#having this guy who’d snap someones neck for breathing wrong at his back?

[kairospy]

When i say James Potter is the little spoon I mean Regulus hates having his back turned to anyone, hates having people where he can’t see them, hands on him while he’s unaware, but James loves being held at any given moment

Movie date? He’s pressed against Regulus’ side. Hanging out with Sirius? They’re essentially holding hands. He will plop down on Regulus’ lap randomly and all Regulus does is change the book to the other hand so he can play with James’ hair

[underforeversgrace]

bent but not yet broken - 2

title: bent but not yet broken

words: 2,641

Story Summary:

How short a time had Danny even been here? He’d already lost track of the days. Had he been here a week? A month? It was amazing what a void time became when every second was an all-consuming pain.

Danny Phantom has been captured by the GIW. The students of Casper High are protesting. Sam and Tucker have been notably absent, working with the Fentons to get Danny back.

What happens when the GIW bring back the hero, muzzled and beaten, on display for all of Casper High to see?

Chapter 2 of 7: We Reach for Each Other

AO3

Tumblr Chapter One / Tumblr Chapter Three

~~~~~~

Lancer glared at the memo in his hands, fighting off the urge to rip it into shreds as he trembled with rage.

He shared a glance with Ishiyama, who just nodded at him with a frown.

Important notice to all Casper High Staff:

The Guys in White will be active on campus later today to capture the remaining ghosts haunting the school. Do not interfere with GIW personnel, equipment, or ghostly lures brought on campus. Do not notify the students, as we understand that there are ghost sympathizers among them who may incite violence.

-Agent O

Lancer had never hated someone. He was a teacher - patience was a virtue he had developed (even if he had also developed less desirable traits, like favoritism) - and he had never felt this much disdain for anyone in his life. Now, however, he finally understood all the times his stories had characters who had such anger and hatred that they saw red. 

He was seeing fiery crimson as he crumpled the note in his fist, trying to subtly do calming breathing exercises. None of the others understood - none of them could understand.

After all, it wasn’t any of their faults that Danny Phantom had been captured two weeks ago. None of them had been too slow in evacuating, none of them had been in the way when the Guys in White fired at an Unidentified Ghostly Assailant that they hadn’t seen behind them. No, only Lancer had been there to watch the ‘menacing’ Phantom jump in front of a shot that would have injured human and ghost alike.

Similarly, none of them had heard an agent bragging a little too loudly about a trap that had worked perfectly as they snapped a collar around the unconscious Phantom’s neck.

Lancer was many things - dumb was not one of them. Federal agents had intentionally shot at him - an unarmed civilian - so they could capture a ghost who’d barely ever done anything wrong. A familiar guilt curled in his stomach. He blamed himself for being bait. More than that, however, he wondered how he had forgotten a student. Phantom had saved him more often than any other member of Casper staff - he was clearly familiar with the teacher in a way that spoke of knowing each other.

Who was this child, when he’d been alive? How could Lancer not know which happy, joyous, wise-cracking child this had been?

Fine, Lancer thought as he slipped away from the teacher’s meeting, noting and ignoring Ishiyama’s worried look - she probably knew something was amiss by the look on his face.

Lancer hurried, passing through the empty auditorium where he knew over half the school would be once school hours started. It was what the student body had taken to doing since Phantom’s ‘arrest’: protesting with some sort of byline that would make even Samantha Manson proud, though she had been noticeably absent from the sit-in, along with Tucker Foley and Daniel Fenton. It confirmed a long held suspicion Lancer had - that the trio were somehow involved with Phantom. Ms. Manson and Mr. Foley were seen far too often around the specter, and Phantom had access to too much Fenton tech to not have an ally within the ghost hunter’s household.

Lancer hesitated for only a moment before pulling up the student files once he made it to his office. These kids were somehow involved, and - as much as he hated to involve them further - he had no doubt that they’d been spending the past two weeks planning to break Phantom out of the GIW facility he was in. And what better time to stage a breakout than when a platoon of GIW agents would be at the school? They were still a small organization - the building they occupied within Amity Park was a quarter the size of Casper High itself.

Steeling himself in his decision, he found the application Mr. Foley had submitted when he’d requested Casper to make a computer club.

“There you are,” he muttered, pulling Foley’s personal email address from the form. He tried to push aside the mental gymnastics he was doing - first the worry of knowing these agents had already shot at unarmed civilians before, and then the absolute belief that these three would storm the facility eventually regardless. “It’s safer if they do it today…”

Quickly, he smoothed and scanned the memo, emailing it to Foley from the burner email Lancer used for online video games.

The computer gave a ding as the email successfully sent, and Lancer finally gave up his losing battle with convincing himself this was a good idea. It was done. Whatever happened, happened. And Lancer would accept all the blame that came with it.

~~~~~~

Jack paced back and forth, angry tears falling from his eyes as he looked at the official, generic response crumpled in his hands.

Dr. and Mrs. Fenton, he read again, though the words were seared into his brain. It still irked him the way the Guys in White had addressed it, when they were both Dr. Fenton.

In response to your recent inquiry to be able to work with the recently acquired specimen VNM-262 (colloquially referred to as ‘Danny Phantom’), we are denying access at this time.

VNM-262 is a volatile, unusual presentation of spectral energy. It is being kept in a closely monitored environment with only strictly necessary personnel interacting with it, until such time as we can be sure its powers have been successfully nullified and/or removed. 

We will reach out to you when this state has been attained and/or when the subject has been destabilized to a point of being a non-threat.

Regards, 

Agent A

Administrations Assistant

Two weeks. They’d had his son for two fucking weeks already, doing God knows what to him. Well, only God may know exactly what, but Jack and Maddie could guess.

They’d been planning what they’d do in the same situation for two years, after all.

Jack’s tears burned as they ran down his face.

“What now?” Sam asked, looking as tired as Jack felt.

Jack glanced to the couch, studying the two exhausted teenagers sitting there, his equally drained wife on the chair beside them. Dark circles lined Sam’s eyes; Maddie’s jumpsuit was wrinkled and stained with ink; even Tucker’s beret seemed to be sagging under the weight of it all.

As usual, a mix of emotions welled up inside Jack as he studied his son’s friends. Anger that they’d known his secret and allowed Danny to keep it from them. Guilt that they had genuinely feared what Jack and Maddie would do to him if they found out. Relief that Danny hadn’t gone through the last two years alone. Grateful sadness at how hard they were working to try to help them save Danny.

Dozens of papers sat on the table in front of them, proof of their efforts. Requests under the Freedom of Information Act demanding information on Danny Phantom, law books and studies relating to illegal incarceration, cases setting various precedents on America’s mishandling of undocumented immigrants - anything and everything they could think of that might help them get Danny out.

Even Vlad’s lawyers - dead and alive - had offered their advice, but they didn’t have much. The Anti-Ecto Control Act was broad reaching and vague enough that the GIW could do whatever they wanted while court proceedings happened - which could take years.

“What do we do now?” Tucker asked, repeating Sam’s sentiment when neither of the adults in the room answered.

“I don’t know,” Maddie said, her voice betraying how close to tears she was.

“Maybe we should try Clockwork again,” Sam said desperately.

“So he can tell us the same ‘all is as it should be’ bullshit? No, thanks - I’m not up to throwing hands with a god of time. Again.” Tucker answered.

Jack remained silent, rereading the rejection notice from the GIW as he tried to push down the anger that spiked whenever the two spoke. It had taken them four days to tell the Fentons the truth of who Danny was after he’d been caught, after spending that entire time running the parents in circles whenever they tried to reach their son. They’d single-handedly thrown both parents' lives upside down and then directly into crisis.

The ensuing silence was like molasses down Jack’s throat, choking him, overwhelming him. “Fuck!” He yelled, turning and punching the wall behind him, going straight through the drywall in his desperation to break the oppressive quiet. “Fuck!”

All three of them had jumped at his outburst. They were used to Jack Fenton being loud - they weren’t used to him screaming or punching things (that weren’t ghosts). Jack couldn’t bring himself to face them again, instead leaning his head against the wall. 

“How do I get my son back?” He asked no one in particular, the ever present tears flowing harder. “I just want my son back. Please.” Jack didn’t know who he was pleading to. The universe, God, Clockwork, the people around him perhaps. Anyone, anything that would listen to him. “Please.”

Mercifully, Sam didn’t give the retort she’d given so often whenever Jack or Maddie had expressed similar sentiment in the past ten days. “Even if he’s half ghost?”

Jack continued to beg to whoever would listen to give him Danny back as he lowered himself to the floor, his legs unable to hold him up any longer as he leaned against the wall, his pleas swallowed by his sobs.

At least Jazz wasn’t here to see this. She’d gone to school overseas, and then on an expedition to study the psychology of areas that were less technologically developed. Or, at least, somewhere that her cell phone didn’t have service.

What would they say when Jazz finally did get in touch? She’d see the news of Danny’s capture. His arrest hadn't made international headlines - hell, it didn't even make national ones - but it was the only thing Amity's press was discussing. Would they have Danny back safely by the time Jazz inevitably saw an article?

A ding rang through the room like a gunshot as a voice cheerily announced “You have mail!” 

Tucker stared at the PDA in his hand - the source of the noise. “Who…?” he started, trailing off as he read the message, his frown deepening and eyes darkening as he did so. “Those fuckers!”

“What?” Sam asked, grabbing the PDA from him before he had the chance to answer. There was a short pause as she read the email. “Haven’t they done enough damage?”

“What is it?” Maddie interjected.

“An email - I don’t know from who,” Tucker answered, grabbing the PDA back, “but it’s a memo to the staff at Casper High. The Guys in White will be visiting today.”

“Does it say anything about Danny?” Jack asked.

“No,” Tucker sighed. “Just that they’ll be there and not to interfere with them, their equipment, or their ‘ghostly lures.’”

“Sounds like it’s time to storm a government base to me,” Sam said, her face far too serious and tired for someone who was barely sixteen.

“Can I take a look?” Maddie asked, holding out her hand. Tucker shrugged and handed the PDA over. She read it aloud, likely for Jack’s benefit, but he was struggling to not drown in his grief. He’d never been good at insurmountable problems. He’d let it consume him - and then he would come out the other side swinging, full of determination and the bedrocks of a plan.

He’d never had anything this high stakes to get through before, though. It felt like every brain cell he had was dying, replaced by a void of grief.

Jack couldn’t say it aloud, but he didn’t know if there was a way to save his son, to bring him back home. To rectify the mistakes they’d made, to show him that Jack loved him with his entire heart no matter what, to beg Danny’s forgiveness that they’d given him enough reason to doubt. 

While the GIW facility looked like nothing more than an office building, it was armed and defended to the teeth. Jack and Maddie had helped them set up the weaponry, a fact that burned like acid in his mind.

Conversation around him pulled Jack from the tempest of pain his mind had become.

“Something is bugging me with this,” Maddie said, her lips pursed the way they did when she was deep in thought. “The note not to tell the students due to the possibility of a riot, and this ghostly lure they referenced.”

“It’s a scientific government facility that hurts innocents. Everything they say should bug you,” Sam said, an edge to her voice that made Maddie flinch.

“I think we should go to the school,” Maddie continued.

“What? If one of the teams is gone, we can go to the facility directly and have a better chance of busting Danny out!” Sam shouted, immediately shooting to her feet.

“They catch their number one target and leave him under-protected barely two weeks later? The GIW don’t have that many employees,” Maddie pointed out.

Jack glanced over at his wife, a frown forming as he realized she was right. “We wouldn’t have, after all. Not this soon.”

The two Fenton parents shared grimaces as guilt burned Jack alive.

Sam opened her mouth to say something, but Tucker placed a gentle hand on hers and she pursed her lips in aggravation instead.

“So we go to the school, and then what?” Tucker asked, glancing between the ghost hunters. “How the hell do we get Danny away from them?”

“Ecto-weapons can be dangerous to humans, too,” Maddie said, standing and rolling her shoulders, a look of grim determination on her face.

“You’re going to open fire on federal agents in a high school? Are you sure that’s smart?” Sam questioned.

“No, it’s dumb as hell,” Jack answered, heading towards the lab for more weapons. “But we’re getting Danny out of there, consequences be damned.”

When Jack returned, he handed off several ecto-weapons to Maddie, nodding wordlessly. He also handed her a Fenton Thermos, tossing two more to Sam and Tucker, one already clipped to his own belt. “Maddie and I will distract them. Get Danny in a Thermos and get him out of the school.”

“Maybe only one of you should distract them,” Tucker said, rolling the Thermos around in his hands. “Then we can pretend that one was overshadowed or something. Otherwise, we’ll be getting Danny out of there, just to be forced into foster care or something. He needs the portal and its ambient ectoenergy - he can’t lose both of you.”

Maddie was grabbing the ecto-gun out of Jack’s hands before he could react. “Tucker’s right, and I’m the better shot.”

Jack frowned. “If they don’t buy the overshadowed theory, you’ll go to jail for attempted murder.”

Maddie hummed slightly, ejecting the cartridge and studying the sleek, see-through container where green glowed with its own ethereal light. She popped the cartridge back in, cocking the weapon with practiced ease. “You and I both know it won’t be attempted murder, dear.”

The protest almost bubbled past Jack’s lips before he bit his tongue. As much as he hated it, she was right. This might be their only shot to save Danny, and Jack’s desire to save his son easily trod over his pride at pretending he wasn’t a bad shot. So, with more restraint than Jack Fenton remembered ever using before, he kept his mouth shut, and allowed his wife to make the self-sacrifice play. “Danny comes home today,” he promised.

Even if you don’t, were the words they left unspoken as Maddie met his gaze, a brief moment of sadness in her eyes before they hardened to determined steel.

“Let’s bring him home,” Tucker mumbled, standing from his seat with Sam following. “No matter what.”

[gretagerwigsmuse]

alexa! i loved how you reworked the whole toxic, jealousy boyfriend trope with this! because you can totally see where bradley was coming from and why he wanted to help sg, but the depth you gave it was so good! like yeah punching someone in the navy in a navy bar surrounded by people in the navy isn’t the smartest idea, but then when you add the whole underlying reason why she’s mad at him, it’s so good! more below 💕

Bradley really hoped you’d be up for leaving soon. He wouldn’t mind taking a dip in the pool at your apartment. Or better yet, getting you to join him for a cool shower. - ughhhhhh this sounds absolutely divine, both options

He’d taken advantage of your surprised laugh to back you up against your front door to get his mouth along the column of your neck. He’s always been a big picture kind of guy. And he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he was tugging open that bow between your breasts with his teeth. - ENOUGH! already ENOUGH!!! i want to wear a frilly little tank with a bow and have my big broad and brawny boyfriend make out with my against my front door! it’s not fair! it’s too early in the fic to have me feeling this way! also ‘big picture guy’ has me kicking my feet giggling

Part peacocking, part coping. While he’s never been the type to shy away from being the center of attention, he’d also found it was easier to breathe in the spotlight. Because with everyone’s eyes on him, it was impossible to feel alone. - why are you making me want to jump off my fire escape this early! that’s what i always say about it! i’m sorry to everyone else who thinks he just likes the attention, but they’re wrong! it’s because he’s lonely! sweet boy

Only now he gets to sing it directly to the girl who’d given him the sheet music to the song in the first place. - ENOUGH!

There’s a trail of spilled cocktails and beers in his wake as he unapologetically weaves through the tightly crammed bodies that separate him from you. If anyone has an issue with him later, they can put a refill on his tab. - the absolute chaos this man is causing!? i totally get why he’s alarmed with the guy putting his hand on her, it’s different than just a poor comment. but i have a feeling things are about to go downhill

The man is big, but Bradley is bigger. And he outranks him. - sorry but H-O-T-T-O-G-O snap and clap and touch your toes raise your hands now body roll dance it out you’re hot to go

“No, kid, I’m handling it for you.” This asshole was Bradley’s problem to deal with now. - oh bubs, no no no no no

“Bradley, stop. I told you, I’ve got it.” Your voice is clipped, tight. “Let me take care of it.” - IT’S LIKE A CAR ACCIDENT I CANT LOOK AWAY

For a moment, Bradley isn’t at the Hard Deck anymore. He’s standing in Jason Cameron’s kitchen, where the smell of weed and cheap alcohol and Axe hung heavy in the air. - NOT A DARK DAYS FLASHBACK OH SHIT

When he shakes off the memory and returns back to his body, he’s almost surprised to see the broken bottles on the floor and not shards from a sliding glass door. - ooooo this is such a good visual!!

He needs a moment to work off his anger and get his head back on straight before he comes to check on you. - the sad part is he does almost everything right? like he knows he should be abashed talking to penny, he cleans up the glass, rights the table and chairs, he knows he has to cool down and work off the adrenaline, but he still doesn’t do everything right, he’s so close but he’s so oblivious to the real issue

“That’s my girl and that guy wasn’t listening.” Nat lifts a pointed eyebrow at him, “Sounds familiar.” - honestly the poor girl has to deal with all their shit, i just know she wants girlfriends and to have a nice night out where the floors aren’t sticky and she can wear a cute outfit without the guys giving her shit (affectionate)

He’d love nothing more than to pull you into his lap in one of the Adirondack chairs to watch the last glimmering moments of golden hour with you in his arms. - i would also love nothing more than this

Bradley wants to skip over this part to where the two of you are back on the same page. He wants to skip to the part where he gets to see your dimples and hear you laugh. - god i love how you write him. he’s perceptive and Good, but he’s still such a Boy?

“I really don’t want to hear it. I don’t think I’ve ever been this mad at you,” you fume. “Not even in high school when you got in that stupid fucking fight at that Homecoming party when I had to take you to the hospital.” - i like that they both think of this! it’s such a good invisible string, we’ve been there from the start and seen each other at our worst moment

“I have always had your back, and I will always have your back.” - oh bubs! you’re so close! having her back is knowing when she’s got it - especially when she explicitly tells you

and if he has his way he’ll be looking out for you until his number is up. - ENOUGH

Like you didn’t care about what I wanted. You have never treated me like that before.” Guilt makes his stomach churn. “You and I both know that’s not true,” he replies. It’s an uncomfortable truth. - SAY IT WITH ME ‘DARK DAYS DARK DAYS DARK DAYS’

“But tonight? Tonight, you made me feel small. And you’re the very last person I thought who’d ever make me feel that way.” - YOU KNOW THE CONCEPT OF ‘SMALL’ IS MY FAVE THING! like it’s right up there with ‘less than’ and perfectly describes this situation ughhhh

He never thought he’d be the guy who makes you cry. - ‘does he make you laugh?’ ‘he doesn’t make me cry’ GO OFF TESS OCEAN DAMN

“You can be mad at me, kid,” Bradley murmurs, “But just let me hold you.” - ‘kill me kill me kill me kill me’ cc janet from the good place. i would like to be held by him! and love that she lets him! i’m envisioning that scene from normal people when they’re in italy and connell talks marianne in his arms 🥺 and the fact that it’s a hug with her arms around his stomach!?!!!

“Because I l-like you so much.” - SHE WANTS TO SAY IT!!! she’d hate herself for saying it in this situation tho. and also i LOVE (ironic) like confessions! they’re so sweet and genuine and pure

“…Help me to understand.” - i like that he kind of pushes her here? like he could’ve just been like i don’t want to mess things up more and let it be especially with their fight, but he takes the risk and pushes her

You look away from him towards the ocean, the sunset paints you golden. Bradley knows you’re collecting your thoughts, so he waits. - the way she tells bradley about jake seems to real, the dialogue there is so good! the pacing was perfect

and he hated the idea that someone had been careless with it before it made it into his safekeeping. - MADE IT INTO HIS SAFEKEEPING GET OUT OF HERE WITH THAT!?!! god i wanna write that pretty

“But you, Bradley, say the right things and mean them. You show me how important I am to you, with or without an audience. No one has ever made me feel as special as you do.” - ‘and bradley had the best personality’ god she likes him so much, i can feel her hurt even in his pov

He doubles over with an overexaggerated oof and then tilts his head up at you and winks with a smile. - this was cute! it lightened the mood, but didn’t feel too cheesy? and ofc it brings back the whole invisible string bit with him teaching her how to throw a punch

It’s the same sound when he twirled you around the dance floor when you were nineteen at your mom’s second wedding. - THE END OF THE DARK DAYS!!!!!

You softly shake your head at him. “I’m just right for you. And you’re just right for me.” - this goes back to the ‘like’ confession, it’s just so sweet and honest

No one’s ever had him, not like the way you do. - this reminds me of something!? i’m gonna figure it out (edit: it’s so high school)

“Damn. I forgot the kid is a straight hustler,” Jake says, clearly impressed. - wait i LOVE this ending!!! the callback is so cute!! and bradley’s so proud of her!

That’s My Girl

Summary: Bradley has been looking after you for longer than he can remember. You’ve always been his favorite person. So when some guy makes an unwelcomed move on you, that last thing he’s going to do is just sit back and watch it happen.

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 6.7K

Warning: language, male chauvinism, allusions to smut, some angst with a happy ending

(author's note: this is a fic is set in the 'Like I Can' universe, however it can be read on it's own!

In hindsight, Bradley should have known how rowdy the crowd at the Hard Deck was going to be tonight.

Sailors fresh off a several months long deployment were always a boisterous bunch. But Sailors fresh from a deployment during San Diego Fleet Week were a different thing entirely.

The bar is packed and humid, even with the doors and windows opened for the Pacific breeze. Penny’s old air conditioning unit might be on its last legs because Bradley’s shirt is sticking to the skin of his back. He’d nearly lost his mind when he’d seen that bead of sweat work its way down your neck and between your breasts when you’d pressed a kiss to his cheek and told him you were getting a refill and asked if he wanted anything.

Bradley really hoped you’d be up for leaving soon. He wouldn’t mind taking a dip in the pool at your apartment. Or better yet, getting you to join him for a cool shower.

It wasn’t the just the deep v of your tank top- or those sweet little embroidered flowers along the edges of it- that hand his fingers twitching to touch you. Although he liked those too.

It was that damn bow.

When Bradley had picked you up from your apartment earlier this evening and seen you wearing that, he’d given you a wolf whistle so loud it had caused your neighbor’s dog to start barking.

He’d taken advantage of your surprised laugh to back you up against your front door to get his mouth along the column of your neck. He’s always been a big picture kind of guy. And he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied until he was tugging open that bow between your breasts with his teeth.

You’d all but sighed his name as your fingers tangled in his hair.

Bradley.

And just as he’d reached your collarbone, you’d pulled him back up to your mouth like you were going to kiss him and murmured Later against his lips before slipping past him, like the menace that you are, leaving him to chase after the trail of your perfume.

You knew what you were doing, that was for damn sure. He’s always been a sucker for a bow. And for you.

Bradley had more than appreciated the extra sway you’d put in your hips just for him as you walked down your hallway towards the elevator. He’d grinned to himself as he set off after you, because at the end of the night, his girlfriend would be coming home with him.

Earlier in the evening, Coyote had been fast to claim the cluster of tables that some Butterbars had left to close out their tabs, most likely onto their way to the next stop of many for the night. It was lucky timing, because there’d been a nonstop steady stream of people making their way into the unofficial designated Naval watering hole for Fleet Week. There was a mix of civilians, Naval regulars who are stationed at North Island, and the visiting Sailors dressed in their uniforms on liberty. Bradley wasn’t sure how many more bodies could be packed in until some of the worn wooden shingles of the bar started popping off.

The lively and loud atmosphere of Fleet Week was something that Bradley had typically enjoyed in the past. He liked seeing people cut loose and laugh as they swapped stories with their friends and families. And he’d been happy to do his part to add to the good times, having been pulled to the piano twice already.

Over the years he’d built up a curated collection crowd-pleasers for occasions just like this. Part peacocking, part coping. While he’s never been the type to shy away from being the center of attention, he’d also found it was easier to breathe in the spotlight. Because with everyone’s eyes on him, it was impossible to feel alone.

So much has changed for him since getting permanently stationed in San Diego. And all for the better. That loneliness was a thing of the past, because now when he played, he was surrounded by all of his favorite people

But Bradley still ends his impromptu sets the same way he always has, with Jerry Lee Lewis. Only now he gets to sing it directly to the girl who’d given him the sheet music to the song in the first place.

The same one, he’s realized, who hasn’t returned back from getting her refill yet.

Bradley takes a quick glance around the corner of the bar they’d laid claim too. Bob, Fanboy, and Payback were lounging against the side of the pool table chatting up some of the visiting Sailors, since there wasn’t enough room to actually play a round without taking someone out with one of the cues. Coyote was leaning over the jukebox flipping through the albums with a pretty civilian who was out with her friends that he’d met and was clearly trying to impress. And Jake and Nat were seated with him at one of the tall round tables taking about the new Top Gun students, where your chair next to him was still empty.

Everyone was accounted for, except you.

There are so many people packed around the edges of the bar that it takes him a moment to find you. He thought maybe you’d been held up by Penny or Jimmy or some other familiar face, but he doesn’t recognize the man who standing way too close to you. But the firm press of your lips tells him everything he needs to know.

