#at the VERY least there should’ve been (and should be!) a warning for the drugging vibes. seriously.

[interactivefictionramblings]

[Vague spoilers for Heaven’s Secret: Requiem.]

As I was playing on M-LIs-only, so that I could be Anna’s friend without worry, I just assumed she wasn’t in That Scene on my PT because of that (which was actually a relief, it was deeply uncomfortable enough as it was, and I’ve come to headcanon Anna as like a sister to my MC).

This scene was all kinds of weird tbh. Why was it like that? Why arrange things this way???? It could have been done better so easily, esp. in Anna’s case. I mean maybe some players did want something like that, but it shouldn’t have been the default; debatable dream reasoning or not. I don’t like how it tricked 💎 out of so many because of the phrasing/implications.

[di-writes-stuff]

loml

Greg House x Reader

A/N: So, I haven’t written anything in months. Whoopsies! (I have no excuse, I just didn’t want to.)

TW: It’s House. There’s your trigger warning. (Drugs.)

“Who’s gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames, if we know the steps anyway?”

This is a mistake.

That’s the only thought that runs through your head as you sit in the sterile examination room, the chair under you hard and entirely uncomfortable. It’s fitting, nothing about this will be pleasant, you knew it going in.

And yet you still did. You walked into this damn hospital, snuck around like some criminal, praying that you wouldn’t run into him before the time was right. If it ever is, it never really has been with you two. Maybe it never will be, maybe the world is trying to tell you something you’re just too stubborn to hear. How many times can you keep going back to the same broken thing?

Apparently you haven’t hit your limit yet, considering where you are.

It’s like every nerve in your body spurs to life as the door slides open and he walks in. Him, House. His eyes are glued to the chart in his hand, not really bothering to look at you. He’d treat his patients through the door if he could.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asks in a way that’s so typically him you almost roll your eyes. Abrasive, cold, these should be red flags. They are, you just don’t care.

Maybe he had a point with all the masochist jokes.

You quickly refocus, clearing your throat and waiting. For what, you’re not sure. Obviously he’ll look up, recognize you as, well, you. His ex, but that’s not even close to covering whatever twisted role it is you serve in his life. On and off for…how long? Years, you know that. Two, at least, maybe more. There’s always something wrong, something ruining your chances. The drugs, the painfully obvious emotional unavailability. The same one you ignored the existence of when you decided to come here.

Then there’s you. The constant desire you have for more. More devotion, more love, more than he’s willing to give.

Or more than he can, you refuse to explore that option.

You’re fucked, simply. There’s no possible way that you two work. It’s too much conflict, more than a mouthful of pills or some hate sex can solve.

His eyes flick up and widen as he freezes. Speechless. In another circumstance you’d be proud of this. It’s an achievement after all, he never does know when to shut his mouth.

He wasn’t expecting you, not for a second. Maybe he should’ve. You’ve always been stubborn, a trait you both share. It made for some agonizingly long arguments, and some wildly good make up.

That’s the issue with you two. You are eachother. It’s why you’re so chaotic together. It’s also why you can’t be with anybody else.

“Hey.” You say weakly, and the word feels stupid as it comes out of your mouth. You’re long past pleasantries, which is exactly why you receive silence in return.

You knew he’d be like this.

You feel your face heating in humiliation anyway. At the very least, you won’t cry, you won’t let yourself.

The stinging sensation in your nose is persistent as ever.

He slowly crosses the room, sitting down in the chair next to you, a small creaking noise filling the otherwise empty silence. A thick swallow from you, the awkward drumming of fingers from him. This is painful, and for a second you hope his pager will go off. He’d bolt with an excuse, you know he would. And because you’re the same, you would too. And then you’d be back, in a week, maybe a month, and it’d be even worse.

You’ve always had a knack for self-destruction.

You both know how it ended last time. All over a stupid bet. Cuddy thought he couldn’t make it a week without Vicodin, he thought he could. Back when he was still adamant about denying his addiction. Halfway through it might as well have been torture. Deep into detoxing, and still, he wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t listen as you begged him to stop being so childish, so stubborn. He wouldn’t even let you come near him, let alone help. He said it’s cause he didn’t need your pity.

In reality, he just didn’t want you to see him like that. Nobody would. Every inch of his pale, shaking frame was covered in sweat, bags under his eyes and a bloodshot gaze had him looking damn near dead.

He was sick, and he hated having to face it more than anything. The Greg House being forced to admit he was wrong. Sometimes you wondered if he’d rather die than say it out loud.

Neither of you handled it well, you never do. He was too stupid to see the obvious, see that he needed help. Needed you. And you, you were too sensitive to let it go. Let him go. Give up on any hope that this could go anywhere.

You still are, and you feel it keenly as the two of you sit in silence. His eyes are trained on you, and if you didn’t know him any better, you’d think the look in his eyes was judgement. But no, it’s a myriad. Confusion, anger, guilt, longing. All things he’d never admit. That’d be far too human.

“Say something.” Your voice comes out pleading, a tone you loathe on yourself.

He turns to you, his eyes tracing over your every feature like he can’t decide which one to settle on. How many times has he seen you like this? Desperate, vulnerable, because of him. He loses count. He wants to forget it, but you have to go through the motions. Pretend you’ve worked through your issues so you can live in a momentary state of bliss. Maybe it’ll last a few months this time. Could be less, if he really screws it up.

He’ll take what he can get.

“What do you want me to say?” The words come out harsh, cold, and for a moment he expects you to turn away. You don’t. Of course you don’t.

You sigh heavily, you expected it, the ice you’d be met with. You know him intrinsically, predicting his moves like the plot twists of a movie you’ve watched one too many times.

“Something, anything.” This is sad, pathetic, even. You always do this. Go back to each other, pulling out a past that’s probably better off left in the dark closet it belongs to. Still, how can you just forget? The idea feels foreign after all this time weaving in and out of one another’s lives.

Still, this is familiar, comfortable, in a way. The feigned indifference, the cold tone, the need to pretend neither of you care nearly as much as you do. It would be easier, less painless, to just move on. Have lives separate from each other.

But he’s starting to think he lives off pain. Physical and mental. It’s all he’s known for years. Why change a routine that’s become so commonplace? And even with the pain, he’s never been happier than he was with you. You understand him, and the part of him that hates that kneels to the part that needs it.

The break ups, the separation, it’s all just a low between highs. Ones he finds far more addicting than the pills sitting in his pocket.

He begins tapping his cane on the floor, a restless rhythm. “I miss you.” His voice is deadpan as the words come out, and you know why. He’s being honest, his tone can’t betray how hard that really is for him. He leans his head back, letting it thud against the wall behind you in a way that makes you flinch.

For a moment, you wonder if he’s just saying what you want to hear.

You quickly remember who you’re talking to.

He lets his knee fall sideways, brushing against yours. It’s tiny, imperceivable, almost. If you weren’t so clued into everything he was doing, maybe you wouldn’t have noticed it. But you did, your eyes flicking down to the point of contact. It feels dangerous.

“I missed you too.” Your voice is shaky, quiet, pathetic. To you, at least. Most might see this as normal. A healthy display of vulnerability. You, though. This is hell. It is for him too. It’s also necessary. Maybe this is your twisted way of proving yourselves to each other, giving evidence to your devotion.

“This won’t end well.” He says, pragmatic as always. Cold, sensible. Too smart for hoping, waiting on change that’ll never come.

“I know.” And I’m here anyway. Words go unspoken, you’ve had enough honesty for today.

He sighs, and the noise is too tired. For a second fear settles in that you’re the one doing this to him. That trying to be decent. Trying to be suitable for a relationship is just too much for him to handle.

“Then why are you here?” He knows the answer, he’s not stupid. Maybe he just needs to hear it, and then he’ll get the common sense to tell you to leave. To give up on this, spare both of you the inevitable pain.

You sigh, the idea of having the explain worse than just letting the truth linger unspoken. “What if it works this time?” You know it’s stupid, and you know he’ll tell you just that. For a second you remember something your therapist told you. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome. You’d rolled your eyes, told her this wasn’t anything like that. That people can change, you can change.

You stopped going to your appointments after that.

You just look at him, watch as he closes his eyes, running a hand over his face before looking to you. “For how long?” For a second, you think there’s hope in his voice, like he’s waiting for you to lie to him, say this can last forever. It probably will, you think. On and off for the rest of your lives, never stable.

“We can find out.” The words are an invitation, a reckless one. You’ll let him back in, and it’ll end poorly, and you won’t be able to be mad. You knew how this would go from the start, how can you blame him for the inevitable?

He looks to you, and you can tell he’s given up. It was always gonna happen, you wouldn’t stay away forever. No use in wasting time waiting.

“I hate you.” The words are empty. It’s his last ditch effort to push you away. He has to do it, he has to know he didn’t just let you in. Something in him has to hold onto the false belief that he doesn’t need this, that he’s indifferent. That he’s the same cold man he’s always been.

As he mutters the words he reaches out, his hand sliding over your jaw, pulling you in closer.

You smile weakly, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of the statement. You know him, you know when he’s lying, and he’s never done a worse job at it than he just did.

You’re hardly inches apart now, your lips nearly ghosting his own. Your voice is shaky as you speak, “Love you too.” As his lips brush yours, he just melts, leaning into you with a fervor he used to call lust. There’s no use pretending that’s all this is now.

The kiss ends all too soon as he pulls away, shallow breaths leaving both of you, filling the silence. You almost wonder if you should leave when his voice sounds, quiet, tentative, all things he’s normally not.

“I’m going to screw this up.” The look in his eyes is guilt for something he hasn’t even done. He will, but you ignore the nagging voice in the back of your head that says to run before he has the chance. Yes, he’s hurt you. It’s not as if you haven’t done the same to him. You know where to aim when you’re mad, and you’ve turned him to a dartboard more times than you can count.

“I’m okay with that.” For a second, as the words fall off your tongue so easily, almost instinctually, you wonder if your mother would be disappointed in you. This isn’t how she raised you. Offering some man a hundred second chances all because what, you love him? Because when it’s good, it really is so good?

Because at the end of the day, you don’t think you could do it. Leave him, live the rest of your life without him in it. You’d wonder, you’d always wonder what would’ve happened if you just gave him one more chance. And so you will, again, and again, and again.

Sometimes you wonder what your life would look like if you’d never met him. Maybe you’d be married, happy with some man who gave you far less trouble than House ever did. You curse the way you find the thought boring. He’s awful, but he’s thrilling. You might even have kids, or at least be ready for one.

You know deep down you could have a future like that, and still, all thoughts of it dissipate when he opens his mouth.

“I’m off at eight.” Self loathing drips from each word. He’s a selfish bastard, he’ll let you forgive him, and time and time again, he’ll know he doesn’t deserve it. Still, he can’t turn you down. He can’t leave. He can’t not have you. The one good thing that’s ever come out of his life. He just can’t. Not when you’re offering.

“I’ll be here.” The words are so horribly fitting. Won’t you always? Will there ever be a time he takes it too far? Or will you always go back to him? Will you always turn away from the better life, the happier life you could have without him?

Yes. It’s always yes, because deep down, you stopped wanting a life without him the second you experienced life with him. Everything else became boring, commonplace, once you’d had him. There’s nothing like House. Not a person, or drug, or liquor strong enough to come close to how he makes you feel. Nothing can make the memory fade, and nothing can replace it either.

There’s no good outcome, it’s either life alone or life with him. And so you let his fingers interlace with your own, let the sensation numb the thought that never left your head this whole time, the one that’ll haunt you on sleepless nights you spend in his bed, staring at the ceiling with his arms wrapped around you.

This is a mistake.

A/N: thank u to the taco bell fire sauce packet i quoted.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Revenge is a Dish Best Served Bloody

PART ONE: DOG MEAT

Also on AO3

Mini-series masterlist

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Bounty Hunter!Reader

WC: 2.3k words

Series Summary: Hunting down your father’s killer – a powerful raider by the name of Axl – you end up being saved from a bad situation by none other than a ghoul. After finding out you have goals in common, you form an uneasy alliance with him, but things get much, much more complicated than that.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, THIS FIC IS 18+, Dead dove: do not eat, canon typical violence, the ghoul being the ghoul, swearing, drug mentions/use (chems), enemies to lovers, eventual smut, blood/gore mentions, sorta dom/sub dynamics, some mentions of cannibalism, angst, some whump, aaaand for now that’s all i can think of but lmk if another tag is needed.

A/N: This is my very first time writing for Cooper Howard/The Ghoul, so I’m still trying to learn how he talks/carries himself. Excited to be writing this little mini series though! :) hope you like <3

———-

Blood flowed relentlessly toward your head, making the upside-down world blur into a vivid amalgamation of color. The raiders' laughter sounded more like the barking of jackals, coming from all around you, disorienting you further.

As you fought to stay conscious, your muscles strained against the ropes that held you up, the rough material biting into your skin. Your head was hovering just a few inches away from the surface of murky, radioactive water. You could feel more than see something lurking in its depths, hungry, waiting for the right time to strike.

And you? You were the bait to lure it out.

Where had it all gone wrong, exactly?

Well, perhaps it had started with you being so overly confident. Sure, you had learned more than a few dirty tricks in your years as a bounty hunter – having to keep yourself both fed and alive while you completed your actual mission – but that didn’t mean you could fight off a large group of brawny, ruthless raiders all by yourself.

At the very least, you’d managed to kill one of them and injure another with your crossbow before you were rewarded with a strike across your face. Bright white stars ignited in your vision as you were quickly subdued and strung upside down from the rusted arm of a broken crane.

The worst part was, you’d barely had time to ask any of the questions you’d wanted to ask. You supposed you’d never been a great interrogator, anyway, but that was something to concern yourself with another time; If there even was another time.

“Come on, where’s the fucking gulper? We don’t have all fucking day here,” one of the raiders, a big-headed bald man, gruffed.

Another one of them, scrawnier and rat-like, let out an amused grunt. “Heh, should’ve just chopped her up and sold her as dog meat.”

“Still time for that, if it doesn’t come,” the bald one said. “Think we should lower her more? If her head’s underwater, she’ll thrash around and maybe get the gulper's attention.”

At this, panic flared within you once more. You tried moving your wrists, legs kicking more and more urgently. The raiders laughed again at your rendition of the gallowdance. Your head felt like it was on fire, dangerously nearing an explosion.

Distantly, you heard the creak of metal as the rope that held you aloft was adjusted. Your body jerked as it began to descend, the crown of your head now submerged. Your mind raced as you tried to find ways to save yourself, but it was getting harder and harder to think. You wanted to scream, but you were only able to make a weak, gurgling sound.

There was a loud splash, entirely too close for comfort. Jeering from the raiders as they prepared for a gruesome show. You began to accept your fate, dismay over your failure to complete your life’s mission greater than your fear of death.

But suddenly, you heard various gunshots in rapid succession. It’s a fucking ghoul! somebody shouted frantically. The confused screams of the raiders followed along with some answering shots. The heavy thump of bodies collapsing, one by one.

It was silent for a moment, except for a breeze settling the dust and your heartbeat pounding in your head like a drum. Then there was the soft clink of spurs as someone approached you, an old pair of cowboy boots appearing in your vision.

You tried craning your neck to get a better view of your supposed savior. You could barely see his face, the sun haloing his head like a saint’s. But there are no angels in the wasteland, you thought deliriously, only roaming devils searching for carrion to pick on.

His voice was low and raspy, with a southern drawl that was almost soothing, in a strange way. “Well, well… Ain’tcha just the prettiest hunk of meat I ever did see?”

A shuddery gasp escaped your throat as you felt the rope loosen a little more, fully submerging your head. Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as you were swallowed by darkness, immediately unconscious.

—-----------------------------------------

“See that there?” your father whispered, pointing up at a cluster of stars. “That’s the big dipper. And just below its tail is the little dipper. Do you see ‘em?”

You nodded, awed by the simple, ephemeral beauty of a still night sky. Your father’s soothing presence, his patient teachings, the world not so horrible when seen through his eyes.

“Like us,” you said with a smile. “Always together.”

His smile was sad then. You couldn’t remember it being that way, but memories tended to warp over time, didn’t they?

“Yes, sweetie. Always together,” he said, trying to sound as promising as possible. “But if we ever separated, for whatever reason, remember that you can look up at the sky at night, and you will always find us there.”

—------------------------------------------

You woke up sputtering, thinking you were still underwater. Your stomach lurched violently and your body twisted onto your hands and knees, retching. Spewing bile as yellow as the RadAway you found yourself hooked onto. Panting with both exertion and disorientation, searing pain lancing through your skull.

It was close to sunset, the sky beginning to burn orange and gold, the atmosphere cooler. You were still at the quarry where you’d first encountered the raiders, but you were a safe distance away from the water.

You could smell and hear a small campfire nearby. Felt a presence behind you, a heavy gaze fixed on you.

“You must be all kinds of stupid, huh? Chargin’ into that battlefield of your own makin’, not even a hint of backup around to help.” The ghoul shook his head with amusement. “Then again, you must’ve been lookin’ for a guaranteed death… So which is it, suicidal or stupid?”

You spat on the dirt and roughly wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, glaring at him. If you knew one thing, it was to avoid ghouls as best as you could. Coming across one from time to time was inevitable, but you’d never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be saved by one. Or that you would still be in one piece in his presence.

At least he wasn’t worse for wear, and nowhere near feral. He was missing his nose, as all ghouls did, and his skin was leathery and burnt. His features were skeletal, shadowed under the wide brim of his hat. Otherwise… he wasn’t unbearable to look at.

“No? Y’ain’t gonna tell me?” he said, the curiosity in your stare not unnoticed by him. His eyes roamed over you in return. “Gotta be honest, I was real tempted to take a bite earlier, but I never really took a liking to dog meat.”

He chuckled and your frown only deepened, hatred and rage alight in your eyes. You tried to scoot further away, but it was then you noticed a rope was tied around one of your ankles, the other end of it under the ghoul’s boot.

“What do you want with me, ghoul?” You croaked, your throat scratchy and raw from the stomach acid.

“Well, that ain’t very grateful of you, sweetheart. I saved your skin back there,” he clicked his tongue in disappointment, unholstering his pistol. “I could’ve been just as unmerciful as those raiders, if not more.”

You swallowed hard at the imagery, but you didn’t let your dread show. “And why weren’t you?”

He leaned forward, barrel lazily pointed at you. His eyes narrowed expectantly, and you realized he truly wanted to hear some gratitude from you before continuing.

Stubbornly, you clenched your jaw shut and continued to glare. He looked off into the horizon, noticing how quickly the light was waning.

“Think you’d fare any better when the fiends come out to play? Or some super mutant?” He mused, his tone bored. “I ain’t got a whole lot of time here.”

After the day you had, you didn’t really want to take those chances.

The words crawled up your throat like a second wave of acid, scalding your tongue as you uttered them. “Thank you… for saving me.”

“Now there’s a well mannered girl. Knew you had it in ya,” he said with a roguish grin. “Y’know that means you owe me one, don’tcha?”

You dipped your chin in confirmation, hating that you couldn’t argue with him on that one. Not many — if anyone at all — were spared the wasteland, so this was not something to be taken lightly. Especially not while already being tied to him, with virtually zero chances of escaping alive.

“But I ain’t gonna cash in that favor now, so don’t worry your pretty lil head ‘bout it,” he continued, but you didn’t feel at all eased by that statement. “I do wanna know somethin’ though… just what on earth possessed you to follow those men?”

You blinked at him in both surprise and confusion. How did he know that?

“See, I’d been trailing that group of shitheads for a few days. Was after that big headed fella, the leader, Tiberius,” He waved his gun around dismissively, like that part of the story was irrelevant. “But then, I noticed they had another shadow behind them — A quiet lil mousey jus’ like yourself.”

You shrugged one shoulder, unsure of how much truth you should actually give him. “I was looking for some information.”

“What’s that?” He spoke up, cupping his hand over his ear. “What you mumblin’ for? C’mere so I can hear you better.”

With that, he stood up, yanking the rope with more force than was necessary. Your back hit the ground, dust and rocks scraping your skin as you were pulled towards his feet. Trying to stop yourself with your hands only ripped up your palms, so you went slack on the last tug towards him.

He tilted his head to one side as he observed you, a flash of teeth that showed his continued amusement.

“Much better. Now what was that you were sayin’, darlin’?”

You bared your teeth in return, internally fuming. “I said I was looking for some goddamn information.”

He gave you a mocking pout. “Aw, sweetheart… fella wasn’t as forthcomin’ as ya thought, was he?”

“Fuck you,” you spat before you could stop yourself.

“There’ll be time enough for that,” he chuckled, settling his boot on your hipbone. “But first, what kind of information were you tryin’a get?”

“Why do you care? The fuck’s it to you?”

The barrel of his gun was pointed at you once more in warning, right between your eyes. His boot pressed down on your hip until you squeaked, knowing it would bruise.

“His brother… Axl,” you panted, gripping his boot in a futile attempt to get it off you. “I need to - I need to find him.”

He let out a long, low whistle. “Axl, huh? Now I know you really got a death wish, and you’re just stupid to boot.”

“You wouldn’t get it, ghoul,” you said through gritted teeth. “I don’t expect you to know anything about losing someone you love.”

He tensed then, hand trembling for just the briefest second. His features hardened, chapped lips thinning into a flat, angry line.

He lifted his boot only to land a harsh kick to your ribs, knocking the breath out of your lungs. Again, you felt like hurling, coughing violently instead.

“Oh, I know a whole lot more than you think, smoothie,” he said, going silent for a moment as he seemed to think. “Why you lookin’ for Axl? I can jus’ take care of you right ‘ere if you want to die so badly.”

“I’m going to kill him, with my own fucking hands,” you growled, too spent to beat around the bush any longer. “He-he killed my father last year.”

The briefest moment of stunned silence before the ghoul burst out laughing.

“Ain’t that somethin’. You? Takin’ out the big bad raider all by yourself? Now I’ve heard it all,” he shook his head once again. “You’re a spunky little gal, I’ll give ya that much.”

“It’s the law of the wasteland,” you said. “He owes me.”

He crouched next to you, his interest fully piqued. One side of his mouth was pulled up in a sly grin, his gaze held by yours.

“Tell ya what, I myself got some business to attend to with our dear friend Axl, and I just so happen to know where the fucker likes to hide out,” he said, enjoying the sparkle igniting in your eye — that thirst for revenge, for blood.

“Please,” was the only thing you could say, breathless, gripping his tattered coat. “I’ll do anything.”

“Anything, huh?” His tongue ran over his teeth pensively. “Well, seeing as you owe me a favor, I was just gonna take you along with me. Easier that way for you to repay me.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, not wanting to stay on the ground. Your heads were much closer, but you tried your hardest not to let it get to you.

“What business do you have with him?” You asked warily.

“That ain’t none of your concern, darlin’,” he said, removing the rope from around your ankle to bind your wrists together. “Trust me or not, y’ain’t got no choice but to come with me. Now get up, gotta find ourselves a place to hole up in for the night.”

Painstakingly, you stood up, grunting with both pain and the exhaustion that suddenly crashed into you. As soon as you were on your feet, he tugged you forward, not waiting a moment longer before starting to walk.

“If things go tits up, well… Least I got myself a little snack for the road,” he said over his shoulder with a wink.

“I thought you said you didn’t eat dog meat.”

“Heh, well, you’re starting to prove to be a little more useful than that. But we’ll see about the taste.”

——

[an-idyllic-novelist]

stolas goetia with gender neutral!sinner!reader scenario

warnings: spoilers for s2, angst, slight Stoliz, one-sided love, and possibly OOC for some of the characters.

The Goetian prince met you through Bltizy’s little assassination agency. You were an employee, specializing in reconnaissance within the human world and possessing knowledge of the mortal plane, amongst other jobs that required a more….delicate touch. Is that why you were good with knives and acrobatics? Probably. Either way, you were pleasant enough for a sinner and an easy conversationalist, much more so than his dear little imp. 

In all honesty, he did not pay much attention to you until after…the incident with Striker. It had been a close call, and he had almost died if Blitzø nor you hadn’t come to his rescue. He did check his phone for messages, and only got one text from the imp. After that…nothing. He never heard from him for the rest of the day. At least he thought he thought it was for the rest of the day. The drugs that were pumped into his body made Solas drowsy. When he woke up, there was someone in the chair.

But it wasn’t Blitzø. It was you. And still dressed in those dirty, bloodstained clothes you had worn the last time he saw you before he blacked out. As soon he moved in the bed, trying to readjust himself, you immediately bolted up from your seat, bleary-eyed yet you still had the energy to help him get comfortable before setting back down.

“Welcome back.” You said in a monotone voice, releasing a low groan. He winced slightly at hearing the bones in your neck being popped back into place as you moved your head from left to right.

“How do you feel? You need me to get the nurse? Bitch hasn’t been around since the shift change…’bout three hours ago? Christ on a stick it’s hard to keep track of time. Oh yeah, before I forget,” You stood from the chair again, rummaging in your pockets before pulling out a slip of paper, holding it out to him. “Your daughter called my cell. Dunno how she got it, maybe Loona gave it to her,  but she sounded pretty damned scared. Can’t blame the poor girl.” You narrowed your eyes, mouth curling into a contemplative frown. “It’s weird that she didn’t call you first. Maybe….she was worried your…spouse would change her mind and have Striker finish the job.”

He stared at you, wide-eyed and very confused at your attentiveness. “Why?” He whispered.

“Hm?”

“Why….are you here?” He asked. “Blitzy couldn’t make time to see me, so he sent you instead.” He felt tears building up in the back of the eyes, much to his embarrassment and frustration. “Why is it that he can send an employee yet he can never face me without making up an excuse that he’s working or it’s too soon to fulfill our arrangement!?” He snapped, feathery chest heaving up and down before he quickly wiped away his face with the back of his hand. 

You said nothing. Instead…you took a few steps toward him and sat on the edge of his bed. “No one sent me to check on you, Your Highness. I am here….because I was worried about you. No strings attached, no last minute requests from the boss. And I am honestly glad you are all right. You’re a Goetia, you’re stronger than tens of thousands of sinners like myself combined. But today was a close call. You could have died….and I should’ve been there sooner. No…Blitzø should have been on top of everything. I know he’s a father too, but Christ I don’t know what goes through that guy’s head sometimes.” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “He’s a hot mess. He’s toxic.  He’s got issues….and he’s trying. That means a lot more than you think. But…if you feel like this…arrangement is going nowhere…cut yourself loose before you get too deep that you can’t pull out.” 

Stolas narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?” He asked. You didn’t answer him immediately; instead, you stood up from the bed and fluffed up his pillows, placed the piece of paper in his open palm  and strode over to the chair to collected the jacket you used as a blanket, heading towards the door but stopping with your hand hovering over the knob. You looked back at him. 

“I’ve said my piece, Your Highness. Visiting hours will be over soon, but I’ll make sure the nurse stops by here before the lights go out. I wish I could help you more, believe me…it’s just….you’ve got to sort out how you feel about my boss on your own. And seriously, give your daughter a call before she starts blowing up my phone in a panic-induced frenzy.”

You then left, closing the door softly behind you, leaving Stolas to ponder on your words and…his current situation. Sighing, he leaned forward, grabbing his Hellphone off the side table and dialing the number. 

What he did not realize at the time is that you did care about him, more than an assassin should care about their employer. All you wanted is Stolas to be happy, even if he might never find happiness with you.

Why else would you be leaning against the door outside of his room for almost ten minutes trying to calm your racing heart before going to find someone to check in on him?

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[deansapplepie]

Inherited | Chapter 5

Summary: You go find Merle and end up drunk with him. Rick Grimes have to call Daryl to get both of you. With the alcohol come some confessions and

Warning: Mentions of Leah (Daryl’s not a cheater, just stupid), alcohol consumption, drunk people, mentions of drugs, mentions about sex, Daryl and his lack of knowledge about technology, very small hangover, lil bit of jealous Y/N. Minors DO NOT interact 18+

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Word Count: 3,166

A/N: Sorry for taking too long, but the ones that follow up the things I share know how my life has been. Thanks for your patience, love you all.

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Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Why d’ya hate me?

Days passed and he didn’t say a word about the picture or Merle. You also didn’t find it in the trash, so you considered he kept it. Your conversations were simple and plainly about business, from time to time of course you’d throw a bitter comment at each other. 

That day you didn’t see him around, he had gone hunting and didn’t even bother to tell you. Well, it’s not like he had to, but you lived together and it’s good to know where the people you live with are, for safety, what if the person is murdered or kidnapped and nobody knew where this person went? 

You spent the whole morning doing some work for Aaron as you promised, by lunchtime he still didn’t have arrived back at the farm. ‘Fuck him’, you thought. You were also going to leave and you’d not tell him. You took your bag and the keys of the old truck, and left to do what you should’ve done days ago. 

You took the old road going deeper and deeper into the woods. You were surprised you still remember the way, because when you started this journey you were afraid you’d get lost. Soon, you were parking your car in front of the Dixon’s cabin. You got off of the car and walked to the front door. ‘I hope Merle is here, and sober’, you thought. You knocked on the door, once, twice, 4 times and after 15 minutes you gave up. There was two options for Merle, 1 he was passed out after drinking and/or drugging himself too much, 2 he was out at town. So you decided to bet on the chance that he could be in town. 

You drove your car on the streets, hoping to see him in one of the bars and you weren’t wrong. You found him just where you thought he’d be, at a bar. You parked the truck and went inside the bar to see your old friend. 

“I knew soon or later ya’d come and look for me doll.” Merle said before you got close to him. “What took ya so long?”

“Your asshole brother, I guess. And of course, now I have a lot of job to do.” Once you got close to him, he engulfed you in a tight hug. A so welcome and familiar hug, damn Dixons knew how to give a good hug. You missed it. “How have you been? Your brother wouldn’t tell me a thing!”

“I’m busy during the week, working on some… business and hunting too.”

 ‘Oh Merle, you’re still involved in this kind of business?’, you thought.

“Don’t you get tired of seeking trouble?” You ask him, already sitting next to him.

“I’m not looking for trouble, I’ve been busy and there’s some years that I don’t get arrested. At least not for the things you’re thinking.” He defended himself.

“Still a hot head and getting involved in bar fight, ain’t you?” You know this was probably the reason.

“It’s making wonders to my friendship with my favorite officer Grimes.” You laughed, you knew him and Rick were far from friends, they mostly despised each other. Rick was probably tired of arresting him and having to call Daryl every single time.

“You’re really something Merle.” You missed his lame jokes too. You wish you had come to see him earlier.

“How’s baby bro?” Merle asked and suddenly the small cup of alcohol he had in front of him became very interesting. “He’s not talking to me. Since ya returned. Guess, I should blame ya.”

“Not my fault. I have no idea what’s going on in his head, I’ve been trying to make things easier between us, but… I guess it’s impossible. We can’t have a conversation without being dicks.” You said honestly, it really annoyed you all of this, and you had always found a good listener in Merle. “But… answering your question, he’s the same grumpy ass and I think he’s still pretty much affected by everything that happened to my dad. He always locks himself in his own shell, and it’s difficult to get past it. You know how he is.”

Merle nodded but didn’t say anything. “I think you’re right, it’s my fault he’s not talking to you. He mentioned I’m good at telling you things and talking to you. Because you opened your big mouth to scold him for the things I told you.”

“And I dun regret scolding him, he deserved.” He was a stubborn ass, he would never admit it.

You asked for some beer and appetizers and continued to talk with Merle. “He hates me Merle…”

“Pffft… don’t be dramatic no one could ever hate ya sweet pie!” Even drunk he managed to be nice to you, many times you got caught in your thoughts thinking why he couldn’t do the same for other people. 

“He does...” You said, and then started bickering your beer. 

You wanted to talk to Merle about the idea you had of him working in the farm with you, but of course you had conditions for it. He was already a little tipsy when you arrived, you preferred to call to him sober – if it was possible – so you took the afternoon to drink and talk to him. 

The afternoon soon became evening and some hours later old John Lee wanted to close the bar and go home to rest and see his wife, but Merle and you were passed out in your table. The poor man had no option but to call Sheriff Rick Grimes to help. 

From all the people in the world, you were the last one that Rick would think that would have to make him need to come to a bar to solve a problem. He took his phone and called Daryl, after what seemed like an eternity he answered it.

“Wha’ did he do this time?” It was late, for Rick Grimes to call at this hour, it had to be Merle causing problems.

“Not exactly him… he’s here, but he did nothing. Y/N and him are passed out at Lee’s. He needs to close the bar. Can you come and take them?” He drawled, his hand passing on his jaw, a little bit worried.

“Do I have a choice?” Daryl asked to no one in particular, he didn’t need an answer. “Gimme 15 minutes, and I’ll be there.” 

Shortly after he got to the bar, he speeded so much that he didn’t even need 15 minutes. Your truck was parked in front of the bar, so he’d need to use it to take you back home. He wasn’t prepared to see you and Merle passed out. Your head resting on the older Dixon’s shoulder, while his head was hanging behind and he didn’t even seemed to be uncomfortable with it.

“ ‘m sorry…” Daryl apologized to the old man, it wasn’t the first time he had to apologize to him, it wasn’t the second time either.

“It’s ok kid. The young lady seemed like she needed to drink and a good conversation with a friend.” John Lee said and moved his head in your direction to indicate he was talking about you, even though it wasn’t needed.

“Hm..” he grunted he didn’t want to stop and think about what the man said, because if he did his line of thought would remember him of all the reasons you had for it. He took his wallet and asked the man what they owned him and paid it, like he always had to do when he needed to come for Merle.

“Why did she drink like this? It doesn’t sound like her drinking this much.” Rick asked Daryl in curiosity, of course he had already seen you drunk, being silly, happy and dumb, but never passed out drunk.

“Yer guess is as good as mine…” he answered and Rick gave him a look that said ‘you don’t think I’m going to believe it.’. He went to you and looked if you had a bag or anything, nothing. Just great, the keys were probably in your pocket. 

“Y/N…” he called you, you just hummed in response. “Y/N, where’s the key?” Nothing. Freaking fucking shit. He didn’t want to be a creep and shove his hand in your pockets. “Ok… I’m gonna look in yer pockets and gonna take it, al’ight?” He said as if you were going to understand a thing in your state.

