#friends at the table but that's not a surprise to anyone who's spoken to me irl

[thelostconsultant]

Lunch with a stranger

pairing: Charles Leclerc x female reader

summary: You've seen Charles before, but it's only when he interrupts your lunch when you exchange more than one word.

You were so lost in the screen of your phone that you didn't even notice the furry baby shark approaching you.

As you sat at a table on the street with a glass of ice cold lemonade and some snacks serving as your lunch, you talked to your friends in a group chat to arrange your plans for the weekend. Brunch in the morning, beauty salon before lunch, then a quick shopping trip in the afternoon.

And then you felt it; sharp teeth gently nipped the skin on your calf until they were replaced by the little creature's tongue as it licked your leg. You leaned to the side to see the criminal under the table and saw an adorable little puppy who looked surprisingly excited to see you.

But why did it look familiar? You could have sworn you had seen this dog before, and not just once, yet your mind couldn't put the pieces together to help you out. Then you noticed the leash and followed the thin line to the owner. A familiar face. That explained everything.

“I'm sorry, he likes to make friends,” the guy said with a sheepish grin.

You waved your hand in a way to tell him it was no problem, then returned your attention to your phone and lunch, expecting him to move on. But he didn't. Out of the corner of your eye you saw him pick up the dog and take the seat across from you.

“I'm Charles, by the way,” he said.

Nodding, you took a sip of your drink, enjoying the way it cooled you down from the inside. “I know. Our nation's greatest hero as of now.”

You didn't want to talk to anyone today, especially not to someone you knew from your psychologist's office, but he seemed really determined to get more than a few words out of you. You had never spoken to each other more than politely greeting the other, and honestly, you didn't even think he would remember you.

But he did, apparently. He waved over the waitress to come and take his order, ignoring your silent protest, then looked at you with an intrigued glint in his eyes. “So you watch F1?” he asked casually.

“I watch the Monaco GP since all I have to do is go out to my balcony, but that's the most I see from it,” you replied, not missing the disappointed look that crossed his face. But he didn't say anything, he just scratched his dog’s soft spot behind his ear. “What?”

Charles looked up with a questioning hum. “What what?” You rolled your eyes, but since the waitress had just arrived with his order, you didn't want to go into the details. “Okay, look,” he began once you were alone again, “I just… I see you at Dr. Brezzo’s office whenever I can go on my normal schedule, but we never have the chance to talk. So when Leo found you, I thought I should take this chance.”

He seemed like such a sweet guy, but at the moment you didn't need new people in your life, especially not ones who lived in the spotlight. You just wanted to have some quiet and peaceful months until your meds kicked in, until you were finally back to normal. You'd been doing great, it would have been a shame to risk it.

But when you opened your mouth to tell him you weren't interested in this chat, he gave you the damn puppy eyes as if he had known what you wanted to say. With a sigh, you nodded and stuffed a forkful of salad in your mouth. He waited patiently, even began eating his own food while making sure he gave his dog a bite so he wouldn't be left out.

“You look tired,” you noted, earning a surprised look from him. “A friend of mine is a huge F1 fan and he told me about how terrible things have been for you. I'm sorry. Is that why you need therapy? No, wait, don't answer this, it's too personal. Let's talk about something else.”

For a while he was just watching you with a barely visible smirk, and then he surprised you with what seemed to be an honest response. “I would go to therapy anyway, my job is stressful enough on its own, but yeah, the team's recent performance is definitely something I need to learn to deal with.”

“I'm sure there are highs and lows in every aspect of life, so maybe it won't last much longer,” you offered with a warm smile.

Charles nodded. “That's what I'm hoping for. What about you? Why do you go to therapy?” he asked cautiously.

Well, since he was honest with you, there was no reason to lie. It's not like he would go around telling everyone about it. “I have bipolar disorder. The meds will hopefully work, but I need therapy too. Makes things easier,” you added with a shrug.

He was awfully quiet, and for a moment you expected him to stand up and leave. Wouldn't have been the first time, you had already lost a friend thanks to this. But then he picked up his glass and watched the bubbles move inside as he broke the silence with a smile. “You look well to me.”

A small smile crept on your lips when you heard this. “Thanks. Honestly, I feel better too,” you said proudly. Because you were proud of what you achieved in a short amount of time.

Then you both returned to your respective lunches, but Charles had to focus on keeping a healthy balance between feeding himself and Leo for now. It was adorable, really. You felt like you should say something, anything to break the silence, but he didn't seem to mind it. To him it might have been comfortable, because when he noticed you staring, he flashed a smile at you without saying a word, then returned to his lunch.

A good fifteen minutes later your phone had begun to blow up. Your friends were sending dozens of messages into the group chat, making your phone ping and buzz non-stop. With an apologetic smile, you took a look at it, and your breath caught in your throat as you tapped the links they threw in there.

“Oh, shit,” you muttered, a painful groan leaving your throat when you noticed you'd been tagged in several social media posts too.

Charles looked at you with a puzzled look. “What happened?” he asked.

Instead of answering, you just showed him your phone. He kept scrolling, his eyes growing wider as he began to process the dozens of posts and hundreds of comments about the two of you having lunch together. It was insane how fast rumors flew across the internet, and it didn't make you happy at all.

Despite being born and raised in Monaco, you had been taught to stay under the radar your whole life. Your parents made sure no photos of you would be published anywhere, and you were trained to do everything in a way that kept you away from the spotlight. People didn't know your name, they barely even knew your parents’ name, which was a good thing.

Well, so much for that.

“Hey, it's okay. Just a few photos,” Charles offered as he gave you back the device and placed his hand on your arm. “They'll move on soon, I promise.” When he saw you were still upset about it, he spoke up again. “Look, I think you already knew I wanted to ask you out, so if you would say no anyway, this is the time to tell me. I wouldn't blame you.”

How could he be so sweet? You did have a feeling that's where this conversation was going, but you weren't sure until now. Now that you knew, you had to figure out how to decide. When he showed up, you were sure you didn't want anything. But now? Maybe getting to know him better wouldn't be so bad after all.

“It's okay. I think I can handle it,” you told him with a small smile.

Your positive response made him smile too as he looked down at the puppy in his arms. “You heard that? You'll get all the kisses and cuddles you want.” He looked up at you with a playful look in his eyes. “Maybe I will too,” he added.

[2amriize]

Riize finding out about your crush on them through another member 😝😝

oh this was so fun to write! tysm for the request, hope u like it ^^

˚⟡˖ when they found out your crush on them through another member — RIIZE

ᡣ𐭩 masterlist

note i made it a little bit longer than usual, so hope yall like it ♥

genre fluff, crack ?

pairing riize x reader

ᯓ★ SHOTARO

You knew Shotaro because you had mutual friends and would often see each other at birthdays or parties they organized. You hadn’t spoken to him much, but seeing how sweet and cheerful he was with everyone made you develop a little crush on him.

Even though he’d been your crush for over a year, you still hadn’t confessed, and you didn’t intend to. You knew how difficult and awkward relationships between friends within the same group could be. Besides, you didn’t really think Shotaro reciprocated your feelings. He treated you well, but that’s how he treated everyone, really.

Out of your group of friends, the only one you’d talked to about this was Sungchan, as he was your closest friend, but he was also very close to Shotaro. In reality, you hadn’t meant to tell him; it just slipped out right before going to a birthday party. Oh, you were screwed.

You really valued Sungchan, but you knew very well that he was terrible at keeping secrets. ‘I swear I’ll try not to spill it in front of him… or anyone else.’ His words didn’t sound convincing, but you had no choice but to trust him.

But, well... the secret didn’t last even two hours with Sungchan. He and Shotaro were alone in the kitchen making some drinks when Sungchan let it slip.

‘What? What do you mean y/n told you she likes me?’

‘Uh… did I say that?’ Even Sungchan was surprised at how little time he managed to keep the secret.

Shotaro stood there for a few seconds, trying to process the information, then laughed and hugged Sungchan excitedly.

‘Wow… I didn’t think she was interested in me at all’

ᯓ★ EUNSEOK

“He is so fine,” you murmured as you stared directly at a spot in the cafeteria where Eunseok was sitting.

“Huh? Who are you talking about?” asked Shotaro, who was eating with you. “Eunseok again?”

“Yeah...” you whispered, looking at the guy sitting at a table away from the crowd with his friends.

Who didn’t have a crush on Eunseok? Basically, everyone in your class was in love with him, and you were no exception. Shotaro was tired of hearing you talk about how handsome and tall Eunseok was, and he always ended up asking you, “Why don’t you ask for his number?” You simply didn’t have the confidence, and you didn’t want to bother him either. Every week, someone approached him to ask for his number, and apparently, most of the time, he didn’t give it out. So, why even try?

After eating, you were in the hallway with Shotaro, chatting before heading to class when Eunseok walked by.

“Oh, there’s the handsome guy you like,” Shotaro said way too loudly, and you looked at him in shock, hoping Eunseok hadn’t heard. But he did.

He turned to you and looked directly at you. “Huh? Are you talking about me?”

“No... it was… we were talking about...” His gaze on you made you nervous.

“So, can I ask the pretty girl I like for her number?”

ᯓ★ SUNGCHAN

You and Sungchan were inseparable. Wherever he went, you went. If he was invited to a party, you were invited too. You got along too well. And to be honest, you also had a massive crush on him. The problem? Everyone knew. Except for him.

When it came to these things, Sungchan wasn’t very witty, or maybe he just didn’t want to notice. You also preferred that he didn’t realize because you liked the friendship you had.

Still, every time you went to a party, everyone joked about how obvious it was that you liked Sungchan. “Are you ever going to make a move? Why don’t you ask him out?” were things that were never missing from a conversation between you and Sohee.

And that day at Sungchan’s house party was no different. Sohee kept telling you that you had to confess that night or at least try to kiss him. But you refused; you simply couldn’t do it.

At one point during the night, someone bumped into you, spilling your drink on your shirt. When Sungchan noticed, he offered to give you one of his shirts to change into, so you both went to his room together.

While he was rummaging through his drawers, you could hear Seunghan and Sohee’s voices in the hallway.

“Do you know where Sungchan is?”

“Hmm, I saw him go off with y/n a while ago.”

“Oh… finally, y/n is going to confess.”

The conversation could be heard clearly from Sungchan’s room, and when you heard it, you both looked at each other in silence, both surprised and not knowing what to say. You could feel your cheeks getting warmer by the second.

“Were you... going to confess?” Sungchan asked, still looking at you before crossing his arms. “Isn’t that something I’m supposed to do?”

ᯓ★ WONBIN

Spin the bottle. You hated that game. Why was there a game where you had to kiss people you didn’t like? Or worse, where you had to watch the guy you liked kiss other people?

But there you were, sitting in the circle, praying that the bottle would stop on Wonbin and you.

You had liked Wonbin since you first saw him at Eunseok’s house, but you had never spoken to him. Eunseok knew about your crush on Wonbin, which is why he suggested playing spin the bottle while giving you a mischievous look. What was he planning? Then, before the game started, he said, “Okay, let’s change the rules a bit. Whoever the bottle points to can choose who to kiss.” He said this while looking at you with a smile. Oh god...

A few rounds passed until the thing you feared the most happened—the bottle pointed at Wonbin. What if he didn’t choose you? What if you had to watch him choose someone else and kiss them?

“Oh, umm… I don’t know who to choose, honestly,” he said with a slightly awkward smile.

“I know someone who would love for you to choose them,” said Eunseok, and you quickly looked at him.

Wonbin, confused, also looked at Eunseok. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“I think y/n has been waiting for a kiss from you for a while.”

Oh god. How embarrassing. You could feel everyone staring at you. How could he say that in front of everyone? Oh, but what you didn’t expect was to hear Wonbin’s response: “Oh, if it’s y/n, I would love to.”

ᯓ★ SEUNGHAN the office reference!

You’d been working as a receptionist in an office for a few years and had become close friends with one of your coworkers, Seunghan.

Seunghan worked as a salesman, and his desk was just a few meters from yours, so you were constantly exchanging looks and joking around all day.

Many times, he would take the opportunity to come over to your desk when he finished his work and always asked if you wanted to have lunch with him.

But that was it. You only interacted with him inside the office; you had never hung out outside of work. Neither of you had ever suggested it.

Besides, you didn’t want your relationship to become awkward if you suggested going out after work. What if he thought you were asking him out on a date? Well, that’s what you would be doing, but that wasn’t something that crossed your mind.

Today, when he came over to ask if you were having lunch together, you had to turn him down, “A friend is coming, and I was going to have lunch with him.” His face completely changed, “Oh, no worries,” he said before going back to his desk.

When your friend Anton arrived, you got up to greet him, noticing Seunghan’s gaze on you both.

“So... which one is the Seunghan you talk so much about?”

“Anton… what are you saying?” you said, giving him a small tap on the arm. Clearly, Seunghan had heard you because he couldn’t help but smile after hearing that.

ᯓ★ SOHEE

You couldn’t stop talking about Sohee to Wonbin. Sohee was a barista at a café you always went to near your dance academy. Every time you hung out, you would talk about how cute you thought he was, and it was something that was starting to annoy Wonbin.

“Why don’t you tell him? If you don’t, I will,” he would always say to you, and you would laugh, thinking it was a joke.

Oh well, it wasn’t.

You were having a drink after spending the whole afternoon practicing, and it happened that Sohee was working. You couldn’t stop looking at him; everything he did seemed so adorable to you. How could he be so cute?

Wonbin couldn’t stand seeing you staring at Sohee all the time, so he took the opportunity to approach the guy when you went to the bathroom.

“Hey, this might sound weird, but do you have a girlfriend by any chance?”

“Huh?” Sohee responded, looking at him confused.

“Oh, it’s not for me. You know the girl who’s with me? Well, she has a bit of a crush on you.”

“Really? I thought you two were dating.”

“Iugh, no… but then, could you give me your number? I mean, for her?”

Sohee chuckled a little and wrote his number on a napkin without hesitation.

When you came back from the bathroom, you saw the napkin, so you looked at Wonbin, confused. “What’s this...?”

“Thank me later.”

ᯓ★ ANTON

You were in the living room of one of your friends’ houses when Seunghan suggested playing charades but with a twist.

“Let’s play by also putting some of our names in.”

It seemed like a fun way to play, so everyone agreed. You couldn’t help but smile when you saw that Anton had gotten your name.

Anton had been catching your attention for the past few weeks, so you could say you had developed a bit of a crush on him. You just loved the way he talked to you; you could have conversations with him for hours and hours. But nothing more had happened, just conversations. The only person you had told about your crush on Anton was your best friend, Seunghan, though the rest of your friends had also noticed how nervous you got around him.

After several rounds, Anton couldn’t figure out who he was.

“Hmm… Am I someone here, right? Do I like anyone here?” he asked, and you looked at Seunghan, surprised by that question.

“Oh, sure you do,” he said, letting out a small laugh.

How could he ask that? He started asking in every round if he liked X person, until he ran out of options.

“Who’s left? Oh wait… I like myself? I mean, I like Anton?”

“That’s it” said Seunghan, while looking at you.