He sees the next moment playout as if it’s in slow motion. Watching as you attempt to take a step back, only for the guy to wrap his hand around your wrist to keep you from moving away. Bradley sees you glance down at that hand on you, and back up at the stranger. He knows that look in your eyes as you shake out of his grip. You aren’t just annoyed, you’re pissed.

Bradley slams his beer down and shoves his stool back.

He hears Jake curse behind him, “Oh, shit.”

Chair legs screech against the wooden floor as his friends hustle to follow after him, but he doesn’t wait for them to catch up.

There’s a trail of spilled cocktails and beers in his wake as he unapologetically weaves through the tightly crammed bodies that separate him from you. If anyone has an issue with him later, they can put a refill on his tab. But right now, his only goal is getting to you.

He doesn’t slow for a second. He just struts right up and steps in between you and the other man.

“Do we have an issue here?” he rasps, folding his arms over his chest.

Bradley takes the guy in with a hard glower. The name tape on his uniform reads Wilson. A LTJG, based on his shoulder boards, from one of the visiting ships. The man is big, but Bradley is bigger. And he outranks him. The guy might not know it yet, but it was just another thing he was planning on making crystal clear.

You put a hand on his tense shoulder. “Everything is fine.”

“It sure as shit doesn’t seem fine.” He doesn’t take his glare off of Wilson. “I think it’s time for you to go now.” He jerks his chin towards the front door.

“We’re just having a friendly conversation,” the other man drawls, sending him a wink. The implied innuendo makes Bradley’s jaw clench. There wasn’t anything “friendly” about the way he’d been using his size to keep you trapped at the bar.

The guy is trashed. There’s a blankness behind his eyes that Bradley doesn’t like the look of. He must have pre-gamed before going out because Penny and Jimmy weren’t ones to overserve.

“No, what you’re doing is paying your tab and leaving this bar.” It’s an order.

“Bradley.” You say his name like a warning. “I’m handling it.”

You pull on his shoulder, but he shrugs you off.

“No, kid, I’m handling it for you.” This asshole was Bradley’s problem to deal with now. He’d tapped in the moment he’d seen the man touch you.

“I see.” Wilson’s gaze bounces back and forth between the two of you, an oily grin appears on his face. “You’ve already got someone for tonight lined up. Damn, you didn’t waste any time did you, sweet thing?”

Anger flares hot and bright in his stomach.

“You better watch your mouth,” Bradley spits, pointing a threatening finger.

The bar around him blurs around the edges, but the man in front of him only gets sharper in focus.

You step around him and tug on his arm. From the corner of his eye, he can see you shaking your head at him. “Bradley, stop. I told you, I’ve got it.” Your voice is clipped, tight. “Let me take care of it.”

He knows you want for him to let it go. To back off. And he’s about to- for you- because you want him to. But then he sees the guy’s eyes drop down to the exposed skin of your chest- to that bow between your breasts- and smirks.

It’s a look so filthy that even Bradley feels dirty. He operates out of instinct. Stretching his arm in front of you, he purposefully pushes you back behind him to where he knows Seresin is standing close by, trusting that his friend will move you out of the way.

“A barrack bunny like you must know her way around. I don’t mind another man’s sloppy-”

For a moment, Bradley isn’t at the Hard Deck anymore. He’s standing in Jason Cameron’s kitchen, where the smell of weed and cheap alcohol and Axe hung heavy in the air.

Bradley’s fist flies on its own.

He barely registers the moment his knuckles connect with the other man’s jaw. He doesn’t see the man stumble backwards into the table behind him. He doesn’t hear the surprised gasps or the sound of glass breaking or the thud as the man hits the floor. There’s only the color red and the sound of his own ragged breathing.

When he shakes off the memory and returns back to his body, he’s almost surprised to see the broken bottles on the floor and not shards from a sliding glass door.

The next few minutes are a flurry of chaos as Wilson’s friends come and scoop him off the floor to make their exit. From the looks of irritation on their faces, it seems like this might be an all too frequent occurrence. He makes a mental note to try and look up the man’s supervising officer. And if he can’t find them on his own, he’ll ask Mav to help.

He can feel dozens of eyes on him, but he can’t bring himself to care.

Bradley takes a moment to apologize to Penny. He avoids looking directly in her eyes, not wanting to see the disappointment he’s sure is there. The adrenaline is still coursing and sparking through his body. He needs a moment to work off his anger and get his head back on straight before he comes to check on you. But he knows you’re in good hands with his friends.

Without being asked, he rights the table and stools on his way to the supply closet to grab a broom and dustpan. He takes his time meticulously picking up the bits of broken glass off the ground before he sweeps the rest of it up as he waits for his heartrate to settle back down.

When he’s done, he spots Nat and Jake sitting at the bar top and heads towards them. But for the second time tonight, you’re not where you should be.

“That was some left hook, Bradshaw,” Nat says, pinning him with a flat look over the top of her drink.

He ignores the comment. “Have either of you seen my girlfriend?”

Jake lifts his hand up at about your height. “About this tall? Great smile? Dating a man that’s clearly punching?” He chuckles to himself. “No pun intended.” Those dimples of his are more grating than usual.

Bradley’s hand flexes in irritation. His quick fuse is on its way to being lit again.

“Seresin,” he barks, low on patience, “Where’d she go?”

The other man lets out a low whistle and shares a look with Nat. “She left out the side patio door like ten minutes ago. Looked like she was about to spit nails too.”

“Goddammit,” he mumbles under his breath. He turns to Phoenix. “Did she really look that pissed?”

She shrugs. “I’m surprised she didn’t punch you, I probably would have.”

Bradley’s mouth drops open. “For what? For defending her?”

All he did tonight was stand up for you when someone crossed a line and tried to get physical with you. He wasn’t ashamed for doing it, he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

“But did she want you to do that?” she asks, deliberately.

He doesn’t understand why Nat is giving him a hard time about this.

“That’s my girl and that guy wasn’t listening.”

Nat lifts a pointed eyebrow at him, “Sounds familiar.”

Bradley forces out a breath. “That was different and you know it.”

“All I’m saying is I think she was making herself pretty clear, but you chose not to hear her and did what you wanted anyways.” His teeth clench together as a rock lands hard in his stomach. “And from the sound of it, she wanted to handle it her own way.”

“Yeah, but…” You’re his, he wants to say, but holds back at the risk of sounding like the jealous boyfriend Nat thinks he’s being. Except he wasn’t being jealous, he just wanted to protect you.

“No buts, Rooster. You fucked up.”

Nat has always been a straightshooter. It was one of the things he’s always appreciated most about her, that and her keen ability to read people. He trusted her judgement. And if she feels this way, even if he didn’t necessarily agree with it, then the chances are very high that you do too.

“Shit.”

“Yeah, ‘shit’. Now go fix it.” She pats his shoulder once, and then gives him a shove to the side door they’d seen you leave from.

It’s cooler outside.

The ocean breeze feels good on his hot, sticky skin. Bradley feels like he can breathe a little easier without all those people milling around him.

You’re not hard to spot. To anyone else you’d a solidary figure facing the ocean, but he’d know the shape of you anywhere.

From what Seresin said, Bradley had figured you’d be half way down the beach. He’d been planning just to follow the trail of steam to find you. But you’re still as a statue with your arms wrapped around yourself as you stare out at the inky waves.

The noise from the bar is muffled inside the walls of the Hard Deck, but still slips out from the windows that are cracked open and follows him as he walks towards you. The sand shifts beneath his shoes with every step he takes. The tunes from Penny’s jukebox get carried away on the wind and are replaced with the gentle roar of the waves as he approaches you.

The days are getting longer and dusk is rolling in. The sun is hanging low in the sky. Not quite set, but well on its way. He’d love nothing more than to pull you into his lap in one of the Adirondack chairs to watch the last glimmering moments of golden hour with you in his arms. But knows that’s probably not in the cards for tonight.

The two of you have had fights before. Usually over stupid, inconsequential things. Arguing with you feels different now than when it did when you were just friends. Now that you’re his girlfriend, it feels like there’s more at stake. He knew he’d never forgive himself if he fumbled the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

Bradley wants to skip over this part to where the two of you are back on the same page. He wants to skip to the part where he gets to see your dimples and hear you laugh.

He stops just a few feet behind you. He knows you know he’s there, in that uncanny way you’ve always been able to sense him. The minutes tick by as he stands there and waits for you to acknowledge him. Or to turn around and shoot him that withering glare of yours. He’d take anything other than your silence.

But you don’t.

You give him nothing, which is almost worse.

It feels like a standoff.

He folds first.

“Sweet girl,” Bradley says, with a resigned sigh.

He doesn’t miss the way your whole body tenses at the sound of his voice.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Rooster.”

The way you say his callsign lands like a punch in the gut.

You’re only standing a few feet away from him, but it feels like the two of you are miles apart.

“C’mon, kid, that asshole is gone now. Come back inside.”

“Seriously?” you laugh bitterly, still refusing to look at him. “You’re seriously going to ignore me right now too? I said I don’t want to talk right now.”

He feels his jaw tick. “Look, I’m sorry,” he starts, still not feeling sorry in the least, “But-”

You put a hand up and whirl on him, shaking your head in disbelief. The thunderous look on your face would have a lesser man taking a step back, instead Bradley steels his spine and digs his feet into the sand.  

“I really don’t want to hear it. I don’t think I’ve ever been this mad at you,” you fume. “Not even in high school when you got in that stupid fucking fight at that Homecoming party when I had to take you to the hospital.”

He presses his lips together firmly. There was a time and place for a conversation about that night, the one where he’d earned the scars on his face, but it wasn’t here and now. It was a secret he’d kept to himself for nearly two decades, the only other person who’d known the full story was his mom. But telling you about it now would only make things worse.

You continue, like a freight train without brakes, “And you’d been drunk then. Not that that excuses anything. But you’ve had, what? Two beers tonight?” When you lift your eyebrows at him expectantly, he nods curtly in confirmation. “So tell me what the hell just happened in there?”

He swears that sharp flash of your eyes could cut glass.  A lick of heat bursts behind his sternum. Hot and fierce.

“He wasn’t backing off,” Bradley grits out, trying to summon the patience he doesn’t have. “What was I supposed to do? Give him a pat on the back and let him keep hitting on my girlfriend?” You scoff and he feels his pulse kick up in his throat. “I have always had your back, and I will always have your back.”

Bradley doesn’t understand why you don’t seem to understand that he’d do anything for you. He’s been looking out for you since your bike handlebars had iridescent tassels streaming from them, and if he has his way he’ll be looking out for you until his number is up.

“But that’s the thing, Rooster! You didn’t have my back in there,” you argue, stepping forward so you’re toe to toe with him. Your use of his callsign again chafes against his ears like sandpaper. “All you did was manhandle me out of the way to get at him and throw fists. I mean, Mav and Hondo would have let it slide if they’d been there to see that. But what about Cyclone? Would he? Why would you put your career at risk like that? What were you even thinking?”

You’re looking at him like you don’t know him, and he hates it. Because you’re the person who knows him best.

He runs a hand through his hair in agitation. He’s been trying to tame his temper, that caged animal that paced within the confines of the ribs in his chest. But his anger and frustration has been feeding off of yours, meeting it measure for measure.

“I wasn’t. I wasn’t thinking,” Bradley explodes, flinging his arms out to the side. “I’m not going to stop and make a damn pros and cons list while I watch some asshole being disrespectful and getting physical with you. It’s not going to happen, kid.”

“And I told you that I had it handled!” you exclaim.

The sound of the waves gets lost in the way both of your voices are raising with each and every parry in the verbal fencing match you’ve found yourselves in. This has escalated quicker than he ever could have expected, and all he wants is to find himself back on the same page with you.

“How am I the bad guy in all of this right now?”

“Don’t you get it? I’m not mad about you wanting you to be there for me, I’m mad about how you went about it. You literally pushed me out of the way and passed off to Jake, like my voice and feelings in that moment didn’t matter to you. Like you didn’t care about what I wanted. You have never treated me like that before.”

Guilt makes his stomach churn.

“You and I both know that’s not true,” he replies. It’s an uncomfortable truth.

That dark period after his mom died and how he’d treated you still haunted him sometimes. When he’d try to set fire to all the bridges around him, including his friendship with you. He hadn’t been worth knowing back then, but you’d never given up on him. He remembers it like it was yesterday, he’s never forgotten it. On the nights he couldn’t sleep, it was one of the many things that played out behind his eyelids like a highlight reel of all his worst moments.

Your eyebrows pinch together in confusion. He sees the moment it clicks for you because the fire that had been blazing behind those eyes he knows so well transforms into something softer. Something sadder.

“Bradley, I’m not going to hold onto something from when you were eighteen and hurting and heartbroken.” Your voice catches with emotion. “But tonight? Tonight, you made me feel small. And you’re the very last person I thought who’d ever make me feel that way.”

He can’t even enjoy hearing you say his name again, because you look so disappointed in him. The two of you stand there staring at each other, searching each other’s eyes as the waves rolling in along the shore fill the silence.

The way your lower lip wobbles steals the fight right out of him. All that righteous indignation that had been whirling in his chest is gone quicker than it came over him at the sight of the tears welling up along your lower lash line.

He’d let you down back then. And he’d let you down tonight too. He feels like he’s broken a promise to you, one he’d made with himself a longtime ago. Bradley wants to be the man whose shoulders you could lean on, the one you trusted to bet there to support you. He never thought he’d be the guy who makes you cry.

Bradley says your name tenderly. Every single letter of it is precious to him because you’re the most important person in the world to him.

The single tear that escapes the corner of your eye and rolls down your face cracks his chest wide open.

He holds out his hand for you, but you half-heartedly bat it away.

“No, I’m still mad at you,” you say, feebly. It’s unconvincing at best.

“You can be mad at me, kid,” Bradley murmurs, “But just let me hold you.”

He needs to know that you’ll still let him. That you still want him.

Bradley reaches out for you again and this time you let him pull you into his chest. And when you thread your arms around his torso and hold him just as tight that knot in his stomach loosens. He rests his chin on your head and releases a sigh. With you in his arms, he feels like his feet are finally back on solid ground.

He knows he owes you an apology, a real one this time. He knows that he’s fucked up, he understands where he went wrong. But he can’t shake the feeling that he feels like he’s missing something, that there’s another reason playing into why you’re so upset.

Every one of your quiet sniffles twists the knife that’s lodged itself between his ribs just a bit more each time.

He doesn’t know how long the two of you stand there wrapped up in each other, as he runs his hand up and down your back. There’s more to discuss, but he doesn’t rush you. He’ll hold you for as long as you need him to.

When you pull away, only far enough to look up at him, he takes the opportunity to gently cup your face in his hands. His thumb skims along the line of your jaw, your eyes are still watery.

“Sweet girl, why are you crying? I know you. Why does it feel like there’s more to this than just me being an idiot?” he asks, quietly. It still feels so fragile between the two of you.

“Because I l-like you so much. And I know you meant well, but I hated what happened tonight.” You wipe angrily at the fresh tears that streak down your face, like you’re irritated at them for them falling without your permission.  “My ex used to pull that kind of bullshit all the time and I always hated the way it made me feel.”

His hands fall from your face.

Your confession surprises him. “Jack?” Bradley asks, his eyebrows pulling together. You nod. “I thought you said he was fine? That the break up was mutual because things got stale between the two of you.”

It’s times like this where he’s reminded of just how much distance there between the two of you over the last decade before you moved to San Diego. Of how much of you he’s missed out on. All the little moments that made up someone’s life. There was only so much an email, or a text, or a call could do.

You sigh, heavily. “I’m realizing now that there were a lot of things I put up with Jack because I didn’t want to rock the boat.”

Bradley’s fingers flex involuntarily where his hands are resting your hips. He doesn’t know what to make of that admission.

“You got to give me more than that to work with, kid. Help me to understand.”

You run you hand along his forearm soothingly, like you can sense his unease. He slides his thumbs through the loops of your jeans, fixing himself to you.

“Jack was really good about wanting to show everyone that he was a good boyfriend. And he was- for a while.” You pause, pressing your lips together. “But there were a few times where we’d go out and he’d make a scene, like what happened tonight. Except instead of someone being an actual asshole, it’d be someone who’d started up some polite small talk with me as we waited in line. And it always became a bigger thing than it needed to be. Then afterwards, he’d make it seem like he was defending my honor or something, even though he knew I didn’t like the kind of attention and all the looks that came with it afterwards. But Jack was always about Jack, and he liked the hero edit his friends would give him.”

You look away from him towards the ocean, the sunset paints you golden. Bradley knows you’re collecting your thoughts, so he waits. When you’re ready, you turn back towards him. There’s a different kind of hurt reflected in your eyes, one that tells him tonight has opened up old wounds for you.

“He’d say all the right things around other people, but when it was just the two of us alone, I never got that side of him. At the time I believed he was saying them because he meant them, but I can see now that he never really showed me that he meant them. I took his words at face value and settled for them.”

You give him a self-conscious shrug. Like you’re embarrassed. But your big heart was one of the things he loved most about you, and he hated the idea that someone had been careless with it before it made it into his safekeeping.

Bradley swallows hard. That tonight reminded you of the low points in your past relationship is hard for him to hear. And knowing why, makes it even worse.

“I think, more than anything,” you continue, your voice much quieter now, “I’m just mad that I let myself get lost in that for so long. Like I knew I needed more and that I wanted more, but I kept putting him ahead of myself when he wasn’t doing that for me.”

You thread your fingers between his and squeeze them lightly. He squeezes yours back.

“But you, Bradley, say the right things and mean them. You show me how important I am to you, with or without an audience. No one has ever made me feel as special as you do. Like, you don’t buy me red roses because you think you should-”

“Wait,” he doesn’t mean to cut you off, but his mind has snagged on a critical detail, “I thought your favorite flowers were tulips?”

A soft smile coasts over your pretty face. “They are.” He loves the warm way you’re looking at him right now, tender and fond. “And that’s what I’m talking about. You show me all the ways you know me because you care about me and want to make me happy. You don’t treat me like I’m an accessory in your life. I mean, I didn’t feel like I could even hang art on the walls of the apartment I paid half the rent for without Jack having an opinion on it. And here you are letting me bring over kitchen towels and plants for you, and we don’t even live together yet.”

Yet. Such a small word, but it means so much to know that you’re envisioning the same future with him that he sees with you.

“I like that you do that. I want you to do that. I appreciate the way you show me you’re thinking about me too.” Bradley runs his thumbs over the back of your hands. “Although, I’d rather be the one buying them,” he says, only partly teasing.

You made his house feel like a home. He hadn’t had that in so long. He wanted you to have things there in his condo that you also liked and made you happy because he wanted you to stay. He couldn’t wait for the day the two of you shared one address instead of two.

“Does that mean I should return the throw pillows I found for you?” He spots a wink of your dimples. “They’re soft, but firm enough that you won’t hurt your neck when you inevitably fall asleep on the couch even though you claim you’re just ‘resting your eyes’.” He never wants you to stop teasing him.

“No,” Bradley chuckles. “They sound perfect, but you’re going to let me Venmo you for them.”

“Ok, fine,” you agree. Almost reluctantly.

God, he loves you.

He leans in to kiss you. Once. Twice. Soft, sweet.

Bradley lets go of one of your hands to settle on your lower back and press you closer to him, until there’s no space between your two bodies. And brings the other one, with your fingers still tangled with his up against his chest. Before resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m so sorry I made you feel like that tonight.”

“Thank you, I forgive you.” You set the hand not entwined with his on the side of his face, your thumb sweeps across his cheek. “But I need you to hear me when I say that I can hold my own just fine, Bradley. I know you want to have my back and look out for me, but please, just not like that. Even if your heart is in the right place, ok?”

He nods. “I hear you, sweet girl. It’s not going to happen again. I promise.” He turns his head and presses a kiss to your palm. And then lifts the one still in his up to his lips, and drops a kiss to the back it.

“Plus, you taught me how to throw a punch, remember? I’m pretty sure I broke a guy’s nose one time,” you grin.

“Atta girl,” he says with pride. It’s so much lighter between the two of you now. He takes a couple step back, letting go of you and giving you a not-so-subtle onceover. “Ok, hot shot, show me what you got.” Beckoning you over with both hands.

“I’m not going to punch you, Bradley.”

“C’mon, kid, show me how it’s done.”

You shake your head at him in amused disbelief. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“No ma’am.” He taps his finger on his abs. “Let’s see it.”

You roll your eyes at him fondly. Then you hook your thumb over the top of your fist, just like he showed you all those years ago. And you ever so slowly, ever so gently press your perfectly aligned fist into his stomach. It could hardly even be considered a graze.

He doubles over with an overexaggerated oof and then tilts his head up at you and winks with a smile.

“You’re ridiculous.” The sound of your laugh fills his lungs.

It’s the same sound when he’d toss you into the pool when you were twelve. It’s the same sound when he’d spin you on the big tire swing when you were fourteen. It’s the same sound when he twirled you around the dance floor when you were nineteen at your mom’s second wedding.

There’s not just a glimmer of your dimples anymore, the full force of them hits him right in the chest.

“Speaking of punching,” Bradley says, straightening back up. “Hangman thinks I’m punching up.”

“Oh, does he? Interesting,” you hum. Your eyes shine in amusement.

He grins. “He’s not wrong. You’re way out of my league.”

You softly shake your head at him. “I’m just right for you. And you’re just right for me.”

He couldn’t agree more, but you don’t give him the chance too because you’re threading your arms around his neck and pulling his mouth to yours. With you in his arms and his lips on yours, he feels whole. You weren’t just right for him, you were perfect for him. And he’d never stop trying to be the perfectly right man for you.

No one’s ever had him, not like the way you do.

You’d always had a special place in his heart, but now the whole thing belonged to you. It was yours for the taking. He knew it would be in good hands with you, and he wasn’t going to stop proving to you that he was the one to be trusted with yours.

“Do you want me to take you home or do you want to go back inside?” He asks against your lips.

You kiss him again. “Let’s go back,” you say, wrapping your arm around his waist. “You owe me a dance, you know.”

He drops an arm over your shoulder. “I do?”

“You do.”

“Well then, lead the way, sweet girl.”

After he twirls you around on the crowded makeshift dancefloor of the Hard Deck, you let him take you home. Where he apologizes to you again, but this time on his knees with your thigh thrown over his shoulder. And twice more in your bed for good measure.

But not before he got his teeth on that little bow of yours.

He never stood a chance against it.

𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫

Bradley is about to line up his next shot at the pool table when Jake saddles up and nudges his shoulder.

“Looks like your girl has an admirer.” Hangman points with his beer bottle, directing Bradley’s gaze to the bar where someone is chatting you up.

He recognizes him from the most recent batch of Top Gun students. To call him overconfident would be an understatement. The guy is clearly as full of himself on the ground as he is in the sky, based on his body language as he monologues to you, all puffed up chest and cocky smiles.

If the guy had any common sense, he’d see that you look like you’d rather be anywhere else. It’s written all over your face.

“So it seems,” Bradley agrees, rests a hip against the table.

He’d noticed the guy checking you out. But it was pretty ballsy of the aviator to be leaning into you the way that he is, considering the two of you had arrived together and that Bradley had been the one tasked with doing some demonstration trainings with them earlier in the week.

The man makes some big gestures with his hands, he’s clearly reached the part of his story that’s meant to impress you. Bradley chuckles to himself when he sees the less than subtle roll of your eyes.

“Are you going to go all Rocky Balboa on his ass?” Jake asks with a knowing smirk.

You must feel their eyes on you, because you glance over in their direction.

He knows you can handle yourself, but he’ll be there if you want him to be.

Bradley lifts his eyebrow in a silent question. You give him a slight shake of your head and he nods.

“Nah, she’s got it.”

He sees the moment the guy fucks up and oversteps, because your eyebrows shoot up. You’re his sweet girl, but he knows the other guy is in for it when look that promises the best kind of trouble settles over your face.

His favorite menace.

Bradley watches on as you lean over the counter and ring the bell with enthusiasm.

A cheer goes up throughout the bar. He brings his fingers up to his lips and lets out a loud whistle.

You look rightfully smug as Penny points out the wooden sigh strung up between the beer taps to the confused Top Gun student whose bank account will be hurting in the morning.

“Damn. I forgot the kid is a straight hustler,” Jake says, clearly impressed.

“She sure is,” Bradley grins, still looking at you, “It’s a good thing she likes you or you’d be screwed.” He pats Jake’s shoulder reassuringly, before pressing the cue into his hands.

You return a few minutes later, with a tray of frothy, freshly poured beers for everyone wearing an all-to-pleased grin that lights up the whole bar.

He waits until the beers are safely on the table before threading a finger through your beltloop and tugging him to you.

“That’s my girl.”

Bradley tilts your face up for a kiss. It’s not his best work, you’re making it difficult for him since you’re too busy smiling.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

Disclaimer: my writing playlist included Cassandra, The Prophecy, and Castles Crumbling. So legally I cannot be held accountable for any angst hangovers.