Once he found the keys he took it as fast as possible from your pocket and threw it at Rick so he could open the car for him. Daryl took you in his arms and stiffened when he felt you snuggling against his chest. Damn, there was a long, long, looong time he didn’t have you in his arms, and your smell it was still the same. If it wasn’t weird and against everything he had been saying and doing, he would allow himself to burry his face in your hair and smell it. He took you to the car and sat you in the middle of the sit, fastening the seat belt before he went back to Merle.

“Merle! Wake up!” He commanded and kicked his brother’s foot slightly. “Com’on sleeping beauty, I’m not carrying ya to the truck!”

“Do ya wanna some help?” Rick asked, by the looks he knew Merle wouldn’t cooperate.

“Think so…”

Rick helped Daryl taking Merle to the car and once everyone was settled, he left town with the two drunks and praying his baby, his bike, wasn’t stolen or harmed until he came to take it home again. The drive was long and silent, he had a lot of time to think about all sorts of things. When his thought came to you he tried to put them aside, but your head that had fell on his shoulder wasn’t helping it at all.

Once he arrived at the farm he took care of Merle first, despite the older Dixon not being able to keep his eyes open, at least he cooperated a little with his legs not letting all his weight fall on Daryl that was supporting him inside the house. He took Merle to his room in the basement and almost regretted it the moment he tripped on the stairs and the two almost rolled it. He put his brother in his bed and didn’t even bother to take of his shoes or anything and left to take you from the truck. 

He had to carry you once again, this time you were a little bit more conscious because you wrapped you arm around his neck. You inhaled his scent and it brought a comfort to you while he carried you to your room, but it also made you remember that you shouldn’t, deep in your subconscious you fought a battle that not even yourself had any idea. He kicked the door of your room open, put you in bed and worked on taking off your boots. He checked you one last time and when he was leaving, he was surprised by your hand yanking his pulse and his name been called, taken by surprise he fell on his ass on the mattress a few inches distant from you, and he needed to be grateful for it because it spared him from the embarrassment and probably crushing and hurting you.

God damn, what could you want from him at this time and in your state? He looked at your face and you had your eyes half open. “Why? Why d’ya hate me?” You drawled, your southern accent showing up in your drunk state, since your brain was relaxed and you didn’t have to worry about masking it. You knew you didn’t need to mask it anymore, but the trauma you had with the other kids made your brain being in constant alert even when you didn’t need to.

He was taken aback by your question, it shouldn’t surprise him, you were 24/7 bickering at each other, but he didn’t have a strong feeling like hatred for anyone, except Shane, Dwight and Negan, but they didn’t count. Most people hated them too, maybe not Dwight but… “I dun hate you.” He answered. You had hurt him, but he had not gone easy on you and after that he said so much worse. Despite all the anger he felt inside himself and all the mean things he had  told you, part of him didn’t know if he said it to torment you or to punish himself.

“So, why…?” You asked again and he was almost ready to say one more time he didn’t hate you, but you spoke first. “Why did ya sleep with ‘er?”

He was taken aback, what were you talking about? He hadn’t been sleeping with anyone. Were you drunk hallucinating? “You could have fucked any girl, we weren’t together… so, why her?”

“What are ya talking about? I dun understand. Yer drunk, go to sleep.” He said trying to free his arm from your hand, but you tightened your grip.

“Leah… why her? I was going to call ya, I wanted to apologize, but that photo… it killed me.” Fuck. He had just slept with Leah once. After she showed him a photo of you and Aaron at uni. She wanted him to be mad at you, nobody knew you had broken up, he hadn’t told it to anyone. Until that moment, when he faked indifference and announced you weren’t together anymore. He didn’t think about it. He was 19 and stupid, and he had sex with her one time. But which photo? “Ya knew she hated me. Why?”

“I was stupid, stubborn and dumb. That’s why.” He said, he could see your eyes shining, the indication of tears. He caressed the hand that held his arm until you relaxed and he could release it. “Which photo are ya talking about?” He asked, gosh he really hoped you were too drunk to remember it the next day.

“The one… the one she posted on facebo..” and you had fallen asleep, as easy and simple like this. Facebook? Damn, he never had one. He hated all that social media shit. Probably that’s the reason he never knew about. He put a blanket over you and swiped 2 lonely tears that came from your closed eyes.

He headed downstairs and entered the office, turning on the computer. He took his phone from his pocket and called back to the last number that had called him.

“What the fuck, Daryl? Do You know what time is it?” A sleepy Rick complained on the other side of the call.

“Ya call me late at night to pickup my drunken brother from time to time, ya own me.” The cowboy argued.

“ ‘kay, what do you need?” The sheriff asked impatiently.

“How the heck do I make a facebook and how can I see the photos someone posted?” He threw the random questions that got Rick even more confused.

“You own me an explanation after this, and I want the whole story. Wait a minute…” The sheriff said, then covering the speaker of the phone, his voice resonated through his house. “CARRRL!”

The following morning you woke up with a stinging pain in your head, the sunlight that came through the window almost blinding you. You sat on the bed and felt your stomach aching. How did you end up like that? You just remembered being at the bar with Merle, drinking and… nothing. Everything was a blur. Did you drive back home in your drunken state? Impossible. No. 

You got up from bed and took care of yourself before heading downstairs. When you entered the kitchen you saw Merle at the table and Daryl in the kitchen. “ ‘morning…” you said weakly damn, you should never drink like this again.  “Merle, what are you doing here?”

“I had to pick your two stupid asses at Lee’s. Merle, I’m always expecting this from him, but you…” he said pointing his finger at you, a dishrag on his shoulder and a spoon in his hand. “It was as very unexpected, even coming from you.” 

You sat and looked at him, finding very funny the whole scene. “Ok, mom. I’m not doing it again.”

“Listen here, ya little shit…” he started to say, but stopped mid-sentence when he noticed that he was actually behaving like a mom.

He turned back to the stove and put 2 bowls of chicken noodles soup with veggies and eggs. He put the bowls in front of both of you. “What’s that, Darylina? This isn’t breakfast.” Merle complained.

“It’s a noodles soup. Carol said it’s good for hangover, eat.” He said and went back to take a bowl for him, that wasn’t his usual breakfast, but no way he would do any other thing.

You looked at him, squeezing your eyes as if you couldn’t see things clearly. Since when did he listen to anyone’s advice? And was he this close to Carol that she went giving him advices like this? Did they get drunk together? “And what does she know about it?” You threw the question before your could close your mouth and keep the words to yourself.

“She’s a mom, mom’s know this things.” He answered as if it was obvious and sat at the table to start eating.

“Her daughter is 15, Daryl. She doesn’t get drunk.” You said taking a spoonful of the soup.

“We got drunk the firs’ time with less age than her, so I ain’t understanding your point.” He answered. If humans snarled, you would have snarled at that moment. Damn him and his necessity of being always right. “Take yer soup, and stop talking.”

“As if you’re the boss of me…” you muttered, but he preferred to ignore it and eat. Were you jealous of Carol? No, he shouldn’t think about it. The day before had already a lot of happenings to make him think about.

Merle silently observed both of you having your little argument. If he wasn’t busy with the food, he’d have to comment that you still had the hots for each other, but instead he chose to eat while he had free entertainment. That was a good way to start his morning.

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[likesunsetorange]

from what i have outlined, this would be from the first chapter, it's a little long (~2.5k words) but i wanted to include the whole scene, so hope y'all enjoy! (also unedited so don't fight me if there's any typos lol)

anyways, happy new year's and i'm super excited to share this au with y'all this year!

cw: mentions of drugging a person (mostly just the benadryl thing lol)

Eren hated the club. 

Strobe lights irritated his eyes because they always caused him migraines; the pungent aroma of alcohol and the sensation of sweat clinging to his body always made him feel disgusted; and the excess amount of people, bodies crammed against one another, was enough to make his eye twitch with rage. 

Eren shouldn’t be here. He hated the club. He would never be here out of his own volition. Especially after 3 AM, when he should be fast asleep, sinking into the four hundred thread count sheets of Mikasa’s guest room bed, Caro tucked beside him taking up half the bed like she was a human and not a dog. 

But here he was shoving through crowds of drunken bodies, his head pounding, his vision blurry, and he was almost certain he was borderline hallucinating all because of her.

Eren tried to give Mikasa the benefit of the doubt—he pitied her situation, how could he not? A life that consisted of people constantly controlling your each and every move, and here comes yet another person that your family is forcing to do just that onto you. He tried to give Mikasa her space—he only made polite small talk in passing, accompanied her to her destinations of choice from an appropriate distance, and didn’t bother her whenever it wasn’t necessary. But despite his best efforts at trying to maintain the peace, her disdain for him was evident, she didn’t bother to hide it—from the constant scowls, her constantly exasperated demeanor, and the frequent insults she threw his away under her breath (Re: Jersey trash)—but at the very least, he hoped that she could to tolerate him eventually seeing as though Eren would be living with her for the foreseeable future, and it would both of their lives easier coexisting harmoniously. 

But hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and Mikasa had made it abundantly clear that she felt she had been slighted. And even if Eren was only a pawn in her family’s doing, she wouldn’t partake in any of their little games, and if that meant Eren became collateral in the process, then so be it. 

Eren was partially to blame, he should have known better, Levi had warned him beforehand that Mikasa was not one to be trifled with, and he should’ve seen it coming from the shift from a mere displeasure by his presence to a sudden interest in his overall wellbeing.

Eren had been easily fooled by the way her usually razor-sharp steel eyes had finally looked at him with a softness he had yet to witness from her, leaving him in a little bit of a daze. The way her perfectly plush lips mouthed his name, different than anyone else ever had—the N at the end soft, almost as if she was omitting it all together. And how could he not feel the tiniest pang in his heart when her light grey eyes looked up at him with so much tenderness when she asked: “Eren, are you feeling okay?” 

Mikasa claimed she noticed his energy beginning to run low and she heard his sniffles increase over the last few days, the adjustment to the New York City air probably weighing heavy on his body—assuming it would only be a matter of days before he drew ill. And Mikasa seemed so sweet, so intensely saccharine, when she told him she’d cancel all her plans for the rest of the day, not wanting to force him out the house. 

Mikasa went the whole nine yards— ordered takeout for the two of them, even making conversation with him that was more than their usual small talk, seeming genuinely interested in Eren for once. He couldn’t help but admire her newfound amicability, hoping that at the very least they could be cordial despite her overall displeasure with the circumstances. He even found himself enjoying her presence, finally getting to take her in outside of the few glances he ever got in passing. Mikasa truly was something like no other—even in her cute pink silken pajamas, he couldn’t deny she had to be one of the prettiest girls he’d ever seen. But she was technically his boss, so he'd tuck those thoughts away and at least be thankful that God had taken his time to make someone like her.

Eventually, after a bit of arguing on her part, Mikasa sent him to bed with a handful of pills Eren didn’t bother to ask about the contents of, insisting he take medicine before he got any worse, even if he did feel okay. She bid him a good night and well wishes, placing a gentle caress to his arm, a soft look on her face before she even offered him an apology for how bad she had treated him over the last week. It seemed like things were finally looking up for the two of them, so Eren returned her kind looks and thanked her for all her help, going to sleep with the faintest hint of a smile on his face, lulled quickly to sleep by a medicine-induced haze despite it only being 8.

And so Eren couldn’t even be that mad—she had truly put on a class act—Mikasa had played him, and she had played him well. His mom always told him he was so easily flattered—a sucker for pretty women who bat their pretty lashes, gave him sweet smiles, and made him feel good—and Mikasa Ackerman had done so little for him to melt like putty into her hands. 

He found himself waking up in the middle of the night, almost incoherent, his vision plagued by small black spots and drenched in sweat. Eren struggled to maintain his balance as he stumbled through the house, Mikasa nowhere to be found, locating a box of Benadryl Extra Strength tucked away in one of the cabinets of Mikasa’s kitchen. Three tablets were missing, contrary to the recommended one tablet dosage, and Eren was certain that Mikasa had all the hopes those three little pills would have knocked him out for the remainder of the night.

It took all the concentration in Eren’s body, fighting against the exhaustion that plagued his body from all the medications coursing through his veins (how he managed to wake up he was still unsure) and the small black dots that danced across his vision, to try and figure out where Mikasa was. He somehow managed to log into her MacBook (her password thankfully being her birthday) and managed to track her phone to some club in SoHo. 

The anger began bubbling up within him as Hannes drove him to where Mikasa was, enraged at the fact that not only did she try and drug him, but she had put on a front, pretending to be nice, for the sole fact that she wanted to go out and party. Eren regret giving her the benefit of the doubt—Mikasa was exactly who he she showed herself to be, a spoiled rich girl who would do anything to get what she wanted.

So as Eren threaded through the crowd of people, scanning the masses for her. It was only a matter of time before he caught wind of her signature ribbon at the bar, the strobe lights making it gleam different shades of the rainbow. She turned around shortly after, his eyes meeting her gaze, her lips turning up in smugness at the sight of him before taking another sip of whatever pink concoction she had in her perfectly manicured hands, as if she was almost taunting him. Years of attending Catholic school lead Eren to have a preconceived notion that the devil was this depiction of all things evil—something that was worth cowering in fear at the sight of. After years of seeing depictions on and portrayals on TV and all the stories from myths and legends, Eren always believed the devil would be vicious and scary, but no, the devil isn’t some demon, or succubus alike.

No, the devil is 5’6”, wears shiny satin ribbons in her hair, drinks fruity pink cocktails, and sports a smile that’s so sickeningly sweet it could convince a man to do anything. And if Eren hadn’t been seething with anger, through vision that was clouded with Benadryl-induced hallucinations and scarlet colored anger, hell, he’d even say she was cute.

Eren was in front of her before he knew it, his larger figure caging her in between the bar, Mikasa looking up at him innocently, feigning on the side of ignorance to the situation.

“Hi, Eren,” she quipped, her lips still upturned, the pink of her lips sparkling under the strobe lights from whatever gloss she happened to be wearing. “Didn’t expect to see you here,” she added innocently, stirring her drink as if Eren’s presence was taking away from her fun.

Eren could feel his eye twitch, it had been so long since he had felt so angry, but it seemed as if in the week since she had met him, Mikasa had become an expert of just exactly how to get under his skin. He took a deep breath before he spoke, his jaw clenching through every word, wasting no time for her silly games. “We’re leaving, Mikasa.”

“You’re no fun, don’t you wanna stay a while? C’mon, Eren, loosen up a bit. I think you could use a break,” her free hand running along the slope of his arm. Eren could feel the chills run down his spine, but this wasn’t the time—he was angry, and he needed to focus.

“First you spend the entire week insulting me and treating me like absolute shit, then you pretend to be nice to me even bothering to give me a sorry ass apology, and then you drug me? And you couldn’t even bother to use something useful? Benadryl? Your parents are drowning in money, and you decide to knock me out with over-the-counter drugs?” His words coming out more in disbelief than in anger, his voice growing louder as he tried to speak over the music blaring through the speakers.

All Mikasa did was roll her eyes, setting her drink on the counter behind her, apparently growing bored of all her little games. “Sorry for being considerate and not drugging you with actual drugs, Eren. Next time I’ll remember to go for the hard stuff—don’t worry.”

“Glad you’re so sweet, Mikasa. I should be so thankful I have a boss as considerate as you,” he glared. “Now let’s go.”

“No,” she responded, crossing her arms, her eyes returning to the signature glare Eren had grown accustomed to over the past week.

Eren could feel the migraine settling in, the noises and lights being the starting point, and Mikasa’s failure to comply being the cherry on top. He closed his eyes and took one last breath, trying to prevent the anger from getting the best of him. Eren took one step forward, putting only a few inches in between him and Mikasa, forcing her back against the bar counter. His face was anything but amused, but Mikasa seemed to not be relenting.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way, Mikasa, your choice. Now let’s go,” he repeated, but Mikasa only doubled down at his words, standing firm in her place, steel eyes locking with green, her mouth pinched into a scowl.

Eren shook his head, upset about the circumstances as a whole, but also that it had come to this. With a swift movement, Eren had his arms wrapped around Mikasa’s waist, lifting her up onto her shoulder. His arms moved to secure her legs in place, her head and arms hanging behind him.

Mikasa let out a shriek as Eren made his way towards the exit a string of expletives coming out of her mouth. Bystanders watched in confusion, unsure whether or not to interfere in the pair’s altercation. Eren simply waved off their concerned looks, mouthing She’s drunk, to which most people nodded in understanding and resumed their drinking and dancing.

“You fucking jackass—let me go!” Mikasa yelled from above him, squirming in his tight grip as he approached the club exit. “Plus I need my fucking coat it’s fucking freezing outside!” 

“Should’ve thought about that before you fucking drugged me. And tough shit, you have daddy’s credit card, just buy yourself a new one, princess.”

Eren readjusted her on his shoulder, his grip only tightening through Mikasa’s attempted escapes. He gave the bouncer a nod as he walked out, the man apparently unphased by Mikasa’s antics. “I swear to God, Eren. Put—” Hit. “Me—” Hit. “Down—” A final blow. 

He winced in pain as Mikasa’s small hands threw punch after punch against his back, her hits stronger than he could have anticipated. But Eren could see the car, only fifty feet away, and he wasn’t willing to let her win, at least not this round.

“What did we learn today? We don’t do what? C’mon Mikasa, enlighten me. Please,” he replied, ignoring her requests, and pretending she wasn’t leaving palm shaped welts along the length of his back. He took her silence as a means for him to continue, “We don’t sneak out of the fucking house when there are active hits against our family members, and we don’t drug our body guards, just so we can get drunk at the fucking club. Hope this could help.”

“You’re a sick bastard, go back where the fuck you came fro—” her words cut off by Eren roughly placing her back onto the ground. She stumbled as she tried to regain her footing on her heeled boots, her hands instantly going to shield herself from the cold New York air. Eren lugged off his jacket, roughly placing it on her, not wanting to hear anything else come out of her mouth.

“Are you done with all the insults, or do you wanna stand in the cold and keep yelling at me?”

“Fuck you, Eren.”

“You’re not really my type, princess.”

Mikasa scowled before releasing a pained huff, throwing his jacket onto the floor. She stomped the few feet to the car door Eren held open for her, sending one last glare his way before she slammed the door in his face. 

The entire drive home, he could hear her muttering how much she hated her family, how she was pissed off at the fact they hired him, and how much she hated the pathetic excuse of a mall cop they hired from sorry ass Jersey to be her bodyguard. And rather than take offense to any of her insults, all Eren could think about was how much that feeling of hatred was beginning to feel extremely mutual.

[sublimecatgalaxy]

la vie en rose- Part 1 (of many)

-Pairing: Fezco (Euphoria) x reader (eventually); Elliot (Euphoria) x reader

-Summary: Reader moved from rural New York to the suburbs of LA after a family tragedy. This chapter is more of an opening, explaining friendships and backstories a bit.

-Warnings: Probably a few if I'm being honest. Swearing, mentions of suicide, addiction, underage drinking, provocative dancing, Nate Jacobs lol.

-Word Count: 5.6k

A/n: Hi guys! This is my first ever published fic. I write a lot and I have for about eight years now. I've been a little nervous to share my stuff but please give gentle feedback! I also feel like I should mention that Fez is a bit older in this than I think he is in the show. Semi-original Euphoria timeline. Also I should give the warning that Nate and the reader are semi-friends in this. You'll see.

When I had originally moved to the California suburb, I was inexperienced in every way. I never cussed, drank or consumed any type of drug. I was the goodie-two-shoes of the town and I held that title with a sense of pride. I was the town babysitter, the kid parents trusted with theirs. I was well behaved, loved and well known from a young age.

Sounds like the stereotypical goodie-two-shoes, right?

People only seemed to have good things to say about me. My parents were proud and my younger sister was happy to have someone to talk to who didn’t take part in reckless activities. She had a role model and I was proud to be that for her. She was mine in a sense too. Still is.

Now when I say that I moved to the city, it was more than a move. It was a whole uprooting and change of personality. A necessary one. Especially coming from Upstate New York, a fairly conservative place, where there was not a lot of room to dick around without hearing about it.

It was very different compared to the city.

I’m not saying things were terrible. We had low crime rates and the school taxes were so high that everywhere I learned was top notch, state of the art. I was fortunate and privileged. I really didn’t have any reason to complain.

Then my mom died.

I know that seems like a stereotypical character arc. The mom died and now she’s gonna become a rebel.

I was fifteen and my younger sister, Sienna, was only ten. My dad was a wreck immediately, his slurred words running through my head in the empty emergency waiting room. She’s gone, Y/N. I didn’t know what to do other than to immediately comfort Sienna. She was falling apart at the seams, begging to see our mom, asking for just one last look at her.

It was sudden to say the least. But suicide isn’t meant to be sudden. There should’ve been signs. How did we not see it? How didn’t my dad see it?

Apparently their marriage wasn’t all that my sister and I thought it was. Apparently it was full of cheating and yelling. Things that we never saw, and to this day, I’m glad that we were none the wiser. Especially Sienna. She’s already a loose cannon because of my mom's death. She didn’t need years and years of hearing her parents in physical altercations added onto her trauma.

I, on the other hand, didn’t move on all that quick. Not like my dad did. He took up a new hobby of drinking himself to sleep and ordering Sienna and I around. Then he decided abruptly that we were going to move across the country to California. It came as a shock to the both of us, but I kind of agreed with his idea that a fresh start could be good. Especially with it being the summer, in between school years. It was the only time we could do it until next year without it being a huge inconvenience. And with the ever present room where my mom, ya know, we were rushing to get out and escape.

So within a few months, we arrived in our cozy three bedroom house. It wasn’t too far from LA and it was close to the beach which was good for Sienna and I. It was somewhere within walking distance that we could run away to if my dad went on a complete bender and started pitying himself all over again. That was a frequent occasion.

Sienna was excited about her new middle school. She excelled in anything involving school. Top of her class three years in a row, always learning a few years ahead of her class and she was also an award winning athlete when it came to swimming.

Her favorite stroke was breaststroke.

She always claimed it was easier than the rest of them, that she got to breathe more, but just watching her bob up and down, it made me feel like I was drowning with her.

Don’t get me wrong, I had a similar knack for swimming as a sport, along with diving. I was a championship winning diver in elementary school and early middle school. I loved it. But then school got tough in my freshman year. Thanks mom. I had to drop it to focus on school.

I remember being excited about getting back into diving. But regardless of me, it would be exciting for Sienna’s potential to be recognized somewhere new and it would give me an excuse to get out in the world and go support her. Something my father never did.

But I was right, within the first few months of her seventh grade year, she was right in the front line up for varsity. Smiling with her goofy goggles covering her face as she waved to me from the platform. She was always the most excited when she had that fire for competition in her belly. I loved watching her too.

She pushed me to go and find the diving captain for the high school soon after her first race. Her passion and drive for the sport drove me back into mine and to this day, I’m still thankful. After talking to the couch, explaining my situation and my retired ‘career’ as a diver, along with the many awards that I’ve won, she accepted me instantly. The coach took me under her wing my sophomore year, excited to make me one of her best and brightest. And she did.

About a year or so passed, friends being made and awards being won weekly. I was finally in the prime of my life and I had gotten into a groove. Finally happy. I had the ability to come and go from my house when my dad was being an idiot and I had friends to go stay with, to party with. I was finally different than I was as a kid. I didn’t need to be perfect or a goodie-two-shoes like I was for all those years. And now Sienna had a fun, responsible role model to look at instead of an uptight princess with a stick up her ass.

My friends, to this day, still don’t know why I originally moved from my hometown to California. They think that it was because of my dad's job. I don’t feel bad keeping that lie up, figuring that it’s probably for the best. If they knew, they’d ask questions. And I would have to answer. Then they’d know the truth about my dad and the horrors that I’ve seen in my life. So we keep it the way that it is.

Even without them knowing my past, every day they get me out of my comfort zone. Whether it be a party, a carnival, or skipping class. I was never able to do this because of my mother so I am finally able to have the normal teenage experience that everyone around me was lucky to have. I know that my friends have their shit, their skeletons in their closets, but I still count them as lucky.

Making my way into Daniel’s New Years party, a smile on my tinted red lips, I look for anyone that I recognize. My eyes scan the busy crowd of the kitchen, picking out the familiar tall jock out of the center of them. When he sees me, he sends me a subtle wink before shifting his way through the booming crowd. Standing on my tippy toes, reaching out to grab his hand with a loud laugh, he pulls me into the crowd as I take a deep breath.

“I didn’t think you’d make it!” He cheers with a smile and I shrug with a sly grin on my face. “Well I’m glad you’re here. We got food and shit and, uh, your groupies are over there.” He points in the direction of the living room, my face flushing as I silently thank him. Taking my hand in his, he shoves me in front of him. “Coming through with a princess!” He yells out, the crowd parting in front of me as I giggle, covering my face as he shoves me towards my friends. Kat sees me first, rushing to her feet as she takes me from Nate, the quarterback leaving without another word. I’ll talk to him later.

“Hi!” Kat grins and pulls me into a bone crushing hug as I laugh, rocking us back and forth. “You look so pretty!” She takes a step back to look down at my shimmery pantsuit, my arms raising at my side to do a little spin. Hoots and hollers come from the group in front of me, sparking confidence in me. Rue approaches me from the side, wrapping an arm around me to pull me into a hug.

Out of all the people in the group, Rue was the one that I opened up to the most in the beginning. She knows that I’ve struggled a lot with family and my mental health in the past. She and I bonded over the struggle and effects that drugs have on our lives. She’s a kind girl, dumb sometimes, but sweet nonetheless. Her and Jules were probably my best friends.

Jules is another that I’ve connected with, her kind of romantic relationship with Rue only making the three of us closer. I know more about her than she does me, but she still is supportive and genuine. She’s probably the most normal out of the group if I’m being honest. I’ve always envied her confidence.

Make a mental note to ask where Jules is.

Looking around the group, my eyes immediately land on a familiar stoner, his eyes on me as he takes a hit of his blunt. He sits up straighter, his eyes lighting up as if he’s excited to see me. He reaches over, passing me his blunt. Ah, the drug dealer with the golden heart.

“Happy New Year, kid.” He smiles, his blue eyes gazing up at me as my stomach twists in knots. I roll my eyes cooly, throwing myself down on the couch next to him. There’s a lot of interesting history between the two of us.

When I originally moved in here, I didn’t meet Fez for a few months. Not until I met Rue on the first day of school. She later told me about her brother-like figure. How he’d kill for her and anyone that she loved. I was kind of scared at first to meet him. The whole ‘drug dealer’ title definitely made me a bit nervous because I had very few experiences with people who did drugs, let alone make their whole living on them. Rue came over one day, asked me to go to the gas station around the corner from me, my fifteen year old mind wracked with nerves. Never did Rue ever mention that he was nineteen at the time. I should’ve guessed from never seeing him around school that he was older but I never made the connection.

When we arrived at the gas station that day, Rue immediately slung an arm around the tall, well dressed man. I was nervous. I remember my hands shook as I looked around the store, realizing that he was probably running his drug business on the down low. That the store wouldn’t scream ‘I sell drugs’ in fluorescent lights.

When he finally looked over at me, I remember my heart almost stopping. Eyes blue, freckles on his pale skin, Irish, maybe Scottish, his hair tinted a bit red. My hormone ridden mind was definitely taken back by him walking over to me, introducing himself in a polite manner. I could barely get my name out, Rue had to tell him. I remember him laughing at my bashfulness, my nerves now even worse as him and Rue took up a conversation.

Weeks after our introduction, before we left a party one night, he took my phone from me. He slyly put his number in there, telling me that if I ever got into trouble to call or text him. Rue told me he did that for the people he looked out for. I definitely read way too far into it. I just knew that because I mattered to Rue, I mattered to him.

Sitting around the fire, I pull my hoodie tighter around my face, the cotton warming my cold cheeks. My warm breath reflects in the cool air around me and I take a second to sneak a glance at the man next to me. Rue is passed out next to him, her extremities limp as she breathes slowly. Giggling quietly at her, Fez’s attention goes from our friend, to me. He smiles softly at me, my cheeks heating up at the attention. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to him looking at me.

“So where’d you move from?” Fez asks, leaning against the folding chair beneath him. I’m taken back by his question so I sit up straighter, clearing my throat. He watches me patiently, waiting for an answer.

“Uh, New York. Not the city though.” Laughing nervously, I scratch the back of my neck as he nods.

“For real? That’s cool.” He grins softly, his blue eyes even more glassy in the reflection of the blazing fire in front of us. He gently lifts the blunt that sits between his fingers, offering it to me. Shaking my head with a polite smile, he nods, taking a deep breath. Watching as he blows the smoke out into the air, I lick my lips, looking away from him before he notices me staring. “So how old are you?” He asks tentatively, almost nervous by my potential answer.

“I just turned sixteen.” I reply, embarrassed so I turn my attention back to the fire, my fingers twiddling in front of me. “Sophomore year, yay.” I snort, trying to draw away from the fact that I’m so young but already so obsessed with him. I hear him hum in acknowledgement, relieved that he didn’t say anything.

“You’re different than Rue’s usuals.” He points out abruptly, catching my attention. Smiling at him, he shrugs but gives me further explanation. “She told me, uh, you dive for the school. You care about your grades and shit. You a better influence on her than me.” He laughs sheepishly, following my position, his elbows resting on his knees as he leans forward.

“Yeah, I dive. Pretty damn good.” I point out, shrugging proudly. “My sister swims too, so I guess aquatics run in the family.” I add, Fez listening closely to my words, nodding as he takes another hit of his joint.

“That’s mad cool, yo.” He laughs, his cheeks dimpling in a smile. I nod nervously with a quiet laugh, looking around to see more teenagers fizzled out, all of them working their way home. I huff, pulling out my phone to check the time, 12:39 bright across the screen. My stomach drops in realization, worried that my dad will have my ass for being home late. Turning to Fez as he looks at me with a concerned glance, realizing my change in attitude. “You gotta go?” He asks and I nod, standing up as I reach down to grab my bag. “Hey, wait.” He wraps his fingers around my wrist, catching my attention as he nods towards my phone. “Lemme put my number in. That way if you ever get yourself into trouble, I’m there.” He offers and my face flushes, biting my bottom lip as I try to hide the smile that wants to sneak through. Nodding my head, I hand him my phone, watching as his fingers dial over the keys. When he returns it, I smile politely at him, watching as he sits back down comfortably, sending me a wave as I stumble backwards.

My little crush seemed to brew behind the scenes, my heart pounding every time that he was in the same room as me. But the thought that he was so much older than me, that it wasn’t even legal, bummed me out. Stupid California and their strict age of consent laws.

That didn’t mean I couldn’t think about him.

Constantly, I thought about him.

I think that it took Rue only a few months to gather that I had feelings for her buzzcut friend. She didn’t blame me and she never said anything to me or him about it. It was just an unspoken thing between us. She also knew that I was easily impressionable by the fact that he was against what my father would’ve wanted.

Daddy issues. Woohoo.

But for almost a year and a half, though my feelings were noticeable, he still treated me like a kid. And I was one, I couldn’t blame him. Even my kid sister knew of my feelings for Fez, asking me all the damn time why I was so moody. I saw him at every party, every function Rue was at, the gas station when I needed a drink. He was everywhere.

I understood that he treated me differently than my other friends. But the fact that he was either so protective of me or so cold to me made my head spin. It just made me angry that after all that I had been through, how mature I was, he couldn’t see it. Maybe he didn’t want to, even now, I’m only seventeen and he’s twenty. Nonetheless, I went above and beyond. Like tonight with my low cut pantsuit, my hair thrown all over my shoulders and my make up simple and innocent.

“I’m so excited to get fucked up tonight!” BB cheers, the vape leaving her lips as she throws her head back against the couch. We all laugh at her, knowing she’s typically a bit out there and looney at parties of this capacity. Looking around the crowd, I see Maddy dancing with a mystery man, the question what happened with Nate and Maddy on the tip of my tongue. I decide not to ask, knowing the truth is way more complicated than I think it is. Looking at Lexi, my eyes looking down at her phone as I notice the many messages on her end to Cassie who apparently can’t be found.

Weird start already.

“Hey, has anyone seen Elliot?” I ask, suddenly remembering my friend. Looking at my friends as their faces scrunch up in confusion, their eyes flickering around the crowd. Fez clears his throat next to me, tugging on the collar of his thick knitted sweater.

“Who the fuck is Elliot?” He asks simply, his eyebrows pulled together as I blush gently. He almost looks annoyed at my lack of clarification, him never hearing the name before.

“It’s Y/n’s special fuck buddy.” Kat wiggles her eyebrows at Fez who’s eyebrows raise to his hairline, looking to me for confirmation. I stutter a bit, looking to Kat with a judging look. “What?! You know you want to!” She giggles, taking a sip of her drink before rolling her eyes. “Fine, it’s Y/n’s friend, Fez.” She repeats smugly, looking at me with a shrug.

“Gotta meet Elliot then, huh kid?” Fez asks, the nickname making me sick at the moment. Kid. Almost as if it was a derogatory term, a reminder of our difference in age. A very not necessary reminder. Giving him a tight lipped smile, I nod, looking back to the crowd as I bite my bottom lip nervously. When I see the familiar boy making his way through the crowd, his dyed hair sticking out, I grin.

“There he is.” I whisper, standing up as Elliot and I make eye contact, a smile spreading across his face. Rushing up to him, I launch myself into his arms as he spins me around, giggles leaving both of our lips. “Happy New Years, motherfucker!” I squeal, throwing my head back as he holds onto me tightly. Placing me back on the ground, his hands go to my hips as he looks over my outfit.

“Damn, Y/n!” He whistles, a smirk appearing on my face as I blush vividly. Hey, just because I’ve been obsessed with Fez for the longest time doesn’t mean I need to be abstinent. Right? He leans forward, gently pressing his lips to my cheek as I gently place my hands on his chest. “We gonna drink, dance, smoke?” He offers, looking at me expectantly as I toss a look back to my friends. Fez grits his jaw, his eyes leaving Elliot and I when I look back at him.

