap, hovering just above his cock. He takes note of your sleepy gaze and smiles, kissing down your neck.

“Tired, sweet girl? Don’t want to take my cock anymore?”

You blearily blink. “No, no, I want to take your cock, alpha. Please give it to me.”

He chuckles at your compliance, eyes zeroing in on your glistening pussy. “You’ve been so good for me. Want your reward now?”

“Yes, yes, alpha.”

He suddenly turns serious, brushing your hair away and cupping your cheeks.

“This means forever. I want you to understand that.”

It’s a little frightening — the thought of being bound to someone forever. However, you’re willing to do anything for Jaemin, and you know he loves you. You’re blissfully happy at the thought of forever.

You nod, smiling. “Want to be with you, Jaem.”

He grins and presses a kiss to your lips. “Good girl.”

Your smile quickly turns into a gasp as he pushes you down on his cock. You scramble in his hold, fingers digging into his shoulders.

He shushes you softly. “It’s okay, pretty girl. I got you, trust me.”

Head thrown back and lips parted, you feel utterly fucked as Jaemin impales you. You weren’t even aware your cunt could stretch this far for him, taking him in. The stretch doesn’t hurt like you think it will, it feels surprisingly satisfying. You feel whole like this, finally connecting him to you.

Once he bottoms out, he gives you time to adjust. You don’t even realize you’re crying until he wipes stray tears from your cheek.

“You’re doing so well for me, sweet girl. Took my cock so well. I know you’ll take my knot like a champ too.”

You feel drunk on him despite the fact that his cock could split you in half. You take a few more seconds to yourself before you nod, giving him the okay to move.

He starts out gently, even though you can see him clenching his teeth trying to control himself. You decide to push him.

You lean in and whisper in his ear. “Fuck me good, alpha. Show me I’m yours, and yours only.”

He throws you back down onto the bed, growling at your submission. You cry when he drills into you, showing no mercy any longer. His cock is tearing you apart and you welcome it with open arms. His fingers dig roughly into your scalp, his other hand groping your breast.

“You like it when your alpha fucks you like this? You like it when I have control of you?” He practically growls at you, hips snapping into your thighs roughly. Your mouth hangs open, and if you were lucid, you would be embarrassed by the drool pooling at the side of your lips. He continues muttering obscenities at you, fueled by the feeling of your warm pussy wrapped around his cock. “Gonna fuck you until you can’t think of anyone else. Every time you touch yourself, you’re going to think about me. Only me. I’m going to make sure everyone knows you’re mine, make sure you’re pretty and pregnant for me.”

His fingers move from your breast into your mouth, and you subconsciously suck on the digits.

He snickers. “Look at you. Such a pretty fuck toy for me, taking my cock so well. You were made to be fucked, sweet girl. Made to take my cock and my cock only.”

You’re definitely out of coherent thoughts at this point. Jaemin flips you again, arching your back and you whimper at the ache. He drives into you harder and faster from behind, his balls slapping against your cunt in the most unholy way.

“Alpha, alpha, alpha,” you groan. “My alpha. So good, my alpha, so good. So big.”

“Need you to cum, sweet girl. Want to feel it. Give it to me, pretty girl.”

“Alpha, alpha,” you whimper, the coil in your stomach building and building. You soar when it snaps, and you swear you see white clouding your vision. You cry and cry, tears freely falling down your face as you clench around Jaemin.

You think you pass out for a few seconds. When you regain your strength, he’s flipped you on your side, gripping your ankle as he throws your foot over his shoulder. You let him do whatever he wants at this point, enjoying the way he presses against your clit every time he pushes in.

You can only hear parts of what he’s saying, a ringing sound still echoing in your ears.

“So good- such a pretty cunt- want to fuck you forever- going to show you off- beautiful- fucking pretty pussy- such a good girl for me.”

“J-Jaem,” you say, but you know he can’t hear you anymore. You think you have another orgasm, but the pleasure is mixing together too fast. You blackout again, waking up moments later to find Jaemin still fucking you senseless.

You’re on your back again with Jaemin hovering over you, pressing kisses down your neck. He’s muttering praises still, hands digging into your sides.

“Want to feel you forever. So good for me, pretty girl. You ready to take my knot?”

You lazily comb your fingers through his hair, feeling exhausted. “Please, alpha, give it to me.”

“Yeah?” He groans, pressing harder into you. “Want me?”

“I want you, I want you,” you echo, the familiar sensation pulsing through your veins.

He’s drilling faster now, pumping furiously into you as he chases his high. You think you’re screaming, but you can’t be entirely sure. You feel bad for whoever lives on Jaemin’s floor.

When he cums, you swear he’s been holding it in for years. His cum splashes against your walls as he empties himself inside of you. You squeeze around him again, finishing another orgasm.

It’s a few minutes later when you think it’s finally over. You start to relax, but the feeling is short lived. You sob when the base of Jaemin’s cock begins to swell, growing bigger and bigger.

“N-No, no, no, no-“

He shushes you. “It’s okay, pretty girl. You take my knot so well, I have so much cum for you.”

You swear you’ve lost your mind when Jaemin does, in fact, give you even more of his cum. It starts to leak out of your cunt because of the sheer amount, and he urges you through it with soft kisses. When he’s finally done, you feel like you’ve been fucked into the next century.

The only thing you can manage to say is, “You can’t fuck me again for three months, at least.”

He laughs at you and you try to throw him a serious look. He kisses your cheek.

“Oh, silly girl. What did I tell you before? I chose you because you’re made for me. You honestly don’t think I’m going to stop fucking you now, do you?”

Your eyes widen at his confession, and you shriek when he thrusts into you, his cock still hard.

“Such a pretty girl.”

[shipofthesis]

Reflecting on Fallen London content in light of the Disgraced Former Founder

I’ve been looking into Fallen London’s Disgraced Former Founder (AK) because I’d rather just know then assume. Now, everything I’ve read has tracked with what I was assuming from what I already knew and have seen of him but. God, he’s insufferable. I’ve read through his professed list of influences, and my realizations on that front have been: 

lamentably I have his written voice saved into my brain cuz I clocked it almost immediately (I tiredly clicked the link without registering who/what it was). This is wild to me cuz I have only really “read” him through whatever FL content he’s responsible for. Which makes me wonder how much is by his hand.

some of his commentary is... illuminating about the sort of person he is. Does he always sound this condescending? (Yes.) While a handful of his comments had me rolling my eyes or sighing this bit made me need to pause altogether. 

What an ass. Anyway, my final and perhaps most important realization! I am convinced while his merit as a writer is up for debate he is very well read and his writing owes everything to that. It sounds like some of FL is less genius ideas he had and more him grabbing things he liked from other, more established authors. (Something his own narrative along this list supports, though I’m sure he thinks more highly of himself than I do.)

Why does any of this matter? Why am I subjecting myself to learning about this frustrating scumbag? Because I am reexamining (earlier) FL given this context, understanding that often fiction is a reflection of its creators. 

I am thinking about how much of early FL content is the player character manipulating and exploiting people. I am thinking about the player character’s overarching narrative of starting from the bottom with nothing but your wits and grit, and winding up on top. I am thinking about how difficult it is to play a morally upstanding character if you take every storyline as canon rather than handwaving some here, others there. And I am thinking of all this while familiar with how people like AK think and create.

It sounds like AK regularly manipulated people while at Failbetter games. (Here’s a piece by the current CEO about AK’s behavior.) It’s safe to assume manipulation, intimidation, extortion, bribery, and other similar tactics are part of his everyday toolkit. Things the player character has options to do quite often, usually for greater profit. Even if you don’t play your character as morally dubious, there is something to be said of how various Making Your Name stories play out. How romancing characters is often a means to an end, how the university line is much more punishing if you uphold what is true and just. And likely many others I cannot remember in this moment! But wait, FL is a dark comedy and a horror show, it is also an rpg. This sort of thing is to be expected, right? It’s a dystopia where deathlessness has changed what violence means and we are all subject to the whims of monomaniacal space bats! What’s my point?? 

My point, what I am pondering, is how much of the player characters choices and actions were not written as something fantastical. How much of the sardonic narrator voice isn’t an affectation to amuse us, and how much the player characters sometimes ruthless, heartless, and even entitled actions and desires are not simply there to offer different Quirks. People like AK tend to think everyone thinks like them. The player character being written to use all tools available in service of their own needs, pleasure, ego, and rising power might not be entirely a hypothetical fantasy to AK. Well, maybe it’s a fantasy in that approaching the world of the Neath like this is not only accepted and justified, but the way to power. Power which you deserve because of your sharp wits and willingness to do what it takes, morality and ethics be damned.

[timextoxhajima]

Boundary [Dana’s 700 Special]

Track: Fever - Enhypen / TiO - Zayn / Close - Nick Jonas, Tove Lo

➣ Member: my og bias owo

➣ Genre: idol! ju x stylist! [fem] reader

➣ Warnings: swear words and if you squint, some smut

➣ Word Count: i’m like 100% sure it’ll be as long as accelerate [i was wrong it’s nowhere near but whatever]

➣ A/N: Thank you for 700 followers. You are all nothing but amazing ♡

➣ Taglist: @taesty-wander-lust​ @tbzzhoe​ @suzy-rainbow​ 

He’s going to be the absolute death of me.

The thought is loud in your head, and you were almost sure you would’ve blurted it out had the filming studio been empty. Breaking Dawn was blasting from the speakers behind the MV director, experimenting with some strange angles that you’ve never seen any other MV director try with the group before. 

If you thought Reveal was dangerous, this might be worse.

“Okay! Let’s do that hook into the chorus first and we’ll see how that angle goes!”

“Breaking Dawn, I see-”

“Cut! Juyeon-” The director snorts while staring at the monitor from the camera. “That was great but um, we’ll need to rate the video if we release this one.”

Never mind. It is worse.

“Yah, Juyeon!”

“Ahh... seriously?”

“You already have enough screen time, why are you so greedy?!”

The members crowd around Juyeon and shove him playfully as the director films that part from the monitor, and brings his cellphone over to the group to see. You can barely hear the music from the phone, given how far you were standing from the filming area. 

The group of 11 burst into loud yells and frustrated groans, with Younghoon and Chanhee giving their iconic ‘OoO’ faces to Juyeon. The main man chuckles, embarrassed, and shakes his head while waving it off.

“I didn’t intend to make it so suggestive, sorry!”