Thank you for reading!

If you want to see what happens next for these two, click here!

You can read more of my stories here!

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[pastelwitchling]

“It’s cloudy, cold and I have a sleeping love of my life in my arms, go find someone else to play your alien catcher games,” Michael whisper yelled and hung up.

When Michael had woken up to a sleeping Alex’s face inches away from his own, he’d been afraid he was dreaming. But as he traced Alex’s cheek with the back of his fingers now and Alex made a soft sound at the back of his throat like a disturbed kitten and burrowed deeper into the warmth of Michael’s chest, as the memory of what they’d done last night and how close they’d been and the time they’d taken to explore every inch of one another’s skin, for once in no hurry, a smile of awe tugged at Michael’s lips.

The wind howled outside, unable to touch them here under the heavy duvet Alex had brought over last night because he’d wanted to make sure Michael was staying warm, and Michael let his hand fall down Alex’s shoulder, his arm, silently reveling in the way Alex shuddered in his sleep and curled up even closer, leaving no room between them.

Alex must’ve been exhausted if even Michael’s quiet giggles into the crook of his neck as he hugged him unbearably close couldn’t wake him. Or maybe, Michael thought, he had worn him out last night. The thought made him bite his lower lip and press his face to Alex’s neck and inhale. He was tired himself, easily able to go back to sleep for several more hours, but he didn’t want to stop staring at Alex. He had neverseen Alex sleep before, never gotten the chance to watch him, to touch his body and watch the way he reacted even in his dreams.

At one point, Alex started twitching slightly, his brows pinched. He made a quiet whimpering sound, turning his head left and right. Nightmares. Michael remembered Alex talking about this once before he seemed to realized he’d mentioned them at all and dismissed Michael’s concerns. Because that was Alex, wasn’t it? Nothing ever hurt him. He couldn’t affordto let anything hurt him.

Michael wouldn’t have that. He pressed his lips to Alex’s ear and softly shushed him, his other finger tracing a line from Alex’s brow down to the tip of his nose and back up again.

“Shh,” he whispered as softly as he could. “You’re okay, Alex. You’re safe here. You’re with me.”

“My Michael,” Alex murmured in a breath barely quieter than a whisper, as if every part of his mind yearned for Michael to be closer, before he pushed his face into Michael’s chest hair and his breaths settled again.

“Yeah, baby,” Michael murmured against Alex’s lips. “Your Michael.”

He opened his mouth against Alex’s, leaning in to kiss him, when his phone buzzed on the counter behind their heads. Alex flinched at the sudden sound, whimpering ever so slightly, before Michael levitated the phone right into his hand and answered his sister through grit teeth.

“What?” he hissed.

“I need you at the Crashdown,” Isobel said. “Max and Liz might have a trail on Jones and Rosa’s working on hearing frequencies.”

Michael shook his head. “Great, sounds like you’ve got everything taken care of. I’ll see you in five hours.” He looked down at Alex, his naked torso, his strong arms, his rosy cheeks and lips. His mouth watered at the thought of what they would do when he woke up. “Make that seven.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Isobel said sarcastically, “did you forget that there’s an evil alien with our brother’s face going around killing people?”

“Alex has a radar set up to find him,” Michael said, unable to help the smugness in his voice. “Tuned in to his frequency and his particular signature. He’s also got an alert system set up so if it finds anything, we’ll know. That said, good night.”

“It’s seven in the morning!”

“Not for us,” he argued.

“Michael!”

“Listen, it’s cloudy, cold, and I have the love of my life sleeping in my arms,” he whisper-yelled. “Go find someone else to play your little alien catcher games,” and he hung up.

Letting his phone float back to the counter, Michael snuggled back down until he was comfortably curled up with Alex again. He was just starting to heave a long breath when heavy knocks came at the door.

“MICHAEL!” Isobel’s voice sounded. “You are not sleeping in when Rosa needs your help, OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR!”

Alex flinched, his eyes flying open this time as he sat upright.

“No no no,” Michael murmured, taking Alex’s groggy face in his hands and pulling him in.

“What’s happening?” Alex mumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“It’s okay, go back to sleep, everything’s –”

“Michael!”

Alex turned in the direction of the door, brows furrowed. “Is that Isobel?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Open up!”

“What’s wrong with her?” Alex started to get out of bed.

“Do not get out of bed!”

“Guerin,” he said, more awake now, “she could need help.”

“Who cares?!”

Alex pulled on a pair of briefs, Michael’s pair of briefs, which made Michael die all over again, and opened the door to Isobel’s knocking.

Isobel’s fist was up mid-knock, and her eyes widened at the sight of Alex, half-naked, in front of her.

“Oh my god,” she muttered, “you really are here. Oh my god,” she repeated, her wide eyes raking Alex’s body up and down. Michael felt a possessiveness force him out of bed in one step. Isobel reached out as if to touch his pecs. “You – uh – sure you’re completelygay?”

Michael came in between them at the last second, keeping Alex behind him, his grip on his arm tight. “Yes,” he said through grit teeth. “Don’t touch him. Nobody touches him but me.”

Isobel raised a brow, unimpressed, and Alex sighed, a half-amused, half-exasperated smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh,” he said. “It’s one of those mornings. I’ll get dressed.”

“What?” Michael whipped around. “No, you’re not going anywhere.”

“Actually, if Alex comes, then you could stay in bed,” Isobel told Michael with a self-satisfied grin. “Isn’t that what you want?”

“I want to stay in bed with Alex,” Michael growled. “Alex, you don’t have to go anywhere, you’ve worked hard enough this week!” He stepped closer to Alex to keep Isobel from listening in, and lowered his voice. “After what happened with the Lockhart Machine –”

“Don’t do that,” Alex said, though everything about him was fond. He cupped Michael’s cheek. “I’m not made of glass, I can handle this.”

“I don’t want you to handle this,” Michael argued, gripping Alex’s waist to keep him here. “Please, Alex, I . . . just not yet. Just give us today. For me, please.”

And as always, Alex seemed able to see into his thoughts. I’m not ready to see you risk your life again, not so soon. You may be tough enough to handle it, but I’m not.

For a moment, Michael worried Alex would dismiss his concerns, tell him he was worrying for nothing. But then Alex’s shoulders fell, he gave a half, soft smile, and leaned in, kissing Michael’s lips. When he pulled back, he spoke to Isobel over Michael’s shoulder.

“Sorry, Isobel,” he said. “We can’t today.”

Isobel, who’d been watching the exchange, had her eyes narrowed, her brows furrowed in concern. She seemed to realize something horrible had happened recently, even if Michael was unwilling to talk about it. She nodded.

“Okay,” she said, then took a deep breath and repeated, “Okay. I’ll – uh – let everyone know it’s your day off. Sorry to wake you guys.” She turned, then stopped, and looked back at Alex. “So definitely gay then?”

“Get out!” Michael snapped as Alex burst into laughter behind him, clutching Michael’s shoulders to steady himself.

Isobel looked more put out that Alex was off limits than for anything else, and as soon as she had driven away, Michael shut the trailer door with his mind and picked Alex off the ground. He tossed him onto the bed and hovered above him. Alex’s eyes darkened as he gripped his arms, urging him closer.

Michael leaned in, pressing their foreheads together, taking just a few short seconds to reassure himself that Alex wasn’t on a ledge, but here, safe and sound in bed with him, before he bit Alex’s lower lip and grinded his hips down.

Alex’s lips parted in a moan and Michael took the opportunity to slot their mouths together. When he pulled back, Alex’s eyes were dazed and his cheeks were flushed.

“Guess I’m just gonna have to wear you out again,” he breathed, and kissed Alex’s eager grin.

I deviated just a little bit, hope that's okay. Prompt requests have been permanently opened, y'all, but no promises on how quickly I will deliver them.

[thefanficmonster]

Rumors

Corpse Husband x Bimbo!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Mentions of Slut Shaming, Swearing

Genre: Fluff, Tiniest bit of Angst, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When some rumors start floating around, every content creator does their best to either ignore them or defuse the situation. However, sometimes, the fans attempt to do the defusing themselves which only leads to a worse disaster. That’s the case for Corpse whose fans were quick to jump to his protection of some ‘false’ rumors.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for your request, it was a joy to write. I’m sorry for how long it has taken me to complete and post the fic but here it finally is and I hope you enjoy reading it at least half as much as I enjoyed writing it! Love, Vy ❤

Corpse cracks his knuckles, then his shoulders, then his collarbone, then the his neck. He clenches his jaw as he breathes steadily and rhythmically, trying to control an overwhelming wave of anger that he has never felt before. This is a situation he’s never had to deal with nor did he ever think he’d have to deal with and address on a fucking livestream on top of all, but here he is now, doing his best to count to ten and not go on a Twitter responding spree, calling people out on their bullshit. He wanted to do so, he still wants to, but he was stopped in his intentions and brought to a calm mindset where he was swayed into dealing with this the civil way and not by roasting the fuck out of any and every foul-mouthed person he’s seen on his Twitter timeline.

He can’t really guarantee and civility during the stream either, he’s aware his tolerance is as thin as a stretched out, old rubber band and is a slight tug away from snapping and allowing him to unleash hell on these people because of who he’s been seeing red these past few days. 

Let’s not risk a misunderstanding here - Corpse absolutely loves and adores his fans, but seeing this behavior from them is quite upsetting and disappointing. When he uses the terms like ‘assholes’, ‘jerks’ and ‘rude motherfuckers’ he isn’t referring to them. He knows they are good people, but are using the completely wrong tactic of defending him, not to mention he doesn’t even need defending. Even if he did, he’s more than capable of doing it on his own and not getting other people involved.

“Hello everyone, hope you’re doing well.“ He finally settles on saying, officially kicking off the stream. If there’s any indicator of the serious nature of this stream, it’s probably the lack of lo-fi and the lack of even attempted playfulness and cheeriness in his voice. That’s how you know shit isn’t to be messed around about. “I just realized I didn’t specify what I’ll be doing in the Tweet, but I’ll tell you now, so those who aren’t interested in the subject or want to steer clear of the drama can leave. However, I wouldn’t advise clicking off considering this will be an overall, how do I say this, rant, of sorts? It’s meant to knock some sense in the people who have been spreading hate for a specific person on all social media platforms she’s active on.“

The majority of the viewers are already familiar with the subject, some even guilty of spreading the hate Corpse mentioned, but there are a few that are completely clueless - the ones actually not interested in online drama, not just saying they ‘hate drama’. With those people in mind, Corpse takes to addressing the issue from its very beginning.

“So, for a month now, me and this streamer, who’s also a TikTok star, by the name of Y/N have been interacting a lot on social media. She’s an incredibly sweet girl that a lot of people have prejudice towards. She’s very misjudged and misunderstood because people see he solely as her content, if that makes sense. They only know she’s that streamer who wears revealing clothes on her streams and posts risqué pictures on her Instagram. Like, no.“ Corpse cannot even fully believe he has to address this and that slut-shaming people is still a thing in the twenty-first century. He closes his eyes for a moment, fist tightening and his knuckles turning white, “I don’t understand how so many people can be so shallow and just plain jerks towards her in general, but then again - this is especially for my fans, the members of my fandom - I don’t understand the need you guys feel to put Y/N down to defend me from some ridiculous rumors as if it’s the first time I’ve had to deal with people talking shit for attention or to get someone canceled.“ He sighs, reminding himself to slow his roll as to not confuse any viewers who still don’t know the full story, “Anyway, back to the timeline of events. So, considering we’ve never interacted before, all the replying to comments, retweeting, liking posts and whatever sparked some dating rumors. Isn’t that just fucking hilarious - you see two people interacting on social media and the first thing that comes to mind is that they’re in a romantic relationship. Where did the friendship go? Does no one value or consider friendships to be a valid type of human relation anymore?“ He runs a hand through his hair, making another pause to clear his mind and prevent his frustration from overflowing. He promised he wouldn’t lose his cool and would remain calm and collected, but the more he talks about it the tighter he clenches his fist and the faster his heartrate is. His neck and ears are red from the tension he feels all over, almost like he’s physically restraining a raging wild animal and not just his own thoughts and emotions.

There’s layers to his anger, the lower ones - aka the ones he’s yet to get to - will be a nightmarish test of his self-control, he already knows it. Judging by how much of a toll this rant has already taken on him, his patience and control growing thinner and thinner, he’s not sure how he’ll power through the last layers without his voice raising awfully high in volume and his fists searching for some object to punch. To an ignorant eye, his reaction would seem exaggerated and overboard, but little does that ignorant eye know...

“When some of my fans saw those rumors, they reacted very badly. It was quite disappointing to see. Guys, I appreciate you standing up for me even though you shouldn’t do that - I can defend myself, not that this was a matter I needed defending from to begin with. But just the way some of you went about it was horrifically wrong and quite upsetting, to me but especially to Y/N herself.“ He can feel it, the aggravation growing, bubbling up in his chest, “What I saw disgusted me, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. The things some of you were saying...I couldn’t believe you are in fact the same people who are my fans, my lovely fans who I’ve always thought so highly of. Never did I think you could be able of slut-shaming so vulgarly and grossly, I couldn’t believe what I was reading.“

He has every right to be upset - the things being said about Y/N were truly awful and a lot of things being said were meant to defend Corpse and defuse the rumors, doing so while stomping all over Y/N and her content. Rightfully so, many of her fans were outraged and quick to jump to her defense but were unfortunately outnumbered, leading Corpse to believe not many of her fans are actually real or as dedicated as his which only fueled his fury further.

Anyway, let’s take a look at Y/N’s point of view. Being a content creator for as long as she has, refusing to change her style no matter how many people disagreed and insulted her about it, she’s grown quite used to people spitting insults at her on every social media possible. It’s sad how throughout the majority of her content creating career she’s only had haters, creeps and fake fans watching her videos and streams. Rare are those in her fandom who’d actually stick up for her and defend her in ‘scandals’ such as this one. However, no amount of experience with dealing with hate could have prepared her for this outpour of some of the meanest shit she’s ever heard and been called in her life.

Y/N likes the content she makes, she’s comfortable in her skin and loves her body. She loves showing it off too and nor she nor anyone who wants that deserves to be shamed for who they are and what they do, especially when they aren’t hurting anyone and their content is still appropriate. People have always bashed her for all elements of who she is: her appearance, her clothing style, her streams, her gaming skills, her voice on occasion. She can count the instances when she’s received positive feedback on the fingers of her hands which would depress anyone else but not her. She’s always created content for her own amusement and entertainment so people’s opinions never really bothered her. Until now, until this very drama that has hit a specific nerve, an insecurity of hers she’s never talked about. The comments such as:

(Vy Speaking: Comments containing slut-shaming ahead, go to ### if you want to skip)

“Corpse would never date a slut like her“

“Corpse dating this thot? Please internet stop being ridiculous“

“Corpse ain’t a pimp, y’all need to chill“

“Even if they datin they gon break up soon - whore stays a whore“

###

bothered her far more than she’d like to admit. She has no one to open up about it either, she knows what she’ll get in response if she does - she’ll be told it’s her fault. Her fault because of the way she dresses, the way she talks and acts, because she chose this career to begin with. All her fault. The only person she can turn to she refuses to because she doesn’t want to be a bother - not after so many people confirmed her worries that she’s not good enough for him already anyway, the least she can do is avoid bothering him the best she can.

And that is exactly why this has upset Corpse so much.

“Here’s a little message specifically meant for those who claimed I’d never date someone like Y/N or specifically Y/N. You better listen carefully: Don’t you ever, and I mean EVER slut-shame my girlfriend or any other person ever. I cannot believe I have to explicitly remind you that your behavior isn’t ok. You should fucking know that your behavior isn’t right and that you’re a massive piece of shit for saying those awful things about others you judge solely on appearance and clothing. Does it surprise you that I am, in fact, dating Y/N? If you say yes for the reason you think she’s not good enough for me or that I deserve better, please get the fuck out of my fandom. No one disrespects my girl and gets away with it. That’s final!“

Though still under the influence of a flurry of negative emotions, overhearing Corpse literally telling people to exclude themselves from his fandom for being mean to her, Y/N’s taking a step towards emotional recovery knowing her boyfriend will always have her back. He’ll always be there to prove people wrong, defend her and stand by her. He’ll be there to catch her when the hate knocks her off her feet.

But most importantly: he’ll never ask her to change. Not her style, not her clothes, not her personality, nothing. He fell for her the way she is and for who she is, and he will never allow anyone to try to change her either. For someone who’s never had much support all her life, a single speck of support overpowers all the hate within the blink of an eye. Corpse will always be her knight in shining armor, the knight who defeated all the hateful demons by just entering her life. And though she’s still struggling with the ‘Am I good enough for someone so wonderful?’ and ‘He deserves better, doesn’t he?’ questions, with his hand holding hers, she’ll never let those doubts and insecurities overpower her.

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[robininthelabyrinth]

Hey does nie huisang's mother ever come back? I really liked the part where she doted and bonded with mingjue. I think even though she's not human she'd be even more delighted with him and more or less adopt him all over again after seeing how he cared so fiercely for huisang (also I don't think she'd care that guangyao has given up. Try to touch either of her kids and your a dead man... or maybe just mingjue? Since he's human and a LOT younger than her maybe she just goes around killing the people that have the capacity and wish to kill him)

spontaneous sequel to this morning’s fic (ao3 link here)

-

Huli jing were pretty rare, as spiritual beasts went, and that was generally considered to be a good thing - when they were bad, they were very very bad - but Nie Mingjue faithfully followed up on every possible lead regardless, putting it out among the other cultivation sects that he had a special interest and would appreciate - with monetary remuneration, even - a heads up should one ever show itself.

Mostly this meant following up on a lot of false leads, including, in one somewhat embarrassing case, an actual fox that had stolen the local farmer’s prize goose.

Still: family was family, and so he kept it up.

He had to stop during the war, naturally, and in the period immediately following it when his health had gotten very bad for a while, although luckily the dragon managed to fix it back up, and he’d been doing very well ever since. Lan Xichen had wondered if it was Clarity and Jin Guangyao had refused to talk to him for a month for some reason, but that wasn’t that important.

He was feeling better now, so he started following up on leads again. Nie Huaisang was coming up on his first quarter-century very soon, and that was supposed to be a big event - his first tail! - and books were all well and good but someone, anyone, with experience was better.

Ironically enough, he found what he was looking for on a scheduled hunt that wasn’t anything anyone had identified as a huli jing, but rather what appeared to be rather a great deal of nu gui appearing all at once near Lanling, enough to make a notorious womanizer like Jin Guangshan start to sweat. They’d all been making the rounds, all the various Great Sects together - even Jiang Cheng had joined in, as well as Lan Wangji, recently emerged from seclusion with a scowl firmly on his face.

“Why do you think they’re aiming at the Jin sect?” Lan Xichen wondered aloud as they walked around the edges of an abandoned village very close to Lanling - one of the trouble spots. “It’d be one thing if it were one of them, but so many...?”

“My theory is that someone is murdering all of Sect Leader Jin’s outside women so that they’ll go after him,” Jiang Cheng said, then glanced at Jin Guangyao. “No offense meant, of course.”

Jin Guangyao waved a hand dismissively. He’d started loosening up in the time since he met the dragon, revealing a bit more of his sharper and nastier side in a way that made Nie Mingjue respect him more than all of his fake softness had, and for some reason that had made Jiang Cheng warm right up to him. All for the good, in Nie Mingjue’s opinion, since they were all but co-raising that nephew of theirs...

“Who would do that, though?” he asked. “It’s as if they bear him a grudge, but it seems like a roundabout way of going about -”

“Dumpling!”

Nie Mingjue stopped moving.

There was a woman standing in the door to one of the village houses. Like a nu gui she was dressed all in red, but her flesh was ruddy and her complexion vibrant; her luxurious hair looped in a widow’s braids but her figure just as gorgeous as it had ever been.

She held out her hands towards Nie Mingjue, smiling. “Oh, cabbage bun, meat pie, my darling! How have you been?”

“...did she just...”

“Right to Chifeng-zun‘s face?”

Nie Mingjue put Baxia away.

“Mingjue-xiong?” Lan Xichen asked, frowning. “You should be careful; we had heard that this village was abandoned of all human life.”

“No one who calls Chifeng-zun a cabbage bun could be human,” Jiang Cheng mumbled under his breath. 

“Second mother?” Nie Mingjue called tentatively as he approached, and ignored how the cultivators around him all abruptly went silent and slack-jawed. “Is that you?”

“Naturally,” she said. “You don’t think I’d miss my baby’s birthday, do you? After you did such a good job taking care of him, too! Oh, my little carp, I’m sorry it took so long. I had to cut one off to escape, you understand, and once you do that you’re really rather stuck until you gather enough power to get back to full strength...would’ve been a touch awkward, wouldn’t you say?”

She certainly talked about as much as Nie Huaisang, Nie Mingjue reflected.

“He’ll be happy to see you,” he said. If this was the wrong huli jing - and he wouldn’t be shocked if it was, what with the way they changed faces - and a trick was being played, it wouldn’t work on Nie Huaisang. “Were you planning on staying long? Just the birthday, or...?”

He wasn’t giving up Nie Huaisang to anyone at all, not even his birth mother.

“I hadn’t quite decided,” she said, nodding in a way that meant that she understood his meaning and didn’t intend to dispute it; he relaxed at the sight of her agreement. “I got a little distracted, actually. Don’t think I didn’t hear about what that nasty man tried to do to you!”

“Nasty man?” Nie Mingjue asked, puzzled. “Do you mean Wen Ruohan? That was ages ago.”

“Not him, my gooey little egg! That nasty Jin sect leader, all sly and underhanded tricks - not that I mind sly and underhanded tricks, of course, least of all murderous ones - but I mean, really. The gall of that man, thinking he could snap up my little morsel before I could!”

“...does she like Chifeng-zun or want to eat him?” Jiang Cheng whispered.

“Unknown,” Lan Wangji murmured back.

“Shhh,” Lan Xichen said. “A-Yao, are you all right? You’ve gone terribly pale...”

“Anyway, chicken wing, I decided to bring back all of his nightmares to haunt him,” she chattered on cheerfully, throwing her head haughtily, the eyes of all the men and women irresistibly followed the graceful lines of her neck and shoulders, though most of them were able to pull their eyes away a moment later. That was her mercy, rather than their strength; she was a strong enough huli jing to entrap a sect leader, and Nie Mingjue’s father had been no slouch, even if he had bad taste in bed partners. “It’s been ever so much fun.”

Nie Mingjue sighed. “Second mother,” he said. “I thought I asked you not to kill people? As a special birthday favor to me?”

“Oh, pork chop, I know! I haven’t forgotten - no killing people around you, I remember, I remember. I haven’t killed anyone...well, in connection with this, anyway. I just had a little chat with some of my underworld friends and brought the ones who’d already died back.”

Nie Mingjue’s eyes shot straight to a - by now - even more pale Jin Guangyao. “Uh,” he said. “By chance, second mother, did you happen to pass by Yunping...?”

“Such a sweet little tanghulu you are! I could pop you right into my mouth and never frown.” He was only a few steps away from her now, and she danced forward to pat him on the cheek. “Don’t worry! I know how much you care for your friends. I made sure not to send A-Shi anywhere those mean old cultivators could get her.”

“A-Yao! Oh, someone help me, I think he’s stopped breathing - come, sit down -”

“You really need to stop bringing back nu gui,” Nie Mingjue decided to say instead of dealing with...that. “They’re not getting past Jinlin Tower’s defenses anyway, and we’re worried about collateral damage.”

His second mother heaved a sigh. “I know, I know,” she said. “I had the same thought as you, meatball, about the defenses. You caught me just as I finished upgrading.”

Nie Mingjue didn’t like the sound of that.

“Of course, it isn’t working out right,” she added, pouting. “You’d think someone who got accused of being a demon so often wouldn’t be so picky about who he’s being asked to murder.”

“I already told you that I’m not a vicious ghost!” a surprisingly familiar voice retorted from inside the house. “I refuse to go around killing people!”

“Oh no - now Jiang Cheng’s fallen down, too! Wangji, could you - Wangji? Wangji!”

Nie Mingjue covered his face with his hand. “You brought back Wei Wuxian.”

“I brought back Wei Wuxian,” his second mother agreed. “I thought it’d be poetic justice - the wronged man come back for revenge. But he’s being persnickety about it, so I have half a mind to just let him go.”

“Good idea,” Nie Mingjue said, deciding to just - let it go. Someone else could deal with it. Possibly Lan Xichen, since it sounded like everyone else had fainted. “Anyway, you’re far too busy to pursue vengeance right now.”

“I am?”

“I know how much you like to throw parties. Don’t you want to help me plan Huaisang’s twenty fifth?”

“Oh!” She clapped her hands. “Absolutely! We can invite positively everyone that tried to get in your way and show off how good a job raising him you did!”

Nie Mingjue thought back over all the creatures he’d ever encountered.