Anton noticed that Seunghan was looking at you, but it took him a few seconds to realize what that meant.

“So... I’m y/n? I didn’t expect that...” he said, laughing, while you were embarrassed.

[littlespoonevan]

If you are looking for prompts.... Eddie and Tommy realising they unintentionally excluded Buck ?

ohohoho this was fun to write but Sad also bc eddie is clearly thinking one thing and tommy is clearly thinking many things and buck is off in his loft thinking many, Many things but i hope you like it, friend 💛

.

Eddie hobbles over to his couch with Tommy’s help.

“There you go, man,” Tommy says as he gets Eddie situated on the cushion. “You need anything?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Eddie replies, waving a hand. “There’s beer in the fridge though; help yourself.”

Tommy doesn’t take him up on the offer, instead moving to sit on the coffee table next to where Eddie’s propped up his injured leg.

“So, uh, Buck can get pretty competitive?” He says it like a question, nodding to Eddie’s wrapped ankle as if in proof and it’s, well-

“No, actually,” Eddie says, and he feels…stuck between a long-ingrained need to defend Buck and confusion as to how they ended up here in the first place.

Because this isn’t like Buck. Because Buck usually spends his every waking minute actively trying to keep Eddie out of harm’s way. He sure as hell is never the cause. And Eddie knows he didn’t mean to, is the thing. But just calling it a simple accident doesn’t feel quite right either.

“I don’t-” he starts and then reconsiders what he’d planned to say. “Honestly, Buck’s been a little off this week so I think…”

He trails off. It feels weird talking about Buck with someone who isn’t close to them, who doesn’t just implicitly gets all the intricate mental gymnastics behind Buck’s every action.

Then again, Eddie’s not sure if anyone is actually as adept at figuring out how Buck gets from A to Z as he is.

“Is it because of me?” Tommy asks and he looks genuinely concerned.

Eddie replays every conversation he’s had with Buck this past week – every too bright smile Buck flashed him, every enthusiastic assertion that he thought it was great Eddie had a new friend – and then he, inexplicably, thinks about when he first joined the 118 and some things slot into place.

“I think he was maybe a little worried,” Eddie allows. “That I was replacing him with you.”

Tommy’s eyes do a slow, deliberate sweep of the living room and the multiple photo frames of him, Buck and Christopher on the mantel and the side table before he looks back to Eddie. “Is that even possible?”

Eddie shakes his head, letting out a laugh. “I mean, no. Obviously. But Buck just- sometimes he needs reminding how much he means to people.”

Guilt settles between his ribs then. He’s been too distracted this week, too excited about having someone he had so much in common with around to talk to. If he’d taken half a second to look a little closer he would’ve realised Buck was spiralling.

“I should’ve spoken to him,” he sighs. “Reassured him that we weren’t trying to exclude him.”

Tommy frowns. “You really think that’s how he felt? I thought you said he never wanted to play basketball when you asked?”

“I think it was more than just the basketball,” Eddie says, wincing – the memory of him asking Buck to babysit instead of coming to the bar with them feels particularly bad.

Tommy nods slowly, mind clearly working. He’s quiet for so long Eddie thinks about telling him not to worry about it, that he’ll deal with it, but then-

“Why don’t I go talk to him?” he suggests, confident and sure. “Clear the air? I don’t want him to think I’m trying to get in the middle of you two.”

It takes Eddie by surprise. There’s a strangely defensive part of him that wants to say he and Buck don’t need anyone to mend their fences for them but he shoves the thought aside and reminds himself that’s not what Tommy means. Buck had sought Tommy out too last week and they’d seemed to get along. Maybe Tommy wants to clear the air for his own sake.

So he says, “Yeah,” probably a few seconds too late and makes himself smile. “Normally I’d be the one driving to his house and forcing him to talk. But I guess I’m kind of out of commission right now.”

He nods at his foot and Tommy laughs, pushing himself up off the couch to stand. “Well, hey, I’ll be sure to pass on your regards.”

“Thanks,” Eddie snorts.

Tommy claps him on the shoulder as he rounds the couch. “Don’t forget to take those pain pills, man. I’ll let you know how things go with Evan.”

He calls the rest of his sentence over his shoulder as he heads for the door and Eddie manages a half-hearted, “Will do,” as he hears the click of the latch.

And he feels…how Buck has felt all week, probably. Confused and irritated and a little possessive. Like Tommy’s stealing his job. As if Eddie hadn’t just told him it was fine. As if Eddie could even make it over to Buck’s place right now. At least he managed to hold back the petty, “His name is Buck,” that had immediately rose up in his throat as soon as Tommy had called him Evan.

Shaking his head, he reaches for the paper bag with his prescription that Tommy had left on the coffee table.

He’ll talk to Buck tomorrow and everything will be fine.

[destinyisastar]

Lost in your Love pt 4

Read Part: 1 2 3

Summary: After the day's events Alastor decides to go visit his beloved friend to see if she has any answers.

Vox x Reader, (Alastor x Reader)

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Alastor runs his hands over the panel, fiddling with the switches, his head pulsing. He needs time to think, needs his questions answered. Anyone will do! Of all the thoughts to pass through his mind an idea is finally presented in his head.

Rosie!

Why hadn’t he thought of that before?!

With smile on his face Alastor makes his way to the wonderful cannibal town.

The emporium is full as always, the line is out the door, children sinners press their faces on the windows drooling, the women gossip while eating pinky fingers, men are chatting about nothing too interesting.

There among the crowd of people hovering over her was the delightful Rosie.

Alastor made his presence known by letting out a few static sounds.

Roise perks up her head, “Alastor? Oh, Alastor is that you?! My, my where have you been?!” Rosie stands up from her seat making her way over to him, arms ready to hug him. “Have you been eating?! You’re looking more flimsy than usual dear!” she giggles.

“I’m doing just fine my friend! I’ve just been busy with a new project!”

“Why that’s good to hear! Come sit, sit I’m sure you have much to discuss!” She brings him over to a table.

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay to long, I just have some questions, and I was wondering if you may be able to answer them.”

“I’ll doing anything I can my friend!” She sits in her chair, sipping her teacup.

Alastor takes a breath while he sits down, “Have you heard from my wife lately?”

Rosie spits out her tea, she begins to cough rapidly, punching her chest, “I’m sorry, but what do you mean your wife?”

“Yes, my wife, Y/n, have you spoken to her?”

“Wife? Y/n?” Rosie looks confused.

“Rosie, please do not play any games with me, I’ve brought Y/n to your emporium many times, you two always swapped books.”

“I know a Y/n, but that Y/n isn’t your wife, why I believe I would be the first to know if you had a wife!”

“Then who’s the Y/n you know?”

“Vox’s wife of course!”

Everything is still.

Still and silent.

Rosie is still talking, but Alastor hears nothing. His hands begin to claw the table. His eyes begin to turn into dials.

“Alastor?”

Vox.

Y/n.

Y/n is Vox’s wife.

Vox is Y/n’s husband.

“Alastor!!”

Alastor jolts up, “I’m sorry my dear, I’m just a bit surprised, that Y/n is married to vox...” He grits his teeth.

“Of course they’re married! They were married in life, might as well be married in hell! Oh, and they’re so cute together, you can definitely tell that Vox loves her.”

He feels like his teeth are about to break with how much he’s smiling.

Married in life?

Alastor and Y/n WERE married in life. Not Vox and Y/n.

“My dear Rosie, Y/n simply cannot be his wife… you know most of all that she is my wife.”

Rosie tilts her head, “No, she couldn’t be your wife, I would remember an such an important detail! Alastor... did you have a bit of crush on Y/n? Its understandable but you can’t go after a married woman! That wouldn’t be very gentlemanly!”

Alastor runs a hand through his hair, slightly pulling it.

He knew that Vox had feelings for his wife, he just never thought he’d have the guts to take her from him.

But that doesn’t explain why Roise doesn’t remember Y/n being his wife.

“Thank you for answering my questions my dear! Unfortunately, I must be going now!”

“Oh, Alastor I’m sorry if that wasn’t what you wanted to hear! I’m sure you’ll find someone someday!” She yells out to him as Alastor leaves the emporium.

Just what in the hell is going on?

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In your bed you lay awake thinking of the day’s events. The Radio Demon held your hand so gently. Why? Why would the demon look at you with such care? He must be scheming. Your eyes grow tired, and you feel yourself being pulled into a dream.

 A sweet tune of jazz is playing as you dance with your husband, your eyes are shut placing your head on his chest. He’s swaying you slowly as the tune comes to an end.

“I love you dearest.”

You raise your head to meet his gaze.

“I love you too Alastor.”

You immediately awaken.  You sit up in your bed, you raise your hand to your face, breathing heavily, feeling sweaty.

Alastor.

Why were you thinking of Alastor so lovingly? He’s not your husband.

You place your hand to the other side of the bed to find Vox still sleeping. You reach your hand closer to his screen, gently caressing his face. This man….is your husband.

Yes… that’s right.

Vox is your husband.

That Radio Demon must have put those ideas into your head. Holding you so lovingly, tenderly. It was just a dream… did you want to have those feelings for him? No, of course not. You loved your husband.

But the dream…. it felt so right.

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destinyisastar 2024

Hi everyone!! Uni has been kicking my butt but I'm getting through it, (I just procrastinate a lot, I'm working on it) Also some exciting news Alastor's pilot VA is coming to my local convention, and I might meet him!

Stay tuned for part 5!

wordcount: 855

Taglist: @songbirdpond @diffidentphantom @vxllys @sirens-and-moonflowers @bethanythehazbinfan @martinys-world @quinceylikesanime @sweetsaladpainterranch @killer-nightmare0 @ginny-higgins

[del-stars]

cheaters!prongsfoot minific | 872 words | explicit, nsfw

The ring of the telephone is the first thing all day to cut above the sound of the rain pounding the windows of Sirius’ apartment. He jolts, a bit surprised, and sets his glass of whiskey on the coffee table. The telephone had been Remus - Sirius had found no use for it, having grown up without one, but Remus insisted. He’d wanted it to call Lily.

When he answers, there is only heavy breathing on the other line. Sirius can tell that it is James.

“Why are you calling me?”

Sirius twists his finger around the cream-coloured cord. He’s staring out the window again-- he’s been staring out the window all day, waiting for the rain to stop and counting the number of red umbrellas on the sidewalk below.

James’ voice cracks when he speaks. It is the voice of a desperate man. “Can’t I call my best friend?”

No. They haven’t spoken in 68 days. Not since Lily shared the news.

But it had been James’ choice, the silence, and now he’s the one who called. Sirius is not capable of saying no to James Potter, anyway-- and especially not now, when his voice is deep and thick with alcohol and the sun has just gone down and Sirius’ own head is fuzzy because he’s had three glasses of whiskey, now. 

“Of course you can.”

James lets out a breath. “Fuck, I’ve missed you, Pads. You’ve no idea how much I missed you.”

Sirius does, because however much James misses him, he feels it twice as much. He’s always felt more, between the two of them, always the more dramatic, the more excitable, the more impassioned. He knows exactly how much James has missed him because, for 68 days, Sirius has missed James like a hole in his heart. He does not know how to be a person without James, doesn’t know how to speak to anyone, or to get out of bed. It had put him in that horrible place he sometimes fell into, like when he ran away from home or when Remus left, that only James could pull him out of. So this had been worse than those times before, naturally, and he’d drunk like a fish and hadn’t spoken in weeks. He knew very well how much James had missed him.

“I missed you too, James.”

James blows out another shaky exhale. “Say my name again.”

Sirius wonders if the sound of rain is audible over the phone. He can see James in his mind: laid back in one of those large red armchairs in the study, the fireplace burning, his thighs spread wide in those grey sweatpants that used to drive Sirius mad. The mere image is enough to make his cock stir. “James.”

He can hear James’ breath quicken, the way it would when Sirius swept his hair off his neck and stretched it. 

“James,” he repeats, lingering over the way the name feels in his mouth. 

“Fuck.”

Sirius says it even slower this time, letting drag out, like he would in bed. “James.”

There’s a shuffling noise on the other end of the line, and then James gasps. Sirius’ mind fills in the details, because he knows that gasp. He’s heard it thousands of times.

“Are you touching yourself?”

“Yes,” James whines.

Pathetic. Months ago, Lily had used that word for James. It had incensed Sirius at the time, because James was the least pathetic person he knew. James could be vulnerable, yes, and he liked to be a certain way sometimes in the bedroom, but he was still strong and courageous and all the makings of a real Gryffindor. Now, he’s called his best friend with whom he hasn’t spoken in two months while his perfectly capable wife sleeps upstairs, so he can get off to just the sound of him saying his name. It’s pathetic. This is what Sirius has him reduced to.

Sirius cups himself through his pants. “You missed me, Prongsie?”

James hums. “So much, so fucking much.”

“And my hands on you?”

“Yes.”

“And my lips wrapped around your cock?”

“Fuck, yes - so much.”

“And you missed fucking me?”

James moans, and Sirius can hear his pace speed up. “Y-yes, I need to--”

“Need to what?”

“I need you.”

“Need me for what?”

“I need to fuck you, please, Sirius.”

“How badly do you need it?”

“So badly,” James half-sobs, “I have to, I need to.”

“Are you going to cum just thinking about it?”

“Y-yes.”

“Do it, then.”

He does. Sirius can hear his jerking gasps, and the whines he tries to muffle. He can hear James mutter a spell to clear away the mess, then him readjusting in the chair. It falls silent, then. James had sworn, 68 days ago, that this would never be happening again. Sirius had lost; it had been over. He’d known, deep down, that it would, but he still doesn’t know if James had felt the same. The silence stretches out between them, and the rain keeps pouring outside Sirius’ window.

“Why did you call me?”

“I...” James sighs.

“Tell me the truth, James.”

“It’s a boy,” James confesses. “I called because I wanted to tell you that Lily’s having a boy.”

[bandgie]

Agora Hills

Changbin x fem!reader

synopsis: You thought breaking up with Changbin was for the best, but he's here to remind you that's completely and utterly wrong.

warnings: MDNI 18+, suggestive themes, exes-to-lovers, rich!changbin, he's an asshole but means well, some angst mostly fluff, thats it lol

1.5k words

It's not as though you hated Changbin, quite the opposite actually.

He's caring, sweet, and would rip the shirt off his back if you asked. He would treat you well, spoil you like a baby. He's really the whole package...all for one thing.

As sweet as he is to you, he's too snobby with other people. You knew he had money, lots of it. Anyone with that amount to their name can let it get to their head, but Changbin loved showing off how much he had. You couldn't do it anymore.

The final straw was when you were out on a double date with your friends. The restaurant wasn't up to Changbin's taste, and he made it very clear he did not like it to everyone. You tried to awkwardly laugh it off, but it was hard not to when he said, "This is why I don't like hanging out with the middle class, no offense. You guys just have no taste."

You saw red. Here was your boyfriend belittling the class your family has had to work their way into. With clenched teeth you apologized to your friends, broke up with Changbin, and had your friends drive you home.