“It’s alright, that was great, really!” The director assures him. “It’s just that we can’t release that without rating the MV, and you guys don’t really have that kind of reputation yet so, we won’t do that for you guys now. But anyways, can we get a 10 minute break and we’ll pick up where we left off?”

The boys celebrate in unison, Eric immediately rushing off for the washroom, some members going to the staff to ask for their phones, others going for the monitor to check their progress and the remaining approaching their stylists for appearance maintenance.

So, when Juyeon approaches you with that sly-mixed-with-shame smile, you can’t help but to shake your head at him. 

“Really? He asks you to go all out and you look like you want to eat the camera,” Pulling open your little kit, you set it on the table next to you. You pull out the comb and hairspray and start adjusting his hair again - all that dancing’s pushed some strands out of its rightful position.

“Aw, so you agree that I looked good enough?”

“What?” The pitch is higher than expected, but you hope your feigned annoyance camouflages the pinch of jealousy. “Please! The director said it’ll be rated!”

Juyeon laughs, standing with his feet a little more apart than natural for you to have easier access to his hair. 

“Well, you’re the one who did my hair and makeup. If it’s anybody to blame, wouldn’t it be you?” 

His words halt the sharp end of your comb in his hair, and you poke it into his scalp for good measure while puffing out your cheeks. He chuckles it off. 

“Excuse you, sir, Cre.Ker gave me a color palette and a set of reference pics. Ever since they cracked the code with you with Reveal, they just won’t stop with this genre of style on you.”

“I mean... I definitely prefer my current style over what they did to me in Boy.”

The memory cooks up a bunch of images in your head, and you fail to stop the giggle that runs off your tongue when you return the comb to the kit. 

“Aw, come on, that was cute,” Picking up a brow pencil, you fill in the tiny fade-out. “You were, what? 19? No reason for you to look as raunchy as you do now.”

“It’s a pity you only met me just before I become ‘raunchy’.”

“Why? I mean, ‘Juyeon’s not a good boy’ though. Raunchy’s closer to that than what you did pre-Reveal.”

“I meant it!” Juyeon widens his eyes and his brows shift up his forehead just as the tip of the brow pencil lifts off his skin. “I’m happy Cre.Ker’s letting us show what we want to.”

“And I’m happy for you too,” You finish up on his foundation where it’s starting to wear off. “But one day, you’re gonna cross a line and break some hearts.”

Juyeon smiles as you cap on all your equipment and close your kit. Resting one hand on your hip, you quickly give his hair one last poke before he resumes his normal standing position.

“What if I only want to break specific hearts though?”

A frown befalls your face and you forge an ugly look by crooking your lips. “What? Was that an attempt to flirt? Please stop,” Waving him off, you turn and pick up your kit, walking away on your heels as Juyeon tails you.

He’s just practising flirting on me at this point. Best friends and best friends for what? Get MY heart broken? PLEASE.

“Flirt with Kevin if you want, he’ll give you better advice,” You turn to the film area and sure enough, Kevin was busy twerking into the camera and Changmin’s just face palming himself. 

“Oi Kevin! Stahb it!” You yell across the space and Changmin points to you, turning to yell at Kevin.

“Yah, even y/n’s telling you to stop!”

Chuckling, you turn into the dressing room as another hair stylist finishes with Sangyeon in the mirror. 

“Hello sir, you look kinda tired today, are you resting well?”

“Don’t get me started. Schedule’s packed into June,” Sangyeon subtly shakes his head, but his stylist holds his cheeks and shifts his face back to face the mirror.

“Sangyeon, please face the mirror. It’s not my fault if your hair gets messed up again,” The hair stylist grins as he picks up the hairspray.

“Sorry,” Sangyeon blinks at him and purses his lips. Juyeon crashes into the two seater-sofa in the corner of the dressing room and groans tiresomely, resting his head on the top surface of the headrest. 

“Well, you should get some rest before Kingdom kicks in,” You place the kit on the dressing table and sit down in the two-seater next to Juyeon. “It’s not going to be an easy fight, y’know.”

“Right! You used to be ATEEZ’s hairstylist!” Sangyeon’s eyes widen and you can see him struggling not to turn to you directly instead of trying to find you in the strangest angle of the reflection in the mirror. 

“Yeah. Those guys are intense, and I mean intense! Six out of eight are known for performance skills and the other two... one produces 99% of their tracks and the other belts out notes even I can’t reach.”

“You sound like you were sent from KQ to intimidate us-” Sunwoo struts in and waves an annoying finger in your face.

“I’m not-” Swatting his finger away, Juyeon leans forward and pulls Sunwoo’s hand. “I’m just saying for good measure- it’s not going to be easy. Stray Kids is also going to be great competition, not to mention iKON and-”

“AhHH, we get it!” Sunwoo shushes you, swinging his hand with Juyeon’s.

“No matter the outcome, you all need to know that you guys were stellar last year. I was new then, but it was absolutely stunning to watch you guys work and put so much effort into your performances.”

“Oh my God, yeah, you could not shut up about the Danger performance,” Sangyeon cooes, letting his stylist finally finishes and shifts to pack the hair equipment. 

“I’ll bet it’s cause your best friend over here got the most screen time,” Sunwoo perks up a mischievous brow and smirks at you.

Juyeon’s eyes widen and stares at the youngest, “I didn’t get the most screen time.”

“If not you then who?” Sangyeon butts in as he stands.

“Uh... Changmin?”

Sunwoo and Sangyeon go quiet. 

“Yah, you had a good amount of screen time too!” Sangyeon turns and blurts out at Sunwoo, playfully shoving him. 

“Y’all are being loud in here,” Kevin’s head pops out from beyond the door frame, one of his stylists tagging behind him and struggling to pat down his clothes. 

“No, tell me if Sunwoo had more screentime than Changmin in Danger from last year,” Sangyeon wraps an arm around Sunwoo and slowly walks him out. 

“What? I don’t know, Changmin had the opening and the dance break...”

Sangyeon’s hairstylist follows closely, and by instinct, he shuts the door behind him, leaving you with Juyeon in the dressing room. It’s humid, from all the lights turned on in the room, and the leather seat wasn’t the most comfortable thing to sit on.

Turning to Juyeon, his eyes are gently shut, and frankly, he looked like he was about to fall asleep. The backrest of the sofa sinks when you lean back, mimicking his position.

“You have like four minutes left so don’t even think of falling asleep.”

“I’m not sleeping,” He offers a tiny smile on his lips, eyes still shut. 

“Sure, you’re not.”

“Wake me up when the director needs me.”

“You wish,” The leather under your legs squeak when you push yourself off, but he sticks out an arm at your stomach and pushes you back down. Judging by the miniscule smirk on his face, he’s just messing with you. “What do you think you’re doing? I have a job to do and you have a music video to film.”

He remains quiet. Someone shouts at Eric outside.

“You’re being fucking weird today, sir,” You lift a hand and grab his arm to move it away, but he swiftly wraps his fingers around your wrist and yanks you forward instead. 

Using your palms to keep the distance between your faces, you’re hovering above him now, breath on his upper lip. The sweat’s begun to collect in the lines of your palms, stuck to the arm rest by his side and the cushion he’s leaning on. 

Your vision immediately darts to his face upon the bold move, and he’s got that slight smile prancing on his lips when he’s thinking of a joke or something funny and doesn’t want to say it. It’s been a good year of being Juyeon’s best friend (apart from the members), so you’ve definitely grown to know how to read him by his actions.

You sigh, rolling your eyes and removing your legs from next to his thighs.

“Juyeon-”

And then he cuts you off by holding you in position with his arm around his waist, challenging your knees to hold you up - because if they buckled, you’ll land right on top of him. 

“What the Hell do you think you’re doing?” 

Knock knock

“y/n, are you done with Juyeon’s hair? Filming’s resuming!”

There’s an awkward tension between you and Juyeon now, with his eyes wide open and staring into yours, arm still around your waist. But having his nose just inches away from yours and his breath breathing down on your philtrum feels so surreal. It feels like it’s a dream that you’ve failed to pull yourself out from.

He parts his lips, then purses them, and sighs through his nose. 

“Yeah, she’s done! I’ll be out in like, two seconds!”

Your gaze finds his and you’re panicking when he’s moving again. Within two seconds, you’re flat on your back on the length of the couch - and this time, he’s holding himself above you.

“What the- I-”

“We’ll continue this later back at the company, I promise,” Then he rounds your cheek and presses a kiss into your cheekbone instead.

He pulls back, offering you his kind smile and a ruffle into your hair for good measure. Nothing in your body is working when you hear him shuffle for the door, and it clicks shut behind him, with Breaking Dawn already blasting in the filming space.

Sucking in a deep breath, you don’t realise how hard your heart is thumping in your head until you hear your own shaky exhale. You don’t know where to look, you can still feel his grip on your waist and his breath on your upper lip, and everything’s just a mess right now.

What the Hell just happened?

“Eric - Dior Shirt Size M...” You mumble under your breath, fingers gripping the pen to the clipboard so hard, your writing would probably leave a mark in the sheet under. 

“I think this is the last luggage!” Younghoon’s stylist drags the black case in, lining it up with the last unopened one. “Need help?”

“Yeah, just open the luggage for me and separate Sangyeon’s clothes from Jacob’s, but otherwise I can handle it on my own.”

She nods, laying it down and unzipping it for the clothes to spew out. “How’s working here? It’s been over a year, right?”

“Mhm,” You glance at her, obviously tired. “It’s alright, but thanks to your advice since last year, I don’t think it could’ve been better.”

With a kind smile, she looks up at you, placing Sangyeon’s pants over his stack. “You’re experienced from ATEEZ, so it wouldn’t have been that hard anyway.”

She stands, resting her hands on her hips as you walk over, squatting to check Sangyeon and Jacob’s clothes. 

“So... what’s going on with you and Juyeon?”

I’d like to know too.

“Huh?” You look up at her, head tilted to the side with a sneaky cocked brow. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, please- All the stylists here know you and Juyeon are like- hanky panky nowadays. Pretty sure the boys know too, or at least have some idea.”

A cackle runs your throat dry as you graduate your attention to Jacob’s clothes. “Is that what they’re calling it? ‘Hanky-panky’? Cute.”

“Do you know why they’re still in a meeting this late?”

“No, why would I bother? As long as I don’t lose my job, it’s none of my concern.”

“They’re in meeting to be informed that their dating ban has been lifted.”

Your grip around the pen tightens, but halts abruptly. 