“We’re going to need a bigger venue.”

[plus-size-reader]

Crush

Philip “Lip” Gallagher x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1726 words

Warnings: none 

Summary: Lip develops a crush on the reader, Fiona’s childhood best friend

——————————————————————————————————

Fiona'd had friends of hers in and out of the house since Lip was a kid, but no one more so than you.

You were arguably her best friend in the entire world and everyone knew it. For the better part of both of your lives, you’d been inseparable and it was only natural that you get close with the rest of her family.

In a way, for them, it was like you were a part of their family, and even Frank spoke highly of you, which in itself was a feat. They just all seemed to love you.

Unfortunately though, as Lip got older, he didn't seem to feel the same way.

It wasn't that he didn't love you, because he did, and you were very important to him. It was just that he didn’t feel the same way for you that the rest of the Gallaghers did.

More than anything, he was in awe of you for everything that you were. You were confident and gentle, with more heart and soul than anyone he’d ever known. You were sweet, and caring, while also being a huge badass.

To Lip, you were everything.

...But he knew the truth.

You saw him as nothing more than your best friend's annoying baby brother, and that was never going to change. What did change though was how Lip wanted you to see him.

He didn’t want to be that in your eyes, not when he could be so much more.

Not that you could ever know that.

Lip was positive that he would die if you ever found out how he really thought about you. Nothing could ever be more embarrassing, especially because he had a pretty good idea of how it would go.

You were the one woman in the world he couldn't be confident around, and it had everything to do with the history you two shared.

You had helped Fiona raise him; and Ian, and Deb, and Carl. Hell, even now, you picked Liam up from daycare three days of the week.

You knew everything about every single one of the Gallaghers and the crush that Lip harbored wasn't going to be anything more than a cute little joke.

What you didn't seem to realize was that Lip was a grown man now.

He didn't need you to take care of him now, not anymore.

You were no longer the girl who came around and bothered him when he tried to hang out by himself, and you certainly weren't the girl who'd found his playboys under his bed and put them back without a word anymore either.

You were attainable, as far as age, feelings, and experience went but that didn't mean that Lip could make you his.

Every member of his family was too invested in all this for him to start going out with you, not to mention that Fiona would never allow it. She would sooner end his life than let him be with you.

So Lip kept quiet.

It was much easier to do than opening that can of worms.

He opened the refrigerator door slowly, his hand lazily falling on the neck of the bottle. It was as if the motion was a habit by now, and he didn't even have to think about it.

Across the kitchen was you, giggling at whatever was being said over the phone. He didn't know who you were talking or what it was all about; all he knew was that you were having an amazing time.

There was nothing Lip wouldn't do to hear that laugh but he just wished that he could be the one making you act that way.

Knowing that he couldn’t was more than enough to anger the younger male, who slammed his near-empty bottle down on the counter without a word and stormed out.

You hadn’t really been paying attention to him before that, but you couldn’t help but notice that he was gone. It would have been impossible not to but what you didn't know was why?

It certainly couldn’t have had anything to do with you.

You had just been on the phone with your cousins in Jersey. They spent most of the time arguing with one another more than talking to you, but they were also a laugh riot.

...But Lip didn’t know that.

In his mind, you had been laughing and carrying on with the greasy yet somehow charming usher from the theatre who loved you. He hit on you all the time and it wouldn’t have surprised Lip if you’d hooked up with him.

There was no way for him to think about it that didn't make his blood boil.

You were his, you just didn't know it yet.

~ Normally, you would have let Lip be.

Sometimes he could be dramatic and it was possible that he’d just gotten upset about something else and you’d read the room wrong. However, you had a feeling that wasn’t the case.

So, naturally, you went to go check on him.

If you were wrong, you could just move on and go about your business, but if you were right, you might be able to make him feel better.

“Hey kid, what’s going on?” you asked, knocking lightly on his door frame to let him know that you were there. You didn’t want to say anything if he was busy, but he didn’t seem to be.

In fact, he was far from it.

Lip was just sitting there on his bed, his beer bottle long discarded on the floor. It was funny, or perhaps it would have been, if he wasn’t so clearly upset.

“Don’t call me that” he snapped, catching you off guard.

There was something so pointed and aggressive about the way he spoke and it shocked you. Maybe you had done something after all, but you had no idea what it was.

“Okay, sorry. Is there something going on?” you asked, doing your very best to be understanding, even though you were more and more confused with each passing moment.

You were just lost.

Nothing that was happening made any sense at all to you.  

“No, why would there be?” he questioned, that accusatory tone still evident in his voice.

You weren’t even sure why he wouldn’t just tell you what it was, but since you were clearly gonna have to pull it out of him, you sat down.

“Out with it?” you suggested, though you both knew it was more of an order. If he didn’t want you to call him a kid, he’d have to stop acting like one.

Usually, Lip was the most mature of the Gallagher siblings but times like these made you wonder if that was true. It didn’t really make sense that he couldn’t just tell you what was wrong.

He sighed at first, the deep sort of sigh that you’d gotten used to hearing in this house. Someone always had a problem that needed to be worked out, even Lip, apparently.

“I don’t like that you talk to that guy, he’s trash, even more than most of the people around here” he commented finally.

There was a casualness in the way he spoke, though you could see just how hard this was for him in his eyes.

“Who? What are you talking about Lip?” you asked, genuinely confused this time. Clearly he thought you were talking to someone else but you had no idea who it could be.

You haven't been seeing anyone new lately.

“That guy from the theatre, what’s his name-” He huffed, scrambling a little when it came to his name. Lip had always been so focused on how much he hated him that he didn’t pay attention to what he said.

All he knew was the guy was not good enough for you and he was tired of hearing about him.

“I haven’t talked to him in forever. Why do you even care?” you asked, finding it hard not to be offended that he clearly didn’t think very highly of you.

He assumed that you were just going out with whatever guy paid attention to you, and honestly, that hurt. You had never been that kind of girl, but even if you had, it wasn’t really his business.

“Because, you’re way too good for a guy like that” he groaned, going for broke. The cat was out of the bag and there was no getting it back in now.

Gingerly, Lip reached out to take your hand in his own, his fingers brushing over the back of your knuckles slowly. The skin of his hands was noticeably rougher than yours, likely to working construction over the summer, but you didn’t mind.

Instead, you chose to ignore the strange feeling that overtook you at the touch. This was Lip, and the fact that you were even in this position was not alright

You’d known him all your life.

“Lip-” you started, but he stopped you before you could continue.

He knew that as soona s you said what you needed to say, this would be over and he at least had to get out what he was thinking before that happened.

If this ruined any friendship you'd ever had, he had to know that he got it all out there.

“I care because the right guy for you is right here, I always have been” he continued, startling you with his admission but he was far from done. Lip had been sitting on his feelings for so long, it was almost a relief to be honest.

“I know you probably think it’s just some stupid crush but it’s far from that. I’m in love with you”

By the time he’d finished, the male was almost entirely out of breath but neither of you minded. In fact, you were just trying to wrap your mind around what he was saying.

Lip was in love with you? How was that possible?

“I have to go” you decided finally, the walls of the room felt like they were closing in and you could hardly even breathe. It was ridiculous that you were even considering this, but you couldn’t help it.

Was it possible you cared about him in that way? Then, as if you hadn’t been handed enough, you realized something. What happened when Fiona found out?

[twdeadfanfic]

Vows Pt. 7

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Series Summary:

The last battle with Negan doesn’t go as it should, with Negan coming on top, and so reader, Daryl’s girlfriend, offers herself as a wife to Negan if he doesn’t kill Daryl or anyone else. Negan accepts, he won’t kill anyone but will take reader as a wife, and he’ll take Daryl and some of the others to the Sanctuary as prisoners, promising not to hurt anyone if reader is one of his wives and the communities work for him.

This has both flashbacks to reader and Daryl’s story since meeting to now, and the present with reader living at the Sanctuary as a wife, trying to keep Daryl and their people safe, and she and the other wives dealing with Negan, plotting… (This is not a Negan x reader fic!)

Warning, there are reader and Negan scenes in this chapter, but also there’s Daryl...and not only on flashback.

After another few days of playing nice, and you decided to go ahead and talk to Negan about the living conditions of your people. This time, you didn’t go to wait for him in his bedroom, instead, you waited for a day in which he called for you, hoping that he’d be in a good mood after it.

So, there you were now, trying to not be embarrassed about being naked, resisting the urge to cover yourself with the sheet. Negan was lying against the headboard and you shifted to straddle him, trying to summon your best seductress black widow performance, feeling less and less stupid every time that you tried.

“Look at you, wanting a second round already?” Negan teased with a  smug smirk. “Where’s that girl who’d squirm away every time I looked at her?” He chuckled and you shrugged, not knowing how to answer.

“I…I wanted to ask you something…” You began, and Negan’s smirk grew.

“So…this is not just you wanting me…tks tks…I’m disappointed,” he chuckled. “What is it, doll, more chocolate?”

“No…not, not that…it’s…” You chewed on your lip, not sure of how to word it, and Negan’s smile was gone.

“Spit it, doll.”

“I wanted to talk to you about my people…the ones you have here…” You forced yourself to speak. “You have them in those cages…”

“Yes,” Negan interrupted you. “Alive and non tortured, as you asked.”

“I know, I know, and  I’m very grateful, you gave me everything I asked for.” You almost gagged at your own words. “But those cages…being all day inside those, the darkness, no fresh air, for weeks…it feels almost like torture.

“No. Torture would be blasting music so they don’t sleep and beating them from time to time,” Negan stated as nothing, and you were running out of ideas.

“I know…but still…can’t you…can’t you let them out, even if just for an hour? So they can see light and breath?”

Negan blinked at you. “Absolutely fucking not…you are not really asking me that, are yo,u doll?” He sounded dangerous, but it didn’t intimidate you, and you tried your best pout.

“I am…I’m not saying to let them go, or have them all day outside the cage, just an hour ?” You tried pouting again. “You say that people are resources…Rick and the others, they’re resources, but you are wasting them unused. Let them out for an hour while you have them working for you. You had a good eye, got some of the most resourceful, Rosita is incredible with bombs and stuff like that, she can build you an arsenal...”

“Last time I got someone of yours working on my weapons, they made bullets explode in my men’s hands, doll…”

“That won’t happen again, they learned their lesson,” you tried to assure him, and Negan just looked at you in silence for once. “Please, Negan, please.” You pouted again.

Negan kept looking at you, studying you, and you were getting anxious, but then he smirked,  looking you up and down, and you tried once again not to be embarrassed by your nakedness.

“Okay, doll, you ask, I give,” he chuckled, her smug smirk growing. “They can leave the cell from time to time, just one at a time, get some work done, with my guys watching over them, ready to shoot them if they try something.”

You forced yourself to grin, wrapping your arms around him to hug him briefly, somehow you hated the hugs more than the kisses and even the sex, but you try to use everything to your advantage.

“Thank you, thank you!” You peck his lips, trying to sound so sweet that you feel your teeth rotting.

Negan chuckled and reached to cup your face. “Not so fast, darling…” He said with that dark smile and you froze, wondering if he’d tricked you and what was he going to do. “I want something in exchange.”

“What?” You asked with dread, trying not to sound scared, and Negan’s smile grew.

“Tell me that you love me.”

“What?” You blinked at him

“Tell me that you love me,” he repeated with that smug, yet menacing grin. “I don’t know…I can see you’ve been thinking about your friends a lot, yeah? That includes Daryl, uh? Sure you have…” He chuckled. “It kind of feels like you still love him too much…” Seriously? Did he expect you not to? “But…what about me?” You just blinked at Negan, unable to find words. Did he really expect you to love him or just to pretend it? “Don’t you love me?”

“I…” You knew he wanted you to say it, but it felt so wrong. “I love you like Amber loves you.” It’s a way of saying it that it’s not a lie.

Negan chuckled, seeming amused. “Good try, doll. Do you want your friends to leave those shit holes?” He asked and you nodded. “Then fucking say it, say I love you, Negan.”

It tasted like ashes in your mouth, but you spat it out. “I love you, Negan.”

His smirk grew as he looked at you. “Again, with a little bit more of feeling? Come on…because you mean it, right?”

You grit your teeth, resisting the urge to spit at him. “I love you.”

Negan’s dark smile went wider. “Better. Again.”

“I love you.”

“Good girl...Now come here…” Negan grabbed your hips, moving you off him and dropping you onto your back, and you tried to think that at least you had won your friends some sunlight and fresh air…

*

Later that day, you were in your room, sat down on the bed against the headboard, hugging Daryl’s shirt to you, inhaling the scent that almost wasn’t there anymore.

You couldn’t believe that you had said to Negan that you loved him, even if it was a lie, even if you didn’t mean it…you couldn’t believe that he wanted you to say it even if he had to know it was a lie, no matter his ego, and he wanted you to sound genuine…But when finally you were allowed to leave his room, he’d told you that starting tomorrow, Daryl and the others could go out the cages from time to time, so it was worthy…

It was so different from that first time you told Daryl that you loved him, when you meant every word, with a love stronger and fiercer than you’d ever felt before…

Then…

The Greene’s farm, your heaven-sent safe place, had fallen the night before under a sea of walkers in which had been the most terrifying moment of your life, riding behind Daryl on his bike, holding tight to him, burying your face in his back while monsters snapped and reached for you both every where, until you managed to reach the intersection and find the others…the ones who hadn’t died, at least.

Now, it was night again, and you all were camped in the middle of nowhere. You were sat down on the ground between Daryl’s legs, lying against his chest, and he’d an arm around you while the other held his crossbow, looking around while he kept watch.

You glanced at Rick, doing the same at the other side of the camp, and then looked at Daryl. “Hey…you really think that we can trust him?” You nodded towards Rick. “All that stuff he said before…I don’t know, Daryl, he sounded kind of dangerous…”

“Nah, Rick’s a good guy,” Daryl assured you. “Just…he got like that ‘cause all the shit that’s goin’ on…but we can trust him, we’ll be good if we stick with him.”

It was almost funny, to hear Daryl speak like that about Rick, holding him with such regard, considering how much he’d hated him not that long ago. “Okay.” You nodded. “I don’t know if I trust Rick…but I trust you.”

Daryl didn’t say anything, but his arm tightened around you and he nuzzled your hair before kissing your temple. You smiled, he could be so sweet and caring sometimes, and he slowly was letting himself show that side more and more…you loved it…and you loved him, with so much force…

“Daryl…” You looked at him again. “I love you.”

Daryl didn’t say anything, just looked at you, but you didn’t miss the emotion in his eyes, and then he dropped his head to nuzzle your neck, placing a soft kiss on your skin and burying his face on the crook of your shoulder. He stayed like that, not pulling back, and you chuckled, it melted your heart a bit. You kissed the top of his head and began to stroke the hair at the back of his neck. You didn’t think much of Daryl not saying I love you back, he showed you in his way, and you knew it’d take him time to say it with words, you weren’t going to push him.

Several months later, you were laying down on your back over the grass of the prison fence that you had managed to clear of walkers, and you smiled, looking at the stars. You were safe behind fences, and tomorrow, you’d make sure you had walls too.

Everyone was already asleep, or trying, besides Daryl and Rick, who were taking watch around the perimeter. Eventually, you fell asleep, and you woke up some hours later, when you felt Daryl lying down next to you, his shift having ended, now time for T-Dog’s.

“’night…” You whispered and Daryl just hummed, throwing an arm over you and pillowing his head on your chest. You smiled, kissing the top of his head and wrapping an arm around him, stroking his hair with your other hand. You had almost fallen asleep again when you felt Daryl muttering something against your neck, but it was so quiet and muffled that you couldn’t quite catch it. “What?”

For a moment, Daryl didn’t say anything, and you thought he might have been talking in his sleep, but then he pulled back slightly to whisper again, “I love you.”

A warm, fuzzy feeling spread through you at Daryl’s words, and you almost giggled, giddy. “I love you too,” you whispered back, holding Daryl tighter to you. “So much that I can’t even explain it…”

Now…

You lied on your bed at the Sanctuary, holding Daryl’s shirt to you too, trying not to cry on it, afraid that it’d make the scent disappear even more, and you tried to sleep…

*

The next day, Negan came looking for you, and you were going to head for his bedroom, but instead he took you outside the wive’s room, leading you through the Sanctuary and outside, pointing to you stuff here and there as he gloated about the place.

“I told you I’d let your dear friends outside, doll…and today is Rick’s day.” Negan gave you that dark grin as he walked you outside, and then he waved towards the fences.

You saw Rick there, forced to work with some other people, a couple of saviors not far from them, watching over them, making sure they worked and stayed in line. They were reinforcing the fences and also moving walkers here and there, using them as protection for the fences too. It seemed dangerous, with the walkers snapping to them, and you felt uneasy with Rick working there.

“Isn’t that dangerous? They could get bitten…” You said, looking from Rick to Negan, who kept smirking darkly at you.

“I’m sure Ricky boy can handle himself,” Negan said, patting your cheek. “You wanted him outside the cage, right?”

“Yeah…” But not at risk of getting bitten…but if he kept staying in a dark cell day after day, that couldn’t be good either…you didn’t know what to think.

“You got it.” Negan grinned. “And not even a thank you?”

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. “Thank you, Negan,” you forced yourself to say.

You looked at Rick, he had spotted you now from the distance, and you arched your eyebrows at him, trying to silently ask him if he was okay. He nodded and did the same to you, and you nodded too. It was something, you guessed…

*

The next day, you didn’t get to see her, but you knew that it was Rosita’s turn to go out of the cage and get some air and sunlight, though you didn’t know how much sunlight , since Negan told you that he had her working checking and putting together explosives and bombs, since you had told him she was good at that. You kind of wondered if Rosita might not go ahead and try to blow up the Sanctuary with all of you included…

You wondered, too, when it’d be Daryl’s turn to get out of the cell. You didn’t ask, though, the less you talked to Negan about Daryl, the better, you were sure of that, and even if you wanted to see Daryl, check how he was, you thought that it’d be better if Daryl didn’t see you. You knew it’d hurt him, and you didn’t want him to have to worry about you, he had enough, you were faring better than him, and you didn’t want him to have to see you with Negan, afraid that he’d try to taunt Daryl or anything like that.

In a couple of days, though, your wishes were crushed, when Negan toured you around the Sanctuary again, and as you got closer and closer to an open door, you realized that there were the bathrooms, and Daryl was inside mopping, a savior near him with a gun pointed to him.

You stopped and began to backtrack, even though you saw that Daryl’s eyes had found you already, but Negan grabbed your arm hard and didn’t let you move away.

“I want to go back, please,” you told him, trying to turn around. “Thanks for the walk but I want to go back now.”

“But I don’t want to.” Negan smiled darkly at you, and then he pushed you in front of him, placing his hand on your neck to push you forward and make you walk to the bathrooms.

“Negan, please, I don’t want to,” you tried again, trying to resist and squirm from his grasp, but Negan kept walking you forward…this couldn’t be good, he wouldn’t have brought you there if he didn’t want to rail up Daryl in any way…what if he began telling him what you and he did night in, night out…

You were about to struggle again, but you noticed the shift in Daryl’s eyes and stopped, realizing that he thought Negan was hurting you. You were about to shake your head, try to reassure him, Negan didn’t hurt you physically and you knew neither was now his intention, he just wanted to take the piss at Daryl and you, but it was too late.

Daryl threw the mope to the ground with a growl, and he tried to go to you, but the savior holding him at gunpoint kicked the butt of his rifle against his head, and then pointed it to his head. You were so scared that he was about to shoot Daryl, your heart seemed to stop beating.

“No! Stop!” You didn’t know if you were yelling to the savior or to Daryl, but the savior didn’t shoot, just kept pressing the riffle to Daryl’s head, and so you called for him. “Daryl! Stop! I’m okay, stop!” You could see Daryl shaking in rage, but he stopped trying to do anything, so you turned to look at Negan. “Do something!”

“What? Do I tell my savior to shoot?” Negan grinned at you and you glared at him. “I’m kidding, sweetheart…Alan! Get Daryl back to his cage.” The savior nodded, pushing Daryl with the riffle to make him turn around and face Negan, who was blocking the corridor, you next to him.  

Negan looked at you and grinned again. “I must say, I’m fucking impressed, doll…the way you yelled at them? And they listened and stopped…fucking impressive, darling….wasn’t it, Alan?” Negan asked, and the savior nodded curtly. “Maybe I should change your job, have you out here, giving orders, keeping everyone in line.” Negan joked, and you shrugged, uncomfortable. “But no…I enjoy you way more in the bedroom.” Negan chuckled and kissed you, grasping your chin and holding your face in place so you couldn’t pull back, even if you hated that he was kissing you in front of Daryl.

When Negan pulled back, he chuckled as he looked at your face, before turning to the savior and Daryl again. “Now…this shit can’t happen again, are we clear? Or the next time, my guys will blow up your head, okay?” Negan said, but Daryl didn’t say anything, and the savior nodded curtly again.

You knew the threat was real, and you looked at Daryl with begging eyes, asking him to play along, so he wouldn’t get hurt or killed.

“It won’t happen again, he thought, he…” You didn’t know if it was a good idea to say that Daryl’d thought that Negan was hurting you, he took such pride in boasting about how good he treated his spoiled wives...

“What?” Negan looked at Daryl again. “What did you think, doggy Daryl, uh?” He smirked darkly, but Daryl just shook in rage, silent. “That I’m shagging your ex-girl every night? That you wanted to rip my throat open with your bare teeth like the dog you are? Yeah…I know.” Negan chuckled.

You didn’t like where this was going, and you were scared that Daryl might snap at any moment and he’d be shot, so you reached to held Negan’s arm, trying to get his attention. “He got it, okay? Can we go back to the room?”

“Oh, you’re eager today, aren’t you?” Negan chuckled, grabbing your chin and kissing your lips again. “Sure, doll…maybe if we get at it all night long I’ll change my mind about not letting Daryl leave his cage to clean our bathrooms and eat something that’s not dog food anymore after his little outburst here.”

Negan chuckled again, kissing you once more, and you let him do it even if you hated it as much as his words.

“Okay…Alan,” Negan called for the savior, though he was still looking at you. “Get the dog back to his kennel and bring Ezekiel to finish what Daryl didn’t…I’m gonna go fuck my wife.”

You didn’t say anything, didn’t dare to look at Daryl. Negan reached to grab your neck again, turning you around and pushing at you to walk in front of him, and you let him. Negan was demanding and possessive, but he’d never touched you or any of the others in that way, as far as you were aware, so you guessed that he was putting on even more of a show for Daryl, trying to rail him up.

You hated it…the last thing that Daryl needed was to think that Negan was hurting you in any way. You knew him, he’d worry, beat himself about it, drive himself crazy, when in reality, you weren’t doing that bad, you could endure sleeping with Negan, you had learned to, it kept your people safe, and your living conditions were way better than much others at the Sanctuary…but you had no way to let Daryl know that, not with Negan deciding to be even more of a prick just to get a reaction out of Daryl…

*

Negan did get a reaction out of Daryl, in an even worse way that you could have imagined, but you were oblivious to it all, sheltered in the wive’s room, with no idea of what was going on outside, until a couple of days later, when Negan stormed into the wives room.

“Y/N!”

Negan’s voice boomed as he called for you, and you paled as you heard it, knowing instantly that something was wrong, he never yelled like that to his wives when you all were pleasant to him. When you rushed to him, your anxiety and fear got even worse when you saw he was holding his bat.

“You know what your feral, dumb, dog did!?” He yelled at you…Daryl, something must have happened with Daryl… oh no…you were terrified but you managed to shake your head.

“He pretended to be dead when one of my saviors opened his cage, an idiot it seems, because he decided to check if your rabid dog was dead! And he wasn’t’! He grabbed the guy, bashed his head against the wall like the feral bitch he is! They found him trying to sneak in here, that stupid dog, as if he would have been able.”

Oh no…oh no…this was bad…it was getting harder to breathe as you panicked more and more… Daryl had tried to come for you, he must have really thought that you were being mistreated and abused…there was no way he wouldn’t try to go to you if he thought that…and for that he’d hurt a savior, maybe killed him, and escaped his cage…this was bad…you should have tried better to assure Daryl that you were okay, a note, something… now it was too late.

“Did you…” You tried to force words out of your mouth. “Did you kill him?”

Negan scoffed. “That’s all you care about, of course…” He grabbed your chin, making you look at him, and for a moment you thought he might bash Lucille in your head no matter you were a wife. “What if I did? He’s nothing to you now. You’re mine.”

“We have a deal…not killing him, not torturing him,” you found the courage to say.

Negan chuckled, letting go of your face. “You’re bringing up that shit now? You’re something else, doll…that deal goes to hell the moment someone pulls the shit that the stupid dog did…but it stands for your other friends…unless you wanna leave?”

You shook your head at that, you knew that right at that moment, Negan was a step away from just going ahead and killing everyone else of your friends in their cages…but no, they were resources, they kept the people back at home in their toes…you wouldn’t let Negan blackmail you with that…Daryl’d be the only one he’d kill…

“So did you kill him or not?” You asked even if you were scared of the answer.