It's been two weeks, and he's been calling you nonstop. Text after text, call after call, voicemail after voicemail. When you weren't picking up, he started sending gifts to your door. Jewelry, bouquets of flowers, clothes you knew cost more than your rent. Changbin had a habit of showing his love through materialistic ways, but it was getting annoying having to return them back to his address.

"You should ask for a car," your roommate chirps. 

You only rolled your eyes and groaned in return. You slumped further into the couch before burying your face in your hands. 

"You're supposed to be helping me," you say frustratingly. 

"I am," she protests. "Your shit car is breaking down, again, and you and I both know damn well your little sugar daddy would love to buy you a better one."

Angrily, you place your hands on the sides of the couch and sit up. "He's not my sugar daddy! Don't call him that."

Your roommate tsks and shakes her head, "Whatever. Have you called him at least?" 

You shake your head back, "I haven't spoken to him since that night."

"Well, maybe you should," she reasons. "Some guys need to hear it more than once, especially if you just up and left him like that. Who knows, maybe you can work things out too."

"I have," you stress. "He's just so...ignorant sometimes. And plus, I can't take him back after what he said to you."

Rather than seeming upset, your roommate shrugs. "I've heard worse. Plus I don't think he meant it in a bad way, like you said, he's just a little ignorant."

Her aloofness makes you both on edge and at ease. It's good to hear that she wasn't as offended as you thought she'd be, but her being so nonchalant about your situation is irritating. 

In times like these, you wish someone could just tell you what to do. 

"I say you call him," she answers your prayers. "If he's an ass, it only proves that you were right to dump him. If he's not, then you either owe him a better breakup or another chance."

Finding resolution, you stand to your feet and grab your phone from the coffee table. "You say it like it's so easy."

"That's because it is."

-

Changbin picks up on the first ring. Not that it should surprise you, but the rehearsed words die in your throat when he answers with an overly excited hello?

When you don't answer he prompts you again, "Baby...are you there?"

You can feel the way your heart clenches at the pet name. It's only been a mere two weeks since you've heard his voice and you're already wanting to cry. 

"Don't call me that," your voice is small. 

"Why not?" He asks. You can hear how shaky his voice is, but you convince yourself it's the static. If he really cared about you, he wouldn't have said that in the first place. "Are you not my baby anymore?"

You have to chew on your bottom lip and look up to the ceiling of your room to keep yourself from crying. A few seconds pass before you speak, "I dunno...Changbin you really...you really messed up."

"I know, baby, and I'm so sorry. I'm stupid. I hurt you and embarrassed you in front of your friends. I would do it over again if I could, baby believe me. We can fix this, I can be better. I love you, you know that."

He's right, you do know that. There wasn't a moment in your relationship where you doubted his love for you. Changbin has been a little snobby before, but that doesn't compare to his overwhelming adoration for you.

"I love you too Binnie," you sniff. "I wanna fix this too."

You swear you can hear him smile behind the phone. "That's all I need to hear baby. You mean so much to me that I can't even explain it, you know that?"

Despite the tears on your waterline you laugh, "Yeah I do Binnie. You mean a lot to me too."

Changbin laughs with you. "I miss you baby...it's so lonely in my mansion."

Whatever tenderness you had filling your heart dissipates and is replaced with agitation. "Jesus this is exactly what I mean! It's those little stupid fucking remarks that-"

"No! Baby baby I didn't mean it like that! It's a Doja Cat song-"

"-and here I was really wanting to make things work and you just-"

The two of you begin to talk over one another, the previous confessions nearly forgotten. It takes Changbin profusely apologizing and begging for you to stop arguing. 

"Over the phone isn't gonna cut it. I'll send a limo and you can come over. Please baby, we can fix this."

You sigh heavily and collapse on your bed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Okay."

-

No matter how many times you enter Changbin's house, if you can call it that, it always leaves you breathless. Polished floors, high ceilings, with chandeliers dangling up above you. It's clean, not a speck of dust in sight, most likely thanks to the many invisible housemaids. 

He had ushered you to his room, sitting you on his couch as he remained standing. 

It felt good to see him, even if you were pissed. He was as muscular as ever, a black tank top showing his pecs and arms deliciously. He must've worked out before you came, he tended to use the gym as a stress reliever. 

"There's really no excuse I have other than I'm stupid." Changbin starts. 

You let a small breath of air out that mimics laughter, "You don't have to tell me that.

Changbin smiles at you, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Yeah." He pauses. "At the dinner, I really don't know why I even said that. I didn't mean to hurt you, or your friends. It's was inappropriate and fucked up of me. We can go and I can apologize to them. Anything you want me to do, just name it."

Timidly, he gets on his knees between your legs and takes your hands into his own. "I love you. I love everything about you even if I complain like an idiot. I'm just not used to...some things, but I don't want that to be the end of us. I can learn, and I can change. Just don't leave me. Please."

God, if there's one thing Changbin is good at, it's begging. His hot breath fans over your bare legs, sending chills up your body. You can feel the heat of his body rolling off onto yours. He looks beautiful. His dark, messy curls that sit at the top of his head, the broadness of his shoulders, the way his lips pout. 

As big as he is, he's still a baby.

Your baby.

Gently, you untangle your hands from his, and his face drops for a moment. You quickly place them on his face, pulling him forward until his lips meet your own. 

Changbin squeaks at the feel of your kiss, but his initial shock turns into passion. He grips the side of your face with one hand while the other steadies himself on your knee. It's gentle, the way he pulls back for a moment before diving back in.

There’s nothing but love in his featherlight lips enveloping yours. All you can feel is him, his passion, his devotion to you. All the things he wants to say- no, he needs to say is conveyed through the kiss.

His hands snakes to the back of your head, pushing you deeper into his mouth. It doesn't take long before his lips don't feel like enough, and you're both opening your mouths to taste each other. 

It makes your heart swoon to know that he tastes the same. Familiar. Safe. 

Changbin grows bold, the hand on your knee moving up to grip the plushness of your thighs. 

"So, you forgive me?" He asks between kisses.

You pull back and pretend to think, "I don't know. Why should I?"

This makes Changbin smile, fully. "I can show you. Would that be better?"

The hand on your thigh inches to the hem of your shorts. The way his warm fingers caress your skin makes you involuntarily open your legs a little wider. 

"I guess that'll do for now."

a/n: this is a little different from what I usually post, but I like it. hope you do too! thank you @then-make-me for editing/proofreading!

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 25, Unprotected - Pt. 4

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, medical procedures, Pocket getting called out on her shit, deep discussions, mentions of drug use and anonymous sex.

Word Count: 2.7k

Previously On...: You woke up in the hospital to some quite... surprising news.

A/N: LET THE HEALING SORT OF BEGIN! I AM READY FOR IT.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

Taglist: (Sadly, tag list is closed; Tumblr will not let me add anyone new. If you want to be notified when I update, please Follow me for Notifications!) @jmeelee @cazellen @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @blackhawkfanatic @buckybarnessimpp @hayjat @capswife @itsteambarnes @marygoddessofmischief @sebastians-love @learisa @lethallyprotected @rabbitrabbit12321 @buckybarnesandmarvel @fanfictiongirl77 @calwitch @fantasyfootballchampion @selella @jackiehollanderr @wintercrows @sashaisready @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @keylimebeag @maybefoxysouls @vicmc624 @j23r23 @wintercrows @crist1216 @cjand10 @pattiemac1@les-sel @dottirose @winterslove1917 @harperkenobi @ivet4 @casey1-2007 @mrsevans90 @steeph-aniie @bean-bean2000 @beanbagbitch @peachiestevie @wintrsoldrluvr @shadowzena43

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A few hours later, you were discharged with antibiotics to stave off any potential infection and over-the counter iron tablets to help replenish all the blood you’d lost. The car ride back to the safehouse was awkward in its heavy silence, the only words spoken between you and Bucky were when you asked to stop at the local pharmacy to buy out their stock of hydrogen peroxide. You’d need to tackle those blood stains in your bedroom before they had time to fully set.

As you walked in the door to the apartment, Bucky on your heels, you took in the space as he would be seeing it for the very first time– it was an absolute mess, with clothes strewn about, fast food wrappers and empty liquor bottles littering every available surface. You watched his eyes as they raked over the mess, pausing to linger on the empty condom wrappers your last Bad Decision had left on the coffee table, next to the remnants of the coke you two had done.

“What the fuck is this?” he asked. “Did someone break in and trash the place while you were in the hospital?”

You grabbed a discarded bra from the back of an armchair, where Bad Decision #... something, had tossed it in his hurry to get at you. “Wasn’t exactly expecting company,” you grumbled defensively. 

Bucky laughed nervously. “What, so you’ve just been having random sex and getting drunk everyday?” The look he gave you was desperate, as though begging you to contradict him, to tell him it was all some sort of joke you were playing on him, but you just stood there in silence, not meeting his eyes.

“Jesus Christ, Pocket, this isn’t you,” Bucky exhaled. “None of this is who you are. What have you been doing  to yourself?”

“No,” you scoffed, “this is who you made me, Barnes. So, if you have a problem with what I’ve become, you’ve only got yourself to blame.” You opened your arms wide to encompass the entire apartment, and by extension, the evidence of your downward spiral. “Welcome to the consequences of your own actions!”

“Fuck.” Bucky ran a tired hand down his face after a moment of stunned silence. “I did do this to you, didn’t I? God, I’m so sorry, Pocket. If I could take it back, I would. I know that’s just more empty words, and you’re probably sick of hearing them, but it’s the truth. Hurting you is the biggest regret of my life.”

“Yet, you keep doing it,” you said, sighing heavily. You flopped down on the couch, exhausted and sore. The nurse had warned you there’d be residual cramping, and had insisted that regular ibuprofen would take care of it, but you’d already had six-hundred milligrams and were still aching. You wondered briefly if you had any oxy left from the club, but decided that getting high in front of Bucky was probably not the smartest move you could make right now, so you opted to deal.

Bucky walked over and made a move like he was about to sit down next to you, but something caught his eye. Bending over, he ran a finger through the white powder residue on the coffee table, bringing it to his tongue to taste.

“Shit,” he said, making a face. “Pocket, is this cocaine?!”

“What are you, McGruff the Crime Dog?” you asked sarcastically, before realizing the reference was probably completely wasted on him. He just continued to stare at you expectantly. “So what if it is?” You asked with a shrug. 

“Since when do you do coke?” Bucky asked incredulously. You really didn’t like the way he was looking at you at the moment. Like he had opened the fridge, looking for a carton of milk, but instead found a giraffe in a three-piece suit.

“Since I ran out of oxy,” you said nonchalantly. “And molly.”

A change came over Bucky’s features, and you watched them go hard, judging. “You’ve been doing all this– the drinking, the drugs, sleeping around with god knows who, while you’ve been pregnant?! What? It wasn’t enough to kill our baby, you had to try to kill yourself in the process? Do you know how absolutely fucking stupid you’re being?!” He was shouting at you now, the anger he’d been holding at bay since the hospital coming out in full force. 

You stood back up, taking in a shuddering breath. You hadn’t expected him to blow up at you so unexpectedly. “I didn’t know,” you said softly, voice trembling. “I didn’t know I was pregnant.”

“Would it have made a fucking difference?” he roared. “You already admitted you would have aborted it if you had known! Can you honestly say you wouldn’t have risked the baby’s health– your health– even if you did know?”

You didn’t have an answer to that. “I don’t know,” you whispered.

“Pocket,” the anger seemed to leave Bucky almost as quickly as it had come, “if you hadn’t gotten medical attention right when you did, you could have died. You could have bled out, gone into septic shock. This miscarriage could have fucking killed you. Do you know what that would have done to me? To Sam and Steve? Nat, Wanda, Pepper? What it would have done to fucking Tony?” You were hit with a sudden wave of guilt. In your spiral, you hadn’t considered for a moment what your actions would have meant to the people who loved you. You only cared about forgetting your own pain. 

“When you were getting dressed to come home, I asked the nurse what could have caused the miscarriage. One of the things she mentioned was heavy drug use, but I didn’t pay it any attention. I thought ‘no, not my Pocket, she’s too smart to do something so incredibly dumb; has to be something else.’ But here you are, throwing your entire life away. And for what? Some cheap thrills? And now, you’ve gone and lost a baby and you don’t even care!”

It was too much. His words were getting to be too much, and you were dangerously close to losing it. “Of course I fucking care!” you sobbed, the damn breaking and setting free a flood of tears you’d been pretending weren’t just waiting to spill. “I had our baby– ours, yours and mine– and I fucking lost it because I needed to forget how much pain I was in! How much you fucking made me hurt! It’s been almost two months and I still want to die when I think about you with her. I want to fucking die.”

Bucky’s arms were around you as you collapsed into him, gasping for air between choking sobs. “I close my eyes, and it’s all I can see,” you wailed. “I’ve fucked so many men trying to forget about you, to feel anything besides despair, but all they do is remind me of what I’m missing, what I lost. All the drinking, the drugs, all the sex– I just wanted to forget, to have a few minutes where I could pretend my life wasn’t ruined, that the best thing I ever had hadn’t been stolen away from me!”

Bucky held you tighter, rubbing soothing patterns into your back in an attempt to calm you. “And I just keep losing,” you cried. “I lost you, I lost our baby, I lost Chloe.”

If Bucky wondered who Chloe was, he knew it wasn’t the right time to ask. “Hey,” he said, tilting your chin up so you were looking at him and wiping the tears from your cheeks, “you haven’t lost me. I’m still right here. I know I fucked up. I don’t expect you to forgive me; I don’t deserve it, but I’m always going to be here, no matter what. And, okay, you lost this baby. But that doesn’t mean you won’t have a chance for another.”

“I don’t want someone else’s baby,” you told him, wiping at the tears that just wouldn’t stop coming, and choosing to completely ignore the fact that you’d lost him in every way that actually mattered. “This was the only chance for our baby, and I destroyed it! It’s the universe’s way of telling me I’m not supposed to be a mother.”

“Why the fuck would you think that?” Bucky asked accusingly. “What makes you think you wouldn’t be an amazing mom?”

You let out a hard laugh through your tears. “What the fuck do I know about being a mother?” you asked him bitterly. “It’s not like I had a shining example of one growing up. All I know how to do is push people away. To make them not love me.” That was the sick truth, your exhausted brain and broken heart were telling you in the moment: your biological father, your mother, Bucky. All of them had turned from you, had pulled their love at the first opportunity. A logical part of your brain would have known this wasn’t the case, and that you had so many more people who did love you, but you weren’t running on logic right now.

“Stop,” Bucky begged, voice cracking. “That’s not true. Sweetheart, that’s not true. You are so damn easy to love, I fell for you immediately. I know you don’t believe it, but I never stopped loving you. I’m never gonna stop loving you.”

“Then why, Bucky?” you cried, clinging to him, desperate for an answer that made sense. “Why did you do this to me?”

