#gritting my teeth i hate unexpected change so fucking much

[depresseddepot]

my monitor broke yesterday and I have been so brave about it, I only cried for (literally) 2 hours straight

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 7

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You push yourself up, pausing at the dull thrum in your back. It’s better than it was but you’re still struggling. The better part of the last two days have been spent in bed. Your lack of mobility is starting to get to, eroding at your already frayed patience.

You hiss as you turn your body, hanging your legs over the edge. A click cuts off your thoughts as you brace the mattress, ready to stand.

“Don’t even fucking think of it,” Lloyd’s voice echoes around you. Those damn cameras.

You sigh and tilt your head back, “I gotta piss.”

“Wait.”

You obey, if only because the prospect of getting up offers little optimism. You hate to admit it and you won’t aloud, but he’s probably saved you from fucking yourself up worse. Lloyd enters, sporting a polo and too tight slacks in his usual style.

“Have you just been watching me lay in bed all day?”

“No, I’ve been working. I just happen to be able to multitask,” he approaches, “come on, grab on.”

He offers and arm and you stare at him dully.

“For instance, right now I’m playing prince charming all while dreaming of railing that ass,” he snorts, “hurry up, babe, I don’t got all day to play doctor. Not when there’s no probing involved.”

You roll your eyes and grab onto him. He helps haul you up and you lean on him more than you mean to. He angles you around and directs you to the attached bathroom.

“You know, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind for us. Not for a while anyway. You know, maybe in a few decades but–”

“Would you stop? I get it, alright? Trust me, I’m all too aware of how helpless I am–” You puff out as he pulls up your nightshirt and sits you down on the seat, so humiliating.

“Right, you don’t need to stay for the show,” you wave him off.

“Ah, you know, I never thought about waterworks but I might change my mind,” he winks.

“Ew.”

He chortles and leaves you, closing the door gently behind him. You let out your bladder and go about the usual routine. You take a breath and stare across the room. You can do this.

You stand and flush. You wobble and support yourself against the counter, moving to the sink to wash your hands. The door opens and you look over as you rinse off.

“Really?”

“I’m fine, Lloyd, I can make it two steps–”

“You’re pushing yourself–”

“And you care so much.”

“I kinda have to. You got a baby on board and… my dick’s ready to explode.”

“Right,” you tut and turn off the faucet, drying off with the hand towel. “You really are a smooth talker, you know that, right?”

“Hey, I could fuck up your back more but I’m tryna be a decent husband,” he shows his palms, “that’s gotta count for something.”

“Husband,” you scowl, “uh huh, well you’ll have to settle for caretaker right now.”

You stretch out your arm expectantly and he exhales deeply before crossing to you. He helps you out of the bathroom and back to the bed. The thought of the scene is almost comical. Maybe he’ll realise how pathetic you truly are and call off the equally ridiculous wedding.

He lowers you onto the mattress and you grit your teeth. You hate this. All of it.

“I can’t do this,” you rip your arm away from him, “fuck off, Lloyd, I can’t–”

“Oh, suck it up, baby cakes, you done it so far,” he snarls, “now lay back and relax. I could ask a lot more of you, we both know that.”

“Jesus, don’t you understand? I’m only going to get bigger and what do you think then? When I can’t even tie my own shoes?”

“Perfect opportunity,” he smirks, “I’ll give the kitty a kiss while I’m down there looping bunny ears.”

You blink and slowly move back against the pillows. You wish you could knock that stupid grin off his face. If only you could.

You close your eyes and cross your arms, blowing out an unimpressed raspberry, “thanks. You can go back to your… work or whatever. There’s silence as you wait, listening for his retreat.

The bed dips and your eyes snap open as you feel his hand on your leg. He pushes your knees wide as he climbs between them. He lowers himself on his stomach and you sit forward, yowling as it sends a strike up your spine. You fall back as he settles on the mattress and trails his hands up your thighs.

“I told you to fucking relax,” he sneers as he bends his head to kiss your thighs, feeling a dimple with his thumb as he purrs, “I gotta do fucking everything.”

He nuzzles up to your cunt, pulling you down gently as he angles your pelvis. His tongue flicks down, gliding between your lips as he circles your clit cloyingly. He sucks on the bundle of nerves and wiggles his head emphatically.

You gasp and reach to grasp his hair, leaning back as you whine through your teeth. Fuck him and his stupid helpfulness. Better enjoy it while it lasts.

💎

You finally feel lighter, easier. Getting out of bed is only the usual subtle reminder of your aches but nothing so succinct to have you stumbling or whimpering. You stretch, carefully, afraid to strain anything too far.

A long shower coaxes you back to form as you press your palms to the cool porcelain and bask in the steam. You get out after nearly an hour under the stream and search out anything but the ridiculous skimpy pieces curated by the perv-in-residence. You opt for a pair of booty shorts and a belly shirt. It’ll have to do.

Your descent is filled with an internal battle of will and whims. The baby, regardless of what you want, is coming and you can only try to make its arrival bearable. So you can’t just sit around and wait, you need to start taking care of yourself. Really, not the way Lloyd claims to.

You near the gym door and stop. It’s not that you’re lazy, that you’ve been inactive, it’s just that you never were into the whole cardio or pump trend. You slowly open it and a clang makes you jump in your socks, no sneakers to be found in the rows of heels.

“Uh,” you stop short as Lloyd stands over the long weight bar, large barbells set on each end, “sorry, I–”

“What’s up, cupcake?” He breathes as he reaches for his water bottle.

You look away, “nothing, I’ll come back later–”

“Ah, don’t,” he warns as he huffs, “you wanna be workout buddies?”

“Lloyd,” you growl.

“Don’t worry, you don’t need to keep up. Baby and all,” he flicks his brows up as he bends to lift unclamp the weights from the end of the bar, “easy pace on the treadmill. That’s what the literature suggests.”

“Yeah, I got it,” you say flippantly and surpass him, going to the machine. You climb up and look over the controls. “Um, if I decide to keep this up, do you think you could get me some runners or something?”

“Babe, I’m more than magic beneath the sheets, I’m your own personal genie. Say it and you shall have it.”

“Oh really? So can I just not marry you–”

“Cut it out,” he girds as he nears and reaches over the panel, “speed,” he points to the screen, “timer, power…” he hovers over it as he explains, “and a few pre programmed modes. I don’t know.” He steps back, “make sure you hold on.”

“Thanks,” you swallow, “it’s just walking, right?”

You push down on the screen and figure out the proper mode, moving your feet with the belt as it starts up. You reach for the bars and keep pace. Nothing too strenuous but you could probably do more. You feel him watching and grimace.

“Got it,” you give him a thumbs up.

“I know,” he steps back and takes a seat on the weight bench, “good to see you on your feet, doll face. Can’t wait to see you on my dick.”

His crassness assures you that all is as it will ever be. Lloyd Hansen will always be the rudest man you ever met. You stare at the screen and focus on putting one foot in front of the other, your socks giving little traction.

Still, you’re irked. The way he looms, watches, as if you’re a complete idiot. As if you can’t handle a mile or two.

“You know, I’m not lazy. I never was. I was a maid for fifteen years. I cleaned entire office buildings. Do you think I didn’t get my steps in?” You sneer.

“I never said anything about it.”

“I see how you look at me. Like everyone else. Just cause my belly hangs over just a little. Well, working out never did much but make me tired,” you scoff, “so please, I don’t need an audience.”

He sighs, “I like the cushion, baby. You got a real nice basement, I’m not shy about saying so.” He leans forward, elbows on his thighs, “but if you need a bit of extra love for the pudge, I’ll be happy to give a few more love bites before the main entree.”

You shake your head and glare at him, “do you ever think of anything but your balls?”

“Not really, the good lord put my brains behind by dick to keep ‘em extra safe,” he snickers, “just like he blessed you with the finest ass I ever had the pleasure of fucking.”

[jellyfishinajamjar]

I don’t know what’s funnier, Belos having 1600s Puritan values, except he’s totally fine with queer people.

Or he has 1600s Puritan values, is exactly as bigoted as that entails, and has spent the last 300 years making the queerest fucking grimwalkers in existence.

Cause I’m one hand there’s canonically no homophobia in the Boiling Isles, and Belos could easily have made that a part of his big belief system he’s spreading across the Isles, but he hasn’t. And Belos clearly loved his brother, and if Hunter is trans (and I mean look at him, have you ever seen a more trans kid) then Wittebro was probably also an out trans man.

And on the other hand, the idea of Belos being a raging homophobe, cloning his brother, and every twelve years or so has to have a conversation where the kid goes “Hey Uncle? I think I might be a boy. And also I like boys” and Belos just sitting there, seething, arms digging into the same groves on his arm rest, through teeth gritted into sand, being all “Oh, you don’t say? What an entirely unexpected turn of events. No one could possibly have known this was coming”

My personal headcannon is that the og Wittebro was a cis man, but because Belos is growing a clone rather than magicing a fully grown human, he’s creating a clone of his brother at the genetic level and growing him from a fetus, which means his chromosomes aren’t settled so sometimes the kid comes out female but retains Wittebro’s gender identity so you have some cis male grimwalkers and some trans male grimwalkers. That way you can have a trans Hunter but a cis Wittebro.

Also one of my favorite hc for hunter is that if he isn’t trans masc then he’s trans fem and doesn’t know it yet cause he’s never had the space to experiment with his gender and the “oh yeah, everyone hates their body this is a normal human experience that everyone has and I will not think about this any deeper 🙂” vibes from being trans and from having no self esteem overlap

Edit: Okay yeah I was totally wrong about that whole ‘chromosomes changing in the womb’ thing. I have also been informed of the much funnier possibility that the OG Wittebro was closeted, Belos didn’t know, and him just assuming that being queer was just a Boiling Isles thing.

[untaemedqueen]

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 21.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings For This Chapter: Yoongi and Sera heart to heart?, Lots Of Money Thrown Around, A Surprise Guest, Suggestive Content, Crying Yoongi, Fluff

A/N: Always the biggest thanks to my babes @ladyartemesia, @xjoonchildx, @ppersonna

There is nothing Yoongi hates more than public spectacles. He really detests it.

He hates how fake people are at these events. Especially when they're looking for something to get out of them.

People use these specially coordinated events to prove how much money they have and to show how much better they are then the others attending. It's all smoke and mirrors.

But this event today is different. It's practically painful for him. For him to have to go with the leech and not you… it hurts his entire being.

You didn't speak much at breakfast. You didn't speak at lunch. He could see you practically vibrating with nervousness and it breaks his heart.

He knows you well enough now to know that yesterday won't mean a goddamn thing when you get into the thick of it. When you see the sea of rich stupid fucks -- you'll forget everything. And he can't bear to see your face when it happens.

"I love you," he tells you for the umpteenth time as he fixes his skinny black tie.

The gown that covers your body is simply breathtaking. You're breathtaking.

"I love you too, Yoongi." you whisper, turning to him.

He can hear the nervousness in your voice and it renders him almost incapable of looking at you.

"Y/N." he breathes out.

You smile at him then and he scoffs.

"Don't… Don't do that. Don't do that fake shit with me." he practically begs.

You snort gently, wrapping your arms around him. "I'm sorry. I'm trying to be positive. But it's hard."

He nods, running his hands over your belly. "I know you are, little dove. Listen, it's only one night and when it's all over I'm going to come into bed and lay with you and only you. I'm going to sleep beside my woman and my child. Alright?"

"YOONGI, LET'S GO!" Sera screams and his eyes flutter shut.

"In a few months, we won't have to be apart. Alright? We can go to these ridiculously tedious events together." he mumbles, tilting your chin up to look at him.

You hum in agreement, nodding to him. He kisses your lips passionately and it grounds you even for a moment. He loves you and you love him. That's what will get you through this evening.

"Just a few hours." you speak aloud, more for yourself than for your boyfriend.

"That's right, gorgeous. Just a few simple hours." he replies, kissing you once more.

"ARE YOU FUCKING DEAF?!"

His teeth grit as he pulls away from you and he shakes his head slowly.

"You'll be having much more fun than me I'm sure. I have to chaperone a kid all night long." he jeers and finally you smile properly.

"Ready Freddy?" Jin asks peeking into your closet.

You hum to him, watching Yoongi fix his suit jacket.

"Just remember how much I love you, hmm?" he quips, bending down to your belly.

"I love you, kiddo. I'll see you in a few hours. Don't miss daddy too much okay, I'll be around." he tells your son, kissing at your clothed stomach.

He scoffs loudly when he hears Sera scream once more. "Stupid fucking bitch," he whispers, kissing your forehead.

"Love you!" you call to him as he leaves.

"And I love you, little dove. So much so it hurts me."

"HELLO?!" Sera screams.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP LEECH. I'M COMING. GODDAMN!"

Not even the biggest limo would give Yoongi enough space from his wife.

He can barely stand to look at her. But she takes up such a large chunk of his peripheral vision and her constant huffing and puffing is irritating.

When she huffs again, he just about loses all of his sanity. "What?! Why are you stealing so much oxygen?! Jesus Christ!"

Sera turns to him, scowling at his calm demeanor. "I hate you!" she seethes.

"Same. So stop huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf." he retorts, crossing his legs.

God, he misses you.

Sera watches him pull out his wallet and she can hardly contain her scoff.

His thumb drifts over the sonogram picture and he sighs loudly, leaning back into the leather seat. He misses his son.

"Why did you take my money away?" Sera barks out.

Her grating voice makes him cringe and he feels offended to have to look away from his son's photo to have to look at her. "Because you make enough money on your own and it's time you stop leeching."

The car is riddled with tension and the driver puts up the soundproof glass between them and him. Yoongi finds it fair, he wouldn't want to listen to Sera either.

"That's my money too." Sera bickers.

Yoongi pulls out a cigar, lowering his window. You're not around and he can finally smoke just one again which will probably help with his anxiousness and anger.

"It was your money. Now it is not." he replies simply, lighting the Cuban cigar.

"You were always fine with our arrangement! I don't know what's changed!" his wife scoffs.

The CEO's eyes flutter shut. Fine? He hasn't been fine since their wedding day.

"Excuse me?" he growls, turning to look at her.

"You always seemed like you were perfectly content with us being the way we were. Now everything has changed." she says flippantly, looking down at her nails.

"I fell in love. Of course I wouldn't be happy with you beating me over the head for money and using me for status. After the night before our wedding, I've been stuck with you. You think I wanted to be in a loveless marriage?!" he chastises.

She blushes furiously, pulling her shawl tighter over her shoulders.

For fucks sake, he cannot get through this night without you. He doesn't know why he pretended he could. You're the only thing tethering him to the fucked up planet and now without you he's going to just fly away.

"Well, you never got rid of me." the actress caterwauls, folding her arms.

Yoongi begins to laugh, ashing his cigar out the window. It's a humorless, cold laugh but a laugh nonetheless.

"I couldn't get rid of you. Because you threaten people and use them for your liking so you can get what you want! You're honestly the most disgraceful, undignified thing I've ever met in my life. You're an actual fucking bloodsucker. You always bitch and complain about Y/N and how she's a 'gold digger' but my woman doesn't even want my fucking money. It's you, who always has. And that's probably the reason why Jin doesn't even fucking want you."

Ouch.

That's gonna sting.

"EXCUSE ME?!" she screeches at the top of her lungs.

It feels good for Yoongi to get all of this off his chest. It feels like the biggest relief in ages. He's always held it in so he wouldn't have to hear her incessant screams but at the end of tonight he'll get to cuddle up in bed with his woman and his growing baby and he couldn't really care any longer.

"Jin. He said you have no relationship to my grandmother because he hates the person you are, Sera. I should tell him about what you did to me the night before our wedding. That'd really make him run for the hills." Yoongi fumes.

Sera is fast, especially in the way she jumps across the whole long limo to sit beside her estranged husband.

"P-Please. Don't tell him." she stutters.

Your boyfriend snorts loudly, clamping the cigar between his teeth and looking down at the sonogram picture once more.

He rolls his eyes gently, this isn't his fight. He couldn't give a care in the world for what Sera wants. He hates her… But if she can get out of his hair…

"Maybe." he replies, shrugging his shoulders.

"Yoongi." Sera whines, grabbing for his wallet.

He takes a sharp breath through his teeth, widening his eyes at her. "Never touch my wallet. Never touch my son's pictures." he seethes, pushing himself across to the opposite seat.

Sera swallows thickly, watching his anger expand ten fold. He really loves his baby… As any father should.

"Please don't tell Jin!" she whines, gripping her clutch to her breasts.

He can sense her fear, he can practically see her shiver and it humors him.

"Why not? He already knows you're a bitch." he jeers, lowering the window.

She's an incessant whiner. Apparently when it comes to Seokjin.

"But, I don't want him to look down on me for it."

"And why not? Everyone that knows you already does?" Yoongi jeers.

What's with her being so nervous? Does Seokjin actually mean something to her?

"I want him to… see me differently." she replies, turning her nose up to her husband.

"Then change how you behave. Men don't want a fucking brat every day of their lives. All the men you liked, all the men you've had under your skirt… They didn't really like you. They just wanted your attention for a little while. You have to change yourself. That's what would make a man want you." Yoongi murmurs, throwing his cigar out the window.

"You liked me!" his wife accuses.

"That's before I knew who you actually are. You'll never get a real man if you continue on this way. You'd better make sure Seokjin knows how much you want to be with him or like him for that matter… he will leave the mansion if you don't."

Sera opens her mouth to retort but she can think of nothing. Because Yoongi is right. She's always been this way.

"We're here, Sir Min." Sera's driver announces and he hums in agreement.

"I don't know what the fuck happened to you when you were a kid Kim Sera. But be a better person." the CEO announces, gripping onto the door handle.

The constant bulbs of flashing light remind him of where he is and he groans long and low, shoving the door open.

You really don't want to do this. You struggled against Seokjin the whole way he dragged you to his car.

"If you look upset when you get there, the camera will catch it. What will you do if your son looks back at these pictures from tonight? He's going to see how sad you were, Princess." Jin chastises, pulling up to the large museum.

You're more than grateful for the black tinted windows that shroud you from the flashing lights that seem to assault from all angles.

"God, I hate pictures." you breathe out.

"Just smile and wave, you're an upcoming artist. Think of it that way. Instead of worrying about Yoongi and Sera. Okay?" your best friend asks.

That's a good idea.

"Sesame, we're going to see daddy in a few minutes. Okay?" you whisper, putting your hand to your stomach.

Jin chuckles gently, smoothing his hair down in the rear view mirror. "Good. I like that, just keep thinking about the baby above all." your best friend says finitely, opening his door.

You watch him round the car, smiling and waving handsomely to the many cameras that capture his every move. You take note of this. You can remember a time when you ran away from cameras with Leena around… Maybe you should embrace them this time.

"Okay, let's go bid on some overpriced garbage, Sesame's mom." Seokjin jeers, opening your door.

Planting your foot outside of the car, you accept your best friend's hand to help you climb out. The flashes from the cameras are positively blinding.

"Jesus," you whisper.

"Just smile and wave. Like you own the universe," Jin whispers through clenched teeth as he waves.

You take his advice, smiling and waving to the multitude of people that call for different angles of you.

"MISS THING!"

You turn quickly to the scream, a genuine smile plastering to your face. "Leena Beena!" you whine happily.

She practically throws herself out of the Bugatti she arrived in. You were so nervous about tonight that you didn't even ask who would be here, but now that both of your best friends from childhood are here you can maybe relax. Just a little bit.

"Look at you!" Leena cheers, pulling you into a tight hug.

Her hands falter to your belly and you roll your eyes at her excitement.

"My nephew is getting so big!" she coos, pulling you towards the entrance.

"Yu Leena," Taehyung calls her, getting out of the Bugatti.

"Look at her belly!" Leena calls back, stamping her feet on the ground.

You give Taehyung a small wave and he does the same, flashing a large smile.

"Come on!" your best friend cheers, pulling you into the museum.

The loud classical music that sweeps through the entire hall makes you feel as if you're at home. You know Yoongi really cherishes classical music, it was a way for him to keep calm after interacting with his parents when he was younger.

"You just stick with me the whole night!" Leena announces, hooking her arm underneath yours.

There's so many faces and so many different colors that you could practically have an overload on your senses. If Leena wasn't practically joined at your hip, you'd want to run away almost immediately.

Your eyes linger on all of the pieces on sale for auction, they're all lined up on carts with white fabric draped over them for secrecy.

"How much of my money are you going to spend?" you hear Taehyung jeer.

Your best friend clicks her teeth, grabbing a champagne glass off a tray as a waiter whizzes by.

"As much as I'd like to, Kim Taehyung." she replies, flashing him a brilliant smile.

"As you wish, my lady." he replies sweetly, winking at you for extra effect.

You find yourself giggling at their silly interactions before your eyes reach your boyfriend. Your stomach rolls at the sight of him hooking his arm around Sera's waist. He doesn't seem to be paying attention to her though, he's having a heated conversation with Jeongguk. Your heart aches at the sight, especially when Sera's hand, adorning her large engagement ring, slides over his shoulder.

To comfort yourself your hand slides below your stomach but it doesn't stop your anxiousness.

It's hard to rip your gaze away. But you only do so when someone calls your name.

"Y/N? Is that correct?"

You feel pitiful when Yoongi doesn't notice you. Like he's in his own world and he couldn't care less about anything around him.

"This is her!" Leena exclaims, turning you towards the voice.

"Y/N, this is So Kyulsoo. He's a very famous art distributor who works with upcoming artists." Taehyung notifies you.

You bow your head to him, trying to find something to smile about. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. So."

"It's me who has the honor! I saw your paintings at Luck Art Studio and I was floored at how simply gorgeous they are." Kyulsoo gushes.

The compliment makes the tips of your ears burn. It's so rare to hear compliments and want to accept them. But the man that stands before you is chic and unyielding.

"Thank you so much, that's so sweet to hear. I'm so glad you liked them." you whisper, clutching onto Leena harder.

"I'd give you my business card but that would be rude at an event like this. I'll call Myeyoung on Monday to talk about buying some of your art!" Kyulsoo says happily, grabbing an hors d'oeuvre off a waiters plate.

"That'd be wonderful. She's also creating the art for the new Gangnam Mall and Hotel." Taehyung announces.

You are so not great at business talk but you're grateful for the hotel CEO at this moment.

You watch as Kyulsoo's eyes widen at the news. "Well! I'll have to buy as much art as I can! I think we have a new famous artist coming up in our midst!" he cheers and you smile gratefully.

"There's a piece up for auction tonight," Jin adds, rubbing your upper back.

"Well my wife will have to deal with losing a couple thousand, won't she?" Kyulsoo jeers, winking at you.

Your giggle makes the others around you brighten up and you're incredibly grateful for your friends.

You give the art distributor a wave goodbye before turning back to the large crowd who continues to chat loudly.

When you spot Yoongi's grandmother, you bow your head to her and you don't miss the coy smirk she gives back. She's on the arm of an older man that you deem to be your boyfriend's grandfather. He looks incredibly serious and dominating.