“No,” Negan said, but the look in his eyes stopped you from being relieved. “Not yet. Not fast. But I’m going to…and you’re going to watch in the first row!” Negan grabbed your arm. “Also, all of you.” He waved the bat around, talking to the other wives. “You’re coming too, I spoiled you all too much, you need to remember what happens if someone crosses me like this. I want everyone in the Sanctuary to watch this.”

With that, he tugged at you, dragging you with him, and you knew better than to try to resist.

*

Well...shit happened.

If you enjoyed this, comments and reblogs are always more than welcome, thanks.

Also, as always, excuse my English, it’s not my first language.

New taglist for Daryl,I trimmed it, if you want to be tagged let me know and also, please, if you are not interested in being tagged anymore let me know too

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[hubbytaeil]

28, 29 and 59 for doyoung

Doyoung + #28 The problem is, if I kissed you, I don’t think I’d be able to stop, #29 You’d better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught, #59 Take another step and I can’t be held responsible for my actions.

genre: smut

word count: 2k+

warnings: angry sex, kind of fuckboy!Doyoung, degrading, mentions of cheating (wow who hurt her)

soundtrack: perfect crime - tinashe

-ˏˋ⋆ ̥ prompts ̥ ⋆ˊˎ-

"I don't think you should be here." "See, that's where you're wrong, y/n." Doyoung grins, standing on your front door like many times before. "I'm exactly where I should be." He takes one step ahead in the privacy of your home, not caring about you protesting, not listening to you cursing at him. "You're not welcome here, Doyoung. How many times do I need to tell you?!" "Oh, I thought I was welcome enough last time." 

Your throat runs dry at the remembrances of your last encounter. "You liked that, didn't you?" Doyoung proceeds to make his way into the living room, approaching the back of your red couch. He begins looking at it as if he's seeing it for the first time. You get a rush of heat remembering in what lewd position you and Doyoung were just last week on that very couch. You always believed yourself to be strong in spirit, but Doyoung was the greatest exception to your prerogative. In his presence you lost all your common sense, he made you weak and, worst of all, deep inside you enjoyed it. But at the same time, you couldn't quite forget how he had played you, talking to multiple girls at the same while you were 'dating' or whatever it was that you guys were doing. And yet, Doyoung still came at your door whenever he felt like it, as if nothing happened, having his way with you so easily it was actually ridiculous and then leaving after everything was over. You cursed yourself every time you let him in to mess you up. But this time, you're determined to end this. "You need to leave. This is over." "But why? We have so much fun together." Doyoung whines, balancing his slender figure on the cushions, all the while eating you up with his eyes only. "No, it's not fun. It was temporary thing, and now it's over. Now, you need to get the hell out of my apartment before you wake my roommate up. And believe me, she doesn't like you." Doyoung remains unfazed by your threats, just because he has heard this probably a million times before. It's clear that he's not willing to go anywhere, not until he has you where he wants you. “That’s alright, we don’t need her for what we’re going to do. Unless of course...” Doyoung evilly snickers and you take your head in your hands. “You’re so full of shit, you know that?” you ardently affirm, glaring at him. “And you’re pretty when you’re angry.” Doyoung’s soft voice clashes with his true intentions. “That’s it, I’ve had it.” You whisper while grinding your teeth with rage. “If you’re not going to leave, I’m going to throw you out.” Swiftly, you take long steps towards him (minimizing the noise) to grab him by his shoulder, arm, whatever you can get your hands on to drag him out of your house and, hopefully, your life. Doyoung holds out his right hand, stopping you from going any further. “Take another step and I can’t be held responsible for my actions, y/n.” You swear you’re about to smack away that stupid grin he’s wearing. “Save this shit for someone else Doyoung. I’m sure your girlfriends like this little act, but I’m sick and tired of it. So, for the last time, please leave.” The frustration is clear in your eyes but Doyoung is unreachable. He just limits himself to stare at you with doe eyes until he finally stands up straight. Without hurrying,Doyoung takes the longest time to come face you, leaving you impatient with every tap of his feet. “Well, I guess this is it.” You’re surprised to see him give up so quickly, he’s definitely up to something. “I’d kiss you goodnight but...” before he can finish his sentence, Doyoung runs his fingers along your exposed arm making you shiver. You want to reject his touch, but your body says otherwise. You can feel yourself craving more from the small contact and you feel ashamed for being aroused in this moment. “...you see, the problem is if I kissed you, I don’t think I’d be able to stop.” Doyoung whispers so close you can feel his breath against your cheek. It’d be so easy to just give in, to just throw your arms around him and let him fuck you right there where you’re standing. However, the more reasonable part of you doesn’t want him to win. You give Doyoung the fakest smile you could ever make. “Go kiss someone who’d actually fall for your bullshit then.” He chuckles, getting ready to set his trap. “I was about to.” “You, son of a-” Doyoung takes advantage of your open mouth ready to curse him, grabbing both sides of you face, connecting your lips in the least gentle way possible. Your attempts to free yourself are just temporarily successful. “Fuck you, you can’t-” and you’re cut off again by his tongue brushing against yours. All the names you were about to call him are forgotten, your mind gets cloudy because, as much as you detest to admit it,Doyoung’s kisses are like a drug to you. You grab his shirt, not caring about ruining it. He grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling it slightly. With the help of his hand, he forcefully tilts your head to the side to attack your neck. You whimper softly in protest. “You’re such a dickhead.” You cover your mouth to muffle your moans. “Maybe.” Doyoung hisses as he looks at you with a deadly stare. “But you sure seem to like getting fucked by a dickhead.” He arrogantly removes your t-shirt as he says this, throwing it away. “And you also seem like it when I call you my slut.” Your core throbs at the name you’re so familiar with. Doyoung gets back to his abusing of your mouth, while beginning to ruthlessly knead your breasts, not expecting a comeback, not this time. It’s your turn now to pull his hair to get him closer you; he releases a low grunt when you start to rub yourself on him. “I gather, you’re not that mad anymore.” Doyoung mocks you, squeezing both of your ass cheeks, eliminating the now inexistent space between your bodies. You stop the movement of your hips against your will to look at him. “Oh no, I’m furious. So, now we’re gonna go to my room and you’re gonna fuck me, is that clear?” You perceive Doyoung’s erection twitching in his pants at your statement, you have never acted like this and it’s surely a turn-on for him. Without hesitation, you’re dragged into your own bedroom. Before you enter, you steal a glance at your roommate’s door, praying for her to be sound asleep. Once you’re in, you immediately grab your key, just in case. As you’re about to turn it, Doyoung grips you roughly from behind, licking your neck just how you like as he unclasps your bra ever so easily. “Wait a fucking second, Jesus...” you whisper in between your teeth, but it doesn’t come out as intimidating as you wished, rather it sounds more like a whiny whimper. When the door is finally locked, Doyoung wastes no time before quickly pulling you on the bed, him now seated on your mattress and your back against his chest. Your jaw is entrapped by his hand, his lips eagerly bruising the skin of your neck, and just when the last hickey he gave you was starting to fade away, you thought. In response, after you’ve freed yourself from your pyjama shorts, you commence grinding your bottom on his hardness; you hear him release a low sigh in your ear. “You’re not going to cum like this, are you?” you tease maliciously, softly biting one of his fingers. Doyoung grunts out of annoyance and pleasure before removing his fingers from your mouth a gripping your hips so harshly that he leaves a few crescent moons on your flesh. “No, but you are going to, y/n.” And like that, you can feel the entirety of his member pressing on your needy area. It’s not enough of course, but Doyoung knows where to press for you to feel that sweet knot forming in your stomach. You feel your panties getting soaked and you’re sure you’ll leave some stains on Doyoung’s pants, but that doesn’t bother you. It feels so good and yet so wrong, which only adds to the fun. Doyoung’s cock feels amazing even like this, however you crave more than simple humping. “Please stop...” “Why would I stop? Don’t you want to come immediately like the slut that you are?” he grunts with a snap of his hips which makes your head spin. You have to firmly remind yourself that you are not alone in this apartment, for how much you want to scream and plead. Why can someone you loathe so much be able to strike your chords in all the right ways for you to turn you into a moaning mess? You despise Doyoung for this, yet right now all you can think about is something else. “S-stop, I want...” “Yes? C’mon, say it.” “I want to come on your cock, please Doyoung.” You purr in his ear, hoping to get something out of it, and thankfully it works. Doyoung stops himself, aggressively throwing you off him. By the look he gives you once he’s on top of you it makes you think that he’s going to destroy you. “Open your mouth.” You’re reluctant to obey, frowning. “And stick out your tongue.” And you do, but not how he intended it. You mockingly show your tongue to get him on his nerves. “I said open your fucking mouth.” Angrily, Doyoung forces your jaw open, spitting in it. He doesn’t even have to tell you to swallow, to which he hums joyfully. In approval of your behaviour, he gladly slips his expert fingers inside your panties, touching you faintly; you sigh never breaking eye contact. You want to slap Doyoung’s patronizing stare away. “In the end you just want to be a good little girl, don’t you?” he coos, now giving more attention to your clit. You click your tongue in disapproval of his statement, trying not to show just how good he’s making you feel. You let your hand go back to his scalp, pulling his ear to your lips. “Not for you, I don’t.” you hiss, biting into his shoulder. Doyoung sets himself free from your grip, beginning to shabbily unbuckle his belt. “Of course.” he affirms, licking his lips. “Because it feels so much better to be fucked like this.” His shirt is thrown on your desk chair. “Like a fucking whore.” Once his cock is out, you fight the urge to touch it, you’re not going to break that easily. “Then do it, you fucking coward-” Doyoung forces his hand on your mouth before you can get any louder in insulting him. You breathe heavily against his palm, out of pleasure and rage, to Doyoung it is indeed a sight to see. “You’d better be quiet if you don’t wanna get caught, baby.” You grumble, slapping his hand away. Rapidly, since you’re desperate to get your release soon, you reach out for the drawer next to your bed. You grab a condom and you throw it in Doyoung’s way, not wanting any complications. You’re surely not the only girl he will have fucked already this week. At first, he stares at it a bit in doubt, but doesn’t say anything when he sees the flames in your eyes when you take off your panties. Doyoung silently puts the condom on, laying on his back. In no time you’re on top of him and his eyes open wide. “What do you think you’re doing?” He clearly had other plans for you two. “You said it yourself.” you sigh, aligning his cock to your wetness. “Pardon?” “I’m a slut, remember?” You take in a deep breath, letting Doyoung’s member fill you up with just one energetic movement of your hips. “therefore, I’m going to ride you like one.” You’ve never seen Doyoung’s eyes shake like this on any occasion, it’s definitely a boost to your confidence. Doyoung swallows over nothing at the sight of your delicious body hovering over his and the feeling of your pussy taking him in. You find balance putting your hands on either side of Doyoung’s head, letting your knees help you in sharpening your movements. Soon after you’re drowning in pleasure, Doyoung’s cock hitting deep inside of you. It’s getting frustrating to stay quiet for both of you. “Fuck, you take me so well.” mutters Doyoung before pulling in you for a wet kiss. You take advantage to release a silent moan inside his mouth. “Oh, do I?” you pant, quickening the rhythm, sensing his dick twitching against your sweet spot. “Yes, you do.” Doyoung murmurs in between moans. Right before he can grab your hips to take over the act, you shove his hands against the pillow, keeping them there. “Is that why you keep coming back here, uh?” as you say this, you decide to slow down enough for him to grunt in dissatisfaction. “No one else’s pussy feels as good as this.” You give him a grin before getting back to where you’d started. “Fuck, y/n.” you’re making Doyoung loose his mind with your filthy words, his eyes shut completely and his mouth has formed a silent ‘o’. He pleads for a kiss and you satisfy his request, that’s when your grip in his wrists gets weaker and he manages to set himself free, making you gasp. He sits up on one hand, the other setting the pace for you. You’re about to send him to hell but the new position allows him to hit it even harder. “You’re right, no one can do it like you.” the sudden praise surprises you but also sends a few sparks flying. “You ride it so well, look at you.” you cling to his shoulders, in desperate need to go even harder. You breathe heavily into ear, until your voice comes out into mere squeaks. “Yes, you deserve this. C’mon, I know you’re close.” Doyoung lays down once again, giving you full control. You look at him, riding him mercilessly, bouncing you ass up and down until the knot is loosened up, making you reach what you think is the best orgasm of your life. Doyoung quickly gets on top, positioning his still hard cock right back in. “F-fuck, I can’t...” “Yes, you can. Fucking take it like the good slut that you know you are.” Doyoung growls which makes you tremble. He’s going harder than he’s ever done with you and the oversentivity from your previous high is sending you over the edge. “Cover my mouth.” you order whispering and you don’t need to tell him twice. The lack of oxygen making your vision blurry, Doyoung pumping into you as fast he can, swallowing his own moans. Soon you’re pushed once again over your limit, coming almost simultaneously with Doyoung.

After he’s pulled out, you remain on your sides of bed, panting heavily. Neither of you have the wish to commence any sort of conversation. There’s no need to. You keep staring at the ceiling, even when Doyoung leans over to plant sweet kisses in the crook of your neck. “I think you need to leave.” He freezes where he is, tilting his head to look at you. You don’t bother to do the same. “Can’t I stay for a while?” you actually give it a thought. The truth is, you know you’ll break down in the coldness of your bed later once he’s gone. How long will you be able to keep up with the tough girl act? “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Doyoung pulls you closer, shifting your face towards his, wrapping your waist with his arm. “Just for a minute, then I’ll leave. You’ll never see me again.” Seems like a proper plan. The drowsiness of your intense session is definitely kicking in. “Alright, just a minute.” you yawn exhausted, which makes Doyoung chuckle. “Shut up.”  

But then ‘one minute’ turns into five, then later ten. Before you know, the sun is hitting on your face. You rub your eyes carefully. “Shit.” you curse, at the sight of sound-asleep Doyoung wrapped in your sheets. “Now, this will fun to explain.” “I’m trying to sleep, y/n.”

[lucrezia-thoughts]

The Lesson - Squirting

Pairing: Pero Tovar x (F) Reader

Warning(s): 18 +, Dom Pero, oral (f receiving), squirting, praise kink...

Summary: You never expected an intimidating lodger to teach you the ways of pleasure…

Link to Master List

“Te amo, Pero…” you whispered back as you rested your head on his chest and fell fast asleep.

You awoke to the soft press of Pero's lips on your forehead and smiled at the sensation. "Pero..." you whispered, moving willingly when his hand gently urged your head up and you opened your eyes to look at him.

"Amor..." his sleep roughened voice sent shivers through your body that did not go unnoticed. You sighed in pleasure as his fingers brushed along your skin from your hip to your cheek. "Each day you grow more beautiful..." he murmured, leaning forward to press his lips to yours.

You rested your hands on Pero's chest as he kissed you thoroughly, breaking away only when the need for oxygen became dire. "I love you," you breathed against his lips.

"I love you, amor," he answered back, brushing his nose against yours.

"I have to go prepare breakfast," you said sullenly and moved to get off his chest. The tightening of his arm around your waist kept you from succeeding and you turned towards him only to be pulled into another kiss. You moaned softly into the kiss and allowed him to explore your mouth with his tongue. With a teasing nip to your bottom lip, Pero pulled back and smirked at your protesting whine.

"Go prepare breakfast, amor-" His words were accompanied by a hand slapping your bottom and you gasped in surprise- "I have someone to... take care of with William. If you are good, I shall reward you."

You bit your lip and nodded, but whimpered and jerked forward slightly when his palm connected with your bottom again.

"Outloud," Pero grunted and you were quick to comply.

"Yes, Pero," you breathed, but it turned into a moan when his hand slipped between your bodies and stroked through the folds of your sex.

"Good girl," he praised, rubbing his thumb over the apex of your sex before removing his hands from your body.

Limbs shaking, you got to your feet and only stumbled slightly as you sought out your dress. Bending down to reclaim the garment, you would have fallen over when you felt Pero lick you, but his strong arms kept you upright. "Pero!"

You felt his body press against your back and he took the dress from your trembling hands. "Let me help, hermosa." He kissed your neck as he dressed you. When he was finished, he turned you around to face him and placed a soft kiss to your forehead. "Be good, amor."

"Yes, Pero," you breathed and made your way to the door before turning to add, "I love you."

Making your way to the stairway, you clung to the banister until your legs stopped shaking. Walking into the kitchen, you couldn't hold back your smile when your eyes passed over the spot on the counter where Pero had kissed you.

"Good morning!" Gwendolyn hugged you quickly as she rushed into the kitchen and grabbed the copper kettle to fill it with water.

"Gwendolyn-" you called to her and watched as she froze in the entryway- "thank you... I... we... just thank you."

She set the kettle down on the counter before she pulled you into a tighter hug. "You have always been like a sister to me. I just want you to be happy too," she whispered into the hug.

"Oh Gwendolyn-" you squeezed her gently- "you are like a sister to me too, and I am happy... Pero is... I love him."

¤¤¤¤

Pero looped the end of his belt around itself while he made his way to William's room. The Irishman opened the door just as Pero was about to knock and Pero scowled at the wide grin on the man's face. "Not one word, amigo," he grunted.

"I see even indulging loudly in carnal delights has not improved your mood, my friend," William's grin only widened as Pero's scowl deepened.

"My mood will improve when that cabrón who thought he could touch her is gone," Pero spit out and William's grin fell.

"Is she alright?" William asked, tone shifting to one of concern.

"Yes, but he will not be when I am finished with him," Pero growled and both men made their way down the hall towards the rooms of the other lodgers.

¤¤¤¤

"Did he... did you... I mean..." Gwendolyn stumbled over her words as you added ingredients to the pot and felt your face flush. "Oh, I hope it is alright to ask-" you could hear the uncertainty in her voice- "I mean you were... and he was..." she gestured towards the counter.

"Yes, Gwendolyn. We did." you mumbled as you turned around. "You know you may ask me anything," you added with a slightly embarrassed smile.

"William will not..." she admitted ruefully after a moment of silence. "He says he does not want to risk a babe before he speaks to papa."

"There is nothing wrong with that-" you soothed, walking over to gently rub her back- "it is respectful."

"I know-" she sighed before giving you a sheepish smile- "but I do not want him to be respectful!"

You both broke into a fit of giggles before a loud thud from above you startled the pair of you. You tugged Gwendolyn behind you and grabbed a knife from the counter as you slowly walked towards the entryway. You were greeted with the body of the lodger who'd tried to touch you rolling down the stairs.

Both you and Gwendolyn jumped back when he reached the landing and sprawled out on his back with a pained groan. Your eyes rose to the stairway and saw Pero slowly climbing down as William escorted the other lodger at dagger point.

"Pay and leave," Pero growled and tugged the prone lodger to his feet. The man groaned and nodded his head as Pero shoved him towards the stables.

"Good morning, my heart," William smiled as he greeted Gwendolyn and urged the other man to follow his partner. "And to you as well, miss," he added as he passed you.

You felt Gwendolyn clutch at the skirts of your dress as you both leaned out of the entryway to watch until you could no longer see the men.

"What caused that?" Gwendolyn asked, eyes wide with surprise.

You couldn't help but bite your lip at the desire that pulsed through you at seeing Pero. "He tried to touch me last evening," you explained.

"Are you alright?" she asked quickly, tugging on your arm to turn you to face her.

"Yes. That happened before you entered the kitchen." you added and dragged her back into the kitchen with you to finish breakfast.

When Pero and William came back from the stables, Gwendolyn ran over to William and fussed over checking him for any injuries. You watched as Pero approached you and pressed a kiss to your forehead as he whispered, "I love you, hermosa."

With that, he left the kitchen and you heard William's chuckle. "That is the softest I have ever seen him."

William stayed in the kitchen with Gwendolyn after breakfast was prepared and served and you set about the task of cleaning the now vacant rooms.

You were surprised when you found Pero sitting on the bed in the offensive lodger's room. "Pero?" you questioned.

"Close the door, amor." was his answer and you furrowed your brow slightly, but shut the door behind you. He beckoned you over to him with a curl of his finger. "On the bed."

You licked your lips and nodded your head. "Yes, Pero." You made your way to the bed and laid down next to him.

As soon as your body hit the mattress, Pero's lips were on yours. He licked into your mouth as he tugged at the fastenings of your dress. His hands stroked down your chest to rub his thumb over your breast and you arched up into his touch.

"You are mine, amor." Pero growled, trailing kisses and bites down your neck as he pinched your nipple before leaning down to soothe the sting with his tongue.

"Yes, Pero!" you moaned and gripped at the bedding. "I'm yours... I'm yours."

Your moans seemed to fuel whatever had come over him and he stripped your body bare. Kneeling down before you he tore off his shirt, spread your legs, and latched his mouth onto your sex. You couldn't hold back your cry as he sucked at the apex of your sex. "PERO!"

Your thighs shook as he relentlessly focused his attention on that glorious spot. Breaking away briefly for a breath, Pero licked up your sex before he growled. "I am going to teach your body something new, amor."

He didn't give you any time to ask what he meant before the top of your sex was once again enveloped by his mouth. Your stomach muscles clenched faster than they ever had as he eased two fingers inside of you and stroked them rapidly over the spot inside you that caused you to see stars.

Pulling off your sex with a pop, Pero rubbed his thumb over the apex instead. You panted and whined as your body trembled and you felt your body tightening before the band snapped. Your eyes rolled back in your head as you felt a surge of your essence leave your body.

Your vision left you for a moment and your blood was rushing in your ears, but you could still hear Pero's deep groan. Chest still heaving, you managed to lift your body up far enough to see Pero and you felt your sex clench at the sight.

His eyes were blown black in desire and his lips, chin, and chest were glistening with you.

"P-Pero...wha...what?" you attempted to ask, but your arms gave out and you fell back to the bed.

"Good girl."

----

A/N: Ask and you shall receive...eventually!! Sorry this took a little while @evedaye!! I hope this is what you were looking for!! As always, comments and feedback are love!! If you have an idea, please send it in!! ALSO, if you guys want this one to continue, please send in some ideas!!

TAG LIST: @prideandpascal    @paintballkid711    @artsymaddie    @computeringturtle    @northernpunk    @clydesducktape    @phoenix-of-loki    @criminalmind1927  @sleep-tight1

[livinghostly]

the way you said i love you

zuko x reader

not my gif!

words: 2660

request/summary: all the times zuko said he loved you, without actually saying it.

prompt: this post inspired me

warning: some angst, mostly fluff

a/n: this is my first time writing zuko and i'm kind of in love with him :') feedback is much appreciated

as a hello

"hello, zuko here." there was a slight smile on his face as he waved gently.

your breath caught in your throat and you found yourself taken aback, expecting anything but that. he greeted you with such familiarly, as if you were old friends reuniting. the way he reminded you of his name– as if you could ever forget the identity of the person who'd been hunting down you and your friends for nearly a year.

zuko didn't try to fight, he didn't prepare himself in a stance to even protect himself as your friends readied for an attack. he simply stood, as if he posed no threat.

he looked to you– the only one who hadn't brought your hands up and prepare whatever defense you had at your disposal. you were stunned, as you tried to analyze the firebender in front of you, until sokka nudged you with his elbow. only then, did you unsheathe the sword kept in the holster at your side.

"hey, i heard you guys flying around down there, so, i just thought i'd wait for you here."

and then, the strangest thing happened– appa licked him.

over a cup of tea

sweat beaded upon your forehead and fall to flow down the sides of your face as you writhed in the sheets of your bed. you weren't hot, you were freezing, but no amount of blankets could help you maintain any warmth. you bunched them around your shoulders and threw yourself on your side, looking for some comfort.

the blinds to your room were closed, creating a stuffy environment. they had been shut since that morning when you'd woken up feeling as if you'd been a victim of bloodbending, again. your muscles were tight and aching, it felt like a great weight on your limbs as you tried to move.

katara's healing didn't have the power to take away the fever or the strain, it wasn't a physical wound to be stitched back up. there wasn't much your friends could offer, besides leaving you alone to wallow in your own helplessness.

suddenly, the door opened. instinctively, your head turned towards the figure. he entered shyly, as if hiding behind the tray in his hands. you narrowed your eyes in curiosity, and propped yourself up against the wall. you moved to get off the bed, but his voice stopped you.

"don't get up." it was an order, but zuko's voice was soft.

he pulled up your desk chair next to your bed, his knees pressed against the soft fabric of your comforter. he laid the tray in his lap, a bowl and a cup, both full of tea, sitting on top.

"hey, zuko," you smiled.

"i, uh, i made your favorite," he offered, handing you the cup.

you took it gratefully, glancing inside the cup. the concoction was murky, with scattered bits of leaf left inside he apparently had paid no attention to. you grimaced, but it fell when you looked back up at him to see a hopeful grin on his face.

offering a tight smile, you brought the cup to your lips. you couldn't bring yourself to face his excited expression as you struggled to keep your composure. oh, spirits, it tasted much worse than it looked. as if it was mud, but acrid. it was hard to ignore the pungent smell as you brought it closer to your nose, tipping the cup as far up as you could to let the liquid run down your throat as quickly as possible.