Bucky pulled you down onto the couch with him, cradling you in his lap. He gently rocked you back and forth. “Because I’m broken, sweets. I’m broken, and I’m stupid, and I let my anger get the best of me. I was so convinced that you were too good for me, that I didn’t deserve you, that I sabotaged us to prove myself right. But none of that is worth seeing you like this. None of that was worth putting you through all the hurt I did. And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. Nothing I say can undo it. Nothing I do is gonna change what happened, fix the damage I did to you. All I can do is show you that it’s never gonna happen again, whether or not you ever end up forgivin’ me. There’s never gonna be another girl for me, and if you never want me again, that’s okay; I’ll understand. I deserve it and I’ll learn to live with it, but it’s not gonna change how I feel. You’ll be the last girl I’ll ever make love to, even if you decide you never wanna give me another chance.”

You weren’t sure what to say to that. Simply because you weren’t sure if you’d ever be able to give him another chance. But that reminded you– there was something you wanted to address with him.

“I’m sorry,” you told him softly. 

Bucky narrowed his eyes at you with a tilt of his head. “What are you sorry about, doll? I’m the one who should be spending the rest of their life apologizin’ to you.”

You turned away from him. “I’m sorry about what Hydra did to you,” you said. When he didn’t say anything, you went on: “I, uh, asked Sam,” you continued. “About what you’d told me with the sparring and how you get… excited.” You felt him still beneath you, but didn’t want to lose your nerve. “I’m sorry that I doubted that they put you through that kind of abuse, and I’m so sorry it happened to you. And… I’m– I’m sorry I didn’t make you feel like I was a safe person you could share that part of your past with.”

Bucky let out an agonizingly slow breath. “Sweets,” he began, “it was never about feeling like you weren’t a safe place for me to be open about it. Not once.”

You took in a shuddering breath, hating that you were making this moment, in a way, about you. “But… you told Steve, and Sam and– and… her. But you didn’t tell me.” You risked a glance at him, afraid he was going to be angry at you, but all you saw was patience in his eyes. “I must have said or done something that made you feel like you couldn’t share it with me, and whatever that was, I’m sorry.”

Bucky shook his head sadly and rubbed his human hand up and down your back. “No, baby.” He exhaled. “It was never like that. I didn’t tell you, because I was ashamed.”

You raised your eyes and gave him a questioning look.

“I could tell Sam, and Steve, and even Carthage, because I didn’t give a shit if they thought I was… fucked up… sexually. It didn’t matter what they thought about it, because, well, I wasn’t trying to impress them, to make them want me, want to be with me. But you?” He brought his vibranium hand up to cup your face, turning it so you were looking at him. “I didn’t want you lookin’ at me and thinkin’ that I was broken, that I didn’t… didn’t work right in the way I wanted you the most. I’d never be able to stand it. I was just so ashamed and embarrassed; and I couldn’t stand the thought of you lookin’ at me the way I looked at myself.”

“Barnes,” you offered with a small, small smile, “I have never, not once, even considered you were broken, sexually. Not before I found out, and certainly not after. In fact, I’ve spent the last two months desperately trying to make myself forget just how not fucked up you are in that department.”

Bucky cleared his throat. “Just, uh, outta curiosity, sweets, how many attempts at forgetting are we talking about here?”

You scrunched up your mouth. “You seriously want to know how many guys I’ve fucked since we broke up, Barnes?”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders in a completely failed attempt at seeming nonchalant. “Like I said, just curious. What are we talking… like, two? Three?”

You snorted. Multiply that by ten, you thought. “You really don’t want to know, Barnes. Trust me.”

“Jesus Christ,” he moaned. “More than three?!”

You shrugged awkwardly. “It’s really not any of your business, Bucky.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he said. “Yeah, yeah, I know it’s not. I just can’t stand the fucking thought of someone else putting their hands on you,” he said through clenched teeth. 

You raised a brow and gave him a sarcastic look. “Hypocrite much?” you asked, though there was no bite behind your words. 

Bucky lowered his head, not meeting your gaze. “Givin’ me a taste of my own medicine, huh, doll? Well, can’t say it’s not fucking bitter, or that I don’t deserve it.”

“I didn’t do it with the purpose of hurting you,” you told him, feeling your tears start to build again. “I did it to get over you. To forget you.”

He brushed a tear from your lashes. “Did it work, doll?” he asked, voice low. “Did you forget? Are you over it?”

You hadn’t. Of course you fucking hadn’t. But you didn’t want him knowing that. Not fully; it was enough though, knowing that he’d felt even a fraction of the jealousy you’d felt. “Hard to say,” you told him, instead. “Maybe the twenty-ninth time’ll be the charm.”

Bucky spluttered and gasped for breath. “TWENTY-NINTH TIME?!? Are you telling me you’ve fucked twenty-eight pieces of shit since you’ve been down here?!” Almost as soon as his frustration burst from him itself, it had died out. “Not my business,” he said, though you could tell he was struggling. 

You’d had enough tormenting him for the night, so you snuggled further into his chest. “Not a single one of them made me forget for a second,” you told him, tilting your head up to look into his eyes. Bucky chuffed and leaned down to kiss the top of your head, and for the first time in months, you felt a hint of the safety you used to feel with him. It was small, but it was there, a tiny ember in a fire you’d feared had long died out. With a rattling sigh, you rested your head against his chest as he continued to rock you, and soon, you were lulled asleep to the sound of his steady, familiar, beloved heartbeat.

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

[adnauseum11]

Mess Hall (John Price x Reader)

John explains his early departure from poker night to you.

1.8k words

CW: swearing, explicit sex (MDNI)

second part of the two-part scene

feedback welcome! writing smut is hard (lol) if anyone has any tips I'm grateful for them. Always looking to get better so don't be shy :)

Dinner was not edible, to John’s lasting amusement. The veggies cooked at disparate times, some too mushy and some practically raw. The pasta had been fine, John’s contribution solid as always. The flavour of the sauce had been the real star, if one didn’t mind the shrapnel you had introduced to it. Both of you had decided after half a bowl each that it was more work than it was worth. Your real dinner ended up being the world’s saddest charcuterie board, but John assured you he’d made do with worse. 

“Just happy to be eating.” He said, brushing off your concerns about him going hungry. 

“We could go to the pub.” You pick at the salami, perched on one foot tucked under you on a chair at the table.

“I just want to be with you, not up for the pub if that’s alright, love.” John’s honesty takes you by surprise, you glance at him but he seems otherwise content, building cheese and pickle onto a cracker.

“Yeah, of course that’s alright. You want to tell me what happened?” You ask carefully, not wanting to call back his bad mood but curious what brought him to your doorstep now that he seems a bit more even keeled. He stuffs the food into his mouth and chews thoughtfully, looking at you from under his lashes. It’s the most indecisive you’ve seen him in a long time and you wonder suddenly if you want to know at all. Then he sighs and pushes his plate away, seemingly deciding something.

“I was offered a contract. Walk on, ready to go.”

Your lungs freeze, and you forget how to breath for a moment. Your focus narrows onto the man beside you, who is closely watching for your reaction. The question must have been written across your face because he answers without it needing to be spoken aloud.

“I told them no, love.”

“Oh, thank god.” You say in a rush, your lungs sucking in a breath desperately. You can’t help the selfish sentiment, reflexive as blinking. Your hand lands on your chest as if trying to keep your heart contained. John watches you, a soft smugness pulling at his features. 

“Good to know you want me around, darling.” 

“I always want you around, John.” The bald truth is out before you can temper it with humour.

If anyone had told you a year ago that you would be dating your oldest friend and making heartfelt confessions in your kitchen over a crappy dinner, you would have thought them crazy. But here you are, a mere few months into this with your heart in your throat at the thought of him leaving for any length of time. What used to be routine seems devastating now.

“Is that…are you upset you said no?” You ask cautiously, breaking the intense eye contact to pick at your plate.

“What? No, they wouldn’t take no for an answer. Can’t play cards being badgered like that. They ought to know better.”

Relief that you aren’t the root cause of the bad mood floods through your system, making you bolder.

“You are incredibly stubborn. One ‘no’ should be enough.” You agree, earning yourself a dark look. You smile sweetly at him and reach across the expanse between your seats to cup his cheek, leaning in to his space to press a soft kiss to his frown. 

His big palm slides up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place when you would retreat. He deepens the kiss before you can move, his fingers sliding into your scalp with delicious pressure. When he finally releases you, instead of backing off you follow, slipping out of your seat and crawling onto John’s lap, his thick thighs spread wide. He accepts your weight without even blinking, shifting you into a more comfortable position before fisting his hand in your hair and kissing you again. The delectable rasp of his tongue against yours makes liquid heat pool in your lower belly. You’re suddenly desperate to feel his skin pressing against yours, your smaller hands grabbing at his sides and shoulders.

Your urgency seems to bleed into him, his fingers finding the hem of your shirt and tugging it up your back, pausing only for you to lift your arms before he’s pulling it free from your body and throwing it on the floor. You mimic his actions, pushing his shirt up to reveal the thickness of his chest. He grabs the fabric and tugs and it joins a growing pile of clothing. The dark wiry hair of his body whispers against your delicate skin, sending lightning bolts of desire through you, eager to be pressed against his heat. 

Without any warning John is shoving the plates out of the way, the clanking tableware startling you out of your lust driven haze. Before you can speak, he’s lifted you, depositing you on the cleared space of the table with a gentle tinkle as glass knocks together. You look up at him wide-eyed but his intense blue eyes are darkened with desire and locked on your bra, his fingers moving faster than your brain can catch up. The look in his eyes and the cool air has your nipples pebbling, biting your bottom lip as he leans into your space and kisses you again. You have a vague notion of him throwing the piece of clothing, in the next heartbeat both of his hands are on you, urging you to recline backwards. 

John’s hot mouth trails over your collarbone and sternum as you recline, your fingers curling into his short sandy brown hair. The wet pull of his mouth on your nipple has you gasping, arching into him. His hands have dropped from your sides to your abdomen, flicking your jeans open with hurried movements. He pauses long enough to cup your mound, the heat of your body making him groan low in his throat. 

“Fuckin’ hell love” 

His voice has slipped down an octave, desire making his cheeks and chest flush under his dark hair. Your body has a pavlovian response to his, anticipation spiralling through your limbs. When his fingers curl in your jeans and panties, you lift up automatically, using his thighs to balance as he tugs the clothing free of your body. 

He’s back on you as soon as the clothing leaves his hand, fingers tracing up your calves and thighs, making room for himself between them while his mouth blazes a trail over your ribs to the delicate underside of your breast. His whiskers dragging across your skin make you gasp and twitch, the tableware clinking together by your head with each sudden movement. When the wet heat of his mouth closes over your nipple again you moan, fingers pressing into the back of John’s neck to keep him in place. You can feel the backs of his fingers grazing against your low belly as he’s undoing his pants, twisting and pulling something out of his back pocket.

“John, let me.” You try to sit up but he won’t allow it, rasping his teeth over your nipple, making you suck in a breath and squirm underneath him. He releases your flesh with an obscene ‘pop’ and a smug smile slides across his face. 

“Too late, next time.” His voice is a rumble, one hand fisted around the condom on the base of his hard cock and the other landing on your chest, keeping you pinned to the table and spread out for his viewing pleasure. The slow back and forth glide of the head of his cock over the seam of your pussy makes you groan and hook your heels into the back of John’s thighs. Your hands curl around his forearm, your nails biting into his flesh as he presses into you slowly, eyes locked on your face.

The heat of John’s palm on your sternum makes you aware of how fast your heart is beating against it. Your rattling moan spurs John on, the rocking thrusts of his hips making the dishes dance by your head. The obscene symphony sends shockwaves of sensation up and down your spine, making you squirm as you clutch at his arm.

John hisses a curse, followed by your name and you can feel the muscles of his arm fluttering under your grip. The world narrows to just the two of you, John rocking you and the contents of the table with his thrusts, gripping your hip to steady you under his body. You can feel your body start to pull taut, your orgasm building in pressure and a whine climbing the back of your throat as your senses start to overwhelm. 

John slides his hand off your chest to hunch over you, putting his full weight behind his thrusts. He drops close enough to run his open mouth over your collarbone, panting hot breath against your skin. The increased pressure and change in angle make you clench around him, wrenching a low moan from his chest. The tableware crashes in time with your movements.

“John, please.” You’re begging mindlessly, wrapping your thighs high on his hips, your legs trembling. 

“You make me crazy when you say my name like that.” John rumbles into your ear, giving you what you want and sliding his thumb over your clit in small circles. It only takes a handful more thrusts before you’re reaching your peak.

Your orgasm overtakes you and you claw at the back of his neck and shoulder with your nails, desperate to ground yourself. Your keening cry bounces off the walls of the kitchen as your body clamps down on his, bucking underneath him. The throbbing grip of your inner muscles is enough to drag John down with you, his thrusts losing their rhythm as he cums hard, his cock pulsing inside you. He groans deeply, his grip on your body bordering on bruising as you both slowly come down and try to regulate your breathing.

“Holy fuck John” You whimper, aftershocks making you tremble and grab at his arms as he leans back, easing out of your oversensitive flesh with a hiss. His palms are stroking over your body, cataloging the shape of you, soothing both of your nervous systems before stepping back. He disposes of the condom in the trash and is back between your legs, giving orders like he never left. 

“Legs around my waist darling. Good girl. Up we go.” He’s gathered you against his chest and is hefting you off the table before you can process. Your brain finally catches up and you clamp your thighs around his waist tighter, your arms slung around his neck, hanging off of him like a burr. You trust him implicitly, doing as you're told, your brain still too gooey to do its own processing.

John checks the lock on your front door before carrying you upstairs to your bedroom. Both of you are too exhausted to give a shit about the state of the kitchen at the moment, curling together in your smaller bed. You try not to focus too hard on how suspiciously tight your chest feels when he spoons you, face buried in your hair with a contented sigh. 

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@deadbranch @beebeechaos @syoddeye @cadotoast

[passionwillow]

I'll Look After You

Hi guys! Thank you for the request, anon, and I hope you enjoy. ☺️

Summary: You run into Street while you're in a rough spot, and meet Luca along the way. You start to fall for him, and Street is concerned.

Warnings: None, really, an age gap?

The air ripped from your lungs as you ran down the dingy hallway, feet pounding as you tore around the corner.

This apartment building was quiet and dirty; you weren't sure if there was anyone actually here besides you and Dan. Or Don? You really didn't remember his name. He was supposed to be a loan shark, but it was very apparent by the time you got there he set you up.

The high pitched whine of the fluorescent lights hurt you head and the building smelled of mold and moisture, the thick air making it harder to breath as you tried to get away. You had a head start when you knocked the table into his way on your way out of the room, but he would catch up soon.

You whipped around another corner, trying to remember where the exit was but every damn hallway looked the same. You were getting ready to run around another corner when the door banged open on the other end of the hallway, and 3 men in black came tearing in.

"S.W.A.T! Get on the ground, now!"

Fear shot through your chest, and you skidded to a stop in the hallway, dropping to your knees and putting your hands up as they approached, guns drawn. Don skidded around the corner and stopped dead when he say the police, cursing as he turned and ran.

Two of the officers ran after him, calling out orders and terms you didn't quite understand as the last officer approached, his steps slowing as he came closer and his gun lowering. "Y/N? Is that you?"