“I think we should go sit with my friends and smoke a shit ton.” I grin, grabbing his hand in mine, pulling him towards the couch beside Fez. He chuckles as I shove him down into the cushions, my frame lowering onto his lap. He pulls out a blunt from his pocket, the lighter coming out from mine as we light it. Immediately placing it between my lips, Elliot grins up at me as I take a hit, his eyes on my lips.

“Hey man,” a voice next to me snaps me out of my thoughts, Fez looking at Elliot and I, “I’m Fez. Y/N’s friend.” I can see right through Fez’s fake smile, the protectiveness radiating off of him. Elliot gives him a sweet, polite smile, nodding his head in acknowledgement.

“Hey, yeah, I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Elliot.” Elliot reaches over, shaking Fez’s hand as I lean back, trying to relax. Feeling a hand on my thigh, my eyes flutter up to see Elliot grinning down at me. “I’ve heard a lot about you, my ass.” He whispers to me, knowing full well that Fez was all I talked about since the beginning of our friendship. I know that he’s not going to go easy on me tonight, not while knowing that Fez can hear every word he and I say. “Are you gonna be my New Year's kiss?” Elliot asks sweetly, making me sit up so our noses are touching. I nod, a huge grin on my face as butterflies fill my stomach. Looking across the room to Kat and Rue, they wink at me, then to each other as Elliot and I chuckle. Fez takes another drag of his joint, his eyes fluttering shut. “You’re thirsting.” Elliot whispers in my ear as I snap out of my gaze, snorting at his observation.

“And you’re always thirsting, come on.” Hopping off of his lap, I hold my hands out to him as I nod towards the dance floor. “Get your ass up and come dance with me.” I order with a laugh, watching as he quickly falls out of the couch, placing his hands in mine.

I pull him out onto the dance floor, throwing a wink over my shoulder to Fez who rolls his eyes playfully at me. Elliot’s hands find my waist politely, my hands coming down to lower them, his eyes widening. “I’m not a prude.” I giggle, wrapping my arms around his neck as we bop to the music, my hair falling in my face.

“I know that!” He chuckles nervously, his tan cheeks heating up at my words and actions. Flipping around, I dance up against him, my hands reaching around to wind in his hair. “This is genuinely the most wild I’ve ever seen you.” He chuckles, his hands squeezing my hips as I grind against him. His lips gently press against my bare shoulder and I can feel the smile on his lips.

“Don’t get too excited.” I warn, my neck craning back to look at him as he smiles down at me, his dimples popping out as he blushes. Taking a step back from me, he grabs my hands, spinning me around in circles. I laugh, my hair fanning out around me as he pulls me in, dipping me smoothly. Cheers erupt from those around us at the romantic move, my head tipping backwards as my chest rumbles in laughter. He pulls me up into his arms as I look up at him, feeling him pull me back towards the couch. “We’re done already?” I ask breathlessly with a pout, sitting down on the couch next to Fez as Elliot swings our hands.

“For now. I’m gonna go do a ton of drugs, so you stay here and I’ll be back. Without a boner.” He adjusts his pants, sending me a wink as I shake my head, watching him slip away into the crowd. My head moves to rest on Rue’s shoulder, a warm glow on my cheeks as my eyes close.

“He’s perfect for you.” Rue chuckles, reaching over to slap my thigh playfully. Fez scoffs next to us, taking a hit as he shakes his head.

“That’s like you sayin’ you’re good for her.” He laughs, making a reference to Elliot and Rue’s common issue with drugs. “Y/n needs, like, a future lawyer or some shit.” Fez points out, leaning over to hand me his blunt. I take it with a smile, placing it between my lips as I breathe in deeply.

“He’s fun and he makes me laugh. We talk a lot so he’s been a big help. And he has good weed. Better weed than you, Fezzy boy.” I wink, Fez’s lip jutting out in a slight pout as he steals his joint back. Rolling his eyes, he looks away from me but a small smile toys under his rough exterior. “He’s just someone to fuck around with. With my history with love, I need someone to just fuck around with.” I snort, reaching over to take Kat’s drink from her hands, taking a sip of it as she gawks at me.

“You and your drug dealer friends and drug addict love interests.” Rue chuckles, wrapping an arm around my shoulder as I turn to Fez who smiles at me, his cheeks heated in a blush. Catching Elliot’s frame out of the corner of my eyes, he comes out from around the other room, sniffing loudly. Subtle. He makes his way to stand in front of me, Rue laughing up at him. “We were literally just talking about how attractive you are.” She points out, reaching over to pinch my cheeks as he snorts, looking at me with wide eyes.

“Yeah? What next? My measurements?” He winks, reaching down to rest his hands on my thighs as his nose bumps against mine. The proximity makes my head spin as I catch a glimpse of Fez awkwardly huffing out of the corner of my eyes. “You wanna go fuck in the laundry room?” He asks genuinely with blown pupils, my head shaking at his question. He pouts, his puppy dog eyes shining as I shove him playfully.

“You’re high on god knows what. Can’t trust you to please me, Elliot.” I shrug, the teasing smile on my face making him laugh. He kneels down, his hands coming to intertwine his fingers with mine. “Will you go get me a drink of anything strong? Maybe then I’ll think about it.” I offer, his eyes widening even further he stands up, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of my head before running away. Giggling as he makes his way up to the bar, Fez bumps his shoulder with mine as my laughter calms down.

“Be careful, ‘lright?” He mutters, his face full of concern as I frown. “Don’t get into anything I would.” He smirks, referring to the copious amounts of drugs that Elliot takes part in which Fez happens to sell. “Seems like a nice kid, though.” He shrugs, my cheeks heating up at his approval. My eyes flutter back to the boy at the bar, watching as he clumsily pours alcohol into a red cup.

Lexi returns to the group moments later, her face flushed as she looks around. Still hasn’t found Cassie, I guess. Looking between Fez and Lexi as they share a look, my heart drops. I try my best to brush it off as nothing but jealousy consumes me at the small interaction.

“Lexi Howard!” Fez calls out cooly, moving towards me so she can sit on the opposite side of him. They immediately begin conversing, my presence suddenly seeming a bit out of place. Standing up, I send a sorry frown to Rue but once she sees Fez and Lexi, she immediately nods to me. She may be high all the time but at least she can read a room.

Sometimes.

It's frustrating that I’m so upset at Fez and Lexi talking. They’re both my friends. Lexi has always been a good friend to me, but she was never the one to party or skip school. So the fact that she came tonight is odd. She’s more of who I’d be friends with before everything with my family went down. Saying that, it’s good to have a friend in the locker room nonetheless during the diving season.

“Sup bitch!” I feel arms wrap around my neck abruptly, my head turning to see Jules grinning down at me. I squeal loudly, my arms wrapping around her waist as she chuckles, pressing kisses against my cheeks. “You look so good, oh my god!” She jumps up and down, giggles leaving my throat as I pull back to look at her.

“You look so good! Look at your hair, oh my god!” I run my fingers through her short locks as she grins bashfully, her eyes looking over to the couch. Her and Rue share a questionable look, her eyes finding mine with an eye roll. “I’m gonna assume that’s complicated.” I snort as she nods with wide eyes. I’ll ask another time.

“What about you? I saw you with Elliot. I know he’s not the older mystery man you’ve crushed on forever so I’ll keep my questions down to a minimum. How’s things with ‘hot older guy’ anyways?” She asks with an excited grin, my face falling as I sneak a glance at Fez, his full attention on Lexi as she speaks. Looking back to Jules with a sad shrug, she frowns. “I’m gonna assume that’s complicated.” She repeats and I reach up, wrapping my arms around her, just happy she’s home. Feeling a hand on my back, I turn to see Elliot, our drinks in his hands. “I’ll catch you later for a kiss.” Jules sends a small wave to Elliot as she backs away, approaching the couch where Rue sits. Turning my attention back to Elliot, I grin, taking my cup from him.

A few hours later, the New Year approaches in minutes. I grin tiredly as I fall back onto the couch. My legs are thrown over Elliot’s and my head rests in Jules’ lap, her fingers running through my hair. This is what young me would’ve wanted for the future. Surrounded by friends, a complicated love situation, and letting loose.

My head turns to ask Fez if he has any New Year's resolutions but before I can, he stands up, his face stoic and his jaw tight. Well that’s never good. He makes his way past us, all of our eyes following him as he leaves the room. Frowning, I look up at the ceiling as I begin to ponder why he’s so off tonight.

The sound of the countdown catches my attention moments later, the smile returning to my lips. Turning my attention back to my the boy above me, I smile up at Elliot, his lips mouthing the numbers as the kids around us countdown from ten. I gently sit up, a blush on my skin as Elliot cups my cheeks, the people around us prepared to celebrate.

Leaning forward as the numbers hit one, Elliot’s lips gently press against mine as hoots and hollers are heard around us. I grin into the kiss, playfully biting his bottom lip as he leans back with a chuckle. Going back in for another kiss, the sound of glass breaking startles me, my body jumping in Elliot’s grasp as the room falls quickly silent.

“What the fuck was that?”

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

A/n: So, wow. Like I said, it's an opener. I'm like panicking right now, sitting here, waiting to press 'post now'.

I feel like it's important for me to add that I originally wrote this fanfic using my own damn name so if you get a 'liz' thrown in there, hi, that's me. I've been panicking about whether I missed one and forgot to switch it with a Y/n.

I'm so proud of the header of this post, lemme tell you. Looks so professional.

Okay, be nice please lol, I'm fragile.

[the-iceni-bitch]

Realizations

Part V: The Question

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x fem!reader (OTP ninja and puppy)

Words: ~5.6k

Summary: Five times Ransom realized he wanted to marry you.

Warnings: explicit language, so much fluff, some angst, idiots in love, mentions of f receiving oral sex, asshole friends, mentions of sex work, injury to a major character, hospital setting, drunk reader, drug use (just weed), vomiting, no minors due to the AU

A/N: So, the reason I haven’t been super active this week is because I’ve been working on this monster and a whole bunch of other things for our original OTP because there’s a brand new OTP who I cannot wait to start getting into, and their story is dependent on ninja and puppy (y’all know who I’m talking about). Remember when I said I was never going to make these two soft? Yeah, that’s long gone now, we are drowning in fluff, and I love it 🥰

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!!

Ransom heard the sound of someone struggling with the front door and rolled his eyes, putting the last plate in the dishwasher before wiping off his hands to help you come inside in your surely inebriated state.

“Hey there… oh shit!” Ransom had to catch you when you fell forward as soon as he got the door open, laughing at your startled whoop before dragging you inside since you seemed to have the legs of a newborn baby deer. “I was gonna ask if you had a good time, but the fact that you smell like someone dipped you in Jager answers that question.”

“Had a fuckin’ great ti-hic-time.” You we’re giving him a very sloppy grin as you leaned your full weight on him, shrieking when he scooped you up and grabbing his shoulders to steady yourself when he started carrying you towards the bathroom. “Took off a stripper’s bra wi’ my teeth.”

“Really? Kinda seems like maybe one of the brides should’ve done that.” He beamed when you started pinching and pulling at his cheeks, chuckling when you accidentally shoved a finger up his nose while you kept cooing about how pretty he was.

“Welp, Taylor n’ Lauren ‘r kinda uptight fer lesbians.” You let your head roll on your shoulders as he kept carrying you through the house, your eyes drifting closed as you made happy little humming noises. “At my bachelorette party, ‘m gonna get all the strippers.”

“Uh-huh, when are you having this bachelorette party?” Ransom grinned indulgently at your drunk babbling, pressing his lips to your hair when you tucked your head against his shoulder with a soft sigh.

“Wh’n I get married, duh-doy.” You purred as you nuzzled closer to his chest, breathing his scent in and tracing a finger lazily over his arm.

“Oh, you’re getting married now?” He chuckled softly when you peeked at him through your lashes, shaking his head at the ridiculous things you always said when you were drunk. “Who’s the lucky bastard? Wanna send you two a gift.”

“‘S you, dummy.” You slapped his shoulder at his teasing, pouting a little before bringing your hand up to cup his jaw. “Gonna marry the shit out of you, ‘m never letting your ass go. Why’d you stop?”

Ransom froze at the entrance to the hallway, giving you a quizzical look when you huffed out a short, confused breath. As much as he wanted to tell himself you were just saying stupid shit because you were drunk, there was something in the way that you were looking at him that made him think you were at least partly serious. And for some reason that wasn’t freaking him out nearly as much as it should have.

“Baby, what are you talking about?” He gave you a little squeeze when you let out another hiccup, his breath growing shallower as he tried to reorient himself. “You wanna get married?”

“Mm, yeah, love you, idiot.” You were starting to doze off and he gave you a little shake, whining when he wouldn’t just let you sleep. “What else ‘m I gonna do? Not like ‘m leavin’ your ass.”

“Well, good,” Ransom’s heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest, he honestly couldn’t tell if he was panicked or thrilled at the words that were coming out of your mouth. All he could do was stare at you as he tried to process all the different emotions that were flooding his system suddenly, ducking closer so he could nuzzle against your cheek while you let out a pleased little chirp.

“Ran…” Your voice was quiet when you tilted your head back so you could look him full in the face, swallowing thickly when your glassy eyes met his.

“Yeah, what is it baby?” He might have been smiling, he wasn’t totally sure.

“‘M gonna puke.” You swallowed again when you felt it almost come up, your stomach roiling as Ransom started sprinting towards the bathroom.

“Ah, fuck, don’t you fucking throw up on me!” He kicked the door open and wrenched the toilet lid up just in time, dropping to the floor and running a hand over your back as you emptied your stomach into the bowl. “God, this is why you’re not supposed to have Jager. Gave me a goddamn heart attack and you’re not even gonna remember it in the morning.”

“I love you so much.” You only had a second to huff it out over your shoulder before your stomach was lurching again, a pitiful whine leaving your throat as you somehow brought up even more alcohol soaked nastiness.

“I know, baby, love you too.” He pulled your hair back from your face and kept rubbing your back soothingly, pressing his lips to your shoulder and cooing softly when you sobbed as your stomach heaved again. “I’m not leaving you either.”

Ransom shuddered as he rested his head in his hands, his eyes red and his throat raw with emotion that had him letting out a choked sob when your hand squeezed his thigh.

“Just keep breathing, ok?” You leaned over so you could softly butt his head with yours, winding your arm around his shoulder and pressing your lips to his temple when he leaned into your touch. “The doctor should be out soon to let us know what’s going on.”

“I know.” He wound his fingers through yours and squeezed, turning so he could rest his forehead against yours as he let out a deep breath. “I just worry about him, I love that old man.”

“Have you been crying, Ransom?” Both of you growled when Linda’s harsh whisper interrupted your train of thought, your fingers slowly running through Ran’s hair while you glared at her from the corner of your eye. “If you’re going to make a scene you should do it outside.”

“Jesus Christ, mother.” Ransom screwed his eyes closed and buried his face in your shoulder, heaving out a sigh into your neck as he tried to tune her out.

“God, showing emotion is a scene now Linda?” You wrapped your arms around Ransom and pulled him closer, scowling at his mother as he brushed his lips over the side of your neck to soothe himself. “Your father’s in the hospital, why don’t you worry about that instead of whether anyone noticed your son somehow managed to grow a heart despite being raised by an ice queen.”

“Now who’s causing a scene?” Ransom gave you a warm smile when he tilted his head back to look at you, threading his fingers through yours and pulling your hand to his face so he could plant kisses over your knuckles while Linda walked away from the two of you with a snarl.

“Oh, that’s nothing.” You nuzzled into his hair and grinned when he started tracing your wrist with his thumb. “If there weren't a couple of kids over there, I absolutely would have called her a frigid cunt, just imagine what that would have done.”

Ransom turned his head to muffle his laughter in your shoulder while he snorted softly, humming when you kissed the top of his head as he let himself relax into you. He was still a little nervous, he always was in medical settings, but having you there made it feel manageable. The door back to treatment flung open and Ransom squeezed your hand when Harlan’s doctor walked out, sighing when the sharks immediately moved to intercept him before either of you had a chance to stand up.

“You want me to handle the vultures?” You kissed his forehead when he straightened up, your hands framing his face as you traced the curve of his cheek with your fingertips. “Or we can just wait for them to pick that poor doctor’s bones clean and hope he has some information for us by the time we get to him.”

“I wanna know what’s going on.” Ransom rose to his feet and pulled you after him, winding an arm around your waist and kissing your hair while the two of you walked towards where the Thrombeys were circling the haggard looking doctor. “Let’s save the poor man.”

“No, that’s completely unacceptable.” You sighed when you walked up to Linda berating the man. “If it’s that minor, then he can come home, or you’re lying to us about how serious it is, so which is it? Well?”

“Hi, doctor?” Ransom managed to cut her off before she had the chance to call the man an idiot, letting you shoot her a glare so she didn’t start harassing him again. “I’m Harlan’s grandson, how’s he doing?”

“Yes of course, Mr. Thrombey couldn’t stop talking about you.” The doctor gave the two of you a relieved smile when the rest of the brood finally quieted down. “This must be the doctor.”

“She’s a vet.” You shot Walt a scowl over your shoulder when he chimed in, mostly since his tone of voice let you know exactly what he thought about his father apparently bragging about you to strangers.

“Yeah, still a doctor, Walt.” You turned back to Harlan’s doctor and smiled when he gave you a sympathetic look. “Different expertise, obviously. How’s Harlan?”

“The good news is there’s nothing broken. He has a pretty bad bruise on his hip and a mild concussion for the fall but he should recover alright.” The doctor sighed before continuing, his eyes roving over the Thrombeys like he was steeling himself. “I was just explaining to the rest of the family that we’d like to hold him overnight for observation, just to be safe.”

“That seems reasonable, I know we all want to be absolutely sure there’s not going to be any complications before moving him away from full time medical care.” You felt a ransom relax when you managed to cut off his family’s arguments before they could even voice them, his hand on your waist giving you a squeeze when you leaned closer to him. “Can he have visitors?”

“I can let two of you back at a time to see him, but visiting hours are over at nine, so you’ll want to keep things brief.” He ignored Linda’s muttered ridiculous and shook your hand when you offered it. “Feel free to find me if you have any other questions, and I’ll be happy to go over expectations for his home care with Marta before he’s discharged tomorrow. Who’s first?”

“Come on, Richard.” Linda kicked her husband to get him to move when she pushed her way past the doctor unceremoniously. “I want to make sure they’re taking proper care of my father.”

You rolled your eyes as you followed Ransom to sit in the chairs again while you waited your turn, smiling warmly at him when he laid down with his head in your lap and let out a relieved sigh.

“You still doing ok, baby?” You ran your fingers through his hair and rested your other hand on his chest, humming when he wound his fingers through yours again as he gazed into your eyes. “I know you hate hospitals.”

“I’m ok, I wanted to be here for Harlan.” He knew he wouldn’t have been able to do it if you hadn’t been there with him, and as much as he hated that his own anxiety could rule him like that, he couldn’t deny that having you around to lessen his fears was something he appreciated a whole lot. “Just another remnant of my shitty childhood I have to get over.”

“Yeah, you never told me why you hate these places so much.” You leaned back in your chair as you kept petting his head. “You wanna talk about it, or do you want me to distract you?”

“I can talk about it.” He let his eyes fall closed and leaned into your touch. “It’s not like it was even that bad. Just had to get my tonsils out when I was seven and all I remember was waking up alone after my surgery except for a nurse because Linda had some major deal she had to close. I don’t even know where Richard was. And, y’know, just had a little panic attack ‘cause I just wanted my mom, since I didn’t know what a horrible person she was yet. It was a good thing someone called Harlan or who knows how long I would have been there by myself. What’s up?”

You had stopped stroking his head as you gave him a pained look, your hand resting on his cheek while he stared up at you questioningly, the hand he had entwined with yours giving you a squeeze instinctually.

“God, Ran.” You curled over so you could press your lips to his forehead, sniffling a little when you straightened back up at the thought of him as a baby being all alone. “Sometimes I really want to kick your parents’ collective asses.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure there’s a line.” He turned his head when he heard the door to the waiting room open again, sitting up with a sigh when Linda and Richard came stomping out.

“He asked for you.” That was all Linda had to say before she was gliding past the two of you, Richard just giving you a noncommittal shrug before following his wife.

“Oh shoot, I have to go, I’m doing that live Q&A for Flam tomorrow.” Joni flitted up to you and Ransom when you both stood up, thrusting a giant crystal into your hands and ignoring your annoyed stare as Ransom swallowed a snort. “Can you give this to Harlan, sweetie? It promotes wellness and should help realign his chakras to speed up the healing process.”

“Sure, Joni.” You rolled your eyes when she waved at you over her shoulder before rushing out the door, hefting the thing as you and Ransom headed back to Harlan’s room. “Is this the one she sells for $300? At least she won’t be plastering Harlan holding this paperweight all over Instagram.”

“Small blessings.” Ransom kissed your hair and squeezed your waist as you headed back to the recovery rooms, his breathing growing shallow but still somewhat under control since you were there with him.

“My dear!” The sight of Harlan in the hospital bed sent a wave of something close to panic through Ransom’s chest, even though he was giving the two of you his typical wide grin, he still looked so frail and small, Ransom hated it. “I was so pleased when I heard the two of you were, even though it was a bit surprising. Are you doing alright, Ransom?”

“Harlan, you're hooked up to a heart monitor and asking me how I’m doing.” Ransom huffed out a chuckle when his grandfather just shrugged at him, letting you go with a final kiss so you could give Harlan a hug. “You scared us, old man.”

“It’ll take more than a couple of stairs to take me out.” Harlan winked at Ransom, grinning between the two of you when his grandson came to stand behind you and rested his head on your shoulder.

“Do you need anything while you’re here, Harlan?” You tilted your head to the side when Ransom rubbed his nose against your temple, sighing when he started running his hands over your arms absentmindedly. “I don’t know if I have time to run back to the manor and get you anything, but I can give it a shot.”

“That’s very sweet, dear, but unnecessary.” Harlan’s grin grew even wider as he watched how relaxed his grandson was with you, he was pretty sure the younger man didn’t even realize he never seemed to be able to stop touching you. “All I could really use right now is a cup of shitty coffee, since they don’t want me sleeping while they assess how concussed I am.”

“Well, good news, I saw a very shitty looking coffee machine down the hall.” You gave Ransom a peck on the cheek before wandering to the door. “I’ll be right back.”

Ransom ran a hand over the back of his neck as he watched you leave, his movements freezing when he turned back to Harlan and found the man giving him a knowing grin.

“She is very good for you, son.” Harlan nodded to himself when Ransom let out a shaky breath, watching his grandson closely for the signs of nervousness he always showed when forced to talk about his feelings.

“I know.” Ransom actually let himself smile as he looked back at his grandfather, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall. “I don’t think I would’ve even made it here if she wasn’t with me. You know, I didn’t even have any panic attacks when I got here?”

“You’re not even going to try to fight me on it?” Harlan had never been more pleasantly surprised, letting out a short laugh when Ransom just shrugged at him before scrubbing his hands over his face with a defeated groan. “Oh, she’s very, very good for you.”

“Yeah, it’s fucking crazy.” Ransom ran a hand through his hair and leaned back against the wall. “Just wish Linda could give us a fucking break.”

“Well, your mother has always had her own ideas about what’s best for you.” Harlan took a deep breath as he gazed at his grandson, there were times he’d wished he’d taken more of a hand in Ransom’s upbringing, maybe then the boy would have found happiness sooner. “But I’m glad you found it for yourself.”

“Were you boys talking about me?” You beamed at the two of them when they stopped talking when you walked back into the room, handing Harlan his coffee and leaning against Ransom when he wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“We always do.” Harlan cocked his head as he watched Ransom kiss your hair, smiling at the two of you behind his coffee as he took a sip. “You’re very interesting, my dear.”

“Logan, god, shut the fuck up!” Dylan smacked the asshole in the shoulder as he laughed so hard he almost fell off his stool, trying to keep his own expression neutral as he watched Ransom bury his face in his hands with a defeated groan. “Well, it sounds like it worked out fine, Drysdale, you had your panic sex and you both recovered, so why don’t you just forget about calling her ‘Mrs. Drysdale’ . I’m sure she has already.”

“That’s the fucking problem, I can’t.” Ransom took another gulp of whiskey as he ignored Logan’s chortling. “Even worse is that I don’t want to, it felt right, good.”

“Oh, fuck no!” That shut Logan up, his head shaking vehemently as literally every other person at the table rolled their eyes at him. “It’s bad enough you moved in with her, you’re not doing this, you’ll be miserable.”

“You said the same thing when they started living together, Van Doren, don’t be an ass.” Chaz took a gulp of beer and shot a scowl at him before turning back to Ransom. “Not to be a Logan apologist, but you did tell us to kidnap you and take you to Amsterdam if you ever talked about settling down.”

“Yeah, when I was with Sloane.” Ransom shivered when he thought about the nightmare that had been, relaxing quickly once he let his thoughts drift back to you and how happy you made him, even though that fact was also freaking him out. “But she’s not Sloane, she’s not like anybody I’ve ever been with before. I just want her to know how much she means to me.”

“I can’t listen to this soft shit anymore, I’m gonna go get some shots.” Logan shook his head as he rose from his seat, frowning at Ransom before heading to the bar. “That chick is ruining you, Drysdale.”

“God, I know she is.” It made his heart warm though, a slow smile spreading over his face as he felt the panic starting to leave his system. “Fuck, I think I’m gonna do it.”

“Jesus, you’re sure?” Dylan whistled when he watched Ran gulp down the rest of his scotch, not even able to grin himself to stop him when he started emptying the rest of the drinks on the table. “You need to be sure, Ran, I know you love her and everything but if you just do this because you think it’s something you’re supposed to do and not something you actually want, you’re both gonna be miserable.”

“Oh, I want it.” Ransom sucked in a deep breath when he finally admitted it to himself, there was no getting away from you, you were it for him, may as well make it official. “More than anything. I wanna marry that girl.”

“Damn it, this is the fucking worst!” Of course Logan had to come back right when Ransom made that announcement, the dumbass ignoring the way Ransom openly snarled at him as he set the bottle of tequila and the glasses on the table. “Look, I know you think you’re happy, and if you really are, fine. But I think we need to seriously consider the fact that bitch’s pussy has fucking poisoned you, because my boy would never…”

Logan didn’t get a chance to finish his thought when Ransom punched him square in the jaw, growling when he whipped back up like he was going to try to fight him before Chaz and Logan had a chance to get between the two of them.

“Call her a bitch again and we’re fucking done, L. I’m so sick of you putting your stupid bull shit on me.” Ransom grabbed the bottle of tequila and took a swig, ignoring Logan’s grumbling. “She’s it, better than any of that easy pussy you try to drown me in and I fucking love her, so you can either accept this is happening or you can fuck off.” He really needed to consider getting better friends, he could not figure out why he still put up with this asshole aside from the fact he’d been doing it forever. “Now, you dumbasses can either celebrate with me, or I’m totally fine drinking this tequila all by myself.”

Ransom was exhausted as he pulled into your driveway, his grip on the steering wheel painfully tight as he thought about flipping on the couch as soon as he walked through the door. Another absolutely useless meeting with Walt always had that effect, the man truly did not grasp the concept of what email was for. He needed a drink.

Or some weed. He could smell it as soon as he walked through the front door, and something else that was making his mouth water. The sounds of your feel good playlist filled the house, Prince singing about how he just needed your extra time, and Ransom knew that meant you had found some new recipe you wanted to try out. He tossed his coat over the back of the chair and kicked off his boots before wandering to find you, grinning at the sight of the dog sprawled across the floor in the kitchen with his tail thumping against the hardwood while the cat tried to get her front paws on the counter to steal some of whatever you were cooking. No sign of you though.

“Oi, keep your paws away from the pastry!” You popped up from behind the counter with a joint tucked between your teeth, hissing at the cat until she scampered off with a sharp meow while you shook your head at her and rolled the sleeves of the Ransom’s sweater you were wearing up around our elbows. “Fucking brat, hey baby!”

“Hey yourself.” The sight of you wearing what he sincerely hoped was nothing but his sweater while you fussed around the kitchen had him feeling some kind of way, his eyes fixed on your bare legs as you slid around the counter to come greet him. “What’cha cookin’?”

“Smoked salmon tarts, they’re fucking amazing.” You passed him the joint before starting to drag him towards the kitchen, giggling when he tried to grasp the hem of the sweater to catch a peek at what you were wearing under there. “Quit, you can do that in a minute. Try this.”

“Ok… holy fuck!” Ransom let his eyes roll back in his head as he moaned when you shoved a whole mini tart in his mouth, grabbing your wrist when you tried to pull your hand back so he could suck the remnants off your fingers. “Shit, that’s fantastic, you sure we should be smoking around all this food?”

“It’s fine, I made so many, we should be good even if the munchies get us.” You tossed the roach into the sink and gave him a peck on the lips before sliding on your oven mitts when the oven timer went off. “Just one more batch to go.”

Ransom groaned when you bent over to pull out the fresh tarts, his sweater riding up your hips until he had a very good view that confirmed you were in fact wearing nothing under his sweater. His gaze raked over you as you put the last tray in, his eyes crinkling with a smile when you started swaying to the music when a new song came on.

“How long do those need to bake for?” Ransom pulled you close so he could sway with you, his steps getting a little quicker when the song sped up. “‘Cause I have a couple of things I wanna do all of a sudden, but I don’t want you to burn our kitchen down.”

“Good news, then, they take thirty minutes.” You squeaked when he smacked your ass before spinning the two of you, beaming at him when he pressed his lips to your forehead with a pleased sound. “Plenty of time for whatever you want, but you’re gonna dance with me first.”

“Am I?” Ransom let out a soft purr when you nipped at his jaw, jumping a little when you swatted his ass at him teasing you.

“It’s James Brown.” You poked him in the chest when he tried to snake a hand under the sweater again, shaking your head at him when he gave you a halfhearted pout. “What kind of assholes would we be if we didn’t dance to James Brown?”

“Fine.” He grinned before pecking you on the lips again. “One song, two max, then we’re gonna see how many times I can make you come on my face before those tarts come out of the oven.”

“Yeah, well be careful not to spoil your appetite.” You tilted your head back so he could nuzzle at your throat, sighing when he let out a low chuckle against your skin that sent a jolt to your core.

“Don’t worry about it.” He leaned back and winked at you. “I’m never gonna have my fill of you.”

You didn’t get a chance to respond before he was spinning you suddenly then dropping you into a low dip, shrieking with purely delighted laughter when he pulled you back up and kissed your forehead while he kept dancing with you. It was a sound he’d never get tired of hearing, his hands framing your waist as he kept guiding your movements through the kitchen while you smiled so hard your cheeks hurt.

“I thought you wanted me to fuck your face Ran.” You were a little surprised when he didn’t release you as soon as the song was over, but it was a pleasant surprise, Ransom pulling you close to his chest with an arm around your waist while he wound the fingers of his free hand through yours and let you tuck your face into his shoulder.

“Shut up.” He pressed his lips to your hair and kept his cheek leaning against the top of your head as he kept swaying with you, smiling softly when you hummed along with Neil Young and let out a deep sigh. “I like this song, don’t need you distracting me.”

“Sap.” You scrunched up your nose when he gave you a squeeze. “If you just wanna dance all snuggly, you can say so.”

“Fine, I wanna dance with you, sue me.” He bit his lip when you tilted your head back so you could look at him, rubbing his nose against yours and breathing deeply. “You realize you’ve completely ruined me.”

“And you’ve loved every second of it.” You leaned up and brushed your lips over his, your breath catching when he deepened the kiss and you ran the fingers of your free hand through his hair.

“What I love is you.” He was long past the point of freaking out about what you did to him, how you made him feel and the warmth that spread through him every time he came home and you were there. It made him feel like he was definitely making the right choice. “More than anything.”

“Mmhm, and I love you too, pup.” You rested your face in the crook of his neck and let your eyes drift closed as he kept leading you in a swaying circle around your kitchen, letting out a happy little huff of breath when he kissed the top of your head again. “More than anything.”

Ransom drummed his fingers against the beer bottle in his hand as he stared at Ari and Anne, taking a breath like he was finally going to say something then just blowing it back out with a groan.

“Ok, are you actually going to tell us why you wanted to have lunch, or are we all just going to stare at each other?” Anne flagged down the waiter and asked for another drink, grabbing a fry and chewing thoughtfully as she watched Ransom squirm uncomfortably. “C’mon man, out with it.”

“You just take your time, honey.” Ari reached across the table and gave Ransom’s hand a reassuring squeeze, frowning a little when he turned to face Anne. “You are so impatient.”

“I have shit to do.” Anne shrugged when Ari rolled his eyes at her. “I don’t have all day to exchange meaningful looks with you two, so excuse me…”

“I wanna ask her to marry me.” Ransom said it in a rush so he didn’t chicken out again, feeling like a weight was lifted off his chest as he sagged into his seat with a sigh while they both swung to gape at him.

“Shut the fuck up!” He couldn’t get a read on Anne’s reaction, her mouth opening and closing like she kept thinking of new things to say then rethinking them at the last second. “Shut the absolute fuck up!”

“I fucking knew it.” Ari just grinned at Ransom and clapped him on the shoulder before trying to find the waiter so he could order some champagne. “I told that girl the two of you were it for each other, how are you gonna ask?”

“Just… wait a second.” Ransom took another deep breath before giving Ari a shaky grin, glancing at Anne again and swallowing thickly when she still had that mysterious expression on her face. “I wanna make sure this is a good idea first. Don’t wanna lose her because I try to push something she doesn’t want.”

“Oh my god, you’re so good for her.” Ari just kept grinning as he popped the cork on the champagne, pouring three glasses and handing them out before rolling his eyes when Ransom just gave him a kicked puppy look. “Anne, ease the poor man’s mind.”

“You… you really think she’s gonna say no?” Anne leaned forward and Ransom thought she was trying to hold back a smile.

“She always said she hated the thought of being some asshole’s wife.” He ran a hand over his face and leaned on his elbows. “And we all know I’m the biggest asshole.”

“You’re a giant faker is what you are.” Ari shook his head at him as he took a sip of champagne. “Of course she’s gonna say yes, honey.”