“Ah...” She sighs, contemplated with herself. “Cat got your tongue? Or should I say... Juyeon got your-”

Interrupted by the practise room door being pushed open, both of your attentions immediately flit to the new commotion. 

“Oh, Juyeon! Meeting’s over?”

“Yeah,” He turns and closes the door behind him. His hair was still waxed up from the day’s schedule, makeup still on but fading. Clothes snug around his shoulders with his belt tight around his hips. Those stupid jeans never did you any good since day 1. “Sangyeon said he left a ring in one of the luggages so he sent me to come get it while he counsels Kevin for twerking.”

“y/n’s just going through Sangyeon’s wardrobe, so she might find something,” Your colleague’s begun to take small, insignificant steps towards the door, and your anxiety begins to increase with every inch she places between the two of you.

“Which is why I’m here,” He stuffs his hands into his back pockets.

“Right, right,” Now, she’s already got her hand on the door knob, glancing past him and at you with wide, glistening eyes. “I gotta go check your wardrobe for tomorrow so... I’mma go now, and uh... security comes by around 12am. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“What-” You blurt out, receiving a sharp, surprised look from Juyeon.

“Bye! Bye Juyeon!”

“Bye,” He waves. 

“No, wait-” 

And so, the door clicks shut behind her, and her shadow behind the translucent material disappears down the corridor. 

The whir of the air-conditioner in the practice room fills all the awkward openings in the room, but all you can hear is the rapid thunk of your heart in your brain - as if that was even possible. 

Thunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunkthunk

“About earlier today-”

“Give me a moment while I look for Sangyeon’s ring. What does it look like?” Standing up too fast, your vision goes white and a second of dizziness throws you off your balance.

So, of course, Juyeon rushes over and holds you by your waist before your ankles or knees give way. The incessant blinking makes you wish you could actually pass out right now, because your weight’s in his arms and you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye.

“Iron deficiency much?” The corner of his lips curl up into his cheek before releasing you. “Do you need to sit down?”

Clearing your throat, you turn away first. “No, I-”

“Good, because I have some points to make and you’re gonna stop running away from them like you’re doing now.”

The change in tone runs chills down your spine and goosebumps erupt all over your skin - thank god you were wearing a blazer, safe from his observation. 

“How have you tolerated it so much?” He folds his arms across his chest, tilting his head innocently but his eyes say otherwise. It’s always his eyes that tell a whole different story from the person he’s known to be. 

“Y’know, being around me but you’re so calm and collected and I just...” He shakes his head, and to your dismay, takes a step forward - which drives you backwards. “How?”

His voice is too sing-songy. It’s too calm and collected for you because you’re about to barf up your dinner, which was a good 4 hours ago now. There’s nothing left in your stomach to barf up. 

He takes another intimidating step and you wince at your inability to look him in the eye.

Another step back. 

“Like, I know we’re friends but my God-” Shaking his head, he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip.

Another step forward. Another backward.

“It’s upsetting that I can look ‘raunchy’ and it doesn’t seem to do anything to you... But seeing you the way you are every other day makes me want to- just-”

Another step forward. 

One more one back.

And your breath halts.

Your back hits the wall, the rear of your skull lined with the pillar. 

Oh, no.

Gritting your teeth so tight, your jaw starts to ache and your temples are throbbing. 

“I’m not seeing things, right?” A flicker of curiosity sparkles in his eyes when you muster up the courage to look at him - only to regret it instantly. “It’s not in my head that you feel the same way I do, right?”

“I... Don’t know what you’re talking about- You’re an idol... and I’m- I’m just your stylist and I-”

“‘Just my stylist’?” The comment forces his brows into a slight frown, before he lifts his hand and covers the bottom half of his face with his palm. “Rethink what you just said.”

Sucking in a deep breath, your chest wells with a horrid mix of desire and self-discipline. Those two don’t go well together. 

“We can talk about this some other day,” You choose to say, dragging your body along the pillar in a bid to shift out from the wall-Juyeon sandwich like a fool. He lifts his arm and presses his palm into the pillar behind you, caging your poor, poor soul in this fateful corner of his stupid practice room.

“Juyeon, we need... boundaries in this industry. One scandal and it’ll destroy your career.”

“Boundaries?” He buckles his elbows, shrinking the gap between your noses. “Boundaries are for idols who still have a dating ban.”

Breathing down your nose, he’s too close for comfort. You can smell his cologne, the scent of his hair wax and see the bumps on his cheek under the faint layer of makeup. You don’t realise you’re trembling until he tilts his head ever so slightly, free hand reaching up to your chin to steady your face.

“Stop running from me,” Shaking his head painstakingly subtly, he whispers into your lips. “You were mine from the start and you know that.”

The adrenaline rush through your nerves sets off fireworks all over you when he slots his body against yours, lips fitted with yours like puzzle pieces; against the wall, with his palms on your cheeks. There was no care or consideration with how much strength he was channeling into this kiss - it feels so pent-up, so frustrated. Without warning, your body resigns as you circle your arms around his shoulders.

Gripping the rim of his collar in your hands, his hands drop to your waist and holds you closer, if it were even possible. A million thoughts race through your head - and at the same time, none. This moment was something you didn’t even know you needed. 

Juyeon’s hands roam the small of your back as he keeps you against the wall, relaxing into the kiss and sighing into it instead. 

This bliss comes in the form of him. Him who provides you all the sinful wants deep down inside you. 

But this bliss doesn’t last, for the practice room door swings open violently and tears Juyeon off you.

“I told you to find my ring, not hook up with your crush!”

[shurisneakers]

harmless (v)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, ghosts, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, rats

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: why did i like this chapter sm someone explain. anyway!! y’all are so passionate about these two i love it mwah

if you have any ideas for future inventions/evil plans, lemme know! i might actually end up using them

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

He dislikes the subway. 

Other than his other valid reason to have disdain for trains, the subway is dark, it’s shady and he’s sure he’s seen rodents fight to the death here on several occasions.  

Still, he’s following you down the stairs of the station, watching as you whistle along to the song blasting through your headphones. There’s a backpack swung over your shoulders, hands stuffed into the pocket of your hoodie and converse doing a skip every now and then. There’s a bandana that’s tied across your face, acting as a mask to hide your identity. 

He realises that you’re dressed like a commuter. Were you going to dress the part every single time?

You walk along with the crowd. He follows, a few feet away.

Until you stop. He abruptly stops too, leading someone to walk right into him. 

“Watch it, dumbass,” they hiss with the courage of someone who has no idea who he is. He ignores them. 

He looks on as you dig around your backpack and pull out a roll of paper. A poster, he realises soon when you peel off a layer from the back and press it to the wall. 

Was it legal to put up posters in the subway? He wasn’t quite sure. 

He observes as you turn around and continue down the path. He waits a few seconds before trailing up to the poster.

Volunteers needed!

If you’re interested in being turned into a ghost for a couple of hours, this is your chance! Should be okay with being on camera so that we can make money off of taped paranormal sightings.

Paid opportunity. You get to pick your outfit. Randos don’t apply.

He yanks the poster of the wall before continuing down the same place you did.

He finds another poster along the way. He doesn’t hesitate in pulling it down. You were advocating to kill people. 

He knows he’s going in the right direction because more posters creep up along the wall.

The both of you are on the platform by now but to him, something changes about the placement of the posters. They were growing in frequency, the distance between them decreasing as they were situated close to each other.

He pauses in front of the next one, hand hovering over the paper.

All it reads is ‘STOP’.

He furrows his eyebrow, pulling it down before peering over at the next one.

‘TAKING’, is all that it says.

It doesn’t take him very long to make his way through all the posters in the hallway. 

‘THESE’

‘DOWN’

The train’s arrived by now but a quick scan over the crowd and he knows that you haven’t entered. That, and he knew that you were too dramatic to leave without a trace or a small conversation with him. 

‘DICKHEAD’

Tasteful, he thinks. 

“It took effort to make them, stop ruining it,” you whine from the end of the hallway. It’s empty, given that rush hour was over a while ago. 

Even though the mask covers half your face, it’s obvious that there is mischief etched under it. The twinkle in your eye is telling. 

“You’re literally killing people.” He holds up the poster. Not the ‘dickhead’ one. He pockets that for later. 

He knows there are a few minutes before the next train arrives and more people flood the station. The eccentricity of today lay in the lighting from the incandescent lamps and acoustics of the platform. It made his voice echo like a movie scene. 

“I very much am not,” you huff. 

“You’re turning them into ghosts. That’s what a murderer does,” he says pointedly. 

“Well, only if you keep saying it like that. You’re making me look bad.” You cross your arms across your chest. “What are you, Fox News?” 

A scurry next to him earns his attention. Two rats nibble at a piece of fallen food. He wonders when they’ll starting brawling. 

“Explain this.” He waves the poster around. He isn’t taking it too lightly he hopes. If it’s actual murder then it’s going to be an issue. 

You pull out a black cylinder, slightly bigger than a pen. He can’t really see any more details, but you hold onto it like a wand. 

“I’m turning them into ghosts. I’ll post videos of them doing stupid shit. I get famous and then boom, cash money.” You rub your index finger and thumb together. “I’ll give you a share if you volunteer.”

“You’re not explaining the death part.” 

He can feel it. You’re about to start derailing. 

“Winter Soldier, the ghost story. Literally.” You grin, yanking down the mask from your face to prove it. It pools around your neck. “That’s so funny, c’mon, it’d be amazing.”

It’s been years since he’s heard that. Never in this context. 

“No,” he says sternly, “and I’m going to have to bring you in if you’re going to kill people.”

The rats were ignoring everything that was going down like the hardened criminals that they were. They had probably seen worse. He can’t stop paying attention to them.

“I’m not killing them, bro.” You raise your hands in exclamation. “I’m just moving some molecules around, some frequency shit. They’re alive, just ghosts.”  

He’s always been one for science. Straight As throughout high school, attended science conventions as a hobby, alive even at 100 through some mad experimentation, definitely seen some weird shit during his lifetime. 

But this doesn’t make sense.

“No,” he repeats. “Give me the thing.”

“Fine, I’ll show you.” You roll your eyes. “Since you have absolutely no faith in me.”

He does a quick review of his surroundings. 

No one’s around, which is good. 

But that just leaves him in front of you, which is bad.

“Don’t you even thin-” he starts, muscles tensing as he shifts into a defensive stance.

You whip out the little pen thing from beside you but before he can react you turn around and duck. 

The click of a button releases a bright light, small but intensely stronger than the fluorescents in the station.