You looked at him and furrowed your brows, jaw slackening as you finally got a good look at him.

"Jim.. Jim Street?" Your breathing softened as you caught your breath, the guy in front of you taking off his helmet. It seemed like forever you two stared at each other, your eyes locked onto his hazel ones. You slowly stood and wiped your sweaty palms on your jeans, voice quiet.

"I was wondering where you went to.. Where you'd been." Street took a step back as you watched you, eyes still surprised and- angry? Something like that. It had been years since you'd last laid eyes on one another.

You met in foster care, both of you being placed with the same family what felt like decades ago. Street had been a troublemaker, always staying out too late or getting into fights. You were a quiet kid, bullied often and mistreated. He was the only one who stood by you. When he was taken out of the home and placed in another, you felt like you lost half of yourself. No one was there to help sneak you food, patch up your bruises, or help with homework.

This wasn't exactly how you thought you'd meet again.

*Back at HQ*

Jim hadn't spoken to you the whole ride back to HQ, and you'd been left in the interrogation room for what felt like hours. You sipped the water that was left and paced around, playing with the sleeves of your black hoodie.

You jumped in surprise as the door finally opened and you came face to face with a tall, built guy, his eyes the brightest blue you thought you'd ever seen.

"Y/N, my name is Luca. I'm with LAPD S.W.A.T." He gave you a soft smile and stood on the other side of the table, giving you space to move closer to away. He came forward and hesitantly sat at the table, eyes on his as you chewed your lip. "Am I getting arrested?"

"Most likely, no. You'll give yourself better odds if you tell us what you know." He set down a tablet on the table between you, and you glanced at the screen, seeing a picture of Don/Dan. You cleared your throat and shifted in your seat, tucking your hair behind your ear.

"I've-.. Been struggling lately. With money, and.. a friend told me about him. Said his name was Dan or- something like that. A loan shark. I needed cash bad, so I went there and.. He tried to come after me. I don't know why, I just ran."

Luca listened quietly and studied you as you spoke, his eyes softening at your words. He pulled out the chair across from you and folded his arms on the table, words soft. "I believe you, Y/N. Nothing we have on this guy lines up with you. You were the victim. This guys been drawing people in with the promise of money then assaulting them and robbing them blind."

Your eyes widened at his words and a shiver rolled down your spine. What the hell had you gotten yourself into? Almost getting hurt, robbed? You shook your head and looked down at the table, breathing picking up. "Jesus, I-.. I had no idea. I just thought I could get some help."

He frowned slightly and cocked his head, eyes concerned as you looked you over. "Do you know Jim Street? It seemed like something was going on, back at the apartments."

You stiffened at his words but nodded, looking down at your hands and clearing your throat. "We were in foster care together. For a few years before-"

"Could we have a moment?" Your words died in your throat as you looked up, Street standing in the doorway and looking between you and Luca. The other officer nodded and rose from his seat, eyes finding yours before he walked out, leaving you with your former friend.

"Y/N, what the hell?" Street's words were soft and breathless, the concern and worry in his hazel eyes apparent. You watched him come over and lean on the table, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. You thought you tasted blood.

"Street, I-.. I was in trouble, alright? I needed money, I'm ready to lose my apartment, and I didn't know what to do." His eyes softened slightly as he took you in, nodding and looking down at his boots, cheeks pink.

"I'm sorry.. I didn't know. And I'm sorry I couldn't help." His words were tinged with guilt and you felt your heart clench for him.

"You shouldn't blame yourself, or apologize. You didn't know and shit, when was the last time we even saw each other?" Street raised his gaze to yours and smiled ever so slightly, shoulders relaxing. "Well.. You're free to go. So maybe we can catch up?" You let out a sigh of relief and grinned, standing and looking up at him. "I think that would great."

"You have a place for tonight?" He walked you to the door and out into the hallway, your steps faltering at him question. "I-.. Might have lied a little just a second ago. My apartment already is gone."

Street stopped and looked back at you, a faint frown shadowing his face. "Well.. You can stay with me. Or- Us. I live with Luca." You smiled and nodded eagerly, walking beside him and down a set of stairs. "He seems great. I'd really like that."

Street grinned and held open the door that led into the open arena of HQ, his own eyes warm. "I'll see you after work then."

*Luca's House*

Laughter filled the open living room as you sat on the couch with Luca, snacks laid out on the table and a beer in your hand.

It had been a few weeks since you met back up with Street, and you guys had been spending all his free time together. He reassured you not to rush and find a new place, take your time and get back on your feet. You had a job lined up, and were able to save up a little bit of money.

Luca had to be the most talkative person you met, and it helped distract you from your current predicaments. You had spent most of the night catching up with Street, haring stories of what you guys had been up to and how life was going.

It had been pretty obvious your life wasn't currently on track, but both guys seemed happy to have you around. Luca invited you to stay as long as you needed, parroting Street's words.

Luca. You couldn't seem to take your eyes off of him anytime he was around. He was funny, bright, and so so understanding. You didn't feel judged at all, telling him about the struggles you went through and how you ended up in the interrogation room at his work.

Street seemed to fall quiet further into the night, his eyes flicking back and forth between you and Luca as you talked and ended up sitting closer and closer.

"Could we talk?" You looked at Street and paused at the look on his face, eyes guarded as he stood and motioned to the front door. You nodded and set your beer down, standing and giving Luca a smile before following Street to the porch.

You shivered a little at the chill in the night air, watching Street close the door before turning to you. "So. You and Luca?" You felt a blush creep over your cheeks as you shifted, head ducking as you cleared your throat. "I'm not entirely sure what you mean."

Street snorted in disbelief and shook his head, arms crossed over his broad chest. "Oh, come on. The way you guys look at each other? The laughing and hanging out?"

You bit your lip and glanced back at the house, shifting from foot to foot and looking up at him finally. "I mean-.. Yeah. Yeah, I adore him. He's been sweet and more generous than I deserve. And understanding. I-.. Yeah, I like him."

Your words fell in a rush and your pretty sure they were so jumbled together no one would understand them. But Street smiled and seemed to have softened up, gaze amused. "I think it's great, Y/N. I just-.. I know I wasn't around these past years. But you really are like a sister to me. I don't want you hurt. This job.. Comes with so many risks. And I would hate to see you end up broken hearted."

Your body relaxed as Street spoke, and you smiled as you nodded, stepping closer to him. "I know. I get it, you guys are at risk a lot. But I love talking with him, and he makes me feel.. like I'm not a screw up."

Street listened quietly and nodded, closing the space between you both and hugging you, your head falling onto his chest as he rubbed your back. "I get it.. Trust me, I felt the same way for a long time. But you're not screw up and Luca is a great guy. You'd make a great pair."

You closed your eyes and breathed in his familiar scent, a smile curling your lips as you nodded, Streets voice soft and quiet against the top of your head. "I'll look after you.. We both will."

[ldrfanatic]

you might still have me

Theodore Nott x Reader "13" Series pt 2

warnings - angst, theodore nott's asshole friends, cursing

translator

series masterlist &lt;previous chapter next chapter>

slytherin boys masterlist works

The entire rest of the week took forever to pass. All you could think about was your Hogsmeade date with Theo. Astoria was downright giddy that he'd asked you and was currently helping you pick out your outfit for the event, which was finally tomorrow. Daphne on the other hand was unsurprisingly, sitting on your bed with a slightly disdained look.

"I'm telling you, Y/n." Astoria flashed her sister a look that begged her to please, shut up, but Daphne continued while picking at the edges of her cuticles. "It's really suspicious that out of nowhere he just suddenly wants to go on a date with you." You rolled your eyes and attempted to ignore the slightly older girl.

"Besides, you've had a crush on him for so long there's no doubt that at least someone else has noticed who might've told him or something, not to mention, you've barely spoken more than two sentences to the boy save for your carriage escapade--"

"Daphne will you shut up!"

Immediately the room was silent. Both girls were staring at you with their eyes wide. You'd never yelled or exploded like that. Ever. Everyone knew you to be a shy girl who mostly kept to herself save for a few longing looks at Theo when you were sure he wasn't looking.

The rest of the time in your dorm was suffocatingly silent. When you opened the door to head down to dinner, tension exploded from the room like a pressurized cannister and seeped into the quiet halls. You could feel that your face was still hot from the interaction. Why couldn't Daphne Greengrass just be supportive for once in her life? You hadn't meant to scream at her like that, but you were riding a high for the first time in a while, and you didn't want anyone to ruin that. As your best friend, you thought she'd understand.

Instead of sitting with Astoria and Daphne at dinner, you sat secluded at your own little space at the table. A little while into the meal, Theo entered the Great Hall. You made eye contact with him and smiled. He smiled back and offered a small wave while blushed covered his olive colored skin.

Your surprise (and smile) widened when he made a beeline straight for you instead of making his way over to where Mattheo and Draco were perched on the other side of the hall. Draco look confused and honestly a little put off while Mattheo was smirking slightly to himself. You tried not to think too much of Mattheo's weird looks. He was known to be quite an odd boy, always well beyond his years, older than he needed to be. If anything, your heart clenched for the poor boy who had to grow up far too quickly.

"Your face is quite red, Y/n. Are you feeling okay?" Theo pressed a hand to your forehead and you reveled in the feeling of his skin against yours for a moment or so before pulling back and offering what you'd hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'm okay, Theo. Just a little minor disagreement among friends." Theo nodded in mutual understanding and threw both legs over the bench, one after the other, until he was plopped comfortably at your side.

He stared at the empty plate in front of him for a bit, then suddenly, an intricate and delicious looking pasta conjured. Magic never ceased to amaze you, even though you'd been around it since you were born. "What's that?" Theo's head turned slightly and he made partial eye contact with you. A light sparked in his eyes before fizzling out.

"An italian dish my Nonna used to make when she was alive. It's called cassarecce di pollo." The deep drawl of an Italian accent made it's appearance as he spoke. You leaned over to get a catch of the scent. The smell of the dish in combination with Theo's natural earthy swirl had you practically drooling. In your bliss, you didn't notice Theo subtly scoot closer to you on the bench. When your eyes opened, he was there. Inches from your face. He kept his eyes locked on yours while he collected some of the dish onto a fork and held it out for you to taste.

The moment the pasta hit your tongue, flavor exploded. The sauce was creamy and tangy. The tomatoes were perfectly cooked. The chicken was grilled and rubbed in a sort of dry seasoning that you surely couldn't name, but which made your tastebuds dance on the tip of your tongue.

"Well? What do you think cuore?"

"It's delicious." The word he used with you had your eyes flicking to his in a moment. "What's that word you used?" Theo smiled amusedly and started to dig into his dinner like nothing happened. "Don't worry about it. Eat your food."

After consuming the entire plate of your most favorite dish and laughing vibrantly with Theo, you were on clouds. Daphne had to be wrong. There's no way that Theodore Nott could ever do anything like that to anybody. Sure, he'd never taken much interest in girls before, but he was finally breaking that streak. And for you no less. To be the girl that Theodore Nott chose was nothing short of explicit and perpetual happiness.

When the sun rose the next morning, you all but skyrocketed out of bed. It was finally the day of your date with Theo. The warm September sun was casting bright golden rays throughout the open fields of the castle grounds and you could only imagine what Hogsmeade looked like at such a beautiful time. You grabbed the cute sundress that you'd picked out last night and slid it down your body so quick that you may have gotten carpet burn.

Finally, the fruition of three years of longing stares. There was no way that life actually got this perfect. When you made your way down to the courtyard with a thrung of other students, Theo was already there waiting. He jogged up to you with a bright smile and his permission slip clutched tightly in his right hand. The two of you exchanged greetings and made each other howl with laughter on the trip to the village.

Theo was crouched over and holding his stomach with hoots of laughter bursting uncontained from his throat when you arrived at Hogsmeade. You'd made a joke about Draco's unhealthy obsession with Harry Potter bordering on an occult following and the poor boy doubled over. His laughter was booming and contagious. Seeing the boy you'd liked for so long, so happy made your heart swell against your ribcage. Like it always did when Theodore Nott was around.

The two of you began your day with a trip to Zonko's. When you'd mentioned wanting to go, Theo's eyes lit up. I've never met a girl that liked Zonko's. Your body blushed from the inside out at the comment. Something about Theo subtly implying that he'd never met a girl like you make your skeleton feel like dancing right out of your skin.

After a long few hours at a few other places in Hogsmeade, the two of you decided to end the date with a stop in the Three Broomsticks. Madame Rosmerta smiled largely at Theo as he entered. She asked of his Aunt Georgia, to which Theo happily replied that she'd had a healthy baby girl and was recovering nicely.

The entire date was going perfectly. Until Mattheo Riddle walked into the Three Broomsticks. Theo's eyes widened as Mattheo took a seat next to him at your table. You'd never really interacted with him too much. Mattheo's crass and abrasive personality set you slightly on edge. Still, wanting to be friends with Theo's friends, you offered him a smile and a small wave. "Hi Mattheo."

Mattheo offered a conniving smile that made you so uncomfortable you wished to look away. You held your ground though. "Well hey there Y/n." He slung a heavy arm over Theo's shoulders and leaned his other thick forearm on the rickety table. "You two seemed pretty content."

Theo hastily shoved Mattheo's arm off of him and put a good five inches between himself and the dark haired boy. "Shove off, Mattheo." Mattheo's eyes darkened and his smile faltered before he turned his attention back to yours and the same unnerving grin returned. "Aww don't be that way, Theodore. I just figured since you and Y/n are clearly so close that she should know."

Your head cocked sideways in clear confusion. Your eyes flickered between the two and when neither of them spoke, your patience began to run thin. "Know what?" Still both boys were silent. Mattheo was staring at Theo intensely and clapped a large hand on his back. "What Theo?" You hissed at the boy across the table.

Mattheo released a heavy sigh that seemed far too fake. Your suspicion grew tenfold. "Here's the thing Y/n. Theodore here only asked you out because Draco and I bet him twenty-five galleons that he couldn't break your heart in less than a week." An iron hammer appeared out of nowhere and swung at your ribcage until the bones shattered and your heart fell right from your chest onto the floor.

Theo didn't deny the accusation and stared at you apologetically with tears brimming the bottom of his eyes. He didn't have any right to be crying. You stood from the table so loud that all the patrons in the Three Broomsticks stared. A few nearby even offered you pitying looks. Tears clouded your vision so heavily you didn't see the withering look that Theo cast at Mattheo or the disappointed one that Madame Rosmerta cast at Theo.

Theo was on your tail as the door to the Three Broomsticks slammed behind you. He caught you just outside on the pavement. The setting sun gave your skin a glow that was nothing short of angelic. But the broken look that you gave him caused permanent shards to stab at his insides until they twisted themselves into dozens of little knots.

"Y/n."

"Theo why would you ever do this to anyone?"

"I didn't want to. I didn't want to do this to anybody, let alone you."

"Then why?"

"Because! I've been in love with you since the moment we met and I saw an opportunity to get close to you! What was I supposed to do? I never planned for you to find out."