"Please don't come over here," you whisper under your breath.

Turning back to the CEO, you watch as he laughs with Jimin. His arm is still nestled around Sera and his fingers are splayed out as if he's comfortable.

"Why don't we go mingle? Hmm?" Leena asks, noticing how wrought you become on her arm.

You scoff gently turning away from the sight before you.

"He doesn't even notice that I'm here." you accuse, grabbing a sparkling water.

"I'm sure he does, he's just playing a part, princess." Jin assures you, pulling both of his best friends away from the sight.

"Can you let me go?" Yoongi seethes through his teeth, trying to wriggle his arm out from beneath Sera's.

"No." she says simply.

He scoffs loudly, looking away from Jimin to search for you. You're nowhere to be seen and it fills him with dread.

It's been maybe twenty minutes since the start of the night and he feels so empty.

"I should introduce Anna to Y/N before we leave." Jimin calls the father of your child.

"If you can fucking find her, I've been looking for her for forever." Yoongi whines softly, turning to his friend.

"She was watching you but I don't think she liked what she saw." Anna announces.

Yoongi's heart plummets at her words. Jimin shushes her gently, placing his hand on her large stomach.

"Anna." he chides softly, pushing some of her hair behind her ear.

"I'm just saying. Why spend your time with a peasant when a queen is in your midst." Anna calls loudly, kissing Yoongi on the cheek goodbye.

Sera looks over with wide eyes, sneering at Jimin's pregnant wife.

"It's… It's the pregnancy hormones." he bleats, widening his eyes to his friend as an apology.

Your boyfriend chuckles, gripping onto his estranged wife's side and pulling his arm away from her.

"Min Yoongi." she seethes through her teeth, turning away from the group of girls that have flocked around her.

"I need more liquor to be in your presence." he replies with equal grit.

He fixes his suit jacket, looking over the crowd. Shaking his head, he sighs. You must be upset… And his heart breaks at the thought.

When he approaches the bar, he's grateful for the small freedom he's gotten.

Hearing Sera talk so incessantly is like having a mosquito constantly flying by your ear that you swat at it but it doesn't ever go away.

"Whisky on the rocks." he tells the bartender, turning towards the large crowd.

He's said hello to most of the people that litter the floor but not all of them and he dreads knowing he'll have to.

"Yoongi."

The sound sends chills through his body.

"Mother." he addresses, grabbing his glass of whisky.

He can feel his whole internal system shutting down. No one puts fear in him like his parents. It's just a conditioned response to fear them at this point.

"I hear you're ruining our family." she announces.

His tongue licks at his lips nervously and he doesn't know if he has the strength to look at the woman who watched him get beat without a second thought.

Sometimes he can't remember what she looks like and it's the most comforting feeling in the world.

"Oh?" he asks, keeping his back to her.

"Will you continue to cower in front of me? People might think you hate me." she scoffs.

His shaking hand clutches the whisky glass tighter and he downs the burning alcohol in two large gulps.

"One more, please." he practically begs the bartender.

"What do you want?" he inquires, turning to look at the crowd.

He can see her out of the corner of his eyes and he can feel his stomach become queasy.

"An explanation." she says simply.

"I'm doing what's best for me and what's best for my family." he insists, pushing off of the bar.

"Well. Looks like you've grown into a man with my help." his mother says, folding her arms.

He lets out a loud laugh. "You mean Maya's help. Stay away from the mother of my child, Mother. She isn't one for you to think so lowly of." he threatens, walking away.

"Are you threatening me, son?" she calls to him, pulling his arm to look at her.

He's taller than her by all accounts and so it's easy to look past her and keep his eyes trained there. He couldn't stomach looking at her.

"I'm not threatening you, Mother. We all live our own lives. You live with your four young boyfriends and your decisions and I live with my decisions. I hope you have a safe flight back to France."

He bows his head to her and the scoff she emits makes him want to whimper.

"Well… I guess I'll send you a wedding present when the time comes." she says, fixing her shawl.

"Please. Don't bother." he seethes through his teeth, catching sight of you.

He sighs with great relief, heading off towards you.

"I have so many new pieces of furniture you must see!" Go Artemis gushes.

You've become fond of this woman in such a short time. She went to school with all of you and you never noticed how absolutely quirky she is.

"I'd love to see them." you reply earnestly, sitting down on the marble bench.

Your ankles were really starting to fucking hurt.

"I'll send you a catalog!" Artemis cheers, pulling her phone out of her handbag.

"Okay, Art. Take a breath. This isn't the last time you'll be seeing Y/N." Yoona says with a laugh.

Artemis nods happily, clutching onto her handbag tighter. She seems to be vibrating on a frequency you've never seen before.

"Alright, cousin, why don't we get you a glass of champagne." Namjoon says, pulling her away with a smile.

"Bye, Y/N! See you later!" Joon's cousin exclaims.

"Bye Art!" you reply with a giggle, waving her off.

"She's fun," you tell your best friend who leans against the marble column.

"You should see her at family dinners. I learn every single material a piece of furniture can be made from." Yoona jeers, nudging Leena.

"Little dove."

The voice makes you want to weep. You stand up quickly, meeting eyes with your boyfriend. He looks flustered and completely incapable of standing on his own.

"Are you alright?" you whisper, widening your eyes at the CEO.

He looks around quickly, making sure no one notices him before he's pulling you away from everyone.

"Yoongi!" you hiss, looking back at the crowd.

You notice his grandmother narrowing her eyes at the both of you and you swallow thickly at how much in trouble you could get in.

You let yourself be pulled by him throughout many hallways until he reaches a blocked off room. He shoves the door open, pulling you in with him.

There are old Greek and Italian marble statues that sit artistically dotted around the large room.

When he closes the door without a sound, he turns to you. His eyes are soft and his expression looks so terrified, you don't know what to do.

"Baby," he whimpers and you open your arms immediately.

He accepts the invitation, wrapping himself in your embrace.

"I saw her. I was so scared." he gasps, burying his face in your neck.

Your eyes flutter shut at how his body wracks within your grasp. "Who?"

"My mother." he breathes out and you sigh gently.

You hug him tightly, running your fingers through his hair.

When he feels your fingertips against his scalp, he thinks he might be able to breathe again.

"I c-couldn't… I had to… I needed you." he whines, running his hands over your back.

The simple terror in his voice makes you want to cry. He's so fragile.

"I'm right here." you whisper, kissing his cheek.

He nods softly, running his hands from your back to your belly. He scoffs gently, kissing the soft skin of your neck.

"You must be so mad at me." he murmurs, pulling away to look at you.

You were annoyed, you were hurt but now when he's in your arms like this… it isn't possible to be upset with him.

"Not anymore," you reply honestly.

He hums gently, cupping your face with both of his hands.

"I love you." he breathes out, leaning in to kiss you.

"I love you, too." you reply.

His lips are gentle and soft against yours, you could feel all of his emotions so far from this night passing to you and you accept them willingly.

Then from his soft touch, it becomes needy. It becomes sharp and demanding.

"Little dove," he gasps, shoving you back against the closest wall.

His forehead presses to yours and his hands are absolutely quick with lustful intentions as he balls up the skirt of your gown in his hands.

"God. I've been so fucking lonely all night." Yoongi groans, running his fingers over your soft inner thighs.

"Yoongi, we shouldn't, someone could catch us!" you whisper fiercely.

Your head lolls back when he cups your pussy.

"I don't care. I feel like I've been away from you for years." he seethes, kissing down your neck.

You whimper gently, your back arching off of the wall at his touch.

"I'm so upset that you were mad at me, I'm so sorry, little dove." he groans, running his hands over your bump.

You gasp gently, eyes fluttering shut at how sensual his hands are on your skin.

"HI MRS. MIN, I'M LOOKING FOR YOUR GRANDSON!" you hear Jimin scream.

Yoongi takes a sharp breath between his teeth, backing away from you in an instant. He fixes your dress, eyes on your face as he cringes.

"As am I Park. Have you seen him?" Seyoung asks through the door.

Yoongi holds his breath, pulling you behind a large statue. You cup your hands over your mouth, looking up at your boyfriend with wide eyes.

"No, I haven't but if I do see them, I will let you know!" Jimin calls to her.

You can hear her muffled hum through the door and the distant sound of heels clacking on the floor.

"You're safe, you perverts." Jimin whispers fiercely through the door.

You smack Yoongi's chest a multitude of times before looking back into his eyes. There's silence for a second before both of you burst forth with a case of the giggles.

"Oh my God," he chuckles, pulling you towards the door. "Come on, gorgeous."

It's gotten a little easier to be alone with your friends without Yoongi.

It's just the simple fact of knowing that you had a secret rendezvous not long ago that keeps you going. You notice that he's also made an effort to look at you from time to time, even secretly.

"Hey guys." you hear from behind you and your whole party turns to look at him.

"Hey Yoongles," Yoona cheers, setting her glass of champagne down.

"A lot of people have been coming up to me about the artwork for the mall." he quips.

And everyone realizes this is all a ploy to be able to talk to you.

"God, it's like we don't even exist." Leena teases, pulling her boyfriend's arm around her waist tighter.

"Looks like you're already more famous than we thought." the CEO quips, sipping his whisky.

"Oh yeah! Speaking of famous. Kim Bongjoo came by the office yesterday and was very interested in my latest painting." Namjoon announces, raising his glass of brandy.

"THE Kim Bongjoo?!" Taehyung gapes.

The lawyer nods, nudging you with a smile.

"Kim Bongjoo is so famous, even his kids that are in kindergarten are held to a higher esteem than the President!" Leena gushes, leaning into the group.

"Guess my woman will make more money than me, hmm?" your boyfriend whispers conspiratorially to the others.

You roll your eyes with a snort, elbowing him.

"Why are you over here anyway?" Taehyung quips to the father of your child.

"Because I'm all by myself with the leech, all of my friends have left me." he whines.

"That's because we'd rather spend time with the baby. No one wants to hear your… whatever she is, bitch and whine all goddamn night." Leena retorts, earnings nods from everyone in your group.

Yoongi sighs loudly. "Fine. But you guys fucking suck."

But then finally, as if the Lord was tired of keeping up the charade, you all finally hear the words that will get you out of here quicker.

"Everyone, the auction is about to begin! Please have a seat!"

Somehow, in some way, Yoongi sat down right beside you. It's comforting to feel his knee pressing into yours even if it's just the slightest touch.

The only annoying thing is that Sera is sitting beside him.

"Whatever you want, little dove, just bid on it and I'll transfer the money over to your account." Yoongi whispers softly.

His wife scoffs loudly, folding her arms. "I fucking hate the both of you." she seethes through her teeth.

"Fucking relax, mouse. Don't start a scene where there shouldn't be." Seokjin seethes from behind you all.

She huffs out softly, rolling her eyes.

You lay your head on Leena's shoulder, watching as the first item up for auction is revealed.

"This first item for auction comes from Go Artemis. It's from her latest collection of furniture from 2021. This piece of furniture is a black and grey chaise lounge with pure diamond and cerulean beryl studs that compliment whatever room you would choose to place it. We'll start the bidding at fifty thousand dollars."

The price practically makes you choke on your own spit but you try to hide your surprise. Yoongi chuckles beside you, tilting his head in your direction slightly.

"Money is nothing here, little dove." he whispers.

You stare at the chaise lounge and your boyfriend speaks your thoughts for you.

"Baby boy's room." he whispers and you hum in agreement. It does go with the aesthetic.

But you can't bring yourself to raise your hand, the thought of spending that much money makes you feel sick.

"Leena, do the honors." Yoongi whispers to your best friend.

"No! Wa-" you gasp as she raises your hand high up in the air.

"One hundred thousand. Going once… Going twice-"

You cringe in anticipation, elbowing Leena when you hear her giggle.

"Sold to paddle 73!"

You sigh loudly, pulling your arm away from hers. "Are you crazy?" you hiss, folding your arms.

"Naturally," she jeers, raising her champagne glass to you.

The constant ebb and flow of money being released in the room is a complete contrast to how you've lived your life. You've spent your life saving money and these people spend it on fancy dog collars and one day trips to vineyards in California like it's nothing.

Yoongi has even purchased some items that you don't deem necessary like the finest cigars and a trip to a secluded spa and hotel in Japan. When you shook your head gently at the price he'd just repeat the same thing.

"It's for charity."

While you can try to understand, it's pretty much going over your head.

"The next piece we have is from Kim Sera."

Sera's eyes widen and she sneers at Yoongi when he snorts into his whisky glass.

"What have you done?" she growls softly.

Her estranged husband shrugs and you sigh gently at their childish tit for tat.

"Having fun," he quips, leaning back in his chair.

"This is a one of a kind Alexander Shin piece made of pure diamonds. It was her first wedding present from her husband Min Yoongi. It was given to her two days before their wedding and it's said that Alexander found it so beautiful he almost couldn't sell Yoongi the necklace. We'll start the bidding at three million."

"My prized necklace?!" she hisses, shock written all over her face.

When paddles go up immediately, you cringe. Yoongi is being a brat.

"Yoongi." you mumble embarrassed and he shrugs in reply.

"I have four million. Going once. Going twice-"

"Six million." Seokjin announces from behind you and you turn around to him with weary eyes.

You can see Anna and Jimin chuckling amongst themselves and you hold back the great sigh that threatens to tear forth from your body.

How absolutely petty of your boyfriend.

"Sold to paddle 81!"

Jin looks over at you, sticking out his tongue with a wrinkled nose.

He too couldn't give a fuck about money.

"Finally the last piece of the evening belongs to an upcoming artist."

Your head whips around and you try everything you can to make yourself smaller. This feels like you're being called out in class to answer a question, you know nothing about.

"This art piece entitled Glass House," your cheeks heat up and you feel quite faint in this very second. There are a multitude of eyes on you from strangers that you don't yet feel comfortable with, "was created by Y/N. She is creating the art for the Gangnam Mall coming into creation soon. And she also has gorgeous pieces at the Luck Art Studio. Many say she's on the list to become one of the greatest expressive and artistic minds of this generation."

WHAT?!

This man cannot be serious. How could he say such high praise about you when he doesn't even know you?!

"Oh jeez," you murmur, cupping your stomach.

"We'll start the bidding at two million."

Oh, that price.

You're going to faint. You're about to pass out.

Holy shit.

"I have two million. Anyone for two and a half?"

Your breathing slows down and the voices in the room seem to echo in your ears. This is an out of body experience like you've never had before.

You paint for fun and now one of your pieces is going for millions!? It's absolutely insane!

"Five million. Do I hear five and a half?"

When you met Yoongi… you certainly didn't think this was going to happen! You didn't know anything would transpire and now look at you. Pregnant, cowering in a comfy armchair while people bid on a picture of a glass dome filled with roses. It's completely ridiculous!

"Jimin, buy me the painting!" you hear Anna whine.

Turning to her, you shake your head. "I can just make you one!" you whisper fiercely.

She giggles in turn, pointing to the painting on stage. "I want that one." she says with the flourish of her hand.

"I have nine million. Do I hear nine and a half?"

Sera scoffs and for once you agree. This is completely absurd. When Yoongi raises his paddle with a humorous expression, you elbow him without a care for others.

"It's for charity." he murmurs, chuckling above the lip of his glass.

"I hate you," you mumble, looking around at all the raised paddles.

"I have thirteen million. Do I hear fourteen?"

"Just put me out of my misery." you gasp, rubbing your stomach as your son kicks inside of you.

"Twenty million!" Anna calls loudly, shoving Jimin's hand high up in the air.

You groan long and low, putting your shaking hand to your forehead. She cannot be serious.

"Sold to paddle 95."

You give a small smile as people clap demurely turning their heads to look at you. When you meet eyes with Min Seyoung, she sends you a small wink.

"Good girl," she mouths, turning back around.

You want to run and hide quite soon after that but the amount of people that come up to you and congratulate you are too many. After the wild display of money, people make you out to be the next Van Gogh or something.

"Anna!" you gasp, bowing your head to all the people surrounding you when she grabs your arm and tugs you away from everyone.

"If you want her art, you can find it at Luck Art Studios!" she calls to them.

"I can't believe you just spent so much money on one painting. I could just make you one!" you gawk as she pulls you towards the entrance.

"I wanted it for the nursery. Besides, you make money when people flaunt theirs. This was my last hoorah before I give birth next week!" she giggles, waving over Jin.

He rushes over, shaking both hands happily at you. "You did it Princess! You're famous!"

Slapping him with your clutch, you narrow your eyes at him. "Shut up! You're embarrassing!" you bark out, looking around with shy eyes.

"Come on, let's get you home. I'm sure today was just a whirlwind for you."

Anna waves at you, accepting her fur shawl from her doting husband.

The night chill is welcome as you wait on the steps for Seokjin's car to arrive from the valet.

A whirlwind is right but maybe you could equate more to whiplash than anything. You can understand just how this was supposed to set you up for success when the time comes for Yoongi to leave Sera but you didn't think it would be this explosive.

"Well, looks like you're coming up in the world."

The voice is not one you've heard before and you turn to it without a second thought.

The woman is simply gorgeous with a younger man clasped to her arm. Her dark blue gown with sapphire accessories stand out to you and she looks like the epitome of money.

"I'm sorry I-"

"Yes, of course. You don't know me, but I know you." she says, stepping down the marble stairs.

When she gets closer, her facial features resemble Yoongi's almost perfectly. Your blood runs cold at the sight of her.

This is Yoongi's mother.

Oh no.

"It's nice to meet you Mrs. Min." you say softly.

Her eyes light up and she points her clutch bag at you with a wide smile. "So you are a smart little bird."

You'd hate for Yoongi to see her talking to you. You know how much he despises her.

"Well, I guess I'll welcome you into the family. It's not like I have much of a choice, what with my grandchild in your belly and your legs being spread for my son." she muses, accepting a long cigarette from the boy toy on her arm.

Jin goes stiff by your side, eyes widening at the pavement at her truly free mouth.

"What's the gender?" she inquires, pulling from the cigarette.

"A boy." you reply as kindly as you can.

"Good. Then you won't have to try again. Lord knows I was over the moon when Yoongi came out of my twat and I was finally free."

You shiver at how completely crude she is. No wonder Yoongi hates her. You hum gently, giving her a pleasant smile.

"Cars here." Seokjin says quickly, putting his hand to your back.

"It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Min," you say, bowing to her.

"Yes. And you… small bird." she mumbles amused, turning to her boytoy and patting his suit jacket.

You can't get to the car fast enough and when you climb in, you can feel your body shuddering with weeping intentions. Your hands shake as you put on your seatbelt.

"Jesus Christ! What the fuck is her problem?! Holy shit!" Seokjin breathes, putting on his seatbelt and backing up as quickly as he possibly can.

You open your mouth to reply but nothing comes out. You're truly stunned in silence.

"No wonder Yoongi grew up the way he did! His mother is the fucking devil!" Jin gawks, driving towards home.

You were first to get home and it was such a relief to take off the heavy gown.

Now laying in your comfortable bed, you can't hold on to a thought long enough before you're on to the next.

The night feels like such a blur. You were introduced to so many new people, you mingled with some of the richest people in society. Your boyfriend spent more money than you would know what to do with. You met his absolutely despicable mother. You were mad at him for some reason or another in the beginning… It's all just so fleeting.

But the one thing that's probably stuck the most with you is how high of a pricing one of your paintings went for. It wasn't the most perfect painting, it wasn't your greatest piece, but it still went for twenty million dollars. All of the emotions from that moment still resonate deep within you.

You find yourself thinking that maybe you can do this. Maybe you can be worthy of Yoongi and his lifestyle. Maybe this fate is pure and as grand as you'd like to think.

"Where's my babies?"

The sound of his deep voice makes you smile and when he steps into your bedroom, all of your worries just melt away.

His body is highlighted by the great moon that hangs high in the sky.

His gummy smile breaks your heart to bits as he pulls his tie off with a quickness.

He strips down to his briefs in what seems like seconds and you can see the utter joy and excitement he feels to lay in bed with you.

"Look at the greatest expressive and artistic mind laying in our bed." he quips, pulling back the covers.

You giggle gently, giving him a second to get comfortable before laying on his side. He sighs gratefully, putting his chilly hand on your warm belly.

"God, this is amazing. To come home and lay in bed with you like this beats everything in the world." he breathes out, kissing the top of your head.

You hug him tightly, laying your head on his shoulder.

"My little dove."

His voice is filled with warmth and love. And now you know that no matter how things start to shape and form, the end of the road always ends with your boyfriend.

"Missed me, kiddo? Daddy missed you and mommy a lot." Yoongi mumbles sleepily, burying his face in your hair.

The comfortable smirk that sets onto your lips is welcome and you're thinking of your family as you drift off to sleep.

Next Chapter ------>

Third Wheeling Taglist -  @wickizer, @imluckybitches, @slothykreuger, @claireelise19, @ggukkieland, @rspbrryy, @iv-bts, @bambuzlee, @chanelbts, @mxxngxdss, @bluewhale52, @milesjeon11, @diamonddia-mond, @vinylphwoar, @xnxy97, @hubbytaehyung, @140503at-dawn, @bts-7beauts, @jadeblackwoll, @sunshiine-hobii, @creatorspalace, @eclectically-esoteric, @nikkiordonez12, @kaitswrld, @skamlover200, @sevgilove98, @kooeuphoria, @jikooksgirl19, @hobbledehoy26, @singular-itae, @dchimminie, @lowlifeoeuvre, @sugaslittlekookies, @bloopbloopb, @pjmcth, @softysuho, @codeinbelle, @jaiuneamesolitaiire, @betysotelo18, @jeonmisha, @iwanttohitmyself, @ayyyocee, @neverthefirstchoice, @itsbangtanoclock, @little7bitchh, @veryuniquenamegoeshere, @deathkat657, @firstlovesuga-93, @namjoonia, @paperpurple, @muzikabijou, @liebeoppa, @veronawrites, @kleff03, @ruinsofangels, @brightwingr5, @leekanchol, @rkivemagic, @ithinkileftmycoatoutside, @melaninkpops, @y00ngisbabygirl, @ungodlyjoon, @prochnost513, @dunixxd, @athenakyle, @igotnotype, @chxmachxps, @tinymintyoongi, @vangameren-blog, @alpaca1612, @ohcarolinamin, @thegreatestsushi, @eltrain80, @btsmylife21, @deeepvibes, @httpminyg, @deliciouslydisturbed365, @rkchmestizangmaldita, @jimin-chu, @pimpnameyannie​, @preciouschimine​, @daughterofthequeen, @monetsberet​, @vanillamyg, @aamxxrii​, @kooafraid​, @ladykadyrova​, @singjisu​, @yazanii​, @moonlitmyg​, @justzeera​, @absolutefantrash​, @whocaresarchives​, @loosewindmill, @vantesfx​, @bt21chim​, @flowerboyhobi​, @kozuume-kenma, @taepiper​

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[lxvislxdy]

Shotgun Kisses pt.2 | Bakugou K.

Links: Bakugou x stoner!reader au & Shotgun Kisses (Read these first!!)