He reels back, feet carrying him away from where you’re crouched. His eyes quickly look down at his body. 

Nothing’s changed. 

He lifts his hand to check, runs it over his face. Still alive. He thinks.

“Behold,” you declare, “Ghost rat.”

He looks to where you’re pointing. The two rats from earlier were still nibbling on their food but something was off about them. 

He could see the faint outline of the tiles on the wall behind them, almost like they were... translucent.  

You aimed at the rats, not him. He doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or annoyed at the fake threat.

He watches as they move. They don’t look hurt or injured.

“Cool, huh?” you say smugly. 

He can’t stop staring at them. 

“Bring them back.”

“They’re fine, look how abstract it is.”

“Bring back the rats.” He can’t believe this is what his life has come to.

Bucky Barnes, Rodent Protector.

You aren’t fazed by his indifference, instead wonder filled eyes gaze at the animals. “Astral mice, sarge. Embrace the miracle of modern science.”

“You killed them.”

“They’re alive, they’re just ghosts.” You raise a finger to point. “Look, they’re still eating. Biological functions are still taking place.” 

 Which was true. But still. He doesn’t know what is going on.

“Bring them back to... non-ghost alive.” 

“You sure you don’t want one? That one kinda looks like you.” One hardened glare after you realise the answer. “Jeez, alright then.”

You dig through your bag before pulling out a matte black replica of your current invention. 

“Sexy colours, right?” You hold them up. “I modelled them after your arm.”

He looks down. Sure enough the gold and black matched his cybernetic limb. It was oddly flattering. 

“Say thank you, Y/N, for letting me be your muse-”

“Un-ghost the rats.” 

“Ungrateful,” you narrow your eyes at him. 

Still, you comply with his demands, ducking down to their level again.

A click of the button, a bright light and the rats are back to normal. Non-transparent normal.

“Okay, give me that.” He takes a step towards you. 

“Nuh uh.” You pull your arm back. His mouth twitches at your response; what are you, five?

The black one is stuffed back into your bag but you wave around the gold like a threat. 

He sighs, making a pass for it. In a second his arm is twisted and shoved against his back, forcing him to spin so that he’s facing away from you. His eyes widen.

What the fuck?

“Now we’re having a good time,” you whisper into this ear. 

He swiftly turns around, grabbing your wrist to rotate his own out of your grip. 

“Since when can you fight?” he asks.

“Are we getting to know each other now?” You raise your leg to give him a semi gentle kick in the side, using his momentary distraction in blocking it to give him a knock on the head with your free hand. “This is so romantic, sarge.”

There’s a low rumble in the distance and he knows the train would soon start pulling into the station. It was still a distance away, but his heightened senses warned him that it wouldn’t take much time. 

He groans. How much longer would he have to go at this?

He could easily win this fight and he knew it. But something in him itched, pulled him back from doing it.

He blocks another attempt at his head. “Stop that.”

You grin. “You know what’d be fun?”

He knows you’d reply even if he didn’t encourage it. The lights from the train light up the tunnel around the corner. 

“This.” You don’t give him a second to recover before you flick your wrist away from him.

The device flies out of your hand and right onto the track. The both of you watch, you in glee, he in horror, as the train runs right over it, unleashing the brightest light he had ever seen. His eyes shut instinctively before it blinds him.

He forces himself to pry open his eyelids, look at the damage caused. 

The train, sure enough, is translucent. He can see the posters on the other side of the platform through the carriage, through various people holding onto the poles for support or seated on the seats.

“Ghost train!” you cheer. He’s mortified.

“Fuck no,” he mumbles, yanking the backpack off your shoulder. He rummages through it, looking for the gold version.

“You lookin’ for this?” you ask nonchalantly, holding it up in your hand like it isn’t the solution to stopping a bunch of ghosts from wandering around New York. 

“Turn them back.” He gives you a chance. 

“Do it yourself, coward.” You grin, holding it above your head. The train is going to stop and he needs everyone to be alive and non-ghost before they leave.

He doesn’t wait this time, instead turning to you. The thing is still held in your grip above your head. He rolls his eyes, doing a quick assessment before grabbing your free hand, tugging you closer and plucking the device out of your hand before you have the opportunity to retract it.  

“Great, now figure out which button to press.” You’re dangerously close to him. He can feel your hoodie brush against his tactical jacket. “Also if you wanted to be all pressed up against me, you could have just asked.” 

He furrows his eyebrows, letting go of you as you give a loud laugh. He looks down at the device. It has several buttons, littering up and down the side. Each look the same. 

The train’s slowing down. 

“They’re both the same device; this version is not a magical solution to the other one. If you press the wrong button then both of us are going to be fucked.”

The last carriage is getting closer. 

“Say I win this round and I’ll fix it.” 

There’s a gleam in your eye. He knew this was exactly what you wanted. 

He wishes he was as stubborn as Steve, just run through each button until the right one worked.

“You win this one.” He hands it back. He wasn’t like Steve and judging by the number of items the idiot jumped out of planes without a parachute on a daily basis, Bucky was glad about it. At least Bucky did it sporadically.

“Yay, two each for the both of us, then,” you say, taking it from him and twisting, eyes running down the sides. “Close your eyes, old man, or else your cataract’s gonna get worse.”

Right as the train pulls to a stop, you press down on the button before throwing it and the blinding light that emanates from it. It lands on the top of the train right as the doors open. 

The passengers start stepping out. Some of them are looking at their hands and legs in a little disbelief, most just push through the crowd to leave.

He can’t see through them. It’s a good sign. 

He turns to look at you but you’re not there. Instead, the weight of the small device weighs down in his pocket.

The sound of a thud on glass draws his attention. 

He looks up at the train. The window of the carriage in front of him has a bit of fog on it. You trace a heart in the condensation and blow him a kiss before pulling your mask back on.

The train starts moving, leaving him alone in the platform again with your invention.

He lets out an exhale, wandering outside to grab a sandwich before waiting to catch the next train to go home. 

Later in the evening, he catches hold of a bit of tape and the ‘Dickhead’ poster finds a place on Sam’s door. 

He doesn’t appreciate it.

So now it’s tucked away in the shelf of Bucky’s bedside table along with a freeze ray, a ghost-inator, and some discount Pym Particles. 

Next part

[absolutelyfizzing]

he promised

poe dameron x reader

description - Poe always promised he would come back from missions. One time he doesn't. (Ends in fluff i promise i promise)

warnings - depression?, anxiety?, fem pronouns, talk of injury and death, grief, fluff at the end, use of petnames, reader gets carried for a while and sits on a lap, mentions of eating and eating avoidance (not ed)

word count - 3800

A/N - so this was an oops. I wrote this hella fast but i was in the zone and i am pretty happy with the emotionally devastating product. I promise it has a happy ending i just dont want to give too much away. I feel like for maximum emotional damage you need to be a little in the dark. anyway, forgive me

MASTERLIST

You were stood in the command center with your hands wringing together. No matter how many missions Poe went on, the waiting was always hell. How were you supposed to remain sane when the love of your life was out fighting a battle that he might not come back from. That you might never see him again. He always reassured you that he would always come back to you. That you never had anything to worry about. You tried to believe him, and for the most part you did, but that didn't prevent you from being worried when he was gone.

You listened through the coms, trying to keep track of what was happening during the battle. Leia let you stay in there because she had a soft spot for you, as well as the pilot you were worried about. You were thankful she let you listen in on every mission, it meant that you weren't alone worrying in the room you shared with Poe. The conversation over coms was rushed and loud, they were scared and that made your heart beat faster.

'I have to go through, they're gonna come after us if I don't.' You heard your fiance yell. Worry stuck in the pit of your stomach, he was going to take a risk, you could feel it.

'Poe, it's not worth it. We should get out of here while we still can'. You agreed, wanting him to get out of there as soon as possible. You prayed he would listen and just get out.

'I have to try, I can't go back knowing that they could be following us to base.'

'Poe wait-' You heard someone rush out before comotion ensued again. You could feel your heart in your throat. You could have cried. After a minute of listening to pure chaos, nobody in the control room dared to speak a word. Everyone was waiting for an indication of what to do from the squadron. You found yourself zoning out in your worry. You were only broken out of your trance when you heard your fiance's name.

'Poe is down.' You stopped breathing.

"Down? What do you mean down?" You heard Leia call over comms.

'I'm sorry commander, he got hit. His X-Wing engine got shot and he was heading to crash on the planet right below us, his coms died. There's no way to know if he made it through but I don't know many who could take that crash and live. We have to head out and hope he comes back to base but I wouldn't get my hopes up.'

"Get out of there while you still can. We will have to worry about Poe when we gather our strength." Leia responded and the squadron called their understanding before the process of bringing them home began. You hadn't moved. You weren't sure if you had breathed. Your body was fully numb. You could feel eyes on you as everyone waited for you to respond. To show some emotion of your boyfriend having just gone MIA. You couldn't feel yourself though, your fingertips were numb, and you refused to believe he was dead. He promised. He told you he would come home.

Your brain was split between trying to grieve for the loss of the love of your life and trusting that he would be back. That he had to come back because he promised he would and he never breaks a promise. You felt hands on you and you realized you had fallen to sit in your spot. Leia was above you and was ushering you to your feet. You mindlessly let her push you somewhere and you barely even looked to see where you were going.

Eventually you showed up at your apartment door. You couldn't tell whether it felt like it had been instantaneous or an eternity to get there. Leia unlocked your door and pushed you inside and to the small couch that was stood in the living room-like space. The apartments were all very small, Poe had one a little bigger because he was housing with another person and because of his rank. Still, the extra amenities included a small couch, a smaller kitchen, and a window along the bedroom wall. When Leia sat you on the couch she kneeled in front of you. Her hand went to your cheek and you looked at her for the first time since you'd heard Poe go down. She seemed to almost be in tears but your eyes were dry. You didn't feel anything.

"Y/N, what can I do?" She asked gently. "Do you need anything?" You felt yourself shake your head and open your mouth like you were going to talk but closed it again as you thought.

"He said... He said he was coming back." You stated as if it changed the situation. "He promised." You mumbled.

"I know, Y/N. I am so sorry." She tried to console and your head shook. "We don't know what happened after he went down. You heard the team. He might contact us in the next few days, he is a smart man and he knows how to get a message out. But I don't want it to hurt you more if he never does." She tries to reason and you shook your head.