“Look, the only time I’ve gotten even a slight hint she might actually want this was a couple months ago, and she was drunk off her ass…”

“Wait, I remember that night, the bachelorette party, is that when you started thinking about this?” Anne finally let herself grin when Ransom nodded at her. “Aww, cutie, why do you think she was drinking so much in the first place?”

“What?” Ransom could feel his heart swell when he thought about what she was saying.

“Christ, you two dumbasses really were made for each other.” Anne rolled her eyes and took a gulp of her champagne before giving Ransom a smile. “She realized she wanted to spend the rest of her life with you and had her own little panic attack, because she convinced herself you’d make a run for it if she told you.”

“Oh my god, you idiots need to get married.” Ari kicked Ransom playfully when he let out an offended huff, winking at him over his champagne glass as he laughed softly. “And talk to each other, goddamn.”

“Fuck… fuck.” Ransom ran his hands through his hair as he realized this was definitely happening, beaming between his two friends as he thought about asking Harlan for the ring. “I’m gonna do it, shit!”

[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 4)

Summary: Reader has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, which her Professor is hellbent on making a little bit better. A/N: If y’all thought you hated Kyle (bathroom bitch boy), just wait until you meet the new antagonist (of the female variety) here... I hope you all enjoy! 😚 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Sexual themes/fantasies Word Count: 6.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

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Einstein once attributed his genius to his childlike sense of humor. Studies performed since then have largely proven his point — funny people tend to have higher IQs, which makes sense when you consider the cognitive and emotional intelligence required to produce humor.

Spencer Reid was no exception. The only problem was that his humor was so remarkably niche and impossibly specific that barely anyone could understand the punchline. He insisted to me that he’d gotten better over the years, which I only barely believed… until he told me a joke that hadn’t left my mind since. A joke that he described as ‘just crude enough to make it palatable to the layman.’

"Caffeine and Viagra are both phosphodiesterase inhibitors,” he’d said — a slow start if there had ever been such a thing. But I held on to hope, hanging on the ecstatic, guileless smile he wore. And boy, was I glad I did, because what he’d said next broke me into a frankly embarrassing fit of giggles that returned with the memory every time.

“Which explains why both of these drugs keep you up all night."

The poor barista stuck working the busy early morning shift eyed me like I’d grown two heads when I once again devolved into laughter for no apparent reason. I almost felt embarrassed about it, but then I reassured myself that if she’d heard Dr. Spencer Reid tell a drug-induced-boner joke, she would also laugh about it forever.

I’d been thinking about him a lot lately. Not in a perverse way, either, despite his increasing comfort in breaching such topics in my presence. It was more like I’d started to infuse him into my every day, finding him in whatever way my brain would allow. While I made my way to his office, I breathed in the soothing scent drifting from the cups that were precariously perched in flimsy cardboard.

The smell took me back to quiet moments in his office. The kind of simple serenity that accompanied silence between two people who need not speak to share ideas. Where the second you looked away, you felt their eyes follow you, like the universe couldn’t maintain its structural integrity without one of you looking at the other.

It was intoxicating and alluring; so easy to lose myself in. Something I knew was dangerous for a number of reasons.

For example, when I am not paying the utmost attention to my surroundings, I have a tendency to lose track of where I am and what I’m doing. I also tend to… drop things. Especially hot and otherwise dangerous things.

Things like the two cups of coffee that finally became too much for shallow, defective cardboard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screeched as I became acutely aware of every place where scorching hot, drenched clothing hung on angry skin. Normally, I would at least try to sound more dignified while on my way to work, but it hardly seemed like it mattered anymore.

I was too busy hurriedly tearing at my shirt and dropping everything else I was holding. I’d gotten three whole buttons on my shirt popped by the time I remembered it wasn’t technically necessary. I dropped my bag immediately at the thought, tugging on the hem of the shirt and trying to bring it over my head.

Unfortunately, I still hadn’t regained my grace, and in the muddled mess of fabric, I’d also grabbed hold of my undershirt. Which meant that whoever was walking through the empty halls of the early morning in academia would find me, with my stomach exposed and clothing dripping while unintelligible curses flowed freely from my lips.

I expected most people would probably just turn around and leave. I probably would’ve. The giant splatter of coffee and the absolute idiot slipping in it were beyond saving.

But there was at least one person who saw the mess and stayed.

I smelled his cologne before I felt his hand was pressed over the bare skin of my lower back. Despite the fact my skin was burning, it welcomed the warmth of his touch. My body stopped at his command, waiting for him to break me free of the paradoxically frozen state I was in.

He pulled the shirt back down, just enough that I could see him when he wrapped his cardigan around my shoulders and started guiding me into his office, which I’d somehow managed to almost walk straight past in my daze. I wished that I could go back there, to the imaginary world where he hadn’t just seen me half disrobed and cursing while covered in the coffee that I’d meant to give to him.

Spencer’s hands left me once the door was shut, probably trusting, or at least hoping, that I could figure out the mess on my own. Oddly enough, I didn’t notice any signs of him staring at me. Like he only felt comfortable looking when I was clothed.

I tried not to think about it. Once I did manage to free myself of one of the shirts — without further flashing my boss — the anxiety brewing inside of me burst out in the form of frantic shouting.

“Hi Professor! I’m so sorry, I spilled the coffee!”

“Yeah, I... saw the puddle,” he mumbled, throwing a cursory glance back at the hallway before his eyes met mine with a terrifying level of compassion, “Are you alright?”

“Besides the boiling liquid on my skin and the horrid embarrassment? I guess,” I mumbled back before shouting, “Shit! This is why that woman sued McDonald’s! Why do stores serve coffee like that?!”

Spencer didn’t really say anything. In fact, he kind of just stood as frozen as I had been, staring at everything around me rather than meeting my eyes again. But while he seemed somewhat cool and composed, I continued to tug at my clothes to try and avoid the friction. It was then that he cleared his throat, covering his face just like he’d done when he saw me in an arguably more provocative position the week before.

Arguably, I said. I should have known that Spencer would win any argument. I should have considered why he was making such a point of not looking at me while I clawed at the white undershirt turned beige. But I didn’t. Not until I looked down to inspect the state of my skin.

I realized then that Spencer had been trying to figure out a way to inform me that not only had the coffee turned my shirt a different shade — it had also eliminated the opacity.

He could see my bra. Spencer Reid, my boss, was trying not to stare at my very clearly visible bra.

“God, this is the worst Monday of all Mondays!” I whined between half-sobs, “and Mondays are already bad, Professor!”

There must have been something else in that cry, too. Something akin to permission. Enough for him to step closer, managing to avoid looking at my chest in the process. I’d entirely forgotten that he’d wrapped me in his cardigan until he pulled it tighter around my shoulders like his own version of an embrace.

“That they are, Bunny.”

If my skin had been heated before, it turned to flames at the use of the nickname. It was honestly a pure work of magic that the liquid on me didn’t turn vaporize the second I’d heard the word.

Bunny?

I pushed the thought away as quick as humanly possible, focusing instead on the way my clothes were going from uncomfortably hot to frigid as a result of the usually refreshing air conditioning. But when I was once again reminded of the obvious undergarment, I sighed.

“I can probably ask a friend to bring me a replacement shirt, or just go to class like this,” I thought aloud, “No one really looks at me, anyway...”

Spencer’s response came immediately, his hands flying up in protest as he shouted, “No!”

I wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that, or even which part of the statement he was objecting to, so he was met with a wide-eyed, slow blinking stare.

“I-I mean, I have a shirt you can borrow. I don’t want to subject you to any further embarrassment,” he explained at a significantly more appropriate volume, “You can just wear my extra shirt.”

He turned away from me before I could respond, shuffling through something hidden beneath his desk that created more questions than answers for me.

“Why do you have an extra shirt?”

“Go bag,” he said in the most nondescript manner. It wasn’t necessarily abnormal, either. The question I’d asked didn’t spark any concerns in his mind, but it also wasn’t the question that I felt needed to be asked.

What I really wanted to say was caught in my throat. My hands clamped together in front of me tighter than my jaw that resisted opening to make way for the thoughts that felt more scandalous than they should’ve been.  

“U-Um, Professor don’t you think—“

“Here you go,” he offered with a smile. I took the large, plain black shirt with a hefty dose of caution, my hands shaking along with my broken voice that still couldn’t finish the sentence from before.

Spencer finally noticed the struggle on my face, and I watched his body move from comfortable to defensive in a matter of seconds. Like he was worried he’d done something wrong in trying to be kind.

He hadn’t, but I felt like I had.

“Won’t people... you know?” I mumbled, motioning a hand between the two of us, “I’m showing up to your class at 8AM wearing your clothes…”

I thought that the words alone would be enough. I thought that the gesture was overkill. But Spencer was still staring at me with his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed in thought.

I was going to have to say it.

Won’t they think we’re having sex?

There was no way I was going to be able to say it.

“Aren’t you concerned about people getting… the wrong idea?” I blurted out, instead.

The confusion on his face shifted to a clever little self-assured smirk so fast that I almost missed the transition. My stomach flipped from the sight, but then he spoke again, and what had felt like it was filled with butterflies turned to rocks.

“I’d much rather them gossip about something that’s not happening than watch the young boys ogle you instead of paying attention.”

It wasn’t the words, but the way that he’d said them. Like they were silly, like the idea of us being together was so preposterous it could only be entertained by people he perceived to be children.

I was foolish, too.

“Don’t worry about them,” he said with a wave, “Just worry about making this Monday a little bit better.”

“O-okay. Thanks,” I whispered, turning and running from the room only to be reminded of the mess I’d made. But the pool of tawny liquid on the floor wasn’t the most disastrous thing anymore. That honor was reserved for the state of my heart, begrudgingly continuing to beat despite being broken.

Scooping up my bag that I’d abandoned before, I tried to allow myself to be happy about the little things. For instance, the fact that the shirt Spencer had handed me was probably the softest thing I’d ever felt in my life. It made sense, considering the sensory issues he always described.

Still, I waited until I was in the safety of a bathroom stall before I buried my face in the fabric. It smelled just like him, a mixture of freshly done laundry and vanilla. Much better than the cheap, burnt coffee that covered me. Funny enough, that sort of smelled like him, too.

By the time I slipped into his clothes, I had almost forgotten his joke entirely. I was too lost in the joy of sweater paws from his cardigan and fabric that felt like a hug. Or at least, what I’d imagined a hug from him would be like.

The energy it provided me was a better pick-me-up than any cup of coffee had ever been. I kept my squealing as quietly as I could, bouncing in place just like the nickname he’d chosen to let stick. But before I returned to him, I felt something. A small, noticeable weight in one of the cardigan pockets.

If I’d thought about it for longer than five seconds, if I’d reminded myself that they were his clothes and not mine, I would’ve let it be. I wouldn’t have pulled the little object from its safe hiding spot. It would have stayed locked away, leaving me none the wiser of its presence.

But I didn’t think about it, and then there I was, holding onto the sobriety token I should’ve seen coming.

Not that it was a bad thing; I already knew Spencer had a history with drugs. He’d mentioned it in passing in class and was deeply involved with a number of volunteer programs around the area. At one point, I’d even taken it upon myself to research his history.

That research, while I regretted it now, feeling that it violated his privacy some way or another, led me to a second conclusion. As my thumb ghosted over the embossed number five, I realized that Spencer had been sober since he was released from prison.

My heart swelled with pride and relief that felt shameful. I didn’t want the token to have such a profound effect on the image of him I’d already crafted in my mind. Lord knew I didn’t need any more reasons to idolize him. And, at the end of the day, I’d only discovered this information by happenstance.

Part of respect, I decided, meant ignoring the way that fate seemed to push us together. If Spencer ever wanted my opinion on his sobriety or strength, surely, he would just ask. So, I slipped the chip back into the pocket and made my way back to him without worry for what it meant.

While I had no worries, Spencer was another story. I’d barely even made it through the door when he saw me. All of the papers he’d been holding immediately fell from his hands the same way the coffee had fallen from mine.

“Oh no! My clumsiness was contagious!” I laughed, bolting over to help him only to find his face an unhealthy shade of red. He chuckled back but said nothing else as he scrambled to pick up the loose-leaf that had splayed itself all over the floor.

Once we were back on our feet and as collected as we could be considering the circumstances of the morning thus far, his eyes met mine again. His cheeks were still flushed, unable to focus on anything specific and choosing to traverse my body the same way his hands had on Halloween.

“Sorry,” he mumbled in a way that made me wonder if he knew I could hear him, “I was distracted by how unfair it is that you look better in my clothes than I do.”

It was my turn to be flustered, but Spencer didn’t let the moment drag on. He tore himself away from me in every sense of the word, marching past me and halfway exiting the room before he found the courage to look at me again.

“Are you ready to head to class?” he asked as if it were an option.

I suppose to him, it was. For a second I imagined what the future would hold for us if I’d said no. What would he have done if I begged him to stay with me, instead? What if we rebelled against expectation and remained locked away in his office until we grew tired of one another? What if we never did?

My mind filled with fantasies of Spencer’s hands freely feeling my skin the way his clothes could. I could hear soft, breathy sounds of desire shaped like my name. For all of my inexperience, he would still find me intoxicating. He would grow drunk on me the same way a child finds endless joy in sweets that really ought to make them sick.

Then again, maybe he had grown used to the sugar. Maybe he wanted something more mature, a bitterness like molasses that was only earned from years I hadn’t had yet.

Regardless, I couldn’t really get into any of that. Instead, I just flashed a very awkward thumbs up to the man fifteen years my elder when I droned, “Sure am, Professor man.”

As stupid as it felt to do something so juvenile, the smile he gave was worth it.

“Alright then, Bunny,” he answered with his own little peace sign, “Let’s hop along.”

——————————————————

It hadn’t even been a week since I saw her, scantily clad in the plush, socially acceptable equivalent of lingerie. It’d been even less time since I admitted my own weakness to her. I’d replayed the memories of her visceral responses to my touch enough times that I should be sick of it. But there was no tiring of her.

I considered deleting the photos she’d sent me, convinced that it was cruel to keep them when she’d only sent them while inebriated and undoubtedly exhausted beyond belief.

But when I woke up in the morning, my stomach still reeling from the knowledge of what I’d done, all that she’d sent was a curious collection of emotes and a very brief note.

“Oops!” she’d written, “Bad bunny?”

I put that phrase out of my mind immediately, unable to handle the way it incited the desire for destruction in my veins.

“I’m always glad to hear that you are safe.”

That was the end of the conversation, and I was grateful for that much. Even the few words we’d exchanged would haunt me until I saw her again. Of course, the torture ended there, but only for a few seconds before it was replaced with other images and words.

It’d been hours since I’d found her flailing about half-naked in the hall while uttering rushed curses that sounded too crude for her lips. It’d been hours since I felt the soft skin of her lower back and became lost in an entirely different set of fantasies.

It’d been even less time since I saw her standing at my door, pulling on the sleeves of my sweater and staring at me with nervous, shifty glances. Completely unaware of just how beautiful she was in her simplicity. How much more torturous it was to see her wearing my clothes than any lustful suffering that lingerie or nudity could elicit.

I thought that it would get better throughout the day, but it didn’t. It only got worse.

I’d stepped out of my office for barely half an hour, but I returned to find her curled up on the plush chair. Her shoes were slipped off, revealing colorful socks that clashed with every other neutral color she wore. It somehow made me want her even more.

I stayed stuck for a few seconds longer, watching her with bated breath and shameless admiration. She was so caught up in the papers on her lap that she didn’t even notice my presence until the door clicked shut. It was then that she turned to see me, allowing a smile to blossom across her face despite eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What’s all of this?” she asked, gesturing to the collection of bags hanging from my wrists.  

“Did you know…” I started before my heart stopped at how she always leaned forward with excitement whenever I started a sentence that way, “that food is one of the best ways to solve a terrible Monday?”

“Which scientific study did you get that from?”

I paused again, debating telling her the many studies that would support such a theory, but then decided against it. Instead, I sought out her laughter and childlike joy that always brought out the best of her.

“Garfield,” I answered.

Sure enough, the office filled with the melodious sound of her happiness. I moved as quietly as I could, thinking back to when I was younger and thought of how powerful bottled laughter would be if I could capture it. Hers would surely right so many wrongs.

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, but I figure it’s the least I could do.”

She approached me to assist before I’d even made it to my desk, and although I thought her hands were far too soft to be bothered with something like this, I allowed her to help.

“You could do nothing, you know. It was my own fault.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

She laughed again, shier and shrinking into the sweater as she tried to find her place in such a domestic activity as sharing a meal with me in private. I thought of how it was a taste of my dreams.

Because as often as I did fantasize about her, undone, bare-skinned, and defenseless to my desires, I just as often envisioned her just like this. In fact, I found those fantasies more dangerous. They couldn’t be written off as mere lust. They were another, scarier thing.

“Well, lucky you I am an exhausted, broke grad student, so free food will always win me over,” she muttered, half-sarcastically but just sad enough to bother me.  

“Duly noted,” I said.

I hid away the promises I wanted to make. That if she were mine, she would want for nothing. That I would give her everything she needed to bloom. That I would prune away any neighboring flower that dared get in her way or block the sunlight. There would be no need to worry of predators or pollinators intruding, because she would belong to me and only me.

I would be her earth, her rain, and her sun. I would be surely and shamelessly selfish.

Her shoulders rose with a cheeky, excited little giggle once she had collected her food. I wanted nothing more than to let her enjoy it to her heart’s content… but there was a problem.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” I chuckled before she had a chance to return to the chair with her precarious paper plate, “Get in the other chair.”

Her face scrunched up, bouncing back and forth between the two seats in the room like she’d heard something so strange that it must have been a mistake.

“Wh— your chair?”

“I will not have you ruining another shirt today,” I explained. It caused the confusion to quickly shift to an embarrassed frustration within seconds. Just as she opened her mouth to protest my teasing, I continued with something I knew would tie her tongue until she could no longer argue.

“If you’re so worried about what they’ll say when you show up in my shirt, just think of how they’ll talk if they catch you wearing nothing.”

That stubborn little thing still tried. Her mouth floundered, strange sounds of protest starting but never finishing until she gave up. She sulked over to the seat with an odd amount of self-satisfaction. She settled into my space as comfortably as she always did. With an ease that was almost unsettling to my tired, tortured heart.

Swapping places with her for that little bit of time was a good idea. I hadn’t expected that it would bring me as much serenity as it did. My usually busy lips kept their focus on the food, opting to listen to her ramble about any and everything that came to mind.

It wasn’t until she was fifteen minutes into an explanation on her paper that I realized how little I’d tried to learn about her life outside of me. Whether it was self-preservation or narcissism, I’d never decided. But what I was certain of was that it had been a brutal form of self-sabotage.

Because as I sat there, watching her clumsily, excitedly swinging her fork and proving my point that it had been a good decision to give her the desk, I saw her for in a different light than before.

She was not just a beautiful, mysterious flower peeking through the concrete. She was the trembling giant, the clonal colony of thousands of quaking aspen trees. An extravagant network of roots that flowed far beyond the seed that started them.

This sprout might be new, but her soul was ancient and celestial, wise and immortal.

“Who knows?” she sighed, coming to a natural conclusion of a story I had almost missed while lost in daydreams and metaphors, “Maybe one day I’ll be a professor, too.”

“You’d be good at it.”

For once, it felt like she accepted the compliment without a fight. I considered it progress all the way up until she shot back a thinly veiled taunt.

“Thanks. Means a lot from someone who has 4 stars on rate my professor!”

“Don’t forget the chili pepper,” I jokingly returned.

“Not sure I’d get one of those.”

I knew that my disagreement wouldn’t amount to much in the grand scheme of things, so I opted for a slightly-self-centered flattery instead.

“Just show up in that outfit,” I said with a nod that barely hid my actual intention of focusing my eyes on the rest of her, “you’ll be golden.”

“You gonna let me borrow it in ten years?” she hummed.

It was a dangerous proposition, an implication that made the pitter-pattering in my chest unbearable. Rather than chasing her down the rabbit hole of fantasies, I just chuckled before I answered, “You know how to find me.”

Then it happened again. Her face slowly changed, growing from a cautious optimism to a yearning. A subtle hint of words left unsaid. And although she wet her lips and set down her fork, the words never came out. They stayed stalled in her throat, and there was no discernible way for me to drag them out of her without hurting the both of us.

When a loud knock resounded through the room, the thought ended altogether.

“Come in,” I grimly announced, recognizing the intrusive sound as the death rattle for whatever might have been said.

As the door opened, I realized the same time (y/n) did that we had forgotten that the rest of the outside world wasn’t familiar with our dynamic. They didn’t have the backstory of how she’d perched herself on my chair with her shoes off and wearing my clothes.

Torn between scrambling to take more socially acceptable positions and the knowledge that our hurry would make us look even more suspicious, we both opted to remain frozen in place like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming train.

When the door opened, however, I was somewhat relieved to see someone I found completely unthreatening. My closest colleague, a woman that should really terrify me all things considered, seemed mostly perplexed when she found a young girl in my seat.

She quickly turned to me, drawing out her words as she asked, “Oh. I’m sorry, am I... interrupting something?”

“No, what can I help you with, Candy?”

“I was hoping we could talk about my current paper proposal.”

She paused, and I took the moment to follow her glower to the flower still stationary behind my desk. (Y/n) stared back, seemingly frightened by the presence of the other Professor.  

“If you’re busy with... office hours…” Candy muttered before turning back to me, “we can always set up a meeting for a better time.”

Before I could address the possible tension or implication, the girl at my desk sprung to action, clearing off any sign of her presence as she spoke.

“You know, I actually need to get going.”

“Are you sure?”

She didn’t look at me when she answered, “Yeah, I’m sure your papers are more important.”

If I’d turned back to Candy, I might have seen the condescending scowl that was driving her away. If I’ve had any inclination or desire to look at Candy, I would have realized that (y/n) wasn’t trying to escape from her connection to me. She was just trying to get out of my way.

It didn’t make it any harder to watch her leave. I took solace in the fact that she held tighter to my cardigan, trusting me to keep her warm by proxy as she ventured back into the real world. The world where we couldn’t be in peace.

“Thanks for the advice, Professor,” she said before she left, “You were right. As usual.”

One last smile was shared, somber but sobering. A necessary break from the intimacy of the moment.

“See you in class.”

The office felt so much duller without her radiance, but my disappointment would have to wait. As much as I actually didn’t mind the world knowing how my heart hurt from her absence, I knew that it was best I didn’t let it impact her academic career.

“Sorry again for the intrusion,” my colleague said in a much happier voice.  

“It’s not a problem at all.”

She must have noticed the way it sounded like a lie, because her tone quickly shifted back to a slightly disgruntled confusion.

“I didn’t realize she was your student, too. What class is she in?”

It was juvenile, really, the way my heart fluttered so ridiculously at the mere mention of her existence. The excuse to discuss her again.

“Oh, did she not tell you?”

Candy just shook her head with a blatantly false smile.

“Unsurprisingly modest,” I laughed, making my way back over to my seat and running my fingers over the wooden armrests like it would be the same as touching her ghost, “She’s my TA.”

“Oh… I see.”

“She was the only one who would put up with me,” I offered with a chuckle. Self-deprecating humor was the only reliable personality trait I had. It was also, unfortunately, one that most women in my life despised and refused to let sit.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

It sounded less sweet coming from her. I wrote it off as a product of the differences in their species. While the hummingbird of a girl who’d just flittered away was used to only drinking the sweetest, purest nectar, the bird of prey who’d entered relied on the work of others to gather the sweetness before they were devoured.

That wasn’t to say she was cruel; hawks are as much a miracle of nature as hummingbirds. I simply related to one more than the other. I understood one while the other remained a mystery. And I loved mysteries more than myself.

“So, you wanted to talk about your paper?”

“Oh! Yes,” she chirped, passing the packet over to me now that I’d found my way back to what she probably deemed my rightful place. “The conference is coming up so much faster than I anticipated, and I would love to hear your opinions on my first draft.”

I’d already started to read the first page when she spoke again, uncharacteristically bashful and anxious, “Since we’ll be presenting together, I figured...”

“Yeah, no problem at all,” I interrupted, not wanting her to dwell nor expand on the thought of us doing anything together any more than necessary, “I can send you mine.”

It felt curt, blunt, and off putting when I said it, but she didn’t take it as such.

“Wonderful. You have such a unique voice when you’re writing. It’s very refreshing.”

Immediately, a memory appeared at the forefront of my mind and led to a laugh that I couldn’t contain. Candy seemed pleased at the sound, and I felt the need to explain.

“Thanks. (Y/n) likened it to Ray Bradbury at one point, although in different and less flattering words.”

I could hear her clear as day, quoting my words with an overdramatized effect before laughing, ‘Pack it up, Bradbury, you’ve got more science stuff to explain.’

Of course, we both found her laughter-ridden explanation of the ‘meme’ far funnier than the original joke. She was probably the only person in the world who never seemed bothered by explaining everything to me ad nauseam.

“She is... certainly a choice as a TA,” Candy strained upon scrutinizing the smile that had returned to my face for the first time since (y/n)’s departure, “Will she be joining us at the conference?”

But then the guilt returned, wiping the smile from my face and replacing happy memories with deviant thoughts and fears.

“Oh... you know, I haven’t asked her.”

“That’s perfectly alright! I think we’ll do just fine without her.”

“Right...” I whispered, glancing back down at the stack of papers in my hand before setting it in the tray designated for (y/n). “I’ll have her look at your paper just in case.”

A lull in the conversation stretched past the point of comfort for both of us, and I glanced up at the woman I actually felt guilty for ignoring in place of fantasies that would probably never come to be. She hadn’t even done anything to warrant my disregard. She was an attractive woman — as beautiful as she was brilliant, really — she had worked very hard to garner my trust and academic collaboration. At one point, I had considered her one of the few potential candidates for something more than a purely academic partner.

But there was something about the way she looked at the honeyed girl that made my hair stand on end. A defensiveness and instinct that couldn’t be ignored.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that was all,” she said as she broke from what I presumed to be her own daydream, “I hope your semester keeps going well.”

“Thanks, I hope yours does, too.”

I meant it, despite the aforementioned concern. I wished her well in the semester for both selfless and selfish reasons. I wished her well because she deserved it, certainly. But the other reason, the larger one, was that I hoped she would remain distracted. I hoped that she didn’t notice the way I would slip away from her affections to chase those from a more interesting challenge. One that remained mysterious, with hair covered in pollen and lips sweet with ambrosia.

“I’ll talk to you soon, Dr. Reid.”

I failed to respond to her again before the door shut because my hands were already busy with rekindling contact with another.

“I have a proposition for you, Bunny.”

“Sounds ominous. I’m in.”  

The fact that the response came before I could even shut off the display was so characteristic of her that I had to laugh.

“You haven’t even heard it yet,” I observed, to which she once again immediately responded, “Your point being?”

“I’m afraid this is an obligation that does require some expansion before agreement.”

Her response was slower, then, and I could almost see her with a slight panic and overwhelming curiosity that grew stronger by the second.

“Ominous and vaguely unsettling,” she said.  

I considered drawing it out further, letting her imagination truly run wild with the possibilities. But then I realized that if she thought hard enough about it, she might reach the same place that had immediately come to my mind.

“Would you like to attend the upcoming conference with me?” I relented, almost stopping there but then frantically tagging on the conditions I knew would be most likely to cause hesitation. “You’d have your own room, of course. The department and I will help with funds.”

But, as it turned out, I didn’t need to be worried.

“A cheap weekend away from school where I get to be a nerd with you?” she sent with another set of small, smiling faces I was only just starting to understand, “Of course I’m going to say yes, Professor!”

“Perfect. I’ll arrange it.”

“I can’t wait!”

Although I felt the same, I forced myself to end contact again. I put my phone out of reach to prevent myself from spoiling any more of my fantasies than I already had. I didn’t need her to second-guess the possibilities of a weekend away together now that she’d already agreed to it.

The thought alone sparked guilt anew. Through the entire interaction, I’d infused each word with a charge that shouldn’t have been. Each line was far more provocative than it needed to be.

It was just an academic conference. Most people found them terribly dull, not to mention physically exhausting. It would not be a time away like most couples dreamed of because we were not a couple in any sense of the word.

Yet… I couldn’t help but feel that perhaps there weren’t as many differences as one might think. Because while yes, most people would be bored, I didn’t think Bunny would be. Clandestine meetings made between conference meetings sounded exactly like the kind of dreams we would share.

I believed it so strongly that my mind had already drafted several narratives that would suit her. I pictured her and I sharing company in public, unafraid of public displays of affection — innocent, childish kinds, of course — because we were miles away from those who might care.

That drunken, lust-inducing, half-lidded gaze from the week before would return. Except this time, I would taste the wine on her tongue, my hands sliding not over fluffy fabric, but the same skin that I’d felt for the first time that morning.

Behind our door, I would teach her so many things. Things that she would have begged me for. Things that others would see written on her skin in the shape of my fingers and mouth. Things that she would carry with a straighter back and dripping down her legs.

I didn’t just want to destroy her. I wanted to break her so that I could build her back with gold-laced lacquer. She would be my kintsugi creation full of sugar and honey, just imperfect enough that the sticky residue of her sweetness would slip through the cracks to coat everything she touched.

And then she would touch me, and I might finally feel like I deserved anything at all.

——————————————————

| Part Five |

[thefanficmonster]

Love’s Ways

Lexi Howard x Fezco [Euphoria Season 2]

Warnings: Drinking, Mentions of Drug Use, Flirting, Swearing, SPOILERS for Euphoria S2

Genre: FLUFF, Romance

Summary: Lexi and Fez have a rerun of the New Year's night, running into each other again at yet another party.

Requested by @plantsimp Hi dear! Thank you so much for the idea! Hope you enjoy the fic! Love, Vy ❤

It takes a lot for Lexi to seek comfort and relaxation in alcohol but here she is on her second cup of gin and tonic and unable to really focus on anything going on around her. That should come as no surprise though, since she's constantly checking her phone and not really participating in the party she's at. Cassie has nudged her time and time again but it's only a momentary solution to Lexi's phone-checking, in five minutes or less she'll be back at it.

And she is doing just that once more as she makes her way to the bar to grab a refill, something so unusual for her that it made the girls in the group exchange the weirdest looks amongst each other. Lexi, of course, didn't notice.

Another thing she also didn't notice was the full grown human being in front of her, one she inevitably bumped into.

Letting out a gasp mixed with a squeal, she stabilizes herself, dropping her red solo cup to grab onto the person's arm for balance. She's just about to franticly apologize and excuse herself in that embarrassed frenzy she's so used to but then...

"Damn Lex, how much have you had?"

That chuckle is unmistakable and immediately causes her head to snap up, unlike her original attention to keep avoiding his gaze. What she sees is the charming smirk on Fezco's face. A face she'd been secretly hoping she'd see here all night but was doubtful her wishes would be made a reality.

Never doubt your luck, Lexi. At least not with this man

"Hey! Um...sorry about...that. I should've looking where I was going." She awkwardly apologizes, subconsciously dragging it out to keep the conversation going.

The ginger just smiles in response, "Don't worry 'bout it, is my fault too. You gonna need a new cup tho. Lemme...."

Just as he turns to head to the bar that's just a few steps behind where the two have found themselves standing, a loud girly shrill of his name interrupts him mid-motion. He cringes as he notices Lexi's smile falter out of the corner of his eye. He's not dumb, he knows exactly what she must be thinking.

"Fucking hell, she won't leave me the fuck alone." He grumbles, purposely avoiding to look in the direction of the dark haired - and very attractive, as Lexi noted - waving girl across the room.

"She's looking for drugs or something?" The brunette offers the question as an attempt at sympathy but it's also her wishful thinking shining through.

"Yeh, but she can't seem to get that lap dances ain't a currency." He replies a bit too casually for Lexi's taste which causes her to giggle. That seems to amuse the drug dealer who smirks to himself while her eyes are averted, "If she broke she shouldn't be callin' on me in the first place."

She scoffs herself back to semi-serious, "Well, in that case....you should probably take care of the situation..."

Noticing where Lexi is trying to take this conversation, aka to an end which is the last thing Fez wants, he decides to use a convenience that's practically fallen in his hands. That convenience has come in the form of a currently high-as-a-kite junkie who he sold quite a full package of drugs to earlier tonight.

As if on cue, the guy lifts his head, meeting Fez's intense gaze that suggests he ain't fucking around and is staring at him with intent. The stoner follows Fez's eyes to the already cracked out girl who he's been trying to get off his case.

The guy, despite his state, thankfully doesn't take long to realize what he's being told through the gaze of the drug dealer's piercing blue eyes.

Seeing the boy stand up like a puppet on strings and walk over to the girl who's name he's already forgotten, he feels relief flood him.

"Nah, seems pretty taken care of to me." He responds, his eyes never leaving the druggie pair until they disappear into a different room, suggesting his diversion worked, "Now lemme get you that drink. Whatchu havin'?"

"The gin and tonic. Fifty/fifty ratio, if that helps." She blurts out without a second thought, not particularly keen on questioning how Fezco telepathically settled the situation which she too had her eyes on the entire time. She doesn't feel the need to know all the details, another thing that's completely out of character for her. She always aims to know more, the details that everyone misses, the elements that people overlook. She aims to pay attention to those forgotten parts of the world. Of a person.

But with Fez it's different. She doesn't feel that need to figure him our, strip him of his layers to see who he is. As ridiculous as she knows it'd sound if she told any of her friends - she trusts him. She believes that he doesn't have as many masks as the people she's met all throughout her life and that even those few he'll take off on his own when the time is right. Those masks are the ones life has created for him, to help him hide the weakness his grandma taught him to never show.

It ain't easy being a drug dealer with a heart of gold. Especially not in this small, easily underestimated town.

"You ain't a fan of randomness, I see." He snorts, walking those few steps to the bar, "It don't surprise me tho, to be honest."

Lexi's eyebrows furrow as she follows behind him, "I do like being spontaneous....sometimes....but not always. Just like I said earlier, a person can like being in love, but being in love all the time can be exhausting and draining, especially if the other person isn't in it as much as you are."

Fez turns his head to face her as he pours himself a randomly estimated mix of gin and tonic. He will measure hers tho. "Yeah, we agreed to disagree on that one."

