#he tries to make a joke about how I should’ve taken the dog with me

[charlataninred]

.

[wintaerbaer]

things we don't say: the before, drabble 1 (kth)

summary: After a night of drinking, you make some comments to Taehyung that makes him reconsider his relationship with you.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader

rating: sfw (for the drabble, series is 18+)

genres: best friends to lovers, fluff, angst

word count: 2.9k

warnings: alcohol use, unrequited love, jungkook isn't physically present in this one yet still manages to throw in some nonsense

a/n: this is the first drabble for my things we don't say series! shoutout to @btsborahaee for asking me if tae had ever taken care of oc while drunk and sparking this entire idea. not mandatory reading for the series per se, but definitely gives a lot of insight for some upcoming events <3 (can probably be read on its own for new folks, but you'll likely be missing some context)

SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

He probably should’ve stopped you.

Should’ve stopped you when Jimin offered you tequila shots at the beginning of the night (he knows that you always complain about the crash).

Should’ve stopped you when Jungkook challenged you to a round of beer pong and you surprisingly agreed (Jungkook is an ace, and you’ve always been a lousy shot).

Definitely should’ve stopped you when your friends began a game of truth or dare, and you convinced him to play with puppy dog eyes and a pouty lower lip (you looked so cute that he pretended he would’ve been able to resist you in the first place just to see you keep making that face).

Still, he tries to remind himself that you’re a grown woman and can make your own decisions as he heaves you through the doorway into the three-bedroom apartment the two of you share with Jimin.

“Congratulations, you’ve successfully made it home,” he says, gingerly helping you settle into a spot on the couch. You immediately pull a throw pillow into your lap and hug it tight, slumping against the arm rest. “How are you feeling?”

“We live in a pool now,” you mumble, the pillow muffling your voice.

“What?”

“Everything swimming.”

He laughs, propping the other throw pillow against your side in a feeble attempt to ensure you stay upright before he heads to the kitchen to get you some water. “I know you may not believe me right now, but I can assure you we don’t live in a pool.”

“You can’t prove anything.” Your face has slipped further into the pillow. “I’m a scientist. I know things.”

“You’re majoring in Communications.”

“That’s a science.”

“A social science.”

“I say it counts, so it counts.”

“Well I won’t argue with that.” He makes his way back to you with quiet steps, crouching down so he’s at your eye level. “So, Miss Scientist--” A glass of water appears right in front of your nose. “—what does the science say about water intake after a long night of drinking?”

You giggle, pulling the glass from his hands so you can peer through it at him. “See? Pool.” He can’t hold back the grin that spreads across his face as he watches you snort-laugh over your own joke and cackle, “You’re a merman.”

“Yah,” he protests. “I don’t know that I’m pretty enough to be a merman. Mermen are pretty, yeah?”

And even louder snort. “Tae, you’re plenty pretty.”

His heart rebels with the tiniest pause. “Huh?”

“Plenty pretty. Also alliterative.” You burst out laughing at that one, rocking your body so suddenly that Taehyung worries you might spill your water. He reaches out to stabilize your hand, crushing down the teensy marble of hope that just plopped into his chest—a process that he’s well used to by now.

“You’re not seeing right or thinking right,” he says. “Just focus on drinking your water.”

One final giggle as you bring the glass to your lips, slurping loudly. “Chef Kim, you’ve done it again!” you declare, putting on a fake accent. “This is the finest glass of water I have ever had the pleasure of drinking! Three Michelin Stars!” Then you go back to slurping the water, two hands wrapped around the glass like a child.

Taehyung watches you tenderly, his right hand betraying him and drifting upwards to lightly skim your knee as you drink. Frankly, he’s just pleased that you’re managing to get it all in your mouth, and once you’ve swallowed the last drops (your head tilted all the way back), you gaze at him with hooded eyes.

“I sleepy.”

“I’m sure you are.” He takes the glass from your hands and sets it down on the coffee table before moving the pillows from your lap so he can help you up again, placing a steadying hand at your lower back. “Let’s get you to bed.”

He leads you to your bedroom where you immediately face plant onto the bed with a huff.

“Careful,” he warns. “Don’t want to jolt yourself and make yourself sick.”

“I do not fear vomit,” you say dramatically. “Only when it’s a stranger’s.” You pause to burp. “And only on Sundays.”

“Today is Sunday.”

You flip onto your back with a gasp. “SAY IT ISN’T SO.”

“It’s so.” He nods at you somberly, playing into the bit. “It’s past midnight, which means it is, in fact, Sunday.”

An arm is thrown across your eyes as you groan, "Oh noooooooo."

Taehyung chuckles to himself, rummaging through your dresser until he locates a pair of sleep shorts and a drawer full of t-shirts (he quickly closes another drawer when he catches a glimpse of panties). He picks through them, grinning at how many are souvenirs of events you've been to with him—concerts, festivals, and even a team shirt for a basketball game you'd accompanied him to freshman year. It'd been his idea, wanting to experience more of the city you'd moved to for school; you'd been skeptical at first but willing to go with him so he wasn't alone.

Two minutes in and your enthusiasm had quickly changed. Feeding off the energy of the crowd and the excitement of the game, you spent most of the time on your feet, bouncing up and down and cheering with every basket that was made. And though the game had been his idea, Taehyung found himself far less interested in what was happening on the court and instead spent the evening watching you, smiling from ear-to-ear every time you clapped your hands or yelled in delight. You’d pulled him by the hand to the team store afterwards, insistent on buying a shirt for your newfound team.

He grabs that shirt from the drawer and turns to find you lying in the same position on the bed, still as a stone. Your chest rises and falls with slow steady breaths, and he thinks you’ve fallen asleep at first until you peek an eye out at him as he sets the clothes down next to you on the bed.

“Think you can get dressed by yourself?”

You raise yourself onto your palms, throwing him what seems to be your best drunken attempt at a sultry look. “You don’t want to help me?”

Taehyung’s body goes into an instant panic, half of his blood rushing to his face and the other half seeking a straight path south. “You—I—uh—“ he stammers before you burst into hysterical laughter.

“I’m kidding!” you gasp, wrapping your arms around your middle and tilting sideways on the bed as you’re overcome with giggles. “You should see the look on your face!”

He feels the relief work through slowly, even as his heart continues to pound. “You really had a lot to drink tonight, huh?”

“Hmm, a lot,” you hiccup. “Not so much that I missed your look of horror when Kook dared us to kiss.”

It was during the game of truth or dare that you’d roped him into. Rather juvenile for a group of third-year college students, perhaps, but your group had gotten to the point of mindless drunken entertainment. On your turn, you’d asked for a dare, only for Jungkook to challenge you to make out with Taehyung for thirty seconds (“Minimum,” he’d added with a wiggle of his eyebrows). His blood pressure had spiked then too as he glared daggers at Jungkook, praying that you would refuse. It wasn’t that he was opposed to the concept of kissing you per se, but definitely not under those circumstances. And definitely not when you didn’t feel that way about him.

He was flooded with relief when you opted to take a shot instead.

“You looked terrified so I drank,” you say in the present, pushing out your lower lip in a pout. “Would kissing me really have been that bad?”

Yes, he thinks. But for reasons you wouldn’t understand. I wouldn’t have survived it.

“Kook was just messing with us. It was a stupid joke, and you knew it. That’s why you drank.”

“I drank because you looked angry,” you press, and Taehyung worries that you’re genuinely hurt by the implied rejection. But that would mean— “We could kiss, and it would be fine. Here, look.” You sit up straight again, closing your eyes and puckering your lips in his direction.

Heat rushes to his face for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. “What are you doing?”

“Kiss me.”

He’s shaking his head immediately. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Y/N.” He laughs gently at your pouting face, lifting the clothes again so he can drop them into your lap this time. “I’m not going to kiss you when you’re drunk. Like I said, you’re not thinking right. I wouldn’t do that.” He taps your chin, directing your attention down. “Get yourself dressed. I’ll find you a bucket and more water.”

You grumble something he doesn’t understand on his way out of your room, still a little flustered from your conversation. It wasn’t like you to flirt with him. And suggesting he kiss you? No. That definitely must’ve been the alcohol talking. Over a decade’s worth of friendship with you, and it’s never seemed like you’ve even entertained the thought.

Still, he thinks to himself as he grabs you another glass of water before making a stop to the bathroom, could it be that drunk words are sober thoughts? Could this be his sign to try and see if there may be something more lingering under the surface of your friendsh—

He crushes down the idea as it occurs. He’s been through this line of thought before and, as always, knows that no good can come of it. There’s no doubt in his mind that you don’t feel for him like that. And he’ll be damned if he burdens you with his own feelings. It’s his own problem; he’s not going to put that on you to solve.

He retrieves a small pail, make-up wipe, and bottle of painkillers from the bathroom before making his way back to your bedroom. Not only have you changed into your pajamas, but you’ve also crawled into bed, the blanket pulled over your head with you huddled beneath it in a heap.

Taehyung sets down the water and medicine on your side table and places the pail on the floor beside your bed. Nudging at the covers, he says, “Poke your head out. We gotta get your makeup off.”

You roll onto your back, sticking your head out with a groan. “It’s fiiiiine,” you whine. “Jus’ leave it.”

“Your eyes will get irritated. I’ve got it.”

He wipes delicately at your face, a caress hidden in every sweep of his fingers. And once your skin has been wiped clean, he tucks you in properly, curled up on your side so he doesn’t need to worry about you rolling onto your back.

“There’s water and medicine here” he tells you. “And a bucket on the floor in case you need to throw up. Do you need anything else right now?”

“No,” you sigh.

“Okay, if you need anything at all just shout. I’ll leave my door open.”

He’s turning to leave, thinking that’s the end of it when your voice calls out. Tiny.

“Tae?”

His focus is back on you in an instant, crouching down at your side ready to help. “What’s up?”

Your eyes are closed and you hum dreamily, fingers on the bed curling towards him. “You take such good care of me.”

Something wraps around his heart, squeezes. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Mmmm.” You’re halfway asleep, breaths evening out. “You’ll be an incredible dad someday.”

His whole world stops, your words rocking him to his core. Because how do you just lay that on him so suddenly? So casually? One of his greatest fears and insecurities, eased instantly by the sound of your reassurances.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, tears stinging his eyes. But you’re already out, blissfully unaware of the effect you’ve just had on him.

He can’t help but watch you for a few minutes, gaze studiously tracing over your face like he may need to one day draw you from memory. You look so beautiful, so peaceful—every bit the angel he forever sees you as. Unable to help himself, he raises his hand to gently stroke a finger one, two, three times through your hair before tucking it back behind your ear. And something may just have grabbed ahold of him tonight because before he stands back up, he leans in to press the softest kiss to your forehead, lips lingering against your skin until he forces himself to pull away.

He leaves the room quietly, with one last peek over his shoulder at your sleeping form. Crossing the hall, he begins settling into his own bed wrangling a hurricane of thoughts: you, him, how he feels about you, the years you’ve spent together and how he desperately wants them to continue. And, with everything you’ve said tonight, he thinks that maybe—maybe—there wouldn’t be harm in testing the waters to see if you might want something more too. Throw a bit of that flirtatiousness back at you and see what happens.

He falls asleep smiling. Tomorrow is a new day.

The sound of chatter rouses Taehyung from his sleep the next morning as does the smell of bacon. He sits up, groggily runs a hand through his hair, and pads down the hall to find you, Jimin, and Maya sat around the dining room table.

“Oh yay, you’re alive,” Maya teases.

He gives her a quick raise of his eyebrows in acknowledgement. “So it would seem. Why are you here?”

“Alright, going to pretend that was way more enthusiastic and ignore the tone,” she responds, leaning back in her chair. “We’re supposed to go down to the park to work on that project for Dr. Kwon’s class, remember?”

“Ah shit, that’s today.” He rubs a hand over his face, trying to wipe away more sleep. “Ok, let me eat and get dressed, and we can go.”

There's a crash in the kitchen, and Jimin, standing at the stove, calls out, "Uhhhh a little help?"

Maya rolls her eyes and stands to assist. "See, this is why we usually leave cooking to the professionals."

Taehyung laughs at their antics. Never a dull moment in this apartment. "Didn't feel like cooking this morning?" he asks, settling into the chair next to you.

You shake your head as you take a sip from the coffee mug in front of you. "No, Jimin wanted to do it. Said he wants to practice so he can impress that girl he's been seeing."

"Ah." He studies your face, suddenly remembering the way you'd asked him to kiss you last night.

"What?"

Your voice startles him out of the memory. "What?"

"You're looking at me funny," you say and take a swipe at one of your cheeks. "Something on my face?"

He's suddenly nervous, second-guessing his plan to test the waters with you. "No. Just wondering how you're feeling. You were...very drunk last night."

You blush. "Yeah, I don't remember much after I took that last shot, and you said it was time to go home." Scratching absent-mindedly behind your ear, you say, "I hope I didn't say anything too embarrassing after that."

"No, you were fine," Taehyung says, before quickly rethinking his words. It seems like it's now or never. "Actually, there were a couple things you said that I wanted to ask about."

"Oh no." Your eyes widen. "What'd I do?"

"Nothing bad," he chuckles. "Just that—"

Your phone chimes loudly, and your gaze shoots to it, immediately snatching it into your hand as Maya bolts back over and squeals, “Is that him?!”

“Yes!” you exclaim, eyes roaming across the screen excitedly.

Taehyung licks his lips, caught entirely off-guard by this development. “Who is this?”

“Jace from my Marketing Psych class,” you say quickly, fingers flying over the keyboard.

“He asked her out this morning!” Maya adds with a pointed look at Taehyung that he doesn’t know how to interpret. His stomach twists, chest burns as every hope he’d had of asking you about last night dies on his tongue.

“Okay,” you say, looking up at Maya, completely oblivious to the suffering happening on your right. “Friday at that fancy Italian place on Fifth.” You slap a hand to your forehead. “We need to go shopping!”

“Of course we will!” Maya trills just as you turn back to Taehyung looking mildly apologetic.

“Sorry, Tae. You were saying something?”

He licks his lips again, internally cringing at the bitter taste. “No,” he says. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Your brow creases. “You can always ask me anything.”

“It’s really nothing,” he insists. “I already forgot what it was.”

You’re clearly not convinced but you relent, giving a tiny, “Okay,” as you watch him stand from the table, eyes now directed at Maya.

“Just give me five minutes to get dressed and grab my stuff, and we can go.”

“But you didn’t even eat,” you say.

He glances at you from under his lashes as he backpedals towards his bedroom, heart in his throat. “I’m not hungry.”

It’s a sign from the universe, he thinks. A final killing blow to the hopes that have long lingered inside of him. And at this point, it’s best he accepts it.

You’re just not meant to be.

a/n: part 5 is my next focus, i promise <33 and if anyone would be interested in an ask game, pls let me know! it might help the gears turn faster :)

[a-n-conrad]

Pet (Karl Heisenberg x Reader)

[Summary: After being gifted to Heisenberg, you manage to survive his games. From there you start to develop an interesting relationship. And as you start to play the role of his pet, things get a bit interesting. (She/Her pronouns)

Warnings: SMUT, unhealthy relationship dynamics, Author belongs in horny jail, Reader has “female” anatomy, themes of pet play, swearing, biting (Blood), reader is losing her sanity a bit, spanking, oral (both receiving), hair pulling, unprotected penetrative (vaginal) sex

Request: Literally, not a single person asked for this. You only have me to blame.]

You felt a bit foolish, being in the situation you were in. You had been one of the people gifted to the “Lords” of the village to do with as they pleased by Mother Miranda. You had to admit, when you were frightened, even more so when you were handed over to the infamous “mad wolf-man”. He had quite the reputation. But unlike the others, you had proven yourself useful enough for him to keep you around, instead of experimenting on you or feeding you to his lycans.

You survived at first by staying out of his way. It was like a game to him. Heisenberg liked games, and you adapted to them rather quickly. At first, the game was to be the perfect assistant. You’d clean, cook, do minor repairs, and stay out of his way as needed. You were there when he needed you to do something, you’d do it perfectly, and then you’d be out of his sight. And he’d try to catch you slipping up, making you nervous with whispered promises of the punishments that awaited you if you did.

It was an odd dance, having to learn the ins and outs of Heisenberg’s moods. Learning how to tell when he was in a bad mood, and when he was in the mood to joke. And as time went on, it seemed that there were more days when he was in the mood to sit and banter with you. And you started to bond a bit, less as captor and captive, and more as something close to friends, though you wouldn’t necessarily call it friendship.

Eventually, he started to grow a bit fond of you, occasionally joking with you that he had started to see you as a pet. He’d grin a bit as he called you pet names, names that were somewhere between affectionate and demeaning. He’d pat your head, like he was praising a dog, when you did something right. He had even joked about making you a collar to show the rest of the Lords that you were his pet.

You knew you probably should’ve hated it. You should’ve gagged at the idea of a collar, and you should’ve hated his pet names. But you didn’t. You found yourself grinning when he called you a “good girl”. You leaned into his touch when he’d pat your head. You could feel yourself losing your sanity. You had to be insane to feel this way, but as you got to know Heisenberg, you found yourself feeling as though it was worth it.

Karl Heisenberg was an interesting man, and one you had to admit that you were fascinated by. He had a biting form of humor that had become much funnier as you realized you weren’t in the danger that you thought you were, and you could hear the intelligence behind it. His jokes were always at least a little clever, as long as he could keep his head. He was complex, with motivations and actions that didn’t always match. And his emotions were so complicated that you were pretty sure he hadn’t even started sorting through them, choosing to instead deny their existence.

He was a mess of a man. He got mad enough to throw metal scraps of rusted metal around the room when an experiment went wrong. He’d rant for hours about the issues he had with his “family”, having to hold himself back from breaking things when he got to Alcina. He felt as trapped as you did. He thought of letting his appearance go as an act of rebellion. Because of that, he’d go a full week without washing his clothes, letting the blood and oil stain the fabric until it might as well be dye. And he didn’t sleep for days sometimes, choosing instead to stay up all night in his workshop, only leaving when he starts to border on collapsing.

But between his anger issues and dysfunction, you saw something in him that you weren’t sure that even he saw. You saw it in the sparkle in his eyes when he figured out an issue that had been bothering him. You saw it in his sleepy groans when he woke up in the middle of the day after staying up all night before. You saw it in his smirks and smiles as he thought of something clever to say.

He was charming in his own way. Not in the way you thought of charming. He wasn’t elegant like Alcina, but he was warm. He was like a fire. Volatile. Deadly. Beautiful. And warm. And perhaps you were a bit of a pyromaniac, as you found yourself staring into a fire pit, longing to see the damage it could do if you let it free. You wanted to see what Heisenberg could do to you. You wanted to let him.

- - - - -

You were a bit suspicious that you weren’t hiding your feelings very well. Heisenberg was clever, and he was incredibly observant. He needed to be. His “family” didn’t exactly get along with him very well, and knowing what you knew about his “siblings”, they would’ve taken any opportunity possible to kill him and take his place as a favored lord. So he was constantly on his toes. And that meant that you were sure that he had noticed you were acting a bit off recently.

And you were sure that he had figured out exactly what was causing you to act that way, by the way that he teased. There was a glint in his eyes when you started to get flustered that was new to you. The way he smirked at you as he praised you, his hand resting casually on your arm for a few more seconds than before. He had even gone through with his collar joke, though he hadn’t given it to you to wear.

He’d wink at you as he held it in front of you, though. It was a silver chain that was about an inch thick, made into an easily adjusted necklace by the extra bit of chain that hung through the loop. The extra bit of chain that also worked as a built-in leash. He’d hold the collar in front of you, dangling it casually from one of his fingers when you started to get sarcastic with him, making comments about how his “pet�� needed to be put in her place. And you’d try your best not to show how much you truly wanted that.

It had become another one of Heisenberg’s games. You could tell that he knew. And he knew that you knew that. So the game became how long you could go without breaking.

“So, kitten,” you jumped a bit as Heisenberg appeared behind you. You were making dinner, and had thought that Heisenberg was still working in his shop. He usually didn’t leave for dinner until you came to get him if he ate dinner with you at all, “You seem a bit spaced out. Care to tell me what you’ve got on your mind?”

You could say what you really wanted to. You could say that you wanted him to rail you until you couldn’t walk. But that would end the game. And Heisenberg only liked to end games if he could win them in a satisfying way.

“Nothing you need to worry about, sir,” You muttered, finishing the food you were cooking and pulling it off of the stove, “Just lost in thought.”

He hummed a bit, noticing how you refused to make eye contact. That wasn’t new, but you weren’t usually so awkward about it, “Come on, pet. I’d like to know if you’re planning your escape or something,” A bit of metal began to dangle in front of your face and you knew exactly what it was, “Honestly, (y/n), I really might have to put this collar on you if you’re going to be keeping secrets.”

“It sounds like you’re just looking for an excuse to put a collar on me, Karl,” You had gotten a bit bold, knowing that the line of how much you could get away with was quite a bit further back, “You can just admit that you’re into that.”

He chuckled a bit, resting the arm that he was holding the collar with on your shoulder and leaning into you just a little bit. You could feel his body heat radiating off of him. You always wondered how he was always so warm, living in this factory, surrounded by the cold metal walls, “I don’t know, pet, you haven’t been protesting quite as much. It seems like you may be coming around to the idea. Maybe you’re projecting a bit.”

He had set his chin on your shoulder by the end of his statement, his breath brushing against the shell of your ear. It had sent a shiver down your spine, and you could tell he felt it by the satisfied hum that passed his lips.

“You’re not arguing with me, kitten,” he purred as you failed to muster up a rebuttal, “Is that what you want? You want me to put the collar on you? Do I need to put my needy little pet in place?”

Fuck. You shifted a little, trying not to make the throbbing between your legs obviously. You were trying so hard to think of a comeback, but the teasing had been going on for so long that you were reaching your breaking point. You wanted him to fuck you so badly that it made you look stupid.

He grabbed your shoulder and turned you around to face him. It was so much harder to keep a poker face when you were looking into his eyes, when you could see that glint in them. The kind of glint that made you think he wanted to eat you alive. And you wanted him to.

“If you ask like a good girl, maybe I’ll give you what you want,” his voice came out so much smoother than usual. It intimidated you a bit, knowing that he was holding himself together so well. You knew that there was no way your voice was going to come out nearly as smooth.

“I’m not going to beg, Karl,” Your voice was shaking, but you tried to hold your cool. He always had fun when you talked back a little, and you were hoping that translated to this situation as well. And the wolf-like grin that grew on his face told you that you were right.

“We’ll see about that, kitten.”

- - - - -

You weren’t quite sure when the collar had appeared around your neck. Somewhere between the kitchen and Karl’s bedroom, though, it had snaked its way around your neck, even though his hands never seemed to leave your hips. You were a bit too occupied trying to keep up with his ravenous kisses.

His lips were latched onto your neck as he pushed you through the door to his room. You landed on his bed soon after with a slight bounce. You had been in his room before to clean, but the context was different now. The actual room itself was entirely irrelevant, as Karl climbed on top of you, throwing his hat and glasses to the side, not caring where they landed. All you could look at were his eyes, glowing bright yellow as he looked down at you.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten how much of a fucking brat you’re being,” he growled, looking down at you, “You’ve earned yourself quite the punishment.”

He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, biting just below the hickey that was already forming on your neck. He growled a bit as you squeaked in surprise, biting down a bit harder. You both felt when he broke the skin, and something told you that the mark he was leaving was entirely on purpose. He didn’t want anyone to doubt who you belonged to. His fingers dug into your skin, one hand holding your wrist above your head and the other digging into your side just above your hip. You had a feeling you would be covered in marks and bruises in the morning, and you were alright with that.

He pulled your clothes off quickly, throwing them to the side of the room. He wasn’t wasting any time, so you were pretty sure he had ripped through a seam or two on your dress. And he didn’t hesitate to rip your underwear completely in half.

He threw you around so much easier than you had expected. You knew that he was strong, you had just expected it to take at least a little bit of effort. You supposed that you shouldn’t have underestimated his inhuman strength, because in seconds he had flipped you, moving you so that you were on your hands and knees in front of him. You were entirely vulnerable in front of him, entirely bare as he remained fully clothed behind you.

It was weirdly hot, being at his mercy. He wasn’t a good person, and you knew that. In fact, there was still a feeling in your chest reminding you that he could kill you whenever he wanted. But that didn’t matter at that moment. The fear just made it better in some sick way. You knew you were insane, you had to be, but if insanity felt this good, you were going to accept it.

“Now, kitten, be good and stay quiet through your punishment, and maybe you’ll get a reward,” he stated, sliding his hands from the place they were resting on your waist to rest on your ass instead, “Do I make myself clear?”

You nodded in response, not trusting your voice as his hands slid further down, reaching the back of your thighs, one of his thumbs dangerously close to your pussy. His hands were callused, so as they slid across your skin, it created an interesting sensation. Your eyes almost rolled back into your head as his thumb brushed lightly against your clit, and you heard him chuckle a bit at your reaction. However, before you could enjoy yourself too much, he pulled his thumb away, sliding his hands back up to your ass.

There was a pause for a few moments, and you felt his eyes scanning your body. They always seemed to feel so much more intense than anyone else’s gaze ever could. Before you could get self-conscious, though, one of his hands raised from its place, only to come back down hard. The smacking sound echoed through the entire room, and you couldn’t hold back your yelp.

“Now, now, pet, I thought I said to keep quiet. I’ll let this slide once because you’re cute, but any more, and I’ll have to add some more punishment,” he cooed, grabbing the leash of the collar around your neck and pulling it towards him. He leaned forward until he could actually look at your face, seeing the tears prick at the corners of your eyes already, “I’d hate to break my toy right away, so try to behave.”

He didn’t give you a chance to respond before shoving your head down into the bed and resuming your punishment. You bit your lip, trying your best not to actually break the skin, as you did your best to stay quiet. You were a bit surprised by how much you enjoyed it. After the first few, the pain started to melt away, hidden behind a numb tingling that sent electricity shooting through your whole body. And it was pretty obvious to Heisenberg as well, when slick started to drip down the inside of your thighs.

You lost count before he stopped, but it couldn’t have been more than fifteen. He let out a satisfied hum as he looked at the handprints that were already starting to form, rubbing his hands gently over the forming bruises. You almost started purring as his hands continued to slide across your body.

“You’ve been such a good girl, kitten,” he praises as he moves your body, eventually making you stand in front of him as he sat on the edge of the bed, “Do you want your reward now?”

You nod, far too gone to even try to not look like a desperate fool. He looked proud of himself, seeing you so needy and bare in front of him. It was like a work of art. You had never seen so much admiration and need in his eyes. It wasn’t love. But it was need, and want, and possession.

“Ask nicely.”

You were too desperate to argue. You needed him more than you could remember needing anything, “Please, sir.”

You swore you saw the bulge in his pants twitch at the word “sir” and the glint in his eyes confirmed your suspicions. The grin he gave you showed his teeth, highlighting his fangs like a predatory animal about to lunge.

“Good girl,” He drew it out, shifting his body so that his legs were spread as far as they could be comfortably, before commanding, “Kneel.”

You do as you’re told almost by instinct. It was almost as though your body moved without your brain giving it permission. You had been entirely possessed by your lust. And it only got worse as his hands moved to unzip his pants, only removing enough of his clothing to free his cock.

“You want this, don’t you?” He looked almost amused as your eyes locked onto his cock. You were practically drooling over it. He almost laughed as you nodded, “Enjoy your treat, pet.”

He leaned back a bit, his weight being put on one of his hands, positioned a bit behind him on the bed. He looked so casual as you moved your hands to timidly take the place of his own, which had previously been holding his cock in place. He had to admit you looked adorable, needy and desperate as you kneeled between his legs. You were practically drooling for him.