"No, you don't understand. He promised, " your head was spinning, "he's coming back." You felt tears fall down your face. When had you started crying? "He promised me that he was coming back home." Your voice broke which surprised you. Before you knew it you were crying into Leia's arms and you couldn't stop yourself. That was how you stayed with her for a while after, you weren't sure how long. She shed some tears of her own but eventually you both ran dry. You lost feeling again and you couldn't tell if it was better or worse. You made a decision. You wouldn't grieve over him until you were sure he was not coming back. You wouldn't mourn until you were sure.

The alternative was not, however, to recover. Instead you just stopped doing anything at all. You stopped eating, taking care of yourself, caring. Soon, your friends came in to talk to you. Instead of it being conversation though, they just talked at you. You couldn't bring yourself to respond or really even listen. Or maybe you did but you just couldn't remember. They would periodically come through to help you into a shower in which you just let the water run over you while someone else, you thought maybe Rey but you couldn't even recall, washed your hair. You drank water when they asked and would take a bite of food if they begged but other than that you might as well have been dead to the world. You almost hadn't realized how much of a vital part to your existence Poe was. How little you could bring yourself to do without him. You had thought you were prepared to be separated, you were in the middle of a war after all. Instead it was impossible to do anything without him and you wondered how long you could keep doing it.

This went on for a week. That was how long it took for them to declare him 'killed in action'. They felt that, if he was alive, he would have found a way to contact the base with the help of BB8 and local lifeforms. That was when you allowed yourself to grieve. The numbness turned into pain and it was a million times worse. You would have given anything to go back to numb.

You finally listened to your friends when they talked to you but their consolations did nothing to put you at ease. You still struggled to do anything but you complied with their pleads. You had been convinced, 2 weeks after the KIA announcement, to go to the canteen. To see people and interact. Finn pulled you along with an attempt at a smile on his face. Your face was blank but you tried to soften your eyes. You knew he was trying to help and he was grieving the loss of his best friend as well. When you were pulled into the large cafeteria, all noise ceased. You knew that they were looking at you and you guessed that they pitied you. You had seen yourself in the mirror that morning and you would have pitied you too. You got pulled to a table and Finn went to go get you and himself food.

People periodically came by and said hello or asked how you were as you tried to eat something. You responded with one word answers usually and you hadn't met anyone's eyes. You could feel yourself getting overwhelmed and decided you would head back to your room. You quietly thanked Finn for trying and left to the hallway.

Suddenly, alarms sounded. You were startled into awareness and people began running past you.

'ALL EMERGENCY CREW TO FLIGHT DECK'

You were curious about the alarm but you weren't emergency crew and you knew they didn't need any more bodies there than would already be there. That was until you heard someone as they rushed by as they talked to the medic next to them.

"Yeah I heard it was him but he went missing weeks ago." They sounded confused and continued jogging toward the flight deck. You feet started moving before you could even process it and it was the fastest you'd moved since he had gone missing. Since he had died.

When you got to the flight deck there was already a crowd. You could see over the see a people a beat up X-Wing. You thought you might have heard a droid. You elbowed your way to the front of the crowd, not apologizing when people grumbled their frustrations at you. When you made it to the front you were stood no more than 50 feet from him. He was soot covered and beat up but he was standing as he tried to wiggle out of the grasp of the medics. BB8 beeped and turned, spotting you. He made a loud excited noise and rushed to roll over to you and Poe turned at the sound. When he met your gaze he smiled.

You felt your knees give out and tears start to fall from your eyes. Your arms crossed over your stomach and you started to curl into a ball over your knees. A sob left you and suddenly large warm hands were on your shoulders.

"Y/N? My love, are you okay?" He rushed out, checking over you for injury as the medics still grumbled about needing to see him. His hand came under your chin to move your face so he was making eye contact with you. You let out another sob before grabbing his vest and pulling him into you, he kneeled to the ground as you clung to him and cried into his chest. He moved himself so he was sitting on the ground and he pulled you into his lap. You felt his hands on your back trying to soothe you but you couldn't stop crying. "I'm back. I'm so sorry I was gone but I'm back." He mumbled out as he kissed your head a few times.

"I'm so angry at you." You whispered and he almost laughed, just happy to hear your voice. You finally pulled your head out of his chest and kissed him like your life depended on it, like it was the last time you would ever see him. You pulled away so you were looking into his eyes. "Please don't leave me," you begged almost silently. You weren't even sure if he could hear you. "Please don't leave again."

"I'm not leaving, baby, I promise." He tried to calm you. "I'm right here. I'm okay."

You nodded, trying to convince yourself that he was real and he was here. You kissed him again just to check. You pulled away again, still trying to convince yourself.

"You died." You struggled out and Poe felt tears in his eyes as well. "You were dead, you crashed and you didn't make it and then they said you were gone." You said like that was what happened.

"I didn't die, my love. I'm right here. I'm alive, I'm okay." Poe pleaded and he grabbed your hand, bringing it up to his face so you could feel him. Your hand moved along is jaw which was now covered in stubble and grime. Your head shook like you were disagreeing with him but you were simply in disbelief.

"I love you" You mumbled as your eyes traced the lines of his face and tears fell from your eyes. He let a few tears fall as well before pressing meaningful kisses to every part of your face that he could reach.

You spent the next 2 hours like that. You wouldn't leave his hold and he didn't try to move you. The medics worked around you and everyone greeted him without disturbing you. You stayed, on his lap, curled into his chest. Your breathing had slowed to a normal pace and you were holding onto his vest tightly. Eventually, he had to be debriefed. He petted your hair and cooed at you to catch your attention.

"Y/N, my love," he whispered, "we have to get up now." He felt you nod but you made no move to get up from him. He took a breath before moving you off of his lap as you whined, standing up, and then picking you up so you could wrap yourself around him. You hummed contentedly into his chest and he had a smile on his face as he walked through the base.

"I love you." You whispered again into his chest. You had been doing it periodically every so often in the last 2 hours and every time Poe would repeat it back to you, kiss your head, or say something else. This time he chose to kiss your head.

"Baby, I have to go to the debriefing now and you know you can't come with me." He tried to say gently but he knew this separation might be hard for both of you. "I'm gonna put you down." He warned before encouraging your legs to go to the floor. You listened but didn't release his neck which you were also clung to. His hands fell to your waist and you both stood for a moment with your heads in each others necks and breathing deeply. "I'm gonna hand you off to Rey, okay?" He asked as he flagged down Rey from the hallway.

"Okay." You whispered, still not releasing him.

"Hey, Rey, sorry to bother you but could you keep Y/N company for a few minutes while I talk to Leia and the squadron?"

"Oh of course!" Rey chirped and you took a deep breath before releasing Poe. You let him kiss your cheeks and your nose before he walked the other direction toward the command center. You stared at him until Rey put her hand in yours and clasped it. You turned to look at her and for the first time in weeks, she saw you smile. "I'm so happy for you, Y/N." She assured and you believed her.

"Thank you." You whispered and another tear fell from you, this time of joy and happiness. Not grief.

"What do you say to heading to your room and get cleaned up a bit, yeah?" She tried and you nodded, following where her hand lead with one last glance toward the direction that Poe went.

"-the converter didnt even work until a day ago because the main power source broke down." Poe finished explaining his time on the planet he had crashed on and the rest of the squadron nodded and asked a few more questions. Once he was done, Finn met him outside the command center.

"So-" he paused, "I'm not sure how to say this nicely but most of your stuff went into the redistribution center because you were presumed dead." He rushed out. Poe took a moment to process and nodded.

"Well that's sort of a bummer. Could I borrow some of your stuff?" Poe asked, knowing it would take at least a day for him to get reassigned sets of uniforms.

"Yeah of course, that's why I'm standing here waiting for you. You could get cleaned up in my room too if you want. I know Y/N kept a few of your jackets and shirts but most of it got taken." The boys began to walk toward Finn's living quarters and there was a moment of silence before Poe asked something he wasn't sure he wanted the answer to.

"What happened when I was gone?" His throat felt dry suddenly and his words came out hoarse. "To Y/N I mean. Was she okay?" Poe wasn't sure what answer he wanted. He knew from your recent reaction that you were devastated, as he would have been, but he also knew he had a dangerous job. He might not come back from some other mission in the future and he hoped you would survive without him.

"Do you really want to know?" Finn questioned.

Poe nodded.

"I mean, she was broken." He paused to think. "She didn't talk to anyone for a week. Wouldn't move. Wouldn't cry. Rey had to help her shower and we had to beg her to eat. We almost sent her to the med wing because we thought she was gonna pass out from dehydration, she would barely take a sip of water." Poe's heart was in his throat but he was sure there was more. "Then you were pronounced KIA."

"Oh god."

"Yeah it wasn't pretty. They pulled your stuff out of your guys' room, took your name off the ledger. Leia let her keep some stuff but it was hard to watch. She finally cried, she just wouldn't stop. She was more responsive but she wasn't even moving towards okay. You could tell she was only doing what we were asking because we were begging. That she was doing it out of guilt. Today was actually the first day that I talked her into coming out of her room. She had been to the canteen for about an hour when she felt she needed to leave and then alarms sounded that you were back." Finn finished with a glance to his friend and Poe looked like he might throw up.

"I want her to be okay if I don't make it back one day." Poe tried to explain to his friend.

"She probably would have been functioning in a few months. She wouldn't have recovered but she would function. She's a strong woman, but she also loves you a lot. I mean, how would you react if she was killed on mission?" Poe could tell it was a rhetorical question but he thought about it very carefully. You were an engineer so you weren't called out on mission often, not nearly as often as him. When you were, he was worried sick the whole time. He hadn't really thought about how him being gone affected you before. Now looking back on it he kicked himself for it.

Poe thought about what he would have done if you had died and he thought that your reaction was probably mild. That he would have been unresponsive for weeks or even become violent with anger and grief. He knew that you were the one for him, the most important thing in his life, and without you he didn't know if he would find purpose in his life anymore. He fought in the war as hard as he did for you. To make the galaxy safer for you.

When he went MIA it was because he tried to take out a couple more imperial ships than he could handle. He only did it because he knew they would have followed them back to base if they left. Back to you. So he took the risk and it backfired but he knew he would do it again to try and keep the First Order away from you.

He was knocked out of his train of thought by the arrival at Finn's quarters. Poe tried to get cleaned up and dressed quickly, getting the grime off of himself and shaving his face. He hurried back to your shared quarters and when he entered his room he was greeted with your smiling face as you laughed.