He instantly recognizes that glint in Lexi's eyes, the spark that serves as a pre-telling of long exposition into something new she's read or figured out on her own.

"Well, I did some more research on the matter, so what do you say we reopen the case?"

Fezco never makes no-brainer moves. He calculates each and every possible outcome for every possible decision he could make in the moment. He's learned to be very cautious, it was engraved in his brain the hard way. But, as of right now, as Lexi is ready to throw the ace out of her sleeve, he ends up contrasting his regular self.

"I say sit down on that couch and show me whatchu got, Lexi Howard." With that, he hands her the drink he carefully concocted in the meantime.

Gleefully accepting the cup from him and taking a sip, she gains a new set of confidence that is probably powering her hand as it reaches for Fez's, grabbing it so she can lead him to the couch he was talking about in his open invitation.

The man doesn't need to be verbally instructed on what to do, instead happily follows suit, suppressing his wide grin, morphing it into a smirk of amusement. Or, more likely, adoration.

"Ok, so, since love is such a powerful emotion, it takes a lot for our brains to process it properly...."

And just like that, time seems to have sped up which is the curse of spending time with someone whose company you genuinely enjoy.

Regardless, by the end of the night, aka by the time Lexi's curfew started nearing and when she gave him one final wave before disappearing in the crowd to find her sister, Fezco could only think of one thing - how right she had been. Love really is a very powerful emotion. But he was also right - he could never get tired of feeling it, especially not when it's meant for her.

@lilaalouuxx  @ciniluv @hyperfixatingmenever  @rosesandallthatshit  @coffeebookreadinglover  @dreamingaboutyousworld  @maryelizabeth13  @ateliefloresdaprimavera

[vendettaparker]

What a Dumbass [P.P]

Summary: Peter’s mistake leads to you being injured. 

Pairing: Peter Parker x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Swearing, like a substantial amount, suggestive content kinda, gun shot wound, and flustered!Peter 

a/n: I really liked writing this. I couldn’t stop laughing at some of the dialogue. and the mistake peter made to cause the whole set-up of the story is so funny to me. like i can legit see him making this mistake. also, i’m gonna make a permanent tag list, so please send me an ask or message me if you want to be on it! <3

        ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     Peter Benjamin Parker is a fucking dumbass. All the time mostly. Most of the time his dumbassery leads to a lot of annoyed avengers, a lot of clean up, and a lot of spilled secrets. Hence why like three people who definitely shouldn’t know he is Spider-man do. But every once in while his idiocy can lead to an unexpected happily ever after, at least until he fucks something up again. 

     This particular fuck up has yet to be determined as a happy accident or your new 13th reason. It all started when that spider bitch decided it’d be a good idea to watch some explicit content on his laptop. Now, this wasn’t particularly an unknown activity for him to partake in, since we all know about his little impromptu purchase in Germany, but unbeknownst to this dork, his aunt was in the next room over working on a tear in his suit. And to make matters worse, he accidentally just so happened to purchase a subscription using said aunt’s credit card that was pre-setup in his laptop. 

     Now May is a very understanding woman. Very sex-positive, very loving, and inclusive; the whole shebang really. So when she happened to catch this idiot doing what he most certainly shouldn’t have been doing, she wasn’t mad, just thoroughly disturbed. Then she got the notification about the purchase. That was a bit more taboo in her eyes. So Peter was grounded from patrolling for a week and his laptop privileges were revoked for two weeks. That was fucking merciful compared to what this whole fuck up put you through. 

     At the school that following Monday, Peter spent the whole first, second, fourth, and lunch period trying to convince you to take over patrol for a week. Sure, you could definitely handle it, not to pat yourself on the back or anything, but you were significantly stronger than Peter, so it shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. But you just really didn’t want to. Peter had his ‘Peter Tingle’ to help him find danger, while you’d actually have to look. It just seemed harder for you to do than it would be for him. 

     “Why are you even grounded?” You sighed after Peter's 3rd time bringing up the possibility of you patrolling for him at lunch. 

     “He got caught watching and buying p—” Ned started laughing.

     “Ned! Shut up!” Peter yelled, slapping his hand over his friend's mouth. 

     “How has your identity not been leaked yet, Jesus Christ.” You mumbled, giggling. You flipped through your chemistry textbook, writing notes to prepare for Friday’s quiz. 

     “Yeah, and how come you didn’t know May was home?” Ned pushed Peter’s hand away. “Where was your ‘Peter Tingle’ then?” 

     “She’s not a threat, dude. But shit, I really wish my tingle detected her.” Peter groaned, a deep blush covering his features. “Please (Y/N). I really, really don’t wanna leave Queens without any protection for a week. I’ll try to convince May to let me go out on the weekend, so really it’s only five days.” 

     “I guess I could help you out, but you owe me. I should really spend this time studying for my chemistry test. Iron bitch is gonna have my head on a spike if I fail another chem test.” You said, highlighting more notes. 

     “Okay! Delmar’s for a week, anytime, anywhere.” Peter said putting his hand out for you to shake. 

     “Make it a month, I know my worth.” 

     Peter hesitated, but eventually gave in, “Fine, but you better do a good job.” 

        ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

     So now you were stuck patrolling from 8:30 to 11:00 every night. It wasn't bad per se, and nothing too eventful happened. You stopped a small convenience store robbery, gave a few kids some tips at the skatepark, ran some errands for an old lady, and saved a cat from a tree. Thursday night was the real kicker though. Your night had barely started and you accidentally got in the middle of a drug deal between some smaller mob and a real messed-up junkie. This should’ve been an easy takedown, only six people in total that needed to be taken out, but like was mentioned before, you don’t have Peter’s goddamn, stupid fucking tingle. So after taking all six of the perps out you started to walk away after alerting the police. Unfortunately, one of those assclowns had come to, and grabbed the gun a few feet away from him and shot it towards you. The bullet went through your thigh and out the other side. Screaming in shock and pain, you used your own throwing knives and knocked the gun out of the mobster’s hand, then you proceeded to knock him out again with a few good punches to his noggin, maybe a few more, just for good measure. But this wound would need to be cleaned and stitched up. And if you went back to the Tower, Steve and Tony would give you an earful about “watching your surroundings” and “being more careful”. So in a moment of pure adrenaline and desperation, you texted Peter. 

You: are you home

Spider-Dork: Yeah, why?

You: i’ll be there in 5 

Spider-Dork: What? Why? Is everything ok?

Spider-Dork: Hello??? (Y/N)????

(Y/N) declined (3) calls 

Spider-Dork: Answer my calls idiot. 

     Peter’s texting and constant calling was cut short from a crash in his room. 

     “(Y/N)? Is that you?” Peter called from the couch in the living room. 

     “Yeah, can I borrow a t-shirt?” You called, fumbling around accidentally knocking over another lamp. “Oops, sorry!”

     “Uh, yeah sure. In the closet!” Peter called back pausing his show, prepared to make his way over to you. 

     “And some sweats?” You called back, blood dripping all over Peter’s hardwood floor. 

     Peter got up to make his way to his room. “Yeah, second drawer on the left side.” He said as he made his way to his bedroom. Knowing you were in there, most likely changing, he knocked. “You decent?” 

     “Nope, not really. I need a pair of your boxers too, though.” You called through the door, now seeing that the blood splattered on your underwear as well. “Also, bring the first aid kit when you come in.” 

     ‘What? Why?” Peter said in a more stressed tone, pushing his way into the room, completely ignoring the fact that you were very much not decent. “Holy shit.” He said seeing you out of your suit, in your bra and underwear, blood dripping down your right leg, pooling onto the floor. Your hand, red and bloody, pressed onto what he only assumed was the wound and blood seeping through your fingers. 

     “Bring a mop too.” 

     Peter ran out of the room to grab the first aid kit, plus some extra bandages and a cleaning solution. When he came back in he found you in the same state, standing in the middle of the room, eyebrows furrowed in pain, clutching your right thigh. 

     “What the hell happened?” He gasped, motioning for you to sit on his bed. You hesitated, not wanting to mess up his sheets. He seemed to notice your thought process quickly adding, “I have to wash my sheets anyway.” 

     “Gross.” You mumbled, scrunching up your face in disgust and finally settling down on his bed. 

     “Move your hand and tell me what happened,” Peter said kneeling on the floor next to the bed, positioned right at your hips. You removed your hand, bloody instantly seeping onto the bed. Peter winced looking at the hole in your leg, quickly grabbing the peroxide and dumping heaps of it onto your leg, much to your distaste. 

     “I got shot.” You stated as he cleaned the blood around the hole with alcohol pads.

     “Well, no shit. I mean by who and how?” 

     “Mobster. Sneaky bitch got me while I was walking away.” You winced as Peter inspected the wound further. 

     “I need to stitch this up. Did it go all the way through?” He said lifting your leg to look underneath for an exit wound. 

     “Yeah.” Peter found the exit wound and held your leg up with one hand, pouring peroxide on the back of your thigh with the other. 

     “You have to be more careful, (Y/N)! This looks really nasty.” Peter scolded, setting your leg back down and prepping the needle and sutures. “What if this was in your chest? Or—or if you didn’t get here in time? You could’ve bled out!” 

     “Well sorry that I don’t have your stupid tingle to help me out when I’m being fucking shot at!” You yelped, gripping the bedsheets. 

     “You don’t need spidey sense, you need fucking common sense,” Peter mumbled, stitching his first suture.

     “What the fuck did you just say?” You looked at him incredulously. 

     “I— uh, nothing.” Peter huffed, focusing back on stitching you up.

     “This is your all your fault, to begin with!” You accused, shifting uncomfortably, due to the needle constantly being stuck into your leg. “You’re the one that begged me to go on patrol for you! You’re the dumb bitch that got caught watc—” 

     “Ok! Shut up! For God’s sake, you’re never gonna let me live that down.” Peter groaned, finishing up the last stitch. “Flip over.” He commanded, pushing at the side of your waist to help with the movement. 

     “Well, it was fucking dumb. Don’t you check to make sure nobody’s home? God, we all know you’re a vocal bitch too.” You said, fully situated on your stomach. 

     “What the fuck is that suppose to mean!?” He gasped, prepping another needle. 

     “You’re a sensitive boy.” You shrugged, wincing when Peter started his next stitch. 

     “I-I am not sensitive! I’m emotionally and physically staunch!” He defended, going in for another stitch. 

     You just raised an eyebrow in amusement. “Sure, whatever you say, babe.” You winked at him, blowing an exaggerated kiss. 

     “You're a jerk,” Peter mumbled, finishing up his stitching job. “A jerk with a fucked up leg.” 

     You hummed, quite amused. Peter got up and started to collect his medical supplies. He shuffled out of the room to put everything away. When he returned you were trying to get up and walk, wincing at every slight movement. 

     “Here, let me just—” Peter lifted you up, bridal style. A small yelp coming from you when a sharp pain shot through your leg. “Sorry.”

     “It’s fine. Can you help me get dressed?” You said as he walked you over to his desk and set you down in his desk chair. 

     “Sure.” Peter blushed, painfully aware of your lack of clothes. He picked out some clothes from his closet and drawers. He helped you into them, wallowing in the uncomfortable silence, taking in each whimper and wince from you whenever he brushed against your thigh. 

     “Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He sighed after you were all dressed. “This is my fault.” 

     You looked at his distraught face, feeling bad for initially blaming him for the events of tonight. “No, Pete. It’s fine. I should’ve made sure all of the guys were knocked out.” You put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze.

     “No, I should’ve been more careful when I was watching that stuff. I have my spidey sense, I would’ve been able to avoid getting shot. It’s not your fault that you didn’t get bit by a radioactive spider.”

     “Pete, really, I’ll be better by next week anyway. It’s fine.” 

     Peter shook his head, sighing. “I just feel so bad, I shouldn’t have forced patrolling on you.” You hugged him and rubbed his back soothingly. “It’s my fault you got hurt.” 

     “Peter stop. It’s just an unfortunate accident.” You mumbled, hugging him closer. “It could’ve happened to anyone.”

     “But it didn’t happen to just anyone (Y/N), it happened to you. And I caused it. I-I don't know what I’d do if something ever happened to you. What if it was worse?”

     You sighed, pulling away from Peter and cupping his face, seeing the regret and shame pooling in his eyes. Without much thought, you pulled him closer, slowly connecting your lips in a sweet kiss. Truly getting lost in the feeling of his lips against yours, the feeling of perfection. 

     Peter’s eyes widened in shock for a moment, before he was kissing you back, reveling in the feeling he’s been dreaming about for months. You finally pulled away to catch your breath. Peter flushed at your actions, unable to stop the wide smile crossing his features. 

     “Sorry,” You mumbled sheepishly, “just needed to shut you up for a second.”

     “Maybe I should talk more, just to see what happens,” Peter smirked, pulling you in for another shorter, but just as sweet, kiss. 

     You hummed against his lips. “I really like you. Even when you're a dumbass.” You sighed against his lips.

     “The feeling is mutual.” 

     “Rude. I’m not a dumbass.” You gasped in faux offense. 

     “You’re the one with a bullet wound.” he deadpanned 

     “You’re the one who got caught watchin—”

     “(Y/N)!”

[whumperooni]

what’s mine is mine

Pairing: Touya Todoroki x Sister!Reader

Tags/Warnings: tw incest, tw breeding kink, scumbag squad, drugs and drinking, possessive behavior

Word count: 5.7k

A/N: This is in response to a big brained nonny! I’m so sorry it took me so long to get to it!

“Touya-nii, do you want some- oh. Sorry, nii-san, I didn’t know you had guests over...”

Touya lifts his head from his phone to find you standing in the doorway- a curious tilt to your head and hands clasped behind your back. On the couch across from him, his shitty friends are looking at you- just as curious but with a look in their eyes that he doesn’t appreciate.

There’s a reason he doesn’t have them over when you’re home.

“Woah, Todoroki- who is this? Don’t tell me that’s your little sister. Where’ve ya been hiding her?”

Touya huffs as Keigo grins and you flush- teeth digging into your bottom lip, eyes lowering to the floor under the attention, a tiny smile threatening to form that Touya is very unhappy to see.

“C’mere, little birdy, let us see ya. Come say hi.”

The scowl that breaks across Touya’s face only makes Keigo smirk. Your eyes dart to Touya- seeking his approval, your face flustered- and Touya huffs again, rolls his eyes whenever Jin raises a brow toward him.

At least Tenko’s already gone back to playing his game- head bowed and bloodshot eyes only flicking toward you whenever Touya waves you over to him and you hesitantly enter the room.

He doesn’t like the way three sets of eyes run over your legs and he really doesn’t like the way Keigo’s smirk grows whenever his own eyes narrow.

Fuckin’ bastard. He’s nothing but scum.

Touya grabs your wrist as soon as you’re close enough to him to do so and he yanks you down onto his lap, ignores the squeak that leaves you whenever he wraps his arms around your waist and hooks his chin over your shoulder, rests a hand on your thighs.

“Asshole friends, this is my little sister. Sis, these are my asshole friends.”

“Yo.”

“Hey.”

“...mmm.”

“H-Hi...”

Keigo coos at your shy voice and Jin smiles a little- expression hazy from all the weed he’s smoked. Tenko glances at you- pointedly at your legs, between them- and Touya scowls, squeezes your thighs and pulls you even closer against him.

“Hey, baby, why don’t you come over here with us? If you want a lap to sit on, you can always use mine or Jin’s.”

“What about mine?”

“No one wants to sit on yours, weeb.”

“You can sit on mine,” Jin mumbles, barely audible over Tenko and Keigo’s squabbling. “I don’t mind.”

Your head moves with a shake and your fingers curl into your skirt- cheeks flaring as you press back against Touya. Something relaxes in his chest with that and he hugs you a little closer, smothers the impulse to lay his lips to your neck.

“N-No, thank you,” you mumble to Jin- so polite, so shy, so very good with your refusal.

“Didn’t want you to anyway.”

Touya snorts at that, just shakes his head when you look back at him in confusion.

Out of all of them, Jin’s probably the least likely threat. Tenko would be if he didn’t have a habit of staring and sneaking photos of any and every girl he can- he wouldn’t ever actually try anything on you, but Touya doesn’t want upskirt photos of his lil sis on that perv’s phone.

Keigo’s the worst by and far. And Touya will be damned if he lets his little sister get anywhere near that jackass with his sickly sweet charm, shit eating grins, and groping hands.

No way- you’re his.

“Nii-san,” you whisper, looking back at him with your cute little flushed cheeks and shy eyes. “Nii-san, I just came down to ask if you wanted some dinner. Natsuo-nii said he’d pick up some take-out...”

Natsuo? What the fuck are you doing hanging around Natsuo? That little shit should be on some cheesy date with his squeaky mouse of a girlfriend instead of trying to weasel in some time with you.

Touya doesn’t know which he hates more- the thought of his sleazy friends trying to flirt with you or the thought of you hanging out with your older brother, his younger brother.

When he only scowls in response, your face falls. You turn on his lap until you’re sat facing him- fingers curling into his shirt and brow furrowed, your bottom lip jutting out into one of those cute pouts of yours that you like to wear when you’re worried about him.

Over your shoulder, Touya can see Jin’s confusion and Tenko’s cocked brow, Keigo’s narrowed eyes. He flashes them a sneer that you can’t see and settles his hands on your hips, looks back down at you to see what’s got you bothered enough to forget your shyness.

“Onii-chan,” you start- voice tilting with a soft whine, something almost lecturing creeping through the words. “Nii-san, Natsuo-nii was just being nice. And you need to eat.”

Your hands run down his chest and your expression grows softer as you look up at him through your lashes, your voice gets quieter as you whisper to him,

“I worry about you, nii-san. You’re so skinny...”

The tips of your fingers press into the spaces between his ribs and Touya sighs as concern fills your eyes, ignores the stares of his friends from across the room.

“Fine, whatever,” he grumbles. “Get something for me and put it in the fridge. I’ll eat it later.”

“You promise?”

A huff leaves him and you pout whenever he rolls his eyes, but a nod of his head gets your lips quirking up with a pleased little smile all the same.

“I’ll get you some low mein,” you chirp, hands smoothing down his chest. “And I’ll have Natsuo-nii get you some beer too!”

“Aw, ain’t she just the sweetest.”

Keigo’s croon has you blushing and Touya huffs again once your head ducks- lips twitching with irritation as you squirm on his lap and the blonde across the room bares his teeth at him in a grin.

Fuckin’ dick.

“I, um, I- I should go tell Natsuo-nii,” you mumble, cheeks still flared up and voice dipping shy again. Touya just grunts and he squeezes your hips before giving one a little smack.

A press of soft lips to his cheek and then you’re off- Keigo, Jin, and Tenko all watching as you hurry out of the room and out of sight.

As soon as you’re gone, they look to him and Touya’s eyes narrow when a low whistle sounds from Keigo.

“Shit, Todoroki, and here I thought your whole family was just a bunch of dogs.”

“Oh fuck off,” Touya snaps, reaching for the blunt wraps with a scowl. “Don’t get any fuckin’ ideas, birdbrain.”

“Ideas?” Keigo laughs- grin still in place, turning sleazy. “Now why would I have any ideas about your cute lil sis and her cute lil tits.”

“I said fuck off.”

“She is pretty cute,” Jin mumbles, fingers scratching along his chest and lips holding a dazed smile that only has Touya scowling darker. “Like her ass...”

“Bet she cums like an ahego whore,” Tenko throws out without even looking up from his stupid fucking game. “Looks like a dumb slut.”

“Think the weeb’s right,” Keigo sneers. “Hey- she got a boyfriend, Todoroki?”

“I don’t know- you got a black eye?”

“Aw, cute- he’s protective.”

“Virgin then,” Tenko pipes up. “Bet she’d cream herself if she got kissed.”

A growl rips from Touya and the three bark out some laughs- Keigo and Tenko smirking while Jin’s dumb little smile grows.

He’s gonna fucking kill these assholes.

He knew they’d be nothing but scum when it came to you- he should’ve made sure you’d be out of the house before he let these three dicks come over for a smoke sesh.

Touya scowls and his friends keep up- slinging lewd comments and jeers as he smokes and stews.

◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾

Two in the morning and Touya’s buzzed.

Buzzed and fucking pissed.

Those assholes didn’t let up all night. Every other sentence out of Keigo’s mouth was about fucking you, getting you on your knees, making you drunk and stupid so he could wreck your ass. Tenko kept comparing you to characters from his ero games and Jin kept mumbling how he wanted you to sit on his dick, warm his cock while he smokes.

Jin was bareable, kind of. But Tenko and Keigo?

It’s a goddamn miracle he didn’t break their faces.

Touya scowls as he watches his so called friends head out and narrows his eyes at one last jeer of “kiss your sis good night for me” tossed out ny Keigo.

Those fuckers need to learn some manners. Those fuckers need to learn who you belong too.

Scowl deepening, Touya heads toward your room- feet stumbling and teeth gritting.

You’re asleep when he barges in- face peaceful, blanket twined between your legs, fingers curled into the sheets. He looks over you for a second, runs his eyes over bared thighs and cotton panties, and then he walks toward the bed, climbs onto it.

As soon as the mattress dips, your lashes flutter open and you stir with a sigh. You don’t do more than give a sleepy blink when he brackets himself over you, offer him a fuzzy, drowsy smile.

“Touya-nii...? What...what time is it?”

“Two.”

A hum and a yawn, another sleepy little blink. You’re cute like this and usually Touya would just crash beside you, but he’s got other plans right now- stupid, drunk, dumb plans but plans all the same.

“Hey- hey, don’t go back to sleep.”

There’s a huff from you, a furrowing of your brows. But you obey him as you always do; you sit up with another yawn and rub at your eye with a loose fist, let him tug the covers off of you without a fuss.

“Nii-san...nii-san, what is it?”

Touya ignores you and he grabs onto your still sleepy face, pulls you closer until he can kiss you, make you whine and moan. You jerk, just a bit, at the way he bites into your bottom lip and then you’re melting into his touch, looking up at him through half-shut eyes whenever he breaks the kiss and runs his drunken gaze over your flushed face.

“Nii-san...?”

Touya grunts and thumbs away a dribble of spit from the corner of your lips, ignores the quiet confusion written all over your face. You press into his touch and he watches you blink, reaches over to flick on the lamp without looking. He almost knocks it over but he ignores that, too, and kisses you again- not caring if you’re blinking rapidly to adjust to the sudden light or if you’re still thrown a little off kilter by his mood and his lingering scowl.

This kiss is rougher- his fingers snarling into your hair and his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, his grip tightening on your head. You whimper with it and Touya growls, doesn’t pull back until he feels you tremble and shake. Your lips part with a question, quivering and plumped up from his bites, and Touya huffs before it can sound, grits out his own.

“You love me, right?”

Your eyes snap open, you breathe in sharp and fast- bewilderment all over your face and any lingering traces of sleep evaporated in an instant. Your hands fly to his face and his lips twitch at the touch, he presses into it even if it’s a fucking weak little move.

“Touya-nii, of course I love you! I love you with all my heart!”

Sweet, a little hurt, absolutely sincere- you say it with wide eyes and so much concern that it makes him want to scowl even deeper, punch himself for being so stupid to even ask.

Of course you love him- he’s your nii-san after all.

Touya huffs and his shoulders relax a little, his tongue darts out to wet his lips as your brows scrunch together in worry.

You’re a good little sister. He doesn’t have anything to worry about- never will.

But fuck he’s still pissed.

“I wanna do something,” he half-growls out. “You’ll be good for me, yeah?”

A flush, a squirm. You nod, though- brows still furrowed and eyes scanning his face in search for some answer to your confusion.

“Of course, nii-san,” you whisper. “I- of course. What-”

“Take your clothes off. All of ‘em.”

A soft noise slips from you and you breathe in shakily, but there’s no hesitance in the way your hands rise to tug off your shirt.

Touya watches for a moment and then he gets up from the bed, walks over to the door and closes it, locks it.

You’re naked by the time he comes back- flushed but not embarrassed, bruises littered everywhere your clothes can hide them. Touya eyes the bruises, those marks he’s put all over his dear, sweet little sister, and his lashes lower, something hungry and greedy starts to grow inside of him.

You’ve never belonged to anyone but him.

He touches your cheek- soft in the moment, rough edges hazed over by your adoration. A tap to it has your lashes fluttering, a press of his thumb to your lips has you shuddering.

“We’re gonna make a lil movie,” he rumbles out. You startle, eyes flying wide open once again, but you don’t protest or tell him no even if unease has your fingers curling tight into the sheets.

You never tell him no.

“I...okay, nii-san...”

The compliance has him humming- thumb dipping past your parted lips so he can press it down against your wet tongue.

It’s sweet how you agree, satisfying- more satisfying then the beer he threw back all throughout the night and the weed he smoked away.

A lick to his lips and Touya pulls away, starts to strip away his clothes- hands fumbling, clumsy as he tries to undo buttons and zippers. You watch him silently- cheeks heating up and thighs pressing together- and your teeth find your bottom lip when he starts to tug down his boxers, when his cock springs free.

“Turn around,” he orders. “Get on your knees, put that fucking pretty face against the bed and raise that ass up for me.”

Shivering, you obey- a mewl slipping from you as you do.

Touya grabs his phone from his pants and he kneels by the bed, pulls up the camera and hits record.

You’re wet and it’s easy to see even in the lowlight, even on the shitty phone screen. When he grabs onto your ass with his free hand and spreads your cheek, your hole clenches- tightens and spreads and makes him smirk.

“So fucking wet for me,” he half-sneers, a laugh sounding through the words. “Look at this pretty lil cunt all soaked and eager.”

“T- Touya...”

He huffs at your little whimper of a whine and brings the phone even close, records the way your hips twitch and your cunt sucks in his thumb when he presses against it.

“So fuckin’ wet and warm. So tight,” he hisses. “All for me, baby- right?”

“Y- yes. It’s all- all for you!”

Touya snorts and he slips his thumb out so he can spread your pussy open again, presses his palm against it and then lays a wet smack to your ass that has you yipping, arching your hips even closer to him.

“You ever been with anyone but me?”

The sheets rustle as you shake your head and Touya grips your ass tight, digs his fingers in deep and makes you squirm, whine. When there’s no verbal answer, he spanks you again in warning and you whine even louder, press your thighs tight together.

“N- no! Just you! Just Touya!”

“You want anyone else?”

“No! Never!”

Touya grins and the restless anger in him quells, just a little, at your mewled loyalty.

A fucking good little sister indeed.

Touya aims the camera at the red blooming across your ass and then he stands, moves it over to capture your arched back. He runs his hand over your side and you shiver a little, press your hips back against him until his cock nudges at your soaked cunt.

“You wanna get fucked, sweetheart?” he half taunts- the words coming out sickly sweet, rough around the edges.

“Please!”

Your moan is even sweeter than his question- hips bucking back against his cock, fingers fisting the sheets tight in your hold.

“Think you can do better than that,” he huffs, leaning over until he can tangle his fingers into your hair. “Tell me how bad ya want it.”

A whine sounds- pathetic and flustered, pitching up sharp as he yanks your head up from the bed. The tiniest sob slips from you as he forces your head back and you stare up into the camera- cheeks flushed, eyes glittering, an undeniable need flourishing across your your face.

“Please, nii-san,” you beg, nearly breathless and so fucking sweet. “Please I want- I want you to fuck me! I want- want your cock!”

“Only mine?”

Another whine and you nod, whimper as your hair gets tugged and pulled by the movement.

“Only Touya-nii’s!”

“Good girl.”

A gasp from you and a cute little mewl- the praise has you flushing darker and a tremble wracking through your body, your lashes fluttering and falling half-shut.

“Nii-san, please...”

Touya grunts and the camera shakes in his hand for a moment before he steadies himself. He rocks against you, has you whimpering, and then he grips his cock, lets you bury your face back into the sheets as he starts to push his way into your eager little cunt.

You clench around him, so fucking eager as always, and Touya groans at that, lowers his phone to show off the way his cock slides into your plush little pussy with ease.

“So fucking wet, baby,” he praises- taunts- in a growl. “Ain’t never had a cunt like yours. So fucking tight and sweet. You were made to take my dick, weren’t cha?”

A shuddering moan wracks through you- body trembling and cunt clenching around his cock so tight it makes Touya hiss and claw his nails into your hips. You whimper at the sting and he doesn’t have to see your face to know you’ve got tears in your eyes, doesn’t have to hear any mewl or whine to know that you love it.

“I- I was made- was made- oh, nii-san!”

Touya snorts at your moan, tilts his head back with a groan as he sinks even deeper into your silken, squeezing little cunt.

“Throw those fucking hips back,” he snarls, orders. “Fuck yourself on me.”

A mewl and you do just as he says- rocking your hips back like the obedient girl you are and whining as his piercings drag along the throbbing walls of your pussy. Touya rolls his head back forward so he can watch and he angles the camera so he can capture the way the soft flesh of ass jiggles each time it meets his pelvis.

“So fuckin’ good,” he mumbles. “Takin’ it so well- best fuckin’ pussy around. No one fucks like my lil sis.”

It’s more to the camera- to the future audience- but you still whimper and grind against him, drags your nails over the sheets with a soft little whine.

“Nii-san- Touya-nii, please!”

“What? You gonna come already?”

“Please!”

Touya huffs and he lays a spank to your ass, drags out a moan and has your hips stuttering against him.

“Come on nii-san’s cock then. Come nice and pretty like a good girl.”

A whimper and then you’re trembling, whining as your cunt clenches and flutters around his cock. His teeth grit with the squeeze of your cumming pussy and Touya has to dig his nails back into your hip so he doesn’t moan- lips pulling into a growling snarl as he tries not to cum with you.

“Nii-san! Nii-san!”

He lets you moan and writhe and mewl until you limp beneath him and then he leans over you, presses his chest flat against your back and curls his fingers into your hair, jerks your head to the side and shoves the phone in your face.

He wants them to see your flushed face and muddied eyes. He wants them to see your fucked out face and fluttering lashes. He wants them to see your face as he cums inside of you, as you cum on his cock again.

Touya fucks into you- movement shallow, his cock still driving in so fucking deep- and you moan, shudder whenever his teeth scrape over your shoulder.

“You like nii-san’s cock fuckin’ deep inside you?”

“Oh- oh, yes! Love it nii-san!”

It comes out whiny- so fucking needy. Touya grunts when your cunt pulses around him and he fucks into you rough, makes you mewl out his name.

“Nii-san’s gonna fuckin’ fill ya,” he snarls. “Fill your tight lil cunt. Gonna fuckin’ breed ya! Breed my sweet lil sis- fuckin’ shit- gonna cream that cunt!”

“Please! Please! Touya- nii please!”

You beg so fucking sweet. Touya snarls and he fucks into you rough, pulls your hair tight as he shoots his cum deep into your needy little pussy, fills you to the goddamn brim with his seed. You cum, again, with him and you moan as you do- so loud and cute.

Whimpers rip from you as he humps his cum deep inside you and you shudder when he grinds into your cunt, coo dreamily whenever he lays a kiss to your flushed cheek.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs.

A mewl as you nod drowsily and Touya snorts at your sleepy smile, turns the camera to his face and sneers before ending the recording.

He drops it in the groupchat before he slides out of you and sits back on his knees. You nuzzle into the covers as he runs his hand through his hair and Touya huffs, snorts as you yawn.

“C’mon,” he tells you- maybe quietly fond in a way he’ll never admit-, “let’s crash.”

You hum and you nod and Touya lets you shuffle under the covers, follows after you and pulls you close.

He clicks off the lamp and the two of you drift off to sleep- satisfaction filling Touya as his phone goes off and a happy smile on your face. 

◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾

Tenko is the first to watch the video.

He gets the notification in the middle of crushing up some pills. His first instinct is to just ignore it, but impulse has him reaching for the phone, has his thumb clicking the play button before he can really think about it.

His brow arches, but he’s not too surprised by the smut dropped into the chat- between Keigo and Touya it happens on the weekly and he’s more than used to it.

He could use new fap material, anyway.

Tenko settles back in his chair and takes his cock out, gives it a stroke as he eyes the cunt filling the screen.

Wet, cute- he’d like to fuck it, fill it.

Why the fuck does Touya always get such sweet pussy?

A scowl twists his lips, but his hand twists along with it- pumps along his shaft as he enjoys the sight of arched hips and a cute ass.

He’d fucking wreck that ass given the chance. Slam his dick deep inside and makes this bitch moan.

“You wanna get fucked, sweetheart?”

“Please!”

Fuck- what a good lil cunt.

Tenko grunts as he rocks into his fist, but then he fucking moans when he sees just who Touya is fucking.

Shit- fuck.

He knew the bastard was twisted but goddamn.

Tenko almost laughs, but he’s too busy jerking himself off even faster- eyes narrowed and teeth gritted, a pant sounding from him.

“Yeah, shit. Fuck that little sluts’s cunt. Breed your lil sis you fucking dick.”

He should be disgusted, probably. Horrified at the very least.

But fuckin’ hell this is hot and he’s been jackin’ it to shit like this for years anyway.

And, fuck, this is real- this is hottest shit he’s watched all month. All goddamn year.

Tenko cums before the clip is even over and he keeps fucking his fist even after, replays it with a hissed curse.

Touya better drop more after this. He better let them see this in real life- Tenko needs to see this slut’s fucked out face in the flesh, needs to shove his fingers into your moaning mouth and make you choke.

Tenko licks his lips and he saves the video- saves it a second time for a back up.

Just in case.

◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾

The second person to see the video is Jin.

He’s home- drunk, high, smoking a cigarette and watching reruns of Doraemon.

He’s feeling fuzzy, good. The night had been chill and he had liked getting a glimpse of Touya’s little sister- you’d been real cute, real sweet. He had wanted you to sit next to him- maybe in his lap like Keigo had teased- and he had wanted to hug you close, get you just as high and fuzzy as him.

He might have a lil puppy dog crush on you now- how could he not with you so shy and sweet?

Jin hums as he thinks of you, scratches his stomach and grins sleepily- one laugh leaving him as he watches Nobita fail once again.

His phone buzzes and Jin fumbles a hand over until he can pick up, blinks and raises a brow when he finds a video in the chat.

Someone fucked or someone did something stupid.