You started out a bit slow, which surprised him a little. The little kitten licks and kisses felt good enough for him to close his eyes to savor it. However, from the smirk that had formed on your face by the time that he opened his eyes, he realized that you were planning on teasing. He wasn’t about to let that slide.

The hand that he had rested on the top of your head tightened its grip on your hair. “Watch it, kitten. Don’t be a tease,” He growled, pushing your head down a bit until about half of his cock was in your mouth.

With that, your willpower to hold back faded, and you took the rest of him into your mouth. The tip hit the back of your throat just a bit, making you hold back a gag. And as you looked up at him through your lashes and found him smirking down at you, you could tell that he saw it. You reveled in the soft groans that slipped past his lips when you finally got to work, swirling your tongue around as you bobbed your head. You moaned as he pulled your hair, the vibrations causing him to curse and pull your hair even more, “Fuck, kitten, you’re pretty good at that.”

You continued like that for a few more minutes, his grip on your hair getting tighter and tighter. The salty, bitter taste of precum started to hit the back of your throat, making it a bit harder not to gag. But the sounds that slipped from his mouth fueled you even more. You felt proud, hearing how much he was enjoying himself. You almost felt a bit disappointed as he pulled you off of him by your hair, causing you to whine loudly.

“Aw, don’t worry, kitten,” He says, patting your head, “We aren’t done yet. Why don’t you lay down and let me take care of you? You’ve been such a good girl.”

You do as you're told, without saying anything. As you had gotten into the mode you were in, playing the role of Heisenberg’s pet, talking seemed unnatural. It felt right to listen to his commands, obeying him like a dog. So you laid on your back, spread out and completely bare. And you couldn’t hold back the yelp as he grabbed your hips and yanked you roughly to the edge of the bed, so that as he kneeled in front of you, his face was entirely level with your pussy.

You saw that glint in his eyes again as his warm breath hit your already dripping core. You were getting reckless, trying to inch your way closer to speed up the process, only for his grip to tighten on your waist, holding you in place. He had an iron grip on you, and you were thankful for that as he licked a broad stripe up across your pussy before diving in, focusing almost all of his attention on your clit.

You were practically screaming his name as swirled his tongue around your clit with dexterity you didn’t think was even possible to possess. His hands were definitely leaving fingerprint-shaped bruises on your hips, but at least they were holding you in place as you involuntarily started to buck your hips and arch your back. You could feel the knot tightening in your abdomen, your hands ripping the sheets so hard you were a bit worried that you were going to tear them. He slid a finger into you, hitting at just the right angle to make you squeal. You honestly couldn’t think of a time that someone had made you come undone quite so fast, but you certainly weren’t complaining as the tangled nerves in the pit of your stomach finally seemed to snap.

Karl had to admire you as you came, your head thrown back and your legs shaking. Your skin was practically glimmering from the thin layer of sweat that was already clinging to it. He couldn’t help the pride that flooded into his chest as you started to come down from your high looking absolutely destroyed. He wasn’t done yet, but he was glad to see he had it in him to affect you this much.

He slowly stepped back, his eyes never leaving you as you laid on the bed, trying to catch your breath. He made sure to lock eyes with you as he slowly stripped the rest of his clothes off, layer by layer. By the time you recovered, he was finally taking off his necklaces, dropping them onto the pile he had made with the rest of his clothing. Despite his strength, he wasn’t exactly ripped. His arms were fairly muscular and defined, but he had a bit of squish around his stomach. His body was coated in a layer of body hair, the bits of silver shining in the dim light of the room you were in.

He was attractive in the rugged way that made it make sense that he smelled like metal and cigar smoke as he crawled on top of you, keeping pace as you inch yourself further up the bed. It was only once you had settled into place that he leaned down, kissing you feverishly. It escalated with every second, the hand that he wasn’t using to support his body weight roamed your body. It wasn’t long until his hand was moving your legs, angling your hips to make it easier for him to line himself up with your entrance.

He pulled away from the kiss just long enough to slowly push himself into you, watching your reaction as you slowly adjusted to his width and length. It didn’t take you long to adjust, though, and he could tell when you did. He started off slow. It surprised you how gentle he was being, but you didn’t mind at first. Before long, though, you were craving more. You wanted him to use your body.

“Please,” You whined, “Harder.”

He grinned a bit at your begging, recalling your declaration that you wouldn’t beg. He honestly couldn’t tell what part he enjoyed more, the win he had earned or seeing you beneath him, begging for him. Either way, he wasn’t going to deny you what you wanted.

So he leaned back, shifting his weight to his knees so that he could grab your ankles. He pinned your legs to your chest. As he slammed into you, much harder than before, you could tell just how much the angle had changed. Your eyes nearly rolled back into your head as he continued to thrust into you. Your moans got louder, and he started to groan a bit too, cursing under his breath as his thrusts got a bit uneven.

“Fuck, kitten,” he breathed into your ear as he leaned down, your legs on his shoulders. You could feel him twitching inside of you, getting close to his own ending, “You’re such a good girl.”

You couldn’t help yourself as your hands moved to scratch down his back, digging your nails in as deeply as you could. He responded by biting into the same place he had earlier, a bit of blood from before sticking to the corners of his mouth. With a few more rough thrusts, his teeth sinking a little bit deeper into your shoulder, he finished. And the two of you both started to relax.

After a few seconds of you both catching your breath, he pulled away, rolling to the side so that he could comfortably lay on his back next to you. It was an awkward few moments, both of you laying there in near silence, only for him to break it with, “We should probably get that bite cleaned up, huh? My bad, pet. I forget how fragile you are sometimes.”

And with that he got up, moving to gently take care of you. He cleaned up your bite mark, and helped you clean between your shaky legs with a damp washcloth. It was a whole new side of him as he helped clean you off, making sure that he hadn’t been hurt too badly. And after a few minutes, when you had been cleaned enough that you weren’t actively uncomfortable, he climbed back into bed and wordlessly pulled you into his chest.

(A/N: So... um. I'm sorry for this. This is my second smut ever and I needed to get a bit... self-indulgent so my brain would stfu.)

[lokust]

A God doesn’t Giggle

LMAO HEY I’M BACK.

I was rather inactive for a few days because I had a violent allergic reaction to 75mgs of a new medication, but I’m better now!

(Also, I don’t ever post any stories, but I wrote this one knowing I was gonna post it so I was rather nervous. My apologies if it seems forced or too short. I felt the pressure with this one.)

————————-

The question Mobius often asked himself was ‘How does one deal with the God of Mischief?’.

But the question he had asked himself earlier was ‘Oh shit, how do I deal with the God of Mischief when I’ve made him so genuinely upset that he won’t even cause any mischief?’.

Loki was incredibly upset, with Mobius specifically. For once in his life, Loki was genuine, he was honest… and Mobius brushed him off, accusing him of lying and throwing him in a loop where he was reminded over and over again that he was worthless and undeserving of love.

Mobius had done everything he could think of to cheer Loki up; from telling him the exact opposite of what Sif had told him to searching through his fondest memories and putting him in each and every happy memory he could simulate. None of it was enough, and Loki was still hurt.

“Come on, Mobius”, he said to himself, still searching through Loki’s memories and flipping through all of his files, “If you had just listened to him for once…”. He had left Loki in a simulation of a memory where Frigga had taught him his favorite spells and tricks, hoping it would be enough to at least get a smile from the God.

He had been watching the best memories of Loki’s life for what felt like hours, but he was willing to watch for 48 hours more if it meant finding a solution to the pain he’d caused. He clicked and forwarded through some memory Loki had with Thor back on Asgard.

He had almost disregarded it entirely, but something about the tone in Loki’s voice caught his attention. It was a nervous tone, yet somehow… playful? Mobius couldn’t quite describe.

“Thor… Thor, get away from me. Okay. I am much too old for these antics now”.

Mobius watched intently, observing the interaction between the two as closely as he could manage.

“Oh come on, little brother! It’s never failed to get you out of these moods before!”

Yes. Yes, this is what Mobius needed. This was the solution.

Suddenly a shrill screech filled the small room as Thor had seemingly attacked his brother.

Mobius sighed in disappointment, “Well, that blows. I can’t wrestle him back to happiness”.

He got ready to start searching again, until the loud laughter of two Gods filled the room instead.

Mobius watched as Loki writhed in his brother’s arms, laughing unwillingly as he tried to escape the hands that clawed at his sides and ribs while Thor simply laughed at the sounds he was producing from his brother.

Mobius’s eyes lit up, finally shutting it down and turning to walk out of the room, “Damn it, Thor, you’re a genius”.

—

——

Loki sat on his bed beside his mother, sulking as he listened to her explain her magic to him.

The fireworks. She was teaching him how to make the fireworks, just in the palm of his hand. It was his favorite trick to do, and his favorite one to watch her do as well.

He’d been there with her for hours, relearning all of her favorite spells, but he couldn’t stop the thought in the back of his mind, reminding him she’d be gone and he’d be indirectly at fault.

He wanted to cry, and he could have, but suddenly, she was gone, and a golden doorway opened up to the left of him as Mobius stepped into the memory.

“Alright, Loki, I’ve got two things to say to you”.

Loki rolled his eyes with a scoff, “Grand, but I’ve got nothing to say to you, Mobius. Couldn’t you have just left me here with my mother?”. The trickster crossed his arms against his chest, looking away from Mobius with a scowl.

The blond just sighed, “Alright, I deserve that, I really do, but just hear me out, alright?”, he said, approaching the taller man carefully.

“I’m sorry, Loki. Alright? I am truly, horribly sorry. I should’ve believed you. I should’ve listened to you, and I definitely shouldn’t have thrown you back in that loop with Lady Sif. You didn’t deserve that, and I, Mobius M. Mobius, am sorry”, he spoke genuinely, carefully placing a hand on Loki’s shoulder as he sat beside him.

Loki furrowed his eyebrows, glancing at Mobius from the corner of his eye, “I thought you had two things to say- Wait a moment… Mobius M. Mobius? Is your name Mobius Mobius Mobius?”

The agent sighed, “That’s not the point, and I do have one other thing to say, alright?”

Loki gave a simple nod, a silent signal to continue, but he didn’t like the smile that was slowly growing on Mobius’s face.

“I didn’t know you were ticklish”.

Loki’s eyes widened as he pulled away from Mobius, standing up and crossing the room immediately, “I… I’m not. That’s ridiculous. I never have been”.

Mobius just smiled, “Wrong”.

The God grumbled at the agent, “Alright fine. I grew out of it”.

The shorter man looked like he was having a field day, “Wrong again”, he said, standing up to approach his friend.

Loki scowled at him, “Mobius, this collar may keep me from using my powers, but it won’t keep me from biting all of your fingers off if you get any closer to me”.

The agent hissed as he looked down at his hand, “Ouch, that one really does sound painful, but how about this, alright? You stop sulking around like an angry little dog, and maybe I won’t tickle you, deal?”

The God backed away as Mobius came closer and closer to him, but suddenly he found himself backed into a wall with Mobius so close he was practically pinned in place. He huffed at his blond friend, but simply stayed silent.

Mobius shrugged, “Alright, fine… but you asked for this”.

Suddenly, Mobius had Loki’s arms pinned above his head, the taller of the two struggling in place as Mobius fought to get both of his wrists in one hand.

“Why are you fighting it so hard? I thought you said you weren’t ticklish?”, he gasped suddenly as if he was shocked, “Did you… Did you lie to me, Loki? I can’t believe you’d do such a thing”.

Oh, if looks could kill, Mobius would’ve certainly been a goner, but the faint blush on Loki’s face certainly overpowered any threat behind the scowl.

Loki’s breath hitched as he eyed the hand that now rested on his side, but he looked back at Mobius immediately, unwilling to show any sign of anticipation or nervousness. The agent was looking at him as intently as possible, his mind set on finding even a hint of happiness in Loki’s expression.

“Alright, I’m tired of you sulking around like this, and even more so, I’m tired of seeing you in pain because of my mistakes”, suddenly, Mobius’s hand came to life at Loki’s side, clawing and scratching up and down to really test the God’s sensitivity.

Loki threw his head back against the wall,

“G-Goddamnit Mobius! Quihihit ihihihit!”, he bit his lip through his laughter in hopes to suppress it, but Mobius moved his hand up higher, spidering now at Loki’s ribs. That action produced something that was definitely not a squeal, thank you very much.

“You suhuhuhuck! Lehehet me gohohohoho!”, he spat, thrashing side to side as he tried to get away from his friend, but his mind was too boggled and he was split between fighting against it and just letting it happen.

Not that he enjoyed it or that he was having fun, no definitely not. That’s ridiculous.

It had just… been so long since he was able to laugh like that. Yeah. That’s all.

He was ashamed to admit the noises coming from him most definitely qualified as giggles, so he wouldn’t be admitting it, but that’s most certainly what they were.

“Aw, cute. That’s something I didn’t expect to hear from a God, but giggles are cute so who am I to judge?”, Mobius teased, alternating between spidering at Loki’s sides and digging into his ribs while the trickster tried to sink to the floor with no luck.

His eyes widened at Mobius’s words, “I- I do nohohot gihihiggle, you ahahass! Now stahahahap!”

Mobius just hummed, “Mmm… No, I don’t think I will. You very obviously lied about not being ticklish, but you look pretty happy right now, so I’ll keep this up for a while”.

Gods don’t whine, except for when they do, and that’s exactly what Loki did as Mobius’s skittering fingertips slipped to the back of his rib cage.

Loki squealed and suddenly tugged at his arms as hard as he could manage, shocking Mobius enough to slip away from him, but when he started to run, he realized there wasn’t much of anywhere to go.

Mobius knew Loki had nowhere to go, so he stayed in place, watching Loki search frantically for a place to run or hide before he gave in and rolled onto his bed, moving to sit on his knees and eye Mobius warily.

“Oh look at you”, Mobius said, approaching the God slowly, “You really got nowhere to go now”.

Loki put his hands up in front of himself as Mobius came closer and closer, “Now- Now, hang on, Mobius. Wait just a moment, can’t we talk about this like adults?”

Mobius hummed in thought, sitting himself on the edge of the mattress, “I don’t really think it’s necessary. The whole point is to get you smiling again, so what’s the point of talking?”

Loki racked his brain for any argument he could make and came up mostly blank, “Can’t you tell a joke or something?”

Mobius shook his head, “No fun in that, but this”, he said, suddenly tackling Loki into the mattress, just to pin him down and straddle his hips, “this is fun, wouldn’t you agree?”.

Loki shook his head frantically, tugging at his arms as they were pinned beneath Mobius’s knees.

Mobius unbuttoned the few bottom buttons of Loki’s white shirt, slipping his hands underneath the fabric and causing the God to nearly scream through his gritted teeth.

“MOBIUS- MOBIUS NO! Get out!”.

Mobius was taken aback for a moment but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the dramatic reaction, “Worse on the bare skin, huh?”, he chuckled, drumming his fingers against Loki’s hips.

Loki held his breath as he threw his head back against his mattress, grumbling empty threats through his teeth and kicking out behind Mobius.

“I was doing this mainly to cheer you up, but this is entertaining”, he teased, tracing his fingertips up to Loki’s sides to spider and scratch at them as gently as he could manage.

Loki squealed as he drummed his feet on the mattress and tugged at his hands, “Mohohobius nohoho! Nohohoho quit ihihihit! You’re ahahahawful!”, he spat insults at his friend as he thrashed and squirmed beneath him, the ticklish sensation teasing his nerves maddeningly.

Mobius just smiled before clawing his way to Loki’s ribs, scratching in and out and side to side before spidering and thumbing between the bones, attempting to decide which got the best reaction.

“NO! Nonono, not thahahahat!”, the trickster’s laughter got higher in pitch and increased drastically in volume with the tickling in the spaces between his ribs, and Mobius noticed the tears beginning to pool in his eyes.

He didn’t want to kill Loki, so he went back to the scratching, “You didn’t just lie about being a little sensitive. You, my friend, are desperately fucking ticklish”.

Loki shook his head, but he was struggling to form words. The longer Mobius tickled, the worse it felt, “Stahahahahap, I cahahahan’t! I can’t, Mohohohobius. MOHOHOHOBIUS NOHOHOHO!”

Mobius stopped suddenly when his hands touched the center of Loki’s abdomen, watching the God do everything he could to sit up and get away from his captor, but he just couldn’t do it.

“Ohoh, bad spot, huh?”, Mobius teased, using his fingers to trace teasingly around the bare skin of Loki’s stomach.

“Mobius, please, don’t do this to me. Let me go, and I promise I won’t be upset anymore, okay? Just please… don’t”, Loki was ashamed of himself and his over dramatic reactions, but if there was one thing he couldn’t handle, it was being tickled there.

Mobius cooed sympathetically, “Aww, too ticklish?”, he asked as if he was considering letting Loki go, “Man… that sucks doesn’t it?”

Loki’s eyes widened and he went to protest, but he didn’t have a chance as Mobius’s fingertips skittered mercilessly around his belly.

He squealed and screamed and tried to buck Mobius off of him, but he was stuck, “PLEHEHEHEHEASE STOHOHOHOHOP! STOP IHIHIHIT!”

Mobius smiled down at him, using all ten of his fingers to vibrate his hands in the very center of the God’s abdomen.

“NOHOHOHOHOHO, SHIHIHIHIHIT! MOBIUHUHUS!”, he drummed his feet against the mattress, looking down at Mobius’s hands as his tormentor stopped for just a moment.

“I got a question”, Mobius said, using just one finger to trace around the tense muscles of his friend’s abdomen, circling dangerously close to the little divot in the center of his stomach.

Loki looked back and forth from Mobius’s hand to the smug grin on his face as he tried to collect himself and rid himself of any residual giggles, “Then ask it”.

Mobius hummed, “I’m getting there”, he remarked, “How ticklish do you think you are riiight… here”, he asked, teasing and circling the rim of Loki’s bellybutton.

Loki squirmed and whined pitifully as anticipatory giggles poured from his lips, “Dohohon’t. Don’t do thahahahat. Please, plehehehease”,

With his free hand, Mobius tickled up and down Loki’s side, pinching at the fleshy area, “Aww, I like that you said please”, he teased as Loki tried to roll to one side to protect the one that Mobius was tickling, “But… Im gonna do it anyway”.

Mobius dipped his finger in his ticklish friend’s bellybutton, wiggling at the base and walls of the little divot while he tickled around his belly and sides with his other hand.

“NO- NOHOHOHOHO! I CAN’T TAHAHAKE IT!”, he squirmed and kicked as Mobius tickled him mercilessly, one hand scratching relentlessly at the spaces between his ribs before he finally had some mercy on him and started tickling around his belly again instead of in his bellybutton.

Loki snorted, but he was too weak to fight and too lost to be embarrassed about it. His nerve endings felt like they were on fire and it was the only thing he could think about as those pesky tears finally fell.

Mobius had mercy on him, ceasing his tickling and allowing Loki to calm down, “Alright, let me try one more thing, and I’ll quit, okay?”, he asked gently, a fond smile playing at his lips as the trickster tried to hide his red face in his shoulder.

“Just do it”, he breathed out heavily, trying to prepare himself for whatever Mobius was going to do.

Slowly and carefully, Mobius moved his knees off of Loki’s hands to reposition himself and sit lower on his his friend’s thighs. He unbuttoned just a few more buttons on Loki’s shirt and pushed it up as high as he could manage.

Carefully, Mobius laced his fingers with Loki’s to hold his hands in place. The God panted in an attempt to gather himself when he tensed his muscles once more, recognizing Mobius’s actions immediately as the blond leaned down so his face was just above Loki’s abdomen.

Loki shook his head, “Oh for fuck’s sake, Mobius, why?”

Mobius just shrugged, “I just wanna know how you’ll react”.

Loki didn’t even try to deny it, “Visciously”.

Mobius hummed, “Alright, then I’ll just hold you tighter”, he said teasingly, suddenly taking a deep breath.

Loki braced himself, shaking already as a nervous smile played at his lips.

Mobius put his lips right over his friend’s bellybutton and blew as hard as he could.

Loki squealed and snorted and squirmed as the first raspberry rippled across his abdomen torturously before Mobius blew one after the other all over his tummy,

“NOHOHOHOHO! NONONOHOHOHO! PLEHEHEHEASE! Plehehease, please, Mobius- NOHOHOHOHOHO!”, the small breaks he got in between each raspberry were just long enough to drive him crazy while Mobius breathed in to blow another.

The agent lifted his head once more, breathing in as deeply as possible before blowing the longest, most ticklish raspberry he could manage right over Loki’s bellybutton. He couldn’t take it anymore, his brain was fuzzy and his lungs were burning, “MERCY! MEHEHERCY!”

Mobius stopped immediately, sitting up and letting Loki breathe, “Alright, calm down. I’m done now”, he soothed , moving off of his legs to allow Loki to curl up on his side and wrap his arms around himself.

Loki’s body shook with leftover giggles as he tried to rub away the ghost tickles around his abdomen and wipe away the tears on his cheeks.

Mobius smiled at him, patting his back lovingly, “You happy now, big guy?”.

Loki glared at him, but nodded nonetheless, eliciting a small chuckle from Mobius.

“Good, good. I’m pretty happy too. Hearing the God of Mischief snort and giggle is a great serotonin booster”, he teased, nodding approvingly and giving him a thumbs up.

Loki huffed as he felt his cheeks heat up, “I do not giggle, Mobius”.

Mobius rolled his eyes, “Then what were you doing while you were pretending to try to get away?”.

Loki sat up, his eyes widening in shock, “I was not pretending!”, he scowled, pushing Mobius back a little before crossing his arms over his chest.

“Sure you weren’t, and you definitely don’t giggle, and you’re certainly not pouting right now.”, he said, sarcasm just dripping from his tone.

Loki looked at him, his expression softening as he thought about how much Mobius must have cared about his happiness to have went through the trouble to make him laugh like that.

“I uh… Thank you, Mobius”, he whispered, looking down at his lap as he spoke, “for caring”.

Mobius huffed out a small laugh, “Don’t thank me, big guy. You deserve it”.

Loki smiled, leaning against his friend’s chest and allowing himself to relax as Mobius wrapped an arm around him. Both of them smiled, trying not to look at each other for the sake of their own shyness.

It was quiet. It was peaceful. They were happy…. but who would the God of Mischief be without causing a little trouble?

“So… your full name is Mobius Mobius Mobius?”

Mobius tightened his arm around Loki with an impatient sigh, “Don’t make me pin you down again”.

—

——

The next few days passed full of smiles and jokes, and plenty of passing pokes and tickles to Loki’s sides and belly.

Loki knew now that Mobius cared, and he knew that Mobius was sorry, and that was all he could ask for.

And if pretending to be upset or just being ridiculously stubborn became a part of Loki’s daily routine, who was anyone to complain about it?

Certainly not Mobius, but he was always there to take care of Loki’s moods.

[dumdumsun]

And Dusk

A/N: Just a heads up, the sensitive content in this chapter will be marked "<<<<<<" as the beginning and ">>>>>>" to signify the end. The racial slurs used in this chapter were targeted towards African Americans (and still are) and I chose these because I, myself, am African American and used them as a sort of “default” for any POC readers. ⚠️Please, never use these towards anyone. Whether it be in a “joking” manner or not. They are hurtful and were created to be that way⚠️ I wrote this chapter the way I did to bring awareness. Proceed with caution. Much love ❤️

Warnings: ⚠️racial slurs⚠️, violence, mentions of guns and dying/death

Word Count: 3707

—————————————

Chapter 3: The Frankel Footage

Shaking himself out of his shock, Five stood from his seat and hurried after his brother, grabbing onto his arm and stopping his strides. “The hell is wrong with you, Luther? I just told you the world’s gonna end in ten days!”

“Yeah, well, you’re always saying that.” Luther nonchalantly spoke before moving away, but Five intervened yet again.

“And so far, I’ve been right.” He hissed as Luther sighed and shook his head.

“Look, you want to go save the world? Knock yourself out, alright? I already got a job.”

“Wait, you work in this shithole?” The boy furrowed his brows.

“Yeah. Well, my boss owns the place,” Luther only received a nod from his brother, so he clarified. “I’m his body man.”

But this only made Five even more confused. “What’s that? Like, a masseuse or something?”

“Okay, you can make fun all you want, but I take good care of Mr Ruby.”

“Wait, Ruby. The Jack Ruby? The gangster who shot Oswald.”

Despite Five’s concern, Luther proudly smiled a smug smile as he glanced over at his boss. “Yeah. The one and only.”

“Well, it finally happened,” Five sighed. “That gorilla DNA has finally taken over your mind-”

“Hey, watch it, alright? Jack’s a good friend-”

“And you’re Number One. Numero Uno. Remember?”

Luther clenched his jaw and shook his head. “There is no Number One. Not anymore. Not in 1963,” When Five stared at him in disbelief, Luther sighed again. “Look, I’ve been stranded here alone for a year. What did you expect?”

Five scoffed. “I get it, alright? You watched Pogo die, the world exploded, and I marooned your big dumb ass in time. I’m sorry, okay? But I’m asking for your help, Luther. The Umbrella Academy needs you.”

“It doesn’t need me,” He slowly spoke to draw out his words. “It never did.”

“Luther, honey,” The waitress from earlier approached the two. “Jack’s about to lose it on some half-wit. A little help?”

“Ah, shit,” He groaned and began walking away. When Five tried yet again to stop him, he whirled on him, his lips pulled into a thin line. “Listen. You’re the genius who said we should jump, right? You’re the one who got us stuck here. And you’re the one who brought Vanya. So, if there is a doomsday coming, she’s probably the cause. And if I was gonna do something about it, it sure as hell is not gonna be with you. That’s (Y/N)’s job, being dragged around into your messes-”

“I don’t drag her into anything.” Five swallowed, blinking rapidly.

“Yeah? Well, she wasn’t stuck as a thirteen-year-old and constantly worrying about her kids until you showed up. I’m surprised she isn’t sick of you yet.” And with that, he stomped away to his boss. This time, Five let him go, his words sending a pang through his chest as he thought back on it. Grabbing his drink, he sighed and shook his head.

“Dad should’ve left him on the moon…” He muttered, taking a sip of his drink before moving to leave his seat. When he felt his jacket snag on something, he looked down to see an object in his pocket. Taking out the tape, he frowned and turned it over.

Date: 11/22/63

Subject: FRANKEL FOOTAGE

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This world was unfamiliar to (Y/N). She knew she had to have been somewhere in America, but she didn’t know where. The cars, fashion and stores bringing the street she walked to life told her she had to have been in the sixties. But she didn’t want to believe it. Surely Five hadn’t time travelled that far? She had to have been dropped during some type of sixties-theme festival. But the voices suddenly beside her quickly prove her doubts wrong.

“What do we have here?”

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a lost little colored girl.”

Tensing, (Y/N) continued her way down the sidewalk, slightly speeding up her pace, but the men fell into step beside her with ease, flanking her sides.

“You’re on the wrong side of town, girl.”

“Yeah, we don’t like coons around here.” One of them hissed right in her ear. Her eyes welled up with tears before the other shoved her forward.

“Gon now, get!” He ordered as if she were a dog. She realized that’s how they had seen her. An animal. Nothing more. Tripping on a crack in the sidewalk, she fell to the ground, smacking her face on the concrete. She choked out a sob as the two men cackled. And to make matters even worse, she felt the pitter patter of raindrops start to freeze her skin.

(Y/N) gasped out in shock when the men spit two wads of saliva in her face. She knew she must’ve looked a mess with spit and tears sliding down her cheeks and blood oozing from her nose. She hiccupped on her sobs and began to stand, much too tired from her previous fight with Vanya and literally being dropped from the sky to successfully do so. The men backed her up against a wall and one fisted the front of her vest before a voice called out.