"how does it taste?" zuko raised his eyebrows, clearly nervous as he found your expression unreadable. "is it okay?"

"yeah!" you said, a little too joyously. for a moment, you forgot how people reacted to good tea. you reminded yourself of iroh, but took it down a few notches. "it's– it's great, zuko."

"do you want any more?"

"i'm okay, actually," you squeaked, placing the cup down on his tray before he could try to insist.

zuko nodded, setting the tray on your desk before turning back to you. he was unsure of himself, what to say or how to react. he just wanted to be there, with you. his eyes lit up with a realization and, hesitantly, he brought the back of his hand to your forehead.

"what're you–"

"my mom used to do it when i got sick... i don't think your fever is going down, you're still warm."

he began to pull his hand away, but you stopped him by pulling at his wrist.

"actually, i'm freezing," you corrected. the longer he kept his hand against your skin, the better it felt. the contrast of his warm hand against the coolness you felt blanketing your body came as a relief. you placed his hand against your cheek, and for a moment, your eyes fluttered shut.

zuko's eyes widened, and he rubbed his thumb against your cheekbone experimentally. his touch was gentle, offering comfort in his warmth.

the moment between the two of you lasted a few seconds, and zuko leaned closer. but the sudden, obnoxious knocking on your bedroom door tore the two of you apart. he quickly ripped his hand away back to his side, and the two of you turned towards the entrance.

sokka pushed open the door with a careless expression, that quickly turned into a wide smirk as he observed the scene before him. he crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.

"zuko, aang's asking for you down on the training grounds. something about some jerkbending practice," he shrugged, ignoring zuko's glare that could burn through him, if he so desired.

zuko stood from his place and pushed your chair back into it's place, then picked up the tray. he cast a glance back towards you. "feel better y/n."

"thanks, zuko," you said softly, already missing the feeling of his hand against your cheek.

he left the room quietly, knocking his shoulder subtly against sokka's. the water tribe boy held back his yelp, and his eyes followed zuko as he disappeared around the corner.

"so..." his grin was smug. "how was the tea?"

"shut up, sokka," you grumbled, sliding back underneath the blankets.

"no, really! i narrowly avoided being the taste-tester, and that's a fate worse than death."

as an apology

watching zuko firebend had become part of your daily routine, his body moved so effortlessly as he trained, it was hard to tear your eyes away from. it started as passing through the day, taking a quick break to pause and look through the trees. but now, you happily took a break from your duties and watched– sometimes joining in for some sparring.

at first you thought he didn't notice, too focused on his bending and quite eager to ignore whatever nonsense was going on around the camp. but, then, he spoke up.

"are you going to stare the entire time?"

you fumbled the laundry basket in your hands, feeling your cheeks warm up.

he stopped his bending, turning to face you. a blush dusted his face as he scratched the back of his neck. "you can sit down– you know, if you want."

a few weeks passed and you couldn't bring yourself to drop the tradition, no matter how much katara begged for a girls day out or aang wanted someone to show his new tricks to. it was nice for you and zuko to be alone.

sometimes, when he would train, he would rant. talk to you about the things weighing down on his shoulders or insulting the very specific way sokka would get on his nerves.

you sat on the bench of the training grounds, your knees drawn up to your chest and your back against the armrest. you were knitting a sweater, once finished it would be for momo. you listened absentmindedly as he punched through the air, every few moments averting your gaze back to him.

a plume of smoke whizzed past your head and your eyes widened, looking up. "watch where you're aiming, zuko."

"sorry," he mumbled half-heartedly, catching the teasing tone in your voice. but he complied, turning his back to you as he continued to practice. "i'm trying to get used to this whole not-angry-bending thing."

"i think you're doing pretty well there, handsome."

the nickname slipped out before you could stop yourself, surprising both of you. your eyes widened and you stopped knitting immediately, snapping your gaze up to him.

the firebender spun around mid-flame, his shock disrupting his bending abilities. the fire whizzed out towards you like a crescent wave, swarming the air.

you had a split second of reaction time. fear washed over you, and you brought your arms up to protect your face, there wasn't anything else you could do. the fire singed your skin, your forearms and all the way to your hands.

"i'm sorry, y/n! i didn't mean to!" he apologized frantically, dropping his arms to his sides, the fire died with that. he made his way over, towering over you with worry. "i– i just lost control! i don't– i don't know why, i–"

your face was contorted in pain as you brought your arms to your chest, the friction against your clothes only making the sensation worse. "it's– okay, zuko," your voice was strained, and stood up. "i just have to get to katara."

though you brushed past him, he followed at your heel. "i'm sorry, y/n," he said again, ignoring how you dismissed him.

you found katara on the patio with aang, both concentrated on their poorly done game of pai sho (they made the rules up as they went). their attention was drawn to you when you skidded to a stop, zuko running into your back.

before you could even sputter it out, or katara could ask what was wrong, he spoke up.

"i– i was bending, and i lost control. i burned her– but i didn't mean to!" he fumbled with his hands, leaning forward as if pleading for them to believe him. "it was an accident!"

"it'll be okay, zuko. calm down," aang stood up, gently facing his palms outward as if zuko was a wild animal he was approaching. he needed to calm down. "katara can heal her."

you walked forward towards katara's open arms, she coaxed you towards the beach. you closed your eyes tightly and ducked your head to the floor, the pain is was excruciating. you didn't want them to see you cry, you didn't want zuko to feel more guilt than he already was.

"i'm so sorry."

stepping off the patio, you glanced over your shoulder. "it's not your fault, zuko."

aang tried to usher him inside the building, but his feet were stiff, as if he was stuck in concrete. he was hesitant to follow, his sad gaze following you as you reached the edge of the beach where katara could heal you. then, he left with aang.

"i've never seen him like that," katara whispered to you.

with no space left between us

the moon was full, and hung high amidst the deep blue hugging every inch of the sky. your eyebrows furrowed subconsciously as you glared up at the stars, lost in thought. the grass was itchy against your skin and the wind brought a cold sweep through your hair.

there was a campfire on the beach you'd pulled yourself away from not too long ago. in the distance, you could still hear sokka's painful singing as he danced around the flames with momo as his partner (after suki refused).

zuko was somewhere over there, fueling the fire and probably shooting the occasional flame at sokka's feet for his and toph's entertainment. you knew you were right when you heard sokka's squeal and then accuse him of sabotoge.

for a brief moment, your attention was drawn away from the sky and you looked over. your expression softened. zuko had a proud smile on his face, doing his best to keep it down. it alerted a fleet of unruly butterflies in your stomach, begging for you to return to your friends.

you wanted to sit beside zuko again but you couldn't, too busy mulling over how to handle whatever it was you felt for him.

he met your gaze, and you offered a soft smile in return. it didn't reach your eyes and faded when you looked back at the sky.

almost immediately, zuko got up from the log he was sitting on and made his way towards you. you wouldn't have realized, if toph hadn't called out: "where ya going, sparky?"

he settled in the grass next to you, mirroring the way you kept your hands clasped over your stomach. there was no room left between you, his arm pushed up against yours comfortably.

"uh..." zuko started out. "you can talk to me, you know that right? about your feelings?"

"yeah," you said, your voice quiet. but you didn't want to talk to him. in fact, you'd rather talk to azula about you were feeling, than him.

silence followed.

"so, why'd you walk away from the fire?"

"i just needed to think."

"about what?"

you turned to face him with a raised eyebrow, only to find him staring back at you. you blushed, but felt a smirk creep over your features.

he sighed, looking up again. "sorry."

zuko was content, laying there with you, looking as if he had not a single thing in the world to worry about. as if next to him, you didn't have a voice in the back of your head screeching for you to do something already.

but you just looked– your eyes followed his facial features and noticed how each time he blinked it was longer than the last, you wondered if he would really fall asleep next to you.

"the stars remind me of you."

you were caught off guard. "what?"

"the stars are... bright, they light up the sky. even when things are dark, and you can’t see clearly, they’re there to show you the way. they're beautiful, and create incredible constellations. i can't look away from them."

whatever you were going to say, died in your throat. you didn't know how to respond. he spoke so casually as if his words didn't light every one of your nerves on fire. the flurry in your stomach only became more extreme. it felt too good to be true, it couldn't be real. the boy you were laying with under the stars told you possibly the most romantic thing you ever heard.

you'd been staring for so long, you forgot you had yet to actually say anything.

zuko faced you, a worrisome expression clouding his features. "was that weird?"

"no!" you squeaked. unwilling to meet his eyes, you looked away. "no, it was really nice. i just didn't expect it, at all. no one's really ever said anything–"

he leaned on his side and placed a hand on your cheek, and feeling that you missed. he didn't give you much time to process as he directed your chin to face him again, and then he kissed you. it was desperate, but soft, not wanting you to pull away but not being demanding. you kissed back with surprise, raising your eyebrows. it lasted a few seconds before he pulled away.

"was that weird?" he pulled his eyebrows together.

"not at all," you smiled gently, sweeping a hand through his hair.

in the distance, toph made herself known. "hey, are you two done over there? you're giving my feet a headache!"

"isn't that a feet-ache?" sokka chimed in, followed by an instantaneous groan as a rock slammed against his head.

[whataboutmyfries]

Russian roulette

Its here its here its finally heeeeree!!!!! I’ve been so excited for this fic for the longest time and I am so so excited to finally share it with you guys!! It’s been quite a while in the making cause I was nervous about my overall ability to keep up with a multi-chapter thing, but here we are!!!

Before you start reading this, I just want you all to know that this fic comes with a LOT of trigger warning. All of them will be in the tags of course, but I just want you guys to know to proceed with caution.

credits as always go to @lumosinlove​ Haz I have utterly CORRUPTED your characters in this one, I’m so sorry

enjoy!!

~

Chapter 1

Logan could still remember the day it had happened, the defiant fury in his friend’s eyes as he’d gone down, guns blazing 

Logan still remembered it, blood splattering his arms and face, his mouth curved in a deadly smirk as he shoved Logan out of their way, going down, guns blazing, winking at the brunette as he dived into the fray.

Logan still remembered the primal fear that ripped the scream from his chest, his arm numb from the kickback of the M4. He still remembered the screaming darkness that had taken over his head after. He still remembered him.

It was the memory of that night, a job gone wrong that had him working himself to pieces, returning to the sparring ring day after day, week after week. The mere thought of it pulling him from sleep with the sharp edge of nightmares. The what if’s and if only’s shoving his mind into a rabbit hole of unending misery.

Logan huffed in frustration, shoving down the cool rage that threatened to send him over the edge. He closed his eyes, exhaling through his nose, roughly shoving his hair off his forehead. The sweat dripped off his brow as he leaned against the punching bag, flexing his fingers against fabric wrapping his hands. 

Even through the wrappings, he could feel the gentle throbbing of the rage and sorrow that had him back at the punching bag day after day after day. He looked down at his knuckles. Shit. That was going to bruise beautifully tomorrow. He sighed, walking over to the backpack on the far end of the room to get his towel and a drink of water. 

Logan hefted his pack onto a shoulder, heading over to the sparring area to clean up, unrolling the fabric from his hands as he did so. He examined his knuckles, his hands a tapestry of bruises. He couldn’t remember the last time they hadn’t been a splotchy purple-blue. 

The door slammed open, and Logan instinctively ducked to the floor, his hands going for the gun in his backpack, his posture relaxing a little when he saw who’d walked in. 

“What the fuck do you want, Nate? He grumbled, tugging his t-shirt to rights, glaring angrily at the floor as he did so, his cheeks warming at his aggressive reaction.

Nate rolled his eyes at Logan’s attitude, raising an eyebrow at Logan’s reaction to his presence. He leaned against the door, drumming his fingers against his bicep “He’s here, sir, the rookie’s here.” 

~

It took Logan all of ten minutes to shower and get dressed to meet Finn in their office. He shook the water out of his hair as his quick steps echoed in the marble hallway. The palatial mansion was HQ. He lived here, slept here, ate here. They were his family, the lions, they’d taken him in after Wyatt had died and had stood by him through every damn thing he’d been through. Regardless, it was home. It had become Logan’s home after— Logan growled, shoving the intrusive thoughts away.

Finn met him halfway to their door, casually tugging the cuffs of his shirt to rights. 

Finn was impeccably dressed as always, looking really damn good in that white button-down, the gold chain on his neck dipping into where he’s left it unbuttoned at the neck. His bespoke trousers did wonders for showing off his legs, the gold belt buckle matching the golden rings glinting in the sun.

Logan swallowed.

“So, the rookie’s coming in today. The only thing we know is the father sent him. Be on your guard.” Finn said, raising an eyebrow at Logan to make sure he understood.

Logan nodded, cracking his knuckles as he accompanied Finn into their office, the redhead making a few calls to get extra security detail around the house. Dons couldn’t take risks, no matter who sent their visitors.  

Logan shook out his hands, sucking in a calming breath before collapsing onto his chair. 

“You have to meet Dubois at the Excelsior tonight. We got a tip he’s been skimming the funds.” Finn said absent-mindedly, his mind more occupied with reading some file. The Excelsior was one of their biggest casinos, three floors of opulent revelry. And Dubois was the sleazy good-for-nothing who ran it for them.

Logan grumbled, flipping open a file of his own, the name Dubois emblazoned in sharp, black letters on the cover. Being a Mob boss wasn’t all it was made out to be, and Logan never thought he’d get used to it. He could scarcely remember how he and Finn had come to build the Lions, one of the biggest crime syndicates in the world, second only to the snakes; a family of vicious, rabid psychopaths who cared for nothing and nobody, dispatching their targets with gruesome efficiency. 

Finn had a suspicion the snakes had been doing recon work at the Excelsior and had told Logan as much. Considering that Logan had to deal with the slimy manager, anyway, he thought he might as well look into the matter. Finn looked at him over the gold rim of his glasses, as though reading his thoughts. 

“Take Potter with you, ask him to get two of his best with him,” Finn said, referring to their head of security.  

Logan huffed, about to shoot back a retort about how he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself thankyouverymuch when there was a knock on the door. Nate leaned against the wood, a smirk playing on his lips.

“He’s here.” 

~

The rookie as it turns out was no rookie at all, rather son to the most infamous pickpocket and street magician of all time, Wyatt Knut. The man had stolen and pickpocketed thousands of dollars’ worth of goods and cash in his time, there was even a rumour going around that he’d been involved in some of the biggest heists of the era, driving his worth up to millions of dollars. 

And this was his son. Sitting in front of him, idly flicking a folded sheet of paper between his fingers, making it disappear and then appear again, his leg bouncing under the table. He looked nervous, his eyes flicking around the room, drinking up the opulent mansion around him. He snapped to attention when Finn cleared his throat, sitting up straighter in his chair. 

“The name’s Knut, Leo Knut. Lizard sent me.” 

Logan’s eyes widened at the nickname. There were very few people in the world who knew it, and this baby faced blond kid sitting in front of them sure as hell didn’t look like someone who would. The fact that he did calmed Logan’s suspicions. This was real. He wasn’t kidding.

Logan felt more than saw Finn’s interest pique. The redhead leaned forward, bracing his elbows on the table. The tension in the room was palpable, and it took every inch of self-control in Logan’s body to not stiffen, sit up straighter, show he was on his guard. Let blue eyes make the first move. Logan was in charge here, not him. 

Leo’s eyes dipped to the folded note in his hand as he vanished it into his sleeve and brought it back. He sucked in a breath, calming his nerves before raising his eyes to the two men sitting before him.  

“Lizard said to come to you if he didn’t return or communicate his….being alive within four days of that mission.” Leo braced for the confusion and chaos that was going to follow his next words. 

“He had a plan to take down the snakes.” 

~

Logan’s jaw dropped, his hands going slack from where they were crossed across his chest. Lizard had what?!? Granted, he was one of their best reconnaissance men, but this seemed a stretch, even for him. 

Finn, ever the diplomat, had kept a straight face, not a hair out of place. It was only through eight years of being his friend that he noticed the tension and suspicion radiating off him. 

The redhead cocked an eyebrow. “Oh? And do you have any proof of this…..plan?” 

Leo grinned, the simple expression lighting up the entire room.” I thought you’d never ask”

 He raised his slender fingers, pulling a flash drive out of thin air, setting it down on the table before him. “It’s in three parts.” he nodded to the drive. “The drive, a……” He waved his hand in the air, trying to find the right words. “Map? With the targets and the blueprints and an encrypted folder on his laptop.”  

Logan barely registered what he’d said. The second Leo has flicked the drive out from between his fingers it was game over for him. Logan was mesmerised. He couldn’t stop staring at those hands, long thin fingers flipping the note in and out of sight with hypnotic movements, drumming on his thigh, gesturing broadly as he spoke. 

Finn seemed to have noticed, pressing his thigh against Logan’s under the table. He froze at the contact, Finn’s warmth seeping into him through the fabric of his jeans. Shit. Now was not the time. He shook his head, clearing his throat and focusing on the task at hand.  

Finn leaned back in his chair, his finger steepling under his chin. “And you’re just trusting us with this information? It’s been a month, why haven’t you approached us sooner? What’s in it for you?” 

Leo’s smile disappeared, shadows dancing behind those blue irises. “Lizard was like a second father to me. I’ve known him since I was a kid, he and my dad were friends.” He let out a shaky breath. “And when he didn’t return from that raid….I wanted to get revenge. I wanted to hurt anyone who dared to so much as lay a hand on him.” Leo met Finn’s eyes. “I was...hurt for a long time after his death, couldn’t figure out how to deal with the loss. It’s the reason why I’m only here now. And as for trusting you with the information…” He trailed off, putting a piece of paper on the table. 

Logan realised it was the same folded note that had been weaving in and out of Leo’s fingers as he’d spoken to them. The paper was worn, the edge soft in a way only repeated use could make them. Finn’s eyes flicked to Leo before he picked it up, glancing at Logan as he opened it. 

Logan leaned in, reading over Finn’s shoulder. In a familiar, stocky script it said: 

‘Sun, I’m going out on business. It’s the usual. Same as always, If I don't communicate in 4 days, ask around for Logan Tremblay and Finn O Hara, Tell them about mission troy. They’ll know who I am, say Lizard sent you  -P’ 

Logan’s hands shook, and he stuffed them into his pockets, still reading the note, scouring it over and over for clues, anything that would tell them that he was still alive— though he knew he wasn’t going to find anything. His eyes caught on the first word. ‘Sun’? Logan wracked his mind, trying to find any reason why Lizard has called him that. Realisation struck and Logan looked over Leo, sizing him up. 

Leo ‘the Sun’ Knut had was famous for his brilliant smile, those dimples distracting even the most stubborn of men while he swindled them out of their money. Bright as the sun and just as blinding, they said. Logan allowed himself a smirk at that. Like father, like son.  

Leo didn’t back down from his stare, raising a blond eyebrow at the intense look, cocking his head to the side. A shiver of excitement ran through Logan, bigger men had backed away from that look of his, yet this lanky child didn’t so much as falter. Interesting. 

Finn rested his elbows on the table, ever the portrait of unruffled grace. “How do we know this is real?” He asked, nodding his head at the drive sitting on the table. 

Logan could practically see the effort it took Leo to not roll his eyes. The blond shrugged, crossing his arms on the desk. “Believe me, or don’t. It’s your loss. I have my orders and if you aren’t willing to provide the resources, I’m sure I’ll find other people who are.” His gaze sharpened to a flinty glare, “I’m just trying to do right by a friend. He asked me a favour and I will not let him down” He nudged the drive forward with a long finger, the little black device sitting in the middle of the table.  “Help me or not, it’s up to you, but don’t you fucking dare get in my way.”

[fific7]

Dangerous and Divine - Part 11

Billy Russo x Reader

Summary: Billy Russo is an itch you don’t want to scratch. But he’s all over you like a rash.

A/N: This does not follow canon, it’s mainly fluff & lemon zest 🍋 The GIF is from Exposed, unreleased pilot show in case you’re wondering 😌... Billy vibes.

Warnings: 18+ NSFW due to sexual content including oral and unprotected* sex between consenting adults. Some voyeurism. Some drinking & swearing.

*Irl, please don’t go wild in the country without protection.

(My GIF)

Wanting to turn round and get the hell out of there, Madani found herself rooted to the spot. It was like car crash TV... she just couldn’t bring herself to look away. So, she stood there and just watched.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, she just stared at the scene in front of her. The room door was at her back and she went along with it involuntarily as it swung closed behind her. Coming to rest against it, she drew in a long breath.

Her eyes were glued to that damn cute ass of Billy’s. Watching it... relentlessly, hypnotically moving up and down, up and down, up and down. Listened to his breathy moans and low grunts as he pounded in and out of her. Uhh, uhh, unnhhh, unnhhh. Caught glimpses of his balls between his legs, snapping backwards with each thrust. A sheen of sweat visible across his shoulders and back. Saw one hand making its way down to where their bodies were joined, his other running gently along her thigh.

Her! she thought venomously. It should be me... he should be on top of me in that bed!

But still she watched. And watched. It was really dim in the room, and she realised the curtains were almost fully closed. She found herself craning her neck forward slightly to get a better look.

She watched as he kept on thrusting, then she noticed the muscles in his ass eventually tense up. Another three or four shorter thrusts, then she heard Billy cry out. Heard him breathe her name, saw him lowering his head to rest on her shoulder for a moment before bringing it up to her face; she just knew he was kissing her now. “I love you,” Madani heard him say, and more kisses followed.

The breath she’d taken in left her lips in a long hiss. This was just so not fucking fair!

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You reached up off the pillows to kiss Billy’s beardy chin above you, but a sudden movement near the door caught your eye. You let out a small shriek as you saw a shadowy figure standing there and Billy leaned back immediately, looking at you anxiously. You pointed towards the door and his head shot round in that direction. A snarl appeared on his lips and he roughly grabbed the bedcovers, quickly pulling them over the two of you. He leaned up on his elbows, looking over his shoulder at the intruder.

“Madani!!!” he yelled, “You... you fuckin’.... Get the fuck outta here!!!”

You heard the door slam, and raised your face from where you’d hidden it against Billy’s chest. You hadn’t been able to make out who it was in the low light. “That was her?” you asked him, and he nodded, throwing back the covers and sitting up against the pillows, running both hands through his wayward hair. “Yeah,” he replied, “yeah, it fuckin’ was. That crazy fucking bitch.”

You also sat up, bringing the sheet across you and under one arm, “What the hell was she doing in your room, Billy?” You were glaring at him, and he quickly put his hand on your cheek, “I have no idea, angel... truly I don’t. Please don’t be thinkin’ this was some kinda hookup, cos it wasn’t! I’m gonna fuckin’ strangle her.... urrrhhhh!!” You could see that he was absolutely furious.

Reassured, you softened your gaze. He carried on, “We’re not due to meet up with her for another half hour. She musta been given a pass key and for whatever reason, came chargin’ in here.”

You ran your fingers up through his hair, sweeping it back from his forehead, “Billy, I swear I’m gonna nail Agent Madani’s ass to the wall when all this is done!”

“You and me both, sweetheart,” Billy said grimly.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy had got up and showered (with you) after that, then he’d unpacked his black tactical suit and got into it. While you were busy admiring how he looked in it - like, really damn sexy - after a long and passionate kiss, he’d left you in the room, telling you to doublelock the door and not to open it for anyone except him.

You’d been made to promise on the lives of everyone you held dear that you’d stay there, until he got back. He didn’t know exactly when that would be, which you had to admit pissed you off a bit but you understood he couldn’t give you a precise time and why. It’s just you didn’t like the thought of being cooped up in the room all day.

Oh well, you had the TV, the movie channels, the mini bar... and room service. Your eyes lit up. Room service!!

Eager to get ordering, you started looking for the menu in the pile of hotel stuff on the funky reclaimed wooden desk, which was underneath a huge ornate mirror. You caught sight of yourself in it as you did so. Ohh... okay, you’d better lose the “I’ve Just Been Fucked Senseless” look before the room service guy arrived, otherwise you might just give him the fright of his life.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Dinah Madani had stumbled out of Billy’s room, letting the door slam behind her. She took off along the corridor at a cracking pace, face flaming red, heading for the fire exit stairs. She smoothed down the fabric of her jacket with her hands, then ran them down onto her trousers, trying to calm her breathing as she went.

She replayed the vision of Billy’s naked body in her mind, of him having sex, blocking out the inconvenient fact that he’d been in bed with someone else.

Damn, she was aroused. She could feel how damp her panties were as she walked. How was she supposed to get the handsome big bastard out of her head now, after seeing that display? In her head, she transposed herself into that bed, underneath him. She could almost feel him inside her.

And every time she looked at him from now on? Yes - she was going to be imagining him naked. And it wouldn’t be to give herself more self-confidence in front of a bunch of people, like they taught you to do in those self-help courses.