Or fucked someone stupid.

A snort leaves him and Jin takes a draw of his cigarette, lounges back and presses play.

It’s the usual shit- hot and boasting and showing off a cute lil wet cunt, a soft and sweet ass. 

He’s a bit jealous, maybe. (Definitely)

He’s a bit too relaxed and heavy to get off on it, maybe. (No he’s not)

Eyes drawing half-shut, Jin reaches a hand down his sweatpants. He strokes himself lazily as he watches Touya spanks his mewling, whiny little slut and he smokes as he does, too- humming whenever he hears the plea to be fucked.

Cute. (Hot)

Whoever this is seems like a good little girl. (A needy little whore)

A small grunt leaves him when he watches Touya tangle his fingers into hair, but a gasp of “shit” leaves him whenever a head is jerked back and he sees a cute, flushed face that he definitely knows.

“What the fuck?”

He has to pause the video, bring the phone up to his face and squint at the screen.

He’s not seeing this right- can’t be seeing this right. He’s too drunk, too stoned. too fucked up- his vision is betraying him. It has to be.

...right?

Jin stares at the screen. He stares and stares and stares. His thumb hovers over the screen, hesitating, and the ashes from his cigarette fall onto his bare chest while he tries to decide what to do.

Touya wouldn’t really...he’s not really fucking his little sister is he?

No way. No fucking way.

(Yes fucking way)

Jin blinks and his thumb hit the screen, he swallows as he watches you beg for your big brother’s cock.

Fuck, that’s sick. That’s disgusting.

(That’s so fucking hot.)

His cheeks flush and his eyes widen, draw back down to lazy slits. His fingers twitch along his cock, tighten back around it when he gets treated with the sound of a whimper, a moan.

You sound so fucking good. (You sound so fucking whiny)

You’re so cute- you probably have such a tight, wet little pussy. (You probably have such a sloppy, fucked out cunt if Touya fucks you like this on the regular)

Shit, he wants to know how your cunt feels. He wants you on his lap, wants to feel you clench around his cock like a good little girl.

(A good little whore)

It’s too much to watch- too much to handle. Jin closes his eyes and tilts his head back with a groan, jerks himself to all the mewls and growls and groans and begs that sounds from the phone.

He comes along to the sound of you coming and he shudders after it, drags his hand over his cock and wipes the mess over his sweats.

...fuck. He shouldn’t have done that- he shouldn’t have watched that. He’s not going to be able to look you in the eyes if he ever gets to see you again.

(Fuck your eyes- he wants to look up your skirt, see that cute little pussy again)

Jin frowns and he runs his hand through his hair, tosses his burnt out cigarette into the ashtray before lighting another.

On the tv, Doraemon laughs. On his phone, Touya kisses your cheek and smirks at the camera- at Jin.

Fuckin’ dick. (Lucky bastard)

Jin shakes his head and he closes his eyes again, takes a draw and blows out a plume of smoke toward the ceiling.

...he’s got some fucked up friends. (No more fucked up than him)

A grimace and then Jin looks to his phone, taps on the screen and watches through heavy lidded eyes as his friend fucks his sweet little sister.

◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾◾

Keigo’s the last to see the video- he finds it in the chat after he’s sent the neighbor girl back home, after he’s gotten some head and drawled out promises of feelings that he’ll never feel for some dumb little whore with aspirations of home in the ‘burbs and a passel of brats.

He snorts when he sees it, thinks it’s just some busted bitch that Touya talked into coming over so he could rail his anger out.

Touya’s always been a touchy little shit.

He stills plays it, though- drops down on to his bed and kicks back, takes a swig of beer.

It’s a pretty little cunt that gets flashed his way- wet and eager, nice and snug looking. Keigo rolls his eyes whenever Touya’s fuckin’ voice sounds, but he’d be lying if he didn’t enjoy the sight of that cute cunt sucking in a rough thumb, the sound of a little whimpers and mewls.

Not a bad pussy, not a bad voice- maybe this slut isn’t that busted?

Or maybe she’s just a butterface.

A snort and Keigo lazily works his hand down his chest, underneath his sweatpants. He strokes him even if he’s just half hard and he lets his gaze drift to something half-lidded, amused and lazy.

“So fuckin’ wet and warm. So tight. “All for me, baby- right?”

Fuckin’ show off- as if this one ups the coed Keigo had last week, as if this one ups the way he had fucked her throat raw in the library and came all over her dumb face, all over her fat tits.

“Y- yes. It’s all- all for you!”

Wait a second...

Keigo blinks and his brow arches as he watches Touya lays a smack across a cute little ass.

That voice sounds kind of familiar. Someone he’s fucked before? Did Touya snag one of his sloppy seconds?

Fuckin’ maybe- fucker is stupid and petty enough to do that.

Not that Keigo cares, though- he’s never fucked anyone that he’d get jealous over.

It’s more funny than anything, actually.

Keigo snorts, again, and he pumps his cock with a sneer.

“You ever been with anyone but me?”

Yeah, you’ve been with someone better. Will probably come crawling back to him, too, when you’re left dissatisfied by Touya’s weak ass stroke game.

“N- no! Just you! Just Touya!”

...what?

“You want anyone else?”

“No! Never!”

What?

Who the fuck is this bitch?

Keigo scoffs as he hears a beg to be fucked sound, rolls his eyes as he watches skinny fingers tangle into hair.

Maybe he’ll have to hunt down this slut and wreck her, shove it in Touya’s face right back.

Keigo drags his palm over his cock right as Touya jerks a headful of hair back and Keigo damn near crushes his dick whenever he catches sight of just who Touya has caught in his clutches.

Oh that fucking bastard. That son a bitch.

A slew of curses hisses from him and Keigo snarls as he takes in your teary, needy face, as he hears his creep of a friend’s little sister beg to be fucked by Touya.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

The growl spits out of him and Keigo is barely aware of it- can’t fucking care about it as he watches Touya nail his cute lil sis.

This is absolute fucking bullshit. He can’t believe that fucking prick is railing his sister. He can’t believe that petty fucking asshole is dumb enough to show it off.

What the fuck? What the absolute fuck?

Keigo’s hand moves faster and he snarls as he twists his wrist, as pre-cum spills all over his fingers.

Touya doesn’t fucking deserve that cute lil pussy. Touya doesn’t deserve to rail you with your sweet ass and mewling moan and hot little whines. Touya doesn’t fucking deserve you at all.

It doesn’t cross his mind for one moment how wrong the whole situation is. It doesn’t cross his mind that he should be disgusted over a brother fucking his little sister, that he should be disgusted over the way Touya hisses promises of fucking breeding his little sister’s cunt.

If he’s disgusted it’s only because he’s not the one fucking you- that Touya got to you first.

Oh, Touya is going to fucking regret this.

He’s going to fucking ruin you.

Keigo hisses as he cums and he growls as Touya’s stupid fucking lips quirk into a smirk on the screen, snarls and throws his phone down onto the bed as his hips jerk and pound against his fist.

“Fucking bitch! Stupid fucking whore!”

No wonder you were so goddamn shy. No wonder you didn’t sit in his lap like you should’ve. It wasn’t him- it was you; it was Touya.

The beer bottle gets swiped to the floor and Keigo growls as he rips his hand from his pants and scrubs the cum on his sheets.

Touya’s going to fucking pay for this.

Keigo saves the video and he scowls as he does- face dark, teeth gritted, stormy plans of revenge brewing in his mind.

[mellowswriting]

2, 3, & 48 with the least expected choice: JAVI BB! 😭 Please I just starve for domestic!Javi a lot

Second Chance 

pairing || Javier Peña x F!Reader

summary ||  Javier comes back to the U.S after taking down Escobar to find you - and what he finds changes his life forever.

word count || 4,824

warnings || angst with a happy ending, soft dad Javi, allusions to sex

a/n || This was so interesting to write, because Javier as a dad??? Yes please! Also because I’m so used to writing mainly fluff that angst can get a little tricky for me. Thank you for this little writing challenge, anon!

Main Masterlist  |  Join the taglist!

Two years. It had been nearly two years since Javier had seen you - correction, since he had watched you walk out with tears in your eyes and did nothing to stop you like a fool. It was one of his biggest regrets, and that was saying something coming from a man whose job required him to make hard and fast decisions that often left people dead. All he could do was hope and fucking pray that you wouldn’t slam the door in his face.

Even if he did deserve it.

A drive that typically would’ve taken only an hour from the airport took nearly double that, Javier’s hands shaking and stomach turning the entire time. He should’ve done this sooner, should’ve followed you out that door or hopped onto a plane and met you back in the States. Nothing felt right without you, the world around him slightly distorted by your absence. An absence that was entirely his fault.

He shouldn’t have snapped at you. All you had wanted from him was the promise that he would try to play it safer. It was a simple reassurance that he could have given you if he hadn’t been such a moron and snapped at you that if you couldn’t handle the realities of his job, you had no business sticking around. You were scared, worried for him after one of his harebrained plans nearly got his head blown off.

And all Javier had done was make you feel stupid for caring about him. It didn’t help that he did nothing to try to fix it the next day; he was embarrassed, ashamed of his immaturity. And you left because of it. He hated himself for it. He would only hate himself more if he didn’t go to you now that he had taken down Escobar. Better late than never, right? He was back in the states and could’ve gone anywhere, done anything, especially now that he was so well known for his hard work in Colombia. Instead, he used that new status to find out where you ended up and scribbled your address onto a crumpled piece of paper.

It was a nice house. The kind he always hoped you would get, picturesque with the neatly trimmed front yard and picket fence. The sun had just risen enough to tint the sky by the time he pulled up and killed the engine, his millionth cigarette of the day perched between his fingers. You were home. Tiny movements that he could see from the windows and the car parked in your driveway told him that much.

The love of his life was right there. Less than twenty yards away, practically nothing separating the two of you after so long. That realization had Javier finally shoving the car door open and stepping out - and damn near getting himself run over in the process. In his haste, his excitement, he didn’t even glance around himself enough to see the car approaching and… pulling into your driveway?

A spike of fear shot through him. Please, fuck, don’t let that be a man. Don’t let that be some man who is going to walk through the door and kiss your cheek as you welcome him home from work and…

No. A woman, brunette. Launching herself out of the car and practically skipping up to the door. She didn’t bother knocking, just walked right in and closed the door behind her. Something familiar about her tickled the back of Javier’s brain, the hazy memory of a polaroid of her next to you wearing matching goofy grins. Ah, your sister. Amelia, if he remembered correctly.

Javier hesitated at her appearance. He didn’t want to interrupt something. God knows you were already going to be pissed enough at him. So he leaned against his door and puffed on that cigarette like it was his only lifeline, ready to wait for however long it took.

Just his luck that he wouldn’t have to wait long. The door reopened not fifteen minutes later and the two of you both appeared on the porch and holy fuck, Javier’s heart was ready to fly out of his chest just at the sight of your smile as you chatted with your sister. He watched, enraptured, that damn cigarette damn near falling from his lips, his heart leaping at the way your head tilted back with a big laugh. God, he missed that sound.

You turned and poked your head back into the doorway and called something that he couldn’t hear, pausing before rolling your eyes and walking back inside. You appeared again a second later with -

A kid? Propped on your hip with your arm propped under them with ease.

Javier’s heart dropped. Of course. He should’ve known that someone would have scooped you up the second you returned home. If he hadn’t have been such a fucking idiot, that could have been him building a home with you and fuck, he had to leave. He needed to get in his car and fucking go before you -

“Javier?”

It had been so long since he heard you say his name. Even when it was layered with surprise, his name never sounded better than when it was falling from your lips. Javier froze with his hand on the handle. He could hear your sister’s ill attempt at whispering, the harshness of “Wait, the Javier? The one that -” that you cut off before she could finish.

Javier turned, his heart flying in his chest, and started walking up to the gate. The shake in his hands was undeniable when he lifted the latch. Your mouth hung open, chest rising and falling rapidly with your almost frantic breathing, the little girl perched on your hip seeming confused. She was yours, that much was obvious. Her nose, her lips - that little girl was your daughter.

Something in you snapped back into place, your mouth closed and a fake smile quickly replaced it as you turned your softening gaze to your little girl. “Okay, you have fun with Aunt Amelia, okay? Mommy loves you.”

Javier watched the exchange with a heavy heart, watched as your daughter gave you the tiniest kiss on your cheek with a small ‘pop’ of her lips, watched as your sister took her and gave him a wide berth as she went to strap her into the carseat in her car. The moment she was out of your sight, the warmth from your eyes fell away and regarded him with something colder, something angry and sad.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked.

“It’s done.” He mumbled, his fists clenching at his sides. “All of the bullshit with Escobar, it’s over.”

“Yeah, I know.” You scoffed at the surprised look he gave you. “What, you think I didn’t keep track of you after I left? Just because I wasn’t around doesn’t mean I stopped caring about whether you lived or died. That doesn’t answer my question.”

“I never should have let you leave. I… I shouldn’t have driven you away to begin with.” Shame flooded him for the millionth time at the flash of hurt in your eyes before you looked away from him, your eyes falling to the ground. “The kid… uh, congratulations I mean. I didn’t know you started a family, I never would’ve shown up like this. I’m not a homewrecker.”

“The kid?” You repeated, your voice incredulous, and Javier cringed. Yeah, not the most eloquent way to put it, but he was never good with words.

“Yeah, uh, she’s a cute kid. You and your… husband or whatever, you got lucky.” Every word that fell from his lips, he regretted. They were true, sure, but holy hell did it sound so awkward coming from him.

“The kid.” You scoffed again, a sound he hadn’t realized he missed so much. You finally locked eyes with him, somehow even more guarded than before. “She’s yours.”

Javier blinked. The words didn’t compute, his brain falling blank at the very thought that he… no, no fucking way. He took a half step back, his mouth falling open. He watched you watch him, watched the way your eyes studied his every movement. Air rushed in and out of his chest rapidly, black spots blinked at the edges of his vision, and suddenly his ass was hitting the hard stone of your porch.

He barely heard the rough, concerned way you said “Shit, Javi!”, barely noticed you disappear from his side. No, he couldn’t believe it, couldn’t accept that. There was no way in hell that his stupid fucking mistake deprived him of this, of his family. Of watching you bring his child into the world and watching her grow, teaching her how to walk on unsteady feet and picking her up when she cried. Of you teaching him how to gently pull her pretty brown hair into the little sprigs of pigtails, just like she wore when he caught a glance of her before she was whisked away.

The cold, wet feeling of a cloth dragging across his forehead made his eyes refocus and there you were. Your eyes, once cold and hesitant now tinged with concern as you gently drug a washcloth down each of his cheeks, trying to pull him out of his panicked state. You were murmuring something to him, something he couldn’t hear over the blood rushing in his ears. Javier’s hand grasped at yours, pressing it against his cheek tightly.

“Name.” He rasped. “What’s her name?”

You paused, a small smile perking up the corners of your lips. “Elianna. We call her Ellie.”

Ellie.

Javier had a daughter.

“I have a daughter?” Javier needed to hear you say it again.

“You have a daughter.” You nodded and pulled your hand away from his cheek, much to Javier’s disappointment. He missed your touch. You patted him hard on the shoulder before hauling him up. “Come on, we have a lot to talk about. Might as well do it on the couch where it’s comfortable.”

The inside of your home was just as picturesque as the outside, but in a completely different way. Colorful toys were strewn about the living room, a few soft baby blankets crumpled on the couch. It was comfortable, lived-in. Happy. Javier sat heavily on the couch, mind almost on autopilot as he gently touched the blanket next to him, his fingers barely grazing the fabric like he was worried his touch would somehow taint it.

You handed him a cold bottle of water that he accepted graciously and sipped as you sat next to him, a foot-wide war zone of space between you that felt like a stab to his heart. If only he hadn’t fucked everything up. You would be curled up right against him, your head on his chest as the two of you watched the little girl you created together babble over her toys.

“Tell me about her?” Javier asked tentatively, his voice uncharacteristically small.

“What do you want to know?” The hesitance in your voice made him feel even worse.

“Anything. Everything.”

And you did. Javier watched and listened, enraptured as you gushed about little Ellie. At nearly fifteen months old, she was damn near running and constantly getting into everything. She was curious and bright and laughed like she couldn’t breathe when you would roll around on the floor and play with her. Just the sight of the happiness and light in your eyes when you retold the first time you heard her say ‘mama’ made pride swell in his chest.

The intense urge to have her here with him pulled at him, but he knew better than to ask. You were already indulging him by bringing him into your home and answering his questions. Hell, he was lucky you told him to begin with. He could feel the intensity of your gaze on his face as he tried to absorb all of the information that was dumped on him. Silence filled the living room when you trailed off, a few heavy moments where he didn’t know what to say.

“I know you have questions, Javier.” You said, your words slow and deliberate. Clipped, like you were terrified he was going to disappear once again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Javier whispered.

“Well, I didn’t know I was pregnant when I left.” You began with a sigh. “I thought that the nausea and the missed period were from stress, because god knows I was wrecked. I found out a few weeks after I got back to the U.S and… I just didn’t see the point to tell you.”

“Didn’t see the point? Of telling me you were having my child?” His voice rose with his anger, his frustration and he watched as those walls slammed down, your vulnerability hardening in less than a second. He took a deep breath before continuing, trying his damnedest to soften his voice. “Do you really think so little of me?”

“Are you kidding me, Javier? You had just told me to leave. Was I supposed to think it would change anything?” You deflated into the cushions slightly and the sight of the exhaustion and pain in your eyes made some of his anger fall away. You rubbed a hand down your face. “Was I supposed to hop back on a plane back to Colombia? Put myself and my baby in danger? Or maybe I should have just called you. ‘Hey, Javier, I know you just told me to get out of your life, but surprise! I’m carrying your child!’ How would that have gone over?”

“But after? How could you not…” Javier choked up, unable to finish his sentence. You were right, he knew that. But he was grieving the loss of everything he had missed out on. He couldn’t blame you, not really. It was an impossible situation.

“I wanted to. There were these moments that… it took everything in me not to call you and beg you to come to me like some pathetic little…” You trailed off with a shake of your head, your voice cracking. “But I couldn’t. The closer you got to catching Escobar, I just… I couldn’t pull you away from the fight when you were so close to winning. The past few weeks, though? God, I almost called you at least a dozen times. The second I heard about it, I wanted you here, but I was so… so scared, Javi.”

And there it was. Javier’s heart snapped in half. He broke your heart and you managed to still prioritize his career, his fight against Escobar, while you brought his child into the world and shouldered that responsibility on your own. He cleared his throat harshly and squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to hold back those traitorous tears that threatened to fall.

“You don’t have to be scared. If you’ll have me, I swear to god, you will never do this alone again.” Javier whispered, his eyes still closed. Debilitating fear kept him from looking at you, afraid to see the rejection on your face. “I want to be here, I want this. I want my family.”

“Do you mean that?” Your voice trembled with disbelief.

“Of course I do, hermosa.” He insisted. “Please, give me the chance to show you.”

The small, relieved sigh that came from you made something tight ease in his chest and Javier hesitantly brought you into his arms. You relaxed into his side with your head propped on his shoulder, the both of you taking refuge in the familiarity of the touch that was missed for so long. He felt you look up at him and met your eyes, hoping you could see his sincerity. Words had a tendency to fail him but he still had his actions. He absentmindedly licked his lips before asking, “Can I kiss you?”

You smiled at him, a small smile that was still a bit sad, but a smile nonetheless, and nodded. “I've missed your kisses. I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” He confessed and finally kissed you. After two years, Javier felt the softness of your lips against his and finally felt like he was home.

----------

Javier’s knee bounced rapidly as he sat on your couch hours later, his nerves bounding untethered and desperate for any outlet. Just on the outside on the porch, you had stepped out to greet Amelia, who had brought Ellie home.

His daughter was on the other side of the door and he was about to meet her, for real this time. Excitement and fear warred with each other, neither able to win out over the other in their rising volume. Excitement at getting to hold her, maybe even make her smile. Fear over the possibility of hurting her or being too rough - he didn’t have much experience with babies, after all.

The door pushed open and he heard you call his name softly. “Can you grab these bags for me?”

He was on his feet in an instant, glad to be of help and already jumping at the chance to start proving himself to be a good father. A mess of brown curls poked out from the baby blanket you had draped over your chest where Ellie was apparently still fast asleep, distracting him slightly as he grabbed the bags from Amelia. She… did not look too happy to see him. The hardness in her glare told him something that didn’t need to be vocalized: if he hurt you or Elllie, his body would never be found.

Javier nodded slightly at her. He couldn’t blame your sister. If he were in her position, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he would be breaking noses. At your request, he set the bags on the kitchen table before walking back to you - and the sight of you swaying in the middle of the living room with Ellie knocked out against you, your cheek propped against the top of her head, took his breath away. The smile you gave him brought him closer, his hand settling on Ellie’s back softly as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Do you want to hold her?”

It took a moment of maneuvering, but the second you settled Ellie against him chest-to-chest, his entire world came into focus. Her cheek pressed against his chest just so, making her mouth form the tiniest little ‘o’ that he had ever seen. She was so calm, sleeping so deeply, and Javier couldn’t fucking believe his luck. How could he have had any part in creating something so perfect?

He had to sit down. He didn’t trust himself to hold her with unskilled hands while standing. She harrumphed slightly when he eased down onto the couch, but other than that, his little girl stayed off in her dreamworld, content and safe in her father’s arms for the first time.

“Just be careful not to touch the bottoms of her feet even a little bit, it wakes her up every time. She’s just like you with that.” You said, your voice lowered as you sat next to him much closer than before. He preened under the idea that any part of him was reflected in Ellie, even something so small and silly.

“She’s so warm. Is that normal?” Javi asked. He hoped she didn’t have a fever, he knew that a fever could really hurt a baby even with his limited knowledge. You reached out to gently feel her forehead and cheek, smiling after a moment.

“No, she's just a little furnace.” You settled against the back of the couch with a content smile. God, this just felt so right. Having you so close and smiling, having his daughter asleep and safe against him. He could feel the pieces snapping together, could feel himself becoming whole. “Yet another thing she has in common with you.”

“What else?” Javier whispered, desperate to hear everything.

“Hmm, let’s see. You have the same grumpy face.” You laugh when he glanced up at you, his eyebrows ticked together and lips pursed slightly. “Mhmm, that’s the one. Plus she hates carrots. Acts like I’ve personally offended her if I even offer them.”

“That’s because carrots are fucking disgusting.” Javi grumbles goodnaturedly as he gently rubs Ellie’s back. She’s so small, such a tiny, delicate little creature, and he can’t believe it. Any of it. You let him in after everything, took him in and introduced him to an entirely new world of possibility, one where if he was smart and did right by his two little ladies, he would get the life he always dreamed of.

Your fingers brushed an errant lock of hair from his face and Javi sighed, his eyes falling closed as he leaned into the soft touch that he missed so much. He hummed happily, practically purring like a pleased cat, when your fingers buried further in his hair and massaged over his scalp. Heaven. He was in heaven.

A gentle stirring against his chest made Javier glance down at Ellie and that first glimpse of her big brown eyes only confirmed what he already felt deep in his soul - this little girl was his everything. It was the most basic, simple thing he had ever felt, no question to be had about any of it.

Ellie wiggled against him, trying to get herself upright, and Javier immediately held her under her arms to sit her on his thigh. She looked inquisitively up at him from his lap, glancing over at you to confirm that you were nearby before staring at him as if he was the most interesting thing he has ever seen. Her little hand reached up to tug at his mustache, giving him a toothy grin at the way he laughed.

There were tears in his eyes and he couldn’t even deny them, couldn’t pretend they weren’t there. Javier could see them mirrored in your eyes as you watched Ellie stand in her father’s lap and try to balance herself with her hands on his shoulders.

You cleared your throat. “She’s about to start bouncing.”

“What? Whoa!” Javier exclaimed at the sudden feeling of what seemed like Ellie falling in his lap, his hands rushing for a firmer grip only for her to pop right back up and do it all over again. All three of you cracked up, your melodic laughter mixing with Ellie’s high giggling in the most beautiful way.

That night Javier got to cut up his daughter's food and help spoon bites into her mouth, sat at the table with Ellie and the love of his life, eating dinner like a family. He could picture this for the rest of his life. Eating breakfast and dinner together. Kissing the both of you goodbye in the morning and returning to his daughter running down the hall to wrap him in a hug. Chasing Ellie around a park and helping her down slides and pushing her on the swings.

This was his second chance, and he was going to do it right. God help him, he was not going to miss out on anything else. So when he saw the hesitance in your eyes that night after putting Ellie to bed, Javier settled himself on the couch with nothing but a gentle kiss to your forehead. There was no reason to push you. He wanted you to be comfortable, he owed you that much.

A week went by like that. Javier would rise in the morning to the sounds of you coming downstairs with Ellie on your hip and stretch, realigning his spine and pulling the tension from his sore back. He offered small pieces of affection and grinned every time they were accepted - a small peck on the lips here, his arm raised for you to curl closer on the couch there. Little Elianna was all too happy to join in on those little couch cuddle sessions, too, clambering into his lap or yours and snuggling close.

It seemed like the more Ellie warmed up to him, the more you did as well. Javi caught those small smiles when you watched him help ease his little girl to sleep for a nap. The more he proved himself to be a good father, the more comfortable you were letting him in, and it felt like progress. You laughed openly at his stupid jokes, reached out for him for affection of your own volition - kisses over coffee, holding hands as he pushed Ellie in the stroller - and it felt so good.

Javier fluffed up a pillow before tossing it against the arm of the couch, but before he could collapse his exhausted body into the cushions, he felt your hand curl around his bicep. The look in your eyes was almost afraid and worry clenched his stomach, but before he could spiral, you pulled him close and leaned up to kiss him.

A surprised sound hummed against your lips but Javi quickly regained himself to kiss you back. There was something softer about the way your lips pressed against his, something that had been absent from the quick, nearly chaste kisses you shared since he returned. This time you parted your lips and licked along the curve of his bottom lip, your hand coming up to press against his jaw and pull him even closer.

“You aren’t sleeping on that couch anymore.” You whispered against his lips.

“Oh, thank fuck.” Javi grumbled as he pressed even closer and kissed you again and again, slowly guiding you back to your bedroom.

He woke up the next morning with his bare chest against your back, his face buried in your hair, and he didn’t think life could get any better. His arms tightened around you as he gently rubbed up and down your side, the soft touch easing you out of sleep. The way you groaned made him smile; it was a sound he missed, even if it though was grumpy. You rolled over in his embrace and wrapped your arms around his neck to drag him over you, smiling sleepily at him before kissing him.

“My thighs are fucking aching, Javier.” You grumbled against him as you pressed a line of kisses along his jaw and down his neck.

He shivered at the feeling of your lips against his sensitive skin. “Mm, yeah, and you love it.”

You giggled in that way that made his stomach flip. “Fair enough.”

The door pushed open suddenly, almost hard enough to crack against the wall, and Ellie appeared on your side of the bed, her arms raised as she waited impatiently to be picked up. Javier happily pulled her up onto the bed. Scratch his earlier assumption - now his life couldn’t get any better. He watched Ellie jump and tumble around the sheets with happy squeals and that’s when he heard it. At first, he thought maybe he was hearing things until he saw the way your mouth fell open into a big grin, your eyes flitting back and forth between father and daughter.

“Papaaaa!” Ellie called out, her hands opening and closing rapidly, reaching for him from the other side of the bed. She kept saying it, repeating the two syllables over and over until it all bled into one long call for her dad.

Javier pulled her into his arms and squished her to his chest tightly, his eyes on you as his heart fluttered high in his chest. He couldn’t find the words, his voice choked out by his overwhelming love for the little family he had. He watched as you shuffled forward to kneel next to him and kiss the top of Ellie’s head, then his lips, pride shimmering in your eyes.

“Marry me.” Javier said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your jaw dropped. “Javi… you don’t have to do this. I - I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“Are you kidding me? I want to grow old with you, have kids with you, even have a fucking white picket fence.” It was as if the faucet was turned on and there was no stopping the words he so desperately wanted to say. “None of this is out of obligation, hermosa. I want you to be my wife.”

“Yes.” There were tears in your eyes as you listened to the words you had longed to hear for far too long. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Javier surged forward and kissed you again, and in that bed with the precious little girl the two of you created together and the promise of being yours forever, he knew he was right where he belonged.

{Taglist}

@iamburdened @everyhowlmarksthedead @jenrebloggingfics @xserenax-13 @silverstarsandsuns @luminescentlily @peterpstuff @leonieb @lazybeeches @withasideofmeg @freeshavocadoooo @chattychell @ew-erin @viktorialukowski @cjbtw @agentshortstacc @a-skov @himbotroy

[may-fanfic]

Falling Hard 

Summary: Natasha took you in when you were very young and raised you as her own. You and Wanda become friends when she was recruited, after an argument you have with nat, Wanda is there to comfort you. 

Warning: mentions of drug addict parents, small argument, thats about it, correct me if i’m wrong tho 

Rating: idk its fluff 

word count: 2,311

((feel free to send in any request))

pt 2

masterlist

------ 

Wanda hadn't expected to find someone she could rely on or relate to anyone when she joined the Avengers. she assumed they were all gonna be older people who had no idea what they would talk to them about, she figured it would be awkward but at least, she had people on her side.

you strolled into the living room to greet the newcomers when Natasha called you. Wanda was quiet and closed off as Natasha made an awkward introduction to the twins as you kinda just stood there, the book that you had been reading tucked to your side as the group simply stared at their feet. "this is useless, mom can I go?" you asked gesturing to the stairs, the woman tucked hair behind your ear before nodding, smiling lightly at you. you often came off as harsh as Natasha even if you had been the sweetest person, at least that's what the redhead spy thought. you were a lot like her, strong, smug with a slight attitude.

"she's not good with new people." Tony explained causing Natasha to glare at the man. "don't you dare talk about my daughter." she pointed a finger before huffing and going away to make some coffee.

"that's where she gets it." Steve chuckled.

----

you had managed not to run into the new pair until one day you had been seated in the kitchen, perched upon the countertop as you swung your legs, all your attention glued to the book at hand until a gush of wind smacked you, blowing your pages causing you to gasp lightly and when you looked up, Pietro had been standing there and he swallowed hard at your cold glare and only seconds later Wanda jogged in, breathing hard as she whined about him cheating, quickly going quiet when her eyes landed on you. "no powers in the tower especially you, buddy!" you pointed a finger at the boy with whitish hair causing him to nod.

maybe you had been a little mean but Wanda didn't understand why she had been attracted to your mean girl attitude but she couldn't help the flutter in her chest whenever you were around her. you were a short, hot-headed girl and she couldn't help but be intrigued by you.

after some time the two of you finally had actual conversations that had been past your snarky remarks. she had been more than relieved to have a friend in you and Natasha were glad that you had been coming out of your shell. it wasn't that you were an introvert, you simply didn't get along with a lot of people.

---

"show me!" you giggled, rolling onto your stomach as the girl rested against your headboard, rolling her eyes playfully before twirling her fingers around, a red glowing light appeared between her fingers causing you to gasp. "whoa!" you admired, a soft giggle slipping from her lips as you stared at the red that moved in between her fingers.

"what else can you do?" you smiled, leaning your head in Wanda's lap, she tried her hardest to focus on anything else but the way her heart fluttered. she cleared her throat, moving one of your books from across the room into her hands quickly causing you to look at her, mouth agaped and she wore a smug smile before pulling a blanket over you with her powers and sweetly smiling.

"let me read to you." she offered, the main light to your room going off and instead the lamp beside your bed turned on and it was all too much for you to process so instead you just nodded and settled completely into her lap, your eyes fluttering shut, warmth and comfort washing over you as her heavy accent filled your ears.

---

Wanda watched as you mindlessly hit the punching bag even Steve struggled to keep the bag at bay as you punched it and you hadn't even used all your strength but you were strong... really strong. "good." your mother spoke uncrossing her arms and nodding at Steve to let go of the beaten bag.

"you're getting better at controlling your strength." Natasha pointed out, handing you a bottle of water and a small towel for your sweat. "you think?" you asked softly wiping at your forehead before grabbing a hold of your discarded t-shirt watching as she nodded with a smile. "when do you think I can start with missions?" you watched your mom's face turn sour and she ran a hand through her redhead. "let's not talk about that right now." she sighed, reaching out for you only for you to step back, a frown taking over your lips.

"you're too young, kid." Steve spoke up causing you to snap your hard glare at him. you were Wanda's age, there was no way that was the reason. "call me kid once more time." you stomped over to him until Natasha caught your wrist.

"that is exactly what I mean.. come on babes... I know what's best for you. after all, I am your mo-"

"you're not my mom." you spoke sharply, her lips parted and eyes watering up. "and you never will be." you turned away from her so quickly before stumbling over to the exit, the witch shooting up and following you.

"I'm not your mother?!" the woman followed closely behind you, anger filling her face. "I wasn't there when your drug-addicted parents were murdered?! I wasn't the one who took you to school every day?! I wasn't the one who was there for you every time you had a nightmare?! you had no idea what a mother was until you met me! so don't you dare ever talk to me that way again! you hear me?!" you bit the inside of your cheek, refusing to let any emotion show.

"I didn't ask for your help. you took me to fill the void of not being able to have children! you were just sad and lone-" you were abruptly cut off but the woman's voice.

"fine, you know what? you're right. I'm not your mom and I don't want to be. not anymore... I give up y/n. I do. I'm done trying to be there for you. I give up on you." she shrugged before turning and stumbling back into the training room, her soft but firm words cutting you like knives and if Wanda hadn't been there and softly grabbed a hold of your hand, you would've crumbled because it wasn't the first time those words were uttered to you.

"come on, возлюбленная (sweetheart)" she cooed, tugging you in the direction of your room, feeling your anger being washed away by sadness. as soon as you were in your room, you couldn't help the sob that slipped from your lips. your back crashed against the wall and slid down it before Wanda met you on the floor, her arms quickly wiping around you and whispering soothing words in your ear.