Notes: Firstly, I want to thank you all for the positive feedback my work has been receiving! I’m extremely thankful for ya’ll!! I also want to apologize for the delay in my posting; I’ve been traveling this week, and on top of that, dealing with the gas shortage on the east coast (it’s been HELL). But hopefully things will start picking up again soon! As always, my requests are open, so feel free to send in your requests or questions!

Summary: After apologizing to you, Bakugou is still struggling to get over his mistrust of your coworker, Shinsou. When you invite Shinsou to hang with everyone, Bakugou thinks it will be his final straw. That is, until Shinsou makes a move on someone unexpected. And suddenly, everything makes much more sense, and Bakugou looks completely oblivious. 

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

Warning(s): 18+!! drug use, language (if you are underage, this fic is not for you!)

Bakugou was trying. 

He really, really was. 

He trusted you, and he hated fighting with you (especially when it was his fault, and he had to apologize), but damnit, that purple haired bastard wasn’t making it easy on him. Still, Bakugou was making an effort, and that meant he was visiting you at work, even though Shinsou was there, too. 

“Hello,” Shinsou drawled, a lazy, but definitely teasing, grin spread across his lips. He was leaned up against the counter, half of his purple hair tied back in a knot at the back of his head. “How can I help you?”

Bakugou narrowed his eyes, taking a deep breath in like Kirishima had taught him. His hands were wound into fists, shoved into his jacket pockets. “Just my regular.”

Shinsou hummed in response, turning to shout over his shoulder, “Y/n! Your loverboy is here!”

Bakugou grit his teeth, willing himself not to snap back at him. Technically, he wasn’t wrong. But he hated the teasing lilt to the other man’s voice. 

As per usual, his anger melted away - mostly - when you popped your head around the corner, from the storage room, smiling brightly. “’Suki!”

As much as Bakugou hated your job, you did look cute in your apron, and he was admittedly fond of the free coffee. 

You bounced over to him, definitely hyped up on too much caffeine, and wrapped your arms around him. “Hi.” You said, looking up at him. 

He squeezed you against him, pulling you in for a kiss, to your surprise. Normally, Bakugou was hesitant when it came to PDA. Of course, the cafe was almost empty, and it wasn’t much of a secret that Bakugou was turning up the heat in front of Shinsou. 

“You want your usual?” You ask sweetly, when he pulls away, dopey grin on your face. 

Shinsou, who had slipped away during the kiss, calls over his shoulder, “Already on it!”

“Try not to spit in it.” Bakugou says, lowly. 

Shinsou lets out a low chuckle, “I’ll try to contain myself.”

Apparently, this banter is friendly enough, because you laugh along with him. 

“You mind if I take my break now, ‘Toshi?”

Bakugou swallows down the burst of jealousy at the nickname, fists tightening in his pocket. 

“Yeah, no problem,” Shinsou tells you, as he sets the coffee down on the counter. “There you go. One coffee, hazelnut cream, no sugar. Extra bitter, just like you.”

Bakugou sneers at him, snatching the coffee from the counter and grabbing your hand to pull you along behind him. The two of you end up in the alleyway behind the shop, sneaking through the ‘employees only’ door. Bakugou sips the coffee, wishing it wasn’t so good. But damn, if Shinsou didn’t know his coffee. As far as Bakugou was concerned, that was the only thing the guy was good at. (Of course, he didn’t really know him that well, at all).

“You’re very broody today.” You say softly, looking over at him from where you leaned against the brick wall. “Something on your mind?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, sipping his coffee again. “M’fine. Just... tired, that’s all.”

You hum, fumbling with one of your bracelets. You gaze up at him, grinning, “Do I need to call Kirishima to get it out of you?”

“Tch,” He scoffed, marching over to where you stood and leaning down over you. “Smartass.”

He leans down, capturing your lips in a soft kiss. You both taste like coffee, and Bakugou recognizes the faint, bitter taste of marijuana on your tongue too. He pulls away, raising a brow. 

“What, rolling up before work, you delinquent?”

You giggled, shoving his shoulder playfully, though it’s not enough to move him away from you. “Maybe. Gonna rat me out?”

“Hm,” His lips barely brush against yours, bumping his nose against yours. “I’m sure you could convince me not to.”

“Yeah? That easy, hm?” You say, leaning forward to kiss him again, but he pulls just out of your reach. You pout, and he laughs lowly. 

“I never said it would be easy.” He answers, smirking. 

You feel your breath hitch again, and his lips are back on yours. 

“Mm, Kats, love you, but I need to get back to work.” You mumble in between kisses.

Bakugou nips your bottom lip, but concedes, pulling away with a sigh. “Sure I can’t keep you occupied just a little while longer?”

“And people say I’m the bad influence.” You tease, laughing. “Sorry, babe. Can’t. Besides, I know you’re supposed to be getting lunch with the guys, and I’m not gonna be responsible for making you late.”

“Screw ‘em.” He says, planting another kiss on the corner of your mouth. 

You smile up at him, shaking your head. “What am I gonna do with you, Bakgou Katsuki?”

“Keep me, I hope.”

He’d meant it as a joke, but it came out much more serious than he’d meant. Thankfully, you don’t press him on it.

“Yeah, and what’s in it for me?” You tease, poking his stomach. You stretch up on your tiptoes to place another kiss on his jaw, voice softer than before, “I’m here till you don’t want me, Katsuki.”

Bakugou kisses the top of your head, “That’ll never happen.”

You turn to go back inside, stopping in the doorway to look back at him. “You coming to Sero and Denki’s tonight?”

“We’ll see.” Bakugou grunts.

“Mhm,” You grin. “I’ll see you there, then. Bye, Kats!”

...

By the time Bakugou shows up, he’s the last one there. Even Jirou, infamous for showing up fashionably late to their hangouts, was already inside, sitting with you and Mina on the floor. The three of you were deep in conversation, clearly already more than buzzed - your giggles and half-lidded eyes gave you away.

Bakugou felt the tug of a smile on his lips, watching you. He was glad the day was over. Finally, he could just relax.

And thats when he saw him.

Shinsou Hitoshi was sitting on the couch, leaning over a wide-eyed Denki to get the lighter off the table. 

Bakugou tried. He was trying. But even still, his hands shook with anger. 

Kirishima met his gaze, shaking his head, and he didn’t have to speak out loud for Bakugou to hear his usual, ‘Breathe, man. Everything’s fine. Deep breaths. It���s not worth it.’

“Bakugou!” Mina shrieked, “You made it! I told you he’d be here, Sero, you owe me $5!”

Bakugou scowled. “You bet against me?”

Sero shrugs sheepishly. 

You grin up at him from your spot by the girls, and Bakugou quickly crossed the room to sit by your side, ignoring the intruder on the couch. As he took a seat, he pulled you close to lean against his shoulder, and you instinctively reached for his hand without stopping your conversation.

“C’mon, Jirou, you should invite Yoamomo next time!” You were saying, “How will you ever get to know her if you don’t talk to her?”

Jirou, uncharacteristically flustered, shook her head. “No way. Absolutely not. Momo doesn’t seem the type to... ya know, any of this. We aren’t really her crowd.”

“So? She likes you doesn’t she?” Mina offers, puffing smoke.

Jirou’s cheeks turn a brighter shade of pink, and she slouches down more. “I dunno... Pass it here, Min.”

“I’m sure we could behave ourselves enough for a night.” You tease, grinning, “We could have a movie night! Totally sober, if that’s what you’re worried about, Kyo.”

A loud groan cuts into their conversation, from across the room, “Yeah, speak for yourself.” Denki says.

“As if you could get through a movie night totally sober, y/n.” Sero snickers. 

“Hey!” You shout back, sticking your tongue out at him. 

“He might have a point, man,” Shinsou cuts in. He’d been so quiet, Bakugou had almost forgotten he was there. Of course, his luck ran out. “Y/n can’t even make it through a shift sober.”

The room erupts into laughter, though Bakugou stays quiet, rolling his eyes. 

“Not true!” You say, blushing as you lower your voice, “You weren’t supposed to know about that.”

Shinsou’s laugh is apparently contagious, as he says, “Are you kidding?!” He breaks into an eerily accurate impression of you, “Hey, man, what can I get for ya? Aw, totally, nice choice! Have you tried the muffins, man, they’re sooo good.”

You burry your head in your hands as everyone joins in on the joke, leaning back into Bakugou to hide. “Fuck you, dude! Fuck you!”

“Holy shit!” Denki and Sero are gasping for breath, “How are you so good at that, man?” 

Shinsou grins slyly, reminding Bakugou of the cheshire cat (another reason he doesn’t trust the asshole). “Hey, a man can’t give away all his secrets, huh?”

Bakugou tightens his hold around your waist, mouth downturned into an unhappy scowl. 

“I think a movie night would be nice,” Kirishima changes the subject, and Bakugou sends him a small smile in thanks. “I’m sure we’d all like to meet Momo, and if she’s as sweet as you say she is, she’ll totally go for it!”

“Yeah,” Mina says, wrapping an arm lazily around Jirou, “Besides, you’re a total catch, babe! She’ll love you!”

“Thanks guys,” Jirou responds quietly, passing the joint to you. “I’ll think about it.”

You take a few drags, offering to Bakugou, who shakes his head. You don’t push it, blowing the smoke away from the two of you. 

“Man, and here I was, thinking you might finally relax some, Bakugou.” Shinsou comments.

Across the room, Denki has slouched against the other man’s shoulder, his feet propped up in Sero’s lap. 

“The fuck did you say?” Bakugou snaps, glaring. 

Shinsou chuckles, “Relax, dude, I’m kidding.”

“Yeah?” Bakugou growls, snatching the joint from between your fingers. “Fucking whatever.”

He takes a long drag, face red as he resists the urge to cough out of spite. Shinsou raises a brow, mouth twitching into a smirk. His fingers are in Denki’s hair, scratching lightly at his head, and the blonde looks like he could fall asleep any minute, a sleepy smile on his face. Bakugou feels an odd surge of jealousy, and frustration. These are his friends. You’re his girl. What the fuck is this guy playing at?

As Bakugou goes quiet, eyebrows furrowed and face drawn into a fierce scowl, and shoot Shinsou a look. He sighs, rolling his eyes, but silently agrees to lay off. 

“You okay?” You ask, leaning back and placing a light kiss on Bakugou’s jaw.

He yanks you into his lap with a huff, pouting. 

It takes everything in you not to giggle at him when he’s like this (it’s cute, okay?) but you knew that would only irritate him more. 

“’Suki.” You coo, quiet so no one else can hear you, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He mutters, frown deepening. 

“But-”

“I said it’s nothing, y/n.”

You sigh, giving up and leaning back against his chest. Why did he have to be so stubborn? 

Besides, you aren’t stupid. You know he’s unhappy because Shinsou is here. And, by all means, Shinsou is being an asshole. But he’s your friend, and a really good friend (only a friend). You just want the two to get along, and you want to show your boyfriend that he has nothing to worry about! But, as per usual, both boys are being... difficult, to say the least.

After a few minutes it becomes clear that Bakugou’s mood isn’t going to improve, so you go back to your conversation with Mina and Jirou, absentmindedly rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. Eventually, he starts to relax, but remains quiet. He’s too stubborn to admit that you know how to calm him down, after all. And, besides, he can’t risk the guys telling him he’s going ‘soft’ (his words, not yours).

As your high reaches its peak, you forget about the exchange almost completely. You’ve moved to lay your head in Bakugou’s lap, staring up at him. You reach for his hand, bringing it to rest on your head and he rolls his eyes, fingers gently scratching your scalp. You smile up at him lazily, blowing him a kiss. 

With his hands in your hair, you feel yourself begin to drift off, the conversations around you fading into a low buzz in the background. 

Suddenly, Bakugou’s hands stop.

“Kats,” You whine, one eye cracking open to see what was wrong.

Bakugou’s mouth is agape, brows raised, and face red.

“Kats? You okay?” 

He doesn’t answer, and you follow his gaze to the couch, where Denki has climbed into Shinsou’s lap. The blonde’s fingers are threaded into his hair, Shinsou’s firmly gripping his waist, and they’re kissing. You sit up, a laugh bubbling in your throat.

“See, bubs?” You plant a small, teasing kiss to his lips. “Told ya you have nothing to worry about.”

[buckaroosboogara]

911 week - Day 4:

“It’s always been you.” + love

(1700~ words, Buck and Eddie, blackout fic.)

@911week

"How long have we been here? Are you okay?" Buck asked, his throat begging for water.

"We have been here for," Eddie looked at his watch, the only source of light in the elevator. "3 hours."

"Are you okay?" He asked one more time.

Eddie's silence dragged for almost a minute before Buck spoke again.

"I need to know if you are hurt."

"I'm fine... physically." He finally said, taking air sharply. "The darkness and tight space... it reminds me of..."

"The well accident. Fuck."

The first thing Buck noticed when he woke up was that he was in a dark place.

It was hot, closed, and pitch-black. Tight.

He didn't like the implications of that.

He tried to move from his laying position only to be stopped by a stabbing pain in his skull.

Buck hissed as he laid on the floor again and a voice sounded in the dark, quiet but worried.

"Hey, hey, Buck, you are awake," The voice said out of breath. Buck felt a hand come to his shoulder clumsily and pat him. "Welcome back."

Buck grunted. His throat was dry and his mouth felt like sand, contrary to his skin which felt soaked in sweat. At least the pain was more bearable.

He turned on his back to sense the voice's owner, Eddie, sitting next to him on the floor. "What happened?"

"What happened was that we were helping a woman out of this elevator when the lights went off again and the elevator went down some stores before I pressed the emergency button." Eddie explained, with his breaths still shaky. "You hit your head pretty bad and I bandaged it with what I could. The radios don't work here, so I'm hoping Bobby will notice we are not out there with them."

Buck's hand climbed to his wet forehead where a piece of cloth was held to his skin with two pieces of tape. Rough but it would work.

"What happened with our coats' flashlights? And our helmets?"

"They ran out of battery, we used them for 8 hours straight Buck." Eddie yawned. "I took mine off as well as yours, this place feels like an oven. And the helmets... they are somewhere here."

"I kind of became desperate when I couldn't see or hear you. I haven't been able to look for them." Eddie huffed.

"And how long have we been here? Are you okay?" Buck asked, his throat begging for water.

"We have been here for," Eddie looked at his watch, the only source of light in the elevator. "3 hours."

"Are you okay?" He asked one more time.

Eddie's silence dragged for almost a minute before Buck spoke again.

"I need to know if you are hurt."

"I'm fine... physically." He finally said, taking air sharply. "The darkness and tight space... it reminds me of..."

"The well accident." Buck said with a huff. "Fuck, Eds I..."

"I am fine." Eddie forced out through his gritted teeth.

"Eddie-"

"No. I'm fine. End of conversation, we need to keep the oxygen."

Buck nodded although Eddie couldn't see him.

So he would of course avoid the topic.

He heard Eddie place his head against the metallic wall and breathe with difficulty.

Buck rolled his eyes, he knew how stubborn Eddie could be and he didn't need that in stressful moments like that one.

"Have any news about Chris?"

"Nope. My phone died like an hour ago," Eddie answered. "I couldn't find yours."

"Well, that's because mine is..." Buck muttered as he looked for the device on the back pocket of his pants. "Safe on my ass."

Eddie snorted a laugh and Buck smiled, mission accomplished.

The phone almost slipped from his hands and the air was taken from his lungs.

He turned it on and the light made him hiss. He could now see the elevator - it was indeed very small - and he could see Eddie, who was very much shirtless. His shirt was on his shoulders, missing the piece that was on his head.

"I-I guess I'll have to buy a new one. Great." He said, avoiding to look at the man by his side.

The device buzzed with a notification of very low battery, only 5%, and Buck noticed the screen had cracked in the fall.

"I could buy you one, after all, it's my fault that it's broken. Now give me." Eddie spoke and Buck did as told.

"So, what's the diagnosis doc?"

The former medic proceeded to turn the flashlight on and crouched in front of Buck to check his pupils.

"Pupils are matching, but you will need a CT scan once we get out of here."

Buck groaned again. He hated those.

Eddie passed Buck his phone but stayed still in front of him for some seconds.

Apart from being very much shirtless, Buck noticed he was very much pale and shaking. There was fear in his shiny eyes, which were scanning him in detail.

A hyperfixation.

Buck closed his eyes as he sighed, he should have known.

"Are you having a panic or anxiety attack?"

Eddie went back to his side feeling embarrassed and huffed a humorless laugh, "Honestly... I don't know. It just feels bad."

Buck shifted positions to look fully at Eddie. "It's okay. I'm here Eddie, I just need you to breathe. Will you do it with me?"

Eddie nodded, the world went black again.

His phone had died.

Eddie's breaths went faster.

"No, no, don't do that. You are going to hyperventilate and we don't want that." Buck grabbed Eddie's hand and squeezed it. "I'm here okay? I'm here with you. We are going to breathe together, how about that?"

"O-Okay."

"Inhale, one... two... three... four... yeah like that, and exhale, one... two... three... four..."

Some minutes later Eddie could calm down, the shudders went away with the cold sweat and they stayed in silence. Buck's hand was still tangled with Eddie's, on the other man's lap.

That encouraged Eddie to voice his thoughts.

"I... I hadn't remembered what it felt like until today. Not for years." He whispered into the air.

"I could have died. But I remembered a promise I made Chris once." Eddie turned his head to watch Buck. He found pitch-black that somehow made it easier to talk. "That I would always fight to come back to my family."

Eddie looked at the front again and simply said, "You are my family."

He felt Buck's body tensing by his side as he started stuttering. "I- I Eddie-"

"Why did you think I changed my will? I trust you more than I trust my own parents." He scoffed bitterly, squeezing his hand.

"I... I thought you only saw me as your best friend."

"If you knew..." he shut his mouth quickly. He had gone too far.

How could he have gone that far? Voicing his thoughts didn't mean telling Buck the truth about the things he felt for him. About the warm wave of happiness that washed over him every time they locked eyes. Every time Buck smiled. Every time Buck was with Chris.

The feeling of home never faded whenever he was with Buck, instead, it gained strength every time they saw each other.

"If I knew... what?" Buck asked and Eddie could feel his look on his side. His cheeks started to burn.

"Eddie-?" Buck was cut by hot lips on his cheek, giving him just a sweet short peck and going away. He gasped and Eddie tried to untangle their hands but Buck grabbed him tighter.

With his heart running wild on his chest, he reached a hand into the darkness and found a chest, he went up until he found Eddie's chin and clumsily made their lips meet halfway.

The kiss turned to be as good as a kiss in the darkness could be.

So unexpected, so romantic.

It was a mess. Both were a hot, sticky mess - in the good way, not the horny one - in a dark elevator at 5 am, sealing their mouths in their first kiss.

Buck loved it.

Eddie loved it too.

They separated to catch up with their breaths and smiled to the dark.

"If you knew," Eddie started, feeling Buck's head resting on his chest. "That it’s always been you, Buck.”

"I always saw you, Evan Buckley. For who you are, your good things and your bad things. I've seen your worst and your best, and I wanna be there for and with you in them for the rest of our lives."

"Ever since I saw you in the firehouse for the first time, since I saw you smiling in your car when we went to look for Christopher after the earthquake, since I saw you pinned under that truck... I have always known it's you. You who I want to experience life. You who I wanna watch Chris grow. You who I wanna marry someday. You who I wanna grow old with." Eddie answered with a smile.

"I love you too."

"Eddie... Oh god, all this time you... Fuck, I- I want that too." Buck chuckled, placing his hand carefully on his jawline and pulling him for another kiss.

"I love you."

The last thing they expected next was to hear the 118 outside the doors, having heard half of the conversation.

"As much as I love listening to you two getting your shit together-" Hen's voice cut through the elevator's doors. "And I really love it, we need to get you two outta there so, Albert! Bring the jaws!"

Then cheers were heard as both were freed from the elevator, coming out half hugging the other.

"You should have told me it would take you some hours in a sauna to get together! I would have gladly paid!" Chimney teased them.

"Amen, you said it, Chim." Hen agreed, making Buck seat on the gurney and transporting him down with the rest of the crew.

She checked both of them once they were in the parked ambulance and exclaimed to the street, "You all owe me 20 bucks each!"

The couple heard the whole 118 groan before they closed the ambulance doors and started making their way to the hospital, the light of the sunrise illuminating the city which was slowly recovering the electricity.

"You had a bet on us?" Buck whined from the gurney.

"Yup, and I just won. Took you three years and a month, but who's counting?" Hen smirked.

Eddie rolled his eyes fondly and took Buck's hand. "You can have all the bucks you want Hen. I already have the one I love."

(Tagging: @perfectlynervousbeard bc they asked me)

Chimney cried from the front, "Ugh, they are going to be that type of couple."

...

[everafterkeiji]

Song: Getting Over You by Lauv

Summary: Unexpected things happen all the time but meeting him was one of the best parts of it.

Pairings: Atsumu Miya x gn!reader

Word count: 7.1k

Tags, Genre: implied enemies to semi lovers! trope, slight angst, curse words, timeskip! Atsumu

A/N: pls i didn't intend to change it last minute but pls let me know if u liked it cuz im still having second thoughts <3

“No- I’m sorry.” Atsumu says as you felt your heart snap and break into two distant pieces. You already limited your expectations but there was a miniature amount of hope that you held onto and that was when you should’ve lost your grip.

“It’s fine, ‘Tsumu.”

It obviously wasn’t. No matter how loud the cries of your heart were, what mattered to you in this moment was to forget it ever happened- to run away and never face another failed trial of love. Atsumu can see past your smile and he hated the way it had to end in a way he avoided. There would be a time where his feelings would be up to confrontation but when it finally happened, he’d became a coward.

He was late to realize what the outcomes could lead to. How certain was he that your paths would meet again? How was he sure that he can revert this scenario in a better way that he wanted when you were losing your hold onto him?

“I have to go but it was nice knowing you, Miya.” Your lips were tugged in a weak smile while he questions why his body lacked the power to move but what resumes to play in his mind was the way his name escaped your lips like it was a curse to say it.

Turning your heel, there was an ache in Atsumu’s head. Was it regret? His decisions tied in knots? His emotions unable to declutter themselves? Hesitantly, he reaches for you. His hand wrapped around yours as you glanced down on his soft skin you used to despise to get near to.

His eyes told you stories that were hard to decipher all at once. His stories didn’t start with a setting, it started and ended with you, not a single page where you weren’t there but it seems like the chapters you had in your own story were being torn off to erase the traces of false hope.

“Y/N, I'm so sorry.” He whispers while you felt his hand tighten to make sure that you could stay- even if it lasted for a minute because he wasn’t sure fate could spare you two another moment.

But then, you softly removed his hold on you while the cold sweat runs down his forehead.

“It’s okay, ‘Tsumu. We were just never meant for each other.”

We could’ve been.

-

“Thank you for your time.” You bid the player as both bow each other as a way of manner. You gathered your bag as the athlete turns to you with a kind smile.