As she started making her way down the stairs, she mentally shook herself - she’d better get her head back in the game or this could all go horribly wrong.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy had taken the same route down a couple of floors to the room being used as the base of operations. He was still fuming about Dinah’s little voyeuristic visit to his room. What the fuck was she thinking, coming into his room unannounced? If he hadn’t been otherwise engaged he could’ve shot her! And just how long had she been standing there, watching him make love to his girl?

Weird bitch, he thought, but I’ll settle the score with her once this is all over.

He knocked once on the door, saw an eye appear in the spyhole and then the door opened. Frank and the rest of the Anvil team were already there, along with Madani and her Homeland agents. He glared at Madani but she wouldn’t meet his eyes.

Frank winked and grinned at him, fully aware of the ‘operation’ Billy had been on prior to arriving. Wait till he told him about Madani’s latest little stunt!

They got down to business, running through the details of the op and all the ‘what if’s’ and Plan A, Plan B, Plan C scenarios once again. Everyone was given their positions, tasked with certain duties, told to make sure their earpieces were in and working. The two teams started leaving the room and dispersing to their designated locations. The undercover agent remained to get a further briefing from Billy, Frank and Madani, then he too left to go to his room where the meet would take place.

That left the three of them, plus the Homeland agents who’d be monitoring all the comms and security cameras. Billy marched right up to Madani, towering over her and glaring so furiously at her that it was a wonder she didn’t catch on fire. In a very low voice that only the three of them could hear, he bit out, “I’m sayin’ nothing right now about what happened earlier, Dinah - we need to be totally focused on this fuckin’ op - but we’re gonna be having a conversation about it at some point.”

He caught sight of Frank’s puzzled face but just gave him a small shake of the head. “Right,” he said, “c’mon Frankie, let’s go and check the perimeters.”

The two of them left, leaving Madani to pace the room and watch the CCTV screens over the shoulders of her agents. She hadn’t said a word directly to Billy or looked him in the eye during the entire briefing.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

Billy strode along the corridor so quickly that Frank had to really hurry to catch him up. “Hey, Bill! What’s up with you and Madani now?” Billy shook his head, “Dunno that I should talk about it, Frankie, I’m still fuckin’ furious with her, and I really gotta concentrate on all this shit that’s goin’ down today.” They reached the stairs, Billy opening the fire door and they started down the steps.

Frank grabbed his arm and they both stopped walking. “Don’t forget I know you better’n you know yourself, Russo. If you don’t get this off ya chest, you’re gonna explode. And that ain’t what we need right now.”

Billy leaned his back against the wall and sighed, “Yeah, you’re right.” He broke eye contact with Frank, saying, “She’s got a master key for the rooms.” Frank said warily, “Yeah, I know she does... and?”

“Came crashin’ into our room, when I was... we were...” Frank’s eyes got huge, “havin’ sex. Stood there for fuck knows how long watchin’ us, till we finally noticed her after... after we finished, an’ I yelled at her to get out.”

“For fuck’s sake!” Frank said through gritted teeth, “What the fuck’s wrong with that woman?!”

Shaking his head, Billy shrugged, “I dunno, Frank. She’s got issues, that’s for sure.” He turned and started down the stairs again, “C’mon, let’s get this shitshow on the road.”

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

You’d ended up having the most pleasant day to yourself. Leisurely soak in the spa bath, several room service orders (repairs having been carried out before the waiter’s first visit), several little trips to and from the mini-bar for G&T’s. You’d finished the gin now, and had moved on to vodka & coke. Not your favourite but beggars, choosers etc.

You’d been on one of the big movie channels, and so far you were three fantasy films, two rom-coms and a heist movie into their list. In fact you’d started drifting off to sleep as you got towards the end of the heist movie, and made yourself sit up to make sure you didn’t doze off. You gazed back at the massive wall-mounted TV and tried to pick up whereabouts you were in the plot. Oh right - bank robbery.

The bad guys ran into the bank, firing shots into the air and getting everyone to lie down on the floor. But there was that one hero security guard, who drew his gun and tried to shoot the bad guy gang leader. Cue good guy getting shot, up rolls a police armed response unit, cue gun battle, various dead good and bad guys, oh and here’s the car chase as a couple of baddies got away.

Hey hang on, the gun battle’s still going on, but neither the cops or the bad guys are shooting at each other as they’re too busy doing handbrake turns and screeching round corners.

It dawned on you the gunfire you could hear was in your freaking hotel. Leaping up and zipping over to the window, you saw various black SUV’s parked randomly in the middle of the street, blue lights flashing and doors wide open, but apart from crowds of the general public running for cover, there was no-one in sight round the big cars.

You could still hear the rattle of gunfire, and then all of a sudden it went eerily quiet.

Breathing unsteadily, you had a nasty feeling in the pit of your stomach and your hand wavered towards the doorhandle. The temptation to open it was huge. ‘No!’ screeched the sensible part of your brain, ‘for just once in your life.... Do. What. You’re. Told.” Your hand went back to your side. Okay, you win, you told your brain glumly.

You walked back over and sat on the bed, ended the movie - the bad guys were probably either A) going to get away or B) get caught - so you could live without seeing the end of it. Starting to flick through the programme guide, you finally found a news channel, but they had nothing about the hotel or ‘shots fired’.

So you spent the next thirty minutes sitting on the bed for 3 minutes then getting up and pacing, then sitting on the bed again for another 3 minutes, then pacing again... hit the repeat button on that scenario until there was a big knock at the door.

You headed over to the door but didn’t put your eye to the peephole, having seen a film once where someone got shot in the eye that way. Yes, you did watch a lot of movies, what of it! So you just called out, standing to one side, so you wouldn’t get shot through the door either (yes, yes, saw that in the movies too), “Who’s that?!”

Billy’s voice said, “It’s me, sweetheart. Can you let me in? And don’t get upset but I got grazed a coupla times by bullets so I’m bleedin’ quite a bit.”

Don’t get upset? you thought, he’s gotta be joking hasn’t he? You hastily unlocked and pulled open the door, and you saw a very pale-faced Billy leaning on the doorframe, blood on his face and on one of his arms. You could see ripped fabric on the sleeve of his tactical suit where the blood was coming from.

“Oh, Billy,” you said, worried, dragging him into the room and slamming the door closed.

»»————————————-———-　⚜　———————————-————-««

@blackbirddaredevil23 @galaxyjane @omgrachwrites @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead

[troubatrain]

wildfire - b. boeser

a/n: this a repost from my old blog - so for a second time i hope you enjoy!

Summers in Minnesota were your favorite, there was no doubt about it. You could travel around the world three times over and you were positive the lake in your hometown was more important to you than any other wonder of the world. Summer was about lazy days on the water, and this summer, actively avoiding the post graduation real life job search you were going to be on come September. It was late night house parties with the people you’d missed throughout the year, and seeing the one person who made your heart flutter in your chest like no other.

You grip your drink tighter, watching Brock while he works the room. You weren’t surprised when your phone lit up with a text from him about throwing the first party of the summer, it came at the same time every year. He didn’t look much different than he had when you saw him last, his hair a bit longer, his shoulders just a bit broader, but he was still the same. He was walking around his house, greeting guests with his million dollar smile.

“You’re going to do this to yourself again?” Your thoughts are broken by your best friend, Parker, the brunette shaking her head at you, “It’s the same story every year Y/N, you have this romantic summer and come September you both chicken out on letting it last.”

You sigh, knowing your friend was right. It wasn’t that it was Brock’s fault and you could fall under this narrative that he was a player, because it just wasn’t true. Brock was really good to you, and sometimes you thought maybe it could work. But distance was a bitch, and you couldn’t just give your heart to him to have when he’s a million miles away with a schedule that’s as crazy as his.

“I’m not doing it this year,” You say, and even you knew you were lying through your teeth, “It’s not happening.”

You slip out of the room, heading up the stairs to find somewhere quiet to collect your thoughts. You knew you were going to cave the second Brock spoke to you, you always did. He was intoxicating, and he was always there, the same song and dance every summer since you’d been nineteen. It's gotten to the point where you once dumped the guy you’d been seeing because you knew Brock was going to be back home waiting for you. You walk past the bathroom, hearing the sounds of someone hooking up on the other side, and you keep walking into a room you knew all too well.

You slip into Brock’s room, Coolie immediately hopping off the bed and greeting you, his new brother following him to smell you. You sit on the floor, petting both of the dogs until you can hear the door click open.

“I knew I’d find you in here,” Brock chuckles, it wasn’t the first time you’d slipped out of a party to see his dog who’d been finding refuge in his owner's bedroom. Milo trotted over to Brock, his tail wagging in the air with excitement while Coolie remained at your feet, “I think he missed you.”

“I don’t blame him, who’s going to give him treats without telling his dad,” You muse, remembering how many times Brock caught you spoiling his dog, it wasn’t your fault he was cute and you were a sucker. Brock walks over to you, his hand out for you to grab. Your fingers locked with his while he pulled you off the ground, pulling you close enough to feel his breath on you.

“You want to stay tonight?” Brock asks, a smirk gracing his face. It was the way he asked, every summer, and if your answer was yes you knew what else you were agreeing to. Another few months of bliss, followed by a month of heartbreak and tears before you picked yourself up again. You’d mend your own back together only for it to be broken again. Brock nudges you with his nose, his lips ghosting yours, waiting for his answer before he could finally kiss you.

“I’ll stay.”

--

With your declaration of staying that night, you’d fallen into the same pattern you always have. You stayed at Brock’s more than your own house, and you’d been with him almost everyday since that night, much to Parker’s dismay. You were laying out on Brock’s boat, the dogs at your feet while you watched Brock fish on the other side. The view was something else, aside from the beauty of the lake that you were sitting on, you were getting a full view of the muscles on Brock’s back, his summer tan on full display.

“Stop staring at me,” Brock calls out, turning around and smirking at you, “I can feel your eyes boring into me.”

“It’s a good view,” You joke.

“Is that all I’m good for?” Brock jokes back, “I’m just pretty.”

“The prettiest,” You snap back, tucking your nose back into the book you were reading.

“That’s actually you,” Brock says, walking over to you and placing both of his hands on either side of you, leaning over and planting a sweet kiss on your lips, “You’re beautiful.”

Brock’s compliments were cut short by Milo hopping onto your lap and lightly nibbling his owner’s nose for bothering you. While Coolie had always followed you around Brock’s house, Milo had taken a few more days to warm up to you. But, he was on your side now and that meant Brock was public enemy number one.

“I think they’d choose you if they had the chance,” Brock teases, but a part believed it might actually have been true.

You watched Brock walk back over to his fishing pole, and you could have sworn you heard the sound a camera click but you decided to ignore it. That was until there was notification on your phone that Brock had tagged you in his Instagram story. You open it, it was a photo of you with the dogs at your feet, and you turn to Brock who’d been minding his own business. You weren’t mad, it was just that although every one of your friends, and you were pretty sure your families, knew about you and Brock’s weird summer arrangement because it had gotten past the point of trying to hide it, there was never any evidence of it. Aside from the occasional chirp on one of your Instagram posts, it was like you and Brock didn’t even know each other.

“Brock…” You say, dragging out his name and walking over to him, your arms snaking around his waist. You press a light kiss to his back, “Did you really have to do that?”

“Can’t show off my girl and my dogs?” Brock asks, turning back to you and kissing your lips.

“Your girl?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at him.

“Yeah, my girl.”

--

The problem with your arrangement with Brock was that he was actually a decent temporary boyfriend. He kept your favorite flavor of ice cream in his house, he gave you endless hoodies when the temperatures would start to drop, and he held your hand when you were out in public. He never hid whatever was going on between the two of you like it was some shameful secret, and you’re pretty sure that’s why you keep coming back. It just feels so real when you’re together you’d never been able to pull yourself away from him. But then you’d remind yourself that this is temporary, and nothing this perfect could last anyways.

“-I heard that he’s got like three girls in Vancouver,” You hear someone at the table next to your say, and you can feel Parker’s foot kick you under the table to get your attention. They were talking about Brock, and you tried to tune them out but you couldn’t. It ate you up at night, when you’d start to think about what Brock’s life in Vancouver was like. He was young, successful, and the team was playing well. You knew he had girls lined up waiting for their chance with him. You didn’t expect him not to give anyone the time of day, he didn’t belong to you. But the words from the girls next to you had your stomach churning, and you wanted nothing more than to walk over to Brock on the other side of the bar to stake your claim. You weren’t possessive or jealous, well you were, but you didn’t need him to know that. So you stayed in your seat, sipping your drink and eavesdropping about whatever rumor was circling about Brock.

“You’re not going to do anything about that?” Parker asks, her eyebrows raising at you.

“He doesn’t belong to me,” You say, your temper rising by the second, “I’m just going to go.”

You stomp out of the bar with your feet moving as fast as they could. You walked in what you assumed was the direction of your house, but after a few blocks, you’d realized you’d been so upset you didn’t know where you were going. You finally stop hearing a huff behind you.

“I’ve been walking behind you this entire time, how did you not notice me?” Brock breathes out, shaking his head at you, “I could’ve been a murderer.”

You close your eyes, turning away from Brock and continuing on your directionless walk, “Not the time Brock.”

You can feel his large hand wrap around your elbow gently, pulling you closer to him, “What’s up?”

“It’s not important,” You whisper, putting your hand on Brock’s chest to push him away, but your hand just tangles itself into the chain on his neck when his arms tighten around you to keep you in his arms, “Brock…”

“Let’s go home,” Brock says, realizing he isn’t going to get you to budge on opening up to him in the middle of the sidewalk, “Please.”

You nod, and you follow him to his truck that had been parked by the bar. You hop in and ride back to his house in silence. You knew you owed him an explanation as to why you rushed out of the bar with the intent of walking home and crying alone, but you couldn’t tell him without admitting that you were jealous.

The sounds of the dogs barking at the truck pulling into the driveway was the only thing that broke you out of your thoughts. You smile, slipping inside to see the two best boys in your life at the current moment. You watch as they both follow you into Brock’s room, and you grab one of his t-shirts, the Canucks logo on your chest and his number on your shoulder.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong now?” Brock asks, sitting at the edge of his bed, his eyes wandering your body in his clothes. You shake your head no, walking over to him and wrapping your legs around his waist, tucking your head into his neck, “C’mon, Y/N.”

“Just something I heard from the girls that were sitting next to us,” You mutter out, feeling Brock’s hand weaving your hair in an attempt to comfort you, and it was working, “About you, and girls, and your life in Vancouver.”

You can hear Brock sigh, and you didn’t know what you were expecting to hear, “You know, one time when I played the Wild, Parker told me you were at a wedding with some guy you were seeing and that’s why you weren’t in town that day. I couldn’t shake the idea of you with someone else from my brain, and I broke three sticks that game.”

“You were jealous?” You ask, finally picking your head up and looking at him.

“So jealous,” Brock mutters, pecking at your lips, “But then you came home for the summer and so did I and it seemed to work itself out.”

“You’re a good guy Brock,” You say, kissing him slowly, “It’s actually almost a little annoying.”

“You keep coming back though,” Brock chuckles, pulling you closer and flopping back onto his bed.

“I always do.”

--

The Fourth of July was admittedly, Brock’s all time favorite holiday. Every year his annual barbeque seemed to just get bigger, and crazier. This year was no different, you were watching someone set up a giant inflatable water slide that led right into the lake, and in another corner of the yard was a couple of your friends setting up the drinks. The house was decorated elaborately with red white and blue decorations.

“Hey can you put these on the dogs?” Brock asks, chucking two bandanas at you.

You catch the bandanas, laughing to yourself about how they matched the red, white and blue shirt Brock was sporting, the buttons in the front completely undone, “I’m making you take a picture after this.”

“Only if you’re in it too,” Brock says, kissing the side of your head, “A family photo.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, and can feel a blush creep onto your cheeks. This summer was different than the ones from the past, Brock was unapologetic about the way he felt about you. He was so much more vocal about it than he used to be.

You didn’t see much of Brock that day, mainly because you sure he invited every person he’s ever met to his party. But you spent most of the day mingling with friends, falling into a lengthy conversation with Brock’s sister who’d been trying to pry into what the nature of your relationship was for years. You always gave her the same answer, a small shrug and telling her that you were just friends even though she’d call you out on lie. By the time the sun went down, you were tipsy and you hadn’t seen Brock once all day. Your phone vibrates next to you, pulling you out of your conversation with Parker about the job she’d just interviewed for.

meet me on my balcony in 5

You smile, excusing yourself from the conversation and making your way upstairs to Brock’s bedroom. You slip in, smiling when you see Brock sitting on the edge of his bed, tossing his phone in the air

“C’mon,” Brock smiles, standing up and grabbing your hand and opening the door to the balcony, you both step out and you turn to him with a confused look on your face.

“Why’d you call me up here?” You ask, raising your eyebrows at him.

“It’s the best view for this,” Brock says, pointing to the lake where fireworks had started going off. You weren’t even surprised by the final grand idea Brock had for the Fourth of July. You smile, wrapping your arms around his waist while you watched the colors burst in the sky in front of you, “Too much?” 

“No, it’s perfect.”

--

Elias Pettersson was a bit of an odd guy, but he’d been nothing but kind to you since the moment his plane landed down in Minnesota, a break from his summer in Sweden. Now he was sitting at the large island in Brock’s house, who’d stepped out to head to the store, while you continued with the dinner you were cooking for the three of you.

“So, this actually happens every summer?” Elias asks, grabbing your attention, “I thought Brock was just bullshitting us.”

“Brock talks about me?” You ask, trying to get a grip on exactly how much about your relationship Elias actually knew.

“He does, not to everyone, but when I ask him about his summer he always raves about this girl who he spends it with,” Elias starts, gesturing to you, “I assume that’s you.”

“Is that all he says?” You ask, trying to pry into what Brock was saying about you. You can admit, you wanted to hear every detail so you could overthink it forever. You could torture yourself with knowing whether or not his feelings for you were real or not.

“Is that all who says?” Brock asks, stepping back into the house, dropping the bags on the counter and placing a kiss on your lips.

“Nothing, we were just talking about how much a loser you are,” Elias says, giving you a wink, a secret acknowledgement that your desperate plea for information would be kept between the two of you.

Long after dinner, and a two movies, Elias had headed into the guest room he was staying in and you were sitting on the couch, sipping some tea before bed and reading the rest of the book you’d intended on finishing weeks ago.

“I’m surprised you’re still up,” Brock says, closing the sliding door to the backyard behind him, “You want to tell me what embarrassing things Petey told you before or am I going to have to pry it out of him tomorrow?”

“Nothing embarrassing, he was just asking about us,” You say, smiling at him, “Everyone does Brock.”

“I know,” Brock nods, grabbing the mug out of your hands and sitting next to you on the couch, pulling you into his chest, “Does it bother you? That you don’t have an answer.”

Yes it does. It drives me absolutely insane that I’ve been in love with you for years of my life but I never feel like you’re actually mine.

“No, it doesn’t”

--

The moment Elias left to head back to Europe for the rest of his summer, Brock had been giving you the silent treatment. You’d gone to the airport with them, and with Elias’s last words about how he better see you in Vancouver at least once this fall, Brock had gone mute. He didn’t look at you once on the entire ride back to his house, and now he was moving around his kitchen, moving things that didn’t need to be moved while he continued to ignore you.

“Brock, what the fuck is your problem?” You finally call out, breaking the silence. In all of the years you’d been together, if that’s what you could even call it, you never actually had gotten into more than a small argument. Even then, Brock never gave you the cold shoulder.

“I don’t have a problem,” Brock defends, when there clearly was a problem.

“Is this about what Elias said?” You ask, waiting for an answer but you see how silent Brock had gotten, you knew the answer was yes, “Is the idea of being with me that bad? You can’t even fathom the idea of seeing me when we’re not home? Do you know how that makes me feel?”

“Have you ever thought about how I feel?” Brock shouts back, “Like I have to hear everyone in my life there tell me how fucking wonderful you are and then I have to admit to them that I’m too scared to tell you how I feel? That I love you, so much, but I don’t think I’m enough for you, or that I think you deserve someone who can give you the world but I can’t promise that so I just keep trying to hold onto you the best I can.”

This time, you fell silent. The look on Brock’s face went from tense to the realization of what he actually just said to you. You walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his neck, “I love you too.”

“If you came to Vancouver, I don’t want you to leave,” Brock says, looking at you, his eyes flicking down to your lips while he waits for your answer.

Your futures always seemed like they’d been heading in the same direction. That Brock was your right person, wrong time relationship. But one day, you always imagined things would work out, and you’d finally have a light at the end of the tunnel. Moving to a new city could be a risk, but Brock had been the biggest constant in your life, and there wasn’t a doubt that if you left with him - he’d never let you go.

“I’ll go.”

[nightshade-minho]

-Nightmare- (10)

Warnings: Um, like always, get tissues ready, I guess.

He hated this.

Being in the same room as five other people, three of which he hated, wasn’t how he wanted his evening to go. He wanted to be home with you, watching movies and cuddling under about ten blankets. He regretted ever going to that party and meeting the insufferable redhead. God, he couldn’t believe he’d fucked up this bad.

Even now, as he ate dinner, he tuned out the conversation around him. From time to time, he would glance up at Rina, jaw clenched, hate coursing through him.

It was her fault. Right? It had to be. 

Whatever. He just had to get through this dinner, and then he’d be able to go home with you. And...maybe, maybe he would confess to you. It was scary to think about...he could feel his heart thumping, and his palms were sweaty. But he knew it was what he had to do. You probably didn’t like him back...but he couldn’t keep it in. He’d kept his feelings locked in for so many years, and now that they were finally out, he couldn’t reel them back in. He felt like an emotional wreck.

He didn’t care if you didn’t feel the same. Seeing you with the necklace around your neck had only solidified what he already knew- you were meant to be his, and he would do anything to make sure that would happen.

When Rina had accused you of changing him, that was the last straw.

Fuck Rina. He probably shouldn’t have snapped at her like that, but he couldn’t help it. He made his way to the bathroom, not wanting to be in the same room as her anymore.

Splashing water on his face, he wiped it clean and sighed, running his hands through his hair. He couldn’t wait to get out of here, couldn’t wait for this to be over.

As soon as he stepped out of the door though, he was met with her face, uncomfortably close to his as she caged him against the doorway, expression furious.

“I don’t know what your problem is, but I’m really not having it.” 

“My problem is you. Why the fuck can’t you just leave me alone?” He snapped.

“I know you’re not dating her. I know it. I tried giving you the benefit of the doubt but...it’s so hard. I almost believed it at first...but now, it’s just so laughable. You two, trying to fool everyone into thinking that you’re dating. It’s pathetic.” She spat.

He remained silent.

“What I wanna know is why you left. Is there something wrong with me? Am I unfuckable or something?” Her voice quivered a little, a sprinkle of vulnerability before it regained its usual confidence. “There were millions of guys falling over themselves to want me, to fuck me that night.. Have you ever paused to consider how it would have affected my reputation? You running out of the room just minutes after we entered together?”

“Look, Rina...you’re being unreasonable-”

His brain almost short-circuited when he felt her lips on his. He was consumed with the need to push her away...the acute awareness that you were in the other room.

But for some reason...he couldn’t. He was tired of the game they were playing. Maybe if he just gave her what she wanted, she’d finally stop. She’d stop bothering you two, and he could live his life with you in peace.

So he kissed her back. She pulled away after a few seconds, panting and looking at him with shining eyes. “Let’s go to the bedroom.”

He shook his head, eyes widening. “My girlfriend’s literally in the other room-”

She scoffed. “Seriously, Minho, drop the act. I know you two are in a fake relationship. You make it blindingly obvious.” She stares curiously up at him. “Do you...actually like her?”

Minho didn’t say anything, averting his eyes and trying to breathe normally.

She let out an incredulous snort. “Jesus...you’re such a cretin. That bitch doesn’t like you back, you do know that, right?”

“I...”

She pulled away completely, grabbing his wrist and pulling him forward a little bit, peeking around the wall. Minho felt the dread rising in him as she did so, his throat going dry. His eyes took in Juyeon and you on the couch, him leaning closer to you, his hand on your inner thigh. He couldn’t see your expression as your back was facing him, but he’d seen enough. He felt anger pulsing in him as he looked away, scowling. 

He hated the way his legs and fingers felt shaky. There it was again, that weakness you caused. He’d been prepared to submit, prepared to accept the weakness as a part of him...but you clearly didn’t feel the same way. So what was the point? 

He grabbed Rina, dragging her to the side and whispering in her ear. He’d had enough. 

“Where’s that asshole’s bedroom? I wanna fuck you on his bed.”

She grinned, pulling him in for another kiss as she led him to the bedroom, pushing him onto the bed and straddling his lap. 

Somehow, Minho didn’t feel anything, not even arousal, as she moved her hips against him, unbuttoning his shirt rapidly. He felt blank, vapid...his body moving as if it were a robot.