You laughed brokenly through your sobs and had given up on trying to wipe your running mascara. Your heart shatters all over again. Not only did Theodore Nott do a downright horrible thing to you, but he did it out of 'love'. The biological phenomenon labeled 'heartbreak' settles into every cell in your body. Evidence of your blind, trusting faith in Theodore Nott. Faith that broke and bled and now moves in shockwaves through your body, mind, and soul. The only person capable of truly hurting you had obliterated every part of you until the pieces lay on the ground at his feet. All for a stupid bet.

"You should've said no, Theodore." His name was soft from your lips but the boy still noticeably winced. The sound cut his skin like knives leaving invisible scars. "I should've known that loving you would be the end of me. To love you Theodore Nott, is to lose my mind. You and your stupid little friends justifying it. 'She's already fucked in the head.' Is that what you've been telling yourself to sleep for the past week?"

The rage began to simmer under your skin until it felt like it was pouring out of every inch of your body.

"Actually don't answer that. I don't care."

For the first time in three years, your heart rate didn't jump when you looked at Theodore Nott. Your heart didn't swell, it deflated. Your cheeks didn't heat up. For the first time in three years, when you looked at Theodore Nott, you felt nothing.

Nothing at all.

---

2.9.2024

series masterlist

<previous chapter next chapter>

[oralmisery]

Dear the King of Hawkins

The Love Letters were a means of catharsis, a way for Eddie to bare his soul. In private. They were never supposed to be sent.

Especially the one to Steve Harrington.

Basically a To All the Boys I've Loved Before au💌

[ complete fic on ao3 ]

Rating: E | WC: 12,293 | tags: Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Happy Ending, Light Dom/sub, Dom Eddie, Sub Steve, One Shot, Porn with Feelings

When Steve sees the envelope he isn't sure what to think. It takes him a moment to even register who Eddie Munson is. In Steve’s circles, he’s usually referred to as “The Freak”. 

Munson is practically a permanent fixture of Hawkins high. A smear in the background, here to blemish Steve’s senior year since he flunked his own. If it's not Munson then it's some other oddly dressed weirdo. There's always people like that. The outcasts, the dregs, the ones you ignore. Except Munson. He’s pretty hard to ignore when he’s standing on lunch tables and being generally obnoxious. It's probably why there's so many rumors about him. Well that and being one of the only sources for drugs in town, Munson squeaks out of most beatdowns; what people can't punch they talk shit about.

People say all sorts of things. Satan worshiper. Nerd. Loser. Trash. Creep. Dangerous. Freak. Steve’s not sure how he can be a nerd and dangerous at the same time but he doesn't give it much thought. He's never even spoken to the guy. Tommy always got the weed on the rare occasion they wanted to smoke. 

That's why getting a letter from him was weird. It came in the mail. The mail. Mixed in with bills and coupons. It has a stamp, a little American flag. There is no reason for the guy to reach out to Steve, especially through the postal service.

Dear the King of Hawkins,

I'm sure every day is a sunny one when it's spent on a throne and under a crown. The way you walk these halls no one would believe otherwise. Everyone around you–drawn to your wealth, your looks and confidence–are just subjects turned fools. Led equally by charm and wrath. I wonder what it would be like to be favored in your court? To sit at your side, shoulder to shoulder, instead of distanced by so much more than just space? I can only piece together a flawed fantasy. A distorted image made from the glimpses I get from outside the castle gates. Assuming I’m even considered part of the kingdom, that is.

What the fuck is this. Steve snickers, did the freak send him a sad hate letter? Maybe to everyone in school? Tommy was going to have an absolute riot when he showed him, maybe they can compare letters.

I hope you at least know my name, Hawkins being as small as it is. You've never once looked at me like you actually see me. I know because I can't stop looking at you. Even though you're an entitled asshole, I happen to agree with what anyone with eyes can see. You are so beautiful I think they need to make a new word for it.

Alarms start ringing in his ears. He scans that last line over and over. No matter how many times he reads it, it doesn't change. He checks the front of the envelope to make sure it's really from Munson.

I wasn't surprised when you received your royal title. You’ve always had a way of commanding attention. Inspiring people to follow you blindly with enduring loyalty. I noticed it when I first moved here. I joined the 5th grade class halfway through the school year and everyone already knew each other. I was alone and scared shitless. I know you don't remember but that first week you invited me to a game of tag on the playground. You were genuinely nice, funny even. You made me feel like I could actually have friends here. Then Tommy returned to school after having the flu and we never talked again. I still remember your grin though, you had a tooth missing on the bottom row. Sometimes I see hints of that kid now, usually when you're talking up girls. I've got this sadistic urge to see your smile with a few teeth missing, just to compare you with your younger self. Which is entirely plausible with the fights you get into, but I fear the temptation to kiss you better will be too much.

He's right, Steve doesn't recall that at all. He's trying in vain to remember, but his memory has never been great and he's coming up blank. Can't even imagine Munson as a little kid, probably without his signature long hair. Nobody describes Steve as nice and actually means it. He skips over the word kiss because it’s giving him a terrible stomach ache. He drops into a chair and sets the letter on the kitchen table so the sweat on his palms doesn't smudge the paper.

Ya know, while I agree with the king stuff, I much prefer “The Hair”. Talk about temptation. Your hair haunts me. It makes my brain stutter, I want to simultaneously pet it softly and pull it out of your skull. I get why people used to give locks of hair as mementos. If I had a piece of yours, I'd twirl it around my fingers, imagining what I could do to the source. I want to see those brown waves messy, tug on them until your head looks like a bird nest. I want to see your hair spread out on my sheets. I want to find strands of it on my jacket, in my van, and clogging my shower drain.

It's hopeless, this infatuation. Fucking terrible in all honesty. You're a distraction I can't afford. I'm pretty sure I failed history last semester solely on the fact that you chew pens. It's a cruel combination; wandering attention and a vivid imagination. With the amount of times I've pictured you stretched around my cock, fingers, and tongue I can almost recall you clenching down on me like a real memory. I imagine opening you up real slow until you're begging for it with tears dripping down your face. The background changes like flipping through channels on a TV. Over the hood of your stupid car, Mrs. O'Donnell desk, the picnic table behind the school, anywhere that has a surface really. I probably imagine us most in my bed though. 

Steve’s stomach twists and revulsion burns his throat. It's fucking gross, Munson is a guy . And why the hell would Steve be the receiver in all this? Unwanted, graphic images play behind his eyes. He can't help it, the letter is descriptive. He can feel cold metal on his stomach and wood chafing along his back. Taste phantom salt from tears. He reaches up to run a jittery hand through his hair but aborts the gesture midway when he thinks about Munson wanting to do the same exact thing.

He considers just ripping up the letter without reading the rest but sick curiosity stops him. Like peeking out between fingers to watch a scary movie.

If it was just lust I could handle it. Teenage hormones and all that. But it's deeper than that, more than sex, I want you to look at me like everyone looks at you, like a king. It's horribly cliché but I want you to call me baby and hold my hand. Most of all I want to show you that someone cares about you because I'm worried you don't know that. There's this look on your face when no one else is watching, like you're not here but you want to be. Like you're waiting for something that's not coming. I think it's loneliness. Heaven knows I've felt it enough to recognize it. Maybe that's why I'm still harboring this torch for you even though it’s pointless. I wish I had the chance to make you happy, to take care of you and erase the word abandonment from your vocabulary. Even now, through the crowd, in the bleachers, the other side of the cafeteria, across the entirety of this shitty town, you're not alone because I'm there loving you every second of the day.

Yours,

Eddie Munson

A drop of liquid falls onto the paper, right next to Eddie’s signature. It knocks Steve out of his mental spiral and he reaches up to wipe at his eyes. He didn't even realize they were leaking tracks down his face. 

you're not alone because I'm there loving you every second of the day.

What the fuck is this. Eddie “the freak” Munson is in love with him? What's more upsetting is Steve’s gut reaction; he doesn't deserve it. This level of devotion. He suddenly sees himself from an outside perspective. He's not a good person. There's an inherent reason why his parents are gone most of the time, his friends are mean and shallow, and he jumps from girl to girl. There’s something lacking in him that drives people away, unless he–what were Munson's words?– leads with charm and wrath .

How does Munson know he's lonely when Steve didn't even know? It's mortifying to put an actual word to the feeling. That his efforts to surround himself with people, the “right” people, have apparently meant fuck all. He must look so pathetic to Munson, a deadbeat loser, who sees through him like glass.

What’s the guy’s deal? Why did Munson even send this? What does he expect from Steve? He wrote the words himself. Hopeless. Pointless . There's no ask to meet up, not even a request for an answer. He just drops this bomb into Steve’s life and expects to make a quiet exit? Just wants Steve to know he's loved for the sake of it? That’s dramatic even for the freak. The guy spends too much time doped up if he thinks he's going to flay Steve open and get away with it.

Yours,

Eddie Munson

Steve traces over the word Yours, with a finger. He’s going to get answers. 

[ continue reading ]

[cookiesupplier]

Every Rose Has Its Thorns - Part Twenty-Seven

pairing: Ricky Olson x ofc x Chris 'Motionless' Cerulli

warnings/tropes: slow burn, soulmates, strangers to enemies to lovers, betrayal, angst, fluff, smut, language, panic attack, stalking, online bullying, serious mental health issues.

summary: In a world where soulmates inexplicably receive a tattoo that will match that of their soulmate the moment they turn eighteen years old, being famous and covered in very visible tattoos can make finding your true soulmate a questionable fate. For everyone involved.

❗❗ author’s note: This chapter includes serious mental health situations in the past of a character, involving in this case voluntary treatment in a mental facility. Treatment for Depression, Anxiety, and Grief Counselling. Please beware of these potential triggers. I am in no way a medical professional writing this.❗❗

an2: finished editing last night, so you are getting this baby EARLY, going to try and be back to my usual schedule! Now.. concerning this part.. *hides*

tags: @tearfallpixie @cncohshit @jordynyingling0219 @faceless-mirror @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @wild-child-7747 @witchyweeb34 @black-damask1999 @jilliemiw86 @ilovesamkiszka @lyschko666 @lacktoesandtoddlerants @bngurngheart @collapsedglasshouses @laurpartyprogram @sunsshinesunny @malerieee

Tag List is Open, please let me know if you would like to be added to it or in general.

Talia took in a surprised breath when Chris said he’d been committed. She would never in her life say that she thought he was the type, because who in their mind was the type, was she the type? No. No one was a person she could look at and think, oh, that would be someone she for sure thought should end up in an institution at some point in their life. She would absolutely hate herself if she did. Even the people who talked to themselves didn’t deserve to be thought of that way, they were people who were in desperate need of help, not people who needed to be judged like that, it was cruel. Still, at that moment, knowing what she did already, she was lost.

She glanced from Chris to Ricky, unsure of what to think, and saw the concerned expression passed between them, Rick reached for Chris’ hand, and she swallowed slightly, her soulmate tattoo tingling, but it wasn’t upsetting, it was… she wasn’t sure how she’d describe the feeling. When did she start categorising them? Pleased.. Whatever was driving these feelings, it was pleased.. Seeing him comfort his friend, seeing this side of him, was that it, was it pleased, this, the bond between them. She watched, staying quiet as they spoke softly, whispering, not wanting to interfere, but hearing whispered words, knowing they weren’t for her though.

“Are you sure..”

“She’s bound to find out-”

“But-”

“Rick, I know you’re worried, I get it, but I trust her.”

As Chris’ whispered explanation of why he should tell her to Ricky continued, Talia chose to purposely pushed them from her mind. She didn’t want to be unworthy of that trust, unworthy of her friendship with Chris, because with how close they had gotten, he meant the world to her. He had become more important to her than he could possibly know, and it, and the thought that he was willing to trust her with something so personal like this.. Looking down at her hands, trying not to think about the fact that she’d just trusted them with something that she’d not spoken of out-loud about since she’d left the facility, to anyone. Not even Ava.

She should tell her the truth, she should tell all her friends and hope that they won't hate her for hiding it from them for so long. Taking in a deep breath, holding it for a moment to ground herself, before letting it out slowly, just grounding herself for a moment while the boys sorted themselves out. Chris’ voice, clear and no longer whispering, brought her back.

“You okay, JellyBean?”

Chris looked across the table, whispering with Risky, semi-arguing with him about the validity of telling her the whole story about everything that had happened. Rick didn’t understand why he had to tell her, when part of the reason his life was as peaceful as it was from stalkers and shit these days, was that no one outside the immediate band and crew that we trusted implicitly, knew. The thing was, he wasn’t sure he could explain it to Ricky, but even though he’d only known her for a short time, he did trust her, especially after hearing what they’d just heard.

This was a woman who has had her soul bond ripped open by not only her own flesh and blood family, whom she could no longer trust, but strangers that her family put their trust in more than her, and she still came out fighting to keep going. He’d seen her over this past week, sitting in that café, laughing, and smiling, and was the most wonderfully sweet person, even after what she’d been through. Yes, he trusted her, because, above all she was right here, sitting with her soulmate, she didn’t give in, she didn’t give up. Well, some might say she did, but she didn’t do that because of the doctors, she did that because of a fucked up stalker that tipped the scales just a little bit too far, and frankly, Chris got it now. The day Talia had seen Ricky with Grace, had seen them together, and seen what she thought him to be, happy, he more than understood why she took that giant step back and didn’t fight against it. When someone you were destined to love was happy, all you wanted, was that happiness for them.

When Talia’s eyes opened and met his and a soft smile curving across that beautiful face, Chris returned it,

“There she is, are you okay? We don’t have to talk about this if it’s going to be too much?”

And yet it was Chris’ hand that Ricky was squeezing slightly, his fingers tight, he knew how he got about the whole thing, if he only knew lately.. If he only knew.

“I’m okay, Chris, are you?”

He nodded slightly in response to her worry, just keeping his gentle smile.

“Yes, but I should really start from the beginning, it’s a bit of a story, some of which you probably know, but not everything. Are you okay with that?”

Hearing everything, Chris didn’t want to put this all on her, it had been an intense day, and he didn’t want her to feel like she had to take the weight of his story on top of it at the same time. However, before he had much time to worry about whether she was going to have a hard time with the situation, she was shifting her chair along the table so she could reach for his other hand, a comfort from both of them, his fingers curving around her delicate ones.

“As long as you’re comfortable, Chris, I’m not going anywhere.”

His smile growing at the thought, squeezing both of their hands gently,

“Well, you probably know I was in a long-term relationship, we were engaged, wedding planning, had a date set.. Venue booked.. Her dress was picked out and being altered, it was..”

He sighed remembering, looking down at the table, just finding a spot on the wood, barely paying attention to the fact that neither of them had let go of his hands, but at the same time, his fingers were clinging to theirs a bit tightly. Chris needed the touch not to get lost in the memories, for in more ways than one, which he knew she’d understand. 

“It’s common knowledge in the fan base that she wasn’t my soulmate, but neither of us cared, we loved each other, and wanted to be together.. At least that's what I thought, how we felt at the time.”

Chris shook his head slightly, this wasn’t even the hardest part to talk about, but it all lead to why he’d been committed, because if he just said the little bit at the end, it didn’t tell close to the full picture.