“Take your hands off of my child!” Whipping around, the men were half expecting to find another target, but (Y/N) coughed and sputtered nonsense upon the person her gaze fell upon.

“M-Mom…?”

Before her was Grace, but… she wasn’t robotic in any sense. She could tell by the raw anger etched into her features. She took a brave step forward. “I said. Take your hands. Off my child.”

And that was another thing: her accent. (Y/N) was immediately comforted by the stern southern accent the woman shared with her attackers. It was a voice she never thought she needed. The two looked between Grace and (Y/N) with smirks. “You mean this lil ol’ jigaboo-”

“Is my daughter. Now you let her go before I call the police.”

“Woman, I don’t care if you call the police-”

Grace took it upon herself to step closer and grab the child by her arms, yanking her into her warm embrace. (Y/N) immediately latched onto her, quivering in her hold. The men scoffed and shook their heads, beginning to walk away. “Make sure to keep that thing on a leash if you’re gonna have it out, ma’am.”

“Oh, fuck off.” She growled before turning and walking back in the direction the girl came from. As they walked past the alleyway, Grace took out a handkerchief and began wiping the girl’s face clean of what the raindrops hadn’t already washed away. “It’s alright, hun, they aren’t gonna hurt you anymore.”

“T-Thank you.” (Y/N) sobbed and gently held her nose in pain. Grace crouched in front of her and gently held her face in between her hands.

“Don’t thank me, darlin’, it’s how everyone should be treatin’ you ‘round here… Where are your parents? I could take you to ‘em.”

(Y/N) thought for a long moment, watching as the rain soaked Grace’s hair and clothing. The woman didn’t seem to mind as she watched the girl before her swallowing thickly. (Y/N) skimmed over her current choices. She didn’t have any choice.

“I don’t have parents. I-I don’t remember them…”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

“I’m tellin’ you, Reggie, she’s highly intelligent for a child her age.” Grace proudly presented (Y/N) to the man she had grown fond of over their time working together. (Y/N), however, was frozen in her spot. Sir Reginald Hargreeves. The man whose death she had wished upon for years, whose death had finally graced her existence, was back in her life. She flinched at the disapproving look on his face, much too acquainted with it by this point in her life. “And she’s very respectful. Talented, too, this girl can speak several languages.”

“You seem rather fond of this child.” The man observed as Grace squeezed her into her side.

“She’s my pride and joy.”

“And you cannot remember anything of your past, child?”

“N-No,” (Y/N) shook her head and stared down. “Not a lot. J-Just my name and birthday.”

Reginald hummed and stared her down with an unreadable expression. When she met his eyes again, he was crouched down to her level, his monocle clutched in his fist. “(Y/N), was it?”

“Yes.”

“It would be an honor to have your presence within my home, along with your mother.”

“O-Oh, that’s okay-”

“I insist. Besides, you have been living with her for almost half a year, correct? It is highly unlikely that she will share a home without you.”

“He’s right about that, hun,” (Y/N) glanced up at Grace, who was smiling warmly at her. “I’m not leavin’ you.”

(Y/N) could have cried.

And she did.

One year later, (Y/N) had been living quite the comfortable life with Grace and Reginald. She had been introduced to the ape, Pogo, for the second time since Grace first started working with him. As much as she loved being around the chimp, it brought back so many memories. She almost felt silly, looking after him sometimes knowing he had done the same for her in the original timeline.

Her relationship with Reginald was nothing she ever expected. He was gentle, well as gentle as Reginald Hargreeves could get, he cared for her, spoiled her, even. She wouldn’t have to ask for anything half the time. If he were to overhear a conversation between her and Grace about a dress she oh-so wanted, it would suddenly be laid out on her bed the next day. She usually had a say in dinner meals every Thursday and Sunday and Reginald listened intently whenever she would voice any discomfort or concerns with her living conditions. (Y/N) never had a real father, but she assumed this is what it was like to have one. She never wanted to let go of it.

For her birthday in 1963, she was surprised that he had actually gotten her a present. As she entered the parlor, she was met with the tiniest bark and an even tinier golden retriever, bounding up to her. She gasped and stopped low, letting him jump into her arms. She let him lick her face and giggled in the joy it brought her.

“Your mother said you would like it. Though I would never allow dogs in my house, I have come to understand that there are rules I must bend for you, my child.”

(Y/N) turned to her father. Yes, father. Reginald, also growing quite fond of their father-daughter bond formed between them, decided to adopt the girl. As much as his beliefs and his deep distaste for children protested. There was just something about this child. Or perhaps it was Grace’s insisting, reassuring him that he would make a wonderful father. (Y/N) was very hesitant at first for her own reasons she never shared, but eventually came around to the idea of being his daughter again.

This was the same Reginald Hargreeves who locked her in a dark room for five days straight, but also an entirely different man. Perhaps it was her fascination with the differences, or maybe she just wanted a real father for once.

“Thank you, Dad.” She softly smiled, the man nodding in response.

“But this is your pet, (Y/N). It is your responsibility. I will not find it in my study, in my bedroom, you are to train it yourself-”

“Can you-”

“And no, I will not help you pick out its name.”

The girl softly groaned and looked back down at her new puppy. Looking into its eyes, she smiled softly at a distant memory as a small child.

“Welcome to the family, Mr Pennycrumb.”

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(Y/N) groaned when she felt the sunbeams of the early morning sunrise hit her eyelids, coloring her black vision with the stinging fire of orange. Rolling onto her other side, she stretched her blanket over her head. They were yanked away the next second, causing a whine to leave her lips. “Mom… Five more minutes.”

“I let you sleep in long enough, hun, it’s time to get up. You have a date with Preston this afternoon.” Grace gently pulled her daughter to sit up, giggling quietly at her look of disgust.

“Preston? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously, let’s get goin’.” Grace patted her leg and walked to her door, waiting patiently. (Y/N) sighed and rubbed her face, letting her feet slide into her slippers. As they descended the stairs to the kitchen for breakfast, Reginald could hear his daughter’s sleepy complaining from his place at the table.

Setting his utensils down, he turned his head in their direction. “My child, how many times throughout each week must we have to repeat this conversation?”

“Until it starts making sense.” (Y/N) stepped into the dining room, now in her robe, and crossed her arms over her chest. Reginald sighed and stood from his chair at the table.

“You are one of my greatest accomplishments,” He began towards her. “There is no doubt in my mind that you would make a fine successor. I do not believe you will need a husband. In fact, you would be better off without another individual holding you back from what you are truly capable of.”

“But?” She raised a brow.

“But… I have grown to know you more than I expected… and I know that you would need someone to help manage your finances you inherit once I am gone. Preston is a fine young man who was born into this life, made into this life. He will take good care of you.”

(Y/N) knew there was only one person in this world who would truly take good care of her. But he wasn’t here, and she needed to play the part as the amnesiac adopted daughter, so she huffed and nodded. “Fine… I’ll go…”

“Thank you-”

“But only if Mr Pennycrumb can go, too.”

“Very well, but you will not be gifted another animal if you lose it.”

The outing wasn’t entirely bad. (Y/N) didn’t mind the picnic or the art museum, it was the company that made her blood boil. Preston is anything she would have expected out of him. This had been their seventh date, tenth of the ones he planned. (Y/N) sought out any opportunity she could to cancel on him to save herself from the unbearable three hours she would have to spend with the kid. He was arrogant, smug, selfish, narcissistic, and overbearing. Of course, this was not the Preston he presented to her parents. No, to them, Preston was ‘a fine man with a bright future ahead of him’, or as Grace would put it, ‘a delight to have around’. He laughed like a drunk, talked like a husband, and smelled like a man. All at the age of fifteen. (Y/N) had to remind herself on several occasions that she was mentally the older out of the two and to not stoop to his level when he got under her skin.

“Don’t you think, (Y/N)?” The voice brought her attention back to the boy beside her. She looked up from the grass they had been strolling through. When she hummed in question, he amusedly scoffed and side-step closer to her. “Never mind. I should have known you wouldn’t have been interested in politics.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” The girl raised a brow. At her confusion, he laughed and gently tapped the side of his head.

“You’ve always got that head of yours in the clouds. Or turned behind you- like right now.”

(Y/N) turned her head away from where she had been looking over her shoulder. “What? Sorry, Preston, I’m a little preoccupied today.”

“With what, exactly? You don’t seem to be the type of girl to have very many issues. Nothing to worry about.”

“And you wonder why I don’t listen to you.” She sighed as her puppy ran in between her legs, rolling in the grass once he was a few paces in front of them. Preston frowned in distaste and shook his head.

“You should really keep that thing on a leash, sweetheart.”

She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes, clenching her teeth as she folded her hands behind her back. “Really now?”

“Really. You know, I’m not very fond of dogs, so I’m not sure how it’ll work out once we’re married. I think we should get one after we have kids, you know? Just so the kids could grow up with it.”

(Y/N) quickly turned her head to the left, pointing out across the street. “Preston, would you look at that?”

“Look at what?” He gullibly looked in the direction, (Y/N) quickly checking the area before almost silently singing her tune. From her shadow, her clone formed and robotically walked behind the two. She quickly switched spots with it and ordered the clone to walk with Preston before scooping her puppy into her arms and rushing off in the opposite direction. Once she was behind a diner far away from their date location, she let out a sigh and gently patted her dog on the head.

“Were you sick of it, too?” She chuckled. Resting the back of her head against the brick wall she leaned on, she let out a slow breath and began to relax. The sound of guns cocking had her head snapping up so fast, she swore she could have dislocated it. Just down the end of the line of stores were three white-haired men, one in a milkman uniform, training their guns on her. (Y/N) didn’t waste a second tucking her dog in front of her and spinning around, charging down the opposite direction as bullets whizzed past her. She dodged them the best she could, jumping a few feet in the air at the ones that threatened to take their place in her feet. It was like a dance; the twisting, spinning and jumping, and she was to perform this dance until one of those bullets killed her if she didn’t find a way out soon. Sliding to the side of a clothing store for cover, she gently shushed her pet as she caught her breath.

The three sets of footsteps eventually found their destination and rounded the corner with skilled quickness, shooting at the girl until she was nothing more than a bloodied corpse on the ground, bullet holes lodged in almost every inch of her body. The three men nodded to each other and turned around, making their way out from behind the stores.

(Y/N) had already been down the street from her house by the time her attackers found the clone in her place. She couldn’t have been bothered to check herself for any wounds, too worried about Mr Pennycrumb’s potential bullet wounds. But the pup was perfectly, happily nuzzling into her arms and wagging his tail. This left (Y/N) to ponder.

Who the hell were those men?

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“Is it on?”

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know? There’s an ‘on’ button. Just- There’s something over- that jigga-ma-thing, whatever.”

“I hit the jigga-ma-thing!”

“Okay, well, just- Give it to me. I know how to do this.”

“Alright, here, here. Hurry up.”

“Okay, alright, let’s see…”

Lila didn’t look up from her task of painting poor Elliott’s toenails, his bindings he received after threatening the trio with a gun preventing him from moving too much. Which was beneficial to her, as it kept her from ruining the paint job. She softly smiled as she listened to the argument between the elderly couple on the film Five and Diego were intently watching. “They’re so cute,” She commented. “I love old couples. I’m always so proud of them for not murdering each other.”

Ignoring her, Diego turned to his brother from his seat on Elliott’s counter. “Why are we watching this?”

“Shush.” Five replied, eyes trained on the film before him, searching for any clue to the approaching apocalypse, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Yeah, I… I’m Dan Frankel. And…”

“I’m Edna Frankel.”

“...Edna Frankel. We are in Dallas, Texas, to see the president. Today’s date is November 22, 1963.”

Five nodded as everyone’s attention was brought to the projected screen before them.

“That’s six days from now.” Lila spoke as Elliott thrashed about more against his bindings. Diego sat forward in interest.

“Holy shit. This is it. The grassy knoll. Kennedy’s about to get shot. How do you have this?”

“Hazel died to get me this footage,” Five answered. “It must be the key to stopping doomsday.”

“Hazel…?” Diego frowned, remembering the man he spent hours searching for and planning to kill to avenge the death of Eudora Patch.

“Long story.”

“What’s doomsday?” Lila looked up at the boy.

“Longer story.”

“What exactly did he say to you?” Diego asked as Lila turned her head back to the film.

Five shrugged. “Well, he was killed before he could explain. But whatever he wanted us to see, it’s on this film.”

“This is very exciting.” The old man smiled before the sound of gunshots and screaming could be heard, the camera moving around in blurs due to the shock of the old woman filming.

“Oh, my god!”

“Oswald…” Diego whispered, setting his knife down as Five leaned in closer.

“The president!”

When the camera was steadied to record across the street, Five and Diego both stiffened in their spots at what their eyes caught. “Oh, no…” Five breathed and moved behind the projector, rewinding the film and scooting the cart backwards to zoom in closer. The room was silent as Diego stood to his feet and Five rounded the cart before standing beside his brother, directly in front of the film. “This can’t be…”

“Okay, you gonna fill me in now, boys?” Lila glanced between the two. “What the hell is this shit we’re watching?”

But she was ignored yet again.

“No, that’s impossible…”

“Clearly, it’s not.”

“What… What is it?” Elliott muffled past the gag in his mouth.

A beat of silence went by before the two Hargreeves whispered in unison,

“Dad.”

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Taglist: @unfortu-nate-ly @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya @sm0kingcrack @a-t-h-r-e-e-n-a @moatsnow @bubblegumflamingos @starstormssymphony @meowiemari @magicalgothpandamaker @simping-4-fictional-men @hehehehannahthings @harrystylescherrie @rhain3 @himikaphoo @zerocanonlywriteshit @xxeiraxx @camerondiaz48104 @isawachickeninatree

[harveywritings92]

BNHA vampire soulmate scenario: you see them again/ they introduce themselves.

 They find you and don't leave you alone.

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Dabi: It had been almost a month since the 7/11 incident, Dabi kept his distance watching and protecting you from the shadows, That all change today, he was watching your house from the old abandoned grocery store-across the road from your bar (your house is on top of the bar). He noticed you haven't step outside for almost two days, Dabi frowned as he step out of his hideout and as soon as he got close enough to your home his nose scrunched up as he was hit by a fowl stench: he made a disgusted noise... it was like mix of rotten milk and cantaloupe...

You were sick! but that wouldn't explain your lack of activity...unless- Dabi felt his stomach drop into his feet he checked the gargoyle you keep by the door for your spare key, he unlocked the door and walked inside your house and found you passed out on the floor at the bottom of your stairs! he rush over crouched down to check on you... he put his hand on your neck, Fuck your skin was like a furnace. "What the fuck do I do?" he hissed picking you up of the floor and putting you on the couch in your living room.

You wheezed in protest feeling your body being lifted away from the nice cold floor, your eyes opened straining to see who had moved you? but all you could see was a black and purple blob looking down at you; before moving away from sight as your overheated mind tried to comprehend what was happening, Who was that? How did they get in... but soon you drifted back into unconsciousness, and felt something cold on the back of your head...

You woke up disoriented and very confuse you looked around and you were still in your Livingroom... with half melted bag of frozen carrots resting behind your neck and another bag of frozen corn shoved down your shirt, which bewildered you the last thing you remembered was trying to crawl upstairs and go to your room, than nothing. You heard someone clear their throat and looked next to you to find a man who looked like a ragdoll was sitting in your recliner watching you...

"Who the fuc-" you croaked only for the guy to thrust a yellow pill and a glass of water towards you. "Take this first.." he muttered as you eyed the pill suspiciously "patchy" rolled his eyes at your wariness. "It's just Tylenol." he put the glass on the coffee table and showed you the box, "If I wanted to hurt you, wouldn't I have done it already?" he stated as you hesitantly took the pill and the water from him and swallowed it trying not to gag as it went down your throat. "Who are you?" you hissed voice still hoarse trying not to show fear, which was in vain as Patchy's cerulean eyes lit up in amusement seeing through your bluff. "I have several names, but these days I go by Dabi." he said waiting for your reaction but, to his utter astonishment you clearly had no idea who he was... "ok..."Dabi" How did you get into my house?" you huffed as Dabi gave you this unimpressed look. 

"Y'know the whole reason for hiding a key, is to not make it obvious."

"What are you talking about? What key?"

"Yeah, good one...the key under the gargoyle."

"...I don't keep a key under my gargoyle."

You say watching Dabi's expression shift to confusion as the scarred man pulled the the duplicate key from his pocket, he showed it to you and your stomach felt like it was full of rocks... that was definitely your house key!... But, it looked newer, shinier then the one in your purse. "You don't recognize this?" Dabi asked feeling your fear which caused his instincts go haywire wanting to remove whatever caused the distress, as you shook your head insisting you've never owned a spare key!

Dabi took a sharp breath through his nose, taking it in all the scents around the house before picking up faint traces of a another male... Dabi let out a low inhuman growl as he relaxed against into the recliner. "Good news doll, you gotta a new roommate." Your mouth opened to protest, but something in the deep crevices of your soul was telling you to trust the scarred man as he played around with the duplicate key. with a feral glint in his eye. "Bad news is... It's gonna suck for whoever the hell pissed me off." his purred flashing his fangs at you.  

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

Hawks: You were at work it had been to weeks since Hawks showed up on your doorstep, let's just it didn't go so well... It was like in the movies you opened the door saw the blond vampire standing there, you gasped, screamed and fainted scaring the crap out of the poor guy! At the moment he was currently loitering outside the gym you were teaching at, he could hear some of your students parents talking about you.

"It's waste I tell you, someone with her Quirk should've gone pro!" A woman said in a snarky tone the man next to her nodded. " I agree. if I had a Quirk like L/n-san I would be saving lives and kicking ass, instead of teaching kids how to dog paddle!" Keigo growled looking up from his phone and spoke up. 

"Yeah...She could've gone pro, but instead she's here teaching your kids not to drown..." 

Both adults froze and saw the number 2 hero glowering at them his wings slightly puffed and raised making him look bigger, They sheepishly apologized and scurried off, Just as you walked out, with an unreadable expression it was obvious you had heard everything just now, but were relucted to say anything as the two of you started the routine of walking home together, you were still on the ropes about Hawks. 

When he first showed up (after you woke up) you freaked out thinking he was there to to silence you and keep his secret, however after calming you down, he started going on about soulmates, blood-bonds and you being his other half, you were very reluctant to believe him after all... the first time you saw him, he was covered in blood feeding off a woman who looked half dead! Hawks seemed genuinely remorseful about you seeing that, it wasn't his intention to scare you, he explained how the woman was fine. 

She wasn't dead like Y/n had thought! he just used his venom to put her into a state of ecstasy... she likely has no idea the winged blond had been drinking her blood, She was at home most likely believing she had a wild night with the number 2 hero. He even showed you the girl's social media account to prove it; There she was doing a bathroom selfie bragging about the wicked "hickey" Hawks had given her...

Now here you are a month later and the vampire hasn't left your side since! Well... Except for when he has to go on patrol, then he has one of his feathers following you, and you have this sinking suspicion that Hawks has been sleeping on your roof at night...though you're never sure, you could hear something rolling around up there but whatever it is, is usually gone by the time you go check it out, later that night Hawks texted you inviting you to dinner, you read the restaurant's name... Dang that's pretty swanky place, you didn't even know if you had a dress or whatever to wear! luckily in the far reaches of your closet you found an old black dress that seemed suitable enough for the job... and sighed. " I only wore this once, to a funeral..." you muttered before getting ready.

You wished you had taken a shot of whiskey before you left the house, you were a ball of shaking anxiety as you entered the restaurant, the hostess eyed you with a unpleasant sneer. "Can I help you?" she said in fake sweet tone. "Y-Y/n L/n, I-I'm here to meet a Mr. T.K.?" you stammered the hostess scrunched her nose as she gave you a once over snorted. 

"I don't know how you found out about his reservation... but I can assure you the number 2 hero doesn't associate with your type." she with sneer your face would would've been flushed with anger if you weren't holding back every fiber in your body to slap that smug smile off that bitch's face. "Well can you go check?" you snapped standing up to your full height which threw the hostess off, she curt nod and walked off into the back...

(Hawks knew you were here he could smell you the second you walked in, his eyes briefly skimmed over the menu as he herd hostess approach, without you... "Sorry about that Hawks." the redhead cooed as the blonde looked at her bemused she snorted. "Some fake (h/c) slut tried to say you were waiting on her-" she continued talking as Keigo talked over her. " I am waiting for Y/n." he stated firmly as the hostess finished what she was saying. "Just let me ask my boss to let me off and we ca..." she trailed off and blinked not believing what she just heard.

"w-What?" she chortled thinking this was a joke as Hawks deadpanned repeating what he said. "I am waiting for Y/n, go get her." it wasn't request the hostess looked like a fish as she stared at the No. 2 slack-jawed. "Bu...You.. I- what about me?!" she sputtered lip quivering like a child who'd been denied candy, the winged man just eyed her incredulously making it clear he doesn't know her. "What are you talking about?" Hostess didn't answer she just stomped away to go get you.)    

A few minutes later she came back all red in the face. "Please follow me ma'am." she huffed now it was your turn to be smug. "Oh?... But I thought the No. 2 hero didn’t associate with my type?" you hissed as she snapped her head up to look at you eyes her brown eyes filled with jealous rage and you realized....It was her. The girl from the park. "My apologies ma'am." she said with a forced cheery tone as she led you to a private booth where Hawks was waiting his wings stood up at full attention as you sat down.

"Hey did you have any trouble?" he asked nodded towards the front desk where the hostess was giving both of of you the stink-eye. "You don't recognize her?" you whispered as Keigo's brow furrowed as he tried to piece it together.... had.. they slept together?...Hmm no, signed her tits? that was a possibility, He hummed scratching his beard You could tell he was drawing blanks. "She's the woman from the night...when we met?" His gold eyes widened.

 "Oh... the blood that tasted like charcoal and moldy bread." he grimaced in disgusted as he finally pieced it together you tilted your head as him bemused. "That’s what smoker's blood taste like...to me anyways, other Vamps have told me it varies." he stated you hummed nodding your head both intrigue and worried that you were getting use to this odd situation.

While you two were going over the menu, Keigo couldn't help but notice how off you were acting, you were fidgeting and looking around almost like you were...scared. why would you scared? all the other girls he'd brough.... Then it hit Keigo like ton of bricks. 

He was treating you like one of his fans! and not his...hopefully soon to be lover, Dammit! He didn't even think about your comfort zones or asked if you wanted to go out and where did you want to go, he just assumed you would jump at the chance, because what girl doesn't want to go on a date with the number two hero?

After a few moments Keigo put the menu down. "Hey...wanna get out of here?" You were about to protest but the blond put his hand up. "Let me rephrase that; Do you want go somewhere else?" you shyly nodded Keigo called the waiter paid for the drink he had earlier and the two of you went on a very simple and impromptu park date involving pizza and an outdoor movie theater that Keigo had no idea existed; all in all he actually had fun! 

And so did you given the joy and admiration he was sensing coming off you in waves. as opposed the fear and defensiveness you usually gave off around him, which made Hawks hopeful for the future... but for now he'll just settle on being friends, He smiled staring at the spare key you gave him, the blond let out a tiny churr feeling giddy as he fell asleep on your couch, as you caught him outside earlier.  

…..Yes, he was totally sleeping on your roof.

[islesnucks]

LAST NIGHT I TOLD YOU I LOVED YOU - NOLAN PATRICK X READER

this started as a tyler seguin fic, was almost a brock boeser one for a second and turned out to be about Nolan lol

this was not proofread so yeah keep that in mind as you read it 

Word Count: 2k

Warning: mention of alcohol (?)

Smmary: the morning after you drunkenly confessed your feelings to Nolan - slightly inspired by the song Last Night by Lucy Spraggan

Masterlist

Add yourself to the taglist!

-

Last night I told you I loved you

Woke up blamed it on the Vodka

I genuinely thought I was dyin'

And I could see that smile you were hiding

-

You woke up and the first thing you felt was pain. There was a banging in your head and your stomach felt sick. Memories from last night were blurry, there surely was alcohol involved. The last thing you remembered was walking into the bar with Nolan and TK by your side, then there was vodka involved. Or was it tequila? Maybe even both?

Feeling like the slightest move would make you throw up, you decided to snuggle further into the sheets trying to go back to sleep, hoping a couple more hours of sleep would make you feel better. That’s when you heard barks coming from outside the room, making your head pound. Then your eyes went wide when it hit you: you don’t own any dogs.

Looking around you confirmed this indeed wasn’t your bedroom, it was Nolan’s. The curtains were shut so the room was dark and you couldn’t see much, but you were able to make out your dress from last night folded on top of the armchair beside the bed.

You looked down and realized you indeed weren’t using your clothes, instead you had one of his old shirts on. Then you noticed your underwear was still on, a good sign you thought. But still you couldn’t remember anything from last night and that terrified you.

You weren't scared of what you could have done, you knew having the boys by your side ensure you nothing bad would happen. So you weren't scared that you had somehow ended up drunkenly dancing on top of  a table or making out with a complete stranger. No, the problem was that alcohol always loosened your tongue. What you were scared of was having confessed something you had worked so hard on holding in.

Gathering a little courage and still feeling like you may throw up any second, you got out of bed and made your way out of the room. The clacking of a pan and smell coming from the kitchen let you know Nolan was probably there cooking some breakfast or maybe lunch, you didn’t know what time it was. Taking one last deep breath, trying to calm your nerves, you made your way down the hall to the kitchen.

He was with his back to you, too busy stirring something on a pan to realize you had entered the room. That’s when his dogs approached you excited to see you, making him turn around to find you still half asleep, hair in a messy bun, some rests of makeup from last night on your face, dressed in his shirt that were long enough to cover everything. You were sure you looked horrible but he found it cute, the smile that formed on his face showed it.

“Hey, you’re alive.” He turned off the stove and proceeded to place what turned out to be scrambled eggs on two plates.

“I feel like shit.” You took a seat on one of the barstools by the kitchen island.

“Sorry, did the bark wake you? I was keeping them in the living room so they wouldn’t bother you but Charlie sneaked out.” he said, giving the dog a stern look, but Charlie was too distracted enjoying as you petted him to notice.

“No don’t worry I was already awake, agonizing in bed, but awake.”

He placed the plate with everything he had cooked and a cup of coffee in front of you and you thanked him as he took a seat next to you. He was quiet per usual, but the Nolan you knew would have thrown some snarky remark about how much of a lightweight you are and he’s never going out with you again. That concerned you a bit. However he seemed normal, no awkward looks or anything that made you think you had messed up in any way last night.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” he suddenly said bringing you back to reality. There it was, something did happen. You could feel your heart in your throat, but you tried to play it cool.

“No… Wait we didn’t-”

“No!” he was quick to cut you off, slightly offended that you thought that could’ve happened. “You were wasted Y/N, I’d never take advantage like that.” He then realized he admitted nothing happened because you were drunk, not because he didn’t want it to happen; but you were too busy panicking to realize.

“I know, I know. It’s just that I woke up in your bed, with your clothes on.” you tried to explain.

“We ubered back here, you were asleep the whole ride, I helped you change your clothes and gave you my bed. I slept on the couch.” Relief washed over your body, deep down you knew nothing like that could have happened, but hearing it made you feel better, like a huge weight was being taken off your shoulders.

“Thank you Nols, you didn’t have to.”

“Leaving you alone in your apartment in the state you were in felt wrong.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m glad to know I didn’t do anything too stupid at the club.” you said, letting out a deep breath you didn’t even notice you had been holding on to.

“Well you didn’t do anything stupid at the club...” He didn't finish but that was enough to make you choke on the coffee you had been drinking.

“Shit what did I do?”