“I enjoyed the interview. I’m impressed at how prepared and professional you are. How long have you been doing this?” He asks, adjusting his outfit while you toss your bag on your shoulder with your camera slung around your neck.

“There was a journalism club back in my high school and I joined in ever since I was a first year.”

“You’re in college now?”

“Yes, sir.” He chuckles at your formality while he gives a pat to your shoulder.

“That’s good to hear. Goodluck with everything- I believe that you’ve got bright things ahead of you.” Your heart fluttered at the compliment while you bid your goodbyes. You step out of the hotel feeling the satisfaction hit you like a prize. The report can finally be simplified into a few more subtle fixes and maybe by 1am, you’d be able to present it to your professor without doubting your work.

Sighing happily, you decided to reward yourself to a lovely lunch with a view you often visited due to a reminiscent feeling that bubbles in your system. After ordering, you sat outside admiring the way the sun sets and leaves a lasting beauty before the moon shows.

The stress was fading from you. You had expected that the project would’ve taken weeks for you to finish knowing that some retired athletes usually avoid questions to why they left the sport they used to love. You had called a few, a struck of confidence was enough to make you do so but they often cancel your request because they either paid attention to your young age or because they weren’t ready to be asked such personal questions about them. You were lucky to score and interview with a well-known athlete whose had his fair share of the spotlight during his early 20’s. Sadly, his retirement was due to an accident and his weak body levels couldn’t bare the adrenaline of the sport. He was kind, patient, and understanding. Ever since he agreed, your attention was on the questions you’d lay upon him seeing that this was an opportunity you can’t waste. After gathering some of his past glories, you narrowed down your interrogation on what remains important to benefit the topic of your project. You were more than proud because of the compliment he had given you and the fact that you might be able to catch a break after a hectic week.

Opening your camera and flicking through the photos to decide on which you were going to use. Suddenly, a photo meets your sight. The peak of blonde and gray hair with a uniform that you missed.

The Inarizaki Volleyball Team.

Most especially, him.

A few years has passed since you’ve seen him and his brother. Osamu’s last interaction with you was filled with nothing but sweet memories and a hug that you could never forget the warmth of, while Atsumu’s last memory with you remained bittersweet- like a sour flavor in his tongue that never left. You tried too hard to forget fragments of your time with him but because of how much work you put yourself through, you lost time to reflect on the moments that didn’t hurt.

Half of your high school life was compressed into confusing parts of your story.

But the chapter that seems to be the most influential part of it, was where you got to meet the blonde who has stomped on your heart.

It was funny to be remembered as a person who had the guts to sneeze during the great Miya setters serve.

“Achoo!”

You immediately cover your face with your handkerchief as your sneeze echoed through the gym making Atsumu’s hand lose its power because he was stunned by the sound, the ball hitting the net instead as he almost hits Aran who was wide eyed that ball went his way. The team could hear Osamu’s ‘uh-oh’ and it was enough for them to know what the setter feels after the unfortunate event.

Atsumu grits his teeth as the other team cheers knowing they got the score while his head jolts to the crowd, aggressively searching for the one who messed up his serve. Even eyeing his fans who got scared by the way he turned his head in their direction.

Meanwhile, you’ve got glares surrounding you as your friend nudges you, letting out an exhale of disbelief that you’ve got death stares.

“We’ll get the next point ‘Tsumu, don’t worry.” Osamu says landing a hand to his brothers' shoulder while Atsumu readies himself for the serve of the opposite team.

“Whatever.”

After that certain match, Atsumu was more than determined to hunt down whoever caused the flunk of his serve. Silly as it is, he’s never heard someone dare to speak during his serve. He’d always let out a hand signal for them to be quiet- let it be known that if someone spoke, he’d be fine with it but a whole sneeze? He’d never let it go, especially when it resonated in his ears.

So, imagine the look on his face when he hears the exact same sound when he was just stopping by his locker.

“Fucking dust.” You said sniffling as you closed the door to your locker, and you were face to face with a wide-eyed Miya Atsumu holding out his finger and pointing it to you, as if he was accusing you of murder.

“It’s you!” He shouts making you raise your eyebrow at him, but the raise of his voice had intimidated you.

“What?” You asked him, not finding a single clue on whatever he was pertaining to.

“You messed up my serve by sneezing.” He says in the tone of ‘as-a-matter-of-fact’ making you lick your lips, a hand to your hip as you looked at him.

“I’m not apologizing for something I can’t control.” You were completely baffled by this man. Sure, you were his classmate, but this was your first year and you barely cared to take notice of all of them, only focusing on your school group that had you busy.

“You could’ve held it for like 2 more seconds at least.” You blinked before letting out a tired exhale as you eye him up and down. The setter of the school's volleyball team, you were aware of that because of how many matches you’ve been dragged to, but he’s never come up to you before.

This was a whole other introduction.

“Miya, right?” You asked him as he steps forward, looking down on you with a sly smirk.

“I guess I’m sorry.”

Atsumu stays silent for a few seconds but returns to his angry pout as he continues to stare at you.

“What’s your name?” Atsumu asks, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Y/N.”

From thereon, it looked like your life’s plot had spiked up. Atsumu was- you could call it as a miscalculation. Someone so loud and had his ego constantly fed was not someone you would stick around due to your strict schedule of balancing schoolwork and papers from your club. It was like a bump in the road wherein the objects in your car would’ve been juggled around because of the impact- that's what it felt like. Thinking that two years would’ve passed by like a breeze, time slowed down with him. The constant bickering and arguments were embedded in you like a tattoo. The way his cackle would echo through your ears when he’d struck a nerve to you, the way he’d purposely call you nicknames you swore you hated, to the same jokes can be dragged on for hours, and how every fiber of your body promised you’d leave when you’ve had enough.

But promises were always broken.

You stuck around and he did too. Atsumu provided you with his trust and company whenever you needed it. It’s a pleasant experience but it surely wasn’t at its best. What comes with it were headaches and harsh words but having a person who knew you until graduation and stayed was a different reason. He was a familiar, a person who isn’t a call away when you needed it but being in their presence would give you a pinch of comfort.

Maybe the only thing you can thank Atsumu for is getting to know his twin brother.

You accidentally sent a text to Osamu about you panicking about a missing file to be passed the following day and Osamu was up and ready to help you locate it. After finding it, you decided to treat him for being a life saver and he of course, was having the time of his life for the free food- it was also his favorite restaurant at that moment. During this time, you’ve got to talk more about each other. Months pass now Osamu and you were way better friends than you and his brother.

You and Osamus’ bond were the type that was just so serene, hardly any type of judgement when you’d bring up a problem, and all secrets were kept tight.

Osamu was the shoulder you can lean on, while Atsumu’s would shove your head away when you do so.

Your friendship drifted away when Atsumu stabbed your heart with the words “No.” and “I’m sorry.” You hesitated that day, to dial Osamu’s phone the way you used to, but it never happened. Your sobs muffled your voice and if you called him, he’d never understand a word that you’d say.

The opposite is that Osamu would understand everything.

Because you and Atsumu mirrored the same amount of pain.

He’d never seen his brother so- ruined. Atsumu’s thin walls didn’t shield his shouts of sorrow while Osamu withstood every bit of the torture show his brother had. Checking him on the next day, the setter was fast asleep with bags under his eyes and a red nose, clutching onto his pillow so tightly.

Osamu knew that day that the damage has been done and not a single band aid would mend the two shattered hearts.

-

Atsumu strolls to the around looking for a restaurant along with his teammates. The sun has fully set making the streets of Japan light up with how busy and crowded they were. Bokuto and Hinata were busy pointing at stands that had their favorite slabs of meat while Sakusa trails behind them with a mask, wanting to be removed from the push of people. As the eyes of the blonde land on a certain stand with multiple notes stuck onto a board, he smiles fondly. He then sees two kids running with smiles on their lips as they held each other's hand, obviously excited to explore the night.

“Come on, don’t be a wuss.” Atsumu says as you rolled your eyes and thought hard about his hand that was held out in front of you. Atsumu grunts before taking your hand in his before you could even decide properly. You followed his lead as he walked you through the sea of people. You were nervous that he had left practice to accompany you. Observing you from afar, you looked devastated, but you continued the rest of the day with a smile like nothing happened. Seeing that you looked dull talking to Karou, he pulled you away from whatever void of sadness you surrounded yourself in.

“Atsumu shouldn’t you be at practice?” You asked sighing, still with his hand in yours as you stopped by a stand.

“I should be but whatever that Karou did is obviously hurting you, you idiot.” Your eyes widened at his statement and this reaction confirmed his suspicions as anger forms inside of him. What could that boy have done to get you this upset? Did he physically hurt you? Atsumu hated how he cared- it wasn’t his business to meddle with but the frown on your lips was something he wanted to remove from you.

“Thank you.” You muttered as he buys you the same thing he ordered. He sees how you weren’t as colorless as before. The lights of the night brought saturation to your features as his eyes adored every feature of yours.

“It’s nothing.”

“Atsumu-san?” Hinata asks, tapping the boy on the shoulder while the blonde awakens from his escape.

Atsumu looks around once more, seeing that there wasn’t a trace of you, he moves on.

Like he was supposed to do in the first place.

-

“For our new assignment, why don’t we take the vice versa of your last project. Retirement is inescapable but why not find the reason they’d got into the sport. What makes it so exhilarating and unforgettable? That will be our topic this week. I’m giving you a week for interviews, photos, and articles. Video format is more suited for this task. Is that clear?” You all nodded as you wrote down the list of possible athletes to meet, jotting down an outline of some key points to remember.

“A tip for you all: look for the younger generations. It doesn’t matter to me what status the athlete stands in right now, it could be a friend or even a child. What I’m looking for the depths of the details in your research.” The professor stands making all of you bid him goodbye as he walks out of the room. You gathered your notebooks, sighing that you won’t have the time to properly rest- an exam was near right at the submission of your new task. You realized that you needed to sort out the things you were required to do before everything would pile up and get tangled in the short amount of time.

Who should I interview? God, everyone is so busy at this season. You thought. It’s true- you realized that matches were always lined up by this month. You also had classes to attend to and your mind could collapse at any given moment. You were more than worried about organizing your time properly but the feeling that you’d have several sleepless nights haunts you. You wished he could have extended the submission- though it didn’t get any better since after exams you tended to be drained from studying all night.

Going back to your apartment, you decided to put sticky notes all over your wall to help you sort out your priorities. Tomorrow would be Saturday meaning that you’ve done all the works to be passed on Monday and that you had zero meetings or classes. Saturday and Sunday would be divided to work parts, by Monday you should be up and running to work again.

You couldn’t let go of this group. It had given you countless of opportunities- even an offering to be an editor at a well-known magazine agency. You were in queue for the letter, so you decided to continue with the tasks of the group. You were thankful that you got used to the craziness of it all. The ability to multitask, to put the phone down once in a while, managing your time, those were just one of the benefits of getting used to it. The things you hated was that you barely had time for yourself. To lounge and just do nothing never met with what you were doing. You envied how some people from your group would plan some hang outs during a busy week and you always questioned how they managed to do it all without panicking.

You yawned as you felt your stomach growl at the scent of the delicious street food. Seeing that you fell short on money because the amount that was in your wallet was enough for your way home, it meant you’d have to wait to eat dinner until you came home. Letting out a groan you decided to walk your way even if you get shoved. God, you were starving and exhausted. The emotions were starting to fill you the more you moved. It didn’t help that everyone was so loud. You could hear the sound of the cackles from the drunken men in the corner, the cries of the baby that brought irritation to your eardrums and even the off-key singing of a (possibly) drunk girl at karaoke. You just wanted to cover your ears and crawl back to your bed not caring if you’d only be able to get 2 or 3 hours of sleep.

As you walked, you felt a boiling pile of liquid drip to your stomach making you let out a yelp as your clothes were drenched in the coffee stain that you despised. The liquid got to your skin making you wince at just how it impacted on your skin. You felt your eyes water as the woman tried to pat away the drink but instead made it worse because you wanted the fabric to be away from you as possible- which was the opposite of what she was doing.

“Oh my god- I'm so sorry.” She kept saying while patting your abdomen while you tried to wave her off, but she kept going making the tears flow from your eyes as you chose to walk away, covering your face at how humiliated you were. You sobbed in your hands as you bumped into someone before removing them from your face to find a bench to sit on but seeing that people were already turning their heads to look at you, you’ve had enough already.

Finally finding your bus stop, you sat down burying your face in the palm of your hands sobbing as your mind replays how you’ve made a fool out of yourself for the last time. Everything was going terribly and you didn’t know how to control it without losing your cool. Sure, you’ve managed to escape the people but the feeling is still badly glued to you.

“Is everything okay?”

Someone asks but the voice became a blur to you because you were so focused on your sobs and the unstable breathing.

“Go away.” You whispered but there was a weight added to your left side as you kept your face hidden behind your hands.

“I shouldn’t have asked.” The man says looking down before standing up to leave the bench, making you intake in a sharp exhale, relieved he left.

“Why does everything have to be so fucking difficult? How am I gonna interview a volleyball player at this state?” You rambled on thinking that guy has exited your business and was free from companion.

“I mean- we’re not close- but I’m a volleyball player?”

You wiped your eyes as your heart started to run a mile now that you’ve familiarized yourself with his voice.

Lifting your head, there in front of you was the one thing that your heart had wished to see.

“Atsumu?”

His eyes widen as his chest expands, his heart growing ten times bigger than it was while it beats like a drum on heavy metal song.

“Y/N- I didn’t know- wow.” Breathless, speechless, weak- those were the words that defined your emotions. You wanted to pass out- to act like you just mistaken him for a person but he was real and you had a hard time believing it.

“Atsumu?" God, he missed it. The way his name would fall of those taunting lips of yours. The tone in your voice leading him back to the memories that he couldn’t push away.

You had to believe it. There was no other way that your starvation can make you this delusional. You called his name like you were unsure that he was ever real- like a character your brain had developed to cope with your sorrows. You dared to touch him, maybe if you did it would be a wisp of air but you were scared that if you reached out to him, you could feel his skin and remember how you wanted it to be within your grasp all the time.

Perhaps it’s a dream but this time you’d never want to wake up if this was the only way you can be together.

“Y/N..I- how are you?” How could he manage to act so civil? Your presence shocked him like electricity in his veins, pumping his heart at an unusual speed. His voice was unsteady and low, experiencing the same thoughts like you.

It’s like he was dragged back to your last encounter. Seeing your eyes filled with so much agony and how you looked so torn from his rejection, it’s the same look that you had now. It’s like his eyes were playing a risky game with him but he couldn’t complain since he’s been wanting to see you ever since you let go.

“Well, I’m burned-out that’s for sure.” You said with a light chuckle as he sits back down, wondering if it’d be alright to be close to you.

“What’s this interview about?” He asks, fiddling with the strings of his jacket while you tore your eyes away from him because you knew the admiration for him would erupt anytime soon.

“What got athletes into the sport in the first place.” Atsumu places his finger under his chin, thinking deeply about what offer he just made.

It’d mean that he could be in the same room with you for more than the hours he spent crying to himself but why waste the chance? You needed it- heck you wouldn’t be this distraught if you weren’t so affected by it. There was a never-ending list of things to do but meeting with Atsumu wasn’t even in your list of expectations because you were over with hoping into something that takes a miracle.

But he is the miracle.

“Atsumu..I don’t want you to see me like this.” You said, looking down on your hands that were on your lap, letting your hair fall in front of you to avoid his concerned gaze.

“What do you mean?”

“I haven’t seen you in years, this is not what I planned to look like when I first see you.” Atsumu feels his heart frown at how low you spoke of yourself, but he understood. If you saw him in the state that you were in right now, he too would feel like he could’ve done or look better, even at least handle the situation without crumbling apart.

He knew you were in a troubled place of your mind but he just wonders where you could talk about why everything fell apart.

He missed the way it was casual to talk to you. Maybe an insult as a greeting, or a flick to the arm but he never expected to talk to you with his heart dropping in your hands. He just couldn’t forget the way you’d let him go that day during graduation, it’s almost like the sensation was still lingering around his palm even if he held a ball.

He just wished he said yes, only then, you’d be meant for each other.

“Do you mean it?” You asked sighing, not baring the weight of his silence. The pace of his heart quickens as he starts to worry if this was the confrontation that he held back all these years.

“The interview.” He was more than glad to do it. He was thankful that you weren’t talking about the bad memories or the circle of tension you two were in.

He looks at you while another strike was given to his heart seeing you this way. He’d do everything to bring back the color in your features.

“Of course.”

You smiled at his words as you both stand up but you felt conscious about the stain that was still stuck to your shirt making you desperately try to hide it by pulling your bag to the messed up section. Atsumu didn’t know that the person he had followed was the same person that got coffee dipped down on them. He didn’t recognize you at first because you had your hands covering your cries. He was worried for you when you ran off but when he knew it was you, he couldn’t believe if it was luck or a granted wish.

“Just wear this.” He says, handing you placing his jacket on your shoulders as your heart flutters at how he looked at you, completely filled with sincerity and the way his hand stayed on your shoulder.

“What the fuck do you want?” He asks you with a knife-like stare, purposely bumping harshly into you.

“Wow Miya, I was just walking.” You said returning the same fuel that he had.

“Then get out of my way then.”

“Thank you.” You said smiling lightly. He catches a glimpse of your smile and he feels his world light up at the sight of it.

I missed you.

“So where to?” He asks as you walk beside him just like old times. His height still intimidating you but it was still difficult to believe that this was the same Atsumu you had fallen for in high school.

“My apartment. We missed the bus so I hope it’s okay for you to wait.”

“I can always drive us there.” You’ve never whipped your head faster than this moment. You always trusted Osamu when he said that Atsumu couldn’t be a better driver than his own brother because Atsumu liked to rev up the engine like one of those scenes in a movie.

With the thought in your mind, you laughed.

Atsumu stops walking as he lets himself dwell at the sound of it.

Then there was a smile that he couldn’t contain.

“Sorry for laughing, ‘Tsumu. Never pictured you to have a car earlier than ‘Samu that’s all.” You explained as he chuckles, continuing to be beside you, a place that he finds himself to be the happiest.

“Yeah yeah I get it- I’m a little careless but not all the time y’know?” He says while he leads the way. The breeze felt comfortable now, it had a tweak of coldness but maybe it was just the atmosphere of you two.

When you walked to his car and told him your address, there was another silence but you tried to tell yourself that this was just Atsumu. Nothing to be worried about because you’ve known him for too long to act like all distant.

This is Atsumu- that's every reason that there is to feel nervous around him.

“How long have you been living there?” He asks while you started to feel just how badly you wanted to give in to sleepiness. You shifted once in a while to control yourself from falling asleep in his damn car. Every urge to just lay quiet for a while but you knew this would lead to a deep slumber.

“Ever since graduation.” You answered, annoyed that his jacket was inviting you to lay there and sleep away your stress though you were scared that once you wake up- Atsumu would be gone again.

“And you didn’t call to tell me about it?” He jokes but the chuckle that he expected never came because he knew just how awkward it’d be if you actually called just for that sole reason. Atsumu bites his lip at his failed attempt to drag the conversation on.

Then you giggled.

“I wanted to but I wouldn’t wanna bother the famous MSBY player.” You said smiling at him, proud that he continued on. You knew from Osamu of course, a single update when he had mentioned how well his restaurant had become, you also saw them in a poster once, even recognizing a few of his past opponents.

“Well, it would be a shame.”

There you are.

You finally arrived at your apartment and again you felt the slice of satisfaction as you removed your shoes and placed them on the table. You were partly thankful that your apartment was clean since you never have the time to spend a whole day in it only coming home late at night. Atsumu looks around as you prepare him a drink and a few snacks-it'd be rude not to.

Atsumu sees the photos where you won several awards for your loyalty and hardwork at your club. He sees how time passes and you grew into a version of you that he finds even more flawless then before. Your equipment and how everything was organized on your desk, he knew how much things changed because he used to see you doubt yourself every time you’d finish a paper but now you won awards because of them.

“Atsumu, is it alright if I shower real fast?” You asked while he raises a brow at you confused that you had to ask for his permission.

“Of course, Y/N- you didn’t have to ask.” He said chuckling while he sits on the couch, letting his eyes wonder around.

“I promise I’ll be back.”

“Please don’t rush yourself. Take yer time. “ He says while you smile at him before dashing to your room to gather new clothes, feeling like you’ve won a lottery with how happy you were to remove the coffee drenched top, tossing it to your laundry bin while you step into the shower enjoying the way the water decorated your skin, cleansing it from all the worries. While Atsumu scrolls on his phone to ease himself from the anxiousness. His finger would casually glide over Osamu’s phone number, to ask him what to do.

After a few minutes, you stepped out of the shower like a whole new person. You saw the way Atsumu’s eyes lit up when you walked in but you pushed the thought away. He pats the seat next to him while you grabbed your notebook and pen, ready to scribble down the questions.

“Are there any uncomfortable questions you’d want to avoid?” You asked him while he shakes his head while you took note of the possible questions.

“Is it okay for the interview to be filmed?” He nodded while you leaned onto the pillow, sighing happily at how you’ve managed to calm down from the pile of embarrassment earlier.

“Thank you for doing this, ‘Tsumu- really you don’t know how much I appreciate you for this.” You said leaning your cheek on the side of the couch as Atsumu copies your actions staring at you lovingly.

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” He says smiling while you returned to write a list of questions for him. With every time you look down on your notebook, Atsumu’s eyes never left you while his mind recalls every moment where he msised the opportunity to tell you just how beautiful you were.

Soon, you’ve fallen asleep while he lets the feeling sink in.

I’ve never wanted to hold you more than I do now.

He sighs before placing the blanket on your body while he kneels down and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, his finger tracing your cheek.

“You’ll never know how much I missed you.” He whispers while you shifted in your sleep meeting his face. Before he stands up, he feels you reach for him while he’s left surprise at your touch.

“Stay please.” You whispered while he smiles weakly, placing a kiss on your forehead.

“I always will.”

-

The morning comes and you felt the blush creep on your cheeks remembering how easily you felt asleep. You wondered if Atsumu stayed, if he left- you couldn’t really blame him. So yawning and stretching when you woke up, you certainly didn’t expect to see Atsumu cooking you some breakfast. You couldn’t even move your legs, every part of you has gone stiff just admiring the way he moves.

“Hey, good morning.” He greets with a wave, a spatula in his hand, a bright smile tugged on his lips.

“Atsumu- oh god I’m so sorry.” You said as you went to him. You caught a whiff of what he was cooking and you swore you could’ve drooled knowing you didn’t even got the chance to eat dinner. Atsumu knew that of course so he called Osamu up in the morning to serve you the best breakfast he could ever make. He was initially supposed to make you dinner but you fell asleep before he could do it so this was his rebound.

“Idiot, it’s fine. Just sit down on the table and I’ll prepare the food.”