“A few weeks before we were meant to be married, a woman claiming to be my soulmate turned up, her tattoo was perfect, a fake, but perfect, so she thought. I knew she wasn’t my soulmate, I proved it easily, I’d laid out false trails for my soulmate tattoo years ago. Where it was, what it was, how big it was, she was not my soulmate.”

He felt Ricky’s hand squeeze his firmly, he knew, Ricky had been through all of this with him, he’d had to deal with the whole debacle as well, and now again with Grace on a whole different level. Chris felt for Rick, because hiding his tattoo was so much worse for him than Chris, at least his could go under his shirt most days, there was a reason that there wasn’t very many shirtless photographs out there of him in the world. Those that there are, he’d covered in paint and makeup usually, so it worked for him.

“My fiancé, however, didn’t take it well, she tried to continue like it didn’t matter, but during the lead up to the wedding my fiancé became, distant. Worried about what she was thinking I tried to reassure her, I tried to help everything go as smoothly as humanly possible, but, nothing helped, nothing worked.. I loved her, and she.. A few days before the wedding she broke it off. She couldn’t handle the possibility my soulmate could turn up, and so publicly try to claim me.”

“The way she fucking said that, as if you were something for your soulmate to own.. Cunt.”

“Ricky!” Chris looked over at him, scolding him, despite the fact this was no the first time he’d heard him speak of her in such a hostile way.

“What? She was! I’m sorry Chris, but what she did was fucking shit, I get it, she was having second thoughts, but she blamed you, and how you were famous, how and your soulmate could turn up at any time. Well funnily enough, her soulmate could have turned up at any fucking time too, but she didn’t think about that, now, did she?”

Chris took in a breath, yea, that was something he’d thought about as well, and Ricky was spot on, but he didn’t want to argue about it, not in front of- oh- he looked over towards Talia as he felt her squeeze his hand again.. Seeing her nod with a small smile, she got it.

“It’s okay, Chris, he’s right.. You both had other soulmates, her putting it on yours turning up, wasn’t fair. Especially if she loved you.”

“Exactly.”

His breath was shaky as Rick agreed with Talia,

“the Story isn’t over, and Ricky knows it, so…”

A half-hearted glare at Ricky which pointedly said a silent shut up, which earned a bit of a giggle from Talia, Chris smiled as he continued. 

“After the wedding was cancelled, I hit a patch of depression, which wasn’t helped when the stalker saw an opening, and started attacking my life since her main obstacle was suddenly gone. She came at me in so many different ways, you don’t want to know, it will keep you up at night, it was, frankly, terrifying thinking about all the different things that did and could have happened, I ended up in the hospital A&E more than once because of her, and it wasn’t pretty.”

Taking in a deep breath, he didn’t want to go into detail, because it was hard enough to talk about as he was, and Ricky being here with him, and knowing he wasn’t going to be home on his own after all of this, was a fucking comfort if he was being honest.

“Eventually they caught her, we were able to keep most of it out of the press, because the stress, the pain,  had me cracking.. But, but um.. About a little over two months after I was supposed to get married.. My soulmate tattoo..”

Chris’ voice cracked, and he felt both hands almost simultaneously grip his so tightly, even if only one of them knew for certain wasn’t coming, the other could fucking guess, there was one thing everyone in the world knew happened to the tattoos without a doubt.

“It turned white.”

The moment it did, he knew his soulmate had died.

“I never even got to meet them. Never knew who they were.. And ah,” Chris heaved a deep sigh, pausing before he continued. “Because of government regulations, everyone that loses a soulmate, whether met or not, bonded or not, I had to go through the mandatory grief counselling within six months. So, I knew that with everything that was happening, there was no way that I was going to be able to handle, ah, I couldn’t handle doing the basic therapy, so, I willingly admitted myself to a private confidential inpatient care, with a NDA twist. Of course, most facilities have those included when it comes to medical patients, but I went into one specifically for those trying to stay out of the press. Not just for grief counselling, either, but also for depression and generalised anxiety.”

Chris glanced at Rick, before looking towards Talia,

“Sort of felt like therapy for the soul for me sometimes.. And Talia, I hate that what you went through was so horrible.. Because it should have never been like that.. JellyBean.. They’re supposed to help you, listen to you.. Not assume, and from the sounds of it, that's all that they did to you.”

They hadn’t helped her, they’d listened to her parents and given in to the money that talked. Taking in a deep breath as he squeezed her hand back slightly, hating that she went through something so horrific when his time in the facility had been so therapeutic in the long run. Now, now, back to the whole point of why he was telling the story in the first place, back to the point of why everything was happening. Their soulmate marks.

“Ever since I finished my treatment, I’ve been kind of fascinated by all the theories and different studies involved with the soulmate phenomenon. It is a phenomenon, because no one can fully prove or explain how or why it even exists. Not one scientist in the world, that I have found in any publication, can scientifically prove a damn thing. For all the studies, and papers, it is all theoretical.. Even what's happening to you was nothing but a proposed theory that I’d read about, until now.”

Dividers by @saradika-graphics (roses) and @cafekitsune (trigger)

[newtonsheffield]

Could we see Rugby Player Anthony and Pop Star Kate’s first date? Pretty please????

Anonymous asked: Loved the one shot. For science, can we see their first date?

Okay, let’s do it

“You’d tell me if you thought this was a bad idea right?”

Edwina sighed, “If I didn’t think this was a good idea, I wouldn’t have given him your phone number.”

“But like… I came down to London for this, and I don’t know where we’re going and what if he doesn’t actually like me?” Kate sighed, staring out the window, “What if he’s just… doing this for publicity or…?”

“Maybe, but there’s a reason you wanted to go out with him right? You must have seen something.”

Kate swallowed, remembering the earnestness in his eyes when he’d told her the story about his father, when he’d spoken about his little sister, “Yeah he was… kind of very sweet actually.”

“Okay, so, go out with him. If you don’t like him, don’t see him again.”

A knock sounded at the door and she heard Newton’s paws scrabbling in the hardwood. “I have to go, he’s here.”

“Have fun!”

Something nervous fluttered in her stomach as she made her way towards the door, Anthony’s outline visible through the glass. She took a deep breath before she opened it, and there he was.

He was wearing a soft sweater and his hair was parted a little less severely, still back from his forehead and a smile lit his face when he saw her, a bouquet of flowers held in his hands. “Hey.”

“Hi,” She nodded, her heart still fluttering in her chest. “Look at that, your smile’s just as cute out of the tux.”

Anthony flushed, ducking his head, “You’re so beautiful. I got you these.”

She took the flowers from him and her fingertips brushed his and she felt something. “Thanks, they’re beautiful.”

Anthony cleared his throat, “And this must be Newton.” He bent and scratched Newton’s ear who was wagging his tail, happy to have met a new friend.

“This is Newton, he’s ready to come out with us.”

Anthony grinned, “Great, should we go?” He held out his hand and Kate took it, snatching up Newton’s leash.

“Yeah let’s go.”

“So…” Kate said as she sat in the passenger seat of his Range Rover, Newton in the backseat. “Where exactly are we going?”

Anthony shrugged, “You’ll see.”

“You’re very mysterious.”

“A man of many surprises , I agree.” Anthony grinned, “You should see me in my kit shorts.”

“Because…” Kate trailed off, “Your legs are very surprising?”

“No, I’m just… really hot in shorts.”

Kate laughed, and she realised how much she liked it, how easy it was to laugh with him, even when she knew nothing about him, “I… might have googled you: And I agree.”

The car rolled to a stop and Anthony smiled, clapping his hands, “We’re here!”

Kate stared at the fence in a concrete wall. “Where’s here?”

Anthony sighed, “Okay, so I know you kind if spend your whole life on display, I do too but I’ve literally never seen people react the way they do when they see you, that’s insane. So I thought let’s go somewhere where we don’t have to worry about being seen.”

He took out a key from his pocket and opened the boot while Kate helped Newton down. “And… what are we…? Doing?”

Anthony reappeared with a wicker basket and a picnic blanket. “We’re having a picnic. My aunt lives in one of these houses, they have a private garden and I… sweet talked her into giving me the key for today with my very romantic notion.”

Kate’s heart hammered in her chest and that lump in her throat was back as she stared at him, Newton straining for the Frisbee Anthony had in his hand.

Anthony’s face fell, “Sorry, is this…? Is this stupid? Do you want to just go to dinner instead?” He was panicking, Kate could tell, “I… my brother’s a chef, he could get us a table at his restaurant for lunch. I’m sorry, this was-”

Kate stepped forward and she let her hand wrap around the front of his sweater, tugging him forward until their lips met. It was chaste, maybe the most chaste kiss she’d ever shared with anyone but she felt it. From the flutter in her stomach right down to her toes.

Anthony looked a little dazed when she pulled back, his lips still puckered as he swayed, “I think you’re supposed to wait until after the date to do that.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah, I loiter on your porch and try not to make it obvious that I’ve wanted to kiss you from the moment we met.”

Kate clicked her tongue, “Sorry I ruined the moment.”

“We can do it again then.” Anthony bent handing the frisbee out to Newton. “Now, let’s go have this date.”

She knew he’d been joking, about her falling in love with him on their first date. She knew that. But it sure felt like falling in love sat on a picnic blanket in a private garden with Newton sprinting after a frisbee and his arm around her waist. And when she sat down at the piano that night the words came to her so easily.

With the sun in your hair and the dreams of a boy in your eyes

I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt so free

Sat on a picnic blanket with you, your hand holding mine

Anthony

Anthony is the first single off the album she releases the next year, it’s the only song she’s ever confirmed is written about anyone specifically and it’s Anthony’s favourite song.

[mrslankyman]

Save Your Tears

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x (fem) reader

1k words

I don't know why I run away

I'll make you cry when I run away

Today was some random party my friend was having. I’ve never cared for parties past High School but Vanessa had offered to watch Abby. They always got along. Something I’m grateful for.

Little did I know tonight I was going to be reliving some feelings I’d rather forget.

As I walked into the house everyone was dressed up and dancing.

I had decided to just wear my dress shirt and tie. My black jeans and the best belt I own. I looked around and tried to smile. Mentally remembering that I wasn’t the cool kid I used to be. Or pretended to be.

The night was fine. I chatted with old friends. But something felt off. I turned around.

I saw you dancing in the crowded room. The girl whose heart I broke. You looked so happy when I’m not with you. Smiling and laughing with your friends.

You turned and looked at me. Your eyes widening in surprise till they slowly dipped down. My eyes were already off you. Trying to act as if I wasn’t there. A tear fell from your eye.

My heart ached as I looked anywhere but you. I turned away. Running away from those feelings. I quickly walked off to the kitchen.

I would do this all the time. Run off and think it would solve something.

I noticed as you walked into the kitchen. Going to grab a drink. I was standing by the table. You came walking out with the soda in hand. Walking right past me like I wasn’t there. Pretending like you didn’t care.

I knew better. I saw the tear stain on your cheek.

I looked down. Trying to remember our relationship. I made you think that I would always stay. Despite my issues. We got into a fight and I had said something I should never have said.

I broke your heart like how mine was. Jealous at how easily you could love and forgive. I couldn’t do that.. despite loving you I had to ruin it.

—

“Mike! What is your deal? Why can’t we just talk. You never want to talk.” Your voice was thick with sadness. I was doing it again. Freaking out over my life. My brother, taking care of my sister and my job. You were added stress.

“I don’t wanna talk! We can talk later!” I had never yelled at you. I didn’t like raising my voice. So this shook you to your core. Staring at me.

“Nothing is going to solve itself unless you talk. I need you to talk to me Mike. I want us to work. I want this to work.” Your tears stained your cheek. Thankfully Abby was at school. She didn’t need to hear what was going to be spoken.

Your words and budging of me trying to open up was too much. I regret saying what I said. It was the most awful thing I could have spoken to someone who had given me so much love and more.

“Maybe I don’t want us to work! Maybe I don’t want this. You’re always pushing me to open up! Well.. I don’t want to! I don’t need you, Aunt Jane, or anyone. Everyone leaves me anyways! Garret left, my mom left and my dad! Only a matter of time till you leave. So I’ll do it for you, we’re done.” My voice was seething. You stared at me those eyes wide and tears pouring out.

I watched as you left. You had packed your things and were gone. 2 years down the drain. You couldn’t help me if I wasn’t willing to be helped.

—

I knew you wouldn’t love me for a second time.

You’d always beg me to talk. Try to solve the issues you knew wouldn’t be solved. I wasn’t fixable. I’d run off from the problems. Leaving you crying.

I walked off from the kitchen and spotted you with your friends again. Your eyes caught mine. We stared at each other. The music blaring, people talking, bodies moving but we stayed in place.

I tried to walk through the crowd. Making my way to you. I ignored your friends snickers and jabs. Something you told me to do all those years ago. Don’t let people get to me.

I’d taken a lot of your advice. Your eyes watched me unsure. “Let’s talk.” Was all I said as I walked out. Assuming you’d follow. Which you did.

We slid outside to the back porch. The inside music noises dying away as the door closed.

A silence fell over us. We didn’t speak for a moment. I looked over at you, tears falling from your face. It had been 3 years since we dated. And yet you still cried for me.

That guilty feeling came back. The one I got when I laid in bed and thought of all the things I did wrong in life.

You were one thing I messed up terribly.

“Why did you break my heart?” You asked quietly.

“Why didn’t you tell me you fell apart?” I countered and looked at her. She looked up at me her eyes red and puffy.

“I-..” you sniffled your tears getting in the way. You couldn’t help but sob.

“I didn’t mean to say those things.” I put my hand on your shoulder, you looked up and caught my eyes. “I wanted to stay. I was dumb to walk off. Losing the one good thing I had in my life. I’ve learned a lot. Take me back.. I wanna stay this time.” My voice was soft. I wanted to sound serious. Show you I wanted this to work.

I had missed you too long. Seeing you in town. Out and about. I had hid. Not wanting you to see me. How low my life had been since I left you.

Now I didn’t care. I wanted you. I wanted you back so bad. So as your tears slid down your face and you thought on my offer. My head spun. Was this a mistake? You surely deserved someone better than me. But I wanted you back.

“Save your tears.” I spoke quietly and wiped them off your cheek. A small blush covered your cheeks. “You can cry another day. I made you do that enough before.” With that you kissed me. Your lips soft. I had miss this feeling. You tears subsided

You can save your tears for another day.

[njessie]

Joke and Aran have never really spoken alone, just when they're all together as a group. But when Aran comes over one day and asks to speak to him, Joke finds himself relating to Aran. (Or, the one where Aran convinces Joke to let him plan their wedding).

(G, post-canon, 960 words. Joke + Aran, with a sprinkle of Jack/Joke)

Joke's clearing the table from dinner when he hears the gate creak. He hadn't gotten around to closing it fully yet, so when he looks over and sees Aran poking his head in, he waves him inside. Aran's alone, which is unexpected. He's usually with Tattoo, so Joke's a little a surprised to see him shuffling in awkwardly, looking around.

"Aran? Is everything okay?"