“Nothing, nothing. Don’t worry.” He brushed it off as he stood with his empty plate in hand and walked over to the sink.

“Nolan …” you questioned him, but he still wouldn’t look at you. Yet you could see the smile he was trying to hide and that was all the confirmation you needed. Something definitely happened. You got off your seat and made your way around the kitchen island.

“Nolan James Patrick. What did I do?” Your stern tone made him finally turn around with a look on his face you couldn’t quite explain, which only made your nerves grow.

“You said something.” 

“Shit.”

“You really don't remember?” He walked till he was standing next to you. “We were here, I had already helped you change, you were in bed ...” he started to explain, hoping it would refresh your memories because he didn’t have it in him to actually tell you what you had said.

And just like that the memory from last night hit you.

~

“This sucks.” you said letting yourself fall on the bed, not even trying to position yourself correctly.

“Well you should’ve stopped after the third shot like I told you.” Nolan was too busy folding your clothes to see the way you rolled your eyes.

“Not that. This. You are being so nice with me and it sucks.”

“You lost me there princess.” he said confused, brows narrowing but with a playful smile still on his face, the way you rambled incongruently was too cute for him not to.

“Because I’m just going to fall harder for you and I shouldn’t because we’re friends Patty. I can’t be in love with my friend.” you let out matter-of-factly, clearly all products of the alcohol that was still running through your veins.

He could not believe what he was hearing. His heart stopped at your words, but he tried to convince himself he had heard it wrong, God knows the many times he dreamed of you saying those words.

“It sucks that I’m in love with you.” you added and there was no denying it, he heard it clear this time.

“Y/N …” he started to say as he turned around but words died in his mouth when he realized you were already asleep.

~

“Shit!” you let out and your hands instantly went to cover your face. You had screwed it big time. Sure you could blame it on the alcohol but Nolan knew you, he knew you wouldn’t just invent something like that. And even if it worked, your friendship would never be like it was before.

“Just forget I ever said that, okay? I was drunk and I didnt know what I was saying. Fuck. I'm the worst'' you started to ramble as you walked around the kitchen, unable to keep still because of the anxious feeling deep in your chest. It felt like your world was spinning out of control and all you could think about was all you had lost the moment alcohol got the best of you and you confessed your feelings.

All of a sudden Nolan was standing in front of you, placing his hands on your sides to stop your pacing. You couldn’t look him in the face, knowing the moment he saw you he’d realized how much you meant everything you said last night.

“Hey calm down” He started caressing your arms gently up and down in a reassuring manner.

“I'm so sorry.” you said, tears threatening to fall down your face any moment. 

“Well I'm not.” he replied with a humorous tone that threw you off. You shoot your head up at him with a confused expression that only intensified once you realized he was smiling sheepishly at you.

“I’m actually really glad that happened because now I don’t have to worry about how you may react when I tell you how I feel about you.”

“I think the alcohol killed all my brain cells because I don’t understand a thing you're saying.”

Nolan rolled his eyes at your comment but couldn’t hide the smile on this face. His hands went to cup your face, pulling you closer to him as he wiped away gently with his thumb a few tears that you hadn’t been able to keep in.

“What I’m trying to say is: I love you too.” he said looking into your eyes tenderly.

“I swear if TK comes out of nowhere holding a camera or something I’m murdering both of you-”

“I’m not joking! I love you Y/N. I have for the longest time and I’m a little embarrassed it took you drunkenly confessing how you feel for me to have the balls to say it.” Nolan’s cheeks turned red and you had to bite your lip to not make a comment about it. His eyes full of adoration never left yours, making you feel the all too familiar butterflies, but this time it didn’t feel wrong. This time you didn’t have to hide it or push it away. No, because this time you knew he felt the same.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked softly and all you could do was nod. He started to lean in, heart beating fast in his chest just like yours. 

“Wait.” you said, stopping him when he was less than an inch away from connecting your lips. He pulled away to look down at you confused, hands still resting against your cheeks. “I haven't washed my teeth.” He let out a chuckle.

“I couldn't care less.” he said, leaning down to finally kiss you.

It started sweet and gently, neither of you could believe it was happening, too scared any second you’d wake up and realize it was all a dream. That was until your hands met on the back of his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair and bringing him closer, deepening the kiss. His hands left your face and moved down your back, pressing you against him as much as possible, clutching to you in any way possible. The kiss intensified with the second and you could not stop, you had been craving each other for so long it felt almost intoxicating to finally know what the other’s lips felt like.

-

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[ktheist]

1 | play me like a toy [m]

title inspired by blackpink’s sure thing cover.

⟶ read the last part, all yours to enjoy, here.

muses. mafia heiress!reader x ex-mafia!director!hoseok

genre. age gap factor. chaebol-mafia family au. arranged marriage au. office au. modern au.

words. 5.8k

warnings. contains smut. mentions of gun use. mentions of cheating.

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs. 

synopsis. 

sit still, look pretty. 

such were the words your maid-turned-mistress of a mother has ever taught you. the mindless marionette mask worked for the most parts. but when you find yourself hanging by a thread - or is it the beeping line of your dying father’s heart rate monitor? - you decide it’s time to shed off that mask and seek han group’s infamous loyal dog that went off radar 17 years ago.

jung hoseok.

alternatively;

“marry me or be killed.”

“is there a third option?”

“we fucked but you were too drunk to remember so that option’s invalid.”

x

jung hoseok is in a dry spell.

there was no doubt as to whether he could score a date, get laid and maybe even have his nightstand to call him up again exactly the week after.

the issue was time.

with his boss and longtime friend getting married, he ends up coming to work with a different pile of papers on his desk every day. well, it was his idea to sign a promissory note that if kim namjoon ever found a woman he loved and married, hoseok would take half of the ceo-ly workload so his overbearing boss could enjoy his honeymoon and truly, as hoseok would put it, live.

the order went a little differently but namjoon found a hole in the way the sentences were worded that got him flying away to the caribbean and leaving hoseok to fend for himself in these trying times.

oh, and it’s almost hit the third month of the newly weds going mia.

in the first place, he didn’t think namjoon would hold the agreement over his head like he was flexing a few hundred thousand dollar’s worth of lawsuit.

but the man did just that and now hoseok is slaving over his nine-to-five which actually tend to drag on till ten or, if he’s lucky, even midnight. sure, he got promoted from head secretary to director but he’s wondering if this endless cycle of coming back home only pass out in the bed and wake up earlier than a parent with a toddler - is worth it.

hoseok groans, his hand grabbing around for his phone to put a stop on that obnoxious alarm even if it’s just for five minutes before he has to hear it again.

and grab something he did, but this so called phone feels too soft to be a phone and shapes like an cup but softer and - he puts more pressure to his grasp out of confusion -

“mhm, what the hell?”

- it complains in a groggy voice too.

almost as if pricked by a needle, hoseok leaps right out of bed, sending the duvet flying to the floor and revealing the naked woman - you - who’s stretching her limbs whilst her face scrunches in displeasure at the rude awakening.

“__-___?! wh-what the- what are you doing in my bed?”

x

“so you touched my boob,” you say, legs crossed and arms folded over said boob.

“i-i-” it’s the first time you’ve ever seen hoseok opened his eyes so wide - he has pretty eyes. especially when they’re brimming with fear and bashfulness, “i’m sorry, i have no excuse.”

he hangs his head low.

“why didn’t you touch the other one?”

it’s then, when hoseok’s eyes snap up to you, gaze searching for a sign - any sign, to confirm that he misheard that, does the man realize that you’re messing with him.

that, and you doubling over with laughter trickling out of your mouth should be affirmation enough.

“god, you should’ve seen your face, hobi!” you’re still holding your stomach when hoseok’s shoulders stiffen and his round eyes turn sharp.

“that’s not something you joke about, ___,” he says, it’s easy to mistake his sternness with anger if you didn’t know him your whole life, “are you gonna let it go every time someone disrespects you? mr. han would’ve snapped their neck in half-”

“hoseok, come on,” you cut him off with a dismissive hand, “none of those gory talks about snapping necks and pulling out nails. that’s the reason i end up here in the first place.”

it’s the way silence lulls into the room and hoseok looks at you with the hardest knitted brows and eyes that seem to have retracted his soul far back into his memories, as though searching for something - that makes your heart drop.

all sense of humor now gone.

“you don’t remember what happened last night... do you?” the last part is just an addition to ease your throbbing heart.

if you’d left it as a statement, it made it more real that he did forget.

just a man, sitting at a half empty bar, three shots of vodka in and hostility in his voice that could’ve killed but so very hoseok of him, “that seat’s taken.”

aloof. distant. and every word in the book that described a man who didn’t want to be bothered and he drowned himself in alcohol.

“i’ll leave once the owner comes back,” you’d slipped into the seat anyway, despite the heat of hoseok’s stare.

not paying any heed, you ordered yourself a margarita.

“it’s been awhile, hasn’t it, hobi?”

that’s when he turned to you. truly looked at you.

“do you perhaps have a little sister who,” his eyebrows began to knit as if the screws in his head started turning, “would be about your age by now... ____?”

you didn’t really catch up. all you could remember was hoseok’s calculative stare as he watched you down one drink after the other. the the chilliness of the margarita somewhat soothing the burning sensation as it went down your throat.

“that’s the fifth for you,” his large hand covered yours, stopping you from picking up the glass as he cautioned you.

“yeah? i’m only stopping if i have something else to occupy my mouth with.”

in his distracted state as he tried to make sense of what your words meant, you lifted the glass to your mouth and downed the last of your drink.

and then, you stood up, walked the tiniest distance between your seat and his, grabbed him by the collar and crashed your lips on his.

you remembered your confidence dissipating like air with every second passing without hoseok so much as responding to your kiss.

maybe it was the shock.

because one that passed, you found his arm around your waist and his lips kissing you harder than you kissed him.

you stumbled into your car, not caring if yeojun had a front row view from the rearview mirror of the things that transpired at the back seat. you barely remember the walk from the parking lot to his apartment.

those sweet whispered promises. the hands that burned your skin with every touch. those eyes that pierced right into your eyes, as if invisible hands reached into your soul and grasped it in his palm.

“mine,” hoseok husked, voice sending ripples of pleasure dripping down your legs. he’d thrust himself balls deep inside you, like a beast who hadn’t had a drop of water since the drought, “you’re mine from head to toe.”

if that wasn’t enough, he fucked you raw until you were at your limit and he’d just... stop.

“hoseok, why-” you’d been breathless, skin glistening with sweat and knees trembling to give in but he’d banded an arm under your torso and held you to him so your bodies remained connected even if none of you moved.

“you think i’d just let you cum so easily?” he placed a hand on your ass, as if warning you what would happen if you’d pull away, “after all these years... you grew up fine as fuck.”

he’d languidly pulled out of you, as if knowing how torturous it felt for you with his fingers on your clit that sent electricity through your veins.

“what is it, hm? is it the kang’s or is it the seong’s? i guess the rumor about boss being hospitalized was true,” his words barely registered in your mind as his index finger touched your back and traced down your spine whilst he started thrusting in and out of you agonizingly slow.

“please, just fuck me,” you’d hissed, pain and pleasure and frustrations mixed in your voice.

“hm, still as tight-lipped as ever, huh?” he’d sounded completely relaxed as if the smacking sound that echoed in the air as his body slammed against your deliciously - didn’t affect him in the slightest.

as if he took no pleasure in fucking you. as if this was only for your poor little soul that came running back to him because you had no one to depend on.

“y-you have to- ah! s-swear your l-loyalty to- oh my god,” it was last night, while the citylights poured through hoseok’s window, his room was directly across another apartment building.

“loyalty, huh?” he tested the words on his mouth, as if it was a foreign candy gifted to him as present.

his body feels hot against your back as he lowered himself flush against you, his breath fanning your sweat-glistened skin, his voice brushing the shell of your ear, “you should know i’m yours as much as you’re mine. nothing i wouldn’t do for you, kiddo.”

he’d used that nickname he’d used to call you as he fucked you into his bed, and sent you moaning his name like you wouldn’t know any other name.

anyone could’ve seen.

neither of you cared though.

well-

you throw your gaze out at the twenty storey building, noticing a man vacuuming the living room three units to the left from the unit directly across from hoseok’s. above him, two kids, a boy and a girl are jumping around while holding an airplane in their hands.

-until now, that is.

hoseok had become an entirely different person last night. no - rather, he’d returned to you as the man you’d always kept in that special spot in your heart and locked it up so no one would be able to see past your steel schooled expression and the devil may care nature.

“i...”

your gaze snaps back to hoseok once again. he parts his lips for the briefest moment, as if to say something but clamps them shut again. the way his eyes gleam with guilt is enough to tell you the unspoken words that hang in the air.

and yet, your heart hardens like the steel mask you often wear on your face.

“and... to think i gave you my virginity too...”

the silence that lapses between you is tangible.

“sike, i’m kidding,” you grin, brows rising to the ceiling but when hoseok doesn’t so much as laugh or frown - he simply looked at you like a parent disappointed of his child who still didn’t see why what she did was wrong - you tilt your head to the side slightly, “or am i?”

“ugh, you’re no fun,” you throw your head back after failing to gouge a reaction from the man who screamed bloody murder as if you’re some street rat that he was so close to calling infestation control.

“i need to meet mr. han,” he announces after a whole solid minute of sitting on the edge of the bed with feet planted on the floor.

“what for? what are you gonna tell daddy? ‘i’m sorry i took your daughter’s virginity, sir, it won’t happen again?’“ you watch him get up, tongue unconsciously slipping out and sweeping over your bottom lip as you watch the curve of his ass as he walks to the closet and disappears into it.

“were you really a virgin?” he comes out dressed in fresh crisp button down tucked in a pair of black pants, a contrast to his rolled up sleeves, creased shirt and disheveled hair from last night.

“i don’t know, did it feel like i was?” you shoot him a coquettish smile.

the gentle protrusion of his adam’s apple bobs up and down, his lingering gaze on your crossed, bare legs not going unnoticed by you. you’re donned in last night’s dinner dress that hugs your curves and stops mid thighs.

but his gaze is gone too soon.

“you’re not seriously going to daddy, are you?” you tug on his sleeve just before he steps out of the door, “hobi, i’m just kidding, i’ve been with multiple guys before you,” the way his brows threaten to knit into a frown doesn’t go pass you but it’s gone too soon, “and does daddy like the idea? he’s not fond of it, but he knows he can’t stop me from doing whatever i want with my own body.”

the beep of the door as he opens it rings in the air as he looks at you in the eye, “did any of those men work for mr han?” 

only silence follows his reply as you bite your lower lip, hesitant.

“we can’t hide this- mr han might already know. he has eyes and ears-” hoseok steps out of the door only to stop dead in track when he sees at least half a dozen men lined up in front of his apartment in black suits.

“good morning, miss ____.” they bow at exactly 90 degrees angle like robots.

“-everywhere...” hoseok trails off, eyes scanning the area on high alert.

“don’t worry, they’re not daddy’s men. they’re my men,” you raise one hand, index finger pointing to the ceiling as you shoot them an expression void of any smile.

they seem to understand that as they dip into a bow again, the leader, yeojun, stops in front of the elevator when he and his men would have joined you in any other circumstances.

“it’s not about saving my own ass, ___,” hoseok begins.

the way his arms cross over his chest makes his sleeves wrap deliciously around his biceps.

his deep brown eyes appear like a hazel storm under the sunlight that pours from every crevice of the parking lot where the elevator stopped at. “mr. han asked me to protect you from everything and i’m sure he hired someone else after i left to keep trash men away from you... and to think i did exactly what he wanted me to protected you from-” 

“hobi,” nimble hands hover over his chest before you gaze up at him through your lashes, making sure to give it a slow, innocent blink before speaking, “i didn’t regret what happened last night. and you trying to apologize for someone i’m not sorry kind of hurts.”

“i’m sorry i didn’t think of it that way...” he trails off, lips pressed in a straight line as though deep in thought.

“if it makes you that uncomfortable, i won’t talk about it but promise me this stays between us, please?” you hold up a pinky finger like you would when you were younger.

the smile that makes its way to hoseok lips causes your heart to palpitate just when it’s barely calmed down.

his pinky finger is much larger than yours as it hooks around yours in a promise, a ghost of a smile tugging on his lips. as if he’s still unsure if he should be making any promises. as if he’s unsure if he should be hooking his pinky with yours instead of pushing you as far away from him as he could. but before he can come to a conclusion, a voice reverberates into the air.

“miss ____.”

the sound of hoseok sucking in a sharp breath rings in your ear as a dozen men in black suits bow at the sight of you.

before another word comes out from anyone else, you speak, voice echoing against the walls.

“listen up you sons of bitches, if i find out any of you snitched to daddy, i’ll make sure your wife, your husband, your kids, your grandparents, hell even your neighbors pay for it. got it?”

a round of rigorous “yes, miss!” follows after the splitting silence that hovered after you finished.

turning around, almost getting lost in those pretty, star entrapped eyes of his, you smile, “see, they’re loyal to me.”

“uh, i can see why.” it’s the humorous tone that finally wraps around hoseok’s words that makes your heart clench painfully.

he’s still the same hoseok you know.

some things never change.

“well, i’ll lend you one of my cars,” you say all of a sudden.

almost as if hit by a foul ball, hoseok’s eyes widen, “shi- what time is it?”

you don’t expect much when you check your phone, the digits on the screen staring back with a 9-something am - you don’t care to check the details, “late.”

“fuck, i was so focused on gathering enough balls to meet mr. han - i need to get the papers i was supposed to look over for today’s meeting,” a string of curses follow hoseok’s scampering retreat. and you simply watch in your spot - he’s always been such a klutz, forgetting the important details and scrambling to get what he’d forgotten and just remembered - done.

before the doors of the elevator close and swallow him in its belly, hoseok’s nimble fingers slip between the shutting gap, making the doors split open again, “oh,” he says, as if remembering something, “you don’t have to do that - i can drive, i got a driver’s license like, eons ago.”

right.

when he left, he was only 18 and had nothing more but a duffle bag filled with all his belongings and an acceptance letter of the university he applied to.

hoseok had been driving you around everywhere before that. he got pulled over by a cop once but your father easily handled that.

jung hoseok’s been with you for as long as you remember.

you recall bawling your eyes out and clinging onto his leg, begging him not to leave because your nanny left and you found out a few months later that her body was found washed up along the river bank near her hometown.

mr. kim, the gardener quit and said he wanted to visit his kids but the whole family ended up dying in a fire.

everyone who left ends up dead.

pushing the somber feeling that’s threatening to pull the muscles in your face into a frown, you shake your head, an amused smirk tugging on your lips as you mask away every other feeling.

“you really don’t remember anything, do you?” somewhere in that innocently clueless gaze of his, you search for a lie - it would’ve been better if he lied about forgetting for whatever reason.

but when the genuinity over pours from those pretty eyes, you push away the gnawing feeling in your heart, “we were both shit faced drunk last night so we came to your place with my driver and you left your car at the bar’s parking lot.”

“oh shit,” he begins punching the button on the inside of the elevator, “i won’t take long, i pro-”

the metal doors gradually shut, cutting off what he was about to say.

x

“p-please, i’m sorry, i’ll do anything...” the man’s words got blurred out as you stare out the window of his medium sized flat with a master bedroom, a room and a bathroom connected to the common area.

it’s been a week since you met hoseok. you want to be mad that he doesn’t call, especially after not seeing each other for so long and finally reuniting only for him to forget everything about that night.

but you didn’t even give him your number and you may or may not be mad that he didn’t think to ask.

a bloodcurdling scream drums against your eardrums, making you physically flinch as your head snaps towards the man lying on the ground with his mouth wide open and no longer any sound coming out.

his head is titled at the new guy who’s standing over him with a baton gripped in one hand. the sight itself makes the pit of your stomach churn.

“god fucking damn it, yeojun,” you shoot a glare at the head bodyguard, “didn’t you teach him rule number 1? make no sound, catch no attention?”

at that, yeojun snaps his fingers and two of the bodyguards closest to the new guy - soon? soobin? was his name? - approach him. one of them places a firm hand on his shoulder whilst he kicks soobin behind his knee, sending him kneeling with a thud.

“i’m sorry, miss ___, it seems soobin,” ah so you did get his name right, “needs to join mr. yoo here in learning a thing or two about obeying orders.”

yeojun doesn’t even flinch when one of your donned-in-black bodyguard strikes one of their own at the back of his head with that baton they usually carry around their waist.

soobin’s face scrunches up painfully as he breathes out through his nose, teeth gritting together.

“you boys, break some things and you, get the car ready,” with that, the bodyguards hovering over the middle-aged borrower and soobin begin scampering around, toppling shelves over, pushing vases to the ground and breaking plates in the kitchen.

“you were too nice,” yeojun murmurs underneath his breath once you’re in the hallway, the sound of glass shattering and furniture breaking still echo off the walls.

“i shouldn’t even be doing this shit anyway. who does he think i am? sending me to take care of small fries...” agitated, you shoot yeojun a glare.

to which he only responds with raised eyebrows, as if asking if you’d go against your brother’s orders just because you’ve never liked to see violence yet violence follows you everywhere.

“let’s see.... richest bachelor, heir to han group, one of the biggest conglomerate family that runs the underground ring...” the black haired man starts counting off with his finger until you swing your purse to his side.

“which side are you on? me or my chanyeol’s?!”

laughter trickles down his lips as he follows you into the elevator. somewhere in the distance, the hallway faintly rings with the fading sound of mr. yoo’s helpless pleas.

x

when you arrive at kimcorp, the secretary shoots up from your seat, her smile is gorgeous and welcoming but the knitted set of brows above her eyes do a poor job of hiding her anxiousness.

odd.

you didn’t use the han name to get past the receptionist, only mentioning “hoseok is expecting me, tell him i have something of his he’d really like back.”

was it the lavish dinner dress? was it the couture handbag?

“ah, it’s the fox fur, isn’t it?” you twirl on your heels, lips curling prettily as you narrow your eyes at the startled secretary.

she’s standing there like a thief caught red-handed. as if her worst nightmares came true the moment you started saying something besides the “i’m here to see jung hoseok.”

“i-i’m sorry, ma’am?” her shoulders tense up and her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“nothing, it’s nothing,” you put on a billion dollar smile - one that she seems to be struggling to wear.

before the poor thing peed her pants, you turn around, your back on her and push on the double doors of the office with a white plate that spells out “head director jung.”

the syllables of your name roll off the mouth of the man behind the large desk that almost takes up half of the room, piles of documents stacked up on either sides while the middle section is cleared for a mac and a macbook perched directly in front of him.

“you sound surprised, didn’t the receptionist tell you i was coming?” you put on your best smile even as you watch him push a button on a smaller-than-a-palm-sized remote directed at the cctv and dash for the blinds and close them so that the secretaries facing his room won’t have any visual access to what goes on from now on.

“yeji didn’t specify who,” he says mindlessly, still peeking through the blinds - possibly to check if anyone noticed the sudden move.

somehow, hearing the name of another woman leaving hoseok’s lips doesn’t sit right with you.

“since you easily told her to send me right up, i assume you have an idea of who it was,” a devious smile tugs in the corners of your lips as the sound of hoseok sucking in a sharp breath brushes your ears.

as he was in the middle of turning around and facing you, you managed to catch him off guard and trap him between the window and yourself. the ridges of his toned abs brushing against your front torso with only layers of clothing separating you.

the warning tone he uses to say your name with is music to your ears.

he sounded like the old him. the old hoseok who’d drive his fist into anyone’s face without batting an eye. the old hoseok who would turn to your crying frame with the sweetest smile and hand you back your backpack that fell on the ground amidst the struggle of trying to bite and kick your kidnappers in the shin.

“i missed you, you know?” your voice is tinged with playfulness but your heart skips a beat like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“i-i... we...”

the words get stuck in his throat the moment your lips brush his. what surprises you is the softest sigh that leaves his mouth before a large hand buries itself in your hair, pulling you close until he’s tasting you. licking your bottom lip as if asking for something he didn’t need to ask for in the first place.

his free hand grasps your ass as if he’s been dying to feel your soft cheeks in his palm. you part your lips for him, tasting the faintest sense of cigarette in his breath.

hoseok tends to smoke when something bothers.

you hope it’s you. you hope he lays in bed at night, staring at the ceiling. you hope you’re all he thinks about.

by the time you pull apart, you’re both heaving for air. a soft thud drums in your ears as hoseok leans his head against the blinds-covered-window. you press your cheek against his chest, face hot.

one of his hands sits on top of your ass as if paying his overdue respect for your body but yet unwilling to let you go. the other rests on the back of your head, his thumb mindlessly caressing your scalp.

“hoseok?” you’re the first to break the silence.

he simply hums in response, “hm?”

“i can’t give it back,” you turn your cheek to bury your face in his chest, your voice coming out muffled, “i can’t give back your freedom.”

x

“so you’re saying you can’t let me go...” hoseok echoes the words you say to him.

but the way his lips curl into a pleased smirk and his white shirt creasing at the front from having your bodies pressed together a moment ago, gives those words a different meaning than you intend them to.

somehow, the distance between you seems smaller.

“thanks miyeon,” hoseok’s smile switches to that of a kind, considerate superior.

miyeon, the woman who guided you to hoseok’s office returns his smile. but you don’t miss the cautious gaze she throws your way before slipping out of the room after setting down the tea cups.

he’s back to himself. the kind that jumps at every little sound and tends to wear a frightened puppy look almost too often.

“no, rather...” you trail off, chanyeol’s face burning at the back of your mind - your brother, the heir to han group and the man that will marry you off to the kang’s in order to mend the strain in the family ties as soon as your father breathes out his last breath.

you shake your head, a smile on your face, “it’s been awhile, how bout catching up over lunch?”

and so it goes, you visit hoseok every few days in a week. at times you tell the secretary to keep your visit a secret so you could surprise him, you’d end up catching him neck deep in work yet he still manages to pull off the rolled up sleeves, two buttons undone and slicked back hair with a single strand falling over his forehead, its tip grazing those set of strong eyebrows.

when you knock, he looks up and the tension in his brows seem to fade away. he shoots you a dimpled smile as if he’s been waiting for you to whisk him away from work.

and you do just that. arm looped around his, you both walk out of his office like lovers.

hoseok talks about his past - the one you’re not part of - fondly. as if looking through a lense of something he never dreamed he could have.

at first, he attracted the wrong kind of crowd with his permanently set furrowed brows. but then he finds things he enjoys doing outside of classes that he couldn’t get to enjoy when he was with han group.

dancing, tracks, boxing and more. he likes that rush of adrenaline that courses through his veins. 

and you tell him about the meetings and gatherings and social events to maintain your relationships with the vassal families. they’re usually attended by the women of the han family which means you and han chohee would be smiling and laughing together in front of the wives and daughters of the vassal families before taking off that loving step-mother-and-step-daughter facade once you walk out of the vicinity.

your lunches and dinners are spent with trips down memory lane, filling the other in on the moments each of you miss in each other’s lives. and for a moment, the hoseok in front of you who flinches at the sight of bugs and little, random noises feel familiar.

that is, until you hit your one month reunion mark.

chanyeol’s been gathering support of the vassals by personally accepting their invitations.

his presence easily overshadowed yours and yeojun confirmed that your father’s condition isn’t getting any better.

“i need you to come back and work for me, half of the men would drop everything and follow you,” you stare at the girl staring back at you on the surface of the tea. she bites her lips and you feel the faintest taste of blood in your mouth.

eyes snapping to his calculative ones - as if he already knows what you’re going to say before the words even pass your lips, “i need you by my side so i can take over han group.”

the hoseok sitting in the single couch next to you with parted legs and feet planted on the dark carpeted ground fits the head director setting better than the inked skin, cigarette smoke and gun-in-waistline setting you’re about to drag him in.