“Atsumu-“

“Just go, Y/N. I promise it’s okay- you deserve to rest before you work again.” You couldn’t even think properly with his words. It was so minimum but it was something you’d forget to do- rest. Hearing him remind you that sets a new feeling in your system. You did obey him though, you sat on the table as he even handed you coffee for him and you, placing the breakfast on the table. God, he was everything. You thought that after a few years, you two would completely drift apart but it seems like you were wrong for the hundredth time.

“Please don’t even think about ways to thank me, it’s nothing to me. “ He says taking the seat next to you while you place the food on his plate. You couldn’t even utter a word at how grateful you were for him and he’d be happy to get used to seeing you first thing in the morning.

“Atsumu, after breakfast can we have a run down of the questions first?” You asked him, growing more comfortable.

“Yeah sure.”

-

You sat on the couch, placing your camera on the table aligning it to the best possible angle as Atsumu sits down in front of you. You had your notebook on your lap as he praises how you looked so professional even if it was just a practice.

“Ready?” You asked while he nods with a smile as you pressed the camera to shoot so you could keep your composure, even if you struggled to.

“What does the sport mean to you?” You asked him, your eyes glimmering with the suns rays hitting it perfectly, while the words were removed from Atsumus mind. Seeing his hesitation, you decided to reassure him.

“It’s fine if you can’t answer straight away. I can always change the question if you like.” You commented, smiling at him to make sure he doesn’t feel rushed to answer. He nods, still not finding the exact same words to describe what he wanted to say.

“I’ll change the question for now.” You said while he let’s out a sigh before listening to you once again.

“What was the biggest struggle in your career?” He sends you a worried stare but his mind nearly bursts at his answer.

“Getting over you.”

You dropped your pen on the couch as Atsumu continued to speak since this was the answer his heart was sure of responding to.

“I tried to forget- I did. For every year that passes, the more fucking harder it gets to act like I didn’t love you back when you walked away.”

“Atsumu-“

“I know I said no- I was too late to realize how stupid I was to be scared of falling for you. I couldn’t let myself be the man who could love you when all this time I tried to hate you because I knew I would hurt you- and I already did.”

We get hurt a lot but it doesn’t mean I won’t come back to you.

Love grew and died during your second year at Inarizaki.

Before Atsumu, you found Karou. A boy who was a new recruit to your group whose helped you multiple times and has shared a conversation with you about your similar likes. There was this strange infatuation with him that even Osamu had to question how deep was the bite of love on you. You’ve fallen, of course. Occasionally leaving notes on his desk to just let him know how he made your day but it never worked. He would only paste the note on another persons desk like it was nothing. Not even getting the reaction you wanted, it felt too normal when it shouldn’t be. Realizing how this was just rejection in the shadows, you gave up. Obviously heart broken at the mere thought of how your chances were blown away. When Atsumu saw how gloomy you were that day, he had to show you how much you didn’t need Karou and there grew a different bond between the both of you.

And with a bond like that, you became attached to him.

It was all becoming clearer and clearer as you realized that you fell for the wrong person first.

“You’re too stupid to fall for a douche like him. “ He says kicking the rock that was in front of him.

“You’re lucky with that admirer of yours, Miya. I’ve never seen someone stick around you for so long.” You teased. It’s true the half of the twin hearthrob has gotten himself a sincere admire. It wasn’t one of his crazy fans- this was a person who genuinely cared for him and the words on every note he received would make the poor boy blush uncontrollably and you envied how he’s yet to realize that he too was falling for this unknown person.

While you two were oblivious to the slip up of the universe, it took a toll on you.

Because the notes you’d leave on Karous desk, always ended up on Atsumu’s instead.

“I wanna meet them so bad. Just to see if they actually care and it’s not a prank. They haven’t given me a note and it’s been what a month? I doubt it was ever real.”

“With the amount of effort they gave, I’m sure it was real.”

It’s real for me even if it shouldn’t be.

There wasn’t any other way then to accept the feelings that stayed on your skin. The moments where you thought that being around Atsumu would bring you stressful banters and more, it turned into butterflies that surrounded your room. You chose to deny it at first but remembering that graduation and good-byes were near, you had to tell him at some point.

And when you did, you poured your heart out and not even a single drop was caught.

“Last words before I forget your dumbass?” He taunts while you felt your sweat drip down the side of your forehead as you couldn’t control it anymore. You wondered if there was a simple word to describe just how much you adored him without turning it into a whole speech. This was it- you had to do it or else you’d end up being stuck on the feeling of loving him.

“I..like you Atsumu and I can’t say good-bye without telling you.”

Then there was the awful silence that he gave making you clutch onto your shirt, preparing you for the worst.

But by the way he looked so terrified and frozen, you knew.

“Atsumu?”

“No- I’m sorry.”

“And I don’t know what I’d do if I let you leave again.” He whispers as he leans closer to you, taking your hands in his while your ability to speak has been taken away by how gentle he was as his thumb caresses your hand and a look that looked so fragile.

He takes his hand and cups your cheek, pulling you close to him as his vulnerability increases.

“Do you feel the same too?” He was being so careful because a wrong choice of a word could make it all fall apart again and you could feel how tense he was but he holds you like a gem- something so beautiful that it’d cost him his life if he ever dropped you.

Your hand lands on the same hand that was on your cheek while Atsumu’s eyes widen remembering how you neglected to hold his hand before.

But it stayed.

Closing your eyes and melting in his touch, you spoke.

“I never stopped loving you, Atsumu.”

He lets his forehead rest on yours, a smile on his lips, who was soon to be on yours.

“Then be mine all over again.”

[jaskierswolf]

Could'st we get some English major Valdo and performing arts major Jaskier? Por favor? 💖🥺💖

Comfy!! Of course you can my darling. 🥰

Rated E

CW: public sex, butt plugs, anal sex, top Jaskier, with a side of humiliation.

Jaskier wanted to tear his hair out. The whole fucking play had been his idea. He’d been spitballing ideas with Pris and Essi on the green outside the canteen on a free period, and he’d come up with a rather marvelous idea: a valiant battle between monster slayers and monsters, an undertone of what really made a monster, a side helping of tragic backstory for the lonely yet incredible handsome protagonist, and, of course, a gay as fuck romance story. It was fucking fantastic, and Essi had helped him act it out on the grass. They’d just been messing about, but he hadn’t noticed the spy lurking by the trees.

Valdo fucking Marx.

An unreasonably attractive, yet equally annoying, English major who had a habit of stealing Jaskier’s very best ideas. Well, not a habit exactly, this was the first time it had happened, but the bastard was getting all the credit! Not to mention that he’d taken out the gay as fuck romance and replaced it with something so drearily heteronormative. Jaskier didn’t have a problem with Yennefer, the lead actress, but he’d really been hoping that he’d be able to swindle a smooch with his long term crush and fellow thespian, Geralt Rivia.

The man was completely dreamy; tall, brooding and built like a house. There weren’t many men that were taller than Jaskier, and certainly not many who could throw him around like Geralt could. Jaskier was completely smitten.

But no.

Valdo just had to steal his idea and sell it to the theatre studies teacher before Jaskier could pitch it. He’d taken something utterly brilliant and made it unremarkable. It was pandering to the masses, taking out the gay romance to make it less ‘controversial’. It was bullshit, absolute fucking bullshit.

Jaskier sighed, tugging at his costume. It was itchy and cheap as fuck, instead of the fancy silk the bard character would definitely prefer. Dandelion was a nobleman, a bard, a poet, a troubadour. Dandelion wasn’t limited by the college costume department. It was devastating. Jaskier’s whole vision was falling apart. Even the witcher’s armour was scrappy and ill-fitting. Poor Gerald wouldn’t be able to fight a dog let alone a wyvern. Of course, for the next three scenes, Gerald would be off having adventures without Dandelion, because Valdo fucking Marx had butchered his script. It was supposed to be him and Geralt, sorry, Dandelion and Gerald, for the whole play. The bastard English Major had known exactly what he was doing, the cockblocking little prick.

Fuck.

He really needed to get laid. It would wipe that smarmy look off of Valdo’s face, and Jaskier could go back to being the phenomenal actor that he was. He sighed again and peered out behind the curtain. Valdo was sitting in the auditorium watching the dress rehearsal, his bloody shirt barely done up, his long dark hair bunched up in a bun on the top of his head revealing the undercut on either side.

He was really unfairly hot.

Which gave Jaskier an idea. It was as stupid as it was ridiculous but he was horny and he wouldn’t be onstage for ages. Everyone else was on the stage or busy getting changed. He had at least fifteen minutes on his own… he’d have to be quick, but he was a master of seduction, even if it was his nemesis.

He waved Valdo down from the wings, delighting in the obnoxious way the English Major rolled his eyes. Jaskier was going to have so much fun taking him down a peg or too. He licked his lips, and ruffled his hair up a bit, going for a roguishly handsome look. His cock was already started to fill out at the thought of fucking his rival backstage where they could be interrupted at any moment. Maybe it would even be Geralt… and Geralt would join in…

Shit. No.

Focus.

“What is it, Julian?” Valdo sneered, but he didn’t have time to say anything else before Jaskier had him pinned up against the wall.

“You stole my play, Marx,” Jaskier murmured in his ear, pressing their bodies together so that Valdo would be able to feel his erection.

Valdo scoffed. “And you get off on plagiarism now?”

“I get off on wanting to fuck someone that I hate,” Jaskier growled, running his nose under Valdo’s jaw, inhaling the musky scent of his cologne. “If you’re down? We won’t have long though?”

“What?! Now?”

“Shhh, quiet. Yes, now. Problem?”

Valdo smirked, his smile almost sinister. Fire burned in his eyes as he licked his lips, his gaze taking in Jaskier’s appearance like a hungry dog. “No, no problem. Just unexpected.”

“Brilliant, turn around,” Jaskier snapped, releasing Valdo just enough so he could spin the English Major so that his chest was pressed against the wall. He ignored the protests of the man beneath him, “and be quiet.”

“Bastard, Pankratz,” Valdo hissed. “You better make this good.”

“That’s not being quiet,” Jaskier growled in Valdo’s ear, fishing a condom from the other man’s pocket. “how predictable, do you have lube too?”

“Other side,” Valdo grumbled, unzipping his jeans and pushing them down along with his boxers. He took his cock in hand whilst Jaskier fiddled with the condom and searched for the packet of lube, grinning when he found it.

Jaskier was about to slick up his fingers when he noticed the pretty green plug stuff into Valdo’s hole. “Oh you little whore, how often do you wear this?”

“I thought we didn’t have much time, shut up and fuck me, Julian.

Kissing Valdo’s neck, Jaskier worked the plug free. It came loose in no time, lube glistening around the ring of muscle. Valdo moaned quietly as he tried to muffle the sound, biting against his own hand. “How long have you wanted me, Valdo?” Jaskier purred his rival’s name in his ear, sultry and low.

They both groaned as Jaskier pushed inside. Even with the plug, Valdo was tight around his cock, and it felt completely divine. The thrill of people so near to other people was intoxicating, lighting a fire at Jaskier’s core. He could hear the sounds of Geralt and Yennefer running through their lines on the stage, some stupid argument that hadn’t been in Jaskier’s original plan. Of course, Jennefer had been Gerald’s best friend and confident in Jaskier’s version, and Dandelion was the love interest.

He fucking hated Valdo Marx.

“Why did you change it, Marx?” he hissed through gritted teeth, nipping at Valdo’s earlobe. “It was perfect, it was mine.”

“It would never have been allowed,” Valdo gasped, half moaning as Jaskier pounded into him at a relentless pace, one hand wrapped around his rival’s cock. “The idea was too good to waste.”

Jaskier grunted as he bit down on the tender skin of Valdo’s neck. He hadn’t realised he was this wound up but he was close already, his mind a foggy haze of arousal. Geralt and Yennefer’s voices sent shivers down his spine. They were so close, only a curtain’s width away, and that was so fucking hot. He never thought he would fuck Valdo Marx, the infuriating bastard, but like this, not even able to see his face as he used him for his own pleasure...

“Fuck,” Jaskier groaned, losing any witty retort he might have had. His only thought was for his own release, movements getting erratic. Jaskier barely bit back a moan as he grew ever closer to cumming deep inside his rival.

His hips bucked forward, pinning Valdo against the wall. The angle must have changed because the obscene moan that Valdo let out was absolutely sinful. Jaskier barely managed to stop his thrusts, both men freezing as they struggled to keep their breaths. Panicking, Jaskier threw his hand across Valdo’s lips.

“Careful, you whore,” he hissed.

“Oh like you didn’t want that to happen,” Valdo spat back, pushing back onto Jaskier’s cock and guiding Jaskier’s hand on his cock. “You wanted me, Julian, not the other way round.”

“Shut up!” Jaskier whispered, pressing them closer to the wall, unable to stop himself from rocking into Valdo.

The play hadn’t stopped. Geralt and Yennefer were still verbally sparring, with the occasional interruption from their director. They’d gotten away with it. Jaskier let out a shaky breath and continued his movements. The pleasure began to build again, quicker than before and it didn’t take long for sparks to fly as he felt the all too familiar twist at his core. He bit his lip as he came, burying his face into Valdo’s shoulder. Valdo whimpered and gasped alone a few moments later, spilling over his hand.

Jaskier pulled out in a hurry, wrapping up the condom and tossing it in a nearby bin as he pulled up his trousers. He was pleased to see Valdo still panting against the wall as he tried to regain his composure. Jaskier chuckled, swatting Valdo’s arse as he went past. The forgotten butt plug was lying on the ground next to the wall so Jaskier picked it up. He pressed it into Valdo’s hand. “I think this is yours.”

“Fuck you, Julian,” Valdo stammered.

“Maybe next time, Marx, I have a play to finish.”

[iceywrites]

Hello @catching-bananas and @norisquared . Here's my submission for the prompt chocolate but it's more about handmade/sentimental. Sorry about that.

---

Yut Lung sighed and looked at the mess in front of him. He'd made two cakes, burnt both of them, contemplated setting the kitchen on fire and started again. He was getting real tired of this shit.

He sighed and started mixing the dry ingredients again. He was going to make a chocolate cake for Sing even if it meant using all the world's flour.

Also why couldn't Sing like something normal, like...water? Damn Sing for making him do this. He could have been reading something, but here he was preparing a chocolate cake because he loved that asshole and it was Valentine's day.

Yut Lung adds some sugar, a tad bit more than required because Sing has a sweet tooth.

His maid walks into the kitchen for the fourth time and if he had a knife around him, she would have been dead.

"Do you need any help, Master Yut Lung?" She asked politely but since he had known her for years, he heard the underlying get the fuck out of here in her voice.

"No, I'm fine." He replied and shooed her off.

Just when he was adding the baking powder in the dry ingredients, his bodyguards walked in.

"Master Yut Lung, Master Sing wants to meet you."

Yut Lung's entire body stilled at that sentence. He isn't even ready! Why the fuck does Sing always have to have the wrong timing?

"Make some excuse, don't let him in." He quickly mixed the wet ingredients, and added to his order while pointing a sharp glare at them, "If he gets in, you're all dead. Understand?" They nod and leave him alone.

He quickly taped the tin twice and put it in the oven. He rushed to the counter to melt the chocolate to pour over the cake. Just when he the chocolate started melting, he added some more in case he fucked it up again and needed some back up. He was so focused that if someone came and shot him, he might not even feel the bullet pass through his body. It was a good distraction.

Fifteen minutes into the baking and melting more than enough chocolate because he couldn't stop being a nervous wreck, he felt two hands on his shoulders. "Missed me, Yue?"

Yut Lung promptly shrieked at the unexpected arrival of his boyfriend. In his kitchen. When he was preparing a cake. For him. "How did you get here?" He asked with widened eyes.

Sing smirked. "Climbed the wall, of course." He eyed the mess on the counter. "Are you making something for me?" He asked, positively beaming.

Well, no point lying now. "Yes. Now go and sit in the corner or something, facing away from here." Yut Lung said pointing his spatula at Sing. He frowned but followed.

Sing bought his legs up to his chest and faced the wall like he'd been asked to. He chuckled after a second of settling in that position. "I feel like I'm being punished."

Yut Lung searched the fridge in case his maid had decided to buy some sprinkles or some decorations. "Maybe. Now stop distracting me." He could tell that Sing was pouting but he kept quiet after that.

After ten minutes, the timer buzzed and Yut Lung went to pull the cake out of the oven. Sing crawled half the distance and walked the other half to the counter.

"Is it done?" He asked.

Yut Lung pushed in a knife and it came out clean. He allowed a small satisfactory smile. "Yeah."

Sing took the knife from his hand but he promptly swatted his Sing's hand away. "Wait." He went to add the chocolate only to find that it had frozen. He groaned in frustration. "Don't touch it yet." He took the bowl and shoved it the microwave.

After getting the right consistency, Sing dipped his finger in it and quickly licked it with a teasing smile on his face because he hated Yut Lung that much. The chocolate was poured over the cake and it was done.

"Can I eat it now?" Sing asked, trying hard not to bounce in his place. He could get as old as he wanted but he was still a fucking child. And Yut Lung loved him.

Sing cut a generous portion for himself and took a bite, all the while Yut Lung observed his face for his reaction. He smiled after a few moments but it seemed forced. Yut Lung slumped. "It's not good?"

Sing seemed alerted by that statement and he pushed his smile a little further. "No, no. It's perfect. I loved it."

He slumped further. "Let me try it."

But Sing pushed it away from him, standing before it and guarding it. "I thought you made it for me?"

His face was a deadpan as he pushed his fingers into cake and tore off a piece. Sing winced as he bit into it.

Not even after one second of that hideous thing touching his tongue, he spat it out. He reached for the bottle of sugar and - his guess was right - it was salt. He added a shit ton of salt into that cake.

This time he did shriek out of agony. His maid came to check in but Sing shooed her away.

Deep breaths. In. And out. He was going to make that fucking cake whatever it takes.

Just as he was heading to the pantry to get some more flour, Sing pulled him by his arm. "What are you doing?"

"Baking you a goddammed cake!" He replied through gritted teeth.

Sing wrapped himself around Yut Lung and the latter stilled. "It's okay , Yue, it's the thought that counts."

Yut Lung snorted. "No it doesn't."

"Of course it does Yue. It means a lot to me that you wanted to make a cake for me."

Before he could retort to that, his stomach grumbled and a blush started forming on his cheeks.

Sing smiled and took his hand. "How about you come with me to Chang Dai now, and then we can cook that cake together?"

"Fine." He said and Sing picked him up in his arms.

"I can walk just fine! Put me down!"

"I know you can walk, but then you wouldn't have that adorable blush on your face.

He hides his face in Sing's chest. "Shut up."

---

For anyone else who wants to write something for this prompt week, here are the prompts:

Have fun!

[et-lesailes]

alibi

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

word count: 2485

summary: the death of harlan thrombey is being investigated, and while ransom seems to be the perfect suspect, he also has the perfect alibi.

themes: mentions of murder, drama, fluff

taglist: @evanstush​, @chibi-crazy​, @tanyam93​, @bval-1​, @wonderwinchester​,  @patzammit​, @rohaintahquil​, @deidrashouseofpain��, @sammyslonglostshoe​, @mizariomi​, @jadedhillon​, @bohemian-barbie​, @marvelouspottering​, @sebabestianstan101​, @lille-kattunge​, @peach-acid​, @heyiamthatbitch​, @cptn-sgrogers​, @heyyouwiththeassbutt​, @bangtan-serendipity​, @troublermalik​, @beardburnsupersoldiers​, @hannie-stark​, @bookish-shristi​, @kind-sober-fullydressed​, @whores4thor​, @gingerninjaprincess16​, @straightforwardly​, @danathewitchywoman​, @denisemarieangelina​, @mango--mango​, @frencchfries​, @xlanawriter​, @littlemoistcarrot​, @pottxrwolff​, @arianatheangelworld​, @ifuseekamyevans​, @southerngracela​, @nsfwsebbie​, @rororo06​​, @almost-had-the-stars​, @sebastian-i-stan​, @whysparker​​

notes: this was based on an idea given to me by @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory​ and i absolutely loved it! i did change it up a little, and no i did not reveal who the actual killer is-- because i don’t know how to write mystery fics for shit, and i wanted to focus on ransom and reader’s relationship rather than solving an entire ass murder. anywho there are references to scenes from the movie so if you’re sensitive to spoilers then don’t read! and thank you to @thewritingdoll​ for the graphic!

“You think I killed my Granddad.”

Ransom looks at Detective Benoit for a few seconds before scoffing, even smirking as he looks to the window of the elegant room lined with bookshelves. “And why exactly do you think that?”

“Now I didn’t say that.” The detective drawls, leaning forward and looking at the younger with intense crystal hues. “But you left his party early, right after a rather serious fight with him, and you don’t bother to show to the funeral… seems a little suspicious. I’d like to know where you were.”

Ransom looks at the detective for a few moments before leaning in as well. “Where I was,” he lowers his voice, “is none of your goddamn business. It’s not even relevant to anyone in this goddamn family, so you can go ahead and get your Kentucky Fried ass out of it right now.” He stands up, looking at the detective almost challengingly. “Maybe you should find another occupation, Detective, because you don’t seem all that great at this one.”

Benoit watches as the man turns around and walks out the door. A few seconds later, he stands up as well, walking outside. He gets into the passenger side of a waiting car, the headlights turned off.

He nods towards Detective Elliot sitting in the driver’s side. “Follow him.”

TWENTY-FOUR HOURS EARLIER

“Interesting how you’ll show up at the reading of the will and not at your grandfather’s actual funeral.” Walt Thrombey comments as Ransom strides into the room, his expression bored as he tucks his sunglasses into his pocket. He barely smirks in amusement upon his uncle’s comment, sitting himself down on one of the couches and crossing his legs. “Had another commitment. Unlike you, I wasn’t stuck up his ass my whole life.”

Walt widens his eyes, immediately shooting up from his seat through struggling slightly with his limp. “What the hell did you just say to me? That’s not true, w-we worked together, of course we had to spend time together!” His wife quickly grabs his arm, giving Ransom a dirty look. “Just sit down, sweetheart.” Ransom notices his father barely chuckle out of the corner of his eye. 

What a family.

“You shouldn’t be here, Ransom,” Meg hisses, glaring at her older cousin. “You never appreciated Granddad. All you did was fight with him all the time.” Her mother Joni bites her lip but murmurs, “Up until his very last night…. Seems a little suspicious.” Linda immediately turns on her. “Excuse you? Are you trying to imply something here concerning my son?” 

“Oh come on, Linda,” Walt scoffs, “I bet you wouldn’t put it past him either. Kid’s a sociopath, always has been. We’ve been telling you to get him help for years.”

“My son does not need help!” Richard raises his voice, standing up infuriated. “And do you really want to talk about damaged children right now? Have you met Jacob?”

The young teenage boy looks up from his phone, clearly offended. “What’s wrong with me? Besides, I told you guys, I heard Ransom basically threatening Granddad! He clearly did it!” His mother quickly rubs his arm. “Nothing’s wrong with you, Jacob.” The fight only escalates from there, insults directed towards all the Thrombey children firing back and forth. 