You were sat on the bed, Rey on the other end, as you were talking about something which caught you in a fit of giggles. At the sound of him stepping into the room you looked at him and got up quickly to rush up and hug him tightly.

"Missed you." You mumbled into his chest. As he held you Rey silently nodded at Poe and left the room.

"Was only gone for a minute, honey bun." He reassured and you pulled your face back.

"You know I hate that one."

"Boo bear?" he teased and you shook your head no. "Munchkin?" nope. "honey bear?" no thank you. "Baby love?" You tilted your head a bit.

"I don't loathe that one."

"Sweetheart?"

"I like that one."

"Princess?"

"That's my favorite" You giggled and kissed him quickly for a moment. He could have cried at the sight of you giggling. He had missed that, you, the sounds you made, so goddamn much. More than he would ever put into words.

"I know it is, pretty girl." He smiled before picking you up and you squealed. He walked you over to the bed before dropping you on it and laying next to you. You climbed close to him, practically laying on his chest. His arm was snug around your waist and he left no room for you to move, not that you would have anyway. "How would you feel about going to bed, princess?" He almost whispered, not wanting to disrupt the fragile quiet in the room.

"Yes please. I love you Poe." You whispered back and closed your eyes a bit, focussing on his breathing.

"I love you, Y/N" he responded.

You both got the first decent sleep you'd had in weeks that night.

[babyboibucky]

Undeserving (Deserve Better Part 2)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You confront Bucky about his decision to abandon you.

Word Count: 2,868

Warnings: More angst lmao I’m sorry for this

A/N: Honestly struggled with this because 1) I couldn’t decide on how to end it and 2) I was pressured from the feedback I got from Deserve Better. I’m not entirely happy with how this came out and initially, I planned on doing an epilogue for those who’d prefer a different ending but decided against it. Anyway, if you guys have more questions about this, send me an ask! I’d love to discuss more about this lol luv u all as always. Feedbacks are highly appreciated and I hope this was good enough for y’all who enjoyed Deserve Better xoxo

Deserve Better || Undeserving || Deserve The Best

MAIN MASTERLIST

-

You chose to stay.

Despite seeing the love of your life— whom you had waited for years— in the arms of another, you stayed at the gala. It was after all, to honor Steve’s legacy and you respected him enough not to walk away and miss out on the speeches given by people dearest to him, Bucky included of course.

You weren’t sure if he had seen you and the way your eyes brimmed with tears when everything finally made sense to you. He wasn’t far from you when you stopped in your tracks, mouth parting as a soft whimper escaped past your lips.

You had never imagined that heartbreak could be so physically painful. And it wasn’t the regular pain you’d feel after an intense workout or when you scraped your knee. The hurt was different, like your heart was being tightly squeezed into someone else’s palm. It was choking you, constricting you of oxygen as if you were drowning. No matter how much you tried to reach the surface, the pain just kept on pulling you down until there was nothing but darkness and well, pain.

Once the program was over and all the guests were left to mingle, you carefully slipped out of the crowd. Mindlessly, you walked and walked and walked until your feet began to hurt from the heels you were wearing. When the cold and crisp air of the evening embraced you, it was then that you realized that you reached the compound’s garden, just behind the main hall where the gala was happening.

The quiet gave you time to think and process everything that had happened. Bucky left to find himself and to become better, that he did. And you waited only to discover that he’d been back for quite a while now but chose to be with another.

As you looked out in front of you, your vision turned blurry as a new wave of tears escaped your eyes. Your grief had resurfaced after repressing it for so, so long. Grief from Bucky’s goodbye, from his absence and from waiting, grief from seeing him with someone else; no matter the cause, all in all it was grief nonetheless.

Bucky’s soft voice calling your name echoed in the evening air, it was so soft that you almost thought that you were hallucinating. But then he’d called you again, using the pet name that used to make your stomach flip and your heart to flutter. It still had the same effect now, you realized, only that it came along with an immense amount of pain that made your blood boil.

Hearing Bucky call you that, it almost felt like poison. It was quiet, gentle even but it left a bitter taste in your mouth as you felt its venom run through your veins until you could no longer feel anything but pain.

“Doll—“

“Don’t.” you seethed and turned around, pointing a shaky finger right at Bucky. “Don’t call me that when you’re with someone else, James.”

Bucky flinched at the way you had addressed him. You saw how his face faltered upon seeing you like this. His vibranium arm was restless against his side, as if he wanted to reach out to you but knew better than to do so.

“I waited for you!” you spat.

If he found somebody else to become better for, he could at least let you know. But he didn’t and you needed to know why he chose to abandon you. You needed it so badly, for your own peace of mind. For closure. You deserved that, at least.

“I’m sorry, I—“

“No, you don’t get to say your side until I’m done with mine!” you insisted. “I have every right to be selfish right now. I can choose to lash out on you or refuse to even listen to whatever your reason is for abandoning me no matter how valid it is. I fucking deserve that, Bucky.”

Bucky closed his mouth and nodded; you hated how he was staring at you as if he just lost his moonlight, as if he still loved you. If he did, you wouldn’t be confronting him like this and you wouldn’t have seen him with someone else.

“When Steve told me that you disappeared, when it felt like there was no way to bring everyone back, I waited. It didn’t feel right for me to move on from you just like that and deep inside I knew that you were going to return. Five years, Buck. I waited five years for nothing.” you said quietly, recalling how devastating those five years were.

You didn’t know what would happen then, nobody knew. Would they still come back? The chances were slim and yet you trusted your gut and decided to remain hopeful. It wasn’t easy to wait for something or someone that may never come back. But you still did and it never even crossed your mind that you may just be wasting your time.

You let out a breathy chuckle, “And then you came back and I felt alive again. But then you said goodbye.” you pursed your lips in an attempt to hold back your tears but to no avail.

It took you a while to collect yourself and Bucky let you, until you spoke again and told him how much it destroyed you when he walked away from you.

“Everyone else told me that I shouldn’t wait. Not again after those five years. But it felt easier this time around because you told me you wanted to get better. For me. And I was excited, Bucky.” you told him with a chuckle. “I was excited to see your return. I looked forward to how we’d spend our time together when you come back, if you’d cut your hair. If you’d wear the same cologne that I loved.”

A smile tugged at your lips as you recalled those times you daydreamed about Bucky’s return. The wait was agonizing but it gave you something to look forward to. At least you weren’t waiting for nothing anymore. Bucky was leaving but only temporarily, you were sure he’d come back. But the smile vanished as soon as it appeared and before you knew it, you were sobbing again.

“And now you’re back and so much better. But you aren’t mine anymore.”

At this point, your grief had consumed you both physically and mentally. You knees wobbled but you didn’t hit the ground, no. Instead, there was warmth against your skin followed by the smell of a certain cologne, enveloping the air around you. Bucky caught you in his arms and he held you tight as you cried into him.

“Shh, doll. I’m here now.” he whispered before pressing a kiss onto your crown.

As much as it felt right to be in Bucky’s embrace, it wasn’t enough to overcome the betrayal he did. You groaned in frustration and pushed him away, stepping back and hugging yourself instead.

“Why?” you asked quietly.

“I need to know why and how we came to this.” you asked, almost begged for Bucky to give you the closure you badly needed.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair as he paced before you, his cheeks stained with his own tears. “I came back for you.” he said.

You frowned, “When?”

“I couldn’t wait to see you again and as soon as I got back, I went straight to your office. But then you weren’t working there anymore, I found out that you finally landed your dream job at the law firm.” he said with a small smile. “I was so proud when I heard that. I was supposed to go to your apartment but something came up and I needed to meet with Sam first. Weekend came and I was on my way to your place when I saw you. And you were with someone else and you looked....happier, the happiest I’d seen you.”

Something clicked and you quickly shook your head, “Andy. No, he’s not...we were never together. This is a misunderstanding, Bucky. He and I were never—“

“I know.” Bucky admitted.

“What?” You asked, voice soft from utter confusion.

“You looked happy with him, not because of him. I know you weren’t in love with him because if you were, you would have looked at him the same way you’re looking at me now.” He explained sadly.

Hearing Bucky’s explanation made you angrier. If he knew that, then why did he still leave? What reason could be bigger than that to make Bucky wake up one day and decide that he no longer wants to come back to you?

If he knew you loved him so much to actually wait, why did he leave you like that?

Your brows creased, “If that’s not the reason, then what?”

Bucky shrugged, “I realized that you didn’t deserve me. I left to better myself for you, god I really did. But when I saw you and how you managed to be successful without me by your side, I figured that you were better off without me. I thought I got better, but seeing you again looking so beautiful, happy and just...maybe I’ll never be the right one for you.”

You bitterly chuckled at Bucky’s revelation, “This doesn’t make any sense to me, Bucky. You chose to abandon me because you thought I was happier without you?”

You felt offended that Bucky even thought of that. Did he not trust you when you told him you’d wait for him? He didn’t even show up to tell you that, to give you the chance to reassure him how much you love him. He just decided that it was better for him to leave you hanging?

“That’s bullshit, Bucky.” you spat. “You left me hanging because you thought you were weighing me down and the next time I see you, you’re with Sharon now. Who by the way, used to date your best friend. I don’t understand any of this.” you told him.

Bucky looked at the ground as he evened out his breathing. There were a few seconds of silence between the two of you. Only heavy breaths and the distant sound of the music from the gala lingered in the air. It was almost comforting. Almost.

“Sharon and I...it wasn’t easy for us when Steve left. It was something that we both had in common. We wanted to fix ourselves and in the process we just...it happened. I didn’t mean for it but it just happened.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

The pain was replaced with grief and then anger. A little sympathy was thrown in the mix too upon hearing Bucky’s reason but now you were back to square one. Pain.

“You worried for her when Steve left but didn’t worry about me when you chose to leave me hanging? You told me you needed to fix yourself alone because you didn’t want to hurt me in the process of doing so. Guess what, Bucky? You hurt me all the same. Even more so when you chose to stay for Sharon and when you allowed her to help you fix yourself.”

Bucky remained silent as he simply gazed at you and let you say your piece. You just couldn’t understand where he truly was coming from. You knew about his insecurities and you accepted each one of them. You’d wholeheartedly accepted Bucky from the moment you knew you loved him, that included his flaws and demons, even on days he hated himself.

“Don’t shut me out like that again, please?” You asked Bucky, when he finally let you inside his room after isolating himself for days.

He had those days, when he couldn’t bring himself to come out and just...live. He’d push people away and torture himself with negative thoughts. But you always stayed no matter what.