"Everyone gives up on me! everyone! I'll never have anyone!" you sobbed into the girl's chest causing her to bite her lip, shushing you lightly. "you have me. believe me, when I tell you, I'll never give up on you. I promise.. b-because i-" she paused for a moment, pulling your face from her chest, cupping your cheeks softly and wiping away the tears that poured from your eyes. "because I love you.." she confirmed causing your tearful eyes to go wide. "nothing with ever change that.." she added before a gasp slipped from her when your lips crashed against hers with a hard pressure before it quickly softened when you notice how hard it was and you had been too afraid to hurt her.

"that was a bit harsh, Romanoff." tony mumbled, glancing up at her when she reentered the training room, a hard look on her face. "what do you know?!" she snapped, slightly becoming choked up when she thought about the way your face fell when she uttered out her words coldly. she didn't mean it, she didn't mean any of it but you had hurt her. as a mothe- a caregiver she should've been able to handle it better. she loved you unconditionally and she hated herself for hurting you.

"I know what it feels like for a parent to give up on you, and it doesn't feel good," he spoke sincerely causing her to let out a breath, pinching the bridge of her nose to stop the pain in her head. she should've been the bigger person and threw away her pride when it came to you. her eyes started to water at the memory of you telling her you loved her for the first time when you were much younger or when you first called her mom for the first time and now she had been punching the punching bag hard to avoid her feelings, but then she couldn't shake the feeling that you had been upset and she felt so much hatred for herself at that moment.

Natasha knew you loved her and viewed her as a mother but your vision had been so clouded by anger that you simply couldn't control what you were saying but she could've. with one final punch, Natasha decided that it was her who should apologize. when she stumbled to your room and gently pushed open your door, you had been neatly tucked away in Wanda's embrace, your face nuzzled into her neck.

the both of you had been sound asleep and she didn't have the heart to wake you up from your seemingly comfortable state but then it dawned on her that you were never a cuddly type unless it was someone you really, really liked, and then she couldn't help the small smile and her teary eyes because she realized that her little girl had grown up and had been in love.

you had been incredibly exhausted in the morning. you couldn't believe how emotionally worn out you had become and it hadn't help that Wanda wasn’t with you in the morning instead you met her in the kitchen, a small grin on her face when she spotted you. "I wanted to make you breakfast," she explained shyly, her arm wrapping itself around your lower back and pulled you in for a hug.

"you're too sweet, Wanda." you sighed out conflicted on whether you should be happy because the girl you liked for a bit of time is finally yours or if you should feel upset that you no longer had that mother figure that Natasha provided you with. you planted a soft kiss on Wanda's lips before turning to make some coffee. you and Wanda had been up quite early, leaving the both of you in a comfortable quiet kitchen as you worked alongside each other to get breakfast ready.

you had gone most of your day without seeing Natasha until you and Wanda stumbled into the training room, Wanda bragging about how she could whoop your ass without even using her hands and you protested claiming you could rip her in half using your bare hands. the conversation was lighthearted and playful, you were both laughing and giggling about it until Natasha had come into your sight.

"We need to talk y/n." the older woman declared with a stern look on her face but in all reality, she had been happy that Wanda was making you smile despite the heavy argument you had with Natasha. you didn't have it in you to protest so instead you nodded and Wanda sent you a comforting smile before stumbling out the training room giving the both of you privacy. you let out a sigh, your gaze dropping before you glanced back up at the woman who raised you. "l-listen, mo- Natasha-" the woman stood her head, taking steps towards you and opening up her arms for a hug. "no, stop come here." you stepped into her embrace, sighing softly in relief.

"I would never and I mean, never give up on you. you know why?" you shook your head nuzzling into the woman. "because you're my daughter and you'll always be. I love you very much and I'm sorry that I ever allowed my anger to cloud my judgment. I'm your mom and I should've reacted to the situation better. it'll never happen again. okay?" you let out a half sob, half laugh causing her arms to tighten around you.

"I'm sorry too." she chuckled lightly, pressing a soft and comforting kiss to your temple. "it's just upset when no one trusts you when it comes to something that you've been working hard on, you know?" you explained causing Natasha to push you back slightly, cupping your cheeks and frowned. "you think I don't trust you when it comes to your strength? I do trust you, honey. it's just I want you to be emotionally prepared for what the mission entails, do you understand? plus you getting hurt because of something I allowed you to do would kill me." she uttered out causing you to nod understandably.

once all the heavy stuff had been out the way and apologizes had been accepted, Natasha couldn't help the smug smile that formed on her lips, she moved to hold the punching back for you as you punched at it, focusing on how hard you had been hitting it until Natasha uttered out. "I saw you and Wanda cuddling last night when I came to apologize. I've gotta admit you two are cute together. how long has that been going on?" she smirked when your cheeks flushed over and your eyes widened. the woman had been playfully wiggled her eyebrows at you as your punches stopped abruptly, your cheeks heating up even more.

"oh my god, please stop!"

[adonis-koo]

tease

| 26 |

↳ Summary: You came with the intentions of your best friend landing a job as a stripper. You never meant to catch the eyes of the king stripper of the establishment- Jeon Jungkook, yourself. With what was supposed to be a harmless way of paying off college debt faster you find yourself falling into a very odd and passionate relationship with your new mentor. Between infidelity, passion and jealousy there’s never a dull moment at Cherry Bomb.

↳ Pairing: Stripper!Jungkook/Reader

↳ Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, drama, slice of life, relationship problems without the relationship, reader is such a shy baby protect her, MUTUAL pining, so much sexual frustration,  

Word Count: 11k

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Warning: This story touches on both sexual harassment and abuse, please read with caution if any of these things are triggers to you. Additional warnings will be given when a chapter present them.

Sweat beaded down his neck as he noticed the sun going down, shit if he didn’t start running faster he was going to be late…! Jungkook didn’t make any effort to stop by the two girls who had obviously been hoping to talk to him. He didn’t have time for that, not when he just got this next round of pay. 

Pausing at the cracked pavement of the apartment building he took a deep breath, wiping the sweat from his brow before calming himself down, inner excitement buzzing inside him as he felt accomplished. Five hundred, that was the number he had made this week. Five hundred, that would be enough for food…! Or- or maybe they could squeeze rent in with it too!

Jungkook felt giddy as passed by the dead brush of old flowers, the paint chipping off the side of the wall by the front door just as it always did, vaguely he could remember when his mom complained about never living somewhere nice.

Maybe this wasn’t an upper-class suburban neighborhood, but it was home. Opening the front door Jungkook paused, feeling a little leery at the sight of empty bottles on the table, his dad couldn’t have been home already, right? Jisoo was curled up on the couch, eyes meekly flickering to meet Jungkook’s before quirking into a little smile of greeting before letting her gaze drop back to her homework, “Mom’s in her room, haven’t seen her since I got home.”

Jungkook pressed his brows together in confusion, usually, she was a little more chipper than that, “Oh…” he breathed out before letting his shoulders slump a little, “Alright, I’m gonna go talk to her for a few minutes, do you need help with your homework?” He paused at the entry kitchen where the small circle table sat, takeout boxes piled up and the occasional pizza box underneath, he should really take the time to try and clean up.

Jisoo’s gaze flickered between her brother and her homework as she nibbled against her lip, “...You don’t have to help me Jungkook…” She felt guilty, he could tell instantly. 

Jungkook’s expression twisted a little more stern as he replied, “If I don’t then who will Jisoo?” He cut himself off abruptly as a thick silence hung in the air, Jisoo refused to look at him as she fiddled with her pencil, something she always did when she was nervous. Sighing he ran a hand through his hair, not wanting to scare her though it still disheartened him that she really thought of him like that, “I know I don’t Jisoo, But I don’t mind, okay? Let me just go talk to mom then I’ll be out in a moment to help.” 

She only nodded before letting out a soft sigh, curling up against the pillow she had hugged before Jungkook walked into the kitchen, the door ahead closed and it seemed like the lights were turned off, softly knocking Jungkook heard a crash inside as he opened the door, the TV playing in the pitch-black room where the curtains had been closed.

“Mom?” Jungkook furrowed his brows as she wobbly stood up, the cigarette she wasn’t supposed to be smoking in the house pinched between two of her fingers as she struggled to stand up properly, “Kookie…!” Her voice enthusiastic yet somewhat confused, her brows squeezed together as if she struggled to see him, “When did you get home?” She fumbled around the bed as he coughed, waving the cigarette smoke she had blown in his face on accident out of the way.

“I...I just got home mom, look I know it’s been hard with dad but….” He scratched his neck, feeling a little apprehensive before pulling the thick wad of cash out of his pocket, “I wanted to help out so…! Here, maybe…maybe me, you and Jisoo can go to the store and…!” He felt proud of himself at his mom's eyes lighting up quickly snatching the money from his hands, “Maybe we could get a few new sets of clothes or….mom?” He paused as she finished counting the money with an exasperated sigh as if inconvenienced. 

“You couldn’t have gotten another hundred?” His mom complained, her face saying that this was absolutely not enough, Jungkook felt his lips part, fumbling but no words came out as he felt his previous excitement begin to deflate.

It...it wasn’t good enough…? 

“Jungkook I would have thought you’d be more useful than this,” She sighed as she turned her back, annoyance filtering her features as she waved a dismissive hand, “I should’ve anticipated this though, I can never count on you to be enough when I need it. Go help your sister with her shit.” 

She puffed from her cigarette once more as Jungkook felt the frustrated anger quell in him, stiff in place as he felt the urge to swallow the hard rock that was suddenly stuck in his throat, his mom turned around as her scorned expression furrowed, “Are you deaf in the head? Get the fuck out of here and go do something useful. God you’re so fucking needy.” 

Jungkook had made sure to slam the door on his way out, running a hand through his hair as he felt the anger seethe through his veins, why was it never enough? All he wanted was to help! To be validated and good enough for his mother? Growling he hadn’t even registered when his fist slammed into the wall, again….and again...and again. 

His fist throbbed in sharp pain and it was already becoming swollen as blood trickled against the floor. Jisoo didn’t have the nerve to ask when she carefully wrapped his hand. 

….

Memories like those were the most prominent, especially after triggering situations such as just a few hours ago in which Jungkook and you had experienced a near kidnapping. The ride home had been painfully silent and it wasn’t until in the shower that you had broken down crying and continued until you could no longer keep yourself awake. 

Jungkook however, wasn’t tired at all, the opposite in fact, his eyes had been staring blankly at the ceiling for the last two hours, his mind filtering memories and briefly wondering, where had he gone wrong in his life? You were curled up against him, your body relaxed and your face buried against his side. 

With you sound asleep, Jungkook didn’t feel the obligation to hold a pleasant expression, and thus his bitter glare at the dirty white ceiling you had commented on painting one day. Where did he go wrong? Was he really that terrible of a person, was he considered a pain in the ass as a child? 

In fact, Jungkook felt strongly when he was younger, about wishing he had never been born, so that he wouldn’t have had to endure such incredibly hurtful parents. Jungkook wanted nothing more than to cherish his mother’s love. His lips quivered a little, his top lip twitching a little at the angry gloss of tears in his eyes, he hated it. He hated that it still hurt him almost ten years later. 

Jungkook hated more than anything, the permanent stain it had left on his heart, the constant need to prove that he wasn’t needy, that he didn’t need anyone, that he didn’t need to rely on anyone. He bent over backwards and compromised more of himself then he possibly could, in hopes that one day, his mother would love him. 

It wasn’t that Jungkook regretted his decisions, he had made plenty of money that he kept to himself, hence buying his first car, he could get his sister new clothes and pay for her meals. But still...he just wished he hadn’t compromised so much of himself, for something he would never have been given, no matter how perfect he tried to be. 

When he first came to Seoul, Jungkook didn’t know who he was, or what he wanted to do. He had spent so much of his life, living day in and day out, hoping he could force himself into the role of perfect son that would somehow fix his dysfunctional life, to the point that when he had left it all. It left him completely devoid inside. And Jungkook supposed he did eventually find himself, somehow. 

….

Purified sugar and there had to be some kind of strain of acidic flavor in the energy drink Jungkook had just finished chugging, it was his third one tonight and he had just finished his shift. His coworker coming in looking buzzed on something that was definitely not alcohol. 

“Psst- hey Jungkook,” He frowned as he turned to the male, raising a brow as he silently inspected the guys pupils that were widened like saucers, “You want some of this shit before you go? Hits different.” 

Jungkook’s nose wrinkled a little as he watched the guy pull the plastic bag from his coat, pure white powder inside as he offered a weak smile, “No thanks man, have a...good shift.” He offered, not in the least bit interested in that. 

Jungkook had watched his dad drain his whole life away with drugs, he was not about to do the same thing. Pushing his hands into his sweatshirt as he pushed the backdoor to the convenient store open. Life was shitty, but at least he was by himself, alone, and able to do what he wanted. The motel was a pretty far walk and these parts of Seoul weren’t the hottest but hey, it was a pretty lively area. Groaning Jungkook pulled up his hood, keeping his head low as he began to weave through alleyways as a shortcut to the motel, he was making, barely enough money to pay for it with the discount of ramen but admittedly...his stomach ached and growled in need of substance that he was beginning to get tired of living on. Was the rest of his life going to be this bleak? 

Jungkook had debated on enrolling for college but it seemed like a bad idea and a lot of debt he couldn’t afford to get into when he was barely putting a roof over his head. The idea of being an escort didn’t sound horrible but…

His lips twitched. No, he wasn’t going back to that. It was still too fresh in his head and he couldn’t handle anymore predatory older women preying on him. Ah great, his clothes were practically soaked to the bone. He’d need to find a day job at least to start saving money for actual food- take out at least and new clothes. 

Jungkook hadn’t even realized where he was walking until he smashed into someone, he didn’t mind it much but to be fair he was on the giving end, the guy taking a tumble before he growled, “Hey fuckin’ watch where you’re going kid.” Jungkook kept his head low, knowing damn well it was too late and he was too hungry for this shit. 

He just wanted to get out of the cold rain before he got sick, “Look! Little fucker thinks he’s better than us!” The friend called out, walking up as he got in Jungkook’s face as he followed beside him, “Hey shithead, you ran into my friend! I think that warrants an apology!” 

Jungkook paused, lifting his chin a little as he closed his eyes in exasperation, these guys were really fucking annoying, they both began cackling at his reaction as he turned to face them both, “Fuck off.” Jungkook could hardly contain the words tumbling from his lips, this wasn’t a good start given it was a 2v1 here. 

“Ooh, little man thinks he’s a badass.” The friend mockingly awed out before Jungkook was suddenly shoved, “Because you’re so rude to your elders, I think you should give us money as compensation for not beating your ass.” 

Compensation? In what world? 

Jungkook scoffed, a smirk coiling on his lips as he cocked his head into an annoying cocky expression, “The only compensation you’ll get is having the luxury of kissing my ass.” Knowing this totally wasn’t in his favor he suddenly shoved the first guy which made him slam into his friend before he booked it down the alleyway. 

Heavy footsteps pounded on the pavement following after him, making his way out of the alleyway he made a sharp right but didn’t make it two feet before he slammed into multiple bodies, “Out of the way assholes! He’s dead meat!” Jungkook scurried behind the two men who didn’t budge an inch. 

They were around his height and yet...they both definitely went to the gym, “Ew, they look like hetros.” The one on the right said as he wrinkled his nose, he held an umbrella that shielded his friend and Jungkook as well who leered, looking ready to run again if needed, “What are you doing over there idiot?” He twisted around and Jungkook was somewhat taken aback at how stunning this man was...was he a model? 

More importantly his brows furrowed in confusion, he knew neither of these guys, why did they act like they knew him? The man spoke once more as he looked at Jungkook as if he knew him well, “Got into trouble, again?” 

The man on the left spoke up as he tutted, “Sorry for our friend, he’s young and doesn’t know any better. Ah...It would be best if you just go…” His voice was methodical and smooth. He was a little taller than Jungkook and the other man, a pleasant yet tense smile on his face. 

The two guys looked at one another before glaring at Jungkook once more, who only let a snide smile appear on his face as the two grumbled their apologies, even giving a short bow before slinking back into the depths of the alleyway. 

Both the men turned around, the one on the right who looked like a model snorted, “You know this kid?” 

“Nope.” The other one said as he shrugged. 

Jungkook could only look between the two men, suddenly stricken with gratitude at the realization that, despite not even knowing who Jungkook was, they stuck their necks out for him to get these guys away. He looked a little doe eyed before he offered a boyish smile as he bowed, “Wow you guys really saved my ass! Hey uh-” Jungkook couldn’t put his finger on why, but he wanted to get to know these two better, “I can make it up to you! I could buy drinks!” 

“No!” The model immediately rejected, his hand on his mouth as his nose wrinkled, “I mean your welcome but hard pass, i’ve already drunk twice my weight in liquor for the night.” He winced a little as if trying not to gag. 

Jungkook frowned as he rubbed his head...oh...okay…? He turned to the other man, suddenly feeling a bit odd at the way this guy was staring at him. It wasn’t creepy or as if he had ulterior motives, but it was as if...he was evaluating him. Jungkook felt a bit uneasy and at this notice the man offered a weak smile, “Say, if you’re struggling for money, get off work early and come back here tomorrow kid. You’d be a hot take here. Come on Seok let’s go.” 

The other man shrugged before they walked away leaving Jungkook thoroughly confused and somewhat dazed as rain began to pour back over him again. Puzzled, he turned to face the building the two men had exited from. 

Cherry Bomb. Huh, interesting.

...

The thought of those two men lingered in Jungkook’s mind the whole day as he debated on what to do and in the end, he figured, what the hell? Why not just go for it and see, he was a bit leery admittedly at the man's words about making money. Last time he did that, he became an underage escort and a drug runner. 

His nose wrinkled as he carefully made his way through the alleyway, careful to not run into anyone this time. It was two in the morning and he figured, this would be early enough, right? Unless...No he’d give it a try! 

Jungkook nodded in determination as he stood in front of the bright neon red sign with the words Cherry Bomb plastered on it, what even was this place anyways? He paused at the two bouncers out front, checking ID’s as he got his ready, showing it before they nodded and let him inside. 

Jungkook had expected a lot of things, what he didn’t expect was the foggy atmosphere, cherry red neon lights, tables packed with people and screams of cheers. Making his way through the crowd his nose wrinkled a little before he got a good look at the large stage, thinner in the middle and circled out on the sides. 

His lips immediately parted at the sight of...naked women...dancing...wrapped around poles. His ears were burning as he frantically looked away, feeling like he was intruding on a private event before his hormones got the best of him. His eyes looked back at the stage where the woman kept swaying her hips as she parted her legs. Her tits were perked and her thong left little to the imagination and…

Jungkook tensed at the sudden feeling of arousal shooting down below, his cock throbbing against his jeans as he awkwardly shifted. What the fuck was he supposed to do with this...was he even in the right place…? 

But...if he wasn’t...wouldn’t they have been more specific…? Jungkook peered around, feeling a little hesitant as he scanned the crowd before...Oh! Oh there he was! Jungkook shuffled through the crowd as he found the man at the bar, laughing with the bartender before they met eyes, “Oh good! I was wondering if the environment would scare you off,” He laughed, “You look like a boy coming of age.” 

“..I…” Jungkook paused, not used to this type of talk being so...free, feeling apprehensive he asked the only question he could think of, “What is this place?”

The guy snorted, looking amused as he spoke, “A strip club…? Hey how old are you?” 

“Twenty…” Jungkook replied, a little reluctant as the man laughed, almost endeared as he squared his shoulders a little, he wasn’t a kid! He just...had never...Jungkook felt his ears burn as his eyes narrowed, sex wasn’t everything! 

“Okay good! That means you’re legal!” He wiped a non existent sweat off his brow as he offered a dimpled smile, “I’m Kim Namjoon,” He nodded in greeting, “I work here as a Soloist.” Jungkook’s lips parted a little as he looked at Namjoon before at the stage, “Yeah, I’m a stripper.” 

A male stripper? Jungkook had never heard of such a thing before as he furrowed his brows before he connected the dots, suddenly bursting out laughing as he sat in a seat, “You think I would be a stripper!?” 

Namjoon lifted a hand as he spoke, “I mean, you showed up didn’t you?” Jungkook paused as Namjoon smiled cunningly, “Mhm, listen, I get it. Everyone’s a little reserved when they first get in the business but, we have it good here at Cherry Bomb.” 

“...I’m not a stripper,” Jungkook’s nose wrinkled a little, looking at his knuckles before up to the bartender that was busy serving several other customers, “I’m not even experienced-” 

“Pause,” Namjoon cut him off as he looked at him in wariness, “That’s what’s good about Cherry, we accept people with zero experience. They’re called trainee’s, which means they have an experienced stripper show them the ropes of how everything works.” 

Jungkook didn’t speak for a moment, as he swiveled his chair around, looking out at the stage where girls were dancing as raunchy as possible but...his eyes landed on the money that was flying...that had to be fifty, “....And you want me as what…? A trainee?” 

Namjoon smiled patiently, “Pretty much, I’m particular in who I train but, you have the face for the job. I feel like you'd generate a lot of profit. For yourself and Cherry.” This was where Jungkook frowned, wariness filling him once more. Profit for Cherry Bomb...He couldn’t shake the feeling that, this seemed too good to be true…”So what’s the catch?” Namjoon tilted his head as Jungkook spoke, “What’s the catch, where’s the draw back? This can’t just be me flashing everyone my dick and getting paid for it.” 

“Right…” Namjoon smiled a little as he curved a brow, “You won’t, salary is cheap because technically our tips make up for it. But starting out as a trainee means nobody knows you and, nobody is going to throw money at you.” Jungkook tilted his head a little, “See we have a hierarchy here. First we have bottom feeders, trainee’s, they’re new, they’re awkward, nobody knows them and nobody wants to give them money when something better waits. Then there’s fillers, those girls up there who dance between the main shows, which are soloist’s who dance by themselves. They’re what everyone is waiting for.” 

Jungkook frowned, “So unless you’re the main attraction there’s no point in dancing.” Then why bother with this place, weren’t most strip clubs self employed anyways? Why be a bottom feeder here when you had greater success somewhere else? It didn’t sound appealing to Jungkook. 

“Because,” Namjoon chuckled as the stage went dark before the lights turned on, Jungkook immediately recognized it as the male he met last night, “Everyone likes a big ego and an even bigger wallet.” He hadn’t even started dancing and money was already being piled onto the stage. 

Jungkook couldn’t help but watch in awe at the way he kept a crowd which, surprisingly held many females who all gushed and screamed for him, the power he held in his performance and all the money that floated down on him as he swung around the pole. Jungkook was...interested. And besides, what’s the worst that could happen with this place?

“Alright,” Jungkook leaned back in his seat as he looked at Namjoon, a cocky look in his eyes as he smirked, “I’m willing to talk.” 

----

That was a turning point in Jungkook’s life. He stretched out a little, careful not to move too much as he didn’t want to wake you, you had shifted with a little yawn before your face pressed back against him. His lips ghosted into a smile as he looked down at you, his hand tethering gently against the back of your neck as you curled against his touch, you were just too cute. 

For a moment everything was okay before he frowned once more, no matter what you said, it was his fault you were put in the position you were, if he had just...Jungkook silently groaned in frustration, he had lived his whole life like this. 

It wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to. 

But it frustrated him to no end, he could’ve done a lot of things in his life differently but he didn’t. And now you were having to deal with all of his baggage he had secretly hoped he could bury with time. But this situation was just a bitter reminder that no matter how fast Jungkook ran, the past would always catch up. 

….

“Mmm fuck, that’s it you little slut.” Sweat beaded against the back of Jungkook’s neck, the tight space of the bathroom stall making his body heat radiate and his skin flush as a low moan escaped him. His hand fisted into the girl's hair, her lips eagerly wrapped around his cock as she bobbed her head against it. 

Jungkook’s brows creased as he guided her movements, her cheeks hollowing before carefully taking him down her throat as he hissed, “Fuck, I bet you like choking on cock don’t you baby? Such a slutty brat.” He growled, forcing her head still before sharply snapping his hips into her mouth, his orgasm was so fucking close. 

She was gagging and clawing against his thighs as gurgled whines escaped her, her little throat tightening around his cock making him let out a long moan as he rutted one last into her mouth, his cum warm and thick as it slid down her throat. 

Jungkook needed a moment to recover before pulling himself from her mouth, heaving in breaths as he rasped, “Jesus….thanks.” 

The girl- Yuna stood up as she wiped her lips, a bright smile adorning them as she laughed, “My pleasure, you should probably go talk to Namjoon though, as nice as your dick is it’s not why I came to get you.” 

Tucking himself away Jungkook glanced up at her as he gave a half smirk, though it seemed more like a lopsided smile, “I didn’t hear you complaining. I’ll go talk to him. Did he say what he wanted?” Namjoon, his mentor, was always on the more relaxed end of Soloist’s, not quite having the energy to debate with Jungkook. 

“Mmm dunno,” Yuna shrugged as she opened the stall, fixing her hair as best she could before rubbing her eyes, taking a quick look into the mirror to make sure she was somewhat decent, “You said you weren’t into degradation last time we fucked.” She raised a brow in curiosity as she glanced at him in the mirror.

Jungkook paused, running a hand through his hair as he looked away briefly. He did say that beforehand, trying to degrade a girl just felt….wrong...It almost always made him feel like an asshole and for the longest time he never saw the appeal. Jungkook shrugged as he replied, “Well, one of the girls I slept with was really...like really into it, and she explained that everything was consented and that if she had a problem with anything I called her she’d tell me. I wasn’t really into it at first but if it’s what she wanted,” He shrugged once more as Yuna turned around, tilting her head, “But after seeing how much it turned her on, and how weak she got anytime I called her a slut...It was kinda hot.”

Jungkook’s brows pressed together in thought, it was weird but, if the girl was okay with it then, that made it okay, right? He still felt somewhat at war with himself, maybe he should’ve asked Yuna? Even if she was the one that was practically begging him to call her a whore to begin with, but still. 

Yuna gave him a smile as she opened the door waving him out as he followed her, “You’re telling me all I needed to do was give you an educational lesson in BDSM? You’re so innocent Jungkook.” He glared at her as she laughed holding up her hands, “I’m just saying, you’re a natural in bed but you just always seem to...hold back…” 

Walking out of the hallway the main floor of Cherry Bomb was packed as always in the morning, girls going over their routines, people conversing with one another, Jungkook had come to love it here, it wasn’t the nicest place, but it wasn’t like he grew up living a nice life, “Well,” He huffed as his memories of his earlier experience when it came to sex flashing through his mind, “It’s not like I was with someone my age willing to guide me through it.” 

He immediately regretted his words, mentally chiding himself at saying too much as Yuna furrowed her brows, glancing up at him as she frowned. He was thankful she didn’t seem to say anything on the matter though, maybe knowing it wasn’t a good idea. 

“Well regardless, I’m proud of you.” Yuna patted his back as he rolled his eyes, leave it to her to keep things surface level before flashing him a grin and parting ways. Jungkook’s eyes scanned over the room, clacking his tongue as he sighed, Namjoon was probably in the soloist room if he wasn’t out here.

Making his way back down the hallway he pushed the door of the room open, glancing up at the small stage where Seokjin was working with Rose, “Done with your quick fuck already Jungkookie?” 

Jungkook’s shoulders tensed and his gaze deathened as they landed on the insufferable figure that stood ahead, freshly dyed platinum silver hair that covered thick bushy brows, the smirk crept on none other then Kim Taehyung’s face, what a fucking tool, “At least I can get my dick sucked without having to beg people to do it.” 

Taehyung snorted as he curved a brow, running his fingers through his hair as he replied, “Sorry what was that? Couldn’t hear you over being Cherry Bomb’s Playboy, girls would be fighting to the death to suck what I got.” 

Jungkook gritted his teeth as he rolled his eyes, refraining from rearranging that pretty face of Taehyung’s, he didn’t give a shit if he had only been working there for two weeks when Taehyung won SSU he still thought it wasn’t deserved. Taehyung was conceited garbage beneath Jungkook’s feet. He wasn’t going to groval over him just because he was a soloist now.

“Jungkook,” Namjoon sighed, curving a brow as he glanced between the two rivals before rolling his eyes, “Come on, over here.” He waved over his trainee who gritted his teeth before reluctantly walking over.

Jungkook raised his brows in question, not understanding why his mentor wanted him, most days he wasn’t even really training with Namjoon anymore, it had been almost a year of him working here and Jungkook personally thought becoming a filler would be easier than this. Training for over a year was just so ridiculous though, he was used to stripping, he could spend the whole night with girls at a table. And yet these people still treated him like he was a trainee, just because of the title. 

“Look I need you to be on your best behavior tonight okay?” Jungkook pulled up a chair as he sat across from Namjoon at the small table as he curved a brow, “Seasonella’s reps are coming tonight to choose and you’re definitely going to get onto the list if you put on a good show. But, I wouldn’t blame you if you want to take tonight off.” 

Jungkook was like a toddler beaming, he didn’t know all the ends and outs of Seasonella, but he knew it was guaranteed to be promoted from trainee to filler, hell, maybe even...He dismissed the idea, the last thing he needed was to get ahead of himself, “Why would I do that?” Jungkook scoffed, a cocky smirk on his face as he continued, “You know how I feel about still being a trainee. If I have even the slightest chance of climbing up from this shitfest I’ll take it.” 

Namjoon grimaced a little, of course his trainee was stubborn hard headed ass, sighing he ran a hand through his hair before replying, “We don’t just strip there Jungkook. We’re treated as prostitutes as well, I don’t know what the deal is but they make it like we have a choice when we don’t. It’s...not really pleasant.” 

Jungkook didn’t think much about his words, only snorting as he lifted his chin in that cocky manner he always had, “So I’ll get paid to not only strip but to fuck too? Where’s the loss in that?” This sounded like a pretty good gig in his opinion, what were the drawbacks supposed to be?

Namjoon shook his head as he sighed, figuring this would probably be the kid's reaction despite coming from a rough background himself, he had hoped, Jungkook would exercise a little more caution than he was. But then again Namjoon also understood that he was young and immature. 

“Nevermind. Regardless, if you want to go you need to be on your best behavior and…” Namjoon looked away somewhat wryly, “Don’t....don’t piss anyone off tonight, last thing I need is for you to try to knock the client's son’s teeth out.” Jungkook only puffed his chest proudly as he leaned his weight back and he shoved his hands into his pocket. 

“Deal.” 

…

Jungkook felt the urge to laugh at how stupid he had been, how arrogant and immature his actions were to not heed Namjoon’s warning. It’s why he couldn’t be upset with you. He was even worse than you his first year at Seasonella. True he didn’t go as far as shut it down, but then again, Eva didn’t waste time in digging up his whole past and dangling it over his head to keep him coming. 

But if he heeded the warning then- he cut himself off, what was the point in always thinking this way? Admittedly, it was getting tiring to beat himself up constantly, to wish for things to be different when they weren’t. 

Jungkook, just wanted to put everything behind him, and start fresh. He had friends who he considered his family and….well he had you. His eyes flickered to your figure that wiggled a little to get comfortable before stilling once more. Sighing he shook his head, he almost lost you last night. Or you almost lost him. 

He couldn’t live the rest of his life like this, he couldn’t. 

….

“So...are you um…” 

Jungkook leaned back against the headboard, running a hand through his sweat ridden hair, his muscles admittedly had been aching but it had been a great weekend honestly, what even was Namjoon talking about? He turned to face the girl he had been accompanying the whole week, Eva Friar. 

Jungkook felt a flow of ego filter him at the reminder, that’s right. For only being a trainee, he bagged the client’s daughter, she was just a year older than him and hey, she had money. And lots of it. By this point Jungkook would be able to get that apartment near Gangnam like he had been hoping. 

“I’m taking it you’re single?” Eva squeaked out, a shy smile on her face as she covered her nose with the blanket in an attempt to try and look cute. Jungkook curved a brow, single…? It hadn’t even crossed his mind honestly. 

Jungkook was neutral if not a little confused before he spoke, “...Yeah…? I mean, I doubt anyone would wanna date a guy like me.” He laughed a little despite it sounding tense- that came off more self-deprecating then he had wanted...But it was true and honestly...Jungkook couldn’t do love. 

Not right now at least, it was too soon and memories of home were too fresh. The only love he had ever been exposed to was well...It wasn’t love and...how was he supposed to express something he had never been given? 

“Oh?” Eva perked up, giggling a little as she fumbled to sit up, pulling the sheet against her chest despite Jungkook having already fucked her three times thus far today, “W-well that’s hard to believe! I mean, look at you!” 

Jungkook frowned a little, looking down at himself, true he had gotten a membership at the gym and he had obviously worked on his stroke game but...He was just...himself, “And…?” He asked as he furrowed his brows. 

“You’re the whole package Jungkook!” Eva exclaimed as she smiled brightly, “I- I mean...any girl would be lucky enough to date you…” She trailed off coyly as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Really?” Jungkook cocked a brow, not sure if he actually believed her, Jungkook wouldn’t….exactly consider himself a catch, given...well literally everything outside his appearance. 

“Well I mean…” She shuffled a little closer to him as she fluttered her eyelashes, “How about you take me to dinner tonight and I’ll show you…” 

Jungkook immediately leered back. Dinner!? Where did him being a stripper here for the weekend, say he was taking her to dinner, he knew it was an invitation but....”No thanks,” He offered a semi awkward smile, “I...I’m not really into relationships…” 

“O-oh…”

Great now he felt like an ass. Jungkook tried to recover as he forced a laugh that admittedly sounded light, “Yeah! It's just...you know, being a stripper and all. It doesn’t mesh well with relationships. You understand yeah?” 

Eva’s lips trembled a little and Jungkook had a difficult time looking at her, god this girl was so pitiful, “No totally! Ha..ha. I’m gonna use the bathroom!” She suddenly fumbled and before Jungkook could say a word, she was gone. Collapsing back against the bedboard he groaned, god dammit. 

Jungkook wasn’t sure when he actually fell asleep, it was difficult telling, but what he did enjoy was waking up to you every single day now, you were already awake and on your laptop most likely doing something miscellaneous or maybe working on a art history project you had been putting off for the majority of the summer time. 

His lips briefly twisted in a small smile as he set his chin on his arms admiring your side profile as you had yet to realize he had woken up. Your brows furrowed a little and your lips pressed together before jutting out once more as you paused typing. 