Ransom can’t help himself. It starts out as a grin, then a low chuckle, then finally a loud cackle of laughter. He’s practically thumping the armrest of the couch, shaking his head to himself. “Oh, God. You guys are too funny. We should do this more often.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Meg practically screeches, “What is wrong with you? How are you getting enjoyment from this?” Over her voice, other comments can be heard-- “He shouldn’t even be here!” “Can he just fucking leave already?” “Do something about your son!” “Why do you guys suck as parents?” “He should be removed from the damn family!” “Fucking spoiled brat!” “Cut him off already!”

Ransom scoffs, his face still full of amusement. “How about… eat shit,” he points to Meg, then Walt, “and you eat shit,” he continues, then chuckles seeing his parents reprimanding him, “you definitely eat shit…” 

He’s still going as everyone’s telling him how “classy” he is, the uproar becoming louder and louder. Perhaps anyone else in his position would be affected by this-- it normally isn’t easy for most to be so hated and despised by their own family, and it’s generally quite stressful to be in a yelling match with at least seven other people. Not for Ransom, though. He’s lived with this dysfunction his whole life, and now, he only finds it hilarious how uptight and irritable his high strung family gets. They make it so damn easy for him to have some fun.

“Hello? Excuse me!” a loud voice rings above all the fighting, and everyone falls silent, looking towards the doorway. An old man is standing there, looking at the family in both shock and disgust. “We’re ready to read the will now, if you all are done.” Everyone immediately gets up, nodding their heads and forgetting all about the drama Ransom’s started.

For now, anyways.

Detective Benoit Blanc can’t help but study Ransom as the will is being read, taking in how calm and collected he is. He has not eliminated any suspects, and God knows this entire family is a mess of dysfunction and motive, but he has at least had the opportunity to talk with them and get to know them a little better. Ransom is still a mystery, and he finds this suspicious.

It is not long before the family is in an uproar again, this time over the will. Even Benoit is shocked. All of Harlan’s inheritance, gone to Marta Cabrera? He looks to Ransom, who’s simply sitting there grinning like an idiot- even beginning to laugh hysterically.

Ransom appears to be the only one who knew of Harlan’s plans before anyone else in the family. Benoit takes note of this. Perhaps it will help him later on. 

PRESENT TIME

“There’s two cars in the driveway.” Lieutenant Elliot notes, the two of them watching as Ransom gets out of his. “A Honda Civic. Nothing flashy, expensive-- certainly not Ransom’s.” Benoit murmurs, keeping his head slightly low as he keeps an eye on the man from their spot behind a tree. He walks into the modern style home, and Elliot barely chuckles. “These giant windows sure help. Jesus, he must not care too much for privacy.” He raises an eyebrow, adding, “Not that this is going to give us anything, Benny, come on-- the guy killed himself. That’s all there is to it.”

“There’s just something about this boy.” Benoit sighs, looking to the house calmly. “He’s… hiding something. From his entire family. I’d like to make sure it doesn’t involve Harlan’s death.” 

What the two see in the next five minutes is definitely unexpected, to say the least. Elliot watches the living room window in shock, scoffing slowly. “Unbelievable. This is what he’s hiding? How-- how could his family not know?” 

Benoit watches, his expression unreadable for a few moments before the corner of his lips slowly tugs upwards. “I see.” He murmurs, more so to himself. “I suppose the kid could be innocent, after all.” 

“Why am I here again?” Ransom raises an eyebrow at the man before him, crossing his legs. “We’ve already gone over this. I didn’t kill my Granddad, and I’m not answering any questions as to where I-”

“Anette Harper Drysdale.” Benoit cuts him off, looking at an open file in his hands. “Born November 22nd at 11:42 AM.” He looks up at Ransom’s shocked expression, tilting his head to one side. “During your grandfather’s funeral.” He looks back down at the file, flipping to another page. “It appears her mother arrived at the hospital the night before, though. Early contractions. You checked in to see her at 9:23 PM and didn’t check out until after the baby was born.”

“How do you have those?” Ransom immediately hisses, shooting up from his chair and reaching out to grab the file. Benoit lets him, having suspected he would do as much anyways. “We had reasonable suspicion, and so the hospital was required to give it to us. I’m only confused as to why you didn’t just tell us all of this from the start. You clearly had no part in your grandfather’s death. Why not prove yourself innocent with this?”

“Because my family can’t know about Y/N. And they especially can’t know about Anette.” Ransom sits back down, teeth grit from frustration. “Fine. You got me, alright? I’m married. And now, I have a daughter. A daughter who isn’t even a week old. That’s all I’m hiding here, and I want to continue hiding it. I’m not introducing my real family to this fucked up bunch.”

“I won’t tell them.” Benoit replies after studying the other for a few moments. “I have to admit, I had you all wrong.”

“Yeah, most people do. Look, being with Y/N- I’m not the same person I was before. I mean, sure, I’m not a fucking saint. And I’ll still take any chance I can to see my parents, cousins, uncles, aunts-- to see them get screwed over just because of how damn entertaining it is. But I’m never, never going to do something to jeopardize my wife, and now, my daughter. Do you get that?”

Benoit looks at the intensity in Ransom’s features. He’s sure the boy knows how to lie like a pro, but he can tell he’s not lying now.

“You can go, Ransom. I’ve officially eliminated you as a suspect from this case.”

You’re sitting at home in the nursery and cradling your sweet baby girl to sleep when Ransom walks in, his loud sigh echoing through the spacious living room. “Oh!” you whisper, wanting to call to him that you’re upstairs but definitely not wanting to wake little Anette. You carefully stand up, holding her close as you walk out of the nursery, coming to the banister that gives you a view of the front door so you can wave to him to come up. He immediately grins upon seeing you, taking off his coat and scarf tossing both on the nearby couch before making his way upstairs. “Hey.” He mumbles lowly, wrapping one arm around you and kissing your head. “How is she?” You smile, leaning into your boyfriend’s hold. “A little angel. I can’t believe how lucky we got, she barely cries-- only when she’s hungry.” 

He stares down at his daughter’s face, almost in disbelief with himself. He never cared for babies, or for people for that matter. After living with such a shit family like his, he had never really learned what loving or caring for someone was like. He watched them use others, use his grandfather’s money for their own success, and so that’s what he did. People were puppets to be manipulated, and he could bend them to his will however he wanted because of his family’s money.

And then he met you. No, it wasn’t love at first sight, no bullshit like that. He hates to think about it but in the beginning, he saw you as he saw every other female companion he came across. Someone to play with, someone to throw money at for a couple of weeks just for the hell of it, someone to satisfy his sexual needs. 

At least, that’s what he had wanted from you. And you were certainly not giving into it. 

He remembers how shocked yet intrigued he had been. You wouldn’t accept any money from him, and you didn’t fall for any of his charming flirtations. He even had to watch you date other men right in front of him before finally realizing this was driving him crazy. It started out as simply wanting something he couldn’t have. As he got to know you, it turned into just… wanting you no matter what. It stopped becoming some type of challenging game to him. It became reality. 

He thought he was the master manipulator in any relationship, but damn, you managed to twist him into all sorts of shapes and forms without even trying.

“She gets it from you, you know.” He mutters playfully with a scoff as he carefully walks you back into the nursery, eyes still fixated on his sleeping baby’s face. “Can’t even imagine having one like me running around.” You laugh softly at the thought, gently setting the little girl down into her crib. She barely frowns and you hold your breath, worried that those blue-green eyes might open along with a wailing mouth, but she simply settles down again and resumes sleeping. “Well, that might be a possibility in the future,” you remark as you step back, looking up at him with an amused smile. “Aren’t you the one who said you want us to have at least three?”

“Mainly because you look so fucking sexy when you’re pregnant.” Ransom mutters, leaning down to bury his head in your neck and start kissing at every inch of skin he can. “It’s just so hot seeing you carry my child.” You smile as you tilt your head, reaching your hand up to stroke his hair. “Well my handsome baby daddy, you can calm down for the time being because I have no plans of being pregnant again right after giving birth.” He sighs dramatically as the two of you leave the nursery, closing the door but leaving it slightly cracked open. “Mm, fine, we’ll talk when Anette’s one.”

You chuckle softly but bite your lip, holding his hands as you stop to look up at him. “What did he ask you?” Ransom pauses before sighing, looking down at you seriously. ���He knows about us. About Anette. But he promised he wouldn’t tell my family. He just cleared me from the case, I’m officially not involved anymore.”

You sigh in relief, squeezing his hand lightly. “That’s great, baby. But... what are you going to do?” you ask, a little worried. “Sooner or later you’re not going to have their money anymore. I don’t mind being the only one working, babe, but with a single income we might have to move out of this place…”

Ransom looks down at you more seriously, reaching out to stroke a strand of your hair behind your ear. “If I have to get a job at my mom’s stupid real estate agency, I will. No matter what, we’ll figure this out. I’m going to do whatever I can if it means providing for the two of you and giving you the best damn life possible, got it?”

You smile and nod your head, standing on your tiptoes to peck his lips. “As long as you’re here with us, we’ve already got the best life.” 

[anthonyed]

For the kissing writing prompts: 19 + Stony

elle, neither you nor i can choose enemy to lovers / friends to lovers so, i meshed them both together (from this list : One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss.)

-//-

“Are you both gon’ keep doing this thing you’re so keen on doing?” Fury asks, teeth gritting on ‘keen’ as he glares at Steve.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve says, poker-faced, eyes blank, staring right back at Fury.

Fury looks away, “And you?” He barks. “Mr Stark!”

Tony Stark looks up, exaggeratedly startled from his lounging; one hand over his glowing blue chest and another clutching his phone and he gasps, “Who? Me?”

Steve couldn’t help it, he snorts. Next to him, Tony’s mouth twitches.

Across them, Fury closes his one eye and takes a long deep breath. “Listen here, motherfuckers,” he states, “I do not have time to deal with the repercussions of your scream fights in the middle of streets; in the broad daylight while the media is zeroing in on your grown asses like vultures – Look!” he snaps, blue lights flickering mid-air over his office table and a video starts to play.

It's a footage of their post battle disagreement – which Fury so eloquently called a ‘scream fight’ -; in which Captain America and Iron Man, with their faces exposed, are yelling at each other, hands flying out in accusations and pure temperament.

In the office, Steve sits in his casual wear, back ram-rod straight, still poker-faced but knuckles white, fists clenched on his lap.

Beside him, Tony Stark looks eerily composed; not a single emotion in his face, eyes hidden safely behind his tinted glasses as he continues to rock back on forth in his chair. When the video ends, he looks at Fury. “I’ll talk to Pepper,” he shrugs, “If your PR is incompetent, mine can take over. No need to get all riled up over it - Look, you’re even getting wrinkles -,”

“Stark!” Fury barks. “What I want.” He grits out, one eye dancing from Steve to Tony, “Is for that to never happen again,” he jabs at the screen. “This is not about your image. This is me, being concerned about the state of your team.”

Tony scoffs. Steve on the other hand, flushes with shame. “It won’t happen again,” he tells Fury. The chair beside him creaks and Tony stands up straightening his suit. Steve looks at him expectantly, hoping he’d say something, but he isn’t even looking back.

Instead, he turns around, already making his leave. Steve hastily promises Fury, rising from his own chair and he hurries after Tony.

He catches him outside the elevator, but he waits until they’re both inside, stares at the one agent in there, holding the open button until that agent leaves and he rounds up on Tony.

“What’s going on?” He asks, not bothering to beat around the bush anymore. He’d done it for the last two weeks and he’s tired. “Tony.” He presses when no response comes.

Tony snaps, “What?!” Looking more than affronted; livid. Mad.

And Steve reels back, shaken by the unexpected venom dripping from his friend. Or who used to be his best friend – he doesn’t know where they stand anymore. Not after how everything changed – don’t know what caused it even – after Tony returned from Belgium a fortnight ago, and he started treating Steve differently. Worse than he used to before they were friends – No.

Even then, Tony would still talk to him. Needle him, taunt him or something to get a reaction out of Steve. But this time, he’s just plain ignoring Steve; acting as if Steve isn’t even there and then they were called out for a mission and Steve yelled at him because he was trying to get himself blown up again and only then he yelled back at Steve and now. Now, Steve’s trying to talk to him, ask him what’s wrong, and he’s apparently angry at Steve.

It wouldn’t have hurt if they never had ever become as close friends as they had, but they did, and now it just hurts.

“What did I do?” Steve asks. Ready to amend, do something – anything - to mend whatever he had unknowingly broken to have their friendship back.

Tony blinks, as if he’s surprised; the only genuine emotion Steve ever saw from him today, then he looks away.

Swallowing the sharp pain behind his throat, Steve looks at him and demands again, “Tony. What did I do?”

“Nothing.”

Then why!? He wants to wail. Why are you – Why are we like this? What is happening? What’s going on? – So many questions and he stops to think because he’d learned from the past that when it comes to Tony Stark, he cannot be rash. He needs to properly assess every angle, consider every option before he opens his mouth.

But the problem is, he’s so blinded where he stands that he doesn’t even know if there are any angles around him. What more, what shape or state they are.

He pulls in a breath and declares, “I want to fix it.”

Tony’s gaze snaps towards him. “Fix what?”

“Whatever I did.”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“Then why -,” Steve begins, promptly interrupted by the elevator door opening and he’s so frustrated that he jabs at the door close button and swipes his hand across all the floors; ensuring no interruptions until they reach the topmost floor of the premise.

“Really?” Tony snorts, one eyebrow arched up at a challenging angle and Steve frowns at him.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

Tony’s face carefully blanks out and he looks away again before he answers, “I’m not. I’m a very busy man – as a matter of fact I have a meeting to attend in five minutes and you’re going to answer to Pepper when she calls because -,”

“I’ll answer her, don’t worry about it," Steve cuts him off. "Now, you answer me – and don’t lie – why are you avoiding me?”

Tony scoffs, as if Steve’s spouting nonsense, “I just told you that -,”

“You’re a very busy man,” Steve cuts him off. “I know. But you used to talk to me. Since you came back from your last business trip, you never said a word to me, never came out of that lab of yours, refused me access to -,”

“I texted you I was working on something dangerous!”

“JARVIS texted me, Tony. I may be technologically inept but I know when it’s you texting me and when you’re asking JARVIS to do it. You’ve been avoiding me -,”

“I was busy!” Tony hisses, marching out of the elevator as soon as the doors open; glad to rid himself off of Steve.

But Steve doesn’t let him get too far; follows him until they pass by an empty room and he yanks him in. 

“What did I do?” he asks again. Almost begging, feeling that sharp prickling behind his throat ascend to the back of his nose and then his eyes, watery.

“Tell me. I want to fix it.” And he can’t help it when his desperation leaks through, if he sounds like he’s begging, because he is. There is no doubt in that. 

Tony has somehow become the single most important person in his life after he’d given up and accepted that nothing is permanent; after he was robbed 70 years of his life, after he’d lost everything he’d known and was asked to start over and he had been so lost.

He was so hateful; he was so done with everything, numb to the world, apathetic, except for Tony Stark who just couldn’t stop bothering him and time after time managed to rile him up something different. He hated Tony too, once upon a time.

Then things changed. 

Out of all those angry snipes, and jibes, something pure blossomed. They became friends, and it’s the most hard earned relationship in the entirety of Steve’s life, he doesn’t want to lose it. He refuses to lose it. 

Even if this ship wants to go down, even if Tony is adamant to burn it to the ground, Steve will single-handedly fight him for it. 

He can’t lose this. He can’t lose Tony. He loves them too much; loves Tony too much, and he knows how Tony has tendencies to sabotage himself, self destruct in the process, but Steve won’t let him destroy this. Won’t let him destroy them.

He'd already fought himself - burnt his own illicit desires to keep them alive - and he can do it again. 

“Let me fix it.”

Tony’s eyes seem to soften marginally before they harden and he bodily slams Steve up against the wall. Everything happens so quickly then forth that Steve's first conscious thought is: Is he kissing me?

But that’s too late because Tony’s already pulling away; hands still fisted around Steve’s collar, head hung low, hair brushing the front of Steve’s shirt and he exhales, “I can’t,” broken and raw.

Still shaken, Steve reaches to hold Tony’s arm to ground himself, but it only makes Tony flinch and step away from him. One second, he’s a flash of pain and the next, it's cold indifference.

“This is why,” he states, turning away from Steve. “I need time to fix me.”

Frowning, Steve tips his head sideways and asks, “Why?”

Tony’s head whips around to face him, “Why?” he asks back, scandalised, “I just jumped you, you blonde idiot. I’m in love with you! You want friendship while I want to fuck you and then take you out on dates and do that over and over for everyday of my life and Steve. I want to see your face the first thing in the morning, I want to kiss you awake, I want to kiss you to sleep, I want to burn omelets trying to make you breakfasts in bed, I want to hold you, do all those juvenile things teenagers do, bring you to Disneyland, see you smile, see you laugh and I want to be the reason why -,”

“But you are the reason why,” Steve interrupts, stepping away from the wall, into Tony’s space. “You make me smile, you make me laugh -,”

“As a friend!” Tony steps back. “You want me to be your friend.”

When Steve shakes his head and says, “I didn’t say that,” Tony stops. 

“What?” he blurts out, brown eyes blinking wide in surprise. Steve's own chest is blooming hopes like daisies in spring. 

“I love you,” he tells Tony, first and foremost. Because that, is the truth. And important. Then, “All those things you said? Tony. I want them too. I've been wanting them for a very long time. But I need you in my life in whatever way I can have you and if it would only be as my friend, then I was happy to accept it. But, Tony. Trust me. I do. I do want everything with you. And more."

And Tony, he takes in a shuddering breath, leaning into Steve, speechless with his face cradled in Steve’s hands; soft and gentle. Listening to him say, “Don’t fix yourself, Tony. You’re perfect as you are,” - And the part of him he’s been trying to rip off from weeks ago; the part of him that’s so attached to Steve, that needs him every second of the day to breathe, that loves him so bad, pushes him forward and makes him taste those words from Steve’s lips.

Kisses him hungry, yearning and when he’s running out of breath, he pulls back, realises he’s practically wrapped around Steve but doesn’t care. He asks, “Do you want to do this?”

In answer, Steve kisses him back; deep, walking them until Tony’s back hits the wall, head cushioned under Steve’s palm, fingers twining through his hair and he licks into Tony’s mouth, whispers his firm ‘yes’ in there and everywhere over Tony’s face. 

[jtrbluv]

shutterbug | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, unbearable but relatable tiger parents

request: Jungkook,, one shot,, 38 + 40 please 😊😊 @asiivnc 

“you leave whenever you feel like it.” & “don’t apologize if you don’t mean it.”

A/N: sheesh, i have not posted in a hot minute! i’ve been trying to work on this single request throughout quarantine and it really only came down to these last few days where i literally had a spike of inspo and drive and well,, ideas LOL. i considered an alternate angstier ending but i am a self-indulgent mofo who doesn’t like to make myself cry even though i’m sure i cried while writing this at least once (maybe twice). there is so much jk content on my blog i wanna set aside more time to write for other members from now on until i’m satisfied! regardless, thank you @asiivnc for requesting this and sorry for the wait luv, hopefully this can make up for it !!

Jungkook was known to be heavily passionate and fully invested in whatever his life had revolved around at that moment. As a film/photography major, as well as a man that just had a strange knack for being naturally adept at whatever was thrown at him, he incessantly poured his utmost efforts into his works. You weren’t any different, as you held just as much significance in his life as the way his serotonin levels would skyrocket as soon as his fingertips touched his precious camera.

Not to be self-absorbed, but you always thought of yourself as his muse. Or befittingly for his sake, the subject of the photo that you would give the title ‘his lover’.

You were so indisputably sure that you loved the boy and even moreso that he felt the same. While being so accustomed to his own nurturing ways and devotion to you and the reciprocated energy on your part, the bone-crushing weight of college hindered all and didn’t give a single fuck about anyone or anything.

Carrying the begrudging burden of having to succeed because he didn’t take the traditional lawyer/doctor career route, was always at the forefront of his mind. Likewise, for fuck’s sake, he nearly got disowned by his own parents and it took him what seemed to be a lifetime’s worth of energy to convince him to just give him a chance. Jungkook was not planning on taking that chance for granted.

Jungkook, being the person he is, was excelling, and his name was beginning to become known in the community of photographers and videographers, and he was finally starting to feel at ease. His parents were even acknowledging his successes to the extent that they were helping him financially with school, which was a huge burden off of his shoulders. And then you suddenly crash-landed into his life and just made his life even more fulfilling and by all means, worth living in.  

He knew it was a bad idea. Distancing himself from you was the last thing he wanted to do. All his parents were concerned about was the fact that you were the only thing hindering him from making it “big”, when turns out, you became the sole inspiration and muse for most of his recent works. So they gave him an ultimatum to either be cut off financially or break up with you. He didn’t understand, because his parents liked you so much and they loved the influence you had on his work. He didn’t understand. He hated it—the fact that he was basically hanging by puppet strings and didn’t have a say in what he did considering the age he was in now.

He also hated the fact that he knew they had good intentions, and were only doing this because they wanted him to be successful. Their idea of true success for his career could only be seen as the financial benefits of being a director or producer rather than being able to just pursue and learn more about the art form that he loves. There was no use of trying to persuade them, so likewise, he did not. But why get her involved into this mess too?

Jungkook tended to stray away from confrontation and hated immediate and unexpected change as much as he acted like it didn’t phase him. He figured the sooner he can gain benefit from his passion, the less dreadful this dilemma would be. Less mess. Less stress. More time to be with you. That was the intended plan.

His next course of action was to score a film internship and potential job at the rather famous, Fox Studios. By doing so, would have to win the statewide film contest— a much larger scale than he had ever involved himself in. The mere thought of him having to showcase his own self-produced work to critically acclaimed film critics made the bile in his system threaten to upchuck onto the lemon-pledge scented floors of his dorm room. Then he remembered and was reminded— by the help of you of course, that he was Jeon Jungkook, and everyone knows that Jeon Jungkook does not like to lose.

-

He presumed that keeping up his grades would give him more credibility to getting the internship as well, so he put more focus onto his schoolwork. The remainder of his time was dedicated to exploring his potential ideas and storyboarding out his options and what would be most effective and most consequently— worthy of winning first place.

During this very strenuous time for the poor man, you would most likely see him trudging down the halls, hair in a complete disarray or simply hidden by the fabric of his hood, his eyelids threatening to close shut almost as if it’s taking all his willpower to keep them open, chugging down another red bull with one hand while he grips the strap of his backpack with practically no energy.

I mean you thought it was kinda cute at first, but his apparent deteriorating state mostly caused you to be more concerned than anything else.

In hopes to not hinder his creative flow but still keep his health at par, you would stop by every so often to give him food and give him reassurance—he never needed it so much until now.

Jungkook never told you about the irrational ultimatum his parents had given him. He came to the conclusion that it’d be unnecessary as long as he was able to carry out his plans. Nonetheless, the pressure of the whole situation was getting to him. The love of his life, passion for working with a camera, his parents’ disapproval, and just the own personal dream to be able to tell everyone that “Fuck you, I told you I could do it, and I did,” enveloped his whole mind these days.