“‘m sorry doll, I just...sometimes...I love you so much but sometimes I feel like I don’t have enough of it to actually show you. And you don’t deserve that.” He explained.

You smiled and cupped his cheek, “That’s okay, Bucky. I love you and the amount of love I have for you is more than enough for both of us.”

Was your love not enough for him all along? For him not to consider how you would feel if he just decided not to come home to you anymore? You shouldn’t be blaming yourself for everything, you did your part. But you couldn’t help but wonder whether it was because of you that Bucky chose to walk away.

“I love you, I really do. And you deserve the best and I’m not...that. I chose to let you go so you can have that.”

“I don’t need the best version of you, Bucky!” You quickly cut him off. “I just need you.” You added.

When Bucky decided to leave to get better, you let him even though you hated to see him walk away. You’d be selfish not to, especially when Bucky was finally free to decide things for himself. It was for the best, but honestly speaking, you didn’t want a better version of him.

Whether it was the Winter Soldier or James Buchanan Barnes, whatever version of him he’d give to you, you love Bucky all the same.

You love Bucky so much that it was so painful for you to hear that he actually thought you’d be happier without him.

“You don’t deserve someone as damaged as me. Even if I got better, I’m still struggling and I don’t want to make things hard for you.” Bucky said.

“And you don’t get to decide what you think I deserve! You don’t get to abandon me like I was nothing, like we were nothing to you.” You seethed.

Bucky looked away, blinking his tears away as he tried to compose himself. His jaw tensed as he looked at you with an apologetic gaze.

“You shouldn’t have waited for me. You didn’t have to.” He said the same thing to you when he left, and it hurt just as much.

“I love you. I’ll wait, Bucky.” You murmured and tugged at his hand before he could even let you go.

Bucky smiled sadly at you, “You don’t have to, doll.”

You shook your head and brought Bucky’s hand to your lips as you cried, “I want to. And I will.”

“I know. But in all those years you were gone, I woke up each day and chose to wait for you. I always chose you, Bucky.” You said with a sad smile.

You stumbled a bit and lifted your dress enough to reveal your bleeding foot. You’d walked that long, for your feet to get wounded and ironically, you couldn’t feel anything but the pain of seeing Bucky again. He tried to approach you and help you out but you waved a hand and kept him at an arm’s length away from you. You removed your shoes and straightened up, looking at Bucky and his ocean blue eyes for one last time.

“I’m sorry if you felt like you weren’t enough. You’re more than enough for me, Bucky. I really thought that I could love and fight for the both of us, but I guess not.”

Bucky didn’t say anything else, and you hoped he would. It might have been pathetic of you to wish that he’d come back to you, but you really hoped he would say something to fight for you. He didn’t and that was enough for you to make a decision.

“Goodbye, Bucky.”

You bit your lower lip as you turned around, holding back your tears as you jogged back into the gala. You walked past everyone in the crowd in a hurry, wanting to head home as quickly as possible. And then you came face to face with someone you weren’t prepared to confront.

It’s as if time stopped when you saw her, Sharon. She must have found out about your presence. Did she know of Bucky’s decision to abandon you? You wondered how she helped Bucky better himself, why he let her stay as he fixed himself.

Why Bucky chose to be with her instead of coming home to you.

You could feel your chest constrict again, the pain continuing to consume you whole. If you stayed any longer, you were afraid you might break.

“Do you love him?” You asked her softly.

Without missing a beat, Sharon nodded her head. “I do.” She whispered.

“How much?” You asked again.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.” Sharon responded and you could feel the sincerity in her statement.

The way she said it wasn’t meant to hurt you nor mock you. It was reassuring, in fact. Like she was making you a promise that she was going to take good care of Bucky the same way you did. Maybe even more. You swallowed as you nodded, forcing a small smile before looking away to wipe a tear that slipped.

“That’s good.” You simply said. “Because I’d do anything for him too.”

Anything. Even if that meant walking away and giving up on a battle that you’d already lost the moment Bucky decided to abandon you.

-

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[silkylious]

“I love you. Truly, deeply, eternally.” (Lucifer x Reader)

fandom: obey me! shall we date?

pairing: lucifer x gn reader

warnings: angst, fluff (mildly lol), suggestive (nothing explicit though!), bittersweet, ambiguous ending (??), unedited 

wc: 2.1k

“Lucifer?” you called out to him on a whim, eyes trailing the seconds ticking away on his grandfather-clock.

“Yes?” he didn’t spare you a glance as he worked methodically through his second hill of paperwork; a heaping stack of duties assigned to him by Diavolo, endless bills–a consequence of Mammon’s latest spending spree, you ought to talk to him about those soon–and the sort piled neatly on his pristine desk, slowly but surely decreasing in size as Lucifer burned through the tedious task with unwavering efficiency. You felt exhausted just watching him work. Lucifer? He hadn’t so much as blinked more than three times in the past five minutes (yes, you counted). Obsidian sleeves rolled up just past his elbows, hair perfectly framing his face with one strand slightly out of place–hot–and a gentle crease between his brows (the only observable hint alluding to the mounting stress on his shoulders). He looked positively delectable, nothing like someone who’s been working diligently for hours without any breaks. But that just served as a testament to the fundamental difference between the two of you, you supposed.

“I’m in love with you,”

That made his meticulous fingers pause in their tracks.

“Pardon?”

As it turned out, his ears hadn’t, in fact, deceived him. You repeated the confession as if it weighed nothing on your tongue. You were strangely calm given the words you’d just blurted out; he almost didn’t recognize you. An unfamiliar shade of desperation painted all over your face, and yet your voice bared to him a serene conviction, one he’d never heard from you before. Lucifer’s heartbeat stumbled in your wake.

Basking in your courageous display just a second longer, he sighed. Too bad he’d have to mutilate such a pretty sight so soon.

That didn’t go exactly as he’d planned. The harsh rejection barely deterred you, leaving only a petulant pout on your lips and a promise that you’d come talk to him later.

Lucifer was anything but stupid. He knew that he let things stray too far between you, knew it was his fault for not pulling away from your kisses and instead indulging you (and himself) to the fullest. His fault for ignoring the guilt that settled deep in his gut like hunks of steel when you looked at him like he’d never experienced before. Lucifer had lived for many millennia, had relished the warmth of countless passionate lovers and faceless hookups, none of which had ever set him alight from the inside out like your adoring gaze had. It terrified him how after all these years, watching humans thrive and collapse over and over again, he thought he’d seen everything there is to see, all that humans had to offer. And then you come along, reinventing what love meant right before his eyes, with a simple look no less.

He never intended for you to fall in love with him, and he never intended to reciprocate. Had he been mortal, maybe things wouldn’t be so complicated. But life dealt a cruel hand, and he wasn’t. A relationship like yours was doomed to crumble in heartache from the start, it was best to stop it before things went too far. That was the plan anyway.

You didn’t share the same sentiment.

With one last exasperated sigh, Lucifer focused his attention back on his duties. He didn’t know how long he could hold up against your persistence, and honestly he preferred not to dwell on it. Whatever outcome lied for the both of you in the near future, itching one step closer with each tick on the clock, he’d face it head on when it was time.

Meanwhile, you laid wide awake, in your bed, rethinking every decision that led you here. You didn’t regret your confession, nor were you keen on giving up, but Lucifer’s ruthless rejection, his vehement claim that a relationship between a human and a demon is destined to end in tragedy festered a bud of doubt in you. You noted pettily that he hadn’t outright denied any feelings for you. How could he? Lucifer was many, ugly things but a liar’s not one of them; you wouldn’t believe him even if he did lie, not with how delicately he holds your hand in his gloved one, not with how heartbreakingly beautiful he was when he lets you in at his lowest, stripped completely of his pride.

You knew though, that as much as Lucifer was a creature of the past, he was a creature of regrets.

Somehow, you’d managed to reach the heart of the Avatar of Pride himself, bestowing a porcelain touch on it and subsequently rocking the monotony of his endless life. Despite the acknowledgment of both your feelings, you weren’t naïve enough to dismiss how his heart drums thousands of years apart from yours and would continue to do so long after yours gave its last valiant pump.

He was a creature of the past you realized; humans intently watch minutes, hours, years approach because there’s only so much of them live out, there’s only so much to do in a lifetime. Naturally it would be counterintuitive to waste scarce time on the past. The immortal have no such concern. When time is limitless, and life is all but a blur of recycled events, its only instinctive to lose interest in what’s to come. And you guessed, maybe there was a strange comfort in the predictability of eternity, maybe that’s why Lucifer was so offput by the notion of something serious yet temporary, especially romance.

You decided. You wouldn’t let him look back and ponder what ifs in that stubborn head of his, not while you were still breathing. With regained determination, you glanced one last time at your countertop alarm and entered a dreamless slumber.

Not even two days later, three consecutive raps on his door made Lucifer rub at his temples for the nth time and begrudgingly called for you to enter. Piled on his desk were several stacks of papers (as was the usual), though, that night he was in a particularly sour mood. Ever since your confession, he’d been feeling uneasy, Diavolo hurling more work at him last minute was only pushing him to his wit’s end.

“Lucifer,” he hummed in response, not bothering to conceal his growing agitation. “we need to talk,”

Ah, there it was. He was wondering when you’d confront him again.

“I believe I made myself quite clear last time,” he sighed, dropping his pen and finally meeting your eyes. “If this is about your feelings again then I’m sorry but I can’t–”

“But why? Can you really say that what we have isn’t special at all?” your lower lip quivered just a bit and Lucifer had to fight the immediate reflex of holding you close and hushing your worries. His impassiveness quickly arose frustration out of you. “God Damnit, Lucifer! All I want is to be with you while I still can! To die with no regrets, knowing you’ll be there with me, but it’s very fucking hard to do that when you’re too scared of the future to do something about–about us!”

It was a low blow to go after his pride, you knew that, but he wasn’t giving you much to work with.. Rubbing salt in a ghastly wound had certainly done the trick, the dimmed crimson that pooled just below his pupil began to shine scarlet. You would have found it gorgeous had it not been imbued with near murderous intent. Lucifer’s poker face was rapidly breaking, a horrid mix of anger and melancholy sat heavy in his throat. He was looking straight at you, but his eyes were somewhere else, some time else. He was staring hundreds of years behind you at an unhealed, poorly bandaged cut. An everlasting guilt he carried with him everywhere.