Even as he kissed her furiously, he could feel his actions fueled by his frustration and anger. How he wished you were the one on his lap right now...but you’d made it increasingly clear that you didn’t want him in that way. He could make peace with that. 

“Fuck you.”

As soon your shaky voice hit his ears, he pulled away like lightning, his eyes landing on your face. The shocked, devastated expression on your face breaking his heart.

Before he could even say anything, you ripped off the necklace, throwing it at him and running away. 

He felt tears prick his eyes. That expression on your face...it was now etched in his brain, the memory of it making him nauseous. Why did you look so horrified, so heartbroken? You didn’t like him, so why were you so angry, so sad? The implications of it scared him. What if...

He pushed Rina aside, bending down to pick up the chain, his eyes filling with tears. It wasn’t broken, thankfully. He tucked it into his pocket, turning to the girl on the bed, who was glaring up at him.

“Are you really walking out, again? You do realize-”

“Shut up. I’m done with you. Do whatever you want, I don’t fucking care, okay? I’ve hurt the person who means the most to me multiple times, and you’re to be blamed for some of it. I know I’m the one at fault...and I also know I would have never recognized my love for her if you hadn’t thrown your little tantrum, and forced us into this fake relationship. But if there’s one thing I’ve learnt from all this, it’s that my feelings for her definitely aren’t fake.” He rambled, breathing hard. For some reason, her dumbstruck expression gave him a weird sense of satisfaction.

He ran out of the room, walking to the door as fast as he could and trying his best to avoid Juyeon’s eyes.

***

Minho found you walking down the street. Your back was to him, but he could almost sense the hurt in the way you walked. His heart ached, especially because he knew he was the reason you looked so defeated. He opened his mouth to call out...but he couldn’t.

You deserved so much better.

He inhaled again, working up his courage.

“Y/n!”

You stopped in your tracks, slowly turning around at the sound of his voice. He walked closer, sighing and running a hand through his drenched hair. “Y/n...please...”

“What?” You snapped, crossing your arms. “What could you possibly have to say to me?”

“I...um, I’m s-”

“No.” You scoffed, holding your palm up. “Don’t you dare apologize. You’ve done enough of that.”

He tilted his head to the side, his sadness slowly transforming into anger.

Actually, why was he apologizing? What right did you have to pretend like you were the victim here? You had no idea about his feelings. You didn’t know what he was going through. You were the one who’d started it, flirting with Juyeon.

“Why the fuck should I be the one to apologize?!”

Your eyes widened. “Wha...Minho, you were literally making out with the girl who wants to send you to jail just a few minutes ago! It was just...irresponsible.” In all honesty, you could care less about the immaturity of the action. You couldn’t tell him the real reason after all, could you? That you were jealous.

“Do you ever not think with your dick?” You asked, feeling your emotions burn. “You know...they were right. You are just a  fuckboy without any substance.”

The words hit him like a knife. He opened his mouth, closing it as he felt his heart burn at the words, partly because somewhere deep down...he was scared they might be true.

He felt his anger boil over as he took the necklace out from his pocket. “You know what, Y/n? It’s true, what you said in the letter. This friendship was a mistake, after all. I wish I’d never fucking met you, never wasted all these years on someone as boring and mundane as you!” He threw the necklace on the ground, swallowing. The slightest streak of hesitation ran through him, his inner voice telling him to stop and think...before he shook his head, snapping out of it and crushing it under his shoe. 

You let out a small gasp, swallowing your tears as you stared at his feet.

“I knew we’d be breaking up tonight. I just never thought it’d happen this way.” He whispered. He was glad for the rain right then, thankful that they were masking the tears running down his face. He hated the lies he’d just spewed. 

You paused, hiccuping as you felt fresh tears run down your cheeks. You were sure you looked like a raccoon, mascara dripping down your face.

“Minho...you were right. I’m the one who should apologize. I’m sorry.” You took a deep breath. “Sorry I ever fell in love with you.” You choked out, lips quivering as you watched his face slowly twisting with shock. You turned around, not wanting to see it anymore, walking away from him as fast as you could, your heart pounding and legs shaking.

Your dress was sticking to your body and your hair was plastered to your head. The cold rain was making you shake, wishing you’d brought a jacket. Your heart felt colder, though.

They say confessions in the rain are supposed to be romantic. This felt anything but.

***

You cried into your pillow once you reached home, feeling empty. You were a muddle of emotions, your entire body still wet from the rain. 

He didn’t even run after you. Didn’t even care.

Then again, what reason did you have to be angry? He wasn’t really your boyfriend. But...you also had to accept that he wasn’t your best friend anymore. It had come straight out of his mouth. 

Your best friend had disappeared a few years ago. The guy you lived with now wasn’t that Minho, wasn’t the Minho who gave you the necklace, the one who cared about you. He was different. Maybe he did belong with Rina.

At least, did this mean that Rina wasn’t pissed at him anymore? You were glad that he wouldn’t have to go to jail, at least. You didn’t hate him that much...no, quite the opposite. You still fucking loved him. And you hated yourself for that.

By the time you felt the drowsiness settle in, the sun rays were already poking through the curtains.

***

Minho felt like he’d just been struck with a hammer. The sound of thunder was all he could hear apart from your words repeating themselves over and over in his head.

You fell in love with him.

When? How? Why?

He couldn’t comprehend it. He’d watched dumbly as you left, even after you became a dot in the distance. It had felt like he was rooted to the spot, his legs having lost the ability to walk and his brain, the ability to think.

He ran his fingers through his wet hair as it slowly dawned on him. The realization that he hadn’t been alone in pining for his best friend, that you’d also been going through the same thing as him. You were in love with him…

He let out a shaky sob as he realized just how badly he’d fucked up.

***

The sound of the doorbell ringing woke you up. It was still pretty early in the morning, and you groaned as you dragged yourself out of bed, having had only 3 hours of sleep.

You hated your heart for hoping it was Minho, coming to apologize…even though you knew an apology wouldn’t be enough for you to forgive him. It was hard…but you had to stay away from him. You needed space, time to think. Seeing his face so soon would be too raw to handle. You’d forgive him immediately, even if he said nothing. And he didn’t deserve to be forgiven.

It still disappointed you when you opened the door to see Juyeon standing there with his hands in his pockets.

“What are you doing here?”

He pressed his lips into a thin line. “I just…wanted to say I’m sorry. And after what happened, I wanted to comfort you.”

You nodded expressionlessly, trying not to show how broken you were. You wanted to be strong.

He tilted his head, and the look of sympathy on his face made you want to cry even more.

“Can I…come in?”

When you remained silent, he quickly cleared his throat. “I mean…I just want to explain.”

You thought for a moment and shrugged, stepping aside as you went back in, sitting on the couch. He came inside, hesitantly sitting next to you.

“Look…I have a few things to admit. First off…I like you.”

Your eyes widened. Yeah, he flirted with you…but you didn’t know he actually had feelings.

“Rina-“

He shook his head, interrupting you.

“Rina and I aren’t together. We’re literally cousins. Everyone on campus knows that.”

You wrinkled your nose. They were? “Um, ew. Then why did-“

”She doesn’t talk to me much. Just a week ago, she approached me telling me about the whole situation, about Minho running away and humiliating her. I’d already kind of heard about it, but the way she was talking about it painted him in a much more vindictive light, you know? And then she told me about how she thought that maybe you two were faking your relationship. Which I found pretty absurd at first, but I quickly realized it could be the truth.”

He took a deep breath, glancing at you to make sure you were still listening before looking back at his hands, folded in his lap.

“She knew I had a tiny crush on you. So, she made me help her carry out her plan to get you two to break up, saying that she’d be able to get you to like me.”

He looked up at you, his eyes sad. “It was wrong of me to help her. She’s just deranged and obsessed with her ‘reputation’. I understand if you never want anything to do with me ever again. I just have one question.”

He looked at you, asking for permission. You nodded, signaling him to go ahead.

“Do you actually like him? Like, as more than a best friend?”

You paused, trying not to let the tears spill as you nodded. He sucked in a sharp breath, nodding with his lips tightly pressed together.

“Oh.”

You rubbed at your eyes, turning to face him completely. “Look, Juyeon…what you two did was pretty messed up. I never thought one person could be so petty to the extent of wanting to send someone to jail just because they refused to have sex with them, but here we are. A series of mistakes and misunderstandings are what got us here…but, whatever.” You scoffed.

“I’m sick and tired of all this. I don’t like Minho anymore.” Lie. “It isn’t just this situation that changed my mind…Minho changed way before Rina stepped into the scene. And..I think this was just a wake up call, letting me know that he’s no longer the person I thought he was.”

Juyeon took your hand, holding it gently. “You…you deserve better.”

You shrugged again, avoiding eye contact. There was silence for a few minutes.

 “Y/n…?”

“Hm?”

“Give me just one chance, please? A chance to show you I can make you happy?” He asked, biting his lip as he looked at you hopefully.

You paused as you observed his face. Juyeon was…actually quite good looking. And besides assisting Rina in her shenanigans, he seemed to be a genuinely nice guy. He’d always been kind to you. Your mind was screaming at you, telling you this was a bad idea…that you didn’t have feelings for him, that you were still not over Minho...but the word already came out of your mouth before you could stop it.

“Okay.” You squeezed his hand.

***

Minho woke up with a yawn. The first thing he noticed was how the bed he was in definitely wasn’t his. He was used to this kind of situation, but usually there’d be a naked girl sleeping next to him. This time, though, the bed was empty.

He got out of bed, heading for the door and seeing Chan sat at the breakfast table.

“Oh, good. You’re up. Breakfast?”

He shook his head, groaning as last night’s memories came flooding back. Your disturbed expression when you caught him with Rina, your tears as you confessed, the broken necklace.

He’d picked it up after you left. It was ruined, the little diamonds chipped and the clef cracked. He’d put it in his pocket, going to his car and driving straight to Chan’s. After what you’d said, he’d thought it would be better to give you some space.

“How long will you be staying here?”

“A while. I just don’t think I can face her again after yesterday.” He mumbled.

Chan nodded understandingly. The first thing Minho had done when he reached Chan’s place was cry, telling him the whole story from beginning to end. He’d felt slightly better after letting it all out.

“You know, you should get your clothes. I don’t have enough spare ones.” He chuckled, turning to look back at his plate.

“Oh fuck..I don’t think I wanna see her again so soon…”

“Just for a few minutes. You need your stuff after all.”

“I can’t just talk to her so soon! How can I act nonchalant and aloof when she confessed to me the other night? When we both hurt each other?”

Chan shrugged. “Hmm, you’re right. Fine, then. I’ll go get your stuff, and also inform her that you’re going to be staying with me for a while. Okay?”

“Okay.”

***

Chan made his way out of his car and to your apartment. He knocked on the door, waiting as he whistled a tune under his breath.

The door opened.

“Oh, hey, Chan. What are you doing here?”

Chan frowned as he stared at Juyeon, looking him up and down.

“Um..I could ask you the same thing.” He thought about how Minho had told him about what he’d seen on the couch.

Juyeon shrugged. “Long story. Y/n?” The man turned around, calling out for you. A few minutes later, you appeared beside him, and he put his arm around your waist. 

“Oh, hi, Chan!”

“Hi, Y/n.” Chan spoke slowly. “Um…Minho was wondering if he could get some of his stuff.”

“Why? Is he going to be staying at yours?”

“Mhmm. For a while.”

You shrugged. “Yeah, okay. Wait here.”

As you left, Chan turned to Juyeon with a glare. “What the fuck is going on between you two?”

“What do you think? We’re together now…sort of.”

Chan’s eyes widened. “B-but…”

“But what? I’ve always liked her.”

“Minho likes her too, you know.”

Juyeon stopped, raising an eyebrow. “He does?”

“Uh huh.”

“Well, it sure doesn’t look like it. I don’t care if he has feelings for her. All I know is that I could treat her better than he ever could.”

You came back, handing Chan the bags with a smile on your face. Chan returned your smile. “Thank you, Y/n. Have a nice day.” He glanced beside you. “Juyeon.”

“Wait, Chan…tell Minho I said Hi.” You said slowly, playing with your fingers as you felt your tension grow.

Chan paused, nodding with a fake smile as he went back to his car, his mind swimming with thoughts.

How would Minho react when he tells him this? He had a hunch that it would not be pretty.

[literallythebiggestfuckingsimp]

SECRETS AND LIES

jj maybank x reader

( NOT MY GIF !!! credits to whoever made it ! )

Gentle fingers touch your sides, pulling you closer. You relax into the touch, knowing who it is. The warm breeze on your exposed midriff makes you shiver slightly, and you feel him wrap you up with his arms. You could’ve just told him that you weren’t really cold, but you were enjoying the touch of your best friend far too much for that — in fact, you were enjoying it a lot more than you should.

You can feel his skin against yours as he rests his head in the crook of your neck. Your good friend John B sits across from you both, telling some story you aren’t paying attention to. Kie is giving you a suggestive glance, noticing the way JJ is holding you, but you don’t see it. You‘re too busy wrapped up in his overwhelming presence, enjoying what little comfort you have now before you’d be forced to head back to an empty home.

“You good?” JJ speaks against your neck, and for a second you’re startled.

His breath feels warm, emitting goosebumps on your skin. You feel yourself nod half-heartedly. His head pulls back and he leans around to face you from where you’re sat in his lap. “Hey, what’s up? You can tell me.”

You sigh. “Nothin’, just thinking.” You don’t want to look at him because you know he already has that look on his face — the one that simultaneously makes you want to scream and yell at him whilst also wanting to come clean and cuddle up to him. It’s the one that reads ‘bullshit’, the one that makes you feel safe in the way that you could reveal all your secrets and he’d make everything okay again by just being there. You don’t look at him because you know that if you did you’d give in. But you can’t give in. You can’t.

“Really, I’m fine,” you stress.

He knows it’s a lie and so do you. But you can’t tell the truth, because you know it would break him. You can’t tell anyone. Not yet.

“Y/N, you know I can tell when you’re lying, right?” he asks, and you want to jump off the HMS Pogue and swim away.

Your friends aren’t watching you and JJ talk, having sensed something was up and moved away to give you guys some space.

“Pffft,” you wave him off. “I’m not lying.”

“Yes, you are,” JJ argues. “Everyone has a tell.”

You scrunch your nose up and turn to face him. You think you can look at him now because he’s just handed you the perfect opportunity to change the subject. This way, you don’t have to confront your issues.

“Okay, then what’s mine?” You want to hit yourself for the obvious attempt, because given a clearer headspace, you think you could’ve done it much smoother, in a way that would rouse up a lot less suspicion. JJ knows you inside and out.

He rolls his eyes. “Great way to change the subject,” he comments dryly. “Also, if I told you then you’re just gonna try your hardest to stop doing it and then I won’t be able to tell when you’re lying anymore.”

“I think you’re wrong,” you speak up, turning away from him. JJ frowns. “I don’t have a tell, you just think I’m hiding something and want to get it out of me.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Maybe,” he shrugs. “Or maybe I just know you well enough to be able to tell when you’re lying. Maybe I also know you well enough to know that you’re trying to change the subject right now. But you know me well enough to know that I’m not gonna stop trying to get it out of you, dumbass.”

“Don’t insult me,” you snap playfully, hitting his arm. He doesn’t join in with your light teasing like he normally would, though. There’s still a frown etched upon his lips as he looks at you, and you feel stuck. You know there’s no way to get out of it now. Maybe you could just come up with something, a quick lie to convince him that everything’s fine. Or maybe you could come clean, tell him— No! You couldn’t do that. You don’t want to do that, because that means that you’d have to face the truth, too.

“Come on, Y/N.” He’s pleading now. You cant bring yourself to look away from his face, but you know that you have to. You have to look away or else you’ll get absorbed in that look, and you’ll spill everything. “Just tell me.” Three. For a second you thought he was actually going to say please, but you know he wouldn’t. JJ Maybank is too prideful to use the word please. “Whatever it is cant be that bad.” Two. Just look away, Y/N! You can do this. “I thought we didn’t keep secrets.” He says it likes it’s a joke, but you know it’s not. He’s trying to guilt-trip you, and it’s working. Oh, it’s working alright. But you won’t give in. One.

You’ve done it! You’ve looked away!

But you can’t bring yourself to feel proud that you resisted the boy who stole your heart when you were just thirteen. You didn’t know it then, of course, but you think you’ve always liked him as more than a friend. With you and JJ there was always just that little bit more.

Guilt embeds itself in your stomach, weighing you down. It all feels so stupid, keeping secrets from your best friend. But you’re defence mechanism has always been ignorance. Forever the procrastinator.

“I told you, Jay,” you say firmly. You’re surprised at how strong your voice sounds, and so is he. You expected it to crack and shake but you were glad it didn’t. “I’m fine. Nothing’s going on.”

JJ inches away from you slightly. It’s a small action, barely noticeable, but not to you. To you it makes all the difference of a global pandemic. You feel the hurt with a pang in your chest, but you don’t let yourself feel it too much. You deserved it, you know you did. You deserve that little bit of rejection and hurt and you deserve more — worse.

You’re keeping a secret from your friends because you’re too weak to face the truth. You hate yourself for it, but at the end of the day, that’s just who you are. Someone who relishes in the bliss fitfulness of teetering upon the line of nothing and everything. Someone who keeps their problems to themself and, even when at the verge of breaking, conjures up the brightest smile to give to their friends. You’re someone who’d run away from their problems instead of sitting down and sorting that shit out.

You wish you weren’t that person, but you are.

“Yeah? ‘Cause it sure doesn’t look like it,” JJ says. You think you hear a tinge of anger to his tone, though you know he’s tried to keep it at bay for you. You don’t deserve that — you don’t deserve him, and you know it.

You don’t answer him. You just turn away. “I should probably head home now, anyway,” you say, your voice so quiet and muffled that you’re surprised he even heard you, but he did. He always has done.

You hear him scoff and walk away, and you know you’ve blown it this time. There’s no way you can make things up to him without coming clean, but there’s no way you could do that, either.

Footsteps pad along the floor of the small boat and someone sits down next to you, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. You don’t look to see who it is, just continue to stare out into the water, tears threatening to break free.

“You okay?” You’re not surprised to hear the familiar voice of John B, but you didn’t really expect him. You thought it might be Kie, but she’s probably better off trying to get JJ out of the mood he’ll be in after your little disagreement.

“Fine,” you mumble back. You know he doesn’t buy it because, come on, who are you trying to kid? It was a half-assed condolence and you know it. John B leans closer to you for a second, giving you a quick side-hug.

“We’ll head back now, drop you off,” he says. You nod, mumbling a small “‘kay, thanks.” That’s all. He gets up and walks away, and you can feel the worried stares of your friends on your back.

This wasn’t how you wanted to spend the rest of the time you had left with your friends. This wasn’t how it should be happening. It’s not fair. None of it is. In fact, the whole situation is bullshit. Maybe you can find a way to fix it before your time is up, and then everything will be okay again.

You’re not unaware of the muffled voices behind you, whispering harshly to each other. You choose to ignore it.

“What’d you do to her, man?” John B says. JJ frowns at him.

“I didn’t do anything!” he argues, and Kiara gives him a deadpan look.

“You’re an asshole and an idiot, of course you did something,” she states matter-of-factly, malice lacing her tone. JJ glares at her.

“I’m serious,” he says. “I didn’t do shit. She was just acting off and I asked her what was wrong and she started getting all pissy at me. She’s been acting off for weeks now. I know I’m not the only one who’s noticed.”

“She has?” John B asks. He seems surprised by the fact that everyone nodded along to JJ’s words and he hadn’t noticed a single thing wrong until today.

Kiara rolls her eyes. “Oh, my god, you’re stupid.”

“Dude, she’s literally been acting weird for, like, two weeks, now,” Pope says. John B’s eyebrows furrow.

John B mutters a small, “oh.”

“Don’t worry, man. It’s not your fault. You’ve probably been so busy macking Sarah that you’ve forgotten how to function,” JJ snickers. “Ooooh! John B! Yes, right there!” he mocks. John B goes red.

“You’re disgusting,” Kiara states with a look on her face. JJ shrugs and winks at her.

—

A loud knock disturbs your thoughts. You’ve been sat in bed, trying to get to sleep for hours now, but to no avail. The knocking comes again, and you get up, sighing. It’s not like you were getting much sleep anyway.

“Hello—?“ you start at you open the door, revealing a distressed looking JJ. “JJ? What are you doing here?”

He ignores you, barging past and running his fingers through his hair. You’re not sure what’s got him in such a state, but the argument from before is forgotten to you as you grab his arm.

“Jay?” you ask. His eyes snap to meet yours in an instant. “What’s wrong?”

“May’s dead.” You feel the colour leaving your face, the breath being sucked out of you. How did he know? How could he have know? You suppose it was only really a matter of time. It’s a small island, news travels fast.

“May’s dead, and you didn’t tell me.” You want to cry, scream, anything, but all you can do is stand there, mouth agape. “And now you’re leaving. And you didn’t tell me any of it. Nothing, Y/N. Why? Why the hell didn’t you trust me, your best friend, enough to tell me that you were going away and I’d never get see you again!?”

He’s shouting now, demanding answers. He knows everything and you feel woozy. Now that it’s out, you’re gonna have to face it. But you didn’t want to face it. You didn’t want to face the fact that your aunt died and it was your fault, and now you were being moved away and you would never get to see your friends— your family, again.

“Jay, I- I didn’t mean to keep it from you, I just—“ You break off your sentence with a gulp, seeing your vision blurred with tears and the familiar lump in your throat that meant you were close to breaking down. “I don’t want to go. I dont want to. It’s my fault May’s dead, mine. And now I’m leaving but I don’t want to. I don’t want to— I don’t—“

The air in the room in getting thinner and it’s getting harder and harder to breath with every second that’s passing. You feel hands on your face, caressing your cheek. You can see the minimal movement of his lips, talking to you, but you can’t hear him. Everything’s blurry. Everything’s quiet. When did the room start spinning? You don’t know.

You’re thinking about the car again. About how May lost control when she came to pick you up from the kegger on the beach. You were wasted, and you called her for a ride. And then she died. And it was all your fault.

Hands shake you, but not more than the sobs that rack your body.

You feel the hands hold your cheeks and move your head to look in front of you, but you’re still not seeing anything except the consistent blur. You blink, closing your eyes.

There are two hands in front of your face, and you hear the faint sounds of counting.

He’s counting his fingers, you realise, and telling you to count with him. You’re starting to gather your bearings as you do. Your panic is fading but heaviness in your heart never, for a second, eases.

You see JJ now, as he is, with his blond hair messy on his head and his eyes blue with worry. You don’t waste another second, fists gripping onto the fabric of his shirt, wrapping our arms around him and burying your face in his neck. He holds you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

That’s what it’s like for the rest of the night. It’s just you and him, basking in the comfortable silence of being in each others presence during this time of need.

It’s the next day when he asks again. “Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s an edge of vulnerability to his voice. You know he’s hurt because you never keep secrets from him, and you know you never should, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“I ... I guess I thought that maybe if i just ignored it, it would go away,” you admit, looking down. “I’m sorry.”

His hands fiddly with your hair, something he likes to do often, and he stays quiet for a moment. “You can trust me with anything, you know.”

A small smile creeps across your lips amongst all the heartbreak and loss in the room. “I know,” you say. Your voice is almost a whisper but you know JJ heard you.

“I’m not just gonna let you up and run, you know,” he says.

“I don’t want to, but they’re moving me. They think I’m staying with May’s boyfriend, but he dipped right after the— the accident. I’ve got a week, more or less.”

“We’ll find a way,” JJ promises. You nod. “But just in case we don’t ... “

You look up to him, confused. He takes a breath, his eyes searching yours. You don’t notice them flicker to your lips. “What—“ He cuts you off, pressing his lips to yours. You freeze. Taking that as a sign of rejection, JJ pulls away. His cheeks flush pink in embarrassment, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen JJ blush — not in recent years, at least.

“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so so sorry, Y/N. I just thought — shit, I don’t know what I thought. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

This time, you’re the one who cuts him off. Your lips move hungrily against his, the feelings you’ve pushed off for so long coming free into your kiss. His eyes widen, and before you know it, he’s kissing you back, smiling against your lips.

You sit on your bed, eyes bloodshot, skin flushed and blotchy, all with crying. Your hair’s a mess, and you’re wearing one of his sweatshirts with a pair of pyjama shorts.

But in this moment, you don’t care, because you’re kissing your best friend, and he’s kissing you back, and all your problems are forgotten in the moment. And you know that you’ll figure something out, because there’s no way you’re going to leave him. Not now, not ever. You wouldn’t have dreamt of it before, but you had given up, and now he’s given you hope. You won’t leave your family behind.

And from now on, no more secrets and lies.

a/n: idk wtf i was thinking when i wrote this but eh. also i’m a wattpad writer so i like suck at using tumblr ?? like idek what happened to the layout lmao. nonetheless, i hoped whatever poor soul has read this enjoyed it.