Time had proved to not work in Jungkook’s favor. Two weeks passed in a mere blink of an eye leaving him with only two more weeks to finish his film in time for the film contest. This time around, he decided to choose a topic that resonated more with his own personal life. The film revolves around the struggle to be able to conform to the standards and expectations that society implements onto young people, whether it’d be from mainstream media or direct connections, like family. Typically, he stuck a title onto his projects after fully completing it, but for some reason, this time, it had worked in reverse. The title itself suddenly popped into his mind one day and from there he was able to garner ideas from it. And so the title was ‘Moulded’.

A very risky step on Jungkook’s part was what you initially thought when he first told you the idea. He knew that too, which is why he did it. You knew him long enough to be aware of the influence his parents had on his life and their outdated beliefs. You also knew the potential the boy’s zeal could take him, and because of that, all traces of worry left you shortly afterward.

-

Two days. The film contest was in two days. Jungkook was just about finished at this point, constantly playing back frames and adding final touches, rewatching the same parts over and over again until he became satisfied. He leaned back in his chair and let out a heavy sigh, eyes finally averting from the screen of his desktop to the clock on his bedside table.

“Only 9:15?” he muses, realizing these past four weeks had completely fucked over his sense of time, “At least I’m down, color correcting can be such a bit—”

A small jolt reverberates through his desk, interrupting his verbally spoken train of thought. His eyes beeline back to his phone, the contact picture of his mom flashing on his screen. Why would she be calling me at this time?

His brows knit together as he picks up his phone and swipes his thumb across the screen in uncertainty.

“Um, hi mom?” he greets, with the obvious tone of confusion in his voice.

He can practically hear her scoff over the line, “Jungkook-ah, how’s the film coming along?”

“It’s almost done-”

“Are you still with that girl?” she forcibly asks out of nowhere, leaving him dumbfounded to the point his mouth was hanging open in return.

A few seconds pass by as he processes what’s going on. He tightens his grip on the phone at the mention of you as he confesses through gritted teeth, “Yes mom.”

“We had a deal didn’t we?”

He retorted without waver in his voice, “Mom, I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Then give it back. The tuition money,” she affirms without hesitation, “Jungkook, me and your father have done our part. It’s about time you do yours.”

“I’ve done practically everything you’ve asked. I’m doing just fine,” he monotonously states, trying so hard not to implode on his own mother at this point, “Y/N has nothing to do with this.”

There was a short pause, leaving Jungkook in the same state of dejection per usual when he had to talk to his parents, “We just want you to be successful,” her voice softens, using the same line that somehow magically guilt-trips Jungkook every time the words travel to his ears.

He shakes his head in disbelief over hearing the stupid line that seemed to control every aspect of his life, “You say that every time.”

“And we mean it every time,” she interjects, a sigh audibly present over the line, “this discussion is over.”

She ends the call as Jungkook lets out a raspy and guttural groan, slamming his phone onto his desk in frustration with such strength it’d be surprising if the cheap glass screen protector he’s had on it didn’t suffer any damage.

“Kook,” a voice utters softly from the other side of his door, “is everything okay?”

He flinches at the sound of your voice, considering you were just the subject of the conversation he just had with his mom that left him fuming with rage more than anything.

“Can you please leave Y/N, this isn’t a good time,” he objected, adjusting himself in his seat so he’d face away from the door. Even though you couldn’t see him you could still hear the small indication of irritation in his response.

It was more than apparent something was wrong with him, with only two days left until the film contest, you knew he couldn’t manage to keep his guard down, regardless of the stress and turmoil he’d been putting himself through for the past 4 weeks, “Just because you leave whenever you feel like it…” you enunciate, raising your voice loud enough for him to hear your intentions, “doesn’t mean I will.” Both of you knew the last 4 weeks had taken a toll on the relationship, it was only then that he realized how much he’d been putting it off.

The door began to emit tiny clicking noises as he slowly turned the doorknob. He slowly widens the area as he meekly steps to the side, letting you come in as you make your way toward his bed and plop down onto his sheets.

The tension had never been this thick between the two of you, to the extent where it felt absolutely suffocating and unbearable. You had never seen him in such a state of dejection as he simply sat there, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he nibbled on his lower lip, eyes diverting away from yours at all costs. The knit between his brows that would usually derive from confusion or frustration, seemed entirely different this time around. It was as if his mind was full of nothing but everything all at the same time.

You heave out a deep sigh as you finally break the ice, “Jungkook,” you begin, looking up to see him looking back at you to your surprise, “you know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry for making it seem that way.”

“Don’t apologize if you don’t mean it,” he mutters only to see the flash of hurt in your eyes that makes him divert his gaze back to the floor, “I know I’ve been acting so selfish lately. I’d understand if you felt that way.”

“I hate seeing you like this you know,” you confess quietly, “I know there’s something up.”

His eyes meet yours once again, mouth slightly parted as if he was about to say something, but the silences ensues and he closes the gap once again, resorting back to nibbling the skin off of his bottom lip until it starts to bleed. Your eyes soften as you observe the boy once more. The span of your relationship had naturally led to the two of you being able to open up to one another so easily. You were both able to tell when the other was feeling a certain way and why. It just came with time and getting to know the other person more throughout the relationship. And alongside that was the ability to know when the other was purposely keeping something under wraps—this was one of those times.

“Jungkook”, you whisper just loud enough to catch his attention, which works as he gazes back up at you with all doe-eyed glory, the knit between his brows gone surprisingly out of sight for the first time since you came over. You glance at his bed—emphasizing the void of space next to you on his bed by patting the fabric and peering at the cryptic man, hoping he would get the sign to sit next to you.

Fortunately, he does. He places his hands on the armrests as he timidly pushes himself up from his chair. The chair produces an obnoxiously loud squeaking noise almost emulating the sound of your dog’s dog shaped squeaky toy (counterintuitive I know, but it was a gift from Jungkook himself, the prick). The sound causes you to involuntarily snort as you look away in hopes to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. Too bad you missed the smug grin on his face at your lackluster attempt.

He carefully approaches you as he warily lowers himself onto his bed, making sure he doesn’t make the same mistake twice. He shifts his body to turn towards you, propping his hands at his side. His eyes avoid yours once more, sparing glances at every inch of his own room as if he wasn’t already familiar with the enclosed space.

You pause and calculate your next move, eyes studying the boy’s body language. You outstretch your arm, gently grasping his wrist as you slide your fingers through his calloused palms and twine your fingers with his own, allowing your hands to rest on your knee. His eyes glaze over your connected hands, trailing back to finally meeting your own once again—they had this all too unfamiliar gloss to them, not the usual star-like specks you had been accustomed to looking at. As a few seconds had passed, you spotted the pool of tears starting to brim in the corner of his eyes. Taken aback, you retract your focus to his whole face and how his bottom lip started to tremble, hopeless. Hopelessness was what he was denoting, an emotion you had rarely if never seen coming from the man sitting in front of you.

Before you could formulate any words of comfort, he speaks up, voice brittle and wobbly, “Am I just a failure Y/N?”

“Wha— what? No, how could you ask that? Of course I don’t think you are,” you assert, unknowingly tightening the grip on his hand.

“It’s just,” he drawls out, pausing to think of a coherent way to voice his concerns, “maybe it just would’ve been easier if I complied with my parents in the first place y’know. I’ve been spending all my time and energy fighting it, maybe I’ve just been putting my energy into the wrong-”

“I don’t believe that,” you calmly interject, “I believe that whenever you put your energy into something, you have a reason behind it. You thought about it for a while, it obviously wasn’t something that just sprouted overnight,” you countered, staring off as your eyes land on his workspace, the flashing screen of his computer that reveal his last minute editing as well as the camera you seldom see the man without, “Working with a camera, creating art,” you say while clasping your free hand over the one that you were already holding, rubbing miscellaneous shapes into the back of his hand, “that is what you love to do.”

“I love a lot of things Y/N,” he simply states.

“Hm?” you let out under your breath as you notice the single tear that falls onto his cheek, contradictory to the straightforward tone of his voice you had just heard seconds before. Your body stiffened at the sight of the fallen drop.

“Did you hear me on the phone before you came?” he questions, swiping away the tears that threatened to fall with his free hand.

You take a moment to recollect the moments that preceded until knocking on his door, “No, I just heard a loud bang. It sounded like you broke something.”

“Oh, that was my phone,” he shyly admits while scratching the back of his ear, “there is something I need to tell you.”

You perk up at his sudden willingness to tell you what was wrong. Your body language conveys the signal for him to continue, and he does.

“I got a call from my mom before you came,” he starts, “she was checking up on me, knowing the deadline is coming soon and what not.”

You nod slowly in understanding, “I see, what did she say?”

“You have the right to know,” he mutters under his breath while diverting his gaze back to your interlocked hands. He intentionally grazes your other hand before taking it into his own before flashing you a small grin of reassurance, “The farther I’m advancing, my parents just constantly feel the need to strip me of everything else. You probably knew that already. You also know that I tend to just rebel and find a loophole out of things most of the time. I don’t know, lately, it just seems like they solely care about success and money these days more than my own happiness and wellbeing, and it’s been like that for so long. Anyways, I’ve been prolonging and putting it aside for awhile now, but they threatened to cut me off financially if I didn’t break up with you Y/N.”

A single tear slides down your cheek. You’re at a loss for words and coherent thought. The only thing you muster to say is whatever decidedly popped up into your head first, “W-why haven’t you then?”

The brimming tears began to fall more frequently for you as well as from the eyes of the man in front of you. He releases both of his hands and slides his calloused palms up to your forearms pulling you closer in proximity, “I said it before, I love a lot of things Y/N,” he gingerly reiterates as he swipes away the tears from your eyes with the pad of his thumb before trailing his fingers to your fallen strands of hair, tucking them behind your ear.

“I love my parents, I love working with a camera, but I undoubtedly also am in love with you,” he tenderly professes while sliding down his hand to the crook of your neck, “I know my parents never meant harm, but they have to realize I don’t either. I owe it to myself and I realize that I am capable of obtaining and having everything I want in life,” he wholeheartedly declares despite the tears that continue to run down his face, “ And it wouldn’t be everything I want if you weren’t here with me.”

He renders you speechless, tears streaming freely as he continues to wipe them away. He was much more composed now, wiping away his own remaining tears with the back of his wrist. You, on the other hand, were practically sobbing into his palm, tears spilling all over his forearm.

“There’s a reason why I chose that particular subject for the film, “ he describes, hands sliding down to intertwine with yours once again, “It serves as a testament to my parents, to my peers, to you, but also to myself,” he beams, releasing the hold on your hands as he stands up from his bed, extending a hand out to you.

You unhurriedly grab his hand, as he tugs you to stand up from his bed, leading you to sit in his own seat. He swivels the chair for it to face his computer, stepping aside so you could sit down.

“I wasn’t planning on giving any sneak peeks, but it just seems right to show you this now,” he explains, clicking through the frames until he arrives at his destination and clicks play.

It starts off with the emulation of a glitching tv screen, the audio sounds as if someone was inserting a tape into a DVR. The ‘no signal’ screen fades into the familiar setting of the beach in his hometown. Hues of blue fading into muted shades of oranges and yellows flash across the screen, accompanied by the soft crashing of the waves washing ashore on the fine sand. The camera quickly shifts his focus to what seems to appear as Jungkook being fully enveloped and underneath the sand, his head being the only thing that isn’t submerged. Flashing his signature grin, his arm emerges from the sand as he gives a thumbs-up to the camera, making the person behind it erupt into a fit of giggles. That person was you.

The scene transitions into the city streets of the suburb that was close to the college. You were walking down the sidewalk, enamored by the bustle of the people who lived there as well as the twinkling lights that were draped from building to building. Clips ranging from his family, his friends, him working, and more are compiled and presented as he talks over it. His voice begins to say, “As individuals living in a society where opportunities seem to just be knocking left and right, we all have dreams and desires. Whether they are attainable or not, that’s what makes them all the more worthwhile and exhilarating to find out for ourselves. Society, whether we like it or not, is filled with certain conjectures that they believe can assure us of these dreams and desires, what they’ve made us believe as the path to success. They mould us from the beginning. As kids, we are told to behave well, listen to our elders, go to school, get good grades, and get into a good college. As adults, we deem success as having a stable job that pays the bills, buying a house and settling down, finding the love of your life, having kids, and working tirelessly until we become worn out and old. We have these presumptions about what’s better and what’s not, what is easier and what isn’t. Regardless of how much we get told that we can achieve anything we want to in life, we grow older and life unexpectedly throws more curveballs at you to make you think that it’s not actually the case. Well, as cliche as it may sound, I’m here to tell you that it’s just not true. Do what you want. Do what you love. Be with the ones you love. Cherish these moments. Film them as keepsakes to look back on. So… what’s your story? What are your dreams and desires? What sparks pure joy within you and keeps you on your feet? Break those moulds that have been holding you down. Reach for the moon and the stars. And maybe someday with the right amount of determination, and a little bit of luck, you can get there.”

The video ends right then and there, and you had no doubt in your mind that this was his best work to date albeit only seeing a snippet of it. A smile graces your lips as you turn your head to look at the creator of it all. He looks back at you with the familiar star-like specks in his eyes, making you feel rest assured that within all the chaos, you would both get through it all.

-

-

MASTERLIST

[litwitlady]

The Toolbox (1/2)

Read on AO3.

Angst Prompt #2: ‘You deserve better.’

Alex sits in the front seat of his car. He’s parked at the junkyard, engine still running. It’s early morning, the sun barely up. He darts his eyes up to his rearview mirror and frowns at the toolbox in his backseat. The toolbox is ordinary - gray metal, covered in various scratches and dents. A completely unremarkable object in every way except one - it belongs to Michael Guerin.

Which is also unremarkable unless you are Alex Manes and Michael Guerin is your ex.

He returns his stare to the airstream’s door. The Chevy is parked to the left of him, so it’s a safe bet Michael is home. Another fifteen minutes pass and he still hasn’t moved. He glances over his shoulder at the toolbox. A stray sunbeam bounces off the corner, the glare momentarily blinding - like the damn thing is mocking him.

Sighing, Alex opens his door and slides down to the ground. He pulls the toolbox from his backseat and walks to the trailer’s door. The only sound is the generator running and a couple of enthusiastic songbirds. He knocks and takes a step back. ‘It’s me, Guerin.’

A few minutes go by before Alex hears Michael shuffling around inside. When he finally opens the door, Michael is only half-dressed. Low slung sweatpants and no shirt. Alex is also pretty certain there’s nothing underneath said sweatpants. No matter how many times he’s seen Michael naked, the sight of his bare skin never fails to leave him breathless.

‘Alex? Did I know that you’d be here at ass o’clock in the morning?’

No. He didn’t know. They haven’t talked in ages. Nothing more than the occasional head nod or wave when they see each other around town. And Alex hadn’t called or texted about this meeting because he hadn’t known this would be the morning he found the courage until his alarm had gone off earlier than expected.

‘You didn’t. Sorry. I just wanted to stop by and return your toolbox.’ Michael doesn’t say anything, just blinks at him. Sleep still crusted in the corners of his eyes. ‘I’m...uh...cleaning out my garage. So.’ He holds up the toolbox by it’s rusted handle, but Michael doesn’t move to take it.

Finally, Michael yawns and leans against the door frame. ‘Did I ask for it back?’

The question is unexpected and catches Alex off guard. Which he hates. ‘No. But when you borrow something, it’s polite to give it back.’ Tired of holding the heavy toolbox, Alex sets it down at his feet. Michael just watches him and it makes Alex uneasy. ‘I guess I should go. Thanks for letting me borrow it. And sorry to bother you.’

Walking away, he slows his pace and listens for Michael to call out his name, asking him to stay. For a cup of coffee or just to talk. The reason doesn’t matter. The reason will never matter so long as he asks. But all Alex hears is the sound of the door slamming shut.

Alex pauses. Fights with himself to keep from looking back over his shoulder. Or worse, turning around and begging Michael to be let inside. It was hard being away from him all those years, but it’s much lonelier now being so close. Clenching his fists, he climbs back into his Explorer and pounds his fist against the steering wheel, accidentally sounding the horn. Startled, he looks up at the airstream for any signs Michael noticed. Nothing until his phone vibrates in his pocket.

Michael: You alright?

Alex: Fine. Sorry.

Michael: Stop saying you’re sorry.

And that’s it. Alex doesn’t know how to respond and Michael doesn’t offer anything further. So he fastens his seatbelt and cranks his engine. With one last look at the toolbox sitting lonely on Michael’s stoop, Alex puts his car in reverse and leaves the junkyard.

The ride home is uneventful. He spends a lot of time cursing himself for being so needy and desperate. Forrest had moved to New York only two weeks ago and already he’s crawling back to the boy who clearly no longer loves him. Alex hates nothing more than being a constant disappointment to himself.

He spends the rest of the day distracting himself with chores. Mainly, decluttering his garage so that he can begin the long, arduous process of converting the small space into a music studio. The idea has been banging around his head since before he’d even closed on the house. Imagining himself recording his first album in a place that he’d built with his own two hands. With maybe Michael’s two hands helping - another failed dream.

At noon, Alex stops for lunch. Making a couple of sandwiches and settling into his favorite patio chair. It’s not long before he hears the familiar sounds of Michael’s truck growing closer. He shifts in his seat and looks on as Michael parks in the gravel next to his cluttered driveway. Heart rate rising at the first glimpse of his black cowboy hat.

He frowns when he sees what Michael’s carrying.

It’s the toolbox. The one Alex had returned only a few hours ago. The guitar incident quickly replays through his head. Dread pooling in his gut.

Michael strolls through Alex’s patio gate like he owns the place. Tossing his hat on the table in front of Alex and dropping the toolbox at his feet. ‘You forgot this when you left.’

Alex’s lips part while he tries to find something to say. Confusion rendering him mute. The best he comes up with is a raised eyebrow.

Michael sighs. ‘It’s not mine. It’s yours.’ Said like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

He shakes his head. ‘I remember you giving me the toolbox, Michael. Last year when I asked for a pipe wrench.’

‘Right. And I could have just given you the pipe wrench. But instead, I walked around the junkyard putting this together for you - gathering the tools I didn’t need or had duplicates of. So that you’d be taken care of next time.’ Michael collapses into the chair next to Alex, exasperated.

Alex makes an annoyed noise deep in his throat. ‘How in the holy hell was I supposed to know that?’

Michael throws his hands up. ‘Because we were in a good place!’ He sighs and presses his knuckles into eyes.

‘Guerin, the only thing you said to me when I picked up that toolbox was let me know if you need help with anything.’ He kicks Michael’s boot softly. ‘Not a single indication you were giving me a gift.’

‘Open your garage door.’ Michael jumps to his feet, startling Alex. He bounces on his heels and tugs Alex out of his chair. ‘Now, Alex. Open the door.’

Growing more annoyed by the minute, Alex does as told despite wanting to strangle Michael. He heads into the house and through the hallway to his garage. Stepping inside and pushing the button to raise the door. Slowly, the chains grind through the opener and sunshine eats away at the shadows. Michael being revealed inch by gradual inch.

Michael looks around at the empty space. ‘Where’d everything go?’

‘The driveway mostly. I’m converting the garage into a studio.’ Alex waves to the piles outside. ‘If you want anything, feel free. It’s mostly junk.’

‘Huh.’ Another indecipherable response. But he marches to a spot in the back corner and points at his feet. ‘The toolbox lives here. There’s even a rusted outline because it’s sat here so long.’ Michael drops the toolbox to the ground with a bang. ‘Which means water is probably seeping up through the concrete foundation. You should definitely have that checked out before starting construction.’

He moves to leave, not sparing Alex another glance until he’s back in the sunlight. Hands on his hips, he spins around and narrows his eyes. ‘Why would you return the toolbox if you were about to start renovating?’

Alex grits his teeth so hard it hurts. ‘Because it’s not mine! Because I’m trying to clean out the garage.’ He closes his eyes and gives up. ‘And my heart.’ He blinks his eyes back open and glares at Michael.

‘Is he here?’

‘Forrest?’

‘Yes, Alex. Forrest. I need to know if he’s about to charge out here to kick my ass for yelling at his boyfriend.’ Michael’s eyes shift to the door behind Alex. ‘Well, he can try anyway.’

‘He’s not here.’ He doesn't offer any further information despite the pounding of his heart.

‘Good.’ In just a few strides, Michael is within arm’s length. ‘You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to show up at my door unannounced. You don’t get to return toolboxes. And goddammit, Alex, you don’t get to return me. That’s not how this fucking works.’

Anger flames in Alex’s chest. Before he can stop himself, he storms over to the toolbox, picks it up with a huff, and walks it to his ever growing trash pile, dumping it unceremoniously on top. ‘It’s you who doesn’t get to talk to me like that. Now go home, Michael.’

It’s frustrating. How their story never seems to change. No matter how much both of them want nothing more than to crawl into each other’s arms.

On the way to his truck, Michael stops and gives Alex one last look. ‘You’re right, Alex. You deserve better. You always have. Glad you found it.’ And then he climbs into his truck and disappears.

Fuming, Alex steps back onto his patio determined to finish his lunch. But everything goes to shit as soon as he spots Michael’s black hat abandoned on the table. He groans and mutters a weak fuck before heading inside in a feeble attempt to ignore everything.

The toolbox and now the hat. And a universe that just won’t let them quit each other.

[maevemarethyu]

Unexpected (2/?)

You weren’t expecting it. Neither of you were.

That didn’t mean you weren’t happy with how it ended.

Warnings: Cheating, Threats, Sad Boi Hour, Heatbreak, I’m not quite sure what else.

Steve and Sam are waiting for Bucky when he walks into the shared living room; looking every part of a pair of worried parents. The familiarity of it lifts a weight from his shoulders. Meeting you hadn’t been what he expected, then again, he didn’t know what he was expecting in the first place.

He only knew that you weren’t it and he was glad.

“How’d it go? You rushed outta here before either of us could stop you.” Steve worries, resting a hand on his best friend’s shoulder. Steve had been there for him for as long as Barnes could remember and Sam had been a rock keeping the two old men above water in the new age.

“Y/N is something.” He mutters cryptically as he crashes onto the couch, mind swirling as he tries to make sense of everything that had happened. The lack of elaboration has his friends looking at him for an explanation.

“Something as in good or something as in she threw something at you and called you a liar before chasing your ass away from her house.” Sam asks, taking the seat next to Barnes and earning a glare.

Good. You were definitely good despite your very bad situation. He had run to you half cocked with no plan and laid what was probably the worst news possible on you while your kid was asleep in the other room.

“She- They- a kid. She has a daughter named Laysa. Four weeks old.” Disbelief laces his voice. He could understand why Claire would cheat on him; he was a broken weapon made by HYDRA with more issues than Time Magazine. But, you?

He couldn’t understand why anyone would cheat on you. You were beautiful and thoughtful and the brief glimpse he’d caught of the fire in your eyes made his stomach twist in a way he didn’t want to elaborate on for a long while.