Aran doesn't answer right away, just looks around the room as he scratches the pad of his thumb with his index finger. He seems to want to ask something, so Joke gives him a minute.

"Is P'Jack here?"

"He's upstairs with Ama, I can go get him if you want." Joke starts to move towards the stairs, but Aran stops him.

"No, no that's fine. I actually wanted to speak to you."

Joke can't possibly imagine what Aran would want to speak to him about. They've never really spoken individually, their interactions limited to when they're all together. Not that Joke has anything against speaking to Aran alone, just that it has never come up. He goes to sit on the wooden bed by gate and waves Aran over, who comes to sit next to him, still awkward.

"Do you want something to drink? Or eat? We just finished dinner so the food should still be warm," Joke says to break the silence.

"No, that's okay, I've eaten. Actually...I wanted to speak to you about something."

Aran hesitates, looking down at his hands. His shoulders are slumped and he's worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

"Well...you know. You were at that fashion show I did, weren't you?"

Joke gives him a sheepish look and nods.

"I was never really good at it. I just had the money and people did what I wanted because of that. But now...I don't have anything. I don't know what I'm doing, most of the time. But I want to try. I want to maybe see what I could be good at."

Aran looks up at him then and Joke thinks he can see where Aran is coming from. Joke certainly knows what it feels like to not feel good enough, to not know what to pursue when you're not good at academics. In this new life they've both found themselves in, Joke thinks he can understand why Aran's struggling to find a place for himself, because he's felt the same. The only difference is that Joke has Jack to ground him, to reassure him, and to encourage him to figure things out for himself. He's not sure Aran's ever had anyone like that. He thinks Tattoo could become that for him, but they're clearly too early in their relationship. Joke's not even sure if the both of them have realized their feelings for each other.

"So...I was wondering if you and P'Jack would let me plan your wedding. Maybe that's something I could be good at. I promise I won't mess things up! I'll make it really perfect for you...really. I'll try my best." Aran had straightened his spine while talking, but he slouches again, as if getting all the words out deflated any confidence he felt.

Joke wasn't expecting that. Sure, they've been engaged for a couple weeks now, but neither of them have thought about an actual wedding ceremony, at least not anytime soon. They don't have the money for anything big and Joke is fairly certain Jack wouldn't want anything ostentatious. Neither of them are the type. When Joke does let himself think about it, he imagines something small and intimate, just their close family and friends. He'll need to discuss it with Jack, but he doesn't see the harm in letting Aran help out, especially if it helps give him some direction.

"We haven't really thought about the actual wedding much," Joke says.

Aran seems to deflate even further, so Joke backtracks a little.

"We haven't thought about it yet, and I'd have to speak to Jack but I don't see why not."

Aran lights up at that.

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Yeah, like I said. I'll talk to Jack but I don't think he'd have a problem with it. Just...keep it reigned in," Joke laughs. "We don't have a lot of money."

"Of course! I'll make it perfect! Don't worry, it'll be amazing, P'Joke!"

The honorific is a bit of a surprise, but Aran's quick hug is even more of a surprise. Aran jumps up, already moving towards the gate.

"I need to start looking into venues. And suits, flowers...and a caterer! You'll wear white of course, since P'Jack is always wearing black. And red ties for you both, I think," Aran looks back at him. "I'm going to start planning right away. It'll be so good, just wait."

Aran's turned past the gate before Joke can register what just happen, but he quickly pops his head back in.

"I'm going to make it perfect, I promise. Thank you!"

Aran's gone before Joke can say anything else, or even get to telling him that they weren't planning on having the ceremony any time soon. He wonders if he's made a mistake.

Jack finds him like that, still sitting on the bed.

"Hey, is everything okay?"

Joke looks up at him and scratches the back of his neck.

"I just agreed to let Aran plan our wedding, so I hope you're ready to get married sooner rather than later."

They both stare at each other for a moment before they burst out laughing. Jack comes and sits behind Joke, pulling him onto his lap. He presses his face against the back of his neck, hugging Joke close.

"Yeah, okay," Jack says. "Let's get married sooner rather than later."

[imagine-a-life-like-this]

Veil of Shadows : Epilogue

Word Count : 2.3k

Warnings : swearing, sex mention (no smut), drunk mention, murder, death, blood, gun, knife, fighting, being attacked, stabbing, crowbar, baseball bat, hand axe, some sad angst, surrendering, giving up, cheating, police, open ending

A/N : Happy Halloween my friends! The epilogue is here! I hope you enjoy the final part to this story. I had so much fun writing this one! Anyway be safe to those who are partying tonight or this weekend! Have a fun Halloween!

⚠️Minors do not interact⚠️

            “You killed Kang Yeosang?” The detective asked as he turned around to face them again, crossing his arms over his chest. “But you didn’t kill the rest of them?” He was skeptical that this person killed anyone. He could see by the look in their eyes that they loved their friends. All of them. He can see that they miss them, that they feel like they have nothing left to live for with them all gone.

            “Kang Yeosang killed them all, so I killed him.” The detective closed the door and walked back to his chair, taking a seat across from them once again. He leaned forward on the table to emphasize what he was going to say next.

            “You understand what you’re admitting to here, right?” They nodded. “Are you claiming self defense?” They paused for a second. Was it really self defense if they knew Yeosang wasn’t going to kill them? “Tell me what happened and maybe I can help you.”

~

            The five of them stood in front of the bookshelf that Hongjoong closed on Seonghwa no more than twenty minutes previous, varying weapons in their hands. They know who they’re up against, but they don’t know what they’re up against. What weapons he has, what strengths, plans, strategies. They only ever knew him as a soft spoken, always confused, but really loving person. Who he is now, they have no idea.

            Seonghwa reaches forwards and grabs the statue that opened the bookshelf when he was with Hongjoong and opens the door to the secret room. He glances back at his friends and they’re all watching with determined looks on their faces. “Fighting!” They all chant quietly before beginning to walk down the stairs.

            Seonghwa leads the group with Mae right behind him and Des behind her. Yunho and Jongho take up the rear, glances behind them to make sure that Yeosang wouldn’t sneak up on them from behind.

            At the bottom, Seonghwa pauses, seeing what Hongjoong saw when he came. The seemingly endless hallway with different hallways breaking off to the left and right. When everyone was gathered at the bottom, they all exchanged glances. “There’s hidden doors in every single room.” Des said softly. And the realization set in that they were never safe. Not even behind a locked door.

            Slowly, step by step, the group of five moved towards the end of the hallway, seeing the turn that Hongjoong did earlier. Seonghwa peered around the corner, see more of the seemingly endless hallway, and seeing it finally end at a lighted room with pools of blood on the floor. But there was no sign of Yeosang.

            Seonghwa turned around to face the group. “There’s a room a few feet down. Blood on the floor, but no Yeosang.” He whispered. They had a plan. One they were sure they could pull off without a hitch. They were determined to take Yeosang down for everything he’s done, for the people he’s taken away, the future he ripped away from them.

            But they weren’t expecting to see their loved ones sat up in chairs lined along the walls of the room. Blood still covering Hongjoong, Kayla, and Y/n. All of them were in shock seeing them there like this. Each one stood in front of their respective partner, tears welling up in their eyes as they say their goodbyes.

            “Oh how touching.” They all whipped around to see Yeosang entering the room from a door they didn’t know existed. “Surprise!” He joked. “I was expecting you all to come down eventually. I was hoping you wouldn’t. But expected it nonetheless.” Yeosang looked down at his hands, grabbing a towel from the table beside him to clean off some of the spatter he missed earlier. “Why must you people be so nosey?”

            “Shut the fuck up!” Mae screamed, running towards him and hitting him in the side with the baseball bat she was holding. It wasn’t part of the original plan. But at this point, the original plan was long forgotten. Slipped their minds the second their eyes landed on their loved ones sat up in chairs like some kind of Halloween decoration.

            “Feisty this one. Is that why Wooyoung liked you so much?” Yeosang was taunting her, he was taunting them all. He loved the reactions he got when taunting them like this. Mae screamed again, raising the baseball bat and slamming it into the side of his thigh. Yeosang winced and then let out a chuckle.

            His smile faltered when his eyes fell onto Jongho. Standing there with a look of disappointment and anger. Jongho kept glancing behind him to his dead girlfriend sitting there. Yeosang watched him, wanting to reach out to him, tell him that he doesn’t need Yuri, that he can protect him, that he can make him happier than Yuri ever could.

            Yunho took this opportunity to attack. He stepped forward, knife in hand, aiming for the heart. His hand shaking slightly, but he was determined to do this for Mingi. He was determined to do this for the friends he’s lost because of the monster in front of him. Yeosang was distracted, he could do this.

            Memories of him and Mingi flashed in his mind. From their first meeting to Yunho proposing to their wedding. Mingi was always smiling at Yunho. They were always happiest together, even when they were just friends. Yeosang didn’t just take away his husband, he took away his best friend.

            But Yunho couldn’t be as cruel. Even though he knew the Yeosang standing in front of him wasn’t the same Yeosang he’s gotten to know all these years. He wasn’t the same Yeosang in all the memories stored in Yunho’s mind. Still, Yunho couldn’t kill him. Last second, he aimed the knife down and stabbed it into Yeosang’s leg.

            “Fuck!” Yeosang screamed out, his attention being torn away from Jongho. He looked down at the knife in his leg and then up at Yunho who was tearing up in front of him.

            “You killed Mingi and I still couldn’t bring myself to kill you.” Yunho cried out. “I fucking hate you. Just kill me. I don’t want to live in a world without Mingi. I can’t. Please.”

            “Awe well it’s less fun when you’re begging for it.” Yeosang pouted for half a second before pulling his gun out and shooting Yunho. “Never mind. Still fun.” He laughed. The other four just stood there staring in shock, unsure of what to do next. Their various weapons were no match for a gun, but four people should be able to take out one person, right?

            Yeosang directed his attention back to the knife in his leg, taking a deep breath before ripping it out of his leg, screaming in the process. Mae decided to attack again while Yeosang was wrapping a piece of fabric around the bleeding wound. Smashing the bat into his new wound and raising the bat again, about to smash it into his head when he shot her in the stomach. She fell back, gripping her stomach.

            “That’s enough of that.” Yeosang said nonchalantly before shooting Mae again, smiling as he watched her drop to the ground dead. All that was left was Des, Seonghwa, and Jongho. Yeosang turned his attention to them, cocking his head to the side as if to ask is that all you got? He then finished tying the fabric around his wound and turned back to the three last survivors of the friend group.

            Seonghwa was just standing there in shock, unable to move. The gunshots still ringing in his ears. The sound of his friends falling to the ground dead replaying over and over in his mind. He’s unsure if he’ll ever forget the sound. He steals a quick glance towards Kayla, seeing the bullet hole in her head, and wondering if she made the same sound when she died. “I surrender.” He whispered, dropping the knife he was holding. Jongho and Des both whipped their heads in his direction, silently begging him not to give up now.

            But it was too late. Yeosang shot him and he fell to the floor. Des and Jongho looked at each other. They were on opposite sides of the room, she had a hand axe, he had a crowbar. It was as if they could hear what the other was thinking, and they came up with a plan right there on the spot. They nodded and moved together.

            Jongho came from the right, Des from the left. Yeosang looked between the two, watching as they both raised their weapons as they got closer to him. It was as if this moment was moving in slow motion. Looking right, Jongho was screaming as he raised the crowbar over his head, his steps getting faster. Looking left, Des was also screaming, raising the hand axe, getting ready for the attack. Yeosang only had a second to think. Turning one way and shooting with no hesitation. One person dropped down while the other’s weapon slammed down onto his head.

            Silence. And then the crowbar fell from Jongho’s hand. Des was a couple feet away, dead, the hand axe still in her hand. Yeosang was slumped on the ground, blood dripping from his head. “You killed them all.” Jongho said as the realization hit him. Everyone was dead. All his friends were dead. His girlfriend was dead. Besides the fucker that killed them, Jongho was the only one left. He was the only one that could keep their memories alive.

            “I did it for you. For us!” Yeosang exclaimed from the ground, slowly stumbling to his feet. “I didn’t want all of them to die, only a few of them. But everyone just had to be so fucking nosey. But it’s okay now. We can be together now. No Jia or Yuri to stop us.” Jongho stared at him in confusion.

            “What are you talking about, Yeosang?” He could see the hurt flash on Yeosang’s face for a quick second, before he started smiling again. He grabbed Jongho’s hands, but Jongho quickly pulled back.

            “Don’t you remember? You said you wanted to be with me but you didn’t want to break up with Yuri.” Jongho does not remember this. He barely remembers his time with Yeosang. The drunken hook ups he knew were mistakes, but for some reason he couldn’t quit. He doesn’t know how he kept ending up at Yeosang’s door, ringing the doorbell, kissing him as soon as he saw his face. Yuri waiting at home for him, but he couldn’t help himself.

            But it ate at him. Every time he was with Yuri, the guilt ate at him. When she would kiss him, when she would tell him she loved him, when they made love, the confession was on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t want to lose her, but he knew she deserved better. And he finally let it all out, tearfully telling Yuri about the secret nights he shared with Yeosang. And she forgave him. Asked if there was a way to save them. Asked if he’d be willing to give up alone time with Yeosang for her.

            “I never said that.” Jongho finally answered. He was working on his relationship with Yuri. Gave her everything and anything she wanted, trying to prove to her that he only wanted her. The feelings he had for Yeosang were all physical, it was lust at most. Jongho’s heart belonged to Yuri, and he tried for months to prove it to her, to get them back to the good place they were at before he went and fucked it all up.

            “Yes you did.” Yeosang’s voice changed. He was angrier now, Jongho could hear it. Through the tears that were running down Yeosang’s cheeks, he was angry. “You told me you loved me. That if you met me first, it’d be me and not her.” His voice changed again. Back to the desperate plea from earlier. Begging Jongho to remember the way he does. He can’t be the only one to remember the nights tangled up in his sheets.

            The way Jongho would brush the hair out of Yeosang’s eyes, telling him that his eyes were so pretty. Brushing his thumb over his birthmark, whispering about how sad it was that Jia had him cover it everyday, because he loves it. Jongho looked at him like he was the only person in the world, and it’s the only thing that kept Yeosang going all this time. Through all his hardships, he knew he would always have Jongho.

            “I did this so we could finally be together.” He cried. “Just us. We don’t have to hide our love anymore.” Jongho walked away, stopping only to pick something up off the ground. Yeosang followed him, grabbing his arm to stop him from leaving. “Jongho, please.” Jongho turned around, shoving the knife he picked up right into Yeosang’s stomach. Blood began to pour out of the wound. Yeosang’s mouth opened, but no sound came out, only more blood.

            Jongho pulled the knife out and Yeosang’s arms wrapped around his stomach, but he knew that holding the wound wasn’t going to help much this time. Jongho moved the knife, placing it over Yeosang’s heart. Yeosang pleaded, begged for his life, apologized for all the wrong he’s done. But it was too late. Jongho sunk the knife into his heart, officially killing him, and making Jongho the sole survivor. The knife fell from his hands as he looked down at Yeosang and said one final line. “I never loved you.”

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