Then your eyes met his, a sleepy smile on his face as he watched you huff a little embarrassed for no reason at all but simply just because, “Morning babygirl.” He spoke up, his voice a little raspy and dehydrated from the long night. 

Jungkook’s smile turned more affectionate as he watched a shy smile appear on your lips as your eyes trailed back to the laptop screen, “Morning.” You mumbled out as you began to type again, your expression looked a little clouded compared to most days and briefly Jungkook wondered why before it hit him what had happened, “I tried waking you up to help me with breakfast but you were out of it. So I figured I'd just wait for you to wake up.” 

Jungkook said nothing at first, rather he studied your focused expression with a little frown as an odd feeling set in his stomach at how detached you appeared, not wanting you to catch on though he spoke, “You don’t have to wait for me to make breakfast,” He smiled lovingly, his eyes still sleepy as he looked up at you, who broke away from that cloudy look unable to  help but share the same smile as your nose crinkled a little, “I burnt toast last time you tried to get me to help.” He commented rolling onto his back onto his side, looking up at you, at first anticipating you would bring up what had happened but….

“Because you said putting it on a higher heat would make it cook faster.” You clacked your tongue making him chuckle, it was his fault the toast came out like a brick but truthfully he hadn’t used his toaster in almost a year until you started staying over. 

He closed his eyes briefly, you were an amazing cook, no matter how much you tried to coyly dismiss him, he’d shower you in compliment after compliment when it came to what you made in the kitchen. Jungkook would admit he was suspicious about all the food you had gotten at the grocery store but he stood corrected, you were making use of it all.

Jungkook couldn’t even adequately describe how much he loved you and everything you did for him, it was quiet for a moment as he stared up at you with his lips twisted into a tiny smile, his lack of reply making you turn to look at him as your nose crinkled again, “Hey babygirl….” Jungkook hummed out making you raise your brows, he sat up tenderly as he ran a hand through his hair, feeling a little apprehensive as he mumbled, “...Baby are you okay…?”

“Don’t….” Jungkook immediately frowned at your sharp words as you curled away from him a little, your expression a shards of distraught could be seen in your expression which only made him want to hold you closer, “Jungkook I…” you closed your eyes, lips quivering a little as you mumbled, “Can we not...talk about it?” 

Jungkook frowned as he stared at your curled up figure earnestly, not talk about it…? Jungkook didn’t want to make any assumptions but it was difficult to not when you were acting like this, “Baby…” Jungkook sighed before tenderly reaching out, pulling you closer as he rested his chin in your shoulder, “We can’t ignore what’s going on.” 

Your lips drew together tightly and he could see the way your eyes watered as you inhaled sharply, trying your best to keep it together as you mumbled, “We can, what else can we do besides that?” You looked up at him, a tear having escaped as it began to trickle down your cheek, “Just for a few hours, please?” You mumbled.

Jungkook sighed, weak for you and he could never do something with the intention of knowing you’d cry, cradling your cheek he thumbed the tear away, “Just a few hours baby.” He leaned up, pressing a kiss on your cheek as you crumbled back against him, basking in the warmth he had to offer as he tenderly trailed a few kisses down your neck. Time passed slowly and tenderly as silence took over for a long while, Jungkook still felt mildly concerned but he wouldn’t push you, especially like this.

But pretending like last night didn’t happen wasn’t a good idea either, Jungkook felt helpless as he pressed a kiss onto your head, feeling lost and unsure of what to do. This wasn’t healthy for him or you at this point and your alarming detachment was only making him more and more worried for your safety, pretending things weren’t going on was only going to give you a false sense of security that didn’t exist. 

“...Can we go cook now...,” You whined with a mumble as you closed your laptop before getting out of bed, “Come let go, let’s go, let’s go!” You bounce a little, a silly pout on your lips and a surprising amount of energy for someone who hated waking up early, let alone with everything going on, the large t-shirt covering close to your knees before you hurried from the room. 

Jungkook shook his head, letting you have your temporary moment of relief, a smile on his face before groaning as he got out of bed, rubbing his head, “You’d be more successful without me burning anything!” He called out in one last ditch effort to go back to bed. 

“I want your help!” You sang back not taking no for an answer as he shook his head, getting up as he yawned once more, rubbing his eyes before he grabbed a sweatshirt that was hanging off the side of the laundry hamper. You both were supposed to go to the laundromat this morning to get some clothes done.

‘I can’t believe you don’t have a washer and dryer, this is so gross!” 

Your words echoed in his head and he wanted to laugh all over again, truth be told he only lived a block away from a laundromat and he didn’t mind taking early morning walks to get laundry done, even if it was an inconvenience. 

Jungkook couldn’t say for sure if those plans were still on given what had...happened last night, despite only happening it still felt like a hazy dream that only filled him with dread any

Pulling the sweatshirt over his head he couldn’t stop another yawn escaping him as he padded out from the hallway to where the kitchen and living room were, his eyes landing on you softly as you had already gotten to work. Wordlessly he walked up to you before wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his face against your shoulder, “Koo! I can’t mix this properly when you’re trying to use me like a couch!” You whined out trying to tug away. 

Jungkook pressed a kiss against your shoulder as you wiggled once more, only he swayed with you as he whispered in your ear, “Can’t I just have you for breakfast?” 

“No!” You spoke sharply, obviously flustered at his words making him chuckle, forever endeared at how easy it was to make you all flustered over something you both had done time after time. Jungkook would never get tired of you, he was sure of it. 

Jungkook and you had cooked together this morning and with your gentle, patient direction Jungkook was surprised he had managed to actually be of some use and help to you. Breakfast was….rewarding, in a way. 

He could understand why you enjoyed it so much, you had told him recently that it was a pastime hobby to make tasty things. Jungkook had never gotten to experience waking up early as a child and helping the family making an early breakfast or even sitting at a table together bantering while enjoying what had been made together. Jungkook knew you often felt like you couldn’t offer him anything exciting or new, given you were a big introvert and he was the opposite, but little did you know it was the tiny things such as this that was new and he’d forever cherish.

Jungkook rested his cheek against his hand, a soft smile tugging on his lips as he listened to you ramble on about how when you first started cooking you had ended up misreading the recipe and using a half cup of baking soda instead of a teaspoon. You didn’t even realize just how much you gave to him in these little moments, he would always cherish it.

After breakfast Jungkook had loaded up his laundry with you before heading out onto the streets, Jungkook had rationalized that it was still daylight out and it was a busy morning with a large crowd, surely...things would be okay. 

Jungkook could tell you were leery of walking on foot but he had managed to convince you, after all, you wanted to have the morning to at least enjoy yourself and Jungkook would provide that to the best of his ability. Yet still, any time it was silent between you both a large cloud hung over the both of you, an unspoken tension that he couldn’t stand. 

And so Jungkook did what he always did when he didn’t like the atmosphere, he made conversation, something easy to talk about and he knew you enjoyed decorating, so he volunteered to ask what you wanted to do to the apartment first. 

Jungkook only had a tiny smile on his face as you immediately launched in the dozens of small things you wanted to get done first, a wash of relief taking over him at you now being a mildly distracted and the walk only being ten minutes, “That’s another thing i’d like by the way,” Jungkook hummed as he turned to face you, who had just been rambling on about this and that, “A washer and dryer in the apartment!” You exclaimed with a pout now enthusiastic about getting the apartment in better shape, “I don’t wanna have to walk a block every week just so our clothes can be clean! How do you live like this Jungkook?” 

Jungkook chuckled a little as he replied back, “Like anyone else! Not everyone can afford that babygirl. Have you stopped to think for a moment that maybe, maybe I’m just too poor to afford it.” He cackled at the sour expression on your face. 

“You just dropped over two thousand on a new gaming setup three days ago, Jungkook.” You groaned as you grabbed your head making him smile once more. 

“Not a setup, it’s all the parts for a new PC baby, I gotta prep my drip for Cyberpunk 2077 when it comes out. Which takes precedence over a washer and dryer,” He shrugged, just enjoying the way you’d flail and react, “However,” Jungkook exclaimed dramatically before he grinned, “I’ll make an exception, just for you.” He cooed as he wrapped an arm around you making you squirm, “But for real, I enjoy the experience babygirl, it’s not about having to walk once a week. It’s the fact that I get to walk once a week, and just enjoy myself.” 

Your nose wrinkled a little making him snort, he knew by your expression you didn’t understand at all but you also clearly didn’t want to invalidate him either. That’s what he really liked about you, he supposed, no matter how much you disliked something, you always tried your best to understand. 

For the sake of those you loved. You were delicate like that, or so Jungkook liked to think. 

…

“I think, you totally like her,” Jungkook whipped his head around faster than he could actually comprehend Taehyung’s words, just what in the hell did he hear his best friend say? “Just look at you dude, you won’t stop smiling every time you see her.” 

Jungkook leered away a little at his words, true it had been nearly a month of training you and there had never been a dull day in between but still… “I smile at everyone…” Jungkook frowned a little as he pointed it out, it was true, he did smile a lot, he liked to smile, it meant he was having a good time. 

“Yeah but,” Taehyung curved a brow, looking way too amused to be possible, “You never look like that.” He shrugged a little as Jungkook’s face soured a little, “Come on, don’t look at me like that, it’s the truth, why not just take her on a date. You’d do it to any other girl at this point.” 

Jungkook had to think about it for a moment, why hadn’t he taken you out on a date…? He frowned a little before sighing, “Because she isn’t a girl i’d just take on a date and fuck and never see again,” He answered steadily, that was the biggest reason truthfully, he didn’t know how to feel and the last thing he wanted was to let his hormones get the best of him and dive head first into a girl he really knew nothing about and…His jaw clenched a little, look what happened the last time he tried that.

“Isn’t that a good thing…?” Taehyung frowned a little as asked, obviously confused as to why this was a bad thing. 

“Because!” Jungkook flailed his hand a little, his back turned to the stage where some assortment of fillers were providing cheap entertainment, “She just…! I don’t…” He inhaled sharply, frustrated at himself, “Look I can’t deal with feelings and shit, not again, not after Soo Jin.” He rolled his eyes a little, “Taking her on a date is like a gateway for all that crap and I can’t deal with it right now.” 

Taehyung whistled a little, “That’s a little cold, even for you.” Jungkook puffed a breath as he continued, “And besides, what’s the difference between a hangout and a date anyways? You both go out together all the time as it is…” 

“Could you shut the fuck up please and just make my drink.” Jungkook complained, not wanting to be confronted with all of this. He didn’t want to think about because if he did he knew he was gonna freak himself out and end up doing something dumb and hurting you. And more than anything, he didn’t want to hurt you. 

So yes, he was going to drag out...whatever this was with you...as long as possible to ensure that he knew who you were, and what your intentions were with him. Not to assume he thought you had any type of intentions, you couldn’t hurt a fly honestly, unless provoked. 

But still, if Jungkook had learned any lessons, it was to not jump into love so fast as he had before. Not that he was in love with you...or anything like that. It was just platonic! He enjoyed platonic relationships- friendships! And you were the kindest, sweetest…his eyes trailed to your figure that was seated next to Rosé both of you talking to a table of frat boys who were eating you both up like candy...prettiest...friend he ever had! 

“Whatever, all I’m saying is if you break her heart- legally I’m obligated to beat the shit out of you.” Taehyung offered a boxy smile as Jungkook rolled his eyes as he slumped in his seat. He wasn’t going to do anything, Jungkook and you were purely, friends, good friends. That’s all. 

….

“She what?” 

“Yeah me and Rosé were pretty surprised she jumped to that conclusion.” Jungkook snorted at your words as you swung your feet back and forth, sitting on the seats they had set out in the laundromat while you both waited for your clothing to finish drying. 

“Taehyung is not gonna like hearing that, have you told him yet?” Jungkook snorted at the way your expression contorted before you flailed. 

“Of course not! Taehyung would freak and he’d probably do something stupid that would only confirm it in Yeri’s mind! I think, we should just leave them be, honestly, if it goes on long enough, Yeri will probably confront him.” You answered honestly, as you hugged the basket against your lap. 

“That’s one way it could go,” Jungkok hummed as he fiddled with your shirt making you whine a little, tugging away with him in indication for him to stop only for him to ignore it, “The other could be Yeri leaves and i’ll have my best bachelor bud ba- ow!” 

You swatted his arm angrily making him chuckle a little as he pulled away, “What?”

“Don’t talk like that! What do you have against Yeri!?” You cried out pointedly as Jungkook raised his brow in semi surprise. 

“Woah wait, I don’t have anything against her-” 

“Sure you do! Yeri told me how much of a jerk you were to her when she first started dating Taehyung! And making jokes like that isn’t funny!” Your brows pinched together and Jungkook sighed in exasperation when he realized you were being partially serious, “I just want them to be happy!”

“I don’t have anything against her,” Jungkook replied, this time more stern in his words, “And yes, I’m not gonna sit here and pretend like I wasn’t an asshole to her, I was. But only because I was still bitter about what had happened in the past and I projected that, unfairly onto their relationship. I wasn’t mature in the slightest either about it. I get it, but at the time I was just scared and I didn’t want my friend taken away from me.” He shrugged, “But it’s all in the past now, that’s nearly what? Two years ago now? I’m happy for them, really. I was just being careless when I made the remark.” 

You set the basket down to cross your arms as you huffed, obviously still upset but at least Jungkook was honest, or so he thought. Better to be honest then lie and screw everything up.

“What? Are you gonna be mad at me now the rest of the day?” Jungkook shoved your shoulder gently with his in a playful motion he’d often use to try and lighten the mood a little. 

He internally sighed at seeing you not budge, your arms crossed as you pressed your lips together,  “I won’t,” You mumbled, “I just want you to not be so…” You waved your hand a little as your lips curled with a sigh, “When it comes to Taehyung and Yeri, is it really a crime Taehyung wants to marry her?” 

Jungkook paused for a moment, what? He didn’t….didn’t he just explain? He sighed, “What? Do you think that’s a reflection of my view of marriage?” When you didn’t answer him Jungkook sighed in exasperation, “Alright fine, obviously I have to prove my devotion, again.” 

“Jungkook what- what are you doing!” 

Jungkook couldn’t hold in his laugh at the way you scurried in your seat at the sight of him sliding off his chair to kneel on the ground, grabbing your knees making you jolt, “Let’s go elope baby. Right now- or as soon as the laundry is done-” 

“Get up! People are staring!” You hissed out despite giggles escaping you as you tried to push Jungkook away who grabbed your hands, pressing kisses on them as he pulled you down a little with a whisper. 

“I will when you say yes. This is what this is about, right? You think I got something against marriage? Well let me prove you wrong baby.” Jungkook growled playfully in your ear as you pulled away. 

A loud beep cut him off, making both him and you jump as the washer that held both of your clothes stopped, “I’m not finished with you yet baby.” Jungkook had that dorky half smile on his face as he stood up to get the clothes out of the washer and into the dryer. 

Marriage huh...For a brief moment, Jungkook wanted to snort at the notion, him? Marriage? He never really gave it any genuine thought mainly because he never thought he’d be worthy of marrying, well….anyone. 

And for the longest time he didn’t even believe in marriage, the idea of being together with someone, forever really made him squirm when he was younger, possibly because his only example of marriage was his parents and he wasn’t even sure if they were married in the first place. 

A lot of examples throughout Jungkook’s life were bad examples. It was often difficult for him to try and accomplish a new idea without anything to lead by. But…his eyes trailed back to your figure who was still reeling about what had just happened. Maybe…

Just maybe…

Pushing the button on the dryer Jungkook plopped back in his seat going to speak to you but he paused when he noticed how stiff you were, your eyes were on the door to the laundromat where people were going in and out of view on the busy street, “What baby?” Jungkook furrowed his brows a little, confused as to why you looked so cautious all of a sudden. 

You looked at him briefly as if consulting something in your mind on what to say before you leaned back down in your seat, your eyes on your fingers as you fiddled with them the way you always did when you got nervous, “...Maybe...we should go to the police Jungkook...you know...about what’s going on, what happened…” 

Jungkook paused in his tracks. Police? He didn’t mean to immediately frown but…”Baby listen…” He sighed as he lowered his voice, not wanting to dismiss you as easily as he wanted too because he knew you genuinely cared and you were in a dangerous position being together with him, naturally you’d have a say so in what you both chose to do but...

Jungkook grabbed your hands tenderly as he spoke softly, “I...If it could be avoided I really don’t want the police involved- if they knew about my involvement in…” He didn’t even want to finish his sentence, would the police even care about how long it had been? Or the fact that he had been blackmailed into doing it for his sister's safety? 

Jungkook couldn’t take the risk, he couldn’t. There was too much unknown and risk for him to feel confident they would help rather than simply throw him in prison. You mirrored his expression as you sighed, your shoulders deflating a little as your bottom lip quivered the way it did when you were trying to not let yourself get upset. 

“I don’t think they’d do that Jungkook…!” You whispered and Jungkook couldn’t stand to look at the way your eyes were pleading, “I just- I don’t want anything to happen to you or- or to me! And- and maybe they could at least push these people back, right? I mean...We can’t keep taking risks like this.”

Jungkook lowered his gaze, despite his own fear he could never say no to you, not when you were pleading with him like this, especially when it was this dangerous. He ran a hand through his hair as he closed his eyes, “...I’ll think about it.” He relented, “Just let me think it over tonight okay?” 

It was the best he could do, Jungkook was only human. He wished he could be so much more, for his friends, for you, but he couldn’t. Your expression was still dim but you nodded in respect of his decision before leaning against him, your head resting against his shoulder. Jungkook let his own head rest atop of yours before pressing a kiss against your head while whispering, “Everything is gonna be okay baby.” 

Cherry Bomb was packed as ever, Jungkook had been helping out the majority of the night and truthfully, he enjoyed the rush of keeping up with lights, making sure girls were on schedule, he liked the busy atmosphere and more than anything he loved watching you dance and swing around a pole.

You were practically blowing competition out of the park left and right and your votes were only going up on Cherry’s twitter account. Not that Jungkook ever had a doubt in his mind about you taking first place, but seeing it on a screen really hit home that you were his baby and dammit could you do anything if you wanted too. 

“I think she’s gonna win!” Rosé squealed in her seat as she clapped her hands, “It’ll be so nice having another female soloist to help with the crowds!” Jungkook leaned back in his seat, saying nothing but his smile spoke for itself. 

“Maybe we’ll finally stop having to listen to Sejin bitch about our numbers dropping.” Seokjin yawned as he stretched out, “She’s pulled a big crowd on her own, who knows.” 

Jungkook clapped his hands together, “What did I say in the beginning?” He hummed as he furrowed his brows, that dorky boyish smile on his face making the others groan, “What was that? That I ah- said she’d make us money? That she’d be amazing? Hmmm? That’s the sound of me being right.” Jungkook chuckled as he listened to the crowd whistling as you exited the stage. 

Jungkook would never stop being proud of your accomplishments. Getting out of his chair he looked down at everyone prominently with a smirk as he crossed his arms before exiting to go find you. He was already semi hard from your performance and he wasn’t about to wait to get home. The bathroom stall was just gonna have to work for tonight. 

The staffing hallway was just as bustling as ever but things had calmed down admittedly, they had put you towards the ladder end of the contest so they could still keep a crowd for the majority of the night and now that you were finished things would soon be lowkey. Jungkook pushed the door open to Rosé’s dressing room as she had been kind enough to let you use it for the competition. 

Jungkook would’ve offered us own but...His nose twitched in an attempt to wrinkle, it was still messy in his room and they were still working on getting it cleaned up. You were sitting in your seat, taking off the earrings you had been wearing before a smile tugged on your lips at the sight of your boyfriend, “What?” You smiled, somewhat shyly as you adjusted your robe. 

Jungkook strutted over only to lean down, his arms around you as he pressed a kiss against your shoulder, “I’m gonna let you choose where I’m gonna fuck you baby.”

“Jungkook!” You jolted with a squeak at his crude words, that boyish smile on his face as he looked back at you in the mirror, “Jungkook!” You reiterated as you twisted around to look at him, your face warm as he raised his brows semi amused. 

Jungkook let his lips press against your neck as he chuckled against your warm skin, “I said what I said, I’m gonna go take a quick smoke and when I come back you better have an answer, yeah?” 

He smiled down at the way your eyes squinted a little at the mention of smoke, reaching up you pulled Jungkook back down, pressing your lips against his too quick for him to truly enjoy the taste of the vanilla chapstick you wore with the maroon lipstick that was probably transferred to his own lips, “You’re gonna get lung cancer if you keep smoking.” 

Jungkook puffed a breath, his lips threatening to curl at the way you were looking up at him softly, “I’m here for a good time, not a long time babygirl. Think carefully!” You shook your head as you watched him exit the room. 

You were happy to be performing again and having some resemblance of normalcy back, even if it was just on stage. Not to mention all the money you were making throughout the contest. Checking your phone your lips curled a little, you were currently in third place in ranking at the moment. No it wasn’t the best, but you’d take it. 

Glancing at the clock you hummed, noticing it had been about two minutes, your mind lingering on Jungkook’s words as you shook your head, a shy smile tugging on your lips. Well...he did enjoy the car after all...Fiddling with your phone you looked down at your lock screen once more. 

Time slowly ticked and eventually after five minutes you frowned, Jungkook normally didn’t take this long to smoke unless he got held up. You sighed, thinking back to your confrontation with Seulgi and how hurt she had seemed, as if it was your fault Jungkook fell in love with you...Well...you guessed in some ways it was. But still...she wouldn’t go out of her way to harass him tonight, would she? She had been talking shit earlier in the dressing room, hence you had decided to move into Rosé’s dressing room as she didn’t mind and you couldn’t be held responsible for whatever you did to her. 

You still didn’t fully understand her mindset, her words lingering in your head. Was she really just that big of a sore loser? The moment you stood up for yourself was the moment you threatened her very being? You just wanted to understand. 

Standing up you finished changing before deciding to go look for Jungkook, his absence after five minutes beginning to make you a little anxious to see him once more. Walking through the hallways you looked around, everyone was busy and with somewhere to be and yet you still couldn’t find him. Not in the dressing rooms, the bathrooms...Well, he did say he was going for a smoke. 

You rubbed your head, who would be out in the back exit beside him? He was the only person you ever used the back entrance anyway. The hall was dark and the red beam of LED cast down making the walls feel more narrow as you frowned cautiously pushing the door open to reveal the dark night sky and dingy alleyway that always made you uncomfortable.

That’s all you saw though. Jungkook nowhere to be found.

Panic flooded your veins at the sight of the pack of cigarettes laying on the ground and a half smoked bud. He was gone. Jungkook was gone. You could be overreacting but your gut was telling you otherwise, with shaking hands you yanked the door back open running room to room and once again, he was nowhere to be found. 

Opening the door to the main building where all the customers were, you hurried towards the bar, overwhelm beginning to flood your body as you desperately blinked back tears, pushing through people to get to the bar that had seemed pretty calm now that the majority of clients were leaving. 

“Hey! I’m glad we caught you just in time before you left-” A familiar face was sitting at the bar across from Taehyung as he greeted you but both men faltered at the sight of your choked voice as you closed your eyes, warm wet tears beginning to spill down your face. 

“Jungkook is gone! I- I can’t find him anywhere!” 

Note: yayyy!!! another chapter over and it’s gotten even worse!! we only have two chapters left guys I’m not prepared!!! :( lemme know what you think so far and ty for reading!

Taglist CLOSED

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[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: So, here we go! 😁 Thank you so much for your wonderful support and lovely messages during my break my loves, they mean so much to me and ily! ❤ On my break, I binged a lot of shows, and Criminal Minds and Prodigal Son were two of them, but if you haven’t watched them don’t worry because it will not be following a specific canon plot😁❤Please let me know what you think and enjoy!❤

Warnings: Murder, drug use, serial killers, violence, manipulation

Summary: No one can choose their family.

If it were another time, you could’ve at least attempted to convince yourself how everyone had problematic childhoods. Focusing on something else usually worked, per the advices of countless psychiatrists your mother had forced you to go after the-

Incident.

Just the thought of it was more than enough to make your blood freeze in your veins, but you were soon snapped out of your thoughts when your phone started ringing. You checked the caller I.D, and heaved a sigh before you touched the screen.

“Hello?”

“Please tell me you’re not going there.” Your mother’s voice filled the car and you pressed your lips together.

“Hi mom.”

“Every time you go there and visit that man in that wretched prison cell of his, he manages to get into your head!”

“That’s not what’s going to happen,” you said, keeping your eyes on the road, “You have no reason to worry.”

“I have every reason to worry!” she snapped, “We promised that we wouldn’t let him worm his way into our lives.”

“Yeah well, FBI begs to differ,” you forced yourself to say, “You’ve seen the news—“

“I don’t want to hear this,” she cut you off, then heaved a sigh, “It’s terrible enough to hear it once, let alone twice.”

You never really had the luxury of ignoring all the terrible things on the news, especially after what had happened. Ever since you were a child, the nightmares wouldn’t leave you alone, and you weren’t as good as your mother at ignoring what was happening while you were awake.

“You could’ve said no.”

“I really couldn’t,” you mumbled and she clicked her tongue.

“Well then,” she said, trying to pull herself together, “I expect to see you at brunch, even your sister is coming. It won’t take long, will it?”

“It won’t take long to see my serial killer father and find out whether he is helping another serial killer even if he’s been behind bars for years?” you asked, “No mom. It shouldn’t take long.”

“Sarcasm will give you wrinkles.”

“Oh yeah, tragedy.”

“Call me as soon as you leave there,” she insisted, making you smile. “Promise me.”

“I promise,” you said as you pulled over in front of the building. Even the sight of it was enough to make your stomach flip and you felt the bile climbing up your throat.

You did not want to see him.

You had managed not to see him for years now, but now, the news were full of different coverage about a killer whose method of killing was very similar to him.

A flower left in the crime scene, every damn time.

Naturally, FBI wanted a word with the original killer. Less naturally, the original killer refused to speak unless he talked to his younger daughter, who happened to be you.

Unfortunately.

Yet, the sooner you walked in, the sooner you would walk out, and that was the only thing that offered any kind of consolation.

“God damn it,” you mumbled to yourself as you left your car, and made your way into the building. They patted you down, made you go through the x-ray and sign the papers before you entered the hall.

There were two men that weren’t in official prison guard clothes, which made you think these were the FBI agents you had talked to on the phone. For some reason, you hadn’t pictured them like this, but you didn’t know any agents so maybe this was the norm.

If it were any other time, you could’ve noticed how handsome they both were, but your mind was way too occupied.

“Ma’am,” the dark haired one stepped closer to you, “I’m Special Agent Luke Alvez, this is Dr. Spencer Reid.”

Even if Agent Alvez looked like the ideal FBI agent that was pulled out of an action movie, Dr. Reid looked more like a young, handsome professor, the ones that you dreamed would be at your university when you were still at high school.

Needless to say, that fantasy hadn’t come true much to your disappointment.

You shook your head, trying to focus.

“Y/N, it’s nice to meet you.” You shook hands with him, and smiled at Dr Reid, “Hello.”

“Thank you for coming.” His smile was soft, much like his gaze, “I imagine it’s not easy for you.”

You forced yourself to shrug, “Yeah it’s…” you trailed off and cleared your throat, “It’s fine.”

“So far we have seen five murders all over the country, in different areas but the crime scene has your father’s signature. It most likely means there are multiple copycat killers, and given your father’s past, he might be the mastermind behind it. He contacted us, but refuses to say anything unless he spoke to you.”

The goosebumps rising on your arms felt almost familiar.

“I haven’t been educated in any interrogation techniques.” You said, “And knowing him, he’s not just going to give that information to me.”

“People give information about a lot of things even when they don’t realize it.” Dr Reid said, “We will be outside, watching and listening.”

“I’ll talk to the guards to see if he’s ready, excuse me.” Alvez said and he walked away while you nibbled on your lip.

“How does a serial killer have this many privileges?” Reid asked you, “He has a private cell, books, TV…”

“Money,” you said slowly, “Money buys lawyers, lawyers buy freedom. Or the closest thing to freedom, given the circumstances. If you ask me, he should’ve been rotting in a hole but...” you trailed off, leaning back to the wall and took a deep breath, counting in your head.

“That’s a good exercise to calm down,” Reid said and your head shot up.

“What?”

“The 4 7 8 breathing exercise. I’m guessing a psychiatrist taught you that.”

“Several psychiatrists taught me that,” you stated, raising your brows, “You’re observant aren’t you professor?”

“Doctor.”

You clenched an unclenched your fists, your eyes darting around the hall,

“This is not helping,” you said as you exhaled a breath, “I need a cigarette, or twenty.”

“What do you do?” his question was so out of nowhere that you gawked at him for a moment.

“What?”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a— I’m a wedding planner.”

He tilted his head, “What’s that?”

“Well you…you know, you help the couples with color palettes, decoration, overall aesthetic, and during the wedding you make sure nothing goes wrong with the venue and the food and the music, all that. You make sure the wedding is perfect, basically.”

He hmmed, “How do I tell if a wedding is perfect? If we were talking sense wise?”

“Well first of all, in terms of looks, the colors need to complement each other,” you said, remembering your favorite events, “When you walk in, you see the garden and it’s well lit, but not too bright. In terms of touch, I guess you would make sure the table covers and such are soft to touch. The music should be slow at first, at least until it starts.”

“How about smell?”

“You can’t really go wrong with faint flower scents. Scented candles are a nice touch too.”

“The food?”

“Something light, most of the time. No one wants to get into a food coma at a wedding and you—“ you stopped as your eyes snapped up to his, a small smile playing at his lips.

He was making you list all the things that would ground you without making you realize you were doing it, so that you wouldn’t lose yourself in panic. It was yet another trick your psychiatrists had told you to do whenever you felt overwhelmed, talking about what you could see, hear, smell, touch and taste. By making you focus on a pleasant memory and remember all those, he was offering you a safe place in your own mind.

But contrary to any doctor, he didn’t make it obvious.

“Well played, professor.”

This time, he didn’t correct you,

“Grounding works most of the time,” he stated as Agent Alvez approached you, “I know this situation is less than ideal, but we will be right outside. You can walk out any time you want.”

“They’re ready.” Agent Alvez said and you nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was slamming against your chest, then followed them to the door. Alvez opened the door for you, and you stepped inside, digging your fingernails into your palm.

His hair had more grays since you had last seen him, and his beard was longer, but that dangerous light in his eyes hadn’t changed. He looked up, a wide smile appearing on his face as his eyes searched yours.

“Sweetheart!” he said cheerfully, raising his hands a little so that you could see the chains attached to his handcuffs, “It’s been a while, wouldn’t you say?”

Pretending to be calm was something you had practiced so many times that your body knew automatically what to do. The door closed behind you and you swallowed thickly, making sure your face didn’t show any feelings. You slowly approached the table to pull yourself a chair, then put your phone on the table and started the countdown.

He wanted five minutes, and you would be damned if you stayed there a second longer.

“You look so much like your mother,” your father shook his head, “It’s uncanny, really.”

You gritted your teeth, still glaring at him.

“Not your eyes though,” he smiled, “You got your eyes from me. The window to the soul, hm?”

“My soul has nothing to do with you.” The words left your lips before you could stop them and he tut tutted.

“My petal-“

“Don’t call me that,” you cut him off, “I hate that nickname.”

That didn’t seem to break his enthusiasm though, much to your displeasure.

“Well, we should catch up,” he said , clapping his hands together, “Are you still with that young man from last year? He’d better be treating you well.”

You blinked a couple of times, “How did you-?”

“I have my sources too.”

“Your sources are slow then.” You stated, “We broke up months ago. Is that all? You brought me here to just talk about my personal life?”

“Why did you break up?”

“Are you really behind all these murders happening right now?” you asked back and he shot you a reprimanding look.

“None of that right now, petal. Business and family shouldn’t be merged, as you know.”

You felt like you would throw up, but managed to hold it together and stole a look at the countdown.

“Why did you break up?”

“Certain differences,” you said, cracking your fingers to distract yourself, and he leaned back.

“I get that,” he said, “If you’re different, you’re different. I always felt that with your mother—“

“Stop that.” You spat out, “Anything I do, including my relationships, it has nothing to do with you. I’m nothing like you.”

“Oh but you are,” he said, “It’s all in your eyes. In that deadly glare of yours. It’s there, isn’t it? That anger? Try to hide it as much as you want, it’s still burning you.”  

“There’s nothing burning me,” you said, “You’re fucked up, doesn’t mean I am too.”

“You know, there are many scientists that say murder is in the genes,” he stated, “So it would mean you’re contaminated too, no?”

The panic was pounding through your system, but you managed to keep your expression stable.

“Do you know why I didn’t ask your sister here? Or hell, your mother? Do you know why it is you?”

You stayed silent, your gaze focused on him.

“Your sister loved your mother, but you…. You were always such a daddy’s girl.”

“Wrong.”

“I don’t even think you cried for your mother whenever you scraped your knees, it was always me.”

“I didn’t know you were crazy when I was a child, guilty as charged. Doesn’t prove anything.”

“It does,” he said, “It proves more than you know. You are going to be my legacy.”

A cold shiver ran down your spine but you took a deep breath, resting your palms on the steel desk.

“No I won’t,” you said calmly, “Sorry to disappoint. I never killed anyone.”

Your father’s smile was almost as serene as your voice.

“Yet,” he pointed out, and you felt your throat tightening. “Ignore it if you want. It’s still there, petal.”

The beep of the phone made you snap out of it and you pushed your chair back, knocking it over in the process.

“Fuck you,” you said through your teeth as you gripped the door knob, “Have fun rotting in here.”

You swung the door open and stepped outside, still trying to catch your breath, and the door next to the interrogation room opened before Reid stepped into your vision. Your hands were still shaking and you desperately needed a cigarette and some fresh air.

But what you really needed was to get out of there.

“Y/N?”

“I hope you got whatever you guys needed,” you managed to say, wiping at your nose, “Because I’m never stepping a foot here, ever again.”

With that, you walked out of the hall, every cell in your body screaming at you to get away. You ignored the looks from the guards, tears blurring your vision and you left the building as fast as you could, as if someone was chasing you.

As if that could help you escape him.

Chapter 2

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