And you had a child. Patrick had a family with you; a domestic life Claire had snubbed Bucky for desiring.

“What?” Steve says through grit teeth. The Captain was like his friend; he too wanted to eventually settle down and start a family. When they were younger, the two Brooklyn boys had it all planned out. They’d marry the loves of their lives and get houses side by side; their kids would grow up together and they’d take turns having Sunday brunches at each other’s houses till they were old and gray.

The dream may have been postponed a few decades but, when Bucky told Steve about proposing to his long-time girlfriend, he was happier than he could ever remember being. After all the shit HYDRA put him through, he was glad Buck had found a nice girl like Claire.

How wrong he had been.

“You did the right thing telling her. She deserved to know.” Sam adds but, Bucky just shakes his head.

“I could have worded it better.” He admits, twisting the ring on his finger. “She opened the door and I blanked. Then I basically yelled it in her face: Your husband is fucking my wife.”

He watches Steve’s face go red from secondhand embarrassment and Sam fails in holding back a laugh but, they all fall silent when someone clears their throat. Barnes feels the hairs on the back of his neck raise as he reluctantly turns to face the new person in the room. A person he had purposefully left out of this because A. She was on a mission and B. He thought she would raise hell when she found out.

“Hey Nat…” Steve coughs awkwardly.

Fresh off a hard mission, covered in scrapes and bruises, and scowl on her face; Natasha Romanoff looked ready to raise all seven layers of hell.

“Someone. Explain.” She asks calmly… too calmly. It unnerves the three men in the worst way possible and Bucky’s explaining the situation before his brain can catch up. Once he’s finished, the woman simply mutters an okay before walking out of the room and leaving the trio speechless.

She returns a minute later in a fresh change of clothes and is stuffing knives in different pockets of her pants.

“What are you doing?” Sam asks, curious and worried at the same time.

“I’m going to fucking kill them.” She announces, making her way to the door. If it were anyone else, Barnes would have thought it was a joke but, he knew Natasha. He knew what happened to people that hurt her family and, even thought he loathed himself for it, he still cared about Claire.

“Natalia.” She stops with a huff when Bucky calls her name. “Please, don’t.”

For once, she doesn’t fight him and she instead takes a seat on the armchair across from him.

“If I ever see her again, I will not hesitate. I mean it Bucky.”

“She doesn’t even know I know yet. Neither of them do. Y/N wants to wait until her divorce papers are ready.” Her green eyes soften at his obvious pain. In all the years they’d known each other, she’d never seen him like this. “Her friends are lawyers and she asked if I wanted to meet them with her tomorrow.”

“I hope you said yes.” To his surprise, its Steve that says it. Out of everyone in this room, he’d have thought Steve would be the one handing out second chances. In a messed-up way, he was glad the courtesy didn’t extend to cheating spouses.

“I did. We’re meeting for breakfast.” He nods, and the three Avengers let out a collective sigh of relief.

“Mr. Barnes.” FRIDAY’s voice echoes in the silent room. “There is a Miss Y/N Voight calling for you. Should I take a message?”

As soon as the AI says your name, his breath catches in his throat and his mind goes straight to the worst-case scenario: Patrick came home and something happened to either you or Laysa.

“No, you can patch her through Fri.”

There’s a shuffle over the speakers before your voice is heard.

“Hello? James?” To his relief, you didn’t sound any more distressed than you were when he left.

“I’m here Y/N. I’ve got Steve, Sam, and Nat here with me. Is everything alright?”

“Oh, hi other Avengers. Yeah, it’s just that I called Matt’s secretary and explained the situation. She told me to bring any official pre-nuptial documents with us tomorrow and figured I should let you know but, I didn’t have your number. Had to call the station to get this one.”

He didn’t like the idea of you calling your husband’s place of work but, you didn’t sound bothered by it and he hopes its because you managed to avoid talking to him directly.

“Секретарь? Я думал, вы сказали, что юристы - ее друзья.” The secretary? I thought you said the lawyers are her friends. Natasha asks in her mother tongue, a habit she and Barnes had gotten into whenever they needed to have a private conversation, and the man shrugs.

“Они мои лучшие друзья и заботятся обо мне.” They're my best friends and, they care about me. You reply without missing a beat, catching everyone in the room off guard. “If I tell them before tomorrow, nothing is stopping them from finding and maiming Pat… my soon-to-be ex-husband. You aren’t the only one with scary friends Barnes.”

Your words were so brazen that Bucky could picture you sitting on the phone with a smirk on your face as clear as day and a grin finds its way onto his face; earning a curious glance from Steve.

“Anyways, I’ve gotta go. Laysa’s fussing.” Sure enough, a sharp cry comes from the speaker. “I’ll see you tomorrow James and, I guess goodnight everyone else? Keep up the good work? Bye.”

When the call ends, everyone’s eyes turn to Bucky and he keeps his head down. It was kind of you to risk a confrontation with your husband to help him get prepared for tomorrow. He couldn’t imagine being kind in a situation like yours. You had a child to worry about through this; you had every right to be bitter.

“Fri. Can you print out-“

“Already on it Mr. Barnes.” The AI announces and, not for the first time, Bucky is grateful for Tony’s stubbornness. If it weren’t for Stark there wouldn’t be any pre-nuptial documents. James had thought it a waste of time when it was first brought up but, it looks like he’d need to thank the billionaire once more for forcing him to sign the papers.

“She sounded oddly cheery for someone who just found out their husband was cheating on them.” Sam frowns, causing Bucky to look at him in confusion.

Did Sam not hear the way your voice cracked when you mentioned calling the station? Could he not tell you had just cried your voice hoarse? Was he oblivious to you attempt of covering up your pain with thinly veiled humor?

No, you were not cheery. You were shattered, just like him but, you were trying your best to seem put together. He could see right through you. His friends though, they didn’t seem as attuned to your sorrow.

“We all process grief differently. For all we know, she’s still in shock.” Steve reasons, ever the mediator.

“She sounds like she has her hands full.” Natasha hums in agreement. “She’s probably focused all of her attention on the baby. I know it helped Laura whenever Clint was away on missions.”

You were coping, in your own way. Barnes decided to take your lead, standing from his seat.

“Heading to bed Buck?”

“Yeah. I’ll see you all in the morning.” He lies before leaving in the direction of his room. He wouldn’t be able to sleep, not with the images of Claire and Patrick burned into his eyelids so, he bypasses his bedroom and makes his way to the gym a floor below. He hated lying to his friends but, they were like yours, they cared about him almost too much. They were always so eager to help and he was grateful for it, really, but sometimes he needed to be alone in order to work through whatever problem he was having. The man liked his solitude.

When Bucky had told Steve he wanted his own apartment, the blonde nearly had a conniption but, he eventually relented and together they had found a place not too far from the compound. Right now, he was missing his little slice of solitude.

Thankfully, the gym is deserted when he arrives and, as he sets up a punching bag, his mind wanders; remembering times when his life wasn’t so damn complicated. Back when he’d spend the afternoon looking down alleys to make sure Steve wasn’t getting his ass handed to him. Back when the most he had to worry about was whether to take Sally or Jane dancing that evening.

He can only stay in that headspace for so long before he’s back to reliving the worst moment of his new life. He had thought he finally got it right with Claire; he used to think she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, she was smart, a kick-ass agent, she made him feel like he was able to put himself together again with her help. She was too good for him and he used to think it was only him who thought it.

After years of being together, she’d finally thought it too.

A hard jab to the bag slices it open, pouring sand into his sneaker and he almost yells in frustration. Then he remembers you and the way you chucked your phone past his head without so much as a sound. His anger was explosive but, yours? Your anger was silent and seething; dare he say calculating.

He wondered if you’d look as lovely screaming as you did seething before shaking the thought from his head with wide eyes. Whenever he and Claire argued; whether or not she was pretty was the last thing on his mind.

Comparing you to his wife should have been the last thing on his mind but, no matter how hard he tried, your face was the one to pop up when he lost focus. He wasn’t upset by it thought, he’d much rather remember your face instead of Patrick and Claire’s in the throes of passion.

Yeah, he’d much rather remember how nice your smile was as you got your daughter’s bottle ready.

[glitchtrapfan]

Conversations

Charlie: Angel you in your room, me and Vaggie needs lots of help and we thought.

Angel open the door to his room, he look miserable and tired.

Charlie: Oh...well I’m glad your out of your room but now I’m concerned, you Alright?

Angel: Never been better...

Vaggie: Charlie he won’t help, he just going to stay in his room again like he did all week.

Vaggie said having her hand over Charlie shoulder, charlie felt bad for angel and had one idea to maybe help him.

Charlie: If you can’t help today can you try maybe getting a drink at husks bar, it might help to get rid of the stress you might have.

Angel: Stress, don’t worry baby I’m perfect fine, just tired from fat nuggies staying up all the time.

Angel lied, he was up due to another awful night at work and having dreams of his worst fear.

Charlie: Please angel...I worry for you and I think maybe having a talk with people at the bar and getting drinks could help.

Angel: Talking, I’m good at talking so I could try.

Angel didn’t want to today but he didn’t want Charlie to be worry, she was one of the few people in hell that deserve so much especially with all the work she doing to make hell at least a somewhat better place.

Charlie: Thanks angel, I can make sure to check on you later^^

Charlie and Vaggie head back to more work and angel heads to the bar, he saw husk was there and nifty cleaning dust all over the floor.

Angel: (Okay, I can do this, just act like yourself and just drink, it be okay)

Nifty: Angel can you move a bit?

Angel looks down awakening from his thoughts, nifty needed to get some dust that was on angel boots.

Angel: Oh Sorry shorty.

Angel head to the bar and sits down.

Husk: Well this is almost a shock to see you here, you been “tired” for almost the whole week.

Angel: Yeah sorry, you know a pornstar needs there beauty sleep once a month hehehe.

Husk: Yeah, how many drinks you want if your here?

Angel: Give me anything, I just need something since drinking water gets real boring to drink for being in my room for almost a week.

Husk: I give you some whiskey and you make it sound you been in your room for all week when I know it not true.

Angel: How so?

Husk: I see you leave your room at night with a pink furry coat, I’m going to guess for work.

Angel: no I just needed to head out and grab some stuff.

Husk: Well from your water remake I say that drinks was not one of your priorities.

Angel: Yeah, they had no good drinks at the shop I go to, the shop keeper there though was pretty hot~~

Angel giggles, husk was not laughing and he can see angel was trying to cover him things but decided to not speak more, he gives him his drinks and takes out his own bottle to drink from, for the next hour or 2 Angel was drinking with husk and they talk about silly stuff like how nifty would sometimes have to clean in people room while they sleep and angel joke she probably stalked them like a owl, after a bit husk as pass out and angel was sober from all the drinks.

Angel: (I think I need to head back, it getting late)

Angel was going to leave but then Alastor came to sit down at the bar, it made angel jump seeing someone still awake since it was close to 10 PM but then again it was Alastor, the guy almost never sleeps.

Alastor: Hey angel, don’t mind I just be out your hair for a sec, need to get myself some drink for some papers I need to work on for my boss.

Angel: Oh no it’s fine, I was about to leave but now I do feel like talking more to someone, it was with husk but..

Alastor: Husker is an funny person to talk with if you both take drinks with each other and laugh your butts off, I don’t really drink much but when someone does drink with husk it almost comical to laugh at it.

Angel: Yeah he funny Hehehehe, well Alastor did you want me to leave, I can if you like.

Alastor would have gladly said yes but angel tone was off, like something was missing.

Alastor: Angel I like to talk more, could you ask me how was your day?

Angel: Oh well I sleep again, had Charlie ask me to come down to the bar to relax a bit and had fun with husk.

Alastor: I see, did you do anything else.

Angel: No from what I can think of, actually I did play with fat nuggets for a bit, he such a cute pig when he wants to play with me Hehehehe, how about you?

Alastor: Well I’m doing good as usual, paper work, the killing if need to and having some talk with Charlie.

Angel: That sounds kind of boring, the paper work part I mean Hehehehe.

Alastor: ...Who are you?

Angel: Uh, Alastor you have not drink and you seem drunk as hell already.

Alastor: I mean who are you angel, first you always seem the same, horny jokes, talking about wanting to fuck all types of boys and doing dumb things, now here we are all alone with nobody and your acting like your not in character.

Angel: Not in character, I’m not acting, I’m just not saying as much sex stuff, so what?

Alastor: Not even the sex stuff, I mean your personality change, you seem a lot more like yourself.

Angel: Like myself...PFFT!

Angel burst out laughing, Alastor look over more with serious eyes, his hands together and his mouth grinning still but a little more out of how interesting angel has gotten, he thought he was just some asshole who just wanted to be annoying but now he was like almost a different person.

Angel: Alastor that was probably the best joke you made, I almost died laughing Hehehehe.

Alastor: Angel, I know you not much into listening much and what I might say you won’t care for but...why don’t you act like this more often, instead of always acting like your pornstar self why don’t you act like yourself.

Angel eyes wide and then he grit his teeth.

Angel: okay now I’m starting to get mad, you thinking I’m acting like a slut is uncalled for, I’m like that all the time and just because I act like this once means fuck all al.

Alastor: I’m not trying to be rude, if you want to act like this and ignore me go right ahead but from what this conversation we had today tells me, it says a lot about how life been to you, you been working at a job you hate, been force to play this role and now always act like all your life is like a play when you should be yourself, the person who was in hell from the start, so please stop..

Alastor didn’t get to finish his sentence as Angel then did something unexpected. He pull a gun on Alastor head, al didn’t look like he care.

Angel: You think you know me, YOU DONT KNOW SHIT ABOUT WHAT I BEEN GOING THROUGH, MY LIFE WHEN I WAS ALIVE OR MY LIFE BEFORE I JOIN VAL! YOUR RIGHT I DO ACT LIKE A SLUT SOMETIMES BUT I CANT CHANGE THAT, YOU THINK I CAN WHEN YOU HAVE SOMEONE ALWAYS ASKING YOU TO BE HIS PERFECT BITCH! I HAD TO FUCK AND DO HORRIBLE STUFF JUST SO I DIDNT DIE, THE PERSON YOU SAY I SHOULD BE IS GONE, I CHANGE FOR THE WORST AND YOU GOT NO RIGHT TO TELL ME WHAT I SHOULD BE, IT BEEN SO SO LONG SINCE ANYONE HAS TOLD ME THAT AND THAT MADE THEM WIDE UP DEAD!

Angel eyes were furious and had tears coming down them, his hands shake under how mad he was at Alastor.

Alastor: ....if you shoot me, you know I have to kill you for the sake of everyone here....and I’m sorry....

Angel shakes more, holding the gun to his knees, he got on his knees looking at the gun, Alastor took it and Angel tears up more.

Alastor: I know everything seems hopeless but it’s not and I know whoever in your life that was taking away from you would be still cheering you on.

Angel: ....my mom would not if she saw what I become....I’m just...I.

Alastor looks on and feeling sorry for angel, angel started to cry, a lot more loud which made Charlie hear it since she was working and husk woke up.

Husk: What the...what the hell happen Alastor?!

Charlie: ANGEL!?

Charlie came running and got close to angel was just balling his eyes out, Charlie and husk try calming him, Alastor then left, he not sure how to feel about if he made things worse for angel or help.

Angel: Charlie I...I’m sorry.

Charlie: For what?

Angel: I’m sorry I lied to you and I’m sorry..”hicc” I been awful..

Charlie: You have not been awful....you more better then most down here, it be okay angel.

Husk: (what the hell did Alastor say to this kid!?)

Angel cried more for what felt like hours and then without him even realizing, he blackout.

(Hope you enjoy the story, this is my first time trying to write a more serious story with Hazbin and not have it be all sunshine and rainbows, it more a vent story due to life problems I been having as of late)

[zayray030]

Do you even care?

Summary: Damian gets stabbed and beaten up by a few bullies at school and is left to die at a back alleyway. While he's bleeding out he thinks of his 'family', his 'friends' and his 'team'

Damian gritted his teeth against the pain in his rib and closed his eyes and tried to keep his breathing steady.

He wonders if his brothers would care if they found him. Found him lying in a puddle of his own blood, bones broken and looking like death had come.

He wonders if any of them would show up at his funeral. He wonders if they would cry. Would they even care to show up? Probably not. They would probably celebrate him going away.

Maybe his father would care. It was after all his idea. His idea for Damian not to fight those bullies. To just let them be. And look where that had landed him.

Broken and bleeding to death in some back alleyway. This really wasn't how he had thought he would die. A second time anyway. He had thought he would die by some huge foe. Or maybe of age. Or another natural cause.

Not because some bully had overpowered him and his friends had taken turns beating the shit out of him. He had wanted to fight back so badly but he hadn't wanted his father to shoot him a disappointed look. He hadn't wanted his brothers or sister to look at him in disgust for hurting the ‘innocent’.

Tt. Says so much about them.

While Damian was bleeding out from a knife wound the bully had given using a rusty pocket knife, he began thinking. About his ‘family’, his ‘friends’ and his ‘team’.

To be fair he didn't even think his family was his… family. They barely even functioned together on a good day. Hell, half of them  if not all, hated him. Drake barely gives him the time of day and he continues to think of him as an assassin even after he changed. Even after he proved himself time and time again that he wasn't an assassin.

Todd. Well Todd barely speaks to him as it is. Only to insult him or to ask where the others are. Had he even apologised for shooting him? Probably. Or probably not. Damian couldn't remember with how much blood he was losing. He let out a small humourless laugh.

His father barely even gave him the time of day as it was. He hadn't even remembered his 13th birthday. He hadn't even bothered to ask him normal questions a father asks his son. But Damian couldn't blame his father. He had been the unexpected one. The unplanned one. The unwanted one.

Grayson was another story. He would probably actually care. If he wasn't focusing on someone else. Maybe he was still comforting Wallace after Damian had almost killed him. He couldn't blame Grayson, though. Grayson was very well liked and he attracted people to him like how the planets were attracted to the sun. But Damian was selfish. He just wanted someone to love him. Was that so bad? Probably coming from an assassin like him.

Pennyworth. Now this man Damian knew loved him, no matter his flaws. He would miss their talks and those times they had tea together. Those were the most pleasant moments ever. He would definitely miss those over anything.

Kyle. He would miss her. She had been nice, even though her and his mother hadn't gotten along and he was his father's bastard child. Those two had shared some secrets that they would never tell the others and he had thought that maybe they could get close enough for him to call her mother. Guess it was too late for that.

He then thought of his actual mother. She would think him weak just like grandfather will think. She would probably be disappointed that she hadn't had the honour of killing him again.

He let out a sharp gasp as he tried to shift his body to a more comfortable position but that just agitated the wound worse and Damian couldn't help but feel like crying.

He thought back longer and couldn't help but think about Jonathan. The boy-man-  whatever the hell he was now, hated his guts. Well that's what he assumed. People who like you don't normally call you baby Hitler, but who knows? Maybe that's just another thing that's different here and Damian is just a freak for not knowing it.

He thought about the first time they met and the last time they saw each other. Neither had been good. It went, like how Todd would normally say, shit.

He wasn't even surprised though. He couldn't blame anyone for not wanting anything to do with him. If anything Jon was lucky that he got away as quick as he had. He saved himself a shit ton of time being wasted on an assassin.

He thought of his other friends. Colin had been adopted earlier and even though those two had been keeping contact Damian could tell that Colin was happier in his new, normal life away from his. So he cut him off. That's probably the nicest thing he had ever done to someone. Colin’s probably grateful for Damian doing this.

Maps parents have banned her from hanging out with him, not wanting their daughter to be associated with Damian Wayne. He couldn't blame them, really. He honestly thought it was the best decision they made for her and he keeps telling himself that when he sees Maps in the hallways of Gotham Academy and sees her talking to those who make his life a living hell.

Surren was focusing on the magical world and he had barely been giving Damian the time of day. At least when Damian dies then he wouldn't feel hurt. He would probably not even remember him.

Maya had travelled to Africa over a year ago and her and Damian hadn't spoken since after they had had a nasty argument before she had left. Damian felt guilt, knowing for a fact that even though he was a monster, Maya would still feel so bad. Why couldn't he do anything right?

Damian’s train of thought quickly turned to his team and by that time his vision had begun to become glazed and wobbly and he could barely even concentrate on anything without a huge headache. He let out a humourless chuckle and ignored the intense pain the vibrations had sent.

His team was a joke. Him being their leader was a joke. They barely even tolerate him as it was. They hate his guts and Damian could understand that. He would hate him too. They would probably be glad that they could have someone else be their leader instead of him being their leader. Probably be overjoyed at the fact that he had died in the most undignified way possible. Old and New would probably make it an anniversary party.

He thought of Wallace and couldn't help the tears. He had thought what he was doing was the right thing but instead it had done the complete opposite. He wished he could go back in time like the speedster could and apologies for being a nuisance. For being a pain. For being the worst person alive.

His old team had abandoned him the first moment they got, happier with his older brothers, far away away from him. And no matter how badly he wanted to blame them he knew they had every right to want to leave him. He just wished it didn't hurt so much.

Black spots began invading his vision every time he tried to focus on something and it truly was starting to grate on Damian’s nerves.

Suddenly he felt a rush of air next to him and heard a couple of thuds and horrified gasps.

“What the fuck happened!!?!” that voice sounded oddly like Todd and it sounded… worried.

“Todd?”

“And us baby bat.” said Grayson somewhere near him but Damian was too out of it to notice where.

“Don't forget us.” that sounded oddly like Wallace.

“What-what are you doing here?” he asked between gritted teeth as he tried his hardest not to scream in pain.

“Rescuing you, of course! What else!” that sounded like…Jonathan.

“I thought a baby Hitler wasn't worth saving.” he snarled as much as he could considering his circumstances. Shit why the fuck did he suddenly feel cold.

“I’ll deal with you later Kent! For now Damian is my priority.” snapped someone but he couldn't pinpoint who they were.

“Shouldn't all of you be glad?” He was genuinely confused. Why weren't they congratulating Jon.

“Why would we be glad?”

“Cause I'll be dead soon. You all hate me and now that I'm finally gone you won't have to deal with me anymore. It'll be like how all of you wanted.” he didn't know if it was the blood loss making him out of it that he would say that but he knew he didn't have much blood left to blush.

“We don't hate you!”

“Could have fooled me.” another sharp pain shot through him. “Oh shit, that's not good.”

“West, take him to the med bay at the watchtower.”

“Ye sir. How did this even happen?”

“Cause you all told me to let it happen.” when he heard his brothers confused noises he elaborated. “You all told me I should let the bullies do whatever. That I shouldn't use my strength against the ‘innocent’.”

“Fuck we-”

“Not now. Wally watchtower now. Oracle, find the footage. We have brats to hurt.”

And suddenly he was being woodshed away.

Damian couldn't help but think that maybe they did care. Maybe they do love him. Maybe they don't hate him. Maybe Jon still wants to be his best friend. Maybe his teammates don't hate him.

But probably not.

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5