“you’re willing to go against chanyeol to become the head of the family?” he asks, eyes clouded with a sort of emotion you can’t pinpoint.

hoseok’s always been an enigma. his mind, a maze you’ll never end up figuring out.

guess that part of him is still the same.

“it’s not a choice for me to make,” a clean click! resonates in the air as you place the gun you’d pulled from your garter, point facing him, index finger on the trigger, “you have two though.”

it’s the way his eyebrows rise whilst his eyes glint with amusement tells you that hoseok - your hoseok - is still somewhere in there.

throw a sane man into an asylum and he’ll start going insane. put a mad man  back in society and he’ll trick you into believing he’s sane with his warm, dimpled smile.

“marry me or be killed,” you say simply.

that amused glint is still there, granted, it shines faintly compared to the caution that overflows from those sun-hit brown eyes as they fix themselves on the gun perched on the see-through coffee table before they travel to your knuckles, to your arm and meet your steel gaze.

his the softest protrusion of his adam’s apple drops and rises again as he swallows, “is there a third option?”

“we fucked but you were too drunk to remember so that option’s invalid.”

the air is dense with tension. it fills up your lungs and almost causes your chest to cave. you’re not sure how long to stay there, stiff and still like a rock with your back straightened as if your etiquette teacher was hovering right behind you with a long, wooden ruler that’d be ready to strike your arm at a slump of your shoulders.

but liberation comes to you in the form of a phone call.

“___, we have to go, th-the boss- the doctor says he’s not gonna make it through the night.” it’s the first time you’ve heard yeojun stammer as if he hasn’t quite yet recovered from the shock of the news he’s relaying to you.

“are you sure?” you can almost hear the thump of the organ in your chest slowing down before it ceases to throb completely, “you know how bad chanyeol wanna fuck me up, he could’ve made the doctor tell you this because he knows you’ll tell me and if... if i rush there and daddy’s laughing that obnoxious laugh while trying to make pass on the nurse like he usually does...”

yeojun grunts, “yes, ___. i have men planted there as patients, nurses, janitors and they all say the same thing - that the doctors are rushing to the vip ward and they’re trying to make it look like your usual hourly check up but it’s not... look, this is the real thing. if we mess up, there won’t be another chance. now, did you convince hoseok to come back?”

almost as if reminded that you’re not the only person in the room, your eyes snap to hoseok whose eyes are already fixed on you with a concerned expression.

“he’ll come back.” with that, you hang up the call.

“i’d love for you to think it through for a few days, realize this isn’t really a life you want and come to me on your own to sign our prenups,” you say casually, placing down the teacup and slipping your phone back into your handbag as if you’re getting ready to leave the tea party, “but...”

but before you can lift the gun and fully point it at him, a large hand covers yours. his warmth seeps through your pores and makes your body feel warmer.

“the gun’s a bit excessive,” his breath fans your face as your eyes fix on the supple skin of his neck.

it’s as if invisible hands reached out and held your head in place, forbidding you from tilting it and gazing into his eyes. his fingers reach over the back of the gun, grazing your hands.

a click cuts through the silence.

“at the very least, unlock the safety,” his teasing tone doesn’t match his saddened eyes.

and just as you thought you’d closed the distance between you and him, the circumstance forces you to take five steps back.

[farfromharry]

The one without the suit | Peter’s girl

Summary: Peter doesn’t know where to go when Mr Stark takes his suit away from him after the ferry incident so he comes to you. You spend the rest of the night comforting the distraught boy.

Word count - 2746

Warnings - language? i don’t think there’s anything else

A/n - i’m gonna try and do regular updates for this again, but it probably won’t happen😳

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It all kept replaying in Peter’s head, all those people he’d put in danger just because he couldn’t let this go. Even you had told him he needed to stop, so why couldn’t he?

He sat and stared into the water with a frown, his legs dangling over the side of the building while his mask sat beside him on the ledge. God how had he messed up so bad, Mr Stark must be so angry.

Speaking of, he heard the suit before he saw it, his eyes squeezing shut as he braced himself to get yelled at by his mentor. Swinging his legs over the side and beginning to head in the direction of where the iron man suit stood, probably empty of the real Tony Stark, just like the time at the lake.

The words he was saying- yelling, weren’t really registering in the boy’s head, Peter was wanting nothing more than to skip the lecture and just apologise to the man for everything he’d caused. He didn’t even really care how this was going to affect him, not while he didn’t know the aftermath of the boat. 

“Is everyone okay?”  That was all he really cared about, knowing that no one had gotten hurt all because he screwed up, again. 

“No thanks to you.” 

The next few minutes had been a blur of Peter raising his voice angrily, finding it very difficult to believe that even after all that happened where he’d just tried to help, Mr Stark was still blaming this entirely on him. He remembered apologising profusely, not seeing the anger in Mr Stark’s eyes falter for even a second.

“I’m gonna need the suit back.” He felt like his entire body was shutting down, his heart shattering and a lump building in the back of his throat. Peter begged him, trying to change his mind with empty promises that meant nothing.

“F-For how long?”

“Forever.”

That one word kept repeating in the boy’s mind.  Forever. He was never getting the suit back, God he fucked up again. Walking down the streets of New York in clothes that weren’t his own was probably mortifying on a normal day, but he felt like there was a cloud of shame hanging over his head that everyone could see, and that was much worse.

He didn’t know where his feet were taking him at first, making the subconscious decision that he wasn’t yet ready to go home to his aunt in this state. Peter wasn’t sure if he’d ever been this disappointed or embarrassed with himself. He managed to fuck up so bad that the Tony Stark, his idol, his mentor, took away his suit. 

He was disappointed in him. 

Granted Peter was only a kid, heck he was still a teenager, but he felt like he owed it to Tony to be the best, to be better and apparently Mr Stark thought so too. 

He was growing increasingly self conscious walking through the streets of Queens in clothing they’d gotten from lost and found at the ferry dock. He probably should’ve gone home. May was definitely worried sick about him right now, but he didn’t have the strength to go and face a lecture when all he wanted to do was curl into a ball and let his emotions out.

He had to stop for a minute to realise that he’d been walking to your apartment on instinct. 

It felt like a second nature for Peter now to go to your window every time he was in need of help.

But it hurt him in a way he couldn’t explain when he realised he was unable to swing his way up there, not having either of his suits or his web shooters. The boy sniffled quietly, deciding he was just going to have to show up at your front door, hopefully not disturbing your parents.

He took the elevator up, giving him a chance to think everything over again, the boy deciding he needed some kind of distraction at least to ease his mind. His feet carried him from the elevator to your apartment door, the boy knocking before he'd even registered he was doing so.

“I’ll get it,” you yelled. You paused the movie you were watching on the TV, getting up from the couch. You didn’t bother to check you looked presentable, assuring yourself it was probably just your neighbour, she was a very old lady that often forgot the keys to her apartment and would always ask if she could use your spare that your parents had made just for this situation.

You grabbed the key that resided in a bowl beside your front door, pulling it open with a small smile on your lips. “Forgot your keys again Mrs Ka- Oh, Peter hi.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows slightly as you stared at the distraught expression that had overtaken your friend’s face. He sniffled slightly, his head raising from where his eyes were locked on the floor. You stepped forward and carefully placed your hand on his arm.

“Pete, what’s wrong?” you asked. His eyes were bloodshot and dark when he looked at you, the boy looking like a kicked puppy. Your heart ached just at the sight of him.

“He took my suit,” he whispered, so quietly you didn’t hear him. You stepped closer, placing your hand on his cheek gently.

“What?” 

“Mr Stark took my suit, I let him down.” 

That was the final straw for him. He let out a heart wrenching sob, falling into your arms utterly broken. You weren’t sure what you were meant to do, having never seen him in such a state, so you simply wrapped your arms around him and cradled his head against your chest.

With all the hugs you’d shared with Peter, he’d never held you so tightly, but he’d also never been so upset in view of another person, not even May. Not when his parents died and not when his Uncle Ben died, his tears were restricted to the eyes of him and him only. 

His crying had obviously alerted your mother, seeing her head pop in to look in the living room where you were cradling a crying Peter. She raised her eyebrows, her eyes softening out of motherly concern.

She took your word for it when you just shook your head, promising you’d help him and stay with him until he calmed down.

“Come on, Pete.” You helped the boy up off of the floor and towards your room. He’d been in your room plenty of times over the past few weeks so he took it upon himself to crash on your bed instantly. You didn’t know what to do, you’d never had to deal with consoling a superhero that got their suit taken away from them, so you didn’t fully understand what that suit meant to Peter, even if you did know how much he enjoyed being Spiderman. 

“Peter, I-“ you sighed, sitting on the bed beside his exhausted body. “I’m sure you didn’t disappoint Mr Stark.” 

He scoffed, running his hands over his face exasperatedly. His heart was aching. “You didn’t see it in his eyes. You didn’t hear it.”

Your heart ached listening to the words muffled by the covers of your bed. You could hear his quiet sniffles as he tried to calm himself down, the deep breaths not doing much of the sort. You took a seat beside him awkwardly, your nose scrunching up when you caught a whiff of the boy’s unusual scent.

Your mind told you that a hot bath might help him, as it was always a comfort to you when you were having one of your days. You gently laid your hand on his back, rubbing over the material of his shirt softly for a few moments before you suggested your idea. 

“Why don’t you go take a hot bath? They help me when I’m down,” you said, seeing him turn his face to the side on the bed so he could look at you. “Plus you smell like garbage,” you teased. 

He clearly wasn’t in much of a joking mood when he simply stood up with a nod of his head, his eyes still morphed into puppy dog eyes. You flashed him a tight lipped smile, mentally scolding yourself for how badly your attempt at lightening the mood had gone. 

»»——⍟——««

You’d generously offered to wash Peter’s hair for him when he stated that he didn’t think he was up to it. He was flustered as he agreed, listening to your promises about just washing his hair for him, no peeking or anything, and then you’d be out of there. 

“You promise you won’t look?” he asked, a stern look in his eyes as he wasn’t sure he could do this if you even took as much as a tiny peek. You rolled your eyes, cursing him for having no faith in you. “Peter, I don’t even want to look.”

He seemed to take offense to those words too, his nose scrunching in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

You huffed at his childish behaviour, telling him there was not a single chance you were about to have this discussion with him about why you didn’t want to see his dick, that was a whole other story.

Eventually he took your word and headed for the bathroom, calling you in when he was ready and sure you wouldn’t be exposed to anything you didn’t want to see.

“Thank you,” he whispered, sending you a genuine smile as you lathered up the coconut scented shampoo on your hands. You shook your head, dismissing his thanks by telling him it was just what friends did. Maybe not all friends, as you couldn’t imagine too many people had to console their superhero friend after their hero suit was taken away from them by their billionaire mentor. So maybe it was just a you and Peter thing. 

He hummed quietly as your fingers threaded through his locks, gently tugging when your fingers would encounter some kind of tangle. You muttered apologies under your breath but they went unheard by the boy who looked as though he was in complete bliss.

“Pete.” It took him a few seconds to hear you calling his name, his eyes snapping up to yours with a shy, apologetic smile. You giggled at his shyness, gently guiding his head to tip backwards so you could wash the soap from his hair.

You repeated the process of washing and rinsing one more time to ensure he no longer smelled like dirty garbage, before leaving him to finish up and dry off in your bathroom.

You started to worry when he began taking his time, scared that something bad had happened, even though you knew he was able to take care of himself.

But your worries died down when he came out of the bathroom with the same clothes he’d worn earlier, pulling a small amused smile from you at the sight of him in hello kitty pyjamas.

“You okay?” you asked, noting that he hadn’t yet said a word since emerging from the bathroom. His voice came out slightly scratchy, a sign of all the sobs that had wracked his body. “Yeah, jus’ need a hug.” 

Your heart warmed in your chest, arms opening for the boy to crawl into. “I can do that.” 

»»——⍟——««

“I’m so tired,” he mumbled, harshly rubbing at his still teary eyes with his fists. You frowned, taking his hands in yours and moving them away from his face so he couldn’t hurt himself. He’d cried so hard and so much in such a short time that he was physically exhausted. 

You wrapped his arms around your waist, letting him lay his head on your chest so you could hold him. Your hands threaded in his freshly washed hair, the scent filling your senses much more pleasant than the one he’d originally arrived with. You gently untangled any knots that had developed in his curls over the course of them drying from the water, the boy humming softly. 

The feeling of your fingers gently scratching at his scalp and playing with his hair was almost enough to soothe him completely to sleep, but you could feel that his body was fighting it off as he probably didn’t want to feel like he was burdening you with another thing.

“Peter?” you whispered. He hummed tiredly in response, nuzzling his face closer to you. “You’re kinda heavy.”

He gasped, finding the energy to raise his head and gape at you as you held back your giggle. He couldn’t say he wasn’t grateful for you trying to put a smile on his face, even if that was through an insult. 

“That was so mean,” he whined, a smile threatening to form on his lips. The first smile you would see from him today.

“M sorry, but you are. Are you forgetting you’re literally built like a God?” He rolled his eyes, cheeks flushing a soft pink at the hint of a compliment. You let out a loud laugh, trying to shuffle away from him as you muttered his name repeatedly. He was laughing now too and the sound, after everything you’d seen from his attitude tonight, was music to your ears.

“Pete, stop!” you squealed. He collapsed down beside you on the bed, the two of you catching your breath as your stomachs began to ache from all the laughing. He still had a grin on his face when you turned your head to look at him, smiling softly as you noticed that familiar sparkle in his eye.

“Pete?” you asked, after your laughter had died down into a comfortable silence. “Yeah?” 

You sighed. “Does May know you’re here?” 

He didn’t respond for a few minutes, answering pretty much everything you needed to know. He could feel your eyes on him, making him feel even more guilty about the whole situation.

“No, she doesn’t,” he finally admitted.

You took his hand in yours, the action still making Peter’s breath hitch even after the many times the two of you had embraced recently. “You should call her, she’s probably worried about you.” 

It took a bit of convincing, but after a while he did call May. He moved out into the hall so he could have a little bit of privacy, not wanting you to hear the earful he was about to get from her.  She was angry, and rightfully so, scolding him for leaving her in the dark, but she was still mainly more worried about her nephew’s safety.

He came back with a rather sullen look on his face, phone in hand as he stood awkwardly in your door frame, like he was uncomfortable.

“I-I have to go, May wants me home,” he mumbled. You nodded your head, flashing him an understanding smile. You’d already guessed that May was going to be upset with him, so you could only pray for him for when he got home. You took a deep breath, pushing yourself up off of your bed and heading straight to Peter to hug him.

“I’m sorry,” you started. “About everything that happened tonight. It’ll all be okay,” you promised, rubbing your hand up and down his back. He pursed his lips, nodding as he pulled away.

“Thank you, Y/N.” 

You followed him from your room to the door of your apartment, seeing the way he dragged his feet sadly along the wooden floorboards. He sent you one last look over his shoulder, and in the light the rings of redness around his eyes were accentuated. 

You watched him walk out of your apartment with a small frown on your face, waving goodbye to him with a rather quiet, “Bye Peter.”

You closed the door with a sigh, your heart aching at the situation Peter had been put in. You knew how much he loved being Spiderman and you knew this wouldn’t stop him, which would probably only cause him more harm, but you trusted him and you hoped that Stark would be able to see he made a mistake.

“Did Peter leave?” You turned and looked at your mother, nodding your head. 

“Is he okay?” she asked. You plastered on a fake smile, nodding your head and pretending as though your last few hours consoling the teenager hadn’t happened. 

“Just some family problems, but I'm sure everything will be fine.” 

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peter’s girl taglist → @sunsetholland @captainamirica @tomsirishgirlx @givebuckyhisplumsnow @lou-la-lou @slutforsr @tayyx @gog0juice @minejungwoo @creatorofthegalaxy @annathesillyfriend @paninipress @bvttercupbby @peterswebshooters @whoeveniskendall @itsallyscorner @hoodpankow @sunwardsss @hallecarey1 @writingrem @mamaparker28

[snowstark]

— you’re my world. —

for @truckloadoffrogs | LINK TO AO3

for @buckybarnesbingo | Y2 - Kink: Wall Pinning

“I… oh, I get it now.” Sam tilted his head, perceptive as ever, goddammit. “All this flirting with my sister, that was just to get my attention, wasn’t it? I know it was. Say it.”

“That wasn’t—” Bucky croaked, but Sam wasn’t having it.

He huffed a low laugh, and bulldozed right through Bucky’s feeble pretense. “You like it when I pin you against the wall? Take away all that power you have, that strength that your arm gives you? Make you feel small, maybe?”

“Stop. Flirting. With my sister.”

“Sam, she’s a grown woman!”

Sam growled. He actually growled, what the fuck. “She’s still my sister.”

Bucky snorted. “Alright, fine, Christ. Sorry.” He raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. “We’re cool now, right? Didn’t mean anything by it.”

Sam eyed him for a few moments, then nodded. His shoulders drooped, like they had lost all the pent-up tension, and he reached out to clap Bucky on the back, hesitating for just a second before going for it. “Yeah, we’re… yeah, we’re cool.” His jaw flexed and he looked away for a split second, like he had more to say, but he didn’t; he just walked off, giving Bucky another pat before ducking into the boat.

Bucky stared after him, sucking the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.

Sam was weird.

Sam pissed him off. From the moment he’d refused to move his seat up in the car, he’d burned right through Bucky’s patience like a hot flame and gotten right on his nerves. Had toasted them to crumbs, in fact. He’d yapped on about that shit about Gandalf and the big three—as if Bucky wouldn’t have read the goddamn Hobbit! And now he was here, being all domestic about his boat, and Bucky was willingly helping him.

Sam was so fucking weird.

But… he still liked him.

He was… they were… it was complicated.

__________

“Hi, Sarah.” Bucky smiled and waved, hearing the waves slosh behind him—nice, he liked that; reminded him of when he and Stevie would go on walks by the bay—and she smiled, waving back. Bucky grinned, and she ducked into the house. She was real pretty. She was. He liked her.

Sarah was Steve’s ma’s name. That was kind of weird, he had to admit. But Bucky found that a lot of things were weird now. Like the internet. Mytube—no, youtube. Social media. Cellphones.

No wonder Steve had written things to discover in the book. It was there in his pocket now, too. It was small and old, but it felt like his whole damn world, because it had been Steve’s. All he had left of Steve were bits and pieces of objects that he could put together to find some sort of remembrance of him, so every part counted. A machine couldn’t run when it was missing a screw.

“So. Why did my sister just tell me you could stay the night again?” Sam plopped down next to him, and despite his words, Bucky could only see amusement on his face. “Oh, hold on, let me correct myself—why did my sister just say my handsome friend can stay the night?”

Bucky’s lips twitched before he could stop himself, and he had to cover his laugh with a cough at the mildly outraged look on his face. He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a charmer.”

“No.” Sam gave him a look, and Bucky tossed him an affronted one right back.

“That was rude.”

“No, I mean—” Sam huffed. “You are a charmer, okay? Whatever.”

Why did that make Bucky’s chest feel warm? Sam was so fucking weird.

“Doesn’t mean you have to be charming my sister.” Sam frowned at him.

Bucky gave him a mockingly sympathetic look. “Can’t help it. Charmers don’t choose who they charm.” He gave Sam a lopsided grin. “Just happens.”

“Okayyy. And now your ego is pissing me off.” Sam rolled his eyes.

“I don’t have an ego,” Bucky said defensively.

“Oh, baby, you do.” Sam let out a bark of laughter. “Please. Charmers always have an ego.” He gave Bucky a pat on the shoulder, a bit harder than necessary, Bucky thought, and strode off to break up the playful tussle his nephews had started with the shield.

Baby.

Sam called him baby.

Bucky let his left hand drift up to his shoulder, touching the spot Sam had clapped, just hard enough for him to really feel the ache. Shit, Sam was strong.

And weird.

Really, really fucking weird.

Baby.

Bucky shivered.

__________

See, Bucky’d thought it was a joke, had thought that Sam was joking when he’d said stop flirting with my sister. And that was why he’d kept doing it, because it was funny to rile Sam up, and that was what they did with each other, that was what Sam did to him.

So he didn’t quite understand why Sam was refusing to say a single word to him while they fiddled with the water pipes of the boat.

Or, well, he did understand, but he just— look, the situation was weird and complicated.

All he knew was that Bucky had flirted again with Sarah; she was a nice woman, her smile made him smile, and Sam was upset because he had spent the last couple of days telling Bucky not to. But the truth was, Bucky had thought it was a joke, even more so because he and Sarah had established—just by exchanging a very long look with each other, how strange was that?—that it wasn’t serious, that it was just them exchanging sweet manners, and he’d thought Sam was joking when he said stop.

Bucky had thought it was a joke, and now that he realized that it wasn’t, there was a familiar little ache in his heart, one that he didn’t like to discuss or delve into, one that he knew well because he constantly carried it around with him.

Guilt.

And the fact that Sam was giving him the cold shoulder was making it worse by the second.

“C’mon, Sam.” Bucky scowled to hide his hurt. “C’mon, jesus fuck. If I’d known you were gonna throw such a tantrum I wouldn’t have done it.”

No response, except for another flex of Sam’s jaw muscles.

“Christ,” Bucky muttered under his breath, chest tightening with frustration and anger and resentment and fear because shit, he didn’t have anyone else besides Sam now, he didn’t— he needed Sam, he wanted Sam, he— no.

No. That wasn’t the path he was going to go down. He’d done it with Stevie, he’d done it with— with a billion of others, and he didn’t need to be focusing on whatever this was right now, he needed to be making amends and saving the world—with Sam.

Sam.

It always circled back to Sam fucking Wilson, right there in the corner of his brain, never leaving him alone, always lingering, always reminding him that he was always— always— alone.

He wasn’t… Sam wasn’t his.

And he needed to stop hoping for something that he would never fucking get. Wasn’t this proof enough? Sam refusing to look at him, not speaking to him, turning his head away just when Bucky tried to make eye contact so he could show that he was sorry, because his words were never enough? Wasn’t it proof enough that he was reaching for something he would never be able to grasp in his hand?

Sam didn’t need him. Not the way Bucky needed him. Sam wouldn’t understand, so he would— he would need to leave him alone. Let him be. It’d be fine. He’d just go to his apartment again, he’d be fine on the floor, with the dog tags clinking as he woke up from yet another nightmare, the TV flashing bright enough to make him twitch in his sleep, the bare, cold room, cold like ice, cold like the soldier, cold like loneliness.

It was always cold without Sam, he realized.

That created a lump in his throat that he couldn’t swallow, his spit felt like acid, burning a hole into his tongue, and he couldn’t— this wasn’t—

“Okay,” he said, and his voice came out more hoarsely than he’d wanted it to. He cleared his throat, forcing the lump down, feeling it move down to his stomach, and he tried again. “Okay. I’ll just—I’ll let you be.”

Sam twitched, reaching for the wrench to fix the pipe, but… silence.

Bucky took a step back, and still… nothing. He was shocked by how hollow he felt inside.

And when Sam pulled out his phone, like he wasn’t even fucking there, the hollowness in his chest filled, filled with anger, with frustration, with— with—

“Okay,” he repeated, muscles tensing enough to hurt. “Okay, I’m gonna go to Sarah and see if she needs a hand in the kitchen.” He turned, grimacing at the jab—no, bait—he’d thrown, knowing it was fucking stupid, and jesus, Steve definitely hadn’t taken all the stupid with him because here he was, and before he knew what was happening, there was a whirl of movement in the corner of his eye as Sam shot up from his seat and slammed him into the side of the boat.

It rocked precariously; it had been strong enough to rock the whole boat, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, and it went straight to Bucky’s dick, even more so when he realized that Sam hadn’t just shoved him, he was holding him there, with his arm across Bucky’s chest, hard enough to make him wheeze like the 106 year old man he was, and— and Bucky—

Bucky moaned.

Sam held him there, looking taken aback not only by the noise that had left Bucky’s mouth but by the entire situation, and his eyes dropped to the tent in Bucky’s pants. “You—” He broke off, staring.

Bucky’s face flushed hotly at the dumbfounded expression on his face. Shit. This— shit, he should’ve— he’d miscalculated, he shouldn’t have—

“You like this,” Sam breathed, and Bucky couldn’t bear to look him in the eye.

“Sam—”

“No, no.” Sam pushed a finger onto his lips, making his heart skip a beat. “You like this. You like— you like me. You do. I can see it on your face, Buck.”

Bucky twitched and gritted out, “Don’t call me that.”

“I’ll call you whatever I want to,” Sam snapped, and Bucky’s mouth went dry. “Jesus fuck, Bucky. Look me in the eye and tell me you like this. You like it when I hold you down? When I make you tell me how much you like it?”

“I— no, that’s not—”

“Don’t lie to me.” Sam’s eyes flashed, stopping Bucky right in his tracks. “Don’t lie. You’ve done enough lying.” He stared at Bucky, eyes boring into his, and Bucky wet his lips nervously with his tongue, not missing the way Sam’s eyes flickered over the movement. “I… oh, I get it now.” Sam tilted his head, perceptive as ever, goddammit. “All this flirting with my sister, that was just to get my attention, wasn’t it? I know it was. Say it.”

“That wasn’t—” Bucky croaked, but Sam wasn’t having it.

He huffed a low laugh, and bulldozed right through Bucky’s feeble pretense. “You like it when I pin you against the wall? Take away all that power you have, that strength that your arm gives you? Make you feel small, maybe?”

Bucky stared back, breath hitching in his chest.

Sam tightened his hold. “Say it.”

Bucky groaned, his cock twitching. He couldn’t. He— that wasn’t— he was— Sam didn’t—

Sam… Sam wasn’t weird. He was hot.

He liked Sam.

The full extent of that realization hit him like a truck and he choked on his next breath. “Yes,” he gasped out, trembling, and Sam released him. He fell to the floor, breath still raspy and hitched in his chest.

Sam let him catch his breath, face expressionless, and then said, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

In any other scenario, Bucky would’ve laughed at the potential that pun had, because holy fuck, his dick had never been so hard before. But right now, he was a cock-hungry tornado for one Mr. Sam Wilson, and Sam was going to fuck him into a new dimension, he already knew it.

“I—shit, Sam,” Bucky said intelligently, staring up at the man. Sam extended a hand and Bucky took it cautiously, letting him help him to his feet. “You still mad at me?”

Sam huffed and turned his head to the side, making Bucky’s heart sink a bit. There was a small pause between them, not necessarily awkward, just… there, and Bucky was ready to say something inevitably stupid when Sam beat him to it. “Nah. Nah, I’m not… I wasn’t mad.”

“Yeah, you were.” Bucky felt his lips twist into a bitter grimace, angry at himself. “Shouldn’ta done it. ‘s my fault.”

“Yeah, well.” Sam finally dragged his eyes back to him. “Not your fault you’re, well, you know.” He broke off awkwardly.

There was another silence between them and Bucky’s mind was beginning to go white with panic, because this wasn’t exactly how he’d planned this shit to go down, ever, and he stammered, “Um.”

“Um?” Sam stared back at him.

Bucky licked his lips again, and again, Sam’s gaze moved down to follow the movement. “Maybe we should—‘s too quiet. Maybe—”

“Maybe I like it quiet.”

“I—oh.” Bucky broke off, biting his lip.

Sam just stared, then broke into a wide grin that had Bucky both relaxing and tensing for whatever would come next. Then, just when Bucky was beginning to sweat through his shirt, Sam stepped closer, close enough to press him against the wall of the boat, and tilted his head when Bucky chewed at his lip nervously again. “Don’t do that,” he breathed, and Bucky obeyed instantly because Sam told him not to, “that’s mine to bite.”