“What would you know about regret?” he breathed out the words like they’re bullets, whatever restraint he’d managed to scarp together deteriorating. He stepped closer, each stride bigger than the last as he closed the distance between you, a perfect diamond manifesting on his forehead and you could see the beginnings of black feathers sprouting from his back. “Do you have the slightest clue what a blessing mortality is? Do you have any idea how agonizing it is to live with your regrets and not be able to die with them?”

“You’re right. I don’t,” you stood your ground. “But, do you really want to live with one more regret to bear?”

He kissed you. He kissed you like he hated you, animosity and anger and pain and, most prominently, pining spilling from his lips. Lucifer parted from you just as quickly as he’d initiated the kiss, taking the time to let his irritation bleed out of him, until he was left grappling with (frankly terrifying) longing and adoration. Just this once, he’d take a leap of faith, he’d break his own rigorous code and take the risk of undying heartache in the future to be with you in the now.

One kiss turned into many, and soon you found yourselves stumbling your way from his office to his bedroom. He couldn’t get enough of you, the thought that some day he would be deprived of you broke him and made him yearn to cherish you just as much. Precious things aren’t meant for longevity, he learned. All the more reason to treasure them when given the chance. You were pushed onto his bed and not once did his hands and mouth and breath leave your skin; he couldn’t bear sever that connection.

Before long, your hands were pined to the mattress, fingers tightly laced with his as if he was petrified the moment will break and a thousand years would pass you by the instant he let go.

“I love you. Truly and deeply.”

Neither of you heard the clock strike midnight.

Lucifer was well-acquainted with sleepless nights. He was no stranger to the prick at the corner of his eye, excruciatingly familiar with midnight’s cold, lonely touch. But this one was different. Where usually lied a cool emptiness in his sheets, your warm, inviting body was just in reach. Where the corners of his mind were usually plagued by past mistakes and sorrowful repentance, you were all he could think about. He reflected on your words now that the high of emotions had worn off. He still disagreed with you on many things and, if he was being true to himself, it would take more than one night to abandon his reluctance, much more. But he was willing to put in his fair share of effort. He was willing to do many things for you, he mused. You were right about one thing though, regardless of whether or not he acted on his feelings, your parting would hurt all the same. Part of him was still resentful that he let himself fall so deeply in love with you, and a part of him knew it couldn’t be helped. You’d carved a home for yourself out of his heart, invited yourself in and declared pompously you’d be there to stay, and he’d be damned to hell all over again if he said he didn’t like that.

Pulling you closer to leech off your warmth, for the first time in forever, he dreamt of the future, a future with you.

Snapping out his reverie, Lucifer refocused his vision on the framed picture before him. It’s been a couple dozen years, the pain dulled into a hollow longing, and yet not a single regret weighed on his back. He was astonished, how you, who had lived but a fraction of his own lifetime, had such impeccable foresight. He lays in bed every night and morning thanking you for not giving up, knowing that if you had, he’d be spending the rest of his infinite days in self-loathing regret.

All Lucifer could ask for now is a little guidance. What was he to do now? Was he even capable of falling in love again after you? Would he allow it? All questions that began frequenting his head since you’re no longer there to occupy it. He only knew is that he’d love you, and love you, and love you until this world fell apart. He toyed with the idea of reincarnation. It certainly wasn’t out of the realm of possibility; he saw you in everything he did. Strange how you’d taught him more about appreciating every day’s mundanities than he had in the many eons he’s been alive. Lucifer wonders about the possibility of you donning the same white wings he once had back in the Celestial Realm. If you ever did, he wonders about the complications that would arise from that, he wonders if you’d even remember him. All Lucifer was left with was a simple truth. If you ever came back, whichever form you may take, he’d welcome you back into the adobe of his heart without a second thought.

He ran his thumb over your smile, a bittersweet acceptance in his own.

“I love you. Truly, deeply, eternally.”

Obey me! taglist: @katsucookie @strwbry-m1lk​ (you wanted to be tagged in this one lol) join my taglist here! <3

[wordsfromthesol]

The Interview: The Sequel

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: @togasbetch @malfoys-demigod  @pricetagofficial Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Requested: @the-house-of-auditore-frye Word Count: 1,378

Part One

The reality of the situation slowly began to set in. Everything seemed to hit you at once, just as you slung your leg over his motorcycle. Your entire body went stiff as you sat in silence for the entire ride. You didn't even question where you were going. The haze cleared from your eyes just as Dick pulled into the familiar building. You let out a sigh of relief when you noticed where you were.

**

Dick could tell the kidnapping jolted you more than you wanted to admit. He didn't bother going to your apartment, and you didn't say a word as he led you inside his. Almost an hour had gone by, the two of you sat on the couch watching some mindless tv show. Dick was beginning to worry.

"Y/N, are you sure you're okay? They didn't hurt you?" His eyes desperately searched yours.

"I just…I don't want to be alone tonight." You mumbled as you buried your head into his shoulder.

Dick acknowledged your request by pulling you further into his arms. It was there you fell asleep.

**

This nonsense had been going on for three months. Every time you met up with Dick, there seemed to be swarms of paparazzi. Why did they even care about some Gotham playboy? Wasn't there a better celebrity to stalk? You let out a frustrated sigh as you saw someone photographing you walking into your office building. As if on cue, your phone began to ring.

"Dick, what a surprise…"

"Uh…did I do something?" Dick was clearly not expecting to hear the agitation in your voice so early in the morning.

"Yeah, an interview." You couldn't hold back the sarcasm.

"Right, about that. Bruce is having a charity gala this weekend. Can you make it?"

A smirk spread across your face, "One condition. You gotta tell your family about this little ruse."

"What? Why?" Dick seemed almost disheartened at your request.

"I may have made a bet. With Tim. And this situation is going to make it seem like I've lost. When I totally have not." You tried not to get into the specifics of the bet. It didn’t matter.

"You made a bet that you wouldn't date me?!" Dick figured it out anyways. Guess it shouldn't come as a surprise.

"Do we have a deal or not?" This was not a conversation you wanted to have right now.

"Fine…" Dick huffed out, clearly annoyed.

**

Everything appeared to be going smoothly, you were making your rounds and talking to everyone of importance. Yet something was gnawing at you. All these girls, they just threw themselves at Dick. You were pretty sure you even saw one of them trip another just so they would get there first. Watching the show, you lost track of just exactly how many glasses of wine you had drunk.

"Shit" you mumbled to yourself. Stumbling over to a table, you sat in the corner brooding over the whole ordeal. Thankfully, Tim soon joined you.

Tim opened his mouth to speak, but before he could you blurted out, "I didn't lose! Dick told you, right?!"

Tim burst into a fit of laughter, "Don't worry, he told me. But may I remind you, there's still 6 months left before that 3-year mark." He looked you up and down before turning his gaze towards his older brother, "I'm not worried."

Your mouth hung open. "What's that supposed to mean?!"

"Oh nothing…" Tim hummed to himself. Before he could tease you further Dick walked up and enveloped your hand with his.  

"Let's get out of here." His eyes were locked onto yours, not even acknowledging Tim's presence. All you could do was nod. As you rose from your seat, Dick wrapped his arm around you.

"Thanks," you whispered in his ear as he led the two of you to safety.

**

Only two months left, you thought as you walked into the office. You didn't understand why, but you knew this fake dating thing needed to end. After all, how were you actually supposed to date someone? Dick had to understand, right? It’s not like he actually wanted to date you after all.

However, all your thoughts of ending this fake relationship were gone by the end of the day. The office drama was absolutely abhorrent and to top it off you were reprimanded for not meeting a project deadline.  Needless to say, it had been a long day and you needed your best friend. So once the clock struck 5, you headed out towards Dick's apartment. A huge grin was plastered across his face as he swung the door open to greet you.

"You aren't allowed to be this happy if I'm in a shitty mood." You retorted as you pushed past him and sat on the couch. "Wine please," you pleaded with a huff.

"Aw, and why are you so grumpy my little sunshine?" Dick questioned as he sauntered into the kitchen to oblige your request. Dick listened patiently as you ranted about your day until it was time for him to go on patrol. "Alright, I'm headed out. Don't leave too late and don't forget to lock the doors."

"Okay dad…" The sarcasm dripped from your words as you rolled your eyes.

Dick’s eyes narrowed as he turned back towards you, "Don't act like I didn't see you leave here at 3 am last week." You simply stuck your tongue out in response.

It was just past 4 when Dick crawled in through the window. Beaten and battered, his face lit up when he saw you asleep on the couch. He carefully scooped you up and placed you in the bed before he hopped in the shower.

You awoke to the sound of the water turning off. Shit. I fell asleep. Quietly, you pulled the covers back and slung your legs over the side of the bed.

"Don't you fucking dare." The stern words had come from the bathroom. "It's 4:30 in the morning. You can sleep here, I'll take the couch."

You knew protesting would get you nowhere and frankly you were too tired to go home. "Fine. But don't be ridiculous, there's plenty of room." You curled up in the comfort of the blankets. "Besides," a yawn interrupted the thought, "you're exhausted and probably bruised."  

**

"Tim, I don't think I can keep doing this…" Dick thought about you fast asleep in the next room.

"I told you it was a stupid idea to begin with." Tim scoffed at his brother's easily avoidable dilemma.

"It just slipped out, what was I supposed to do?!"

"How many alternatives you want?"

"Okay well I couldn't think of any at the time." Dick unsuccessfully tried to validate the decision once again.

"That's because you want it to be true. I saw how you looked at her at the gala last month."

"You just want to win your bet." Even Dick knew that wasn't true, but he continued grasping at straws.

"If that's what you think. Either way, you can't keep this up forever you need to tell --" Dick quickly hung up the phone as he saw you standing in the doorway.

"Was that Tim?" You tried to remember the bits of the conversation you had just overheard.

"Uh…yeah. Just talking about…a case."

"You know, given your alter ego, I feel like you should be better at lying. First the interview, now this."

"Wha--lying?" Dick was clamming up. It was as if you had some imaginary hold on him.

"Dick?" You raised your eyebrows and waited for the truth to grace his lips.

"Fine. I can't. I can't do this anymore. This fake shit." Dick ran his hand through his hair as he collapsed on the couch. "I don't want it to be fake." The sentence knocked the wind from your lungs. You never thought that was an option.

"How long?" Those were the only words you could get your mouth to form.

"Since the day I met you." Dick tried to bury his head in his hands, but you forced his gaze to meet yours. You searched his eyes for any kind of deception. It felt like time had stopped. Finally, the world sped up again as your lips crashed into his.