That was the only warning he got before Sam pressed his lips to Bucky’s, kissing him soft and tender before Bucky let out a small moan. Almost as though the noise had jump-started something inside him, Sam growled, and the kiss quickly turned hard and wet and sloppy.

When they broke apart, Bucky’s chest was heaving, and he found himself following Sam without even realizing, only stopping when Sam laughed and pushed his hand against his chest, forcing his back to the wall again.

“You stay like that,” Sam told him, and Bucky was pleased to hear him sound a bit winded from the kiss. Good. He wasn’t the only one. “You stay where I put you.”

Bucky nodded eagerly, hard enough to give himself whiplash. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll stay,” he breathed.

“You stay,” Sam repeated, then pulled back from Bucky after one last lingering look to disappear, heading for the exit of the boat.

Bucky’s heart skipped a beat and for a millisecond, he wondered if Sam was leaving, if he’d seriously misread this situation, but there was no way that was the case, right? Sam had kissed him.

Bucky could still taste him.

Sam Wilson tasted like fucking candy.

He heard some rustling, and then a clink and a grunt, and he realized that Sam was locking the door down to the area of the boat they were in, and he swore under his breath.

Sam was serious, then.

Wetting his dry lips nervously, he let a hand fall down to the bulge in his pants, pressing the heel of his hand against his cock, letting out a deep, shaky breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding in.

His eyes fluttered shut and he bit his lip before releasing it, remembering that it wasn’t his to bite, it was Sam’s, and fuck, just the thought of that was so fucking heady that it made him dizzy.

“There.” Sam appeared, making Bucky jump. There was a glint in his eyes as he drew closer, then pulled Bucky’s hand away to pin it above his head without a moment of hesitation, the sheer demonstration of his strength going straight to Bucky’s cock, and he caged Bucky in his arms by planting his hands on the wall until everything, Bucky’s entire goddamn world, was full of one Sam goddamn Wilson. “Now we can get started.”

Read Part 2 Here!

[flower-slut004]

Sociopath

(( Might make this into a series not sure yet))

Summary: Who would’ve thought that the BAU’s very own YN was an unsub as well as Luke’s partner?

Note: Purple is lyrics/ Not gender-specific/ Italics is a flashback / Blue is YN as well as lyric change.

The feelings I caught.

Luke couldn’t believe it. He didn’t want to believe it. YN LN, the person he grew to love was sitting in front of him covered in the blood of their victim.

He thought back to the day where he met them when he was confused about his feelings every damn time they were around, and the day where he realized he fell for them. Hard.

“Damn it....” Luke groaned as he slammed the phone down at his desk. “Normally I’d look away since it’s usually not my business but you slamming the phone caused me to spill my water....so...spill” they joked as they cleaned up.

“Sorry... it’s really not a big deal. I don’t know why I acted out like that....” Luke remembers as he apologized that day by helping them clean up the mess.

“Clearly it is for you to slam the phone... so I”m going to ask you again Alvez.... what’s wrong,” YN asked with an intimidating look.

Luke should’ve taken that look as a hint something was wrong about them. It was like a light switch went off inside YN's head.

Luke remembers how he felt uneasy after receiving that look. He mentally slapped himself for not doing anything but he didn’t he was already infatuated with them.

“There isn’t a kennel available for Roxy this week and everyone I know is out of town...I can’t take her and I hate leaving her alone” Luke sighs as he admits what’s been eating him.

Luke’s eyebrows furrowed when he heard YN muffle a laugh. It soon turned into an eerie laugh as they kept apologizing.

“I’m sorry I should feel offended right now” YN wiped a fake tear from their face. Luke’s face scrunched up “I’m sorry what?”

“You said everyone you know is out of town right? I’m not out of town. I’m right here” YN answered back in a bored tone. “I’ll take care of her, plain and simple” they shrugged.

“Wait....you’d really do that?” Luke raised his eyebrows. “Of course, I adore animals. It wouldn’t be a problem” YN confessed.

Luke knew it was dumb but in a moment of stress with Roxy. He fell in love with YN and their oh-so-kindness.

The time that I lost

“Five years....we’ve known each other for five years and been together for those two years...” Luke’s voice shook with anger as he stared down at YN.

YN stayed quiet with a Cheshire cat grin as they laid their head in the palm of their hand.

Luke’s nostrils flared as he began to grow angry at their silence. “Well?” he slammed his hands on the table.

“Five years we’ve known each other and been together for those two years. It took you this long to finally realize...I thought I was dating BAU agent” YN mocked as they looked over to the two-way mirror to admire their work.

“Hey” Luke snapped his fingers “I wasted five years on you” he snarled

“No...you wasted five years not saving those people.”

Yeah I feel ashamed

Luke was taken aback by their comment. He didn’t know what to do. He just felt like screaming until his face felt hot.

He always thought YN was a little odd but took it as their quirk. He squeezes his eyes shut at the thoughts of all the victims he could’ve saved if he just snapped out of his puppy dog love for them.

“You really didn’t find it weird that I would come home late? Or how my nails were always trimmed to the brim? Or when-“ YN was cut off by Luke storming away.

“Hey hey....” Penelope tried comforting him as he entered the other side.

“I...We could’ve saved them....” He rasps out to the team.

Embarrassed with rage,

“Luke I know it’s not easy but don’t blame yourself....” Emily sighs.

“No....no no It’s my fault. It’s my fault those people died because I was too in love with them to see it. I was too oblivious to YN. God damn, I’m a freaking BAU agent. I should’ve known” Luke kicked a chair at the last part.

“They tricked me.....they humiliated me. I never thought YN would do something like this” Luke lets out a shaky breath.

“They tricked us all, We never thought they would do this either. You’re not the only one who feels this way” Rossi speaks up not taking his eyes away from YN.

Rossi grimaced as he saw YN making faces at the mirror “I know you’re out there” they sang.

“You know, talking behind someone’s back is a coward move” YN teased knowing how to push Luke’s buttons.

The other night your mom passed away.

The team just got a call about the whereabouts of the serial killer they were hunting down. It didn't take Luke another minute to realize it was YN"s mother's house.

He informed the team as he rushed out of the building and went straight to the cars as the rest followed.

As soon as they arrived at the house, everyone jumped out, Luke being the fastest he ran to the door and didn't take a moment to knock.

Kicking the door down, the BAU team was met with horror. Yn's mother was laying on the kitchen floor with stab wounds. The knife was still jammed in.

The team felt sick to their stomachs, not knowing how to tell YN when they get back from "training" in Boston.

And it was weird that you just went about your day and didn't even shed a tear.

When YN arrived to the building the next morning, they felt eyes on them. All eyes were on them giving them sympathetic looks.

YN hated that, they hated the looks they were receiving. They wanted to shout from the roof tops what they have done. They wanted fear out of them, not sympathy.

YN always wondered what it felt like...to feel bad about something. To feel sad for someone or to cry for someone. They never understood that part of emotions.

Lost in their thoughts they didn’t hear Luke’s voice calling out to them. “YN” Luke spoke louder as he placed a hand on their shoulder.

“Hm? Sorry I’m not in the right mind space right now” They sighed. Luke felt guilty knowing he was about to make their day worse.

“Let’s talk in private..” He motions over to the empty conference room. YN followed along with a deep sigh.

“YN....last night we got a clue about the unsub....” Luke spoke up. YN tried covering their small grin, thinking they figured it out it was them all along.

“YN....the unsub was at your mothers house....YN.....I’m sorry but your mom died...” Luke rasps out in a shaky tone. He loved their mother, she always welcomed him with open arms.

“Oh....okay” YN nodded feeling uncomfortable at the sight of Luke’s tears.

Luke’s eyebrows furrowed “Okay? YN are you okay? Your mother is dead” he wipes his face.

“I heard you the first time, life happens. We gotta move on. Cmon let’s go see what Penelope has for us”

Luke remembers that day clearly, he still hates himself for this day for not noticing that big red flag.

I feel bad, you don't feel bad. Sad, you don't feel sad.

With that memory refreshed in his brain, Luke went marching right back in and towards YN.

“Oh goodie you’re back. I missed you” YN smiled as they eyed them up and down.

“You didn’t bring a tranquilizer didn’t you?” they teased as they saw Luke turn red.

“I’m done with this whole situation, I’m done with you YN....yes...I feel sorry for the victims families. I feel sorry for myself for ever falling in love you. Most of all. I feel sorry you don’t feel bad.” He huffed.

“I feel sorry that you look at how you left your victims to the point of being unrecognizable and you don’t feel bad about it.” he slams the photos down.

Luke leans over the table closer to you “Damn....I feel sad you’re not going crazy after killing your mother” He shook his head as he leaned back.

YN couldn’t help it, looking at their artwork and seeing Luke’s face. They bursted out into tears.

Luke grew more furious “What.” he yelled

“All this time...I just wanted to feel something....seeing you in anger....made me realize. I finally feel something” they giggled.

“Bet you didn’t know I was a sociopath”

[tillxthexearthxstartsxtoxcrumble]

Bobby made a list of all the possible things that could’ve gone wrong that day. He was going to update it that night, once the show was done and they had rocked out the Orpheum. It started out great. The four boys woke up with hardly any sleep in them because of their excitement for the day, but nothing could kill their adrenaline for the day ahead of them. Even Bobby, who usually tried to hide his emotions, was almost all smiles that morning. They all got their parents to agree to let them stay the night in the studio. 

“Just think, later tonight we could have a manager and we could finally get big like we’ve always dreamed!” Luke said, being the band’s usual hype man. Reggie nodded,

“Yeah! Who knows what’s gonna happen tonight, but it’s gonna be a big night.” Alex smiled in response, but the band knew the fact that their entire future was almost riding on that night, it would make him more anxious than the rest of them. They were all anxious about it, of course, but they wouldn’t let it take away from their excitement in any way. 

“No matter what happens I’m sure everything will turn out good in the end.” Bobby tried subtly reassuring Alex, which didn’t do much, but Alex appreciated the attempt. 

“Yeah for sure.” he nodded. They knew he wouldn’t wanna ruin their fun with this, so they all shared a look and immediately knew what to do. 

“Hey, let’s go check out the area. Maybe we’ll be able to meet some fans!” Reggie got his big grin, opening the garage doors for them to start on their quest to calm Alex down at least in the slightest. 

Bobby’s list of things that could go wrong - 1. An instrument could get damaged.

They ended up seeing some people already lining up outside the orpheum, waiting just so they could get good spots. All of their hearts felt like they were flying when they saw the sight. Alex actually got a real smile at that, not the one he gave them to make them feel better. 

“Luke, are you sure you wanna open with ‘Now or Never’?” Bobby questioned him, “It kinda feels like one we should save for last, y’know, to really blow them all away. It’s our song we always hear the most positive response to.”

“That’s exactly why we gotta start with it, man! We gotta show everyone how good we are, catch them by surprise and keep them on the edge of their seats. I don’t want them to just enjoy us at the end, we gotta keep them going the whole time!” Bobby couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s enthusiasm. 

“All right, fine, but if the crowd doesn’t seem as passionate about the rest, don’t blame me.” Reggie chuckled and put his arm around his friends.

“I say we go check out the area and see if we wanna get something to eat and we just kill time for a while before we go and rehearse.” 

~♧~

That’s what they did for a while, they ended up having a lot of fun and they managed to get their nerves set aside and that allowed them to get fully excited for the show later that night. 

“Hey, do any of you wanna hear my joke about the blunt pencil? Oh it doesn’t matter, it’s pointless.”  Bobby said, and he got an evil grin at the sound of his friends letting out an annoyed groan. 

“No, I want to hear it!” Reggie said excitedly, which only made his friends get more tired of them. 

“Reggie that-” at the look on Reggie’s face Alex just paused and sighed, “okay.” 

Luke decided to ignore the terrible puns going on and turned to his friends. “Hey, let’s go do that sound check- we don’t wanna not be ready for our performance.” 

~♧~

“You sure you don’t wanna go with them? I’m not sure you’ll be able to occupy yourself for two hours.” Rose smiled at him, 

“Nah, they’ll be fine. I’m not sure even they could fuck everything up in the time they go get food and come back.“  Bobby chuckled, trying to come up with more flirty lines but given his tendency to use terrible puns, he’s not exactly the best with flirting either. 

It had been almost an hour and a half since they’d left. Bobby knew it might’ve taken them awhile to find food and get it but it shouldn’t be taking them this long. 

“Bobby, I say we just go out and search for them. Maybe they lost track of time and we just need to go get them.” Rose suggested to the anxious guitar player. 

“No- No, they wouldn’t ever lose track of time. This means the world to them. They’ll be here. I know they will. Even if they died, they’d find a way to play the Orpheum.” Bobby started pacing back and forth. They both knew he was just trying to convince himself at that point, “They wouldn’t miss this.”

Bobby’s list of things that could go wrong - 2.The equipment is messed up.

“Luke, R-Reggie” Alex croaked out, tears streaming down his cheeks from the pain. They didn’t respond. Alex felt everything inside him stop. They were gone. The pain from the hotdogs weren’t even anything compared to the loss he felt. Alex screamed, his two best friends just died. He started coughing up blood, everyone around him trying to save the boy but knowing they couldn’t.

“Please, I don’t wanna die.” 

Bobby started getting a little upset at them for taking this long, they had missed the rest of rehearsal and they only had minutes before they were supposed to go on stage. Why were they taking so long?

“I don’t wanna go to hell.” He begged.

Bobby could hear everyone chanting just thirty feet away. They were late, he couldn’t go on without them. He felt everything in his body freeze up when he saw the doors open, he hoped it was them.

The last thing Alex heard was a thumping noise filling his ears, slowing down into nothing, and a scream. 

“Are you Robert?”

Bobby nodded, a wave of fear washing over him. He knew it would be bad but nothing could prepare him for why this man was here. 

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but.. You won’t be playing tonight.”   

“Alex Mercer, time of death at 10:24 PM”

Bobby stopped breathing for a moment, “What do you mean?”

Everything felt like a blur after that. 

“Kid, I don’t know how to tell you this.” the next words felt as if they were being said through a loudspeaker, as Bobby was underwater. “Your bandmates all passed away about half an hour ago.” 

Bobby’s list of things that could go wrong - 3.One of them is late.

Bobby was completely calm with the next few words. “Why wasn’t I told right away?” It caught the officer off guard. He shifted, slightly worried at how easily this kid was taking the loss of his friends.

“We had to fix everything up and tell their parents-” before the officer could even finish, Bobby took his guitar off and smashed it right at his feet, which would have hurt like hell if he had cared enough to notice. Bobby was now shaking, but no one could tell if it was out of anger or pain. He had a look that they couldn’t read. He looked at the broken guitar, feeling a mix of dread and relief from doing that. By now, the crowd had started to get quiet after the loud crash of the guitar.

Still trying to stay completely calm, he responded “I’m sorry about that officer. I gotta go, now.” Bobby started walking off only to be stopped.

“We’re gonna have to take you in for investigation. We apologise, but we have to go down to the office.” Bobby paused for a moment, staring off into the distance before he burst into tears. He collapsed, and Rose rushed forward to help him. She’d still been in shock about the whole situation. Just hours ago, she flirted with people who are now dead. 

“I- I did this, didn’t I?” Bobby whispered to Rose, she felt her heart break. The officer got more suspicious, thinking this was some kind of act. To try and trick them, he confesses to the act and acts broken about it so no one truly suspects him. People can think that sometimes, when they aren’t the ones affected by the situation. 

“We’re going down to the office right now, if you try to resist I will have to arrest you. I don’t wanna do that to a kid, so let’s just go right now and we can get it all settled.” Bobby stood up, but he couldn’t feel his legs. The noise from earlier came back - like he was underwater, pushing up against the waves and trying to escape, but losing the fight. The officer held him by the arm and pulled him along.

~♧~

“Why didn’t you go with them to have the hot dogs?” Officer Smith asked. Bobby glanced at the voice recorder, still feeling like none of this was real.

“I stayed behind to talk with Rose.” He knew how stupid it sounded. They’d already gone over it but he was already interrogated and ripped apart by that. Bobby couldn’t believe how stupid it sounded, either. 

Officer Smith was clearly exhausted, he hadn’t gotten any real evidence so far and he tried doubling down on questions but it wasn’t working. He sighed, pressing stop on the voice recorder. 

“Alright, well, we’re gonna let you go home but we’ll have to schedule another interrogation.” Bobby yet again felt like he was pushed underwater. He wanted to say it was him, it was all his fault. He should’ve stopped them, but he didn’t. That might as well make him a killer. He wanted to scream at the officer, to tell him it was all his fault. “You should’ve stopped them”  he felt a voice whisper. That voice was him. Bobby knew that. But it didn’t hurt any less. Now the water he’s fighting against is a raging sea, and it’s pitch black out. He can’t tell which way is up and which is down. 

Bobby nodded, and got up to leave. As soon as he left the interrogation room, he felt free, though. He felt as if the moon was finally shining a light for him to see which way to go. He started running, he had to tell them about what just happened. How he got into trouble with the police, they’d be concerned but they’re the only ones he can see right now. 

He ran faster than he’d ever run in his life before, nearly getting hit by several cars. He saw a girl, she was sitting there in shock. He slowed down just a bit, he heard her muttering something about flirting with death. Bobby recognized her as one of the fans who was lined up outside the Orpheum earlier. He decided not to mess with it, he needed to see his friends.

Bobby was halfway home, and he started to go numb again. They won’t be there. Bobby shook those thoughts away, they would be there. They had to be. Maybe he just... imagined the last few hours. They haven’t even rehearsed yet.

As soon as Bobby opened the doors, he knew it was all real. The only thing he could see, was a dark, empty room. He collapsed to the ground, and this time, the numbness didn’t die down. 

The only way Bobby knew he was crying- no, sobbing at that point - was because his neighbor came out to see what had happened. So as soon as the old woman saw her neighbor sitting there, sobbing like he’d just lost the most important thing in the world to him, she had to see if he was okay. 

When she went up to him and tapped him on his shoulder, he didn’t even react. He was still crying, staring at the dark garage. 

Bobby was thinking of all he just lost. 

He’d lost Luke, the passionate writer of the group. Luke was the one in the first place to have come up with the idea of them being in a band together. Him and Luke had been friends since they were at least seven years old. He was there for Luke’s birthday when he first got his guitar, he remembered the excitement Luke had on his face. He was there for all of it, he and Luke worked together on a lot of songs. Luke, the one who would tease him and have fun with almost everything they did. Luke, who he let stay in his garage because his parents wouldn’t let him play music. 

Then there was Reggie, the sweet and innocent soul that Bobby had met next, they hadn’t been friends for quite as long but they got along really well. Bobby regretted every time he didn’t take one of Reggie’s offers for hugs, even if they were joke offers. He rarely wrote music with Reggie but he remembered hearing his country songs and country was never Bobby’s style but he definitely liked Reggie’s country songs. They held passion and happiness, it was Reggie’s escape just as much as it was Luke’s. 

Then there was Alex, the one who used to have a really good family life. He and his parents always got along, they always let him play music. They didn’t like the idea of him being in a band, but they never tried to stop him. Then he came out and all that changed. He was one of the most talented and humble people Bobby had ever met. He was kind and also the most sarcastic and snarky person Bobby had ever met. 

He’d lost them.

“Robert, are you okay?” He got snapped out of his thoughts as he looked at his neighbor with tears still streaming down his face. How could he be alright? His entire world just collapsed around him. He lost everyone he loved. But Bobby couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even open his mouth. 

He recalls a time once, when he was younger, at the beach. Before he met any of the guys. He’s surprised he even remembers a time before them - he’s known them for what feels like his entire life. He was always a good swimmer, growing up by the water, but being small and easily pushed over left him defenseless as a particularly strong wave pulled him under. He remembers feeling helpless. Wondering if he might drown. 

Sitting there, in the studio, he thinks that he might as well stay under and let the water fill his lungs.

The entirety of the next few months, that feeling stayed the same. He’d hardly spoken a word to anyone, so his parents made him go to a therapist, but they didn’t understand why he would look past him and mutter random words, why the parents said he talks to himself almost all day. Of course, they knew the boy had lost his best friends , but with how Bobby seemed to handle every other problem in life, they knew that this broke him. 

Bobby had to see his therapist at least once a week for many, many years. But Bobby never felt the same. Yes, he was freed of any suspicion under having killed them by the police. But he still felt like he was being pushed farther underwater by large waves, and he’d accepted that he’d never get out of that ocean.  

He changed his name, found new people, and even started to make music again. But he couldn’t write any new music. Nothing good, anyway. He couldn’t do it without his band, his family. Every time he released a song, he just felt more numb. More cold.

He felt moments of happiness, yes. He felt that with Olivia, who he was with for a long time. He had new friends. He had many, many fans. But somehow, none of it felt like it would ever change the fact that he lost his family. 

Only a few years later, he saw the sunlight. His little girl, Carrie. His hope, his joy. Olivia and him had split up, but he knew he could provide the best life for her. He might not be able to get out of the ocean, but he can see his way around now. It didn’t have to change his loss of his friends, it didn’t change his guilt, but he had something to live for.

 Maybe he could survive. 

Taglist: @nickalicious @futurearchaeologyprof @never-straight-no @queenmolina @suckerforpsychos @nervousmiracletrash @bluedarkness @queer-fandom-frog @bi-reginald @jelly-to-my-jam

You can thank @bi-reginald for the editing and some of the writing! 🖤

[juniorgman187]

Never Enough (Spencer Reid Drabble)

Summary: Ever wondered what Garcia wrote on that sticky note in the series finale? Read here to find out. When Reader, the new technical analyst, feels out of place at a party, Penelope’s sticky note and Reid’s kind words do just the trick.

A/N: This is a comfort piece for me, someone very introverted who never seems to do well in social gatherings. So this is dedicated to anyone who’s ever felt like they didn’t belong. You are loved. Couple: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid Category: Fluff, Drabble Content Warning: Fear of exclusion, loneliness Word Count: 2.4k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

All my life, all I’d ever wanted was to be a social butterfly. Their lives seemed so easy. People would naturally flock to them, what with their charisma, their confidence, their natural gift of being conversational.

I envied them for the sole reason that I was nothing like them, not in the slightest.

It wasn’t easy for me to keep a conversation going, even if I was trying my very hardest, which was often the case. I could never seem to commandeer the room in the way that someone extroverted could, and it was especially hard sometimes to feel a part of everyone.

It would be too easy to say I was invisible. Instead, I felt painfully visible, and entirely ignored.

Everyone could see my shyness peeking through, everyone could see how alienated I’d become, everyone could see my despondence, and yet no one bothered to change it.

No one cared.

My excruciating awkwardness had reached an all-time high at Krystall’s birthday party.

Agent Rossi was so keen on inviting me, and I was honored to go since it’d be my first bonding experience with the team outside of work. I couldn’t turn down the opportunity to grow closer to them, otherwise, I’d run the risk of isolating myself even more. As if being brought in as the BAU’s new technical analyst to replace Penelope Garcia wasn’t enough of a reason for them to doubt, despise, and disrespect me, I was the introvert who had a hard time making friends - unlike my predecessor, who’ve I heard could make friends like nobody’s business. I knew I could never fill her shoes, much less fill the glaring void she created when she left, but still, I maintained my bright-eyes in hopes that I’d be enough for them, anyway. I was all too eager to get to know everyone as more than just my coworkers, with one exception.

Dr. Reid maintained an arm’s length distance from me at all times, and at first, I understood. I even empathized with him.

Besides SSA Morgan and SSA Hotchner, the only other person that he’d work the longest with was Penelope, and now she was gone, too, but the longer his rejection of me lasted, the more I was curious what he truly had against me, and the more I was less interested in changing that. Why would I work tirelessly at mending this broken friendship, if he wasn’t willing to meet me halfway?

I was more shocked that he, of all people, would be the most displeased with my arrival. When Agent Rossi replaced Agent Gideon, from what I heard, the transition wasn’t as rocky as mine. Dr. Reid was overjoyed to be working with him and to discuss all his books. When Jordan Todd, and eventually Ashley Seaver, took Agent Jareau’s place momentarily, he was happy to be working with them. When Alex Blake and Kate Callahan came in after Emily Prentiss, he welcomed them with open arms. So what was it about me that was so abhorrent to him?

I never outright asked, mainly because I feared confrontation and I also had no way of knowing if my curiosity would make the situation worse or better. But I should’ve. I should’ve marched right up to him and asked, “What’s your problem?”

Somehow, though, I finally got up the courage to do so tonight.

I watched as the team laughed at one of Rossi’s anecdotes, meanwhile, the inside jokes flew over my head, hindering that bonding experience I was so sure I’d get by coming here. So I stepped inside the house, wandering into a spare room, knowing I wouldn’t be missed.

I thought I’d only be there for a moment to get some “fresh air” even though I’d actually migrated from the outside to the inside, where there’d arguably be less fresh air, but that’d be my excuse if anyone came in. But I was forced to stay longer in the office when it finally happened.

I finally reached my breaking point.

It was building up all night. It started when I first stepped into the house. My confidence faltered almost immediately when I accidentally stepped on Rossi’s Italian leather dress shoe as I went to greet him. He told me not to worry, but of course, I did just the opposite. It was a minor bump in the road, something so minute, but still, it weighed on me thinking about how embarrassing it was that I dirtied something of his that everyone recognized as valuable.

My shame didn’t stop there. As I was talking with Krystall, there were many periods of awkward silence that I couldn’t manage to fill with words, so we each sipped at our wine until one of us would try to pick up the conversation. What’s worse was that we each knew the silence was suffocating, and I could tell we were both thinking of things to say to keep the conversation going, and yet, nothing worth saying came to mind.

And worst of all was when Penelope Garcia finally arrived at the party. Don’t misunderstand me - it wasn’t the worst part of all because she was bad - no, she was lovely. She gave me a welcome present - a Beanie Baby to put on my desk, evocative of her own style of decor, and I loved her for it, which made me hate her all the more.

Rossi’s house livened up when she came. Everyone flocked to greet her, laughter erupted and ricocheted off Rossi’s high ceilings. They were positively elated by her presence, truly happy. Which was the first time I’d ever seen them that way because frankly, they were never that happy with me.

It was a painful reminder that I could never bring what she brought to the team, and I could never be as good as her. And the general consensus I reached, sitting in Rossi’s office all alone with my glass of wine, was the same one I’d known for years now - I’m not enough.

And I will never be enough.

I hadn’t realized I was crying until a tear cascaded down my cheek, dripping right under my nose, forcing me to audibly sniffle it away. Using the sleeve of my cardigan, I desperately tried to wipe away the tears faster than they were spilling out, but it just wasn’t possible. In fact, the coarse fabric of my cardigan rubbing against my cheeks only made them redder, making the fact that I was unwell that much more obvious.

The sound of the doorknob turning sent me into overdrive, automatically engaging me into turning around and facing the wall so that whoever was coming in wouldn’t find me in the state that I was in. I sniffled a great big sniffle and fanned my face to dry it of any moisture that my silent sobs could’ve left.

“Sorry, Rossi, I was just getting some fresh air and I thought I’d check out your book collectio-”

When I turned around, Rossi wasn’t standing there as I’d assumed.

In fact, the person standing there was the last person I thought it’d be.

“Dr. Reid?”

He was lingering in the doorway, studying my face, to which I instantly preventing from continuing on any further by cowering my head and looking away.

“What are you doing here?” My voice had taken a tone of anger that I didn’t anticipate to be there originally.

“Are you okay?”

To my surprise, his question seemed sincere, but I couldn’t truly believe it was.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just allergies from being outside for so long. The pollen and stuff, you know?” I rambled nervously.

“Oh, really? Are you allergic to the grass?” He asked in a joking manner, knowing I was lying but still asking so that he’d have the satisfaction of getting to see me try and work my way out of the situation.

“Yes, I am actually. The most common outdoor allergy triggers are trees, grass, weed pollen, mold spores, dust mites, cockroaches, and cat, dog, and rodent dander. Don’t you know this? After all, you’re the one with the IQ of 187 here, not me.” I tried to joke to lighten up the room’s heaviness, but clearly, it didn’t work.

By this time, I’d already turned back to face the wall, so Reid surely couldn’t see me, but I heard the door click shut behind me, and a wave of anxiety permeated my soul.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?”

I scoffed at his question, almost hitting him back with an “As if you care.” But I decided against it in an effort to preserve what little repose we had left between us.

“Will you please tell me what’s wrong?” He sounded like he was begging - like he was practically willing to go on his hands and knees to get me to answer, but all I could focus on was the feeling of his hot breath ghosting over my neck.

Goosebumps rose on my skins once he put his warm hand on my cold shoulder, which was bare from the absence of my cardigan and where it had slipped down to my elbow.

I flinched at the sensation, causing him to recoil.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” He quickly apologized, regret filling his eyes. “Um, you look nice by the way. I like the way you did your hair. A-and your dress. It looks nice.”

Not even giving a chance to respond to his compliment, I asked again, “Why are you here?” Pressing him to get the point faster before I had a chance to react at another one of his physical advances.

“I saw you leave the backyard and I thought I should check on you.”

“Well, you’ve checked on me, so you can go back now.” I didn’t miss a beat when responding, fooling him into thinking that I didn’t catch his words and their intentions.

“I just want to talk.” He replied, finally answering my question from before.

“Okay. Let’s talk.”

He took a seat on a chaise lounge sofa while I stayed standing by the bookcase in preparation for a quick escape if need be.

“I’m sorry I’ve been pushing you away. That wasn’t fair of me.”

Although I hadn’t expected him to apologize, I wasn’t going to be misled and naively accept his apology with no reservations.

“Why did you do it? And for so long?”

“I was angry. I didn’t want another person in my life that I cared about to walk away, so I thought maybe if I made you feel unwelcome, you wouldn’t want to stay. And she’d come back.”

It hurt to say, but at least I knew he was being honest.

“I accept your apology, but it’s not okay.”

“I know that.”

“Okay, are we good now? We’ve talked, so,” My hand gestured toward the door, suggesting he should leave, but he didn’t comply.

“I’m not leaving.”

“And why not?” The wine glass in my hand nearly shattered at the way my hand wrapped around it since its presence hindered me from being able to actually clench my fists.

“I didn’t come here to apologize, even though I should’ve sooner. But I came here because I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Like you care.” I chuckled mirthlessly.

“I do care.”

I gave in, not wanting to fight him any longer, otherwise, I might cry some more from the altercation.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” He shook his head. “I know you’re not fine. What’s really wrong, Y/N?”

I looked away immediately from his gaze, trying to hide the sheen that was inevitably coating my eyes from the presence of tears, but he would’ve known I was crying the minute I used the cuff of my cardigan to wipe under my nose again.

“I just . . . I feel so unconnected,” I whispered, the pain of my words stealing my volume. “I don’t fit in. And I’ve never fit in before, but I actually thought this might be my chance.”

“It still is. Just come back outside.”

“You don’t get it!”

“What don’t I get?”

“I just needed to take a moment to compose myself so I wouldn’t ruin the energy of the room. And I’d really like to do that alone, okay?”

“I know you don’t want me to go.”

“What?”

“You’re testing me to see if I’ll stay.”

“No, I’m not.”

“So you’re saying that if I left right now, you wouldn’t regret letting me walk away?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“I know you’re lying to me.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Yes, you are. I know what it looks like when you lie. Wanna know how I know?”

I entertained his question out of pure frustration “How?”

“Because I pay attention to you. I see your mannerisms. I notice everything. Do you think I haven’t picked up on how you crack your knuckles when you’re nervous? Or how your stutter goes away when you talk about technology? Or how your fists clench, like how you’re doing right now?”

My eyes flickered to my fist that was wrapped so tightly around the glass, my knuckles were white. Out of shame, I loosened my grip.

“I pay attention because I care. And I’m sorry that I made you ever believe that I didn’t. What you do, and say, and think - it’s important. So no, I’m not leaving. I’m staying right here to give you the attention you deserve.” He sighed with a breath of relief. “I care more about you than whatever’s happening out there.”

And slowly, then all at once, that barrier between us broke down.

“I care about you. We all do. And when you’re ready, we can walk back out there together so that you can see for yourself just how much we care.”

. . . That night, I made nine more friends.

And the day we came back to work, with my Beanie Baby in hand, I rearranged my desk.

A folded up sticky note fell out from between two tables. I picked it up, recognizing the handwriting instantly.

Penelope Garcia.

Even when the laughter always seems to come from the other room and the world seems busy as it carries on without you, may you know this to be true. No matter who or what made you feel invisible, unworthy, unloved, or unseen, in this ever-moving world, there is still a place for you. And you are exactly in the place where you are meant to be.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

quote by morgan harper nichols

[waitimcomingtoo]

Hi love! I've had this idea for a bit and I think it would be perfect in the same universe of your plank all over me one shots! Okay do you remember that interview where Conor Maynard planked Tom with the fake interviewer?? What if Tom tried to do the same thing to prank y/n but as soon as the fake interviewer walks in she immediately knows what's happening so then gives super weird answers or tries to mess with tom in all the answers she gives?? You don't have to do it if you don't want to tho!

Plank All Over Me - Prank Interview Edition

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Synopsis: Tom and Connor Maynard try to prank you, but you prank then right back

Disclaimer: you don’t have to have read the others to understand, but check them out ;)

Plank All Over Me

Plank All Over Me - Yoga Edition

Plank All Over Me - Couples Tag

Masterlist

“What’s going on guys? It’s Conor Maynard here and I’m joined by an old friend of mine.” Conor pointed to Tom.

“Tom Holland.” Tom smiled at the camera.

“You May have heard of him, probably not. He’s not very well known.” Conor joked.

“I know, mate. I’m so lucky you’re putting me on your channel. Could be my big break.” Tom replied.

“My other friend Josh Pieters is in the other room with Toms girlfriend, the incredibly famous and lovely Y/n L/n. If you’ve seen my video where Josh, Casper and I pranked Tom with a fake interview, you already know what’s about to go down. If you don’t, Josh has an AirPod in under his headband. We’re going to be giving him things to say and he has to say them to Y/n. We’re gonna try to really freak her out. Are you ready Tom?”

“Very ready. Y/n, I love you pretty girl but you had this coming.” Tom rubbed his hands together. 

“Looks like she’s in the room. Introduce yourself.” Conor instructed. “But make it uncomfortable.”

“Hi, I’m Josh but you can call me Josh.” Josh said with a blank stare. You vaguely recognized the boy interviewing you but you couldn’t pinpoint where he was from.

“Oh uh, hi Josh.” You laughed lightly. “I’m Y/n.”

“Tell her you had a pet called Y/n and something terrible happened to it.” Conor snickered.

“I had a fish called Y/n when I was younger.” Josh informed you.

“Aw, that’s sweet.” You smiled.

“Yeah. It was my best friend until my brother swallowed it alive.” He said with no emotion.

“Oh.” You replied, not knowing what else to say. You began to sense something was off. He was wearing a headband, for one, and he didn’t look like he normally wore them. Someone was up to something.

“Even more uncomfortable.” Tom ordered.

“I’m a big fan so it’s very nice to meet you.” Josh said. “A huge fan actually, if you know what I mean.” Josh gave you a wink and you swallowed thickly. It suddenly dawned on you where you knew him from. He was Josh Pieters, the YouTuber who pranked Tom. You’d seen a number of his prank videos with Casper Lee and Joe Sugg and had a feeling that this one would be no different. If he wanted to prank you, you’d give him a taste of his own medicine.

“Not that uncomfortable!” Tom said.

“Thank you, I appreciate that.” You answered, preparing to have a little fun.

“Be normal. Ask her about the Marvel making Eddie a girl.” Conor said.

“For those who don’t know, the character Eddie Brock, who later gets infected with the symbiote Venom, is a male in the comics. How do you feel about Marvel changing the role to be played by a woman after your audition?” Josh asked. You thought about your answer for a moment.

“I think it was a really dumb move, actually. I originally auditioned for the role of Anne, who’s Eddie Brocks girlfriend. I think they should’ve kept Eddie a boy since women are weak, useless creatures and I hate them all.” You answered matter-of-factly and Josh looked a little taken aback. You nodded as if it confirm your answer and Josh looked lost.

“Oh.” Josh said and leaned to the side as if he were listening to something you couldn’t hear.

“I’m kidding. I love that they made Eddie a girl. I was so excited when they called me and told me who I was playing.” You followed up. You didn’t want them to catch on too soon that you were messing with them. You had to dial it down.

“Ask about the Spider-Man/Venom relationship.” Conor told Josh.

“And me. Ask about me.” Tom added.

“If it fun getting to play Tom Holland’s on screen girlfriend as well as being his in real life girlfriend?” Josh asked you and you smirked. So Tom was behind this as well. Now was your time to really mess with them.

“Not really, if I’m honest.” You answered.

“What?” Conor laughed.

“What?” Tom deadpanned.

“Really?” Josh asked while stifling a laugh.

“It’s just, there are so many attractive men in the Marvel cast, Tom included don’t get me wrong.” You assured him. “I kinda wish they let me date one of them on screen since I already date Tom off screen.”

“Ask her who she’d want to date.” Tom demanded, watching you with hooded eyes.

“Who do you wish you were dating?” Josh asked you.

“Definitely Chris Evans.” You answered too quickly for Toms liking. “Oh, did you mean what character?”

“I’m gonna die. I’m actually going to perish.” Tom backed away from the microphone and covered his mouth with his hands.

“Keep going. Ask more about Tom.” Conor instructed.

“But you like working with Tom, right?” Josh tried to bring the conversation to a positive point.

“Again, not really.” You shrugged.

“Interesting.” Josh stated, silently begging for the boys to tell him what to say. No one was prepared for your answers.

“Ask why.” Conor said as Tom fanned himself in the background.

“Can you elaborate on that?” Josh asked.

“It’s just weird acting along side your boyfriend. I think he should leave the acting me to, honestly.” You smiled innocently, knowing Tom was somewhere freaking out.

“Do you think he’s bad?” Tom grabbed them microphone.

“Do you think he’s bad?” Josh repeated.

“Well, he’s very attractive. I’m sure that was a big factor in getting the part. But his American accent…”, you made a face, “not the best. Being from New York is such a big part of Peter Parker that I feel like Marvel should’ve gone with an American actor. No offense to Tom, of course. He’s great in all his other movies.”

“Wow.” Josh squeaked.

“She told me she loves my American accent.” Tom whispered, bewildered.

“Ask her about her favorite accent.” Conor tried to lighten the mood.

“Do you like British accents better?” Josh asked you.

“I’ll tell you what I like. Chris Hemsworth’s accent.” You gushed. “I think it’s the hottest thing ever.”

“Did you guys hear that?” Tom asked gravely.

“Hear what?” Conor asked him.

“My heart shattering.” Tom answered.

“Tom, it’s just an accent. It’s okay.” Conor assured his friend. Tom couldn’t even hear him anymore. He grabbed the microphone with a heavy hand.

“Ask her if she likes Australians better than the British.” He demanded.

“You think Australian accents are better than British accents?” Josh repeated Toms question.

“Is that even a question? Duh.” You laughed.

“I can’t breath.” Tom wheezed.

“I do like your accent, though.” You said, catching everyone off guard.

“She what?” Tom asked. “What?”

“Oh, thank you.” Josh said, beginning to panic.

“Where are you from?” You asked, leaning forward on your hands.

“South Africa.” Josh told you and you smiled brightly and you continued your plan.

“Wait, really? That’s so exciting. I’ve always wanted to go there.” You beamed.

“Since when?” Conor looked up at Tom.

“She’s never said anything about South Africa.” Tom said in confusion.

“It’s a beautiful place.” Josh agreed.

“I bet. England is so dreary.” You rolled your eyes. “Maybe you can take me to South Africa one day.”

“Maybe.” Josh nodded as he tried to send messages in Morse code by blinking rapidly at the camera. You smirked, knowing your plan was working.

“Change the subject, Josh. Before Tom dies.” Conor ordered.

“Ask her about the wallpaper.” Tom blurted.

“Why the wallpaper?” Conor asked.

“It’s the least romantic topic I could think of!” Tom exclaimed.

“So, this is some really nice wallpaper, wouldn’t you agree?” Josh changed the subject. This threw you off a little but you were determined to win this prank.

“I was just thinking that! You read my mind.” You said excitedly.

“That backfired.” Conor said as he watched Tom fall to the floor in agony.

“Your name is Josh right?” You asked coyly.

“Yes ma’am.” Josh answered.

“I love that name.” You complimented. “I always have.”

“Do you?” Josh’s mouth dried up.

“Totally. It’s so exotic.” You beamed. Toms head snapped up from the floor.

“Exotic? There is a white boy named Josh in every high school movie ever made.” Tom exclaimed. “Exotic compared to what? Toast?”

“Thank you. I like it too.” Josh said awkwardly, wishing the boys would give him something to say.

“It’s so much better than a white bread name like Tom. Who names their kid Tom? What is he, an apostle?” You laughed. “Josh is way cooler in my opinion. It’s like the name of a god or something.”

“A god?” Tom nearly screamed. “What would Josh be the god of?”

“Gingers.” Conor shrugged.

“Thank you.” Josh said and gave the camera a stern glare.

“Tell her about your quail.” Conor suggested.

“That’s perfect. She’ll think he’s a total weirdo! Great thinking Conor.” Tom patted his friend on the back.

“Not exactly my plan, but okay.” Connor nodded.

“Do you have any pets?” Josh began his segway.”

“I do. I have a dog named Tessa.” You answered. “She’s not really my dog, though. She’s Tom’s.”

“I know you’re an animal person. You must love her.” Josh smiled now that the prank was back on track.

“Honestly, I can’t stand her. She’s always sleeping in our bed with us and begging at the table. I’m this close to telling Tom to get rid of her.” You pinched your fingers together and watched Josh go pale.

“That was it. That was the thing that killed me.” Tom mumbled as he slumped in a chair.

“Talk about the quail!” Conor repeated in an effort to save Tom.

“I have a pet too. It’s a quail.” Josh told you proudly.

“A quail? How did you get a quail?” You asked with a smile.

“Well my friends and I bought a carton of quail eggs and put them in an incubator. Only one hatched but I’ve kept her as a pet.” Josh told you the infamous story. You’d seen the video he posted about it but decided to play dumb.

“You saved a quail? That’s amazing.” You gushed as if you’d never heard the story before.

“It was just a fun thing for YouTube but I’ve actually grown quite fond of her.” Josh said, beginning to enjoy the interview.

“That’s the mosh amazing story I’ve ever herad.” You swore. “You’re a hero. A real life hero.”

“Okay. He put a carton of eggs in a hot box. He’s not Mother Theresa.” Tom pouted.

“You and Tom should come over and meet her sometime.” Josh suggested.

“Good. Bring the conversation back to Tom.” Conor nodded.

“Yeah. I’m feeling better now.” Tom agreed.

“Tom doesn’t have time be there. It can just be you and I.” You said as you looked at him through your lashes. Josh looked panicked.

“Never mind.” Tom groaned, clenching his stomach.

“What’s your last name, Josh?” You asked as you twirled some hair around your finger.

“Pieters.” Josh informed you.

“Pieters? That’s so cute. I love the way it sounds. Can you imagine it with my name? Y/n Pieters.” You smiled. “Doesn’t that just sound effervescent?”

“It sounds lovely, Y/n.” Josh said, eyeing you strangely.

“Toms still dead but if he were alive right now, he’d be livid.” Conor sighed as he listened.

“I can hear it. And I am in fact livid.” Tom said from his newly claimed spot on the floor.

“You know who else’s last name sounds good on me? Osterfield.” You were pulling out all the guns now. “I think Y/n Osterfield sounds great. Don’t you agree?”

“Uhhh…” Josh feared for his life if he agreed.

“Don’t you dare agree.” Tom grumbled through the microphone.

“Say you like Y/n Holland best.” Conor suggested.

“That’s good. Say that.” Tom nodded.

“I think Y/n Holland sounds better than both of those.” Josh told you.

“You think?” You made a face. “I actually hate Toms last name. It doesn’t fit with anything. It’s too long.”

“Osterfield is longer.” Josh reminded you.

“I bet Osterfield is longer.” You said and winked at the camera. Tom caught the double meaning and started sweating profusely.

“Ask her if she plans to take my last name when we’re married.” Tom asked, fully panicking now.

“Are you gonna take his last name when you’re married?” Josh repeated.

“Yeah, like we’re getting married.” You laughed.

“She doesn’t want to marry me?” Tom asked, all anger draining from him. It was replaced with devastation and defeat.

“Ask her if she wants to marry Tom.” Conor said as he watched Toms fallen face carefully.

“You guys aren’t planning on getting married?” Josh asked, feeling himself beginning to sweat.

“We are.” You nodded and Tom sighed in relief. “To other people.” You added.

“She killed me and now she’s beating my corpse with a phone book.” Tom said in exasperation.

“Try to change the subject again away from marriage.” Conor pleaded for Toms sake.

“Your hair looks really nice today.” Josh blurted.

“That’s not helping!” Tom shouted.

“Thank you! I really like your hair too. I totally have a thing for gingers.” You nodded.

“Said no one ever!” Tom scoffed.

“Abandon that conversation immediately. New plan! Ask her what her favorite thing about Tom is.” Conor shrugged.

“Speaking of Tom, whats your favorite thing about him?” Josh asked, ignoring the insult from Tom.

“My favorite thing about Tom? That’s easy.” You smiled and Tom did too. “He always puts the toilet seat down after he’s done. I hate when boys leave it up. So, probably that.”

“Her favorite thing about me is how I put the toilet seat down?” Tom asked with a blank stare.

“Ask her something else about him. He’s dying, Josh. He’s on his last leg.” Conor begged.

“Finish this sentence: my boyfriend gives the best…” Josh began.

“Kisses.” You gushed. Josh looked at the camera for approval and he heard Tom sigh happily into the microphone. “Just kidding, he gives the best directions. He’s really good at giving people directions. His kisses are lack luster, but I’m sure that doesn’t surprise anyone.”

“Ask her what in the the absolutely, positively, burning, bloody hell that meant?” Tom quipped.

“Why not?” Josh asked you.

“Do I have to say it?” You asked.

“Make her say it.” Tom ordered.

“Yes.” Josh nodded.

“No lips.” You shrugged.

“Can’t argue with her on that one, mate.” Conor told Tom.

“Can you get her to say one nice thing about me before my ghost ascends into heaven?” Tom sighed in defeat.

“What do you love about him? There must be something, right? Why else would you be together?” Josh asked you. You decided it was time to let up.

“There is something I love about Tom.” You smiled dreamily.

“Thank God.” Tom said, leaning forward to hear you clearly.

“Finally.” Conor after.

“Really? What is it?” Josh asked.

“What I really, truly love about Tom,” you smiled at the camera, “is how he thinks he can prank me better than I can prank him.”

“What?” Josh laughed as he realized you’d be toying with him.

“Wait, what?” Tom stuttered.

“What?” Conor asked at the 50th turn the video had taken.

“Come on, Josh. I smelt BS as soon as I walked in here.” You declared. “You think I haven’t seen Conners video where you pranked Tom exactly like this? You boys must think I’m dumb.”

“Wait a minute, she what? What?” Tom tried to wrap his head around what he was hearing.

“Would you look at that.” Conor said, dumbfounded.

“You knew it was a prank and you let us believe we were pranking you this entire time?” Josh asked, not bothering to hide how impressed he was.

“Yup.” You popped the p.

“Come on.” Tom pulled Connor out of the room and ran to where you and Josh were. You burst out laughing when you saw Toms red face.

“Ha! I knew I’d get you.” You clapped as you pulled Tom into a hug. “You should’ve known better than to challenge me. You know they call me Prank Sinatra.”

“No one calls you that.” He mumbled as his cheeks flamed up in embarrassment that you’d gotten him so good.

“Modern day Prank Ocean.” You shrugged smugly.

“How did you know it was a prank?” Conor asked you.

“I watch you and Josh all the time. I know a prank when I see one. I got you guy so good, thinking I liked the name Josh and all that.” You said triumphantly.

“Hey.” Josh warned.

“Sorry.” You apologized.

“So all your answers were…” Tom began.

“Complete and utter lies?” You finished. “Why yes, yes they were. Every last one.”

“You made all that up? All that stuff about my accent and not liking to work with me?” He asked hopefully, needing to hear you confirm it.

“Obviously! When do I ever say “effervescent”? You should’ve known I was only joking, lover.” You assured him as you pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’d never say that stuff. I love your accent and I love working with you.

“And the marriage stuff?” He said softly. You knew you took it a little too far with that one.

“If you want that to happen, you know what to do.” You shrugged casually and he blushed.

“I cannot believe you pranked us this badly. I feel so defeated.” Conor sighed.

“You shouldn’t have challenged the queen of pranks.” You told him as Tom presses kissed of relief to your cheek.

“Wait, what about what you said about wanting to date Chris Evans?” He remembered.

“Thanks for watching everybody! Bye!” You said to the camera before running out of the room.

“Wait! You didn’t answer my question!” Tom said as he ran after you.

“Don’t forget to subscribe!” You shouted from the hallway.

“What she said.” Conor smiled again the camera before turning it off.

Tag List 🏷

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[buckyjamess-archive]

okay last one with sam wilson again with the number 16 from misc ones in this list again 💞

a/n: i don't know how to feel about this or if I like it but here it is.

pairing: sam x reader

warnings: a shit ton of fluff, mentions of smut, nothing too bad but hey, you're warned.

words: 1.5k

"YOU SAID TO BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!"

"You want to join me in the gym?" 

Looking up from your phone, you catch your boyfriend, clad in his sport attire, towel thrown over his shoulder as he nonchalantly walks into the kitchen and picks up an apple from the fruit bowl next to you.

Bringing the cup of coffee to your lips and you take  a sip, shaking your head. Feeling every muscle in your body ache after Nat bullied you during your weekly session yesterday. Tired just at the thought of getting back in the ring once again.

"No, I do not want to join you in the gym."  

Tossing the apple from one hand to another, Sam looks at you curiously, finally takes a bit out of the red orb in his hands and leans his body against the kitchen island.

"C'mon babe, it's been a while since we worked out together," he mumbles with a mouth full "sex doesn't count." 

That well known smirk creeps up on his face and you roll your eyes, turning that smirk into a warm laugh, the one that would make you weak on the knees, he knows.

"Ask Nat." 

"Working out with Steve," Sam starts and quickly says "and Bucky is still asleep." before you can even get a word in

"Go alone then."  

a man with a plan, a plan he's had on his mind for months now, a plan he wants to work out today and usually that smile of his and those wrinkles by his eyes get him where he wants to but today proves harder than usual. 

Though, Sam can read you like a book. Knows every corner of your mind, every beautiful dream and every dark nightmare, all fears and little secrets. Can count the freckles on your body without having to look, tracing them like a familiar path taken a million times, knows every sweet spot and wrinkle- he knows you.

He tries effortlessly, with promised dates, offers to do the cooking, dishes, laundry, even let you pick the movies for the upcoming nightly movie marathons. 

"Well make a game out of it." 

That's what did it. God, he should've known it was that easy. Game fanatic, flipping boards and a sore loser, sure you'd like a game.

"Sam." You groan "I don't want to work out right now."

"Quick fire, questions we can't dodge." 

the smirk on Sam's lips returns when you lock your phone, stand up from your bar stool and place the now empty cup in the dishwasher and walk straight past him without even looking up.

"Oh, you're dead wilson." 

Sam grunts when your right fist meets his side, sweat dripping down his temples, trying to keep up with his girlfriend. He misses your left punch, another groan coming from deep within his chest. Sam takes a step back and holds his hands up in surrender, reaching for the towel and bottle of water in his corner of the ring.

"Your turn to ask a question." 

You nod, nostrils flaring as you breath in deeply, trying to think of something while all you could hear was the beating of your own heart. 

"What do you think our lives will look like in ten years?" You ask and like Sam, you reach for your water bottle.

"Married, nice place for our own, a kid, a dog or two." Sam breathes out. 

"You want to quit?" 

Sam chuckles, takes a last sip of his water and puts it back in place "my turn." 

You simply nod, take a sip of your water and wipe your face with the towel and walk to the middle of the ring where Sam stands. Ready to throw a few more punches, you're caught of guard when Sam block your punch

 "Have you ever faked an orgasm?" 

"Really?" You ask annoyed. 

You lower your arm and take a step back, undoing the tape around your hands-- annoyed and done with today's work out and honestly, sam. 

"Absolutely," sam states with a smile "waiting for an answer here babe." 

That damned smile. That damned man.

"Yes-" you say, hands waving in the air to whimper it off, hoping he wouldn't catch it but the look on Sam's tells you he did "sometimes it's just not it for me and I feel bad because clearly you're enjoying it so I fake it." 

Sam's eyes roam the gym, every nook and cranny, a pout on his lips, nodding his hands but avoiding..you. like a little kid who was denied his candy or favorite toy.

"Okay, sorry for hurting your ego." You chuckle softly. 

Sam scatters off to his corner, undoing the tape around his own hands, back facing you.

You know he's joking though somewhere deep inside you wonder if you've hurt him in any way "If it lessens the pain, you're the best I've ever had." 

"It's pretty amazing, right?" 

Your eyes nearly roll out of your head when Sam speaks up again, that smirk clearly visible even with his back turned to you.

"Okay, my turn again," crossing your arms infront of your chest, you take a few steps towards Sam "is there anybody from our team or stark industries you'd have sex with if you could. Be honest with me, wilson." 

"Molly from med bay." Sam says, barely letting you finish your sentence. 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" 

The fist that punches his bicep burns but it makes him laugh non the less, the look on your face priceless, a look he's seen way to many times before "YOU SAID TO BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!"

"You answered that one so fast!" you whine, hitting him one more time.

"She's hot!" Sam chuckles, rubbing his hand across the burnin skin "Which of the guys would you have sex with if you had the chance?" 

"Steve." you say without hesitation, eyes still glued to the man in front of you "He's cute!" 

"Steve lives in the same building!" Sam whispered back shocked "Molly doesn't!" 

"I would never and you know that." You whisper back. 

Copying his smirk, you press a kiss to his lips and back away from him. Turning around on your heels and continue to unwrap the white tape from your hands.

With your back turned to Sam, his heart beating becomes faster and his hands clammy. Sam's breath hitches as he thinks his plans once more. 

Now or never. You and him. A future.

Sam pushes his hand in the pockets of his pants, fingers playing with the silver band, skin grazing against the small stone. 

"Okay, last question and you need to be honest with me." 

You don't miss the sudden crack of his voice but blame it on the intense workout. Throwing you head back, your groan and say "Sam, I'm tired," 

Wiping your face with the towel one last time, you toss it into your bag and slowly turn back around "I'm feeling muscles I didn't know I had." You chuckle but it dies as quick as it came

Sam's no longer in your vision, instead he's keeled down on a knee, a ring between his thumb and finger and a big toothy smile on his face. 

"y/n, love o- what was that for!" Sam hisses when your hand meets his bicep, the slap echoing through the gym. 

"Your jokes are getting out of hand, wilson." You hiss back. 

"Baby, this isn't a joke," Sam chuckles nervously, "I know I play too much but this isn't a joke." 

Raising himself back on his feet, his feet drag his closer to you. He raises the ring up and his other hand intertwines with yours "y/n l/n, the craziest, funniest, prettiest, sexiest girl on earth, do you want to marry me and make me the happiest man?" 

The silence is killing and Sam can hear the gears in your head, tears swelling in your eyes, grasping for words you can't form just yet. 

"I'd like to be warned before you hit me again." 

Your eyes flicker between the ring in his fingers, your intertwined hands and the man and his damned smile in front of you. 

"No matter what you say, at least I got to be bucky's pain in the ass when he helped me pick a ring-" Sam chuckles nervously "but babe, this is not a joke. I love you and I'll die a happy man knowing you get to beat me up everyday, so what do you say, Mrs wilson?"

relief washes down his shoulders when you finally crack a small smile and the faintest of chuckles leaves your lips "do you want to marry me, like, this is my last offer." 

You breathe out another chuckle and dry the tears rolling down your cheeks with the back of your free hand before grasping the hem of Sam's shirt and pull him closer, lips meeting each other in a long breathless kiss. 

"I guess that's a yes." 

And this time, Sam doesn't mind the sting that's left on his bicep. 

[quickspinner]

Licked

🎉🎉🎉Happy birthday to the woman who started it all (at least started the LBSC exchange where I met all these wonderful crazy people to enable and be enabled by) @justknitstuff / @chromemist ! 🥳 This one’s just for you. Sounds like things have been crazy lately and I hope this makes your day a little bit happier.

Aged-up Lukanette, alternate first meeting

Rated TL for thirsty Luka lol...but there’s nothing explicit or above a T rating. Just a lot of ogling and some innuendo. 

Luka’s been Jagged Stone’s guitarist for a couple of years now, and he’s seen lots of things. Weird things. Exciting things. Fun things. Not so fun things.

But Luka’s never seen anything like the designer Jagged flew in a few days ago. Unfortunately for his smitten heart, their first run-in (literally) didn’t go too well, so he’s hoping for a chance to smooth things over. A trip to the zoo, while unexpected, seems like the perfect chance...if he can stop ogling her long enough to remember how words work. 

Being Jagged Stone came with a lot of perks.  

Being Jagged Stone’s guitarist came with less (and a lot more headaches), but sometimes things trickled down, and so Luka found himself walking through the Australia Zoo, trailing at the back of Jagged’s entourage. The rock star had been invited for a private tour of the zoo, famous for its crocodiles, and Jagged had insisted on bringing “a few of his favorite people” along. (A few was really more like twenty, but when you’re Jagged Stone, nobody does a head count.) 

It should have been really cool. Luka loved animals and hadn’t been to a zoo in years, let alone one as big and famous as the Australia Zoo. They’d been brought in through a back entrance, and shown some really cool behind-the-scenes stuff, and the rumor was they were going to get to be more hands-on with the animals than was typically allowed.

Except Luka hadn’t really seen any of the animals they’d been supposed to look at that day, because a week ago, Jagged had flown in a stylist from Paris for some emergency or other. Her work done, she’d been invited along on this tour with them, and Luka was having a hard time looking at anything else. 

He’d met her shortly after she arrived, on the tour bus. She’d tripped coming down the steps just as he had started up, and she’d nearly taken him down with her, but Luka had managed to get a hold on the hand rail and keep them both from what would surely have been a painful fall. She’d been awfully embarrassed, and in the midst of some very confused introductions, Luka had made some stupid joke that had only made things worse, and she’d fled from him in a chaotic whirlwind of flustered adorable that had made it necessary for him to sit down on the steps for a moment to calm his pounding heart.

He’d only caught glimpses of her since then as she worked frantically to get Jagged ready for the finale show of this stop on the tour. As cute as she was, and as smitten as Luka had been in that short meeting, he hadn’t dared flirt with her while she was working on such a tough deadline, so other than volunteering to take her food or drinks when craft service brought them in, he’d stayed out of the way. She always flashed him a distracted (stunning) smile when he dropped off her food, but she’d been far too busy for anything more. Luka wasn’t entirely clear on why Jagged needed the new outfit so badly and so immediately, but it was Jagged and nobody even bothered to wonder why he did the things he did anymore. 

Besides, no one could deny that the outfit, when it had finally debuted, had been amazing. Unlike most people, Luka had the opportunity to see it up close and take in all the details that would, unfortunately, probably be lost under the heavy lights of the stage. Even so, it was designed to look stunning under those lights, and on camera, and anyone admitted to the privilege of actually meeting the rock star in it would be all the more dazzled. 

Luka certainly was. Far more than was really justified by what little contact they had, honestly, but Luka was used to trusting his intuition, and his gut (he was pretty sure it was his gut, though other parts certainly had plenty to say) was telling him that this girl was something special.

This should’ve been the perfect chance to talk to her, smooth things over, make a better second impression, pour on the charm. It would’ve been easier if he had his guitar, but still, he should have been able to make this work. 

Except summer in Australia was hot. Luka had ditched his hoodie almost the second they’d gotten off the plane. Even his well-ventilated jeans got swapped for a pair of board shorts at his first opportunity. 

So naturally, she was wearing shorts as well, and for such a short woman, she had gorgeous legs. Even her feet were cute in little flowered sandals he suspected she’d decorated herself. It didn’t get any better (or rather, it only got better) when he dragged his eyes above her waist. Her flowy, off-the-shoulder peasant top was somehow completely modest and unbearably sexy at the same time. Her hair was pulled up into a bun, with little tendrils sticking to her neck and bare shoulders or waving on the breeze as she fanned herself with the zoo map. 

It was all Luka could do not to ogle her like a creep. How he was ever going to manage to talk to her, he had no idea. 

So he hung back, trying to get his bearings and find his usual chill, while his bandmates shot him knowing grins and snickered behind their hands. They didn’t dare embarrass him too publicly, though. Luka had been participating in the annual Couffaine prank war since he was a kid and he was very creative when it came to revenge. 

It wouldn’t be that hard to shove one of them into the croc pen, he was sure. Just as an example to the others.

Busy contemplating his retaliation, he stopped automatically when the group stopped, and didn’t realize he was standing behind Marinette until she turned suddenly, brow slightly furrowed in thought, and promptly tripped over his foot and tipped forward with a yelp.  

“Whoa!” Luka’s arm shot out and he caught her around the waist, stopping her from falling, but she must have been startled by the sudden grab, because she tried to push him away and nearly fell again in the process. Luka didn’t let go, instead planting his feet to steady her. It only took a moment for her brain to catch up with what was happening and she stopped struggling. Instead, she babbled a breathless apology in rather confused English, and Luka grinned as he levered her back upright. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said in French, keeping his hands on her waist for a moment longer to make sure she was steady before drawing back. “I wasn’t paying attention either. Are you all right?” 

“Fine,” she said, pushing her hair back from her forehead as she gave him an embarrassed smile. “I’m fine. Thank you. Sorry. Um, again. Thanks. Luka, right? I’ve been meaning to say thanks for everything this week too. I probably would have starved if you weren’t looking out for me, so...” She broke off to suck in a breath and gave an embarrassed smile. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” Luka replied. “For both. Although Penny orders the food, I’m just the delivery boy.” He grinned at her, and she started to smile back before her eyes widened slightly and she whirled. 

“Um, we should catch up with the others?” she blurted. They had fallen a bit behind, and Marinette took off in a power walk that caught her up with the group in no time.

Luka trailed behind, a little deflated. He’d barely even said anything that time, but she’d run away again. Maybe...maybe he should just back off. If she wasn’t interested in him then—but for a second there, he’d thought...

He continued to linger at the back of the group, not approaching Marinette or trying to get near her. They came to another enclosure, and Luka leaned his elbows on the concrete wall of the enclosure, trying to find his enthusiasm for the trip. Below him in the pen, dingos yipped and frolicked, tackling each other and then sprinting around the pen. He had to smile, watching them. 

To his surprise, Marinette came up and stood next to him. She shot him a quick, hesitant smile, which he returned automatically, and then stood on her toes a little to peer over the barrier into the cage, leaning her hands on the wall next to him. She gave him another quick smile as she settled back on her heels. 

“They’re cute,” she murmured, and then blushed and looked away. 

“They look like they’re having a good time,” Luka observed, and she made a noise of agreement. An awkward silence fell between them. Luka’s face was turned towards the dogs below them, but he was watching Marinette out of the corner of his eye, trying to figure her out and not dwell on how much he’d like to nip along the pretty line of her jaw to her neck— 

His salvation came when he caught her eyeing his arms as he leaned on the rail. He’d cut the sleeves off this t-shirt years ago, and he was reasonably sure that the flush on her face wasn’t just the heat. Luka turned his face away for a moment to hide his smirk, and the little ego boost was just what he needed to untie his tongue. 

But before he could come up with something to say, Marinette did. 

“That’s the tour shirt from what, eight years ago?” Marinette asked, leaning back slightly to look at the dates down the back. 

“Yeah, I’ve had it forever,” Luka shrugged, pleased by the way her eyes followed the motion of his shoulders. “As you can probably tell.”

“At least it’s good ventilation in this heat,” Marinette quipped, reaching out to pluck the ragged edge of one of the tears on the side. 

“Definitely an advantage,” Luka agreed, with a wink. “Not as stylish as yours, though. That’s a cute top. I like the ruffles.” That wasn’t too weird, was it? She was a fashion designer after all. Luka didn’t know anything about fashion but she certainly looked good in it.

“I’m not very rock ‘n roll, I know,” she said, wrinkling her nose, glancing down at herself. Cute. “But it’s me, and that’s what matters.” She tossed her head and scrunched up one shoulder, giving a look that dared him to argue. 

“You’re perfect,” Luka smiled, and the pink on her cheeks grew a little darker. “You’re from Paris, right? I think Jagged said so?” he added quickly, afraid he’d made her uncomfortable. Marinette nodded, and he grinned at her, leaning back on the barrier again. “Me too. Well, sort of. We moved around a lot when I was younger but we’ve been settled in Paris for a long time.”

“That explains why your French is so good,” Marinette giggled. “I’d wondered.” She settled against the rail next to him and nudged his shoulder slightly with her own. “I bet the American ladies love your accent.” 

Oh God, she was flirting with him, and it was adorable. Luka suppressed the urge to squeal like a teenage girl as he looked down at his hands, grinning. “Maybe. Just my luck the only girl I’ve met worth impressing happens to be French.” He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing so he could pretend not to notice the choking noise she made.  

“Honestly,” he began, when he thought she had recovered, “I kind of have a habit of putting my foot in my mouth. Like when we met. I’ve been wanting to apologize for that. I didn’t mean to upset you or make you feel bad. Sometimes I’m thoughtless without meaning to be, so. I’m sorry.”

“Oh,” Marinette ducked her head slightly. “That’s all right. The stuttering, the word jumbling, it’s something that happens when I’m nervous. I should be used to it by now. I shouldn’t have been so sensitive, just—”

“No, wait. I really wasn’t trying to make fun of you, but I was out of line and you had every right to be mad at me,” Luka said, putting a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “I’m sorry, and it won’t happen again.” 

Marinette stared at him for a moment, and then smiled. “Thank you. I, um, accept your apology.” 

“Thank you,” Luka grinned, letting his hand fall from her shoulder.  “So. How long have you known Jagged?”

“I’ve been working for him off and on for almost ten years now,” Marinette told him, as they turned away to follow the group towards the next exhibit.  

“That’s pretty impressive,” Luka said, and meant it. “I’ve only been with him for the last couple of years. I’m not sure I could take a decade of that.” He waved at Jagged, who was bouncing along at the front of the group, loud and gesturing broadly, chattering excitedly with their hosts (who might be the only people on the planet as croc-mad as Jagged). 

Marinette giggled and warmth filled him, entirely different from the heat of the sun on their backs or the way he’d felt when he saw her in those shorts. “You get it in more concentrated doses than I do,” she pointed out. “You’re stuck with him for months at a time. I mostly get video calls, plus one or two unannounced visits and the occasional demand to fly out and design something for him.” 

“Like now?” Luka asked, and Marinette nodded. 

“I don’t know what they tried to make him wear but apparently it was not acceptable and he needed somebody who gets him,” she said, tone cheerful though she rolled her eyes. “I don’t really mind this time. It got me out of another project that I really didn’t want to do, and Jagged pays well. It doesn’t hurt my portfolio either.” She winked at him and he was pretty sure it stopped his heart for a moment. 

“I bet,” Luka grinned, a beat later than he should have. “Jagged’s not an easy man to please.”

“You should know,” Marinette teased, leaning towards him, and then she seemed to catch herself and turn her attention back to the animals, cheeks reddening. 

Luka was still grinning as he looked back as well, not really seeing them. Something caught his eye to his other side, and when he looked, he found his bandmates making kissy faces and gesturing rudely. Luka raised his eyebrows at them in warning, and they fell to snickering. Luka rolled his eyes and turned toward Marinette, set on ignoring them, but she had pulled a small notebook from her bag and was sketching one of the flowers planted along the concrete barrier. Luka sighed, but opted not to disturb her. 

They were ushered on, and Luka had an easier time getting into the trip now that he’d at least cleared the air with Marinette.  When he ended up next to her again, she shot him a quick smile, too excited at the prospect of holding a koala to pay him much attention. Luka didn’t mind; her enthusiasm was cute, he was really kind of excited to hold a koala himself, and he was the one she turned to at the last second, shoving her phone in his hands and begging him to take her picture. He did, grinning stupidly the whole time at her sparkling eyes and beaming smile, and took one with his own as well, “just in case.” Marinette happily returned the favor, and it wasn’t as hard as it should have been for Luka to ignore his bandmates behind her making crude gestures and pretending to cheer him on. Clearly he’d been too easy on them the last few months. As they moved on Luka made a mental note to plan a particularly creative revenge. He had to find a way to ditch those jackasses before they ruined everything. 

He saw his moment when they finally reached the famous crocodile paddocks, and the family took Jagged with them into the pen, since he was “an experienced crocodile handler” (“Have they met Fang?” Luka murmured to Marinette, who giggled). By now rumors of the rock star’s presence had circulated and there was quite a crowd jamming up against the barriers to see him—and Jagged never could resist a crowd. Before long, an impromptu croc show was on, and it became obvious the tour wasn’t going to continue any time soon. 

Marinette sighed at his elbow and folded her arms, pouting slightly, and Luka quickly assessed his options. Excusing himself, he worked his way through the crowd of bystanders to Penny, who was somehow managing to look both bored and stressed out at the same time. She barely acknowledged his “Hey, Penny,” when he sidled up next to her.  

“I was just wondering,” Luka said, brushing sweat-damp hair off of his forehead. “It looks like Jagged’s gonna be a while and Marinette’s looking pretty—” Don’t say hot! “—uh, warm standing out here in the sun, so…” He faltered for a moment as Penny turned away from Jagged to look directly at him, eyes narrowing. She saw right through him, he was sure. He swallowed his nerves and went on. “I was, um, thinking maybe I could take her to find some shade and maybe buy her something to drink and some ice cream, and we can meet back up with you guys in a bit?” 

Penny stared at him for a moment, and Luka looked back as impassively as he could. She looked toward Marinette over his shoulder, and Luka couldn’t help glancing back. Marinette’s cheeks were still bright pink and she was fanning herself with her map again. 

“Couffaine,” Penny said in a warning voice, and Luka turned back to her with a sigh. 

“Penny come on,” he said in a low voice. “Even rock stars don’t meet a girl like that every day.”

Penny’s lips pressed together, and her eyes flicked to Marinette again before fixing back on Luka. “You know she’s flying out tomorrow,” Penny said, her voice unexpectedly gentle.

Luka rocked back on his heels slightly, and took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. Tomorrow. That meant his only shot for a date was tonight. If he didn’t at least get her number by the end of the day, she’d walk out of his life and who knew when he’d see her again, and that just wasn’t acceptable. 

He focused back on Penny and flashed a smile. “Then I better not waste any time, huh?” 

Penny sighed, and then reached around him and snatched the zoo map out of his back pocket. She clicked her pen, then circled a place on the map and slapped it against his chest. “You have two hours. Meet us there and don’t be late.” 

Luka took the map and tucked it back into his pocket. “Thanks, Penny.” 

She sighed. “Good luck,” she muttered, turning back to Jagged.

He went back to Marinette, blowing out another deep breath and trying to look relaxed as he approached her. Nothing to lose and everything to gain. Time to bring your A-game, Couffaine.  

“Hey, do you want to get out of here?” he asked, when she looked up at his approach. “Penny told me where to meet them later, and as entertaining as it might be to watch Jagged get eaten by a crocodile, I’m pretty sure he’s too lucky for it to actually happen. What do you say we go get something to eat and see the rest of the zoo?” 

He was rewarded with a brilliant smile and he walked off at her side, flipping off his bandmates behind her back as they passed. 

Marinette relaxed almost immediately, away from the crowd, and Luka winced internally, afraid she might have noticed some of the teasing. “Sorry if the guys have been giving you a hard time,” he said, as casually as he could. “They’re a bunch of clowns but they’re mostly harmless.” 

“Oh, they’re fine,” Marinette shrugged, smiling up at him. “They seem nice enough, just...loud. It’s always loud around Jagged. It gets to be a bit much sometimes. I don’t know how you stand it. You don’t seem very loud yourself, except when you’re on stage.” 

“I’m not,” Luka admitted, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Never have been, except on stage. I’m used to the chaos, though. Ice cream?”

Marinette brightened. “Sure!”

The ice cream might have been a mistake, Luka reflected a short time later. Marinette’s mouth was gorgeous. Celebrities paid good money for lips like that, and watching them glide along her spoon was only half as torturous as watching her lick at the ice cream directly, trying to sweep up the melting drops running down the side. 

Luka quickly took a bigger bite of his own than was wise, and gritted his teeth against the resulting brain freeze. Marinette laughed at the face he made, and that brought him back to a place where he could at least speak normally to her. For a while, they stayed on neutral topics, chatting about their families and careers in between cooing over the animals. Marinette was sharp, and entertainingly witty when she didn’t think too hard and trip over her tongue. 

Luka was catching her rhythm, now. She skittered away from him when she got overwhelmed or felt she’d been too daring, but as long as he waited, she’d sidle back, settle back into shy flirting that would gradually grow bolder, until something tipped her over the edge and she ran away again. Luka adjusted to suit, letting her have her space when she needed it, easing off his teasing when she returned until she found her footing again. He was enjoying it, actually, now that he knew she wasn’t actually scared or put off by him; he got a charge out of it when he flustered her and she fled, and an equally powerful feeling when she came back to him. 

The rest of the afternoon was a series of exquisite moments. Standing a little too close, leaning into each other’s space more than was necessary to read a sign or peer into an exhibit. Shy looks that grew slowly bolder and smiles that turned into soft giggles. A burst of triumph when he took her hand and she slid her fingers between his. The flutter of excitement he felt when she leaned against his arm to point something out, and then rested her cheek on his shoulder instead of pulling away. A look up at him, and a dip of his head that might have become a kiss if not for a rush of small, screaming children bumping into their knees. 

They made it to the giraffe pavilion Penny had circled on the map a little ahead of the others, and Luka knew he’d better say what he needed to say quickly. The employee at the doors let them in and led them to the giraffe feeding area, giving them each a handful of lettuce, and went back outside to wait for the rest of the group. Another bored-looking employee was leaning against the back wall, but he didn’t seem to be paying them any attention. 

Marinette was back to the bubbly sort of excited she’d been when they held the koalas, and Luka was loving every moment of it, but he knew the clock was ticking. He took a breath and stepped close, reaching over her to offer some lettuce to the giraffe. The giraffe sniffed it, and then dipped its head to take the lettuce from Marinette instead.

Marinette giggled, looking up to scrunch her nose at him. “I think he likes me.” 

“No doubt,” Luka said, offering her his handful of lettuce, and not noticing when a leaf dribbled out of the side of the giraffe’s mouth above him and landed in his hair. “I know I do.” 

Marinette blushed, and gave him another look over her shoulder, reaching up to the giraffe with another section of lettuce. 

“Luka Couffaine, are you hitting on me?” she asked, the quirk of her smile suggesting the idea wasn’t unwelcome.

“I’ve been trying my best,” Luka chuckled, and then grew serious, reaching for her hand to turn her to face him. “You’re really special, Marinette. I know you have pretty much no reason to take me seriously, but believe me, I don’t get this way about just anyone.” Here goes nothing. “I’ve had a crush on you pretty much since you crashed into me on the bus, and it’s getting worse by the minute. I’ve had a great time with you today, and I’m really hoping it doesn’t have to stop.”

For a moment she seemed to glow, and Luka’s breath caught, but then she paused and her face fell. “I’m flying out tomorrow,” she said, dropping her eyes as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Well,” Luka said, leaning in a little. “That still leaves tonight.” Marinette’s eyes blew wide and Luka’s did too as his own words hit his ears. “Dinner! I meant dinner, I didn’t—I mean unless you want to but I—okay forget that I swear I just meant I’d like to take you to dinner.” 

“I’d love for you to take me,” she said quickly, and then her eyes widened. “To dinner! Oh my—dinner. Just dinner. For now. I mean, uh—” 

Luka couldn’t help it. He started laughing, and so did Marinette, hiding her face in his chest, both of them laughing so hard they couldn’t quite stand up straight and collapsed against each other, swaying slightly. After a moment she peeked up at him, still giggling, and said decisively, “I’d love to have dinner with you.” 

Grinning down at her in his arms, Luka’s gaze fell to her lips, remembering that almost kiss, and by the way she pulled that lower lip between her teeth, Marinette did too.

He started to lean toward her but a sudden, hard tug on his hair jerked him backwards, and then he registered something wet and slimy running down the back of his head and along his neck. 

Luka screamed at a pitch he normally only hit during concerts, and lurched forward, knocking into Marinette as he flailed over his head. He made contact with something but it just moved away and there was another tug on his hair. He scrambled blindly, trying to get away from whatever it was, not realizing he was practically climbing his small companion.

“Luka, calm down! It’s just the giraffe!” Marinette said, hooking her hands under his thighs and hiking him up to a more stable position. “I’ve got you, you big baby,” she laughed, and he looked down, fully registering the fact that his legs were wrapped around Marinette’s waist and she was holding him up—awkwardly, since he was so much bigger than her, but securely. 

If he hadn’t been so embarrassed, he might have been turned on, but as he stared down into Marinette’s amused blue eyes twinkling back up at him, he really would have been just as happy if a hole opened up in the ground for her to drop him into. 

Things were going so well, too. Luka twisted around to see behind him, and sure enough there was a giraffe, staring back at him as it chewed placidly. Luka put a hand up to his hair automatically and whined when it came away slimy with giraffe spit. At least it seemed like it was all there. Whatever the giraffe was chewing on, at least it hadn’t taken a chunk of his hair. 

That would just be the icing on the cake. He started to put his hand back on Marinette’s shoulder and then realized his hand was slimy now too. 

Fuck, he really had no idea how to recover from this. 

“What the hell is going on here?” 

Luka closed his eyes and dropped his forehead on the top of Marinette’s head. “Hi, Penny.” 

“Marinette are you all right?” Penny demanded, and Luka could hear the unmistakable sound of Jagged’s raucous laughter soaring over the hysteria of his other bandmates. 

“I’m fine,” Marinette giggled, and looked up at Luka. “Can I put you down now, or do I need to carry you away from the big, scary giraffe first?” 

“Just let it eat me,” Luka muttered, and Marinette laughed, dropping Luka’s feet to the ground. 

“Not a chance,” Marinette sniffed. “Who’s going to buy me dinner tonight if I let you get eaten by the least scary animal in this zoo?” 

“What’s this about dinner?” Jagged asked, perking up, and Luka groaned, slapping his palm over his face. He made a disgusted noise as he realized it was still covered in giraffe spit. He rubbed it off on his shorts and used the tail of his shirt to wipe off his face, sighing. 

“You really still want to have dinner after that?” he grumbled mournfully, fully expecting Marinette to back out. When she didn’t answer he peeked out from behind his shirt. 

Marinette was staring at his exposed abs. Luka grinned, and dropped his shirt. Marinette’s eyes snapped back up to his face. “I’m gonna find a restroom and clean up,” he told her, chucking her under the chin (with his clean hand) to close her open mouth. “Think about what you want to eat tonight.” He winked and she made a strangled noise. 

***

Luka’s foot tapped restlessly as the plane rolled up to the jetbridge (not the gangway, as Jagged had repeatedly corrected him during the first few months on tour). They were a little late, and Luka was tired and hungry and very eager to see his no-longer-so-long-distance girlfriend.

It was torture waiting for the crowd to deplane, and Luka breathed a sigh of relief as he finally made it to the airport corridor and started making his way eagerly toward the baggage claim. He was very much looking forward to being in the same city as Marinette for at least a few months. Their relationship had grown amazingly well, considering they were limited to texting and video calls, except for one week in New York, when Jagged had flown Marinette out for another fashion emergency, and one blissful, heavenly week in London last month when Marinette had taken the train out just to see him, and they had spent the whole week avoiding the overenthusiastic rock star, Luka’s stupid bandmates, and the terrible weather in the very private hotel room Luka had spared no expense for. Even the thought of it made him bite his lip and walk faster. 

He was even more motivated because Juleka was supposed to be meeting him here too, and he wasn’t at all sure it was a good idea to leave his sister and his girlfriend alone together for too long in what was bound to be a slightly awkward first meeting. 

When he first spotted the girls, he only had eyes for Marinette, and only after he had swept her up in his arms and nearly crushed her, did he have enough attention to notice the giant giraffe balloon his sister was holding. The damn thing was nearly as big as Juleka, and the shit-eating grin his normally reserved sister was wearing was enough to assure him that it wasn’t a coincidence.

Luka groaned and let Marinette slide to the floor. “I can’t believe you told her.” 

Marinette giggled and shrugged. “We had to kill the awkward somehow,” she shrugged. “She just got this manic grin and ran off to the nearest gift shop.”

“And it was so worth it for the look on your face,” Juleka snickered.

Luka snorted. Really it was a miracle it had taken this long; he’d had to threaten to quit to keep Jagged from plastering the band’s social media with pictures of Luka hanging off Marinette, a terrified look on his face and his hair sticking straight up and coated in giraffe drool. 

Still. “Just for that,” he muttered, and grabbed Marinette’s hand to pull her close, cradling the back of her head in his hand as he kissed her. He meant it to be a simple kiss, just sloppy enough to embarrass his sister, but Marinette put her arms around his neck and pressed up into him, and he forgot Juleka was even there for at least a full minute. 

Even the sound of his sister gagging couldn’t wipe the grin off his face when Marinette’s lips finally slipped away from his. “I am so glad to be back,” he growled, and felt Marinette shiver in his arms. “I’m taking you out tomorrow, jet lag or no. You just say when and where.” 

“I was thinking maybe we could go to the zoo,” Marinette said innocently, and Juleka cackled as Luka sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. 

“I like her,” Juleka said, shoving Luka’s arm. “Don’t mess it up. Although,” she began to snicker, “if you could recover from a beginning like that, maybe I shouldn’t worry.” 

Luka opened his mouth to tell her where she could shove her opinion, but Marinette grabbed his collar and jerked him down into another kiss. “Be nice,” she murmured, and then shoved him back, giggling along with Juleka at the blissful look on his face. 

So just because I constantly live in fear of people calling me on my BS, I’m gonna warn you now I’ve never been to Australia Zoo and while I did some research and studied the map well...try not to laugh at me too hard if you’ve been. It’s just background so I didn’t try that hard to differentiate it from other zoos. But Knit loves giraffes so I needed a zoo and Australia Zoo seemed like the easiest one to get Jagged to, so here we are. Happy Birthday, Knit!

Fiction Master Post | AO3